synopsis: A beach summer with your man, Seungcheol.
tagging: @cherryberrycheol from that one blurb I sent you in Discord after you showed me the Dua Lipa pics
warnings: mdni, 18+, pwp, bf! Seungcheol, f! reader, fools in love, smut, oral (m. & f. rec), praise, cock drunk! reader, drool mentioned, Cheol big, mating press, creampie, squirting, praise, dirty talk, unprotected smut, mentions of cum eating, etc
WC: 2.4K +
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
It's the middle of summer, and you're sitting on a little floaty, giggling as the sun rays warm you up and the water cools you off. You're not too far from the beach; the white sands are picturesque with the little beach umbrellas stationed every fifteen feet, and you can barely hear the jingles of the trolley cart being pushed as a man yells "ice cream!" for everyone relaxing on the beach towels. It's perfect- everything you could want- including Cheol.
Seunghceol's hair is wet, dripping with water droplets that slide down his neck and over his chest before rejoining the ocean, and his smile has never been bigger.
All day, he’s been your water boy, keeping one muscular arm looped inside your fruit-patterned floaty, anchoring you to him as he swims you around. The waves lap up his chest, licking up to his collarbones, and his arm is warm against your thigh as he paddles through the beautiful ocean. The sun kisses his skin that's not underwater, giving him a glow that makes it hard for you to look away from, and you want to kiss him, but if you bend over while he pushes up to meet you halfway? You’ll surely fall into the water, and the floaty will toss over both of your heads.
So you are reduced to strictly admiring. Admiring your lover as he carries you around, letting you tan as he keeps dunking his head down to look for the schools of fish that swim by. He'll pop up now and then, a beaming smile on his lips, claiming "it's so beautiful underwater!" or "I saw a fish!" before his arms flex as he pulls your floaty closer, like somehow you'll drift away from him.
You know in about two hours you both will wash up ashore, and you’ll get to see how his swim trunks hug his thick thighs and the way he shakes water out of his hair like some dog. Then you’ll finally get your kiss. It’ll be warm like the sun and a little salty like the ocean, but it’ll fill you up until he leads you to the restaurant you’ll be eating lunch at. You hope there will be fries and more kisses, and you squeeze his hand that holds yours, already requesting another kiss before you two even leave the beach.
Later, when the sun has finally set, and you're back inside your hotel room with Seungcheol, your kisses will linger - lasting longer until they finally deepen, and Seungcheol's hand cups the back of your head. It'll leave you breathless and a little dizzy, shared smiles dancing on your lips in between the kisses before he's got your body flushed against his.
You can still taste a little sea salt on his lips, his neck, and down his chest. And he still anchors you to him as you sink onto your knees.
But it's a different kind of salt you taste when your lips wrap around the tip of his cock, your tongue licking the precum that coats the globular head before you take more of him into your wet mouth. You can feel the way his thick thighs flex under your palms, his hand heavy on the back of your head as you suck and slurp until his cock is nudging the back of your throat.
It makes your eyes water and your jaw ache, but heat pools between your thighs each time your nose brushes his pelvis, and his moans grow louder, choking off between low praise. "Fuck- just like that," he inhales between clenched teeth, his eyes hooded as they meet your watery ones. "You're takin' me so well, Baby."
Your knees dig into the carpet beneath you, and your eyes flutter closed when his fingers twist in your hair, guiding you to take him deeper as his hips start to move. He eventually holds you in place, letting the room fill with the wet sounds of your mouth being filled with his cock over and over again. He fucks your throat slowly and deeply, enjoying the way your tongue massages the veins that pulse down the length of his cock as his precum coats your throat with each thrust.
You let him use you, your brain turning into mush as his chest heaves, and his words fall out faster in between his groans. "You look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock, Baby." His cock twitches and his hips stutter, picking up the pace as you blink up at him with tears on the tips of your eyelashes. "Oh fuck, are you already dumb off my cock, Baby?"
Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, suckling the sensitive tip in response, and his knees almost give out.
"Yeah? There are no thoughts in that - hah - pretty head anymore, is there? You're only thinking about my cock - ngh, and my cum, huh?" Your nails dug into the sides of his thighs, drool forming at the corner of your mouth, making his cock slip in-and-out of your mouth faster, and his balls finally tense up. "Okay, Baby, I'll -ngh - give you what you want. Be good and take it all f'me."
It's the only warning Seungcheol gives you before his hips push forward, pushing his cock down your throat again until your nose is pressed against his pelvis, and then his cock swells.
He cums with a small "ah fuck!" and a deep satisfied sigh, painting your mouth white with his warm cum. He made sure you took it all, keeping your head down as he rolled his hips forward until his cock twitched with sensitivity, and you've milked him for every last drop. Then he pulled you off with a wet "pop!"
Your lips were coated with his cum and your saliva, and your tongue licked it all up before you showed Seungcheol your empty mouth.
You had done what he’d asked, swallowing his cum with a grin that made him pull you up so he could kiss you again. He didn't care that he could taste himself on your tongue; it only made his hands more feverish against your warm skin as you both stumbled towards the bed.
He pushed you back onto the soft mattress before he took his turn to kneel before you, his eyes meeting yours between your parted thighs. The smirk he gave you had tingles going straight to your core, making you clench around nothing pathetically as his fingers slid up your thighs, filling you with anticipation. "My turn, let me see that pretty pussy, Baby."
He drags your pretty panties down your legs with a slow confidence, tossing them over his shoulder carelessly as he gets an intimate view of your glistening cunt. You're dripping wet, just for him, and his big hands push your legs further apart as his breath fans over your puffy folds with a heavy hunger.
"Is this all for me, Baby?" He asks with a cocky grin, flicking his dark eyes up to yours as you suck in a quick breath. Your dress is pushed up to your waist, your breasts practically spilling from the top as he licks his lips, and a new wave of your slick pools.
"Always for you," you whimpered, and Seungcheol's grin was more than feral. His satisfied smirk is the last thing you see before he's burying his face between your plush thighs, licking a broad stroke up to your clit with his wet tongue. He groans from your sweet arousal dripping down his throat, and his fingers grip your legs tighter as he swirls his tongue around your nub, relishing in the way your hips buck up in response.
His tongue parts your folds, sucking, licking, and swirling until your eyes are blurry and your hands are pressing him closer as your heels dig into his shoulders.
Your moans grow louder when his tongue fills you, stretching your gummy walls around the wet muscle as his nose rubs your clit, overstimulating you and making your legs shake as he devours you like a man starved. He's hard again, and your moans only spur him on as he moves one hand from your leg to wrap around his cock.
He strokes his cock in tandem to his tongue fucking your pretty cunt, squeezing just under the head when you cry out his name like you're looking for salvation.
And when you cum on his tongue, you have both of your hands in his hair, keeping his lips wrapped around your puffy clit as he stops himself from cumming all over his hand like some teenager.
He thinks it's one of the hottest things to see you cum, your eyes get glossy like your cunt, and he's able to mandhandle your body into a nasty mating press as you blink up at him dazedly.
He's got your arousal dripping down his jaw, and he gives you a smirk as you realize he's guiding his heavy cock between your twitching thighs. "You can give me one more, right?"
You don't get the chance to answer before he's rocking the mushroom-shaped tip of his cock against your clitoris, sending pleasurable shocks throughout your body as he lets your arousal coat his shaft. He teases you like this for a moment, dragging his cock through your wet folds, building the same heat as before, low in your abdomen until you lift your hips to meet each one of his slow grinds.
"Please," your plea comes out wrecked and breathless, and Seungcheol's eyes almost roll back from hearing it. You're exactly how he likes you, needy and wanting, and his hand pushes your leg back further as he finally directs his cock to your entrance, letting you feel the stretch that is yet to come.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of ya'," Seungcheol promises, and then he's pushing his hips forward.
The head of his cock bullies its way inside, forcing your gummy walls apart, and your jaw drops. You've had sex with Seungcheol before, but you never could get used to the size of him, and the way he filled you. His cock grazes over every sensitive spot without even trying, and your velvety walls suck him in deeper until all you can feel is him.
His cock splits you open, his hands are warm under the back of your knees, keeping you spread wide for him as his thick thighs press against yours. His heavy balls are flushed against your ass as you take him to the hilt, and your breath comes up short, your mind spinning because you can feel him in your lungs; he's so big.
You end up blinking rapidly to clear the blur in your vision as you look up at Seungcheol. Hearts are already forming in your eyes as his cock reaches the back of your cunt, greeting your cervix with a filthy kiss as he bottoms out.
"Fuck, Baby." He sucks in another breath through clenched teeth, his head tilting up towards the ceiling as your pussy grips his cock in a tight squeeze. "You feel so good around me, fuckk -" Seungcheol's muscles strain, and the fact that if you keep squeezing him like that - he will cum - is swirling in his head like a warning system. He's not ready to tap out just yet, so he moves one hand between the two of you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing sloppy hearts into the little pearl to get you to open up for him some more. "That's it, open up for me, Baby. Show me just how wet your pretty pussy can get for me."
He has your head falling back into the pillows, your fingers clutching the bedsheets, and just like he wants, your pussy drools heavily with each completed heart he draws on your clit. Your arousal seeps, dripping down his cock and your ass, and when you think he's just going to make you cum on his cock by only playing with your clit, he moves.
His cock drags through your sensitive walls, and the hotel room echoes with the obscene squelches of your sloppy cunt as he pushes forward again. He starts a slow and deep thrust, making you feel each time the head of his cock hits the back of your cunt, and you're forced to take it as he keeps you pinned underneath him.
Seungcheol's so big you can't see over his shoulder, all you can see is him. Him, him, him. His forehead is lined with sweat that drips down his chest. His tongue pokes out a little between his lips, and his eyebrows furrow in concentration when his hips roll in a certain way that makes you clench around him deliciously. It's too much, and you're telling him as such between your cute little "ah!" and "ohs!"
"Cheol! Right there - oh! - yes, yes, yes!" Your tongue sticks out lewdly, and your eyes water as he follows your orders, smacking the fat tip of his cock into your sweet spot - bringing you even closer to the edge.
Your nails dig into his biceps, leaving half-moon crescents into his skin, and your pussy slurps his cock deeper, gushing as your orgasm barrels through you suddenly. You're left speechless, your mouth dropping open in shock, and your eyes glaze over as you cum. You can only hold onto Seungcheol as your arousal comes out in waves, squirting onto his pelvis as he fucks you through it.
"There we go," he praises, and he's quick to rub four of his fingers over your clit messily, smacking the bundle of nerves until you're squirting with a little whimper from the back of your throat.
You make a mess on him, on yourself, and on the bed, and the sight alone has him orgasming right after you. He curses, and his cock twitches, swelling as he grinds into you with possessiveness.
His cum splashes the back of your cunt with white gooey globs of his seed, and it keeps going, filling you to the brim as he cums heavily with a deep groan.
Eventually, there's nowhere else to go but out, and when he sees his cum ooze out, mixing with your slick, he can't help but drag his finger through the mess before bringing it to his mouth to have a taste.
He hums; it tastes like sea salt, and he wants more.
대박 - you made it to the end!
Tell me about it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated ♡ . Tumblr is based on reblogs, not likes, and they help writers like me get a better reach. Thank you for your support!
Pairing ✨ Professor Seungcheol x Female Student OC
Synopsis ✨ The day has finally arrived. Your masters is over, Seungcheol is moving to a different university to become head of faculty and so now you're left with only one thing you need to do. Prove to a certain someone that the hot professor has always been entirely and undoubtedly yours.
Genre ✨ established relationship, smut, fluff
Plot warnings ✨ can be read as a stand alone but it is the third story for these two (others are linked below), non-serious threats of violence (a given with this OC because people still will not leave her hot professor alone), Seungcheol spirals massively thinking she doesn't love him anymore, jealously, possessive OC (and Seungcheol tbh), professor x student dynamic (she's a masters student), age gap (he's 35- she's 25), very smut heavy
Smut warnings ✨ a very pouty Seungcheol for like a minute, he's big (fact.), sex in a stationary cupboard (it's a big one), a lot of bickering before/ during and after sex, a lot of purposely pissing each other off, both of them are battling to be in charge and yet neither of them are- they're just horny, semi public sex/ public sex (it's just one person but they're both well aware they can be heard) so I suppose exhibitionism?, unprotected sex, p in v sex, he ties her wrists with his tie for part of it, hair pulling (f.receiving), slight marking, slight nipple play and hint at lactation kink (it isn't overtly mentioned and it's the briefest hint), a new found breeding kink for both of them?, references to past and future anal sex (m.receiving), creampie, very over exaggerated dirty talk and moaning (they're doing it on purpose), some fluffy aftercare but then back to the bickering
Word count ✨ 7k
a/n ✨ I felt like these two needed a proper ending and I just really love their dynamic so much.
I've been on a roll recently and I've really gotten back into writing going to & from work on the train (god bless privacy screens and big commutes) so I'm just riding this wave whilst I'm loving writing again, hence why I've been uploading quite close together (sorry).
I've very nearly finished a Joshua fic and another Cheol one, so if you'd like to be tagged the link to the form is on my main page 🩷
Vanilla → Who's Vanilla Now Professor?
“You’re up to something.” Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you as he places his coffee back on the table.
“No I’m not.”
He assesses you, you know he doesn’t believe you and he’s not wrong. You are up to something. You’ve been up to something since you’d overheard two of your classmates having a whispered conversation two days ago.
“Can’t we just enjoy this last day?”
“Oh I fully intend to enjoy it,” You smirk into your coffee mug as Seungcheol eyes you warily.
“You scare me sometimes, you know?”
“In a good way?”
“I’m not sure,” he ponders whilst he takes a bite of toast, your smile only making him even more suspicious.
Your masters is over and thankfully you've found a job a little easier than you’d expected. In a few weeks you’d begin working at the local paper as a junior journalist and be done with university forever. Well, that is apart from Seungcheol moaning about deadlines and students who never hand in assignments on time. Although he will now be doing that at a new university. A head of faculty position came up at a university just outside of town and he was lucky enough to get the job, though you'd told him a million times it's them that's lucky to have him. It’s a little more of a commute but it’s only ten minutes away from your work so you can grab lunch a couple of times a week.
Both of you were excited for this new chapter in your lives but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss the dynamic you have. You don’t travel to and from university together but you’d gotten used to seeing him around campus every day and having his lessons three times a week. Yes, you live together and have for ages, but it’ll be odd to not know he’s around. That if you're having a really bad day you can go to his office and vent about what's annoying you.
One thing you won’t miss though is a certain someone who has always made you want to commit the most grotesque crimes known to mankind.
Jihoo.
Although ironically, Jihoo is the reason that Seungcheol has spent the whole morning, whilst you ate breakfast, looking more and more concerned about what you might be planning. Not that he has any idea it has anything to do with her, why would he? You never told him what you overheard. But you’ll be damned if you don’t teach that spiteful little teacher's pet a lesson she’ll never forget.
Two days ago:
“You are the only one in class he seems to be drawn to."
"Of course I am, have you seen the others in that class? All of them would struggle to win best in show at a dog show let alone manage to bag someone like him. Seriously he's lucky I'm there to relieve his eyes from the creatures taking up the seats.”
You don't condone calling other women bitches. But you'll make an exception for Jihoo. Wouldn't win best in show?! And creatures?! You knew she was a dick but you didn't think she was that cruel.
“He's into you, I can feel it."
You've no idea who this other woman is but she'll feel something soon. Mainly, your palm on her cheek. And not in a hot way.
“I know," you can hear Jihoo’s smirk even through the bathroom cubicle, “I'm going to wait until the last day. It's a stupid rule if you ask me, no relationships between students and professors, but I think that's the only reason he's not made a move yet, he's worried about us getting found out."
She can't be serious? Maybe she's talking about some other professor that's unlucky enough to have her in their classes. She cannot be talking about your Seu……
"This time next year, I'll probably be Mrs Professor Choi.” Her and her little lap dog both squeal and you're so shocked you almost fall off the toilet.
You'll kill her. And her friend. You don't care if it means Seungcheol having to visit you in prison, at least he still won't be hers. For two years you've sat and watched her bat her eyelashes and ogle your man and you just won't stand for it anymore.
“So are you going to talk to him after class?"
“It's a morning class though," she sighs and you can imagine her checking herself out in the mirror, “and he'll still technically have classes I suppose. I'm going to go back after last class. Then we can be honest with each other, then he won't technically be staff here anymore.”
Oh you'll be honest with her. She doesn't stand a chance. And you're going to show her that in the only way you know how.
Seungcheol may be the professor. But it's you that's going to teach her a lesson.
Seungcheol is sitting behind his desk when you enter the class. It's your first and last of the day. The last day of being a student entirely and, although you've got a plan for later today, you can't help the slight bounce in your step from excitement of all this finally being done.
Amazingly, because it's normally Jihoo, you're the first in the class. Though you know there's some of your classmates not far behind you so you can't do anything untoward. Seungcheol rushes from his chair regardless and peaks through the door to check if there's anyone coming whilst he grabs your hand.
“Last class then." He smiles softly.
"Hm-mm,” you grin.
"I'm so proud of you _____. I'm so proud to be your boyfriend." He kisses your forehead, his hands stroking your cheeks.
"Thank you," you reply with your hands on his arms as he continues to hold your cheeks, “I'm proud of you too y’know. Head of faculty at 35 is pretty good going Professor Choi.”
"You can show me how proud you are later.” He smirks though jumps back when he hears the door opening.
You rush off to your seat but send him a wink, or try to at least, causing Seungcheol to hold back a laugh at your feeble attempt.
You thought he'd forgotten that you seemed to be up to something this morning. But from the way his eyes dart to yours the second Jihoo walks in the room, he's clearly expecting something.
She does as she always does though. Waltzes in and makes a point of walking up to Seungcheol.
“Morning professor. I got you this." And she hands him a bag with something in it.
“I've told you Jihoo, you don't need to bring me food if we have a morning class. I've eaten already, twice actually."
You smirk into your hand and pretend to not be listening to their little interaction. You know what he means by that. He's eaten you this morning just before he ate his actual breakfast.
“I know I don't need to, I like doing it. I got you the almond croissant because I know they're your favourite." She says much too loudly like she's trying to gloat about it to the rest of the class. All she gets though is surreptitious eyerolls.
“Thank you Jihoo." He says, though there's no true feelings behind it. And hates almonds. So more fool her.
She swishes over to her desk, her false smile only being met with blank stairs of indifference and sits down, taking out everything she'll need and waiting patiently with her pen for Seungcheol to start the class.
"Ok everyone, I know……." You try not to groan when someone's hand flies into the air, “Yes. Jihoo." He tries to smile though you know he's already had enough of her.
“As the student representative for the class,"
When the fuck did that happen? You wonder whether it's just you that missed that happening but everyone else is exchanging confused looks too. So clearly she's just gone full dictator and decided it herself.
"I would just like to say that it has been an honour to be taught by such a wonderful teacher." Ass licker you think to yourself as you try not to look at her.
Seungcheol obviously is expecting you to glare at her, he thought that today would be the day that you finally put her in her place. He thought that's why you were being so odd. But you're not even looking over with your usual glare. You're just indifferent and if anything, that worries him more.
“Thank you and……”
"AND,” does she have no manners?! "As a thank you. We, well mainly me," she chuckles with her hand on her chest, “have bought you this."
Well it would only be her. You didn't know about it. And everyone looking horrified shows nobody knew about it.
“Er," he looks around the class, “thank you? It's been a pleasure teaching you, teaching all of you I mean." He adds in when Jihoo’s face lights up, presuming he only means her.
He glances at you again, hoping to enjoy your glaring, but just like before, you're just sitting quite happily at your desk waiting for the lesson to start.
This is very odd, Seungcheol thinks to himself. Do you not care that Jihoo is quite clearly flirting with him anymore? He loves how territorial you are over him, how protective you are of your relationship. And yet now you don't seem to care at all.
You've been together for years, before you even decided to do your masters. You were young when you met, he knew that. But 9 years isn't that big an age gap, although twenty one and thirty did feel a bit too big a stretch at the beginning.
It never felt weird though. You were made for each other, you just worked well together, right from the beginning. He knows you're the love of his life and he knows you feel the same. At least he thought he did but now you're happily letting this wannabe home wrecker flirt with him and you're not even sending her the normal daggers.
This is weird. And it's beginning to freak him out.
Maybe now you're coming to the end of this chapter of your life, you're coming to the end of Seungcheol too?
Well. He won't stand for it. He'll lock you in the wardrobe if he needs to until you see sense. You're not dropping him now. He knows he won't be able to function properly without you his life. And he won't let you just throw it away now you've moved on to a new stage in life.
He doesn't focus on the lesson after that, he just goes through the motions.
You're both lost in your own little worlds. Seungcheol in a world where he is dying alone, nobody around his deathbed aside from nurses who don't know him. And then you, completely lost in what you know is coming and with not a care in the world for the spiral your boyfriend is currently spinning down.
If you've timed everything correctly, and you're certain you have, this should all work like clock work. You know from overhearing the coven meeting Jihoo talking to her friend, that she intends to go to his classroom after final classes have finished. You know from Seungcheol that he doesn't have anything during his last two classes today. But he does have a little get together with the faculty before their final lessons of the day. They had leaving drinks a couple of days ago so you know once he's done with their little get together today, he has nothing else planned.
He was expecting you to go home. That's what you'd normally do if you had no classes. And that's what you did do, you had lunch with a couple of friends from your other classes and then headed home. But that was literally just to shower and to change because you've headed straight back to campus to set your little plan into action.
So now you’re waiting just past his classroom, hoping he won't see you from your watch post and hoping Jihoo doesn't arrive at the wrong time.
You hear him before you see him, promising to meet up with one of the older professors that you know he hates. But his fake promise of a drink in a few weeks helps you, because you can hear him getting closer without having to expose yourself to him just yet.
His door opens and closes and you take a moment to lean against the wall and take a deep breath. You're not nervous, you’re more excited to get your own back on that annoying idiot after two years of wanting to throw things at her in class.
You open his door slowly, hoping he won't hear you. It won't really matter if he does but you'd just rather have the element of surprise when you're a bit closer to him.
Perhaps sky high heels weren't the best idea you've ever had if you also wanted to walk in stealth mode but you somehow manage and your favourite professor doesn't realise you're there until it's too late.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!" He tries to look around on his spinny chair to see who the hell has decided to move him whilst he's trying to pack his bag. “_____?!"
“Yes professor?" You ask, like dragging a professor around on his wheely chair is totally normal.
“What the hell are you doing?!"
“Putting you in your stationary cupboard." You respond as though it should be obvious.
In the two years you've been in his classes, you'd never utilised this stationary cupboard. Which is a travesty when you consider it could probably hold about six people and it has no windows. It's the perfect spot. Yet when you've fooled around it's been in the classroom. Or that time under his desk.
"Why?!” He demands as you open the door to it and drag him in, "you could've just asked me to get up, you didn't need to drag me. Is this how you're going to break up with me? Just leave me here to rot?!”
You stop in shock, the door closing behind you, him sort of gliding into the middle of the cupboard on his own and you're both plunged into the darkness.
"Break up?!” You screech as you turn the light on. Not that it really adds much light, the light bulb must be ancient and it's more like candle light. But you can see him and that's what matters.
"You didn't glare at her this morning. Do you not love me anymore?"
"Of course I love you!”
"She was flirting with me _____, even more than normal and you just let her.” He folds his arms and looks away.
"I just zoned her out. I had more important things to think about.”
"More important than us?”
"I was thinking about us.” You pull the belt a little on your trench coat subconsciously.
“What?"
His eyes widen as he realises what you're wearing. It's far removed from the casual clothes you had on earlier. In fact he swears he's never seen that coat before in his life. But then, he wouldn't have. You ordered it whilst you were still on the toilet in the thirty seconds between Jihoo leaving with her little leech and you forming this plan.
"What are you doing?” He narrows his eyes at you, much like he did at breakfast.
"Making our last day one to remember.”
Your smirk is devilish as you undo the belt to the trench coat and let it fall to the floor. Seungcheol's jaw falls to the floor along with it when he realises you've walked through campus in nothing but a coat and sky high heels.
“Do you remember when you called me vanilla?"
He’s not listening. He's just staring at your naked body and the way you somehow look even hotter now you only have six inch heels on.
“That was," he licks his lips as you move your hair and the action makes your tits move a little, “that was ages ago. And you made your point."
“But you said I'd never fuck in public."
“I say a lot of things,” he dismisses you, "come here.”
"Do you remember you said I'd never fuck in public?" You press again.
“Yes!" He answers distractedly, palming himself over his pants with his eyes on your pussy rather than your face.
“I just wanted to check if you remembered, that's all."
“Is that what this is, you proving your point again?"
“It will be."
He doesn't catch what you say or what you mean, just hums and decides he's tired of waiting for you to move. He drags himself along the floor on his chair, obviously forgetting he has fully functioning legs and stops right infront of you, his eyes level with your pussy.
“This is what you’ve been planning?”
“Mostly,” you shrug like you don’t want to pounce on him.
“So this is the reason you didn’t pay attention in your last lesson of your whole education,” his fingers wander up and down your thighs now you’re standing between his spread legs, “you were too busy thinking about kidnapping the professor?”
“It’s hardly kidnap when we’re still in your classroom,” you reply though he knows his tantalising fingers are affecting you from your goose bumped skin.
“So what’s your plan now?” His puppy dog eyes look up at you as he leaves little kisses all over your stomach.
Oh. You stare down at his chair, there is just one slight flaw in your plan.
“Does that chair have brakes?”
“Why?” You feel him smirk into your skin.
“Because I imagined this going a certain way but I forgot your chair had wheels.”
“You’ve just wheeled me in here.”
“Can we not do this now? I’m on a tight schedule.”
He frowns at you but decides kissing painfully close to your dripping pussy is a far better use of his brain power than figuring out what the hell you’re talking about.
“It’s got brakes.” His kisses just above where you ache for him, exactly where he knows it will annoy you most. “What…..w-what the fuck?!”
You don’t give him a chance to think, just wheel him back to the middle of the room and kneel down to undo his belt.
“Lift your ass up,” You roll your eyes when he doesn't move for you.
“You’re so badly behaved. It’s bad enough you ignored my lesson, kidnapped me and now you’ve forgotten basic manners?”
“Do you want this or not?” You bark at him, you’re already getting pissed off because you had no fucking idea it was so hard to kneel down comfortably in stilettos.
“I want you to say please.”
A stand off ensues. Both of you refusing to break eye contact. You on the floor butt naked other than satan's shoes and him in his chair looking like a toddler in a suit. The trouble is though, you really don’t have time for this if you want this to play out like you hope it does.
“Please professor, can you lift your perfect ass so that I can take your big dick out and ride it like a pony?”
“That depends.” He says arrogantly.
“On what?!”
“Did you get me a gift? Jihoo got me a gift and a croi…….. Don’t do that!!”
“Why?” you ask as you stand up and reach to get your coat.
“I thought I was being ridden like a pony.” He whines.
“That was before you annoyed me. Now I’m going home to ride my dildo like a pony and you can organise your pens or whatever the fuck you do in this overly large stationary cupboard.”
“Put that coat on and I won’t touch you for a week.” His voice suddenly turns cold and you will yourself to remain stoic.
“Oh please,” you scoff, though don’t move to actually put the coat on, “you can’t help yourself. You’re just an old simp.”
He throws himself out of his chair, his suit jacket thrown clumsily on one of the shelves and his pants and underwear discarded in the blink of an eye as soon as he has his shoes off. He takes his shirt off and if you were paying attention you’d realise he’s still got his tie in his hands. But you don’t, because your eyes are drawn to the rather massive elephant in the room.
“Right.” He flops back down into the chair, his dick bouncing as he does, “Happy? Come here.”
“No,”
“For fucks sake I was only joking about her!”
“It’s not that. Socks,” You glance down at his feet. You’d barely even noticed his dick until he sat down because there is no way in hell you’re fucking someone who's wearing pokemon day of the week socks. They’re not even the right day.
“You’re ridiculous,” he glares as he reaches down to take his socks off, “you know that?”
“And yet you’re still rock hard for me.”
“And yet you’re still dripping down your thighs.” He smiles sarcastically at you as you glance down and realise he’s right. “I’m tired of this.” He scoots over to you again and stops directly in front of you, glowering as he reaches down to put the brakes on. “Hands.”
“What?” You give him a startled look.
“Give me,” he lifts his tie up, “your hands.”
This you weren’t expecting. You just thought it’d be simple. You’d ride him, he’d get too worked up like he always does and he’d end up bouncing you on his dick like an overenthusiastic jack in the box.
You turn around and hold your wrists out behind you, your heart pounding and hands shaking a little in excitement as his hands grope your ass now it’s directly in front of him.
“Good girl,” he smirks as he binds your wrists with the silk tie, “I don’t know what you thought you were doing baby, waltzing in here like it was your right, like you were the one in charge in this classroom.” He tests that you’re secure before making himself comfortable in the chair.
“Go on then,” he leans back, his arms resting on the chair arms like he isn’t waiting for you to ride him.
“You’re not going to do anything first?” Your turn around.
“You’re already fucking soaked, don’t act like you can’t take it baby.”
“I was just asking,” you mumble.
Seungcheol holds your hips as you straddle him, he may be in one of those moods but he’s not going to let you hurt yourself for the sake of this and your obscene shoes. It’s only when you’re in position and he’s lazily holding his dick so you can lower yourself onto it, that you realise this is going to be fucking awkward to do.
You’re in huge heels, your hands are behind your back and so you’re not best placed to slowly move yourself up and down his much too big dick repeatedly until you’re fully impaled. And one look at him tells you he figured this out long before you did.
It’s not like you’re not used to the size of him, you are. Mostly. But just taking him in one go, in heels and with wrists bound? It feels more like a squid game challenge than the simple fuck you’d envisaged.
You take a deep breath and with Seungcheol positioning his dick in one hand and holding your hip in the other, you lower yourself down onto him.
The stretch burns but in a familiarly pleasurably way. He’s the only man that’s ever made you feel this sort of beautiful burn and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way it stings slightly as your boyfriend's big dick feels like it breaks you in two.
“Doing so good for me,” He tries to soothe you through gritted teeth. If you’ll never get used to the size of him, he’ll definitely never get used to how it feels as your pussy slowly drags him further and further into your snug, warm walls.
Your calves are burning from how slowly you’re trying to lower yourself down because you can’t hold onto him or to anything.
Fuck it, it’ll burn for like a second but think of how great it’ll feel when you’re so full of him you can’t breathe properly. And so you just go for it.
“Fuck!!” You both cry out in unison when you just let yourself sit on him in one swift movement.
“Why are you so fucking big?” You grumble as you try to take deep breaths, your head resting on his shoulder.
“Then I can fuck you so well that you’re so tired, you stop being fucking weird for two mintues,”
“You’ll be sorry you said that.” You lift your head to challenge him.
“Oh yeah?”
“I ordered a strap last week that’s the exact same size as you. You won’t be so fucking cocky when you’re crying because my big dick is streching your ass so much that you can’t even think straight.”
You ward off a smirk when he tries to act like that hasn’t had any effect on him. But his dick gives him away, you feel him twitch inside you.
“You like that idea? You’re always so pathetic when it comes to your ass Seungcheol. You’re such a……Owww!” You whine, your whole body jolting when he pulls your hair back and sucks a mark onto your neck.
“Aren’t,” you sigh in pleasure, “aren’t you too old for hickies?”
You know you’re annoying him but these marks will only make all of this even more enjoyable in the end.
He doesn’t answer, just pulls your hair again so the other side of your neck is presented to him and sucks another harsh mark.
“Move,” He sits back in his chair with an arrogant look on his face that makes you unknowingly clench around him.
“Say please,” Why are you doing this? You’re desperate to move and yet you’re still trying to act like you have any authority in a situation, where your hands are already out of action and you’re completely beholden to him.
“Don’t then,” He puts his hands behind his head, looking completely disinterested.
You glance at the clock. You haven’t got time for this.
“I knew you wouldn’t hold out for long,” he chuckles as your hips slowly start grinding on him.
Oh. Well you didn’t expect that, you might need to wear heels more often for days you feel like taking a ride on his office chair. Your feet are easily cemented on the floor and if anything they’re helping you move a little easier than normal and he feels like he’s almost hitting even deeper because of it. You’re struggling to even care that you can’t hold onto anything, your hips speed up and eventually you feel him hit that epic spot inside you so hard that you turn to fully bouncing on him just to feel him hit it even harder.
“Look at you _____, finished top of all your classes but forget anything and everything the second you can bounce on my big dick,”
You’re not listening to him and you don’t care what he’s saying, you bounce away on his dick with not a care in the world. Your juices dripping down on him only make the sound of your ass landing on his thighs even louder as you throw your head back in pleasure and the room is filled with a loud wet smacking sound.
“Oh sorry,” he continues on like he’s just having an everyday conversation, “I mean most of your classes. Someone beat you in mine.”
Your blood boils but instead of rising to it and giving him a piece of your mind like you know he wants, you channel that anger into fucking yourself onto him even harder, determined to stop his ability to speak from the way you’re riding him then he’ll shut the fuck up.
“Jesus,” he finally loses his act and his jaw clenches from how fucking good you feel.
“Professor Choi,” you hear an annoying perfect voice in the distance.
“Fuck,” he sits bolt up right and grabs your hips to slow you a little, “baby I think I heard someone.” He whispers.
But something wicked takes over you. Even more wicked than you expected. Because you knew she’d be here, you knew what was going to happen. But now it’s actually happening, you feel like you want to do one of those overly sinister cackles that villains always do in films whilst you ride his dick.
You stop bouncing and fully ride him like a woman possessed, his hands trying to slow you but they can’t. This is what you’ve been waiting for, this exact moment is what you’ve been thinking about for two whole days.
“Professor Choi?” The voice sounds a little closer now, presumably close enough that they’ll soon be able to hear you leaking all over the hot professor's perfect dick and close enough that soon they’ll be able to hear him cum in you and prove once and for all just who he belongs to.
“_____? There’s someone here!” He whisper shouts, obviously panicking.
You lean back, your hips still moving quick, your tits boucing and breathing ragged but you’re not too tired to smirk at him.
“I don’t care.”
“Professor Choi?” The nearby voice sounds concerned now, like she knows he’s here and maybe realises what he’s doing but not really believing it, “It’s me Jihoo. Are you here?”
You watch, your pussy still slamming down on his dick and making sure all you can hear is his brain working and your sopping cunt, as realisation dawns on Seungcheol.
“You knew,” he tries not to moan when you clench around him but he can’t help it, you feel too fucking good, “you knew she was going to be here?”
“Maybe,” You go back to bouncing to make sure she truly hears just how incredible her perfect Professor Choi really feels. It's truly obscene just how loudly you're smacking yourself down onto him.
“Oh my god baby your big dick feels so fucking good!!!!” You moan much too loudly, trying not to laugh at yourself or his look of horror. “I’m gonna cum professor all over your big dick!!!!!!”
You can’t help yourself and it’s at that moment that Seungcheol’s brain finally catches up with him. Sure, he’d realised you knew she’d be here, that much was obvious. But he was right, you are going to finally put her straight, just not like he thought. He presumed you’d shout, or give him an overly dramatic kiss at the end of class. He didn’t think you’d truly prove to her that he’s yours.
Something animalistic takes hold of him. You want to claim him so much as yours but he’s never stopped to realise just how much he wants to do the same. He’s spent two years watching this woman upset you, to go out of her way to put the whole class down with her entitled ways. But he’s seen how you’ve doubted yourself every so often because of her. So fuck it, between the pair of you, you can show her that sometimes, well sometimes, she doesn’t always get what she wants.
“Baby?" He whispers and you look at him straight away, even stopping your over dramatic moaning you were putting too much effort into, “do you want me to untie your hands? You might need to hold on,"
You frown at him but before you can even stop your bouncing he's whipped the tie off, grabbed hold of your hips and slammed you down onto his dick just as he thrusts up.
“Fucking hell!!!" You're not even trying to put it on now, he's just hit deeper inside you than he ever has in all your years together.
"That's it baby, does it feel good when I bounce you on my fat dick?”
You can't answer. If you speak you're certain it's just going to be all wobbly, he's bouncing you around on his dick so much that all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.
“Answer me ______!!!" He says your name so loudly and so proudly that you can't help but clench around him, moaning when a fresh wave of arousal leaves you making everything even louder.
"Yes Seungcheol i-it feels so good, want you to c-cum inside me,”
You smile through your ecstacy when he moans so loudly, and so ridiculously, that you're certain someone heard him in the next town.
"Yeah? Maybe,” he hammers his dick into you again and again, the chair squeaking and brakes presumably holding on for dear life as his hips move painfully quick, "want me to fill you up? How about,” you're just babbling, the only thing you're really focussing on is how fucking good he feels, "I fill you up properly? Make sure nobody ever forgets who you belong to?”
Fuck do you like that idea, making sure that everybody knows you're each others.
"I could fuck a baby into you,”
He could do what?! Yeah you've spoken about kids in the future but never seriously. And not during sex. But why does that turn you on so much? Why are you dribbling down his balls even more and thrusting your hips so they help his movements?
“We could," he grunts, “turn the spare bedroom into a nursery. Fuck you'd look so good, so full of me all the time. Everyone knowing I did that to you."
Well you're not sure whether you and Seungcheol will ever have kids but at least you've both discovered your breeding kink together. It's like couples bonding.
“Imagine it _____," he exaggerates your name again, “everywhere, so full." His lips wrap around one of your nipples, his hips still pistoning into you.
“Fuck," you cry, “Cheol I'm gonna cum,"
“Me too baby, you feel so fucking good, always so fucking good,"
And with his hands bruising your hips, the idea of him fucking a baby into you and his lips now wrapped around your other nipple, gently sucking on it in complete juxtopistion from how ruthless his hips are, you cum all over his dick. Your body shaking, your voice wobbling from the force he's keeping and any thought of Jihoo completely gone. All you can think about now is how much you want him to cum in you, the idea of him making you his in a whole new way only drawing your orgasm out for longer.
The groan Seungcheol lets out and the warm, almost homely feeling that buzzes through you when he cums makes the end of your orgasm feel even better. His hips move sloppily as he empties himself deep inside you, his eager mouth still sucking like it's soothing him after one hell of an orgasm.
But eventually his hips slow, his hands loosen and change to soothing rubs on your hips and you wrap your arms around his neck and gaze at him in awe.
“That's new." You smile, kissing the tip of his nose.
“I don't know where it came from," he says softly, “do you think she's still here. I forgot she was there half way through."
“No idea, don't really care. I love you Seungcheol," you smile, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. One he happily hums into and wraps his arms around your waist.
“I love you too, but," he smiles when you frown a little, “can I ask how you intend to get home, are you wearing your coat and heels?" He grins, hoping he's caught you out.
“You underestimate me so much?"
“Not at all," he holds you closer and makes you groan, “just want to check whether I need to watch out for any strong gusts of wind."
“I brought clothes with me." You roll your eyes, though wince slightly when you stand up and he slips out of you, his cum along with it.
“Hold on, I think there's some paper towels the janitor used to keep in here."
“You really know how to treat a lady," you muse, watching him stand up and enjoying the way his back looks when he reaches for the top shelf.
“Hey," he kneels down to clean you up a bit, “what can I say, this old simp likes to be a gentleman."
Once you're cleaned up, you hand him the clothes you brought for him too.
“You really did think of everything didn't you?" He smiles as he puts the sweats on you've brought him.
“That, professor, I did."
You smugly put the sweater on you've brought and drag some sweat pants on, waiting for him to notice what you're wearing.
“Are you serious?"
“What?" You turn around innocently once your much more comfortable shoes are on.
“That’s the only sweater you could find?"
“I wear it at home."
“It's got a hole in it, you never wear it outside the apartment."
“Well I felt like it." You shrug innocently.
“You just felt like wearing my old university rugby sweater? Just felt like wearing something that has my name on the back of it?"
“Yes." You say matter of factly and shove your heels and coat into your bag.
“I love you, you know." He crashes into you, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder.
"I love you too. Are you ready to go?”
"I am. Fuck,” he holds you a little closer, "I can't wait for this new chapter you know. Both of us moving on but together.”
"You're not annoyed with me?” You ask quietly.
"Why would I be?” He makes you turn to him, his brows knitted together in concern.
"For all this,” you gesture to the room.
"I couldn’t give a fuck about what she heard or what she didn't. She's been a complete ass for two years. She shouldn't be going into people's classrooms when she's not been invited in.”
"Ok,”
"______,” he makes you look at him, "I'm not mad. I fucking love you and this whole thing has been so hot. How could I be mad? I get to go home with the woman I love and look forward to better things.”
"You're sure.” You pout a little.
"I'm so sure. Now let me treat you to dinner.”
"We’re hardly dressed for dinner.” You snicker, reaching for your bag.
"Burgers in the car? We can listen to that podcast you've been droning on about and make out on the backseat."
"Paper towels and burgers. How can I resist?!” You say sarcastically and laugh when he playfully spanks your ass.
"Wait,” he smashes into you when you stop at the door without opening it, "do you think she's out there?” You whisper.
"Isn't that what you wanted?”
"I didn't think about after. Oh my god do you think she's called the police?!” You whisper shout.
"It's not illegal for a couple to fuck in a cupboard.”
"But maybe she knew, we knew she was there.”
"Again. Isn't that what you wanted?”
"But isn't that illegal? Having sex in front of other people?”
"Are you ill?”
"What?”
"Why would it be illegal to have sex in front of people? Never heard of a cuck chair? And I didn't say she could come in here. She's barged in on two people having sex. Just chill out,”
"You won't be saying that from your cell,”
He doesn't listen, just shoves you out the way with his hip and opens the door. He pokes his head through, checking nobodies there and then opens it a bit wider when he knows it's just you two.
“See," he holds his hand out for you, “just me, you and our new breeding kink. Oh my god do you think…..”
"No.” You stop him before he starts, with a finger on his lips.
"You don't know what I'm going to say.” He mumbles against your finger.
"I do. And I'm not ordering another strap, we've got a store at this point and I'm not putting shit in it. Imagine the mess.” You walk off and out of the classroom, knowing he'll catch you up once he's got his bags.
"I give it a week,” he runs up behind you as you leave the building, "and there'll be a delivery man, with another sex toy, at our door."
"Maybe,” you grumble as you walk together, Seungcheol still with his arm around your shoulder, "she's there.” You whisper, "well don't look idiot!”
"Well how could I know who you mean without looking?”
You both glance out the corner of your eyes and the sight makes you feel more smug than you ever have. Jihoo, surrounded by her little minions, clearly furious and all of them glaring over as you and the hot professor strut past them towards the car. Your plan couldn't have worked out better. Now there's no doubt in the world that her hot professor was never hers. He's only ever been yours. And you his.
"Pleased with yourself?” He grins, kissing you on the cheek.
"Is she still looking?”
He glances behind him quickly and nods, just as you both get to the car.
"Good.” You pull him by his hoody and crash your lips into his, revelling in the way all of their eyes burn into the back of your head and how Seungcheol straight away grabs your ass to bring you closer to him.
"Just so you know,” you give him one last kiss before he opens the trunk for you to put your bags in, "I'm very pleased with myself.”
He smiles and closes the trunk but neither of you move just yet.
"Are you ready to go Mr Head of Faculty?”
"I think we better had,” he spots someone in the distance, "the Dean is over there."
You both panic and throw yourselves into the car, laughing to yourselves and knowing that you're driving away from these past two years and into a completely different, more exciting phase in your life. Together. And now everyone knows it.
Pairing ✨ Professor Seungcheol x Female Student OC
Synopsis ✨ The day has finally arrived. Your masters is over, Seungcheol is moving to a different university to become head of faculty and so now you're left with only one thing you need to do. Prove to a certain someone that the hot professor has always been entirely and undoubtedly yours.
Genre ✨ established relationship, smut, fluff
Plot warnings ✨ can be read as a stand alone but it is the third story for these two (others are linked below), non-serious threats of violence (a given with this OC because people still will not leave her hot professor alone), Seungcheol spirals massively thinking she doesn't love him anymore, jealously, possessive OC (and Seungcheol tbh), professor x student dynamic (she's a masters student), age gap (he's 35- she's 25), very smut heavy
Smut warnings ✨ a very pouty Seungcheol for like a minute, he's big (fact.), sex in a stationary cupboard (it's a big one), a lot of bickering before/ during and after sex, a lot of purposely pissing each other off, both of them are battling to be in charge and yet neither of them are- they're just horny, semi public sex/ public sex (it's just one person but they're both well aware they can be heard) so I suppose exhibitionism?, unprotected sex, p in v sex, he ties her wrists with his tie for part of it, hair pulling (f.receiving), slight marking, slight nipple play and hint at lactation kink (it isn't overtly mentioned and it's the briefest hint), a new found breeding kink for both of them?, references to past and future anal sex (m.receiving), creampie, very over exaggerated dirty talk and moaning (they're doing it on purpose), some fluffy aftercare but then back to the bickering
Word count ✨ 7k
a/n ✨ I felt like these two needed a proper ending and I just really love their dynamic so much.
I've been on a roll recently and I've really gotten back into writing going to & from work on the train (god bless privacy screens and big commutes) so I'm just riding this wave whilst I'm loving writing again, hence why I've been uploading quite close together (sorry).
I've very nearly finished a Joshua fic and another Cheol one, so if you'd like to be tagged the link to the form is on my main page 🩷
Vanilla → Who's Vanilla Now Professor?
“You’re up to something.” Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you as he places his coffee back on the table.
“No I’m not.”
He assesses you, you know he doesn’t believe you and he’s not wrong. You are up to something. You’ve been up to something since you’d overheard two of your classmates having a whispered conversation two days ago.
“Can’t we just enjoy this last day?”
“Oh I fully intend to enjoy it,” You smirk into your coffee mug as Seungcheol eyes you warily.
“You scare me sometimes, you know?”
“In a good way?”
“I’m not sure,” he ponders whilst he takes a bite of toast, your smile only making him even more suspicious.
Your masters is over and thankfully you've found a job a little easier than you’d expected. In a few weeks you’d begin working at the local paper as a junior journalist and be done with university forever. Well, that is apart from Seungcheol moaning about deadlines and students who never hand in assignments on time. Although he will now be doing that at a new university. A head of faculty position came up at a university just outside of town and he was lucky enough to get the job, though you'd told him a million times it's them that's lucky to have him. It’s a little more of a commute but it’s only ten minutes away from your work so you can grab lunch a couple of times a week.
Both of you were excited for this new chapter in your lives but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss the dynamic you have. You don’t travel to and from university together but you’d gotten used to seeing him around campus every day and having his lessons three times a week. Yes, you live together and have for ages, but it’ll be odd to not know he’s around. That if you're having a really bad day you can go to his office and vent about what's annoying you.
