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Word Count: 8,582
Genre: Fluff, angst, smut
AU: Non idol AU, kind of a mafia AU, politician AU?
Tropes: Strangers to lovers, DA!Yoongi, defense attorney!Junhui, fucking your husband's rival
Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!
Warnings: Swearing, cheating, unhealthy relationships, mentioned pregnancy (not reader), brief and probably unrealistic fight scene, smut (unprotected sex, creampie, a little bit of biting, a tiny bit of breast play, Jun is a tease, sub!Jun, soft dom!reader, Jun calls reader "ma'am," oral sex, reader is Jun's under the desk support at one point, cockwarming, sort-of exhibitionism). If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!
Summary: When your best friend shows up on your doorstep to tell you that she's pregnant with your husband's baby, you decide to get revenge with the one man you know he doesn't want you talking to.
A/N: This fic was originally planned to be a part of the "War of Love" collab, however I don't think that the collab is still running. Regardless, I really wanted to get this fic out there. I hope you like it!
Thank you so much to @nothoughtsjustfic, @effervescentorbs, @themoonlightfae, and @spacequokka for helping me brainstorm, and thank you to @kwanisms for helping me brainstorm and making this amazing banner! I love y'all <3
Taglist: @xomakara, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @okiedokrie-main, @notyourjaem, @ikeukiss, @shadowkoo, @1-800-jewon, @my-neurodivergent-world, @be-my-sunrise
Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed!
Fic is under the cut.
There were very few things that you hated more than attending charity auctions with your husband. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and you completely understood that it was important to him to give back to your community, but you hated the way he treated you when the two of you were out together. Instead of being treated like his wife, you were treated more like an ornament. A trophy for your husband to show that he’d “made it” and had the life he’d always wanted. As much as you hated it though, you went anyway, because you knew how important his image was to him. And being a loving husband was an important part of his image, no matter how inaccurate that image was to the reality of your relationship with him after ten years together.
As the night went on, you got increasingly bored. No one at the event would have known it, though, especially not your husband. After all, Yoongi was too busy talking to Miyeon, his secretary and your best friend, to pay attention to you. You’d been suspicious of the relationship between Yoongi and Miyeon for a long time, but every time you brought up your concerns to either one of them, you were told how much they both cared about you and that they would never do that to you. You weren’t entirely sure that you believed them, but you really tried to for your own sake.
Not wanting to sit at the table and be ignored by your husband anymore, you decided to head to the bathroom to touch up your makeup. After your appearance was adjusted to your satisfaction, you stayed where you were a few extra minutes, just taking a few deep breaths and enjoying the small moment of peace. Feeling refreshed by your time away from the crowd that was sitting outside and pretending to care about charity, you decided to go back to your table.
You were still walking back when you noticed someone that was standing nearby. He was gorgeous, and when your eyes met, he smiled like the two of you were old friends, despite the fact that you’d never seen him before. You knew it was wrong to look at anyone other than your husband the way that you were now looking at the stranger, but you couldn’t help yourself. You briefly considered approaching him so that you could introduce yourself, but before you could, he approached you and said, “Hi, gorgeous. My name’s Junhui. What’s yours?”
That was when you realized who you were speaking to. This was the man that was running against Yoongi for the position of district attorney in the upcoming election. The man that Yoongi took any and every opportunity that presented itself to rant about, telling you exactly why you were never to speak to him.
But one little conversation couldn’t hurt, right?
With a smile, you introduced yourself and said, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“So, are you here with anyone?” Junhui asked, acting more like he was at a club than a charity auction.
“Yes, actually. I’m here with my husband.”
“Oh, really? Then why are you all alone?”
“He’s back at our table,” you answered as you pointed to where Yoongi sat with Miyeon. “Actually, I should probably go sit back down with him,” you added, hoping your voice didn’t give away just how nervous you were to be talking to such a gorgeous man.
“What’s your rush, sweetheart?”
“I just don’t want him to worry.”
“He looks fine to me,” Junhui said, staring past you and looking like he wanted to punch someone.
You turned away from Junhui to see what he was staring at, and that was when you saw the way that Yoongi was looking at Miyeon, holding her hand and staring into her eyes the way that he used to look into yours. That was when you decided that you weren’t really in a hurry to get back to him and said, “I guess a few more minutes couldn’t hurt.”
You talked to Junhui for a while after that, and you had to admit that you liked the way he made you feel as you spoke. He asked questions about the things that you said that showed that he was paying attention, something that Yoongi never did anymore, and he looked at you like you were the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, something that no one had ever done before. You knew it was wrong, but you would have been lying if you’d said that you weren’t at least a little bit attracted to Junhui.
When you finally got back to your table, you noticed that your friend was nowhere in sight. So, as you took your seat next to your husband, you asked, “Where did Miyeon go?”
“She left to go talk to someone. Listen, I need to go take care of a few things after the auction ends. Do you think you can get an Uber home tonight?”
“Of course, honey,” you answered, used to him leaving you as soon as he didn’t need to look good anymore. “Do you know when you’ll be home?”
“No, I don’t. Sorry, sweetheart.”
“That’s ok. Just be safe tonight. I love you.”
Your husband was too distracted by Miyeon’s abrupt return to your table to even notice that you’d said something to him. Not wanting to be the third wheel in your own relationship anymore that night, you decided that you were ready to leave. So, you got up and walked toward the exit, intending to call an Uber once you were outside. Before you got to the door, though, you bumped into Junhui again.
“Hi, gorgeous,” he said. “Where are you off to?”
“Just heading home for the night. I’m a bit tired,” you answered, hoping that you could successfully hide the complex emotions swirling around your mind.
“Without your husband?” he asked, feigning surprise. “Scandalous!”
“He just wanted to stay and enjoy the auction.”
“The auction, sure,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he noticed Yoongi laughing with Miyeon at your table. Turning his attention back to you, he added, “Before you go, take this,” and handed you a small slip of paper.
“What is it?”
“My number.”
“Oh, I can’t take this. I-”
“Relax, sweetheart. I just wanna be friends.”
You knew that he was full of shit, but you still smiled and said, “Ok.” There was a moment of silence before you added, “I really should go now. I’ll text you when I get home?”
“Works for me. It was nice meeting you, by the way.”
“Yeah, it was nice to meet you too,” you said, making your way toward the exit. Once you were outside, you got an Uber to take you home, and for the entire ride, you thought about the man that you’d met at the auction. You knew who Junhui was, since your husband had spoken about him to you at length, but you’d never gotten the chance to speak to him directly, or even seen his face for that matter, before the charity auction. Now that you had actually met him, though, you couldn’t help but wonder if he really was as bad as Yoongi said he was.
Was this really the same man that Yoongi had spent weeks ranting about? The man that Yoongi believed would make the seat of district attorney look like a joke if he was elected? The man known for his “shady tactics and shadier associations, who has absolutely no business in public office,” according to your husband? You couldn’t really believe it, if you were being honest. If the things that Yoongi had said about Junhui were true, though, that meant he was definitely bad news.
And yet, you couldn’t get him out of your mind.
When you finally got home, you took your time with your nighttime routine, letting the process of getting ready for bed ground you after a stressful day. Once your nighttime routine was done, you pulled the crumpled slip of paper that Junhui had given you out of your purse and texted the number that was written on it.
You: Hi, it’s me. It was really nice meeting you tonight.
Junhui: It was nice to meet you too, gorgeous. I’d love to see you again sometime.
You: What happened to just wanting to be friends?
Junhui: Hey, I am being friendly.
You: You’re being flirty. There’s a difference.
Junhui: It doesn’t seem like you mind, though. Am I wrong?
Needless to say, he was completely right. You knew that you were in the wrong, but you loved how attentive and sweet Junhui was compared to Yoongi. Still, you knew better than to actually act on the attraction to your husband’s rival that was beginning to settle in your chest. So, you gently reminded Junhui that you were married, and he agreed to behave. Whether he would hold up his end of the agreement, however, was yet to be seen.
About a week after the charity auction, you got a very unpleasant surprise. You woke up to a loud knock on your door, and when you answered, Miyeon stood in front of you. You figured that something was wrong when you saw the look of pure rage on her face, far different from her typical upbeat demeanor, but you had no idea what had happened. You opened your mouth to ask her what was wrong, but before you could get the words out, she asked, “Where the fuck is Yoongi?”
“He’s not home right now. He-”
“Bullshit. He told me that he was spending the day with you. Where is he?”
“He’s not home!” you yelled. “He told me that he was going to be working all day. What’s going on?”
“I’m pregnant with his baby, that’s what’s fucking going on.
You stood there in shock for what felt like hours before you asked, “What the fuck did you just say?”
“I’m pregnant, and Yoongi is the baby’s father. After I told him, he fucking ditched me. I want some answers.”
“Well, you’re not gonna get them here. Like I said, he isn’t home.”
“Fine. I’ll come back later then.”
“No, you fucking won’t. Not while I’m here, at least.”
With a huff and a stomp of her foot, Miyeon left your house. Once she was firmly out of your line of sight, you slammed your door shut, fell to the ground, and sobbed.
You honestly had no idea how to process the fact that your husband really was cheating on you, and with your best friend no less. “Rage” and “devastation” barely even began to describe the emotions swirling around your brain like a tornado of suffering, and all you could think about was how hurt you were and how badly you wanted to hurt them in return.
Maybe that’s where the idea to call Junhui came from.
Once you finally felt like you could breathe again, you pulled your phone out and dialed Junhui’s number. When he answered, you got right to the point, asking, “Are you busy today?”
“Nope. Free all day. Why do you ask?”
“Can I come over?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I think you know why.”
“I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” he asked with a teasing tone in his voice.
“I’m pissed off and wanna fuck.”
Junhui feigned surprise as he said, “Such vulgar language from such a classy lady. Especially one that loves her dear husband so much. What brought this on?”
“My best friend just showed up at my door and told me that she’s pregnant with Yoongi’s child.”
“Oh, so this is revenge.”
“Well, yes, but that’s not the only reason.”
“Oh really? Tell me what the other reason is then, sweetheart.”
Your voice was barely above a whisper when you responded, “Just want you.”
“Then why don’t I send someone to pick you up? How does that sound?”
“Sounds good,” you answered, sounding much more confident
“What’s your address, sweetheart?” he asked. You gave it to him, and he said, “I’ll see you soon, darling,” before he ended the call.
While you waited to be picked up, you decided to change into something a bit more appropriate for what you were planning to do when you got to his place. After some careful consideration, you ended up choosing a short white dress that showed off just enough of your body to get him excited without being too inappropriate for you to wear out of the house. As for accessories, you kept it simple, wearing small white earrings. Once you put on your favorite shoes, you were ready to go.
A few minutes after you finished getting ready, you heard the sound of a car horn. So, you walked outside, and you saw a sleek black car in front of your house. When you approached the car, the driver rolled the window down and asked who you were. After you confirmed your identity, he said, “I’m Taehyun. Junhui sent me to pick you up. Are you ready?” You nodded in response and got in the car, nervous but excited for what you knew would happen when you got to Junhui’s house.
The ride to Junhui’s house was quiet, with neither you nor Taehyun quite knowing what to say to fill the silence. The awkward silence didn’t last long, though, since within minutes, you were pulling up to one of the most luxurious mansions you’d ever seen. You honestly wondered how the hell Junhui could afford it, since Yoongi had made it sound like he didn’t make much as an attorney, but you had a feeling that you didn’t want to know the answer.
You didn’t have much time to think about the matter, though, since before you knew it, you were dropped off in front of the door. As you got out of the car, you thanked Taehyun, and he drove away. With a deep breath to calm your nerves, you approached the door and rang the doorbell.
When Junhui answered the door, you smiled and said, “Hi.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Would you like to come in?” he asked. You nodded, and he took your hand before pulling you through the door. Once the door was shut and locked behind you, he smiled at you and asked, “Still looking for revenge?”
You didn’t answer him verbally, but you didn’t need to, considering your lips were on his the second he was done speaking. The kiss was short and sweet, and you did enjoy it, but you found yourself wanting more at the same time. So, when you pulled away, you asked, “Can we take this to your room?”
“Are you sure?” he asked in response. You nodded, and he said, “So eager for me. It’s cute. Come with me, darling.” You felt butterflies in your stomach when he called you “darling,” and he pulled you up a flight of stairs that you assumed led to his room.
When you got to Junhui’s room, he shut the door and pulled you close, kissing you softly. You stayed there for what felt like an eternity before you started to get impatient again and deepened the kiss, earning a soft groan from him as you tangled your hands in his hair. He pulled away with a smirk on his face and asked, “Getting impatient?”
You nodded and said, “Want you so bad.”
“Aww,” he cooed. “Do you think you could wait just a little bit longer, sweetheart? You’re just so much fun to play with.”
That was when you decided you were done waiting, pulling Junhui to the bed and climbing on top of him. With a smirk of your own, you said, “I think we’re done with that now.”
“Fine. Get up and get on your knees, then.”
You pretended to think about his instructions for a moment before you grinned and said, “Make me.”
Before you could really process what was happening, Junhui had flipped the two of you over so that he was on top. With a soft smile of his own, he looked you in the eyes and said, “Are you gonna listen, now?”
“Hm, no. I don’t think so,” you said.
“Please, darling? For me?” he asked, moving to kiss and bite your neck.
You moaned at the feeling of his mouth on you and said, “Fuck, baby. Feels so good.” Junhui whined and started to move his hips against yours, still kissing and biting every bit of you that he could reach, and that was when you had an idea. Your hands flew to his hair and tugged as you added, “Do you like when I tell you how good it feels?”
Junhui stopped what he was doing just long enough to nod against you and said, “Like knowing I’m doing a good job.”
“Well, you are, baby. Such a good boy for me.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled.
“You ok?”
“’m fine,” he answered, clearly struggling to maintain his composure.
And that was when you realized that Junhui was far different from the man that you expected him to be, at least in the bedroom. So, with a smile on your face and a voice dripping with lust, you asked, “Do you want me to take control, baby?”
Junhui looked nervous, and his voice was small as he said, “Yes, please.”
You softened when you noticed how nervous he was and said, “That’s fine with me, angel.”
Junhui noticeably relaxed at your words, and he said, “Tell me what you want. Please?”
“I want you inside me. Please, baby?”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied, swiftly climbing off of you and ridding himself of his clothes. You stood and did the same before you pulled Junhui in for another kiss. He whined when he felt your lips on his, and you pulled away with a soft laugh.
“You’re so cute,” you said.
There was a beat of silence before Junhui said, “Can I please fuck you?”
You smiled and bit your lip before you said, “Of course, baby.”
With no further hesitation, you gently pushed Junhui back onto his bed, straddling him once he was lying down. You looked down at him with a smile, wordlessly asking for confirmation. When your eyes met, he nodded and said, “Please.”
That was all you needed to hear to carefully lower yourself onto his cock, letting out a loud moan as you felt him enter you. You held onto his shoulders as you steadied yourself, still adjusting to his size. Then, when you were ready, you started to slowly move up and down.
Junhui’s hands immediately found their way to your hips, his nails digging into your skin as he reveled in the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him. The way he seemed to lose himself in you only made you want more, and you silently hoped this wouldn’t be the only time you fucked him.
“Feels so good,” Junhui whined, holding onto you tighter as he bucked his hips up to meet yours.
“I know, baby. You’re so fucking good for me,” you said with a moan.
“Better than him?” he asked, looking up at you with desperate eyes.
You were quiet for a minute in response to Junhui’s question, the only noises in the room being your ragged breaths, his desperate whines, and the sound of your skin meeting his as you continued to ride him. But when he reached up to touch your chest, a loud moan was ripped from your throat before you said, “Fuck, yes. So much better, baby.”
Junhui whined louder as he started to move his hips faster, and you couldn’t help but think about how cute he was when he was desperate to please you. The thought that you wouldn’t mind seeing him again and maybe spending time with him outside of having sex also crossed your mind, but you didn’t want to linger on that for too long, especially when you were already so close to an orgasm.
Before you knew it, a familiar rush of pleasure washed over you, and you came undone around Junhui with a loud moan of his name. He continued to fuck up into you through your release, stilling inside of you when he reached his own. He was louder than you anticipated, practically screaming your name as he came, but you didn’t really mind that. In all honesty, you thought that it was cute.
After you both caught your breath, you climbed off of him and laid your head on his chest, and he pulled you close. Once the two of you found a comfortable position, he said, “That was amazing. I can’t believe that bastard doesn’t appreciate you.” You were silent in response to his comment, and he hurriedly added, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s ok,” you mumbled, struggling to stay focused on the conversation you were having as opposed to the tornado of emotion that had begun swirling around the inside of your head once again.
“What’s on your mind, darling?” Junhui asked, his tone softer than when he’d insulted Yoongi.
“I really don’t want to go home to him tonight.”
“You could stay here tonight. If you want to, of course.”
“I can’t. He’ll wonder where I am and worry.”
“Will he?”
You were quiet for a minute as you thought about the question. Honestly, you didn’t know if Yoongi would miss you. After all, you’d lost count of how many times you’d told him that you were staying at a friend’s house for the night, gone out, and come home without any acknowledgement from your husband whatsoever. Then, you realized that even if he would miss you, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care in that moment. So, with a sigh, you answered, “Ok, I’ll stay.”
Junhui smiled gently before he kissed you again, pulling you closer as he enjoyed the feeling of your lips on his. When you pulled away for air, he looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes and said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He sighed softly before he said, “Being yourself.”
“You’re cute.”
“So are you,” he said. “Now, how about we get cleaned up?”
“That sounds great.”
Junhui wordlessly stood up and stretched his hand out to you. You took it and got out of bed, letting him lead you to his bathroom. Once you got there, he helped you into the shower before stepping in himself. Then, he turned the water on, and you helped him wash. Once he was clean again, he did the same for you, and the two of you talked about whatever came to mind.
Once both of you were clean again, Junhui gave you some spare clothes from his closet to put on, and you got dressed. He did the same before dragging you right back to his bed to lie down. After you both found a comfortable position, you talked about whatever you could think of, hoping to get to know each other better. You initially thought that the questions he asked you would stay superficial, like your favorite songs or what you liked to do for fun, but in a matter of minutes, the conversation topic shifted to your marriage.
“Why are you even with him?” Junhui asked, genuinely baffled by the idea of someone like you being married to someone like Yoongi.
“He wasn’t always like this,” you answered wistfully. “When we first got married, he treated me like a princess. He never let a day go by without telling me how much he loved me and how lucky he was to have me.”
“What changed?”
You thought before a minute before you answered, struggling to figure out the right words to accurately explain all of the shifts in your marriage over the years. Eventually, you sighed and said, “The changes started when he won the DA election a few years ago. He was so happy, so initially, I didn’t mind that he was ignoring me in favor of work.”
“Initially? I guess that means something else changed?”
You nodded and said, “He started forgetting the important things too. When it was just a date here and there, it was fine, but eventually he started forgetting my birthday and even our anniversary.
“Are you fucking serious?” Junhui asked, sounding more like a pissed off best friend than a guy that you’d just hooked up with.
“At first, I assumed that it was because he was busy, so I tried to be understanding. Then, when it happened again, I opened Snapchat and saw stories that Miyeon had posted earlier that night. He was with her.”
“So, does that mean that you knew about the affair when you found out about the baby?”
You nodded and answered, “I knew from the moment I got her the job as his secretary, and I saw the way he looked at her. I know that he loved me once, but even when he did, he never looked at me like that.” Your eyes started to well with tears as you wondered what she had that you didn’t, but you quickly wiped your eyes, not wanting Junhui to notice.
But of course, Junhui did notice. With a softness that you were already growing to love in his voice, he pulled you closer, rubbing your back as he said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s ok,” you replied through the tears that refused to stop falling.
The room fell silent as you cried, with Junhui shushing you gently and rubbing your back until your tears ran dry. As you caught your breath, he kissed your forehead and said, “You deserve so much better than him.”
“I’ve thought about filing for divorce so many times.”
“What’s stopping you?”
You were quiet for a minute before you answered, “I don’t want to make him look bad.”
“He made himself look bad the moment he stepped away from his marriage and got Miyeon pregnant. You wouldn’t be ruining his reputation; you’d be ensuring it was more accurate.”
You wanted to say something in response, reassure Junhui that it wasn’t what it looked like, but you knew that he was right. So, you just said, “I guess so.”
After that, the conversation topic shifted again, since neither you nor Junhui wanted to talk about your failed marriage. Despite the change in conversation, though, your thoughts stayed focused on what he’d said about your husband and his reputation. You knew that he was right, but you didn’t want to admit it just yet. So, you tried desperately to think about anything else while you started to doze off in Junhui’s arms, relaxing for the first time in what felt like an eternity as you enjoyed finally feeling wanted again.
After that first night that the two of you spent together, you and Junhui were practically inseparable, provided that your husband wasn’t around to see you with the man that he hated more than just about anyone else. Not that Yoongi was around much, anyway. Between running for re-election and Miyeon’s pregnancy, which he still thought you didn’t know about, he had pretty much no time left for you. You weren’t necessarily complaining about that, though. After all, your husband being busy made it far easier to make time to see Junhui.
It was about a month into your time with Junhui that you started visiting him in his office. You learned a lot about him from those visits, like the types of clients he usually represented and how their “support” was what gave Junhui the opportunity to live such a luxurious life, even if he didn’t get many other cases.
There were a lot of questions that you wanted to ask about why they needed his help so frequently and why he was always so happy to oblige, but you decided not to ask them. After all, you had a strong feeling you didn’t want to know the answer. Besides, you didn’t have many opportunities to ask, considering he avoided talking about work as much as he could when he was with you. But really, the two of you didn’t do much talking at all when you were together.
To be fair, you couldn’t really talk when you were sitting under Junhui’s desk with his cock in your mouth, listening to his sweet whimpers and whines as you got him off. You weren’t sure how you got into the position you were in, really. One moment, you were sitting on his desk, kissing him and occasionally letting your hands wander as he told you how beautiful you looked in between kisses. Next thing you knew, you were climbing under his desk, telling him to be quiet, and wrapping your lips around him.
“Fuck, feels so good,” he whined, gently thrusting into your mouth.
You hummed around him as you sucked him off, loving the sweet little noises that slipped out of his mouth. God, everything about the way he looked and sounded made you want him more. His eyes were shut, and his mouth hung open while he moaned in pleasure. His hands were tangled in your hair, holding you like you were the only thing that he wanted in that moment, and you loved every bit of it.
Your activities were interrupted, however, when the phone on Junhui’s desk started to ring. You stopped what you were doing when you heard him answer and started to crawl out from under his desk. Before you could get very far, though, you looked up at him and noticed that he was staring at you with pleading eyes. When he hung up the phone, you bit your lip and asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Please don’t go,” he mumbled.
“You want me to keep sucking your cock?”
He nodded in response and said, “I don’t think you’d be able to leave without him seeing you, anyway.”
You froze in place and asked, “What do you mean?”
“That was the office receptionist. Yoongi is on his way up.”
“Why the fuck is Yoongi here?”
“Said that he had to talk to me about the election? I don’t know,” he groaned. “I was too focused on what you were doing to pay attention on the conversation.”
You gave him a cocky smirk before asking, “Do you want me to keep going once I’m back under the desk?”
Junhui looked nervous as he answered, “Won’t he notice?”
“Not if I just keep you in my mouth. Would you like that, baby?”
He hesitated before he nodded, and you climbed back under his desk. Right as you took Junhui’s cock in your mouth again, you heard a door open, and an all-too-familiar voice said, “Mr. Wen! It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too. Please, just call me Junhui.”
“So, Mr. Wen,” Yoongi said, “I just wanted to give you some advice.”
“What kind of advice?” Junhui asked, still struggling to maintain his composure with your mouth around him.
“Well, I know who your friends are, and I know what they do. I also have a strong feeling that your friends are the reason you’re running. So, my advice is this: don’t let them affect how you do your job. Do the right thing, Mr. Wen.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“You’d better. Good luck, and may the best man win.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
With that, Yoongi said, “I’m sure that I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m sure I will. Goodbye, Yoongi.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Wen.”
You heard the door shut, and the sound of Yoongi’s footsteps faded down the hall. When you were sure he was gone, you didn’t hesitate at all, swirling your tongue around Junhui’s tip and earning a loud moan from him as he started to thrust into your mouth again. His hands found their way to your hair almost immediately, and with a moan, he said, “’m close.”
You moaned around Junhui’s cock, and that was all it took for him to come undone with a series of soft moans and curses. You stilled around him when his release washed over him, taking care not to overstimulate him as he spilled into your mouth. Then, when you were sure he was done, you carefully took him out of your mouth, looked up at him and swallowed, feeling proud when another high-pitched whine slipped out of his mouth.
With a smile on your face and butterflies in your stomach, you looked up at him and said, “Are you ok, baby?”
“I’m ok. That was just so good,” he mumbled, still struggling to regain his composure.
You laughed softly and said, “Well, how can I not reward my baby for being such a good boy for me?”
Junhui blushed and helped you up before pulling you into a hug, hoping to hide how much he liked it when you called him your baby. But of course, you could see right through him.
While you relaxed in Junhui’s hold, you found yourself dreaming about a day that you could just stay with him instead of having to go home to a marriage that you knew was dead. Still, you weren’t sure if you were ready to walk away from Yoongi just yet, so you decided to wait a little bit longer.
As the election drew nearer, your relationship with Junhui only grew more intense. Initially, you wanted to at least try to pretend that your time with him was just a bit of fun to distract you from your disaster of a marriage and how unhappy you really were. As time went on, though, you found yourself actually looking forward to spending time with Junhui, even if there weren’t plans for sex. You hated to admit it to yourself, but you were falling in love with him.
You finally had to confront the fact that your feelings for Junhui went beyond sexual attraction the day before the election results were to be announced. You’d gone to his house for the day because Yoongi had other plans. He swore he wasn’t out with Miyeon, but you didn’t care anymore. After all, you were too busy enjoying your time doing whatever the hell you wanted with Junhui. You made out, you watched terrible movies, you played board games that neither of you fully understood, and you laid in bed together talking about anything and everything.
Your head was on his chest, and he gently stroked your hair as he asked, “Can I ask you something that might make you mad?”
“If you know that it might make you mad, why are you asking?” you responded, laughing softly.
He sighed and said, “Because I’ve realized some things lately, and I need to know where we stand.”
“Baby, you’re worrying me. What’s up?”
“Would you consider leaving Yoongi?”
You were stunned into silence by his question, unsure of what you could say. On the one hand, all you wanted was to finally get out of your miserable marriage and be with someone that treated you like you actually mattered to him. On the other hand, were you ready to take that step? You’d been with Yoongi for so long at that point, and you were worried about what your family and friends would think if you admitted that your marriage wasn’t as picture-perfect as you made it seem whenever you saw them.
You snapped out of your contemplation when Junhui said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Don’t worry about it. I just-”
“It’s ok. I’d consider it, but I don’t know if I could go through with it. I love you, but-”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I love you too.” There was a brief silence before Junhui asked, “What does this mean for the future?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need and cheer you on until you are.”
“Thank you,” you answered.
After that, Junhui just held you close, each of you taking in the fact that you really admitted that you loved each other.
When the time came for you to go home, you kissed Junhui’s cheek and said, “Thank you for today.”
“It’s no problem, my love.”
And with that, you walked out of Junhui’s house and drove back to your own, dreading the time that you’d have to spend with your husband.
When you got home, Yoongi asked, “How was your day?”
“It was fine,” you answered, upset about having to come home to your husband and missing Junhui more than you should have been.
“I’m glad,” he said, not really paying attention. “Listen, I have some things to take care of tomorrow after the gala. Can you get an Uber home tomorrow night?”
“Of course,” you said, used to his behavior.
“Thank you, my love.”
You wanted to yell at Yoongi not to call you that, but you didn’t. Instead, you plastered a fake grin on your face and said, “No problem, honey.”
For a minute, it looked like Yoongi was going to say something else. Instead, he seemed to snap himself out of it and just smiled. Not wanting to continue the conversation, you went straight to your bedroom, drifting off to sleep and thinking about Junhui.
The election results were planned to be announced at an elaborate gala, which you weren’t exactly looking forward to. You were certain that Yoongi would be paying more attention to Miyeon than you, the dress that he’d bought you for the event was uncomfortable and the exact opposite of the way that you preferred to dress, and you honestly had no idea if you were going to be able to spend any time with Junhui. Regardless, you put on the frumpy black dress and carefully applied your makeup while you waited for Yoongi to finish getting ready.
When your husband finished getting dressed and walked into your living room, he stopped and stared at you with an expression of what could only be described as confusion and guilt. After a brief awkward silence, however, he snapped himself out of it and said, “You look breathtaking tonight, love,” his voice barely above a whisper as he admired you.
“Thank you,” you mumbled, uncomfortable with the sudden display of affection that you’d been denied long enough that it now felt foreign.
After a moment of thought, Yoongi asked, “How about after the gala, we go out and celebrate together. Just you and me. What do you think?”
“I thought you said you were busy after the gala,” you replied matter-of-factly.
That was when Yoongi remembered what he’d told you and sighed, answering, “I can move that.”
“I wouldn’t want you to fall behind. It must be important if you ignored me the entire time you were planning it,” you spat, not thinking about your words or the way you said them.
“Hey, I did not fucking ignore you.”
“Don’t lie to me, Yoongi.”
“Love, can we just talk about this later? We’ll celebrate after the gala.”
“No, we won’t. I made plans since you said that you were busy.”
“Well, move them.”
“No. I’m not going to change my plans because you suddenly feel guilty about not spending enough time with your wife.”
Yoongi went silent after that, ignoring you as the two of you walked to your car and drove to the event. When you actually got to the venue, though, it was like the two of you were completely different people. The scowls that had graced both of your faces in the car turned to smiles so convincing you almost fooled yourself the second the two of you stepped out of the car. Yoongi’s arm wrapped around your waist as he guided you to the entrance. He doted on you as the two of you waited for the event to begin, constantly checking in with you to make sure that you were ok. It was strange, and you didn’t like it.
If the shift in how he treated you had come a few months earlier, before you found out for sure that Yoongi had been sleeping with Miyeon, you would have welcomed it with open arms as a sign that the man you loved still loved you. The problem with that, though, is that he wasn’t the man that you loved anymore. You were just going through the motions until you felt that the time was right for you to finally divorce him.
A few minutes after you arrived with Yoongi, you saw Junhui enter and sit down at a nearby table. As soon as you saw him, you desperately wanted to run to him, pull him into a hug, and kiss him like nothing else mattered. Instead, you stayed right where you were, silently looking forward to the plans you’d made with him for later that night.
You were bored out of your mind for most of the gala. Yoongi once again paid absolutely no attention to you, a sharp contrast to his attempt to pretend he still loved you earlier. Miyeon decided to not only show up at the gala but also spend every moment she wasn’t flirting with the other married men at the event hanging off of your husband’s arm. Your blood was boiling, but you maintained a cool exterior to avoid making a scene at an event that you knew was important to both the man that you loved and the man that you used to love.
When it was finally time to announce the results, you sat up straighter, forced a smile, and clapped as your city’s mayor approached the stage. When he reached the microphone, he said, “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for attending tonight’s gala, held to announce the results of this year’s district attorney election. Before I announce the results, I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge the sitting district attorney, Min Yoongi, and his contribution to our community for the last four years. Thank you.”
Yoongi stood up and waved to the other attendees as they clapped, and you started to feel sick to your stomach. You knew that it was wrong for you to think the way that you did, but you were honestly hoping that Yoongi lost the election. It was petty, and you knew it, but you wanted him to have some kind of consequence for the way that he’d treated you. In your mind, there was no better way to get that than to rip the career that made him so happy he forgot about you right out from under him.
Before you could continue wishing your husband would fail in his career, you were distracted by the mayor starting to speak again. With a clearly practiced fake smile on his face, he said, “Now, for the results of this year’s election. Our district attorney is Wen Junhui.”
When you heard Junhui’s name, you stood and cheered, not caring who stared as you applauded your husband’s loss. Watching Junhui approach the stage, you felt nothing but pride, and as he thanked everyone for attending the gala and voting for him, you couldn’t help but think that it was time to start loving him out loud.
In between Yoongi’s shallow attempts at conversation, you stepped away from your table to find Junhui, weaving your way through the crowd of very intimidating-looking individuals that wanted to congratulate him for his win. When Junhui saw you, though, he pushed his way past all of them to pull you close, whispering, “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Congratulations, my love,” you said. “I can’t stay, but I wanted you to know how proud I am of you. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. We’re still celebrating together after this, right?”
“Of course,” you answered before you went back to your table
“What were you doing with him?” Yoongi asked, glaring at Junhui.
“Why do you even care? I thought you were too busy with your little girlfriend,” you spat back, not caring that Miyeon seemed to deflate at your words.
“Don’t act like you know what happened.”
“Oh, but I do. I know everything.” Yoongi looked shocked at your admission, and you added, “Did you really think I didn’t?”
“It doesn’t give you the right to start fucking him of all people,” Yoongi said.
“I think it does.”
“Whatever,” Yoongi spat, standing from his seat. “I’m not letting whatever the hell you’re doing go any further.”
The moment Yoongi spotted Junhui, he practically dragged him outside, yelling about how he wasn’t gonna let the younger man take what was rightfully his. Whether Yoongi meant you or his job as district attorney, you didn’t know, but you did know that he was going to get himself in trouble if he didn't calm down.
What happened next was a blur. You tried to talk Yoongi into going back inside, but before you could get the words out, he had Junhui on the ground, throwing punches and yelling about how he wasn’t going to get away with whatever he did. Not knowing what else to do, you ran inside to get help. Initially, you tried to find venue security, but they were nowhere to be found. So instead, you found Junhui’s friends from earlier.
After you explained the situation, Junhui’s “friends” followed you outside, immediately pulling Yoongi off of Junhui. They looked like they wanted to beat your husband to a pulp, but all it took was one look from Junhui for them to back down.
After making sure Junhui wasn't seriously injured, you walked over to Yoongi and said, “What the fuck was that?”
Yoongi answered, “He started it.”
“No, he didn’t. And even if he had, it doesn’t matter. You can’t just start fights in a fucking parking lot, Yoongi.” You paused before you added, “I’m gonna go check on Junhui.”
“Do you really care more about some guy than your own husband?”
“I don’t know. Do you really care more about your secretary than your own wife?” you asked before you walked away to find Junhui.
When you found Junhui, he was talking to the police on the other side of the parking lot. You didn’t hear all of what they said, but you hoped that everything would be over soon.
After Junhui finished speaking to the officer that had shown up during the chaos, he walked up to you and said, “I’m not pressing charges.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to deal with Yoongi any more than I have to,” he answered, looking like it hurt to talk. “Besides, I’m not actually hurt. He’s not as strong as he looks.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you said, “No, he certainly is not.” After a brief moment of silence, you asked, “Can I go home with you tonight?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
With that, you helped Junhui to his car, and the two of you went back to his apartment. When you got there, you checked him again, and beyond a split lip and a few bruises that you were positive wouldn’t take long to heal, he was unharmed. Still, much to his frustration, you made him rest, taking care of him until the two of you fell asleep together in his bed.
When you went back home the next day, you found Yoongi in his home office, cleaning it up and gathering the files that would need to go back to city hall before his term officially ended. When he looked up and saw you, he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, you said, “I want a divorce.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why, Yoongi? What's the point of staying married if both of us are seeing other people?”
“Do you have any idea how a divorce will make me look?”
“It can't make you look any worse than trying to fight the new DA in a fucking parking lot.”
Yoongi was silent for a minute before he sighed and said, “I'm not signing any divorce papers. Got it?”
Not wanting the argument to escalate, you walked away without another word, choosing to call Junhui and ask if you could go back to his place. He readily agreed, and without even bothering to tell Yoongi, you left.
When you pulled up in front of Junhui’s mansion, he was already outside waiting for you, already looking like he was in less pain than the day before. When you got out of your car, he held his arms out to hug you and asked, “Rough morning?”
“He said he won’t sign the divorce papers. Some bullshit about his image,” you answered, collapsing into Junhui’s arms as you fought back tears. You couldn’t believe that after everything that had happened between the two of you, Yoongi refused to walk away.
“He what?” Junhui asked, his voice laced with thinly veiled rage. But before you could explain further, he said, “Go inside. I’m gonna make some calls, and it’ll all be ok.”
“Do not hurt him,” you said as you let go of Junhui. “Promise me.”
“I promise that I will not hurt him, and I promise that I will not have other people hurt him on my behalf. I’m just gonna call in a few favors.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart.”
With a sigh, you went inside, and Junhui took out his phone. While you waited for him to make whatever calls he needed to make, you wondered what kind of favors he was owed and how he was going to use them to get Yoongi to agree to divorce you. The more you thought about it, however, the more you realized that you really didn’t want to know.
After what felt like forever, Junhui came inside, and the two of you went up to his room, ready to relax together and forget about Yoongi for a while.
You decided to stay at Junhui’s house for a few more days, occasionally texting Yoongi just to let him know that you were safe. You knew it was kind of ridiculous to update your husband about staying at your lover’s house, but as tired as you were of being married to Yoongi, you knew that you’d feel guilty if you disappeared without a trace.
Eventually, though, you got a call from Yoongi. You answered it, wondering what was wrong, but before you could ask, you heard him say, “Fine. You win. I’ll sign the fucking papers.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what the fuck he did, but I don’t want him doing it anymore. I’ll sign them.”
You were incredibly confused and concerned, but you decided not to question the fact that he changed his mind. Instead, you just said, “Thank you. I’ll call you after I make arrangements with a lawyer,” and hung up.
“Who was that, baby?” Junhui asked, coming back to the bedroom.
“It was Yoongi. He agreed to the divorce.”
“Oh, really?” Junhui said, giving you a knowing smile. “Did he say why?”
“He said that he didn’t know what the fuck you did, but he didn’t want you doing it anymore. What the fuck were those favors?”
“Oh, I just called some friends that are really good at finding information,” he answered matter-of-factly as he carefully climbed into bed next to you.
“Thank you.”
“No problem, my love,” he said, relaxing as you pulled him close. “I just wanna make you happy.”
Thank you everyone for reading! If you liked this one, please make sure to like and reblog!
If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist can be found here. If you wanna see what I'm working on, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged whenever I upload a new fic, my taglist form is here! You can also send me an ask or dm at any time to be added or removed.
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@petrichor-han
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Word Count: 13,498
Genre: Fluff, smut, slight angst
AU: Non idol AU, pastor!Joshua
Tropes: Strangers to friends to lovers
Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!
Warnings: Blasphemy, Jihoon is a toxic and slightly misogynistic asshole but reader dumps his ass I promise, definitely a power imbalance because Joshua is reader's pastor, smut (soft dom!Joshua, unprotected sex, creampie, oral, dry humping, sex in a church closet, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, Joshua has a corruption kink, breeding kink, virgin!reader at the beginning). If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!
Summary: Your church's new pastor teaches you about more than faith.
A/N: Shout out to the absolutely wonderful @okiedokrie-main, @nothoughtsjustfic, @effervescentorbs, @ohnoitsanotaku, @themoonlightfae, and @spacequokka for listening to me talk about this fic and helping me with ideas during the very long brainstorming and writing process! I love you guys so much.
And in case anyone was wondering, all of the quoted Bible verses are from the New Living Translation.
Taglist: @xomakara, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @notyourjaem, @ikeukiss, @shadowkoo, @my-neurodivergent-world, @1800dojaejung, @aeristudios, @thestraybunny, @mylovesstuffs, @be-my-sunrise
Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed!
Fic is under the cut.
You loved your parents dearly, but you hated attending their church. Not because you weren’t a believer, and not because you disliked church in general, but because you’d completely lost any and all respect you ever had for the church’s head pastor. Reverend Yoon had a good reputation in your hometown, and most of the other members of the congregation adored him, but you hadn’t felt the same for a long time. After all, he seemed to have a very superficial view of faith, putting more emphasis on following rules than actually loving and trusting God in his sermons.
You were actually considering finding a new church to attend when you found out that Reverend Yoon was leaving. On a seemingly random Sunday, he told everyone in the congregation that God was calling him to work as a missionary, but the way he fidgeted as he spoke and refused to meet anyone’s eyes when they approached him after service told you that there was probably more to the story than he was letting on. Regardless of the reason, however, you were relieved that he was leaving.
The following Sunday, you met Reverend Yoon’s replacement. As you walked into the church with your parents and Jihoon, your longtime boyfriend, you noticed a man that you hadn’t seen before standing at the front of the room. As you watched him speak with church leaders whose names you’d stopped caring to remember, you started to wonder what this new pastor was like, so you decided to introduce yourself. Before you could, though, Jihoon pulled you to your seat, and service begain.
With a confidence that you could only wish you had, the man you’d noticed when you walked in approached the pulpit and said, “Hello, everyone. I’m Reverend Hong, and starting today, I’ll be taking Reverend Yoon’s place as he moves on to have new experiences and grow in his faith. Before we begin with the announcements and opening prayer, however, I want to say thank you. Thank you, everyone, for attending today and giving me a chance.”
Jihoon seemed unimpressed by the introduction, but you were moved by the way Reverend Hong spoke immediately. Even his simple introduction seemed to have more passion than an entire sermon delivered by Reverend Yoon, and you felt oddly hopeful. It was too soon to say for sure, but you were already considering continuing to attend services where you were rather than searching for a new church like you’d originally planned.
For the most part, the rest of the service was no different from what you were used to. The worship team sang various Christian songs that you’d heard on the radio, there were prayers for members of the congregation that had been struggling, and shiny offering plates were passed along each row of seats so that everyone in the congregation could give money to the church. When Reverend Hong started his sermon, however, you realized that he really was nothing like Reverend Yoon.
Your eyes were fixed on Reverend Hong from the moment he stepped closer to the pulpit and said, “Hello again, everyone. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming today. It is such a joy to be here with all of you to worship God.” He paused for a moment to collect himself before he continued, “Today, I wanted to talk a bit about new beginnings. Not just because today marks the beginning of my time as head pastor at this church, but also because the past few months have been a time of change for everyone. As we leave the previous year behind and start anew, it’s important to remember to trust God in all of our endeavors. New beginnings may seem frightening, but God will always have our backs, no matter how difficult life gets. As the book of Psalms says, ‘The Lord is a shelter for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.’”
From the moment that Reverend Hong began to speak, you felt a wave of peace wash over you that you weren’t really used to. Sure, you considered yourself a devout Christian, but that was because of the time that you’d spent studying the Bible on your own time. You’d never been moved by a sermon before, especially so early. You were pleasantly surprised by your church’s new pastor once again.
As Reverend Hong continued to speak about trusting God in uncertain times and the joy that can come from new beginnings despite their difficulties, you continued to find yourself unusually emotional. You even started to cry at one point, something that had never happened during a church service before. As the sermon concluded with another Bible verse, you realized that you’d completely changed your mind about finding a new church.
When service was over, you finally got the chance to introduce yourself to Reverend Hong. He had a crowd of people around him that wanted to do the exact same thing, though, so you had to wait longer than you would have liked. Still, you were excited to finally speak to the man that made you tear up during a sermon for the first time in your life.
When the crowd started to disperse, satisfied with their first impressions of the new pastor, you moved closer and introduced yourself.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Reverend Hong responded as he reached his hand out for you to shake. “What did you think of today’s sermon?”
You shook his hand as you said, “I thought that it was beautiful. Today was actually the first time I’ve ever been moved to tears during a sermon.”
“Really?”
You nodded and continued, “Your passion when you speak about God is admirable.”
“Thank you very much.”
“I’m really looking forward to next week’s sermon,” you said with a grin.
“Thank you. I’m so happy to hear that.”
You heard Jihoon call your name, and that was when you said, “I have to go now, but it was wonderful to meet you. Have a blessed day!”
“I hope you have a blessed day, as well.”
You walked away from Reverend Hong to find your boyfriend, who was standing by the entrance looking slightly annoyed. When you reached him, you asked, “Is everything ok?”
“Everything is fine, dear,” Jihoon answered, though you knew he was lying.
“Are you ready to go?” you asked. He nodded, and you took his hand and walked out of the church.
Once you and Jihoon were in the car, he sighed and asked, “So, what do you think of Reverend Hong?”
“I’m not sure yet,” you answered. That was a lie, but Jihoon didn’t need to know that just yet.
“Really? You seemed to like him quite a bit.”
“I mean, he’s passionate when he speaks, and I admire that.”
He laughed softly and said, “I don’t know if I’d describe him as passionate. Melodramatic seems like a better word.”
You went quiet after that, and Jihoon continued to talk about how Reverend Hong spoke with too much emotion and didn’t seem to know the Bible as well as Reverend Yoon did. You thought that Jihoon was judging Reverend Hong far too harshly, though, especially because he’d only heard one sermon from the new pastor. However, you didn’t share your thoughts with your boyfriend. After all, what was the point of speaking if you knew he wouldn’t listen?
When Jihoon pulled up to your apartment building, you leaned over to kiss his cheek, but before you could, he moved away and said, “I’ll text you when I get home.”
“Ok, I love you.”
Jihoon didn’t respond, so you got out of the car and went into your apartment. As you went about the rest of your day, you wondered what you’d done wrong this time for your boyfriend to move away from you when you tried to do something as simple as kissing his cheek. And for him to refuse to say that he loved you? You were devastated.
It was strange, really. When you and Jihoon first started seeing each other, he was one of the most affectionate men that you’d ever met. He never went a day without telling you just how lucky he was to have you, he always had his arms around you, and he got excited to spend time with you. Now, he still acted like that sometimes, like when he wanted something from you or when you acted the way he thought a woman of God was “supposed to act,” but for the most part, you were lucky if he told you that he loved you back. He never initiated physical contact with you, and half the time, he moved away if you tried to. Attending church together and going on dates felt more like a formality than something that was done because he wanted to see you.
You loved Jihoon dearly, you really did, but you didn’t know if you could continue with a relationship where you felt like you had to constantly make yourself smaller to be treated like you were worthy of love.
After that first sermon, your admiration for Reverend Hong only grew. Each week during Sunday service, he spoke with such love and passion, whether he was advising against sinful behavior or reminding the congregation of God’s love for them. And almost every time, he brought you to tears as you pondered his sermons and noticed feelings that you didn’t quite have a name for yet blossoming in your chest.
As your respect for Reverend Hong grew, however, your relationship with Jihoon got worse. On top of his prior behavior, he was now accusing you of spending too much time with other men, even complaining about Reverend Hong whenever you spoke to him after service.
“I’m just saying, it’s suspicious that you talk to him every week after service.”
“Why is it suspicious that I want to talk to my pastor?”
“You never used to stay to speak to Reverend Yoon after service.”
“Reverend Yoon made me uncomfortable and cared too much about enforcing rules he himself didn’t follow to encourage a connection with God the way Reverend Hong does.”
“I liked Reverend Yoon,” Jihoon mumbled in response.
“That’s not the point,” you spat. “The point is that it’s not wrong for me to want to speak to my pastor.”
Jihoon sighed and said, “You know what, I’m going home.”
“Fine,” you said as Jihoon left.
Once you heard Jihoon pull away, you plopped onto your couch and sighed. He’d been so controlling lately, you didn’t think that you wanted to be with him anymore. The realization hit you like a brick, but once you had the thought, it wouldn’t leave your mind. So, you did what you always did. You prayed, and when you finally stood up to go about the rest of your day, you knew exactly what you needed to do.
The decision to leave Jihoon hadn’t been an easy one to make, but it was what you knew needed to happen. The only problem was that you didn’t know how, so you decided to get some advice after church. You arrived for service with your parents and boyfriend like usual, but instead of going right to your seat, you went to the front of the church to find Reverend Hong. When he saw you, he smiled and said, “Hi! How are you today?”
“I’m doing well, Reverend. Thank you for asking,” you answered as you tried to maintain your composure. “Can I speak to you about something after service?”
“Of course. Is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine. I just need some guidance on a personal matter.”
“I understand. Come see me after service, and we’ll pray together. See what God calls you to do after that. Then, we’ll see when we can discuss further if you need additional advice.”
“Wonderful. Thank you so much, Reverend.”
“It’s no problem.”
“I still appreciate it,” you replied before leaving to find Jihoon.
When you found your boyfriend and sat down next to him, you noticed that he seemed frustrated. You wanted to ask him why, but before you could, the service began, so you decided to talk to him after you saw Reverend Hong. In the meantime, you would enjoy another service.
After the sermon and closing prayer, you asked Jihoon to wait for you outside the church. He agreed, and you approached Reverend Hong. There were a number of people already speaking to him, so you waited patiently and thought about how you wanted to approach the conversation when you asked him for advice. You didn’t want to sound disrespectful, but you also knew that downplaying the way that Jihoon treated you wouldn’t help you, so you chose to just be honest.
You were so focused on deciding what to say, you didn’t hear Reverend Hong calling your name at first. You didn’t even realize he was trying to get your attention until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jumped at the sudden contact, and Reverend Hong said, “I’m so sorry I startled you. Are you alright? You seemed like your mind was elsewhere.”
“I’m ok, Reverend. I was a bit lost in thought; I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you were trying to get my attention.”
“It’s alright. Now, what did you want to talk about?”
With a sigh, you quietly answered, “I’ve been struggling a bit with my relationship. I love my boyfriend, but he doesn’t act like he loves me unless I’m doing something that benefits him or behaving the way that he thinks that I should.” It was a lie at that point to say that you loved Jihoon, but you didn’t think Reverend Hong needed to know that.
“What do you mean by ‘the way he thinks that you should?’”
“Well, there are times that he tells me I’m not acting like a godly woman, and if I don’t meet his standards, he acts like we aren’t even together. The way he treats me is so confusing.”
Reverend Hong looked like he was troubled by your admission, but he quickly shook his head and changed his expression to a soft smile before he said, “Have you ever tried to talk to him about the way that he treats you?”
You nodded and said, “He doesn’t listen, but I have tried. I think I need to leave him, but I don’t know how to start the conversation.”
“Well, that’s what we’ll pray about, then. Would that be ok?” he asked. You nodded, and he took your hands in his and bowed his head. You did the same, and he started to pray that God would give you the strength to communicate your needs and walk away from a relationship that was hurting you.
Once Reverend Hong was done praying, you looked up at him and smiled before you said, “Thank you.”
“No problem. Let me know how the conversation goes, and if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to come find me.”
“I appreciate that more than you know, Reverend. Have a blessed day.”
You left the sanctuary to look for Jihoon, and when you found him, he was laughing and talking with his best friend, Seokmin. Your boyfriend looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, and you almost felt guilty for interrupting his time with his friend. So, you waited for them to notice you instead of saying something. You didn’t have to wait long though, since shortly after you made your way over, Jihoon looked at you with a smile and said, “Hi, honey. Are you ok?”
“I’m ok. I just wanted to talk to people before we left.”
“Is everything ok? You look upset,” Seokmin asked.
You smiled at your boyfriend’s friend and said, “I’m ok, ‘Min. I just wanted to ask Reverend Hong to pray with me about something.”
Your boyfriend soured immediately at the mention of Reverend Hong and said, “I think we should go. Are you ready, honey?” You nodded, and he turned to his friend and said, “Bye, Seokmin.”
“Bye, guys!” Seokmin replied with a smile. You waved in response, and Jihoon practically dragged you out of the church and into his car.
Once you were in the car, Jihoon asked, “Why the hell did you go to Reverend Hong for advice and not me?”
“I was asking him for advice because there’s something that I wanted to talk to you about, but I didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”
“What is it?”
With a sigh, you answered, “The way you treat me hurts a lot. It’s like you only love me when I’m acting the way that you want me to.”
Jihoon was quiet for a minute before he answered, “That’s not true.”
“Then I wish you wouldn’t act like it,” you mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Then I wish you wouldn’t act like it,” you repeated, slightly louder this time.
“How do I act like it?”
“I try to kiss your cheek, and you move away from me. I tell you that I love you, and you’re silent in response. You tell me what to do, what to say, and how to act, and if I don’t meet those standards, it’s like I’m nothing to you. I love you, but I’m tired.”
“And you chose to handle those feelings by going to someone else first and then telling me that there was a problem?”
“Jihoon, what is with you? I asked someone that I respect for advice because I wanted this conversation to be productive.”
“Do you respect him more than you respect me?”
With a sigh, you answered, “No.”
“Then don’t act like you do.”
“You know what? I’m just gonna say it. I’m done. We’re over.”
“Really? Because I’m not doing exactly what you want? In a true Biblical relationship, the-”
“Jihoon, I don’t want to hear it. We’re done.”
Just as you said the words, Jihoon arrived at your apartment. So, you got out of his car, went inside, and immediately blocked his number. Then, you curled up in a ball on your couch and cried. Sure, you knew that your relationship with Jihoon was long over by the time you actually talked to him, but the realization that he would never love you the way you used to love him was still painful.
The following Sunday, you arrived at church alone and once again approached Reverend Hong before service finding your seat. When he saw you, he smiled and said, “Hi! How are you doing today?”
You felt like you were about to break down in tears, but you still forced a half smile and said, “I’m doing ok. Thank you for asking, Reverend. Would it be alright to speak with you again after service today?”
“Of course. Is it related to what we prayed about last week?”
You nodded and said, “The conversation didn’t go as well as I would have hoped.”
Reverend Hong put his hand on your shoulder and said, “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m happy to help however you need me to.”
“Thank you. I should go find my seat now, but I’ll see you after service.”
You quickly turned to find your seat, and the service began. You honestly didn’t pay attention through most of it, but you immediately perked up when Reverend Hong said, “Hello, everyone. I’d like to begin today’s sermon by speaking to the brokenhearted among us. In Psalm 34, verse 18, the Bible says, ‘The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ Trust me when I say that I know it can be difficult, but it’s important to remember that God is always with us, no matter how much pain we’re in. Trust Him and allow Him to carry your burdens.”
You started to tear up as he spoke, and you thought about what he said through the lens of your own recent experiences. You thought about how God had always gotten you through challenging times in your life, and you found peace in the knowledge that He could and would do it again. Sure, you were hurting, but you knew that you would heal. You always did.
When the service was over, you approached Reverend Hong and waited for him to finish talking to other members of the church that had gotten to him before you. As you waited, you couldn’t help but notice the kind way that he spoke to everyone that approached him and the gentle smile on his face as he answered questions and gave advice like it was his highest calling. When it was your turn, you moved closer to him and said, “Hello, Reverend. Thank you for speaking with me today.”
“You’re welcome. How did everything go? Did you talk to your boyfriend?”
“Yes, and we broke up,” you answered, fighting back tears as you spoke.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Would you like to pray together?” he asked. You nodded, and he took your hands in his before he prayed for God to guide you in your healing journey and send you someone that would treat you with love and respect when the time was right, if that was what you wanted. After he ended the prayer, he let go of your hands and looked at you before he said, “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m happy to help you in whatever way I can.”
“Thank you, Reverend. That means a lot to me.”
“It’s no problem at all.”
There was a brief moment of silence before you asked, “Would it be possible to speak about this more another time? There are some specific things that I’m struggling with, but I don’t want them to be overheard.”
“Of course. I’m free this Saturday if that works for you.”
“It does.”
After that, the two of you discussed a time to meet at his apartment and exchanged numbers. Then he texted you his address before he said, “I hope that you find the peace and healing that you need.”
“Thank you so much, Reverend. Have a wonderful day.”
After the conversation with Reverend Hong, you found that you already felt better about the end of your relationship with Jihoon. Sure, you still sort of missed him, but you knew that in the end, everything would be ok. After all, when you left the church and got back to your apartment, you felt noticeably lighter, and you silently thanked God for sending Reverend Hong to your church.
As the week went by, you realized that you were more nervous than you thought you would be to actually go to Reverend Hong’s house. Sure, you knew that he just wanted to help you, but you couldn’t shake the anxiety that bubbled up if you thought about the meeting for too long. It was strange, really. You never felt nervous to see or speak to him at church. But, in the end, you chalked your nerves up to the anxiety that always comes with visiting someone’s home for the first time and decided to ignore it as much as you could.
When Saturday finally arrived, you felt more nervous than you’d been all week. Despite your anxiety, however, you tried to be hopeful that talking to Reverend Hong would help you feel better. After all, it was nice to have someone in your corner.
When you were ready to leave, you put the address that Reverend Hong had given you the previous Sunday into your phone’s GPS and drove to his apartment. Once you arrived, you softly knocked on the door, and he opened it with a smile before he said, “Hi. How are you doing today?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure, Reverend. How are you?”
“Please, there’s no need to be so formal when we’re not at the church. Call me Joshua.” There was a brief awkward silence before he said, “Come on in,” and moved out of the doorway.
When you walked into Joshua’s apartment, you couldn’t help but notice how cozy everything was. Bookshelves filled with different versions of the Bible as well as various comic books and novels that you didn’t recognize lined the living room. The couch looked soft and inviting, the deep brown color reminding you of coffee. Everything about it made you feel at home.
You were so distracted by your admiration of Joshua’s space that you didn’t realize he was speaking until he tapped your shoulder and asked, “Is everything ok?”
You jumped at the sudden contact and answered, “I’m fine. I was just admiring the way you’ve decorated. The whole place feels so cozy and inviting.”
“Thank you. Would you like to sit?” You nodded, and he led you to the couch before he added, “So, what’s been going on?”
With a sigh, you answered, “I just don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, every relationship I’ve ever had has gone downhill at some point. When I was in high school, it was usually because I wasn’t interested in… certain activities,” you replied, hesitating when you remembered the boys you’d casually dated in high school. “Then, I started seeing Jihoon about a year and a half ago, and everything was perfect. At least, it was for the first few months.”
“What happened with Jihoon?”
With a sigh, you explained every detail of your relationship that you had hesitated to tell him before. You started with how sweet he was when the two of you first started dating and ended with how he didn’t even treat you like a friend anymore after a while, much less his girlfriend. But you noticed Joshua’s expression shifting as you spoke, so you stopped yourself to say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overshare.”
“No, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that. Especially from someone that claimed to love you.”
“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“I don’t think you did anything wrong. I think the only thing ‘wrong’ is your taste in men,” he said with a laugh.
You sighed and responded, “I guess you’re right. I don’t know what to do about that, though.”
“Well, we could start by praying, if you’d like.”
You smiled softly and said, “That sounds lovely.”
With that, Joshua took your hands in his and prayed that God would guide you in the right direction and help you find a man that would treat you with love and respect, if you wanted a relationship. Once the prayer ended, he turned to you and asked, “Do you feel better?”
You nodded and said, “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me. It’s my job as a pastor to provide support when someone in my congregation needs it.”
“That doesn’t mean that I can’t show appreciation.”
“I guess you’re right,” he said with a gentle smile. After a brief silence, he added, “I could also give you a few Bible verses that I think would help you, if you’d like.”
“I’d love that.”
“Wait here.”
You were puzzled when Joshua stood up and left the room, but when he came back with 2 small pieces of paper and a pen, you realized he was probably writing down the verses for you. Your guess was confirmed when you saw him pull one of the many Bibles that he owned off of a bookshelf and open it to a seemingly random page. After that, he wrote something down, flipped to another page, and started writing again. After both verses were written down, he handed you both sheets of paper. You carefully took them from him, and when you looked at the first one, you saw the following written in the most elegant handwriting you’d ever seen:
“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice, but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7”
You very carefully folded the first piece of paper and put it into your pocket before turning your attention to the second. The writing on the second piece of paper said:
“Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10”
You looked back up at Joshua, and he smiled before he said, “I thought that those two verses specifically would be good reminders of what to look for in a partner. Someone that truly treats you like they love you and helps you when you need someone to lean on is more valuable than gold, in my opinion.”
“Those are definitely good qualities to look for.”
There was a brief but comfortable silence before Joshua asked, “Would you like to stay for dinner tonight? I’m not having anything fancy, just leftovers from last night, but you seem like you could use the company.”
“Thank you. Dinner sounds wonderful.”
With that, Joshua stood up and left his living room to reheat dinner for the two of you. While you waited, you thought about the verses that you’d been given, and you did find some comfort when you felt the two small pieces of paper in your pocket.
You were pulled out of your thoughts by Joshua’s voice asking, “Are you ready to eat?” You nodded, and he added, “Come with me,” gesturing for you to follow him into the dining room.
While the two of you ate together, you discussed your personal histories with your faith, and every minute only increased your respect for Joshua. He was clearly a man of God, and you were grateful that you had a leader like him in your community. As he shared the story of how he decided to go into ministry, you couldn’t help but get the slightest bit emotional.