One thing you won’t miss though is a certain someone who has always made you want to commit the most grotesque crimes known to mankind.
Jihoo.
Although ironically, Jihoo is the reason that Seungcheol has spent the whole morning, whilst you ate breakfast, looking more and more concerned about what you might be planning. Not that he has any idea it has anything to do with her, why would he? You never told him what you overheard. But you’ll be damned if you don’t teach that spiteful little teacher's pet a lesson she’ll never forget.
Two days ago:
“You are the only one in class he seems to be drawn to."
"Of course I am, have you seen the others in that class? All of them would struggle to win best in show at a dog show let alone manage to bag someone like him. Seriously he's lucky I'm there to relieve his eyes from the creatures taking up the seats.”
You don't condone calling other women bitches. But you'll make an exception for Jihoo. Wouldn't win best in show?! And creatures?! You knew she was a dick but you didn't think she was that cruel.
“He's into you, I can feel it."
You've no idea who this other woman is but she'll feel something soon. Mainly, your palm on her cheek. And not in a hot way.
“I know," you can hear Jihoo’s smirk even through the bathroom cubicle, “I'm going to wait until the last day. It's a stupid rule if you ask me, no relationships between students and professors, but I think that's the only reason he's not made a move yet, he's worried about us getting found out."
She can't be serious? Maybe she's talking about some other professor that's unlucky enough to have her in their classes. She cannot be talking about your Seu……
"This time next year, I'll probably be Mrs Professor Choi.” Her and her little lap dog both squeal and you're so shocked you almost fall off the toilet.
You'll kill her. And her friend. You don't care if it means Seungcheol having to visit you in prison, at least he still won't be hers. For two years you've sat and watched her bat her eyelashes and ogle your man and you just won't stand for it anymore.
“So are you going to talk to him after class?"
“It's a morning class though," she sighs and you can imagine her checking herself out in the mirror, “and he'll still technically have classes I suppose. I'm going to go back after last class. Then we can be honest with each other, then he won't technically be staff here anymore.”
Oh you'll be honest with her. She doesn't stand a chance. And you're going to show her that in the only way you know how.
Seungcheol may be the professor. But it's you that's going to teach her a lesson.
Seungcheol is sitting behind his desk when you enter the class. It's your first and last of the day. The last day of being a student entirely and, although you've got a plan for later today, you can't help the slight bounce in your step from excitement of all this finally being done.
Amazingly, because it's normally Jihoo, you're the first in the class. Though you know there's some of your classmates not far behind you so you can't do anything untoward. Seungcheol rushes from his chair regardless and peaks through the door to check if there's anyone coming whilst he grabs your hand.
“Last class then." He smiles softly.
"Hm-mm,” you grin.
"I'm so proud of you _____. I'm so proud to be your boyfriend." He kisses your forehead, his hands stroking your cheeks.
"Thank you," you reply with your hands on his arms as he continues to hold your cheeks, “I'm proud of you too y’know. Head of faculty at 35 is pretty good going Professor Choi.”
"You can show me how proud you are later.” He smirks though jumps back when he hears the door opening.
You rush off to your seat but send him a wink, or try to at least, causing Seungcheol to hold back a laugh at your feeble attempt.
You thought he'd forgotten that you seemed to be up to something this morning. But from the way his eyes dart to yours the second Jihoo walks in the room, he's clearly expecting something.
She does as she always does though. Waltzes in and makes a point of walking up to Seungcheol.
“Morning professor. I got you this." And she hands him a bag with something in it.
“I've told you Jihoo, you don't need to bring me food if we have a morning class. I've eaten already, twice actually."
You smirk into your hand and pretend to not be listening to their little interaction. You know what he means by that. He's eaten you this morning just before he ate his actual breakfast.
“I know I don't need to, I like doing it. I got you the almond croissant because I know they're your favourite." She says much too loudly like she's trying to gloat about it to the rest of the class. All she gets though is surreptitious eyerolls.
“Thank you Jihoo." He says, though there's no true feelings behind it. And hates almonds. So more fool her.
She swishes over to her desk, her false smile only being met with blank stairs of indifference and sits down, taking out everything she'll need and waiting patiently with her pen for Seungcheol to start the class.
"Ok everyone, I know……." You try not to groan when someone's hand flies into the air, “Yes. Jihoo." He tries to smile though you know he's already had enough of her.
“As the student representative for the class,"
When the fuck did that happen? You wonder whether it's just you that missed that happening but everyone else is exchanging confused looks too. So clearly she's just gone full dictator and decided it herself.
"I would just like to say that it has been an honour to be taught by such a wonderful teacher." Ass licker you think to yourself as you try not to look at her.
Seungcheol obviously is expecting you to glare at her, he thought that today would be the day that you finally put her in her place. He thought that's why you were being so odd. But you're not even looking over with your usual glare. You're just indifferent and if anything, that worries him more.
“Thank you and……”
"AND,” does she have no manners?! "As a thank you. We, well mainly me," she chuckles with her hand on her chest, “have bought you this."
Well it would only be her. You didn't know about it. And everyone looking horrified shows nobody knew about it.
“Er," he looks around the class, “thank you? It's been a pleasure teaching you, teaching all of you I mean." He adds in when Jihoo’s face lights up, presuming he only means her.
He glances at you again, hoping to enjoy your glaring, but just like before, you're just sitting quite happily at your desk waiting for the lesson to start.
This is very odd, Seungcheol thinks to himself. Do you not care that Jihoo is quite clearly flirting with him anymore? He loves how territorial you are over him, how protective you are of your relationship. And yet now you don't seem to care at all.
You've been together for years, before you even decided to do your masters. You were young when you met, he knew that. But 9 years isn't that big an age gap, although twenty one and thirty did feel a bit too big a stretch at the beginning.
It never felt weird though. You were made for each other, you just worked well together, right from the beginning. He knows you're the love of his life and he knows you feel the same. At least he thought he did but now you're happily letting this wannabe home wrecker flirt with him and you're not even sending her the normal daggers.
This is weird. And it's beginning to freak him out.
Maybe now you're coming to the end of this chapter of your life, you're coming to the end of Seungcheol too?
Well. He won't stand for it. He'll lock you in the wardrobe if he needs to until you see sense. You're not dropping him now. He knows he won't be able to function properly without you his life. And he won't let you just throw it away now you've moved on to a new stage in life.
He doesn't focus on the lesson after that, he just goes through the motions.
You're both lost in your own little worlds. Seungcheol in a world where he is dying alone, nobody around his deathbed aside from nurses who don't know him. And then you, completely lost in what you know is coming and with not a care in the world for the spiral your boyfriend is currently spinning down.
If you've timed everything correctly, and you're certain you have, this should all work like clock work. You know from overhearing the coven meeting Jihoo talking to her friend, that she intends to go to his classroom after final classes have finished. You know from Seungcheol that he doesn't have anything during his last two classes today. But he does have a little get together with the faculty before their final lessons of the day. They had leaving drinks a couple of days ago so you know once he's done with their little get together today, he has nothing else planned.
He was expecting you to go home. That's what you'd normally do if you had no classes. And that's what you did do, you had lunch with a couple of friends from your other classes and then headed home. But that was literally just to shower and to change because you've headed straight back to campus to set your little plan into action.
So now you’re waiting just past his classroom, hoping he won't see you from your watch post and hoping Jihoo doesn't arrive at the wrong time.
You hear him before you see him, promising to meet up with one of the older professors that you know he hates. But his fake promise of a drink in a few weeks helps you, because you can hear him getting closer without having to expose yourself to him just yet.
His door opens and closes and you take a moment to lean against the wall and take a deep breath. You're not nervous, you’re more excited to get your own back on that annoying idiot after two years of wanting to throw things at her in class.
You open his door slowly, hoping he won't hear you. It won't really matter if he does but you'd just rather have the element of surprise when you're a bit closer to him.
Perhaps sky high heels weren't the best idea you've ever had if you also wanted to walk in stealth mode but you somehow manage and your favourite professor doesn't realise you're there until it's too late.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!" He tries to look around on his spinny chair to see who the hell has decided to move him whilst he's trying to pack his bag. “_____?!"
“Yes professor?" You ask, like dragging a professor around on his wheely chair is totally normal.
“What the hell are you doing?!"
“Putting you in your stationary cupboard." You respond as though it should be obvious.
In the two years you've been in his classes, you'd never utilised this stationary cupboard. Which is a travesty when you consider it could probably hold about six people and it has no windows. It's the perfect spot. Yet when you've fooled around it's been in the classroom. Or that time under his desk.
"Why?!” He demands as you open the door to it and drag him in, "you could've just asked me to get up, you didn't need to drag me. Is this how you're going to break up with me? Just leave me here to rot?!”
You stop in shock, the door closing behind you, him sort of gliding into the middle of the cupboard on his own and you're both plunged into the darkness.
"Break up?!” You screech as you turn the light on. Not that it really adds much light, the light bulb must be ancient and it's more like candle light. But you can see him and that's what matters.
"You didn't glare at her this morning. Do you not love me anymore?"
"Of course I love you!”
"She was flirting with me _____, even more than normal and you just let her.” He folds his arms and looks away.
"I just zoned her out. I had more important things to think about.”
"More important than us?”
"I was thinking about us.” You pull the belt a little on your trench coat subconsciously.
“What?"
His eyes widen as he realises what you're wearing. It's far removed from the casual clothes you had on earlier. In fact he swears he's never seen that coat before in his life. But then, he wouldn't have. You ordered it whilst you were still on the toilet in the thirty seconds between Jihoo leaving with her little leech and you forming this plan.
"What are you doing?” He narrows his eyes at you, much like he did at breakfast.
"Making our last day one to remember.”
Your smirk is devilish as you undo the belt to the trench coat and let it fall to the floor. Seungcheol's jaw falls to the floor along with it when he realises you've walked through campus in nothing but a coat and sky high heels.
“Do you remember when you called me vanilla?"
He’s not listening. He's just staring at your naked body and the way you somehow look even hotter now you only have six inch heels on.
“That was," he licks his lips as you move your hair and the action makes your tits move a little, “that was ages ago. And you made your point."
“But you said I'd never fuck in public."
“I say a lot of things,” he dismisses you, "come here.”
"Do you remember you said I'd never fuck in public?" You press again.
“Yes!" He answers distractedly, palming himself over his pants with his eyes on your pussy rather than your face.
“I just wanted to check if you remembered, that's all."
“Is that what this is, you proving your point again?"
“It will be."
He doesn't catch what you say or what you mean, just hums and decides he's tired of waiting for you to move. He drags himself along the floor on his chair, obviously forgetting he has fully functioning legs and stops right infront of you, his eyes level with your pussy.
“This is what you’ve been planning?”
“Mostly,” you shrug like you don’t want to pounce on him.
“So this is the reason you didn’t pay attention in your last lesson of your whole education,” his fingers wander up and down your thighs now you’re standing between his spread legs, “you were too busy thinking about kidnapping the professor?”
“It’s hardly kidnap when we’re still in your classroom,” you reply though he knows his tantalising fingers are affecting you from your goose bumped skin.
“So what’s your plan now?” His puppy dog eyes look up at you as he leaves little kisses all over your stomach.
Oh. You stare down at his chair, there is just one slight flaw in your plan.
“Does that chair have brakes?”
“Why?” You feel him smirk into your skin.
“Because I imagined this going a certain way but I forgot your chair had wheels.”
“You’ve just wheeled me in here.”
“Can we not do this now? I’m on a tight schedule.”
He frowns at you but decides kissing painfully close to your dripping pussy is a far better use of his brain power than figuring out what the hell you’re talking about.
“It’s got brakes.” His kisses just above where you ache for him, exactly where he knows it will annoy you most. “What…..w-what the fuck?!”
You don’t give him a chance to think, just wheel him back to the middle of the room and kneel down to undo his belt.
“Lift your ass up,” You roll your eyes when he doesn't move for you.
“You’re so badly behaved. It’s bad enough you ignored my lesson, kidnapped me and now you’ve forgotten basic manners?”
“Do you want this or not?” You bark at him, you’re already getting pissed off because you had no fucking idea it was so hard to kneel down comfortably in stilettos.
“I want you to say please.”
A stand off ensues. Both of you refusing to break eye contact. You on the floor butt naked other than satan's shoes and him in his chair looking like a toddler in a suit. The trouble is though, you really don’t have time for this if you want this to play out like you hope it does.
“Please professor, can you lift your perfect ass so that I can take your big dick out and ride it like a pony?”
“That depends.” He says arrogantly.
“On what?!”
“Did you get me a gift? Jihoo got me a gift and a croi…….. Don’t do that!!”
“Why?” you ask as you stand up and reach to get your coat.
“I thought I was being ridden like a pony.” He whines.
“That was before you annoyed me. Now I’m going home to ride my dildo like a pony and you can organise your pens or whatever the fuck you do in this overly large stationary cupboard.”
“Put that coat on and I won’t touch you for a week.” His voice suddenly turns cold and you will yourself to remain stoic.
“Oh please,” you scoff, though don’t move to actually put the coat on, “you can’t help yourself. You’re just an old simp.”
He throws himself out of his chair, his suit jacket thrown clumsily on one of the shelves and his pants and underwear discarded in the blink of an eye as soon as he has his shoes off. He takes his shirt off and if you were paying attention you’d realise he’s still got his tie in his hands. But you don’t, because your eyes are drawn to the rather massive elephant in the room.
“Right.” He flops back down into the chair, his dick bouncing as he does, “Happy? Come here.”
“No,”
“For fucks sake I was only joking about her!”
“It’s not that. Socks,” You glance down at his feet. You’d barely even noticed his dick until he sat down because there is no way in hell you’re fucking someone who's wearing pokemon day of the week socks. They’re not even the right day.
“You’re ridiculous,” he glares as he reaches down to take his socks off, “you know that?”
“And yet you’re still rock hard for me.”
“And yet you’re still dripping down your thighs.” He smiles sarcastically at you as you glance down and realise he’s right. “I’m tired of this.” He scoots over to you again and stops directly in front of you, glowering as he reaches down to put the brakes on. “Hands.”
“What?” You give him a startled look.
“Give me,” he lifts his tie up, “your hands.”
This you weren’t expecting. You just thought it’d be simple. You’d ride him, he’d get too worked up like he always does and he’d end up bouncing you on his dick like an overenthusiastic jack in the box.
You turn around and hold your wrists out behind you, your heart pounding and hands shaking a little in excitement as his hands grope your ass now it’s directly in front of him.
“Good girl,” he smirks as he binds your wrists with the silk tie, “I don’t know what you thought you were doing baby, waltzing in here like it was your right, like you were the one in charge in this classroom.” He tests that you’re secure before making himself comfortable in the chair.
“Go on then,” he leans back, his arms resting on the chair arms like he isn’t waiting for you to ride him.
“You’re not going to do anything first?” Your turn around.
“You’re already fucking soaked, don’t act like you can’t take it baby.”
“I was just asking,” you mumble.
Seungcheol holds your hips as you straddle him, he may be in one of those moods but he’s not going to let you hurt yourself for the sake of this and your obscene shoes. It’s only when you’re in position and he’s lazily holding his dick so you can lower yourself onto it, that you realise this is going to be fucking awkward to do.
You’re in huge heels, your hands are behind your back and so you’re not best placed to slowly move yourself up and down his much too big dick repeatedly until you’re fully impaled. And one look at him tells you he figured this out long before you did.
It’s not like you’re not used to the size of him, you are. Mostly. But just taking him in one go, in heels and with wrists bound? It feels more like a squid game challenge than the simple fuck you’d envisaged.
You take a deep breath and with Seungcheol positioning his dick in one hand and holding your hip in the other, you lower yourself down onto him.
The stretch burns but in a familiarly pleasurably way. He’s the only man that’s ever made you feel this sort of beautiful burn and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way it stings slightly as your boyfriend's big dick feels like it breaks you in two.
“Doing so good for me,” He tries to soothe you through gritted teeth. If you’ll never get used to the size of him, he’ll definitely never get used to how it feels as your pussy slowly drags him further and further into your snug, warm walls.
Your calves are burning from how slowly you’re trying to lower yourself down because you can’t hold onto him or to anything.
Fuck it, it’ll burn for like a second but think of how great it’ll feel when you’re so full of him you can’t breathe properly. And so you just go for it.
“Fuck!!” You both cry out in unison when you just let yourself sit on him in one swift movement.
“Why are you so fucking big?” You grumble as you try to take deep breaths, your head resting on his shoulder.
“Then I can fuck you so well that you’re so tired, you stop being fucking weird for two mintues,”
“You’ll be sorry you said that.” You lift your head to challenge him.
“Oh yeah?”
“I ordered a strap last week that’s the exact same size as you. You won’t be so fucking cocky when you’re crying because my big dick is streching your ass so much that you can’t even think straight.”
You ward off a smirk when he tries to act like that hasn’t had any effect on him. But his dick gives him away, you feel him twitch inside you.
“You like that idea? You’re always so pathetic when it comes to your ass Seungcheol. You’re such a……Owww!” You whine, your whole body jolting when he pulls your hair back and sucks a mark onto your neck.
“Aren’t,” you sigh in pleasure, “aren’t you too old for hickies?”
You know you’re annoying him but these marks will only make all of this even more enjoyable in the end.
He doesn’t answer, just pulls your hair again so the other side of your neck is presented to him and sucks another harsh mark.
“Move,” He sits back in his chair with an arrogant look on his face that makes you unknowingly clench around him.
“Say please,” Why are you doing this? You’re desperate to move and yet you’re still trying to act like you have any authority in a situation, where your hands are already out of action and you’re completely beholden to him.
“Don’t then,” He puts his hands behind his head, looking completely disinterested.
You glance at the clock. You haven’t got time for this.
“I knew you wouldn’t hold out for long,” he chuckles as your hips slowly start grinding on him.
Oh. Well you didn’t expect that, you might need to wear heels more often for days you feel like taking a ride on his office chair. Your feet are easily cemented on the floor and if anything they’re helping you move a little easier than normal and he feels like he’s almost hitting even deeper because of it. You’re struggling to even care that you can’t hold onto anything, your hips speed up and eventually you feel him hit that epic spot inside you so hard that you turn to fully bouncing on him just to feel him hit it even harder.
“Look at you _____, finished top of all your classes but forget anything and everything the second you can bounce on my big dick,”
You’re not listening to him and you don’t care what he’s saying, you bounce away on his dick with not a care in the world. Your juices dripping down on him only make the sound of your ass landing on his thighs even louder as you throw your head back in pleasure and the room is filled with a loud wet smacking sound.
“Oh sorry,” he continues on like he’s just having an everyday conversation, “I mean most of your classes. Someone beat you in mine.”
Your blood boils but instead of rising to it and giving him a piece of your mind like you know he wants, you channel that anger into fucking yourself onto him even harder, determined to stop his ability to speak from the way you’re riding him then he’ll shut the fuck up.
“Jesus,” he finally loses his act and his jaw clenches from how fucking good you feel.
“Professor Choi,” you hear an annoying perfect voice in the distance.
“Fuck,” he sits bolt up right and grabs your hips to slow you a little, “baby I think I heard someone.” He whispers.
But something wicked takes over you. Even more wicked than you expected. Because you knew she’d be here, you knew what was going to happen. But now it’s actually happening, you feel like you want to do one of those overly sinister cackles that villains always do in films whilst you ride his dick.
You stop bouncing and fully ride him like a woman possessed, his hands trying to slow you but they can’t. This is what you’ve been waiting for, this exact moment is what you’ve been thinking about for two whole days.
“Professor Choi?” The voice sounds a little closer now, presumably close enough that they’ll soon be able to hear you leaking all over the hot professor's perfect dick and close enough that soon they’ll be able to hear him cum in you and prove once and for all just who he belongs to.
“_____? There’s someone here!” He whisper shouts, obviously panicking.
You lean back, your hips still moving quick, your tits boucing and breathing ragged but you’re not too tired to smirk at him.
“I don’t care.”
“Professor Choi?” The nearby voice sounds concerned now, like she knows he’s here and maybe realises what he’s doing but not really believing it, “It’s me Jihoo. Are you here?”
You watch, your pussy still slamming down on his dick and making sure all you can hear is his brain working and your sopping cunt, as realisation dawns on Seungcheol.
“You knew,” he tries not to moan when you clench around him but he can’t help it, you feel too fucking good, “you knew she was going to be here?”
“Maybe,” You go back to bouncing to make sure she truly hears just how incredible her perfect Professor Choi really feels. It's truly obscene just how loudly you're smacking yourself down onto him.
“Oh my god baby your big dick feels so fucking good!!!!” You moan much too loudly, trying not to laugh at yourself or his look of horror. “I’m gonna cum professor all over your big dick!!!!!!”
You can’t help yourself and it’s at that moment that Seungcheol’s brain finally catches up with him. Sure, he’d realised you knew she’d be here, that much was obvious. But he was right, you are going to finally put her straight, just not like he thought. He presumed you’d shout, or give him an overly dramatic kiss at the end of class. He didn’t think you’d truly prove to her that he’s yours.
Something animalistic takes hold of him. You want to claim him so much as yours but he’s never stopped to realise just how much he wants to do the same. He’s spent two years watching this woman upset you, to go out of her way to put the whole class down with her entitled ways. But he’s seen how you’ve doubted yourself every so often because of her. So fuck it, between the pair of you, you can show her that sometimes, well sometimes, she doesn’t always get what she wants.
“Baby?" He whispers and you look at him straight away, even stopping your over dramatic moaning you were putting too much effort into, “do you want me to untie your hands? You might need to hold on,"
You frown at him but before you can even stop your bouncing he's whipped the tie off, grabbed hold of your hips and slammed you down onto his dick just as he thrusts up.
“Fucking hell!!!" You're not even trying to put it on now, he's just hit deeper inside you than he ever has in all your years together.
"That's it baby, does it feel good when I bounce you on my fat dick?”
You can't answer. If you speak you're certain it's just going to be all wobbly, he's bouncing you around on his dick so much that all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.
“Answer me ______!!!" He says your name so loudly and so proudly that you can't help but clench around him, moaning when a fresh wave of arousal leaves you making everything even louder.
"Yes Seungcheol i-it feels so good, want you to c-cum inside me,”
You smile through your ecstacy when he moans so loudly, and so ridiculously, that you're certain someone heard him in the next town.
"Yeah? Maybe,” he hammers his dick into you again and again, the chair squeaking and brakes presumably holding on for dear life as his hips move painfully quick, "want me to fill you up? How about,” you're just babbling, the only thing you're really focussing on is how fucking good he feels, "I fill you up properly? Make sure nobody ever forgets who you belong to?”
Fuck do you like that idea, making sure that everybody knows you're each others.
"I could fuck a baby into you,”
He could do what?! Yeah you've spoken about kids in the future but never seriously. And not during sex. But why does that turn you on so much? Why are you dribbling down his balls even more and thrusting your hips so they help his movements?
“We could," he grunts, “turn the spare bedroom into a nursery. Fuck you'd look so good, so full of me all the time. Everyone knowing I did that to you."
Well you're not sure whether you and Seungcheol will ever have kids but at least you've both discovered your breeding kink together. It's like couples bonding.
“Imagine it _____," he exaggerates your name again, “everywhere, so full." His lips wrap around one of your nipples, his hips still pistoning into you.
“Fuck," you cry, “Cheol I'm gonna cum,"
“Me too baby, you feel so fucking good, always so fucking good,"
And with his hands bruising your hips, the idea of him fucking a baby into you and his lips now wrapped around your other nipple, gently sucking on it in complete juxtopistion from how ruthless his hips are, you cum all over his dick. Your body shaking, your voice wobbling from the force he's keeping and any thought of Jihoo completely gone. All you can think about now is how much you want him to cum in you, the idea of him making you his in a whole new way only drawing your orgasm out for longer.
The groan Seungcheol lets out and the warm, almost homely feeling that buzzes through you when he cums makes the end of your orgasm feel even better. His hips move sloppily as he empties himself deep inside you, his eager mouth still sucking like it's soothing him after one hell of an orgasm.
But eventually his hips slow, his hands loosen and change to soothing rubs on your hips and you wrap your arms around his neck and gaze at him in awe.
“That's new." You smile, kissing the tip of his nose.
“I don't know where it came from," he says softly, “do you think she's still here. I forgot she was there half way through."
“No idea, don't really care. I love you Seungcheol," you smile, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. One he happily hums into and wraps his arms around your waist.
“I love you too, but," he smiles when you frown a little, “can I ask how you intend to get home, are you wearing your coat and heels?" He grins, hoping he's caught you out.
“You underestimate me so much?"
“Not at all," he holds you closer and makes you groan, “just want to check whether I need to watch out for any strong gusts of wind."
“I brought clothes with me." You roll your eyes, though wince slightly when you stand up and he slips out of you, his cum along with it.
“Hold on, I think there's some paper towels the janitor used to keep in here."
“You really know how to treat a lady," you muse, watching him stand up and enjoying the way his back looks when he reaches for the top shelf.
“Hey," he kneels down to clean you up a bit, “what can I say, this old simp likes to be a gentleman."
Once you're cleaned up, you hand him the clothes you brought for him too.
“You really did think of everything didn't you?" He smiles as he puts the sweats on you've brought him.
“That, professor, I did."
You smugly put the sweater on you've brought and drag some sweat pants on, waiting for him to notice what you're wearing.
“Are you serious?"
“What?" You turn around innocently once your much more comfortable shoes are on.
“That’s the only sweater you could find?"
“I wear it at home."
“It's got a hole in it, you never wear it outside the apartment."
“Well I felt like it." You shrug innocently.
“You just felt like wearing my old university rugby sweater? Just felt like wearing something that has my name on the back of it?"
“Yes." You say matter of factly and shove your heels and coat into your bag.
“I love you, you know." He crashes into you, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder.
"I love you too. Are you ready to go?”
"I am. Fuck,” he holds you a little closer, "I can't wait for this new chapter you know. Both of us moving on but together.”
"You're not annoyed with me?” You ask quietly.
"Why would I be?” He makes you turn to him, his brows knitted together in concern.
"For all this,” you gesture to the room.
"I couldn’t give a fuck about what she heard or what she didn't. She's been a complete ass for two years. She shouldn't be going into people's classrooms when she's not been invited in.”
"Ok,”
"______,” he makes you look at him, "I'm not mad. I fucking love you and this whole thing has been so hot. How could I be mad? I get to go home with the woman I love and look forward to better things.”
"You're sure.” You pout a little.
"I'm so sure. Now let me treat you to dinner.”
"We’re hardly dressed for dinner.” You snicker, reaching for your bag.
"Burgers in the car? We can listen to that podcast you've been droning on about and make out on the backseat."
"Paper towels and burgers. How can I resist?!” You say sarcastically and laugh when he playfully spanks your ass.
"Wait,” he smashes into you when you stop at the door without opening it, "do you think she's out there?” You whisper.
"Isn't that what you wanted?”
"I didn't think about after. Oh my god do you think she's called the police?!” You whisper shout.
"It's not illegal for a couple to fuck in a cupboard.”
"But maybe she knew, we knew she was there.”
"Again. Isn't that what you wanted?”
"But isn't that illegal? Having sex in front of other people?”
"Are you ill?”
"What?”
"Why would it be illegal to have sex in front of people? Never heard of a cuck chair? And I didn't say she could come in here. She's barged in on two people having sex. Just chill out,”
"You won't be saying that from your cell,”
He doesn't listen, just shoves you out the way with his hip and opens the door. He pokes his head through, checking nobodies there and then opens it a bit wider when he knows it's just you two.
“See," he holds his hand out for you, “just me, you and our new breeding kink. Oh my god do you think…..”
"No.” You stop him before he starts, with a finger on his lips.
"You don't know what I'm going to say.” He mumbles against your finger.
"I do. And I'm not ordering another strap, we've got a store at this point and I'm not putting shit in it. Imagine the mess.” You walk off and out of the classroom, knowing he'll catch you up once he's got his bags.
"I give it a week,” he runs up behind you as you leave the building, "and there'll be a delivery man, with another sex toy, at our door."
"Maybe,” you grumble as you walk together, Seungcheol still with his arm around your shoulder, "she's there.” You whisper, "well don't look idiot!”
"Well how could I know who you mean without looking?”
You both glance out the corner of your eyes and the sight makes you feel more smug than you ever have. Jihoo, surrounded by her little minions, clearly furious and all of them glaring over as you and the hot professor strut past them towards the car. Your plan couldn't have worked out better. Now there's no doubt in the world that her hot professor was never hers. He's only ever been yours. And you his.
"Pleased with yourself?” He grins, kissing you on the cheek.
"Is she still looking?”
He glances behind him quickly and nods, just as you both get to the car.
"Good.” You pull him by his hoody and crash your lips into his, revelling in the way all of their eyes burn into the back of your head and how Seungcheol straight away grabs your ass to bring you closer to him.
"Just so you know,” you give him one last kiss before he opens the trunk for you to put your bags in, "I'm very pleased with myself.”
He smiles and closes the trunk but neither of you move just yet.
"Are you ready to go Mr Head of Faculty?”
"I think we better had,” he spots someone in the distance, "the Dean is over there."
You both panic and throw yourselves into the car, laughing to yourselves and knowing that you're driving away from these past two years and into a completely different, more exciting phase in your life. Together. And now everyone knows it.
"Seungcheol's a busy man, so you decide to bring him lunch. However, you end up staying longer than you planned."
👔 Pairing: ceo!Seungcheol x Reader (afab)
👔 Ratings/Genre/AUs: M(18+); Smut, fluff, office au, established relationship
👔 Warnings: Lots of kithes, fingering, oral (f. rec.), dom!cheol, light breast play, unprotected safe (be safe!), rough sex, also soft sex for 0.5 seconds, dirty talk, creampie, cum play, a sexy pic is sent, desk sex
👔 Word Count: 5.3k
👔 Beta: @playmetheclassics Indigo, you beautiful hooman. Thank you so much for thoroughly looking over this for me! Your comments made me laugh. Please accept my hug *opens arms* 🥰
👔 Author's Note: My first ever svt fic is here!!! I have a handful of svt wips, but I FINALLY got one finished (thank goodness) 😭 I'm really excited to show you all what I've been working on, but for now, here is ceo!cheol hehe. I hope you enjoy.
seventeen masterlist | main masterlist
The way to Seungcheol’s office was a winding path.
You would think the CEO’s office would be more accessible, but you supposed he was too busy to deal with minuscule issues his subordinates may have. Thus, he needed to be in a secluded area away from everyone. If everyone were to go to him with their problems, he would be working 24/7, if possible. However, it felt like he was working that long now anyway. This was why you found yourself outside the meeting room he was supposedly in—thanks to the receptionist.
Having been told his meeting ended three minutes ago, you pushed open the door without knocking. You figured he was lingering inside because he was gathering his materials before he left. You didn’t expect to be greeted by Seungcheol’s booming voice, sharp and annoyed.
“…have to push back our deadline because they want to change the conditions? Again?! Tell them no. They should’ve gotten their shit toget—Yn?”
Seungcheol stopped in his rant when he finally turned to see you at the door. His eyes immediately took in your not-so-professional attire. You had planned to hang out with a friend soon, but you wanted to drop off food for Seungcheol first.
“Hi, Cheol,” you greeted with a smile, eyes glancing at the room full of employees. You shifted uncomfortably under the stares. Most of them were looking at you with wide eyes. It made sense. You didn’t recognize them and weren’t dressed appropriately to be in the building.
You averted your gaze to Seungcheol and said, “I thought you were done with your meeting.”
Although his eyes softened at seeing you, they were still fierce—body hot from dealing with stupid people all morning.
“I’ll be done soon. Go wait for me in my office,” he instructed and started to walk to you. He dug a hand in his slacks, pulling out his keys and placing them in your palm. He glanced at the bag you were holding but didn’t say anything.
“I have to go soon; I just wanted—”
“Ten minutes, alright?” he said.
“I don’t know if I can wait until then,” you replied.
Seungcheol took a deep breath. He didn’t want to snap at you, but his patience was already too low as it was.
“Five then. Go to my office, alright?” He sighed, gesturing out the door.
You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You could tell he was trying hard not to be too demanding.
“Fine,” you grumbled and turned around.
Walking to his office, you passed by Wonwoo’s room. You didn’t know him outside of work, but he was always friendly whenever you visited Seungcheol.
This time you knocked, waiting for a response before pushing his ajar door open more.
“Hi, Wonwoo,” you smiled.
He sat behind his desk, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose as his eyes glided across the screens in front of him. He peered up when he heard your voice. He looked surprised to see you.
“Hey Yn, it’s nice to see you,” he replied, pushing away from his desk to give you his full attention. “I think Seungcheol is still in a meeting.”
You pointed in the direction of the meeting room, a small laugh escaping as you replied, “Yeah, I just came from there.”
“Oh,” he said sheepishly.
“I just came to stop by as I wait for him to finish,” you explained.
“You’re welcome to sit,” he said and gestured to the guest chair.
You obliged, setting down the bag and your purse. Like all your conversations, the context was light. Between asking about work updates and his recent lover, you passed the time quickly.
“I thought I told you to wait in my office.”
You snapped your gaze up; the words on your lips died upon hearing Seungcheol’s rigid tone. It was obvious he wasn’t pleased with you being here.
Your mouth dipped down. “It’s boring in there alone.”
“Hm,” he paused to look at Wonwoo, “I expect those files to be sent to me within an hour.”
“Hey, don’t be harsh on him, babe. I’m the one that disturbed him,” you said as you stood up with your belongings.
“Which is why I told you to go to—”
“Your office. Yeah, I got it,” you grumbled. You glanced at Wonwoo, giving him an apologetic smile. “I’m glad you’re happier, Wonwoo. Thanks for the chat.”
Wonwoo grinned as he rolled himself closer to his desk. “Thanks, Yn.”
“The files,” Seungcheol reminded Wonwoo. Wonwoo nodded, waving you goodbye when Seungcheol guided you out of the room.
You followed next to him as he walked to his office. The silence was unsettling. Glancing at him briefly, you noticed his jaw was clenched and lips angled downward more than usual.
“Ba—” you started to say.
“Wait until we get inside,” he simply ordered.
You’re not sure what you did wrong besides interrupting his meeting. You understood he was probably stressed, but you didn’t see the mistake as a big deal. If he had taken the lunch prior, he could’ve gotten back to work instead of talking to you.
Once Seungcheol shut and locked his office door, he moved you to his chair while leaning against his desk. You placed your belongings on the floor as he loosened his tie. He then placed his hands behind him on the wooden surface.
“Why are you mad at me?” you pouted, sinking into his comfortable seat.
Seungcheol sighed. “I’m not.”
“You’re acting like you are,” you huffed and furrowed your brows in puzzlement.
“You just came on a bad day,” he explained, hand coming up to rub his temples. “Why did you come anyway? Dressed like that too.”
“Don’t sound so thrilled,” you said sarcastically. “Also, what’s wrong with my outfit?”
“It’s not appropriate here,” he answered, hand falling from his face.
“I didn’t think I had to be dressed in slacks to come to see you,” you argued. He’s never had an issue with your “inappropriate” attire before, so you wondered what changed.
“People were staring,” he muttered, lips returning to a frown.
You chuckled silently in realization. “My little jealous baby,” you cooed.
“I’m not,” he fussed.
“Oh, that’s good then. I’m going to meet Jun once I leave by the way,” you said.
Seungcheol narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because he’s my friend,” you giggled, seeing his change in demeanor. “I’m actually probably late, so I should get going.”
Seungcheol reached down to pull you up and into a hug before you could leave. You smiled, knowing he was definitely hiding his jealousy. Your arms slid under his suit jacket, and you began to rub his back.
“Don’t go,” Seungcheol mumbled into your neck. “I’m sorry I was rude to you.”
“I’m not going to spite you, Cheol. I had already planned to see him. I just wanted to drop by to give you lunch before I went,” you explained. “I know you’ve been busy.”
You enjoyed teasing him, but you didn’t want him to think you were doing something to upset him purposely.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
You stayed silent for a moment as you felt his body gradually relax in your hold. When you felt he had calmed down, you slowly pulled away enough to see his face. You offered a small smile, tucking the hair that was in his face behind his ear. You let your hand rest on his cheek after.
“Do you forgive me?” he questioned.
“You can make up for being mean to me,” you suggested softly.
“How?” he asked, hands gripping your waist firmly so you couldn’t move too far.
You pretended to think, eyes raising to the ceiling momentarily as you thought.
“Five kisses,” you finally said.
“Only five?” Seungcheol asked playfully. You smiled at hearing his light tone. You were glad he was happier, even if it was just for now.
“Depends how good they are,” you said and leaned forward. His lips were a few inches from yours.
“They’re always good,” he scoffed lightly.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
You pressed your lips against his gently. However, Seungcheol was too anxious to go slow. He pressed you flush against him as he slipped his tongue between your lips.
He switched your positions, so you were against his desk. Your hands went down his back before landing on his ass. You gave him a mischievous squeeze that had him biting your lip in return. You giggled as you pulled away.
“We’re going to be here a long time if you kiss me like that, Cheollie,” you said. “You have four more to go.”
Seungcheol lifted you onto his desk, hands resting on the surface so he could lean closer. “That was my last meeting of the day. I’m all yours, baby.”
He kissed you again, but you pulled away before he could deepen it.
“I don’t believe you,” you replied. Hearing how annoyed he sounded earlier, you felt he had things to tend to today.
Seungcheol smirked, a small sigh leaving his mouth. “Always so smart.”
He gave you a quick peck before moving away to type something on his computer that resided on the adjacent part of his desk. While he did this, you pulled your phone out to text Jun that you’d be running late.
“There,” he announced and put his computer to sleep. “Now, I’m free.”
You set your phone down, arms coming up to hook around his neck when he returned. “Two more.”
“Two?” he asked, confused, while putting his hands on your hips.
“You just gave me another one, so yes, two.”
“That wasn’t even a kiss,” Seungcheol said, words dragging out.
“I still counted it. Two more kisses, then I’ll let you get back to work.“
“We’ll see about that,” he muttered before crashing his mouth on yours.
Smiling into the kiss, you wrapped your legs around his hips. Seungcheol’s hands rubbed your sides. His thumbs brushed against the underside of your breasts each time, making you yearn for his touch more.
You tore away from him, breathing a little heavier. He stared at you with hooded eyes.
“You’re slowly being forgiven,” you teased.
He raised a brow at you. “So, you admit my kisses are good?”
You laughed at his tone, finding him cute despite his slight smugness.
“I think I need one more to know,” you replied.
Seungcheol gave you another kiss, tongue pushing past your lips quickly as he made out with you fervently.
“Okay,” you giggled when he pulled away. “They’re good.”
“You were just being complicated,” he huffed. Your gaze glanced down at his swollen lips and then to his eyes. He was watching you closely, chest rising and falling quicker than usual. You really were lucky to have him.
“Maybe,” you smiled. “That was five, lover boy. Now, get back to work.”
You placed a hand on his chest to move him away, but he stayed still. You tilted your head at him.
“Move, Cheol,” you said in case he didn’t understand that you meant now.
Seungcheol shook his head, a hand sliding down your body until it was nestled between your legs.
“I’m not done with you, baby,” he growled lowly.
Your mouth fell open in a gasp when he started to circle your clit. Seungcheol leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses on your neck. Your hands moved to clutch his sides, pulling him closer as you spread your legs to accommodate him.
“I thought you s-said we couldn’t do this here anymore,” you stammered, a small smirk on your mouth when he tugged down your shorts.
He pulled away from your neck to mutter in your ear, “No, I said you couldn’t be so fucking loud.”
As soon as your shorts and underwear were on the floor, he kneeled. His hands gripped your thighs and shifted you closer to the edge of his desk. One of your hands immediately went to his hair, clutching it and pushing his face toward you. His tongue glided along your slit before his mouth connected with your clit.
Seungcheol gave you a pointed look and slowed his ministrations when you moaned a little too loud. You bit your lip in response since you didn’t want him to stop.
Once you quieted down, Seungcheol continued. His tongue lapped at your arousal, eyes closing briefly as he savored your taste.
You watched him in awe. You loved seeing how enthused he was whenever he was between your legs.
“This isn’t what I meant when I said I brought you lunch,” you quipped.
Seungcheol flattened his tongue, slowly gathering your slick before he stood up. He made a show of swallowing, and you shook your head playfully at his act.
“Maybe not, but I’m enjoying my meal very much,” he murmured. He slid his fingers between your folds, coating them in your wetness before pushing one inside. “You taste so good, baby.”
As a small moan slipped from your mouth, you shifted your hands down to his slacks. You unbuckled his belt quickly.
“Yeah?” you asked, feeling an odd sense of pride at the compliment.
He nodded as he chuckled and put another finger inside. He pumped them slowly. You whined at the slight stretch, needing to feel his cock instead. You pushed down his zipper and moved his pants and underwear out of the way. Your walls squeezed around his fingers at the sight of him. You reached out to spread his pre-cum before slowly rubbing his shaft.
“M-maybe you can bring me lunch again next week,” he mumbled, trying to keep his focus on your words rather than your hand.
“I can do that,” you smiled.
He grinned back and pressed his lips on yours again. His fingers started to move quicker, causing you to moan into the kiss. Seungcheol smirked, added another finger, and continued his fast movements. You were so focused on his hand that you had to pull away from the kiss to cry out, your hand pausing on him.
Seungcheol was quick to press his other hand on your mouth, muffling your moans as he gradually decreased his speed. He pulled his fingers from you but kept his hand against your face. His other hand gently took your hand off his cock.
“You’re gonna stay quiet for me, or else I’ll send you on your way out without cumming,” he threatened lowly.
You answered back, but it wasn’t very clear. He moved his hand and nodded for you to repeat.
“But you like it when I’m loud,” you whined.
“Today, I just want to have you all to myself. I want to be the only one who hears you,” he explained, hands trailing down to the top of your off-the-shoulder blouse. He tugged it down until just your bra was exposed. It had your arm movements restricted; raising them too much would push the material back up.
You started to pull your arms out, so you could move better, but Seungcheol stopped you.
“I like you like this,” he said. His hands tugged down the top of your bra, a small smirk forming on his lips when your breasts were freed from their confinements. “So beautiful.”
Seungcheol shifted a few objects on his desk before carefully laying you down on his desk. He didn’t bother undressing as he situated himself between your legs, length in hand. You attempted to prop your feet on the desk but had little trouble finding your footing.
“Here,” he said and guided your legs around him instead.
Your face heated at his readjustments. “T-thanks.”
Seungcheol smiled at you, kind and loving as if you had just said something precious to him. He aligned his tip at your entrance and leaned over you. It had his tip pushing into your entrance. You whined at the feeling, moving your hips in hopes of feeling more. However, he stayed put.
Seungcheol slid a hand behind your neck and gently lifted you slightly. He moved his face so it was mere inches from yours. Your elbows rested on the surface to be more balanced.
“I love you,” he murmured.
A grin broke out on your face. “I love you.”
He gave you a sweet kiss as he gradually sank into your heat. The feel of his cock filling you up had you tightening your legs around his waist. Seungcheol let you push him closer, deeper; his groan got lost in your mouth.
Slowly, he started to rock into you. The kiss grew sloppy with each snap of his hips. Eventually, he broke it off, mouth ajar as he basked in how you fit so well around him.
“C-Cheol,” you whimpered, hands finding a hold on his wrists that were within reach.
He stared down at you while he started to speed up. There was a thin coat of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. He adjusted himself, so he could move deeper. The position had him hitting a particular spot that made you moan loudly.
For the second time, Seungcheol covered your mouth to silence your sounds.
“You don’t listen, do you?” he asked. However, his hips suddenly slammed into yours. It had you crying out again. The smirk on his face told you it was purposeful; he wanted to hear you be noisy despite his words. His other hand moved to grip one of your breasts. Your hands moved to hold onto your shirt, needing to hold onto something.
“No one listens to me,” he huffed, suddenly recalling the events from earlier. He had been trying to close a deal for five months, but each time he tried to finalize everything, the other person would change the conditions. He was tired of going back and forth. Not to mention, some of his veteran employees have been making rookie mistakes lately. He was just fed up.
You moaned into Seungcheol’s hand when he squeezed your breast harshly. He bowed his head, hips snapping at a brutal pace. His mind was consumed with all the annoyance bottled up in him the past few weeks. He needed to let go of his frustrations. He was tired of everything going wrong around him.
Except for you. You always treated him right.
Seungcheol slowed down once he realized how rough he had been. He moved his hand from your face, eyes searching yours.
“S-sorry,” he breathed heavily. “Are you okay?”
Although you felt sore from where his skin was hitting yours, you were fine.
“Yes,” you replied. However, you grew worried for him. Seungcheol has been rough with you before, but this time felt different.
“Are you okay?” you questioned.
Seungcheol sighed, resting his head against your chest as he held you close. You moved your hands to caress his head; you didn’t care that your shirt had risen because of it.
“Is it about work?” you asked.
“I just need this deal to go through. It’s been going on for months,” he complained.
You petted his head soothingly. “Maybe you should find another place if they’re difficult.”
“I can’t. This place will benefit us greatly.”
“Hold in there then, babe. Hopefully, they’ll come around. If not, I know you’ll still be successful without them,” you tried to reassure. You didn’t completely understand all his business practices, but you knew you hated seeing him so upset.
Seungcheol lifted his head to look at you. “Because I have you.”
You giggled softly and cupped his cheeks. You gave them a subtle squish that had Seungcheol whine.
“No, because you’re really smart and hard-working.”
“But you motivate me to do better,” he replied.
Smiling, “You do too, Cheollie.”
“I like when you call me that,” he confessed quietly and leaned down.
“I know,” you murmured, raising your head to meet him for a kiss. You felt his lips spread into a grin.
He steadily began to roll his hips again. This time his pace was gentler. He pulled away and moved onto his hands again, eyes briefly glancing down where he slid into you and then to your face again. Seungcheol’s brows were drawn together in concentration.
Your hands moved to his forearms and said, “You can go faster. I’m okay.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replied with a shake of his head.
“You won’t. I’ll tell you if you are, alright?” you reassured.
He stared at you for a moment, hips faltering. “You promise?”
“Yes,” you said.
Seungcheol nodded. You were anticipating him to pick up where he left off, but instead, he slipped out of you. Your legs unhooked from around him, and you sat up. You looked at him confused. You could already feel how sore you’d be after this was all done.
He peeled off his jacket and tossed it to the floor, spreading it out before turning to you. His arms wrapped around you and lifted you off his desk.
“Oh,” you said, surprised, and wrapped your arms around his neck.
Seungcheol carefully laid you back on his jacket on the floor.
“Better?” he asked as he settled between your legs.
You had to admit your legs were aching at having been in the same position for a while. Although the carpet wasn’t as plush as you’d like, it felt better than the hard surface of his desk. You figured he could’ve put you in his chair, but it was nice to have more room.
“Yes, thank you,” you said.
“I think I should get a couch in here soon,” he replied after a glance around his office.
There was a table and chairs in the corner for private meetings. He had bookcases and file cabinets along the wall that took up most of his space. However, there was an empty corner he could furnish.
You laughed lightly. “I think that’d be a good investment.”
“It’d make you want to visit more,” he commented.
“And what’s wrong with that?” you scoffed half-heartedly.
Seungcheol smirked. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re very distracting.”
“Not my fault you can’t keep it in your pants,” you joked.
“Oh?” he asked, suppressing a laugh.
You gave him a challenging look. It had Seungcheol laughing at your cute expression.
“I guess you’re right,” he said. “You’re just too beautiful and mine not to fuck dumb.”
“I-I don’t become dumb,” you argued weakly.
“Should we find that out now?” he asked, rubbing the tip of his cock along your dripping folds.
Your hips jerked slightly when he grazed your clit.
“Buy me a new pair of shoes if you lose,” you forced out. You tried not to focus on how he was pushing into you slightly before pulling away.
“Oh, we’re betting on this? Alright. You have to buy me a new watch,” he bargained.
You rolled your eyes. “You have like five different ones already.”
“And it’ll be six soon,” he smiled smugly.
“You don’t know that.”
“Baby, yes, I do,” he chuckled confidently.
You opened your mouth to retaliate, but what came out instead was a gasp.
Seungcheol had pushed into your core abruptly. He wasn’t as abrasive as before, but he was quicker than a few minutes ago. He stared down, his eyes watching as his cock disappeared into your body. He loved seeing how stuffed he made you.
Suddenly his finger was on your clit, rubbing harsh circles that had you moaning his name and gripping the carpet.
“Always so good for me,” he praised. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?”
You nodded, walls clenching at his words. He sucked in a breath at the feeling but didn’t let that distract him. He wanted to see you babbling; he wanted to see your eyes roll back. He moved his hand and grabbed the back of your thighs. He moved them to your chest. It wasn’t the most comfortable position due to the not-so-soft ground, but your only thought was chasing your high.
“Fuck, C-Cheol,” you rasped at the deeper feeling. Your head leaned back as he thrust swiftly.
Seungcheol quickly shoved down your top again, fixing it so he could see how your beasts bounced with each snap of his hips. You felt the coil in your stomach tightening the longer he fucked into you.
“Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” he grunted.
“Y-yes,” you stuttered. “Feels so—Hmph!—good. Love your c-cock.”
Seungcheol couldn’t stop the smirk on his face. He was pleased to see how easy it was to get you to fall apart.
“Wanna come for me, angel?” he panted, feeling his own climax approaching.
“Please!” you begged.
“Go ahead,” he said.
Seungcheol moved his hips a little harder, a litter faster, until your legs were trembling, and his hips were stuttering. He cursed out your name when he came. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he spilled himself in your cunt.
The sounds of panting filled the room while you both eased down from your orgasms.
“I think I won,” Seungcheol gloated between breaths.
“Whatever,” you huffed in jest, knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it.
He smiled, leaning down to peck your lips before carefully pulling out and standing up. You stayed on the floor, tired. You could feel his cum begin to leak out of you and onto his jacket.
Seungcheol came back within seconds and guided your legs into your panties and shorts again. He slid them up your legs; however, before he fully dressed you, he gathered his cum on his fingers and shoved it back in. You mewled at the sensation but didn’t push him away.
Once he was done, he slid your clothes on.
“Keep my cum in you when you visit that friend of yours, baby,” he instructed.
Your eyes widened at realizing the intentions of his previous actions.
“O-okay,” you agreed, face heating at the thought of leaving with his seed pooling in your panties. He smiled, happy to hear that, then helped you to your feet. Seungcheol spotted a faint stain on his jacket, but he didn’t care. He plucked the clothing item from the floor and put it in his chair.
“I would make you stay longer, but you got a watch to buy me,” he said, a cocky grin on his face.
You glared at him as you fixed your top. Seungcheol just raised an eyebrow challengingly while he tucked himself back in his pants. He fixed his tie and smoothed down his shirt.
“Do you have a particular one in mind?” you asked, reaching toward him to fix his messy hair.
“Surprise me,” he shrugged. His smirk had turned into a kind smile at your gesture, his dimples showing.
When you pulled away, you poked them mirthfully. It wasn’t your first time doing so, so Seungcheol just smiled more.
“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” he said and grabbed your purse. You thanked him, taking it and following him out of his office. Some people stared at you both as you passed but quickly averted their eyes when you caught their gaze.
“I think you might get some questions,” you told Seungcheol in the elevator.
Seungcheol glanced at you, hand in yours. “Next time, I’ll have to gag you.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Cheollie,” you purred and angled your body, so it was against his more. He chuckled and gave your forehead a kiss.
“I’ll get that couch ordered today,” he informed.
“Today? You’re eager for more lunch visits?” you asked.
“Perhaps,” he grinned. “But I want you to have a more comfortable place to rest when you come over anyway. You don’t look comfy when you’re napping at the table.”
You shrugged. He was right, but you weren’t going to complain when all you wanted to do was spend time with him—even when you were catching some z’s.
“I don’t mind,” you replied.
“I do, though,” he said, a little sternly to let you know he wasn’t going to change his mind.
When the elevator dinged your arrival, you moved away from him. He kept his hands in yours, not bothering to show a little PDA in his own building.
“Will you call me when you get home?” he asked once he stood near the door.
“Of course. Don’t stay here too long, okay? You’ve been here too much lately,” you frowned, staring at him with pleading eyes.
He sighed and gave you a sympathetic look. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be there early tonight, baby.”
“You better,” you grumbled. “Or else the watch will be mine.”
Seungcheol chuckled and nodded. “Noted. Drive safely.”
“I will. Can I give you a quick kiss?” you asked. You knew he wanted to keep the PDA at a minimum, and you wanted to respect his wishes.
Seungcheol glanced around quickly, seeing only a few people wandering the lobby.
“Okay,” he said.
You smiled and pressed your mouth against his. You let it linger for a few seconds before pulling away.
“See you at home, Cheollie,” you said.
“See you then,” he replied. You turned, but before you could take a step, you felt his hand lightly hit your ass.
You turned, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“Remember what I said?” he asked.
You ducked your head down at his question. You could already feel his cum starting to slowly seep out of your pussy. “Yes.”
“Good,” he smirked and started to walk backward. “Bye, beautiful.”
You huffed at his audacity, waving at him with a playful glare before exiting the building.
Needless to say, you were extremely late meeting Jun. You simply said you got caught up in traffic going to and from Seungcheol’s office. Jun was hesitant about if he believed you, but he let it go. At some point, you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom when you felt Seungcheol’s cum leak from your panties. Your walls clenched around nothing, unintentionally pushing more of his seed out as your saw how ruined your underwear was. You weren’t going to send Seungcheol a picture at first, but you wanted to show him the mess he made.
Cheollie 🥵 [3:31]
my messy baby
Cheollie 🥵 [3:31]
i’ll make a mess out of u again tonight if u let me
You [3:32]
you def better be home early tonight then.
Cheollie 🥵 [3:34]
😉
You hastily cleaned yourself up, heart beating quickly with anticipation for tonight.
You hung out with Jun for another half an hour before you left. On your way home, you stopped by a candy store. Seungcheol wanted a watch, but he never specified what kind of watch. You had planned to buy him an actual one, but then recalled the edible watches you had seen as a kid. You’d buy him a real watch later. You just wanted to play with him first.
Seungcheol came home early as promised. It was peaceful for two minutes before he was pushing you against the wall, telling you how you had gotten him hard again. Thankfully, he was in an online meeting, so no one could see his growing bulge. However, the rest of the day was filled with mental images of you both in compromising positions.
You weren’t able to give him his watch until the next day, but when you presented it to him, he doubled over laughing. It was a sound you adored hearing, and you were so grateful you were the cause of it. You thought he’d eat it, however, he wore it to work that day. Something about how he wanted to have something to remember you by. It was just a plus he could have a few nibbles as a snack throughout the day. He got funny looks and a few questions about it, but he didn’t mind. He loved having anything you bought him. Even if it was just a silly candy watch.
A/N: BSS COMEBACK LET'S GO 😈
For my "shy/silent" readers, I've created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^
Synopsis ✨ You've been stuck in this damn castle for years, the best friend of the Princess. But when a suitable(ish) gentleman finally asks for your hand in marriage, her brother stops you. You've always hated each other, so why is he stopping you leaving?!
Genre ✨ Enemies to Lovers, fantasy au, angst, fluff, smut
Warnings ✨ angst, OC is called a slut (not in a hot way), violence (a sort of sword fight), old fashioned views on marriage, misogynistic language (not Seokmin), OC and Seokmin are both inexperienced, unprotected sex (it is the medieval times), oral m. recieving, face fucking, slight nipple play, p in v sex, cream pie, angst with a happy ending
Word Count ✨ 11k
a/n ✨ I have LOVED writing this and it took everything in me to keep it at 11k, but I hope you love Prince Seokmin as much as I do.! (:
Jeonghan's story in this universe
It's only when you stop to think about your life, living in a castle, best friend to the Princess of the Kingdom that you come to realise..... Life is still shit.
Yes, you eat well, dress well, learn to read, write and dance (luxuries not afforded to many girls), spend your days embroidering flowers you can't stand. But with all that, comes one thing that always dampens your mood.
Seokmin.
The Prince and heir to the throne. That is if they manage to find a thrown large enough to take the weight of his enormous head.
To the rest of the land, he was Prince charming. He gave to the elderly, donated gold to help the orphan children, he even gives the wild boar a royal pardon when he's been hunting. Such is the kindness of the great Prince Seokmin.
But to you, he is a shit of the highest order of shittery.
For years he's spent his time pulling your hair, constantly asking you what you were reading and then hiding the book so you can't finish it, poking you, telling everyone you still sleep with the candle burning because you're scared of the dark. Anything he could do to make your life that bit harder, he did it.
And he enjoyed it. When he becomes King, it wouldn't surprise you if he decided to get you a funny hat and make you his court jester.
That's why today, your life is going to change for the better.
Your parents had been best friends of the King and Queen since you were born and when you were 10, they sent you to live with them. Deciding that staying in your humble abode (still a ten-bedroom castle, but smaller than the Royal Castle by some margins) wasn't an option, they said you needed variety, a chance to become a proper lady.
And what does a proper lady need? A proper gentleman. So today, that's who you're meeting.
Lord Eghart, from a foreign land you can't remember the name of. But apparently, they have the finest silks in the world and excellent cakes covered in syrup, so you really don't care where he's from.
You're sat waiting in the rose garden, one of your favourite spots to sit and read. The smells fill your senses and it's usually quiet, standing some way from the castle, more towards the woods.
Heavy footsteps sound on the small stones that line the paths and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. It's a big thing, meeting your husband to be for the first time!
You pretend to keep reading your book. Your tutor had told you years ago to always remain demure. And once you'd managed to find out what that meant, you made it your mission to try and behave like the perfect lady. Most of the time. Sort of.
"Lady _____?"
Your heart pounds in your chest, he sounds kind. His voice soft and gentle as he says your name.
You raise your eyes slowly, trying to add some allure to them so as to entice your new fiancé.
Your eyes meet. And fuck he's......dreadful.
Your parents said he was 32?! So then why does this man in front of you, look about 62?! He's bald, except for one small clump of hair in the middle of his head and his two front teeth are missing.
They told the truth in one respect. Wherever he's from certainly does have the finest silks, if his clothes are anything to go by. But why he's decided to wear every colour of them, in one go, is beyond you.
"Lady _____?"
Shit. You're just sat staring. He might be odd but he's still a lord.
"Yes!" You shoot to your feet, book falling to the floor, "Nice to meet you, my lord."
You dip into your deepest curtsy. Mainly to show your respect but also to pick up your book off the floor, in the most lady like way you can in these awful corsets.
"Shall we take a walk, my dear?"
You try not swat the man right on his bald head with your book, for calling you dear. But you agree none the less, he is your betrothed after all.
"How was it?"
Your best friend is sitting by the fire in the library when you come back from your torture walk. Your silk skirts swish as you stomp, mind fogged with anger at this clear betrayal from your parents.
In the time you've spent with him you've learnt that, as he's missing so many teeth, Lord Eghart has seen fit to lose any modicum of dental hygiene. He only cares about his horses and his pet crocodile he was given by an Emperor of a land, even further away than his. He only eats rabbit meat. And he likes to decide what you will eat. To that, you almost made your tongue bleed from biting it, wanting to tell him where he could shove his damn crocodile. But knowing a lady must smile and nod.
"He's horrible. An ogre would have been more suitable." You throw yourself in the chair, skirts rising and falling as you do.
"You'd be well suited then."
Seokmin. If you'd have known he was in here, you'd have told his sister all the gossip later, after dinner. You don't need him laughing at you.
So, you choose to ignore him. Stare at the fire wondering how long it would take you to run away from here and back to your parents.
"He can't have been that bad _____. You're 29 now anyway, surely anyone is better than no-one."
You hate that. Just because you're 29 doesn't mean you need to marry. Seokmin is 29. He isn't being forced to get married yet. But then men don't have to bear children, the only thing people these days think women are good for.
"He was missing his front teeth, told me he'd be deciding my meals and is bald. Not to mention hideous."
You note Dahye, your supposed best friend, is biting her lips trying not to laugh. It's alright for her, she married Jeonghan years ago and has been happily popping out babies for years. And what sickens you is that they're still besotted with each other.
"Yet another man you've scared away." Seokmin sighs, revelling in your misery as he sits on the bench that runs around the fire.
"I haven't scared him away," you snarl. "I've got a week left here, whilst he does business with your parents, and then I'm gone. Married to someone who'll make me eat rabbits or no doubt feed me to his crocodile."
"His crocodile?!"
You can't help but chuckle at Dahye's face. She looks horrified at the very idea of someone owning such a vicious pet.
"You're leaving?!"
You both turn to look at Seokmin, who's now standing imposingly in front of the fire.
"Yes. In a week. I'm sure you'd like me to hurry it up, but you'll have to take that up with your parents, the King and Queen."
"But you just said how dreadful he was. You always say no when you don't like them. You never like them."
"We can't all be Princes and do as we please. I have to marry him, my parents have arranged it."
"Then say no."
"Did you not hear what I just said Prince Big Head?"
"Better than being Lady.... Lady.... Fuck never mind."
He struts off out of the library, leather boots making a loud thudding noise on the stone floor, as you and Dahye smirk at each. You presume she's smirking because you've managed to outsmart her brother, yet again. But what you don't realise, is that Dahye is smirking because she knows this little turn of events may be the one thing that will finally push her brother into actually telling you he loves you.
You hate breakfast. It's the one meal a day where you have to eat with the whole family. And now that sadly, because he's a guest, includes Lord Eghart.
Your body stiffens as he enters the room. There being two free chairs and knowing he'll be making his seedy way over to you. But just as he spots you, you feel woosh of air and someone lands next to you.
"What are you doing?" You murmur to a disinterested Seokmin.
"Sitting at the table to eat my eggs. Is that a crime?"
"No. But I think I'm meant to sit next to Lord Eghart."
"Then he can ask me to move. It's not like I want to sit next to you and have to smell your foul perfume anyway."
You frown at him, well more the side of his face, you never asked him to sit there. He could have sat at the other free chair across the table from you. And he knows Lord Eghart would never ask a Prince to move from his seat.
"Good morning my dear."
Your mouth opens as the Lord takes his seat, a little put out at his placement around the table.
"Good morning." Seokmin replies.
You, his parents, Dahye and Jeonghan give him a confused look.
"O-oh," Lord Eghart stutters, "I meant my d-dear Lady _____."
Seokmin looks at him, or more specifically through him.
"Oh," he hums, "I presumed, as you'd greeted my parents, the King and Queen, you were following the correct order of things. And addressing your superiors in order and thus, calling me, my dear." He points his fork to himself before taking a bite, looking at Lord Eghart, almost daring him to look away.
Seokmin had never enforced his power and hierarchy on anyone. He'd never even stopped you answering him back. For him to be this way, is completely out of the ordinary.
“Seokmin!” His mother scolds, before turning to Lord Eghart, “I am sorry, he’s normally very amenable.”
“No, he’s right!” Lord Eghart recovers quickly, “The order of things is there for a reason, apologies everyone.”
You all send him a half-assed smile and turn your attention back to your lunch.
The Queen and Dahye send each other knowing looks, Jeonghan spotting it straight away and looking more than baffled by this weird new form of mind reading that he’s clearly not privy to. You, on the other hand, push eggs round your plate, staring at the man you are about to marry. How has it come to this? Married to an old man, in a place you won’t know, without your friends or your books. Your parents seem far away now, and they’re only a two-day horse ride away. Now you’ll be a three-week boat journey away. You’ll probably never seem them again. Never see Seokmin again. You might revel in annoying him but in a weird way, you love him.
Shit. You love Seokmin.
Your fork drops to the gold plate in front of you, causing everyone to jump, you included.
“S-sorry! Just got a little distracted, I didn’t sleep well.”
“This is why when we arrive home, my dear, you’ll follow a strict bedtime. 8pm sharp and then 9pm to sleep.”
You try not to grimace at the leering smile he sends you. An hour? An hour in bed with him. Fuck, thank god you didn’t eat your eggs, they’d surely be back on your plate by now.
“And then early to rise in the morning, a nice bowl of salted porridge and then you’ll be off into your quarters for the day.”
The whole family look at him in horror. The King looks ready to send him to the gallows.
“Sounds lovely.” You murmur before returning to moving your eggs around your plate.
You’re in no position to piss him off. But what you wouldn’t give to throw your gold plate at him.
“I think I’m going to head for a walk, if that’s ok with your majesties?” You turn to the King and Queen who are still sharing horrified looks with Dahye and Jeonghan about Lord Eghart. Seokmin is simply sat, leaning back in his chair, arms folded and looking off into the distance.
“Of course, _____.” The King averts his eyes to you, sending you the kindest smile he can muster at the moment, “Fresh air will wake you up!”
You nod and smile but make quick work of leaving the table. You curtsey as you leave, making sure to also repeat the gesture to Lord Eghart, ignoring the way his eyes only look at your breasts as you dip into it.
The silence at the table is palpable.
“Let me show you my hounds Lord Eghart.”
“O-oh. I haven’t managed to eat anything yet my Prince.”
Seokmin doesn’t care, he stands and walks off, knowing that Lord Eghart will be left with no choice but to follow him.
The others watch as Lord Eghart waddles after Seokmin, like the sniffling creature he is.
“Father, she cannot marry him! She’s my dearest friend! You’ve always said she’s like a daughter to you!”
“And she is! But she’s 29, way past the age of most young ladies looking for a suiter, and she’s said no to everyone else! Her father cried to me when he told me of the match, but what are we to do!”
“But he’s going to control what she eats, when she sleeps, locking her in a room all day! And I do not even want to imagine what will happen in that hour between going to bed and sleeping!”
“I agree with Dahye,” the Queen nods, “this is too much. Her mother must be beside herself with worry! Hell, I’m not even her mother and I am bordering on tears!”
“I know my opinion doesn’t go for much, not since I had the idea about painting the horse’s manes,” the King rolls his eyes at Jeonghan, remembering the chaos of the last jousting tournament where the horses looked more like mythical beasts than noble stallions. “But are we not missing the very obvious fact, that I’ve literally just thought of?”
“Which is?”
“Seokmin. He could marry _____.” He looks around his family, “What?! Why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Do you not think we’ve thought about that. He’s loved her since they were children. And vice versa.”
“WHAT?!”
“You’re a very stupid man at times Jeonghan,” the King shakes his head.
“Why did no-one tell me?!”
“You’ve lived in this castle since your eighteenth birthday! And it’s taken you this long to see it?!”
“I’m just saying, someone could have told me.” Jeonghan pouts, his wife soothing him with a hand on his back. “Surely then, there’s the answer.”
“Neither of them will admit it.” The Queen sighs, throwing her linen napkin on her plate in defeat.
“You’re the King and Queen, can’t you just tell them?”
“They need to see it on their own. I always thought they would. Now it’s too late.”
“I don’t know,” Dahye smirks, all of them snapping their eyes to her, “he was so angry yesterday, I have a suspicion that this may just have been the thing that makes him do something.”
“Feed Lord Eghart to his hounds judging by how fast he marched him out of here.”
“That’s not a bad idea Jeonghan.”
Jeonghan smiles proudly, having finally, after twelve years of being his son-in-law, given the King a good idea.
“Would her parents be angry though? If the engagement to Lord Eghart were to be broken?”
“Her parents would dance in the town square and give all their servants the week off, in celebration of that engagement being broken.”
“Then let's all hope Seokmin does something.”
After your walk, you’d spent most of the day packing your belongings. Four ornately carved trunks stood piled high in the corner of the room, only keeping the essentials left to pack the closer your impending doom got.
Things may have gone a little quicker if every little thing didn't remind you of what you were leaving behind. A small fox carved from wood by the King himself on your twentieth birthday lay next to the tapestry the Queen and your mother had created together one summer. And next to both of those was a flower crown you'd made with Dahye, which you'd dried and kept in a small diary. All little bits of your life that you felt were insignificant, now only made tears well in your eyes each time you saw them.
You sit on the bench near the window, overlooking the gardens, noting it's been oddly quiet in the castle all day. You'd have thought Lord Eghart would have been to find you at some point, even Dahye perhaps, but no-one had ventured to find you all day.
It's only when you're pondering whether to take another walk to fill in the dreariness of the day, that you hear hurried footsteps in the hall way.
Before you can even make it to the threshold, a frantic Jeonghan bursts through the wooden door.
"_____, hurry up! And bring everything you need, Lord Eghart says you're to go with him now!"
"W-what??! I can't go now! I haven't said goodbye, I haven't......"
"Just hurry! His servant will come up to get your trunks!"
He runs off before you can even garner any sort of explanation from him, so you've no choice but to follow him. You get your cloak, sparing the room you love so much one last glance, trying to be brave and not shed any tears, before leaving your old life behind to rush after Jeonghan.
You descend the stone stairs, entering the great hall to say goodbye to the King and Queen and thank them for everything they've done for you. But what you find, shocks you beyond words.
The King and Queen appear the be huddled in the corner talking about something frantically, whilst Dahye tries to talk to Seokmin. You're not sure you've ever seen him looking so angry, his cheeks flushed, breathing ragged and paying little attention to what his sister is saying to him.
You don't even get a chance to speak before your arm is grabbed and you're being dragged roughly towards the large double doors, that lead out of the great hall.
"What are you doing?!" You can't help but scream, not expecting to be dragged in such a manner, Lord Eghart's fingers bruise your skin as he tries to pull you along with him.
"WE ARE LEAVING THIS GOD FORSAKEN CASTLE. YOU ARE TO BE MY WIFE AND I WILL NOT BE DISRESPECTED LIKE THIS."
Just then another hand grabs your other arm and pulls you towards them, and somehow they manage to break you free from Lord Eghart. Or rather his releases your arm without a fight.
The sound of metal sliding on metal slices through the air and you spin to find Seokmin baring his sword at Lord Eghart.
"She is to be my wife! You have done quite enough for one day, I will not stop without taking what is mine!"
"What is yours?"
Seokmin says it calmly. Too calmly. Slowly circling Lord Eghart who's fumbling to get his own sword out.
"Yes, what is mine," he spits, getting his feeble excuse for a sword out of its sheath, "I have arrangements with her parents. She is mine. She belongs to me."
"You see," Seokmin pretends to lunge forward with his sword making Lord Eghart stumble back slightly, "I've known _____ for many years. Too many years, some might say. And I know, she cannot belong to anyone. Certainly not some idiot who cannot find his way out of a room on his own."
Even the King looks apprehensive to interrupt whatever the hell is going on here. What has made Lord Eghart react like this? Yes. He isn't pleasant. But you didn't think he could be so cruel as to manhandle you the way he just has been doing.
"FIND MY WAY OUT OF A ROOM?! YOU CALL LOCKING SOMEONE IN A DUNGEON AND ATTACHING THE KEY TO ONE OF YOUR HOUNDS, NOT BEING ABLE TO GET OUT OF A ROOM?!"
Well, that would do it.
Seokmin locked him in a dungeon? What is he thinking?! Why is he acting like this at all, he hates you, surely, he wants you gone. You'd have thought he found it quite entertaining that you were being married off to such a man.
"The door closed of its own accord." Seokmin shrugs. "How was I to know that you weren't still walking behind me?"
Another lunge and Lord Eghart falls to the ground.
"Son, that is enough. Let them go."
The King rushes towards him whilst the Queen rushes to you and Dahye, arms wrapping around you both to keep you close.
"Father did you not see the way he hurt her?!"
You appreciate Dahye trying to help but it seems Lord Eghart has been disrespected. And so now you're going to face the consequences, as his wife to be.
"I will do what I like to her!!!"
He barely gets chance to finish his sentence before Seokmin kicks him to the ground, kneeling over him with his sword to his throat.
"You will do no such thing, you will turn around, mount your horse and fuck off back to whatever hole you crawled out of."
Seokmin's voice is laced with venom, angling the sword a little so it nearly cuts the skin.
"I will..... I will not." He gasps for breath. "I will have what's mine."
"SHE IS NOT YOURS."
Seokmin's scream silences the whole hall. Jeonghan turning to look at him, in astonishment, alongside the King. The queen holding you and Dahye that bit closer.
Your heart feels like it may break out of your chest.
"You will leave. You will leave on your own and you will never return to this land. If you do, I will make sure that everyone knows that not only are you abusive, but you are a thief."
Panic flashes in Lord Eghart's eyes, the King turning to his son.
"What do you mean?"
"Lord Egg-head here has a trunk full of gold that he didn't arrive with. So not only was he taking my _____, but he was also taking your gold, father."
Did you hear that right? Nobody else has reacted at all, too stunned about the gold. His _____. Seokmin's _____. You can feel your heartbeat in your feet it's hammering that strongly.
Seokmin's _____.
You don't know whether to laugh or cry. Lord Eghart calling you his made you want to vomit, but Seokmin? You know he doesn't truly mean he owns you, just that you're his.
And you suppose you always have been.
You've both always been each other’s.
All those years he's let you get away with speaking to him like he was a stableboy rather than a Prince. And he's made your life hell but in a way that you couldn't live without it.
"I'll go!"
"Oh, nooow you'll leave?" Seokmin smirks, angling the sword perilously close to Lord Eghart's jugular. "And _____?"
"The slut can stay here."
The sword is thrown to the side and about two seconds later a loud crack rings around the room. You've never heard a bone break before, you're not sure it's a sound you ever want to hear again. But the fact it's Lord Eghart's bones that have broken does bring you some satisfaction.
Jeonghan and the King pull Seokmin off the Lord before he breaks something more than his nose.
"YOU EVER UTTER ANOTHER WORD LIKE THAT AGAIN, ABOUT HER, AND I WILL CUT EACH FINGER OFF YOU AND FEED THEM TO MY HOUNDS."
Jeonghan is wrestling with Seokmin, trying to stop him from getting any closer to Lord Eghart.
"Knights!!" The King only has to speak once before ten knights enter the room at speed. "Arrest him, put him back where my son had him earlier today. He'll be tried and then the Lords of the Land can decide what happens to him."
"You can't do that! My people will rebel!" Lord Eghart splutters out as two knights drag him to his feet.
"Your people will be glad to see the back of you. You forget, my brother is husband to your Queen. I know your reputation and I know your countrymen would be pleased if you never returned. I don't know who you bribed to get Lady _____'s hand in marriage but it ends now. You end now. Take him."
The King turns his back on Lord Eghart who's desperately trying to break free from the knights and quickly approaches you.
"I am sorry I ever let it get this far _____. You are free to stay here or go to your parents if you wish. I only beg your forgiveness for allowing any of this to happen."
You avert your eyes to the King, having never taken them off Seokmin.
"T-thank you, your majesty. I think...... I think I will tell you tomorrow. If that pleases you?"
"Anything my dear."
He looks around the room, seemingly trying to figure out what exactly should happen now, but catches his wife's eye.
You don't miss how she gestures to him, her daughter and son-in-law to leave the room with her. All of them realising what's happening. Except, of course, Jeonghan.
"Let’s go then!" The King tries to hurry them out of the room, looking between Seokmin, who's sitting against the wall, and yourself.
"But I'd quite like to know how he knew about the gold! Damn good luck he did, if you ask me, I need to order new leathers!"
"Come. On." The King grabs the back of Jeonghan's leather waist coat, both of them following the Queen and Dahye out of the hall.
Silence falls and Seokmin doesn't even spare you a glance. Just sits with his head in his hands against the finely decorated wall.
Worry overtakes you. Did you even hear what he said properly? There was so much happening, it's completely understandable you've made a mistake. Perhaps he meant our _____, you have lived here in the castle for some years now, all of them treating you no less than family.
"Are you just going to stand there?"
You jump a little at the sound of his voice.
"I didn't know if I should stay. Didn't know if I heard you right."
He looks at you, tears streaming down his cheeks and your heart cracks, much like Lord Eghart's nose.
You make your way over to sit with him. If you're his, he surely won't mind you sitting with him. You lower yourself to the ground, once again damning the day someone invented the fucking corset you're made to wear, day in day out.
"Why don't you just not wear one?"
Curse him for knowing you so well.
"Because I'm a lady and so I need to dress as such."
He peers at you out the corner of his eye, a sad smile on his face.
"I've seen you attack a turkey leg, you're not much of a lady."
You don't answer him. Instead, you reach into your dress pocket and pull out your embroidered handkerchief.
"Here."
"It's ok."
"Will you just take it. Please. I hate seeing you cry."
Seokmin takes it but not without a roll of his eyes. Stubborn idiot. Although you do feel your heart flutter a little when instead of giving it back to you, he places it in his own pocket.
"Did you mean what you said?"
"Does it matter if I did. You hate me. We hate each other."
"I don't hate you."
He looks at you sceptically.
"I think hate turned to love a long time ago."
The silence worries you. Have you said too much? Shown your hand too soon? He said you were his, he never mentioned anything of love.
"I've loved you since I was a boy. Just never knew how to tell you."
"Typical," you roll your eyes, playfully, "always have to do one better than me."
He just smiles, picking at a thread on his boots.
"How did you know about the gold?"
"I didn't. He just looked like a thief, and it turns out I was right."
You squint at him, thoroughly unconvinced of his mind reading skills.
"Some gold fell out of his pocket. Gold with our emblem on, not his own." He concedes.
"And why did you lock him in the dungeon?"
"I couldn't let a man like that take you. I couldn't let any man take you."
"Why?"
He turns to you, a look of loveable annoyance on his face.
"Why do you have to ask such ridiculous questions?! I've just said I love you and you persist in being irritating."
You can't help but grin at him, your heart fluttering wildly at yet another confession of love.
"I may love you. But I love annoying you more than anything."
He sighs, shaking his head that even now, you're the same irritating _____.
"I just.... I couldn't cope with the idea of you not being here. Every time a suitor came along before, you'd always said no. Now you were given no chance to say no, and I couldn't imagine a world without you in it. I don't even know why, I thought you'd just always be here. I'm my head it was always us here with my sister and Jeonghan, until our dying days."
You never imagined such honesty from him. He'd always been playful, but proud. Never wanting to show too much of himself. The fact he's sitting here with you now, telling you things you never thought you'd hear, makes your whole world shake.
"I never thought I'd leave either. I guess I thought we'd just bicker our way into a grave."
His laugh is like ecstasy in your veins, especially after the events that have just unfolded.
"What happens now?"
Why is he asking you?! He's the Prince.
"How am I meant to know?! I've never been in love before! Should we...."
"Outside of marriage?!"
"I was going to say court. Plan a wedding? But if your mind is heading straight to the sewers, I'll leave now!"
You pretend to get up, knowing full well you both know you're joking. Before he holds you arm to keep you next to him.
"Marriage sounds good."
Well, how very romantic.
You stare at him, disgust on your face.
"What?" He asks, defensively.
"That is how you propose? Like you're deciding between having goose or pheasant for your supper?"
"I literally locked a Lord in a dungeon for you!"
"I never asked you to! And that's hardly romantic either! Jeonghan lit three thousand candles to propose to your sister and quilted her a throw!"
"Jeonghan got servants to light those candles, spent two weeks apologising to them and offering to do their chores because they burnt their hands, and his mother quilted that throw."
"But he thought about it?" You say in horror. "You've just seen it as an afterthought!"
He glowers at you. You're not sure whether you want to jump on him or slap him as he launches himself to his feet.
"Right. Fine. Stand up."
"I'm not standing up for nothing, not in this corset. It had better be worth it Seokmin."
"You are an infuriating woman."
He holds his hand out for you, a silent promise that it will be worth it.
Your breath hitches when, as soon as you stand, he kneels to the ground on one knee, hand still holding yours.
He's silent for a moment, eyes taking you in like he can't believe this is finally happening.
"_____, since I was a boy, I have thought you to be the most intelligent, beautiful, most incredible woman I've ever met. You put up with my nonsense, challenge me in ways I didn't know I needed and make me excited to leave my bed chamber everyday, because I know I will get to spend the day with you. When I thought I'd lost you, when that man was going to take you away from us, I couldn't stand it. I have never felt fear like it and I never want to feel that way again. I never wish to be apart from you, nor wish to think about it. Will you please do me the honour, of being my wife?"
You hate him. You thought it was going to be a simple proposal, you weren't expecting all that.
"Can I take those tears as a yes?"
"Hm-mm," you nod, wiping your eyes.
He rushes to his feet, arms wrapping around you to spin your round in the air.
"I love you." He says once he places you on the floor, head pulling back to look at you.
"I love you too."
You can't believe you actually get to feel his hair under your fingers tips as you hold each other as close as you can.
"Can I?"
"I've never kissed anyone." Ladies aren't allowed to be alone with most men, let alone kiss them. "I don't want to do it wrong."
"I don't care, just let me finally feel your lips on mine."
His lips find yours, it's tentative, both of you clearly nervous but once the initial embarrassment subsides you find you like having his lips on yours. Seokmin deepens the kiss, hands pulling you impossibly closer to him by your waist. Your lips move with each like it's the most natural thing in the world, like it's what you should have been doing all along. You'd read about kissing in books, but never did you think it could feel like this, your whole body is on fire as he tongue enters your mouth, tongues dancing slowly as your fingers still play with his hair.
You've no idea how long you stand there, wrapped in each other senses, but it's only when Jeonghan enters the grand hall again that you finally pull away from each other.
"Sorry!" He covers his eyes, tripping slightly as he tries to move closer to you, "it's just we all sort of want to know what's happening and they sent me to find out. I'll go and tell them."
"No!" Jeonghan jumps slightly causing him to nearly fall to the ground. You rush forward to get him, holding his arm to steady him.
"Sorry."
"No, I didn't mean to shout, sorry Jeonghan. It's just, I'd like to tell them myself. For both of us to tell them ourselves."
Jeonghan's smile is wide, as though the kiss he saw wasn't quite confirmation enough.
"I'm so pleased for you!"
He hugs you both together in a bone crushing hug. Seokmin pats his back awkwardly as Jeonghan hums into the embrace that's going on just a bit too long at this point.
"Shall we go then?"
You can't help but giggle at Seokmin trying to hurry this up in the nicest way he can.
"Sure, sorry. Just I didn't know anything about this till this morning! They'd all known years apparently, could have told me."
His pout soon turns to wide eyed panic when he sees the looks on your faces. They'd always known?!
"Let’s go find them" Seokmin sighs, taking your hand.
You and Jeonghan share a smile at the gesture, whilst you desperately try to will yourself not to squeal and skip out the hall in happiness.
"Do you think the kitchens have any of that blackberry dessert wine left? My nerves are dangerously close to the edge."
"Probably Jeonghan." You soothe.
"Good, that's good. I've had a hell of day."
You smile knowingly at Seokmin who just rolls his eyes. Happy in the knowledge that you never have to leave this place and your family ever again.
"Why must he paint animals? What is wrong with his brain that his default thing to do for a grand occasion, is to paint animals?"
You can't help but fall into another fit of giggles at the memory of twelve gold swans marching around the grand hall, wreaking havoc wherever they went.
Your wedding day had been perfection. The ceremony had taken place in the gardens, the roses all being in full bloom and so as you uttered your vows to each other, the scent of roses filled your senses. You can't help but think that from now on, that scent will bring you straight back to that moment where you were finally his and he was finally yours.
It had taken two months to arrange everything, your parents had arrived two weeks ago to oversee the final arrangements. Both of your sets of parents were thrilled that they were, finally, truly family in every sense of the word. Your father's hunted for wild boars during the day whilst you all rushed around the castle making sure every little last thing was perfect.
The grand hall had been decorated to within an inch of its life. Gold silk was draped from every available point and green velvet covered the two thrones that stood beside the King and Queen’s. After the wedding ceremony, you were officially crowned Princess. You and Seokmin taking your seats beside the King and Queen, knowing one day it would be you two that took their place.
The Queen and your mother had gifted you a gold and emerald tiara, a gift you said was far too grand but wore proudly with your cream silk gown. Lavender, the flower of your home, and roses, the flower of Seokmin's, were embroidered onto the train and the emblem of your parent's house and the royal emblem where delicately added with gold thread.
Your maid had spent two hours ornately styling your hair to make sure it would withstand a day of dancing and drinking but still be strong enough to hold the tiara in place. The poor girl was so tired by the end of it, you let her have a nap in your bed chambers and found her a slice of the wedding cakes that had been made as test recipes.
After all the ceremonies, came the part you'd been looking forward to most. The feast and dancing. Six hogs had been roasted, hundreds of guests lined the wooden tables and mead and wine was a plenty. You sat at the top table with your loved ones and felt nothing but love as you looked around the room.
That is until Jeonghan's grand surprise. Gold swans. Which apparently, where he comes from, signify peace and prosperity. His parents, once they'd gotten over the shock of whatever their son was doing, had said it's traditionally doves that signify peace and prosperity. And gold had nothing to do with it.
But he ushered them into the hall anyway, his two daughters following after him giggling away because they think their father is the greatest man in the kingdom.
The swans had no interest in being introduced to you or anyone, they set off waddling around the hall in a pack, feathers still wet from whatever concoction he'd made to turn them gold. Not a single person left the banquet without being tarnished with gold paint and the head housekeeper was furious at the golden swan footprints that lay on every inch of the stone floor.
Ladies screamed and men bared their swords as Seokmin and Dahye tried to wrangle the swans, the children and a frantic Jeonghan, out of the hall. But not even a swan-based disaster could ruin your day, if anything you revelled in the chaos of it. Knowing that if you’d have been shipped off to marry Lord Eghart, you’d have never had so much fun in your life, ever again.
Jeonghan's father had said he wouldn't blame the King if he put Jeonghan in the stocks. Even suggested the head housekeeper should get to throw the first piece of rotten veg at him for the sheer amount of cleaning everyone is going to have to do.
"He just likes to make things unforgettable!"
You laugh even harder at Seokmin's face.
"Unforgettable?! It will certainly be that! Every single guest is covered in gold paint! How did he even get them that covered in it?! Fucking stupid man."
"You love him."
"I do." He sighs.
He sits on the bed next to you. He looks relaxed, like his whole life has been leading up to this moment and now he's here, he's going to fully enjoy the life he's got ahead of him.
You, on the other hand, have been dreading this moment.
This is the first time you've stayed in your new, shared, bed chambers. They'd been designed and re-decorated to both your specifications. It was large, airy, but with luscious throws and furs scattered everywhere, a large wooden four poster bed stood in the far end and a sumptuous sitting area with velvet goose feather cushions was in the centre. The windows overlooked the lake on one side, and the rose garden on the other. You'd be able to keep the wooden shutters open in the summer, but they were thick enough to keep the cold out a little in the winter. Although the large stone fireplace would keep you more than toasty when the winter snows arrived.
It wasn't the idea of sharing bed chambers that was worrying you. It was what that entailed. You'd spent many happy hours kissing and holding each other but nothing more than that. And you are well aware what tonight was going to entail.
You think.
You'd read about it in books, but never actually done anything. How are you given the opportunity to when you're not allowed to be alone with a man?!
You're certain Seokmin isn't as inexperienced as you though, he'd spent many an evening at the tavern in the nearby village. He's surely spent countless nights with a beautiful village girl or stunning noble woman who was passing through.
You had certainly climaxed before, normally to whatever you were reading that you found in a far end corner of the library. But never with anyone else.
"You know we don't have to do anything, right?"
"What?" He breaks you out of your thoughts.
The main purpose of people getting married is to provide an heir, surely that entails doing something.
"You're clearly overthinking this, we don't have to do anything if you're not ready."
"I'm just..... I'm worried, I'm not as experienced as you and..."
"I've never been with anyone." He frowns.
"You're a man. You've all been with someone. You go to the tavern, or you used to."
"I generally pay with gold, not my body."
You know he's trying to lighten the mood but to say you're shocked would be an understatement. You thought it was just what young men of his age did.
"I just thought you'd have laid with someone, that's all." You shrug, playing with your hands.
You don't mean for your voice to come out a quietly as it does, not wanting to show any more nerves than you already are. But he loves you, why are you so worried to share your worries and thoughts?
"I told you,” he takes your face in his hands, “I have loved you since I was a boy, I haven't looked at anyone else, bar you. And I'm the Prince and heir to this kingdom, I can't just be roaming the taverns, finding women to bed!"
"Many Princes do."
"Well not this one. I'm in the same boat as you. Don't get me wrong, I've got very good ideas about what I want us to do together."
His smirk makes you tingle, you've no doubt he's been thinking about this as much as you.
And you feel a little better knowing you're both in the same boat, both of you starting out on an even footing going into all this.
"I do want to do this. Tonight. I mean."
He stares at you, like he's trying to see whether you're just trying to do your wifely duty or if you really want this. Right now. With him.
"Are you sure?"
"I am. I love you and I trust you."
He leans into your touch when you hold his cheek, the fire reflects in his eyes as you take in the man that's now your husband.
"I love you too."
Your lips ghost his, the tension between you both is palpable, neither of you wanting to make the first move but wanting to do something more than ever.
“Stand up,” He whispers softly into your ear, placing a gentle kiss just under your ear lobe.
You rise slowly from the bed, your fingers shaking slightly as you turn to stand in front of him. Seokmin takes your waist, looking deeply into your eyes before he turns you around.
“Is this, ok?” He’s careful with his voice, noting the deep breath you took when you felt his fingers at the strings of the corset of your wedding dress.
“Yes,” you whisper back, torn between wanting to run and wanting to show the man you love everything he wants to see.
With every pull of the strings as he makes his way down your back, you feel your nerves weirdly leaving your body. It’s just you two here, two people who love each other and are going to give their bodies to each other in a way they never have with anyone else.
He moves the silk gown off your shoulders and onto the floor so that you can step out of it. Any care for the dress is lost when you turn back around to face him and see how his eyes shine bright with hunger. The only light in the room comes from the fire and various candles lit around the room and the way the fire currently illuminates you, Seokmin can see the silhouette of your body perfectly through the thin cotton under dress that you have on.
The way he’s looking at you bolsters your confidence and your hands reach down to pull the thin cotton smock off your body. Now standing completely naked in front of your husband, your nipples harden in the now cool air, and you find you don’t feel exposed or uncomfortable. You feel right, like this is exactly how this should be.
“You’re incredible.” He says in awe as his eyes run again and again up and down your body.
“Are you going to undress too?”
He doesn’t answer in words, simply stands to his feet, removing his shirt and undershirt and rushing to take off his leather slacks.
Your mind goes blank when he stands proudly, if not eagerly, in front of you.
Well, where the hell is that meant to go?!
Seokmin stands in front of you, completely bare and to say that he’s big would be an understatement. But is he even that big? It’s not like you’ve ever seen one, you once saw a diagram in a book about the human anatomy, but doctors have said that a lot of the anatomy books are to be taken with a pinch of salt, so you’re not even sure the drawing you saw was accurate.
Seokmin can sense you’re in your head and what better way to bring you back to him, than by holding the body he’s long admired.
His hands on your waist break your thoughts and before you can admonish him or worry about someone’s hands on your bear skin, his lips make contact with your neck, and you lose any worry that you mind held. His soft lips leave little pecks along your neck, making their way down towards you collar bones. Your pussy is wet between your legs, just from his lips on your skin and if you wait much longer you feel like you might burst.
Its time be brave _____.
You reach forward to take his cock into your hand, feeling pretty proud at the noise he lets out, somewhere between a groan and a high-pitched moan. Instinct takes over and you move your hand slowly up and down his length, you thought he had been fully hard when he revealed himself to you but to your horror it grows even larger in your hand.
Stop panicking _____. You’ve got this. It’s just Seokmin. Your Seokmin.
“Does that feel good?”
“Y-yeah,” his breath hitches, head resting on your shoulder as his hands move down to your ass.
You don’t know what takes over you, you want to feel him, to taste him, to know him.
Your knees hit the fur throw by your bed and a wide eyed Seokmin gawks down at you.
“You don’t have to do that if you don’t to. I wanted to taste you but….” His voice trails off.
He says it almost bashfully, like he should be the one to do things to you first, with him being your husband. But you don’t care, you’re almost salivating at the sight in front of you, you just want him.
“I want to.”
You don’t wait for an answer, your tongue tentatively licks the tip, his taste lingering on your taste buds just a little. It isn’t an unpleasant taste like you always thought it would be. You lick again and note the way Seokmin’s hips stutter slightly. Yes, you may have never done this before, but it isn’t hard to figure out the basic logistics of what to do with a cock in your mouth. You wrap your lips around the bulbous tip, sucking gently before pulling back a little to check his reaction.
Seokmin’s eyes are closed, hands fiddling near his sides as he waits for you to carry on. And so, you do. Your lips wrap around his cock once more, hand pumping the base a little so none of it goes unnoticed, as you begin to move you head up and down his length.
Your thighs clench together when Seokmin’s hands come down into your hair, the way your mouth is moving along his cock making him lose all of inhibitions. Your hurry up your motions, hand pumping and tongue running along the base of his length every time you move your head.
Feeling brave you swirl your tongue around the tip, all the while sucking on it. Your pussy is dripping down onto fur throw at this point, the idea of you making him this hard, drives you wild. His taste is becoming more and more strong on your tongue and you’ve no intention of stopping until you taste everything he has to give you.
His hands grip your hair, you never thought someone pulling on your hair could feel so good but the way he’s doing it, like he’s so desperate he has to hold onto something, makes you clench around nothing. Seokmin begins to guide your movements, dragging your eager mouth and tongue around his pulsing length with so much force that he may as well be fucking himself into your mouth.