Every minute of your conversation made you feel safer with Joshua. He seemed to hang onto every word as you told stories from your childhood and teenage years that solidified your faith in God, and after a conversation about your favorite stories from the Bible, he smiled and said, “You really know what you’re talking about.”
“Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”
The two of you continued to talk well into the night, but eventually, you did have to leave. After all, you would need to be awake at a reasonable hour the next morning so that you could get ready for church. So, after you thanked Joshua for having you in his home, you drove back to your apartment, once again silently thanking God for sending a man like Joshua to your community.
For the next several months after that first visit, you and Joshua met regularly, either at your apartment or his, to read from the Bible together and discuss whatever the subject of his sermon was that Sunday. Sure, you didn’t necessarily need his advice on anything, but you enjoyed hearing his perspective, and having something besides church to look forward to on weekends really helped your mood.
As time went on, however, you found yourself struggling to pay attention during your discussions. Instead of thinking about the words that Joshua said, you found yourself thinking about the way his voice sounded and how attractive he looked when he was focused on finding a specific passage from the Bible. You spent more time than you wanted to admit thinking about how it would feel for him to kiss you, to hold you, and to take you to places you’d never been before.
You knew that it was wrong to think the way you did, especially about your pastor, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. So, you decided to pray. Every night, you begged God to help you figure out a way to get the inappropriate thoughts out of your mind, and every day, you realized that the answer to your prayer was a firm “no” for reasons you didn’t understand.
Since prayer didn’t help in the way that you’d hoped it would, you decided to try reading from your Bible more. Every day, you made time for personal Bible study, and while you were actively studying, you were able to focus on something other than the sinful thoughts of Joshua that plagued your every other waking moment. As soon as you were done, though, the thoughts would return, and you’d go right back to feeling hopeless and guilty.
Not knowing what else to do, you decided to call Joshua and ask him if you could come over the next time he wasn’t busy for some advice on a personal matter. He happily agreed, and you thanked him before you hung up the phone, ready to face the situation head-on.
The agreed-upon day finally came, and you felt like you were going to cry for the entire drive to Joshua’s apartment. Still, you knew that you had to go. After all, you couldn’t get the advice that you needed from him if you didn’t ask in the first place. So, with a deep breath, you knocked on the door. A few seconds later, he opened the door and smiled before he said, “Lovely to see you! How are you today?”
“I’ve been better. Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Joshua stepped out of the way long enough for you to step into his apartment, and once you were inside and the door was shut, he asked, “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”
“Before I actually tell you what’s going on, I just want to say that I am so, so sorry.”
“Listen to me. Whatever it is, I’m here to provide support and guidance,” he said as he took a seat on his couch and patted the spot next to him. “Now, what’s troubling you?”
You sat on the couch next to him, and your heart started to race. Whether it was due to attraction or anxiety, you had no idea. Still, you tried to take deep breaths to calm down before you looked at him and said, “I’ve been struggling with inappropriate thoughts lately.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Why are you apologizing to me?”
You really wanted to leave and never face Joshua again, but you’d come too far to go back. So, with another deep breath, you added, “They’re about you.” His eyes widened at your admission, and you said, “I’m sorry, I know that it’s-”
Joshua softened when he heard your apology and said, “Sweetheart, listen to me. Ok?” The pet name took you by surprise, but you still nodded, and he continued, “There is nothing wrong with the way you feel. It’s normal to think that way about someone.”
Quietly, you asked, “Are you mad at me?”
“Not at all. Can I admit something to you too?”
“What is it?”
“I think about you the same way.”
“Really?”
“Of course, sweetpea. How could I not?”
“I don’t know. I just felt bad about thinking about you in that way. Especially because the thoughts usually happen during our Bible studies.”
“My dear, there’s nothing to feel bad about. If God didn’t want us to feel attracted to people, He wouldn’t have given us the ability to feel attraction in the first place. It’s ok.”
You relaxed significantly when Joshua reassured you and said, “Thank you for not judging me or telling me that I’m wrong.”
“I’ll never judge you, sweetheart,” Joshua said as he placed his hand on your shoulder. You opened your mouth to say something in response, but in the end, you decided against it. He must have noticed because he added, “What’s on your mind?”
“I was thinking about kissing you again,” you mumbled.
“Again?” Joshua asked, clearly enjoying how embarrassed you felt.
You nodded and quietly answered, “I daydream about it sometimes.”
“Well, why don’t we make those daydreams a reality?”
You nodded, and he leaned closer to you. You leaned in too, and before you knew it, your lips met his. The kiss was soft at first, with neither of you sure how far you should go, but in a matter of minutes, the air in the room shifted. The way he kissed you started to feel hungry, for lack of a better way to describe it. You knew that you probably should have been ashamed of the way you felt as he kissed you, but you weren’t. Instead, all you could think about was how good his lips felt against yours and how badly you wanted the moment to last forever.
At some point, Joshua pulled away to give you a chance to breathe. As you caught your breath, he looked at you with something you couldn’t quite identify in his eyes and asked, “Can we try something, angel?”
“What is it?”
“Sit on my lap.”
You hesitantly did as you were told, and you felt something unfamiliar rubbing against you. You weren’t upset, though, and based on the sigh that slipped from Joshua’s mouth as you settled into a comfortable position on top of him, he wasn’t either.
Once you were settled, he looked up at you and asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then will you let me help you?”
“What do you mean? I thought that you said that it’s normal to feel this way.”
“It absolutely is normal, sweetheart. I just meant that I could help you get some relief if you’d like.”
You thought about what he said for a moment before you said, “Ok.”
Joshua smiled at you and placed his hands on your hips. Then, he asked, “Are you sure that you want to do this?”
With a sigh, you nodded and said, “I’m sure. I trust you.”
“Then can you start moving your hips for me?”
You slowly started to move back and forth, with Joshua’s hands on your hips guiding you and setting a slow but steady pace. The feeling between your legs as you moved was unfamiliar, but you loved it. It was a kind of pleasure that you’d never experienced before, and as you started to lose yourself in that pleasure, you couldn’t help but wonder if Joshua would help you experience it again.
Shortly after you started, a soft moan slipped out of your mouth, and you abruptly stopped and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“Don’t apologize. It’s ok. I promise. It felt good, right?” You nodded, and he said, “Keep going, sweetpea. I wanna hear more of those sweet little sounds.”
Hesitantly, you did as you were told. In a matter of minutes, though, your hesitation melted away, and the only thing left was pleasure. As you rocked your hips back and forth, Joshua bucked his hips up to meet yours, groaning softly and whispering soft praises into your ear.
“You look so pretty on top of me, angel,” he said with a sigh. “I wish you could see just how beautiful you are.”
You wanted to be embarrassed by the way your body reacted to his words, but you didn’t care nearly enough about what you should have been feeling to be ashamed. All you cared about was how good Joshua made you feel and how happy you were that he thought about you the same way you thought about him. You were also more relieved than you could put into words that he didn’t think that you were wrong for thinking about him that way like you’d expected him to.
As you continued to rock your hips back and forth, an unfamiliar feeling started to build in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to ask Joshua what the feeling was and what to do about it, but before you could get the words out, your whole body tensed as a wave of unbelievable pleasure washed over you, loud moans falling from your lips as you lost yourself in the feeling.
As you caught your breath, you found yourself thinking about just how badly you wanted to do the things that you just did again and again. The desire that had taken center stage in your mind was still pretty new to you, and you were certain that if you were of a clearer mind you’d be ashamed of yourself, but you already found yourself addicted to the pleasure that Joshua gave you.
You snapped out of your thoughts when Joshua said, “Hey, stay with me, baby. Are you ok?”
“I’m ok. I was just thinking.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I really wanna do that again.”
With a soft smile, Joshua cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again. Without meaning to, you started to move your hips back and forth again, and he pulled away just long enough to say, “Calm down, sweetheart. Plenty of time for more of that later. But first, there’s something else that I’d like to try. Would that be ok?” You nodded, and he added, “I want you to get on your knees for me, angel.”
You scrambled to follow his instructions before you looked up at him and asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Well, how do you feel about sucking my cock?”
Suddenly feeling shy, you looked down and mumbled, “I’ve never done that before.”
“I know, dove. That’s why I’m going to teach you how, as long as you want me to.” You hesitated to respond to that, though, so he placed his hand under your chin and lifted your face so that the two of you were making eye contact again before he asked, “Do you want me to?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Are you sure, dove? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
With a deep breath, you answered, “I’m sure. I want to do this with you. I trust you.”
“Promise me that you’d tell me if you didn’t want it.”
“I promise.”
“Good girl.”
Joshua’s words and the sweet way that he said them made you feel giddy in a way that you weren’t used to, and it made you want nothing more than to make him happy. Sure, you were nervous, but you meant it when you said that you trusted him, so you were happy to do whatever he asked, especially if you could make him feel the way that he’d made you feel.
With a loving smile on his face, he gestured to his pants and said, “Go ahead and unbutton these, dove.”
You did as you were told, and he stood up to fully remove the pesky clothing. When you finally saw him bare from the waist down, you were hit with a fresh wave of nervousness, but the same desire that had gotten you to this point was what helped you move past it. With a flirty smile, you looked up at Joshua again and asked, “What should I do now?”
“Just slowly take it into your mouth, angel.” Slowly, you wrapped your lips around him, and he added, “Good girl. Now slowly move your head up and down.”
You happily did as you were told, wanting nothing more in that moment than to please Joshua. As you bobbed your head, you found yourself struggling to not gag, but you were willing to fight the feeling for as long as you could. Especially with the sweet moans and grunts that fell from Joshua’s lips as he told you how good your lips felt around him.
“Fuck, just like that, baby. You’re doing so good for me,” he groaned as he started to gently thrust into your mouth.
Of course, as soon as you started to wonder what else was going to happen, Joshua groaned and said, “I’m close, dove.”
You briefly considered stopping and asking Joshua what to do, but before you could, he grabbed your head and held you in place while a warm, slightly bitter fluid filled your mouth, and a series of loud moans and curses fell from his. Once you were sure that it had stopped, you looked up at him as if to ask what to do next. Noticing the confusion on your face, he took a deep breath and said, “Swallow it, baby.”
You once again did what you were told, took a series of deep breaths, and said, “That was fun.”
After Joshua caught his breath, he carefully helped you up and said, “Come here, angel.” Once you were standing again, he immediately pulled you into a hug and added, “Can I admit something else?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“I really want more than this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I want more from this, from you, than just ‘finding relief.’ I want an actual relationship with you.”
You lit up at his words and asked, “You do?”
“Of course I do, baby. I wouldn’t have done those things with you if I didn’t want something more.”
You were quiet for a minute before you asked, “Does this mean that we’re together now?”
“Only if you want it to.”
“I really do.”
“Then yes, it does.”
You smiled and kissed him again, elated that your discussion with him had gone better than you ever could have hoped. When you pulled away, you smiled and said, “Today has been a lot of fun.”
“I’m happy to hear that, angel.” There was a moment of silence before Joshua added, “Are you feeling ok? Regarding everything that we did earlier, I mean.”
You nodded and said, “I was definitely nervous, but I loved every second of it. Honestly, I kind of want to do it again.”
Joshua laughed softly before he responded, “As fun as that sounds, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” You pouted, and he added, “I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed, dove.”
You were still disappointed, but you understood. So, you said, “Ok. Thank you for looking out for me,” and pulled him into a hug.
“I’ll always look out for you, sweetheart.”
There was a brief moment of silence before you asked, “Can we cuddle?”
“Of course, baby,” he answered. “Do you wanna stay here and sit on the couch or go lie in bed?”
You hesitated before you responded, “Bed?”
“Ok. Come with me.”
Joshua let go of you briefly, and you opened your mouth to complain, but you changed your mind when he took your hand to lead you to his bedroom. With a smile, you said, “Your room looks so cozy.”
“Thanks,” he responded with a shy smile before lying down on his bed. Once he was settled, he reached his arm out to pull you into bed with him, and you laughed as you landed next to him. When he turned to see you staring at him with a gentle smile on your face, still laughing softly, the thought entered his mind that your laughter was even more beautiful than your moans, if that was even possible.
With his own dopey grin, he said, “Come here, baby,” and held his arms out to you. You moved closer, and he wrapped his arms around you while you put your head on his chest. Once you were settled, he asked, “Is this what you wanted, dove?”
You nodded and said, “This is nice.”
“Good. That was the goal.”
While you relaxed in Joshua’s arms, the two of you talked and got to know each other better. While you talked, you found yourself feeling tired, and you knew that you would probably need to go home soon. Almost immediately after you had that thought, however, you fell asleep.
The next morning, you panicked when you noticed that there was another person in your bed. You briefly relaxed when you rolled over and realized that you were lying next to Joshua, but once you started to remember the events of the day before, you panicked all over again. You rushed to get out of bed, but before you could get very far, Joshua pulled you closer before he said, “Just five more minutes, baby. Please?”
“But I need to go. I-”
“Where do you have to go?”
You hesitated before you answered, “Well, nowhere today, but I’ve never-”
Joshua could tell that you were stressed, so he started to rub your back and said, “Baby, it’s ok. Deep breaths, ok?”
You did what he asked before you said, “I’ve never spent the night at a boyfriend’s place before. I swear that I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“Angel, there is nothing to apologize for. I kind of figured that you didn’t mean to fall asleep. It was cute, though.”
Surprised by the compliment, you asked, “Really?”
“Of course. Everything you do is cute.”
You pouted in response to the compliment and responded, “Well you’re cuter.”
“Do you really wanna play that game with me, baby?” You went quiet after that, and he laughed softly before he added, “I love you.”
You were surprised that Joshua said that he loved you so soon, but you couldn’t really say that you were upset. After all, the way you felt about Joshua was already so much more intense than anything you’d ever felt for another person before. So, you reached out to play with his hair as you said, “I love you too.”
A few weeks after you and Joshua made your relationship official, the two of you planned for him to show up at your apartment early so that the two of you could spend some extra time together before he had to be at the church. So, you got up early and got ready, daydreaming about what you wanted to do with him while you waited for him to arrive.
Initially, you struggled to decide on an outfit, but in the end, you settled on a soft pink dress and matching flats that you found in the bottom of your closet. Once you were dressed, you admired yourself in the mirror until you heard a knock on the door.
“Hi, baby,” you said as you opened the door.
Joshua stared at you with what you could only describe as awe as he said, “Hi, angel. You look gorgeous today. Is that the dress you’re wearing to church?”
“Yep! Do you like it?” you asked, twirling to show it off.
“I really do, dove.”
With a smile, you moved out of the way so that Joshua could come in and asked, “Is there anything specific you wanna do to pass the time?” You had a few ideas when you saw Joshua all dressed up, but you weren’t sure how to ask for what you wanted. So, you stayed quiet, at least at first.
“I am too. What do you wanna do until we have to leave?”
“I’m not sure. Do you have any ideas?”
“I was thinking about a few things earlier, but I don’t want to do too much right before we have to leave.”
“Well, what were you thinking about?”
“This,” he answered before he pulled you as close as he possibly could and kissed you. You melted into his touch, and you were so distracted by the way his lips felt on yours, you almost didn’t notice his hand moving from your waist down to your ass. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t squeezed softly, earning a gasp from you. With a soft smile, he pulled away slightly and said, “You’re so cute.”
You didn’t respond at first, but after you took a few deep breaths, you collected yourself enough to mumble, “I really liked that.”
“Oh, really?” he asked. You nodded, and he chuckled and said, “You’re so cute, dove.”
Without thinking about it, you asked, “Can I touch you?”
“Maybe later, baby,” he answered, surprised by the question. You pouted, and he added, “I just don’t want you overwhelmed before church. Besides, I don’t know if we have time for that before we have to leave.”
“What about after?”
“We’ll talk after.”
“Ok. I love you.”
“I love you too, angel.”
A few minutes later, the two of you left for church, and Joshua’s hand was on your thigh for the entire ride. You definitely weren’t complaining, though. You loved the way his hand felt as he carefully moved it back and forth, and you liked how intimate the seemingly insignificant gesture felt. The only problem was that you kept getting distracted by thoughts of him touching you somewhere else.
You were so lost in your thoughts of the things that you wanted to do after church, you didn’t even notice that you had arrived until Joshua moved his hand from your thigh and asked, “Are you ready to go in, angel?”
“I guess,” you answered, the disinterest in your voice apparent.
“What’s wrong, sweetpea?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just kinda don’t wanna do this today.”
“I understand, baby. Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have picked you up if I’d known.”
“I didn’t say anything because I still wanted to see you. I just don’t wanna sit through service today.”
“I really wish you’d said something. I could’ve figured something else out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, nothing to be sorry for, dove. Just tell me next time, ok?” You nodded in response, and he added, “Thank you.”
“Are you ready?”
“Just a second. Can I ask you something, dove?”
“Of course.
“You seem a bit distracted,” Joshua said. “Is there something on your mind?”
You hesitated for a minute before you answered, “I’d rather be doing something else right now.”
“I have a feeling I know what it is that you want to do, but I still wanna hear you say it. So, what would you rather be doing right now?”
“Touching you.”
“Maybe after service, ok?”
“Ok.”
“Now, are you ready to go inside?” he asked. You nodded, and he said, “Ok, then let’s go.”
You and Joshua got out of his car and walked into the church, where everyone was happy to see both of you. It was kind of funny, really. No one cared to even say hello to you for most of the time you’d attended that church, but now that you were dating the pastor, you could hardly walk two steps without someone stopping you to say hello and ask how you were doing. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded the conversation, since you loved interacting with people, but that day, you were just so tired and really didn’t want to be there.
Joshua definitely noticed that you weren’t feeling well, and he tried to draw attention away from you wherever he could. To someone on the outside looking in, he would have seemed jealous and self-centered, whisking everyone that so much as said hello to you away and dominating the conversation. You knew better, though. In between greeting members of the congregation, he made sure to check in on you, something you greatly appreciated. He didn’t verbally ask you if you were ok, but he didn’t need to. All he had to do was take one good look at you, and he could gauge how you were feeling, at least when it came to your social battery.
By the time the service was actually ready to start, you were noticeably more relaxed. You were smiling more, your responses to questions and greetings were much less blunt, and you were more involved with conversations. As you and Joshua walked to your seats at the front of the church, you squeezed his hand, a silent expression of gratitude for looking out for you. He squeezed your hand again in response, a quiet acknowledgement that he understood.
The service itself was incredibly dull. Even Joshua’s sermon, which was about having healthy relationships as Christians, did nothing to keep you from getting bored as you waited for the socially acceptable time to leave to finally arrive. No one in the church would be able to tell that you were bored, though, except maybe Joshua, but only because you’d told him before service. As far as the rest of the congregation knew, you were the same good girl you’d always been, listening eagerly to the things that your pastor said.
When service finally ended, you immediately found Joshua, hoping to leave with him as quickly as possible. Of course, before you could go home, though, there were a number of people that wanted to speak with your boyfriend, either because they wanted to share their thoughts on the sermon or because they had a personal matter that they wanted guidance on. You wanted to be annoyed by the series of delays, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset. After all, he took such care to address every question and concern with nothing but love, reassuring everyone that he spoke to and praying with them if they asked. Even the handful of children that approached him were treated with respect and dignity, like Joshua viewed their questions as just as important as the questions the adults in the congregation had.
Every moment watching Joshua interact with the people in your community made you fall more in love with him.
You were so lost in your thoughts; you almost didn’t notice that Joshua was calling your name. Once you snapped back to reality, you turned to face him with a smile, and he asked, “Are you ready to go?” You nodded, and he took your hand to lead you back to his car.
The ride home was mostly silent, with both of you too tired to fill the empty space around you with conversation. Joshua’s hand still rested comfortably on your thigh, however, and the seemingly small gesture did help you relax.
When Joshua pulled up to your apartment, you broke the comfortable silence that had formed during the ride and asked, “Would you like to stay for a bit?”
“Are you sure?”
You nodded and answered, “I’d really like some more time with you before you have to go home.”
“I think that sounds great, angel.”
With that, you and Joshua walked into your apartment together. The moment your front door was shut, you pulled him into a tight hug and said, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
After he let go, you led Joshua to your couch, sat down, and asked, “What do you wanna do?” You hoped you didn’t sound as nervous as you felt, but considering how good Joshua already was at reading you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he could tell.
Joshua pretended to think for a minute before he said, “I think you should pick what we do, baby.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and said, “I’m sure. What do you wanna do?”
You didn’t answer him verbally. Instead, you leaned closer and kissed him with everything you had. A soft noise of surprise left his mouth, but he relaxed pretty much immediately, tangling his hands in your hair as he deepened the kiss. A soft moan left your mouth, and you pulled away from him just enough to say, “I want you.”
“Oh really? What do you want from me, baby?” he asked, the teasing tone in his voice turning you on even more.
“Want you to touch me. Please?”
“How?”
“However you want. Just, please?”
“Patience, sweetheart. Do you want to do something we’ve already done, or do you want to do something different?” You mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear, so he said, “Speak up, love. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.”
“Wanna try something different.”
“What do you wanna try?” You were quiet after that, so he added, “Do you want my fingers? Do you want my tongue? Do you want my cock?”
A soft whine slipped out before you whispered, “The last one.”
“Oh really, baby?” he asked. You nodded, and he gently placed his hand under your chin, lifting your head to make eye contact with him as he asked, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Baby, I’m being serious here. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“I know. I’m sure. I trust you.”
Joshua was amazed by how much you trusted him already.
“As long as you’re sure. If you change your mind at any point, though, I need you to tell me. Ok, angel?”
“I will. I promise.”
“Good girl,” he replied before he kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, if that was even possible. When he pulled away from the kiss, you whined softly, and he asked, “Should we take this to your room, baby?” You nodded, and he laughed softly before he said, “Use your words, dove.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” you mumbled.
“Then lead the way, darling.”
You hesitantly took Joshua’s hand and led him to your bedroom. Once you were there, though, and Joshua’s lips found their way to your neck, any lingering hesitation was completely replaced by arousal. Soft moans slipped out of your mouth as he kissed and bit every inch of you he could comfortably reach, and once the desire that coursed through your veins was too much to bear, you whined, “Please do something.”
“I am doing something, sweetpea,” he teased.
“Want more,” you begged.
Joshua pretended to contemplate his options for a moment before he said, “Alright, baby. Can you take your clothes off for me?”
You nodded and did what you were asked, because of course you did. You were more turned on than you ever thought possible in that moment, and all you wanted was to make the man that you loved happy.
Once you were standing in front of him, naked and desperate, you mumbled, "Want you."
"I know, baby," Joshua replied as he rid himself of his own clothing. "Lie down on the bed."
You scrambled to follow his instructions, and once you were comfortable, he carefully climbed on top of you. When he was sure that you were ready, he slowly entered you.
To say the feeling of Joshua's cock inside of you was jarring would have been a vast understatement. Still, you didn't exactly dislike the feeling, especially once he started thrusting.
Joshua started out slowly at first, letting you adjust to the feeling, which you appreciated. Sure, you’d had a vague idea of how sex worked before you met Joshua, but you had no idea how it was supposed to feel, really. Now that you were actually experiencing it, you couldn’t help but think that Joshua’s cock inside you was one of your favorite feelings in the world.
Soft whines slipped out as the pleasure started to build, and Joshua kissed you before he said, “You feel so good, baby. Knew you would.”
“Want more,” you pleaded.
“What do you want, baby?” he asked as he stopped his thrusts.
“Don’t know,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “Just know I want more.”
“Aww, poor baby,” he said, laughing when you pouted. “Don’t worry, sweetpea. I’ll give you everything you want and more, I promise.”
With that, he started thrusting again, and the room was mostly silent as both of you got lost in how good you felt. When Joshua started to pick up the pace, though? You could barely contain the sounds that started to increase in volume and pitch.
“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Joshua said with a loud groan. “I’m gonna fucking marry you one day, I swear.”
You moaned loudly and choked out, “Please,” too lost in how he felt inside you to fully process what he was saying.
Joshua fucked into you harder as he said, “Can’t wait for you to be my gorgeous little wife. Maybe one day I’ll give you a baby too. How does that sound, angel?”
“Please. Want it so bad. Love you so much,” you whined, clenching around him.
“I love you too, baby. Fuck, I’m close.”
Before you could say another word, Joshua pulled out of you, cum hitting your stomach as he moaned your name. Without really meaning to, you whined at the loss, and he chucked softly, admiring you as he caught his breath.
“I have an idea,” Joshua said as he climbed off of you and sat on your bed. “Can you sit on my lap, angel?”
You nodded as you followed his instructions, and once you were comfortable, you asked, “Like this?”
Joshua shook his head and carefully moved you so that you were straddling one of his thighs before he asked, “Do you remember what we did a few weeks ago?”
“Yes? I think so. When I was on your lap?”
“Yes, exactly. Do you wanna do that again?” he asked. You nodded, and he said, “Go ahead, my darling.”
With no further hesitation, you started to move back and forth, with Joshua placing his hands on your hips to guide you. Every moment sent sparks of pleasure through you, and you knew that you weren’t gonna last much longer.
Almost right on cue, the now familiar heat in the pit of your stomach started to build, and you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer. You tried to warn Joshua, but before you could, you came undone on top of him, holding onto the man you loved while pleasure coursed through your veins.
After you caught your breath, you carefully climbed off of Joshua, and he helped you clean up and put fresh clothes on. Then, once you were both dressed and comfortable again, you quietly asked, “Do you wanna stay the night?”
“Are you sure, baby? I don’t want to upset you again.”
“It’s ok, really,” you said. “I was just embarrassed last time." There was a brief silence before you mumbled, "I want you to stay."
"Ok, then I'll stay."
"Thank you. I love you."
"I love you too, dove."
With that, the two of you left the bedroom, going to the kitchen to cook an early dinner together. After you finished eating, he helped you clean the kitchen, and the two of you spent the rest of the night enjoying each other’s presence.
After your first time with Joshua, you felt like a completely different person. Not a bad kind of different, but different nonetheless. Before you met him, you never would have even considered sex before getting married. But when you were with Joshua, it was almost like you didn’t care anymore. You trusted him more than you’d ever trusted another person before, and that meant you were more than willing to test your limits when you were with him, even if you’d been told your whole life that the things you did together were sinful.
A few months into your relationship, you and Joshua found yourselves testing your limits once again at a church potluck. For the most part, everything was normal, with everyone in the congregation chatting about Joshua’s sermon earlier that morning while they enjoyed good food and good company. You enjoyed the sunny afternoon by sitting at a table outside of the church along with Joshua and a few of your mutual friends, and no one had a care in the world until you heard a disappointingly familiar voice ask, “How are you doing today?”
“I’m doing fine, Jihoon,” you answered halfheartedly as you turned toward the source of the voice.
“Do you have a few minutes to talk privately?” Jihoon asked, the nervousness he was feeling evident both in his voice and the look on his face.
“Is everything alright, Jihoon?” Joshua asked, visibly annoyed by your ex’s presence at your table.
“Everything is fine, Reverend. I just wanted to speak to her alone,” your ex answered, emphasizing the last word as he answered.
Joshua reached out and gently took your hand as he said, “I don’t believe that’s necessary.” It was a subtle gesture, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Jihoon. Or by you, for that matter. Whether it was the way he touched you with such care or the hint of frustration in his voice, or some combination of the two, you didn’t know. All you knew was that a feeling started to build in the pit of your stomach that was wildly inappropriate for where you were. Though, you had a feeling that Joshua would've loved it if you'd told him.
“Forgive me, Reverend, but I think that she should have the final say. Don’t you?” Jihoon asked before turning to look at you expectantly.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about, Jihoon,” you responded flatly. “It was nice to see you.”
Jihoon sighed and said, “It was nice to see you too,” giving you a halfhearted smile as he struggled to hide the frustration and disappointment that had replaced the nervousness he felt when he approached you. He still left you alone after that, though, which you were more grateful for than you could put into words.
Joshua, however, was clearly still angry, even after Jihoon walked away. So, you tried your best to distract him with silly conversations and plenty of touches that certainly toed the line of appropriateness but didn’t cross it obviously enough for the two of you to get in trouble. At first, you worried that you were pushing too far, but when you watched Joshua struggle to maintain his composure as you laughed at one of his jokes, you knew you had him right where he wanted you.
A few minutes after Jihoon walked away, Yewon, youth pastor Kwon’s wife, approached your table and asked, “Reverend Hong, is there another pack of paper plates somewhere? We’re getting low.”
“There should be some in the supply closet near the restrooms,” Joshua answered. “Would you like me to go get them?”
“Are you sure?” Yewon asked.
“Of course,” Joshua answered before he turned to you and asked, “Would you mind helping me look for them, my love?”
“Not at all,” you answered, happy to help your boyfriend.
“Thank you so much,” Yewon said before she walked away.
With a mischievous smile on his face, Joshua took your hand and said, “Let’s go get those plates.” That was when you started to get a feeling that something more would happen, but you weren’t sure if that was because of how he was acting or how badly you wanted him in that moment. Regardless of the reason, you stood up and let Joshua lead you into the church.
Once you found your way to the supply closet that Joshua had mentioned, he entered the cramped storage room, pulled you in behind him, and shut and locked the door. You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, his lips were on yours.
You melted into the kiss with a sigh, and Joshua wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. A soft whine slipped out as he deepened the kiss, and he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes and say, “You need to be quiet, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone to hear us doing this, do we? Especially here of all places.” You shook your head, and he answered, “That’s what I thought.”
“Wait, are we-”
“Only if you want to.”
A million thoughts ran through your mind, but only two words came out of your mouth. “Why here?”
“Because I need you,” he answered, his voice laced with desperation.
“Won’t we get in trouble if we get caught?” you asked.
“Oh, definitely. But that just means that we need to try not to get caught.”
It would have been a lie to say that you weren’t nervous about the situation you’d found yourself in, but it also would have been a lie to say that you weren’t incredibly excited and turned on. Since meeting Joshua, you’d had all kinds of new experiences, and in your mind, this was just another opportunity to try something new with the man you loved.
“Baby, are you ok? Do you not want-”
“I want to.”
“Are you sure? You seemed hesitant.”
“I’m a little nervous about it if I'm being honest, but if you think that it'll be ok, I trust you.”
“That’s my good girl.”
"All yours," you mumbled.
"Say it louder, sweetpea."
"I'm all yours," you said, this time with more conviction.
"Very good. Now, are you gonna keep being a good girl for me and take my cock?”
You nodded, and Joshua lifted your skirt and pulled your panties down. When you felt his tip brush against you, a soft whine slipped out of your mouth, and you heard him chuckle to himself.
"What did I say about being quiet, dove?"
"'m sorry, it just feels so good."
“I know, my darling, but we don’t wanna get caught, right?” he asked. You shook your head, and he added, “That’s what I thought.”
With a soft groan, Joshua slowly entered you. Sure, it wasn’t exactly your first time anymore, but you still found yourself struggling to adjust to the sensation of his cock inside you. Once you were ready, however, he started to move, and you swore you could see stars.
You had no idea if it was the excitement of potentially getting caught, how hard Joshua fucked you, or some combination of the two, but regardless, it was more difficult to stay quiet than you expected. So difficult, in fact, that your lover put his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds that slipped out no matter how hard you tried.
“What did I tell you, dove?” Joshua asked. “It’s important to be quiet. Unless you want to get caught?” Something about the condescending tone in his voice turned you on more than you expected, and when you clenched around him, he laughed and asked, “Really, angel? You want someone to see us, don’t you?”
You wanted to shake your head or try to say something to indicate that you were trying to listen to what he said. But deep down, you knew that you didn’t care if someone opened that closet to see what the two of you were doing. The only things you cared about in the moment were Joshua’s cock inside you and the orgasm that hit you before you even realized you were close.
Seconds after you came down from your high, you felt Joshua come inside of you, holding you tight as he rode out his high. Then, once you both calmed down, Joshua carefully pulled out of you and helped you get dressed again. After putting his own clothes back on, he asked, “How about we actually grab those plates now?”
After you found the plates, you went back to the picnic almost like nothing happened. There was one minor difference, however. Every time you noticed Jihoon staring at you and Joshua, you couldn’t help but feel smug, because you knew he could see how beautiful you felt now that you were with someone that loved you with no expectations.
Before you knew it, it was almost your one-year anniversary, and you could hardly contain your excitement. You'd spent weeks searching for the perfect gift for Joshua, but with each shopping trip, you worried more and more that you wouldn't find anything to accurately show him how much you loved him.
However, you got luckier than you expected at your local craft store. You had about 2 weeks left until your anniversary, and you were getting desperate. But after aimlessly wandering through the store for what felt like hours, you noticed a skein of yarn that was baby blue, his favorite color, right next to a display of cross-shaped beads, and inspiration struck.
When you got home, you grabbed your crochet hook and searched for patterns for a book sleeve online. Once you found one that you were happy with, you got to work making a sleeve for Joshua’s favorite Bible. It took multiple tries (and even more attempts at measuring the book when Joshua wasn’t looking) to get the size just right, but in the end, you were satisfied with the results. You'd spent days assembling the book sleeve and adding small decorations that you knew he’d like, such as a beaded cross on the front, and you were proud of yourself for finishing the project in time.
The morning of your anniversary, you called Joshua and invited him over before going through your favorite cookbook to look for a recipe to cook for dinner. Typically, you wouldn’t have put so much effort into dinner, but you thought your anniversary was a fitting day to put the extra effort in.
You started dinner about an hour before Joshua was set to arrive, daydreaming about what you wanted the future to look like while you waited to properly celebrate a year with the man you loved.
Right on time, Joshua knocked on the door, and when you opened it, you pulled him into your dining room and said, "Sit down. Dinner is almost ready."
"You didn't have to cook for me, baby."
"I know. I wanted to because it's a special occasion. I love you."
“Well, I appreciate it. I love you, sweetpea.”
The familiar pet name sent butterflies to your stomach, which made finishing dinner difficult, but you got there in the end. When it was done, you fixed two plates and brought them to the dining room table with a smile.
When you put Joshua’s plate in front of him, he said, “Thank you. This looks incredible.”
“Thank you, my love,” you said, feeling giddy as you set your own plate down. Before you actually started to eat, though, you looked up at Joshua and asked, “Actually, before we eat, can I give you your gift?"
"Yeah, of course.”
With that, you grabbed the bag that you’d left under the table and handed it to Joshua. When he opened it and looked at what was inside, he looked back at you and asked, “What is it?”
“It’s a protective sleeve for your Bible. I remembered what you said about how you wish you didn’t have to be so careful to keep it from getting dirty.”
With a soft smile, he said, “Thank you,” and gently placed the bag next to his chair. With that, the two of you ate dinner in almost complete silence, focused more on enjoying each other’s company than coming up with something interesting to say.
At the end of the meal, however, Joshua looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes and said, “I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?”
Joshua didn’t respond to your question verbally at first, but he didn’t need to. You knew exactly what was happening when he stood from his chair and pulled a small box out of his pocket. With a soft smile and shaky hands, he looked up at you and said, “My darling, I love you more than I’ve ever loved another person before. Every minute with you has been a rollercoaster of new emotions and experiences, and while to many it may look like it’s too soon to say for sure, I’ve never been more certain of anything than I am that I never want to get off the ride. Will you marry me?”
You nodded in response, not trusting your ability to speak without crying as Joshua stood from his place on the floor and placed the ring on your finger. You admired the ring as the diamond sparkled in the light of your dining room, and Joshua looked at you with an excited grin on his face as he asked, “Does that mean you like it?”
“I love it, and I love you.”
“I love you too, angel. I always will.”
Joshua cupped your face in his hands and kissed you with a passion that almost knocked you off your feet, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You lost yourself in the way his lips felt on yours shockingly quickly, so distracted that you almost didn’t notice his hand slowly making its way to your ass. What finally snapped you out of it was his hand squeezing gently, which caused a soft moan to tumble from your lips.
With a smirk on his face and mischief in his eyes, he pulled away and said, “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”
“Maybe then you’ll finally keep that promise you made the first time we had sex,” you answered with a laugh.
“What promise?” he asked. You gave him a knowing smile, and that was when he remembered everything. With a shy laugh of his own, he said, “Maybe I will.”
“You’d better.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
Thank you everyone for reading! If you liked this one, please make sure to like and reblog!
If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist can be found here. If you wanna see what I'm working on, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged whenever I upload a new fic, my taglist form is here! You can also send me an ask or dm at any time to be added or removed.
Thank you again for reading, and have a wonderful day!
🏴☠️Who: Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader
🏴☠️What: Humour. Best friends to Lovers. I guess some fluff? Suggestive (18+).
🏴☠️Word count: 5.9k
🏴☠️Warnings: Profanity. Party typical alcohol mentions but neither of them are drinking. Kind of jealous/ possessive Soonyoung. Making out in public places. Multiple mentions of Soonyoung’s dick (flaccid, unfortunately). The whole point of this story is Soonyoung in a costume marketed for women; so if that's not your vibe, then this story is not for you, friend.
🏴☠️Summary:
For some insane reason, you thought that you could trust your best friend with the task of buying the pair of you costumes for Seungkwan’s upcoming party.
Now, you’re paying for your mistake and have to spend the entire night watching Soonyoung dancing in those tiny little shorts initially intended for you.
You’re not sure you’ll survive this night with your dignity intact.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I’ve decided to private a lot of stuff on that account and just move it over to here after some editing, where I can actually track it all properly.
Completely out of the blue last week, Seungkwan decided to send a message in the group chat to say that he's throwing a costume party. No reason for it, nothing had happened to warrant a party; he had simply decided he wanted to do it and demanded the entire group be there and in costume.
Soonyoung had, unsurprisingly, already been by your side on your couch— watching the latest episode of the drama you two are obsessed with—, when the message came through. After the episode, you both looked at your phones, and Soonyoung immediately started to look for costume ideas excitedly. He soon found and fell in love with a pirate outfit; after showing you it, he said it's part of a couple costume and as besties, you have to match because “that's what besties do”.
In the year you have known Soonyoung, you have never truly said no to him and this was no different. Though, perhaps, you should've at least looked at the female half of the matching costume before agreeing instead of blindly trusting your best friend.
Which leads us to here.
It's an hour before the party is due to start, and Soonyoung has just turned up at your apartment to get ready together, just like always. He has the parcel of costumes in his arms, and a bright, excited grin on his face when he hands it over to you to allow him to remove his shoes.
“I haven't opened it yet,” he informs, watching you walk over to the couch to lean the parcel against the arm and open it like you know he wants you to. Soonyoung knows you get an odd sense of joy from opening parcels— whether or not they're for you—, so he often brings his orders over or invites you to his apartment to allow you to open them for him.
“So I see,” you muse with a little giggle.
Soonyoung appears at your back a moment later, leaning his chin on your shoulder to peer into the bag as you open it.
The first costume out is his, packaged in another bag, though this one is clear, revealing the cardboard insert with a picture of a man donning the costume on the front. He takes it happily when you offer it and bounces aside to start to open it excitedly.
There's only one more item in the bag, your costume, so you take it out, as excited about your matching pirate outfits as Soonyoung is. Up until you turn the packet over to look at the picture and realise that this truly is not what you expected. Especially not from your best friend.
“What the actual fuck, Kwon Soonyoung?!” you demand, flabbergasted.
“Uh-oh, the full name.” Soonyoung looks up at you in alarm, all signs of joy gone. “Did they send the wrong thing?”
“I hope so, because if you saw this on the site and still ordered it, you and I are going to have some issues.” You turn the packet to show him the picture on the cardboard insert.
A picture of a woman in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts— if they can even be considered that— with fishnet tights underneath. There's an attempt at a white top that honestly could be a lot worse; it's off the shoulder and cropped, but it's not as bad as it could be for a female-focused costume, yet still far too revealing for your liking. To finish it off, she's wearing a striped bandana on her head, and grasping a plastic sword in her hands. You're very certain that the sword alone is the only reason the packet is this big, because there's certainly not enough material creating the costume to require such a size bag.
Soonyoung stares at the picture for a second, then looks up at you with a confused little pout. “It's a pirate outfit.”
“Show me yours,” you demand with a sigh. He doesn't hesitate to move over and hand you his costume, still just about in the packet.
There's a very clear difference in costumes. The picture on this packet depicts a man in three-quarter length, vertically striped, trousers; and a simple, white shirt with an open neckline, revealing a thin, triangular strip of skin down to his sternum. It’s finished with the same bandana as your costume, and a plastic sword. Though, the man's sword is a lot bigger than the woman's sword. Of course, the men get the big boy sword and the women get the toothpick.
“You seriously don't see a problem with this?” you ask, holding the two packets side by side so that he can see the photos together.
Poor, naive Soonyoung looks between the pictures rapidly in a desperate attempt to understand. Yet he winds up just shaking his head as he looks at you with such an innocent expression that you know that he seriously doesn't understand the problem here at all.
“Then you can wear this one,” you declare while handing him the woman's outfit, before turning to stalk off to your bedroom.
“What?!” he sputters, scrambling to follow you down the short corridor. “This is for women!”
“You've said before; clothes have no gender!” you remind, turning at the threshold with a hand on your open door ready to close it, and a sweet smile on your face. “If you want to match with me, Soonyoungie, you wear that, and I'll wear this.”
He stares between you and the packet in his hand for a moment before agreeing with a nod and a simple “Okay.”
And that right there, is your second mistake.
When you had told Soonyoung to wear that outfit, you really hadn’tbeen prepared for how fucking good he'd look in the skimpy little outfit. Now, you have to spend the next hours at Seungkwan's bustling apartment pretending that your gaze isn't constantly locating Soonyoung in the dim lighting as he happily dances amongst other costumed bodies.
Sure, you've seen Soonyoung topless before, so you know the man has a frankly incredible body— usually hidden under the baggy clothes that he prefers to wear—, but the sexy little pirate outfit highlights his strong torso and biceps so well.
The cropped top stops at his sternum, giving full view of the top half of his defined abs, the bottom half hidden by the high waist of the shorts. And those shorts? They really do not leave a lot to the imagination at all. Soonyoung has spent the entire night so far carefully doing his best to keep the sword strapped around his hips carefully located to dangle in front of his crotch to keep some of his dignity.
You had obligingly given him the bigger sword when you had realised that the 'woman's' sword wasn't exactly wide enough to cover him. Neither of you had made eye contact when you handed it over without a word, because you both knew what it meant; that you had obviously seen the bulge of his flaccid dick in the tight shorts. Which, honestly, had only made you wonder how big he is when hard, and that is a thought that you usually try to avoid, thinking of your best friend in a sexual situation.
Though his pure existence alone makes it very hard. No pun intended.
Kwon Soonyoung doesn't realise how attractive he is, and you're kind of grateful about it. Because if that unfairly effortlessly attractive man knows how hot he is, then you know he'll be cocky and dress to show off more often than just for nights out or special occasions, and you would not mentally survive that.
As it is, you're not sure you'll survive tonight.
“One day, you two are going to stop being stupid and just fuck it out,” Chan comments from your right where he stands in his doctor's outfit. Seungkwan's wearing a matching one somewhere else in the apartment and you really can't tell if it's intentional or not with those two. They're always bickering and acting like they hate each other, but they're always the first the other goes to for any reason whatsoever.
“Please make it before the end of summer so I don't lose money,” Seungcheol requests from your left, leaning against the wall with you, and dressed in a suit just like his own best friend and roommate, wherever she has disappeared to. She's likely with Junhui, based on the way the pair have been eyeing each other for the past hour— and since they met really, but that's another story entirely.
“You assholes have bets on us fucking?” you gawp in betrayed disbelief at the suited man.
“Yup,” Seungcheol confirms shamelessly, while Chan tries to sputter out a denial that makes you level the youngest with an unimpressed look.
However, it doesn't last because you hear Soonyoung's loud voice, even over the music, and automatically look over to where your best friend is trying to stop Seokmin from grabbing at his sword. No euphemism, even if the plastic is in the right place.
“Looks like Seok's going to get further with your boy than you ever have,” Seungcheol sniggers. You shove his arm, making him laugh harder.
“Swordplay,” Chan giggles to himself, then wanders off without another word to refill his cup after swallowing the last of its contents.
“Seriously though, you should, like, go fuck him,” Seungcheol says a moment later, when Soonyoung has successfully distracted Seokmin by grabbing the younger's hands to make him dance with him. Soonyoung shoots you a world-weary, wide-eyed look that makes you snicker and wave innocently at him.
“You really don't want to lose money, huh?”
“It's not even about that, just… you two. This has been going on for over a year now; this gross pining shit. Just sit on his dick and ask him on a date; it's not that hard.”
“You can't say shit, Cheol,” you remind.
“Hey, I've fucked her, regularly,” he defends with a pout before sipping at his drink.
“Oh yeah, because fucking your best friend who you've been in love with since childhood while encouraging her to go after your friend, who she's been mutually eye-fucking for the past three months, is so much better,” you retort sarcastically and give him a look.
He can't refute it at all, it's entirely true, and he's confided in you enough for you both to know that he's constantly making his own heartbreak worse by continuing to indulge his best friend, both in bed and when she comes home and whines over how good Junhui looks.
“We're as bad as each other,” he decides after a second.
“Don't lump me with you. I've never fucked him.” You scoff and turn back around to naturally locate Soonyoung where he's back to smiling away as he dances with Seokmin and some others.
“You want to.”
“Yeah, I really fucking do,” you exhale, and then swallow down the last of your drink, only to frown down into the empty disposable cup. “I need a real drink.”
“You know you can't drink around him like this or you will ask to suck his dick,” Seungcheol reminds you of the very reason why you're always the designated driver when Soonyoung dresses up.
Because yes, you have come close to getting on your knees in the middle of a club for him. Luckily, Seungcheol had noticed and took you home before you actually acted on the urge to publicly defile your best friend. Unluckily, Seungcheol had noticed and hasn’t failed to mention it at every chance. But at least it's stayed between the two of you.
“At this rate, I'll do it regardless,” you mutter, still frowning into your empty cup. “Back in a bit.” Seungcheol just grunts to show he heard before you slump off to the kitchen to refill your cup with one of the non-alcoholic beverages lining the counter.
You've barely finished filling your cup when a familiar hand reaches around you and picks it up to start gulping down. Even though you know it's Soonyoung, you still look over your right shoulder where he's chugging down the drink, entirely unaware of your thirsty gaze watching the drop of liquid that escapes from the corner of his mouth trail down over his chin and jaw, and down his neck to catch on his collar bone. You refrain from leaning in to slurp it up and lick your way up the trail it left all the way to Soonyoung's mouth. Even if you really want to do just that, and more. Much more.
Instead of staring at the way his throat bobs as he swallows down the last drops, you turn back around and wait for him to place the cup down so that you can refill it. And then he grabs it again before you can, making you groan in complaint. “Seriously?"”
“M'thirsty,” he defends, barely pulling the cup away and accidentally dribbling some of the liquid from his mouth onto your shoulder. You look at him in disgust. He just grins sweetly and kisses your cheek in a sticky, apologetic way before leaning back up to get back to his task of once again, stealing your drink.
At least this time when you've refilled the cup, he doesn't steal it away and lets you actually lift it to your own mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you drink, so you side-eye him questioningly without moving the cup away.
“Are you taking Seungcheol home again?” he asks, stepping closer to you as someone passes too close behind him; his left hand falls to your hip and his right onto the counter, sort of caging you in, though you know it's unintentional— even if you wish it wasn't.
“He can take himself home, he's not drinking tonight,” you reply, distracted by the feeling of plastic pressing against you. “Your sword is digging into my ass.”
Soonyoung lets go of the counter to tug his sword belt around and lays the toy on the outside of his left thigh, leaving him pressed directly against you. You genuinely can't tell if he's even noticed that as he seems to be focused on the conversation, judging by the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows. “That's not what I mean and you know it.”
“If I know it, wouldn't I respond to what you mean?” You give him a look; puzzled by his words, and hoping he understands that you seem to very much not be having the same conversation here, and you are completely unaware of the conversation he's having with you.
“Not when you're both pretending nothing's happening.”
“What?” You nudge him back enough so that you can turn and face him, which admittedly, is not your smartest move when he moves straight back in. He doesn't press against you again, but his left foot is between both of yours as you lean your ass back against the counter. Any closer and his thigh will be very close to pressing to your crotch.
“Come on, I'm your best friend, I think you should at least be honest with me, even if you play ignorant with the others.” He frowns and leans heavier onto his right hand on the counter beside your hip, bringing him in closer so that he doesn't have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music. “You two often leave together when we go out. And even though his place is closer than mine, you drop me off first so it's just you two left. I'm not stupid.”
“Wait, you think that's so we can go fuck?” you realise with wide eyes.
“It's obvious; you always find each other when we're all together like this and spend the whole fucking night hiding off to the side whispering to each other.”
You can't help but laugh. “Do you all think we're fucking?” He nods in confirmation. You laugh again. “Oh man, I gotta tell Cheolie this.” You start to push off the counter with every intention of going to find the older man, knowing he will find it as hilarious as you do, but Soonyoung puts his left hand on your lower stomach to push you back, and then he pushes himself against you to pin you there. “Soonyoung–”
“No.”
“What? No? No what?"”
“I'm not letting you go back to him. You came with me, you're staying with me, and leaving with me, no one else,” he declares firmly.
You stare up at him trying to decipher what the fuck is actually going on right now; what prompted this sudden conversation and behaviour. Not that Soonyoung has never pinned you before, but it's usually playful as he whines and pouts cutely to get his way, or to just joke around. But he's entirely serious now and looking at you with something kind of dark in his eyes.
Admittedly, it's pretty fucking hot.
“Are you drunk?” you ask, even if you know he's not; you can't smell any alcohol on him, and drunk Soonyoung gets cuddly and clingy, not whatever this is.
“You know I'm not.” He places his left hand on the counter on your other side, well and truly caging you in, and causing him to lean down a little closer to reach comfortably.
“Then why are you suddenly acting like this?”
“It's not sudden.” You give him a look. “Okay, fine, acting on it is; but wanting to, that's not sudden. I've wanted to do this for a long time.”
“Then why haven't you?”
“Because I care about you too much.” He frowns a little as he takes in your features from up close, gaze catching on your lips for a few seconds before lifting back up to meet your eyes. “There's a bet, you know, about us fucking?”
“I just found out.” You pull a displeased expression. “Cheol's in on that, you know? He wouldn't bet on us fucking before the end of summer if he's fucking me.”
“He is?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “They made it sound like he's against the bet; said he's been trying to stop them from talking me into it.”
“Yeah, no, he just told me to fuck you. He's always telling me to fuck you.”
“Oh.” He licks his lips as his eyes divert thoughtfully. “Guess I should stop being a dick to him then.”
“You've been a dick to him?” you ask, genuinely surprised. You really haven't noticed Soonyoung acting badly towards Seungcheol at all.
“Mm, I always take his favourite snacks at movie night.”
You can't help but burst into giggling laughter at his confession. Of course, the man doesn't have a single genuinely mean bone in his body and would think purposely taking someone's favourite snacks would be a giant dick move. You bet he's been feeling kind of guilty about it while, no doubt, Seungcheol hasn't even noticed.
“What? why're you laughing?” He pouts at you.
“Oh, Soonie, you're so fucking cute,” you coo and cup his cheeks fondly. He smiles a little dopily at the compliment; the same smile he reserves for you and your doting attention on him, even if neither of you have noticed that. The rest of your friends have though.
“Nice ass,” you hear before Soonyoung's hips jerk into you when he yelps and tries to escape the slap that lands on his ass.
“Hey!” he complains, looking over his shoulder to pout at Jeonghan as the man appears from behind your best friend.
You really can't tell exactly what Jeonghan is supposed to be; you think it's some kind of anime character, or something kinky. Maybe both. Either way, his costume is a strange mix of faux black leather, and shimmery red, lacy wings. And he pulls it off unfairly well, considering that you know he hadn't been prepared for the party this morning at all.
“What? Don't look at me like I'm disturbing something,” Jeonghan scoffs, reaching around you to grab the same big plastic bottle you had been filling your cup from. Though he stops and looks at the way Soonyoung is very much pressed against you. Jeonghan grins after noticing that Soonyoung's crotch is definitely smushed against your upper thigh; something you have been doing your best to ignore yourself because yes you can feel everything through the thin material covering you both. “Or maybe I am.” He smirks at you both.
“What are you supposed to be exactly?” you ask in an attempt to change the topic to one that won't kill your last remaining dregs of sanity. Then again, with the things that come out of Yoon Jeonghan's mouth, you could still be rendered insane, but for a reason other than feeling your best friend's dick pressed against you.
“No idea, just grabbed some shit from Hao's costume closet.” Jeonghan shrugs as he looks down at himself. “Kind of think this might be less about his costume designing and more about sex though.”
“He's definitely worn that harness while fucking someone,” you agree, and reach out to hook your finger over the thick horizontal strap over Jeonghan's chest. You're pretty sure it's directly over his nipples, but the slightly sheer tank top he's wearing underneath the harness kind of obscures your view enough that you don't have confirmation.
“Mm, definitely,” Jeonghan agrees, and smirks at you. “Want to take it home yourself?”
“And take it from you? I wouldn't dare, you look so handsome, Hannie,” you coo, playing along with the flirty banter you two have always partaken in. Not because anything has ever happened between you, nor will it; you've discussed it plenty of times to make sure you're both on the same page. But it's just fun to harmlessly flirt.
“Never said I won't be wearing it.” He licks his lips and gives you a suggestive look.
“You're not going home with her,” Soonyoung argues firmly, crowding up against you further; though his gaze is on Jeonghan in warning, so he misses the way your eyes widen and dart down to where Soonyoung is now pressing his dick against your hip with his own thigh pressing up between your thighs. Jeonghan doesn't miss it though and cackles, leaving without another word with his cup and the entire bottle of drink clasped in his hands.
“S–Soonyoung,” you stammer, hands fluttering at his sides, wanting to push him back for your sanity, but you think putting your hands on his exposed skin will just make you pull him closer.
“Do you have to flirt with him all the time?” He frowns at you, entirely unaware of the screaming in your mind; mostly just sounds with the odd yell of the word penis. He'd probably laugh if he heard it, to be honest, just because of the word penis. He wouldn't even realise it's his penis you're mentally screaming about. “And when I'm right here too. Did you forget I'm here or something?”
“No,” you choke out.
“Then why– are you okay?” He suddenly realises how wide your eyes are.
“I can feel your dick,” you blurt, unable to think of anything else.
He blinks at you for a moment, then looks down at where he's pressed against you as if he hasn't even noticed until now. “Oh.” He pulls his hips back, and his thigh from between yours, making you let out a heavy, shaky exhale as your body relaxes a little. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Ha, not the word I'd use.”
“What word would you use?”
If he was any other man, you'd say the little quirk of his head and innocent eyes locked onto you is fake; just some kind of game, a way to flirt. But it's Kwon Soonyoung, and you've seen this man miss the most obvious of flirtations since you've known him. The number of times you or the guys have had to bluntly tell him that someone had been trying to take him home to fuck, is frankly absurd.
“Stop touching my ass!” his sudden exclamation makes you jump a little, while he looks over his shoulder in annoyance, glaring at Seungkwan, who's giving him an innocent look.
“I'm very happy that you two are finally doing something about your consistent sexual tension and mutual pining, but take it out of my kitchen, please. I don't want to have to burn my home down if you defile my counters,” the younger man speaks bluntly with a slightly sweet edge to his words. You can't even see him, but you just know that he's got that too sweet smile on his face that always feels more threatening than anything.
“What?” Soonyoung blinks at him puzzled as the annoyance of his ass being grabbed melts away. “We're not doing anything.”
“Hannie told me you're being possessive, and we all know that she likes that, so–”
“Hey!” you exclaim offendedly, not because you can argue it, but just more that you're being talked about like you're not here. “She has a name!”
“Well, take Soonie home and he can moan it for the neighbours to hear.” Seungkwan gives you that sweet-threatening smile as he leans around Soonyoung to meet your gaze. “My neighbours don't want to hear it.”
“My neighbours won't hear that,” you scoff.
Soonyoung can't help but frown; he feels like he's just been rejected, even though he hadn't even gotten to the point of actually asking to take you home and fuck you like he wants to, like your mutual friends had convinced him you want him to. But your firm dismissal of Seungkwan's words sounds like you putting that boundary securely in place before he can even ask to tumble over it into your arms.
“He's loud–” Seungkwan starts to point out, but you're not done talking, even if you had taken a quick scoff break.
“I don't live in a cheap-ass building with paper for walls like you do, Kwannie,” you finish.
Both men stare at you for a second; Seungkwan at first just blinks in surprise at the fact you're not even disputing the Soonyoung moaning your name part, just whether or not your neighbours will hear. And Soonyoung is full-on gawping at you, mouth open and eyes wide, wondering if this means that boundary even exists between you.
“Does that mean you won't get a noise complaint? He’s pretty loud, you know? There's a reason we don't live together anymore.”
“I don't know,” you reply with a shrug.
“Then go fucking home already and stop humping against my kitchen counter!” Seungkwan grabs Soonyoung by his hips to yank him backwards away from you, while the scantily dressed pirate yelps and flails a little at the unexpected action. Then he's shoved towards the kitchen exit while Seungkwan grabs your wrist to tug you along.
You're both too genuinely dumbstruck by Seungkwan's sudden, forceful actions to do anything but stumble along until you're both outside of the apartment, shoes in hands, and staring in shock at the door that's just been shut in your faces.
“Did we just get kicked out?” you mutter.
Soonyoung nods slowly and then looks at you. “I think we got kicked out for sex.”
“Is it still sexile if you're the ones getting kicked out and told to go elsewhere to fuck?” you muse, attention downwards as you focus on shoving your feet into your shoes with one hand on the wall behind you, and the other out in the air pointlessly.
“Uh, reverse sexile?” he offers, dropping his shoes to shove his feet into.
“Sounds like a sex position.”
He laughs. “What would that even look like?”
“No idea.” You grin at him, then figure that, well, it seems like you've both been outed enough already, seeing as all of your friends have stopped hiding the fact that they expect you to finally have sex, which really implies a mutual attraction. So, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a second as he frowns down at his shoe that just will not accept his right foot for some reason. “Shall we go find out?”
Immediately, Soonyoung looks up at you with wide eyes. “What?”
“Shall we go find out what reverse sexile looks like?”
“Like...us?”
“Yeah, Soonyoung, us,” you confirm with an amused twitch of your lips. “You said you're the only one to go home with me, right?” He nods. “Then let's go home and find out, Soonie.”
“Ye–no, wait.” He steps closer and takes your hand gently before you can start walking down the hall to the staircase. His fingers are barely holding onto your own. It's perhaps the most cautious he's ever taken your hand into his. Even the very first time you held hands, he had boldly laced your fingers together, and you had only met ten minutes previously.
“No?” you ask, feeling really kind of stupid all of a sudden. You had been so unusually confident in asking him to go home and fuck you.
“Not because I don't want to because I do seriously, I really want to fuck you,” he breathes out, sounding rather affected by the thought alone as he stares at you longingly and holds your hand a little more securely. “I just...I don't want it to wind up like Seungcheol.”
“Uh, what about Seungcheol?” You shuffle a little closer while giving him a questioning look.
“Regularly fucking his best friend who has a crush on someone else, while he...while he wants her as more than just company in his bed.” The way his expression turns serious and yearning makes your heart start to race a little with hope.
“While he...Are you saying you want more?” you ask quietly.
“Earlier, when I said I care about you too much, I meant I care too much to be able to have sex with you if it means nothing. I really fucking like you, and I don't want to go home with you like this if you don't feel the same. I can't do that.” He shakes his head a little. “As much as I've thought about this, about you and me doing all kinds of kinky shit all over your apartment, and mine when Jihoon isn't there. Or when he is, if you're into exhibitionism; I don't know your kinks, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even notice anyway because he never leaves his fucking room, an–” He's rambling at this point, frowning down at your connected hands as he talks.
“Soonyoung.” He makes a soft hum of a noise as he looks back up at you with rounded eyes. “We can talk kinks later, I'd really like to get back to the matter of it sounds like you're confessing to me?”
“Oh, right yeah, I guess I am.” He chuckles a little and nervously scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “So, uh, yeah, I really like you and uhm, I guess now comes the part where, hopefully, you say you like me back; but I really don't know if you do because the guys just really said you want to fuck me, and–” You cover his mouth with your hand this time to shut up his second bout of nervous rambling.