He’s using you, not a care in the world other than making himself release in your mouth and you fucking love it. Both of your hands rest on his thighs, letting him use you in any way he pleases, his cock hits the back of your throat but the sound of you gagging seems to pull him out of whatever haze he was in.
His hands leave your head, and you wobble to the ground a little, now you haven’t got him to hold onto when he moves back.
“What are you doing?!” You whine, trying to reach for him, desperate to feel him in your mouth again.
You don’t miss how he twitches at you whining, the little movement only bolstering your need for him even more.
“You liked that?”
He’s looking at you in horror and you don’t care for what reason, you just want his cock back in your mouth.
“Yes! Now come back, please Seokmin.”
You here him mumble something about perfection but you don’t care, his pink tip is oozing in your face and your only wish it to taste what’s escaping.
Seokmin pauses you though, chucking at the annoyed look that’s thrown at him from your spot on the fur throw.
“Can I?”
“Can you what?”
“Can I…..help? Like….move?”
“You want to fuck my face?”
“_____!!!”
“What?! I read Seokmin, and I have spoken to your sister about such things.”
“Never mention my sister and face fucking in a sentence every again please.” He grimaces. “But…yes.”
He looks like he’s asking cook for second helpings of dessert, wondering if he’s going to get told off.
You don’t know why. The idea of him using you like that makes you fucking drip.
You don’t answer him, just sit on your knees, mouth open and waiting for him.
“Fuck.”
He places his cock in your mouth, your lips wrapping around it greedily as you hum at the taste of him on your tongue again. His hands come back down to your head, holding the back of it as he tentatively moves his hips forward. He chuckles a little when he feels your hands on his thighs trying to make him move quicker. The muffled moan you let out when his tip kisses the back of your throat seems to be the only sign he needs to get moving.
His hips snap into your face, cock repeatedly hitting your throat, revelling in the way it tightens every time you gag around him. Your tongue still runs up and down the underside of his length as best it can at the speed his hips are moving and the way his hands grip your hair hurts so nicely that you clench repeatedly around nothing, thighs pressing together to relieve the ache.
You’re not sure what’s wetter, your pussy or your face. Tears stream down your cheeks and saliva runs down your chin as Seokmin keeps abusing your mouth. You’re certain he’s bruising your throat with the ferocity that his cock slams into it, but you don’t care, the only thing in your mind is his cock.
His movements are becoming erratic and his taste his overtaking your senses more and more, a couple more thrusts into your more than willing mouth and you feel something warm and salty hit the back of your throat. Seokmin holds your head so firmly against him that your nose meets the little patch of dark hair just above his cock. His hips twitch as he empies himself in your throat before cursing and quickly realising what he’s done.
You’re breathless when he finally releases you, swallowing on instinct because of how far inside you he was. But you wanted that, you wanted to taste him, to swallow.
But that seems to panic Seokmin.
“Shit,” he rushes to help you up off the floor, you having leant to the side a little to recover, “are you ok? I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why?” You ask, once you’re back on the bed with him. “I wanted you to, I wanted everything.”
He stares at you, like he can’t believe his perfect _____ is talking like this.
“You’re filthy.” He smirks once the initial shock wears off.
“Is that a problem?” You raise your eyebrow in challenge.
“Absolutely not.”
You don’t get a chance to respond, he lunges forward, knocking you to lie down on the bed as his lips attack yours. He clearly doesn’t care that he can taste himself on your tongue judging from the way his own is demanding entry to explore your mouth. The kiss is needy and wanton, his tongue swirling round yours until he finally has to pull away for air.
“Can I return the favour?”
You do want that. At some point anyway. But not now, you want to feel what it’s like to have him inside you, to not know where you start and he ends.
“Do you think you’ll be ready to go again any time soon?”
You chance a look down and your heart leaps when you see he’s already half hard again. It drops slightly though when you turn your attention back to his face and he looks a little put out.
“I do want that, I just…I really want to feel what it’s like when you fill me up.”
Any disappointment is gone with the way you say that, his cock hardening that bit more.
“I could get there,” he smirks, taking you nipple into his mouth, air hitting your breast when he huffs out a laugh around it from the way you moaned.
His tongue swirls around your nipple the way yours did around the tip of his length before he releases it with a pop. The cool night air feels chillier against your wet nipple, making you impossibly wetter.
His fingers travel slowly downwards, his eyes finding yours as he makes his first contact with your sopping cunt. Fire roars in his eyes when he feels how wet you are for him, how much you want him.
“Me fucking your face made you this wet?”
“You make me this wet, Seokmin.”
His fingers pause what they were doing, and he moves away from you.
“Turn around.”
The sound of his dark voice sends a thrill straight to your pussy and you rush to turn around for him, presenting your dripping pussy to him happily. Your back arches, butt high in the air when his fingers find your pussy again.
You can tell he’s a little nervous, he’s moving his two fingers around slowly, waiting for the reaction he’s looking for. His fingers lightly run over your clit and the airy moan that leaves you tells him he’s found what he was looking for.
A little more pressure is added, Seokmin looking in wonderment at how much wetter you get for him every time he rubs your bundle of nerves just right. The sight of you, ready for him to take you, makes his cock twitch, him now fully hard again. How did he get such a perfect fucking wife?
“Are you ready? Are you sure it’s ok like this?”
“I’m ready. Just, go slow please, at first.”
“Of course, my love, just tell me if it hurts please.”
“I will, you whisper.”
A strange mixture of nerves and excitement course through you, not knowing what to expect but knowing, at this moment in time, you need him.
Your breath hitches when he lines himself up with your aching hole and you feel him near you for the first time. He waits a second, allowing you both to take a deep breath before he moves forward a little, his tip entering you just a tiny amount.
You wince a little, the feeling completely foreign. It’s a little painful, but you’re so wet that you feel like it’s going a little better than it may have gone with anyone other than Seokmin. He heard you wince though and so pauses, the tip just breaking through your clenching hole.
“Are you ok?”
His voice is strained, like it’s paining him to hold back.
“Just a little sore.”
“Shall we stop?” he rushes to say, the idea of you being in pain hurting him too.
“No, just move a little more, I’ll get used to it.”
“Ok,” he sighs, hand gently rubbing your thigh to steady you, and himself.
He pushes forward a little further and then a little further again before he moves back out a small amount. Tentatively he moves in and out slowly until eventually he’s fully inside you. Your tight hole clenching repeatedly around him in a way that makes his brain fog.
“Tell me when I can move,”
“Move now,” you moan, moving back a little needing to feel him.
And so, he does, he slowly fucks himself in and out of your sopping pussy, his cock making you feel things you never have before whilst you can do nothing but moan beneath him.
His fingers dig into your hips and his tests out thrusting just that bit harder. When you moan loudly into the feather mattress, he knows you need more, just like him. He holds you tight and slams his hips into you, cock plunging deep inside you as he tips greets a spot inside you that you didn’t know you had. Your fingers had certainly never found it, but Seokmin has and the feeling off his big cock hitting it repeatedly has you sobbing into the mattress.
He pulls you up, so your back meets his chest as his cock continues its assault on your drooling cunt, one hand on your hip and the other coming to toy with one of your pebbled nipples. His ragged breath in your ear only makes you clench down harder on him, your pussy leaking all over his cock.
“You feel so good my love, fuck I’d have told you years ago how I felt if I knew you felt like this.”
You don’t answer, just stammer out a moan and rest your head back on his shoulder.
Seokmin takes the opportunity to suck a mark on your neck, seeing as how you presented it to him so nicely. But it may have proved to be a mistake because the way your hole clenches around him brings him perilously close to cumming again.
“Are you close?”
No answer, just strangled moans as he impales you again and again on his throbbing length.
“My love,” his voice is strained, “are you going to cum for me? Cum all over my cock?”
“Mm-mm” you hum, eyes closed in ecstasy from the way his cock hits you and his fingers tug on your nipple.
“Me.” A hard thrust. “Too.” Another one and just like that you clench so hard around him that you push both of you into ecstasy.
You’ve never felt anything like it, your whole body feels like it’s being lit from within. Your fingers cling to the bed as tears fall down your cheeks and your thighs, the feeling of cumming around him like this brining you a feeling you never expected. You feel him empty himself deep inside you as he groans in your ear when he feels you cum all over his cock. He keeps moving as best he can, wanting to ride you through your high as your body shakes and twitches against his own, small moans leaving your pretty lips as his cock keeps getting you off even after his own release.
Seokmin holds you against him as you both come back down to reality, making sure you know he’s there for you after what’s just happened. The feel of his heartbeat against your back almost matches your own, like the two of your hearts belong together so much that even your heart beats thump together as one.
“Are you ok?”
His fingers run up and down your stomach, trying to soothe you and calm your breathing.
“Yes,” you whisper, trying to turn your head on his shoulder, to look at him, “are you?”
“I’m wonderful.” He beams down at you, kissing your nose.
You grimace a little when his soft length leaves you, Seokmin taking the opportunity to manoeuvre you both down onto the bed, pulling the silk throw over you the pair of you.
He stares down at you, moving a piece of hair off your sweaty forehead, looking at you like your eyes hold all the wonders of the world and he’s got his whole life to discover them.
“I’m so pleased Lord Eghart came.”
Any joy in his face vanishes with those words you utter.
“Don’t be like that! I just mean……. if he hadn’t have come here, we’d probably still be tearing shreds off each other. I doubt either of us would have confessed until we were eighty, if it wasn’t for him.”
“I guess so, at least he’s done one good thing in his rotten life.”
You can’t help but smile at how much Seokmin hates Lord Eghart.
“Never mention him again though,” he pouts, wrapping you in his arms and squeezing you so tight you might pop, “I want us only to be happy. To have a happy life and a happy Kingdom and do a lot more of what we’ve just done.”
“Well, we could,” you groan, “if you don’t break me first!”
His laugh fills your ears as he lets you go a little, but not completely.
“I mean it. We’ve wasted enough time being rotten to each other. Now we can look forward to life of pure happiness.” He beams at you.
“Is that right Prince Big Head?”
You move his hair out of his face as his smile turns into a frown, realising that you may be married, but you’ll still try your best to annoy him.
“It is, Princess Big Head.”
He’s very pleased with himself when he sees your horrified look. You don’t have it in you to stay angry at him though, not when his wide smile reflects your own as you cocoon yourselves in the silk throw, bodies moulding together as you drift off to sleep.
Perhaps life in this castle isn’t so bad after all. Not when your husband’s hands hold you tightly and you have a family around you that love you. Good old lord Eghart. May he rot in the dungeons.
warnings: nothing just fluff, suggestive in the slightest way, uhm not really anything else, reader is stubborn and dramatic hehehaha, not that angsty at all reader just feels the tiniest bit neglected, olderbf!cheol being hot 😛, petnames: baby, pretty girl, good girl pls i had to (hers), cheol (his)
author's note: its no secret that i am down horrendously bad for olderbf!cheol so please let me have this very self indulgent very short drabble thing hehe SORRY IF THERE'S ERRORS OR ANYTHING literally just wrote this bc i wanted to and i couldn't stop thinking about it bc cheol is just so fucking fine i can't
═════════════════════════
you've got your arms crossed, refusing to look at him. holding your ground even after you internally acknowledged that, yeah, maybe giving cheol the silent treatment and the cold shoulder earlier was a liiiittle dramatic. but he was on his stupid work ipad for like the whole time you two were supposed to be enjoying a movie night together in the living room—you had your reasons.
“cheol, i said I’m not apologising," you repeated, still in your mood.
seungcheol exhales through his nose deeply, still looking at you with a look that's fond even if you're giving him high blood pressure right now. he's leaning against the kitchen counter after you stomped off to the kitchen and are now doing everything in your power to not look at him.
he attempted to reason with your snappy attitude, “baby, i just checked a few emails. i promise."
you rolled your eyes as you turned to him, making him fight letting out a small cocky chuckle. "you were on your ipad for the whole second half of the movie!" you answered back.
he reaches out and catches your waist when you try to walk past him with a soft and firm, "hey."
“let go. i don't wanna talk to you," you try to wriggle out of his grip and fail. keeping your head low so you don't make eye contact with your unfairly handsome and super annoying boyfriend.
obviously he doesn’t. he knows you too well to actually listen to whatever comes out of your mouth when you're like this. "wanna tell me why you're acting up like this, baby?" he says, so gently and patiently.
“i'm not acting up like anything,” you shoot back, chin tilting up, your glare meeting his gaze. “you're just-"
“i'm just what?” he continues, one eyebrow lifting.
you soften, head dipping low again after his eyes stare holes into yours. "you're being annoying..." you say quietly.
his hand slides from your wrist to your chin, tilting your face properly toward him this time. “mhm,” the hum rumbles through him lowly.
your stomach flips a little, but you stay defending your stance.
he huffs out a soft laugh, “stubborn girl,” he mutters, almost to himself as he taps your bottom lip lightly with the pad of his thumb.
you open your mouth to argue again but this time he leans in just slightly to interrupt you, “baby, don't push it,” eyes locked on yours. “i've been letting you pout and give me the silent treatment for over half an hour now."
you swallow but your pride’s still there. “so?” as you cross your arms over your chest.
“so,” he murmurs, "you either tell me what's actually got you wound up like this... or i'll make you feel very, very good until you forget it. hm?"
your breath stutters while you're still trying to look unimpressed. he smiles because he caught that. slow and knowing.
and he leans down, kissing your forehead sweetly as if he didn't just say that, and you could still feel that smug smile he had. "i swear, baby," he kisses your forehead again, "that i only checked a couple of emails," and he pulls back to look at you properly.
"but you're right. it could've waited til after, or tomorrow morning, hm?" his thumb brushed your cheek once. seungcheol tilts your face up a little more so he can kiss the corner of your lips gently, "'m sorry, pretty girl. my fault, i know it is."
and you go completely weak. how could you not?
you melt into him a little more, not fighting him as much as he kisses the attitude out of you.
"next time, talk to me. okay, baby?" he says between kisses to your lips. "want you to tell me when you feel upset. you hear me?" his warm hands now holding your waist like you're the most precious thing in the world while his series of i'm sorry kisses continued.
you nod at his words, and he smiles, kissing you again. "there's my good girl. i love you so much, baby."
PAIRING: lee seokmin x f!reader
GENRE: smut [18+ MDNI]
WC: 5,906
WARNINGS: reader and seokmin both run (faceless) porn accounts on twitter, sexting, dirty talk, masturbation, SIZE KINK!, mutual masturbation, oral, nose meal!! (it's dk so duh), multiple orgasms, protected sex, but also unprotected sex, missionary, cowgirl, creampie, cumplay/cum eating, praise kink
A/N: requested by world's #1 cuties g @miniseokminnies for my Cosmos event! i went a lil crazy w this one hope u don't mind!!! ty @haologram for beta-ing <3
SYNOPSIS: As an anonymous porn account on Twitter, you're often engaging flirtaciously with other accounts — it's good for business, after all — but you never let yourself catch real feelings. Until now, when you've started sexting with the owner of your personal favorite account, an extremely hot (and hung) guy who goes by Nico. You know Nico is local, and you're really into each other, so you're genuinely considering doing your first collab with him. But then you have a realization: you're pretty fucking sure you know him in real life already.
ding
You pick up your phone, seeing a DM notification from Twitter. As you open the app you smile — it's exactly who you hoped would be messaging you.
@/xcalibur_: wowwww you look amazing in the new vid 😍
It's Nico — one of your mutuals. Due to the nature of the content you put out, and the fact that you choose to remain anonymous online — posting everything under a pseudonym, Berrie — you are constantly having to balance casually flirting with other adult content creators to build your network while also not getting too close to anybody. It's good business, and also for your own safety. But you and Nico have followed each other for a few months now, and he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. It also doesn't help that he is outrageously hot, and has the prettiest cock you've ever seen. You should probably be ashamed by how many times you've cum to his videos, but shame surrounding sex is something you left behind a long time ago.
@/strawberriebaby: thanks love😘 your new pics are sooo hot btw
@/xcalibur_: thank you gorgeous ;) i didn't think the bulge pics would be so popular tbh but people seem to love it
@/strawberriebaby: it's the gray sweatpants babe, that'll drive any girl crazy in a heartbeat
@/xcalibur_: that's good to know, i'll keep that in mind 😏 hey btw, if you ever want any free personalized content from me lmk. i've cum to your videos so many times, so i definitely owe you haha
That last sentence makes your stomach do an excited flip. Sure, you post porn on Twitter. Of course other people are going to be jerking it to your videos. But something about hearing it from him specifically is really fucking hot.
@/strawberriebaby: that's crazy bc i cum to YOUR videos all the time too 🥰
@/xcalibur_: wow, what an honor to hear that from my favorite account holy shit 😍
@/strawberriebaby: lol i'll bet you say that to everyone
@/xcalibur_: nope, not at all. just you baby ❤️
@/strawberriebaby: alright then, prove it. send me a video of you jerking off right now 😊
@/xcalibur_: say less 🫡
A proud grin creeps across your face. Your thighs instinctively squeeze together, excitement flooding your senses at the prospect of receiving a personal video from Nico. Figuring you'd give him a few minutes, you decide to get up and start some laundry in the meantime. By the time you've sorted your clothes and started the first load in the washer, you already have a new DM in your notifications.
Excitedly you make your way to your bedroom, figuring you might as well enjoy yourself as you watch. Plopping onto your bed, you open Twitter and click on your chat with Nico. Sure enough, you are greeted with a seven minute-long video attachment, with a blurry image of what appears to be his bulge in the thumbnail, and an accompanying message that simply says for my favorite girl❤️.
You click play, immediately being greeted with soft moans from behind the camera as you watch him stroke himself through his sweatpants, the thick bulge heavy beneath his grasp. He's already growing hard, the soft fabric doing little to hide the shape of his cock as he touches himself, the delicate sighs escaping his lips sounding whiny already. You feel a rush of heat in your core as you watch him; he may be fully clothed still, but that doesn't stop your mouth from watering at the salacious sight.
Before long he has a full-blown erection; reaching into his pants, he takes his length in his hand, letting out a hiss at the sensation. Slipping the waistband of his sweats down he frees it from the confines of his underwear, revealing the thick, veiny shaft you've committed to memory at this point. He begins to jerk himself off, slow, measured strokes as he grips his cock tightly in his fist.
"F-fuck," you hear him groan from behind the camera. "I'm so fucking horny right now."
Grinning, you slip out of your pants with one hand, the other holding your phone as your eyes remain fixed on the pretty cock on its screen. You recline into your pillows, lightly dragging your fingertips over your pussy, discovering yourself to be much wetter than you expected. You collect your pooled arousal and spread it over your clit, sighing softly as your fingers graze the sensitive bud.
"Feels so good," he whines. "Wish it was your mouth, baby. Fuck…"
He begins to stroke himself faster now, his hand pumping up and down his length with urgent need. You slip your fingers into your pussy, fucking yourself as you watch; you start slow, but the pitiful sounds coming out of him soon have your hand flying as fast as his is. You feel like you could cum already, but you want to wait until he does. Your stomach tightens as you picture the savory sight of that in your head; checking the timestamp on the video, you're about halfway through. Just a few more minutes to go. The time seems to pass at a painfully slow pace, forcing you to pause more than once, taking the time to catch your breath as you watch Nico getting himself off with uninhibited pleasure. Your clit throbs, aching for the release of your orgasm. Finally, his whimpers begin to turn utterly pathetic — sharp cries and loud moans escaping him — and you can tell he's about to cum. Thank god, you think to yourself. You don't know how much longer you can wait.
You watch the shiny dribble of precum drip down the head of his cock, which is turning an angry shade of red as his climax begins to overtake him.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he cries. He vigorously pumps his length, cock throbbing in his grasp, until finally — he releases. With a vulgar groan white ropes of cum spurt from his tip, shooting into the air before falling onto his hand and stomach. The sight is enough to send you over the edge — your palm presses into your clit as your fingers fuck into your cunt, and you cum too. Your head falls back, eyes tearing up at the bursts of pleasure rolling through your body, but you don't take them off the screen for a second. You ride out your high, chest heaving with deep breaths as you stare at the delicious mess of cum all over Nico.
As you drift back down to earth, you watch as he lets go of his spent cock; it twitches against his stomach as he shows off his cum-coated hand, the sticky white substance dripping all over his fingers and the silver ring on his pinky. You've seen his hands plenty of times by now, and you've always thought they were exceptionally pretty. However, for some reason in this moment they seem… familiar. His long thick fingers, his pretty nails, and also the ring, too. You swear you've seen it somewhere before. You figure it's just from watching so many of his videos, but something in the back of your mind is telling you otherwise. But your mind is spinning, and it's hard to think straight right now anyway, so you push that thought aside.
You take a picture of your soaked cunt and DM it back to him.
@/strawberriebaby: that was so fucking hot, thank youuu 😘
Your phone dings as he replies immediately.
@/xcalibur_: fuck, need that pussy so bad
Maybe it's just the high from your orgasm, but his message practically has you swooning. The typing bubble pops up again right away. You watch him type for a minute, then stop. It pops up again a few moments later. You wait patiently to see what he has to say, and finally you receive another message.
@/xcalibur_: i'm not sure if you're open to collabs, so no pressure at all, but if you're ever interested lmk ;) more than willing to travel for u lol
Your heart nearly skips a beat. You've had other creators ask to collab before, but you've politely turned them all down. It's something you've definitely considered, but you don't want to do it with just anybody. It would have to be with the right person — and honestly, Nico would be perfect for the job.
@/strawberriebaby: i've never done one before, but i've been considering it tbh👀 i'm kinda nervous about it though
@/xcalibur_: that's totally fair, it's a big ask! i've also never done one, mostly for privacy reasons. might end my career if anybody finds out i do this lol
@/strawberriebaby: i'm a freelance artist, so that matters less for me haha. i'm just mostly nervous because i've never done a face reveal before
@/xcalibur_: you wouldn't have to do one if you don't want!
@/strawberriebaby: oh yeah, i mean more like… what if i met somebody irl and they weren't into me :/
@/xcalibur_: i can guarantee that won't happen if we meet, i promise :)
@/strawberriebaby: i'm just kind of an awkward person 😭
@/xcalibur_: that doesn't matter to me. you're hot and i'm very into you 🙂↕️
@/strawberriebaby: you haven't even seen my face though!!
@/xcalibur_: but i know you're fucking beautiful. and i'm not just saying that!
This conversation is a lot flirtier than you usually have with people on Twitter, even your mutuals that you know fairly well. Normally if a man was talking to you like this, you would just assume it's business as usual, just another stranger on the internet trying to get into your pants. But Nico is… different. Maybe you're delusional — maybe he talks like this to everyone he wants to fuck and you're not special. But your instinct tells you he's being genuine.
@/strawberriebaby: you're crazy, but fortunately i'm into that lol
@/xcalibur_: that's great news for me😌 but fr, if you're ever in the bay area hit me up. i'll clear my fucking schedule
@/strawberriebaby: wait, you're in the bay area??
@/xcalibur_: born and raised!
@/strawberriebaby: no fucking way. i'm also in the bay area!
@/xcalibur_: omg
@/xcalibur_: not to jump the gun but this might be destiny idk
@/strawberriebaby: well, one way to find out
@/xcalibur_: does this mean you want to collab :)
@/strawberriebaby: let me sleep on it, but good chance the answer might be yes
@/xcalibur_: YAYYYYY
@/xcalibur_: i mean uh, yeah that's cool. totally a good business decision.
@/strawberriebaby: oh, totally, for sure. well i have to go now, i'm meeting a friend for dinner. pleasure doing business with you ;)
@/xcalibur_: you too babe 😘 enjoy your dinner!
Between your orgasm and your conversation with Nico, you're feeling very hot and bothered — so you decide to take a quick shower. You feel much better afterward; you get ready and head out to meet your friend, and you end up having a really nice night. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't spend the whole rest of the evening with thoughts of your potential collab lingering in the back of your mind.
On Saturday, you have a gig as a wedding photographer — one of the many hats you wear. The wedding isn't until the afternoon, but you're supposed to be there by 11am to get set up and run through the schedule with the wedding planner. You're running slightly behind, but you're still on time — as long as you leave by 10:30, you'll be fine.
At 10:25am you are on your way out of your apartment. As you lock the door behind you, you spot a figure out of the corner of your eye approaching from down the hallway. Turning your head, you see that it's your neighbor, Seokmin.
"Hey y/n!" he tells you cheerfully. "Haven't seen you in a minute!"
Seokmin lives down the hall from you, so you run into him fairly frequently in passing. You usually don't go out of your way to talk to other people in your building outside of polite small talk, and you don't know Seokmin all that well truthfully. You pretty much only know that he's a lawyer, and apparently a pretty good one at that — but with his gregarious nature and bright smile, he's easily one of the nicest people you've ever met.
"Hey Seokmin," you smile back, giving him a small wave. "Yeah, I've been working odd jobs lately, so my schedule is kind of all over the place."
Seokmin reaches his front door. Still facing you, he rummages around in his bag, presumably for his keys.
"Nice, where are you off to today?"
"Photography gig," you answer. "I'm working a wedding."
"Oh, fun!" he beams at you, his arm still digging around the bottom of his bag. Finally, his hand closes around the small cluster of metal; he pulls the keys out, turning to the door to raising his hand to the lock. As he does so, you notice a silver ring around his pinky, and suddenly you realize where you've seen this exact same hand before.
Your eyes widen, staring at Seokmin's hand, looking for anything to tell you you're wrong, that can't be the same hand… You blink, hoping you're just imagining things — but deep down you know your eyes do not deceive you.
Seokmin peers back at you, about to say something else, but you look like you've seen a ghost.
"Are you okay?" he asks, slightly concerned.
"I just— I forgot something," you say in a panic, plastering a faux smile on your face. You spin on your heel and rush back into your apartment before he can ask any more questions. "Catch you later!"
"Bye!" Seokmin shouts after you. He turns and enters his apartment, not thinking anything of it.
You, however, are now spiraling. You pace around your apartment as you take your phone out and open Twitter, scrolling to your DMs with Nico and playing back the video he sent you the other night. You fast forward to the end, stopping when you see his cum-coated hand in frame. Without a doubt, it looks just like Seokmin's. You might've been able to convince yourself that they just look similar, that there's no chance in hell they belong to the same person — but the presence of the identical ring makes it undeniable.
"What the fuck," you mutter under your breath, trying to process this information. Sure, Seokmin is objectively an attractive man — but you've never thought of him like that before. But the more you think about it, the way Nico talks and his amicable, sweet nature match Seokmin's demeanor perfectly. And he does have the exact same build you've seen fully nude from the shoulders down dozens of times on your phone screen.
But you don't have time to stand here and freak out about this right now. You have to get to work. You peek out your peephole, just to make sure he's not still out there for any reason, but the hallway is vacant. You lock the door behind you and make your exit as quickly as possible.
Fortunately, the wedding setup and the ceremony itself keep you busy enough to keep your mind off the fact that Nico is your literal neighbor. After the reception ends, you head home, but decide to stop at the CVS on your way back. You grab the couple items you need from your list and head to check out, but on your way to the register you pass the condom section. You stop for a second; you do have a box at home already, but Nico/Seokmin's video drifts to the front of your mind, reminding you just how fucking huge his cock is.
Stop it, you think to yourself. You didn't even say you'd collab with him yet. Do you even want to do that now that you know he's been living across the hall from you this whole time?? But you know in your heart that the answer is a resounding yes.
With a sigh, you grab a box of XL condoms off the shelf and toss it in your basket.
You spend the whole evening trying not to think about Seokmin, to no avail. You even put on Howl's Moving Castle, hoping that your favorite movie will be a good distraction, but even that isn't enough to get your mind of that fucking video he sent you. You can't even blame him, because you're the one who asked him to send it in the first place.
Idiot, you chastise yourself. He did say he was also in the Bay Area, but so are seven million other people; never in your wildest dreams would you have expected him to live in your exact building — because what are the fucking odds of that? But regardless, it's true, and now you have to figure out what the hell you are going to do about it. You pretty much have two options: tell him you know, or pretend like you don't. Neither one is very good — the latter would probably be the smarter option, but it doesn't change the fact that you still want to hit like so bad.
Your phone buzzes. Looking down, you see a DM from Nico pop up in your notifications.
"Speak of the devil…" you mumble to yourself. You pick up the phone and open it to his message.
@/xcalibur_: heyyyy cutie ❤️ how was your day?
You stare at the screen for a minute, deliberating, but eventually you decide to respond.
@/strawberriebaby: honestly i had such a weird fucking day 😭
@/xcalibur_: oh no! what happened? (if you don't mind me asking)
@/strawberriebaby: nothing bad, just… weird. can i ask you something?
@/xcalibur_: of course baby
@/strawberriebaby: what would you do if i said i think we might know each other irl?
Your heart races as you hit send. You have no idea how he's going to respond, but you decide fuck it. Worst case scenario it'll make things so awkward you will have to move, but that's a problem for later. You watch the typing bubble anxiously as you await his reply.
@/xcalibur_: wait, seriously? how so?
@/strawberriebaby: i recognized your ring in the video.
@/xcalibur_: i'm sure a lot of guys have a ring like mine tho, maybe it just looks similar to someone you know?
@/strawberriebaby: that's what i was thinking. but then i saw you in the hallway this morning when i was on my way to work
The typing bubble does not pop up again. A few minutes pass, and you start to wonder if you've royally fucked up — but then you hear a knock at your front door.
You get up and walk over to the peephole, peering out to see none other than Seokmin standing there, wearing grey sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt that puts his thick biceps on full display. You open the door, coming face to face with him; you stare at each other for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say.
"You…" he finally starts, but you just grab him by the wrist and pull him inside. Door shutting behind him, you are now alone together, standing far to close to one another in the entryway of your home.
"It is you," he says in a hushed tone, staring at you with sparkling brown eyes. "You're Berrie." You nod, locking eyes with him, making your stomach do a nervous flip.
"And you're Nico," you reply softly. He nods back, a bewildered look coloring his face.
"This is crazy," he laughs incredulously. "I've always thought you were so pretty, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything."
"Well, turns out we've already seen each other naked," you point out. He lets out a laugh.
"Yeah, I suppose so…"
You stare at each other for a moment, the tension in the room turning palpable.
"Well, my offer still stands, you know," he says, suddenly turning a bit flushed. "About the collab. If you want."
"Do you mean… right now?" you ask, taking a step forward.
"Yeah," he whispers, also stepping forward to bridge the gap between the two of you. "I do." Slowly he raises his right hand, cradling your cheek in his palm as he holds your face, the metal of his ring cool against your cheek. You let out a soft gasp; your hands drift to his torso, pressing them against his muscular abs, sliding them up across his chest before you take his shirt in your fists, yanking him toward you closer still.
"Kiss me," you tell him, and without a moment of hesitation his lips are crashing into yours.
His hand drifts from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling your face into his so he can kiss you with unrestrained vigor. His other hand drifts to your waist, rubbing your hip slowly as he tastes you, his lips tugging on yours in sheer desperation. You kiss him back, grabbing him by his sides as you press your body into him.
"Fuck," he grumbles, barely taking his lips off you as he grabs your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh."You're so perfect."
The stiffening in his pants is undeniable, pressing against your stomach as he holds you close. You want nothing more than to rip your clothes off and throw yourself at him, but you know that teasing him for a bit first would be enticing for the both of you — and you want to savor this.
You break the kiss, staring up at him sweetly, before you take his hand in yours and start pulling him toward your bedroom.
"C'mon," you say, looking back at him as you tug him along. He grins, gazing at you excitedly at he eagerly follows. Entering your room, he lets out a chuckle.
"Wow, so this is where the magic happens, huh?" he asks, gesturing at your ring light and tripod set up at the foot of your bed.
"Sure is," you smile. "I was planning on filming tonight, let me move this real quick—"
"Wait," Seokmin says, grabbing hold of your wrist. You turn to face him again, his soft brown eyes staring at you lustfully. "You should go ahead and film."
"It's okay, I can do it tomorrow—" you start, but he grabs you by the chin, tilting your face up to his so he can kiss you again.
"I want to watch," he mutters into your lips. A smile spreads across your face.
"Okay," you beam at him.
Grabbing your phone, you set it up on the tripod, the video camera open and ready. You strip your clothes off as you make your way over to your bed, plopping into the center and making yourself comfortable. You spread your legs, revealing your bare pussy, already glimmering with arousal in the dim lighting.
"Ready?" Seokmin asks, his finger hovering above the record button.
"More than," you grin.
He taps the button, and the video begins.
Slowly you slide your hand down your body, dipping your fingers into your cunt, pulling them out again to show off the stick mess of juices dripping out of you. Seokmin licks his lips, palming himself through his sweatpants as he quickly starts to grow hard. You touch yourself lazily, staring up at him as you start to get yourself off; you were planning on taking your sweet time, but having him watch you like this is making you unbearably horny. Soft moans escape your lips as you begin to play with your clit, causing him to grip his bulge in his fist tightly as he takes a deep breath. Your other hand grasps at your breast, squeezing it as your fingers start to move faster. The sight is too much for Seokmin. Mouth watering, he pulls his pants down and frees his cock, stroking it slowly in his large hand. You've seen it dozens of times, so you knew exactly what to expect — and yet seeing the sheer size of his cock with your own two eyes has you clenching around nothing. You swear you've never craved anything more in your life.
Your fingers begin to work faster, flicking back and forth over your clit, hips rocking slowly as a burning heat begins to fill your gut. Watching Seokmin masturbate as he watches you masturbate has to be the hottest thing you've ever experienced. His eyes don't leave you for a second, his gaze flickering from your pussy to your breasts to your pretty face, savoring the sight of every inch of you. Soon, he's stroking himself with a sense of urgency, his hand working his cock faster and faster, egged on by your incessant whimpering as you approach your high. Your body writhes against the mattress as an explosive orgasm suddenly overtakes you — your legs tremble, your head falls back into the pillows as you release, crying out with pleasure as the shockwaves of your climax pulse through you.
Your mind spins as you come down, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you try to recover. Your eyes flutter open again, seeing Seokmin still standing there, staring at you like he wants to devour you. His hand has stilled, gripping his thick hard cock tightly, his tip glistening with his leaking juices.
"Turn that off and come fuck me already," you tell him, grinning eagerly. He stops the video and walks over to your bed, climbing over you and pressing a long kiss against your lips. You reach for his cock, but he's already scooting back down, positioning himself between your legs.
"I will," he replies, suddenly grabbing you by the thighs and folding you in half, making you gasp. "But first…"
You cry out as he drags his tongue over your cunt, groaning as he laps up the pool of juices.
"Fuck, even better than I imagined."
He slips his tongue into your hole, fucking it in and out as his nose bumps against your swollen clit, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine.
"Oh my god—" you moan, brushing your fingers through his dark hair and grasping onto it. You hold his head in place, but he had no plans of pulling away anyway. He eats you out slowly, savoring every drop of you, his tongue running through your folds and over your clit until you feel the pressure of a second orgasm building inside you. Your hips begin to rock against his face, rubbing your clit over his nose, until you are cumming again. His hands grip your thighs as he doesn't stop, licking your pussy as you ride out your high.
"Fuck," you gasp for air as you pry his head off of you. He grins at you sheepishly, his entire chin dripping.
"Sorry, got a bit carried away," he admits.
"No, don't apologize," you smile at him. "That was fucking amazing."
He dives in one more time to press a soft kiss into your spent clit. Crawling back up to you, you pull him in for a kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth to taste yourself on him.
"Now will you fuck me?" you tease as your lips part.
"Of course, baby," he says with one more kiss. "I didn't bring any protection though, I kinda ran out the door without thinking…"
"It's okay, I have some," you tell him. Reaching into your drawer you pull out the unopened box of XL condoms you're grateful you bought on a whim. As you open the package, he gives you a quizzical look.
"Do you always keep these on hand?" he asks teasingly.
"Nope," you reply. "Bought them today."
"Oh," he says softly, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. "So you bought these specifically for me, then."
"Yes," you answer matter-of-factly, making his cheeks turn flushed.
"I guess we're kinda obsessed with each other then, huh?" he asks, grinning widely.
"Seems that way," you beam back at him.
You pull one of the small packets out, tossing the box aside and ripping it open. You pull the condom out and reach for Seokmin's cock. You give it a few pumps, making him groan.
"God, it's so fucking hot to have you actually touching me."
"Good," you grin. You take the condom and stretch it over his tip, rolling it down his length. You grab his cock and guide it to your entrance, rubbing his head over your folds. He moves his hips, pressing it in gently, but you're so soaked that it slips in with ease. You gasp, staring at his cock as it disappears into your cunt, filling you up like never before.
"Oh my god you're huge," you say mouth ajar. You gaze back up, meeting his eyes as he stares at you hungrily. Slowly he begins to fuck you, pulling his cock out and pushing it all the way back in.
"You feel incredible," he mutters as he leans his head in, kissing the side of your neck delicately. You let out a soft, involuntary whine, making Seokmin's head spin more than it already is.
"Fuck, you're so hot," he groans. "Keep making those noises baby, I like it."
"Feels so good," you whimper as he fucks into you harder.
"You're taking me so well," he coos, his hand drifting to your nipple and tugging on it lightly. "Such a good girl."
"Harder," you plead. He smirks, then starts fucking you faster, giving you exactly what you asked for.
"Oh my god, I wanna cum," he moans, leaning in to kiss you, tugging on your bottom lip. He slows to a stop, breathing heavily above you. "Will you please ride me?" he asks, staring deep into your eyes. You nod eagerly, making him grin excitedly. He gently pulls out of you, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him. You straddle him, rubbing your cunt over his cock. You pause for a second, giving him a curious look.
"What is it, love?" he asks softly.
"Let me take it off," you say, dragging your fingertip over his wrapped length. "I want you to cum in me."
His eyes widen. "You're gonna be the death of me," he says with a laugh.
"Is that a yes?" you ask, tugging lightly at the tip of the condom.
"Yeah," he nods. "Absolutely."
You giggle excitedly as you remove the barrier, discarding it and quickly positioning yourself over his cock. It slides in with ease as you sit on it, making you groan as you take his full length inside you.
"Holy fucking shit your pussy feels so good," he moans, his jaw dropping. "Oh my god…"
You begin to ride him, slowly gliding yourself up and down his length, but before long you're fully bouncing up and down on him, crying out from pleasure as his cock reaches deep inside you.
"F-fuck," you whine, pressing your hands against his chest to support yourself as you ride his perfect cock.
"Don't stop," he begs. "I'm so close."
Obediently you keep up your pace, tears welling in your eyes as you stare down at Seokmin. His head drops against the pillow, his eyes rolling back as you feel his cock start to pulse inside you.
"I'm cumming, baby," he groans. He cries out as he releases, and you feel his hot ropes of cum shooting against your walls as a string of delectable moans drifts from his lips. He grabs your hips, squeezing them tight in his grasp as he holds you in place, fucking his cock up into you with careless abandon. His cock twitches as he gives you all of his cum; eventually his hips begin to slow, coming to a stop, his hands still holding a strong grip on your sides.
"Wow," he sighs as he comes back to earth. He smiles, letting out a giggle as he opens his eyes to look at you again. "You're fucking perfect. Let me see," he says, gesturing to your filled pussy. You lift yourself off his length, letting the cum drip out of you, coating his cock and stomach with the sticky mess. Collecting the remainder of his cum from your cunt on your fingers, you lift your hand to your mouth, licking them clean.
"Goddamn," he mumbles as he watches you. You unstraddle him and lean over, licking up the cum from his abdomen as well. He watches you through heavy eyelids, petting your hair as you clean him up.
"C'mere," he says when you finish, pulling you up into his embrace. You snuggle in next to him as he wraps his broad arms around you, holding you tight as he kisses your forehead. You rest there for a few silent moments, breathing together as he gently rubs your back.
"I suppose we could've filmed that," you say after a few minutes, lifting your head out of the crook of his neck to look at him. "But I didn't even think of that. I was too distracted by your huge fucking cock."
Seokmin laughs. "That's okay," he replies sweetly. "Besides, I wanted you all to myself. But we can do this again, if you want."
"Absolutely," you nod.
"Good," he says as he smiles brightly. He pulls you into a tight hug, kissing you again, kissing you over and over for as long as you'll let him — which is very long time, but neither of you mind it one bit.
[TWO WEEKS LATER]
You wake up to thousands of notifications, all from Twitter.
You think you're seeing things at first, but as you scroll you confirm that, indeed, you have more notifications right now than you've ever seen in your life. Smiling, you go to your text messages and open your chat with Seokmin, who has already texted you this morning.
Seokmin: wow, i guess people liked the video :)
You open Twitter and go to your profile, looking at the video you have pinned. The caption reads: We finally collabed @/xcalibur_ 💕 Full video on OF. The clip is a preview of the nearly 30-minute-long sex tape you uploaded to your OnlyFans account — your first official collab with Nico.
Since the first time you fucked, it actually took the both of you about six more times before one of you remembered to turn a camera on. You've been too busy being utterly and completely obsessed with each other, fucking on seemingly every possible surface in both of your apartments. But finally, you decided to film it for real, and it appears Twitter is having a fucking field day with it. Overnight alone, the tweet gained over 5,000 retweets and 12,000 likes. You decide to scroll through the replies to see what people are saying.
holy shit this was so hottttt
The collab of a LIFETIME!!!
omg my two favorites in one video?? i'm in heaven 😍
bro i just nutted in 1 minute wtf
pls make more videos together 🙏 y'alls chemistry is FIRE
Smiling, you return to your texts and reply to Seokmin.
You: i guess so ;) i can't believe we went viral lol
Seokmin: i can. that video was so hot ☺️
You: you're so right
Seokmin: what are you doing tonight?
You: you, hopefully
Seokmin: oh for sure!! but, i was actually hoping to take you out to dinner. it's about time i took you on a proper date
You: wait, are you're saying you want to date me? 🥺
Seokmin: absolutely i do. if you want, of course
You: i'd love nothing more ❤️
Seokmin: YAY :)))
GENRE | TAGS. One-shot, non-idol!au, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, smut.
WC. 14.9k+
RATING. Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI).
WARNINGS. Reader is dealing with anxiety, insomnia, mental health struggles, and here nobody believes in seeking medical help (apparently), just the plug, mentions of food, Scream (1996) spoilers (in case you never saw it), drug purchase, smoking, drug use, drug use before sexual activities, shotgunning, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, pussy eating, cum eating, multiple orgasms, blowjob, unprotected sex, dirty talk, hand kink, pulling out, cum-shot.
AN. I literally just brought this to another format, with a few small changes. And now I’m actually, actually back. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think! <3
🎧 SOUNDTRACK. chocolate - the 1975, ojitos lindos - bad bunny, junk of the heart (happy) - the kooks, like real people do - hozier, disconnected - 5 seconds of summer, don’t come down - the maine, satellite - harry styles, fallin' for you - colbie caillat, drop dead - olivia rodrigo.
The streetlamp flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. You pull your jacket tighter around your shoulders, checking the time on your phone screen for the fifth time in two minutes.
9:14 PM.
A very old blue jeep is parked halfway down the block, engine off, exactly where the dropped pin had indicated. As you approach, the driver’s side door clicks open.
Vernon steps out, casually pulling back the hood of his dark sweatshirt. He looks even more handsome than in the picture he sent earlier, which only makes you more nervous. His relaxed, unbothered posture immediately contrasts with your stiff and coiled tension. He leans against the car door, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watches you close the distance.
You stop a few feet away, practically vibrating with nerves. “Vernon?”
“Yeah.” His voice is low, carrying a slight rasp. He doesn’t move toward you, leaving a comfortable gap between to let you dictate the space. “You’re Chan’s friend.”
“Y/N,” you supply quickly, voice slightly breathless.
It was Chan who gave you his number after seeing you have an anxiety attack. He said Vernon was the seller with the best prices and the best products, that his stuff would definitely help you relax, and that he was a reliable guy.
Which is what brought here.
Vernon offers a small, crooked smile. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He pause, his eyes scanning the empty street before settling back on you. “Chan said you’d be reaching out. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up after our texts earlier.”
“I... yeah.” You bite your lip hard, wrapping your arms around yourself against the night wind. “I’m sorry if the timing was weird, I just really needed to find a way to settle my head tonight.”
He nods slowly, his expression understanding. Vernon doesn’t treat your confession like a burden or a business pitch; he just listens. “No need to apologize. Chan’s a good guy. He wouldn’t have sent you my way if he didn’t think I could help you out.”
Vernon shifts his weight and reaches into his pocket. You instinctively flinch, taking a quick half-step back. The movement is entirely involuntary, a byproduct of the buzzing, suffocating anxiety that had driven you out here in the first place.
He freezes, slowly pulling his hand back out empty and resting it visibly on the roof of the car. His expression shifts, the casual politeness melting into something far more observant, and surprisingly gentle. He takes in the way your shoulders are practically up to your ears, the way your hands grip your phone and arms like a lifeline, and the wide, panicked look in your eyes.
“Hey,” Vernon says softly, dropping his voice a register. “Take a breath. You’re okay. I’m not here to make things harder for you.”
“I know, I just—” You swallow hard, embarrassed heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m not really used to this. Meeting strangers in the dark. It’s… a lot.”
“I get it. But you don’t have to look at me like I’m about to bite. You’re making yourself self-conscious.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening even further. “I am?”
“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth ticks up, and he scratches the back of his head. “Don’t be, though. It’s a compliment. Most people around here try too hard to look like they aren’t feeling anything.”
The tension in your chest doesn’t vanish, but the sheer directness of his gaze makes the frantic buzzing start to slow.
Vernon finally reaches into his pocket again, moving slowly and deliberately this time, and pulls out a small paper bag. He holds it out, stretching his arm far enough that you don’t have to step completely out of your comfort zone.
“Here. The mellow option, like you asked. Should help quiet things down.”
As you reach out to take it, your fingers briefly brush against his. His skin is warm against the chill of the night air.
“Thanks,” you murmur, finally feeling the tight band around your chest loosen.
“Don’t mention it.” He steps back and opens his car door, but pauses before sliding into the driver’s seat, looking over his shoulder one last time. “Get home safe. Let me know if you need anything else. And seriously, breathe. You’re doing fine.”
As his taillights fades down the empty street, you stand on the sidewalk and take your first full, deep breath of the entire day.
“Sorry for the odd hour,” you say for the thousandth time, pulling your cardigan tighter around yourself. “I just… I can’t sleep. My brain won’t shut up. It’s okay if you want to charge me a delivery fee or something for the trouble.”
You’d been buying from Vernon for about a month. Almost every Tuesday, you left him a message to drop your usual order. Today, however, was Thursday, and you had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours without managing to close your eyes for even a single second. So you figured, why not see if he was awake and willing to sell you something strong enough to finally put you down?