“I really like you too, Soonie,” you confirm softly, and giggle at the way his features light up adorably behind your palm. “Can we skip the trial dating bullshit and go straight to being together? I'd like to show you off as my boyfriend.” His eyes widen dramatically, and then he's nodding rapidly in agreement without dislodging your hand. “You're so cute,” you coo, and lean in just to press a kiss to the back of your hand over his mouth. He looks utterly betrayed and heartbroken when you lean back. “What?” You play innocent and lower your hand while backing up, lacing your fingers behind your back.
“You can't tease me like that, baby!” he whines, toddling after you, and dragging his feet in a sulk as he moves along the carpeted flooring of the hall.
“Tease? Me? Never.” You grin at him, then stop as your back hits the door to the staircase.
“You are. Teased me for the past year. Teasing me now,” he continues to mumble away as he nears, though cuts off when you reach out to grab the sword and yank on the plastic to pull him in right up against you. His hands automatically fly up to catch himself on the door above your head while his breath catches in his throat.
“If you're so worried I'm going to keep teasing you, Soonie, you better hurry up and take what you want,” you warn in a low voice, chin tilted up so your faces are only inches apart.
Soonyoung groans in the back of his throat before he leans down and seals his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He presses his left forearm flat against the door beside your head, so that he can firmly hold your jaw with his right hand and tilt you further into him with his thumb pushing on your chin to urge your mouth open wider and deepen the kiss in a manner much too filthy for a public hallway of your friend's apartment building.
“Oh, for fucks sake!” the loud voice of the friend in question forces you both apart, to peer over Soonyoung's shoulder to where Seungkwan is in the hallway with the cute neighbour he's recently started to date, their hands clasped together, and clearly with one intention in mind while sneaking away from his own party. They're standing outside of the neighbour's slightly open door, but Seungkwan is staring at you and Soonyoung in disbelief. “I told you to go home! Not get your booty here!”
“Ha, booty, pirate joke,” you snigger, and Soonyoung giggles; both at your amusement, and the pun he honestly hadn't even noticed.
“You two are fucking useless,” Seungkwan decides, and lets his neighbour tug him into the apartment. “You better be gone before I'm back!”
“90 seconds, right?!" Soonyoung calls as Seungkwan disappears. The younger's head pops back out to glare at the other and flip him a very heartfelt middle finger before the door actually shuts behind him that time. Soonyoung turns to look at you with a mischievous smirk. “Should we go fuck on his bed just to piss him off?”
“As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather only I hear you like that, Soonie.” You pout at him cutely. “I'm not very good at sharing my toys, you know.”
“Oh, I'm your toy now?” he muses, reaching down to open the door carefully and back you through it with his other arm wrapping around your waist.
“Mm, mine and only mine to play with when I want, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, yours and yours only, baby,” he agrees lowly. “And you're mine.”
“I am,” you confirm, and tilt up to kiss him teasingly. “Let's hurry and get home so I can show you everything that now belongs to you.”
Soonyoung really doesn’t need any further encouragement and enthusiastically rushes out with his hand locked in yours and excitement on his face. He’s more than ready to unveil your body little by little and discover all of the sweet spots that make you loud enough that your neighbours will know his name before the night is over, thick walls be dammed.
Don't forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
Total Word Count: 4,127 (shortest scene is 166 words, longest scene is 330 words)
Genre: Fluff, angst, smut
AU: Non idol AU
Tropes: Strangers to FWB, lovers to strangers, first dates, brother's best friend, friends to FWB
Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!
Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use, sexual content (unprotected sex, mentioned oral), self destructive behavior, body image issues in Taeyong’s scene, reader feels pretty inadequate throughout the fic, objectification in Jaehyun’s drabble if you squint, Chenle gets a little misogynistic, Jeno is a dick that’s obsessed with working out, no happy ending
Summary: Snippets of a life spent craving connection while also running from it.
A/N: After multiple failed attempts at coming off of hiatus, I'm finally back! I'm really excited for you guys to read this one, because I haven't really tried anything like it before. I'd love to hear feedback!
This one was heavily inspired by the song "Unloved" by Lisa Cimorelli and my own self destructive tendencies in relationships.
And, last but certainly not least, I wanna thank @xomakara, @effervescentorbs, @raysramblings, @themoonlightfae, @spacequokka, and @nothoughtsjustfic for helping me brainstorm and listening to me talk about this story while I got ready to come back. I love you guys!
Taglist: @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @notyourjaem, @shadowkoo, @1-800-jewon
Send me an ask or dm to be added or removed!
Fic is under the cut.
Nakamoto Yuta
The Friend that You Call when You Just Wanna Have a Good Time
It all started when your phone vibrated, your phone flashing with a notification for a text from Yuta.
Yuta: You awake?
You: Yeah. Why?
Yuta: I found a new bar a few towns over. You wanna go?
You: I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Remember what happened last time?
Yuta: Nope. That’s precisely why I’m asking. I’m bored and want somebody to get in trouble with.
You: Fuck it. Let’s go.
Just like every other time you went out, Yuta picked you up after your roommates went to sleep for the night and drove you to the site of your latest adventure. The bar that your friend dragged you to this time was smaller than the ones you typically went to, but you didn’t necessarily mind that. After all, you weren’t there to socialize. You were there to drink until you could barely remember your own name in an attempt to numb the pain. Sure, you would barely remember what happened the next day, if you remembered anything at all, but maybe that was for the best, considering the things you liked to do when you were drunk and hurting.
Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul
The Fuck Buddy that Says He Loves You because You Let Him Do Whatever He Wants
“I fucking love you,” Ten said with a loud groan as he pounded into you. You were certain that he didn’t mean it when he said it, despite how many times he insisted he did, but you honestly couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he fucked you hard enough that every ounce of pain that filled your heart was replaced by pure desire with every thrust. Sure, you knew that it was a temporary relief, a band-aid over the bullet holes that destroyed your sense of self and left you relying on empty distractions to get by, but you’d always thought that temporary relief was better than none at all.
Soft whimpers and moans fell from your lips as Ten continued to fuck you, and you held onto him for dear life. After all, you knew he wouldn’t stay after he was done. He did sometimes, mumbling soft promises that he wanted more than sex, but more often than not, he was gone as soon as the aftercare was done. You really didn’t know what was going to happen, so you were determined to keep him close for as long as you possibly could. Anything to feel something other than pain for once.
Lee Donghyuck
The Player that Thinks You'll be the One to Fix Him
Of course, you knew when you went home with Donghyuck that he only wanted sex from you. Did you care, though? No, you didn't. At least, not at first. You were just like him, looking for a good time and a little bit of attention with no real commitment. And for a while, that was exactly what you got.
Then, about a month after you started sleeping together, he started trying harder to keep a conversation going before he left for the night. As he helped you clean up, he asked you about your day, your dreams, and the things that made you happy. You really tried to dodge the questions, not wanting anything beyond a surface level connection, but he kept pushing.
"Seriously, what do you want more than anything?" he asked, looking at you differently than usual.
"I don't know," you answered once again. "Why do you even care anyway? I thought we were just fuck buddies."
"Well, I changed my mind about some things."
There was a moment of silence before you cautiously asked, "What things?"
"You," he answered, staring at you like you were the center of his world. You were silent in response, just shifting nervously in your spot, so he continued, "I wanna be more than just your fuck buddy. I don't know what it is about you, but you make me feel like I could be something better, and I like it."
"Yeah, sorry, but this isn't gonna work."
"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely surprised by your reaction.
"You're not gonna use me to be a better person. That's not what this is."
"I'm not-"
"Get out."
Donghyuck stormed out of your apartment after that, and you collapsed into your bed and sobbed, asking yourself why you couldn't find someone that actually listened and respected you.
Lee Taeyong
The Pretty Boy that Makes You Wish You Were Beautiful
The first thing that people said about Taeyong when they saw him was that he was gorgeous. His eyes seemed to sparkle when he laughed. His voice was sweeter than even your favorite love song, the one that hadn’t been soured by years of feeling like love was too far out of your reach. His smile was like a personal ray of sunshine, always making the world around him a better place.
That was why it baffled you that Taeyong was willing to even be seen with you. You felt like you were everything that he wasn’t, and every day you wondered what made you so special. The fact that someone like him, the man that looked like Aphrodite herself crafted his smile, wanted someone like you, the person that couldn’t look in the mirror too long for fear of being driven insane by self-hatred, made no sense in your mind.
Maybe the differences that you saw between the two of you were why you walked away after a measly three dates. Why you told Taeyong that you didn’t want to see him anymore. As you told him that you didn’t think that the two of you were a good match, you considered telling him that it was nothing personal. That you just couldn’t ever see yourself measuring up to what he deserved.
Did you, though? Of course not. Instead, you gave a half-hearted explanation about incompatibility, which he could tell was a lie. He didn’t exactly try to stop you though, and you appreciated that. After all, if he did, you knew you’d break and tell him everything. And you couldn’t stand the idea of him seeing that you were just as weak as you were ugly.
Wong Kunhang
The Lovable Idiot You Only See Once
You could hardly believe how truly happy you felt when you met Kunhang at a party. He was funny, telling jokes that sounded ridiculous but never failed to make you laugh, and he was attentive, his focus never leaving you the entire time you were on the dance floor. In all honesty, it was strange. Was this the connection that you were so desperate for? Did you finally meet someone that could make you feel just a little bit less alone?
You never got to find out the answer to your question, since you heard someone call Kunhang’s name as you walked to the bar together. You tried to ask him for his number before he left, but before you could get the words out, he was lost in the crowd.
You wanted to be upset that you’d had another failed date, but in the end, you just couldn’t find it in you. Even though you were alone yet again, you still had fun with Kunhang, and you still had a silent hope in the back of your mind that one day you’d run into him again.
Kim Dongyoung
The Lover that You Want but Won't Allow Yourself to Have
Dongyoung was the one person that you hooked up with that you actually wanted a deeper connection with. The problem with that was that something felt off in a way that you couldn’t quite explain. You had no idea whether something really was off about him or if it was just your brain convincing you that you were unlovable again, though. Regardless, you still chose to keep your distance, refusing to let him get any closer than what was required for him to fuck you.
You knew that it was counterproductive to push Dongyoung away when he clearly liked you and wanted to get to know you better, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. That didn’t mean that you stopped yourself from hooking up with him, though. After all, he was pretty fucking good in bed, and whenever you were with him, you felt loved in a way that you just didn’t most of the time. And that made the uncertainty and confusion over what you wanted worth it.
Huang Renjun
The One-Time Lover that Sees Right Through You
After you and Renjun were dressed again, he gave you a knowing look and asked, “So, does this mean that you’re gonna leave now?”
You were surprised by his straightforwardness, but you still managed to say, “I mean, yeah. If that’s ok with you?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s fine. I figured you would, honestly.”
Surprised and offended by his completely correct assumption, you asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve hooked up with girls like you before,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Girls like me?”
“I could tell exactly what you were doing from the second you walked into that bar and started looking at every man that gave you the slightest bit of attention like they hung the moon.”
“Oh really? What exactly was I doing?” you asked, frustrated by the almost-stranger that acted like he knew you better than you did.
“You go out to bars and hook up with people you barely know because you’re alone and can’t handle it. But every time somebody starts to get close, you push them away because you think you’re not worth loving, no matter how much you crave that feeling of loving someone and being loved back. Sound about right?”
“I-”
“Look, I’m not trying to judge. Just wanted you to know that I understand.”
His ability to read you like a children’s book stunned you into silence. With a defeated sigh, you sat back down on his bed and started to cry, suddenly overwhelmed by the complicated feelings floating around your head.
Renjun softened immediately when you started to cry, pulling you close and mumbling soft reassurances and apologies while you tried desperately to regain your composure. Eventually, you did, but even after you’d stopped crying, he begged you to stay the night, too worried about your wellbeing to feel comfortable with you leaving. You agreed, but you also swore to yourself you’d never sleep with Renjun again, no matter how much you loved the feeling of finally being understood.
Jeong Yunoh
The Friend that Thinks He Wants to be More
Every time you saw Jaehyun, he made a point to tell you just how beautiful you were and how happy he was to see you. Normally, you’d appreciate the compliment from your friend, since he was known in your friend group as the “king of cheering people up.” However, the almost seductive tone in his voice and the way he fidgeted whenever the two of you made eye contact made it clear to you that his intentions weren’t exactly platonic.
The problem with that was that you only saw Jaehyun as a friend, and you were certain that if he actually took the time to try and get to know you instead of just staring at you whenever you wore a skimpy outfit, he’d feel the same. But you knew that if you tried to tell him that, he wouldn’t listen, so you decided to just accept the compliments. After all, it was nice to feel wanted sometimes, even if you knew that it wasn't real.
Zhong Chenle
The Coworker that Thinks He Knows Better than You Do
You really tried to tune out your coworkers arguing, especially because you felt the argument was completely inappropriate for the office, but it was difficult with their loud volume and condescending tones.
“I’m telling you,” Chenle said from his cubicle. “Women like that don’t care about anything or anyone.”
“What do you mean by ‘women like that?’” you asked, butting into the conversation because you were sick of the bickering.
“The ones that go out to a different club every night to hook up with whatever poor sap is too distracted by how they look to think properly,” Chenle answered, uncharacteristically venomous.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Minhyung chimed in.
“No, I don’t,” Chenle said before turning back to his desk, signaling that he was done discussing it, even though he was the one that started the conversation by ranting about “women of today.”
You knew that you weren’t the only one tired of listening to Chenle’s rants at work, so you decided to take the logical next step and reported him to HR. Once you left for the day, though, you felt unbelievably drained. Sure, you knew that what he said wasn’t about you specifically, but it still bothered you. You wondered if it was because you knew that you were doing exactly what he was describing, but there was more to it than that. After all, it just showed how little he knew about the world and the people in it.
Na Jaemin
The Boy Next Door that Only Cares on the Surface
When you got back to your apartment building after work, you literally bumped into your neighbor, Jaemin. You tripped on one of the stairs and fell into him, and when he caught you, he asked, “Woah, you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, collecting yourself. “How are you doing, Jaem?”
“Great, actually,” he answered, completely oblivious to the fact that you were trying to get around him to get to your apartment. As he talked about his work and relationships, you tried to pay attention, but your mind frequently wandered to the cleaning that would need to be done once you actually got into your apartment.
After Jaemin finished talking, he moved around you and walked down the stairs, not even bothering to say goodbye. Part of you was relieved, just wanting to get home, but the other part of you was a little hurt that he couldn’t be bothered. In the end, though, you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t actually care about how alone you felt when no one even had the time for small talk.
Park Jisung
The Brother's Best Friend that Promises Not to Tell
When Taehyun told you that Jisung would be picking you up from the bar at the end of the night instead of him, you were far from thrilled. You loved your brother dearly, but you’d always hated his friends, particularly Jisung. He had the kind of arrogance that got under your skin like very little else could, he constantly spoke down to you and treated you like a dumb little kid, despite your closeness in age, and he was insanely gorgeous. Of course, the fact that he was one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen wasn’t why you hated him, but it did make being around him more frustrating than it had any right to be.
Still, even though you hadn't had anything to drink that night, you hated driving, so you were grateful that Jisung agreed to pick you up. So grateful, in fact, that you decided to set aside your frustrations for the night. You even repaid his kindness by taking him home and giving him “the best blowjob he’d ever had,” as he described it once you were done. After helping him clean up, you smiled and said, “Thanks again.”
“No problem. I’m always happy to help a friend out.”
There was a moment of silence before you asked, “You’re not gonna tell Taehyun about this, right?”
“Of course, not. I’m not that kind of person.”
You breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Ok, thanks,” before leaning in to kiss him again.
Xiao Dejun
The Lover that Should Be Perfect for You
Every moment with Dejun should have been magical. He treated you like a princess every time the two of you went out together, never leaving your side unless you needed something or explicitly asked him for space. Not that you ever asked for space much, though. He also made a conscious effort to listen when you spoke to him, taking in the details of every story you told like they were the only thing keeping him alive. He loved you, and that was plain for anyone with eyes to see.
So why did you feel so empty when you were with him? Why did every moment feel more like checking boxes and maintaining a routine than spending time with someone that you cared about? You had no idea, but you did know that there had to be something wrong with you, since everything about Dejun radiated love and warmth. The exact opposite of your heart that had frozen over because of years of pain and heartbreak.
Maybe that was why you ran, to avoid freezing his heart too.
Lee Jeno
The Gym Rat that Makes You Feel Like You'll Never Be Enough
Unlike your other potential lovers, you didn’t meet Jeno at a club or bar. Instead, you met him at the gym during yet another failed attempt at getting your life together. He’d been using the treadmill next to yours, and when you both finished up, you exchanged numbers. You tried not to think about it, but a small part of you was hopeful as you walked away with promises of a date.
When you finally went out with him, though, it was a disaster. You tried to suggest dinner at a restaurant, but he declined. When you asked him why, he said that none of the places in town that weren’t “mass produced garbage,” in his words, had any healthy options that were actually good. You wanted to tell him that you thought he was wrong, but you held your tongue while the feeling of inadequacy threatened to follow you whole.
Instead, Jeno suggested going back to the gym to “work off the day.” You were exhausted from work, though, so you tried to suggest something that required less energy so that the two of you could just chill and get to know each other. His response to that was, “I’m not gonna sit on my ass just because you can’t keep up.”
Needless to say, you never went on that date, and the hope that you’d felt when you first met him was squashed like a bug that didn’t make it across the sidewalk in time.
Dong Sicheng
The One-Time Lover that Thinks He Understands
“I know why you’re doing this,” Sicheng had said as you gathered your things to go home after your first night together.
“Oh really?” you asked, trying to sound playful instead of worried. “Why am I doing this, then?”
“You think I don’t wanna see you again.”
There was a beat of silence before you asked, “What?”
“Oh come on, it’s obvious,” he said. “I saw the way you looked at me before you grabbed your bag.”
“That’s not-”
“It’s ok. I’m not offended. But, for the record, I would totally be down to see you again.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m good,” you said as you finally walked toward the door.
Once you left Sicheng’s apartment, you breathed a sigh of relief. When he’d told you that he knew why you behaved the way you did, you expected him to analyze you the way Renjun had, leaving you stripped bare in a way that felt vulnerable instead of exciting. But in the end, it was nothing more than an assumption that you wanted something from him that you hadn’t allowed yourself to want from anyone in a long time.
Maybe he was right in thinking that deep down, you did want more of a connection with him, but you never let yourself see him again to find out. After all, even misplaced attempts at vulnerability could be painful.
Kim Jungwoo
The Friend-of-a-Friend that Just Wants to be Close to You
Technically, you’d known Jungwoo for about three years through mutual friends. but you weren’t sure that you considered him a friend, too. After all, he’d barely spoken to you beyond basic greetings at group events, and you knew next to nothing about him.
Maybe that was why it was such a surprise when he walked up to you at Shotaro’s birthday party, threw his arms around you, and said, “Hey! I missed you. How have you been?”
You stiffened at the contact but still said, “Fine. How are you?”
“I’m good! Just wanted to catch up a bit because it’s been a while.”
“Jungwoo, we saw each other three days ago.”
“So? I can’t ask how you’re doing?”
“I mean you can, but it feels a little weird. We’re not friends, so I don’t understand why you’re pretending we are.”
Jungwoo deflated at your comment and walked away. He was immediately replaced by Shotaro, who asked, “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry! I was caught off guard!”
“You didn’t have to be such an asshole about it! He just wanted to get closer to you.”
“Well closeness is a gradual process. You don’t act like someone’s your best friend right out of the gate.”
Shotaro sighed and said, “Look, just be patient. Please. And try to talk to him. He wants to be friends, but doesn’t know how to reach out.”
As Shotaro walked away, you considered what he said. He was right, now that you were really thinking about it, and you started to feel guilty. Jungwoo had never done anything with malicious intent, so you decided to find him and ask for his number. After all, the process of getting closer had to start somewhere.
Liu Yangyang
The Party Boy that Pretends He's Never Felt Your Pain
You walked into Yangyang’s living room with Seulgi and Joohyun trailing behind you, and it didn’t take long for the prolific party host to catch your eye. After all, he had the kind of confidence that looked like it came easily, weaving through the crowd of guests like he was walking around puddles on the sidewalk. As you watched him, you found yourself envying his easygoing nature.
When Yangyang finally made his way to where you stood chatting with your friends, however, all it took was one look in his eyes for you to know that he was in the same boat as you. Sure, he did a good job of hiding his hurt from a distance, but actually seeing him face to face meant that you could see the hint of pain in his eyes and the small nervous habits that you’d caught yourself in hundreds of times.
When he actually introduced himself to you after speaking with Seulgi and Joohyun, though, it was like a switch flipped. He was all smiles as he pulled you into a hug and said, “Hi! Seulgi told me that she was bringing some friends. What’s your name again?”
You introduced yourself with a hesitant smile of your own and replied, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” he said.
The two of you continued to talk much longer than you expected, but you didn’t mind. It was nice to distract yourself from the pain for a night. And if you were right about the way Yangyang acted, he probably needed the distraction too, no matter how badly he wanted to pretend that he didn’t.
Qian Kun
The Well-Meaning Friend Whose Methods are All Wrong
“You can’t honestly tell me that you think this is healthy,” Kun spat.
“I never said it was healthy,” you countered. “I said it’s effective. There’s a difference, you prick.”
“There doesn’t have to be, you fucking dumbass.”
“In my experience, there does.”
“You’re never gonna listen to me, are you?” he asked, quickly losing patience with your insistence on self-destruction.
“Why should I? We both know you do the same shit that I do. At least I have the balls to admit it.”
“Do you really think that?” he asked. You were silent in response, so he added, “Whatever. I’m leaving. Good luck.”
With that, Kun walked out of your apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. You knew that he was just looking out for you, but you hated his condescending attitude. Especially considering the fact that he had his own less-than-healthy coping mechanisms that he leaned on a bit too much when the weight of his past felt like it was going to crush him. Still, you knew that he was right, so you decided to call him in the morning and apologize. But until morning came, you’d curl up in a ball on your bed and sob as you thought about what your life had become.
Johnny Suh
The Potential Lover that You Know You Could Never Have
Sometimes, running into Johnny at the bar made you want to cry. Not because he’d ever done anything to hurt you, or because you missed some prior connection, but because you knew that he could never want you the same way that you wanted him. After all, he looked like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, his voice sounded sweeter than even your favorite song, and the way that he carried himself made it clear that he knew just how attractive he really was. What reason could he possibly have to want anything more than a quick fuck from someone like you?
You couldn’t think of one, really. So, you kept your distance, at least emotionally. Sure, you still hooked up with him from time to time, but that was where your relationship with him stopped, no matter how badly you wanted more. Of course, sometimes he’d ask you why you never stayed the night after the two of you had sex, but you were a master of excuses by the time that started. You had to be to keep him from figuring out that you were slowly falling in love with him.
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🎶Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader.
🎶What: Tiny bit of angst. Some humour. Some fluff. Slow burn. Suggestive (18+). Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Single parent Yoongi. Music teacher Yoongi. Child Taehyung. Child Jihoon. Ex husband Mingyu. Best friend Mingyu.
🎶Word count: 14.6k
🎶Warnings: Autistic/ ADHD child Taehyung. Autistic child Jihoon. Suggestive themes (conversations/ thoughts/ memories). Jungkook is eternally horny for reader tbh (and so is Mingyu during part of this). Profanity.
🎶Summary:
Even before you meet him, Min Yoongi owns a piece of your heart.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
My general masterlist
🎶Mr. Min Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.
The very first Monday of November, just when you get comfortable and fully relaxed submerged up to your neck in warm, bubbly water in the bathtub, your phone starts to ring. Although you would rather your peace not be disturbed right now, you are never one to ignore your ringing phone without good reason, just in case it’s an emergency.
When you manage to gingerly shuffle up to not splash the water over the edge of the tub onto the tiles, you dry your hands off on the towel waiting for you, then grab your phone. You just about manage to get a glance at the caller ID — John Bun 🐰 — before the calls times out.
Slightly alarmed, you quickly unlock the device with the intention of immediately calling back— because it’s really so rare that he ever rings you—, but then it starts to ring with a new incoming call with the same ID, and you don’t hesitate to press answer.
“Hey, Mama!” Jungkook greets brightly the second the call connects.
“You…sound okay,” you realise, eyebrows furrowing as you lean back into the water after putting the call on speakerphone and leaving the device on the little ledge to your right, where your bath products are lined up ready for use.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he sounds utterly bewildered.
“Jungkook, the last time you called me, you thought aliens had abducted you,” you remind flatly.
“In my defence, I was really drunk and forgot where I was.”
“I still don’t know why you rang me of all people.”
“Gyu told me to. He would’ve done it, but he was too busy crying about not wanting to be probed by anyone but you. Did you ever peg him, by the way?”
“Pretty sure you didn’t call me at 11am on a Monday to ask that,” you muse, adjusting so that you can reach a lump of bubbles floating just out of arms’ length, to hold them in your hands and watch the rainbows dance on their shiny, curved surface.
“You’re right. We’ll circle back,” he decides, and you huff a laugh out. “Have you got a sitter for Tae for Wonwoo’s wedding yet?”
“Wonwoo’s wedding?” you repeat, lifting your head as you think about it. “Oh, no, we decided that I’m not going, just Gyu. We don’t want to leave Tae all those hours when we’re out of the city. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was closer, but it’s too far for us to be comfortable with that.”
“Oh, in that case, do you think you’d be able to watch Jihoon?”
“Jihoon? Why would I watch Jihoon?” you mumble confused.
“Babe, Wonwoo’s my cousin, remember? He and Yoongi may not be related by blood, but they still consider each other cousins.”
“Oh yeah, right. Forgot you’re related for a sec.”
Jungkook snorts an amused laugh before talking. “Mm, so, what do you think? I was going to ask if you think your sitter would watch Jihoon too, but if it’s you, it’s even better because he knows you! Wonwoo’s asking about Yoongi’s RSVP for the sake of seating and catering; he needs it before the end of the week really.”
You hum in understanding, remembering how stressful getting responses for your own wedding invitations was, and you and Mingyu had kept it small. You’re not very close with Wonwoo, but he has enthused a few times about the wedding plans when you’ve crossed paths, clearly very excited to create the big, beautiful wedding of his dreams. Luckily, his wife-to-be is just as enthusiastic, and the pair have extended the invitation to pretty much all of their friends and family to join them in celebrating the union. You know it’s going to be huge, and you don’t envy them for all the work they have to do, but you do sympathise. A lot.
“Well, I’m more than happy to watch Jihoon, yeah; he’s a sweet kid,” you answer.
“He is, he’s great,” Jungkook agrees quickly, cutting you off, but you don’t mind and just giggle instead. He sounds so genuinely fond of his nephew that you’ll never be anything but endeared by the man butting in to praise the little boy.
“But obviously, it all depends on if he would be okay with staying the night here with me and Tae. I know they’re booking a whole bunch of hotels for their guests, so Yoongi will stay there, and even if not, it’ll be too late by the time he gets back for Jihoon to still realistically be awake and endure the drive home. Plus, it’d be nice for Yoongi have some time off the dad clock.”
“It would. I don’t think he’s had any time for himself since the bitch left, other than when Ji’s in bed.” You can’t help but linger on the fact Jungkook refers to who you can only assume is Jihoon’s mother as “the bitch”— which coming from a man who doesn’t like to call people such names, says a lot—, plus, the venom in which he hisses the insult. You’re beyond curious about Jihoon’s mother, Yoongi’s ex-wife, but it’s not your place to ask. Yoongi obviously doesn’t want to even be your friend, so there’s no way he’d be happy to know his brother told you about the woman he was supposed to have a family with.
“Mm, so, as I said, I’m fine with it as long as Jihoon is. And obviously, Yoongi and I would need to discuss it properly to figure out logistics and such.”
“Mm, yeah, yeah, I’ll call him after school today to let him know you’re available….and convince him to actually agree to go to the wedding that is.”
For a second, you’re quiet as you let his words settle. “Jungkook.”
“Yes, beautiful?” he coos, extra sweet, knowing that you’re using your stern tone— something you’ve used on him many times over the years when he’s done something you don’t approve of, or he’s just being plain stupid.
“Why does that sound like Yoongi doesn’t even know you’re asking me any of this.”
“I have no idea, you gorgeous, stunning, jaw-dropping–” he cuts off with a giggle when you sigh heavily. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t mentioned anything to him yet. I’m at Wonwoo’s right now and he asked me; said Yoongi’s been saying he can’t because of Ji, and everyone who he trusts to look after him will be there.”
“Jin’s going?” you ask, trying to recall if Wonwoo was at Seokjin’s wedding, if the pair even know each other that well, but there were so many people at the wedding that you didn’t get a chance to even take in half of them; and with Wonwoo being a photographer known for his specific brand of angsty shots, he’s likely worked with Seokjin for more artsy fashion shoots. You just haven’t ever seen the pair interact before, and Wonwoo can be particular with the brands and models he works with, so you know there are a lot of people who have never worked with him despite how well-known he is.
“They’re on their second honeymoon then,” Jungkook says and you hum, recalling Seokjin vaguely mentioning booking a trip in February the last time you spoke to him a couple weeks back.
“Won’t that be their third?” you wonder, thinking about the recent bundle of photos Seokjin uploaded to his private social media— just for close friends and family— of him and Celeste off in a forest somewhere on a honeymoon, even though they had been on one immediately after their wedding.
“Oooh, right. To be honest, I think he’s just really going to milk this whole married thing and call any holiday they go on a honeymoon.”
You can help but laugh softly in agreement. “He will, but it’s sweet, how in love they are.”
“Mm, suppose. Anyway, Yoon says he’s got no-one and doesn’t know any sitters who can handle autistic kids, so I thought ‘hey, I know a foxy mama who—'”
“Don’t ever call me a foxy mama again,” you interrupt in a tone so unimpressed that Jungkook cracks up, cackling away down the phone, making you glad it’s not pressed to your ear right now. You’ve been attacked by that very laugh through the phone before, and it’s not something you want to ever experience again.
It takes Jungkook a minute to calm, during which time you just enjoy the warm water relaxing your muscles, dancing your fingers through the water, and idly humming softly to yourself as you wait.
“Hey, is that water I hear?” he asks when you abruptly lift your arm to combat the very sudden itch of your nose that you just can’t ignore.
You hum in confirmation. “I’m in the bath.” Jungkook gasps sharply, then hangs up, making you look at your phone utterly bewildered and a little concerned that something has happened to him. At least until seconds later, when a request for a video call comes through and you snort amusedly. After drying your hand, you reach over to accept, though leave your phone where it is, angled up to the ceiling. “Pervert.”
“Let me seeee,” he whines, not even trying to argue your accusation.
“No.”
“Fine, I’ll come over and join you!” You know he’s serious by the fact you can hear him moving.
“Fucking hell,” you huff and pick up your phone to angle it so that your shoulders and above are in view. “Happy?”
“Did you get prettier, huh?” he coos, grinning dumbly at the camera and failing to wink at you, making you laugh. At least he’s now stopped trying to rush over to your house and he’s sitting back down— you can only hope he’s found a room in Wonwoo’s house out of everyone’s ear shot to have this call. “Where’s Gyu? I actually did call him first because I know he’s not at work and you two talk about literally everything, especially about Tae, so I knew he’ll know about the sitter thing too, even if you’re the one who usually arranges it–”
“You’re rambling, bunny boy.”
“Right. I just suddenly have a lot of energy I need to get out.” He fails to wink again, and you just laugh. “I can’t believe my seduction attempts have one again been thwarted by my inability to wink.”
“You can wink,” you point out, having seen him do so before. “It just…comes and goes.”
“And I would like to go to your place and come–” He cuts himself off with a snigger when he sees you exaggeratedly rolling your eyes. “Okay, but seriously, what’s Gyu doing? Can I come over?”
“He’s grocery shopping.”
“Oh, he’s in the zone,” he realises. “No wonder he didn’t answer my calls. It’s so fucking weird how obsessive he gets grocery shopping.”
“It’s cute…as long as we’re not in a rush. He’s just particular about ingredients and wants to find a good bargain!” you defend your best friend, even if Mingyu’s particulars when grocery shopping have frustrated you on more than one occasion.
These days, you only go grocery shopping together if there isn’t a single plan for at least the following three hours, and if Taehyung isn’t with the pair of you. The poor boy gets so bored and more frustrated than you do when the two of you have to watch Mingyu stare between the same two punnets of grapes for ten straight minutes before he decides which one to buy. Which is extra frustrating when you know the man will eat pretty much anything put in front of him, so he has no reason to be so fussy when he buys groceries. He doesn’t even care if you bring home the most battered items in the store, he just cares what he buys. You’ll never understand, and you’re not even sure Mingyu does himself, but you leave him to it, and he’s usually happy shopping alone anyway.
“Mm, sure, sure,” Jungkook replies, not at all agreeing, just placating you, and you roll your eyes again. “You know, I could give you an even better reason to roll your eyes,” he says, extra sleazy, and finally manages to wink through the camera at you this time. “I did it! That’s worth at least a boob shot.”
“I can’t tell if you mean you mean that as a sex act, or for me to angle the camera down,” you admit amusedly.
“Uhh, honestly, if you show me your tits right now, I will be running to my car and heading straight over. So consider that carefully. If I see the tiddies, I’m gonna come over and put them in my mouth,” he warns, making you laugh. “I’m serious.” He looks it too, completely straight faced and eyes a little dark where they’re focused on the bottom of his screen, as if he can use the power of sheer want to get your bare chest in camera range.
“I know. You’re so cute, Kookie,” you coo. Seconds before the bathroom door opens, you hear familiar footsteps, so you just look over unworried as Mingyu enters your bathroom without even knocking the door. “Done shopping already?” you question bewildered, he only left half an hour ago.
“I got all the way there and realised I forgot the bags,” Mingyu admits, crossing the room to squat down beside the tub with his arms crossed on the edge. “And I knew you’d kill me if I bought more when we have so many.”
“I would,” you confirm simply, thinking of the frankly far too expansive collection of reusable shopping bags— even the fancy insulated ones— that the pair of you have collected over the years living together, yet still often forget to take shopping with you. You tend to keep a stash in the boot of your car ready, but Mingyu always forgets to restock the ones you try to get him to keep in his own car. More often than not, he does drive yours though— simply because it’s bigger and more comfortable—, but sometimes he does actually drive his own car when it’s just him, though you never know until you find your car missing from the driveway when you peer out of the window. At least you have full access to his car too, and there’s a spare car seat for Taehyung in the garage if you ever need it when you have Taehyung with you.
“Who’re you talking to?” he wonders, suddenly realising that the view on your phone screen isn’t a video, but a video call, making him frown confusedly about the fact you’re video calling someone while naked. Though when you turn the phone and his best friend waves at him, Mingyu huffs a laugh. “Hi, Koo. This is why my call didn’t go through then; you’re trying to fuck my baby mama again.”
“Trying being the keyword,” Jungkook answers shamelessly with a nod to match, making Mingyu snicker. “She won’t even let me see the tiddies.”
“You literally just said you’d come straight over and put them in your mouth if I did!” you defend. “I am trying to have a relaxing bath here.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to come shopping with me?” Mingyu asks, pouting at you in an adorably sad kind of kicked puppy-dog way. “I was bored on my own.”
“Seriously?” you mutter while giving him an unimpressed look, though he knows he’s got you, he’s already grinning victoriously and bouncing up to reach over and pull the plug from the bath to begin draining the water.
“This is exactly why people think you’re still together,” Jungkook sniggers, watching you give in to your ex-husband so easily after him doing nothing more than pouting for your company. Admittedly, it’s not the first time you’ve given in so easily to Mingyu wanting your attention— actually, it’s pretty damn regular—, and you’re very certain it’ll likely continue for as long as you remain such good friends.
“We’re soulmates, that’s why,” Mingyu announces, taking your phone and talking to Jungkook himself as you get out of the tub and dry yourself off with a towel diligently. Suddenly, when you’re bending over to dry your feet, you realise that Mingyu is weirdly silent, and so you look over at him curiously, only to find his gaze glued to you. You raise a pointed eyebrow at him, making him sigh defeatedly. “Why did we agree no sex when we divorced? I still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and seeing you literally naked and bent over in front of me is cruel, baby.”
“Naked and bent over?” Jungkook repeats, sounding a little pained. “Quick, switch camera view, Gyu!”
“No. My eyes only,” Mingyu argues extra childishly, still watching you as you finish drying off, then hang the towel on the heated rail for it to dry off. You walk over to Mingyu and carefully tuck up at his side, so although Jungkook can see you again now, your nude body is out of his view. Mingyu is still staring down at you with a darkness growing in his gaze that, admittedly, still makes your body begin to grow warm, remembering how well he always worshipped your body when you were together.
Honestly, sometimes it’s hard to remember that you both were very adamant on being nothing but friends once you divorced; cutting off sexual intimacy between you for the sake of not blurring any lines.
It’s even harder to remember when Mingyu looks at you like this, like he wants to drop to his knees right now and bury his face between your thighs until he can’t breathe; and then keep going until you have to force his head out and hold him back by a fistful of hair until he’s returned oxygen to his lungs. That particular circumstance was a very regular occurrence ever since the first time the two of you had sex all those years back. You honestly think Mingyu prefers giving oral than actually fucking with how he would beg for it sometimes, then not even try to do anything else when his chest was heavy, face messy, and eyes so dark and crazed you’re pretty sure he wasn’t even mentally present in the real world anymore.
Thinking of that, of how good Mingyu always was, how desperate to please you, it does make you almost forget why you can’t push him down onto the nearest surface— floor included— and climb onto his face. It’s even harder when you’re pretty sure he’d let you and be so enthusiastically grateful about it too. But you can’t risk things getting confused between the two of you, not when it could ruin everything and you have a son to consider.
“Don’t forget to call Yoongi about Jihoon staying here,” you say to Jungkook, who nods, letting out a soft, slightly disappointed breath knowing this is you ending the conversation and he won’t be getting a view of your naked body or the chance to drive over and see it up close.
“What?” Mingyu murmurs confused, frowning at you slightly in bewilderment, yet turns to say goodbye to Jungkook when you do, then hangs up and locks your phone while toddling after you into your room, no longer staring at your body but the back of your head in curiosity. “What’s that about Jihoon staying here?”
“So Yoongi can go to Wonwoo’s wedding. Koo asked if we have a sitter for Tae for it because he was going to see if they would also be able to look after Jihoon, as we would’ve already found someone suitable to watch a child with autism, and Yoongi doesn’t know any sitters, especially ones like that.”
“Ah, you told him you’re not going,” he understands, and reaches past you to shuffle through the clothes hanging in front of you now that you’re in your walk-in wardrobe. You leave him to pick out your outfit while you pull on your underwear and apply your skin care.
When you’re done and head over to your bed where Mingyu is comfortably reclined in wait, you’re not at all surprised to find that the outfit laid out at his side ready for you matches the one he’s wearing. Taehyung gets his love of matching from his dad, after all.
It’s not until Wednesday that you hear anything back about potentially looking after Jihoon in February so that Yoongi can attend his cousin’s wedding.
When Mingyu returns home from picking Taehyung up from school— the little boy happily bouncing along at his side and already animatedly telling you everything he did at school today—, Mingyu holds out a little folded piece of paper to you with a sly, suggestive grin. You give him a questioning look, but he just winks at you then walks off, so you turn back to your son and leave the paper alone until he’s done talking.
As soon as Taehyung darts off to take his water bottle to the kitchen ready to be cleaned and refilled for tomorrow, you focus on the paper in your hand. Unfolding it, you’re met with neat handwriting of a note with your name at the top, and to your surprise, Yoongi’s name and phone number at the bottom.
The note doesn’t say much, just that Jungkook talked to him, and although Yoongi isn’t certain Jihoon will be okay with it, he at least appreciates the offer and would like to meet to discuss it; he’d really like to attend Wonwoo’s wedding and play the piano for his cousin’s first dance, like Wonwoo has asked him to do since they were kids. You can’t help but think how sweet it is, both of Wonwoo to want his cousin to play the piano at his wedding for his first dance with his new wife, but for Yoongi to want to do it so much that he’s willing to leave Jihoon with someone he doesn’t consider family.
Although you know Yoongi will still be at the school now and won’t finish work for a little bit as he finishes up whatever he needs to after class, you grab your phone, save his number, and send him a text to suggest he and Jihoon come over this Saturday after lunch to discuss it and gauge Jihoon’s comfort at your house.
Then, you put down your phone and forget about it for the following few hours as you focus on your family, until you find a response from Yoongi agreeing, and something in your chest flutters at the thought of seeing him in your family home this weekend.
By the time the doorbell rings on Saturday afternoon, Taehyung is all but vibrating out of his skin. Ever since you told him last night that Yoongi and Jihoon will be visiting for a few hours today, Taehyung has not stopped talking about everything he wants to show them, everything he wants to do with Jihoon.
You and Mingyu have both had to remind your son a few times that Jihoon likes much calmer things, not running around and lots of stimulation like Taehyung does. He always nods at the reminder and calms down, thinks of calmer things until he inevitably forgets in his excitement.
As you head to the front door, you can hear Mingyu gently reminding Taehyung one final time to be gentle with Jihoon and not overwhelm him with toys, games, and options.
“Hi, welcome!” you greet once you open the door to the father-son duo standing on your little porch. You’re not surprised to find them in matching coats, beanies, and boots, though it does make you smile a little brighter, utterly endeared. “Come on in,” you offer, stepping aside and motioning into the house.
Yoongi softly nudges Jihoon encouragingly on the back, so the boy tentatively enters first with his dad right behind him, the man giving you a little smile in grateful greeting before you shut the door and motion to where they can put their shoes, and the slippers that Taehyung had diligently set up— and straightened a dozen times— as soon as he rushed excitedly downstairs this morning barely awake.
“Thank you for inviting us over,” Yoongi says when you’re hanging up their coats in the coat closet, door open on your right and the pair in view as Jihoon carefully peers around what he can see of the house from the entrance hall.
“Of course, Taehyung has been really excited to hang out with you more, Jihoon,” you inform, careful not to give away the real reason they’re here, just in case after discussing it with Yoongi thoroughly, the pair of you decide that Jihoon staying with you for the night won’t work out. You don’t want to risk upsetting the boys by prematurely telling them about a sleepover that can’t even happen. Not that you’re even sure if Jihoon would be excited to have a sleepover with Taehyung, but you’d rather not risk it.
“Oh,” Jihoon mutters softly, looking down at the slippers on his feet. You can see him wiggling his toes, pressing them up against the material, and you hope he finds them comfortable. They’re technically Taehyung’s, extra soft and very expensive— more than you’d ever pay for slippers if it wasn’t for his sensory struggles—, but your son is adamantly against wearing shoes when he doesn’t have to; something he actually gets from you. You never wear slippers at home, only Mingyu does, and he still gives the pair of you judging looks when you both remove your socks too and pad around barefoot.
Figuring Jihoon isn’t feeling particularly verbal right now, you lead the pair into the living room, where Mingyu is physically holding Taehyung down to stop the boy running off to greet the Min family with probably too much excitement to not overwhelm poor Jihoon the second he walks into the house.
“Hey,” Mingyu grins at the pair. “Welcome to our home!”
“I call can you Yoongi ‘gain?” Taehyung immediately asks his teacher, who chuckles and nods in consent. “Yoongi!” he cheers, wriggling out of his dad’s arms to dart over and hug Yoongi, who doesn’t fail to return the affection, just like always. “Ji, Ji, wanna watch anime?” Taehyung asks, bouncing over to Jihoon as soon as the hug breaks, though he respectfully doesn’t get to close, and is careful to not raise his voice or bounce too much as the older boy glances at him. “We can watch in my playroom! I have many lots pillows, and beanbaggies, and blankets, and soft, soft, soft teddies!”
“Baby, how about we let Jihoon and Yoongi get comfortable and used to the house first?” Mingyu suggests, noticing that Jihoon is shrinking in on himself a little.
“Oh, okay!” Taehyung bounces off to clamber back onto his dad’s lap. “Want watch nice music?” he suggests, already picking up the TV remote from the couch beside Mingyu to switch to YouTube and find the very same video you played for Jihoon in the hotel that day. Jihoon must recognise the music because as soon as it starts to play, he lifts his head enough to peer up at the large screen, then gingerly moves over to sit on the other end of the sofa to the pair and watch.
“I should really find this video and save it,” Yoongi muses quietly on your right, suddenly a lot closer having walked further in once his son had bravely moved first.
“I’ll send you the link to the playlist,” you offer, looking at him, and he looks away from the TV to give you a little, grateful grin. “Go sit, I’ll grab drinks, what do you two like? Coffee, tea, hot chocolate, water, juice…” you trail off, trying to remember exactly what beverages you have, knowing that all three members of your family have the bad habit of finding new drinks interesting in the store, yet by the time you get home, you no longer want to try them, so they get added to the collection for a later date. At least there are always a lot of drink options for guests to choose from.
“Is it alright if I come look what you’ve got? Hoon can be particular about like juice brands and stuff,” Yoongi responds, looking a little awkward about asking.
“Yoongi,” you start in an amused little tone as you rest a hand on his upper arm. “If anyone understands, it’s me, you don’t need to be embarrassed about asking.”
“Right, yeah, sorry.” He smiles at you, slightly sheepish, yet also grateful, before he follows you through to the kitchen. “Oh wow,” he mutters when you open the side of the double fridge reserved mostly for drinks, with some healthy snacks set on the bottom shelf for Taehyung to reach whenever he wants them. “That’s a lot of options.”
“Yeah, we’re a family of compulsive drink buyers it seems,” you muse with a little giggle as you step aside to give Yoongi the space to explore the options at his own pace.
“Buyers and not drinkers, it seems,” he jokes and you giggle again. Yoongi shoots you a quick look, lips curled up in a smile, before he turns his full attention to the bottles, cans, and cartons neatly arranged on the shelves.
“How about daddy, then?” you ask once you’ve topped up the water in the coffee machine ready for use. You hear items hitting one another and turn to find Yoongi fumbling to straighten the drinks he had knocked over. “You okay?”
“Y–yeah–yep!” he replies while quickly glancing at you, giving you a short view of the soft pink suddenly painting the high points of his cheeks.
“Alright,” your tone is a little suspicious because the man is too flustered to not be lying, but you decide to let him have his secrets. “So, what would you like to drink?”
“Oh uhm, a coffee would be great, thanks.”
“On it!”
Once Yoongi has grabbed a drink for Jihoon— and commented that it’s Jihoon’s favourite, so you make a mental note to buy more— he takes it through to the living room while you finish making the hot drinks, including a hot chocolate for Taehyung because the boy always wants one when you and Mingyu both have hot drinks. You’re pretty sure he likes it because it makes him feel involved, and maybe even like a mini adult, as the three of you sit with your matching mugs together.
As soon as you place the tray of steaming mugs onto the coffee table, Taehyung gasps excitedly and scoots over to sit on the floor up to the low table, pulling his favourite coaster— shaped like a daisy— forward for you to place his adorable little mug on with a little spoon beside it.
“Thank you!” he chirps, big eyes glued to the marshmallows bobbing in his mug and already picking up the spoon to scoop up one of the sweet treats.
“Here, you can help yourself, Jihoon,” you offer the boy as you place a few packets of sweet snacks down after removing them from the tray. Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to grab a packet of mini cookies, and thankfully, it encourages Jihoon to join the younger boy at the coffee table and pick a snack for himself.
“Babe, pass the marshmallows,” Mingyu calls, extending one arm towards the table and making a grabby hand.
“Manners, daddy,” Taehyung reminds.
“Please, babe, pass the marshmallows,” Mingyu corrects himself, making you grin to yourself amusedly while tossing over the tub of mini marshmallows.
“Yoongi, fancy something?” you check, motioning to the options.
“No, thanks,” he replies from where he’s settled comfortably on the sofa in one corner; Mingyu is in the other, so you plop down in the space in the middle. The sofa is large enough that there’s still room on either side of you for another adult, and you take advantage of that room to bring your legs up to cross under you comfortably.
Surprisingly, it feels like this is something the five of you often do; it feels natural to sit there with your drinks and snacks, the only sound the videos playing on the TV.
When you glance at Yoongi on your right, he looks pretty comfortable, eyes mostly on the TV as he sips at his coffee— making a pleased little expression every time the flavour coats his tongue, causing you to preen secretly, proud to have made him something he likes so much— but intermittently glancing down at his son to check in on the boy.
As far as you can tell, Jihoon looks content too as he ever so gradually makes his way through the snack he picked, and sips at his drink. It makes your lips curl up a little when you spot Jihoon making the same pleased face with his drink as his dad does his own. It’s endlessly endearing how much the boy takes after his father; how much he obviously looks up to the man to copy him, even subconsciously, as much as he does.
Although Taehyung usually jumps up after he finishes his hot chocolate— either to cuddle up to you, Mingyu, or a plushie; or to find something to do to get his fresh energy out—, he sits there today, eyes flickering to Jihoon on his right routinely. You can see that Taehyung has some energy to get out; he keeps fidgeting and adjusting his seated position frequently enough that Jihoon glances at him with a little furrow of his eyebrows.
“Tae, why don’t we go get your energy out, huh?” Mingyu suggests, already getting up. “Then after, maybe Jihoon will like to join us in the playroom, and we can watch that show you said you think he’ll like?”
“Yeah!” Taehyung enthuses, turning wide eyes on Jihoon. “We watch anime after I do my zoomies?” he requests. “It has many lots good songs! They are very pretty songs.”
“Oh, okay,” Jihoon agrees after taking a couple of seconds to consider it.
“Yay!” Taehyung cheers, getting to his feet to immediately run at his dad. Mingyu turns and darts off with a cheeky grin, and Taehyung laughs before happily following, determined to catch his dad. “I will get you!”
“Never!” Mingyu calls back, then the pair are out of the room, and you can hear them running through the kitchen, so you know Mingyu is taking Taehyung out to the back garden where they can screech and yell as they play as much as they like without disturbing the calm of the house. You’re not at all surprised when you hear Mingyu collide with the new stools at the breakfast bar, toppling them over while Taehyung cackles at his dad.
“I told him he’ll run into bigger stools,” you muse, glancing at Yoongi. “The old stools were smaller and tucked under the breakfast bar easily; these ones stick out a bit, but Gyu’s a giant, so we need giant stools, apparently.”
“The cons of being tall,” Yoongi replies with a little grin that makes you giggle.
After a few more minutes, Jihoon is done eating and glances at the sofa, so you shuffle over into the now empty corner, giving him space to join if he wants to. It makes you feel like you’ve done something right when he doesn’t hesitate to get up and clamber into your previous seat, leaving an equal distance on either side of him. You thought he’d sit nearer his dad— his source of comfort and safe space—, but he seems happy where he is. You smile to yourself as you turn your head away from him to focus back on the TV and let the calm envelop you.
By the time Taehyung and Mingyu return, pink cheeked and bringing a chill from the autumn air, you’ve managed to have a conversation with Jihoon. A very successful conversation about his favourite snacks and drinks if you do say so yourself. Yoongi barely even participated either, just at the start to help prompt Jihoon along to respond to your attempt at conversation, but then the boy seemed to relax and answered you easily enough. Admittedly, he’s still pretty withdrawn, but you still feel like it’s a big step and good sign; and judging by the tender-proud look on Yoongi’s face, he feels the same way.
“I got my zoomies out!” Taehyung announces once he toddles into the living room. He grabs his water bottle from the coffee table and sucks down a fair amount before looking expectantly at Jihoon, chest heaving as he catches his breath from drinking so much at once.
“I think Tae is trying to ask if you want to go watch anime now,” you state to Jihoon amusedly. Taehyung nods enthusiastically, then beams when Jihoon slides off the sofa.
“I’ll be right here,” Yoongi assures gently when Jihoon looks at him for support. For a second, it looks like Jihoon might return to his dad’s side, but he gathers his nerve and nods in understanding before turning to follow Taehyung out of the living room and upstairs to the playroom. You assume Mingyu is already there, based on the thud of something being dropped upstairs; you’re not even surprised by that at this point and don’t react to the soft thud.
“Let me clean up all this, then we can talk about February while they’re occupied,” you suggest, already getting up to gather all the mugs and empty wrappers onto the tray to take to the kitchen.
“I can help,” Yoongi offers, shuffling to the edge of his seat but you make a noise and wave him off.
“You’re our guest, you just sit. Plus, it’s easy enough for me to handle alone,” you assure, and prove your point by lifting the tray. “You can put something else on if you want,” you offer, motioning vaguely to the TV with a tilt of your head before leaving the living room.
Only a couple of minutes later, you’re back with fresh drinks for you both, and Yoongi is curiously flicking through the videos on the playlist still playing.
“This is a good playlist,” he comments once you’re sitting comfortably back in your corner, though now curled up with your shoulder against the back rest so you’re facing him instead of the TV. “I recognise some of the songs in the titles, but a lot I’ve never heard of. They’re all calming?”
“Yeah. They have a bunch more on their channel, but these ones work for Tae the best,” you answer, propping your head on your fist as you rest your elbow on the back of the sofa. “They also have some really upbeat ones too, and Tae listens to them when he wants to bounce around, but it’s mostly the calm playlist. I’ll share this playlist with you, but obviously you can make your own version, though Jihoon seems to like this one.”
“He really does. I tried to find the videos after that day in the hotel, but I didn’t really know what to search or anything, so I was just aimlessly scrolling for, like, an hour,” he admits with a chuckle before placing the remote back on the table to instead pick up his mug of steaming coffee to cup in his hands. He adjusts his position so that he’s angled more towards you and tucks his left foot under his right thigh to make it and easier position to be in. Weirdly, it makes you smile to yourself; he looks so comfortable and almost at home in your house despite it being the first time he’s visited. Something about it feels right to you, and your chest flutters with soft warmth.
You take a moment to silently appreciate the ease between you— and the man before you—, and only once he’s settled in his seat do you decide to start talking. “He seems okay so far, I think it’s a good sign, right?”
“Mm, definitely,” Yoongi confirms with a nod. “I think that by the time February comes around, and after spending more time together, he’ll be okay to stay for a night.”
“We can definitely do a trial or two beforehand; so that he can try it out while you’re still in town if he can’t handle it and needs to go home.”
“I’d really appreciate that. I mean, I appreciate all this anyway; you being so open and willing to try this out and look after him for me. I don’t exactly have anyone who I can rely on this much, only Kook and Jin, and they’re always busy, so it really means a lot to me that you’re giving us this chance.”
“You deserve to have someone to rely on like this, Yoongi. And the opportunity for a break and time to yourself while knowing your son is safe and in capable hands, somewhere he’s understood. Well, as best as we can understand him, of course. I’m not assuming I’ll know everything and be able to handle every eventuality by then, but that’s not even something we can say after a lifetime with a child. We’re still learning more about Tae all the time and I literally birthed him,” you joke.
Yoongi chuckles, nodding understandingly. “Yeah, I get it. Even kids without these extra needs will constantly be changing, learning, and growing, so it’s impossible to ever know everything about how to handle anything they or life may throw at us.”
“Exactly! The best we can do is prepare with what we know and do our best.” He hums in agreement. “With that in mind, what do I need to know about the cutie?”
“Well…” He lets out a breath then pulls his phone out. “I actually did write up a document with everything I could think of, just so I didn’t forget anything, though I still probably have. Is it okay if I send it to you? I didn’t want to just shove that on you without permission.”
“Of course, send away!” you assure, already grabbing your phone ready to read the document as soon as you receive it. “The more I know, the better. And with it written down, I can refer back to it when I need to.”
“Great, thanks. Some people can be funny about like, written instructions like this,” he says, more of a mumble as he focuses on sending the correct document to you on his phone.
“Mm, like you’re implying they’re incompetent and can’t do it without step-by-step guidance.”
“Yes!” Yoongi lifts his head to look at you with slightly widened eyes. “That’s exactly what I mean. Why do some people insist on making everything about them?” he huffs, almost pouting; it takes everything in you to not react to how cute he looks.
“One of life’s great mysteries,” you respond in a dramatically solemn tone that makes Yoongi’s almost sulky expression break as he laughs. “Does Jihoon know about the wedding?” you wonder as you open the document on your phone now that it’s come through successfully.
“He knows Wonwoo is getting married, but not that I might go. I don’t want to say anything to him until I know for certain.”
“Understandable. Tae obviously knows that Gyu is going but not about this.” You motion vaguely between the two of you before crawling across the cushions closer to him— unaware of the slightly alarmed expression that crosses his face at your unexpected move—, so that you can sit close enough to show him your screen. “Can you clarify on this?” you request and look at the man in time to see his posture relax, confusing you a little, but you aren’t given the chance to ponder on it as Yoongi peers at your screen then begins to explain in better detail what information on the document means.
By the time Yoongi and Jihoon leave that evening, you know Jihoon far better than you ever expected to— at least on paper—, and you feel far more confident that you can properly watch over the boy for a day while his dad is out of town.
Jihoon seems to relax a lot more too. You even hear him laughing cutely when Taehyung needs another round of garden zoomies with his dad, and Jihoon accompanies them outside— though doesn’t run around with them, but he does at least perch on the swing and watch the pair with a big smile.
Still, as much as the day seems to have been a great help, you and Yoongi both know that Jihoon is nowhere near ready for a sleepover without his dad— or even to spend a few hours at your house without the man—, so you make plans to meet every Saturday for the foreseeable future. You both hope that spending more time together will help ease Jihoon into feeling comfortable and safe with you and Taehyung, while also making sure that you can handle potential issues that may crop up while Yoongi is right there to teach you what his son needs to regulate and relax.
Even though you’ve agreed to not tell the boys about the potential sleepover— in worry of Taehyung getting upset if it doesn’t happen, and Jihoon feeling uneasy and therefore, unable to give you the chance to prove yourself to him—, you, of course, can’t hide the new plans from them, and let them know that the four of you are going to be spending time together regularly from now on. To no-one’s surprise, Taehyung is beyond excited about it, whereas Jihoon seems a little uncertain, but his smile doesn’t completely fade away with the news, and that really feels like a good sign.
As agreed, the next Saturday, you and Taehyung meet Yoongi at Jihoon’s favourite playpark.
When you arrive, you understand why Jihoon prefers this one out of all of the parks in the city. It’s nestled away almost secretly amongst a patch of trees in the middle of a neighbourhood that you’ve never even driven through before. There doesn’t seem to really be anything but residential buildings in the neighbourhood as far as you can see, not even a little family run restaurant or convenience store, so you can easily imagine that it’s always as quiet as it is now. Honestly, if you didn’t love your house so much, you would even consider having a curious look for house listings in this neighbourhood, it really is so calm.
“Hey, glad you found it,” Yoongi greets you when you get close enough to where he’s sitting on a bench just outside of the gated play park, with his arms already full of Taehyung— who hadn’t hesitated to run off ahead of you the second he saw his favourite teacher.
“It really is a hidden treasure, huh,” you muse, taking a seat on the bench and picking up your son’s backpack from where he’s carelessly dropped it onto the damp grass, now running off into the park. As you sit, you can easily spot Jihoon perched on the climbing frame, contently watching the world go by. You’re a little worried that Taehyung is going to ruin the older boy’s calm, yet Jihoon notices Taehyung approaching— hard to miss with the calls of “Ji! Ji!”—, and smiles a little before moving aside, silently inviting Taehyung up to join him.
“Mm, a previous student’s grandmother actually told me about it a couple years back,” Yoongi informs as you both watch your sons greet one another once Taehyung has clambered up the holds to the platform Jihoon is on. “She brought all her grandkids here, and said the locals look after the park well.”
“Oh, that’s really nice that they do that.” He hums in agreement. “I’m surprised we’re the only ones here if the locals love it so much.”
“Sometimes others come along, but I think there aren’t many kids who live locally. I think this neighbourhood has become a kind of retirement village,” he says with a chuckle. “There are a couple retirement homes; the block opposite the entrance is one, actually. I’m always getting comments from old folk about how cute Hoonie is, so, heads up, if any come along, they will coo over Tae.”
“It’s exactly what he deserves, he’s adorable and deserves all the cheek pinches,” you declare with a tinge of theatrics that make Yoongi laugh.
“Okay, I can’t even deny that; he really is such a sweet kid.”
“So’s Jihoon.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a little breath that sounds like it’s full of nothing but love for his son. “We did pretty good, huh?”
“We did indeed.”
The two of you sit and watch your sons play together for a while in content silence, just enjoying that the weather is still just nice enough to do this without worry of any of you getting cold.
“It’s Jihoon’s birthday soon; it’s on a Friday, but I thought seeing as we’re meeting on Saturdays anyway, would you two like to come over for lunch and cake? Jin and Cel will be there.”
“Oh, yeah, we’d love to,” you agree without hesitation, smiling at him. “Anything on the no way in hell list where gifts are concerned?”
“Mm, not that I can think of. You have that document with his triggers and such on, so I trust you won’t get anything that will set him off. And thankfully, he doesn’t like anything that annoys me really, so that’s not a concern,” he chuckles.
“Lucky, Taehyung loves glitter,” you comment, giving him a pained look that makes him laugh.
“I’ll buy him a whole set for his birthday,” he jokes, and laughs a little louder when you gently hit his arm in silent complaint. “I’m kidding, I’d never buy glitter as a gift, that’s just a giant fuck you to a parent.”
“And slime.”
“Yes!” he agrees. “And playdough. My parents bought Hoon so much playdough when he was little, and he was obsessed with it. I found it all over the place for days after he played with it.”
“So that’s a no to a giant playdough set?” you tease.
“Ugh, don’t give me flashbacks,” he retorts, making you snicker a laugh. “You know, I’m not even sure how he’d feel about it anymore.”
“Tae is either really into it, or doesn’t care at all, and it usually changes part way, so even he’s learned to just avoid it because he doesn’t want to tidy it up once he loses interest and the texture starts to get to him.”
“Least he learned.” You hum in agreement. “I actually meant to say that he doesn’t really want a party or anything, for his birthday.”
“Oh?” you turn your head to look at Yoongi curiously, though he’s watching the boys compete who can swing highest on the baby swings, despite the fact the swings more suited for their age group are perfectly available. You just hope that they don’t get stuck in them where their butts have dipped into the centres, legs flopping over the edge unable to fit.
“He’s been really into Japan since Tae gave him that snow globe and got him into anime, so I suggested we go in the winter break for a late birthday slash Christmas gift. Hoon’s really into the thought, even if he’s anxious about it too, but he actually mentioned Taehyung going too, as he’s the one that introduced him to anime. So, I was wondering if you guys would be interested in that? Going to Japan with us at the end of December?” he asks, now turning his head to look at your surprised expression. “Not like a full holiday together or anything, we can do our own things and just have a day to celebrate Hoon’s birthday, or an afternoon or something, depending.”
“Tae really wants to see the snowy mountains for his birthday,” you inform, earning a questioning look. “His birthday is at the end of December, so we were already planning to go to Japan,” you explain, lips turning up into an amused grin.
“Mm, especially as Tae said he wants Jihoon there.”
“Oh, really?” The man’s expression softens, looking so touched by your son’s wish to include his son in the boy’s birthday plans. “I’m not sure how Hoon will handle the snow, but celebrating their birthdays together sounds great.”
“We could travel there and back together, rent places near each other so that Gyu and I can support you with Jihoon, if you want?”
“That would actually be really good; I’m not great at travelling honestly, so knowing I have another pair of adults there to help will lessen a lot of my anxiety.”
“Then it’s a plan!” you declare, offering a hand for him to shake.
“Will Mingyu be okay with it?” he checks, looking amused, and hand hovering as if he’s waiting for the final confirmation before sealing the deal.
“I don’t see why not. But I can call him now to make sure,” you reason, already reaching into your coat pocket to grab your phone and dial Mingyu’s number.
“Hi, baby!” Mingyu chirps brightly as soon as the call connects, and as it’s on speakerphone, Yoongi hears and is visibly amused by it.
“You’re on speaker, Yoongi’s sitting with me,” you warn before your ex-husband can say something weirdly suggestive about your time with Yoongi— like he already did this morning, and last night, and multiple times since last weekend.
“Hi, Yoongi!” Mingyu greets.
“Hi, Yoongi!” Jungkook’s familiar voice yells, then all you hear is the pair squabbling; Mingyu complaining about Jungkook yelling in his ear, and Jungkook declaring that it’s Mingyu’s fault for not already having the call on speakerphone.
“Still so weird that your ex-husband is my baby brother’s best friend,” Yoongi mutters to you as the two continue to argue childishly. You only hum in agreement.
Honestly, you’re a little distracted by how Yoongi doesn’t seem to be reacting negatively in any way in regard to your connection to his brother. Jungkook must’ve told him by now about the two of you hooking up at Seokjin’s wedding, so the fact that Yoongi knows and isn’t reacting to that information at all can only mean that he really doesn’t think of you in that way at all. Yoongi has no interest in you past very platonic, and that makes a sour drop form in your chest.
It’s not like you’ve been deluding yourself into thinking the man has any romantic or sexual interest in you whatsoever. But there was a part of you that hoped that one day, he might. Having the confirmation that it won’t happen hurts more than you thought it would. Maybe, just maybe, you like Min Yoongi more than you realised.
“Guys,” you interrupt the bickering duo before you can get too deep into your self-pity; you can save that for later.
“Yeah, babe?” Mingyu asks, and Jungkook mimics him before cackling at the audible slap Mingyu must land on Jungkook in retaliation.
“Yoongi and I have been talking about the boys’ birthdays.”
“Oh?”
“Mm, Jihoon wants to visit Japan, and Yoongi was thinking of going at the end of December too. Considering both boys want the other there to celebrate and experience the home of anime together, we thought combining the trips would be a good idea. What do you think?”
“Hell yeah!” Mingyu cheers, sounding genuinely excited. “Man, we’re going to have so much fun. Has Jihoon been skiing before? Doesn’t matter, we’re going to go and I’m going to take a million videos of them waddling around like penguins in their snowsuits.”
“I think he’s in,” you muse to Yoongi over Mingyu’s excited rambling.
“Me too!” Jungkook exclaims. “I’m coming with you. I want a family Japan trip!”
“Yeah!” Mingyu enthuses. “Kookie can come along, right, babe? We can take the boys out and you two can chill at the accommodation!” he suggests.
“I mean, that does sound pretty good,” you say, looking at Yoongi in wait for his reaction.
“You can come, if you promise not to bring strangers back to the accommodation for sex, Kook,” Yoongi replies reasonably, landing a stern look on the phone in your hand as if his brother will see it.
“I won’t!” Jungkook promises. “It’s family time.”
“Alright, then I have no problem with it,” Yoongi says, and the two best friends on the other end of the call cheer happily, making you both laugh.
“Are you coming home for dinner tonight, Gyu?” you ask.
“Mm, no, we’re meeting the guys.”
“Okay, have fun both of you, and tell the guys I said hi.”
“Will do, baby. Have fun with the boys and Yoongi. Bye, Yoongi!” After the four of you have said goodbye properly, you end the call so that you can lock your phone and tuck it back away in your pocket safely.
“Have you looked into accommodation or anything yet?” Yoongi asks as the two of you resettle with eyes on the boys, where they’re now laid on the table of a picnic bench just outside of the fenced park to cloud gaze, pointing out different shapes to one another. You’re not close enough to hear what they’re saying, but you just know that Taehyung is likely coming up with imaginative stories based on the characters he finds in the fluff.
“Sort of, but only briefly. I think Gyu bookmarked some things on the family computer though. If you have no plans, do you want to come back for dinner, and we can discuss it more while the boys play? You can also teach me how to cook in a way Jihoon likes.”
“Oh, yeah, actually, that sounds really good, thanks.”
“This one looks good,” Yoongi says where he’s sitting at the breakfast bar with your laptop to research different accommodations and options while you cook dinner. At first, Yoongi had helped, just so that you know how to cut and prepare the foods so that Jihoon will eat it all, but then you shooed him off to your laptop where it’s been sitting on the dining table since last night. Though he moved it to the breakfast bar so that you can easier talk to one another without raising your voices and risking he boys overhearing.
Upon returning to the house earlier, the two of you had intended to check out the options Mingyu has bookmarked on the family computer since the idea of going to visit snowy mountains in December first cropped up back in summer. But as the boys are in the living room making use of the almost absurdly large TV to watch the same anime show they started last weekend, it’s not exactly possible to use the PC as it’s in the living room too, and neither of you want to risk the boys seeing what you’re doing until it’s set in stone.
“Mh?” you question, peering over and leaning onto the counter as he turns the laptop so that you can see the screen. “Oh, that’s pretty.”
“Yeah. The resort itself is pretty small and very private. It’s pretty expensive, I won’t lie but I figure it’s not really an issue for any of us?” his tone lifts at the end into a last-second question, as if he has suddenly realised that maybe you and Mingyu aren’t as financially comfortable as he previously assumed; or at the very least, you may not be comfortable with him making comments about the number in your bank account.
“I mean, I assume it’ll be fine unless it’s ridiculously extortionate pricing,” you reason amusedly. “And you have producer money still, I take it?”
“Oh, yeah. Royalties and all that,” he answers simply and nods, leaning awkwardly around so that he can also see the screen without turning it away from your view, and clicks through to find a particular accommodation and show you the price. He’s right, it is expensive, but he’s also right in that it’s not an issue. “There are multiple cabins but they’re all only two bed, so I don’t know if your family are okay with you sharing two rooms? Hoon and I can share one in our cabin and Kook can have the other; I’m fine with sharing a bed with Jihoon and he doesn’t mind either.”
“Oh yeah, that’s fine with us. Gyu and I usually room when we go on family trips.” That earns a surprised, and tentatively questioning look from Yoongi. It’s clear he wants to question why you still share a bed with your ex-husband, but he doesn’t know if he can. “I know, everyone finds it weird, but we don’t. We still consider each other our most precious friend, and nothing is ever uncomfortable. Other than when he insists on cuddling in hot weather, forgetting he sweats like fuck during his sleep. It’s pretty gross, I won’t lie,” you admit, earning a little snort of a laugh from the man.
“Sounds it.”
“Mm, but he’s cute, so he gets away with it.” You shrug and turn your attention back to the pans on the hob to check on the progress of dinner, so Yoongi settles back onto his stool and turns the laptop to face him again.
It’s quiet for a few minutes as you both work on your separate tasks, just the clicking of the laptop keys and clink of utensils filling the air. It feels weirdly domestic, and you have to force that thought out of your head before your mind clings to the image. The last thing you need is to get delusional about the future in store for you and Yoongi. Going on a family trip together doesn’t help either, but at least you’ll be in different cabins, so you won’t have to see him first thing in the morning and share sleepy breakfasts together; that really would fuck with your mind too much.
“Oh, these two cabins are pretty much next to each other,” he comments. “One has two double rooms, and the other a king-sized room and a bunk room. I think seeing as you’re going to be sharing with a sweaty giant, it would make sense for you guys to have the cabin with the king-sized room.”
“I’m going to tell Gyu you called him a sweaty giant,” you tease.
“Please don’t; he could break me so easily, he’s huge,” he mutters, eyes a little wide as he no doubt thinks about how buff your best friend is.
“I’m sure Kookie would come to the rescue of his big brother.”
“Nah, he’d say I deserve if for shit talking his bestie.”
“Okay, probably true; he’s always the first to defend Mingyu for anything,” you muse. “You have nothing to worry about anyway, Gyu would never hit you, not on purpose anyway. He’s clumsy as anything. But he wouldn’t hit you for that, just probably pout at you.”
“That might even be worse,” Yoongi mumbles almost dumbly. “Tae’s pout is lethal, and he has to have learned it from somewhere.”
“Oh yeah, he takes after his dad in most ways, the puppy eyes and pout especially,” you confirm, nodding.
“I’d rather Mingyu just punch me in the face than that,” Yoongi decides, making you giggle amusedly. “So, king-size and bunk room sound good to you?” he checks as he turns his gaze back to the laptop screen. You hum in confirmation. “They also have an option to have a vehicle rented and waiting at the cabin; and they seem to do one big enough for us to all fit, what do you think of that? I know we’ll be doing our own things a lot, but I figure we don’t really need two cars when there’s trains and buses and stuff.”
“Yeah, makes sense to me. We’ll put all our names down so any of us can drive it, yeah?”
“Mm, yeah, can do,” he agrees before falling quiet once again.
Although it took him a while, Jihoon ate everything on his plate happily, and you’re still riding that high of approval even once you and Yoongi are done cleaning up from dinner and are sitting in the living room looking at your laptop together while the boys get some air in the back garden while it’s still early enough to allow it.
“I think it’s perfect,” you decide once you’re both done thoroughly reading over the website of the resort, checking its location in relation to activities and necessities— such as the closest grocery store and public transport stations—, and that the cabins that suit your families are available for the time you want.
“Mm, do you need to check with Mingyu before booking?” Yoongi wonders, glancing at you briefly then back to where the curser hovers over the “book” option.
“No, he’ll go along with anything; he knows I’d look into it properly first,” you assure, and reach out to press his finger down onto the button with a giggle. He huffs a soft laugh then the two of you get started filling out the booking form as a bundle with both cabins and the car rental. “Oh, let me get my purse,” you mutter when it comes to the payment screen, and jump up to go find your purse so that you can grab your bank card. Though by the time you’ve returned, there’s a payment confirmation screen up, and Yoongi is tucking his wallet back into his jeans.
“You can send me the money later or whatever,” he decides, waving a dismissive hand. You just hum, knowing that one of you would have to send the other your family’s half of the money anyway, so it doesn’t really matter whose card details are put in for the resort info. “Let’s look at flights, yeah?”
The two of you spend a little while comparing flight deals and travel plans, including how to get to the accommodation from the airport, before deciding on the best method and overall deal, which you book on your card. You make sure to purchase the best seats, with room for the boys to wriggle and move as much as they need to, while potentially disturbing as few people as possible if either of them are overloaded and have a meltdown. You both think it shouldn’t happen, because the boys have been okay on the last flights, but you’d also rather prepare for the worst-case scenario.
Not long after you’re done finalising everything and dealing with the financial situation between you two, the boys come inside, cheeks chill-pinkened and hair a little wild from playing in the gentle breeze. And they both look so genuinely happy. It makes your chest warm to see how content they are together; how they truly seem to enjoy one another’s company so much and can find ways to play together that suits them both enough to have these precious smiles glued to their faces.
“C’mere,” you prompt, moving along the sofa to sit in the opposite corner as Yoongi, and pat the space between you. The pair both clamber up onto the sofa, and Taehyung immediately cuddles up to you. Although he doesn’t cuddle into his dad, Jihoon does sit close to Yoongi’s side, and ever so slightly leans into him. You watch Yoongi’s expression soften out; you can easily imagine that it always feels so special for Jihoon to initiate affection as it’s so rare, even if it’s something as small as this.
“Boys, are you able to listen for a bit?” Yoongi questions; you can’t help but immediately press your lips together, trying to hide your amused smile due to Yoongi using what you have to assume is his teacher voice. It works though, and both boys turn to look at him with attentive eyes. “So, we were thinking, as it’s something you both want to do for your birthday treats at the end of the year, we will all go to Japan together.”
Instantly, Taehyung gasps loud and sits upright, scrambling up onto his knees. You have to pull him back and onto your thighs to hold him tight, press his soul back into his body to prevent him from exploding out and landing on the father-son duo. You think that Yoongi wouldn’t really mind, and would likely just find it amusing, but you’re very positive that Jihoon would not be impressed.
“We go together?!” your son screeches. Jihoon flinches but doesn’t react to Taehyung otherwise. He’s still staring up at his dad with big eyes, but now his mouth is open in shock; you can’t tell if that’s a bad reaction or not.
“Yeah. We’ll have separate cabins, but we’ll travel together and spend some time together. Definitely to celebrate your birthdays, but we’ll also do our own things too.”
“I am excited Japan to go with you and Ji!”
“I’m excited too,” Yoongi replies, looking like he means it entirely, though there is a little concern in his eyes when they flicker to Jihoon, but he doesn’t linger on his son, no doubt knowing that Jihoon needs some time to work through the idea on his own.
“Oh,” Taehyung says, suddenly deflating as he turns his head to frown at you. “Daddy will be sad.”
“Oh, baby, daddy is coming too, silly,” you assure and kiss his forehead, smiling yourself when he’s smiling again in the few seconds it takes for you to press your lips to his skin and lean back. “And Uncle Kookie is coming along.”
You have no choice but to let go of your son when he starts to wriggle so much that his bony butt digs into your thigh, making you silently wince. Taehyung is more than happy to be set free to allow him to bounce and jump around the living room, clapping and making excited sounds, unable to keep his joy locked up inside. If it wasn’t for Jihoon, you wouldn’t want to even attempt to get Taehyung to try and calm down quite yet— you know he needs to get this out—, but Jihoon has curled his shoulders up to his ears and put his hands over them as he stares intently down at his legs, legs bouncing agitatedly.
Though before you can do more than adjust your position with the intention of reaching out to grab Taehyung and pull him back onto your lap to squeeze again— knowing it genuinely does help him sometimes—, Yoongi is sliding off of the sofa and approaching Taehyung. You watch intrigued as Yoongi kneels down in front of the boy and starts to quietly sing some notes. Slowly, Taehyung stops bouncing so much, his eyes and head stop rapidly moving— unable to focus on one thing— and instead, lock onto Yoongi’s mouth. Then, Taehyung’s sounds and hands stop their noise so that he can mimic his teacher, matching the notes with his own voice, though his hands continue to flap and flick at his sides for a few more moments.
“Good job,” Yoongi praises gently when Taehyung has calmed a lot and they’ve run through the scales multiple times together. “Would you like to show me the rhythm game you mentioned earlier?”
Taehyung nods and grabs Yoongi’s hand to excitedly lead him over to the cosy corner; the corner of the living room with an extra fluffy rug, cushions in all shapes and sizes, and a huge beanbag chair that Taehyung always sinks into and gets partially covered in, but he loves it. The pair sit on that beanbag together— Yoongi lets out a little yelp with how he immediately sinks into it quicker than expected, and Taehyung giggles— with the boy’s tablet to play the new, colourful rhythm game while sharing earphones so that you and Jihoon don’t hear the music playing.
Seeing that Jihoon still looks kind of tense, you stick to the trusty and tried method of relaxing him and turn on the soothing playlist— which you know the boy watches every day after school now since you sent his dad the link to it last weekend. As soon as the first video plays, Jihoon’s head lifts so that his eyes can find the screen, and immediately, as if just seeing the opening of the video is enough, his shoulders sink, loosening until his hands lower to his lap to let the soothing music reach his ears uninterrupted.
After a few minutes of sitting and watching the screen with the boy, you get up and go to the kitchen to prepare drinks; coffee for you and Yoongi, hot chocolate for Taehyung, and his favourite juice carton for Jihoon. Plus, a few snacks for everyone to help themselves to because Taehyung is so used to having mini cookies with his hot chocolate that he gets entirely thrown off and antsy if you don’t give him any these days.
While you’re waiting for the coffee machine to finish, you hear little socked feet enter the room and just know it’s Jihoon without looking; you know your son’s footsteps too well to confuse him for anyone else. Curiously, you look over and find Jihoon shuffling shyly closer to you, fingers fiddling with the hem of his jumper.
“Everything okay?” you check, keeping your tone soft. He nods, but hovers like he has something he wants to say, so you wait quietly, giving him the time he needs.
“I…I’m excited to go to Japan with you guys,” he announces in a shy little tone after a few more moments, when you’re setting the drinks on the tray now that the last drink is ready.
“We’re excited too,” you reply, smiling at him when he flickers his gaze up to you, before looking away again.
“Can Tae come over after school so we can watch videos about Japan together? I…I don’t know what Japan is like, so I want to learn before we go.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely, Jihoon; I’m sure Tae would love that. We’ll have to check with your daddy first though.” Jihoon nods in understanding, seeming not surprised that you’ve said that his dad’s permission is needed. Though he does look like he has both relaxed and lit up a little at your permission, as if he is truly excited about doing research with Taehyung ready for the trip.
“I will ask later,” he declares, then glances at the tray quickly, face twisting slightly.
“Oh, do you not want the juice today?” you ask, reaching out for it.
“Can…can I have a hot chocolate too, please?”
“Of course,” you assure. “I’ll put the juice back in the fridge and you can get it whenever you want, okay?”
“Okay.” He smiles, looking relieved, before he turns and toddles back to the living room leaving you to make him a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. The boy is just too sweet to not spoil when you can.
Soon enough, it’s the day after Jihoon’s birthday, and you and Taehyung are going to the Min home to celebrate the little boy.
Though as Jihoon’s birthday was yesterday, Taehyung insisted that he needed a gift to take to school for the boy that isn’t the Studio Ghibli boxset that Taehyung is very excited to give to Jihoon today. Which resulted in you and Taehyung spending all of Thursday after school making a whole bunch of bracelets, keyrings, and other tiny little crafts for Taehyung to pick the very best of to give to Jihoon during their lunchbreak yesterday. Honestly, you’re pretty sure Jihoon won’t wear the bracelets because they will likely annoy him, but you think he’ll appreciate the sentiment anyway; he’s a good kid like that.
“Yoongi!” Taehyung calls as soon as the man opens the front door moments after Taehyung has knocked a little tune onto the door. You and Yoongi both laugh softly at Taehyung’s never-ending enthusiasm for calling his teacher by his first name at every possible chance.
“Hi, Tae,” Yoongi replies, easily accepting the big hug the boy gives him as if he didn’t see the man at school yesterday.
Due to the afterschool visits Taehyung has on Wednesdays for the boys to continue their self-imposed Japan research project, he doesn’t hesitate to put his shoes and coat in the correct places, and skip off further into the apartment, making himself at home easily while you work on removing your coat and boots.
“He’s really made himself at home already, huh?” you muse, and Yoongi chuckles, hanging up your coat for you as you work on wrestling your boots off your feet. You knew they’d be a pain in the ass to remove, but Taehyung insisted you wear them because he’s wearing his own tiny version. Fortunately, his boots have zips on the side so they’re easy to get on and off; yours, however, only have laces holding them together.
“Yeah, it’s cute.”
“He hasn’t gotten too comfortable, has he?” you worry, wincing a little at the thought of Taehyung unknowingly overstepping boundaries in his excitement.
“No, not at all. He’s as polite as always, you don’t have to worry,” Yoongi assures. “I honestly can’t even imagine him overstepping.”
While you’re still fighting with your boots— and Yoongi watches amusedly as you swear under your breath at the laces, and yourself for being weak to your son wanting to match—, the apartment door opens and in steps Seokjin and Celeste.
“Take this before I drop it,” Seokjin says, skipping over any greeting to thrust the large cakebox in his arms over to Yoongi. For his part, Yoongi takes it without issue, just an eyeroll, as if he’s used to this very scene playing out.
“Hey,” Celeste greets as she perches by your side on the bench to remove her own boots, her far easier to remove boots. “Those don’t look like fun to put on, or take off,” she muses when you’ve finally shoved your boot off with a victorious sound.
“They’re really not, but I am a mother easily manipulated by a cute face,” you reply with a theatrical sigh, making her laugh.
“She really understands that,” Seokjin says, already sans coat and shoes, and taking the cakebox back from his best friend. You and Yoongi exchange a surprised look before looking between the couple.
“Are you pregnant?” you ask Celeste quietly, not wanting to risk the boys overhearing.
“No,” she answers with a laugh.
“I meant my cute face,” Seokjin informs. You and Yoongi exchange another matching look, this one world-weary, and Seokjin immediately squawks in offense. “Hey!”
“I’m going to ban you from my apartment if you say shit like that here,” Yoongi warns, though judging by Seokjin’s eye roll, it’s not the first time Yoongi’s made that very same empty threat towards the broad-shouldered male.
The four of you make your way together through the apartment, with Yoongi by your side to point out where the different rooms are as it’s your first time in his home. You have to admit, something about it feels exactly like Yoongi; homely, comforting, with enough quirks and knickknacks to give little pops of parts of him that you’ve not had the chance to see much of yet. Of course, there’s also a lot of Jihoon in the apartment, and in some parts it seems more Jihoon than Yoongi, so you have to assume that those areas— like the armchair in the living room with a soft, anime printed blanket, and plushie draped on the seat— are the boy’s preferred spots.
The living room is empty of life, so you all walk down the hallway to pop your heads into Jihoon’s bedroom, where he’s sitting on the floor with Taehyung, and showing him what must be new figurines he got for his birthday yesterday, based on how Taehyung is looking at them with such awe as if he’s never seen them before. You know your son well enough to know that he definitely would’ve familiarised himself with them on previous visits if they were already in Jihoon’s possession.
“Hi, birthday boy! Seokjin crows, though he’s regulating his volume to keep it at a level he knows Jihoon can handle, without losing any of the playful enthusiasm from his tone.
“Hi, Uncle Jin,” Jihoon replies, then smiles at you and Celeste— greeting you both by name—, before he looks aside, shy under all the attention.
“Did daddy spoil you yesterday?” Seokjin coos, walking over to squat down with the boys and look at the figurines without touching. You recall a note on the document that Yoongi wrote for you about his son, stating that Jihoon can be very particular about his precious items, and doesn’t even let Yoongi touch them sometimes, so it’s always best to tread carefully with Jihoon’s personal possessions. Seokjin must know that information from knowing the boy since he was a baby.
“No,” Jihoon replies. “This is from Uncle Kookie,” he informs, motioning to the collection of figurines.
“Oh? Daddy didn’t spoil you? The audacity!” The theatrics makes both boys giggle, and Seokjin smiles, pleased at himself for making the pair laugh— and so cutely too. “Well, Cel and I will have to make up for that, won’t we?” he winks, then motions Celeste over, so the woman approaches and places the gift bag in her hands down.
It’s only now that Jihoon tentatively reaches for it and his jumper sleeve pulls back, that you notice two of the bracelets Taehyung made for him tied securely around the little boy’s wrist. Your lips turn up and you watch in content silence as Jihoon and Taehyung coo over the gifts the couple bought the boy.
When you glance at Yoongi a little on your left, he’s wearing the same soft expression and little smile as you can feel on your own face.
The six of you enjoy a lunch consisting of all of Jihoon’s favourite foods and drinks, followed by the cake Seokjin supplied. The birthday song isn’t sung, and you’re honestly glad about that because you always feel awkward singing it, let alone being the centre of attention; you can imagine that Jihoon would hate being sung to like that.
As soon as they’ve washed their hands and faces when they’re done eating, Jihoon and Taehyung excitedly settle on the sofa to watch one of the movies in the box set Jihoon had been genuinely thrilled with upon opening— he had lit up so brightly and beamed at you, and said his thanks multiple times as he read the list of movies included. You’re not sure which movie they pick to play, but the pair are both grinning as they sit tucked up under Jihoon’s anime blanket side by side, Jihoon holding his plushie from his chair, and Taehyung holding one from the boy’s bedroom— which Yoongi tells you Taehyung always holds when here, so Yoongi is planning to get Taehyung one of the weighted plushies for his birthday.
“Goddammit, they’re so cute,” Seokjin mumbles a little while later when he returns to join adult time at the kitchen table, once he’s back from the bathroom and stopping to hover in the living room doorway to watch the boys for a few moments.
“Yep,” you confirm simply. “Speaking of kids, I thought you were going to get started on your own on your first honeymoon?” you wonder, knowing that it’s not a sensitive topic; both Seokjin and Celeste have been open with you about it, about both doing fertility tests last year ready to expand their family. You know that medically, they should be more than able to conceive, and they’ve certainly had the time to try. Plus, neither had looked downtrodden or upset earlier when you questioned if Celeste is pregnant, so you are confident that they haven’t been having issues in that regard.
“We decided to wait a little longer,” Celeste answers. “But next year, we’ll be parents.” She sounds nothing but confident and certain that you nod, accepting her words easily. You’re already mentally planning an adorable, but absurd, gift you can buy for the baby that will outdo the absurdly large elephant plushie Seokjin bought for Taehyung when he was born. It still lives in Taehyung’s bedroom, and the boy sometimes drags it around the house to join him in his activities.
“And speaking of our wedding,” Seokjin says, grinning at you mischievously in a way you really don’t trust. It makes you want to shut him up before he can say whatever is on his mind, assuming it’s going to be something stupid, but you’re also very curious about what exactly is going on in that freaky head of his. “You finally gave in to Jungkookie, huh?”
“What?” Yoongi blurts out in a mutter that sounds mostly confused, but like he’s made an assumption he doesn’t really want to be true.
“Your baby brother has been trying to get her into bed with him ever since the divorce, and I saw them head hand in hand to his room at the hotel,” Seokjin answers, waving at you vaguely with the hand he’s been using to pick at the contents of the tray of cut fruit and veggies still left on the table for everyone to help themselves too, even if everything else has been cleaned up already.
It’s now that you see Yoongi’s expression rapidly change through multiple emotions before turning eerily blank, that you learn that despite Jungkook having assured you he’d tell his brother about the two of you, he hasn’t. “He didn’t tell you,” you realise, voice a quiet mumble.
“Why would he? Not my business,” Yoongi replies, tone a little harsh as he fiddles with his mug between his hands.
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Seokjin apologises, looking nothing but guilty as he frowns at his best friend.
“It’s not my fucking business,” Yoongi repeats and gets to his feet. “Bathroom break,” he announces as he leaves.
“Shit, I really thought he knew,” Seokjin says, turning his attention to you.
“Me too. Kook said he’ll talk to him, but I guess he forgot.” You sigh. “He’ll…get over it right? Being left out?” you question worriedly.
Seokjin’s expression does something you don’t quite understand, but it makes your stomach twist a little, uneasy, like you’re missing something big. You don’t like it, so you look away from him and distract yourself by getting up to clean up the empty mugs, washing them by hand as the dishwasher is already turned on, and you don’t want to face the couple right now.
When Yoongi returns, he’s off; like he’s withdrawn into himself a little, and it makes you unsure how to react, what you’re supposed to do. It continues all afternoon and gets worse when Seokjin and Celeste leave do to their weekly grocery shop.
Although Yoongi is interacting with the boys to respond to their comments and questions about the movie you’re all watching— another from the boxset—, he barely even glances your way. It feels like the physical space between you turns into more than that, like he’s putting his walls back up, and it hurts. Hurts so much that as soon as the movie is over, you tell Taehyung that it’s time to go home. He tries to convince you to stay for “just one more movie”, but you’re firm, and he doesn’t push, knowing that it won’t get him what he wants.
While Taehyung sings along to the radio in his seat behind you on the drive home, your thoughts keep turning back to Yoongi’s blank expression; the wall building; the pain in your chest. All you can do is hope with everything in you that the friendship that has only just started to build, isn’t about to fall to pieces at your feet.
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You and Mingyu are childhood friends and two self‑aware comic characters that are forced into clichéd romcom roles you both hate. On the page, he’s the perfect jock and you’re the villainess; off the page, you’re a nerd–queen duo secretly in love. Fed up with scripted drama and unwanted love triangles, you rebel, glitching the comic as the Writer fights to force you back into place. What follows isn’t a romcom but a battle for agency, freedom, and the right to choose each other.
PAIRINGS | Kim Mingyu x F. Reader
GENRE | romantic comedy, smut, angst, drama, childhood friends to lovers, meta, breaking the fourth wall(?)
CONTENT/WARNINGS | full nsfw warnings in the full fic, non-idols au, swearing, comedy, self-aware characters, verbal jabs,
LENGTH | teaser: 2.1K words | full fic: TBD
NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @cosyhomenet
TAGLIST | (join the taglist here)
AUTHOR’S NOTE | This is a teaser for my upcoming fic for SVTFLIX hosted by @100vern. This is definitely going to be the weirdest fic I've ever written and I'm really having fun writing this. It's loosely inspired by the k-drama Extra-Ordinary You, so check that out!❤️
RELEASE DATE | sometime at the end of June
Seventeen Masterlist | Main Masterlist
PANEL 1 — WIDE SHOT: CAMPUS QUAD, GOLDEN HOUR.
Students stroll across the lawn in perfect symmetry. Cherry blossoms drift in slow motion. A sparkly pink narration box hovers above the scene like a smug cloud.
NARRATION: Springtime at Carat University, where love blooms, hearts flutter, and destiny awaits...
PANEL 2 — CLOSE ON YOU
You’re standing dead center, holding a coffee. You stare directly at the narration box with the expression of someone who's been dealing with this for far too long.
“Don’t you dare,” you warn it.
The narration box flickers.
NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next—
“NOPE,” you snap, grabbing the box mid‑air like it’s a misbehaving balloon. “We talked about this. No villain monologues before 9 a.m.” You fold the narration box until it is the approximate dimensions of a post-it note and shove it into your pocket.
The rest of the campus, meanwhile, bustles around you like nothing happened. Like it never happens. Like there isn't a floating narration box following you from birth and plotting your eventual fall from grace. You really should start looking into those therapy services offered by the mental health office. You know they can't help you with "being narrated since birth" but it's probably the next best thing, right?
Anyway, it's spring and, frankly, you're very tired.
You, Y/N, are the notorious campus queen: the stunning daughter of an affluent political family and the presumed villainous antagonistic force in Kim Mingyu's, your childhood friend, star-crossed love story. For three volumes and counting, you, Mingyu and Lee Ara have fallen into a rhythmic dance of misunderstandings, relationship dramas, and flashy battles all leading to one, inevitable conclusion: Mingyu and Ara will fall in love and live happily ever after.
Or that's how it's supposed to work.
Except none of that happens in the shadows, the white spaces that the Writer's pen never quite fills in. Those are the places where characters come to life in ways even the omnipotent Writer can't see coming. Like when Mingyu saved you from a car last spring. Or that night you snuck into the school pool together and splashed around instead of studying. When it was just the two of you, when no one could see, no one was writing. When everything seemed perfectly scripted without a script.
In those moments, when the narration box couldn't reach you, nothing else seemed quite as important as his smile.
Until the next scene began, that was.
You don't remember when you and Mingyu became aware of the fact that none of this was real. You always thought that you were losing your memory, wondering how you ended up at home when you were just in class seconds ago, how so much time seemed to pass without your realizing it. It didn't click until you were aimlessly roaming the school halls one afternoon and noticed the air fluttering unnaturally around you, things moving floating out of place in the corner of your vision and an unsettling feeling of something. A presence? A monster? A force beyond your knowing and naming trying to reach out to you.
When you talked to people, they'd be confused or dismissive, thinking you're joking. And when you'd ask them again some time later, they wouldn't know what you meant and keep repeating the same responses over and over, no matter how many times you would try and ask, hoping it'd finally ilicit a different response.
Finally, you tried talking to Mingyu about what was happening to you, only to find Mingyu was feeling exactly the same way. That things were happening without his express conscious will, and he felt the presence of something vaguely sinister outside of his direct sphere.
That's when you both realized the absurd, nonsensical reality that you're living in a webtoon, in a narrative world crafted by someone who felt very little need or concern for either of your agency. That something, a presence beyond human knowledge and imagination, was dictating and guiding you along towards an end goal: an inevitable romance between Kim Mingyu, the male lead, and Lee Ara, the female lead, and you're left to be the evil side character who had to be defeated for Mingyu and Ara to obtain their Happy Ever After.
Which sucks ass because you really like Mingyu. Maybe even a little too much. And you know, deep down, that the feeling is mutual. The Writer might make you do whatever she wants to further the plot, like flirt with Mingyu against your will during scripted love tropes. But whenever the writer isn't actively intervening, you get to be just you and Mingyu, and not the fictional, plot-dictated versions of you two that are forced together by the writer. You wonder sometimes, if it wasn't for this damned world, if you'd be happily dating each other.
You feel the narration box wriggling in your pocket, desperate to escape and comment. To announce loudly, obviously that you'll do whatever you can to disrupt Kim Mingyu and Lee Ara from meeting, but ultimately end up helping the course of fate along because the Writer makes it so. Because the narrative demands a twist at the very last second, and Kim Mingyu can't end up with you.
With a sigh, you take the now much smaller narration box out and unfold it, letting its words be absorbed back into reality:
NARRATION: ...and the villainess plots her next loser plan to keep our golden boy and pure maiden away from each other.
"I fucking hate you," you mutter under your breath.
Just then, a slim figure rounds the corner: Lee Ara in all of her oblivious perfection, wearing a fluffy dress that no college student would survive in, looking very much like she is running towards you.
PANEL 3 — BUST SHOT: YOU, GLOWERING.
Your lips curl up into your default, scheming smile. You really wish it didn't feel so natural.
PANEL 4 — EXTREME CLOSE UP ON LEE ARA.
Her hair blows dramatically out of the way as she stares determinedly ahead like this isn't a typical, daily interaction for the two of you. You can't tell if it's supposed to look brave or goofy, but it sure isn't intimidating.
"Ara, you look absolutely stunning today," you feel your eye twitch as the words leave your mouth, words you didn't choose, didn't want to say, words that materialized on your tongue like someone else is operating your vocal cords.
Which, technically, someone was.
Ara blinks up at you with those impossibly wide doe eyes. "Oh! Um, thank you? That's... really nice of you to say."
No, it fucking isn't, you thought viciously, even as your face arranges itself into what you know is a calculated, mean-girl smirk.
"I just wanted to say," your mouth continues without your permission, and you feel the familiar horror of a scripted scene taking over, "that dress is so brave. Not everyone could pull off that... particular shade of yellow."
There it is. The backhanded compliment. Right on schedule.
Ara's face falls slightly, and you want to scream. You helped her pick out that dress last week during your actual, off-page friendship that the Writer conveniently ignores. You told her the sunshine yellow made her look like bottled happiness.
"Oh," Ara says softly. "I... thank you?"
"If you like looking like you're blocking traffic, then feel free to keep wearing it," you snort and then the scene releases you like a puppet with cut strings, and you immediately grab Ara's arm. "Wait, that came out wrong—"
PANEL 5 — ARA TURNS.
She's already walking away, and you know why. The Writer has got what they wanted: another moment of you being terrible to the heroine. Another panel of the villainess doing villainess things.
You stand there in the middle of the quad, students flowing around you like water around a stone, and contemplate the very real possibility of screaming until your throat bleeds.
"Rough scene?"
You don't have to turn around to know who it is. You recognize that voice anywhere. It's the voice that makes your stomach do complicated acrobatic routines, the one that belongs to your best friend since childhood, the one that's supposed to fall in love with Ara and definitely not with you.
"Mingyu," you say, turning to face him. "I just told Ara her dress makes her look like a jaundiced traffic cone. How do you think it went?"
Mingyu winces, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. He's wearing his usual off-scene outfit: an oversized hoodie that's seen better days, glasses slightly askew, hair unstyled and falling into his eyes. He looks nothing like the chiseled, perfectly-coiffed golden boy who appeared in the actual comic panels.
"Ouch," he says. "Did you at least get to apologize before the scene ended?"
"Tried. She walked away. The Writer probably needed her to be sad for the next panel where you comfort her and she realizes she has feelings for you for the millionth time," you make a gagging noise. "I hate this. I hate all of this."
"I know," Mingyu falls into step beside you as you start walking toward your next class. "I had a scene this morning where I had to flex at the gym for fifteen minutes while Ara watched from the doorway. Fifteen minutes, Y/N. Do you know how long fifteen minutes of flexing is?"
Despite everything, you snort. "Did you at least get a good pump?"
"I got a cramp in my left bicep and the overwhelming desire to go home and read my economics textbook," he pauses. "Which I did, by the way. Chapter twelve is fascinating. Did you know that—"
"Mingyu, I love you, but if you start explaining supply and demand curves right now, I will push you into that trash can."
The words hung in the air for a moment. I love you. You said it all the time, had said it for years, best friends who'd grown up together and know each other's every secret.
But lately, the words felt heavier.
Mingyu's ears turned red, they always did when you said it, even casually, and he clears his throat. "Right. No economics. Got it."
You reach your classroom and stop, turning to face him fully. He's tall, he'd always been tall, but he hunches slightly, like he's trying to take up less space. It's such a contrast to his on-page persona, where he stands with the confidence of someone who'd never doubted himself a day in his life.
"Same time tonight?" you ask. "My place? We can finish studying for that chem mid."
His face splits into a grin, a wide, boyish one that makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose. "Definitely," he agrees. "Maybe without the interruption this time."
PANEL 6 — ARA WALKING TOWARDS MINGYU
"And here I go," you mutter, "back to fading into the background so these two can have their meet-cute."
"I'm really sorry," Mingyu says again, "and I know that doesn't mean anything. I hope I can—"
NARRATION: ...Kim Mingyu notices his true love standing alone in the corner, a beautiful flower ready to bloom into...
"You changed into your jock gear," you note, sounding unimpressed, as Mingyu looks down and realizes that yes, he's wearing the clothes his character usually wears to work out instead of the sweater he wore before.
"Fuck," he sighs, "Here I go, I guess."
"You want me to text you after?" you ask him.
He nods, giving you a strained smile, and says, "Please."
PANEL 7 — SLOW ZOOM-IN ON ARA'S FLAWLESS SKIN AS SHE LOOKS UP AND ATTENDS MINGYU'S DAZZLING SMILE, HEARTS POPPING AROUND HER AS WE DRAMATICALLY FOCUS IN ON MINGYU.
"Ara! Just the girl I wanted to see."
You let out a long sigh, before turning away from the pair. Your story might be stuck in this linear route, but you really don't have to stick around and watch the love of your life play his part in this tale.
PANEL 8 — Y/N WALKS AWAY, SHOULDERS HUNCHED, BACKGROUND BLURRING INTO SOFT PASTELS AS THE ROMANTIC SCENE CONTINUES BEHIND HER
Each step away feels like wading through honey. You can hear Ara's delighted laugh behind you, that genuine, sweet sound that makes you hate yourself for being scripted to hurt her. You can hear Mingyu's voice doing that thing: that confident, flirty thing that isn't him at all.
The real Mingyu stutters when he's nervous. The real Mingyu talks about economic theory at 2AM and falls asleep with his glasses on.
But the Writer doesn't care about the real Mingyu.
PANEL 9 — CLOSE-UP ON Y/N'S FACE, EXPRESSION CAREFULLY NEUTRAL, BUT EYES BETRAYING PAIN
NARRATION: Meanwhile, the villainess retreats to lick her wounds, knowing she can never compete with—
"Oh, fuck off," you snap, reaching up to grab the narration box again. It's vibrating indignantly, trying to narrate your heartbreak into something convenient for the plot.
You squeeze it harder.
"You don't get to narrate this. This part is mine."
🐑Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader
🐑What: Fluff. Humour. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Vet reader. Simp Chan.
🐑Word count: 9.1k
🐑Warnings: Chan is such a precious little, shameless, obviously obsessed, dumbass. Profanity. A couple brief, vaguely suggestive comments/ thoughts/ themes. Sorta vague allusions/ assumptions of Hansol & Seungkwan dating but never explicitly confirmed. I don’t know anything about animals/ being a vet so it’s all glossed over— don’t take anything that is mentioned as pure fact. Kissing. Some alcohol consumption.
🐑Summary:
The day Chan first lays eyes on you, his life changes. The day after that, he suddenly becomes very interested in animals, with absolutely no relation to you being the new vet in town. Not that anyone believes him about that.
After all, subtlety has never been Chan’s strong suit.
I block any blank blog that interacts.
Masterlist
A/N- This was written as part of @dorereef’s spring event, The Reef In Bloom! This event has been such a joy to participate in, the other members have been so lovely and enthusiastic that I really hope to join up with them for another event soon 🥺💗
Honestly, in all the years Chan has known Hansol, he’s had zero interest in the farm Hansol’s family has owned and run for decades now. Especially not in the middle of winter when Chan could be doing better things, like being far away from the sheep trying to nibble the oversized coat he’s wearing that makes him look like a child wearing his dad’s coat.
Which, well, is kind of accurate, because it’s Hansol’s dad’s coat. Chan had fallen in a mud patch last night when the pair stumbled back after a night out drinking with their friends, and Hansol’s parents have always treated Chan like a second son and happily dote on him, so lending him a clean, cosy coat wasn’t even debated.
But the point is, it’s the middle of winter, Chan is fucking freezing, and Hansol has made him join him in the field to meet the new vet, who will apparently be overseeing the ewes through lambing season— not that Chan knows what that means. And Chan has no interest in this, but Hansol is persuasive in the way he stares without blinking until his opponent relents, and it freaks the fuck out of Chan, so he always relents.
“Are you sure I can’t curl up in the middle of them? They look so warm,” Chan bemoans, looking longingly at the huddle of sheep a little bit away from them, practically able to see steam rising from their fluffy bodies in the chilly air.
“Very positive that you cannot curl up amongst pregnant ewes, Chan,” Hansol confirms flatly, eyes on the near distance where a car is driving along the dirt tracks of the Choi farm towards the field they’re standing at the edge of.
“Ewe means lady sheep, right?” Chan checks, and Hansol gives him a flat look in response, before snorting a laugh, then looks away. “What?”
“Would I say they’re pregnant if they were gentlemen sheep?”
“I…I think I’m too hungover.”
“Nah, you’re always a dumbass,” Hansol retorts teasingly, then pushes off of the fence to approach one of the farm dogs who has something in his mouth that Hansol needs to chase him for the next few minutes to get out— turns out, it was a lump of mud; at least, Chan hopes it was mud.
“Hey, you’re new,” the voice behind Chan makes him turn, and instantly, his expression slides into something awed, because standing a little on the other side of the fence is the most beautiful being he’s ever laid eyes on. In response, Chan lets out something that sounds vaguely like something died painfully in his throat.
“Hey, doc!” Hansol calls out, and Chan watches entranced as this ethereal entity before him waves back with a smile that makes Chan suddenly love the farm.
“I think your new farm boy isn’t awake yet,” you muse as you approach to lean on the fence a little to Chan’s left, and he turns towards you like a flower to the sun. Or a suddenly-in-love man towards the woman of his dreams.
“No farm boy, he hates the farm, but he’s my best friend so he doesn’t have a choice,” Hansol informs with a grin.
“I love farm. Love sheep. Lady sheep. Ewes,” Chan babbles, wide eyes glued to you. You give him a look, a little concerned, but mostly amused, then slide your eyes to Hansol, and give the farmer a questioning look.
“Yeah, we don’t know what’s wrong with him either.”
“Sheep,” Chan whispers, and you give him a look, giggle— and he maybe lets out a little almost pained whimper in response—, before you effortlessly clamber over the fence to join Hansol in approaching the sheep.
Chan, of course, waddles around in a circle as you pass him so that he can keep his attention on you. He has no idea what you’re doing as you kneel beside the first pregnant lady sheep— ewe— with your bag of equipment to do…stuff, but he thinks it’s probably the most important and skilful thing ever, and nobody can ever do it better than you.
Suddenly, Chan doesn’t feel the cold, not when your smile and soft tone as you speak to the sheep warms him up from his very soul. Chan’s pretty convinced he could be standing there butt naked and feel warm under your smile. Then, he thinks that you’d probably not be smiling if a stranger was standing in front of you naked in a field of sheep in the middle of winter. He also thinks he wouldn’t be smiling as he imagines the sheep trying to nibble on something else instead of the coat protecting him from the cold, and he shudders at the thought, winces, and subconsciously puts his hands over his crotch.
“Dude, you better not be getting hard because a pretty lady smiled at you,” Hansol’s voice suddenly warns in a hiss in Chan’s ear, making him jump and look at his best friend in shock, having not noticed him approach.
“Do sheep bite genitals?” Chan whispers, horrified at the thought. Hansol gives him an incredulous look, before walking confidently back over to you in a way that Chan wishes he could, but he knows the damn coat makes him waddle like a particularly plump penguin. He doesn’t want you to think of him as a particularly plump penguin, he doesn’t want you to think of him as a penguin at all, plump or buff. He wants you to think of him as a handsome, suave young man who you would happily take home to introduce to your parents as your handsome, suave husband. Okay, boyfriend first, husband later.
Far too soon— at least in Chan’s mind—, you get up, shoulder your bag, and walk side by side with Hansol towards the gate a little further down the fence. Before he knows it, you’re getting into your Jeep— at least, Chan assumes it’s a Jeep, he doesn’t know anything about cars, nor is he paying enough attention to anything but you to notice the brand name—, sharing another laugh and quick verbal exchange with Hansol, giving Chan a polite wave, and then driving off. Chan lifts his arm so fast that he smacks himself in the face, but you’re already gone because he was too stunned by your sudden attention on him to even register it until it was over. He’s kind of glad of that because it means you didn’t see his embarrassing action.
Unfortunately, Hansol saw, and he’s leaning over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes with laughter. “Dude!” he cackles. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?” he asks, barely able to straighten up to look at his best friend as he continue to laugh so hard Chan thinks he might start choking any second.
“Nothing. I’m normal. Totally normal about everything and everyone I’ve seen today,” Chan replies before abruptly crossing the grass between them to grab Hansol’s face and lock his wide, unsettling gaze on the suddenly no longer laughing man. “How do I become a vet assistant? Specifically hers?”
Hansol pulls a face, then laughs again and nudges Chan away. “You’re hopeless, man.”
“I’d be a good vet’s assistant to her! I’d do anything she asks!”
“Pretty sure that’s called being a simp.”
“Well…if it works.”
“I can’t believe you’re obsessed with someone you didn’t say a coherent sentence to,” Hansol deadpans as he heads out of the field, and Chan scrambles to follow— making sure to shut the gate securely behind them and the dogs, he’s not entirely useless with farm stuff, you know.
“Shit, you’re right,” Chan mutters. Hansol looks at him as if he expects Chan to chill out and be normal about you, at least he does until the shorter man opens his mouth again. “Do you think if I hide for a couple months and you pretend I don’t exist and she imagined me today, that she’ll forget about me and I can come back and start fresh?”
“Dude, no!” He even shoves his friend into a bush for added effect; it works, Chan gets the point.
“Okay, no gaslighting, you’re right,” Chan concedes as he pulls himself out of the bush as if nothing happened. “I could never keep away from my future wife from that long anyway, and I definitely don’t want her to forget about me.”
“You don’t even know her name.”
That gives Chan pause, quite literally. He stops on the grass and Hansol continues on obliviously towards the house. Or more likely, Hansol knows that his best friend is no longer actively following him and is enjoying the moment of calm while he has it.
It’s a few minutes before Chan has caught up with Hansol where he’s waiting on the back porch, dogs all shuffling around his feet and the door as they wait to be let back inside. But Hansol knows his mother hates the winter air and feels it so much easier than most people, so he doesn’t want the door to open more than necessary so that there’s less cold being let in to attack his mother.
“What’s her name?” Chan asks as soon as he’s clambered up the few wooden steps. Hansol just rolls his eyes, and now finally opens the door to let the dogs dart in first, then follows with Chan at the back. Automatically, once the door is shut, Chan nudges the draft excluder back into place along the bottom of it, also aware of Hansol’s mother’s weakness for the chill, and not wanting to make his pseudo-mother face it without reason.
The pair are removing their shoes when the woman herself shuffles into the entrance hall. “How’re the ewes?” she checks. Hansol just gives a thumbs up, but that’s all she needs anyway. “Oh, Channie, what happened to you?” She frowns as she frets over the leaves and tiny twigs in his hair and dotted over the long coat.
“Sol pushed me into a bush,” Chan answers, then grins smugly when Hansol’s mother turns to scold her son, who glares harmlessly at his best friend before toddling off to the kitchen, drawn in by the scent of fresh, spicy food sure to warm him up. “Hey, you know the new vet?” Chan checks as the woman helps him out of the coat, picking off the bush debris as she goes.
“Mm, she’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“The loveliest,” Chan enthuses, head bobbing with his thorough agreement, and the woman smiles at him in an amused, knowing way that Chan doesn’t even notice. “I didn’t catch her name.”
“Oh, no?” She grins, hanging up the coat before turning and following her son’s path into the kitchen. Chan follows her little a lost little duckling. “You didn’t catch the good doctor’s name, love?”
“No,” Chan complains, dropping into his usual space at the breakfast table with a pout. “Will you tell it to me? Sol’s being a butthead.”
“You’re 25 years old and you just said butthead,” Hansol’s father comments from his own place. “Call him an asshole, Chan, go on.” Which earns the man a light slap to the back of his head from his wife, but he’s grinning, and Hansol is grinning, and Chan can’t help but join in.
“Don’t encourage bad habits, mister!” the woman exclaims.
“Ah, but you used to love my bad habits, my beautiful wife,” he coos, hooking one arm around her waist as she passes, to pull her in while giving her a sleazy look.
“Seriously, dad?” Hansol complains. “I’m trying to eat, don’t bring up your youth together, it’s gross.”
“Excuse you! We were hot shit in our youth, even hotter together!”
“Disgusting,” Hansol comments, not even pretending that he’s not grinning amusedly, before he puts a spoonful of warming, spicy soup into his mouth, makes a pleased sound, then tuckers in, closing out the rest of the world around him.
Having known Hansol for his entire life, the three know he will be a useless conversationalist until he’s finished his bowlful— and probably a second, maybe even third— and naturally turn away from him to continue talking without him.
“I’ve seen photos of you both when you were young,” Chan comments, nodding along. “I think you were both hot shit for sure.”
“Thank you, Chan,” Hansol’s father replies, and reaches over to approvingly pat Chan’s arm. “Knew we kept you around for a reason.”
“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” Chan grins, then abruptly turns serious. “But seeing as you both love me so much and consider me your baby boy—”
“We do?”
“Yes, dad,” Chan confirms, and the couple just smile, amused and fond of their pseudo-son and his weird, shameless personality.
“Okay, son, what of it?”
“You’ll tell me the name of the new vet, right?”
The couple share a look before Hansol’s dad nods and tells Chan your full name. Immediately, Chan lets out a dreamy sigh and props his head on his palm, elbow already braced on the table. He thinks it’s the most perfect name to have ever existed, and he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life saying it.
It’s a week before Chan sees you again, purely because every time he’s tried to oh so casually enter the vets and cross paths with you, he quickly realises that you’re out at another farm being competent and beautiful where he can’t admire you; a great shame, really.
Still, he’s persistent and has far too much time on his hands outside of his own working hours, so he keeps trying until he peers in through the glass wall at the front of the building, and spots you standing on the other side of the reception desk, looking at a file.
Without hesitation, Chan quickly scuttles to the door and enters the building, doing his best to be cool and confident. And it works, he genuinely looks very suave and put together, at least until you lift your head upon hearing someone approach, and he almost trips on his own foot the moment your eyes meet his.
He’s too busy flailing his arms out to catch himself on the desk and straighten up to notice the way you smile in amusement and something that looks an awful lot like you think he’s cute in his foolishness.
“Good evening, how can I help you?” you greet, leaning onto the high desk on your elbows only a few feet from Chan.
He squeaks when he realises how close you are, and jumps back, hands rapidly straightening out his coat— his own this time, and actually suited to his body, not drowning him. “Hi–hi.”
“Hi.” You grin.
“I uhm, I’m Chan!”
“Mm, I know; we met at the Choi farm last week. Hansol introduced us, but you were mumbling about lady sheep.”
“Ewes! Lady sheep are called ewes! I know animal stuff!” he insists, sounding like a child trying to convince an adult that they have knowledge they don’t really have.
“They are, well done, Chan,” you approve, and Chan positively beams, straightening up proudly. “Did you come in to introduce yourself?”
“No, no, I would like to volunteer.”
“Here?” you check, leaning up to stand straight, his eyes following you as if he can’t bear to miss a single moment. It’s all very obvious, and honestly, you think it’s adorable.
“Yes, here. With you.”
“With me? I specialise in farm animals, so I’m not here a lot,” you inform.
“I love farms.”
“Right.” You snigger and move over to the filing cabinet to grab a form, then return to hand it to him. “Here, fill this out.”
Chan nods and moves forward to take a pen from the pot a little to his left, and diligently fill out the volunteer registration form, while you return to looking at your files. Or, at least, you try to look at your files, but you’re honestly very intrigued by the man; and yes, he’s very attractive and you’re not blind to that, or his clear interest in you.
Admittedly, you wouldn’t be against going on a date with Chan to get to know him, there’s something so endearing about him— and once again, he’s very visibly pleasing, so that’s always a happy bonus. However, he flusters so easily that you think it’d be so entertaining to watch him flounder around you for a while until he gains the courage to ask you on a date himself.
Plus, you could do with a helper, and you know he’s only pretending to care about animals to be near you, so you think it’s only fair you take advantage of that and put him to good use while you can.
“There, all done,” he announces a few minutes later, lifting his head and shyly offering you the completed form, which you immediately look over just to make sure that he’s suitable for the role, at least on paper. He doesn’t seem to have any medical issues that could cause a problem, and he’s stated he has a lot of hours to put towards volunteering, so he definitely seems to be a good fit.
“What are you willing to do exactly? There are a lot of misconceptions that people come in with when they want to volunteer; they think they’ll essentially get to just play with cute puppies and kittens that come in for treatment, and they fail to consider all the shit they’ll have to handle. Often, literal shit. Especially if you’re with me and the farm animals; I don’t think I need to tell you that you will step in shit on a farm, even if you try to avoid it.”
“I know. I grew up with Hansol; his parents are my second parents, so I was sort of raised on the farm too,” he assures, nodding. Which is the truth, technically. Chan did spend a lot of time at the Choi farm growing up, and still does, but mostly in the house or orchard around back, not with the animals so much. And he certainly doesn’t know how to look after them in any way, but he doesn’t think you’d be reckless enough to leave him to look after animals, so he’s not worried about that.
“Have you tended to the animals there?”
“No,” he admits a little sheepishly. “But I’m willing to learn and do whatever you want me to.”
“Whatever I want you too, huh?” you repeat, lips turning up a little.
Chan blinks at you, lips parted slightly due to the sudden, seductive expression that makes him feel a little like he’s been dipped in a pool of warm, melted wax. Fuck, he hopes you’re into wax play because he suddenly is really into it, even if he’s never participated or been interested before. He thinks he’d probably try everything at least once if you asked.
It’s only a second that the smirk lives on your lips before it melts away as if it was never there, and Chan briefly wonders if he imagined it and the insinuation, before he gathers his brain back up and nods.
“Good to know. When can you start?”
“Now. Right now. I have nothing to do.”
“Nobody waiting for you at home?” you wonder, moving to grab your coat from where you earlier put it on the back of a chair, knowing you’d need it again soon.
“I’m single!” he blurts. “Very, very single.” You just giggle amusedly and tuck the files and his form into the cabinet before locking it up, grabbing your bag, and circling the desk to hold it out to him. Chan takes it without question, big, round eyes locked on you from only a few feet away.
“Come on, I’ve got a patient to visit,” you inform and head out of the building.
Chan lets out an excited gasp as he realises that you’ve agreed to spend time with him— he pointedly doesn’t focus on the fact that it’s for work, not personal reasons— and scrambles after you with a grin, determined to be the best assistant ever so that you’ll fall hopelessly in love with him and let him remain by your side until the world stops spinning.
As it turns out, Chan is a very competent helper, as long as you don’t watch him for too long because then he gets flustered and forgets how to function like a normal human being. Other than his mishaps, he’s actually pretty proud of himself for doing such a good job. Sometimes, he’s even so focused on the work that he forgets that he stepped into the vets that day with the sole purpose of being near you.
Though, even with his original plan often being forgotten, it still works in his favour, and the two of you spend so much time together that friendship soon blooms.
When Chan’s not flustering or just staring at you dumbly as if he can’t believe you’re real, he’s actually very naturally charming and friendly, and very skilled at making you laugh. The first time he made you properly laugh, he mentally declared your laughter to be one of the great wonders of the world, and that he’ll do what he can to earn it at every chance. Which is something he achieves almost effortlessly. He thinks that when the two of you aren’t focused on work, you’re both laughing away together and chatting happily as if you’ve known one another for years, not just a month.
It gets to the point that, although he is still utterly enamoured with you and would love to hold your hand and kiss your pretty face, he is more than happy to just spend time with you, making you laugh, and seeing you smile as you tend to patients with nothing but love and care in your touch and eyes.
Even when the two of you start to hang out outside of working hours, it’s nothing but platonic, nothing he wouldn’t do with Hansol because Chan truly doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or risk losing your friendship. He’d rather be at your side like this than not at all, and he has no intention of even trying to change anything, despite what his friends say.
“So, how’s the woman of your dreams doing?” Seungkwan asks, fiddling with Hansol’s hair where it pokes out from his beanie, and Hansol just lets him, long ago used to Seungkwan’s fussing.
“Dreamy,” Chan replies, sighing happily as he slumps forward over the table at their usual bar, leaning his chin on one palm as his other hand mindlessly traces patterns into the condensation on his glass of coke. Usually, he’d be drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage, but he knows that you’ve gone out with some friends tonight, and he told you that you can call him if you need a ride, no matter how late, so he’s refraining from drinking tonight all for you.