And after a month of buying from him, you had decided it was okay to let him come up to your building floor instead of making him meet you out on the street. He had proven himself to be surprisingly reliable—exactly like Chan had promised you—, after one day when you could barely get out of bed, and he’d offered to bring your order up himself.
Now he was standing in the hallway of your building, looking like he hadn’t gotten much more sleep than you had, yet somehow far more awake than anyone had the right to be at this hour. And the craziest thing of all? He looked incredibly handsome, while you are pretty sure you looked hungover despite not having consumed a single drop of alcohol.
Vernon lets out a low, easy breath, shaking his head. “You’re good. I don’t sleep much anyway, so you’re not exactly interrupting a deep slumber.” He reaches into his pocket, his movements slow, as if he’s in no hurry at all. “Tell you what, I’ll give you the loyal customer discount tonight, Bambi.”
You blink, the name catching you off guard. “Bambi?”
He leans one shoulder against the doorframe, his gaze softening as it fixes on yours.
“Yeah.” Vernon tilts his head, studying your face with an intensity that makes your heart skip. Then he points at his own eyes with his index finger. “It’s the eyes. Yours are big and curious… like you’re seeing the world for the first time.”
You feel a flush of heat creep up your neck, and you look down at your slippers, trying to deflect. Vernon does that quite often; making you blush so hard you never know where to hide your face, that is. You don’t even know if that’s his actual intention or if he’s just naturally nice.
“If that’s the case, then I must look like a really tired bambi. Bags under my eyes and everything.”
Vernon chuckles, the warm sound seeming to fill the empty hallway. “You still look cute, though.” He shrugs, far too casually for your liking. “Just… don’t go bolting into traffic or anything like that. I need my favorite customer in one piece.”
The blush deepens, spreading across your face until even your ears feel hot. You duck your head further, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.
You wanted to know if he was genuinely flirting with you or if it was just something he said to all his clients. You were still confused about how you felt about those two possibilities, but the first was the only one that made your stomach do those strange, fluttery little flips.
“Oh, I’ve got a new indica blend coming in next week,” Vernon continues, his tone slipping back into his usual seller mode. “I’ll bring some by. It’ll help you sleep like a rock, I promise.”
You manage a small, shy smile, finally looking back up at him. “You’re like a specialized pharmacist at this point. Should I be tipping you extra, or will a thank-you card do it?”
A slight smile appears on Vernon’s face, and he straightens up and takes a step back, preparing to head toward the elevators, but he pauses to look you in the eye one last time, making sure the panic has truly subsided. The teasing light in his expression fades into something sincere and unexpectedly sweet.
“Neither,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. “You being less anxious is enough for me. That’s the only tip I need, Bambi.”
He turns to leave, tossing a lazy wave over his shoulder and leaving you leaning against your doorframe.
The phone screen goes dark, but the words “anything you want” seems to burn brightly behind your eyelids.
For the past twelve hours, you’d been pinned to the mattress since your alarm first went off in the morning. But those three words from Vernon acted like a sudden shot of adrenaline straight to your heart, breaking the paralysis and making you throw the heavy duvet off and practically scramble out of bed, your feet hitting the cold hardwood floor with an urgent slap.
Your apartment was the physical manifestation of a terrible mental health week. Half-empty water bottles clustered on the nightstand, clothes draped over every available surface like exhausted ghosts, and a tragic pile of unopened mail sat on the kitchen counter.
“Oh God,” you mutter, grabbing a laundry hamper and sprinting through the living room.
Sweatshirts, socks, and a pair of jeans are aggressively lobbed into the laundry basket. Books that had been discarded on the floor are shoved haphazardly onto shelves. A collection of coffee mugs is swept into the sink and buried unceremoniously beneath a layer of dish soap bubbles just to hide the evidence.
You move at a dizzying speed, pausing only to catch your breath and aggressively fluff the flattened sofa cushions.
Despite the sheer panic of the impromptu cleaning spree, there’s an undeniable warmth spreading through your chest. You’re nervous, yes—your hands shake slightly as you kick a stray pair of sneakers into the hall closet—but beneath the nerves, you’re overwhelmingly happy.
Vernon is coming over. Not just to drop off your usual or make a quick exchange in the doorway, but just… coming over. To keep you company.
It hits you right then, standing in the middle of the slightly less disastrous living room, just how drastically things have shifted between you two. Somewhere along the line, the boundaries had blurred, melted, and completely re-formed into something entirely different.
Lately, he hasn’t just been your plug—he’s been your friend too. And you’ve been texting. A lot.
It had started innocently a few weeks ago, after he dropped off a new indica strain at your doorstep, one that worked a little too well on you. Pleasantly immobilized and entirely trapped in your own head, you had spent twenty minutes staring at your palms before deciding they actually looked like clouds, and texted him to give feedback.
Most people in his line of work would have ignored it, or maybe replied with a laughing emoji. But Vernon had replied three minutes later, and after a single text, a floodgate opened. The sheer relief of not being mocked, of having someone lean into the absurdity of the moment, made you feel unexpectedly safe with him.
The texts didn’t stop the next morning, when you sent a mortified apology and he replied with a picture of a fluffy cloud. From there, it became a daily routine with good mornings, random memes, complaints about the weather, late-night philosophical tangents, and very, very high debates. Vernon had slowly woven himself into the absolute fabric of your day-to-day life.
But today was Tuesday, and normally, by 2:00 PM on a Tuesday, you would’ve texted him for the usual. Except today, you didn’t. And when you didn’t, he texted you first to check how you were doing.
The conversation didn’t take long before Vernon calmed you down in his usual quiet, steady way, and then, casually as always, he offered to come over. And you accepted immediately—even if it was just for him to sit with you and keep you company—which had led you to this moment, where you’re trying to shove dust under the living room rug.
A firm knock at the door pulls you violently out of your thoughts.
Smoothing down your oversized sweater and taking one last, desperate look at the living room to ensure no rogue laundry was visible, you walk to the door and pull it open.
Vernon stands in the hallway wearing a faded gray hoodie with the strings pulled unevenly and a pair of jeans. But it isn’t his clothes that catch your attention; it’s his hands. He isn’t holding a small bag or his phone. He’s holding two massive, grease-stained brown paper bags from the twenty-four-hour diner down the street, along with a cardboard drink carrier balancing two milkshakes.
“Hey, Bambi,” he greets you, his voice carrying that familiar low rasp. The corner of his mouth ticks up into a soft, unmistakable heart-shaped smile. “Hope you like fries, because I bought, like, an insane amount of them.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” you breathe out, the last residual knot of anxiety in your chest instantly dissolving at the sight of him. You can’t believe how absolutely gorgeous he looks standing there in your doorway, looking like he just rolled out of bed, dressed in the most casual clothes imaginable.
“I know.” He shrugs, stepping past the threshold as you step aside to let him in. Vernon kicks his shoes off by the door with an easy familiarity that makes your heart flutter. “But you said you couldn’t get out of bed today. Which means you definitely didn’t cook. And I couldn’t have you passing out on me. I need someone to help me eat all of this.”
He carries the food into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table. The smell of hot, salty fries, grilled burgers, and heavy diner food fills the apartment, instantly making it feel infinitely cozier, and your stomach lets out an angry, shameless growl.
You hover awkwardly by the armchair. “I... I really meant it, you know. I don’t have any cash on me. I feel awful making you drive all the way out here.”
Vernon stops unpacking the bags and stands up straight, turning to face you. He closes the distance between you in two long strides, his expression softening completely. He reaches out, his warm fingers lightly catching your shoulder, just enough to straighten you and make you look at him.
“I am not here for your money, Bambi.” The sincerity in his voice and eyes pines you to the spot. He has amazing eyes. “Nor am I here to be your delivery guy. I’m here because it’s Tuesday, you were having a bad day, and I wanted to see you. Do you understand?”
You bite your lip to suppress a smile, the warmth of his fingers sending a rush of electricity straight down your spine. “Yeah. I understand.”
He smiles softly. “Good,” he says, letting his hand drop, though his eyes linger for a second longer on your face before he turns back to the food. “Now, grab some napkins, Bambi. We’ve got a situation here with these milkshakes.”
You settle onto the floor, using the coffee table as a dining table. The food is incredible and exactly the kind of heavy, comforting, terrible-for-you meal that bypasses anxiety almost entirely and goes straight to the soul.
“Alright,” Vernon says around a mouthful of fries, leaning back against the base of the sofa. “We need a movie. Something that requires zero brain power but also something we can yell at.”
“Yell at?” you ask, dipping a fry into your milkshake. Vernon watches the fry-in-milkshake maneuver with mild disgust but don’t comment.
“Yeah. A classic. Something where the characters make terrible decisions and we get to judge them from our moral high ground on the floor.”
You scroll through a streaming service for ten minutes before finally settling on Scream.
“It’s the perfect choice,” Vernon argues as the eerie opening music swells through the television speakers. “The ultimate movie about teenagers who think they know all the rules of surviving getting absolutely humbled by another pair of teenagers in a cheap Halloween mask.”
“Sidney is actually smart, though,” you counter, pulling your knees to your chest. “She managed to not get killed in seven out of seven films.”
Vernon scoffs, pausing halfway through a bite of his burger. “Thanks to the power of being the protagonist, of course.”
You shake your head with a laugh. “Well, I stand by my opinion.”
He chews slowly, nodding as he points at you with his index finger. “A woman who stands her ground. I respect that.” You let out a small giggle, and Vernon swallows before continuing. “But she ran up the stairs instead of out the front door, Bambi. She literally locked the deadbolt and then trapped herself on the second floor when she had a clear shot to the yard.”
“It’s a classic trope!” you defend your point, laughing as Vernon rolls his eyes. You feel so at peace in his presence that you no longer remember a single thing that affected you in the last twenty-four hours.
“It’s a death wish! That was the entire problem!”
You eat and argue nonstop, the tension of the day bleeding out of you with every passing minute you spend in his presence. You debate the rules of surviving a slasher, whether you would actually make it out alive in Woodsboro, and roast the characters’ survival instincts.
“I know I would probably die,” you state with conviction, biting the end of the straw, “but it would never be because I went to investigate some strange, suspicious noise. Especially not if I were alone.”
Vernon chuckles, nodding along. “Ditto!”
You grab another fry, pointing it at the screen as Billy Loomis leans through Sidney’s bedroom window.
“Okay, but you have to admit, Billy and Stu are objectively very attractive. The whole ’90s grunge, floppy hair thing? It works.”
He pauses mid-chew. Slowly, his eyes slide from the TV to you, his expression flattening into an unimpressed, deadpan stare. “They look like they haven’t showered in a month.”
“Yeah, but look at the cheekbones,” you insist, another teasing smile breaking through the heavy exhaustion. “It’s attractive.”
“If the attractive is homicidal bedhead, sure.” Vernon scoffs, pointedly taking a long, exaggerated sip of his milkshake. “Good to know your bar is literally on the floor, Bambi.”
He shifts slightly, stretching his long legs out and casually crossing his arms, his tone perfectly nonchalant but carrying a subtle defensive edge.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous of fictional ’90s teenagers,” you laugh between words, the sound bright and entirely devoid of anxiety. It would be completely ridiculous if he were, considering he looked like he’d stepped straight out of a ’90s movie himself.
“I’m deeply concerned for your survival instincts,” he corrects smoothly, not missing a beat, though he aggressively dunked a fry into his ketchup. “Remind me to never let you go to a Halloween party alone.”
As the movie shifts from eerie suspense to full-blown terror, the food begins to take its toll. The frantic, anxious energy that has kept you awake for the last twenty-four hours is suddenly entirely depleted. The apartment is warm, the couch against your back is soft, and the low, steady sound of Vernon’s voice beside you is the most effective sedative you’ve ever experienced.
Without realizing it, you begin to slide sideways. The debate over whether throwing a landline phone at the killer was actually an effective evasion tactic fades into background noise. The edges of your vision blur, the flashing light from the television softening into indistinct, hazy color. With a soft sigh, your head tips over, landing gently against the solid, warm curve of Vernon’s shoulder.
On the screen, Tatum screams. In the living room, Vernon stiffens completely. He had been mid-sentence, ready to deliver a scathing critique of Dewey’s police work, when he feels the sudden weight against his arm. He stops talking immediately, his jaw snapping shut. Slowly, carefully, he turns his head just a fraction to look down.
Your eyes are completely closed, your breathing already deepening into the slow cadence of genuine sleep. Your face, which had been tight with worry and exhaustion when he first walked in the door, is now entirely smooth. The dark circles under your eyes remain, but the tension in your body is gone. You look very peaceful.
Vernon feels a strange, tight pull right in the center of his chest. He glances at the empty takeout bags, the half-finished milkshakes, and you currently using him as a pillow, realizing he’s never been happier to lose a Tuesday night’s worth of business.
He doesn’t dare reach for the remote to turn the volume down, afraid that even the slightest shift in his muscles will wake you. He doesn’t reach for his phone either, which is buzzing in his pocket with texts of customers he no longer cares about.
Instead, Vernon adjusts his posture by a millimeter, shifting his weight just enough to give your head a better angle against his shoulder. He carefully leans his own head back against the sofa cushions, letting out a long and silent exhale.
On the screen, the survivors run for their lives. In the quiet of the apartment, Vernon sits perfectly still, entirely content to stay trapped in this exact position for as long as you need to sleep.
The next day, when you wake up tucked comfortably into your bed, everything is organized, clean, and back in its proper place. And unless you somehow did all of this in your sleep, there’s only one person who could have done it, even if he’s nowhere to be found in the morning.
Vernon drives with an relaxed posture, one hand resting lightly on the top of the steering wheel while the other rests on the center console. He doesn’t press for conversation, letting the low volume of the radio fill the space between you. Every so often, you catch him stealing a quick glance in your direction, his eyes checking to make sure you’re still breathing easily.
About an hour ago, you’d texted him about how awful your day had been, and within minutes he was at your door, ready to take you for a drive to clear your mind.
After a couple of minutes of driving, the dense architecture of the city gives way to the open stretches of the coastal highway. The streetlights grow sparse, replaced by the vast, ink-black expanse of the sky. The air rushing through the slightly cracked windows shifts from the smell of concrete to the sharp and cold scent of ocean mist and salt.
Vernon finally slows the car, the tires crunching against gravel as he pulls into a deserted overlook. The headlights sweep across a wooden barricade before he kills the engine, plunging them into darkness. Out the windshield, the ocean stretches endlessly, moonlight catching the white crests of the churning waves below.
“I didn’t know you liked the beach,” you whisper, pulling your jacket tighter around your frame. The cold seeps through the glass, but the car’s heater still blows warm air at your feet, creating a perfectly cozy contrast.
“I don’t usually,” he shrugs, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He unbuckles his seatbelt and shifts his weight, turning slightly in his seat so he can look at you. “During the day, it’s a nightmare. Too crowded, too loud. But at night… it’s different.”
You nod slowly, looking out at the horizon. “It makes everything else feel really small. The ocean, I mean.” You tilt your head slightly, stealing a quick glance at him before continuing. “You look out there and realize how massive it all is, and suddenly worrying about emails or… or literally anything else just feels completely irrelevant.”
“Exactly,” Vernon agrees, leaning his head back against the headrest. He watches the water for a long moment, his profile sharp against the dim light filtering in from the moon. “We construct this entire, agonizing reality inside our heads.”
He pauses, a quiet, almost self-deprecating chuckle escaping his lips. He turns his head to look at you, his eyes looking thoughtful.
“You ever think we’re just brains in jars imagining stuff?”
You blink, caught entirely off guard by the sudden existential pivot. A laugh bubbles up in your chest, breaking the solemn quiet of the car. “Brains in jars? Really? That’s where we’re going at three in the morning?”
“I’m serious,” he defends himself, though the corner of his mouth is ticking upward. “Think about it. How do you know any of this is real? Your brain is just locked in pitch-black darkness inside your skull, hallucinating a reality based on electrical signals. For all we know, we’re just sitting on a shelf in some laboratory, running a simulation.”
“Well, if this is a simulation,” you counter, turning to face him completely and pulling your knees up onto the seat, “then the developers seriously need to patch my software. The anxiety settings are dialed way too high, and the executive dysfunction glitch is making the gameplay terrible.”
Vernon laughs properly then, the sound that echoing in the small space of the Jeep cabin, his gums on full display. “I’ll submit a bug report for you. Tell the admins to turn down the overthinking slider and boost the serotonin drops.”
You want to tell him that this happens every time you’re in his presence, but you aren’t sure if it’s acceptable to flirt with your plug. It’s been two months since you met, and you’re still amazed by how being with him shuts down your nervous system and makes you forget everything. Even if it’s just a phone call, hearing Vernon’s voice calms you like no weed or medicine ever could.
“Please do,” you smile back, resting your cheek against your knees. “But honestly… even if we are just brains in jars, I think I’m okay with whatever hallucination this is right now. It’s the quietest my head has been in days.”
The teasing amusement in Vernon’s eyes softens, melting into something more tender. He reaches across the center console, his fingertips lightly brushing your arm before settling on the edge of your sleeve. It’s a grounding touch, anchoring you to the present moment.
It’s strange how entirely safe you feel sitting in a dark car on a deserted cliffside with a guy who, on paper, you barely know. But looking at him now—the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the attentive way he listens to every word you say, the quiet intelligence in his eyes—you realize he isn’t just a guy or your plug anymore. He’s becoming someone indispensable.
“I really appreciate this,” you whisper softly. You look down at his hand, which is still resting near yours on the console. “You didn’t have to stay with me today, and you definitely didn’t have to drive me out here. So… thank you, Vernon.”
The name hangs in the air for a second. Vernon doesn’t flinch, but a subtle shift ripples through his posture. He’s quiet for a long beat, his thumb tracing a slow, absentminded circle against the fabric of your sleeve.
“Hansol,” he corrects quietly, his voice dropping into a register so low it’s almost a whisper.
You frown, blinking in confusion. “What?”
He lifts his gaze, his eyes locking onto yours, a small smile on his lips. There’s a vulnerability there he usually keeps buried under layers of nonchalance and cool detachment. “My name… it’s Hansol.”
“Oh,” you breathe out, a rush of embarrassment suddenly heating your cheeks. You pull your hands back slightly, feeling suddenly stupid. “Sorry, I thought everyone just called you Vernon.”
The realization hits you like a bucket of cold water. Could Vernon be his moniker? A professional handle used to keep a safe distance between the guys selling drugs and the people buying them? That wouldn’t be unusual in his line of work.
But Hansol doesn’t let you retreat. He shifts his hand, catching your fingers gently before you can pull away completely. His skin is warm, his grip steady and reassuring.
“Some do. It’s my middle name,” he explains, his gaze unwavering. “But people close to me call me Hansol.”
He pauses, letting the weight of that categorization settle between you. He’s drawing a line in the sand, officially pulling you across the boundary from client to someone close to him. You bite your lip to suppress a smile that wants so badly to form on your lips as the thought settles, the bucket of ice water from seconds ago already beginning to warm.
“You don’t have to,” he adds, an uncharacteristic hint of shyness briefly flickering across his features. “I just don’t mind it from you.”
Your heart does a violent stutter against your ribs. The sheer intimacy of the admission is overwhelming. You look at his hand holding yours, then back up at his face. He is waiting, giving you the space to decide what to do with the information.
“So you’re saying I’m close to you?”
Hansol doesn’t hesitate, leaning in just slightly, his thumb continuing the slow circle over your knuckles. “You text me at 1 a.m. and I show up every time. You slept on my shoulder the other night. We’ve talked about everything and anything at this point. I’d say we’re close, Bambi.”
You feel the air leave your lungs. It isn’t just the words; it’s the matter-of-fact way he says them, like it’s the most obvious truth in the world. He’s acknowledging the bond you’ve built in the quiet hours between midnight and dawn, admitting that you’re more than just his client, while you try to ignore the butterflies battering against the walls of your stomach, desperate to escape their cage.
“Hansol,” you test his name out loud. It feels foreign on your tongue, yet somehow incredibly right.
A small, devastatingly heart-shaped smile breaks across his face at the sound of his name in your voice. “Yeah. That’s it.”
You stayed at the overlook for another hour, the atmosphere in the car fundamentally changed. By the time his Jeep rolled to a stop outside your apartment building, the sky had begun to bruise with the first deep purples and blues of early dawn.
“I guess this is my stop,” you observe hesitantly, not wanting to get out of his car and put an end to the moment.
“Looks like it,” Hansol says. “You gonna be okay today?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “I think I am. Thanks to you.”
“Anytime, Bambi.”
You push the door open, stepping out into the crisp morning air, and turn back to look at him through the open door. “Drive safe, Hansol.”
“Always,” he replies, a smile lingering on his face at the sound of you saying his name. Then he leans across the passenger seat, catching the door frame to stop it from closing completely. Hansol tilts his head, eyes lazily tracking over your messy hair and the oversized sweatshirt you’re still wearing. “You looked extra Bambi today.”
The blush is instantaneous. It surges up your neck and floods your cheeks with a furious heat. Your jaw drops slightly, a flustered, embarrassed laugh escaping you as you struggle to find a comeback.
“Shut up!” you finally manage to stammer out, ducking your head to hide your flaming face.
Hansol lets out a low, victorious laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He pulls his hand back, letting you close the door, and you watch his taillights disappear into the morning light, your heart still racing.
Hansol doesn’t have much time tonight. His phone is already vibrating in his pocket with three other drop-offs pinned on his map, but when he reaches your door, his pace slows into effortless strides. He reaches out and gives the wood a lazy but firm knock.
When the door opens, the warm chamomile scent of your apartment spills out into the sterile hallway. You look tired as always but your eyes brightened the second they landed on him, dressed in his usual uniform of neutral colors, a hoodie pulled up just enough to frame his features, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
“Right on time,” you greet him, a smile spreading across your face as you lean against the doorframe where he usually stands.
He doesn’t say much at first, just offers a small, knowing tilt of his head as he hands over the plain brown bag. His fingers brush yours briefly during the exchange, a spark of heat that lingers longer than the transaction warrants.
You take the bag, your brow furrowing as you feel the weight and the shape of the contents inside. You peer in, eyes widening slightly. “Did you mean to put two in the bag?” you ask, looking back up at him.
“Yep,” he answers simply, his voice low and gravelly in the quiet corridor.
“But I only paid for one.”
“I know. The other one is on me.”
You hesitate, confused, chewing on your lower lip. “Is this like a promo, or are you high right now?”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips, that effortless charm radiating off him even in the dull atmosphere of the hallway. “Neither. You’ve had a rough week. Figured Bambi needed a little extra today.”
“That’s really sweet. But you don’t have to do that.”
He shifts his weight, closing the distance between you by just enough to make the air feel different. You hold your breath, acutely aware of how little space remains. Just a few inches more and your lips would touch.
“I want to.” Hansol’s voice is firm. “You’re not just a client. You know that, right?”
You look down at the bag, then back at him, your heart sinking into a slow, heavy thud. “Yeah. I think I knew that. I just didn’t want to assume.”
“Well, now you can assume a little,” he says, his gaze not wavering. “Also, tell me how that one hits. I picked it thinking of you, Bambi.”
You breath hitches. “You picked a strain thinking of me?”
“Yeah,” he replies nonchalantly, one shoulder rising in a casual shrug, as if he hadn’t just quietly flipped your entire world upside down. “Chill, warm, kinda sweet. Like you. Don’t overthink it.”
You let out a shaky laugh, leaning your head against the wood of the door. “Too late. I’m absolutely overthinking it.”
Hansol checks his phone screen, a flicker of genuine regret crossing his features. “I gotta go. Others are waiting,” he mutters, his gaze falling to your lips for the briefest moment before pulling back up to meet yours. “I wish I could stay longer.”
“Me too,” you admit without hesitating, looking up at him through your lashes. You don’t know where this sudden burst of courage came from, but it’s there, and it makes Hansol smile beautifully.
A genuine, incredibly warm smile breaks across his face at your words, not his usual confident smirk, but something entirely soft and real, gums showing and the heart shape of his lips coming back. He begins to back away toward the elevator, his eyes never leaving yours until he finally has to turn around.
He reaches the elevator and presses the button. Just as the bell chimes and the doors begin to groan open, you step out into the hallway, your voice echoing off the walls.
“Hansol!”
He pauses, one foot already inside the elevator. He turns his head, a playful, expectant look on his face. “What’s up, Bambi?”
“Nothing big,” you begin, hands gripping the doorframe behind you. “Just... wanted to know if you ever think about me when we’re not together or texting.”
He doesn’t even hesitate, the metal doors framing him like a portrait. “I think about you pretty much all the time.” he claims. “Even when we are texting.”
The honesty of it makes your stomach flip, the padlock that holds the butterflies in your stomach slowly loosening. “Good,” you manage softly.
“You’re flirting with your plug right now, Bambi,” he points out, his voice dropping an octave, teasing yet dangerously sincere.
“Maybe,” you counter, shrugging as a bit of courage grows. “Is that illegal?”
“Mm, no, not really. Especially if I flirt back.”
“And would you?”
The elevator starts to beep, a warning that the doors were going to close. He steps fully into the car, leaning his shoulder against the back wall, looking at you with a heat in his eyes that makes your knees weak.
“Have been for the past three months,” Hansol confesses, his smirk widening as the doors begin to slide shut. “Just hiding behind a lot of self-control.”
You let out a breathy laugh, your face flushing a deep crimson. “Hm. Self-control’s kinda hot.”
“So is the girl in her doorway,” he shoots back.
The doors click shut, severing the connection and leaving you standing in the hallway with a racing heart and a bag held tight to your chest. Behind those closed metal doors, Hansol is already checking his map for the next stop, but his mind is still back at that doorway.
When Hansol shows up at your apartment a few weeks later, you’re so nervous about the night’s activities that you almost forget how to open the door.
He’s wearing a simple gray shirt and black sweatpants, a baseball cap with the brim facing backward. He smells like soap, faint weed smoke, and something woodsy underneath it all. He leans against your doorframe the same way he’s been doing it for months now, and you are instantly, completely doomed.
Earlier this same day, you’d asked Hansol if he knew how to shotgun after the two of you saw it in a movie two nights before. Gently—and flirtatiously—he explained that it wasn’t that difficult, asking if you wanted to try it next time since it would involve the two of you getting closer than you ever had before.
Hansol always made you feel safe, and you knew he wouldn’t laugh at you, so you saw no reason not to try, even if there was still a chance you’d chicken out.
“You nervous?” he asks after you make room for him to come in. He slips off his shoes and tosses his keys onto the coffee table.
“A little,” you admit, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
His mouth curves lazily, his eyes crinkling just a fraction at the corners. “Cute.”
You roll your eyes, quickly looking away. You have to. Because if you don’t, Hansol will see exactly how hard that single word hits, and then you’ll never recover.
You guide him toward the balcony where you usually light one up. There’s only one beach chair out there, something you bought at a thrift store right after moving in and renewed yourself. The balcony is so small that the chair is practically wedged between the railing and a tiny patio table, alongside a forgotten fern surviving purely on its own willpower.
After a brief, pointless argument about it, you let Hansol keep the chair while you lean against the railing with your back to the city. Your knees bump together with every small, abrupt movement any way, the balcony too cramped for there to be any real distance between you.
Hansol sets the tin on the tiny table and flips it open. You lean in slightly to get a better look at the contents.
“This isn’t your usual stuff,” he says by way of introduction. He’s not looking at you yet, just at the tin as he pulls out the papers, setting everything in order with that unhurried precision of his. “Just so you know.”
You look at it, then at him. “Should I be worried?”
“No.” Hansol says it simply. “I wouldn’t bring something that’d mess you up, Bambi. You just…” He meets your eyes for a second to reassure you even though he already knows you trust him blindly. “Your usual is too mellow for this. You’d just fall asleep on me.”
“I don’t fall asleep that easily.”
He gives you a look so unimpressed it makes you laugh. “You fell asleep the last time.”
You would argue it wasn’t really the weed; it was Hansol. With him, you felt safe enough to fall asleep whenever and wherever, to finally shut out everything that usually kept you awake.
After a couple weeks, it had become a routine: he’d make his deliveries, then stay a while to keep you company until you drifted off. Eventually, you started smoking together, and usually he’d just share whatever you normally rolled for yourself, never seeming too concerned about how hard it hit, just worried that you’d sleep soundly.
Something about the way he speaks, though—matter-of-factly, like he knows you too well by now—makes your chest feel like it’s leaping out of place before crashing back down where it belongs.
“That was different,” you finally say, resting your elbows against the railing behind you.
“You were out in twenty minutes, Bambi.”
“Well, I was tired.”
“You were cooked,” he counters, no judgment in his tone, just a fact. Because—shockingly—he knows your tolerance as well. Of course he does. “This is something in between. Hybrid. It’ll relax you, but it’ll keep you here. You’ll actually feel it without it running you over.”
You look at the bag again. “Where’s it from?”
“Same guy. Different batch.” Hansol picks it up again, turns it once in his fingers with the easy confidence of someone who can read these things on sight. “It’s good. Not complicated. You’ll like it.”
You believe him. That’s the thing about Hansol knowing exactly what you smoke—about him knowing you. He’s never steered you wrong. He remembers what worked, what didn’t, what made you text him at midnight saying never again. He filed it all away somewhere without making it a thing, and now he just knows.
“Okay,” you say, your teeth catching your lower lip.
Hansol smiles, and then he tears the paper with a casual precision that shouldn’t be interesting to observe. It is. You try not to examine that too closely as he spreads everything even, long fingers working slow and deliberate, and there’s something almost meditative about the way he does it, no wasted movement or fumbling. Just ease.
He rolls it between his palms, smoothing it down. Then he raises it to his mouth, the lick slow as he seals the edge, and runs his thumb along it afterward, pressing it closed with the kind of focus that makes you look up at the sky for a second because you have absolutely no business staring at his mouth or tongue.
A few seconds later, he holds it up once, looking quietly satisfied with his work. Then he flicks the lighter, the flame catching small and warm in the dim space of the balcony. He brings it to the tip, cupping his hand around it out of habit even though there’s barely any wind, and draws in slowly, the paper crackling faintly as the cherry burns bright orange and the scent of marijuana slowly surrounds you both.
He holds it in for a moment, then lets it out slowly through his nose, unhurried. A thin ribbon of smoke drifts upward toward the sky before disappearing completely. He takes another drag, longer this time, and leans back into the chair, his head tipping slightly against the wall behind him, eyes closing for just a second like he’s savoring it.
There’s no explaining the reactions moving through your body just from watching him in action. The aching tension low in your stomach, the way your thighs press together instinctively, the strange heat that blooms every time his mouth closes around the joint.
Almost as if he’s reading your thoughts, Hansol looks at you and holds it out. Not pushy or expectant, just offering you, his elbow resting on his knee and the smoke curling up lazily between his fingers. He watches you with that expression you still haven’t figured out how to read, somewhere between patient and quietly amused.
You take it from him and bring it to your lips without overthinking it, one elbow still resting against the concrete behind you, the light breeze pushing your hair back from your face. You wrap your lips around the joint and draw the smoke slowly into your lungs, letting it settle there for a moment and holding it for a beat. The warmth spreads through your chest in a slow unfurl that reaches all the way to your fingertips.
When you exhale, the smoke slips from your mouth in a thin stream, immediately snatched away by the night breeze. Hansol’s eyes follow it for half a second before they drift back to your face.
“There you go,” he says, voice low and approving enough to make heat crawl right back up your neck.
You take one more hit, feeling the night softening slightly, the city sounds below drifting to a different register, the small balcony going quieter around you. Then you throw your head back to exhale the smoke, watching it disappear into the dark sky above you.
When you lower your gaze again, you catch the way Hansol’s eyes have drifted down the line of your throat to your collarbone, lingering there for just a second too long. The look sends another rush of heat through you, and he notices you noticing. His gaze flicks back up immediately, but not before the corner of his mouth curves faintly, subtle and almost guilty, like he got caught staring but doesn’t regret it nearly enough.
You pass the joint back to him, and he takes it from you, fingers brushing against yours in the exchange without either of you commenting on it. Hansol holds it loosely between his fingers and watches you for a moment with that same unreadable patience.
“Feeling it?”
“A little.” You shrug lightly, though you’re not entirely sure you’re still talking about the weed. “Give it a minute.”
Another crooked smile tugs at his mouth as he nods. Hansol brings the joint to his lips, dragging in slowly before blowing another lazy cloud of smoke into the night air. “Good,” he whispers, smoke still curling lazily from between his lips.
You can’t explain why the sight feels so unfairly appealing, heat now unfurling lower in your body at something so simple. It’s not like you’ve never seen him do this before, because you did. Except tonight, everything about Hansol feels amplified somehow; his hands, his mouth, the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Even the way he looks at you feels… different, settling somewhere beneath your skin and and camping there.
Hansol takes another hit, the cherry burning bright for a moment before he pulls the joint away. He holds it there, and you watch his throat move slightly as he swallows the smoke. His eyes are half-closed, fixed somewhere out toward the city. He looks completely unbothered in a way that makes you feel the exact opposite.
Then he looks at you as he exhales one more time, his eyes searching yours through the haze. His brows arch slightly, and his voice comes out lower, roughened by the smoke he was holding in. “Ready?”
A wave of shivers travels across your skin like it has nowhere else to go. The butterflies in your stomach aren’t just fluttering anymore, they’re frantic, crashing wildly against your ribs every time your eyes meet his beautiful, inviting brown ones.
You’ve been thinking about this moment in various versions ever since you sent that text this morning. You’ve been thinking about it in the abstract, in the safe, theoretical space of it’s just a thing people do, it doesn’t mean anything, plenty of people do this without making it weird. You’ve spent hours constructing a very reasonable internal argument about proximity and exhaled smoke and the entirely non-romantic history of the practice.
All of that argument completely falls apart the moment Hansol says the word.
You just nod, pressing your lower lip between your teeth again before whispering, “Yeah.”
He explains how everything will work, walking you through each step, and even pulls his phone out of his pocket to show you a TikTok video in case it’s easier to learn visually. And maybe it’s ridiculous, but you love the effort he puts into making sure you feel comfortable, safe, completely at ease with him.
Hansol then sets the joint down on the edge of the glass ashtray. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he shifts in your thrift-store beach chair, making space for you between his knees. Then he taps his thigh twice.
“C’mere, Bambi.”
Your breath catches in your throat.
The balcony is already tiny, but the space between the chair and the railing suddenly feels like a tightrope. You hesitate for a fraction of a second, not sure if you heard right, your heart doing a wild, erratic dance in your chest. Once again, Hansol doesn’t pressure you; he just waits, his hand resting casually on his knee, his brown eyes going completely dark and focused entirely on you.
Stepping forward, you slowly let go of your grip on the railing. Before your nerves can make you chicken out, you step into his space and sit down across his lap.
The shift in perspective is dizzying. Suddenly, you’re completely enveloped in his presence, somehow even more than before. The fabric of his shirt is thin enough that you can feel the solid heat of his chest underneath it. His hands move instinctively, settling firmly around your waist to steady you on his lap. His grip is grounding, holding you securely against him.
Looking down at Hansol, you realize just how close your faces are, the kind of close he mentioned earlier. With the brim of his baseball cap turned backward, there’s nothing shading his eyes. You can see every tiny detail of Hansol: the faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the heart-shaped curve of his mouth, the tiny freckles scattered across his nose, the intensity in his gaze as he looks up at you.
“Still nervous?” His voice drops so low and raspy it sends another wave of shivers straight down your spine, and you can barely hide the way your body reacts to it.
Your hands slowly find a home against his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “A little more now,” you admit honestly, not finding any reason to lie or hide it.
“Don’t be.” Hansol lets out a breathless laugh that brushes against your lips, the vibration hitting your chest. “I’ve got you, Bambi.”
And you believe him.
Without ceremony, Hansol picks up the joint from the table and takes a long drag before turning fully toward you. When he leans in, it’s slow and unhurried, making you understand immediately that he’s giving you time to adjust, or back out, if you want to. Mostly, because he’s Hansol, and well… he does everything at his own pace while respecting yours just as carefully. Rushing doesn’t exist in his vocabulary.
You lean in too, not much, just enough to show him that everything’s okay, that you are okay with this, that he can proceed however he wants. And you can see the exact moment his expression shifts with understanding, settling in his eyes like he expected nothing less.
Hansol parts his lips and exhales smoothly. The smoke comes out slow, and you inhale it in through your lips exactly the way he taught you to, barely touching him, but close enough that the warmth of his breath folds into yours.
Your eyes close immediately, and you hold it in for a beat, then another, the whole world narrowing down to the inch of space between your mouths, the solid heat of his hands at your waist, and the distant sound of the city existing somewhere far below, fading into something completely irrelevant.
You let it out and open your eyes to find that Hansol still hasn’t moved back. He’s watching you attentively from beneath his lashes, and there’s nothing patient or unreadable about his expression anymore.
Perhaps the marijuana is clouding your better judgment, but the look in his eyes feels different now, focused in a way that makes your stomach do a double twist. He looks like someone who has already made up his mind and is simply waiting for the exact right moment to act on it, maybe searching for the perfect opening before finally giving in to what he’s been holding back.
You suspect it’s the same for him as it is for you.
When his gaze drops to your mouth, you’re convinced this new hybrid he bought is playing tricks on your mind, especially when his eyes linger there long enough to make your breathing go shallow before finally lifting back to yours again.
“Again.” Hansol’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s definitely not a question.
You don’t trust your voice right now, so you just nod.
He picks up the joint again and takes another slow drag, the cherry burning warm between your bodies. You watch his throat move as he holds the smoke in, and it absolutely shouldn’t make you all hot and bothered but it does. His hands still haven’t left your waist, one thumb tracing a small arc just above your hip—probably unconscious, probably not even something he realizes he’s doing—and somehow the touch burns straight through the thin fabric of your shirt
Hansol turns back to you even closer this time. Or maybe you’re the one who moved in closer. Truthfully, you stopped keeping track of who’s been closing the distance first somewhere minutes ago, if the distance between you even really exists anymore.
He exhales, and you inhale him in again, and this time, when it’s over, neither of you pulls away. You stay in the half inch that remains, sharing the same air, and letting the moment stretch itself, his eyes fixed on yours.
There had been a few moments during this strange new friendship with your plug when you’d caught yourself wanting him to kiss you, or wishing you had enough courage to kiss him first. But this was different. Now the desire felt overwhelming, practically screaming inside your head as you stared at his mouth from impossibly close range, silently hoping he could somehow read your thoughts and finally close the tiny distance still separating you.
“Hansol…” His name leaves your lips like a shaky plea. Maybe just to say something, maybe just to fill the space before it you swallows you whole.
“Yeah?” he murmurs back. His pupils are enormous, and just by looking at them, you think he already knows exactly what you’re thinking. “What do you want, Bambi?”
Your fingers tighten slightly against his shoulders, your pulse so loud you’re convinced he can feel it where your bodie1s are pressed together. “I—” The word catches in your throat before it can fully form.
For a second, all you can do is look at him, at the way his eyes keep flicking down to your mouth, at the patience still somehow woven through the tension sitting heavy between you. And then Hansol’s thumb drags slowly against your waist again, grounding and dangerous all at once, and your breath stutters.
His hand comes up to grip your jaw gently, thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth, and for one dizzy second you’re sure he’s finally going to kiss you. But instead, he keeps you there, close enough to feel his breath against your lips as his eyes lock onto yours.
“Tell me what you want, Bambi,” he breathes, voice rough and impossibly steady at the same time. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
“Kiss me. Please.”
The words come out almost breathless, but the effect they have on Hansol is immediate. His eyes darken even more, and everything you can’t read in his expression is in his pupils, which dilate even further, if that’s even possible. His thumb brushes once across your jaw, and for a second, he just looks at you, like he’s letting himself fully believe you mean it.
Then his mouth curves faintly at the corner, a flicker of almost disbelieving amusement in his gaze. “Yeah?” he murmurs again, his voice low enough to melt straight through you.
You nod before he’s even finished speaking, and that’s all it takes for Hansol to stop hesitating. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches over blindly, pressing the glowing cherry of the joint into the glass ashtray until it goes out completely. The second his hand is free again, it returns to your waist, his grip firm as he pulls you that final, infinite inch closer.
When his lips meet yours, the sheer relief of it makes you exhale a soft sigh right into his mouth. It’s everything you’ve been agonizing over for the past three months, amplified by a thousand.
It starts slow, exploratory and incredibly filled with the same patient precision he applies to everything else. Your hands slide up from his shoulders to tangle in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, right beneath the edge of his backwards cap, and Hansol lets out the quietest grunt against your lips like he’s been wanting this just as badly as you have.
His hands at your waist tighten, pulling you flush against his chest until there’s nothing left between you. He adjusts you slightly so you’re seated more securely against him, surrounded by the solid warmth of his body, a jolt of electricity traveling straight down to your toes at the feeling of him pressed against you.
Tilting his head, Hansol parts your lips with his own, the kiss deepening into something that makes your head spin faster than any pot ever could. He tastes exactly like you imagined: sweet and earthy, like the lingering haze in the air around you, mixed with something unmistakably, comfortingly him.
The feeling of being held so securely, combined with the gentle, creeping warmth of the hybrid strain, makes everything around you fade. The apartment, the city sounds below, the cold night breeze, the small balcony; it all completely disappears. There is only the solid weight of Hansol beneath you, the steady, grounding grip of his hands on you, and the rhythm of his mouth moving deliciously against yours.
The butterflies in your stomach have ignited into a heavy heat that pools low in your belly as his tongue sweeps against your lower lip, coaxing you to open up more to him. You follow his lead blindly, completely lost in the sensation of his hands mapping the curve of your spine and his mouth devouring your every breath.
When you finally, breathlessly, pull back just enough to draw air into your burning lungs, you don’t go far. You rest your forehead against the brim of his cap, eyes closed, chest heaving. You can hear Hansol breathing just as heavily, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin along your jawline.
“You okay, Bambi?” he asks into the tiny space between your lips, a lazy, satisfied smile evident in the rough timbre of his voice.
You open your eyes to find him looking up at you with an expression so soft, so completely stripped of that unreadable patience, that it makes your heart ache in the absolute best way possible.
You nod, biting your lip to keep yourself from kissing him breathless again. “Better than okay,” you answer, nodding frantically, your hands sliding down to frame his face as you lean in briefly.
His hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering along your jawline. Hansol’s voice is soft when he speaks, a faintly amused crease forming between his eyebrows. “You sure?”
“I’m great,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. You can’t help but let out a shaky laugh, still in disbelief at what just happened. You just kissed. No, you just kissed Hansol. “Didn’t expect tonight to go like that.”
Hansol’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Me neither. Not complaining though.”
Another flustered laugh escapes you, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder for a second to hide your face. “Just so you know... I literally asked you to come over to teach me how to shotgun. Not make out with me on my balcony.”
He hitches you a little higher on his lap. “Okay but... you didn’t exactly stop me.”
“I didn’t want to stop you,” you admit softly, looking back up at him, the honesty leaving you feeling completely vulnerable in his arms.
His gaze drifts down to your lips again, the air crackling with a heat that has nothing to do with the weed. “I want to kiss you again,” he confesses, his thumb brushing lightly against your lower lip. “Is that okay?”
You nod, too caught up in the intensity of his stare to manage words. Hansol leans forward, his hand cupping your jaw as he closes the distance between you again. He kisses you slowly once more, as though savoring every second. One hand slides from your jaw into your hair, while the other keeps you firmly anchored against him—not that you plan to go anywhere while he keeps kissing you like that.
You melt into his embrace, losing yourself in the taste of him further. You feel him grin against your mouth, his hands slipping under the back of your shirt to find the bare skin of your back. His palms are warm, and the slow drag of them up your spine makes you shiver. You feel the heat of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, and it’s not enough. You want to feel his skin beneath your fingers.
When he pulls back this time, it’s only far enough to start peppering your jaw with kisses. Your breath hitches as his lips move lower, skimming down the column of your throat until you can feel the heat of his mouth even through your shirt.
“Hansol,” you gasp against the crown of his head, hands reaching up to push his cap down and thread your fingers into his hair. “The balcony isn’t very private.”
He hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t stop the delicious maddening, drugging kisses he’s placing along your collarbone. “Your neighbors can see?”
A moan escapes your lips when he bites your most sensitive spot. You shake your head, trying to force words out. “Just the people below.”
He pulls back to look at you with a crooked smile. Hansol rests his forehead against yours, hand still cupping your face. “Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admits, not a hint of shyness on his face.
“You have?” you ask, heart hammering in your chest.
“Of course I have.” Hansol chuckles, like it’s almost absurd to think otherwise, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “From the moment our eyes met.” He pauses briefly, then adds, “You’re impossible not to want, Bambi.”
Your breath hitches at his words, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “I want you too,” you whisper, suddenly feeling more bold. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you under that shady streetlight.”
His grip on your waist tightens, his lips hovering just over yours. “Is that so?”
“It is.” You nod, unable to tear your gaze away from his.
With a single movement, Hansol stands up with you still in his arms, making you let out a small squeal as you wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself, your arms linking around his neck, and face burying in the curve where his shoulder meets his neck.
He moves with an easy strength that makes your head spin, carrying you as if you weight nothing at all. The world tilts on its axis, the view of your tiny balcony shifting into a dizzying blur of city lights and dark sky. This side of him is almost enough to give you whiplash, but you can’t help but loving it.
As he moves, you inhale deeply, and the scent of him is a heady, overwhelming cocktail: the clean soap from his shower, the earthy tang of the weed clinging to his shirt, and something underneath it all that is just purely, intoxicatingly Hansol, something you’re still trying to figure out.
You feel him shift his grip, one hand supporting your thighs as he navigates the threshold of the sliding glass door. There’s a moment of slight awkwardness as he sidesteps into the living room, the cool night air replaced by the still, warm atmosphere of your apartment. But he doesn’t put you down. Instead, he kicks the door shut with the back of his heel, the soft thud echoing in the sudden silence.
The only light comes from the faint glow of the city filtering through the windows, casting long, distorted shadows across the room. It paints his features in soft grays and deep blacks, highlighting the line of his jaw and the curve of his lips. In the dim light, he looks less like your friendly neighborhood plug and more like a fantasy brought to life.
The effects of the weed hums pleasantly in your veins, a syrupy sensation that makes everything feel slow-motion and dreamlike. Every nerve ending in your body is awake and singing, amplifying the feeling of his body against yours, the texture of his shirt under your cheek, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.
Hansol crosses the small living room in three long strides and gently lays you down on the cushions of your couch. He doesn’t move away, though. He follows you down, one knee on the cushions between your legs, his hands bracketing your head as he leans over you. His body cages you in a welcome weight that makes you feel incredibly safe.
“You’re suddenly quiet,” he observes, his voice still a low, gravelly whisper.