“Right,” Seungkwan replies with a snigger, then turns, done fussing with Hansol, yet doesn’t move away and Chan isn’t so caught up in his own pining to not notice that the pair are even closer than normal. Which says something, because Chan thinks the two are almost attached at the hip when the three of them hang out.
“What’s going on?” Chan asks as he straightens up, giving the pair a suspicious look. Hansol, for his part, doesn’t really react, just continues looking over at Chan as he sips at his beer.
Seungkwan, however, has never had a good poker face, and gives Chan a too innocent smile as his ears redden. “I don’t know what you mean, Channie.”
“You two–” Chan starts to point out their position— and the fact he’s pretty damn sure Hansol’s hand is on Seungkwan’s thigh under the table— but he hears a familiar, heart fluttering, angelic sound, and he sits upright, head swivelling to search the bar for the one person he would happily ditch his best friends for.
“Oh, you’ve turned into a meerkat,” Seungkwan muses, relaxing in his place and giving Hansol a relieved look while Chan is distracted. Hansol just smiles at him, then they both focus on their best friend, who is practically climbing up onto his chair on his knees to get a higher vantage point. “Okay, too far,” Seungkwan declares when Chan’s leg lifts as if he’s going to plant a knee on the table to climb up. Or piss like a dog with his leg cocked, though Seungkwan is pretty sure that Chan needs to be much drunker to try that…again. That was a dark day for Chan’s new trainers.
“Noo, let me find her,” Chan whines, batting at Seungkwan’s hands, head still trying to peer around the fairly busy room.
“How about you go get us a fresh round, and you can scope the place like that?” Hansol suggests after draining the last dregs of his beer, before pushing the empty glass across the table.
“Good idea!” Chan quickly snatches the empty glass and gets up, whining at Seungkwan wordlessly as the man tries to down the last of his own beer without spilling it. “Finally!” Chan exclaims exasperatedly as he takes the freshly empty glass and darts off, while Seungkwan’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, and Hansol rubs his back, soothing and amused at the same time.
As Chan crosses the room to get to the bar on the opposite side as the tables, skirting around the dance floor as he goes, he makes sure to keep his eyes open for you— and only walks into three people, which he thinks is a very low number for how busy it is mixed with not paying attention. Yet, no matter how hard he looks, he can’t find you, or hear your familiar laugh again, so he slumps against the bar and waits to be served.
He’s only there a minute and the bartender is working on refilling the glasses when someone approaches and leans on their elbows on the bar to his right. Naturally, Chan looks over and immediately lights up upon spotting you already grinning at him.
“I knew I heard your laugh!” he declares, and although it would probably be creepy from anyone else, you just find it cute from Chan and let out one of those laughs he loves so much. “Yeah, like that.” He sighs dreamily and leans one elbow on the bar so that he can fully face you.
“What happened to keeping yourself available for me tonight?” you muse.
“I’m always available for you,” he says, looking so serious and almost offended that you’d suggest otherwise. The audacity to think that he wouldn’t do literally anything to spend more time with you. It’s crazy talk.
“Oh yeah?” you question, and he nods, then looks to his left at the bar top when you motion to it. He spots the beers and understands.
“Those aren’t mine. They’re for my friends. You remember Hansol, right?”
“Yeah,” you laugh. “We were at his farm yesterday.”
“Well, yeah, him and our other best friend, Seungkwan. I think they’re dating or something now,” he announces, leaning in closer conspiratorially. You mirror his action with a grin, more than happy to go along with it. “They’ve always sat close, but tonight, they’re even closer, and I’m pretty sure Sol’s touching up Kwan under the table.”
“That doesn’t sound very public friendly,” you muse.
“Oh! Not in that way; I just meant has his hand on Kwan’s thigh. But now you’ve said that… I really hope it’s not in that way.” Chan isn’t sure what exactly his expression does, but it makes you laugh, so he doesn’t care, and just grins at you. “So, where are your friends?” he wonders, peering around curiously yet finds nobody looking in your direction as if they’re waiting for you to return.
“They were touching each other up under the table, so I ditched them,” you joke, and Chan laughs.
“Well, you can join us, if you want?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Will there be under the table touching?” You smirk, and Chan’s mind blanks as he stares at you dumbly, making you giggle. “Sure, I’d love to join you, if your friends won’t mind, that is.”
“They won’t. Kwan wants to meet you, and Sol already likes you.”
“Ah, that’s cool, I like him.”
Chan suddenly pouts at you, but you don’t notice, you’re too busy leaning forward onto the bar to flag down the bartender and order yourself a drink. Even when he hands his card to the bartender— without looking— Chan is still pouting at you. You look at him as you spot his bank card appear, and raise a questioning eyebrow at him, both for the paying for your drink, and the expression.
“What?” you ask, deciding to just accept the drink and face the pouting instead. You can always buy him a drink later anyway.
“You like me better, right?” he questions without losing his pout. You huff a soft laugh. “No?”
“Yes, idiot,” you assure, and Chan breams, despite you just calling him an idiot. “And if you must know, I think you’re very likely my favourite person in his town,” you declare, tone a little quieter, lower, as if it’s just the two of you, before you pick up your drink and turn away. Though Chan doesn’t follow, so you stop after a few steps and look back at his stunned, gawping figure. “Well, come on then, introduce me to the man Hansol’s touching up under the table.”
“Right!” Chan darts forward, intending to take you to the table as requested, yet you put a gentle hand on his chest to stop him, giggling amusedly. “Huh?”
“Didn’t you forget something?” you remind him and motion behind him at the bar, so Chan looks over and notices the two glasses of beer sitting there with his bank card left on the surface beside them.
“Oh, shit.” He rushes over to pocket his card, then grabs the drinks and turns to face you with an embarrassed little grin. “This way.”
At the table, Seungkwan lights up when Chan introduces you and says you’re joining them, and you grin back before joining them and easily get into conversation with Seungkwan as if you already know each other. As if you’ve always been around. As if you’re supposed to be here with them, right by Chan’s side.
Since the day in the bar where you spent hours with Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan, Seungkwan has bugged Chan to ask you out at every available opportunity.
Because he’s a meddling little shit, Seungkwan has arranged many hang outs for the four of you. Which, to Chan, are increasingly feeling like double dates, despite the fact that Hansol and Seungkwan are still evasive about whatever is going on between them, and you never bat an eyelid about the growing romantic vibes to the hang outs.
You don’t even question it or back off when you arrive to Seungkwan’s apartment set up with slow, romantic music and candles. Or when Seungkwan insists you and Chan slow dance together after dinner. Okay, maybe that’s Chan’s fault. After he offhandedly mentions how he hasn’t danced with someone in a while, you say the same, and then Seungkwan goads the two of you on until you relent, pull Chan to his feet, and put his hand on your waist— Chan’s pretty sure he astrally projects for a second when that happens— in the middle of Seungkwan’s kitchen while the man himself watches on with a shit-eating grin.
Still, Chan doesn’t give in and is happy to continue as you are. Admittedly, he could be even happier if he got the chance to romance you, but he’s more than content being such good friends with you.
He really doesn’t expect you to feel otherwise, though.
It comes to a head completely out of the blue one morning, when Chan is using his day off to help you organise your so-rarely-used office at the vets. The fact it’s so rarely used is why it’s such a mess. Well, mess in the way there’s no obvious system and things are just placed everywhere, yet you always manage to find what you need quickly enough that you hadn’t wanted to block off any of your appointment times to tackle the task earlier. But it’s spring, and the local ewes have all started to pop out lambs left, right, and centre, so you haven’t been accepting appointments other than emergencies, just in case you get the call about a sheep in labour.
Chan isn’t aware of it, he’s too busy frowning in concentration down at the pile of books on the floor in front of him where he’s sitting as he tries to decide which ones you should display on your shelves and which should go in the closed cupboard, but you’ve been staring at him contemplatively for a good few minutes already.
When you speak, Chan jolts in surprise, first at the sudden noise, but then at the words that come out of your mouth. “Okay, are you going to ask me on a date, or am I going to have to do it?” You wait for a response for only a few seconds before taking his dumb expression and wide eyes as answer. “Alright, tonight at 6:30, pick me up and we’ll go to that Italian place Seungkwan keeps telling us to try. Okay?” It takes a few moments, but Chan manages to shut his mouth and nod in confirmation, slowly at first still in disbelief, but then the enthusiasm catches up and his head bobbles cutely, making you smile. “Good. Dress pretty for me, yeah?”
“Y–yeah,” he almost wheezes out, voice so pinched and quiet. But you just giggle and return to your work, so Chan takes a few moments to admire your smile and wait for his thundering heart to calm before he turns back to those books and then sighs forlornly. He wishes it was 6:30 already. Only eight hours left to go. Fuck.
Chan would like to say that he’s been cool and calm for the past hours. He’d like to say that he easily picked his outfit for the date with minimal deliberation, that he didn’t have three almost breakdowns, and that Seungkwan didn’t almost shake Chan’s brain out of his ears when he did nothing but stand in his shower for half an hour without even turning the water on— yes, Seungkwan did barge in on him, and no, Seungkwan doesn’t understand what privacy is.
Truthfully, Chan thinks he’s never been so nervous for anything in his life. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked at himself in the mirror and picked out every little thing someone could find as a fault, as a reason to leave him in the middle of a restaurant with only breadsticks and ice water to soothe his broken heart.
Realistically, Chan knows you’d never be so cruel, but he’s not Realistic Chan anymore, he’s Scared-That-The-Woman-Of-His-Dreams-Will-Realise-He’s-Not-Good-Enough-For-Her Chan. And Chan hates being Scared-That-The-Woman-Of-His-Dreams-Will-Realise-He’s-Not-Good-Enough-For-Her Chan, it’s too much of a mouthful.
So, Chan does what Chan does best, and deludes himself into thinking he’s a normal, functioning young man entirely capable of going on this date and not acting like a love-sick freak.
Well, he deludes himself until the moment you step out of your house and steal his breath away. You’re wearing a pretty dress that stops just above your knees— as if that’s not reason enough for Chan to lose his mind like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time—, with a neckline that hints at cleavage without dipping low enough that Chan will be completely distracted all night having a staring contest with your boobs. You’ve even done your hair and put on some makeup that makes you look like a literal goddess. Chan isn’t going to be normal about this at all.
“Oh my god, you’re an angel,” he blurts as he scrambles forward to meet you a few metres from his car. His freshly washed and waxed car that he had previously been leaning against like the stud of a male lead in a cheesy rom com while feeling very much like one, and like he might have the upper hand and make you swoon for once. He was evidently, very fucking wrong about that.
“Oh,” you respond, surprised by how intense and genuine his reaction is. You had expected him to react pretty strongly, but this is so honest that it makes your heart flutter— more than he already makes it anyway, you just haven’t let him know that. You look down at your feet as you giggle shyly, and Chan positively melts. “Thank you. You look very handsome,” you compliment as you look at the man donned in a black shirt with maybe one button undone too low on his chest to not be on purpose— though you really aren’t opposed to the teasing glimpse of strong chest—, neat, dark trousers, and a nice jacket perfect for the weather, which he only brings out for special occasions. A date with you is the most special occasion as far as Chan is concerned. Honestly, you’d have to agree.
“Oh, really?” Chan asks, genuinely surprised, having not expected the compliment, and quickly looks at himself. “Seungkwan picked it; I…was too nervous to be useful.”
“Chan,” you start to say, and move forward to gently tilt his head back up so that he’ll see the truth in your eyes. “I always think you’re handsome.”
“Oh,” he exhales, eyes big and round, and cheeks warming softly.
“Come on, let’s go, I’m starving,” you encourage as you let go of him and step around his almost frozen figure to approach his car.
Before you can even reach out for the passenger door, Chan is suddenly there, scrambling to open it for you, then offer his hand to help you into your seat like a true gentleman. The best part is that you know he isn’t putting it on to impress you, Chan is just like that. It makes your heart flutter, and you giggle softly as you swing your legs into the footwell once seated to allow him to shut the door.
Chan all but falls into his seat moments later in his rush to join you. He gives you an adorably embarrassed smile as you laugh, endeared by his clumsy actions, and then he settles himself and pulls his door shut. “Okay, let’s go!” he cheers once he’s plugged his seatbelt in— and double checked yours is also securely in place—, then starts the drive to the restaurant.
Despite how nervous he was— and remains—, Chan has to admit that the date goes well. Like, really well.
Although it could be awkward, especially with his stammering, and gawping, and blurting out compliments at the most random times, it isn’t. It takes him a little while, but he realises that your smile doesn’t change even when he does those embarrassing things, not in a bad way at least. Every time he does something stupid or obviously smitten, your smile softens and your gaze on him turns so gentle that Chan can’t mistake it for anything but the truth; you’re fond of him, and find him endearing, not a giant fool. Okay, maybe you do also think that, but Chan suddenly realises that it’s pretty damn likely that you like that about him.
After a truly delicious dinner that you insist on paying for as the one who asked Chan on the date— which has Chan trying to not to giggle dopily into his hands like a swooning maiden at the reminder, and your no-nonsense, doting words and actions—, the two of you head outside to his car, only to divert before even reaching it as you motion to the nearby park. Chan’s more than happy to toddle after you, and all but squeaks when you gently grab his hand at the road to tug him across quickly so that you don’t have to wait until after the incoming stream of cars to cross.
Unfortunately, you let go of him once you’re both safely across the road with both feet on the path. Chan thinks he does a very convincing job of pretending to not pout about no longer having your hand in his. He doesn’t. It’s incredibly obvious, and you’re further endeared, though decide to wait and let him reach out to reconnect your hands.
But as it so happens, Chan is a coward and doesn’t make any sort of move to hold your hand, leaving it up to you. After almost twenty minutes of waiting as the two of you leisurely stroll through the mostly empty park, talking and giggling away like you’ve been doing all evening, you realise that you’ll be waiting for the rest of your life for Chan to make a move, so you reach out and take his hand into yours.
“Oh,” Chan says, dumbly looking down at your hands, making you grin to yourself, which only grows when you adjust your hold to slip your fingers between his own to secure the affection and Chan inhales so suddenly that he almost chokes on air. “Hands,” he wheezes out.
“Mm, do you mind?”
“No! Always hands!” he insists, looking up at you with wide, imploring eyes, and emphatically nods.
“Okay, always hands,” you agree with a giggle and tug him that bit closer so that you can all but hug his arm to you, right hand still connected with his, and your left hand holding his upper arm. Of course, you take a chance to cop a feel of his strong bicep, and, of course, Chan doesn’t miss the chance to flex the muscle, making you giggle. He smiles, pleased of himself— and proud of his body for gaining your interest—, and finally curls his fingers to hold your hand in return as the two of you let the conversation naturally ebb out for a calm, content quiet to replace it.
Although it’s only spring and the moon is high in the sky, it’s not as cold as it could be outside, so when you spot a bench just a little off the path, you lead Chan over to it so that you can sit by his side and lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, and happy to spend the rest of the night by his side like this if he’ll let you. You’re pretty confident he has no arguments about it. Especially as he holds your hand that bit tighter as he rests it on his thigh, thumb rubbing over your skin absently, and tilts his head against yours with a content sigh.
“Thank you,” Chan’s gentle tone breaks the quiet a little while after sitting down, making you hum questioningly in response. “I know I act like an idiot around you, but it’s just because I like you so much that I just…get stupid. Well, stupider than normal, if you ask everyone else.”
“It’s cute.”
“I’m glad you think so. And that you asked me out. I didn’t think you were interested in me, would ever be interested in me; you’re just so…” he lets out a dreamy sigh that makes you turn your face to hide your dopey grin in his shoulder.
When you turn your head back around after a few seconds to gather yourself and stop smiling so stupidly cheesy, Chan is quiet again, and happily softly smiling ahead at nothing in particular, just letting his feelings show unabashedly on his features. You can’t help but straighten up so that you can lean in and kiss his cheek.
“Thank you for liking me so much,” you say, gently grateful. “I’m lucky to have your interest, and I don’t plan to let you move on to anyone else.”
“I won’t,” he promises, so seriously as he nods to back up his words, making you smile a little wider, so endeared. “You’re everything I never knew I wanted, and I know I’ll never find anyone better than you.”
“Good.” Your grin is cheeky, and Chan can’t help but chuckle softly, fond.
For a few long moments, the two of you do nothing but hold adoring eye contact, little smiles on your face, and neither shying away from this, from what this could turn into if you give it the chance. Chan wants to, with everything in him; he’s had a taste of what it’s like to be blessed with your entire romantic attention, and he wants to keep that privilege for the rest of his life. He’d also really like to get a taste of you, and his eyes drop down to your lips as that thought settles in his mind.
A soft, surprised inhale slips from your lips when you notice that Chan is leaning in. The man who didn’t have the balls to even hold your hand despite very obviously wanting to, is tilting towards you, aiming to kiss you. You want him to; fuck do you want him to. You’re tempted to lean in just so it’ll happen quicker, but you also want Chan to make a real move entirely on his own so that it’s not always you doing it, and he realises that he can do it without you guiding him.
And then, just as he’s mere inches away, your phone starts to ring, and you both freeze. If it was your personal phone, you wouldn’t even hear it right now, you put it on do not disturb before leaving your house for the date. But you can hear it and that can only mean one thing; it’s your work phone, and it’s important.
“Shit,” you whisper before turning to your bag to find out your work phone while Chan leans back into his own space, a little upset about being interrupted, but mostly understanding and also a little worried it’s a serious animal emergency. “It’s Hansol,” you inform after looking at the caller ID, then swipe to answer while lifting the device to your ear. “Hey, what’s going on?” you ask, already getting up, knowing that regardless of the reason Hansol is calling, you need to get to his family farm sooner rather than later; he’s far too experienced and level-headed to call you for anything minor.
“Sheila’s gone into labour,” he announces.
“Alright, I’ll be there soon, you know what to do until then.”
“Got it, see you soon, doc.”
You place your phone back away and turn, expecting Chan to still be sitting on the bench, but he’s already standing close by with his car keys in his hand.
“Let’s go,” he says, taking your hand into his free one to quickly lead you back through the park, both of you rushing to get to his car sooner.
Without you saying a word, Chan drives straight to the vets, and though you don’t tell him to, he follows you inside to help you grab everything you need— the man now well versed in what exactly you need to help bring a lamb or two into the world—, then leads you back to his car.
“You missed the turning,” you comment a few minutes later, pointing dumbly to the road that leads towards your house.
“No I didn’t.” He briefly gives you a look as if you’re stupid, before focusing on the road out of town. “Sol’s place is this way.”
“Oh…I thought you were taking me home and then going home yourself,” you admit.
“I’m your assistant, aren’t I?” He grins cheekily. You let out a soft little laugh, so relieved and beyond glad to have this lovely man by your side and reach out to hold his hand into your own. He smiles a little brighter without looking away from the road.
After hours of waiting, when the sun has chased the moon away and started to rise up and smile down on the two new lives blessing the Choi farm, your job is done.
“I’ll never get over it,” Chan comments as the two of you head back towards his car, both of your outfits completely ruined from the birthing fluids, dust, and hay of the barn, and your hair in a messy, barely still together bun Chan had tied it into hours ago while you pulled on your long gloves.
“Hm?” you wonder, glancing at him quickly, then looking at his car as he unlocks it, allowing you to open the boot so that he can put your bags inside— which he insisted on carrying with the excuse that you carried the weight of bringing two new lambs into the world, so it’s his turn to carry; luckily, he’s cute enough to get away with such bullshit.
“You just helped that mama bring her babies into this world, and you let me assist you. No matter how many times I help you do this, I’ll never get over how incredible it is.”
“It’s a good feeling, huh?” you muse.
“Beyond good. I might just quit my job to do this full time,” he declares, making you laugh. “What? I’m serious!”
“Channie, lambing season is spring, you’d be out of a job most of the year if you quit just for this,” you reason.
“I meant work with you in general, really. And there are other animals to help through labour, too! I wanna help bring a baby cow into the world.”
“Alright, next time I get that call, I’ll let you know.” Chan beams at you, looking so genuinely happy at the offer that you can’t help but be further endeared by the man.
“I should probably call off work today,” he muses after checking the time on his watch— that has been tucked safely in his jacket pocket out of the way for the past few hours to not risk ruining it, and the jacket hung up on a post in the barn far from the splash zone at your insistence; he had practically sprinted to do as you told him to when you said you really liked how it looked on him and hope to see him wear it again. “I’m due at work in like two hours.”
“Mm, yeah, call off,” you agree a little distractedly as you watch him meander around the car after shutting the boot, his eyes on his phone as he types a message to his boss one handed, and the other blindly reaching for the passenger side door long before he’s close enough to grasp the handle.
“You’ll at least take the morning off, right?” he checks as he slides his phone into his pocket and looks at you.
“Yeah, I won’t go in until the afternoon. Unless there’s an emergency, of course,” you answer, soothing him of his worries.
“And you’ll call me if you need me, right? For anything.”
“Anything?” you tease, and he nods so seriously that you can’t help but chuckle as the euphemism goes right over his adorable head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” He motions to the seat, then offers his hand to you like he’s been doing all night to help you in and out of the car— like he’s always wanted to but felt it would be overstepping as a friend to do so, but he’s your…date-man now; he has no idea what he is to you at this point, but whatever it is, he wears the label with pride.
You take his hand and start to move towards the seat, only to back up and turn to face him so suddenly that he jerks back in shock, only to lean back in, eyes round in curious wonder. “So, I know this isn’t the most attractive look or anything.” You motion to yourself vaguely; Chan’s gaze follows to take you in head to toe, and when his gaze returns to you, he’s got a little smile on his face that makes you blush softly. “But I don’t want to wait until an undetermined later point.” Unsurprisingly, Chan’s expression turns puzzled. “I would very much like it if you did the thing you were going to do before Hansol called.”
Somehow, Chan just look even more confused, features scrunching cutely, and head tilting to the side— maybe it’s the animal loving vet you in you that absolutely loves it when he gains this dumb, puppy-dog look. After rolling your eyes at his reaction, figuring you’ll have to spell it out and you’d rather just get to it, you lean in to press a kiss to Chan’s lips. It’s only a quick thing, nothing but a sweet barely-longer-than-a-peck kiss, before you pull back. Chan’s making some strange, strangled, shocked noise as he stares at you with wide eyes, making you snicker out a laugh.
To your genuine surprise, Chan suddenly snaps out of his daze and lifts both hands to cup your face, secure yet still gentle, so that he can connect his lips with yours in a kiss so perfect that you never want it to end. You all but melt against him, hands lifting to hold onto his wrists so that he’ll not let you go before you’re ready; he just kisses you more thoroughly. For someone that’s been so awkward and cowardly about making a move until now, the man can kiss. Holy fuck can the man kiss.
Only when both of your chests are heaving to try and suck in some oxygen do you naturally pull apart to dopily stare at one another under the rising sun with lamb birth dried on your nicest clothes. It’s probably pretty gross for a first kiss— ignoring your peck—, but you still think it’s perfect, and you’d never change it for the world.
“For the record,” Chan starts after a minute; once you’re both breathing almost normally again and his thumbs are consistently brushing soothing arcs over your cheekbones as his palms refuse to leave your skin. Not that you’ve tried to make him stop and would happily let him touch you so tenderly until the sun sets again. “You’re always attractive to me.”
You smile and tilt your chin up to press a short kiss to his lips. “You say that now but wait until you see me first thing in the morning, hungover, with only two hours sleep.”
Chan grins and cutely taps his nose against yours. “Just sounds to me like you’re already planning to share the bed with me,” he points out cheekily, making you giggle. “I already look forward to it.”
“Yeah,” you agree softly. “Me too.”
Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
🎶Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader.
🎶What: Some humour. Some fluffy parts. Slow burn. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Child Taehyung. Ex husband Mingyu. Best friend Mingyu. 18+
🎶Word count: 6.4k
🎶Warnings: Disabled characters— both mental and physical in various ways. Taehyung has a few emotional moments. Other children portrayed by idols. Namjoon is Jimin’s dad, and even I didn’t know that was going to happen until it did 🤡. Yoongi isn’t in this chapter, so he’s not mentioned in the “what” section, but it’s still a Yoongi story! The 18+ warning is because the series overall is 18+, so I’m applying it to every chapter regardless of content.
🎶Summary:
Even before you meet him, Min Yoongi owns a piece of your heart.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
My general masterlist
🎶Mr. Min Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.
A/N - Honestly, this story seems to be turning into just reader loving tiny Taehyung, and I don’t blame her, he’s so precious 🥺 Forget Yoongi and the romance aspect, let’s just focus on Tae 😌 (That is a joke, I’m not changing the plot, don’t worry)
On the very first day of October, Taehyung comes home even more excited than usual, and you soon understand why. Well, once you’ve gotten him to calm down enough that you can make sense of his rushed words and also stop his arm from waving something around in your face in an excited attempt to show it to you.
“I go, mama?” he asks when you’ve accepted what he’s been waving around and realise it’s two small envelopes, one plain white with Taehyung’s name written on the front in neat— though still child-like— handwriting, and the other you think was once white, but it’s been entirely scribbled over by a whole selection of coloured pencil as far as you can see while it’s behind the other.
“Give me a minute to see what they are first,” you muse with a chuckle as you open the top envelope— the white one— and pull out the little card within. “Oh, a party invitation,” you realise, smiling at the thought of Taehyung being invited to his first birthday party at this school. Or, at least, the first birthday party he’s aware beforehand that he’s been invited to. Though spotting that the date on the invitation is only two days away, and noticing that it’s from Jeonghan, your smile lowers a little in worry that the little boy has purposely left it so late to give Taehyung his invite. “Baby, this is on Friday after school,” you point out, looking up at Taehyung.
“Hannie gave ‘em us all lunch today,” he says, unintentionally soothing your worry that Jeonghan had singled out your little boy again, but it seems as if that’s not the case at all, and you relax a little. “I can go?”
“Mm,” you hum thoughtfully as you look at the invitation again. “It’s for pizza and movies at Jeonghan’s house, you’d like to do that?”
“Yes!” Taehyung cheers enthusiastically, so you glance around in search of Mingyu and find him leaning in the living room doorway, clearly waiting knowing that Taehyung had something to show you, that the pair of— as Taehyung’s parents— would need to discuss. Not that you discuss it now, Mingyu just nods with a little smile on his face, silently giving his consent to your son attending the party.
“Okay, baby, you can go,” you confirm, making Taehyung let out an excited noise before bouncing happily around for a moment. You take the chance to grab your phone from the side table to send a text to the number listed on the invitation to confirm Taehyung’s presence and specify any requirements— as requested on the little card.
Once you’re done sending the text and saving the number as “Jeonghan’s mother”, you turn your attention to the rainbow scrawled envelope, noticing that this time, Taehyung’s name was obviously written by an adult, no five-year-old has handwriting that neat. Your son bounces back over when he notices that you’re pulling the folded paper out. This one is printed in a farmyard theme and is also covered in shiny animal stickers on the back, making you smile a little.
“Who’s Jimin?” you wonder once you’re read the invitation fully and realise that you don’t recall Taehyung mentioning anyone called Jimin before, and you’ve also never seen the name printed on the cubbies in the few times you’ve been in their classroom. Perhaps it’s a new student.
“He’s with the little kids but we are same age! He’s all smiley like Soo, but he is like a little kid like Cheolie’s little brother, he’s three,” he explains simply, and you hum in understanding. It makes sense that you’ve not heard of Jimin before, not if he has a much younger mental age than his same-aged peers, so he’s with the younger children who are at the same mental age as him.
You assume he and your son have only recently met, likely on the playground as you don’t think the students mix during any other point in the day. “And you’ve played with him at breaktime?”
“Yeah!” Taehyung nods. “He call me Tete, and we play aliens, and pirates, and run lots! Cheolie can’t run lots, so Hannie say we can’t play run games, so I play with Chim!” he explains, not seeming at all bothered that he can’t run around with his best friends, and instead happy to have another friend to play with. “Jimin says Chim, not Jimin. I think he can’t not say Jimin, but Chim is cute!”
“It is,” you agree, smiling at your son and his clear adoration for Jimin, for his lack of issue about the same-aged boy’s younger mentality and skills. You’re glad Taehyung doesn’t linger on what others struggle with, just accepts them and focuses on their strengths, and how they can be happy together. “Jimin’s party is at a farm, is that something you’d like to do?”
Taehyung’s smile lowers and he slumps as nerves appear on his adorable little face. “Just me?”
“No, baby, I’ll go with you,” you assure, glad that the invitation requests that a parent or adult guardian attends as well— free of charge— to watch over their own child while the children play together. You think it’s pretty safe to assume that Jimin himself needs a fair amount of attention and care, and the chances are that he’s invited other children from their school too, who all have their own needs. It would be an awful lot for Jimin’s guardians to watch over multiple young children with varying needs alongside trying to keep the party going smoothly, while somewhere that could easily be overstimulating with all the scents and sounds.
“And daddy?” Taehyung asks, looking over to where you assume Mingyu must still be, based on the fact Taehyung stares in that direction questioningly.
“When is it?” Mingyu wonders as he approaches to lean over the back of the sofa and peer at the paper in your hands, which you lift higher so that he can easier read the information. “Ah, no, sorry, baby, I’m in New York then,” he apologises, sounding genuinely upset to have to let down his son for the sake of work.
“Oh, can we farm some time? You, me, and mama?”
“Of course,” Mingyu easily agrees, and you hum, nodding your own agreement when Taehyung looks at you, making the boy light back up.
“For my birthday?”
“I think it’ll be too cold on your birthday for the farm to be open for visitors,” Mingyu responds, and you both watch as Taehyung deflates all over again with a disappointed little “oh.”
“I thought you want to go see the snowy mountains for your birthday?” you remind him of the idea he had in Japan once he saw photos of the snow-tipped mountains and immediately became enamoured.
Taehyung nods enthusiastically. “With Chim, and Cheol, and Hannie, and Soo, and Ji?” he requests.
“Jihoon?” you question, a little surprised that he wants his newest friend present for the trip when you can’t imagine they’ll see each other much between now and December when Taehyung’s birthday is. Honestly, with Jihoon not going out onto the playground during breaktime and Yoongi’s refusal to swap numbers with you so the boys can hang out, you think the only time the two will get to see each other will be thanks to Jin. Though as it’s been all these years already and you’ve only just met the father-son due through your mutual friend, you don’t imagine Jin will invite your two families to any gatherings at the same time unless it’s something big and important again.
“Yeah! I want fun see Ji times like huhwhywee.”
“Hawaii.”
“Yeah!”
“I don’t think seeing Jihoon outside of school is possible, baby,” you inform gently, knowing it will upset your son to hear.
“Why not?” He frowns sadly, making your heart break a little. If Yoongi wasn’t so good to Taehyung at school and a genuinely wonderful teacher and support system for the boy, you’d mentally curse him out right now for being the reason your precious boy looks so defeated.
“Because his daddy is your teacher, so it makes things difficult. He can’t really do things like that,” you answer, hoping that Taehyung will understand and not ask for further clarification; you really don’t know how you’d explain it to Taehyung when you honestly don’t understand Yoongi’s aversion yourself.
“Oh… Then not Ji and just Chim, and Cheol, and Hannie, and Soo?” he requests.
“As lovely as that would be, it’s not possible to take your friends to Japan for the Christmas break, baby. Their parent’s wouldn’t agree, and even if they did, daddy and I can’t look after you all on our own; you all needs lots of special care and deserve more attention than the two of us can give you in another country like that. We’d have to invite their parents and siblings, and that would cost a lot of money, baby.”
“We not have a lot of money?” he asks curiously. “You and daddy are be famous.”
“Ah, I’m not really, not now,” you correct, knowing that these days, although your name is still fairly known in your world, you don’t really do the jobs anymore to keep that recognition going. Though, you still have enough respect in the fashion circuit to earn more than a pretty penny when you do accept a job that strikes your fancy. “Daddy is the famous one,” you point out.
Mingyu can’t deny it, his photos are pretty much part of the furniture in the majority of magazines in the country, and many internationally too. It’s more surprising to go to a shopping centre and not see a blown-up photo of your ex-husband showing off some product or another; it’s another reason you’re so glad you’re still friends. It’d drive you insane to not be able to go buy a new pair of underwear without your ex-husband’s giant, handsome face leering at you from a display in the men’s section.
“But have little money?” Taehyung asks confused.
“We have enough money,” Mingyu answers. “But to spend all that would be like showing off how much we have, and your mama and I never want to do that. Most people don’t have as much money, and so we don’t want to rub it in their faces, okay? So don’t tell anyone that we have lots of money please, Tae.”
“It is secret?”
“They can probably guess we have money because of my job, and your mama insists on driving a big, fancy car–” he cuts off with a laugh when you hit his arm. “Ow! It’s true!”
“I drive a big, fancy car to fit your giant ass in it!” you point out.
“I fit in smaller cars,” he defends.
“And complain that your legs are squished. And this car will last me for years, long enough that Tae will be grown at least, and I’m betting he’s going to be tall like you, so he’ll need space for his long legs too!”
“I be very tall!” Taehyung decides, lifting up onto his tiptoes with one hand held as high as he can get it. “Like this!”
“Wow, you’re going to be super tall,” Mingyu enthuses.
“Like you, daddy!”
“And super handsome too, huh?!” Mingyu teases then darts around the sofa to pick up Taehyung and playfully nuzzle and bite the boy while Taehyung giggles and wiggles away, more than happy to be playfully eaten— a very common occurrence in your house, by both you and Mingyu, Taehyung is just too cute to resist.
While the pair play, you copy the number for Jimin’s dad from his invitation into your phone and send a text confirming Taehyung’s presence at the farm for the party. The two are still playing when you’re done, so you decide to get up and go to the kitchen to make a start on dinner even though it’s Mingyu’s turn to cook tonight; but you know he’s unlikely to remove his focus from your son for a while yet and you’re already getting hungry so would rather eat sooner than later.
It’s almost twenty minutes later that Mingyu darts into the kitchen and dramatically tells you off for taking his job from him. Before you can argue, he picks you up and carries you into the living room to deposit you on the sofa beside Taehyung, then strolls back to the kitchen to pick up where you left off.
As soon as you’re settled on the cushions, Taehyung wiggles into your side to curl up with you to watch his current favourite anime.
“Mama, if we no go see snowy mountains, can I have birthday party?” he requests after a few minutes, tilting his head back against your arm to peer up at you cutely.
“You want a party enough to cancel the trip? You were really looking forward to that,” you comment, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You mentally make a plan to convince Mingyu to get a haircut so that Taehyung will also get his cut and stop the strands from hanging in his eyes, making him strain to see and giving him headaches.
Although the two don’t have matching haircuts and never have, as Taehyung likes his hair longer and Mingyu has his in a range of lengths and styles, Taehyung always refuses to let the hairdresser near him until Mingyu has gone first. Even though you’ve taken to Taehyung to the same shop to see the same hairdresser his whole life— the same man Mingyu has been seeing the whole time you’ve known him—, Taehyung always looks at the man as if he doesn’t know him and refuses to come out of hiding behind you until Mingyu has taken his turn in the chair first. Thankfully, Minghao is nothing but understanding and so unbelievably patient, even when he has to be extra careful due to Taehyung’s struggle with sitting still, so the boy still shuffles regularly in his seat. Mingyu does too, but he’s been friends with Minghao for so long that the man flicks his ear in scold; though only when Taehyung isn’t looking, not wanting to scare the boy into thinking he’ll be flicked if he gets the wriggles.
“I want party with my friends,” he answers.
“Mm, well, how about once we’re back from the trip, we’ll have your friends over here for a late birthday party?” you suggest, and all you need is to see the way Taehyung’s whole being lights up to know that he’s more than happy to agree.
Admittedly, you’re worried when Friday after school comes around because you still have that fear in your mind that Jeonghan will leave Taehyung out despite there having not been another issue since the first.
You’ve met Jeonghan before a few times and he’s always seemed like such a sweet little boy, even if he always looks halfway to asleep and like he probably has no idea what’s going on due to his constant fatigue— though he’s got a clever glint to his eyes, so you’re pretty sure he’s more alert mentally than his body physically is. Looking at the boy, you wouldn’t be able to guess he has a jealous streak where his lifelong best friend is concerned, you wouldn’t be able to guess he’s capable of being mean. But then again, you thought the same about most of the children at Taehyung’s old school, and they turned on him pretty easily.
Although you don’t want to worry so much about your son’s heart around his best friends, you can’t help it. Not after how hurt Taehyung was those weeks back, and how sensitive you know he can be, especially with those he loves so much. He puts his whole heart into everything that he leaves himself unprotected, so you can’t help but be worried and internally cautious in his place. You’ll never hold him back, but you will always keep an extra close eye on him when you can’t be certain he’ll come out unscathed.
To your genuine joy and relief though, you don’t receive a call to pick up Taehyung before time stated on the invitation for the end of the party, and he comes bouncing over to you with a bright grin, his school bag bouncing on his back, a party bag in one hand, and a balloon in the other.
You’re standing in the driveway talking with Seungcheol’s and Jisoo’s parents as you all arrived a good ten minutes before the pickup time, so decided to let the boys have those final minutes together. Though someone must’ve spotted you all outside as now the boys are all rushing out to excitedly blabber away about the party and their gift bags.
“Wow!” you hear Jisoo’s mother enthuse where she’s squatting down in front of her constantly smiling son. You’ve not had much chance to meet the woman before, especially not to talk to her for more than a quick greeting at pick ups and drop offs, but now that you’ve had the chance, you can say she is probably the sweetest person you’ve ever met. Looking at her with her son, you can so easily see the clear resemblance in the purity of their smiles.
“Look, a little Ponyo!” Seungcheol exclaims to his parents and little brother, taking a small dog plushie from his giftbag to show.
“Ponyo!” Hansol cheers and bounces towards his brother, grinning when Seungcheol lets him hold the toy that looks like their new puppy, before the toddler attaches to his big brother with a bright, gummy smile.
“Mama, can we buy many lots balloons?” Taehyung asks you after enthusiastically showing you his red balloon printed with golden stars, which he seems more interested in than his bulging party bag.
“You want more balloons?” you muse and then laugh softly when he nods with nothing but a serious expression on his face. “They make loud noises when they pop, remember?”
“Oh,” he murmurs, frowning as he recalls his last memories of a balloon popping and how much it scared him, prompting him to declare he hated balloons after. In fact, that last incident was almost a year ago and he hasn’t been near a single balloon since; at first, it was on purpose because he avoided them, but then he just didn’t have the chance to be near them, and you can assume he forgot about his newly unlocked fear. “We get quiet balloons?”
“I don’t think they exist.”
“Oh.” He deflates into a deeper frown and looks at his balloon as if it’s betrayed him. “This one loud pop too?”
“Not if you’re careful with it.”
Taehyung perks up again and nods determinedly. “I will be extra careful!”
“Okay, just don’t let your dad near it, you know how clumsy he is.”
“Clumsy, clumsy daddy,” he agrees, nodding, making you laugh quietly.
“Alright, let’s get going, grandma and grandpa are waiting at home for their favourite boy!” you enthuse and Taehyung’s whole being lights up, smiling big and bright and he bounces.
“Grandma and grandpa!” he cheers then turns to his friends still standing nearby to talk to their parents, with Jeonghan and his own also amongst the group now talking. “I–I can see my grandma and grandpa now!” he announces excitedly. Adorably, Taehyung’s friends all cheer as if they’re just as excited as him about the news. “Bye! See you Monday! Thank you for fun party Hannie, and Hannie’s mama and daddy!”
“You’re very welcome, Taehyung,” Jeonghan’s mother replies, smiling at him in the way most adults do honestly, in a way that means they think he’s utterly sweet and a joy to have around. It always makes you privately puff with pride. “It was lovely to have you here, thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for coming to my party, Tae,” Jeonghan agrees with a little smile then moves forward to hug Taehyung. Taehyung, of course, hugs back, then breaks into giggles when Seungcheol and Jisoo bounce over to join the hug. Then Hansol decides to join too, and wiggles himself right into the centre, making you all laugh.
“They’re so cute I might get cavities,” Jeonghan’s dad jokes, then looks at the baby monitor in his hand when a soft noise comes through. “I got the little princess,” he announces to his wife, then waves in farewell to you all before jogging into the house to care for the just-woken baby.
Somehow, you manage to get Taehyung in the car and strapped in despite the fact he refuses to let go of his balloon, scared it’ll float off up into space and an alien will get scared by it— you have no idea where he got that idea, but you decide to just awkwardly and very cautiously work around the balloon until he’s strapped in securely.
After a final farewell to the group still standing in the drive chatting, and a final thanks to the Yoon family, you get in your car and head home, listening to Taehyung retelling every second of the party happily from the backseat. Words you know you’ll have to hear at least twice more tonight as he repeats them to Mingyu’s parents, then the man himself once he’s home, but you really don’t mind.
On the day of Jimin’s birthday party, Taehyung is clearly very nervous about it. He’s never been to a farm before, so he doesn’t know what exactly to expect, even though he’s watched nothing but farm related programs and videos for the past two days to try and prepare himself and also asks you endless questions about farms and farmyard animals. You’re not ashamed to admit that you’ve had to defer to the internet many times, but you’ve learned a lot too. You’ve also ordered a couple of books that look interesting even to you. You have no idea if Taehyung will stop caring about how a farm works after today, but you think the books will be good to have anyway to give the boy a little more knowledge about something different than his current books do.
Even with a head full of fresh knowledge, and a printout of the farm’s map that you found on their website, Taehyung is anxious enough that he almost has a meltdown when every piece of clothing he owns are suddenly all wrong. Though when you literally offer him the t-shirt off your back— upon noticing how much he’s fiddling with the worn soft material and inhaling your scent off it to self soothe— Taehyung perks back up a little. Your t-shirt falls around his thighs and swallows him up, but he looks more at ease than he has all morning, so you don’t mind. It’ll be hidden under his coat, jumper, and dungarees anyway, so nobody will be able to tell that your five-year-old is literally wearing an adult’s t-shirt out all day.
Taehyung calms a lot after that, wrapped up cosy in your scent and the soft material, so getting ready goes smoothly, even if he keeps repeating the same questions about non-farm related things. You’re pretty sure he asks how old he was when you and Mingyu got your matching “T” tattoos, at least five times ever since first catching sight of it on your chest over your heart when you removed your t-shirt to give to him. Of course, it’s covered again now with another t-shirt, jumper, and coat as you head out the house to leave for the farm, but Taehyung still asks again.
“We got them on your first birthday,” you repeat, strapping him into his seat— after strapping the gift bag with Jimin’s present into the space at Taehyung’s side, at his concern he’ll drop it or it’ll fall to the floor.
“For me?” he asks.
“Of course, baby. You are the most important thing in the entire world to your daddy and I, so we got your initial tattooed over our hearts so you’re always close.”
“I get tattoo for both you when I am big,” he declares, making you smile.
“That’s sweet, baby. Maybe the three of us can get matching family tattoos,” you suggest, then giggle at the excited gasp Taehyung lets out.
“Yeah! Matchy match!” He starts to chatter away about the potential future family tattoo design. Even when you close his door and move to get into the front, he still talks away, and you just leave him to it with a little smile on your face as you drive.
It isn’t until you’ve parked at the farm and are crossing the lot to head to where you can see a group gathering that you really understand Taehyung’s concern for today.
“Mama,” Taehyung says, tugging on your hand so that you’ll stop and turn to look at where he’s standing and nervously staring off at the group— mostly smaller children, but you can spot a couple of older ones, though only one that looks to be around Taehyung’s age, and he’s wearing a birthday badge, so you safely assume that’s Jimin.
“What’s the matter, baby?” you ask, crouching down to be at his height, and hold both of his hands, even if one is already holding the handle of the gift bag.
“I am bigger,” he says, still staring at them. “What if they like not me because I am bigger? Or I hurt them playing?”
“You’re such a sweet boy, Tae, everyone loves you. And you’re always so careful. You played with Hansol at Seungcheol’s house, didn’t you? And Ponyo.”
Slowly, Taehyung turns his head to look at you as your words settle in his mind. You can already see the fear melting from his eyes as his tense expression softens out. “Yeah. I was super careful.”
“See? You know how to behave with smaller beings. You’re even so gentle with spiders when you move them for daddy.”
“Daddy is really scared of spiders,” he says, then giggles at the memories of all the times Mingyu has called for you or Taehyung, a literal child, to save him from a spider. Admittedly, you usually leave it to Taehyung to deal with as you’re not very keen on spiders yourself, but you at least don’t lose all ability to function like a human being like Mingyu does when faced with one.
“He is,” you confirm with your own little giggle, glad Taehyung is more like himself again. “Shall we go join the others? You can introduce me to Jimin,” you suggest.
“Okay, mama,” he agrees, so you get up and let go of his gift holding hand, before the two of you finish walking down the slight slope to get to the group. “Chim!”
“Tete!” the birthday badge wearing boy cheers, then darts over to almost tackle Taehyung in a hug. “I six!” he declares proudly to his friend, beaming a bright smile, eyes crinkling. Then he turns to you. “Hi! I Chim! I six!” he holds up one hand with all of his tiny fingers extended.
“Silly Chim,” Taehyung giggles and hands you the gift bag to help Jimin hold up his thumb on his other hand too. “This is six.”
“Oh.” Jimin stares at his hands then shows them to you while beaming again. “I six!”
“Wow, you’re getting so big, huh?” you enthuse, and he nods, grinning proudly and dropping his arms to his sides. “I’m Taehyung’s mama, thank you for letting us celebrate your birthday with you, Chim, it’s very kind of you.”
“You’re welcome!” he chirps, then gasps as Taehyung hands him the gift bag. “Present for Chim?”
“Yeah!” Taehyung replies, then giggles as Jimin plops on the gravel right then and there to start looking through the bag. Taehyung squats down next to him and happily watches his friend excitedly look at his gifts— which you had asked Jimin’s dad for advice about via text, just so that you didn’t get Jimin anything inappropriate for his abilities and interests, or something he already has.
“Hey, I’m Jimin’s dad, Namjoon,” the man that approaches you greets, offering his hand. “Well, stepdad technically, but I’ve been around since he was a baby, so we don’t generally specify that, but people can get weird about it if we don’t clarify upon first meeting,” he’s rambling a little, looking embarrassed by it too, but he can’t seem to stop himself.
“I get it, some people can be weird about the oddest stuff,” you muse, hoping your smile assures him that you don’t mind the awkward clarification or slight rambling. “It’s nice to meet you, officially, I mean,” you add your name in response, only now realising that while texting Namjoon, neither of you had actually told the other your first name.
“You too.” He smiles, dimples popping out. “We’re just waiting for one more person, then we can go in. But if he’s any longer, we’ll leave him behind,” he informs while looking down at his watch. He backtracks quickly upon noticing your alarmed expression when he lifts his head again and looks at you. “Oh! It’s not a child; it’s my best friend, he’s Jimin and Hyejin’s godfather. Hyejin’s my daughter, by the way, she’s nine,” he motions over to the oldest of the children, standing with who must be Jimin’s mother, the woman and little girl wearing matching coats. It’s only now that you realise that Jimin and Namjoon are also wearing matching coats and beanies. It’s precious.
“Ah, that makes sense, him being your friend and not a child, I mean,” you giggle amusedly, then look over when you hear a car pulling into the lot a little behind you.
“There he is, just on time. Usually, he’s late,” Namjoon muses.
“He must really want to see some cows,” you joke, and Namjoon laughs.
“He’s a big scaredy cat; he’ll likely refuse to go near the pens.”
“I’m here, I’m here!” the man that exits the now safely parked car exclaims as he rushes over, though upon spotting you, he lights up and calls your name. It takes you a second to recognise him bundled up in his layers, even if it’s not quite cold enough for that many.
“Oh, Hoseok,” you realise, and wave in greeting.
“What’re you doing here? Wait, Tae knows Chim?” Hoseok gasps, already ignoring both you and Namjoon to squat down with the two boys and hug them both at once, which the boys both happily and enthusiastically return with calls of “Hopie!”.
“Well, I guess introductions are not needed here,” Namjoon chuckles, looking bewilderedly between you and Hoseok questioningly.
“I’m a photographer, and Hoseok seems to like booking me for all his album shoots,” you muse.
“Oh, wait,” Namjoon gasps, eyes wide. “You did those? They’re incredible, I don’t blame him for booking you as j-hope’s exclusive photographer.”
“Ah, thank you.” You blush a little at the unexpected and very genuine praise; the man truly seems awed as he gawps at you.
“Honey!” The call makes Namjoon look over at his wife. “Time to go in.”
“Oh! Right!” Namjoon gives her a thumbs up then crouches down to help Jimin pack his gifts back into the bag before he stands up. “Come on, boys, let’s go meet some sheep!” he enthuses brightly, and the two boys cheer before marching after the tall man, their little hands happily clasped together and swinging wildly between them.
“So, Tae goes to the special school?” Hoseok wonders as the two of you follow behind the three a few steps, watching them with fond smiles on your faces for the cute boys. You hum in confirmation. “He’s five too, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What class is he in?” You give him a questioning look. “I know one of the teachers. Joon and I used to work with him, and he still produces my albums with me; doesn’t come out the woodwork for much else, honestly.” He chuckles.
“Would that happen to be Min Yoongi?”
“Yeah,” he confirms with a soft laugh. “He teaches Tae? I know he’s partly subbing a class around that age right now, but I wasn’t certain.”
You nod in confirmation with a soft hum to match. “He’s Tae’s favourite teacher, absolutely adores the man, and Jihoon.”
“Oh, you met Jihoonie too? That’s surprising.”
“Not at school, at a wedding, Jin’s. You know Jin, right?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I was in the middle of Europe on tour though, so I couldn’t make the wedding. He sent me a bunch of photos to rub it in that I missed it though,” he tuts, though he’s still smiling, not at all bothered by the older man’s childish actions. “Oh, wait!” He gasps, hands lifting to flap for a second in excitement before lowering. “Does that mean Tae was the ring bearer? Jin said a close friend’s son had the job, but not Jihoon because he would hate it. I don’t think he’s got any other friends with kids though.”
“Yeah, it was Tae.”
“You have to send me photos later; Jin didn’t send me any with Tae in, but I have to see him in his little suit. I bet he outshone the groom.”
“Of course he did,” you reply with a playful scoff that makes Hoseok laugh. The conversation ebbs off naturally there, and you both tune fully into the farm and the purpose of the afternoon.
As it turns out, Taehyung loves the farm. Of course, he’s not too fond of the smells really, but he is far too invested in the animals to really pay much attention to it.
Unfortunately, Taehyung loves the animals a bit too much, and when it’s time to leave, he doesn’t want to.
The last stop on the tour— which included a stop for a lovely picnic beside the play park the children had a blast in— is the petting barn, where all the youngest animals are kept for visitors to meet. And Taehyung has fallen completely in love with a lamb that seems more than happy to be wrapped in his arms where he sits on the dusty ground with the animal between his spread legs.
It takes a few minutes for you to convince Taehyung to let go of the lamb as tears roll down his cheeks. Even then, he only lets go when Jimin toddles over, looking like he wants to cry because his friend is, and hugs Taehyung tight.
Thankfully, Taehyung gets up and holds Jimin’s hand all the way back to the parking lot at the front, sadly peering at the gift shop as you pass. The store has been cordoned off due to a bad leak in the roof that is being fixed in off hours to not disturb visitors with the noise, making it impossible to go inside like Taehyung— and admittedly, you too— love to. His gaze is forlornly stuck to a sweet little lamb plushie on display, barely visible at the back of the store, but as Taehyung’s longing, tear wet gaze finds it, a fresh sob leaves his mouth, and your heart aches.
Many may call you utterly insane for it, may call you a push over of a parent spoiling your child, but you don’t care. So what if you spent three hours driving around in search of a lamb plushie for Taehyung, so what if it’s half the size of him. You’d buy him all the lamb plushies in the world if mends his broken heart even a little.
The entire three hours in the car, Taehyung had cried and asked to go back to the farm to “my baby”. You truly never expected your son to fall in love with a lamb of all animals and want to adopt it as his child, but a part of you isn’t entirely surprised and can’t blame him. The lamb was genuinely so sweet, so cute, friendly, and full of affection for your son in particular. Even before Taehyung had sat down, the lamb had trotted around after him as he did his best to give every animal in the petting pen attention and affection. It seemed the bond went both ways, and you did worry for a second that the lamb would also be distressed, but then you figured it probably does that with someone out of every group that visits the petting barn, and it won’t remember Taehyung by the time the next group arrived.
Even around the toy stores that you had carried him into to search the soft toy sections, Taehyung cried into your shoulder. You did find a few little lamb plushies in stores, but you knew before showing Taehyung that they wouldn’t be accurate representations of the current love of his life— eyes too beady, fur too scratchy, legs too short.
Though as soon as you saw the big, fluffy, and slightly weighted soft toy, you knew it was perfect. Taehyung had wailed when you put him down on his feet on the floor, but you had to in order to reach the toy off the shelf and present it to him. His tears didn’t immediately stop when he opened his eyes to look at the toy, but he did calm a lot, and by the time he was strapped back into the car with the lamb clutched in his arms and entirely covering him from your view, he was making content little sounds.
And now, he’s curled up on the sofa, half laid on his lamb with his leg wrapped around it as they both watch TV, and you know you’d drive three hours just for a soft toy without hesitation all over again when it clearly means this much to your son.
“Mama?” he calls, voice hoarse from all the crying, as you get up from the other end of the sofa to answer the door for your late-dinner pizza delivery.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love you,” he says, tilting his head to make eye contact with you, and melting your heart into a gooey mess in your chest with the clear adoration in his gaze on you.
“I love you too, Tae, with everything in me,” you assure, and walk over to kiss his head before going to the door with your chest full of warm, gooey love.
Without a doubt, you’ll always do whatever you need to make your son happy, even if others would call you crazy for it. Nothing matters more than Taehyung’s happiness to you, and nothing will ever mean more. He’s your everything, even if he does make you an early grandmother to a lamb, apparently.
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SUMMARY | After a long absence for military service, Jaehyun is finally back, and the air between you is thick with unspoken feelings and years of history. What began as a comfortable "situationship" without labels quickly ignites into an intense morning of intimacy that pushes the boundaries of your "just friends" status.
PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Fem!Reader
RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked
GENRE | romance,smut
CONTENT/WARNINGS | non-idols au, profanity, praising, flirting, friends with benefits, situationship, unprotective sex (wrap it up folks), oral sex (both female/male receiving/giving), skin marking, hair grabbing, pet names
Your eyes flutter open to the familiar sight of your ceiling, the morning light filtering through your blinds in dusty stripes. It's been a few days since Jaehyun's been back from his military service. A week? Taeyong invited you over to his place for a party a few days ago, but you knew that Jaehyun would love the time that he spent with his friends. Of course you're a friend, you think, but your bond with him had always been different, special, and so you told Taeyong that you wanted to take a rain check.
The nature of your relationship with Jaehyun is ambiguous. To outsiders, he seems like your boyfriend because of the way he dotes on you, but between the two of you, there's no definitive label or concrete answer regarding your situationship. Whether you're friends or friends with benefits, the only thing that has ever truly mattered is the mutual happiness found in each other's company: the shared laughter at terrible jokes, the racing hearts from small touches, and the amazing sex that you aren’t about to let go anytime soon.
You intended to maintain this arrangement for a while longer since things are going so well. Jaehyun appears equally content, seemingly unbothered by the lack of formal steps forward. Neither of you had immediate plans to change the status quo, finding satisfaction in the present moment.
Damn, you really fell hard for him. It's impossible not to, considering the guy was a true beauty. It was like sculptors created him, always putting time and effort into carving him to look perfect in the most effortless ways. You can't really fathom that he's friends with someone like you, especially when most girls that hung around him were always absolutely stunning. Still, he doesn't seem to have a problem being in the current arrangement the two of you are in so you just hope you could keep this going for a little while. You wouldn't know what you'd do if the two of you didn't have each other's company in your daily routine.
Truthfully, you planned to keep up the situationship for just a bit more because things seemed to be going really well. Jaehyun's enjoying himself, not bothered at all that the two of you haven't made any steps.
A breathless moan slips past your lips as your fingers tangle into the dark, silken hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Jaehyun watches the way your body reacts with hungry eyes, his gaze heavy with a raw, primal lust that seems to consume the very air between you. One of his large hands grips your inner thigh with possessive strength, anchoring you open for him, while his fingers continue their rhythmic, punishing thrusts inside your soaking heat. All the while, his plush lips remain focused on your skin, trailing tender, searing kisses that leave you absolutely undone.
Jaehyun decided to spend the night at your place tonight and he was just the kind of distraction that you needed. So when he joined you in bed, slipping under the covers shirtless and in sweats, the two of you proceeded to cuddle and share about your day before ending up tangled in each other's arms. Now, he's watching how his fingers sink inside your soaked pussy with hungry eyes, lips red and swollen from sucking on you before he focused his mouth back on your thighs. There are more hickeys and bites all over your body, decorating every curve, from his insistence and desire.
"Awake?" His voice is raspy, thumb drawing circles near where you want his tongue again. You whimper a quiet sound of affirmation, trying to gain back some form of coherence.
"Jaehyun," you sigh out, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your hands pull on his hair in response to his hands skimming down your hips.
"Not quite done here," he chides playfully, biting your inner thigh. You breathe in a sharp breath as his tongue dances around the fresh bruise, his fingers easing you towards the edge. "Missed seeing your cute face when you get eaten out like this."
And oh, how his words make you so much more aroused. Your pussy squeezes around his fingers, chest heaving, your breathing becoming faster.
"Oh," you sigh, the feeling of his lips returning to your cunt makes your toes curl. One hand wanders into his dark hair, your fingers brushing over the nape of his neck. Your thighs start to tense when his tongue finds your clit. "Fuck, I miss this."
He smirks, and you wish you could kick him. How dare he look that hot when he was in between your thighs? You bite your lip as he groans, vibrations making you whine.
"Been so long since you let me have my meal," he knows what he does to you, playing with you, pressing his palm against your pussy like that. You don't have anything to respond with when his mouth is on you again.
"A-Ahh, Jae..." He pulls back, waiting. "Please." The sensation of his fingers brushing over the swollen spot gets you to whine again, toes curling, mouth agape. All the frustration is coming back tenfold and your neediness seems to inflate tenfold. You tug at his hair, "Let me cum."
Jaehyun places kisses all around your inner thigh. Your breath hitches, eagerness flooding in your veins as you anticipate his return to where you want him. His tongue is warm and his lips are plush. You pant softly, pressing yourself against his tongue as it glides back and forth, the flickers of his muscle sending electricity throughout your nerves.
The low sounds that emerge from the back of his throat send goosebumps across your skin as you rock back and forth along with the thrusting rhythm of his fingers. The coil in your abdomen is about ready to break. Your back begins arching. The pad of his index finger finds your g-spot and hits it, continuously, the sensitivity of the swollen bundle overwhelming you.
He is clearly relishing the moment, and why wouldn't he be, as your walls tighten possessively around his fingers. He is fully aware of how close you are to the edge. A whine leaves your pretty mouth, then another, and you almost squeak. Your thoughts have completely dissolved, leaving only the sensation of his movements and the sound of your own breathless moaning. You don't even know how your hand got to hold onto his, but you're just desperate for something to keep you stable as the tides wash over you.
You're so close. So, so close.
He presses a third finger inside and it's finally too much for your tired mind. Jaehyun chuckles in satisfaction, letting you grind yourself out on his palm, coaxing you for just a little longer until you're shaking in his hands, his name falling from your lips. Once your breath stabilizes, Jaehyun raises himself on his elbows to meet your face with a smug grin and you flush red all over.
He hums, pecking your lips and smiling, "Told you that you're so cute when you're getting eaten out. Thank you for breakfast."
"Sh-shut up," you manage, avoiding his teasing stare. Instead, you try to take notice of the feeling in the atmosphere, or better yet, the feeling in his sweatpants that was becoming quite difficult for him to hide. "Do you...want me to help you with that?"
Jaehyun brushes some hair off your face. "Nah. I wanted to treat you this morning since I'm sure no one satisfies you like I do."
"Jae," you roll your eyes and he laughs.
"Alright, that, and," he shifts his weight, moving back down the bed to settle on his side beside you, smoothing down your nightgown, "I'd really love another round, if you're up for it." He flashes that signature, dimpled smile before starting to untangle himself from the sheets. "Hold on, let me grab us some water and a few essentials first—"
"You better not have any flowers or any of that nonsense," you groan playfully, the sound muffled by the pillows. "You know how I feel about flowers."
"Not a single petal this time," Jaehyun snickers, a rich sound that vibrates through the air. He slips his arm beneath you, hoisting you up with effortless strength as he carries you out of the room. "Just the two of us and a fresh pot of coffee. How does that sound?"
Golden sunlight streams into your kitchen as the curtains are swept aside, revealing a cheerful dawn just beyond the glass. Jaehyun sets you down on a chair with effortless ease, the room quiet save for the soft rustling of leaves from a potted plant. The fresh greenery was his little gift to you, perched on the windowsill in hopes of adding a touch of life to your chaotic routine.
"Not a single petal this time," he snickers, his smugness practically radiating off him. You hear the soft rustle of his clothes as he sweeps behind you, his plush lips pressing a tender kiss against your temple.
"Good boy," you purr, a triumphant grin spreading across your face as your hand finds the sleek, firm muscle of his bicep.
He releases a light-hearted scoff, the rich sound vibrating through the morning air as he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head before strolling towards the stove with effortless ease. "Just like how you're a good girl?" A sudden wave of heat rushes to your cheeks, and you quickly hide your face behind your hands, the vivid memory of his head buried between your thighs just moments ago making your skin prickle. You hear him snicker, that smugness practically radiating off him, before he asks, "Where’s your stash of coffee grounds, Y/N? I’ll brew us something nice. You just rest there."
"On top of the cupboards," you reply. Your eyes rove over him as he stretches upwards to the cabinet to take the bag, his sweatpants hanging low enough to provide you with a view. "A little more, on the left." He reaches to the correct location, bending forwards and showcasing the sinful muscles of his upper back. His arms are thick and you can remember how they flex and tighten whenever he's holding you against him.
You lick your lips, subconsciously trying to resist the urge to walk up and hug him from behind. To pepper his neck with kisses and distract him enough so you could slip your hand past the waistband and satisfy that throbbing bulge. To make the cup of coffee a cup of nothing and forget the day.
He turns around, grin twitching as he holds back his laughter. "Like what you see?" he asks with a smirk.
You stick your tongue out in a silly fashion, a small groan of playful frustration escaping your lips. Jaehyun doesn't take long to finish with the coffee, taking a leisurely sip before placing a warm mug right in front of you. He sinks into the seat opposite yours, flashing that signature, dimpled smile—the one he reserves only for those moments when he's truly, genuinely pleased.
It feels good. Not the coffee or the aftermath of the orgasms, but just...spending time with him. Like this. Without a single thought, you decide you want moments like these to continue.
"What do you want to do today?" He asks, his voice low as he takes a leisurely sip from the warm mug in his hands. "The guys are itching to go out, but I've already spent so much time with them since I've been back. Honestly, I'd much rather just stay right here with you today, if you'll have me."
"No complaints from me," you say. His eyes seem to dance with happiness, teeth sinking into his lower lip. Jaehyun says nothing else, allowing the silence and company of the morning to soothe your hearts.
He looks handsome, the sunlight drifting over the side of his face, brushing across the edges of his jaw and kissing his smooth cheek. His eyes remain focused on his reflection in the liquid as it swirls. Jaehyun then brings his mug up in a toast, flashing a knowing smile in your direction and motioning his head towards yours.
How can this gorgeous man be just a friend? Just someone to talk to? Just to keep you company? You hate the fact that those questions continue to play in your mind as you raise your mug to join his, smiling as though everything is the same. Because they have been and things have stayed this way for years.
You don't even remember how sex came into the picture but you were glad you let it happen, allowed yourselves to be wrapped up in the lust and passion. And somehow, in the midst of tangled bodies, you found comfort, you found the answer.
It wasn't exactly a realization that would shake the universe, nor would it cause the angels and clouds to sing, but it was just like that, it felt right. You wanted to keep being by his side, and that was when you realized your feelings and realized why it hurt when he was gone for military service.
You missed him, you really did, more than you could ever say out loud. It wasn't just because he wasn't warming your bed, you slept around to find replacement, the others couldn't satisfy you the same way. None had the same ability to bring you the utmost pleasure like he had.
You both stay silent for a minute and you can feel a change in the atmosphere. Tension seems to stir in the air, making everything thicker and suffocating. His expression is clouded, a trace of doubt flashing on his handsome face.
"Jae...what are we exactly?" you murmur. Your question hangs in the air like a weighted blanket, heavy with the uncertainty of your shared moments. "Never mind. You don't need-"
"What do you want us to be, Y/N?" he interrupts softly. He reaches across the table to take hold of your hand. "Tell me."
"It's still confusing," you mutter, the words barely a breathy whisper. Though the confession is hidden beneath the mumble, you know he hears you clear as day. Your heart pounds out a thousand frantic beats, filling your chest with a heavy, newfound weight. "But I also can't ignore this—this flutter in my chest whenever I see your stupid, handsome face. Every single time." You risk looking him straight in those beautiful, dark eyes, allowing a raw burst of vulnerability to peek through your facade. "I really, really don't want to fuck whatever this is up. Especially not because of my own dumb feelings."
"Hey," Jaehyun kneels on the floor beside you. Gently, his thumbs brush the wetness forming at the corners of your eyes. His gaze is solemn yet kind. "Look at me, Y/N. Take a breath. Do you trust me?"
"Of course, I do," you choke out in response. "You were the only one who's been there for me and that means a lot, Jaehyun."
"Look." He gives you a weak smile. His palm caresses your face tenderly, rubbing your cheek. "I never expected that you would turn my whole world upside down. I tried to tell myself otherwise, that I shouldn't pursue more and simply stay friends."
"And?"
"But it didn't work out the way I wanted," he sighed, his voice dropping an octave as he admits his failure to stay detached. "I feel like you understand me as much as I understand you, and that's a feeling that's so damn hard to ignore. Plus, we're good together. We make a good team in bed, sure, but in the beginning, I felt the connection, you know? And I realized I didn't have those same feelings for my previous partners." His grip remains firm and stable, even as he grazes your skin, his thumb tracing lingering patterns that make your heart stutter. The movement is steady as he patiently continues, "The days went by and I found myself liking you more and more. I told myself to push through, that it'll fade away but... you're too unforgettable, and I just can't seem to let go."
"J-Jaehyun..." Your voice wobbles as you desperately try to find something to say.
His head shakes firmly, resolve painted onto his face. "So let me just be completely transparent with you because I'm so goddamn in love with you, Y/N. That's not a lie. No excuses, no fake emotions, just the honest truth that I'm absolutely in love with you."
"This has to be some kind of dream," you mumble as your body goes slack against him. His hands lift you to face him as a beautiful laugh rings out into the air. "I can't believe my stupid crush fell for me as much as I did for him...what is this bullshit?"
"Is my ass dreamy enough for this to be a dream, Y/N?" Jaehyun jokes with a snicker, waving his free hand behind him. The palm on the side of your face travels upwards, cradling the top of your head and playing with strands of your hair.
"I love your dreamy ass but that's not the point here." With an unsteady breath, you try to find the words to answer him. "Yes," you confess, "Yes, I do love you. Like really, genuinely love you."
His eyes widened comically. "Wow." Jaehyun seemed to be at a loss for words. He looked deep in thought for a moment. "Fuck it," he spat suddenly before lunging forward, "I'm going to kiss you now. That is, unless you'd rather not."
"If you don't fucking kiss me right now," you whimpered before grabbing him by the collar, "I'm literally going to implode."
With that, he surges towards your mouth, gripping your face as he angles his. When his lips meet yours, all the fear seems to melt away, like it was never even there. Nothing mattered in this moment except the beautiful feeling of the man of your dreams sharing the deepest and purest part of his love for you. And just like that, the love between you blossoms, a pink rose from a red garden rose.
Your mouth moves against his as if you had been meant for each other, meant to be, as the cliché saying goes. There was an urgency in his kiss, as if to solidify his confession and ease the tremors running through his heart. All you could think was this was how it's supposed to be.
After a few minutes of kissing, his forehead leaned against yours. "This," you begin as you tap his forehead, "I'm liking."
"This," he tapped your forehead, a little higher than where you did, "I'm loving."
"You know," you laugh before throwing your arms around his neck, "I know a good way for us to continue showing our affections..."
"Oh?" he questions, eyebrows raised suggestively.
You rise from your chair and he quickly stands as you start leading the both of you towards the couch in the living room. Once there, you straddle his hips and situate yourself comfortably in his lap. He catches your face in both hands before tugging you down into another kiss.
"Hmmm," you hum as you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip. "I really did miss you, even if the whole phone sex thing helped a ton."
"We're gonna do more than sex to make up for our time apart," he says. He grinds your hips together and lets out a small sigh. "God, I missed you too, baby. Thought about you all the time. I felt empty every night without having you next to me."
"I know I had to have my fix elsewhere...but," you moan out a soft whimper when you move on his hardness again, "nothing is going to compare to your dick, Jae."
"No more other men, Y/N," Jaehyun nips your shoulder, earning another shaky sigh, "not when I'm finally back. As your boyfriend now."
"Boyfriend, huh?" you whisper. One of your hands slides down his naked chest and then begins playing with the band of his sweatpants. "Not complaining," your voice grows lower as a finger begins drawing circles on his abdomen. "Although, I might miss the toys. They don't talk back as much as you."
He laughs. The noise is happy, carefree and bright, something that always manages to get butterflies a flight in the pit of your stomach. "Maybe the toys can stay." Jaehyun tilts your chin and studies your face. "A toy plus my dick."
"Mhm. And, what does my new boyfriend have in mind to make up for the absence?"
"So many possibilities," he runs his index finger down the length of your chest. "What does my pretty girlfriend want?"
"So many things," you answer, your hand diving beneath the elastic, gripping and stroking his already rock hard length. "So. Many. Things."
Jaehyun releases a raspy chuckle, groaning your name as his hands are cupping your ass. "Someone's impatient," he comments.
"Says the guy who was just eating me out earlier like a starved man."
"Still had you shaking, didn't I?" he boasts, quirking a single brow. He lets his hips rise, thrusting upward for more of the sensation and lets out a sharp moan. "Fuck, that feels so good," he groans against your lips. "Stop, Y/N, let me at least get our clothes off."
You get off his lap, only to get on your knees and begin peeling off his sweatpants, revealing his arousal in all its glory. "Now that I think about it…I haven't had my breakfast yet." Without skipping a beat, his cock was engulfed in your hot and wet mouth, lips pressing flush against him as you deep throat him in one swift go.
"Goddamn, you feel amazing," Jaehyun rasps. It was almost impossible not to devour him with how long and perfect his cock looked as it strained in front of you. His hips stutter at the feeling. He fists his hands in your hair, using the grip to piston his cock further down your throat, his other hand placing on your shoulder to steady himself. "Don't forget to breathe, love," he warns gently as he resumes his movements.
When you come back for breath, you feel your saliva drip down your chin, an absolute mess, but the lust-crazed look in Jaehyun's eyes doesn't miss a beat to admire every second of it. "So messy for me," he says before slipping his thumb into your mouth and letting you suck on the appendage. "What an absolute mess," he murmurs with a smirk.
"Only for you," you coo before going back to wrap your lips around his erection. His hand falls from your mouth and Jaehyun steadily grips the back of your head as he presses deeper into your throat until the tip hits the back.
He jerks his hips wildly and fucks into your mouth, balls bouncing against your chin as Jaehyun chased the release his cock needed. The gagging sounds make his thrusts stop but his voice only comes out a low growl of frustration. He eases the push but maintains the vigorous motion of his hips. "Tap my thigh or anything else," he grunts, "if you can't do it, alright? You need to breathe, baby." You give his leg a comforting rub and the worry in his eyes dissipates. "Good girl," he whispers.
You continue sucking him off like it's the first meal you've ever eaten. "Missed the taste of this so bad," you comment before you tongue a line from his base to the very tip. "Need you to cum down my throat, Jae."
"Didn't even have to ask."
A grin plays on your face before swallowing the entirety of his cock again. It takes all the willpower inside of him not to erupt in your mouth, the warmth and softness of the wet heat of you taking him too soon. But just a few thrusts and he spills right down your throat, moaning and hissing his release.
"Y/N," he whispers, his voice an octave lower and raspy. "I'm close, fuck, I'm so close." Jaehyun bites his lower lip, biting back the guttural groans of satisfaction that threaten to spill out of him. His fingers tug on your scalp, trying his best to slow down his own movements as he feels the pleasure shoot down his spine like a whip crack. Your hands massage the top of his thighs, encouraging the cock hammering your throat. A minute longer of this and he cums, biting down onto his sleeve to mask his moans and keeping your gaze all throughout, wanting your eyes on him and nothing less. "So beautiful like this, all mine."
After swallowing everything, you stick your tongue out in a silly fashion, laughing a bit as he reaches down and squeezes your cheek.
"Y/N, oh my god," he looks a mix between exasperated and amused, "that's too cute and fucking dirty." He flicks your nose in a teasing gesture before helping you to your feet. "Wait a moment," Jaehyun picks you up again to throw you over his broad shoulder, patting the cheeks of your rear playfully. "To the bedroom with you. It's breakfast time again."
You let out a laugh, too occupied in staring at the mesmerizing curves of his back.
Yeah, there was no way you were ever letting him go. Not now, not ever.
🌷Who: Xu Minghao (Seventeen) x female reader
🌷What: Fantasy. Fluff. Some humour. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Neighbours au. Witch Minghao.
🌷Word count: 7.6k
🌷Warnings: Reader is somewhat recently divorced at the start, but she’s more than okay with that! Mentions of past cheating (reader’s asshole ex). Mentions of pre-story death of previous tenant. Some profanity. Minghao is a bit of a dick at the start ngl. Reader is kind of a mess at times, and I think it’s highly relatable of her. A couple very innocent kisses.
🌷Summary:
After divorcing your cheating asshole of an ex-husband, you use the very generous money you gain from the ordeal to buy a house on the complete opposite side of the country to make a fresh start.
The online photos of the house are beautiful, and the gardens even more so, though the reality is a little different by the time you arrive. Still, you love it and are determined to turn this house into a home.
It’s just a matter of doing your best to ignore the man who seems to have serious issue with you moving into the house, and makes his feelings known with glares that are the furthest thing from neighbourly as a person can get. It’d be a whole lot easier to ignore him if he wasn’t so damn attractive.
I block any blank blog that interacts.
Masterlist
A/N- This was written as part of @dorereef’s spring event, The Reef In Bloom! This event has been such a joy to participate in, the other members have been so lovely and enthusiastic that I really hope to join up with them for another event soon 🥺💗
Almost two months ago, you moved to a sweet little town— barely bigger than a village really—, into a house that had been left empty and untouched for over a year. Although it was a little run down, you fell in love with the images of the homely-looking building on the estate agent’s website and bought it without even visiting.
Of course, your urge to get as far away from your ex-husband and everyone you once knew probably drove you to snatch up the house so quickly; you probably would’ve at least asked the agent in charge of the sale some questions about why the house was still unpurchased after a whole year when it truly is beautiful. But you were desperate to leave and start a new life, your own life, that you didn’t even try to ask.
It doesn’t take you long to realise that you really should’ve asked.
Finally, after over seven weeks of cleaning from top to bottom, redecorating every room, and buying and assembling furniture, your home feels complete. At least, on the inside because the garden is another matter entirely.
Part of what first drew you to the house wasn’t the building itself, but the beautiful garden that wraps around the entirety of it, full of lush, green grass, and so many flowers and plants that you couldn’t hope to even try to name them all. You had seen the carefully curated gardens in the photos and fell in love.
What you failed to consider though, was that the photos were taken over a year ago, when the house first went up for sale, and now it’s been neglected for at least that long.
The once tidy and obviously adored garden has turned into a veritable jungle that you have no idea what to do with, but you need to try if you want even a semblance of a chance of returning it to its former glory.
Which is all well said and done; you’re sure even a half decent home gardener would be able to tackle the tangle of leaves and stems, however, you are not a half decent home gardener. In fact, you’ve never handled a single flower that wasn’t already cut and tied up in paper, topped with a bow and a little card full of false promises and love declarations from your ex-husband.
Having been born and raised in the middle of the city, always living in blocks of pristine apartments, you never had the chance to own even a single little potted cactus. When you were younger, you were never particularly interested in plants anyway, so you really didn’t mind growing up without any in your home. Then, you got a job and didn’t even think about plants. Even the ones you walked past to work, you never considered them really, more that you were just used to them being dotted around, just part of the scenery.
Unfortunately, by the time you developed an interest in growing plants, you were married to a man that point blank refused to bring anything dirty into the spotless apartment. All you wanted was a single potted plant to keep you company during the day at home until he returned, unable to even socialise with the staff he hired to keep your shared home exactly as he liked it. You had been so lonely even as the staff bustled around day in day out; all you wanted was something alive to tend to and bond with, but you weren’t allowed, and you were left with a heart aching for something you believed you’d never have.
Yet now, you have more plants and garden than you know what to do with. Still, you’re determined to give it your best. After a few days of research and buying all the supplies you may potentially need, you step out of your front door ready to do your best to return the gardens to their former glory.
Only to immediately freeze upon noticing your neighbour walking past your house, his head already swivelled to glare in disdain at you, at your mess of a garden.
“G–good morning,” you greet, waving a little awkwardly.
As expected from the sour man, he only grunts in response— it’s such a vague sound, but you can feel the contempt rolling off of him towards you—, and then he sharply turns his head away and walks to his own home, all but slamming the door behind him.
From the very first day you moved in, as soon as you stepped your foot out of your car and onto your driveway for the first time, you just knew with everything in you that the man had scared off every potential buyer when they had visited the house for a viewing. He had been standing on his front doorstep, arms crossed and dark eyes staring you down. Which honestly, scared the shit out of you, it was such an evil look; but you had already bought the house, so you didn’t turn and run away despite the urge rearing up within you.
You had hoped that your neighbour would get used to your presence, would soften up, and at least stop glaring at you like he’s trying to curse your entire bloodline with a look, but he hasn’t. You even tried going old school and baked some cupcakes to take over to gift him while introducing yourself the next day. Yet he had sharply refused the gift, claiming to not eat sweets; only for you to spot him returning home the next day, chewing on a chocolate chip cookie the size of your hand.
The man hadn’t even introduced himself either, so even though it’s been almost two months, you have no idea what the name of your nearest neighbour is. You know the names of at least a dozen people who live in the town already from your shopping trips and walks— all of whom are lovely, to your joy—, yet not his.
Although you should be used to the man’s obvious hatred for you at this point, you’re not. Every time you catch him glaring in your direction, or when he only grunts in response to your greetings, it hurts. You’ve done nothing to warrant such hostility, and you don’t know how to fix it. The last thing you want is to spend the rest of your life living next door to man that despises your entire existence for reasons unknown, but you’ve put too much into making this old house a home that you refuse to leave.
You hope that with a little more time, he’ll at least lose a little of the fire in his sharp gaze when it’s directed towards you, but you’re not going to hold your breath, just the hope cupped close in your chest.
It takes a few days of you wandering around the garden to carefully inspect every inch and do further research on the plants already settled there before you actually start to work on the garden. You hadn’t wanted to go barging in, digging, and pulling only to kill any of the life buried in the soil; you wanted to do your best to find out which plants you need to carefully work around to keep alive, and the ones you need to pull up to stop them from hurting your other plants.
Even when you’re pretty sure that the plant you’re kneeling before is, in fact, a weed that you need to pull up to save the flowers it is winding around, you hesitate; so scared that you’re wrong or will hurt the innocent flowers getting strangled.
You’re entirely unaware of the man peering down at you from his upstairs hallway window, that he’s been watching you meander around the garden the past couple of days, utterly puzzled about what you’re doing.
“Come on, you can do this,” you mutter to yourself before taking a few steadying breaths and leaning in to carefully start unwinding the weed from the stem of the flower closest to you.
Honestly, it’s a lot harder than you thought it’d be, you have to be so careful— or maybe not as careful as you’re being, but you’re inexperienced and scared to do something wrong—, and the strangling weed is a complete asshole. Just when you think you’ve freed a plant from it’s grasps, you notice another tiny, easy to miss vine curled around a stem, and you have to lean even closer, work even slower and cautiously to make sure you only pinch the weed off and not the stem of the flowers you want to save.
It takes hours for you to finish that one small flower bed, but when you get up ready to go indoors for a late lunch, you could swear the flowers look brighter, look like they’re standing tall and happy. Although they’re just plants, and they can’t possibly have such feelings, the thought still makes you smile, and you practically skip into your house with pride in your chest from your hard work.
On the third day of practically crawling around your garden on your hands and knees amongst the overgrown grass and sprawling stems and vines, you find yourself interrupted in the midst of a very one-sided conversation with a particularly happy looking weed. Honestly, you think it’s rather pretty and don’t want to remove it, but it’s greedily sucking all the water from the soil before the surrounding plants can get any, so you don’t really have a choice.
“Are you ready?” you ask the weed, after a very thorough pep talk to you both, letting the plant know that you have every intention of replanting it in the large plant pot you found hiding amongst an overgrown blackberry bush at the bottom of the back garden.
You don’t realise that you’re being watched in utter bewilderment until a truly unexpected voice meets your ears when you’ve got one hand in the already loosened soil, fingers amongst the thick roots of the weed, and the other hand carefully wrapped around the bottom of the main stem to keep it upright as you lift.
“What the fuck?”
Immediately, your head whips around, and your wide, startled gaze finds your neighbour standing on the other side of the low wall separating your side gardens— his much smaller than your own, and barely big enough to get his bicycle down the grassy strip to the shed in the back garden. He’s looking at you with eyes wide and mouth parted in what looks like astonishment.
“Uhm, hello,” you greet, shuffling on your knees a little, awkward, and not sure how you’re supposed to respond to the man. It’s the first time you’ve seen him face on without his gaze piercing down to your very soul.
“Did you just pull that weed out with your bare hands?” he questions, dumbly pointing to it, so you also look at the weed; the thick roots tangled between your fingers further than you realised, and soil covering your skin. Initially, you did wear gloves— and still do with the potentially harmful plants— but it’s easier to feel around the delicate plants without the thick material in the way, so you mostly don’t bother to wear them.
“It’s not poisonous,” you clarify, looking at the man. “I checked.”
“I didn’t mean that. I know it only harms other plants by stealing their water, but it’s stubborn. I’ve never seen anyone pull one without the use of some very strong tools, and even then, they usually need help.
“Oh, really?” you wonder, turning back to the plant, not noticing the roots gently winding around your wrist; the sensation too light and your focus elsewhere to notice. “I guess this one is a gentle soul,” you muse, then shuffle over to do as promised and carefully replant the weed in the waiting pot already full of fresh, damp soil. “There, now you can have all the water you want without hurting the others,” you declare once you’re done after pouring more water onto the soil.
When you get up and stretch, getting ready to relocate the pot a few metres away to a spot you think the weed will like a lot, yet not be a risk to other plants, you’re shocked to find your neighbour still standing there gawping at you. You’re not sure what to do or say. You want to move the pot and return to the flowerbed, but you know that you’ll have to awkwardly shimmy and shove the heavy pot, and you really don’t want the pretty man to watch you look so foolish, especially the first time that he’s shown an interest in you.
Honestly, you kind of hate that even when he’s done nothing but be icy towards you these past two months, you still think he’s so unbelievably beautiful. You don’t think it fair that people can be so mean without reason and still be blessed with such beauty. It’s unfair. Even a few weeks back when you told yourself you’d stop looking over whenever you notice him outside, you couldn’t help but want to catch a glimpse of his features, loveliness unmarred by the scowl etched into his expression whenever he met your gaze. You really did try to stop looking at him, but such a stunning masterpiece deserves to be admired, and you’ve always been a lover of art.
“How did you do that?” he mutters, still staring at the happily replanted weed. You really don’t know what to say, and you think miming the actions would entirely freak the man out, so you just stand there, twisting your soil dusted fingers together awkwardly, and blinking innocently, hoping he’ll move on already. Unfortunately, he doesn’t. “Seriously, what kind of charm did you use?” he enthuses, eyes widening in awed interest as they lift and land on you, as if he’s trying to look into your mind for his answers.
“Uhm…I don’t understand the question,” you admit. “Is…is this flirting?” you ask, pulling an uncertain face. You feel your heart drop a little at the way he rears back as if even the mere idea of him flirting with you is absurd.
“What? No!” He straightens up, levelling you with an expression that’s half boggled and half bewildered, with a little befuddlement thrown in.
“Oh. Sorry, you said charm, and I just…that’s a flirting thing, isn’t it? When someone uses their charm?”
For what feels like minutes, the man just stares at you, as if he needs time to fully register and absorb the words you’ve said. “Oh, you’re not using any magic.” There’s realisation in his tone as his whole posture changes, something a little awkward now, especially when he realises that now you’re staring at him as if you need time to understand what he’s said to you. Though when you do speak, it’s clearly not what he expects, if the way his eyebrows lift in surprise is anything to go on.
“Is that flirting?” you mumble a little dumbly, feeling so lost and out of your depth. A feeling that only grows when the last thing you expect to happen, happens. The man giggles. It’s a light, airy sound, melodic and so pretty, and so truly unexpected from the man who has done nothing but glare at you for two months. It makes your entire being malfunction, brain shutting off, heart racing, stomach flipping, and mouth moving to make some garbled attempt at words before your legs make you dart off inside, slam the door behind you, and then curl up on the floor against it in the strangest display of self-preservation you’ve ever enacted.
For the man’s part, he just stares after you in surprise for a few moments, then lets out another one of those giggles before he turns and heads back into his own house.
It’s almost twenty minutes before you’ve recovered enough to get up and stealthily peer out of the window overlooking the area of the garden that you had dedicated this morning to. You have the perfect view of the low wall splitting your land from the neighbour’s and let out a breath of relief to find him nowhere in sight.
“It’s fine, he’ll go back to glaring and I’ll never have to face him again, it’s fine,” you mutter as you tentatively return to the door to edge outside, convincing yourself to not hide in your house for the rest of your life so that you’ll never have to face your pretty neighbour again after making such a colossal fool out of yourself.
For the first hour of returning to gardening, you feel on edge, like the man will appear at any moment and question what kind of strange place you must be from to act like that. Thankfully, you get lost in your work and forget all about looking over your shoulder, returning to your plants with a content smile on your face.
To your horror, the very next day when you step out in the morning for another day of work, your pretty neighbour is standing on the other side of your closed gate as if he’s waiting for you, a tiny smile tilting his lips, and a cake box in his hands. It’s wrapped with a pretty orange bow the same colour as the little apron you tie around your waist every day to hold your most used gardening tools for easy access, and though you vaguely notice that, you quickly dismiss it as coincidence. There’s no way your neighbour purposely asked them to wrap it in that colour ribbon to match. No way. You also ignore the fact that you’ve bought from that bakery yourself a few times since moving to town, and you’ve only seen them use pale blue ribbons.
“Good morning,” he starts, shuffling the box a little so that one hand can lift, and his slender fingers can wiggle at you in a wave. You wave dumbly back, and his smile lifts. “I think we really got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make up for it. May we start over?” You don’t say anything, still too busy staring in shock. “My name is Minghao; I’m your neighbour, and I’d really like to get to know you,” he informs, tone gentle, and tags your name on the end as if you’re not already halfway to a mental breakdown from his mere presence.
The fact that he had actually paid attention when you introduced yourself that day— before shutting the door in your face— and remembers, feels like a much bigger deal than it is. You just genuinely hadn’t expected him to ever call you by your name, to even willingly talk to you, so hearing it fall so effortlessly, so easily from his lips, stuns you a little.
“I’m not a good baker, but I bought cupcakes; you know, sweeten the deal?” he jokes, smiling a little embarrassed by his own words, and cheeks so endearingly pink.
You squeak, then abruptly turn into your house, and hide behind the closed door.
When you recover moments later, you knock your forehead against the door and berate yourself for making a fool of yourself again in front of the man. If this is going to become a regular thing, you think you’re going to have to move away to save yourself endless future embarrassments.
It’s utterly out of character for you too; you’ve never made such a fool of yourself because of a pretty man before. Then again, you’ve never seen such a pretty man before, and you think that means you probably get a pass or two for not being able to react like a functioning human at the sound of his giggle, or your name said in his gentle voice, or a shy blush. Really it’s his fault for attacking you with sweetness after so much sour. You thought that was the man he is: nothing more than a bitter, unsociable asshole, but it seems that he has seriously mislead you.
The more you think about it, the more you want to know why he acted so coldly towards you, only to turn his attitude around all of a sudden. You think that you deserve an explanation, and you certainly won’t get one hiding away in your house.
With a renewed sense of determination flowing through your veins, you straighten your posture and open the door, only to lose a little of that strength and shrink slightly upon spotting Minghao still standing on the other side of the waist height wooden gate, leaning his right elbow on the thick top, chin propped on his palm, and amusement sparkling in his eyes as he watches you.
“Hi,” he greets, smiling as you step out of your home like a newborn lamb taking their first steps; uncertain and about ready to drop on your ass in a mess of weak legs if he keeps looking at you like this.
“Hi,” you reply, a barely audible croak, but he smiles wider and straightens up.
“I wasn’t sure what ones to get, so I went the safe route and bought lemon raspberry,” he informs as he holds the box over the gate in offer.
“That’s the safe option?” you wonder bewildered as you slowly get closer, approaching cautiously as if he’s going to reach out and sucker punch you in the throat. Or giggle; that’s potentially more dangerous, at least for your juddering heart and apparently very weak mental state when faced with gorgeous men. Or this gorgeous man in particular, you should say.
“Well, it’s sweet and sour, best of both worlds if you ask my friend. Though, I think he’d still rather more lemon, but he’s a freak, so we don’t consider his opinion where sour is concerned.”
“You do realise you just contradicted yourself, right?”
Just as you accept the gift into your hands, Minghao giggles, realising you’re right, and you almost drop the cupcakes. He flails his arms out to help, his hands settling over yours on either side of the box, and you can only stare dumbly up at him at the touch, how close you are. Dammit, he’s even prettier up close.
“We saved them,” he grins playfully at you.
And you, in all your brainless state when faced with this man and his smile, say perhaps the dumbest thing you possibly can right now. “My ex-husband cheated on me,” you blurt, and immediately turn wide eyed when Minghao recoils in shock, his hands leaving yours and his eyes widening to match yours.
“Uh—”
“I mean that I’m very single!” you declare, brain still apparently offline as you only make things worse. “I–I mean–” you stammer out a mess of panicked, jumbled words as Minghao’s expression melts, then twists into something that’s half amused, half utterly insanity inducing where it’s tucked into his smirk.
“Is this flirting?” he teases, leaning on his palms on the gate, tilting in towards you as he repeats the words you asked him less than 24 hours ago.
“Fact!” you sputter, shaking your head.
“Ah, I see. Well, if we’re exchanging facts, I’m very single too.”
“Good!” His lips turn up into a toothy grin, a little dark around the edges as his gaze remains utterly entertained and teasing on you. “I–I mean–”
“Do you have tea?” he asks, nodding towards your house, making you peek over your shoulder at it naturally to follow his prompt, then turn your head back to look at him and nod dumbly, head wobbling loosely and mouth still open from being cut off from your nervous, embarrassed rambling. “How about I come inside for tea?”
“Is that a euphemism?” you whisper, and he cracks up, leaning down onto the gate as he laughs bodily.
“Oh, you are precious,” he giggles, peering up at you from his hunched over spot.
“Thank you.”
He giggles some more before gathering himself and straightens up, cheeks bunched with how big he’s grinning. “So, tea?”
“Why did you glare so much?” you blurt, brain kicking back in enough to remember the whole reason you stepped back out of your house. You think that if you don’t take the chance to confront the man while you can, you’ll lose the will and ability and just get swept along with his sweet giggles and teasing gaze.
Minghao’s amusement melts away bit by bit at your words, until he’s looking aside with what appears like guilt on his features while he stares at the garden to your left, right where you left the pot with the pretty weed yesterday. “I’m not sure I can really explain, not in a way you’ll understand,” he admits, tone quieter, uncertain almost. “I can imagine it will be a lot for you to take in, to accept even. You’re not…” He sighs and returns his gaze to you. “I’m sorry for how I acted, it wasn’t kind of me at all. I suppose in simple turns, I was jealous. I’ve wanted this house for the garden since it went up for sale, but I couldn’t afford it, so when you moved in, I assumed you wouldn’t care for the garden at all, that you didn’t deserve such a place as this. But I was wrong; you deserve it more than I ever could, that proves it.” He points to the pot, confusing you.
“How does that prove anything?” He just gives you a little smile that you somehow just know means he has no intention of elaborating at all. “Right.” You frown a little, confused, and not sure what is the correct thing to do here when there’s clearly something Minghao is refusing to explain, but you also don’t think it’s your place to push.
When you reach out, Minghao steps back slightly, eyes widening, though he relaxes when you just unlatch the gate and pull it open in silent offer.
“Thank you,” he says, sounding so genuinely grateful and pleased that you quickly turn to lead the way into the house, and only trip slightly on the step leading into the house. “Oh, careful,” he worries, hands on your upper arms, having reached out to steady you.
You just hum vaguely in response, too scared to open your mouth in case something stupid comes out again, and rush to the kitchen to put the cupcake box on the table and get started putting the kettle on to boil.
“Oh, it’s beautiful in here,” Minghao comments, sounding awed as he looks around where he’s standing just inside the kitchen, seeming genuinely interested in the décor and little knickknacks you’ve placed around to make the place yours.
“Thank you.”
“It’s a huge change from how Elodie had it.”
“Elodie?”
“Oh, right.” He looks at you and smiles softly. “The previous owner. She had lived here for decades, ever since she married her husband. They raised all of their children here, helped raised grandchildren, and then he passed, and she followed not long after, too empty without him in this house to have the strength to go on.”
“Oh, that’s so sad.”
“In a way, but it’s beautiful in others; how much love they shared. They lived a long, happy life together, full of love and joy, and they’ll continue that in their afterlife. I think that’s the best life a person can live; finding love and true happiness like that, do you not agree?”
“I do, but I don’t think it’s possible for everyone, for most of us.”
“Respectfully, I disagree.” He moves over to help you set up the table as the kettle signals it’s boiled.
Although it makes no sense, although it shouldn’t be possible— especially considering the strained and awkward relationship the two of you have shared until now—, you and Minghao move around your kitchen together as if you’ve done this a million times. Of course, he doesn’t know where you keep items, but he asks in a gentle tone you naturally match without thinking when you answer. It’s calm; the two of you gathering everything needed without bumping into each other once and sitting down at the table opposite one another to share the cupcakes.
“So, what do you think?” he queries when you’ve taken a few bites of your cupcake, his own in a similar partially eaten state on the cute little plate before him. Plates you could not walk away from once you saw them in a second-hand store only last week. They’re too small to use for an actual meal, so you had been worried you wouldn’t find a reason to use them, but you just couldn’t leave them in the store; they’re far too cute, and you had immediately fallen in love with them.
It had made your heart flutter in a funny little pleased way when Minghao had also seemed to fall in love with the plates once he spotted them in the cupboard and excitedly grabbed two to set up for the pair of you to eat your cupcakes off. Honestly, you had intended to not bother with plates at all and just sweep the crumbs from the table after, you hadn’t even considered using the plates, but you’re more than happy that Minghao had suggested it.
“Hm?” you hum questioningly, and he points at the cupcake on your plate. “Oh, delicious. Sweet and a little sour, perfectly balanced.”
“Yeah, I think so too,” he agrees, smiling at you in an almost tender kind of way.
For a few moments, the two of you just hold gentle eye contact, share matching smiles, before he looks down, cheeks dusted pink. Neither of you say anything more, falling into a content, calm silence that feels so right that you hope this won’t be the last time that the two of you share tea and cupcakes at your kitchen table as if there’s nothing but this table, this moment, in the whole world.
Somehow, after that day, spending time with Minghao suddenly becomes such an everyday routine that not seeing him feels so wrong that you don’t quite know what to do with yourself when it happens.
“Missed me that much?” Minghao’s voice teases from right behind you where you’re sitting in your garden, aimlessly moving around the freshly sprinkled soil in the flowerbed in front of you, mind stuck on what Minghao has been doing for the past three days he’s not been home.
“Hao,” you gasp, turning to look up at him with rounded eyes. “You’re back. You said you’d be gone a week.”
“Mm missed your tea too much. You make the best tea, you know?” he replies as he sits a little to your side on the grass you cut only a few days ago.
It’s been weeks of tackling the garden— often with Minghao close by—, removing all the weeds, and pruning away until you could reasonably drag a lawn mower over the grass. Surprisingly, the grass is in great condition for the most part, only a few bare, patchy sections where you’ve had to remove harmful weeds and move decorative rocks to make it easier to mow.
“I do?” you ask, perking up a little at the compliment. You know it’s a huge compliment too, Minghao is something of a tea connoisseur, which you found out the very first time you entered his kitchen and saw his impressive collection of teas. He even has multiple tea sets which he uses depending on the vibe he wants— his own words.
“You do,” he confirms as he smiles at you in that same gentle way he always does these days, ever since the second time you ran away from him when overwhelmed by his pretty face and precious smile. You’d like to say that it hasn’t happened since, but that’d be a lie.
Even after these weeks of being friends with Minghao, he still finds ways to fluster you and make your brain stop functioning. Honestly, you’re pretty sure that he does it on purpose, finding your reactions funny; but you never have it in you to scold him, not when he’s gained the habit of reaching out to hold you in place so you that can’t run away. Sometimes, it’s just his hand holding yours securely that pins you down, but others, if it’s physically possible, Minghao’s arms find their way around you, and he holds you close to his chest with his head tilted to rest against yours. Maybe, sometimes, you pretend that you’re going to run away just so that he’ll pull you close, but you won’t tell him that.
“Though, I didn’t just miss your tea,” he adds as he watches his hand brush over the freshly cut grass.
“No? The garden?” you assume, knowing how much Minghao loves your garden, how he wanted to buy the house purely for the garden, yet couldn’t financially manage it.
Minghao’s house is half the size of yours, only built for two people really, with a much smaller garden to match; and so, even if he sold it, he wouldn’t have had the funds to buy your house when it was available. He had been trying so hard to save up though; hence why he scared potential buyers away, hoping he could keep the house free long enough to gather the funds. But you bought it, and he burned with envy.
He’s let it go now and even admitted to you that he knew he’d never realistically be able to afford it. But hope can be a dangerous thing at times, and it took him until he watched you genuinely love and care for your then neglected garden to let that soured hope free and accept the facts.
Though, only days into your friendship, when you gave him permission to help you tend to the gardens and allotted him an area to grow whatever he wants there— having overrun his own modest garden—, you saw something lift in him, and he’s been nothing but grateful and so lovely since.
Not that Minghao isn’t a genuinely lovely person— when he’s not being a jealous asshole, that is. He’s truly such a wonderful man that you find it impossible to calm the butterflies in your stomach every time you find him looking at you with that soft gaze. But there’s something even sweeter in his smiles now, something that lightens his steps and makes him almost float into your garden every single day when he spots you out there.
Logically, it makes sense that, other than your tea-making skills, Minghao has missed your garden. In fact, you’ve never seen the man happier than when he’s sitting in your garden, smiling contently at you over a cup of tea, and soil staining his fingers around the porcelain.
“No, not the garden either,” he replies, utterly bewildering you. He glances at you from under his lashes, smiles, then lifts his head just enough to lock his gaze with yours, let you see the truth in his eyes. “You, I missed you.”
Your eyes widen in surprise, and your heart skips probably about five too many beats to be healthy, but you don’t care, barely even notice. Especially as your mind shuts down and focuses entirely on the beautiful man before you, his words.
As soon as your body starts to move, tries to run away to hide, Minghao reaches out to grab your arms and pull you in. So naturally that it feels like you were made for this, you curl up against him, tuck up against his chest as he settles you between his spread thighs, your left shoulder pressing to his chest with your arms curled up, fingers loosely grasping his t-shirt. Minghao’s arms settle around you, his head rests against the top of yours, and you never want to be anywhere else. The content little breath he lets out makes you think that maybe, he feels the same way.
After some minutes, when your brain decides to come back online fully instead of floating around on Minghao shaped clouds, you try to sit up. Minghao makes a noise of displeasure and tugs you back, earning a little giggle to fall from your lips. You feel his cheek bunch against your hairline as he smiles.
“Let me go put the kettle on for tea,” you say, smile evident in your light tone.
“Tea can wait.”
You gasp and lean back enough to look at him in shock. “Tea can wait?”
“This is more important,” he assures. One arm breaks your comfortable cocoon as he lifts it so that he can tenderly brush his fingers over your cheek. He says nothing, but he doesn’t need to. You tilt into his hold, prompting his palm to curve against your cheek, and he lets out another one of those content sighs. “You’re so beautiful, you know?”
“Says you,” you return, tone matching his gentle one, only loud enough for the pair of you, nothing mattering past your garden, your little bubble of home. “You’re so pretty it makes me do and say dumb things.”
Minghao giggles, and you whine a little, unable to stop it, or the way your eyes round out, so enamoured by his adorable giggles that you can’t keep it off your face any longer. Not that you’ve ever been good at hiding it, but this close with one of his slender hands still reverently caressing your skin, you couldn’t hide your adoration if you tried.
“Mm, I noticed that,” he muses teasingly and leans a little closer as he grins softly. “But I like it, like how honest you are with your reactions.”
“Even though it makes me look like a fool?”
“Even though,” he agrees with a nod. “Maybe especially because it does. It’s so cute and strokes my ego.”
“I’d love to stroke you,” you mutter dumbly as his thumb brushes the edge of your mouth. Minghao snorts a laugh, leaning back so he doesn’t laugh directly in your face. “I didn’t mean like that…not that I’d say no…if you want to do that.”
Minghao giggles again and leans back in to press a kiss to your forehead that makes you gasp softly and grip his t-shirt tighter, pulse thrumming under your skin from the unexpected affection. “Let me at least take you on a date first,” he teases. You can’t nod fast enough, setting him off into giggling laughter all over again as he curls around you and holds you closer, as if there’s nowhere he’d rather be.
A year and a half ago, you moved to a sweet little town, into a house that had been left empty and untouched for over a year, and you turned it into your home.
And now, after almost a year since that day in the garden when Minghao first asked you on a date, the house next to yours is empty. You can’t help but frown a little as you peer at it from your bedroom window, recalling all the memories you made with the man who once lived there, how much happiness you created together there.
Though, the arms winding around your waist from behind, the lips that press a tender kiss to your temple as you lean back against a familiar chest, makes the frown lift into a sweet little smile. “Stop looking at it like that, or I’ll start to believe you regret asking me to move in,” Minghao teases against your skin, tightening his hold on you a little as he leans closer into you, both of you always moving to be tucked up as close as possible in these moments of affection.
“Ridiculous man,” you scold, scoffing, yet the smile on your face only grows.
“You love this ridiculous man.”
“I do,” you confirm without hesitation, with nothing but truth in your tone. “And he loves me too.” You turn your head so that you can meet his adoring gaze.
“With everything in me,” he agrees, with just as much certainty as you spoke with, then leans in to press a kiss to your lips. “Now, come to bed, it’s our first night in our shared home.” He giggles, sounding a little giddy at his own reminder, then quickly ushers you over to the bed after closing the curtains to block out the night and give you the privacy to be able to sleep comfortably.
The pair of you excitedly clamber under the covers and cuddle up, though you both know neither of you are ready to sleep yet, too full of joyous energy thanks to this big step in your relationship, this start of a new life together; a life you both hope will be as happy and full of love as the life of previous family who lived here once upon a time.
“Hao,” you prompt after a while of content quiet between you, happy to just lay basking in one another’s love and affection. He hums questioningly in response. “I think, considering that we now live together, it’s about time you tell me the truth.”
Minghao’s hand trailing mindlessly over your waist immediately stops. “What? What does that mean?” he asks, sounding confused and a little upset. “I haven’t lied to you.”
“I know, but you haven’t told me the truth either.” You adjust, wriggling around until you’re leaning up on your elbows on his right and peering down at his furrowed features looking at up at you in the dull lamp light. “The very first day we became friends, when you told me your name and invited yourself over for tea–”
“You opened the gate,” he reminds, sounding a little petulant, making you giggle shortly before continuing.
“You told me I wouldn’t understand why you hated me so much for buying this house.”
“Oh.” His expression turns into understanding, and he tugs you back down, making you return to your rightful place at his side with your head on his chest— not that he ever needs to make you cuddle up to him, you’re always more than happy do to that. “I guess it is time I tell you, huh; you’ll learn soon enough anyway, now that we live together and I won’t be able to keep hiding it from you.”
“Wait, hiding—” you try to question him, but he shushes you and holds you tighter, places a kiss on your hairline to placate you into falling still and silent.
“You know how I always say the garden is special? Things grow and thrive there in a way they wouldn’t in my old garden, despite it being only a wall away?” You hum in confirmation, easily recalling the words he’s muttered many times over the past year you’ve been tending the garden together. “There are things that can only grow in this garden, in this soil, and Elodie used to grow them for me, knowing I needed them for my work, and it’s very expensive to get them shipped in from other places.”
“So you were pissed that you had to keep spending all that money to get your fancy flowers for your teas?” you reason, assuming that the plants Elodie used to grow, the plants Minghao now grows in the garden, are ones he dries and makes up into the homemade tea blends he runs a rather successful business selling mostly online, though some locals would turn up at his house— old house— asking for wares.
“Sort of, but not exactly,” he giggles. “They’re not exactly teas, my love.”
“What do you mean? I’ve seen them, we have them filling a cupboard in the kitchen.”
“We do and those are teas, nothing more.”
“Nothing more?” you repeat, wanting to lift up to give him a suspicious look, but he holds you firm, knowing exactly that you intended to do that.
“The ones I sell to the locals and special clients, my real source of income and true job, are potions I make as a witch.”
“A witch?!” you shriek, rearing up so fast that Minghao’s arms fly off you. Then again, the man is too busy laughing away on the mattress to hold on, finding your reaction so hilarious. Especially when he can tell that you believe him entirely, don’t even think he’s joking with you despite how a part of him thought you would accuse him of playing around. But it makes him happy, makes his heart swell, so full of love for the woman who trusts him with her entire heart and soul. He’s eternally grateful for that.
“Yes, I’m a witch, born and raised,” he confirms through his giggles, beaming up at you. “This house was built on magic soil, or the ground became infused with magic over the years, nobody really knows.”
“Is that why you glow here?” you wonder, tilting your head curiously as you sit cross legged by his side.
“Glow?” he repeats, looking utterly bewildered. “Magic doesn’t make a person glow.”
“No?” Your features scrunch a little in confusion. “Then what’s that about? Ever since you started to spend more time here, you look like you glow, not physically, but like…from within.”
Minghao’s expression turns into understanding; he sits up to cup your face and presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “That glow is my love for you, growing stronger each day I spend by your side. You make me glow, sweetheart, not magic.”
“Oh,” you breathe out, cheeks warming, and eyes round and sparkling on him. “I want to make you glow like that for the rest of my life.”
“Good, because I’m never leaving your side,” he promises, and seals it with a kiss that makes you feel so warm and fuzzy, like maybe, he’s not the only one who glows.
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👨🏫Who: Kim Seokjin (BTS) x female reader
👨🏫What: Smut (18+). University au. Teacher Seokjin x student Reader.
👨🏫Word count: 6.5k
👨🏫Warnings: Power imbalance (in that he’s her teacher). Ages aren’t specified exactly, but it’s said that Seokjin is barely a few years older than the majority of the students. Profanity. Kissing. Dom Seokjin. Sub Reader. A single spank. Grinding. Fingering (female receiving). Oral (male receiving). PIV sex. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Cum swallowing. Praise. Seokjin calls reader: little one, baby, good girl. Reader calls Seokjin: Sir. I think that’s it!
👨🏫Summary:
The problem with having such an attractive teacher is that it’s hard to focus on anything but your dirty fantasies starring him.
Though, maybe it’s not such a bad thing when he has you stay behind one day after class, and he finds out exactly what’s been keeping you distracted for the past months.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I decided to entirely rewrite it move it over to here.
Usually, you’re a pretty good student; you rarely get in trouble, and even then it’s only for forgetting to complete work at home. Your grades are always passes at the lowest; you’re not the top student, but you’re certainly in the top section of every class you take.
Except for the one taught by Mr. Kim Seokjin.
Now, Seokjin isn’t a bad teacher, not at all; he’s incredibly smart in his subject, and all of his students tend to pass. All except you. It’s nothing against Seokjin, you think he’s a brilliant teacher, and you love attending his classes.
The problem is that he’s too fucking attractive. You spend more time ogling his handsome features and broad shoulders than paying attention to the topic; fantasising about how it’d feel to have your legs hooked over them as he pounds harshly in–
You’re snapped from yet another daydream staring Kim Seokjin, by the man himself as he calls your name firmly. You can’t clear your mind of the aroused fog it’s in fast enough to even attempt to give him a sheepish smile, embarrassed about once again getting caught with your head in the clouds during his class. “Can you at least pretend to pay attention for once?” he scolds, giving you a stern, disapproving look.
“Sorry,” you mumble, tongue flicking out to wet your suddenly dry lips. You could swear that Seokjin’s eyes follow the movement of your tongue as it peeks out. But can your horny mind be trusted to see things correctly right now? Not really.
“Hm, right; you say that every time,” he returns, scoffing in disbelief as he puts his hands on his hips. “Stay after class,” he demands, and you can only nod meekly; his dominant aura making your thighs clench. The sign of agreement satisfies Seokjin enough to allow him to return to his teaching, believing that he has your attention, at least for the remaining twenty minutes of class. Oh, how wrong he is.
The moment that Seokjin’s attention is back on everyone but you, your mind is already slipping back into your fantasies, his demand for you to stay behind only fuelling your dirty thoughts. Seokjin is known throughout the university for letting his students out of class early, he never asks anyone to stay behind. He isn’t much older than the majority of the students, so he remembers how tough university was, and he doesn’t want to give anyone extra stress by being forced to stay after class. So, the fact he’s told you to stay behind, well, you think you can be forgiven for letting your mind run away with that thought.
If only he knew the images of him you hold in your mind, he certainly wouldn’t want to encourage it by keeping you behind. What teacher would?
Only minutes after returning to his lecture, Seokjin’s eyes happen to glance over to you, and he can’t help but sigh as he spots the glassed-over look in your eyes, telling him that you’re already away with the fairies.
He hasn’t the faintest idea why you struggle to pay attention in his class. He worries that he bores you, so he’s tried to move around the room more; has brought in more hands-on activities to keep you, in particular, focused.
You’re the only student failing his class and he doesn’t understand why. He’s paid you so much attention, left you notes with tips on studying and websites for extra information. During class, without fail, he always places a copy of the lessons notes— his personal notes— on your desk in front of you; but you either ignore them entirely or push them into your bag mindlessly at the end of class with your own papers without even looking at them. He always sees masses of paper sticking out of your notebook every class, but they never seem to move.
He can’t help but wonder if you even look at the worksheets he’s spent so long making specifically for you. He even had a friend teach him how to draw the characters he’s seen on your clothing and accessories, so that he can doodle them onto the worksheets in hopes of catching your interest. But the worksheets never move, and your grades are getting worse.
To make matters worse, Seokjin knows that you pay attention in literally every class you take and never fail any assignments for any but his. One day, he had searched up your class schedule on the university system and stood outside various classroom doors to peer through the window and watch you, just to see if you have the same issue of losing focus in other classes. You never do.
Seokjin takes your failing and absent mind personally, as if it’s something he’s done to warrant such a response, and he wants to get to the bottom of it. No way will he allow such a capable student to fail yet another term of his class.
Unlike every other day, you don’t come out of the fantasies when Seokjin dismisses class, making your fellow students get up and scramble to leave. The class is already a late one, finishing at 6pm, so all of the students are eager to get out of the university and go about their personal lives.
Seokjin watches you curiously from where he’s leaning against the edge of his desk. Even as other students leave, bigging him goodbye and wishes of a good evening, his eyes don’t leave you despite his mouth moving to return the well wishes.
For a further five minutes after everyone has left, he continues to silently watch you in curious wonder. Though, realising that you’re too deep in your mind to notice that the room is empty other than the two of you, he pushes his body off the furniture to stalk over and stand in front of your desk. For the first time, your eyes follow his movement, yet they’re still glassy, and he knows your mind isn’t with him, even if your sight is.
As he leans down to grip either side of your desk to be closer to eye level with you, he suddenly realises just how pretty you are.
Of course, Seokjin isn’t blind, he can tell when a student is attractive, but that’s it; his mind registers an attractive student in an abstract, off handed kind of way, and that’s where it stops. Despite student-teacher relationships in the university not being against the rules exactly— therefore, not a fireable offense—, they’re still greatly frowned upon. Seokjin knows this, so he’s never once even considered a student in any way but as a student; someone to teach and guide academically.
But standing over you like this; your eyes wide and glossy as you stare up at him, cheeks flushed, and lips parted; for the first time, Seokjin’s mind wanders. He can’t help but think how pretty you’d look spread out by his hands under his body, utterly fucked out.
Before the thought can progress into a fantasy, he shakes his head softly and clears his throat— it’s suddenly too dry considering he had gulped down the contents of his water bottle at the end of class.
The sudden noise breaks you out of your fantasies with a little jolt. Blinking rapidly, your gaze comes back into focus. “Oh,” you breathe out, finding Seokjin so close to you, causing excitement to crawl through your body. You’ve never been so close to the man, and he only looks even more delectable the closer you get. “Mr. Kim.”
He says your name in response, once again clearing his throat when his voice cracks on the syllables. “Are you finished with your daydreaming now?” You suck your bottom lip between your teeth as you nod shyly, embarrassed as per usual about being called out. Without even having the chance to try to stop it from happening, Seokjin’s gaze drops down to eye your mouth, in a way far too obvious to miss.
You watch his throat bob heavily as he swallows thickly while watching your lip slowly slip out from the light grasp of your teeth. “Sir?” you question softly. Your voice sounds so innocent, barely a whisper, and it sends Seokjin’s mind whirling.
Oh, how he’d love to fucking wreck you; hear his name tumble so sweetly from those pretty lips of yours.
“Go home,” he suddenly says when he realises how his mind is running away with his filthy thoughts. He drops his head down so that he doesn’t have to look at you; he fears he’ll lose all sanity if he looks at you a moment longer.
“Sir?” you repeat, more bewildered this time. After all, he told you to stay behind, and now he’s telling you to leave. What’s his problem?
Seokjin’s mental strength slips a little further out of his grasp. Why do you have to keep calling him that in that innocent voice? You’re pretty much begging him to bend you over that very desk and have his way with you. He can’t handle that and needs you to stop before he truly loses his mind.
If only he knew you’ve imagined that very scenario many times already.
“Why are you calling me that?” he groans, almost whining.
“What? Sir?” He nods, and you tilt your head, confused eyes glaring into the top of his head. “Because…you’re my teacher,” you answer simply.
“And?!” he snaps, lifting his head to stare at you with wild eyes that dance madly over your features. The crazed expression makes you jolt a little in shock; he genuinely looks seconds away from losing his mind. “You shouldn’t call men things like that so easily!” he lectures. “Don’t you understand what it does to a man when a woman like you calls him such a thing?” Seokjin doesn’t know why he’s being so blunt, so open and honest with you, but he simply can’t stop himself.
“A woman like me?” you question, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You look down at your seated form with a little frown. “What’s wrong with me?”
All at once, Seokjin’s body cools down instead of burning up, and he calms dramatically. “What? Nothing is wrong with you. Why would you think anything is wrong with you?” he questions in an utterly bewildered murmur.
“You said a woman like me shouldn’t say those things,” you explain with your eyes glued to your fingers as you fiddle with the hem of your hoodie, thinking about what could be so wrong with you; maybe you could dress better; maybe you could make more of an effort. The thought makes you shrink dejectedly. A guy like Seokjin could never find a woman like you appealing.
“And that made you think something is wrong with you?” You don’t respond, you don’t need to. Your answer is obvious by the way you’ve curled in on yourself; an attempt to make yourself smaller, less visible. Seokjin says your name gently, gingerly reaching out to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger, though you turn your head away out of his touch to prevent him from tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Look at me,” he demands firmly.
Just like that, you stop pulling away and allow him to direct your line of sight to his face. You submit so easily to him, and it makes his cock twitch in his pants.
“Don’t you ever think that something is wrong with you,” he says, voice so soft and soothing, so honest, full of unspoken meaning, that your heart thrums and your cheeks speckle with a pretty blush. “You’re beautiful.” His gaze dances over your features, taking his time to memorise every little freckle, every little imperfection for when he’s home alone and needs to remember how your face alone has sent heat tingling through his body. “So beautiful.”
How has he gone through so many months already with you in his class without truly noticing your beauty? He doesn’t know, but he knows he’ll never stop noticing now.
“Sir…” you gasp at his words; never could you have expected the living definition of beautiful to utter such words to you. You can tell he means them too.
“I told you not to call me that,” he reminds, eyes turning stern again as they lock with your own.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why I can’t,” you reason, lips pouting in confusion. He has to fight the urge to pounce forward and suck your bottom lip between his own.
“How can such a beautiful woman be so clueless about the effect you have on men?” He chuckles softly and then backs up in fear that he won’t be able to take his hand from your face if he hovers a minute longer. Your head tilts in confusion, and eyebrows furrow. “I think it’s best you go home now,” he declares, turning on his heel and returning to his desk, where he has a stack of papers from another class that he needs to mark before he can go home.
“Not until you tell me why I can’t call you sir,” you argue, voice surprisingly firm.
As Seokjin sits in his chair, he looks up at you with raised eyebrows, finding you still sitting at your desk, stubbornly refusing to pack up your belongings to leave. “Go.”
“No.”
Seokjin’s lips twitch in amusement. You’re being so unbelievably stubborn for someone who was so quick to obey his words only minutes before.
“I’m not moving, Sir.”
Seokjin’s smile drops, and he sighs heavily. “Fine, but you’re not getting an answer. Sit there all night for all I care; I have papers to grade.” With that, he gets to work, picking up his trusty marking pen, and bending over the first assignment in the stack.
Yet knowing that you’re sitting there, only metres away, he can’t focus.
A groan of frustration leaves his throat, and he rubs his neck as he fights the urge to look up at you. He can feel your gaze locked on him, and it kind of irks him; you’re suddenly paying him so much attention at the one time he wants none of it.
“Stop staring,” he mutters, easily loud enough for you hear in the otherwise silent room, while he tries to reread the student’s answer for the fifth time. He still can’t make sense of it though; his mind is entirely stuck on you.
“I don’t want to, Sir.”
He knows you’re doing it just to wind him up. You want your answer and intend to play up until you get it. You’re being a little brat, and he kind of loves it.
“You don’t want to push me, little one,” he warns, glancing up at you over his glasses, giving you such a dark look that you visibly shiver. Fuck, you like it. The realisation forces him to put his hand under the desk to try to resituate the growing problem in his pants into less of an annoyance. “Are you going to be a good girl and go home?” he tries.
“I’ll leave when you tell me why I can’t call you sir, Sir,” you retort. And it makes him give up with marking, with restraining himself.
Seokjin leans back in his chair while tossing his pen onto the desk carelessly. “Get over here,” he orders. His cock twitches at the enthusiastic speed you scramble out of your chair to rush over and stand on the opposite site of the desk to him. “No, little one, here,” he corrects, motioning to his side.
You’re a little hesitant at first but obediently shuffle around the desk to stand beside his chair. “Yes, Sir?” you ask, wanting another order so desperately.
“Hands on the desk.” You tilt your head questioningly. “Be a good girl.” You nod and turn to place both palms flat on the desk so that you’re facing out over the empty room. “Hmm, lean over.” You do, leaning further over the desk, meaning your ass sticks out, and Seokjin watches closely, appreciating the way your little shorts cling to your backside. “Stay like that until I tell you to move. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” Seokjin smiles in approval and pushes his chair back, grinning when you don’t even try to look over your shoulder and see what he’s doing. You listen so well; it makes him so fucking hard.
Seokjin wheels his chair until he’s directly behind you, then adjusts the height until he’s sitting eye level with your ass. “You’ve been bad, you know this, don’t you, little one?” he hums, hands resting on his spread thighs, but fingers twitching with the urge to touch the expanse of your exposed thighs.
“I have?” you question in wonder, truly not aware of what he’s referring to.
“Yes, little one,” he confirms.