His thumb traces the line of your cheekbone, the simple touch sending a cascade of sparks across your skin. The hybrid strain he brought is doing exactly what he promised: you’re relaxed, your limbs heavy and pliant, but your mind is sharp, hyper-focused on him. Every tiny detail is magnified—the way his eyes seem to drink you in, the sheer heat radiating from his body.
“Just… processing,” you manage to breathe out.
A slow, lazy smile spreads across his lips. “Processing what?”
“This,” you say, gesturing vaguely at the space between you. “Us. And the fact that you just carried me out of my own balcony like I was a sack of potatoes.”
Hansol lets out a low chuckle. “A very cute sack of potatoes.” He leans down, his lips brushing against yours, a feather-light touch. “I can process with you, if you want.”
You don’t need to answer. You just slide your hands from his shoulders up into his hair, your fingers sinking into the soft, thick strands. You pull his head down, and this time the kiss isn’t slow or exploratory. It’s hungry, desperate, a release of all the tension that has been building between you for months.
His mouth meets yours with equal force, his tongue sweeping past your lips to tangle with yours in a slick, heated dance. It’s messy and perfect and everything you’ve been craving. His hands leave the couch, one sliding down your side to rest possessively on your hip, the other threading into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he angles the kiss deeper.
A soft moan escapes your throat, and you feel him smile against your mouth. The sensation of his tongue in your mouth is an almost psychedelic experience. You can feel every texture, taste every note of him, the world narrowing down to the single, explosive point of contact between you, and it feels incredible.
His kisses trail from your mouth, hot and open mouthed, down the sensitive line of your jaw, to the frantic pulse fluttering at the base of your throat. You arch your back, granting him better access, your head tipping back against the cushions. His lips find the soft spot just above your collarbone, the same one he bit on the balcony, and he sucks gently, creating a pleasant pressure that sends a jolt of pure arousal straight to your core.
“Hansol,” you whine, your hips instinctively bucking up against him. The friction of his sweatpants against the thin fabric of your shorts is maddening.
“Yeah?” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and damp. He doesn’t stop his assault, his mouth moving lower, pressing kisses against the thin cotton of your shirt, right over your heart. You can feel the damp heat of his mouth through the fabric, while his tongue circles your nipple.
“I need…” You trail off at the feeling, not even sure what you’re asking for, just knowing you need more.
He seems to understand perfectly, pushing himself up slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze is dark and intense, his pupils blown wide. Add in the messy hair and swollen lips, and it’s the most insane, delightful sight you’ve ever seen in your life.
“I know what you need, Bambi.”
Without another word, he moves down your body. His hands find the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking into the elastic. He pauses for a beat, his eyes asking a silent question. You give a single, shaky nod, and that’s all he needs. Your shorts and underwear are gone in one smooth, efficient motion, tossed onto the floor beside the couch.
The cool air of the room hits your bare skin, and you shiver, a mixture of cold and raw, unadulterated anticipation. He stays there for a moment, kneeling between your legs, his gaze slowly, reverently, taking in the sight of you. The look in his eyes isn’t lecherous; it’s one of pure, unadulterated appreciation, and it makes a fresh wave of heat pool low in your belly.
You like to think getting high has stripped away your usual inhibitions, leaving you feeling bold and open beneath his stare. You part your legs for him, exposing your folds entirely, a silent, shameless invitation. His answering smile is devastating. He leans forward, his hands coming to rest on your inner thighs, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there in slow, hypnotic circles.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, and you can just make out the slow smile forming on his lips. “Perfect fucking pussy.”
Hansol lowers his head, and his hot breath ghosts over your sensitive skin, making you gasp and buck against his hands. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the top of your mound before his tongue finally sweeps down.
The first touch is electric. It’s a broad, wet slide from bottom to top that makes your entire body jerk. A strangled cry escapes your lips, and your hands fly up, fisting in the fabric of the couch cushions beside your head. He chuckles against you, before he settles in, and you realize with a jolt that his earlier patience and precision have returned, now focused entirely on your pleasure.
If he wasn’t your plug, you’d swear Hansol was a cartographer, mapping every fold and crevice with his mouth. His tongue is relentless, sometimes teasing with light, feathery licks around the edges, other times pressing down with a firm, insistent pressure that makes you see stars and the world dissolves into pure sensations.
You can feel the rough texture of his faint stubble against your inner thighs, the slick heat of his mouth, the gentle pull of his suction. Your hands leave the cushions, searching blindly for purchase. They find his head, your fingers tangling desperately in his hair. You grip him tight, your body starting to writhe as he finds your clit and circles it slowly, deliberately, driving you mad.
“Hansol,” you moan, tugging gently on the hair your fingers are tangled in. He pauses, his mouth still pressed against you, and look up, eyes wide with a mixture of lust and confusion. “Want your hand, too.”
If there’s one thing the night has left you with, it’s the thought of his hands, especially the way it looked while he rolled the joint.
He chuckles, a low, breathy sound that vibrates against your thigh. He pushes himself up, moving from between your legs to hover over you on the couch. The sudden loss of his mouth makes you let out a small, complaining whimper.
“My hand?” he asks, voice not even trying to hide the amusement. He held up his right hand, palm open, presenting it to you like a sacred offering.
And you take it, your own hands trembling slightly as you hold his. You bring it to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his palm before turning it over and kissing each of his long fingers one by one. You study his long deft fingers with a devotee’s focus, your gaze tracing the road map of pretty blue veins beneath his pale skin.
Every detail of it turns you on enough so you take the pad of his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it gently, your eyes fluttering shut as your hips rolled up against his thigh in a slow, needy grind. The solid muscle against your bare pussy pulls an even needier moan from your throat.
A deep groan rumbles in his chest, pupils going wider. He leans over you, free hand bracing on the couch cushion beside your head.
“Jesus, Bambi,” he gasp, lips now brushing against the skin of your stomach, sending a fresh wave of shivers through you. “Then let me fuck you with it.”
You release his thumb with a wet pop and let his hand go. He reclaims it, eyes burning into yours, before he moves back between your legs. He doesn’t waste a second, leaning down, his mouth finding your folds again, his tongue lapping at your pussy with a renewed vigor that makes you cry out. At the same time, he slips one of his long fingers inside you.
The sudden fullness combined with the merciless work of his mouth is too much. Your senses overload, a wave of pleasure building higher and higher until you’re certain you’re going to shatter. You writhe against the couch, back arching, hips lifting off the cushions to meet the pressure of his mouth and hand.
“Please.” The word tears itself from your throat before you can think. “Hansol, please.”
He hums in response, adding a second finger and giving a harsh suck to your clit. His fingers curl inside you, hitting a spot deep within that sent a lightning bolt of pure ecstasy tearing straight through your body, while his tongue works faster and harder against your clit.
You grip his hair like an anchor against the raging sea of pleasure he’s created, pulling him closer, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp as the wave crests. “Oh, god, I’m—I’m gonna—”
He seems to take that as a challenge, tongue flicking even faster, fingers curling inside you with precision until they find the spot that undoes everything. The wave doesn’t crest so much as collapse, and then you break completely.
Your orgasm crashes over you, a blinding, white-hot supernova of pleasure that rips a scream from your lungs, no room for thinking of anything as trivial as your neighbors. Your body convulses, your inner muscles clenching tightly around his head. You grip his hair tighter, hips bucking wildly as the waves of pleasure roll through you, one after another, leaving you utterly breathless and spent.
Hansol doesn’t stop, though, continuing to lick and soothe you through the aftershocks until your trembling subsides and you melt into the couch, a boneless, quivering mess.
He finally pulls away, and you let out a weak whimper at the loss of contact. He moves up your body, his face slick, lips swollen. He looks impossibly pleased with himself, a satisfied smirk playing on his mouth. He leans down and captures your lips in a wet kiss, and you can taste yourself on him, the flavor musky and sweet and incredibly erotic.
When he pulls back, you’re panting, your mind a blissful, hazy fog. “Wow,” is all you can manage to say.
He giggles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re very welcome, Bambi.”
You lie there for a moment, letting the last delicious tremors of your orgasm fade, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. The need to reciprocate, to give him even a fraction of the pleasure he just gave you, is practically a primal urge. You reach out, your hand landing on the front of his sweatpants. You can feel the thick, hard length of him through the soft fabric, and a fresh wave of desire cuts through your post-orgasmic haze.
“My turn,” you whisper, your voice husky.
You push yourself up onto your elbows, then swing your legs over the side of the couch. You sit up and look at him, at the hunger in his eyes. Without a word, you slide off the couch and onto your knees on the rug in front of him. Hansol’s breath hitches audibly while you reach for the drawstring of his sweatpants, fingers fumbling slightly.
He covers your hands with his. “You sure?” he asks, voice rough.
You just look up at him through your lashes, meeting his intense gaze, and give a slow nod. He removes his hands and leans back against the couch, giving you complete control. You pull the string, loosening the waistband, and then slowly peel the gray fabric down his hips, revealing the taut line of his stomach and the trail of thin hair that disappears below. You push the sweatpants down past his knees, along with his black boxer briefs, freeing him.
He is beautiful. Long, thick, and perfectly straight. A single, clear bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip, and your mouth waters. You reach out a tentative hand, fingers wrapping around his velvety length. Hansol groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through the floor, his hips twitching involuntarily.
You lean forward, your hair falling around your face like a curtain, and take him into your mouth. You start slowly, your tongue tracing the prominent vein that runs along the underside of his cock, following it all the way to the head. He tastes like an incredible mix of salt and musk, and you take him deeper, lips creating a wet, tight seal around him.
Hansol hisses through his teeth, hands coming up to fist in your hair, but his grip is gentle, reverent, nothing like the desperate way you clung to him moments ago.
“Shit, that’s it,” he breathes, the words barely holding together when you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper.
You soon find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, one hand stroking the base of his cock in time with the movements of your mouth. You love the feeling of him filling your mouth, the way he pulses and hardens even further against your tongue. You love even more the sounds he makes, the low, broken groans and sharp intakes of breath that tell you exactly how good you’re making him feel.
He starts to move his hips, a slow, rocking motion that pushes him deeper into your throat with each thrust. You gag slightly, but it’s a good feeling, a feeling of being completely taken, completely used for his pleasure. You take him as deep as you can, your throat muscles contracting around him.
“Fuck, Bambi,” he grits out, his head thrown back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut. And you take a moment to appreciate this stunning view of Hansol. “You’re so good at this.”
His praise sends a thrill through you. You pick up the pace, your hand and mouth working faster, more desperately. You can feel the tension building in him, the way his whole body has gone rigid, his hips bucking more insistently against your mouth. You can feel the tell-tale pulse at the base of his cock that signals he’s close.
Just as you think he’s about to let go, he pulls back, his hands gripping your shoulders. “Wait, Bambi,” he gasps, his chest heaving. “Stop. I wanna be inside you.”
Hansol pulls you up from the floor, his movements urgent. You’re on your feet, swaying slightly, his hands firm on your hips. He doesn’t let you go. Instead, he hooks his thumbs into the hem of his own shirt and rips it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto the floor.
Before you can fully process the view of his bare chest, his hands are at the hem of your shirt. His fingers are scorching hot against the skin of your stomach as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, eyes never leaving yours as he lets your shirt fall to the floor beside his.
The air is cool on your bare skin, but his gaze is molten hot. It drops from your eyes to your chest, and his breath hitches. His pupils dilate, swallowing the brown of his irises until they’re almost black. He looks at you with a kind of raw reverence that makes your heart hammer against your ribs.
“Fuck,” he breathes, the word a prayer. “Bambi, you’re… incredible.”
He closes the small distance between you, and his hands, those beautiful hands you were just worshipping, come up to cup your breasts. The feeling of his palms against your skin makes you gasp. He holds you with a surprising gentleness, his thumbs stroking over your nipples, coaxing them into tight, aching points. You moan, your head falling back as you arch into his touch, a silent plea for more.
That sound seems to break whatever restraint he had left. He pushes you back gently, your legs hitting the edge of the couch, and you tumble backward onto the cushions. He follows you down immediately, settling between your parted thighs, his bare chest pressing against yours.
“You’re still so wet for me,” he growls against your lips, his hand sliding down between your legs to confirm his words. Your slickness coats his fingers instantly, and he circles your clit with his thumb, making you whimper.
“Please, Hansol,” you beg, your nails digging into his broad back. “I need you inside me. Now.”
He positions himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against you, teasing you. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with a possessive glint. “Look at me, Bambi.”
You obey, your eyes locking with his. The connection is intense, electric.
And then Hansol pushes forward.
The feeling of him entering you is breathtaking. He moves slowly, stretching you, filling you inch by glorious inch. It’s a perfect, snug fit, a feeling of completion. You let out a long, shuddering sigh as Hansol sinks into you all the way to the hilt. He stays there for a moment, buried deep inside you, letting you adjust to the size of him. He rests his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged.
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You feel… perfect.”
The sensation of being filled by him is almost overwhelming. You can feel every ridge, every vein, the incredible heat of him deep inside you. It’s as if your bodies were made for this.
He kisses the tip of your nose before saying, “So polite.”
He begins to move, in a rhythm that has your head spinning. He pulls back almost all the way, the sensation of his withdrawal a sweet torture, before thrusting back in, burying himself deep inside you again. Each thrust is a wave of pleasure, building on the last. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, watching your face as he fucks you.
Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even deeper. Your moans mix with his grunts, creating a pornographic symphony in your living room. The pace quickens, his slow thrusts turning faster, harder, more frantic. He’s no longer the patient, gentle Hansol you know; he’s a man driven by pure need, and you meet his energy with your own, arching your hips to meet his every powerful thrust.
The friction is building, the pleasure coiling tight and hot in your lower belly. The couch creaks in protest beneath you, the only sound apart from your panting breaths and the wet, slapping sound of your bodies colliding. He leans down, his mouth finding your neck again, sucking a new bruise into your skin as he thrusts into you relentlessly.
“You’re so tight,” he groans into your ear, his voice strained. “So fucking good, Bambi.”
You’re close again, so close. The world is nothing but a blur of sensations: the feeling of him filling you, the heat of his skin, the scent of his sweat, the sound of his voice calling your name.
“Hansol, I’m—I’m close!” you cry out, your voice breaking.
“Me too, baby,” he pants, his thrusts becoming deeper, even more frantic, slamming into you with a desperate intensity. “Come for me. Let me feel you come apart around me.”
That’s all it takes. His words, combined with the relentless pressure of his cock deep inside you, push you over the edge. Your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, even more intense than the first. Your vision whites out, a scream tears from your throat, and your inner muscles clench around him in a powerful, milking release.
You can feel that your climax triggers his, but instead of driving deeper, he rips himself out of you with a wet, slick sound that echoes in the quiet room. The sudden feeling of emptiness makes you gasp. In a single, fluid motion, he positions himself over you, his hips hovering above your stomach.His eyes are squeezed shut, face a mask of pure pleasure as his body goes rigid. You watch, mesmerized, as thick, hot ropes of his cum splash across your belly.
Hansol collapses beside you on the couch, his chest heaving as he shudders through the last aftershocks of his own release. He pulls you into his side, one arm wrapping securely around you. You both lie there for a moment, catching your breath, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
You look down at the pearly mess cooling on your stomach. Slowly, you lift a hand and dip your index finger into the thickest part of it. The texture is sticky and still warm. You lift your finger, your eyes finding his in the dim light, only to discover Hansol already watching you, his own gaze heavy-lidded and curious. You hold his gaze as you slowly bring your finger to your mouth, sucking the tip clean.
A groan escapes his throat, a sound of pure, astonished pleasure. His arm tightens around you, pulling you impossibly closer until your bodies are flush against each other. “You’re going to be the death of me, Bambi,” he rasps, his voice with a mixture of exhaustion and renewed desire.
He buries his face in your hair, and you melt into him, tangled together in a heap of sweaty limbs. The hazy, blissful fog of the weed settles over you like a warm blanket, cocooning you in the aftermath of pure, unadulterated bliss. His body is heavy and grounding next to yours, and you’ve never felt more safe, more sated, in your entire life.
The night was nothing like you expected, and everything you never knew you wanted.
But just then, an afterthought—one that doesn’t belong in this moment at all—surfaces and slips out before you can stop it. “Was that just because we were high?”
The light in Hansol’s eyes instantly softens, replaced by a profound, heavy sincerity that pins you to the spot. He reaches up, his fingers gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch incredibly gentle.
“Absolutely not,” he says, his voice steady and absolute. “At least not for me. I wanted you the first time I saw you. I just didn’t wanna mess up what we had, but being around you is kinda messing me up anyway. In a good way.”
Your heart skips a beat, a massive wave of warmth blooming in your chest. The butterflies have completely escaped their cage by now, flying far, far away.
“So what are you saying?” you ask softly. “You like me?”
“A lot more than I could describe probably.” Hansol nods, his brown eyes shining. “But yeah, I do like you. You’re stuck in my head all the time, Bambi.”
You look at him, a wide smile breaking across your face, completely erasing any residual trace of executive dysfunction or anxiety. “What if I like you back?” you tease, tilting your head and resting your chin on his chest.
Hansol’s smile turns incredibly bright, a boyish expression of pure relief taking over his features as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you closer.
“Then I’m the luckiest plug in this city.”
# NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | PERMANENT TAGLIST
If you’re enjoying it, don’t forget to reblog, helps so much and gets the fic out there!! 💗
(where mingyu is a little jaded about his relationships until he meets the lead singer in a band that changes it all)
pairing: radio host!mingyu x singer!reader
genre: strangers to lovers | fluff, tiny bit of angst, smut
rating: 18+
wc: 6.5k (final count tbd)
warnings: this is vaguely set in 2008, mingyu works for a satellite radio channel, reader is in a band, mentions of past relationships, mingyu is over relationships, kissing, fingering, protected missionary sex, multiple orgasms, that's kind it there will be more in the second part
a/n: writing has been insanely hard for me lately and i'm not really sure why. i absolutely hate splitting this up but i really didn't have a choice. this is for first time caller hosted by @studiosvt and i'm always so happy to be part of these collabs. thank you to the amazingly talented @joshujin for this banner, i'm obsessed.
a/n 2: this is unedited and i will come back for it so i'm sorry
Mingyu looks at the mic in front of him and sighs. He knows that he needs to put on a smile and get into character, but it feels harder than normal lately. When he first started working for Alt Nation, he knew it would be important to find a way to set himself apart. Satellite radio isn’t like regular radio and people don’t necessarily get to know the DJs because they don’t talk as much. Still, Mingyu wants to make sure people know who he is. That they can talk about him specifically and for more than just playing good music. Besides, the channel has a general list of songs to queue from. So, when he interviewed, he leaned into a version of himself. The eternal optimist. The twentysomething dating in LA that’s going to be willing to share those stories in between playing music. The station actually loved the idea of a guy talking about his relationships because it was clear how much he just loved the idea of love. Something different. It took a little bit to find the right balance when he first started. But, then he settled into a rhythm. Just quick stories placed carefully, like when he first comes on or after a song that ties in. Some people still complain that they don’t want to listen to Alt Nation for any level of chatter, but more people are listening during Mingyu’s time slot than before. Listeners know him by name. Even comment on the channel’s Facebook page in response to stories he tells. It’s a big deal to be known by name on satellite radio.
There aren’t any good stories from people he’s gone out with recently, though. No moments of happiness that he can share. No upbeat stories about what it’s like to date while living in LA. His last girlfriend, if he could even call her that, had seen to that. And it’s starting to get hard not to feel like it’s his fault. He hears it all. Too energetic. Too happy. Too optimistic. That he gets too invested too quickly. It feels like a list of things that people say they want being thrown back in his face. He can’t help but replay the scene from a few nights ago. He hadn’t heard from Carly much during the day, which wasn’t entirely unusual when she was stressed at work. Things had been tense for her lately, so he did what he would do for anyone he cared about. Ordered food from her favorite restaurant by her office to be delivered for lunch and sent her a message to say he’d done that. Then, later, he went to the store to buy the ingredients for her favorite dinner, some wine, and her favorite ice cream so that he could go and help her unwind from a bad week. If he’s being honest, he didn’t necessarily expect anything from it except maybe a thank you. What he got instead was her telling him that it was too much. That he was smothering her. That it was embarrassing to have him doing all these things and then talking about their relationship on his show.
That last one stings. He’s always very careful when he talks about relationships on his show. The stories are incredibly short and never have any sort of identifiable information. He never uses names. Never includes any other personal information. He’s telling stories in 30 second clips most of the time. So, when Carly says that she needs space and lists all the reasons, well, Mingyu knows what that means too. Has heard the same thing before. Isn’t going to hold out hope this time. Everything just has him feeling jaded.
This isn’t really the most ideal walk down memory lane as he’s preparing to start his segment.
With a sigh, he puts on a smile, even though nobody listening can see him. Once, he read that people can hear if you’re smiling and it’s stuck with him ever since. It feels a little false this time. And that’s when he makes a split decision that he knows his manager is going to hate. Lets the smile fall, takes a deep breath, and decides instead to just be honest. Instead of the usual upbeat, positivity, he starts his segment by saying that he’s finding it a little hard to be as optimistic lately. That his dating life hasn’t been exactly what he wants and that he’s feeling kind of down about it. A message pops up from his manager immediately on the screen in front of him, but he ignores it. It’s too late for him to change tactics so his manager is going to have to deal with it anyway. Tells a quick story about breakups in general, carefully avoiding making it about Carly specifically, and hopes that it isn’t a mistake.
By the time he finishes queueing up the first songs, and the first one starts – Decode by Paramore – his manager is standing in his door looking stern. The downside to working in the LA studios. His manager is right here to keep an eye on him. Wonwoo crosses his arms and tries to look like a parent about to reprimand his child even though they’re only about a year apart in age. Holding up a hand, Mingyu checks to make sure the songs are queued properly and that his mic is off. Then, he turns to find Wonwoo still standing in the doorway frowning.
“What the hell was that?”
“Me doing my intro,” Mingyu answers a little more sharply than usual.
“Is this some kinda weird alternative universe? Do you have a twin you’ve never mentioned?”
Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Bite me.”
“What’s got you so salty?”
“Thought you listened to the intro and that was why you were here,” Mingyu says, earning him an unimpressed glare. “Carly broke up with me.”
Wonwoo softens, blink and you miss it, before stepping into the studio. “Sorry, bro.”
“It’s fine she was being hella sketchy if I actually think about it,” Mingyu says in an obvious attempt to brush it off. Wonwoo lets him. A mark that they are actually friends beyond working together.
“Just don’t play all heavy songs.”
“I’m no-”
Another unimpressed glare. “You started with Decode.”
“It’s a good song and it’s on the approved -”
“Mingyu.”
A sigh, this time from Mingyu. “Fine. Am I in trouble?”
Wonwoo shrugs. “Probably not. I’ll keep an eye on the Facebook comments and let you know. But people expect you to be all upbeat about dating.”
“My bad,” Mingyu says and Wonwoo just shakes his head. “Maybe it’ll still be relatable because it’s still about dating, just a different side to it.”
“Worst case, I’ll just post a picture of you so people can see what you look like while you’re depressing them,” Wonwoo shares with a smirk that says he knows he’s being a shithead.
“Cool story bro,” Mingyu retorts and reaches for a piece of paper. Wads it up. Wonwoo dodges it easily when Mingyu tosses it in his direction, cracking a real smile.
“We’re deciding on our next in-studio session and just a head’s up, it’s probably gonna be you,” Wonwoo says as he moves towards the door. Something about the way he throws it out like that has Mingyu paying closer attention.
“I’ve never done one before…”
His manager hesitates when he reaches the door and turns around wearing a smile that Mingyu doesn’t like. A second later his look is neutral again and he shrugs. “They think it would make sense coming from you.”
“Who’re they bringing in?” Mingyu asks skeptically.
“The Ivy Lips,” Wonwoo says and Mingyu closes his eyes for a second. Of course. “Try not to get too deep the rest of your show!”
Before Mingyu can even open his eyes and form a retort, his manager is gone. The air doesn’t feel any less heavy, though. Getting the chance to handle the in-studio session is huge. Usually one of the more senior DJs takes it. And it’ll probably mean coming in for an extra segment for it. But, Mingyu has been getting a lot more popular, even though he’s still kind of young for this. It’s also one of the biggest segments that the channel does. They invite everyone in from newer artists that are just getting more airplay to groups that have been doing it for years. It’s structured as a more casual conversation. A chance for a band to talk about their recent music, but also just to share pieces of themselves. The bands also usually do a few of their songs stripped down right in the studio and it’s a cool chance for listeners to hear something different. Sometimes the group will even go outside the box and play a cover of something. Since it’s so relaxed, there aren’t really set questions. It’s just kind of up to however it flows. It’s a huge opportunity for Mingyu.
Except, it’s also the last thing he wants with his current headspace.
The Ivy Lips are a new group, at least to the channel. All the DJs have been playing the single off their first studio album and everyone seems to want to hear more from them. Mingyu knows that they first started getting attention a few years ago using MySpace before landing a record deal more recently. Alt Nation had been the first one of the satellite stations to start playing the lead single and Mingyu had definitely been part of that. After hearing their song while he was poking around looking for new music, he shared it with the station and they agreed it fit. Which would definitely make it seem like he’s the obvious choice. He’s listened to the whole album through more times than he can count. He’s told his friends about it. Told dates about it. Talked about what an amazing job the band does at storytelling. Even given really thoughtful intros before playing the song on the channel.
Except…
It’s a whole album about the optimism behind love and relationships. It feels like a love letter to someone the lead singer is either currently dating or dated in the past. Like a whole story from the first time seeing someone to the first conversations to the first time realizing it was love. It’s a very optimistic take. Which is why it initially drew Mingyu in. it felt like someone else with the same outlook as him. Someone that wouldn’t accuse their partner of being too much for showing they care. Now, after yet another failed relationship with that very optimism at the core, it kind of feels like a slap in the face. For the first time since he started at the channel, he actually finds himself hoping that he’ll be passed over for an opportunity. The last thing he wants right now is to try and put that persona on and talk all about how staying positive will always bring the right person to you. It hasn’t brought anyone lasting to Mingyu yet. It’s been the opposite, really. Yet another person told Mingyu that they just wished he’d get mad about things. Wished he’d fight. Wished he’d stop being so damn positive about everything. Someone else saying that there has to be something wrong with him to be that optimistic and supportive. Honestly, it’s enough to make anyone wonder if love actually exists.
Despite his wishes, the in-studio session with The Ivy Lips does fall onto Mingyu. The channel directors have heard his recent segments and they’re not thrilled he’s been so much more pessimistic. The saving grace has been that it doesn’t seem to change the listener counts by much. Some comments on the Facebook page are even asking if he’s okay and sending positive thoughts. And the executives figure that maybe this in-studio session will get Mingyu back on track. For all he knows, they could be right. This just isn’t the way he wanted to get the opportunity. Then again, you can’t always control things like that. He knows that he should just embrace it. Be professional and handle the interview with a band he does actually like when he’s not being difficult. Be thankful that it’s a serious opportunity for growth.
Like the true traitor he is, Wonwoo also manages to snap a photo of Mingyu in the studio to post to the channel’s Facebook page. Shares that he wants people to know what the guy behind the segment looks like while he’s being a downer. And, okay, the comments are definitely a bit of a temporary boost to his ego. It’s at least entertaining to see the new flood of comments talking about his looks. And even more comments asking if he’s okay or, more entertainingly for Wonwoo, if he’s actually single pour in. The influx of endorphins is short lived, though, because it does remind Mingyu that he is still single and none of it has been enough.
Heading into the interview, Mingyu tries to take his time to prepare the way that he knows that he should. He listens through the entire album multiple times, reading through lyrics as he goes, despite feeling like he knows it by heart. He pulls up other interviews that he can find to see what you and the group have said, though there aren’t all that many. He scrolls through the MySpace page, though it’s clear it’s getting less active. The band’s Facebook page is a little more active. Despite feeling jaded about love, he can admit there’s obvious talent with The Ivy Lips. It’s almost enough to have him thinking about giving it all a try again. Almost.
By the time the interview comes around, Mingyu is feeling prepared and a little nervous because it’s his first time getting to do something like this for the channel. It’s also something that they air live as they’re recording it. The channel thinks it’s best to make it feel more authentic. It also gives the DJ a chance to chat with the group off air while playing some other songs. It makes sure listeners still get to hear the music they normally tune in for, but gives the DJ and the band a chance to get back on track if things are going in the wrong direction. Mingyu has some questions that he jotted down, but he’s hoping that he’ll be able to rely more on the flow of the conversation. After all, he does like The Ivy Lips, even if his personal life has taken a turn lately.
Mingyu hears Wonwoo before the door opens, leading the group into the studio while Mingyu makes sure he’s got songs queued up. Or rather, he hears voices responding to his manager. A moment later, Wonwoo steps in, chatting with someone Mingyu recognizes as you, the lead singer of The Ivy Lips, from your MySpace page. It’s surprising to see his normally serious manager laugh at something you say. Mingyu doesn’t quite catch it, yet still feels himself smiling along. There’s something immediately infectious about you. Behind you and Wonwoo, Mingyu notices the drummer, Soonyoung, the bass guitarist, Corey, and the lead guitarist and back up singer, Joshua. Somehow the four of you give the impression of all being very different, yet in a way that compliments each other. Or maybe that’s just because Mingyu feels like he knows the band from the research.
Wonwoo makes quick introductions and Mingyu shakes hands with everyone in turn. And then Wonwoo is making his exit to leave things in Mingyu’s hands. The band sets down the acoustic guitars they have with them. You look around at the studio, a larger one than Mingyu would normally be in so there’s enough room, before settling down in a seat closest to him.
“I was surprised when they said you’d be the one doing the interview,” you start, regarding Mingyu. It disarms him, a little, having your gaze on him after a comment he can’t quite discern.
“Oh, uh, I don’t usually do these but I promise that…” Mingyu starts.
“No, no,” you say breezily, waving him off. “I just meant that, like, you’ve been different on your segment lately. I wasn’t sure this album would still be your thing.”
“Ah,” Mingyu says to buy a moment. The guitarist, Joshua, chuckles.
“Don’t mind her. She’s just very direct,” Joshua says.
“Do you listen to my segment on the channel?” Mingyu wonders, trying to look at the other members. They all nod and look back at you, forcing Mingyu to do the same.
“I mean aside from you being the first one to play our single, I like your segment,” you say with a shrug.
“Yeah, well, things have been tough lately,” Mingyu says and shakes his head to clear it. “But, we’re not here to talk about me.”
“Yeah don’t deflect,” Soonyoung says and nudges you, earning a smile out of you.
You throw up your hands with a smile. “Fine.”
“Did Wonwoo tell you kind of how this all works?” Mingyu asks and there’s a chorus of agreements. “Okay so at the end of this next song, I’m gonna do a little intro and then we’ll get started.”
“Let’s do it,” Joshua agrees.
Mingyu tries to remind himself that it’s like any other segment. He already talks a little more than most DJs on satellite radio, this is just expanding on that. Sure, he has people in there with him. Still, though, he can do this. He’s prepared and it’s a great opportunity. When the song ends, he falls into his radio voice and goes through the introduction he prepared for The Ivy Lips. And then he turns back to the band with a smile.
“Thanks again for coming by,” Mingyu says to nobody in particular.
“Thanks for having us,” Joshua says earnestly.
“Yeah, Alt Nation has been great for us. So, we really owe you guys for finding our single so fast and putting it on the channel,” you add on.
“It’s a great song. The whole album is special, really. When I heard that single, though…” Mingyu starts.
“Was it you that first heard it, then, and decided to play it?” you ask and Mingyu notices the way that Joshua conceals a little bit of a snort.
Mingyu hesitates, just for a moment. He can’t afford dead air in the middle of an interview. He’s also not sure if he should be completely honest.. Finally just decides to go for it. “Yeah, actually.”
“Oh, no way!” Soonyoung exclaims excitedly.
“We thought it was just someone behind the scenes or something,” Joshua adds on.
“No, uh, we’re all always listening to new music and I just thought you had the kind of sound that fits in with what the channel plays,” Mingyu says and chuckles a little.
“Thanks, bro,” Joshua says.
“Hey, it’s us that should be thanking you. Our listeners are loving it,” Mingyu says. It feels almost like settling in with friends.
“Yeah we’ve seen more people on our pages so it’s great,” Joshua agrees.
“Might as well jump right in and ask about the writing process for this album. It feels…very personal. How did the idea for the album come about?”
You and Joshua look at each other for a moment, a silent kind of conversation, then you look back at Mingyu with a smile. “Thank you, it’s supposed to feel very personal. That’s what we were going for, anyway. Joshua and I write most of our music together.”
“Yeah, it’s like we just speak our own language at this point,” Joshua agrees with a soft smile.
“I don’t really understand it. Can’t argue with the results, though,” Soonyoung chimes in, earning a laugh.
“This one came more so from our fearless leader,” Joshua says and nudges you playfully. “I just helped kind of fine tune some of the verses as we went.”
“So, was this album personal for any of you? Maybe drawing from a past or current relationship?” Mingyu asks.
For some reason, that earns a loud, genuine laugh from you and a softer laugh out of Joshua. It feels like missing a joke until you pull yourself together a second later. “No, actually. We write all our songs in first person, but the stories are actually about a couple. Not any of us. Just a couple that’s…entirely made up. They only exist in my head. Well, mine and Joshua’s.”
“Really?” Mingyu asks incredulously before he can stop himself. The band all laugh at that, likely anticipating the reaction.
“Yeah,” you say easily. “I don’t know. There are all these albums about heartbreak, and I’ve certainly had some experience with that. We all have.”
“Seriously,” Joshua agrees under his breath, just loud enough for the mic to still pick it up.
“But, I don’t know, I wanted to play with the idea of writing about a totally made up couple that still felt real and personal and relatable. I listened to a lot of things while we were writing this album. Other music. Shows and movies. Radio stations, even,” you say and give him a slight look. “Songs about relationships are everywhere, but I just thought it would be really interesting to use an album to tell a story like this. In another life, I think I was a writer.”
“Still could be,” Joshua says with a shrug and you laugh.
“What made you want to write this album instead of one inspired by something one of you had gone through?” Mingyu asks.
“I think sometimes those kinds of songs can be harder to perform night in and night out,” Joshua says, surprising Mingyu a little at being the one to answer first.
“Yeah, like they can feel so personal and to really perform them well, you have to put yourself back in that place every time. It almost makes it feel like it’s harder to process and move on, if that makes sense. For me, at least. Some of our earlier songs that came out before our record deal are like that and I don’t love playing them. So I thought, well if we decide to tell an entire story instead of writing about our own love lives, maybe it’ll be easier to perform it,” you add on.
“Do you think this album reflects the band's thoughts on love and relationships?” Mingyu asks.
Joshua, Soonyoung, and Corey all laugh and say ‘no’ nearly at the same time, looking over at you. For your part, you seem unbothered by it. Only stick your tongue out at your band members and then turn back to Mingyu. “Nope, just mine. The rest of these guys are cynics. But me, I don’t know, I love the idea of love even if I’ve probably had my heart broken more than the rest combined.”
“It’s a great way to be and we love you for it,” Joshua says and nudges you.
“It definitely is. We need more of those optimistic takes on love. And it seems that people are loving listening to it,” Mingyu agrees and you give him a curious look.
“Thank you,” you say, though it’s clear there’s more on your mind.
Mingyu clears his throat and turns away for a second, addressing just the mic. “Okay, we’re gonna take a quick break and play some songs, but stick around because we’ll have more with The Ivy Lips.”
As soon as Mingyu flips the switch for the songs in the queue, he finds out what you hadn’t said. “I’m surprised you think it’s a good way to be. The optimism on relationships.”
“There she goes,” Joshua chuckles and sends a sympathetic look to Mingyu.
“Why’s that?” Mingyu asks.
“I listen to your show. You’ve been very…pessismistic about relationships lately,” you say and your bandmates laugh.
“Ah, well, I’ve had some bad experiences lately,” he says and you go to open your mouth again. Joshua nudges you.
“Let the man breathe,” Joshua says.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Mingyu laughs a little awkwardly. “I kinda opened myself up to that.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Soonyoung chimes in.
You regard Mingyu for a second. “I think we’re kind of alike, you know. I think you still want to be optimistic, you’re just a little hurt over whatever break up you’re dealing with.”
“It hasn’t just been one,” Mingyu says and you shrug.
“We’ve all got shit,” you counter. “It takes more strength to keep being positive about it.”
“Okay, give him a break,” Joshua says when Mingyu hesitates.
“Fine,” you concede for the second time.
This is already more interesting than Mingyu could have possibly imagined and he still has a lot of the interview to get through. He can tell it’s the kind of thing that’s going to stick with him for weeks after you and the band leave.
You end up staying in the studio with Mingyu even after the interview with your band ends and after the rest of them make their excuses to leave. It’s not exactly normal and he should probably tell you that you need to leave. Except, well, he doesn’t really want you to. Hearing all your thoughts on relationships has him intrigued. And, yes, the rest of the interview is great as well. Your voice is even better live and acoustic. The dynamic with you and the rest of the band says how much you all genuinely like each other. There’s somehow a polished easiness about the band and raw emotion all at once. It’s easy to forget this is technically just your debut album.
Really, though, what sticks out the most is how steadfast you are in defending your thoughts about love and relationships, most of which happens in the breaks while Mingyu plays songs for the listeners. It is more personal, after all. Once the rest of your band leaves, you carry on with more emphasis. Acknowledge that you, like Mingyu, have had your heart broken over things that don’t seem like they should create issues. However, you, unlike Mingyu, are choosing to keep channeling it into something positive. You’re not shy about giving him a hard time over building his show talking about a positive outlook on love, only to turn it all around because things have been a little hard. There is a certain amount of logic in you saying that it’s stronger to keep going when you want to give up. There’s a depth to you. Layers. Something that makes him want to learn more. You happily debate him each time he queues up songs and keep perfectly quiet when he’s on air. (You also laugh when Wonwoo comes in and tries to subtly tell Mingyu that you need to leave, only to give in and let you stay.)
The rest of his segment passes faster than he can remember it passing in a long time and it’s clear that’s down to you. There’s something that makes Mingyu feel like he’s known you for months rather than hours. Maybe that’s just how you are. Maybe you just make people feel at ease around you and that’s why you can stay so optimistic about love despite the heartbreaks. When you say goodbye and that it was fun to get to hang out after the interview, Mingyu even wonders if he’s going to run into you again. Which is crazy, isn’t it? Yesterday, he didn’t know you personally. Tomorrow, he’ll have something new to distract him. This is just a blip.
Except, it isn’t. Not really. You’re going to be all Mingyu thinks about for the next few weeks. Either your thoughts on relationships, your approach to the album, or anything else you said without realizing you could turn his whole world upside down.
Of all the ways that Mingyu expects to run into you again, he definitely doesn’t think that it’s going to be at a coffee shop around the corner from the studio. Honestly, he’s not even sure he’s going to run into you again. Not that he’ll admit how much he’s been thinking about you. And there you are, sitting by the window of his favorite coffee shop when he’s sure he’s never seen you there before. You look up as he approaches the counter and smile. Mouth a quick ‘hi’ and then turn back to the book you’re reading. Mingyu orders something to drink and waits at the other end of the counter. Tries not to look over at you. Once he has his drink in hand, he walks over to your table and smiles when you look up again.
“Hey,” Mingyu says.
“Hey back.”
“Can I sit for a minute?”
You look up at him before marking a spot in your book and setting it down. “Yeah, sure.”
He takes the seat opposite you and feels a little nervous. A little awkward. Somehow, it doesn’t feel quite as easy as when he had you in the studio with him. A million conversation starters seem to flash into his mind in rapid succession. None really seem to stick. And that’s when you seem to read his mind and take pity on him.
“Something on your mind?” you ask.
“I guess, yeah,” he admits after a moment. You’re patient. “I’ve just been thinking a lot about when you guys were in the studio and everything you said about the album.”
“I could see how that stuck with you.”
“It’s just…I guess I don’t know how you keep that mindset despite the heartbreak.”
You study him for a moment. “I think I keep it because of the heartbreak.”
“What?”
“Your face,” you say with a light laugh. “I just mean I see it all as learning. It sucks and it hurts, but then I also learn who to look out for next time.”
“I guess that makes sense,” he says, though it comes out a little skeptical.
“Maybe you just need to learn to read the signs a little better and realize who’s not going to match your energy,” you suggest.
“Easier said than done,” he grumbles and you laugh.
“Maybe you should try asking someone out that you just like hanging out with even when it’s not a date,” you say with a casual air. And that’s when it finally clicks for him.
“Do you want to get dinner some time?”
A smile from you, so genuine that it lights up your face. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Unlike the start of the conversation in the coffee shop, dinner is much easier. There’s no awkwardness. Not weird pauses. None of those first date jitters. Even though Mingyu doesn’t know you that well yet, he feels comfortable with you. At ease. Like you and him know what you’re getting with the other one and it makes it easier to just focus on the actual conversation. You know enough about how he is in relationships because you’ve heard it on his show. He knows enough about your approach to love because he’s heard it on your album.
That leads to another thing that Mingyu doesn’t ever do. After dinner, he invites you back to his apartment. A little nervous for the first time, though you agree right away. And the nerves disappear when he sees you in his space. He watches the way you run your fingers over his CD collection or pause to look at pictures of him with his friends. If you’re nervous, he definitely can’t tell. There’s just something about you that puts him at ease. That feels like everything is just natural.
The next part comes just as naturally.
You step into his space and run a hand up his neck to rest on his cheek, guiding his lips to yours. And he knows he’s in trouble right away. It’s the kind of kiss that feels like the person already knows you completely. You melt against Mingyu’s body and he’s not sure if he ever wants to let you go. It’s both slow and desperate at the same time. Like you’re showing him that you’re on the same page. That you see him and you like him just the way he is. It’s overwhelming, though not in a bad way.
Slowly, he leads you back into his bedroom. It’s careful. Like he knows that he can trust you. Knows that you see him. Yet, there’s still a hesitation. Or maybe he’s just not sure how to act with someone who isn’t going to tell him that it’s all too much. You peel your own clothes off and then turn to his while you can feel his eyes on you. Taking you in. Appreciating you before him. There’s something almost powerful about it to you because you already know that he’s always got something to say. And yet, now he’s quiet. Now he can’t seem to do much other than drink you in.
So, you take the lead. You sit back onto his bed and slide backwards until you hit the pillows. Beckon him forward. And he complies immediately. Almost like he’s following directions that he can’t ignore. He slots his body against yours and kisses you again. Harder this time. Almost possessively. Like you’re finally giving him permission to just be whatever version of himself he wants to be without worrying. It unlocks something in you. You wrap your arms around him to keep him pressed against your body. Let his tongue into your mouth as you continue kissing him.
When you moan into the kiss, it’s like it finally spurs him on. He snakes a hand down between your bodies and between your legs. Teases your entrance as he collects some of the wetness there. You moan again when his finger slowly runs up you. He teases your clit for a second before returning his fingers to your entrance. Without stopping the kiss, he presses a finger inside your wet cunt. Groans at the feeling of you around his finger. You arch into him as he starts pumping his finger. And then he adds another finger and you know you’re in trouble.
“Mingyu, please,” you whine, breaking the kiss. You’re breathy and a little needy and you don’t really care.
“Please what?” he asks. His pupils are wide and his eyes are dark with the same need you feel.
“Please just…I want to feel you. You can take your time later, I want to feel you now,” you say and watch as he swallows hard. All he can do is nod as he rolls slightly off you to reach for his nightstand. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch the way he rips the wrapper open and pumps himself a couple times. Then he’s sliding the condom on and returning to you.
“Are you sure?” he asks and you nod.
“Yes,” is all you say before his lips are on yours again.
It’s all you manage to say before he lines himself up and presses into you. Pumping shallow for the first few times as you wiggle and adjust. But, then he does just what you ask him. He snaps his hips into you and you break off the kiss with a loud curse. Mingyu props himself over you and sets a steady rhythm thrusting into you. All the while, he looks down at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. The only thing tethering him to reality. Maybe you’re looking back at him the same way, you’re not sure. All you know is that this moment is exactly what you need. Exactly what you’ve been thinking about since that interview he did in the studio. Exactly what you’ve been thinking about each time you tuned into his program since then. So, you cling to whatever part of him that you can grab and meet his rhythm. Let yourself get lost in the moment of something that feels easy for once. Let yourself give in to something you wouldn’t normally do like this.
Entirely too quickly, Mingyu is pushing you over the edge. Making you shake beneath him as he whispers praises into your skin. Keeping up a slower rhythm to allow you to have your high. It takes a second for you to come back down and release he’s still thrusting slowly into you and that he’s still hard. You take another moment to catch your breath and brush his hair off his face.
“You can keep going,” you say.
“Are you sure?” he asks and you nearly laugh. His face is so cute which is a crazy thing to be thinking at this moment.
“Yes,” you say and he leans forward to kiss you again.
But, then he stops being quite so soft. He picks up the pace again and it’s much faster. Or maybe it feels that way because you’re sensitive. In any case, you don’t really care. Watching this beautiful man come apart on top of you is plenty to make up for anything else. The way he feels inside you keeps you from thinking about anything else. The room is full of the sounds of your skin slapping together mixed with your moans. It’s criminal how quickly you can feel yourself approaching the edge again. Except, this time you can tell that he’s there too.
“Come with me, Mingyu,” you whimper.
“Fuck, yes, I’m going to,” he groans. He moves a hand to start rubbing your clit and it makes you clench around him as you come again. But this time, you can feel him losing it too. Know that he came with you just like he said he was going to.
Mingyu keeps himself propped over you until the last thrust and then collapses with his weight offset. Not really ready to pull out but not wanting to crush you either. You don’t mind. You’re fine just lying there and running your fingers along his skin. Watching the way goosebumps form under your touch. After another minute, he carefully pulls out and smiles at you. Gives you the gentlest kiss before he gets up to clean himself up.
It’s hard to stop yourself from watching him as he walks away to the bathroom. Hard not to think about how beautiful he is. Hard not to think about how you both have the same views on love and relationships, even if he’s been a little jaded recently. Hard not to think that nothing could really screw this up.
radio host!Choi Seungcheol x radio host!fem!Reader
Word Count: 7.7k
Content Warnings: food and alcohol mentions. adult language and themes. men (and women, but mostly men) being cringey and off-putting. a toxic ex-boyfriend.
[First Time Caller Collab] When the middle-aged mothers calling his show start getting a little too comfortable on the line, Seungcheol finds himself in need of a quick solution to throw them off. He needs a girlfriend. And who better to ask than his one and only public rival working at the same station?