“Oh… When, Sir?”
“That is the most recent behaviour; refusing to listen when I told you to stop.” You remain quiet. “Will you admit to that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And yet you still say it?”
“You haven’t explained, Sir.”
Seokjin chuckles lowly; you sure are stubborn for a submissive woman. “You never pay attention in my class,” he continues, allowing his fingers some relief by dancing them along the outside of your thighs directly above your knees, but only an inch or so before returning downwards and mindlessly stroking at your outer knees.
“I don’t mean to daydream, Sir.”
“You pay attention in every other class; I’ve checked up on you.”
That surprises you and makes you pause momentarily. “…You have?”
“Mmhmm, I had to see if it’s just your natural behaviour, or if you hate my class that much.”
“I don’t hate your class,” you argue, voice full of such honesty that Seokjin’s hands stop absently moving against your soft skin.
“You don’t?”
“No; I think you’re a brilliant teacher.”
“Then why are you failing?”
You don’t respond, not wanting to tell him the truth, too embarrassed. Though, as soon as his hands leave you with the intention of relocating his chair, you speak up quickly, not wanting him to move away. “I have trouble concentrating in your class. I try hard, but I can’t. I…have too many fantasies, Sir,” you confess, still a bit embarrassed but also feeling paradoxically shameless. At this point, you’ll confess to anything as long as he keeps touching you.
“Fantasies?” he encourages, voice low as his hands return to your legs. Seokjin never expected you to say that you fantasise throughout his class, and his heart pounds with the hope that he stars in them. It’s only logical to assume that you think about him, after all, it’s only his class that you daydream in.
“Yes, Sir.”
“What about?” You whine softly in response, clearly in no rush to answer, though it quickly turns into a yelp when his palm suddenly connects with your inner thigh. “Oh, shit! Sorry, sorry, I–” he tries to apologise, panicking over his own actions. He had reacted instinctively, wanting to put you in your place; a place you don’t even have being his student, but fuck does he wish you did.
“You! I fantasise about you!” you blurt out the confession, the breathless tone telling him that maybe, you like the situation as much as he does, and you’re far from opposed to the little slap on your thigh. “Sir,” you add on almost as an afterthought, though it doesn’t sound bratty anymore, more like you know that he likes hearing it; that you’ve finally figured it out.
“Fuck,” he curses, fingers digging into your flesh slightly as he grips you as if testing you, testing that the situation is real. “Me? You fantasise about me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Doing what? What am I doing?”
“Me.” If you weren’t already driving him crazy, he would’ve laughed at your simple answer, but it only fuels his arousal. Seokjin groans softly, dropping his head forward to press his face into your lower back. You gasp softly in surprise, but don’t argue or react otherwise.
“You’ve been failing my class because you’ve been fantasising about me fucking you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Fuck!” he repeats, suddenly getting up, kicking his chair aside out of the way. “This is why you can’t call me sir.” For a split second, you’re confused, that is until his hips are pressed against your ass and you can feel his hard length against you. A shuddering, excited breath shakes your chest as you inhale. “You fantasised about feeling this, huh? My cock in you, little one?”
“Y–yes. Fuck, yes, Sir,” you’re almost slurring, mind spinning as you push your hips back to grind against his erection.
“Oh, shit, don’t,” he warns, but his large hands holding your hips tight say the opposite thing to his words. “S–stop.” You don’t.
“Why, Sir?”
“Because I’m your teacher.”
“Then teach me how to make you cum, Sir.”
The innocent tone you use, matched with the dirty words, sends a shudder through his body. “Oh, fuck.” Seokjin’s hands grip you tighter, pulling you back as he rolls his hips against you. “What’s your biggest fantasy? How do you imagine me fucking you the most?”
“On your desk, Sir.”
“Yeah?” You hum in confirmation, head bobbing along too. “Like this?” Seokjin grinds his hips forward, mimicking how he would fuck you. You suck in a shark breath, thighs shaking with arousal. You’re certain your underwear are soaked through and your shorts growing damp; you’re so fucking wet for him.
“Like this.” You move forward to press your hips against the edge of the desk, widening your stance while leaning down onto your elbows around the papers, making your back curve and thrust your ass further out.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” Seokjin groans at the sight of you; his wide, lust blown eyes raking over your figure greedily. The angle of your hips, and that they’re no longer pressed against him, exposes the growing damp patch between your thighs to his hungry gaze. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are already.” He moves one hand to press his fingers to the patch, making you whine needily and press back against him. “You want me bad, huh, little one?”
“Yes, so fucking bad,” you mumble shamelessly. “Please fuck me, Sir.”
Seokjin freezes: he never expected you to beg for it, yet here you are, proving to be the perfect fuck. “You asked so nicely, how can I say no?”
Your thighs shake with excitement, knowing that you’re finally getting to live out your fantasy; something you truly never thought would happen.
“Strip,” he orders as he steps back away from you and starts to unbuckle his belt. You don’t hesitate to respond, straightening up to remove your hoodie and toss it carelessly to the floor. “Wait,” Seokjin says, and you fall still. Suddenly, his hands are on your waist, lips coming down to trace an invisible line along the side of your neck and across our shoulder. “Do you always wear hoodies without anything underneath?” he asks, hands sliding around over your bare stomach to reach up and cup both of your exposed breasts in his warm hands.
“Yeah.”
“Well, fuck; I’m never going to be able to focus on class now I know that.”
“Sometimes, I don’t wear panties either,” you tease with a smirk on your lips.
Seokjin groans against your skin as he grinds his still covered cock against your ass. “Are you today?”
“Yes.”
“Next time, don’t.”
“Yes, Sir.”
As soon as he steps back, you lift your hands to your hips to hook your fingers under the waistband of both your shorts and underwear and slide them together down your legs to pool by your feet, then kick aside.
“I should’ve told you to stay behind sooner,” Seokjin says with a breathless chuckle as he admires the sight of your fully naked back. “Turn, let me see you.” Of course, you do, and turn to face him, only to realise that he’s still fully dressed, his belt is still securely latched into the buckle. He notices where your attention lays and looks down too. “Oh, right.”
Before he can return to work, you’re directly infront of him and pulling his belt free in seconds. Seokjin can only watch gobsmacked by how easily you remove the item; he always struggles with that particular belt.
“You look so hard, Sir,” you comment as your hands work on his button and zipper.
“Thanks to you.”
“Then maybe I should do something about it, hm?” Seokjin opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already on your knees and tugging down the material to free the object of your desire to your hungry graze. “You’re so big,” you coo, reaching out to wrap one hand around his thick length. Seokjin sucks in a shaky breath at your touch. “You’re going to feel so good pounding into me.”
“Shut up,” he groans. “Don’t talk like that.” His head tips back as you start to work your hand up and down his shaft at a leisurely pace, enjoying touching him for the first— and hopefully not last— time.
“Don’t you like dirty talk, Sir? You’re awfully good at it.”
“I–I can’t. Not right now,” he admits, knowing he’ll reach his end way too fast if he allows you to continue talking dirty to him. You make everything sound so delightfully sinful that he can hardly breathe. “Later?”
That makes your hand stop. “As in… We can do this again?” you question nervously, all confidence gone as you look up at him through your lashes. Seokjin lifts his head to look down at you. “What if… What if you don’t like it?”
“I’m this hard without you touching me, I doubt I won’t like fucking you,” he chuckles.
“Are you sure?”
“Just suck my cock already,” he chuckles again, darker this time as he smirks down at you.
And just like that, you’re back to being his submissive little one, ready to please. “Yes, Sir.” Eagerly, you dive forward, taking as much of his thick length into your mouth as physically possible at once, while using your hand to work the rest.
Seokjin chokes on a moan as his tip hits the back of your throat; you don’t even gag. “F–fuck, don’t you have a gag reflex?” he stutters on his words as you bob your head, taking the tip of his cock into your throat. You shake your head carefully, only slightly, while still sucking and bobbing away as if there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing right now. “So fucking perfect for me, little one.” He threads his fingers into your hair as he stares down at the way you work fucking magic on his cock with your mouth. “More, take more,” he demands after a moment, and you do.
Your eyes water at the stretch your throat is being forced to endure but you don’t complain. You love feeling him hot and heavy on your tongue. You’d happily suck his dick all night long if he asks.
Though, after only a few more minutes, Seokjin pulls you off his length, making you pout up at him and whine in wordless complaint.
“You like my cock in your throat that much?” he teases, and you nod shamelessly as he smirks down at you, pleased. “You’re definitely coming home with me tonight.” Your eyes light up, making you look like an excited little puppy, and he laughs lightly. “Get up, let me fuck you.” In seconds, you’re up on your feet and wincing at the pain in your knees from being pressing to the harsh tile floor. “Good girl.”
For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. He places his hands on your waist and steps closer, pressing his erection into your stomach. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips quickly, mindlessly, and his eyes track the moment. And then he spins you around to roughly bend you over the desk. If you couldn’t already feel his erection prodding at your entrance, you’d be upset that he hadn’t kissed you, but your mind is already focused on other things, mainly his cock.
“You’re so wet, little one. I bet I’d just slide right in, huh?” he taunts, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your dripping folds with one hand wrapped around the base to direct his movement.
You expect him to push in, but he doesn’t. Instead, you feel the tip rest heavy on your clit, applying a teasing amount of pressure, while two of his fingers from his free hand wriggle their way into you.
“So warm,” he hums approvingly, talking to himself as he watches the way your pussy stretches around his curious fingers. He curls and scissors them to prepare you for his cock, while you gasp and writhe against his hand. His fingers feel pretty fucking good, but you want more. Need more.
“M–more, please, Sir,” you plead needily.
Seokjin complies, slipping in a third finger and immediately taking up a brutal pace of pumping and twisting the digits inside you. Moans spill from your lips, and your fingers try to grip onto the wood of the desk yet only slide across.
“You sound so pretty moaning like this, baby.” He pulls his fingers out, only to turn his hand over so that his palm faces the floor, then returns to thrusting his fingers into your pussy at a rapid pace. Now he can curl his fingers forward to press against that sweet little spot inside you and earn himself louder moans. “Ah, there it is, good girl,” he coos, pressing against the spot a few more times in rapid succession, before removing his fingers entirely.
You don’t have time to catch your breath to complain that he stopped when it felt so good. He wastes no time in pressing his cock into you with both hands gripping onto your hips tight to keep you still.
“Ah, Sir!” you exclaim when his hips snap forward impatiently to sheath his entire length deep within your dripping walls.
“Hm?” he can only offer a vague noise in response; his chest is already heaving from the effort of pushing his cock into you. He knew you could take it, you took his fingers so well, without complaint; but you’re so tight around him that he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to fit his full length at one point. And now he’s inside you, he never wants to leave; your walls hug him so well without leaving any of him untouched. He’s never felt something so perfect.
“So big, so good,” you slur, resting your forehead against the desk. You completely give up caring about the neat stacks of paper and push them out of the way so that you can press your chest against the cool wood of the desk for support. The movement has Seokjin’s cock settling a little deeper in your pussy, and he groans lowly in pleasure, fingers curling tighter into your skin. “Please, Sir, fuck me,” you beg, trying to force your hips back on him, feeling like you could get him just a little deeper if you pressed closer, but his grip is too tight.
Your words and desperate movements prompt him to act, at least. Seokjin’s head drops forward to watch his length reappear as he pulls his hips back slowly, before snapping forward and diving back inside. If your chest hadn’t already been pressed to the desk, his sudden, rapid thrusting would’ve made it that way.
Seokjin fucks like a mad man; hips battering against your ass as if fucking you is the only thing keeping him alive. He fucks like he’s on a mission to destroy you, and you love it.
Not once does it even occur to either of you that you’re in a public place with the door unlocked; in fact, it’s still open ajar. Honestly, even if someone was to walk in, neither of you would notice; you’re both entirely absorbed in the intense pleasure rapidly curling in your lower stomachs.
You’re both utterly shameless with your vocals too, moaning, and groaning, and panting heavily, spurring the other on with sounds as you both lose the ability to form words. Which only gets worse when he starts to pull your hips back to meet his thrusts, impaling you that little bit further on his cock and making you all but scream in pleasure as your legs threaten to give out.
You’re getting so tight around him that he’s finding it harder and harder to keep going; both because he’s hurting towards his climax, and because your walls are physically threatening to prevent him from moving. If you weren’t dripping with arousal already, Seokjin wouldn’t have even been able to keep going only minutes after starting.
He can’t wait to take you home and fuck you all night until you’ve soaked his mattress— and whatever other surface he decides to fuck you against. He’s already debating calling in sick tomorrow, just so that he has more time to play with you.
One particularly powerful thrust makes your knees give out with a yelp. Your body sags for only a second before Seokjin lurches forward to wrap his arms around you and pull you upright. “Shit, sorry,” he apologises while pulling out, then carefully turns you to sit you on the edge of the desk.
“It’s okay,” you reply, smiling breathlessly. Seokjin’s already thumping heart flutters at the sight of you. He’s never seen a sight so beautiful. “Don’t stop,” you encourage, opening your legs wide, and pulling his hips back to yours.
Seokjin makes short work of sliding his length back into you, sighing in pleasure at the feeling of having you wrapped around him again. “You feel so perfect,” he confesses, pressing his forehead against your shoulder to watch as his length slowly slides in and out of you. “So good.” He lifts his head to meet your gaze. “I want to kiss you,” he murmurs, eyes still locked with yours, which confuses you as you’re used to people looking at your lips when they want to kiss you. But you don’t mind at all, nor do you refuse; you want to kiss him too. You feel his lips turn up into a soft smile when you press yours to them.
As you both get lost in the kiss, Seokjin continues the slow, deep rolling of his hips, while your hands curiously explore one another. You almost complain about the fact he’s still fully dressed, wanting to feel his skin pressed against yours, but Seokjin happens to choose that moment to pick up the pace, and you simply moan into his mouth instead.
Very quickly, you both lose the ability to focus on the kiss and pull apart, your hands threaded in his hair, and his holding your thighs open as wide as possible to allow him to fuck you harder and deeper.
“I want you to cum,” he pants out when he feels himself getting dangerously close. “Touch yourself.”
You bite your lip nervously, having never touched yourself in front of someone before. But, you figure that if you were going to start, it’d be for Seokjin. Too desperate to cum to think on it for more than a second, you remove one hand from his hair to reach between your bodies and play with your clit, immediately tightening around his cock due to the extra, pleasurable stimulation.
“Shit, hurry, I’m gonna cum,” he urges, syllables slurring together, proving just how close he is to his climax. “Please, baby,” he begs, and just like that, your orgasm shoots through your body, curling your toes and tightening all of your muscles, almost giving your right calf a cramp, but you manage to straighten your leg just in time to prevent the pain; that would really ruin the mood. Seokjin grows still, watching your euphoric expression in awe for barely a second before he replaces his fingers on your clit with his thumb to work you through the pleasure.
When you whine from sensitivity and push his hand away, Seokjin pulls out and steps back while pointing to the floor with one hand, his other wrapping around his throbbing erection. “Down, mouth open,” he demands.
Despite your whole body feeling weak, and legs like jelly, you slide off the desk and lower yourself to the floor, opening your mouth wide in obedient wait. Seokjin groans low and affected at the sight of you, and pumps his hand up and down his length furiously. It only takes a few seconds before he’s spilling onto your tongue; you wrap your lips around him to suck gently, taking all he has to offer you.
When the pleasure has worked its way through his body, Seokjin pats your head softly in silent signal. “Good girl,” he pants, lips quirking in amusement at the way you haven’t yet removed his softening cock from your mouth, seeming more than happy to cock warm him for the foreseeable future. As much as he loves the sight of your lips stretched around him, he’s sensitive right now and doesn’t want to get overstimulated and risk not being up for fucking you again once he gets you home. “Up,” he says as he pulls out of your mouth, so that he can tuck himself away and pull up his boxers and trousers.
Once his zipper and button are secured back into place, Seokjin looks at you, only to find you still kneeling on the floor, watching him with innocent eyes.
“I said up,” he reminds, though you don’t make a move to obey. Instead, you open your mouth wide, showing him that you haven’t swallowed a drop of his cum. “Oh…” Seokjin chews on his bottom lip briefly, more aroused by the sight of his cum pooling in your mouth than he’d like to admit. “Swallow it.”
Obediently, you press your lips together and tip your head back so that he can see the bob of your throat when you swallow. Once you’ve swallowed every drop down, you lift your head back up to look at him, and once again part your lips wide to show your empty mouth.
“That’s my girl,” he praises, making you beam, and he smiles fondly. “Come on, let’s get you decent enough to get back to my place. You can show me how deep you can really suck my cock.” Immediately, you light up and rush to get up to excitedly do as told.
As promised, Seokjin helps you get dressed, before he takes you back to his apartment to enthusiastically lay you out over every possible surface, and even pin you up against multiple walls.
It’s the first time Seokjin has ever received a noise complaint, but all he needs to do is look over at your mischievous grin to know that it won’t be the last.
Don't forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
Synopsis: In honor of May the 4th, here is my thought of Jeonghan as a smuggler in the Star Wars AU. May the Force be with you
Note: First off, thank you, @skzhotpot, for beta-reading this. I really appreciate it. And Happy May the 4th. My second Star Wars AU is done. I wish my Jedi Seungcheol were finished; however, with life, it's still being written, but that's okay. I'm sure you all will love it once it's done. I thought hard on Jeonghan in this AU, and I only had one answer: he was so Han Solo coded.
I'm still accepting names for the tag list for it. I also changed up my writing style for my headcanon. I don’t know if I like it or not.
Jedi Seungcheol
Thinking about… Smuggler Jeonghan
Jeonghan was the best pilot in all of the entire galaxy. He knew he was good.
He didn’t need medals, official ranking, or anything of the sort. He knew it was good. You can ask anybody in the Outer Rim. All the same but different stories.
Some say that he could fly straight through a collapsing asteroid field. Others say that he once looped a star destroyer's own turrets into firing on itself (lies of course)
He has heard it all and they’re all the same but never did he correct them, not even once.
Jeonghan is competitive, highly competitive, but very strategic. But be careful; he’s also a trickster; he’s always finding shortcuts. When you play him, you'd better watch out, as Jeonghan will do anything to “cheat” his way into winning as long as he doesn’t get caught.
How do you think he won his beloved ship, the Home; Run, the fastest vessel in the galaxy, after a couple of games of high-stakes sabacc?
But his trickster ways, witty and cunning strategy, and his high skill of flight help him with his job as a smuggler. Jeonghan did jobs here and there, transporting illegal substances, dangerous wildlife, and even stolen merchandise. As long as the credit is right, the job is done.
But he wasn’t always the smuggler that he is today; he was just a normal boy born and raised in the heart of Corellia, whose father worked in the shipyard of the engineering corporation. He felt that he was always destined to be the best pilot, so he joined the academy before committing desertion.
But he wasn’t alone; he had his trustee Wookiee friend and co-pilot of the Home; Run named Shweebak. No one knew how a man like him ended up with a huge Wookiee that barely anyone could understand by his side, but the only answer was that it was fate that brought them together.
With the two of them on board, they both can achieve almost anything in the galaxy. However that all changed when he got tangled up with…
You
Y/N
Leader of the Rebel Alliance
A… princess from the royal house of Alderaan
And a total pain, and he hated you. No—he absolutely despises you, actually.
How you both met wasn’t ideal per se—it was just a simple job. Pick up the cargo, deliver it, get paid, and leave, but why did he end up getting tangled in a rescue mission to save you in the detention cell of the first Death Star?
Ever since then, things have never gone back to normal. He was supposed to be finishing a job, not arguing with a princess who was ordering him around. Somehow, after a while, through all the battles and their constant bickering, something was happening. It certainly wasn’t the Force, but it was almost like their hatred for each other began to turn into affection, no matter how hard they tried to ignore it. It was small at first. Small glance here and there until it wasn’t.
You were just a cause, Jeonghan thought to himself, and he didn’t care for causes. Because Cause didn’t pay for fuel
Or with credits
Or to fix hull damage
But maybe he cares for you. Maybe you were his…cause.
🎶Who: Min Yoongi (BTS) x female reader.
🎶What: Some humour. Suggestive (18+). Slow burn. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Single parent Yoongi. Music teacher Yoongi. Child Taehyung. Child Jihoon. Ex husband Mingyu. Best friend Mingyu.
🎶Word count: 6.1k
🎶Warnings: Disabled characters— both mental and physical in various ways. A bit of a tough moment for Taehyung where friends are involved. Seungcheol and Hansol are both children and brothers. Mentions of child Jeonghan and Jisoo. Profanity. Suggestive themes.
🎶Summary:
Even before you meet him, Min Yoongi owns a piece of your heart.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
My general masterlist
🎶Mr. Min Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.
After too short of a visit in Japan, your family is back home, with all three of you wishing you could’ve stayed for more than a few days, while also being glad to be back in your familiar space.
It feels like you only blink and the summer holidays are over, and Taehyung is back at school.
Though, Taehyung’s classroom gains a very angry little winged visitor on Monday morning before school starts, resulting in no school for him and his classmates on Monday. Although there technically is more than enough space in the school to put them in another room while the bird is safely removed and the class fully sanitised again, the teaching staff don’t think it wise to suddenly relocate a classroom of SEN students who need the stability and functions of their usual classroom.
So, you and Mingyu get another day with your son— to all of your joy—, and then, on Tuesday morning, Taehyung skips into school happily; excited to see Mr. Lee and give his bestest friends the friendship bracelets he picked out in Hawaii.
The last thing you expect while you wait on the playground after school for the class to be let out, is to see your son looking so sad as he approaches you hand in hand with a sympathetic looking Mr. Lee.
“What happened?” you worry as Taehyung latches onto your legs and only loosens his hold enough to allow you to pick him up and hold him close, where he tucks his face into your neck to hide away from the world.
“Tae’s had a bit of a bad friendship day,” Mr. Lee answers, looking genuinely a little upset about this as he frowns at Taehyung’s dejected form clinging to you, then returns his gaze to you as he continues to explain. “His usual little group didn’t include him today, because apparently, Tae was mean to Seungcheol by not attending his birthday party in the summer.”
You blink a few times, utterly bewildered. “It was Seungcheol’s birthday party? I didn’t know that, and I’m very positive Tae would’ve been too excited to not tell me if he was invited to one of his best friend’s birthday party.”
Mr. Lee hums in understanding. “I think it might be a good idea to have you and Seungcheol’s parents come in tomorrow before school, with the boys of course, and try to get to the bottom of this. He wasn’t happy today either, so I imagine his parents will want to fix this.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” you agree. “How early should we be here?”
“Is twenty minutes before the bell doable for you? That will give plenty of time to get to the root of the issue, and then the boys will have time to play together before the other students come in; I think that would be good for them both.”
“We’ll be here,” you promise.
“Great. I’ll see you both in the morning then. See you tomorrow, Tae,” Mr. Lee says, gently touching his fingertips to Taehyung’s back for a moment in goodbye, yet not lingering at all, knowing it would overwhelm the boy right now.
As Mr. Lee turns and walks back to his classroom, you lift Taehyung a little higher to make carrying him easier, then head to your car ready to spend the rest of the evening doing everything humanely possible to try and put a smile back on your son’s face.
For the first time in a long time, Taehyung isn’t excited about going to school. He’s grumpy as he gets out of bed and barely touches his breakfast despite Mingyu having cooked the boy’s favourite to try and cheer him up.
He only perks up when the three of you are leaving the house and he spots the gift bag you’re carrying. “It’s Wednesday,” you remind, seeing a little of his usual light flitter back into his eyes. “Mr. Min teaches you this afternoon, so you can give him the gifts you picked for him and Jihoon.” That makes Taehyung give the first smile of the day as he climbs into the car with more energy than he’s had this morning and lets his dad strap him securely into his seat.
“Remember, you can’t call him Yoongi anymore,” Mingyu reminds as he fiddles with the clasps he still insists were designed just to piss him off, despite Taehyung having been using this specific seat for over a year now.
“Mr. Min,” Taehyung replies with a nod, seeming to be implanting the reminder into his still slightly sleepy mind. “Mr. Min,” he repeats as Mingyu backs off, mindlessly giving his dad their usual high-five to celebrate getting the straps securely buckled, too focused on muttering the name under his breath.
“I swear, that’s like a cheat code or something,” Mingyu muses as he climbs into the car. “Tell him he’s going to see his favourite teacher, and he cheers up.” You just hum in agreement while double checking that everyone is strapped in safely and ready to go.
As you start the drive, you just hope that before you leave the meeting, you won’t need to use Taehyung’s favourite teacher as a means to cheer your son up any more today.
Even though you do sometimes drop Taehyung off at school on Wednesday mornings, it’s not that regular as that’s always Mingyu’s or his parents’ day, but still, you’ve been at the school on Wednesday mornings before, yet you’ve never seen Yoongi around.
Evidently, as he steps out of the classroom into the hallway, he’s surprised to see you today too, as his eyes widen a little when he looks at the three of you. Though he wipes the look off of his face as Taehyung shuffles forward to hug his favourite teacher. “Good morning, Tae.”
“Sad mornin’,” Taehyung replies, face partially buried in the man’s leg.
“Well, we’re here to fix that,” he promises, then looks up at you and Mingyu. “Seungcheol and his parents are already here, come on through.”
The four of you enter the classroom where Mr. Lee is sitting on the desk chair pulled around to be seated with the fold out chairs, two of which are occupied by who you have to assume are Seungcheol’s parents, while the little boy himself is beside his mother in his wheelchair. You’ve only met the boy a few times, but you know he only uses his wheelchair when he’s having a bad mobility or pain day; and based on how his little expression is pinched in pain and he’s got his hands pressed to the crease where his legs connect to his hips, it’s a bad pain day.
Clearly, Taehyung knows as much too because as soon as he notices his friend’s condition, he gasps and lets go of Yoongi’s hand to rush across to the large cupboard at the front of the class beside the whiteboard.
From your guided tour of the school and classroom back in April, you know that cupboard contains a vast array of medical and first aid equipment to help handle whatever needs the children may have that doesn’t require being sent home or to the hospital. Every room in the school has one, and each classroom’s is personalised for the use of the students in that class. Of course, the dangerous and more delicate equipment is up out of reach of the children, but the lower shelves hold items that the children can get themselves; to give them a sense of responsibility and independence, knowing they likely will have to handle these things for the rest of their lives, so it’s better to get them used to it while young.
Taehyung grabs out what you recognise as heat pouches— the type that contain little fabric baggies that can be removed and put in the microwave to be warmed up. Without a word, he rushes to take them to Yoongi, as the teacher is still standing, and holds them up to the man with a pleading expression. Equally as quiet, Yoongi accepts the bags with a proud little smile, pats Taehyung’s head, then heads over to the microwave to remove the little baggies and place them inside.
As the microwave quietly whirs, heating the bags, your family goes over to sit on the chairs; though Taehyung stands in front of you, looking between the microwave and Seungcheol rapidly.
“Thank you for coming in,” Mr. Lee says before going on to politely introduce you and Mingyu to Seungcheol’s parents. “I think–” he starts to say, clearly planning to get to the point of being here, but the microwave dings softly and Taehyung darts over towards it.
You all watch as Taehyung accepts the packs once Yoongi has put them back together and handed them over. The little boy immediately turns and scuttles over to Seungcheol to give him the packs and watch as he puts them in place against his hips, and relaxes a little, giving Taehyung a soft “thanks, Tae”.
Only now that he’s done what he can to help, and Seungcheol doesn’t look so uncomfortable, does Taehyung return to stand in front of you. You don’t hesitate to tug him closer between your thighs to hold his hands and kiss the back of his head where it faces you, so proud of your thoughtful little boy.
“That doesn’t seem like a mean boy, Cheolie,” Seungcheol’s mother speaks up, turning her head from watching Taehyung in surprise, to give her own son a questioning look. Seungcheol just looks down at his hands as they pick at his trousers, offering no response.
Before Mr. Lee can do more than open his mouth to try and mediate the situation, Taehyung speaks up, shuffling nervously on his feet, and fingers randomly pressing into your hands in an effort of self-soothing, “I–I promise I ne–never knewed it was summer party birthday,” he vows, looking between Seungcheol— who is still looking down at his own lap— and the boy’s parents, both looking at Taehyung openly, clearly more than willing to give your son a chance to explain himself.
“Seungcheol didn’t give you the invitation?” Seungcheol’s dad asks. The second Taehyung shakes his head, Seungcheol’s parents both look at their son. “Seungcheol? You told us you handed the invitations out.”
Seungcheol sniffles, then looks at his parents with big eyes that look suddenly sad. “I–I was going to, but my legs hurt, so Hannie said he’d do it!” he defends. “He told me he gave to Tae and Soo!” he insists, looking on the verge of tears that you think aren’t entirely due to the pain he’s in.
“I see,” his mother sighs, then turns to look at your family. “I think I know exactly what happened here. Jeonghan and Seungcheol have been best friends since they were babies, and Jeonghan is very attached to his Cheolie,” she explains. You think you get where this is going but remain quiet to let her finish. “Jeonghan has always had a bit of a jealous streak when it comes to Seungcheol and other children, and it’s caused more than a few issues in the past. It’s not until they met Jisoo that Seungcheol gained a friend other than Jeonghan, so we were admittedly very worried when he came home talking about Taehyung this year.”
Seungcheol’s dad nods in agreement, taking his wife’s hand into his where she has it on her lap politely. “We should’ve known something like this would happen. We’re very sorry that this happened and upset your sweetheart of a son.”
“It’s not your fault,” Mingyu assures. “These kinds of things are bound to happen at some point, we’re just glad it’s more of a misunderstanding than anything.”
“Cheolie,” Seungcheol’s dad says, looking at his son, who looks up at him with a few tears on his cheeks, and lips turned into a sad pout. “I think you owe your friend an apology, don’t you? You really upset him by leaving him out yesterday.”
“I–I’m sorry, Tae,” Seungcheol says immediately, looking at Taehyung so earnestly that it’s clear that he means it and does truly feel guilty about it. “A–are you still my–my friend?”
Taehyung nods and lets go of you to move over and carefully hug Seungcheol, who melts in relief and squeezes Taehyung back. “I have for you gift!” he declares as he backs up, smiling and back to his usual self now as he removes his backpack. You watch as Taehyung takes the little paper bag of bracelets from his bag to show Seungcheol. “For you, and me, and Soo, and Hannie,” he informs. “You pick for you.”
“Oh!” Seungcheol beams and takes his take deciding which bracelet he likes best.
“Your son really is so sweet,” Seungcheol’s mother coos, drawing your attention. You can practically feel Mingyu puff with pride on your right. “How about we do something this weekend, just for the two boys; to make up for this whole ordeal?” she suggests.
“Can Tae come over?” Seungcheol asks, eyes wide in excitement. “To play with me, and he can meet Ponyo!”
“Fish girl?” Taehyung asks confusedly, and Seungcheol giggles, shaking his head.
“Ponyo is our new puppy! He’s so cute!”
“Puppy?!” Taehyung gasps and starts bouncing excitedly. “I can see puppy?!”
“Well, I think they’ve already planned it,” Seungcheol’s dad jokes, looking at you and Mingyu with a smile. “Would that be okay, for Taehyung to come over for the afternoon to play and meet the puppy?”
“I think we’d break his heart if we said no,” Mingyu jokes back, and you nod in agreement, all of you smiling as the two boys cheer happily, understanding that they get to hang out this weekend together— something they haven’t done before.
“Let’s exchange numbers,” Seungcheol’s mother suggests, already taking her phone from her handbag to unlock. “We can discuss it better through text; arrange a time, and you can let me know of any allergies or things we need to keep in mind for Taehyung’s visit.”
“That sounds great,” you agree and get up with your phone to approach the woman, who also gets to her feet so that you can exchange phone numbers.
After you and Seungcheol’s mother agree to text in the day to arrange the play date, she and her husband say goodbye to their son, and the rest of you, before they take their leave.
“Hey, Tae,” Mingyu calls conspiratorially while Mr. Lee helps Seungcheol put his bag and jacket away instead of leaving them hanging on the back of his wheelchair. Taehyung skips over to his dad curiously, then gasps in excitement when Mingyu pointedly shows the boy the giftbag by your feet.
“Mr. Min!” Taehyung exclaims, scrambling to clutch the gift bag close, before rushing over to his favourite teacher, where the man is flicking through papers as he stands beside the desk.
You and Mingyu remain where you are to watch contently as Taehyung excitedly gives Yoongi the gifts he picked out for him and Jihoon in Japan; a little plush Kumamon keyring for the teacher— because Taehyung knows the man apparently loves the mascot—, and a musical snow globe that plays a song for the anime that the character within is from, just because Taehyung thinks Jihoon will love the song even if he doesn’t watch anime. You think he’s right; it really is a beautifully soothing tune.
Yoongi enthuses about the gifts from where he had crouched down in front of the little boy to be at his height. He looks genuinely thrilled with his keychain, grinning big and gummy, and straightens just enough to clip it onto the belt loop of his jeans, making your heart do something funny and flippy seeing him be so good with your son.
You can’t help but wonder if your heart would skip over itself seeing Yoongi acting like this with other children. Something in you tells you it wouldn’t; that it’s the fact it’s your son he’s being so sweet to that makes your heart grow sweeter on him.
In an attempt to not let how soft the scene has made you show on your features, you grab Mingyu’s arm and call out to Taehyung that you’re going now. Once Taehyung has finished squeezing you both, and planting kisses on both of your cheeks— gaining one on each cheek in return at the same time from you both—, he rushes back over to his favourite teacher to tell him about Japan, and you all but drag Mingyu out, ignoring the shit eating grin he’s wearing.
“So, when’re you proposing?” he jokes as you exit the building. You wait until you’re in the car and safely out of view of little eyes and ears before retaliating with a hissed “shut the fuck up”, and a shove to his beefy arm. Mingyu just cackles in response.
To your utter joy, when Taehyung gets home, he’s back to skipping off ahead of his dad to excitedly tell you about his day. He tells you how in the morning, Jeonghan had apologised for not giving him Seungcheol’s party invite and being a meanie. Of course, Taehyung had easily forgiven him and gave Jeonghan and Jisoo their friendship bracelets. And to make his day even better than a promise of a puppy-play date with one of his best friends this weekend, and an apology and make up hug from Jeonghan, the boy even let Taehyung sit next to Seungcheol at lunch, in the seat that Jeonghan usually refuses to let anyone but him sit in.
Although you’re pretty sure it won’t be the last issue Taehyung ever has with his best friends, you’re glad to know that it seems that even though they’re small, they can forgive and be kind to each other in ways that you’ve seen some adults fail to do. You hope that the four will continue to remain such good friends for a long time. Taehyung really does deserve to grow with the boys who understand him and won’t ever judge him for his struggles.
As you listen to Taehyung enthuse about the games they played today between classes— all sit down games to accommodate Seungcheol’s bad pain day— you’re pretty confident that the four will truly be close for many years to come.
On Thursday, Taehyung comes home even more excited than Wednesday, having babbled to you the entire ride home about Jihoon finding him at lunch on the playground, even though Taehyung has never seen Jihoon on the playground before. But apparently, Jihoon had wanted to thank Taehyung for the gift and let him know that he searched the anime intro the snow globe played, then watched the anime and quickly decided he likes anime. He suggested that Taehyung watch it when he’s bigger too, because it’s probably too scary for Taehyung to watch at his age, so he needs to be bigger first. Taehyung hadn’t remembered what the anime is— neither could you— but the two of you made a plan for Taehyung to ask Yoongi at school to write it down for you to research it together.
Which somehow leads to Taehyung finding an anime Thursday evening once you get home from the school run, and watches it entirely enthralled. He does the same on Friday after school, finishing the single season show, then finds another to start, and declares that he loves anime during bedtime.
You’re not at all surprised that Saturday consists of Taehyung partaking in his new favourite hobby, watching anime. Admittedly, you also get into the show too and leave Mingyu to deal with the day’s chores and grocery run on his own. Not that he minds when it’s often down to you to do it all as he’s away for work so much.
Then, on Sunday, Taehyung wakes, and before he’s even fully cognisant, he toddles downstairs all on his own to turn on the TV and finish the episode he had to turn off half-way through for bedtime last night.
You’re entirely unaware of this until Mingyu wakes you up by sprawling over you— fully dressed despite it barely being 8am— and squeezes your cheeks playfully while you glare sleepily at him. “Good morning, cupcake!” he greets, and presses a kiss to your still squished cheeks before sitting up, kneeling over your waist. “I think our son is an anime addict,” he declares, making your eyes open again from closing ready to go back to sleep— or at least rest some more.
“What?” you mumble, shuffling around into a more comfortable position on your back to look up at him.
“I was making breakfast when he came down like an hour ago and didn’t even notice me in the kitchen, just turned on the TV and got back to that anime he was watching last night.”
“Seriously?” He nods, pouting a little, and you snicker. “Are you sulking because he didn’t notice you in the kitchen?”
Mingyu hesitates before answering in a tone that you don’t even have to know him well to know is a blatant lie. “No.”
You laugh and nudge him off of you so that you can toddle to the bathroom, suddenly aware of how full your bladder is. “Did you make him breakfast?”
“Yeah,” he confirms, following you into the bathroom. At this point, you’ve both cared for each other when the other has been ill and barely able leave the toilet— with a bucket clutched on naked thighs—, so you really have no issue with peeing with Mingyu hovering at the sink to ready your toothbrush for you, knowing you’ll want to brush your teeth as you’re up now.
As soon as you’ve flushed the toilet and are at the sink washing your hands, Mingyu attaches himself to your back and buries his face in your neck, still clutching your toothbrush in one hand. Though the second you take it from him and start to brush your teeth, his hand is under your pyjama top— one of his old t-shirts he claims has always looked better on you— to rub at your stomach.
“Let’s have another baby,” he says, making your freeze and look over your shoulder at him as if he’s crazy. Upon spotting his cheeky grin, you realise he’s just messing with you and shove him away before turning back around to return to brushing your teeth while he giggles away, so damn pleased at himself for his joke. “I’m kidding!” he declares when you’re done and turn to leave your ensuite. “I know you’re going to have a baby with Yoongi, if anyone.” He's cackling and running away even before he’s done with his taunt.
For a moment, you regret admitting your interest in Min Yoongi to Mingyu, but then the moment passes and you’re glad that your ex-husband is still your best friend, and the two of you still care and cherish one another to never hesitate to share any secrets with. Even if it leads to the man taking every opportunity to tease you. You know you’d do the same to him if the roles were reversed, so you can’t really be upset about it anyway.
As both you and Taehyung are already up when Mingyu has to leave to catch his flight at a little after 9am, you decide to drive him to the airport— with you and Taehyung still donned in your pyjamas. You and Taehyung sit in the car to watch the man rush off with his security team— who met you at the drop off point— and only drive off when he’s safely in the building after blowing kisses to the car in one last dramatic goodbye.
“Mama, can we get gift for Cheolie for late birthday?” Taehyung requests only minutes after driving away from the airport.
“Oh, yeah, we can do that. I didn’t even think that we didn’t get him a birthday gift,” you admit. “Good catch, baby. Shall we go now, or do you want to go home and change first?”
“Go now so we have plenty lots time,” he decides.
“Okey dokey!” you easily agree, and head to the shopping district. You’re entirely uncaring that you’re about to go shopping on a Sunday morning in your worn old pyjamas, with your hair lazily thrown up out of your face in a bun that Taehyung had insisted on doing himself before you left the house— so that your hair doesn’t get in your face when driving—, complete with mismatched, bright character clips. You probably look a mess, but you’re about five years past caring, not when your sole focus is always Taehyung.
Even though you know that Taehyung is going to carefully scrutinise every single option on the shelves before likely choosing to buy the very first thing he picks up, you really don’t mind at all. Taehyung always wants to do his very best for those he cares about, down to taking his time to make sure any gift he selects will be enjoyable for the receiver. The little boy just has so much love in him, and you’ll never intentionally do a thing to ever ruin that.
As soon as the front door of the Choi house opens, Seungcheol bounces out and happily throws himself at Taehyung in an overjoyed hug. He’s clearly more than excited to see Taehyung today, and thankfully, his body is being kind enough to him that he doesn’t seem to be in any pain. It’s definitely a cause to smile bright enough that his adorable dimples pop out, you think.
“I missed you!” Seungcheol declares as the boys embrace each other tightly, both wearing bright grins paired with sparkling eyes.
“I missed you!” Taehyung replies, entirely honestly because he always misses his loved ones, even after only a few hours apart.
“Come meet Ponyo!” Seungcheol says as soon as they break their hug, grabbing Taehyung’s hand to tug him in past his dad at the door, only stopping to show Taehyung where to put his slides, then the pair run off happily.
“Well, it seems like there shouldn’t be any problems today,” the man muses as he turns to you with a chuckle.
“It seems that way,” you agree and hold up the gift bag in your hands. “This is a late birthday gift for Seungcheol, Taehyung is very excited to give it to him; he’ll circle around to it when he’s over the excitement of puppy and a new place to explore,” you explain, handing over the gift bag.
“Oh, that’s so kind, you didn’t have to get him anything, but I know he will appreciate it. His mother and I do too.”
“It’s really no problem. One of Tae’s love languages is gift giving; it makes him really happy to give others things, so I’ll never say no when he wants to buy one of his best friends a birthday gift,” you assure with a vaguely dismissive wave of your hand, then offer the backpack on your shoulder, which the man takes without hesitation. “There should be everything he needs in there if he gets overwhelmed, plus a change of clothes just in case. He knows it’s there and he’s pretty independent with that stuff usually, so he should be fine to just get what he needs when he needs it so long as he knows where his bag is.”
“I’ll leave it on the dining table, out of reach of our youngest and the puppy, and tell him it’s there right away.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate how much care you and your wife have put into having Tae over. I know it can be a lot of information to take in, all his potential needs and such, but chances are, he’ll be okay. I’d just rather warn you just in case, and to minimise chances of things being uncomfortable for anyone.”
“We understand. Cheolie has a lot of needs himself, as you can imagine, so we really do understand. Sure, their needs are very different, but we still want to do our best to accommodate anyone special to our son.” He smiles at you a moment, then glances downwards, making you look down too and notice a toddler peering around his legs and clutching on. “Ah, this is our youngest, Hansol. Solie, say hi.” Hansol waves but doesn’t look at you.
“Hello, Hansol, it’s lovely to meet you,” you reply softly, leaning down a little to be closer to his level without risking overwhelming him. “I like your t-shirt, Spider-Man is my favourite superhero.” Hansol glances up at you through his thick lashes, and breaks into a quick, bright smile, before he giggles, turns, and runs off. “He’s adorable,” you coo as you straighten back up.
“I’ll admit, we did well with our sons in that way for sure,” the man jokes with a grin. Now you can see where Seungcheol gets his dimples from and can’t help but smile wider at him.
“Definitely, they’re both precious,” you agree with a nod. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Please don’t hesitate to call for any reason at all; I’m not doing anything today, so I can come back if Tae needs me at any point.”
“We will,” he promises, settling you a lot, because he really does look like he’s being genuine. “Have a nice time, relax a little.”
“Oh, I plan to,” you reply with a giggle and back up. You wave slightly in farewell before you return to your car and head off.
Due to the nice weather and great natural lighting, you head to a nearby lake only a ten-minute drive away with every intention of taking some photos. It’s been a while since you’ve worked with nature, not people, so the change of literal scenery is very welcome.
Despite your initial plans, once you’ve found somewhere to park and wander along towards the lake with your camera already out for anything that might catch your eye on the way, you spot something that gains your attention in a different way and makes you detour a little.
Sitting on a bench just outside of the playpark, along the path in the grass towards the lake, is none other than Jungkook. You two had great fun together in Hawaii, and you have a few hours to kill, so you entirely give up on your plan to take any photos and instead redirect your feet to his direction. Though, admittedly, you do stop and snap a few photos of the model while he’s unaware. You know he won’t care, especially if you send them to him later.
“Hey,” you greet once close enough, making Jungkook look over and quickly grin at you.
“Hey, mama. No cub today?”
“He’s having a playdate,” you inform, circling around the bench to plop down at his side comfortably, uncaring that his arm is spread over the back of the bench so is now almost around you. You want him all over you right now anyway and want to take him home sooner rather than later to achieve just that.
Yet, when you face forward, you suddenly realise that won’t happen as you spot Jihoon in the park and realise that Jungkook is seated in the perfect position to watch over him. The boy isn’t playing like the few other kids in the park, he’s just sitting on one of the swings, gently moving back and forth with his eyes on the clouds and headphones over his ears. It’s clear he’s in his own little world and more than content that way.
“Oh, are you babysitting Jihoon?” you question, surprised about the fact, because honestly, you hadn’t seen Jungkook interact with either Yoongi or Jihoon at Seokjin’s wedding, so you hadn’t been aware they even know each other. Especially not well enough for Jungkook to watch over the boy— and for Jihoon so seem so at east about it too.
“Yep.” Jungkook confirms simply with a nod, making you give him a questioning look. “What?”
“I didn’t know you even know him.”
“He’s my nephew.”
For a few seconds, all you can do is stare blankly at Jungkook, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. “He’s what?” you mutter dumbly.
“My nephew, as in I’m his uncle.”
“Oh my fucking god,” you wheeze out and turn away wide eyed, staring over at Jihoon unseeing. But it’s fine, he doesn’t even know you’re there, so he doesn’t get uncomfortable with your strange expression. “You’re Yoongi’s brother?” you whisper.
“Yeah, well, half, we have different dads. But we don’t really consider that most of the time.” You make a strange, almost strangled kind of sound in response. “What?”
“Nothing,” you lie, pretty blatantly too, but you’re too shocked with your mind whirling to even care or truly register it.
“Bullshit,” he scoffs, and gently hits your shoulder with his hand on the back of the bench. “I know you. What is it?”
For a moment, you just stare silently ahead, before you let out a heavy breath and slouch defeatedly. “Kinda got a thing for your brother,” you admit in a mumble. Instantly, Jungkook gasps in genuine shock, only to crack up into laughter a second later. “How did I not know you have a brother?” you grump, prodding his thick thigh where it’s almost pressed against your own.
It takes a moment for Jungkook to stop cackling away and actually respond. “Guess it never came up.” He snickers. “I’m not sure how he’ll feel about dating someone I’ve fucked, but I’ll put in a good word for you,” he offers as he puts his arm casually around your shoulders. You don’t even need to look at him to know he’s got a dumbass, highly amused grin on his face.
“Don’t bother,” you huff and Jungkook makes a curious noise, turning more serious now due to your own tone. “He wouldn’t even swap numbers with me for the sake of the boys hanging out. School policy, apparently.”
“What?” he mutters confused, only to realise a split second later and make a sharp noise of understanding. “Oh, oh shit, Tae goes to Hoon’s school, I forgot.” He hums, then quickly makes another confused sound. “Wait, that shouldn’t matter though.”
“Yoongi’s Tae’s sub right now,” you inform.
“Ah, yeah, that’ll do it,” he agrees. You’re still watching a contently oblivious Jihoon swaying on the swing, but you can see Jungkook’s head bobbing in your peripheral. “Teachers can’t get into romantic or sexual relationships with the parents or guardians of students under their direct care,” he says in a way that sounds like he knows that particular rule far too well when he is neither a staff member nor parent of a student at the school. For a second, you start to run through the staff you know in your mind to try and figure out who Jungkook may’ve seduced in order to learn that rule so well, but then he continues speaking and you truly register what he’s saying. “If he wasn’t Tae’s teacher, he could do whatever he wants with you.”
The information Jungkook tells you doesn’t entirely make sense to you, not in your situation. You hadn’t given any hints to Yoongi about wanting to fuck or date him, past that moment of weakness when you flirted as he and Jihoon left your hotel suite in Hawaii that day. “What about platonic?” you question, shuffling to sit up straight again and look at Jungkook.
“Platonic?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you questioningly.
“Yeah, I asked to exchange numbers, not nudes,” you point out.
“Ah.” Jungkook’s expression turns into a playful smirk, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you comically. “Guess you have a better chance than you realise.”
You sigh, pouting a little. “Not now that I’ve sat on your face.”
“Yeah, probably not,” he agrees with a few more amused cackles, making you sigh again and turn to face forward again while putting your head on his shoulder comfortably. “We should do that again, if it’s already fucked up for you,” he suggests, resting his head on top of yours.
“Mm, sure,” you concede, because it really was a great experience that you’d be a fool to refuse given the chance. “But come February, I’m sitting on his face,” you decide determinedly.
“Okay, whatever you say, mama,” he agrees and pats your shoulder.
Honestly, you really don’t know if Yoongi would be okay with seeing you in any capacity past platonic once he learns that you’ve fucked his half-brother, but Jungkook knows the man better than you and seems to think that there’s at least some chance for you to worm yourself into Yoongi’s heart— and bed—, so you’re going to keep hope in your chest and wait for spring to bloom a new chance for you.
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SUMMARY | You join KQ University’s Taekwondo club and immediately get underestimated — especially by San, the star member who treats you like you might break. When you finally reveal your true skill by sweeping him in a spar, everything shifts, and San becomes fascinated, competitive, and increasingly drawn to you.
PAIRINGS | San x Reader
RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked
GENRE | smut, romance, comedy, college au
CONTENT/WARNINGS | non-idol au, profanity, flirting, teasing, reader is a tiny terror, san is tkd captain, mentions of delinquent activities (ahem reader), sexual jokes, protective sex (wrap it up ya'll), oral sex (both receiving, giving), dirty talk, lots of kissing, skin kisses, hair pulling, fingering
AUTHOR’S NOTE | She's finally doneeeeeeeee. FINALLY. I was suppose to release this back on the 27th but man, real life has been kicking my butt. This is for the Live Alive collab, so please check out all the other fics! Thank you @sungbeam for hosting this and thank you to all the wonderful writers/friends I made throughout the whole event. I love you all and please check out their fics as well! 💚 on another note, i gave up editing halfway through the fic so there's a lot of present and past tense and some grammatical errors going on haha. I also feel like my smut scene is rushed and lacking but my brain decided not to brain towards the end, so it's just short and sweet. But nonetheless, I hope you all enjoy it!
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"No way she's a Phys Ed Major!"
You huff out a quiet scoff at the whisper from somewhere behind you. This isn't the first, and it sure isn't going to be the last time you overhear people talking about your major. Sure, KQ University had many majors, all having their pros and cons. However, whenever people hear a student majoring in physical education, they somehow get the idea that you're tall, fit, and had the muscular features of an average bodybuilder. It can certainly make things a hell lot easier if this is true, and, well, you hate to burst their bubble, but alas. This stereotype can't have been far from the truth when it comes to you. And, it has cause many issues on more than one occasion.
Compared to all the tall and muscular men and women in the Phys Ed Department, you look tiny at 5 feet 2 inches, and you have the same body shape of any petite girl your age. All the way through your school years, this is how it's been, and even when you reached university, nothing seemed to change. You transferred to KQU as a junior only because your father took the offer for a teaching position as Head of Maths in the prestigious institution, so obviously, you followed right behind when your family relocated from a small country town to Seoul. Being the new transfer kid in the university definitely didn't help the situation. On your first day, there had already been several rude comments coming your way as you made your way down the long corridors about how you only got into KQU because of nepotism and all that jazz.
Though the teachers in this institution are excellent, and even your father will agree that you're better off studying at KQU over any other school, you wish the other kids could mind their own business for once. No one really knew about your true capabilities. You'd been hiding them for so long. There's no way they'd be prepared if they ever got a glimpse of the true monster hiding under the fragile skin of yours. Though you would definitely enjoy their horrified expressions after beating their asses at a sport of their choice. After all, fighting was all you did back home.
Oh, to punch someone for fun. You sigh at the thought. You truly miss the old times back home where a bloody nose could be easily passed off as a fall and bruised knuckles weren't something to worry about. Your parents knew, obviously, and your brothers, but other than that, not a soul in KQU would ever expect someone as timid as yourself could ever fight for fun, or even defend themselves from harm, for that matter. Your parents hoped that you would join a club to vent your pent-up stress and aggression, and you couldn't agree more, although, in all honestly, clubs sounded dull.
So, here you are, on a Thursday evening after classes, sitting in your father's office, bored out of your mind while waiting for him to be done with grading his students' projects for the term.
"Why don't you go join a club?" Your dad's voice wake you from your slumber, and you lift your head to peer at your old man tiredly.
"What if I went to go pick a fight outside instead?" Your question, of course, earns a deadpan look and a dismissive wave of the old man's hand.
"Y/n," your dad sighs heavily and you internally wince, "You promised to find a better way to deal with your frustrations."
"But-"
"No buts," he interrupts, not even sparing a glance as his head remains down, eyes focusing on grading, "Do you really think I want my daughter, the youngest and the most precious in the house, to get caught up in some bloody fight somewhere? Think about your mom, kiddo."
You lay your head back down with a resigned groan. For the life of you, you can't imagine why this conversation always go the same way, though you suppose you can give the old man some credit for even trying. Not that you'd actually follow through with joining any club at KQU anyway. Why should you make an effort to get along with a bunch of stuck-up, snobbish pricks when you didn't have to?
"So boring..." You whisper against the table you're slump against.
"You know the university has a Taekwondo club right?" He hums distractingly, never averting his gaze, and you scoff lightly.
"Why are we talking about taekwondo?" You tilt your head with a confused frown. "Does Yunho-oppa have a match or something?"
"Why not join, kiddo? Sounds like a fun way to expend that excess energy, and you can punch and kick all you want, like you always wanted to do," he smiles lightly.
"It's not the same," you grouch, making his eyes soften on you.
"Why don't you at least try it. Your mother would certainly appreciate if you found another outlet, kiddo, instead of running off outside all the time."
You groan again, muttering, "Fine, I'll go give it a go."
Your father simply nods with a satisfied hum. The both of you continue the comfortable silence until it's time to go home, with the only sounds echoing in his office are your soft sighs and the quiet flipping of paper from time to time. Your older brothers left the house earlier in the day, both making plans with their respective friends, leaving your mother and yourself to dine with the old man tonight.
When you reach your home, it's getting pretty dark already. Your brother, Yunho, the eldest, greets you at the front door. "Welcome home, dad. Shortie."
You scrunch your face at your nickname, but nevertheless let out a small greeting and skip up the stairs straight to your bedroom. To be honest, Yunho was kind of the sole reason as to why you hadn't gone into another fight in months. Well, in other words, your older brother has been stalking you the moment your parents notified him of your little "extracurricular activities". Letting you keep on with your antics is one thing, but your elder brother, the smart and level-headed man that he is, can't let it continue, even when your mother and father has already let it slip. No doubt his efforts have paid off as you tone down on fighting other kids after a serious heart-to-heart.
"Stop calling me that," you turn away from him, your feet pitter-pattering up the wooden stairs of the old traditional home to make your escape. "And why aren't you with your buddies?"
"I don't feel well today, so I just finished my online lecture and have decided to just spend my evening on the sofa," Yunho shrugs. "Wooyoung is the only one out at the moment."
"Booooring."
"Says the kid who hangs out in her dad's office," he points out with an eyebrow raise.
"Better than a couch potato!" You retort back childishly.
"Did dad tell you to join the Taekwondo club already?" Your brother says out of the blue, causing you to turn towards him with a nod. "Give it a try. I told the coach you'll be checking it out tomorrow."
Your eyes widen in shock before narrowing into slits. "What the hell, Yunho? Give me a heads up will you, asshole."
"Chill," your brother rolls his eyes. "Imagine all the eye candy you'd be able to see, lil sis." His words earn an even deeper grimace, and you scoff, unimpressed.
"Ew," you groan. "I am going to find the biggest and ugliest guy on the team and hit on him and make you witness everything. Screw you, bro."
Yunho doesn't seem bothered by your threat as he waves you off. "Suit yourself, shortie. As if anyone would ever believe you'd date such a man."
You blink. The fuck does this guy take you for? You huff in annoyance and roll your eyes as you walk off towards your room with a bit more force to your footsteps.
When Yunho told the team that his little sister might join, San did not expect her to be this little. Honestly, as soon as Yunho mentioned that Y/N would come down to practice and "observe" in a rather unimpressed tone, the members in their male exclusive group all shared a knowing look. None of them expected the newcomer to look this, uh, small and cute. She definitely doesn't look anything like Yunho or Wooyoung when the latter had shown them a picture during their lunch break earlier.
San can't help but notice your petite figure as you introduced yourself to the squad with a tight smile and a slight bow. All the guys nod curtly as the coach continues with introducing the team and its achievements to you. All the other male members are clearly thrown off guard as well, when the coach invites them to showcase their individual tumbling, kicks, and flips. They expected some sort of reaction from the girl, an excited or impressed squeal, a breathy compliment, or perhaps a few gasps here and there as most girls do when watching athletes, but they all received none.
Not a word is spoken nor is there an exaggerated action in sight. You remain unmoving the entire time. Didn't blink an eye nor move an inch. It's like a wall had erected itself around you the second you arrived, isolating you from the rest, and creating an invisible barrier to prevent any form of interaction, making the guys question your presence, and for Mingi to speak out loud exactly what's on every other members' mind.
"Is she on drugs?"
"Mingi!" Seonghwa scolds with a roll of his eyes, smacking the man at the back of his head. "That's not a nice thing to say about a lady."
Yunho sighs and shakes his head. "Nah, she's just bored."
"Bored?" Yeosang shares a confused look with the rest of his group, the odd reaction still fresh in their minds. "That's impossible. No girl ever shows up to one of our matches uninterested in the sport, Yunho. This has to be a first for us."
"Dude, trust me," Yunho laughs, patting his friend's shoulder, "She's not interested in sports of any kind."
"Why is she even here then?" Asks a thoroughly confused Seonghwa, causing his friend to shrug nonchalantly.
"For eye candy?" Yunho chucks a wink their way. "I wouldn't be worried about her though. Y/N can handle herself."
"Bullshit," San immediately challenges with a shake of his head. "She looks like she'll break the moment any of us touch her."
Yunho shifts a questionable gaze toward his group members, wondering why they were all still riled up. A small smirk appears on his lips at the thought of their reactions, and his baby sister's plan. "Just you wait. Shortie would be making your life a living hell real soon."
With that final statement, Yunho begins walking toward where you are talking to the coach. The other guys all look at Yunho as he takes the spot beside you and slips an arm over your shoulder, towering over you in height, a teasing glint sparkling in his eyes as he looks back and wiggles his eyebrows. Yunho isn't kidding, they realize with a defeated groan.
At the beginning of your arrival, there's been a weird aura around the petite lady. You're hard to read. Never offering words, you mostly reply in non-verbal nods and small hums of understanding or approval, but not until Yunho comes over to your side, do you completely flip the switch. Gone is your expressionless face.and replaced with a scowl as you try to shrug your brother's impossibly, heavy arm off your shoulder.
"Y/N, just to get a good grasp on your skills, I'm going to pair you up with San," the Coach gestures to the male beside him, and you quirk a brow in wonder. "San is the team captain and one of the best in the club. Don't worry he won't bite." The man laughs and you nod mutely.
"Are you sure coach?" One of the members asks. "She's so small!"
"What if a little cutie like you get hurt?" Another remarks, concern on his face as if you're his little sibling.
You can't blame them, and honestly it's been hilarious seeing these reactions. "I can take care of myself, thanks," you shrug nonchalantly, earning more comments and jokes as they talk in hush tones, probably hoping that you can't hear anything that's being said about you. You know what they're saying. After all, this is how your interactions always end up going down. It's funny though, because they have no idea that the 'weak' little girl that they all talk about could most likely be able to throw their sorry asses halfway across the room if they mess with her, especially the ones who seem to have the confidence of an alpha.
"Shut the hell up guys, she's new so be a bit nicer," the man next to the coach, all muscle and broad, chides the other team members, an exasperated frown pulling on his insanely handsome features. "Ignore those idiots. I'm Choi San. Captain and star athlete here in our humble Taekwondo Club."
So this is Wooyoung'sbest friend, huh? You catch the sarcasm in his tone as the other members scoff, pushing San jokingly as he playfully shoves them back. This guy sure does have a bit of ego going on in that head of his but it's easy to see how genuine he is. He seems like a great friend to have around with his contagious personality.
"Don't introduce yourself as a star athlete. That's totally a turnoff, dude," Yunho speaks up, snickering quietly, "Girls don't like guys with big egos. Isn't that right, Y/N?"