♡ I'M BACKK!! And this fic is part of @studiosvt's First Time Caller collab! Don’t forget to check out the other writers’ works!! ♡
The urge to slap Seungcheol's hand off your waist was overwhelming. If there ever was an award for most self-control exhibited, you should have been shortlisted for it, possibly one of the top three contenders.
Your cheeks hurt from faking smiles all day, your feet were sore, and you were pretty sure your make-up resembled that of a raccoon. Or maybe a clown with heat stroke. As if that wasn't enough, your eyes were actually starting to ache from all the times you had rolled them in the past two hours alone.
Whoever had decided to pair you up with Seungcheol to host the station's annual charity fair needed to get demoted back to desk work (and you weren't only thinking it because it had, in fact, been your dear partner of the day that had suggested this). Why a radio station needed to organise so many social events every year was beyond your comprehension and yet you had drawn the short end of the stick once again.
Seungcheol's fingers pinched your side a little too hard to be a sign of affection. When you turned to glare at him, he offered you a mocking smile that someone further away might have mistaken for an affectionate one. "Why the long face, honey?"
A shiver of disgust ran up your spine and almost made you nauseous. If there wasn't a group of grandmas watching the two of you with the eyes of gossip-hungry eagles, you might have fake gagged just to get your point across. Instead, you were stuck forcing a sugary sweet smile of your own and threatening him under your breath: "Remove your hands or I will break them the next time you try to hold mine."
Perhaps you had lost your edge because Seungcheol only responded with a noise infuriatingly similar to the one he made when someone introduced him to their Pomeranian puppy two hours ago. And then, as if to annoy you even further and test the reliability of your threats, he let his thumb trail up and down across your skin. You racked your brain but couldn't remember agreeing to skin-to-skin contact, so you glared at him some more for good measure.
"I'm serious, Choi," you told him, hand reaching for his to twist one of his fingers backwards just enough for him to get the message.
He hissed in pain and withdrew his hand. Now it was his turn to glare and you only replied with a victorious smile before turning back to the task at hand. Another teenager had strolled to the booth, eager to sign up for the big giveaway (rumour had it that this year's grand prize was a car; you knew better than to trust the rumour mills), and you helped him while Seungcheol tried his hardest to not look like his ego or finger was in pain.
"Be sure to tune in three hours from now to see if you won," you called out after the kid when he handed you the now filled ticket. "May the odds ever be in your favour." (Quoting the Hunger Games was, unfortunately, one of the few joys you still had today).
The teen offered you a wide smile at that — perhaps he had picked up on the reference? Maybe the youth isn't doomed after all? Then, as if the universe had a grudge against you, you watched him reach over to fist pump Seungcheol. There was a certain sparkle in his eyes, his smirk just a little too wolfish. You threw your head back and sighed.
"Here's a tip, oh darling boyfriend of mine," the B-word still felt foreign to your tongue but you supposed it was high time you got used to it; you side-eyed him, "when a random man comes up and treats me like a prize you've somehow won, you should be pissed, not proud."
Seungcheol blinked, not a single coherent thought bouncing around in his peanut shell of a brain. "What do you mean?"
You felt your eyebrows rise and gestured widely. "That kid! He was eyeing me like I'm a piece of meat. And he congratulated you while staring at my tits!"
He shrugged. "I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."
"Neither did the last twelve guys who did the same, no doubt," you mumbled under your breath and adjusted the stack of blank giveaway tickets with newfound fury.
"Besides," he drawled, leaning his hip against the table, all suave until the flimsy thing nearly toppled over and nulled all of your previous efforts, "why am I not allowed to be proud? You're hot."
There was something in the way he said it that almost made it sound like an insult to your ears. Then again, perhaps you were too filled with hatred to interpret any of his words as anything but deliberate jabs at your person. That's what your friends said anyway when you discussed this scheme with them.
Hastily, Seungcheol fixed and adjusted the table. Further down the lot, someone was laughing — hopefully at him. He made a half-hearted attempt at fixing the stack of tickets; it looked like a proper mess. You sighed and reached to fix it again.
Maybe this whole arrangement was a colossal mistake. Maybe you were in over your head. Maybe your shared hatred was too far down in the dark side to ever be mistaken for adoration even by someone legally blind.
"Because this isn't real," you reminded him now. "Even if I was a prize — which I am not —, you haven't won me. You have nothing to be proud of."
Nothing about this was real, after all. It was all just a big scheme he had come up with in desperation to keep his afternoon show and fat paycheck. And you were the sorry fool who had agreed to it because — as much as it hurt to admit — you, too, were desperate.
In a way, you were different sides of the same dingy copper coin. One needed to get meddling grandmothers and flirty (and definitely not PG-13) mothers off his back. The other needed her ex to take a hint and leave her alone.
And so when Seungcheol came to you one evening after your daily request show — eyes downcast and brows furrowed in dismay after one of the executives threatened to halve his pay if he didn't make his show family friendly again — suggesting an unthinkable scheme, you agreed a little too readily. (Even if you did take a whole week to consider the pros and cons and spent one whole evening getting drunk while ranting to your friends.)
"I know you hate me," he told you back then, two weeks ago, his hair in disarray from tugging on it in frustration, his brown eyes for once full of something other than disgust at the sight of you, "but please pretend to date me."
The whole thing was supposed to be simple and effective. Fake some smiles, talk about each other on your shows, maybe dedicate a song to one another every once in a while, go on a walk during lunch break — easy enough that a toddler could do it. It should have been just the bare minimum to fake a relationship.
At first, you hadn't even thought anyone would actually buy it.
Your rivalry was well-known — two star hosts of the biggest radio station in the country, in a fierce battle for the prime time slots and special events. There were TikTok and Youtube compilations of you trading insults during your respective shows. More than a few gossip magazines had increased their sales by reporting on the "new developments" of your disagreements. The station executives couldn't decide whether they wanted you to tone down or go all in on the rivalry; avoiding questions about a hostile work environment hardly seemed the better option over rapidly increasing ratings.
But apparently the people's longing for a tale of enemies turning lovers was not limited to romantasy novels.
It had taken exactly one walk through a public parking lot on the evening of your first negotiations and suddenly the rumour mills were working overtime. It was utterly ridiculous, and it was also more effective than anything you could have come up with. There were blurry, poorly lit photos in the gossip magazines. There were pop culture specialists spewing video essay after video essay about the thin line between hatred, and body language experts analysing the way your fingers seemed to be reaching for his in one of the fifteen photos "if you just looked closely enough".
Even if your negotiations that night had ended on a negative note, there was no way you could have talked your way out of this supposed relationship. And now here you were, at the annual spring charity fair, hosting the giveaway and the special radio show from a little booth under an ancient oak tree with your biggest foe, putting on the best act of your life.
"You know, no one's going to believe we're actually dating if you look like you'd rather let the ground swallow you whole than be seen beside me," he pointed out with an infuriating smile, leaning closer as if to provoke you some more.
Under different circumstances you might have had to sigh and admit that he was right. But unfortunately for him…
"I think I'd have to slap you for anyone to believe we're not together at this point," you reminded him and nodded towards the gaggle of teenagers taking photos of the two of you, no doubt sharing them on social media with #OTP. You dreaded to think what your mentions would look like by the end of the day. Your phone had already overheated twice from all of the notifications.
Seungcheol's lips stretched into a smirk, his eyebrows waggling. "Didn't take you for the kinky type."
You could think of a kink or two to make him suffer the way he deserved. But alas.
A little girl ran up to the booth, flowers in her dark curly hair. Her lack of height did not deter her from grinning you from over the edge of the table. "Hi."
"Hi," you greeted her and felt your anger melt away just a little. "Did you want to sign up for the giveaway too?"
"No." She shook her head resolutely. "I'm too little for a car."
(You could practically hear the crack in his neck as Seungcheol's head tilted in confusion, his breath coming out in a sigh. He mumbled something vaguely like "why does everyone think it's a car?".)
The little girl didn't respond to questions, only staring up at you earnestly as if you were a Disney princess and she couldn't believe she had actually run into you at this event. You offered a little wave and this one she returned with one of her own. About to give up on making conversation with the tiny fan, you turned to look at what your "boyfriend" was doing, and — like a sleeper agent who had heard the code word — she lit up.
"You guys are so cute together," she declared and it was the loudest she had been all minute. You felt your eyes widen and desperately avoided eye contact, heat crawling up your neck all of a sudden. "My mommy says you used to hate each other."
"Still do," you mumbled under your breath but faked a smile once you were sure you no longer looked like a startled owl.
"I used to think she was insufferable," Seungcheol was happy to tell her and the look in his eyes told you he meant it in the present tense. "Drove me absolutely nuts. Stole my show, you know."
He'd been sure to bring that little tid-bit up every single day. If you weren't deep under cover as his girlfriend, you might have stomped on his foot and reminded him that he only lost the show because he kept flirting with the horny single mothers and grandmothers that called his show. All you had done was possess a bit of talent for hosting radio shows. But your lack of responsibility for his problems did not seem to deter him from blaming you for everything anyway.
The little girl gasped and looked at you like you had just admitted to arson. It was impossible to ignore the urge to defend yourself. "I didn't do it on purpose."
"That's what she likes to tell everyone," Seungcheol didn't let up and you felt his hand reach for your waist again, the familiar irritating warmth back on your skin. Clearly your earlier threats of violence had been of no use. Pulling you closer, he feigned a smile that almost looked smitten. "But I don't mind because now she's mine."
Not that you wanted to be. Not that you had any choice now.
You slapped his hand away as soon as the little girl was out of sight.
The weekly meetings were held every Monday at 10 am sharp. They were the closest thing this establishment had to proper order, complete with a whiteboard on wheels and dried-up markers, charts and slideshows. The manager of the station even put in the effort of replacing his usual colourful sweaters and mismatching bright coloured pants with a proper suit. He even wore a tie.
Most weeks, the topic of conversation was the ratings and the planning of new events. Reminders of radio etiquette. Tips and introductions for new bright-eyed interns. Sometimes the manager just rolled around the open office space on a desk chair and encouraged everyone to reveal their most recent work-related frustrations as if it was a big group therapy session. You used to think those were annoying.
Now you suddenly wished this was one of those sessions instead of whatever the hell it had become today.
The manager had pulled up a slideshow of the recent ratings by the minute. He was analysing the spikes in audiences tuning into the station, his eyes twinkling as possibilities upon possibilities appeared in his mind. Your colleagues were offering knowing smiles and not-so-subtly cranking their necks to look back at you.
You tried to make yourself smaller in your chair, pulling your jacket closer to your body as you side-eyed Seungcheol's form standing proud and happy right next to you (he had insisted staying in close proximity was vital to your scheme's success; you begged to differ). His thigh was close enough to gently sway your chair every time he adjusted his posture, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that had you hoping it was his arms the others were staring at and not your flustered face.
"—and if you look here, it's another spike!" The man in front of the whiteboard was practically vibrating with excitement. You wished radio ratings got you going as much as they did this guy; it would have made your life a lot more tolerable. "And if we play back the broadcast, this is when Seungcheol said he was turning the studio over to his girlfriend. Every time he mentioned her, the ratings went up!"
The social media manager of the station raised her hand, looking back at you with a smirk while she waited for the manager to finish his thought. And when he did and called upon her, she was more than happy to declare: "Our social media mentions spike during Seungcheol's segment as well, especially around those same minutes you pointed out. I think the people really want more Seungcheol and (Y/n)."
You grabbed your pen and scribbled another name into the list of traitors you had started five minutes into the meeting. It held the names of every colleague who was a little too enthusiastic about your new "relationship". Nayeon's name was the newest addition, underlined, with three exclamation points.
"The spring fair broadcast was a complete success as well," the manager continued with even more enthusiasm. At any minute now, he might burst. "The people loved our two star hosts, judging by the ratings. Look at those things!" He was staring at his own slideshow in absolute awe. Somewhere out there a data analysis company was mourning their loss of an enthusiast they didn't know existed. "This is the highest any of our special events have rated in a decade. It's a renaissance of the radio!"
"I'm not sure I'd go that far," Seungcheol mumbled, apparently finally cracking. Were his ears more red than usual?
When the manager looked like he might start crying from hope and excitement, Nayeon stood up to take over the presentation. She clicked a button and a new slide appeared, stuffed from edge to edge to edge with mentions of your name and… Your eyes had to be deceiving you.
You leaned closer just to make sure you weren't hallucinating. "Is that… a ship name?"
Nayeon smiled so bright she could have outshone the sun. "Yes, it is! You guys officially have a ship name! The listeners love you; the whole enemies to lovers thing is really in right now and you are the new face of it."
The chair whined under the weight of you slumping back. Had it been sentient, it might have whimpered at the way your nails sank into the plastic of the arm rests. Seungcheol reached down to pat the back of your hand, unable to hide his victorious smile as he did so. You countered by sinking your nails into the space between his fingers. His hand was promptly removed but the smile remained.
One of the older hosts squinted at the screen and raised her hand. "What does OTP mean?"
"Ah! Great question, Seunghwa." Turns out Nayeon had prepared a whole slide explaining all of the slang related to your newfound suffering. What great joy.
You added another two exclamation marks behind her name and underlined her name once more.
"You know," Seungkwan, one of the three hosts of the morning show, made sure to make eye contact with you as he suggested, "Seungcheol and (Y/n) should host together more often. I bet the ratings would spike to the heavens."
Another name for your traitors' list. You held his gaze as you wrote his name down letter by letter, raising your eyebrow in challenge. He didn't seem very bothered, more engaged in nodding along with Soonyoung who had very enthusiastically joined the conversation to make, more or less, the same point. Finally, he offered you a knowing smirk — one that said he knew your secret — and turned back to the slideshow.
The torture went on for another fifteen minutes. By the time it was done, you were far more exhausted than anyone who had been up for only two hours ever should feel.
As the people dispersed, eager to get back to their daily duties around the office or running errands somewhere else, Seungcheol remained at your side. He acted as a reminder of the mess of a soup the two of you had found yourself in. You couldn't even find the energy to shoo him away or glare at him. And so he stayed, arms still crossed over his chest as he looked over the office space like a guard dog on watch.
Soonyoung seemed to find it an invitation for more commentary, sidling up to the two of you with a warm smile. "You guys are seriously cute together. I always did think you'd make a great couple, but, wow! I mean, wow!" It seemed that even if Seungkwan had spotted a flaw in your begrudging scheme, Soonyoung was none the wiser to any of it. He turned to Seungcheol and patted his shoulder. "The way you talk about her during your shows is just so… I mean, you must be really in love."
"Must be," was all that Seungcheol said but he made no effort to hide his proud grin. Even his chest seemed to puff up a little with every word the morning show host spoke.
You wanted to make fun of him for it when Soonyoung finally walked away. You wanted to tease and bully him for being so full of himself and eager for compliments. Hell, a few brain cells of yours were halfway done coming up with a joke about how he must have only stayed in this spot to gain some more praise, like a puppy showing off his newest trick for some treats. But a jarring thought of another kind startled the jokes right out of your mind.
"You talk about me on your show?"
He startled at the sound of your voice. Then, as fast as he had lost his composure, he got it back and raised a brow. "Of course. That's the whole point. What else am I supposed to talk about when someone calls to request my phone number or asks if I'm planning on starting an OnlyFans?"
There were few things you hated more than admitting that a man was right. Your lips parted in preparation to spew some insults and arguments. Unfortunately, you had no choice but to admit defeat this time and closed your mouth with a huff.
"Exactly," he teased and reached to pat your head. You slapped it away and rolled your chair further away from him with a pointed glare. It only seemed to make him happier. "If you were a good girlfriend, you would listen to my show sometimes."
All of the gold in the world wouldn't have been enough to pay you to do that. That's what you told yourself as you put on your headphones and tuned him out to the sound of your music.
(But when the clock struck 2 pm and the studio door closed behind Seungcheol, your finger lingered over the station's app on your phone. Listening in just once couldn't hurt, right? He would never have to know. It was just for research. Right.)
[You are listening to Words of Wisdom on Station SVT, 171.7 MHz]
"Hello and thank you for calling the Words of Wisdom show. My name's Seungcheol and what can I help you with today?"
"Oh my god, are you Choi Seungcheol?!"
"That's me, ma'am."
"You sound even hotter on the phone."
"… Thank you. I'm sure my girlfriend would agree. So, what can I and your fellow listeners offer you advice on today?"
"…"
"Ma'am?"
The jokes practically wrote themselves. You were but a vehicle by which they presented themselves in this reality. You were a humble servant of jokes at Seungcheol's pride.
Smiling, you leaned against the studio's desk while he packed up his things. "Talked about your girlfriend on your show, did you?"
He barely hummed in response. "Glad you've caught up with the news, sweetheart."
"I just find it funny, you know," you continued regardless, giddy from the opportunity to tease him for once. He always seemed to have the upper hand. It was a glorious moment. Maybe you needed to listen to his shows more often just for more material. "You're just so bad at lying."
Glaring, he looked up from his bag. "At least I'm trying. You've barely mentioned me on your show. Really, you're making me look desperate."
"Are you not?" You blinked at him, full of both innocence and mischief. "I'm just saying."
Lowering your voice to match his, you mocked the way he spoke on the broadcast, perfect down to the deadpan and entirely awkward tone: "I'm sure my girlfriend would agree." You pretended to throw up under the desk. "I hope you’re not applying for an acting job any time soon.”
That seemed to touch a nerve. Seungcheol's arms crossed over his chest again, a defensive stance rather than an arrogant one this time. "Yeah? I'd like to see you do better. Oh wait!" He pursed his lips into a sorry pout. "You don't even mention me on your show."
"You want me to talk about you?" You laughed. "What's there to talk about? Give me a reason to."
"Wow," he deadpanned. "You must be really in love."
"Absolutely smitten, really."
The clock above the door told you the next show was supposed to start in mere seconds. An idea formed in your head as you took your place at the desk, adjusting the large headphones and setting the microphone to your height. The screen displayed a countdown of seconds — somewhere in another room, a poor sound engineering intern had been set in charge of bringing you on air in time.
Seungcheol still remained in the room, fumbling to pack his bag and the notes it contained. There was a red hue to the skin on the back of his neck and ears, his hands shook imperceptibly. It only got worse when you tapped the ON AIR button and started your show.
"Good afternoon, dear listeners. It's time for your favourite show — it's time for Well Wishes. I'm your host for the next hour and a half, so be sure to call in or drop your song requests and well wishes in an email," you went through your introductions with practised grace, not a single syllable stuttered or strained, your eyes on Seungcheol. While speaking, you queued up the first song of your session.
When his gaze, fiery and annoyed and challenging, met yours, you let your smile widen and declared, "To start us off while we wait for your requests, I'm going to play a special song dedicated to my boyfriend. Honey, if you're listening right now, I hope you're driving home safe, love you. Enjoy your favourite song."
If the B-word had felt uncomfortably wrong at the spring fair, it sure didn't sound like it this time. Not to you, not to him, and certainly not to the listeners. It was definitely miles more natural than Seungcheol's strained efforts of referring to you on his own broadcast and he seemed to realise it just the same, his eyes rolling as he flipped you off and trudged out of the studio.
He was almost at the door when Apink's "Mr Chu" started playing. His entire body shuddered, cringing wholeheartedly. The door shut behind him seconds later (but not before he could show you his middle finger one last time).
As peace and Apink filled the studio, you leaned back in your chair, basking in the afternoon sun. Finally victorious. It was the little victories that mattered the most.
It felt like you had achieved your greatest goal, or were at least one large step closer to it, at least. The sun felt warmer and brighter than it had all spring. There was not a single cloud in the bright blue sky, only white birds passing by. Even the cushioning of the chair seemed nicer than usual. It's a miracle what changes a small victory and a happy mood can bring.
You greeted the first caller of the day with a bright smile and all the joy in the world. "What song can I play for you today?"
The universe was on your side. Great music all around, happy people calling your show, lovely greetings in the emails. A part of you started wondering if this was the right day to buy a lottery ticket.
But all good things must come to an end, some sooner than others.
"Hello, thank you for calling Well Wishes," you greeted yet another caller, still high off your win. "Who are we greeting and what are we listening to?"
There was silence for a while. And then you heard a familiar voice. "…(Y/n)?"
It felt as if rain clouds had appeared out of thin air and covered the sun. Dark, stormy clouds full of nothing but heart ache and hail.
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly seeming to swell up. Your body was taken over by an emotion you knew far too well and had hoped to forget.
It shouldn't have been a surprise by this point; Youngjae seemed to call the show every day like clockwork — at least he had until the photos from the parking lot came out. And yet your heart threatened to seize up every time you heard his voice on the broadcast. Once, his voice had brought you warmth and happiness and made you feel so, so in love. Now it only served to remind you of all the things you could have had. If only he hadn't revealed himself to be such an ass hole.
"Hello," you forced yourself to speak. "What can I play for you today?"
"I've missed you," he spoke.
And the cycle repeated again, chewing through the process you had made like it was nothing.
There were few things you hated more than admitting that a man was right. It seemed that you might have won a battle but Seungcheol had the strategy to win the war. You steeled your aching heart. If mentioning your "boyfriend" at every possibility was the solution, you were going to use the hell out of it.
The next time someone requested a love song, you made sure to say it reminded you of Seungcheol and his pretty brown eyes. Whatever it took to fight for the space to let your heart heal. Whatever it took to end the cycle.
But the heart is a fickle thing and it rarely does what you tell it to. You could pretend it was made of steel and cold ice all you wanted, but deep inside it still ached. And the cycle repeated again.
"You talked about me on your show," was the first thing Seungcheol said when you walked into the studio the next day. Clad in an oversized white hoodie that made him look almost huggable, he was spinning around in the chair — your chair — and practically giggling with glee. "And here I thought you were too cool to talk about your boyfriend."
You rolled your eyes and glanced at the clock. "Figured I might as well make use of you."
"Was it because your ex called?" His smile said he knew the answer all too well. "Be honest: if you had to choose between your ex and me…?"
Now he was just fishing for compliments. But you hadn't slept all that well last night and falling into his silly traps felt like the least of your worries. "I'm dating you, aren't I?"
The words came out almost on autopilot while you stared at the chair he had occupied. That nice, comfy chair, practically moulded to fit your bottom from a year of wear. But Seungcheol didn't look like he had any plans of leaving it any time soon. You offered the chair one last contemplative look.
"Don't make me leave," he whined but there was little sincerity in his voice, only teasing, "I'm so comfy."
On another day, you might have grabbed the chair by the arm rests and swung it out the door, relishing in the hollering and cheers of your co-workers. But something had broken within you on the broadcast yesterday.
With a sigh, you walked to the other side of the room and grabbed one of the spare chairs meant for the guests. One of its wheels squeaked every once in a while and another one was clearly slanted from years of abuse. It would have to do.
Seungcheol stared at you, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. There was something like concern in his gaze. He didn't make a sound, didn't even move while you set up for the show, watching you like you were a wild animal he had stumbled upon on a hiking trail.
Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. "What?"
"You're not going to make me leave?" He looked like he was just about ready to banish himself if you just so much as nodded. You shrugged and he slumped in his seat. "Are you okay?"
"I will be," you told him with a sigh and pulled on your headphones, "one day."
He didn't say anything else but he stayed for the entire show. His presence was quiet. You half-expected to get annoyed with anything about him — his breathing, his little chuckles, the tapping of his fingers when a particularly good song came on. But to your surprise, he seemed to have the opposite effect for once.
It was odd. You had grown so used to constantly being irritated by him but now that you were stuck in a small room with him — just the two of you in creaky office chairs and nothing but short phone calls to keep you company —, his presence was comforting instead. A calming paperweight on top of the troubles that were threatening to fly around the room and suffocate you. A familiar character by your side no matter what went on in your life.
"I love that song!" he made sure to shout when a teen called in to request an older R'n'B track. Instead of glaring at him, you found yourself leaning away from the mic so he could lean closer and converse with the youngster. "Kid, you've got great taste. You need to call in more often."
Before you knew it, he was co-hosting, his chair pressed against yours, his hand on the mouse to guide the cursor through the playlists and emails. Between requests, he offered you smiles and glances that looked almost… kind. Warm. Gentle. Like he was trying to comfort you in his own way. And for some god-forsaken reason it actually worked.
You found yourself laughing and smiling and dancing along to songs in your chairs, your hand in his as he twirled you around like a record player. Just for this moment of time, he was not your work rival, not your enemy; he was just an old friend who had showed up when you needed him. And you let yourself get lost in that feeling. A break in the cycle.
It reminded you of the old days — your first months at the station under his guidance. It felt like a different lifetime now, your friendship had turned into a rivalry. This was a glimpse of what might have been if things had been different: if you hadn't been favoured by the executives, if you hadn't earned those high ratings and been awarded your first prime time slot show at his expense.
When a commercial break rolled in, he sighed and tilted his head as he studied you. "I didn't realise that man had that much of a hold on you still."
"Neither did I." And he didn't. He hadn't. But something about his call, about him requesting one of your favourite songs, about his voice sounding so full of love when he said your name — it had messed with your mind. It was a whole day later and you were only just starting to feel like yourself again.
"I think it's just because he hadn't called in a while. When we started, you know," you cleared your throat, "dating… He stopped calling. I thought it was done. Guess he was just taking a break."
He hummed in thought. "Yeah, that explains it. He's an ass hole for that, by the way."
"I don't disagree."
"Good," he smiled, "at least you have standards."
A familiar spark returned to you. Normalcy was returning, bit by bit. You offered him a playful pout. "Not very high ones if I'm dating you."
"Oh!" He gasped and clutched his chest. "My poor, poor heart. How ever will I survive this insult?"
"You can always leave," you reminded him with a helpful motion towards the door.
Seungcheol spun around in his chair. "No chance. I haven't filled my daily 'annoying (Y/n)' quota yet."
"Well, if you won't leave," you nodded towards the computer screens, "at least make yourself useful. Pick our next caller."
He smiled a little to bright when the commercial break ended. A few sentences later, he had the next call ready to go; one click and the familiar static filled your headphones.
"You're live on Well Wishes," you spoke, beating him to the mic with a short laugh. "What are you thinking and what can we play for you today?"
"Oh! (Y/n), I almost thought I called the wrong show," the familiar voice spoke.
Two days in a row. The universe had given you one small victory and decided to match it with an array of bad luck. You glared at the screen displaying the calls — tens of people currently on the line, waiting to get picked, and somehow the stars had aligned to remind you what suffering felt like.
Your one-sided staring contest with the computer screen was broken by the sound of fake gagging from your right side. Seungcheol was cringing and shaking his head and crossing his arms in an X motion as if to ward off an evil spirit. There seemed to be at least one thing the two of you could agree on.
"Sir, state your song choice," he interrupted your ex's soulful monologue. "The line is very, very busy today. I don't think we have the time to listen to your story right now."
Silence in the static. The sweet sound of a victory you hadn't expected. He was speechless and your heart was not aching this time.
Seungcheol smirked.
"Would you look at that," he silently mouthed at you, proud of himself like he had never been before. Out loud, he spoke again, "What song can we play for you?"
The only thing that sounded was the end-of-call tone. Tears of relief welled up in your eyes. You could have cheered and danced in joy.
"Oh, well, that's a shame," Seungcheol continued the broadcast as if he hadn't just intimidated your ex-boyfriend into hanging up on live radio. "Let's pick our next caller. Hopefully they have a good song ready to request."
Perhaps fake dating your enemy wasn't the worst decision you had ever made. Perhaps, you dared to think, it was turning out to be one of the better ones. Even if he was hogging your broadcast.
[You are listening to Words of Wisdom on Station SVT, 171.7 MHz]
"And that was the freshest hit of IU. What a great song. Hm. I see we don't have a lot of callers today, so how about we switch things up just for this one show? This time I am the one in need of advice.
"Say, there's this woman — you know this already; I haven't shut up about her all week, I think—, and we're doing fine— I just saw that concerned email you sent, KnittingRocks69; I promise we haven't broken up— Anyways. Everything's great but I just… feel like I should do better. I don't think I'm all that great at this entire boyfriend-thing. And I'm sure there are many listeners who are in a similar situation. So what can we do to be better boyfriends?
"Feel free to call in with your advice or send it via email. And, oh, we already have our first caller! Hello, what advice do you have for me today?"
Your desk was pink and yellow. It fluttered in the draft blowing in from the window. You were fairly certain it wasn't supposed to do that and you already knew who to blame for this.
"Choi Seungcheol!" you yelled out without even thinking about it for a second. He was the obvious culprit. And the bright grin he wore while pretending to enjoy the late morning view with his cold water was all the proof you needed.
Your glare only served to make him light up more. "Yes, darling?"
Infuriated, you gestured widely while he leisurely approached. "Why is my desk covered in sticky notes?"
Lips pursing into a pout, he contemplated and blinked as if he hadn't even noticed before. The corner of his mouth was twitching. "I figured you decorated it last night."
"Yeah? You thought I got bored after my broadcast and decided to cover the entire surface of my work space with neon sticky notes? That's what happened here?"
"It must have," he told you and this time he didn't even bother to pretend he wasn't smirking. "I only placed, what? Three hundred of these? Four, maybe? The rest of them were already here."
You felt your heart rate rocket as annoyance slowly started to give way to burning rage. A desk covered in paper cuts waiting to happen was never something you wanted to deal with. "Remove them."
"Why?"
"Because I would like to use my desk?" You knew you were playing right into his hand, fulfilling that sick prank-loving streak of his with your reactions. But getting irritated was so much easier than meditating and taking everything in stride. Besides, someone needed to yell at this man every once in a while lest his ego grew too big.
Seungcheol gave your desk another thoughtful look. Then he reached forward. He reached forward and made eye contact with you as he plucked a singular pink note off the desk and held it out for you to take like it was a gift. You snapped it from his fingers and threw it at his face in a crumpled ball. A perfect forehead shot.
"I'm going to go get some water," you told him slowly, eyes on him like a predator ready to pounce on a hare for being in the wrong spot, fingers pointing at the desk stiffly as you brushed past him, "and when I come back, this desk better be empty."
Immediately regret caught up with you and you turned on your heel to glare at him. "Scratch that. I want those sticky notes gone."
"Aw," he pouted and tapped your keyboard like it was a toy, "I already had the perfect place to hide your plant."
Your fingers were itching to grab the collar of his t-shirt and choke him with it. You found yourself stepping closer to him as you reiterated your point: "I didn't mean empty my desk—"
"If you're planning on kissing, could you do it someplace else?" a voice interrupted.
As if someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water over you, you sobered from your anger. Even Seungcheol looked a bit more flustered than usual. As you breathed, your chest just about brushed against his — a clear sign that you had gotten too close.
Your startled eyes met his and— Had there always been so many shades of brown in his eyes? Was that a speck of gold near the edge of his left iris? Had his lips always been so full and tempting? You had never seen him this up close before; that had to be the reason for the sudden thundering of your heart.
The silence stretched, seconds feeling like entire minutes until finally you jerked out his magnetic field, your gaze hardening as you stepped back and crossed your arms over your chest.
"And you did say you wanted the desk empty," Seokmin helpfully provided from his spot right next to your desk just then. He barely looked up from his magazine to offer a smile before turning back to it like he hadn't just provoked you. It seemed the list of traitors had a new member for a multitude of reasons.
"Fine," Seungcheol finally relented under your hardening glare.
Slowly, like a kid trying to get out of chores by doing them poorly, he began removing the notes. One from here, one from there, a third one from a completely different spot. There was no rhyme or reason to his work and it only served to annoy you further. His movements were stiff and almost unnatural as he gathered the notes in his left hand.
Now that he was further away, you could think properly again and the annoyance was back at full force. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, resisting the urge to throw something at him again. "It's going to take you hours at that rate."
The reply you earned started with a dramatic (theatrical, really) sigh. "I know. I'm really such a good boyfriend for sacrificing my time to help you, aren't I?"
"How noble of you."
"I know."
"Truly, I cannot thank you enough for your charitable nature," you deadpanned and walked towards the break room.
You needed space between yourself and this infuriating man. Because he irritated you. Drove you nuts. Made you unable to figure out whether you wanted to punch him or kiss his lips. Because he irritated you. Right. That was it.
There was not a single bone in your body that felt anything like attraction towards this man. When you looked at him just then, it was just pure objective observation. Choi Seungcheol was an attractive man by most standards; you clearly weren't entirely unsusceptible to his charms. None of it was romantic. None of it meant anything.
You gulped a glass of cold water and the world shifted back into place.
There was nothing romantic about the way he had kept you company at your show and scared your ex. Nor about the way he spoke of you on his show. Nor the way he kept you near in public, his arm always casually resting on your waist or hip, his presence a shield against the disbelieving stares of everyone that knew you.
No, you had not almost kissed Seungcheol. You did not want to kiss Seungcheol. The whole fake dating scheme had simply clouded your judgement and blended the boundaries of your hatred.
Satisfied with your conclusion, you smoothed your clothes and fixed your hair before walked back into the office space, fully expecting to find the devil himself still painfully plucking sticky notes off your desk.
Thankfully, he was not there. He was nowhere to be found, in fact. And neither were the three to four hundred sticky notes. Your desk was as clean as it had been when you left it last night.
Not entirely clean, actually, now that you looked at it closer. There was a singular obnoxiously pink note still on the desk. And next to it: a take-away cup from the coffee shop across the street and a paper bag lumpy with pastries, still warm from the oven.
"What's this?" you found yourself asking as you picked up the cup. It smelled like your favourite drink. A cautiously taken short sip confirmed that hypothesis.
You grabbed the note, scoffed in disbelief at the writing on it and stuffed the paper into your drawer.
'Don't let this fool you — I still don't like you much'
No, there was absolutely nothing romantic about any of this.
radio host!wonwoo x reader (f, no use of yn) / romance, mystery?, demon/ghost au / wc: 2k / warnings: eerie town vibes, mentions of living alone, wonwoo is a heavy music snob, heavy making out / r: 18+
summary: Wonwoo's late radio show boasts of knowing the most underground bands and playing only the uncut gems. Every night, the final call is from her, and she's not impressed. Also, every night, after the show is supposed to end, the call keeps going.
isa´s note: this is my entry for @studiosvt First Time Caller collab! I wish I had expanded this by a lot but there´s a lot in my head/schedule right now and despite being short, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Please don´t forget to check out the another entires on this collab, and thanks to the admins for letting me be apart of it (:
ON AIR
The neon sign turned on inside the soundproof booth while Wonwoo selected the records he had planned to play that night. Out of habit, he adjusted his round-framed glasses back and spoke lowly into the microphone.
“You're now tuned to CARAT FM. I'm Jeon Wonwoo, your host for the next few hours. Join me again on this foggy night to relive some of the greatest sounds, most of them recorded in places you've never heard of.”
If you were to choose a word to describe Jeon Wonwoo’s late-night radio show, it would definitely be melancholic.
Despite being still very young, Wonwoo despised digital media. Ironically, it was precisely digital spaces that had made his small-town radio show into the cult phenomenon it was amongst college kids around the country.
Mingyu, Wonwoo's best friend who still lived in the city, often sent him pictures of college students wearing CARAT FM hoodies and laptops covered in the radio logo stickers. One time, while going through a blog Mingyu had sent, Wonwoo realized he was called “The Mountain Hermit” and that people curated the show's lives to preserve it.
“These b-sides shouldn't exist! Where does he find them?” one comment said. “If he hadn't played it, it didn't exist,” said another.
Wonwoo had left Seoul after finishing college. Like fate, though he wasn’t fond of people who believed in destiny, he got an offer to take care of the small local station at the jagged peak of Blackmountain, a sprawling structure of wood and copper rods far from the center of town and from everything else Wonwoo was familiar with.
Exactly what he was looking for.
It was both his studio and sanctuary. The top floor was filled with vintage records from his personal collection, and gems left behind by the people who ran the station before him, now more years than he’s been alive. It was both his studio and his sanctuary.
Wonwoo rarely left his forte, which added to the local lore, since he was rarely seen outside and there were no pictures of him online. The couple of pictures on Mingyu's social media were from the early days of school, so he was mostly a mystery to all his followers. And Wonwoo liked it that way. They admired him for the curated music he played for them, not for himself. That was all this was about.
However, there were days when he did venture into the local scene, mostly to restock groceries, in his rusted-out Volvo, also left at the station; perfectly functioning, Wonwoo just had to remove the dust and clean the leather; and whenever he did, the town reacted as if a foreign creature had landed in their town square.
He'd be standing in line to pay for something, or filling up the gas tank, and the conversations would stop. At first, he thought it was just a normal small-town quirk; he was pretty young, and most people in town were no less than fifty, with all the younger people leaving as soon as they were of college age. But when the eerie looks and dead silence persisted every time he showed up, Wonwoo knew something about him, specifically, was the cause.
To the people online, he was a vibe; for the people in Blackmountain, he was a ticking clock.
Wonwoo never noticed how people walked wide circles around him, or how the local police always pulled over to watch him pass. He didn't realize they weren't admiring his youth, or that he was a loner in a town where everyone knew each other's names. They were looking for his shadow, which was still attached, looking at his ears to see if they'd started bleeding yet.
“... And that was a B-side, recorded in 1973, in West Berlin,” He leaned back into his leather chair, boots over the switchboard, microphone really close to his mouth. “They only played 3 shows, and two of them were inside a laundromat. If you listen closely on the two-minute mark, there’s the faint sound of someone dropping coins just in the right moment of dead silence… that’s as raw as it gets. Anyway, I'll take some calls now. Please do not ask for any movie soundtrack.”
The line 1 blinked immediately.
This surprised him, usually the first caller was way past into the first hour of the show.
“That was very good, Wonwoo,” your soft voice said on the other side of the line. It was melodic and surprisingly clear, cutting through the usual hiss of the station. “But the pressing you’re playing is from that one show that wasn’t done at a laundromat. The mastering is far too bright, there’s none of the gray vibe we were starting with, don’t you think?”
Wonwoo blinked, sititng up straight. “I- well, the original pressing is nearly impossible to find, I suppose there could be a mixing in the recordings for this particular one… What’s your name?” He stuttered a little, feeling a bit taken aback.
“Before I tell you my name, let me tell you about pure raw remasters. Have you heard BSS? They were an experimental trio based in Seoul in the late fifties. Fun fact, they used tuned light bulbs as percussion.”
Wonwoo’s brows furrowed. He knew everything about the experimental scene of Seoul of the fifties like his own name… nothing in his brain clicked when it came to an experimental trio named BSS.
“Check the return slot in the mail bin; delivery should have arrived already,” you said. Wonwoo stood up hurriedly, and at the same time, he replied that the lobby was already locked. He had the station open for everyone in case someone decided to visit. That had never happened so far, but he was sure to lock it when he was inside the booth.
He sprinted out of the booth into the lobby, finding a 7-inch record encased in a sleeve of hand-pressed paper inside the mail slot. No name, no address. Just a small, hand-drawn map of the stars on the center ring.
He hurried back into the booth, heart thumping loudly inside. “I found the record. How did you send it here? Who are you?”
“A fan of deep cuts, Wonwoo. Play it, let’s see if you can really appreciate curated music as you claim.”
As he lowered the needle, a sound so fragile and crystalline played. Hauntingly beautiful. He sat there looking straight into the record spinning for a good minute, defining what he was hearing as a color he didn’t know existed yet. He was captivated, but more than that, flustered that he had been out-snobbed.
“This is incredible. Where did you find this?”
There was no answer, just the faint rhythmic hum of the dial tone.
Wonwoo stared at the record, unable to know what to play next for the rest of the night, except this. Mesmerized by the music, he had no way of knowing the entire town of Blackmountain had stopped on its tracks, and was now looking up towards the faint lights emerging from the radio tower. The red neon light ON AIR wasn’t red anymore; it was a pulsing violet.
Everyone except Jeon Wonwoo realized that the music meant the guest was coming.
The next few weeks were a slow-motion collapse of Wonwoo’s carefully structured world. He stopped preparing playlists or reading his vintage music magazines. He became possessed, sitting in the booth, staring at the console's flickering lights, waiting for the phone to ring.
Each night you called. And each night, you humbled him.
“Oh, you’re playing an unreleased bass solo from The8?” Your voice sounded close, as if you were sitting right beside him. “Anyhow, that record you can still find on any vintage curated music store in Haicheng, a little bit commercial, don’t you think?”
“Commercial?” Wonwoo replied. Adjusting his glasses and straightening up in the chair. “This is one of the only fifty copies ever made, not even The8 himself knew these were being recorded.”
You sighed. “Right. But have you heard about the five copies made of his record-breaking solo in the monastery in Shanghai, I believe from 1965, the one he got banned from the city for?”
“Of course.” He replied bitterly. “That’s impossible to find, only five tapes, all lost to the authorities who kicked him out.”
“Look under the turntable platter, the one that’s been wobbling for ages…”
Wonwoo lifted the heavy rubber mat of the Technics SL-1200, and tucked in the spindle was a strip of magnetic tape, and there it was.
“How..?” his hands were shaking as he placed the record into the reel-to-reel. When he hit play, what came out was the exact moment when The8, the most prominent bass player of China, made his fingers bleed with a bass solo of more than 10 minutes. Every sound was there. From the bass strings to the wind, and people amazed by this artist rebelling against the authorities that wanted to ban music all those years back. The sound of officials taking him down and telling him to leave the monastery. It was all there until it got cut off the recording, and it was something Wonwoo never imagined to be playing on his small town radio show.
“God. That was…” He leaned into the mic, forgetting thousands of people were listening, and only speaking to you. “You are ruining me. Now my collection seems so… thin.”
“Wonwoo,” you said softly. “We’ve been flirting with frequency for weeks, don’t you think it’s time we met?”
Wonwoo felt a jolt. He muttered something into the mic, remembering there were people listening.
“No one else is listening, it´s only you and me tonight,” you assured him.
“You want to come to the station? It´s like 2 in the morning…”
“I´m already at the gate.”.
Wonwoo didn’t hesitate. He ran to the front door, his heart hammering inside his chest as he rang the buzzer of the gate to open it. It was against all logic. How did you get here so fast? How did you manage to get him the records from places inside the station? None of it made sense… yet that was the last of his worries right now.
He adjusted his glasses, straightened his sweater, and pushed the hair over his face back. The signal strength meter on the wall was now blinking red, and it vibrated so hard that it cracked. The clock on the wall started clicking backward.
He then saw you getting closer. You were exactly like he expected, yet nothing like he imagined. You were covered by a coat that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Your shiny hair brings light to your face.
“You are real.” He breathed. The snob persona vanishes completely at the sight of you.
You smiled, getting even closer until you could trace soft lines across his sharp jawline. Your fingers felt cold, yet they sent waves of heat across his skin.
“I don’t even know your name,” Wonwoo breathed again, placing both hands across your waist, cautiously but firmly.
You leaned in, lips brushing against his. “What am I to you?”
Wonwoo replied almost instantly. “My muse.”
You then kissed him, lips brushing at first, then embracing his mouth and tongue slowly, savoring every second you were connected. He kissed you back eagerly, as if he hadn’t kissed anyone else before you, but had all the experience in the world.
His hands roamed up and down from your back to your hips, and you threw your arms across his neck. Soon you were back at the booth. Lost in the heat, he reached for the master fader to lower the volume, but your hand caught his, pinning it to the desk.
“Hmm,” you hummed against his lips. “Leave it up. Let them hear what happens next.”
Outside the radio tower, the people of Blackmountain were engulfed by the flickering lights. Their shadows had left their bodies and were now dancing out on their porch, to the rhythmic pulse coming from the station. They knew what Wonwoo didn’t. That he was about to become one with the static, the sound, and the waves he loved to play for others.
Right now, CARAT FM is broadcasting the news that he had accepted her invitation.
🎥 banner in collab w @cherrytigercreations / buy prints here
pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader
genre: smut, fluff, lots of angst, friends to lovers
summary: after one impulsive hookup in college, you and your best friend, wonwoo, decide to stay just that — friends. years later, you’re both still pretending that’s enough. and because neither of you is brave enough to risk ruining what you have, you choose the most logical solution possible: you start setting him up on dates with other women.
warnings: major slowburn / smut at the end, oral (f!recieving), fingering, unprotected sex, praise, wonwoo service top 4ever<3, miscommunication, fixer!reader, reader and wonwoo are major idiots in love, mutual pining (over almost a decade). nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).
word count: 33.2k
note: first thing I wanna state — I’m so incredibly sorry for how long this took! if you saw some of my posts over the last few months, you know how I just kept getting sick and that really deterred writing this, BUT I FINISHED IT 🙌 second thing — I need you guys to prepare in advance to either get incredibly annoyed by the reader or relate to her a little more than you’d like to admit LOL it might hurt but I promise the payoff is worth it !! at the end of the day, I really like writing real stories that could happen to anyone. no matter what age you are, there might be a moment where you’re a little messy or you avoid your feelings for your best friend for years! lol I hope this makes you feel things and maybe even cry a lil. I won’t tell 😇 enjoy friends! (taglist posted at the bottom.)
also a huge thank you to @cherrytigercreations for collabing with me on the banner! we have been friends for so long and I’m so excited we finally found an opportunity to create something. please check out her shop here! 💓
in rotation: blame me, monsta x / move me, charli xcx / another life, sza / our day will come, amy winehouse / daylight, taylor swift / it's always you, chet baker / soft, lany / like the movies, laufey
I.
I looked at him, and I thought, “If I was very brave or very honest, I would tell him.” I would say it, so he would know it and I would know it, and I could never take it back. But I wasn’t that brave or honest, so all I did was look at him. And I think he knew anyway. –JENNY HAN
April 22, 2017
You always woke up before your alarm, but something was different this time. Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the pile of clothes strewn underneath the bed. The dorm walls were bare and that ugly yellow color, instead of being covered in your favorite movie posters. A fan was whirring in the corner of the room. The TV was still on, projecting the title screen of the game you and Wonwoo had been playing last night.
That was when you realized this wasn’t your room. This was Wonwoo’s.
And all your clothes weren’t on.
Creeping your hand up from the sheets, you turned the alarm off on your defective Android that your dad bought you for the cheapest price possible. Sometimes the alarm didn’t work, but you didn’t want to chance it this morning. You carefully moved off the mattress, almost falling when you noticed that this twin sized bed was higher up than the one in your dorm, and began to put on your discarded clothes.
The frame creaked.
Your body froze, unsure what to do, before you continued to step into your leggings and turned around.
Wonwoo was sitting up, the bedsheets falling carelessly down and exposing his bare torso. His was skinnier than you assumed. The oversized shirts he wore concealed his lanky form, but it was intentional. His hair was sticking up in every other direction as he put on his glasses, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. His frames were broken on one side, the arm being held together with shitty tape.
When he finally noticed you standing and putting your legs into the tight spandex of your leggings, he remembered everything that happened the night before. You asking to come over past visiting hours. The video game. The kiss. Needing relaxation before a grueling set of final exams next week. “Maybe we should try,” you had said. “Just once,” he had agreed. And now, there was a used condom in his trash can and he was trying not to gawk at it.