"If he has the skills to back it up, then why would it bother me?" You simply shrug your shoulders, eyes landing on San's surprised gaze at your reply. Though a little smirk's tugging on his lips, he gives an affirmative nod as everyone else goes dead quiet, eyes wide as they slowly exchange glances between them. This is obviously new for them, to meet someone that will say it straight to their faces rather than giving them some excuse.
"Enough chitter chatter!" The coach calls out. "Time for practice."
"Give the cutie some slack, she might break easily," someone comments and the other guys laugh.
"Go to Hell, man," San flicks his friend's forehead with a little pout, making him shriek as he backs away, causing more laughs.
"Five bucks that the new girl can stand her ground," one of them pipes in from their little cluster behind San as another member silently places a $5 bill on top of the plastic mat before his friends were off shouting another bet as another person joins.
"Ten that she knocks him flat out on his ass," you overhear another.
San turns his head back, visibly frowning at his friends before giving you a concerned look. "I don't want to hurt her..." His lips slightly forming a pout as the taller of the two placed an arm around his shoulder, and patting his back encouragingly.
"Just be easy, dude!" They answer, trying not to chuckle when San smacks the other's chest and turns towards you.
"You don't have to go easy on her," Yunho clasps the smaller guy's shoulder with a squeeze.
"The hell kind of brother are you!?" One of your brother's teammates shouted, mouth dropping in disbelief. "Is she even okay with this!?"
"Chill guys," Yunho laughs with an easy wave. "Trust me."
"Come at me, I'll do the best I can but we'll stop the moment you start to struggle," San says as his stance changes. Holding out his arms in front of him as you copy the posture, slowly settling in a comfortable yet challenging spot. "I'll start a little slow, okay?"
You simply nod, accepting the fact that, even if he does put some strength behind it, he's still going to hold back and treat you as if you were made of glass. You know he isn't trying, that he's being cautious. Okay, maybe you'll let that slide since this is a new training, and the last thing you want is to scare him. You obviously don't want any of these goofballs to know that you actually have a mean punch. For now, the less people that knows, the better.
Shaking off the thoughts, you let your brain concentrate on San's movements in front of you, ready to catch him off-guard. The man before you starts out slow, and is so, so damn careful to the point of overstepping. It's nice he's being cautious but at this point, he's becoming predictable and easy to read, and with every step that he makes closer towards you, it gives you enough time to calculate just where he's going to grab next, or which part of your body he would aim.
It definitely annoys you.
Hell, his face even annoys you. You're no stranger to a handsome face or two; after all, there's no shortage of those in the campus. It's just that his face is doing some weird stuff to your insides that you aren't ready for. That annoying, fluttering, gut wrenching stuff. And he is a senior, so... you can't really punch his attractive face without good reason, or could you...?
Focus, Y/N, you curse silently. The point of the drill is to analyze how the opponent will approach, predict their movement, and land a perfectly timed defensive or offensive maneuver. Nothing's going to change if you keep distracting yourself because you find a certain guy a little (read: really) cute.
"You ready, cutie?" San calls out, using the newfound nickname everyone else started referring you to. Great, exactly what you need. It's one thing being called 'shortie' by Yunho but now you're being stuck as an apparent adorable child under the eyes of your future teammates. Perfect. The whole university's going to call you 'cutie' forever until you graduate and get out of here. "Hey cutie, any time today."
That only manage to piss you off even more. You don't need his damn sympathy, his soft taps, or him holding himself back just so he can avoid accidentally hurting you. You know damn well that this is Taekwondo, that bruises are definitely going to happen, so you'd rather be prepared, prefer if your potential injuries are given to you as the result of actually sparing, and not because some idiot feels that he needs to treat you differently. If there's anyone out there who can really manage to have the ability to touch you, they can. Period. So you need him to stop babying you.
He lunges for you first, testing the waters, his leg barely sweeping close enough as you kick the air where his attack had been aiming for. From the corner of your eye, you can see the club's other members gathering around, perhaps to observe the match or just enjoy it while it lasts. They'd eventually want a good show. San holds himself back and treats you with care but you can also tell that it's getting tiring and so are the whispers coming from those idiots at the back, joking and laughing, probably thinking you aren't aware of the mocking remarks that are being made about you behind your back.
Poor girl probably won't be able to put a scratch on him, much less get him to fall. Heck, she doesn't even look capable enough to be doing any kind of exercise. Just look at her. She looks small enough to break like glass.
And that's your final straw.
No one sees it coming as you let out a perfectly controlled, powerful back kick. Landing it straight at San's stomach, catching him by surprise. There's an immediate hush that covers the entirety of the gym, all of them in shock and awe at the scene happening right before their eyes.
"What the-"
"Did she just-"
"Is she crazy?"
Everyone's voicing their opinion loudly, trying to make sense of everything that just occurred. San looks at you in a state of awe and you can see that it takes everything in his system to prevent his mouth from dropping to the floor at the sight before him.
Yeah, now he's seeing you.
"Dude, can't believe that you got your ass handed to you," Mingi jokes, patting a dumbfounded San's shoulder, who's still processing everything that happened. It's embarrassing to say the least, because in his eyes, you turned the situation around with no one seeing it coming.
Practice is already over for the day and yet San's still running the series of events in his mind. San, the golden boy of the Taekwondo Club and as well as a well liked student overall, is quite the charmer. Everyone knows that there's no chance in heaven, or hell even, that he'd ever lose. However, the events that just took place before his eyes aren't a figment of his imagination. It's very much reality and he doesn't know if he's mad or absolutely fascinated by your skills. It's honestly a mystery how you seem to fly under the radar and keep the facade of not knowing a thing or two when it comes to the sport and maybe, just maybe, San's intrigued enough to want to see more from you, and isn't a hundred percent sure if this is some kind of a sign to stop giving you the attention of a wounded puppy or not.
"So..." an arm flings around San's shoulders, "heard from Yunho that our cute little sister knocked your ass out," a loud boisterous laugh erupts right next to his face. Wooyoung, his best friend, snorts and nearly chokes on his own saliva as he wipes his wet eyes, probably not believing whatever the hell Yunho had told him in the first place. "Can't believe my kid sister, wait I can believe it, took the mighty Golden Boy, Choi San, down."
San lets out a huff of annoyance at the title he's given by the other members of the club. Of course they'd use a dumb nickname just to tease and rile him up. Maybe the nickname they gave you doesn't sit well with you. Maybe that's why he got his ass handed to him. But still, San can't shake off the feeling of wanting to know where the hell you learned to fight like that. Who did you train under? No. Did you train on your own? Hell no. You had to have studied under an athlete or someone as skilled. Otherwise the Golden Boy of the School wouldn't have taken a nasty hit.
"Dude, what's your sister's name?" He asks, turning his gaze to the side to catch his friend's expression.
"Huh?" Yunho let out a confused hum, "what for?"
"Cause I'm interested in who trained her."
"Pft, no one trained her, Sannie," Wooyoung chides, shaking his head. "She picked it up somewhere when we lived back in the country," his friend pause, a wicked grin suddenly blooming onto his handsome face. "Interested in my little sister, are we?" He jokes, the spark of amusement lit up in Wooyoung's eyes. "Looks like she won't have a problem beating up your ass this time."
"You guys are hilarious," San push\ off his friends' weights from his body and begins to walk towards his sports bag in hopes of forgetting about everything that occurred in the gym just minutes ago. He never got the chance to tell you his thanks for sparing with him. For some odd reason, the adrenaline's pumping through his system more than the pain as San stares back in shock the moment you had thrown the blow.
Perhaps, Yunho's baby sister did, in fact, pack a serious punch. Maybe San might've been overreact on the whole getting beaten in front of everyone else. Did he get beat by a girl? Hell yeah he did. Is he angry at her for hitting him harder than expected? God no. Actually, he's a little, just a little impressed. Even the others seemed a bit mesmerized, but he isn't about to openly admit it to them anytime soon.
He's not going to deny that you aren't cute, that's for sure. Though, he never thought that someone as small as you are capable of throwing such a big hit to his gut. He clearly doesn't want to hurt you, that's one thing for sure. He might be the star athlete, the big boy in the team, and a little bit cocky — but that didn't mean he doesn't know how to care and be mindful of someone else. As a matter of fact, if any of the club members are on the ground and hit really, really hard, San would rush by and check their injuries first. In all honestly, he hadn't thought about what kind of girl was going to show up but he didn't really expect to run into someone so... amazing.
Okay, maybe he needs to tone it down a bit with all the compliments for this tiny, adorable, and totally capable-of-murder-if-she-wanted-to girl.
It's not only the fact that he finds you cute as a button, but the fact that he can't deny his true thoughts of wanting you on the club's team and getting a little closer to you after that incident. With just that one encounter alone, you piqued his interest and curiosity; enough for him to want to know if there is anything you didn't show the others, and as the good hearted person he is, he is actually willing to go along with your ruse of innocence. He doesn't know you all that well yet and so far you're nothing but a pretty and somewhat-mysterious stranger, though he hopes, silently and sincerely, that he'll get to know you better and have some conversation soon enough.
Though as fate would have it, that may prove to be a challenge all of its own. You didn't even acknowledge his existence nor his compliments after the first week of training as you seem more interested in joining your brother's practice instead. Apparently, you have no intention of teaming up with him anymore. San can't understand why that bothered him just a little. Perhaps a bit of irritation at your snob and aloof attitude that somehow sparks more and more of his curiosity. Maybe he'll end up trying harder next time.
Whenever there is a next time.
You hate to admit it, but you ended up joining the Taekwondo club simply out of spite and boredom. That, and the fact that your family made it a personal goal to get you more involved with sports so you will stay busy, and focus on anything other than picking street fights. Though Yunho had sworn up and down that there's no fighting outside the mat, that if he hears that his beloved baby sister is hurting people, he'd throttle the living crap out of you and then proceed with locking you away, never to see the light of day again. Did you believe his threats? Absolutely. Would you follow through with them? Hell no.
"Will you quit whining? All these whiny voices are making my head hurt," you growl, spinning around to give everyone on the practice mat an unimpressed and mildly irritated stare, looking each of the boys directly in the eye as if daring them to disagree with the sudden demand to be quiet. You're really starting to become annoyed.
After landing a super impressive hit on a certain 'Golden boy' (you can't resist adding those air quotations every single time because you feel like it fits him so nicely), people always come around to ask questions and if you want to spar. All of which you decline the moment they finish their request. Yes, they look strong and very capable but you're not much into showing off your skills to the entire school just yet. No, thank you. As of today you'll stay right where you are, seated and undisturbed in your spot across the gym.
"Cutie!" Mingi calls out, making a beeline for you as you're mindlessly scrolling away on your phone while waiting for the Taekwondo Club's meet.
"Call me cutie one more time and I'll break something, Song," you glare, briefly removing your gaze away from the device in your hands before giving the grinning idiot your attention. "What do you want now?"
He snickers quietly as he bends slightly to lower himself, so the two of you are on the same level. His towering frame is something you aren't very much fond of since it reminds you of how tall Yunho is. "I heard something interesting recently."
"As long as it isn't a love confession then I'm not interested."
"Oh c'mon, don't be like that, Y/N-ah. We're friends here," he pouts childishly, a frown adorning his handsome features.
"We're not friends," you mutter as you point at him and yourself, "You're my brothers' friend. Simple as that."
"Rude!" The taller man huffs, crossing his arms defensively and pretending to be insulted.
"Mingi! C'mon, get your ass over here already. Practice isn't waiting for you!" Someone in the crowd calls out. "Y/N! You too!"
"What now?" You let out an annoyed grumble as the annoying figure of Mingi smirks and runs away, leaving you alone without another word. Oh you are going to punch that grin right off his smug little face once you get the chance. But you sigh instead, tucking your phone away for now and join everyone. Maybe today won't suck.
Turns out, you're mistaken. It sucks big time, especially when the coach announces that they're going to have a mini exhibition at the upcoming university festival and, you have a strong, ominous feeling in your gut that this entire thing isn't going to bode very well in the least bit. Everyone seems excited, all except you that is. What does he think you are, some freaking entertainment puppet for the entire student body to ogle and gossip about? Hell no, it's definitely, definitely, not happening. Not that anyone is really paying any attention to your reaction and quiet grumbling.
"Any volunteers?" The coach calls out, taking his attention from you and scanning the circle, "No? None? Okay then I'm choosing," he announces, looking over all of the members, taking his time with each person, contemplating his decision for a solid minute before he lands his eyes on someone. And then another.
And when your gaze follows, it's as though all hell had frozen over.
"Y/N, you. Come here and stand right next to San," he orders with an unsettling amount of joy and glee. "The two of you will be this year's main showcase."
Oh no. Absolutely not.
"Excuse me?" The question accidentally slips out as you point at yourself and give the club's leader the most deadly glare. You with the Golden Boy himself? In a showcase at that? That was like hell froze over and is probably still burning to the ground at that very moment. "Do I have to?"
"Yes," the coach bluntly answers with the straightest of faces.
"Ugh, okay fine!" You sigh, raising your hands in surrender. If it isn't for his pleading gaze, the other members looking excited and begging through their eyes to make them part of the main event, you would've walked right out the damn door. "Fine," you huff and turn towards San, "I'll help your ass this one time."
San lets out a laugh. "Then we'd better make the best showcase we've ever had, right partner?" His tone of voice comes out teasing, amused as though this entire thing isn't such a drag, especially when the majority of the boys starts yelling in excitement, chanting that you're a goddess who walks upon the mortal world.
Goddess. Yeah.
Pfft, bullshit.
You sigh in defeat as you see San, looking so happy, excited, and enthusiastic. His eyes are practically sparkling like stars. "Please don't tell me it's going to be the usual stuff we're doing now."
"No. It'll be way harder and I won't hold back," he replies in a gentle tone of voice. "Think you'll manage?"
"As long as you don't treat me like fragile little flower then, yeah, I guess I can deal with that, pretty boy," you joke, "I like it hard and rough anyway."
And apparently that statement really sets something in his expression and core, for in seconds the look on his face and the whole feel of the atmosphere in the entire gym changes. The other members start whistling and calling out teasing words and jokes. Even the coach starts patting San's back and grinning from ear-to-ear.
What's with the sudden attention?
"Now, now, I think the real question here is do you have enough experience?" San questions with a smile.
"Fuck off," you roll your eyes, huffing under your breath. "Do you, pretty boy?"
And the Golden Boy could no longer hold himself together as his cheerful laugh resonates throughout the entire gym. The atmosphere around the two of you begins to melt and relax as he gazes softly, the tips of his ears reddening. It doesn't take him much to feel an inkling of what you're all about now. It makes his stomach flutter a lot. "Probably more experience than you, Cutie."
"Bold of you to assume that, Golden Boy," you retort, shifting your feet back as the rest of the students finish up their drills and head towards the bench to grab some water and their towels.
"Good luck, guys, and please don't accidentally kill one another," Yunho interrupts, patting your head like a child. He turns to San, "If I were you, I'd start praying."
"Not funny," you glare, batting away Yunho's hand. "Can we just start already before I walk out of here?"
"So impatient. So very impatient," your older brother laughs. "Whatever happened to the old sweet you?"
"I don't know that person," you flip him off. "That person disappeared long ago."
Yunho laughs, "Now this is the tiny terror I love so dearly," and with that he spins around and leaves, rushing the others off to the bench with a wide smile.
"Well," San hums and steps closer to your space. "It'll be interesting to work with you. That's for sure, cutie."
"I'm telling you what I told Song," you glare, "if you keep calling me cutie, I will break something."
He chuckles, "Alright, alright. I understand," he moves closer until there's no gap between the two of you, no distance as you feel his breath tickling your neck, sending a chill throughout your core. "What do you want me to call you?"
There's an insufferable smug smile tugging his lips as he moves an inch further, looking you dead in the eyes, gaze serious. And, surprisingly, he never moves another muscle, never steps closer and never moves away. You're not going to deny that he's gorgeous with his pearly, white teeth. He's attractive and he probably knows it too but what he doesn't know was that you're not falling for those dazzling doe-eyes.
"Don't be that guy, Choi," you grumble, moving an inch away. "I'm not going to be won over by a pretty face."
"So you admit that I have a pretty face?" He retorts back.
"For fuck sakes..." you swear under your breath, trying not to get so heated over how calm and cocky and confident San was. You hate how calm he's acting in the situation. He's frustrating yet charming, and it's infuriating that a guy like him exists, a guy that could seemingly shake things around you.
And to make matters even more complicated, and that's an understatement, the Golden Boy throws on another charming, smile, adding on, "You're quite the fascinating little firecracker."
"And you're quite an ass," you retort. "Don't see how all the girls drool over you. Such a waste of your attractiveness." You take a step forward and close the space between the two of you. Gaze locking. The muscles in his jaw twitches as you reach up and gently pat his cheek, "Be careful. One day I may just bite that cute nose."
San smirks, reaching out and gently tilting your chin so you'd look up, a knowing glint in his eyes as he whispers, "Careful there, cutie. I just might bite first."
Oh this Golden Boy is seriously tempting fate, or in this case, you.
"So you and San are paired up for the showcase, huh?"
"How does everyone know?" You groan, throwing yourself on a bench with a sigh. You look at your two older brothers, hoping one will get you something cold to drink to help soothe the nerves that are suddenly spiking.
"Because Wooyoung has a big mouth," your taller, bigger, and somewhat slightly intimidating brother replies, "but really, you shouldn't be surprised. Either way, everyone is bound to know especially if dad finds out."
"He won't. Because no one is allowed to tell dad," you stuck your tongue out.
Wooyoung snorts loudly in amusement. "Too late. Dad found out."
"Of course he found out," you say, dropping your head in annoyance as a headache begins to grow as you rub at the bridge of your nose. "I hate attention."
"Uh huh, sure you do," Wooyoung puffs with a wry smirk, nudging you. "How many fights have you been in and always drawn attention? Face it, little sis, you're an attention magnet and you aren't about to hide from that fact," he snickers as you smack him on his arm, letting out a yelp. "Ow, hey!"
"Call me an attention magnet again, and I'll eat all your lunches until the end of this month," you threaten, lifting yourself off the bench, "and then we'll see who's laughing."
"Alright, alright." Yunho cuts in, "Quit it, you guys," he flings his arms around both of his siblings, patting their heads. "Remember when Y/N was just an innocent little sweetie, she would always hug me and sleep with me to fight off her nightmares, I would—"
"No, no, no, shut up shut up shut up," you interrupt, "We are not bringing up the past again. The past stays in the past where it belongs, in the history books and none of us should look at it. So no."
"Okay, I got it," the oldest sibling snickers, "maybe later. Anyway, good job at not killing anyone today, baby sister," Yunho laughs, ruffling up your hair and pulling away.
"Wasn't going to," you grumble in annoyance, "because someone," you glare at Wooyoung, "told dad."
Wooyoung tries looking oh, so very, not, guilty but fails miserably. "How can I not? Your situation is gold! Absolute freaking gold!" He hollers in between his fit of laughter, not able to hold himself still. "My kid sister and my best friend? Hilarious!"
"Are you done laughing at my misery now?" you hiss, sending a quick death glare and hoping he'd be quiet. But of course he won't since he's Wooyoung. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go find Hongjoong and Jongho to get dinner. See you losers at home." You turn and head off, eager to find either your friends and bribe them with the possibility of buying dinner or snacks if it means taking you off campus. Anything is better than being here.
"Hey, be safe and watch where you're going!" Yunho calls after you.
"Yeah, sure," you throw back at them, waving a hand lazily as you continue along your merry way, rushing to the courtyard where Hongjoong or Jongho frequently spends time after classes.
Of course, since you're preoccupied on your phone to text and see where they could've been, you fail to realize you run right into someone's back, making contact. A curse escapes your mouth and you mumble words under your breath as you attempt to regain your balance but fail to as the other body spun around quickly and catches you by the arm in time.
"Damn it, dude," you curse, holding onto your poor phone which is still in your hand before looking up and meeting a very familiar set of eyes. "Fuck me, it's you."
San laughs lightly as he helps steady you once more, not letting go of your arm. "If we were dating, I'd definitely would," he replies smoothly, a cocky smirk on his lips. "Anywhere and everywhere you ask."
"Oh my God, you're fucking awful," you gasp, tugging away and rolling your eyes. "Get your dirty thoughts away from me and out of your filthy mind," you scowl, dusting off your outfit. "It's tiring enough to see your annoyingly handsome face at club practice everyday."
"You think I'm handsome, huh?" he raises a brow, looking smug. It doesn't take a genius to see where the conversation is going and you'd be an absolute idiot and fool to fall for such a trick. "Could've told me earlier," he huffs, looking somewhat upset. "But that aside, where are you rushing off too, Cutie?" He teases.
"Don't. Call. Me. Cutie." Your sharp gaze cuts him to the core, letting him feel the intensity of your irritation and anger at being interrupted and taunted.
"Okay, okay, my mistake," San raises his hands in surrender. "No need to go off the hinges."
"I have a name, use it," you grit.
"I'll use it if you call me by my name and not 'Golden Boy'," he retorts.
"Good grief," you hiss, rolling your eyes and turning your body away, ready to leave.
"You aren't going to?"
You smirk. "Nah, you don't deserve it," you move a few inches.
"Y/N."
The sound of your name spilling out of his lips in such a beautiful, soft and warm way makes your heart thump with anticipation, and a pleasant heat swirls inside, rushing towards your stomach. You hum in approval, stepping away to gauge the handsome guy's reaction, watching him intently and listening.
"Hmm? What did you say?" You turn your gaze away, pretending that what happened a second ago wasn't much to behold.
He blinks a few times and opens his mouth and nothing comes out. This is totally new to him. San never had any girl treat him like this and it's sending his senses spiraling. He doesn't know what exactly you're playing or are even up to but it's driving his interest even higher.
"Focus, pretty boy. My friends are waiting and I'm starving," you pat his cheek, "save the flirting or whatever this is," you motion a finger at the two of you, "for another day when you aren't such a mess."
"Then have dinner with me," he suggests in a haste.
You freeze in your spot. "What?"
"Have dinner with me. My treat," he offers once more, voice holding the most sincere of intents. The offer sounds sweet and thoughtful, an idea you'd really not mind accepting. "You mentioned about being hungry and finding your friends to have dinner right?" He moves closer, leaning in. "Have dinner with me instead."
Oh this pretty, little thing. He's persistent, very much so. "Tempting," you admit and bit your lower lip as you ponder a bit. A quick thought flashing by. What the hell. "Fine but it's not a date," you warn, "just us having food is all. Got it? We're just having dinner between club members," you correct before he gets any sort of idea that there's more to the two of you other than being temporary club partners.
"Right," he nods quickly. "Not a date."
"Good," you breathe, somewhat feeling relieved as he moves and motions his hand, holding an arm out in the direction he plans to head, inviting you, and allowing you to lead. The gesture itself made your stomach do a small flip-flop. What the actual fuck is wrong with you? "Well," you take a moment to gather yourself, "lead the way, Choi."
"As my lady wishes," he coos with the daintiest, smug smile as the two of you begin to leave together and San is secretly praising himself for how smoothly he's able to maneuver. The sudden burst of courage gives him hope that this will change and turn into something more than just the normal boring routine, for you.
"So Y/N," he casually throws your name around, enjoying the little perk and curious, soft gaze in your eyes when you turn to him. Oh what he'd give to keep it train on him forever. "I have a few questions about you. If you don't mind."
"What questions, San?" Oh, he likes hearing his name roll off your pretty lips.
"Where did you learn to throw a back kick like that?" San inquires. "Knocked the air right out of my lungs."
You shrug, "I picked it up. Didn't Yunho and Wooyoung ever talk to you?"
San raises his hands in defense, "Oh believe me they did. But," he breathes, "no offense, I had a hard time believing any of those rumors."
"The rumors are true, believe it or not. I'm no golden girl," you tell him with a devious grin and flick your finger against his shoulder, watching the spark ignite in his expression. "I was a stupid delinquent back in my senior year of high school. I'm actually surprised that I got into KQU with my track record of getting into fights and stuff."
"You? A delinquent? i find that hard to believe," he argues.
You laugh. "So many people don't believe me until they see for themselves. And then, " you turn your body around, facing the pretty boy and reaching up, poking him at the center of his chest, "it'll really, truly sink in that I can pack a serious punch if they ever decided to step on the wrong toes." You laugh. "But I'm trying to change, pretty boy, I've learned to suppress it. Haven't had a fight in quite awhile. Pretty great, huh?"
San merely nods and gently takes your wrist, giving it a gentle tug so you face him. "Pretty great. Yes," he agrees, a teasing tone. "And I wouldn't mind being the subject for your rage if you feel the need to let off steam," he chuckles and brushes the top of your head with the palm of his hand. His touch gentle and feather-light, bringing butterflies to erupt in your tummy. The simple action ignites a wild fire within your body and you desperately need to stomp it down, control it.
"Tempting," you laugh, "Let's just...try to get used to each other first. Sound good to you?" You offer, glancing up and meeting his eyes.
A smile plays on his lips. "If that's what it takes to have a shot, then sure, we can do that, cutie."
It becomes a routine over the course of three weeks; the two of you practicing drills early in the morning when the gym isn't packed to the brim with other club members. At first, the two of you work quietly. You barely talk for the first two days, except maybe you mutter and swear at the way he stands and shows certain motions. Your criticism is strong and he finds it endearing the way you observe him from head-to-toe before yelling out 'pretty boy, stop, stop, stop', 'hold on, let me show you, stupid' or any variation of that. It doesn't really offend him or bother his pride. He feels a rush every time you scold him.
San notices many things about you in a span of a few days. Most important is that, even though you're blunt, a delinquent at heart, and slightly mean at times, you cared. You always chew him out over the slightest mistakes because you knew better than most. The demonstration on stage is going to be intense and requires your focus on everything because the last thing you want is for the two of you, and the university as a whole, is to leave a bad impression on the local community.
Some days you're softer and kinder than the previous. One morning he arrives to find a bottle of his favorite water by the bench where the club bags are and you already stretched out. Ready for another intense practice round of sparring and leaving bruises. Sometimes you'd comment how you enjoy that he doesn't hold back as you pick yourself up from the floor. At first, he thought it was weird, but then San remembers that talk about you getting into fights a lot. He concludes that perhaps the whole thing about liking violence wasn't far fetched and was quite literally a possibility.
Days blended, the routine the two of you made continued and you found yourself both thankful and happy about it. San, much to his surprise and delight, enjoyed your company even more. You were so hard to read, quiet at times but also expressive and quick to bite back, the comments flying and the fights not needing to come to physical. Oh, they definitely did but this time around there were verbal jabs, teasing jests.
And he loved those expletives tumbling from your mouth in frustration and aggravation. It wasn't his intention to tease you too much, to piss you off in such a way that drove you crazy, but it was becoming a thing; the two of you rarely seemed to communicate with each other normally. All you did was banter and bicker. But it's all in the name of fun and a good spar, right?
"Cans I ask you a question?" you ask San one night. You're not usually one to ask permission from people but your curiosity was spiking today and you desperately wanted to know the answers before the showcase was officially announced in a matter of days and it was near impossible to ask any other teammate. "Pretty please."
San grins and pretends to think. "Depends," he shrugs playfully, "depends on what kind of question." He sat up, no longer sprawled on the mat and making an attempt to sit neatly across from you, he looked intrigued. "What is it?"
"You've ever been with one of your fan girls, before?"
"One of my what?" San blinked rapidly, seemingly a bit startled with the bluntness of your question. Where did this question come from all of a sudden?
"A fan girl, Choi," you enunciated. "Don't play stupid." You huff, frowning, arms crossing over the span of your chest, growing more impatient.
"Dated? Yeah," San sighs before looking at you. "But in love? Nah. Haven't fallen head over heels for anyone yet." He turns away for a bit, wondering why the conversation had suddenly turn to the direction. "You? In the romance game before?"
You laughed and shook your head, "God, no."
"Ever?"
"Ever." You confirmed, cheeks pinking the slightest bit.
San looks at you with a questioning brow, his head tilting slightly, eyes meeting yours. "Someone as pretty as you never dated anyone, not even once?" he questioned.
"I've been too preoccupied fighting for anyone's attention," you replied truthfully, scratching your cheek shyly and attempting to avoid San's unwavering gaze. "I mean I've been with someone before but it it stopped after he realized that I was a bit too violent for him, and apparently 'normal couples don't do shit like this', he'd said."
"Like what?" San is genuinely intrigued now.
You shrug as if it didn't bother you at all. "Fighting together and having an equal role in the relationship, I guess." You lean over and grab your bottled drink off the floor before taking a swig of your water. "I know I should've change, be like all the other girls," you added in, taking the water bottle down and closing it with the twist cap. "but I don't want to lose who I am, especially with who I date." You sighed a little before continuing, "If I'm gonna get some guy interested, he needs to accept that I'm a fucking hurricane, and he's gonna need to be a lot stronger to stand beside me. Or even dare try and match my pace. Or put in the effort at least." You laughed before realizing he was quiet, as if pondering your words.
You exhaled and tossed the bottle to the side, rolling onto your back, hands going behind the back of your neck and feeling your hair wrap around your fingertips as you relaxed into a cool spot of the mat. There was something soothing about the sensation, feeling the coolness against the burning skin, your chest raising slowly as you inhaled and let the air slip past your lips. The quietness surrounding you, your companion, and the moment the two of you shared.
For once, everything in the gym was silent. No yelling and yelling or cursing from a sparring pair, no slamming of weights. Just silence and your beating heartbeat echoing in the forefront of your ears, reverbing the drumming.
"San?"
"Hmm?" The boy hums softly, a reply that came immediately, sounding close as well, startling you a tad when you lifted your head slightly to the side. You hadn't realized he inched himself closer, his left shoulder brushing against your own.
"If I told you that I have a fat-ass crush on you, would you feel repulsed, disgusted?"
"A bit late to repulse," he breathed out, "when I can't stop thinking about you."
Your cheeks tint a gorgeous red shade. "Fuck," you cursed under your breath, not sure on whether you should turn and meet him or to continue looking away.
"We can make that happen," he flirts. "I know a quiet place nearby."
The lewd implication catches your off-guard, sputtering. "Oh god no, San," you gawk. "That's not—" you suck your teeth, frustrated.
He snickered, obviously enjoying the moment. "Just messing with you."
Your eyebrow twitched, irritated. He's gonna pay for the snide remark and teasing. "Fuck you, Choi."
"Sure," he chuckled. "Want my help or?" He trailed off, obviously sending an underlying message that you couldn't miss.
"Fuck you." You snapped back at him once more.
"We'll both benefit from such an act," San reminded.
"Fuck you!"
"If that's what the lady demands!"
"Good heavens, why am I stuck with you again," you grumbled before sitting up abruptly, now glaring directly and angrily into his smug, handsome face, irritation clouding your mind. It took every fiber of willpower not to knock out his damn teeth. "You and your stupidly handsome face, what did I do to deserve you and your stupid flirting, your stupid one-liners, your fucking face," you rattled off.
"Pretty girl likes me," he puffs his chest out, like an arrogant child and it further grates your nerves.
"Only reason I haven't clocked you in the throat," you spat back, your hand balling up.
His eyes flashed, an unknown glint but the smug smirk faded for a moment. "And what if I actually liked the sound of you clocking me?"
Your heart thuds and a chill races through your spine. He's insufferable and frustrating beyond imagination, it makes you wonder how can anyone deal or put up with San day in and day out. "Your mouth," you warned, "it's going to get you into trouble one day."
"Be my guest to cause all the trouble you'd like," he says easily.
"Christ, do you ever shut up?" you scowl.
"Perhaps with the right methods." His confidence is a key factor here and the way he was so carefree, so suave, and unbothered made your nerves feel the sensations.
He's not even trying to hide his intentions and it drives you insane to hear. This isn't even his type. This shouldn't even work. He shouldn't have been interested to begin with and yet, there is no mistaking the twinkle in his eyes and that soft smile, the way his voice feels in your ears, and his scent as he sits close to you. He's got the scent of clean citrus and sea. It feels heavenly and soft. So inviting.
He inches forward with you unaware, closing the distance and leans forward. Warm breath hitting the expanse of your ear. Your hand automatically flying to the left side and feeling his soft cheek as his lips met the shell, hovering over, a few seconds. "Tell me how you want me to ruin your day," he uttered the softest demand and it makes your brain stop functioning for a minute, allowing his hands to gently rest on your waist, fingers dancing across your sensitive sides and waiting for an answer.
"F-fuck," you managed to say.
"Yeah? Wanna? No one's here, doll." His thumbs caressing slowly and then pauses before he starts moving, coaxing you towards him slowly as you give in, and allowing his hand to wrap around you, holding your tiny, round form between his arms, eyes hooded and heavy as his eyes look into your own, waiting. Searching. "Unless... unless you don't want to?"
"Next time," you say breathlessly.
"Oh?" he teased.
"Maybe after the festival..."
"Can I kiss you now or nah?" he whispered.
"I... ugh!" You make a little noise, knowing you lost this battle. "...yes."
"You and San," Wooyoung started to tease, a sneer pulling his lips, "are cute together."
Your eyebrow raised high up, glancing up from your meal and then moving the chopsticks to stuff rice in your mouth before replying, "You have a weird definition for the word 'cute', dude."
"Y/N. Y/N," Wooyoung whined like a toddler as he slapped both of his palms against his cheeks. "Look how much love he pours you! Just yesterday, the Golden Boy gave you a hot lunch, you shared food, and he was feeding you like it was nobody's business and I saw a lot of couples doing just that during lunch period. SAN and YOU." He squealed. "It's so... it's so adorable!"
"Did you get a boyfriend?" Your mom pipes up with a look of suspicion from across the table, your father stopping mid-bite to look at you as well.
"WHAT?! NO."
"What a liar," Yunho cackles, "You two seemed cozy at the last few club practices."
You blush, eyes looking everywhere to avoid the judging stares of your parents.
"Wait," Your mom cuts into the conversation, "who are we talking about?" She looked from you and then at her two boys with wide eyes.
"San!" Yunho blurts.
"San? Like the same San that's Wooyoung's best friend? Choi San?" She presses.
"Mooooooom," you complained, shoulders hunching, eyes looking at everywhere and anywhere else. "I hate everyone."
"Well, well," your father, eyes sharp and concentrated, cut-through his meal with precision. "Didn't think my most precious princess was dating Choi San."
After that fateful kiss the two of you shared, it was obvious that the spark between you two would lead to somewhere. The moments where the two of you would look at one another longer than necessary, your tiny soft gestures and the fact you'd ask him about his day and vice versa was also a sign — no matter how subtle, a clear indication that the two of you would grow closer with each passing day.
You tried denying the romantic feelings and denying that San was, in fact, making you swoon. But with his stupidly handsome face and stupidly muscular body, it wasn't easy to deny anything. And when he finally asked you to become his girlfriend? You'd have been crazy to say no.
You asked him why he wanted you when he could have his pick of any girl. He laughed and said you didn't take shit from anyone, least of all him and he really liked that.
"Okay," you sigh. "Fine." You caved, deciding not to argue any further. "I'll admit, I have a big, fat crush on the guy." You tell the duo before grumbling. "Not happy about it either. Never wanted to like him to begin with," you mutter the final part under your breath. "But he brings out my soft side, alright? I want to punch him sometimes, other days I want to kiss his damn stupid face."
"That's cute." Wooyoung teases.
"Fuck off," You grunt and stick out your tongue at his smug little expression before pushing yourself out of your seat and gathering up the dirtied dish, slipping to the kitchen. You could hear the giggles from your two older brothers. "Don't you have places to be?"
"Nah," they chorus.
You sucked your teeth. "Little shits."
"Brat," they call back.
"Oppressors, bullies. Scoundrels. Bribers." You hiss back. "Mom! They're bullying me," you cry out, drawing out the last syllable of the word, hoping to appeal to your mother for sympathy.
"Well, honey, you are a handful," she says and offers a sweet smile to her three kids. "Be nice to one another."
Your dad laughs, finding the situation amusing.
"DAD!" You gasp, horrified that even he would betray you in these dire circumstances.
The dinner continues with mild antics. Eventually the conversation turns toward the upcoming school festival, your parents wanting to see the sights and perhaps have some delicious food from the stalls and booths set-up in front of the school.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull the device out, noticing it was a text from San.
A tiny bit of anticipation blooms in your stomach. He hadn’t sent you a message at all today and usually you had at least a quick check-in text during your morning lectures before club practice, or after class when the two of you are about to head home, walking side-by-side on the way to the train station. You look up and cast the boys a warning look. "I'm going to my room. Don't. Fuck. Anything. Up."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, just go." Yunho shoos, a cheeky smile on his lips.
"Kiss your boyfriend for us and tell him we say hi," Wooyoung snorted, chortling the rest of the way.
"Haha," you give the duo the finger as you rise out of the seat. "Don't talk shit when you're stuck being single, both of you."
You push aside from the dining table and quietly excuse yourself from the table to respond to San's messages, retreating back into your bedroom; locking the door behind yourself before settling on your bed and opening your chat. The screen opens and your heartbeat pounds when you are greeted with an unexpected image and a short message.
San: For my pretty girl when she needs to let loose <3
His dick?
Yeah. You didn't ask. But you really weren't going to say 'no' to a gift, were you? Not that the sender's face and sexy physique weren't already considered gifts to look at whenever you can. If it was any other guy, or for a different purpose, you probably would've instantly turned down and blocked their ass on the spot. But, of course, San had to make you weak in the knees and turn into putty at a snap of his finger, didn't he?
His dick is indeed a pretty gift and you will enjoy it thoroughly once you get your hands on his naked form. But until then, the sexting shall have to suffice and do the work.
On the day of the showcase, the whole school is abuzz with activity, from the booths with handmade goods to the dance circles and clubs demonstrating their abilities throughout the campus. Most important was the local area students coming and observing everything, perhaps picking a few things to buy, and tasting a small selection of the food available to offer.
Everyone in the club made sure they brought their game. The showcase would start late afternoon but early morning, everyone was to line up and put their bags to the side, a few snacks and waters were prepared in case, and the group was asked to wear a matching shirt for the event, provided by the department of sport science and physical education. A school name t-shirt to show the pride they carried and the same logo to appear.
Somewhere amidst all the chaos and jitters, San managed to grab your hand and lead you through the crowd, blending effortlessly between the clusters of students going from booth to booth until you eventually reached a deserted corner away from everyone else.
"Where are we going, pretty boy?" You laugh lightly, squeezing his hand tightly. The two of you managed to find a hiding place, secluded from all the noise.
"Needed some time alone with my pretty girl." San stated, tilting your head up before dipping his head downward, capturing your lips into a warm kiss, fingers threaded through the strands of your hair, a comfortable fit, the strands a light silkiness, feeling like velvet against his skin. The way his lips pressed against yours. Slowly. Softly. Your free hand lands on his upper chest, brushing his chest, feeling the beat of his heart racing like his own body has become a drum, pounding and booming loud and clear. His fingers curled tighter, tugging a bit.
Your mind became white-noise. And, god, you could smell him so easily. It was as though you had caught scent of San from a distance away. And there is that damn warmth against your hand again, just as you could feel him, you couldn't quite imagine or understand what you're even supposed to do with yourself. To respond or reciprocate. So, you relax into the hold, focusing on kissing the idiot and matching the pace, soft and tender.
It makes his heart flutter and makes him grin through the kiss, pulling back when the need for air arrived. His thumbs brushing the skin of your cheek.
"Hmm... What a kiss," you hummed. "Would like more."
"Always up for more." He tells you before leaning in again to peck the tip of your nose affectionately. "How 'bout later tonight?" He offered a huge grin.
"What do you have planned for tonight? Nothing crazy I hope." You purse your lips as the thoughts continued, voice lilting upward and breaking out of your natural timbre.
"If you think going to my place is crazy, then..." he trails off, lifting one shoulder into a half shrug. "maybe? Can you blame me?"
"San!" You lightly hit his arm, a small laugh escaping you. "You're such a punk."
"Can't help it, darling, when you got such a mean-looking mug, my heart can't help but melt when I look at you," He hums.
"Hmmm," you hum, "You really have a thing for strong women, don't you?"
"Maybe, who's to say," he gives his own charming laugh as he backs you into the wall with the greatest of ease, sliding a thick thigh between your legs, effectively spreading you wider and leaning closer, nosing the side of your neck, inhaling and then blowing.
"Ohh," you manage to let out, the noise slipping.
"That's the noise." He murmured huskily. "God, Y/N," he growled, dragging his hands slowly down your hips. "I'd do just about anything you tell me," he husked. "If you want something, I can't wait for you to ask me."
"For example?" you mumbled, breath hitching.
"Trying not to think too dirty and scandalous but..." He slid a hand around you to stroke your bare thigh. "Just thinking how easy I could fuck you here," he brushed his fingers underneath your skirt. "In broad daylight, Y/N, if you asked."
"And if someone catches us?"
"Maybe I'll keep fucking you in front of them, then. Is that what you want? You like people watching you get fucked?"
"Do you like that sort of thing?"
"I like anything as long as it makes you feel good, baby."
You leaned close to his ear, lips brushing the skin. "Want me to suck your dick in public, my pretty boy?" you asked, flicking his earlobe with your tongue.
He groaned softly. "You can do whatever you want to do, baby."
You wiggled out from his arms and dropped to your knees, your small palms smoothing down his firm body, grabbing the waistband and yanking down the track pants along his hips until his cock bounced free, half-hard and rapidly stiffening.
"Open up, baby," he murmured and when you obediently opened your mouth, he slid his fingers along the edge of your lower teeth, tugged you forward gently, and angled his cock with the other hand. "There you go."
"Been wanting to taste this ever since you sent me that photo of your stupid dick."
"I have a stupid dick, huh?"
"Stupid pretty boy with a stupidly gorgeous body," you snorted, squeezing the shaft.
"You complain about it but I don't see you stopping," he chuckled low, husky. "You like it, right?"
"Shut up. I'm busy," you said haughtily.
"Okay. Okay," San laughed. "Do as you like, baby."
The demonstration went well without a hitch.
And now, you're back is pushed against his door, his warm, thick thighs bracing between your legs. You didn't know whether to hold onto his shoulders, the hem of his shirt, or tug at his hair, his toned muscles moving beneath your palms. The movement, the shift, is slow, his tongue skimming along the top of your mouth and dancing with yours.
You wanted him to fuck you right then and there when you blew him a few hours before. He let out a broken moan at the prospect of being seen and then stopped. Kissing you until he regained his composure before whispering against the shell of your ear. "Later."
Later came sooner than expected.
As soon as the showcase was over and you both changed into regular clothes and set out for a leisurely stroll around campus with the night sky and the stars. After a while, he veers towards his apartment off-campus, walking to the front of his complex. He walks you up, slipping the keys and unlocking it. Once the two of you step in, he strips out his jacket and kicks off his shoes, starting to walk off and gesturing with a hand.
You follow and San is walking and striding with such ease. Taking the stairs up, only to stop at his floor, leading you towards his unit, hand tightly locked with your own, until the two of you are in his room, shutting the door, his back pressing your front, his larger frame against your smaller one, trapping you in-between himself and the solid wooden door behind you. His mouth hovers your face. Breath fanning hotly over the expanse of skin.
"Have fun earlier?" He whispered, thumbs brushing against the sides of your hands, feeling the soft material beneath the pad of his fingerprints. The rest of his body feels firm. It makes the heat simmer in the pit of your belly.
"Define fun," you challenge back, wondering what he exactly meant.
"Hmm... When my dick was in your mouth?" He provided a short response, pressing his large, sculpted thigh between your own and shimmying until it rubbed deliciously, agonizingly against your throbbing core. "Maybe I'll return the favor tonight."
Your jaw clenches. Trying your best not to be bothered and distracted at the sudden image, "you're such a menace, Choi San."
"One you agreed to date." He chortles before nosing the tip of your nose sweetly.
"Never should've..." You lament before swallowing deeply.
"Too late," He laughs again before planting his mouth against yours, devouring any words or protest ready to slip from your lips. He falls to his knees and grabs your thighs with a gentle grasp, lifting, and tugging you closer. He grabs one leg and places your thigh on his shoulder, his face so close you can feel the heat of his mouth.
"San..."
"Tell me no if you really mean it." He whispered, resting his cheek on the inside of your knee. "But," He dips his thumb along the inside seam, pressing gently along the slit and giving your core a solid tap. "This says otherwise."
Your fingers found their way into his hair, digging into his scalp and eliciting a sweet moan and groan from San. "Fine. Fine! FUCK! I don't... I don't care. Just do whatever the hell you want to do, San. Just eat me the fuck out or something!"
A cheeky smirk curved on his lips before he shifts forward. He pushes your panties to the side and swipes a slow, delicious lick along your folds, gently wrapping his fingers around your hip before letting them grip into the thick, fat of your hips, lightly thrusting up and drawing a gasp from your throat.
"So, you're already this wet and we just started?" He hummed low. His tongue returns, sliding into your center with purpose, drawing tight little circles, fast, almost feverish. A rough sound echoes against your walls.
The action is instantaneous — a desperate shudder rocks through your limbs, mouth parting open and releasing a soft, wet pant.
"It's because you're annoying," you lied.
"So?" He worked in tiny, playful strokes of the tongue, barely inside, making it seem like an accidental touch. With an unconscious jerk of your hips, he can't pretend it's by accident. "Oh," he teases. "Right there, hm?" He latched onto your clit and you gasped. He smirked and you saw the tip of his tongue for a moment. He liked the sound you made, the way your body seized and you couldn't speak. "Good?" He mumbled around your folds.
You tighten your hands in his hair and draw him forward. Your pussy was dripping and aching, empty. The force is enough to make him almost lose his balance. He was asking a rhetorical question, of course he knew how he made you feel. "I want your fingers too." You said it to taunt him. But the result was better than expected: he groaned as though in pain.
"Fucking hell," he said, slipping first one finger, then a second, and starting a rhythm between your thighs and against your body. His clever mouth continued to tease you, to bring you pleasure.
Your brain is a hazy, jumbled mess of everything as he brings you closer to the edge, slowly unraveling the control you have. He draws out several gasps and cries as he drives you close to the end, your back arched against the door and legs shaking.
"Are you gonna cum, baby girl?" He pulled away to ask and he was watching your face closely. "Don't come yet. I want us to cum together."
With your nod, San gets up from his position and hoists you up against him, one arm securely wrapped around your ass and the other in the back of your neck and guiding you down for a filthy kiss. He steers the two of you towards the bed with ease, all while keeping his lips on you, until your back was gently pressed on the cool sheets. He hovers above, tugging off his own shirt, revealing his gorgeous physique and throwing it somewhere unknown before undoing his belt, shucking it off, and dropping his pants.
You gaze up at his chest, the biceps flexed with strain, the rippling abs, his perfect jawline and beautifully sculpted face. "Wow," you breathe, touching the peaks and valleys of his defined body. "I knew you always had a hot bod, but..." You trail off, unsure of how to express your thoughts properly.
He arches a brow and there is a hint of a smug grin, almost on the verge of appearing. "But..? But what?" he taunts lightly, lifting a corner of his lips upward. "Tell me. You won't know 'til you say it. Not out loud. You may feel embarrassed, yeah?"
You push forward and climb onto your knees, trailing your fingers up the hard planes of his abs and chest before continuing. "Now... I know why all the girls flock around your ass and your handsome face, pretty boy."
He leans over to nip on your lobe, pressing the warmth and heaviness of his body, caging you beneath his broad frame, his front pressed into your back and trapping you into place. You gasp softly, the movement and action enough to startle you.
His hot breath lingers along the expanse of the exposed, bare skin. "Yeah but you're the only girl who's actually having her way with me though, huh?"
"If I find out you're secretly banging the rest of the student body behind closed doors..." You left the threat hanging in the air, not really meaning the words of the statement.
"Just you, baby," San's nose nudges into your neck, his voice dropping an octave lower. "It'll only ever be you."
A shiver tingles throughout you, feeling the small pressure of his fingertips hooking themselves under the hem of your skirt, dragging the soft material off. He flips the article of clothing off and it flutters and lands elsewhere in the room. Your shirt follows suit.
Then his large palm glides and rests underneath the curve of your ribs, thumb pressing, and caressing in a circular motion, warm, soft, gentle and tentative. The mere touch itself was a gesture full of reverence.
"Hold on," He whispers, breaking away briefly.
San reaches over into the small box inside his side drawer, ripping the sealed plastic package with his teeth and slipping the rubber on without another word or look spared in your direction. You spread your legs, reaching downward, between the area. Spreading the wetness in anticipation for the penetration.
"Shit," he exhaled, looking down at your legs opened, inviting and willing him, seeing the glistening heat. "You're killing me here, babe."
"Your fault," you say.
"Probably," he agrees, husky and soft.
He's above you a moment later, propping up his arms on either side. As his head lifts, your legs widen, granting him access to his ultimate goal. As he moves forward, his dick pressing lightly on your pussy, a slight gasp escaping your throat.
San nudges against you and you can feel him. Feel how hard and stiff his cock is. It makes you slick and the throbbing worsens. It's heavy in all the best ways and thick against the burning, tight heat of your body. And when he slowly eases in, inch by deliciously long, hot inch, the whole length of his body shudders above your own.
"Y/N," he husks in your ear, punctuating the sounds between each thrust with a growl, a hiss, a moan. It makes the rest of the world melt. Until all you can think about and focus on is his thick dick. He slowly increases the pace, gripping you more firmly. "This okay?"
"Y-yeah." You nod frantically. It's never been this good before. Maybe because the rest of your sex life was so mediocre and awkward. That it couldn't even compare to how you feel with San right now. How his cock feels inside you, how his skin smells, how the breath comes a bit heavier than usual. "Don't... don't stop."
He dips his head to press kisses along your jaw. "Feels good?" His hand slips lower, finding the apex of your thighs, rubbing the nub where the pleasure has been steadily building.
"Fucking great," you sigh, grinding forward, into his cock, your hips trying to meet him. His body tightens and it's clear, this time, that he isn't going to slow down. And you like it. You want the overwhelming fullness. You want the rough, ragged edge to his movements. You don't want the gentleness, you just want him.
"Fuck," he breathes, meeting his hips with yours. "Fuck, I like that. You're so wet, babe, can't get enough, shit—"
It's messy. You like messy. His balls hitting the entrance of your cunt, his pubic bone bumping yours. San hits just the right spot inside you, over and over again, while his fingers rub your clit with just the right amount of pressure, and then you're there, coming hard around him, hard enough that your cunt is throbbing around his length.
"San," you gasped, muscles pulling, seizing, pulsing, slick and swollen around him.
"Aw, god," San says, fucking you through it, as he chases his orgasm, coming in hot, steady bursts, until his release fills the condom inside. His forehead is a sticky, sweat-damp, and his shoulders are straining.
He pulls away and takes care of the condom, tossing it and pulling back over and laying next to you, grinning and chuckling to himself.
You roll, or try to roll over, but are caught into his strong hold and tucked close. A wide, and warm palm stroking along your lower back, kneading at the sore muscles and erasing some of the lingering tension in the air, his nose brushing alongside the shell of your ear, lips finding purchase of the space of skin where the lower portion of the cartilage begins.
And his whisper makes your eyes flutter close and a rush of tenderness and affection and warmth and comfort stir within your belly.
"Hi." He pressed a small, shy smile to the back of your shoulder.
You're so stunned you can't reply at first, so instead of replying, you turn your head to press a firm, sound kiss against his soft cheek and grin. "Hi."
San's eyes crinkle shut as he laughs with complete joy, grinning and chuckling, snuggling you close, a fresh and infectious grin tugging on his pink, supple lips. "Stay the night?"
You relax further against his body. "Of course." You lay together for a few silent moments, San drawing circles along the skin and flesh of your tummy, then your waist. You snuggle closer to his body. "I really, really, really like you, Choi San."
"I really, really, really like you too, Jeong Y/N." He responds back in the same soft, featherlike manner, leaning close and kissing you, slow and sweet, pouring in a boundless amount of affection. You nudge your nose on his. "You wanna order something? Watch a movie? We can also do both."
You grin widely at the suggestion, heart thumping a little faster at the innocent, casual inquiry, feeling like a girl again. Not a woman. You like that feeling. "Yes. Definitely."
🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader
🌊What: Smut (18+). Some humour. Some fluff. Strangers to Lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu.
🌊Word count: 7.1k
🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Semi-public sex. Kissing. Oral (female receiving). Fingering. Big dick Mingyu. PIV sex. Unprotected sex. Multiple orgasms (female receiving). Messy Mingyu. Choking. A single solitary spank. Mentions of bruising. I think that’s it.
🌊Summary:
You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I’ve decided to private a lot of stuff on that account and just move it over to here after some editing, where I can actually track it all properly.
A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach— after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself, and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself.
Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more, and soon enough, the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.
Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas, despite liking neither of those things, is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.
You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity; but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days, at roughly the same time, just to watch Mr. Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds, strolling topless up and down the sand, and helping where he can.
It’s sweet; the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols.
You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up, and up, and–
“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped together, and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right, as you had assumed.
“A crab.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and, admittedly, rather grand sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby.
“Every castle needs a King; don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke.
“Go find shells,” you deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab, to return it to its home.
Thoroughly distracted from your fantasy of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars, yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.
With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest, and go back to reading your book.
It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers, and you lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr. Hunky Lifeguard himself.
“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips, and smiling at you in that bright, friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else.
You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sun-kissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”
“Family day out?” he questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys beside the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only now realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend.
“Not exactly,” you huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend,” you declare upon spotting said person, and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting down with another lifeguard— this one wearing the same red shorts, though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on—, and rummaging through the sand with your friend.
“Oh!” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention.
You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand.
“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu.” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you.
Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together. But that would get you arrested, and you really don’t want that. So, you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return.
“Mm, pretty,” he hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you.
“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees with your feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be at face height with his dick and within reaching distance.
“You must really like the beach.”
“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face; that’d be nice too.
“I said you must really like the beach; I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.”
“You noticed me?” you mutter in shock.
“Uhm.” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly; his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller, embarrassed. Cute. “I–It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma–make sure people are safe.”
“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing; amused and endeared by him. As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing; talking to him and realising he’s got this cute, shy side definitely draws you in further.
“Y–yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand, making you snicker. Mingyu flails to right himself, and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward, embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.
And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.
It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach; you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.
“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today,” your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up.
“To bury me? Work killed me, babe,” you retort dramatically.
“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach,” the unexpected male voice makes you jump and look over. To your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not ogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face.
You’re, once again, very glad for tinted sunglasses.
“You’re wet,” your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses— you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look.
“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.
“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach, leaving you and Mingyu alone.
You appreciate that; the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first,” you mutter to yourself while looking at the giant umbrella in disdain.
“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?”
“Right here,” you reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand; because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up. Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place, so you find no reason to correct yourself, and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat.
To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh.
You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed, so he leaves you with a smile, and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away.
It makes you feel all warm inside; how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you. You just hope that it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move; you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job.
So, you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.
“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with,” your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson, and one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.
“You signed us up,” you point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker, who rolls his eyes.
You know the co-worker personally, but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua, and he, according to your bestie, has purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.
“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something,” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you, but you don’t point it out.
“Sounds ominous,” you declare.
“No.” He chuckles, and motions to your best friend, who points at herself with wide eyes on view thanks to her sunglasses currently being propped on Joshua’s head so that they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance, so I should probably hold onto you.”
“Terrible balance,” your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little.
It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too, but most of your attention has been on Mr. Hunky Lifeguard, now officially known as Mingyu.
“Okay, so is it alright if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.
“Full consent to touch me however you want,” your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words.
You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain, but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional, so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically.
Spoiler, he definitely is.
“Alright.” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little, turn back to him, and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”
Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected; he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water, but with his careful guidance— even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be—, you get your feet under you.
After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright, while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively. And then, you make a giant fucking mistake.
Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally, and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach, looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts, because you notice that bouncing too.
Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs. It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body.
“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.
“I can handle this, Gyu,” this voice is right over you; the owner of the arms, and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other man any attention.
“I’ve got it, Cheol,” Mingyu assures. There’s a heavy sigh, and then those strong hands leave your body, and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side. “That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern with one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back.
Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes, and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore, but fine otherwise.
When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic.
You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetic about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing. But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it.
You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.
“Hey.” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.
“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr. Lifeguard,” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.”
“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.
“No, no, she’s right,” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol–”
“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing.
“So, I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.
“Make her feel all better, Mr. Lifeguard,” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up. Mingyu returns it, though you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating, but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.
As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you with a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building.
“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets upon looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” he mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.”
“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk.
At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building, allowing him to shut the door.
“I’ll grab you a towel,” he declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window.
From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting; being able to watch over everyone like this and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above.
“Can they see us?” you wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand.
“I mean, sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day; but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us,” he informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, heat flares in your stomach.
“Have you tested that?”
“Mm, a few times.”
“How?”
Mingyu tilts his head a little at you, and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.”
“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.
“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest against your left arm. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me.”
“Just…you know.” You shrug again, and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little.
“You should get out of this and dry off,” he suggests while running his right hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat.
“I might need some help getting it off,” you reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.”
“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access without having to reach around you so much.
For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false.
Yet, you both stay in place.
You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable, but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.
“Face me,” he mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so that you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper.
Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts, where his knuckles brush a little, making your breath catch, before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.
Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” he checks, noticing how the material of the rash guard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation, and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.
He glances up at you, checking that this is okay, and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.
“Can you–” he starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rash guard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders. Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without standing up, to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.
“So’re you,” you reply shyly.
He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach. “This okay?” he asks in between kisses on your skin; each growing more daring than the last.
“Y–yeah,” you agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen.
For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards, and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs.
Mingyu quickly tugs the rash guard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” he breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe, then back again. “So, fucking beautiful, baby.”
“Mingyu,” your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure; you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does, and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.
“Lean back, baby,” he encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass.
You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder, then lean back as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy. The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own; he sounds like he’s tasted the nectar of the fucking gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general.
You’ve heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before, but you’ve never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all; holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation, and an intensity that has your legs shaking; a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.
“Gyu,” you breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily.
Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more.
Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss. He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms and hold them aside out of his way.
Then, those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod, and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.
Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll and back arch.
Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers; it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.
Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch, and then reluctantly detaches his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand. Though, he doesn’t go far, and instead, pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs, and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.
“Gyu,” the call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you.
He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again, but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine.
“D–don’t you want to fuck me?” you ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back, but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs as long as he makes you cum like that.
“Fuck you?” he repeats dumbly. You nod, and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded, and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise, and reach down to try and remove them. “No, no, no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy; I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.”
You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skilfully moving those two fingers in you; slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips.
“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod, so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you.
It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance, so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.
“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk, and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect,” he approves, and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact. He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim.
But then his cock twitches desperately, and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.
A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole. He wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away, but he’s very aware that, frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.
As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation, and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.
Little does he know; you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open. But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables, so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.
By the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed, and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly.
“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” he groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length.
He needs a moment; needs more than one really, with how fucking close he already is to filling you with his cum, but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement, but he gets the hint; you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.
Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters; the give of your pussy, and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly, making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly.
“That’s it, hold on, baby,” he encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you, before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed.
It’s hard, and fast, and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know existed before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out, and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.
You’re being loud, both of you; moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you care, neither of you have the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this.
At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened; you probably wouldn’t even notice, and honestly, neither would Mingyu.
When Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest and pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new, somehow deeper, spot he’s grinding into.
There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work, even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact way to cut off your airflow.
It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing, orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far, because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.
A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth when you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him, that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum.
It feels fucking endless; the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you, even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss; a never-ending pulse of pleasure; pure fucking serenity.
“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock started to empty in you.
You can’t respond yet; you’re not quite back on planet Earth, making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this.
Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.
Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up. Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right, before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards.
For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy, and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth, but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time.
Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.
You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?”
“Like I had the life fucked out of me,” you reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him, and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck, so that you can tug him in and kiss him.
He sighs in contentment as your lips move together, slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here.
“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” he murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.”
“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape.
“It was,” he agrees with a chuckle, and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?”
“Now?” you baulk.
“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now; I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now,” he assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.”
“That sounds much more reasonable to me.”
“Reasonable, huh?” he teases, and nips at your cheek playfully, making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?”
“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” you rush to assure, cupping his cheeks, and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin.
He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?”
“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.”
“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute, happy, little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good; I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends, we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too, and I guess your friend, but they can entertain each other at another table.”
You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.”
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