You were both just sophomores in college, but you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. Especially when it meant crossing the lines of friendship.
Tugging on your shoes, you said, “Maybe I should –”
“Coffee?” He suggested, voice rough from sleep. It affected you, somewhat, and you realized how much you liked him like this: unpolished and disheveled. “Avalon dining hall has free coffee and pastries on Saturday mornings.”
You nodded, all awkward. “Sure.”
Following slightly behind him, you walked to the dining hall, trying not to make eye contact with any classmate that passed by. You wondered if they could see it written all over your face: not exactly shame, but something deeper. Maybe self-consciousness, like you’d been caught in the act. Wonwoo was wearing the same t-shirt from the day you met in class – the one with a small hole on the sleeve, a faded graphic of Godzilla on the front – as the morning sun beat down on you two, promising a hot summer ahead.
You picked out a table in the dining hall as Wonwoo went up to get your coffees. He put them in paper cups rather than mugs. Avalon food was good, but the dishware tended to be sticky, even when they cleaned it. He found you at the small table in the corner, somehow holding two coffees while balancing a plastic plate of chocolate croissants on top of one. You accepted your coffee with a tense smile, immediately taking a sip and forgetting how hot it would be. Wincing, you pulled apart one of the croissants, hand pulling back quickly when your fingers almost touched his.
You two had been friends since freshman year, and you had never shied away from him like this. But after last night … it was like his fingertip had the ability to electrocute.
Silence echoed. The dining hall was only partially filled – it was the weekend, after all – and you had said hi to your friend, Seungkwan, when he passed. Neither of you were looking at each other, eyes focused on something else. For Wonwoo, it was the bee buzzing just outside the window next to your table.
You cleared your throat as you traced the rim of your coffee cup. “Well, I guess this awkwardness proves that we’d be terrible at casual.”
Finally, he relented. Your playful comment making a snort escape from his lips. You couldn’t help but smile, still staring at your cup. “Yeah. Imagine what it would be like if we actually tried,” he quipped.
Your eyes lifted to his, stunned for a moment. Just a moment. Because you couldn’t dwell on what “actually tried” meant. Dating? Wanting? Choosing each other on purpose? You were both just shy of 21. You couldn’t possibly know what you wanted.
But then the night was coming back in flashes. You remembered the way he kissed you slow at first, before deepening it and how you couldn’t hold back the moan when his tongue explored your mouth. He had taken his glasses off, making sure to cautiously place them on his bedside table, or else they would break again, and he was so … handsome. Well, of course, Wonwoo was handsome. You weren’t blind. But it was different up close, without his glasses. When he was staring at you not just like a friend, but as something more. Like you were everything he had ever dreamed of. It was just you and him breathing heavily against each other’s mouths while taking in your appearances, and then going in for the kiss again. Last night had been his first time going down on a girl, but it had been the best experience of your life. Granted, you only had one person go down on you before him. His talent was truly unmatched though. And the way it felt when he finally pushed into you –
Only a second passed. It had felt like hours.
You laughed too fast, shaking your head. “We’d have ruined everything.”
Wonwoo paused, a mere breath. “Or –”
You watched him. Even your finger on the rim of your cup hesitated, as if your entire world depended on the next words that came out of his mouth.
He closed his mouth, smiling, and then shrugged. “Yeah,” he agreed, “ruined everything.”
In freshman year psychology, your professor had briefly touched on origin wounds – deep, emotional scars that shape core beliefs about self-worth, safety, and especially, trust, making you repeat patterns in adulthood. You didn’t realize it at the time, and Wonwoo surely didn’t mean for it, but this was one of your origin wounds: the point where everything went wrong by dishonesty, by being too reasonable.
Maybe it was an origin wound for both of you.
Your expression was perfectly schooled, lips curving up as you reached across the table with your hand. “Just friends?”
He hesitated, biting his lip for the longest minute of your life. Until eventually … his large palm closed over yours.
“Just friends,” he promised. “Hopefully, for many years to come.”
February 12, 2026
Dusting snow flurries off his black beanie, Wonwoo was grateful that you gave the second key to your building to him rather than someone else. Not that you wanted anyone besides him in your personal space, anyway. You weren’t answering your phone when he arrived, so he let himself in, setting his wet hat and gloves on the antique space heater you still kept in your kitchen. It was so old; you were pretty sure it came from your grandmother that died before you were born. But it worked like a champ, and he was able to shed off his coat just before the pizza box almost fell from his hands.
Ever since you both moved to the city 3 years ago, you established a ritual for him to come over to your apartment on Thursday nights and watch a movie you both never saw before while dining on some of the worst reviewed takeout spots. You both begged to differ. Thursday movie night just made sense, seeing as the two of you bonded in a college course on the history of cinema.
He turned his head to catch the apologetic smile you were throwing his way. That’s why you hadn’t answered his text. Despite the late hour, despite the fact that you left the office three hours ago … you were on the phone with your boss about a change in his flight. You weren’t his assistant; you were actually far above that in the company. But you always agreed to help. If you didn’t answer his call, no one would.
Plopping down on the couch beside you, Wonwoo scrolled through his phone and listened as you talked your anxiety-ridden boss down from the ledge. It reminded him of last week when he came over and you quickly told him to set down the pizza in the kitchen while you sat on your bathroom floor and smoothed over a conflict your work friend, Jennifer, had texted you about. Something about a boyfriend. You didn’t sweat it, never missing a moment to give practical advice.
He had been watching you fix everyone else’s problems your entire friendship – half amused, half exhausted by how you never did the same for yourself. It’s always been something you never had a problem doing, but he saw how much it weighed on you. You never complained though. He wondered sometimes if it was tearing you up inside to complain. Just once.
When you finally got off the phone, you let out the heaviest sigh and fell back, resting your head on his thigh. Physical contact like this had never meant much to the both of you, but still, his finger did stop scrolling. His breathing paused, too focused on himself to notice that maybe yours had faltered too.
“Sorry about that,” you muttered. “Sal put extra cheese on the pizza, right?”
Wonwoo clicked off his phone and let it collapse on the couch cushion. Instead of answering your question, he said, “You’re always doing that – fixing people. I’m sure your boss could’ve figured that out on his own.” He looked down, meeting your eyes as they tilted up to his. “I know you’ve insisted it’s not a big deal, but –”
“Trust me, he wouldn’t have been able to figure that out. He’s never struggled with anything in his life.” You played with your fingers on your lap. “Besides, being praised at work after I help someone feels better than anything, even an orgasm.”
Your latter comment made him bite the inside of his cheek, just for a second, and he ignored it before adding, “It’s not just at work. It happens all the time. You know I’m right.”
You exhaled even louder, more dramatic, and sat up. Your hair was slightly messed up in the back, but you felt his eyes on you. Felt them burning into your cheek as if he had powers. Wonwoo always looked at you that way: like he cared a little too much, kind of like the way he stared at you when you were young and stupid in that godforsaken dorm room. You couldn’t deny that you were guilty of doing the same sometimes, whether it be in a dark movie theater where he was far too focused on the screen, or when he took the liberty ordering for you at a bar because he knew the bartender liked him. And maybe you did care a little too much, but that didn’t matter. Because it couldn’t matter.
Wonwoo would always just be … Wonwoo.
Shifting your gaze to his, you sent him a small smile and asked, “So which movie did you pick out for us tonight?”
After scrolling through multiple streaming apps, Wonwoo finally found the one hosting this horror movie that was recommended to him – Swiped. It was a modern day nightmare about a woman using an app to get back into dating and accidentally wound up on a date with a serial killer. Definitely an indie film, so they didn’t hold back on the gory scenes, which you watched with your hands over your eyes, peaking out slightly between your fingers. Wonwoo, on the other hand, didn’t shy away, but still watched the bloody scene of the killer’s past with his top lip curled in disgust. He set down the pizza slice in his hand onto a paper plate and leaned back into the couch.
“This is the exact reason why dating apps don’t work. You don’t know if you could end up with a serial killer,” he commented, crossing his arms over his chest.
You turned your head, desperate not to look at the TV. “Have you ever actually been on a date from an app? I can’t remember the last time you even told me you went on a date.”
He sent you a glare. “You’re one to talk. The last time you dated was that older guy who you stopping talking to after he wanted to be exclusive.”
“Sean was asking too much of me. He wanted to see me every weekend and I love my friends too much.” You glanced at the scene to see the killer’s particularly creepy face and cringed, looking back to your friend. “Now, answer the question.”
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I … okay, never. What’s your point?”
Good question. Your nose wrinkled as you thought about the last time Wonwoo dated. It had to be years ago, even longer than you. Just after college and you were both already hyper fixating on a quarter-life crisis. It was before you both moved, and you remembered him casually dating this girl. What was her name? Sally? Seoyun? Selena? Too different, but you thought he introduced you to her once. He broke it off before it got too serious, when you both got opportunities of a lifetime to work in the heart of the city.
He wasn’t dating. Hadn’t been for years. Not seriously. Not casually. He was always “busy,” always “just fine.”
You noticed. Of course, you did.
“Soooo …” You murmured, dragging out the word as you slowly met his eyes. Your tone was smooth, almost blasé. “Are you ever going to date again?”
Wonwoo arched an eyebrow. “You’re full of questions tonight. Why do you care?”
Your gaze narrowed. “Oh, I don’t know, Wonwoo. Maybe it’s because you’re my best friend.” You tossed a throw pillow at him and it hit him right in the face. He had never been good with dexterity, even though he was great at video games.
His glasses were knocked onto the floor and he laughed, picking them up before settling against the cushions once more. He fixed them back onto his face, but the frames – no matter how new – were still crooked on him.
When his laughter died down, he shrugged, lacing his fingers together on his chest as he watched the movie. “Haven’t met anyone worth the effort.”
There was nothing dramatic about his tone. He wasn’t bitter. He said it like a fact.
The words stuck, lodging themselves somewhere deep. Not in your head, not in your chest. Even deeper. In your ribs, nestled in a cage of your own making.
Because his answer wasn’t “anyone interesting” or “anyone I like.” He mentioned effort, no matter how indifferent he sounded. You had known Wonwoo for almost a decade. You knew what he was like when something was worth the effort.
So you laughed it off – albeit awkwardly – because you couldn’t stand the silence. “Well, that’s fixable.”
“Here you go again.” But then he finally glanced at you, curiosity peaked. “Is … is it?”
You nodded, body completely facing him now, as you rested your elbow on the back of the couch. Grinning at him, you replied, “Mmhmm. You’re just not meeting the right people. I know, like …” You lifted a few fingers. “… Five women off the top of my head for you.”
A corner of his mouth tugged up. “One of those isn’t your cousin that tried kissing me at your graduation party, right?”
“Don’t make me throw another pillow at you.” You playfully hit his arm. “I’m being serious. I think it all comes down to that.”
He turned back to the screen, just when the main character gasped at the killer’s monologue. Wonwoo was usually quiet, but this silence was different. He wasn’t arguing at your response, but he clearly wasn’t excited either. It was as if he was resigning himself to whatever fate you bestowed upon him.
And then he gently mumbled, “If you think so.”
Haven’t met anyone worth the effort.
You thought about his answer longer than you should. What was meant to be an uninterested string of words to shrug you off struck you somewhere that you hadn’t felt before. They were heavy; you could practically feel them rolling around in your brain like marbles. You pondered them, even at the office, when you should be focusing on work. Even at night, when sleep just wouldn’t come to you. As you took the train to work, when all you could hear was the singing of some elderly man at the back of the car.
Despite the way you laughed off awkward situations, you always listened to Wonwoo, always took in every word he said. One time, after drinking a single margarita because he was a lightweight when it came to tequila, he drunkenly told you that no one had ever listened to him like you did. But last night’s conversation hit … different, in a way that had you picking at your cuticles again. Maybe you cared too much. But was it really that bad to care too much for someone that had become your rock?
You couldn’t harp on it, too afraid of the real answer.
You had just gotten home, still wearing the cardigan you wore to the office even after changing into a pair of worn out pajama bottoms. The kind that you probably got as a teenager, but the fabric had stretched out so much that they still fit. You were chopping up some veggies for whatever haphazard rice bowl you were throwing together for dinner. Sometimes you would eat a pepper slice, other times you’d throw it in the pan. Your mind wandered though: on emails, reminding yourself that you needed to text back your dad, and – oh, the thing that Wonwoo said last week that simply wouldn’t leave your brain.
He deserves someone great, you thought to yourself. Clearly, you weren’t an option, not that you were expecting to be. If he fell for someone else, maybe you’d finally stop looking at him like –
You let the thought die before it could finish.
On lonely nights, when it was only you and your vibrator, some audio porn blasting through your AirPods, you wondered if you both had tried after that hookup before finals … what would’ve happened? Would you still be as close as you are now? Would you still be this much of a fixer and would he still be too “busy” to date anyone else?
Even worse: would you have been worth the effort?
You set down the knife on the cutting board, closing your eyes as you gripped the counter. Your head shook, as if pushing the question out before it could take root. But that’s when the feelings you pushed down for so long bubbled up all over again. Calling it a “crush” felt trivial, like you were two kids at recess. It was more like … a feeling that lingered. A curse. A spirit that haunted you.
Because, at your heart of hearts, you knew it shouldn’t ever happened. You and Wonwoo had the chance years ago, but it wasn’t in the cards. You were meant to be friends and that was fine. (Truly, it was.) Your curse would go away soon enough, even if it took another 8 years of friendship.
Rewinding back to your conversation last week absolutely wasn’t helping. You turned, pressing your back against the kitchen counter as the peppers started to sizzle in the hot pan. Taking your phone out of your pocket, you began scrolling through the contacts in your phone. It was in this moment that you reverted back to your old ways, doing what you always did when you were the least bit hurt: you were going to fix.
II.
I think I’ve loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity. –ALICE OSEMAN
September 16, 2015
Maybe Wonwoo had been right; maybe this was a problem for you. But no case ever started as “I’m going to fix this person.”
The first inkling happened after you read Jane Austen’s Emma in senior year of high school. You weren’t a matchmaker by any means, and you certainly weren’t wealthy, nor all that clever, but you related to Emma Woodhouse in ways that were beyond you. And once you got to college, where you could start off with a clean state and become your own person, you found your purpose beginning to sprout.
There was a girl in your ENG 101 class named Kat – loner type, the kind to always sit in the back and mind her own business. You observed her from your spot in the corner, watched the way she stayed silent and twirled the same piece of dark hair around her finger. She didn’t talk in class. Didn’t talk to anyone, really. Freshman year of college was hard enough as it was, but it was even worse when you were extremely introverted. Not that you had made many friends yet; you just knew how to make conversation. Always had. If you needed a friend and so did Kat, what harm would it be to help each other?
You approached her once class ended, hugging your notebook to you chest as you flashed the most endearing, pearly-white smile at her. You told her your name as she cautiously stood from her seat, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Do you want to grab lunch with me?” You asked brightly. “I think we also have the same first year seminar next. Maybe we could walk together to it after lunch!”
Surprisingly, Kat accepted your offer. Maybe she felt like she couldn’t exactly say no, but that wasn’t for you to assume. You showed her your current favorite dining area – Lincoln Hall – where they made the best burritos on campus. “They can sometimes make your stomach turn if you haven’t had any breakfast,” you explained, “but they’re worth it. Don’t let the chef intimidate you. Just ignore him.”
You quickly realized just how shy Kat was. She had a habit of keeping to herself and only spoke when spoken to. It took almost the whole lunch to get something out of her, as if she was trying to make it impossible to peel back her layers. But when she finally broke a moment of silence with, “These burritos are that good,” you knew that you were getting somewhere.
“Aren’t they? I love that they actually use fresh veggies,” you replied, wiping sauce from your top lip.
“They remind me of these ones I used to get back home.” She shrugged, pensive. “I miss it sometimes.”
Your interest peaked. “Home? Where are you from?”
She was a couple states south of here, while you were more north. Two opposite ends that somehow met on the same campus. Once she crumped up the empty wrapper, she mused, “You must’ve had a lot of friends back home.”
Your brow knitted together. “Not exactly. Just a small group that I had known since middle school, but I’ve always just been social. When I enrolled here, I really wanted to find new people. My parents always said that the people you meet in college are with you for life.” You traced the edge of the table. “Have … you met anyone else on campus?”
She looked a little caught off guard for a minute, and then shrunk into her jacket. “Besides you? Well … no.”
You tilted your head to the side. Kat stuffed her hands into her pockets and let the silence envelope her until it became too awkward. You realized that in order to get her to open up, you needed to beat her at her own game. It was a lot more difficult than you thought.
“I know it’s only the third week of classes, but I’m just …” She sighed, getting to her feet and grabbing her backpack. “… Nervous about making friends. And getting close to other people. I’ve always been kind of an introvert, but now …”
You followed her move, walking with her outside the dining hall and heading to the Roosevelt building across campus, where your seminar was. “Is there a reason for that?” You asked, and then bumped her elbow with yours, a smile on your lips. “You can tell me. I think we’re friends now.”
Kat chewed on her bottom lip, debating her answer, until eventually, she cracked. “My friends from high school were … not very nice. My mom used to think they were toxic. Whatever you want to call them, they didn’t make me feel good.” She only looked at her feet as you walked together. “High school was hard and I was so scared about being without friends. But they always made me feel like I was a bother. Sometimes they wouldn’t even invite me over. I just let it happen though because I was afraid of being alone. I told myself that college would different.”
“Kat,” you murmured, grabbing her arm so her eyes met yours. You both stopped midstep in the center of the campus courtyard, blooming with life. “I don’t get the vibe that you could ever be a bother. College is the time to make friends, not shy away from them.”
You made due on your words, always making time to have lunch with her after ENG 101, but also introducing her to a few of your classmates from your History of Cinema course. Kasey and Jun were also on the quieter side, but they had way more in common with Kat than you did. Bringing them all together meant you saw Kat less, but she still made the effort to speak to you in class.
By the time fall semester ended, you and Kat were merely acquaintances, but you didn’t really mind all that much. You had become close with your classmate, Wonwoo, also from History of Cinema, as well as a few other girls that lived in the same building as you. Wonwoo was shy like Kat, but he knew when to exactly open himself up, and he always did around you. Sometimes you wondered if you were merely attracted to introverted people, but you didn’t want to be friends with Wonwoo to help him. There was a warmth to his friendship that you hadn’t experienced before, something that you told that he would be in your life for a long time.
When you and Wonwoo were in line for dinner, you noticed Kat leaving the dining hall with not just Kat and Jun, but a few others as well. She had clearly blossomed over the last couple of months, and you felt a sense of accomplishment that tingled throughout your body, from your head to your toes. This was the type of feeling you wanted all the time: purpose, connection, serotonin.
You looked on her fondly, knowing that you helped give her a little push, and your self-esteem seemed to skyrocket. Kat glanced over her shoulder, meeting your eyes then, and waved. Matching her wave with a smile, you then felt Wonwoo’s breath at your ear as he asked, “Who’s that?”
You shrugged. “An old friend.”
February 18, 2026
The coffee at the office was tasting particularly burnt this morning. To be fair, you saw the technician that fixed the machine every couple of months stride through the double doors just after you sat down with your cup. A couple of your coworkers were already fawning over him from the doorway of the kitchenette. You watched them, just over the edge of your cubicle, with a raised brow. The local technician, Seokmin, was definitely handsome and had the kind of biceps you only saw on a bodice ripper romance book, but you had too many emails to waste time on watching him repair the coffee machine.
No matter how much you wanted to.
You took another sip from your cup and winced. Still burnt.
Resting your chin on your fist, you scrolled through the piles of emails that you were copied on but didn’t actually involve your position. You played music softly from the speakers of your monitor, not exactly caring who heard. This was what would happen until you were rewarded with your own office space. Despite your Marketing Director role, the building in general was “far too small” to grant you an office, so you’d make your coworkers’ life a living hell in your cubicle until your boss grew tired of it. He would eventually. Men, especially in positions of power, always caved.
As your fingers began dancing across the keyboard, you heard the doors swing open and the loud scuffle of your coworker, Jennifer’s, ballet flats. You looked up, noting the red in her eyes, the way her cheeks flushed and her mouth was in a flat line. She smoothed back the curls in her perfectly styled pixie cut, huffed, and then dropped her lunch bag onto her desk all the way at the end of the row from yours.
Now that was perplexing. Jennifer was always in a good mood.
Your fingers paused on the keys, and just when you were about to get up and talk with her, she stormed in the direction of the bathroom. You heard her start to sniffle, but the sound was eventually muffled by the door to the women’s bathroom closing behind her. When one of your desk mates sent you a look, you took that as a sign to go check on her.
Getting to your feet, you smoothed down the wrinkles in your blouse and quickly made your way to the bathroom, sneaking a glance at Seokmin working his magic on the coffee machine in the process. (He really was handsome. Maybe you could help fix him up with someone here if he was single.) You pushed on the door and immediately found Jennifer at the sinks, sniffling as she wiped her eyes. She met your gaze in the mirror and already began stuttering, “Oh, I – I’m – let me j-just –”
You saddled up next to her and put a hand on her arm. “Don’t be silly, Jen,” you whispered, grabbing more paper towels from behind you and handing it to her. “Here, take these. What’s going on?”
Jennifer blew her nose into the paper towels, and the sound was so loud that it startled you. You blinked rapidly and she grumbled, “Sorry,” but it was muffled by the makeshift tissue.
“It’s okay,” you replied, trying to hide your chuckle. But soon enough, you were both sharing a laugh, giggling over the absolute absurdity of it all at 9 AM. You squeezed her arm as she blew her nose again.
“I hoped no one would see me like this, but …” She exhaled hard, tossing her snotty paper towel in the trash before checking her appearance in the mirror. Grimacing, she fixed the strands that had fallen out of her gelled hairstyle.
Your grip slipped away as you arched a brow. “Do you … want to talk about it?”
She straightened her back, smoothing out the wrinkle in her shirt, before asking, “Do you remember the guy I had texted you about week ago? We hadn’t been dating long, but I asked for your advice –”
“Matty?”
Jennifer rolled her eyes instantly, the name striking a sense of irritation in her that even she was unable to hide. “Yes,” she admitted, and then rubbed at her nose. “The day after I texted you for advice … we actually broke up, but I was too embarrassed to tell you or make you think your advice didn’t work.”
Your brow relaxed. “Jen, it doesn’t offend me that my advice didn’t work. I just care that you’re okay.” And it was the truth, but you couldn’t help but be a little miffed that she didn’t follow your guidance after you made time out of your movie night with Wonwoo to prioritize her problem. That was neither here nor there. Jennifer was your friend after all.
“I just …” She wrung out her hands in front of her, looking down at the dent in her favorite flats. “I saw him at a coffee shop today and it brought back a lot of emotions that I thought were starting to go away. We had only been together for, like, five months, but it still feels so … icky to think that it could’ve worked out and it didn’t.”
“Icky?” You repeated, and then let the word turn over in your brain. “That does feel quite icky, doesn’t it?”
“Very!” She huffed, her palms slapping against her sides. “Because here I am crying over a guy that clearly doesn’t like me anymore, and I can’t stop wondering if I’ll ever be good enough. Like … what is it about me that made our relationship not work?”
Sensing that this was going to be a longer conversation, you leaned against the faucet and leveled a look at her. “Jen, you can’t think like that. You’ll just make yourself go crazy, and I can guarantee that it wasn’t you in the first place.”
She sent you a soft smile. With the amount of times she came to you for advice, it almost felt weird to continuously thank you. “You know, when you turn – let’s say … 20 – you think that you have it all figured out by now. I thought this stuff would get easier, but I can’t help but feel like I’m in college all over again.”
A tingle ran through you, the kind that started at your hairline and trickled all the way down to your legs. Her words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, because you – the person who always had her life together, who pretended like she had it all figured out – constantly felt that way. Sometimes you wondered if you were that transparent, if everyone could tell that you liked fixing so you wouldn’t have to mend any of the problems in your own life. You weren’t just a body anymore. You were merely a piece of cling wrap, translucent and waiting to mold yourself to the next thing that needed you.
But maybe that was just you being too in your head, because no matter what, everyone came to you. And you’d drop everything. It was easier than having to face the fact that you still felt so small, so 20-something, insecure and overworked in a body that was pushing 30.
“No matter what age you are, you’re never gonna have your life completely together,” you mused, a small passing comment that you were hoping would end the conversation before it got too deep. Jennifer reached over you and grabbed another paper towel to wipe her nose. You took the opportunity to ask, “Are you … open to dating again? Seeing someone else can be the perfect way to get over Matty.”
Jennifer shrugged. “If the man is nice enough, sure.”
Wonwoo’s smile appeared in your head then, all the kind things he did for you over the years flashing through like a movie montage. You remembered the time he spent a whole week studying with you just so you would pass your Physics exam. The time he brought you a new pair of slacks when you split coffee all over yourself before a job interview. The time he picked you up from a Renaissance faire when it got flooded out. Or all the times he was there for you when he didn’t have to be.
He was nice enough. More than that. And yet, he hadn’t met anyone worth the effort.
You pushed off the edge of the sink. “You know, my friend, Wonwoo, wants to try dating again –”
Her eyes immediately flickered to yours. “The Wonwoo? As in your friend? I didn’t think he was single.”
“Why?” You cocked your head.
“Well, it’s just … the way you talk about him …” She was avoiding eye contact now. “And the way he was hanging off you when you brought him to last year’s company holiday party …”
You rolled your eyes. “To be fair, he got way more intoxicated than intended. Anyway, he’s very single, and actually … you two might get along.”
“How so?”
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. In that moment, you couldn’t think of one thing – not even a lie – to convince Jennifer to go out with your best friend. They didn’t have anything in common, but that wasn’t typically a requirement for Wonwoo. He liked different.
“Well, I … haven’t exactly thought that far yet,” you admitted, sending her an awkward smile. “But he’s nice. Extremely nice. And you’re good with conversation. He can be difficult to come out of his shell, but I think you could do it.”
She sighed, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror. The redness in her eyes had faded, and she admired the natural flush of her cheeks as she fidgeted with her hair again. Eventually, she looked at you again with a shy smile, and then whispered, “I did think he was pretty cute at the holiday party.”
The game development company Wonwoo worked for was nowhere close to your job, but when you asked him to go to lunch, he always came. He would say that it wasn’t a big deal, but the few times you went to go see him during lunch, it took you two trains to get to him, leaving you with only 20 mins to sit with him before you had to leave. It was a big deal, and yet, he didn’t complain.
He moved around one of his meetings just to come see you, texting you that the deadline for the prototype of their next game was due soon, so finding free time nowadays was scarce. But he still did it. For you. Because he knew you would do the same. He hopped on the two trains to get to you, walking the short block to the cafe you found that was close to the station. Opening the door for the elderly women leaving, Wonwoo squeezed in past them and found you sitting at a small table in the corner. He watched you for a moment, noticing the way your fingers tapped across your phone screen, most likely writing an urgent email to someone on your team. Even with your brow scrunched together like this, you were calm. The idea of being burdened with work settling you better than the green tea on the table.
Wonwoo pushed past the line forming at the register, and your eyes immediately lifted, like you could sense his presence somehow. Your lips curled and you waved him over. His own smile was quick, afraid of looking too eager, although any time he got to see you made him excited. Slipping his backpack off his shoulders, he sat down in the seat opposite of you and saw the hot mug of black coffee already waiting for him.
“I just got you the dark roast because I know you’ve always liked it,” you said, turning your phone facedown. Wonwoo wrapped his hands around the mug as he tried warding off the winter chill outside. “Were the trains bad?”
“Not really, but they’ll probably get worse later when I’m on my way home.” He took a sip of the rich, warm beverage. “I don’t have long though. What was so urgent?”
You laced your hands on the table, and you had this look in your eye that always scared him. The kind that excited you, but whatever you had planned would be hell for everyone else. Judging by the way your gaze was focused on only him, he had a feeling that he alone was going to become your next project.
“What if I told you that I gave your number to Jennifer at work?” You grinned big.
The mug was at his mouth when he paused. He considered pinching himself to make sure that this was real. “Jennifer?” He asked, arching a brow. “The one that brought homemade jello shots to your holiday party last year?”
“Well,” you scoffed and laid out your hand, “they were good, weren’t they?”
He finally took a sip. “I guess so. Actually … I don’t know if I’ve ever understood the appeal of jello shots. Too messy.”
“You’re no fun, and off topic.” You let your finger trace the rim of your cup, filled halfway with lukewarm green tea. “I gave Jennifer your number because she’s interested in going on a date with you. Exciting, right?”
He blinked in your direction. Jennifer sounded familiar; when was the last time he heard about her? Maybe it was … “Wasn’t Jennifer the coworker you were helping a few weeks ago on movie night? You went into the bathroom to give her advice because her boyfriend was being weird.”
“The weird boyfriend is out of the picture now. Has been for weeks,” you shrugged. “And she admitted that she thought you were cute at the holiday party.”
His nose wrinkled a little. “You sure she isn’t just remembering me through the haze of the jello shots?”
Your eyes narrowed into a glare.
He flashed a smile. “Kidding.”
“Listen,” you said, clearing your throat. He raised his fingers – just slightly – but you were already tucking that stray hair behind your ear. “She’ll probably text you tonight to set up a date. Don’t give me that look, Wonwoo. No pressure. It’s just dinner.”
Wonwoo hesitated, leaning back in his chair. This didn’t surprise you; he was always hesitant. He made sure to think through all his choices, not impulsively like you preferred. That was why you two worked so well –
You shut down the thought before it could go further. You shouldn’t be reminiscing on your compatibility with your best friend. This was about you helping him.
He tilted his head slightly, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, like he did when he was anxious. His eyes crinkled. “Mingyu said once that you micromanage me sometimes.”
Your expression twisted at the mention of his roommate. “Says the president of micromanaging. He needs to mind his own business – literally. That’s what his restaurant is for.”
Wonwoo was silent again, taking small sips from the mug that was almost empty. Tapping his phone, he checked the time. He had maybe 10 minutes before he had to run back to the train station. Was he going to keep you on the edge of your seat this whole time? This was so dumb.
And you told him once over a bottle of soju that you hated edging anyway.
“You can say no,” you eventually muttered, leaning more into the table. “I just thought … maybe she could be worth the effort.”
His gaze met yours again, quick and intense. He opened his mouth once like he was about to refuse, and then closed it. One late night at your apartment, he told you that saying no to you felt like refusing care, which is why you wanted to remind him that he could. But at the end of the day … this was you. Out of everyone, you knew that flicker of change in his eyes, relenting.
For a moment, you wondered if he was going to ask something curious:
“Does she actually like me?”
“Is she really open to a date?”
“Do you think I’ll like her?”
But he didn’t. Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Alright.”
A single word. Loaded. Like a bullet.
You blinked once, then twice, surprised. You expected a joke or his typical resistance. This … this couldn’t be his real answer.
Or maybe you were just overthinking things again.
“Okay, great. I think you’ll like her.” Your smile was quick, and then you were turning over your phone again. To text Jennifer, he assumed. The cafe was loud, but all he could hear in that moment was the sound of keyboard clicks. A message being sent. “She’ll probably choose a casual place. She always does when her and I go out. You don’t have to dress up. She’s funny and super easy to talk to.”
And then, you looked up, afraid you were coming off as inconsiderate. That wasn’t what you wanted in the slightest. You cared about him, maybe even a little more than you should.
You reached out, fingers finding his wrist. “And, hey, listen – no expectations.”
He glanced down, watching your thumb glide over his pulse point. You tried to ignore the quickening of it, but it was unavoidable. Horrifically loud and matching your own. And you were now wondering why you told him there were no expectations in the first place. It was ironic, wasn’t it? The whole date was an expectation.
This was a game of charades, and neither of you were going to win.
He nodded, and you retracted your hand onto your lap once again. “Got it,” Wonwoo agreed, committing to his role. He finished the last of his coffee and stood to his full height, making you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “I gotta go. I’ll watch out for an unknown number. Text me when you get home after work.”
You bobbed your head, staring at his back as he exited the cafe. When it was just you then, sitting on the booth side of your small table, your cup of green tea cold and abandoned in your hands, it was easy to let the mask slip. Confusion ebbed into your subconscious. Because you thought this was supposed to make you feel good – it always did. But you were suddenly filled with a bottomless pit of regret.
That night, with your sheets tucked up to your chin and your restless brain keeping you up, you thought, If he dates someone else, I’ll get over this. Whatever this is that I’ve been feeling forever.
Wonwoo – poor, sleepless Wonwoo, who was too tired of this act already but the thought of denying you felt like a wound – in his apartment across the city, pondered to himself, If I date someone else, maybe I’ll stop wanting her. She can still be in my life and I won’t lie awake wondering what it would be like if she was here with me.
As you both turned over to a cold pillow, you liked to believe it was all figured out. Inside, though, the two of you knew that life would never be that easy.
Endless emails, unread texts, boring meetings made the week fly by, and soon enough, it was next Friday. The night of Wonwoo’s date with Jennifer. You saw her at the office earlier and she seemed … in good spirits, at the very least. “He really hadn’t texted me this week,” she complained to you at lunch. “But maybe he’s just one of those guys that doesn’t like to text before a first date.”
You smiled nervously. “He’s just … shy.” Your fingers tapped against her arm. “But hey! What are you planning on wearing tonight?”
Deflection had always been one of your super powers.
You had done your best this week to help him. Told him to text her to get to know her better. Got on FaceTime with him as he picked out the best “casual” outfit, whatever that meant. He was tired already, exhausted by the idea of something you didn’t want to pinpoint. So you tried getting him excited: you hyped up Jennifer as much as you possibly could. Tried to find similarities between them. They had the same taste in books – which was an absolute fighting start – and also … well, that might be it. But this was about chemistry, two people getting to know each other and feeling a pull so deep it rivaled magnets.
You had felt it once. Maybe twice, but you couldn’t identify exactly who was the second. You knew that you felt it with Sean; that’s why he wanted to see you so often back then, when things had gotten too much. They were good at first though, when you met him at a wine bar after you’d been stood up from a blind date. As soon as he looked at you from his bar stool, you felt the pull immediately. And his smile … he looked at you like you were something special, not like a sad excuse for a date. You chocked it up to him being older and more experienced, but someone else had looked at you like that. (Someone you just didn’t want to focus on.)
Sean had gotten too exclusive too fast. It had been a lot for you to handle, but at his age, he knew what he wanted. “I want someone like you,” he had explained once. “Driven. Independent. But also soft, even when she doesn’t want to show it. If that’s asking for too much, I don’t know what to tell you.”
His words were cutting, but you guessed you couldn’t blame him. What else was there to say when you told him the relationship was becoming a lot for you? He was a decade older than you. His time was running out while yours was just starting. Your chemistry was off the charts, but something wasn’t aligning. You just weren’t sure what yet.
This was the exact opposite outcome that you wanted for Wonwoo.
You had to become a coach, similar to the one you had for basketball in high school. Over FaceTime was the best chance to catch him, allowing you to teach him about body language and the best questions to ask. You taught him how to make the questions deeper but not too invasive, especially when one glass of wine turned into two. He took in all your information, nodding, but not saying anything. He knew not to question you. Although you hadn’t dated in a while, you knew exactly how women wanted to be talked to – something he typically had trouble with.
Wonwoo wasn’t good with talking to just about everybody. Besides you. Never with you.
You were pacing in your tiny living room as an episode of some reality show played quietly. You supposed that you should go take a shower, do your skincare, and put on your pajamas before settling in on the couch with your takeout. The perfect Friday night. But you were anxiously waiting on Jennifer’s text that she was arriving to the bar that her and Wonwoo agreed to meet at. It was kind of a dive, but the food was incredible, specializing in multiple macaroni and cheese dishes.
There was no way that this wouldn’t work. Jennifer had such a huge personality, one that invited you in and made you feel warm. You were sure that she would charm him.
Your phone dinged.
Jennifer: Just got here! He met me outside, even though it was snowing. Points!!!
You jumped on the balls of your feet, excitement flowing through you. Forcing yourself to finally hop in the shower, you couldn’t help but wonder why you had so much regret about this in the first place. You were grinning; this was good. Maybe the satisfaction of setting up this date wouldn’t be instant, but it was still there.
This was for Wonwoo, after all.
You were buzzing, waiting patiently for his text that he was on his way over. He promised you he’d stop by after the date and rehash all the details. This felt like college again. Your roommate for the first two years, Liz, had been far more popular with boys than you, and although you two weren’t the closest, you longed for the days when you stayed up past midnight, waiting for her to come back to your dorm and share all the juicy moments.
Wonwoo wasn’t similar to the average female freshman, but you knew you could pry some things out of him. At the end of the day, all you wanted was for him to be happy.
That’s what you told yourself.
When your phone finally went off, you were sitting on your couch in pajamas and your wet hair wrapped in a towel. You changed channels from before, but the reality show stayed the same. Texting him back, you scooped one last lo mein noodle in your mouth before getting up to brush back your wet strands. The door lock clicked open once you were back on the couch, the takeout carton lukewarm and abandoned on your coffee table, next to the vanilla cashmere candle you almost always had lit.
Wonwoo shook the chill out of his body as soon as he stepped through the door, and you sat up, an immediate smile appearing on your face. It was amazing how just the arrival of someone could make you happy, but that had always been Wonwoo for you. He was dusting the snowflakes off his jacket as your feet – clad in your favorite fuzzy socks – padded over to him. “That didn’t take you long,” you chuckled, taking his winter gloves and placing them on the old space heater to get warm.
He hung up his coat on the door hang. “Well, I was halfway here when I realized I hadn’t texted earlier,” he explained, instantly gunning for the couch and plopping down in his usual spot. Plucking the carton from the coffee table, he leaned all the way back into the couch cushions and slurped a cold noodle into his mouth. He was silent, watching whatever fight was ensuing on the TV.
You head tilted, perplexed. Maybe it was strange for you to assume, but you thought he would be more … open about details. I mean, you did set him up in the first place. You hummed under your breath, grabbing the leftover chicken fingers and scallion pancakes on the kitchen counter before setting them on the coffee table.
“Soooooooooo …” You dragged the word as you fell into the cushion opposite of him, tucking one leg underneath you. His eyes slid to yours, unenthusiastic. You scoffed and hit his arm. “Why are you being so coy?”
He snorted. “I’m always coy. That’s part of my charm.”
“Just tell me how the date was.”
He shrugged, gaze back on the screen as he set down the takeout container. “It was fine,” he said politely before reaching for the remote. “Can we watch a movie instead?”
You intentionally moved the remote away from him and his eyes narrowed. “You have no right to glare at me when you’re being so secretive. It was just ‘fine?’”
“I guess … I –” His head fell back against the cushions, and then he glanced at you again. “Just fine. The food at the restaurant was good. We had a good time.”
You sat there, observing him, almost dumbfounded. Somehow, he was being even more vague than usual. Distracted. Usually, you could read him like a book, but there was something about his tone that you couldn’t detect.
So you tested his limits, got up in his space, despite the fact that your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest the closer you got. Lacing your hands on top of his right shoulder, you rested your chin on top of them and blinked up at him innocently. He slowly turned to face you, and you both tried to ignore how close your faces truly were, warm breath mingling with the other. His fingers twitched on his thigh, and you wondered if he could feel your heart thudding against his bicep.
“Can I help you?” He raised a brow.
“Tell me specifics,” you said, voice as sweet as honey.
Wonwoo looked back in front of him – anything but your eyes – rubbing two fingers over his left temple. “Why do you want to know so bad?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Sue me for wanting to know how the date I set my best friend on went,” you quipped, not moving one inch from your position. Your eyes narrowed. “Are you gatekeeping some kind of pertinent information? Or – oh, my God. Did you guys kiss?”
“No,” he answered immediately, meeting your eyes. His tone made your back straighten instantly, and he tried to recover by clearing his throat. “I mean – well … no. We didn’t kiss. She’s very pretty and has a great personality, but I don’t think her and I are … compatible.”
You nodded slowly. “What made you realize that?”
He sighed heavily, letting his hand fall back on his thigh. You noticed that his hands were still red from the cold, even though he had his best gloves on. So you grabbed your heating pad from the other side of the couch before he began to speak, plugging it in behind him and wrapping it around his hands, before plopping back down beside him.
Wonwoo was silent as he looked down, the feeling gradually returning back to his hands. He was used to you doing this sometimes: taking care of him, micromanaging him, like he had been your project since college. He couldn’t deny that he liked it, but there was some moments that still left him stunned. It was as if taking care of him came as second nature to you.
When were you going to let him reciprocate?
You poked his arm, interrupting the thought before it could take root. “What were you gonna say?”
He exhaled again and got comfortable in the old cushions. “We talked about our interests – and it didn’t bother me that we didn’t have a lot in common. It was just … I don’t think I’m what she’s looking for. Or what she needs. And then, we started talking about work and that really cemented it for me. We actually talked more about you than anything –”
He stopped himself, eyes flickering to you before he realized you were blowing out the flame on the dying candle. Collecting himself, he added, “I just don’t think we’re going to work. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t a great person. She was really nice.” He shrugged and finally met your eyes again. His smile was bored, almost cat-like. “Done with your investigation?”
“I guess so,” you relented, turning back to face the TV beside him. Your hips were brushed against each other, pinkies so close to intertwining, but neither of you moved. “Unless you want me to ask more?”
He cut you a look. “Absolutely not.” Reaching out, his fingers plucked a scallion pancake from the container on the coffee table, and his smile got even bigger in your direction. “Want to finally watch In the Mood for Love? C’mon, you know you want to.”
III.
Locked down my by side even when I’m borderline, I don’t even know why I push you away. –CHARLI XCX
Bringing yourself to work on Monday was more of a chore than usual. You hadn’t been sleeping right. Your back hurt. And you just ran out of your favorite shampoo. Cementing yourself into adulthood was harder than you imagined in your early twenties. Now you actually had to care about making time before work to stop off at the store to grab essentials.
But maybe today would be good. The crew repainting the office garage smiled at you. The barista at the small coffee shop in the lobby told you that your latte was on the house. You were wearing a new pair of kitten heels and dare I say, you at least looked good. The boatneck sweater your mom gifted you two Christmases ago magically fit and paired well with the jeans you were sporting. It almost made you forget how badly your spine ached. Almost.
After getting a significant amount of emails answered that morning, you headed to the kitchen where your hummus snack that you bought earlier was stored. You noticed Jennifer leaving through the other door just as you were entering, making you pause to wave. “Oh, hey, J–”
Jennifer scrambled away before you could even finish your greeting. Quickly grabbing your snack, you followed her out the same door and attempted to catch up to her. “Hey!” You exclaimed, placing a light hand on her shoulder. “Jen, what are you –”
She turned, attempting to act casual, but you knew Jennifer was incapable of pretending. “Oh, h–hi. Sorry, must’ve not seen you back there.”
You let your hand fall as your brow knitted together. “Must have,” you replied suspiciously. “I meant to text you all weekend, but time got away from me. Did you have fun on the date? Wonwoo hardly shared any details.”
Her lips sealed for a moment, until she eventually muttered, “Oh.”
Tilting your head, you remarked, “Oh?”
“That came out wrong.” She held a hand up, collecting herself. A couple of your coworkers squeezed past and you both waved. Lowering her voice slightly, she continued, “He was nice. Dry sense of humor, but still funny. Gentleman enough to walk me back to my car. But …”
You blinked, hanging off the edge of your invisible seat. You felt like a cat right now and she was dangling a treat right in front of you, teasing you with more to come.
Jennifer scoffed and finally gave in. “But I thought you said he had a personality. At least, that’s how you always made him seem.”
Her answer made your head jerk back in surprise. “Wait –”
“I was basically carrying the whole conversation,” she added. “It really didn’t seem like he wanted to be there. When you brought him to that holiday party, he was pretty engaged in conversation, but when it’s just him … I don’t know.”
You thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo after the date. It was fine, he had said in that bored fucking tone of his. Of course, he was bored. Because he had been the boring one in the first place. Now you were pissed – and confused at the same time. You wasted all that time setting up this date, and yet …
A sigh escaped you. He probably let his nerves get the best of him. Your mother used to say that you shouldn’t cry over spilt milk – or in this case – a bad date. There was no need to get worked up over it, but you just wished he had been honest in the first place.
Maybe you could start with being honest about how you f–
You stopped that thought right in its tracks.
“Truthfully,” Jennifer said, bringing your eyes back to hers, “the most he talked during the date was … well –” She scratched her temple. “– Was about you.”
Your body went rigid, back straightening as if it hadn’t been tense since you woke up. Fingers lacing together in front of you, your lips pursed, trying to think of a suitable response, but … nothing was coming to you. Not one word.
Jennifer tested the waters and prodded further. Leaning into your space, she asked, “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two –”
“Absolutely not,” you cut in immediately, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “We’re just friends. Have been for years. We just … have a lot of history that he likes to talk about.”
She stared at you, not fully convinced.
You grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Listen,” you huffed, “I’m sorry the date didn’t go well. I know I set you up on it, so I don’t want you to think I had … I don’t know. Ill intent, or something. I really did think you two would get along and he’d come out of his shell.”
A slow smile appeared on her lips. “It’s not your fault. Compatibility is a fickle thing. It only happens, like, maybe twice in everyone’s life.” She shrugged. “Shit happens, and hey, I got a free dinner. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?”
You laughed, felt her squeeze back on your hand, before you walked back together to your respective desks. Slamming down into your creaky seat, you lifted your head over your cubicle wall and sent another smile, before bending back in your chair and sighing. Your eyes scanned your desk, lingering on the Polaroid of you and Wonwoo from a few years ago, crookedly taped to your monitor. You narrowed your eyes at his face, as if you could burn him.
Whipping your phone out, you opened up your text thread with your best friend.
You: I thought you said the date was fine
Wonwoo: ? Hello to you too
You: just answer the question
Wonwoo: Where is the question exactly?
You: did the date with Jennifer not go okay??
Wonwoo: It was fine. I told you that
You: I just talked to Jennifer at the office and she told me you barely talked. I understand that maybe I got your compatibility wrong, but I think you neglected to tell me some things
Wonwoo: I’m sorry. In my defense, I’ve never been much of a talker. She was doing just fine
You: omfg
You: you’re literally impossible. I’m just trying to help you
You watched the text bubble appear and disappear for a straight minute. Originally, you saw no problem with the text you sent, but then you started overthinking. Was what you said too harsh? Maybe you should’ve added a playful emoji at the end. He had been typing and retyping for two minutes now, causing you to start biting at the skin around your nails. He could’ve simply been caught up with something at work and not able to multitask. It wasn’t that deep – at least, that’s what you told yourself.
Wonwoo: I’m not trying to be impossible. [UNSENT]
Wonwoo: I didn’t meant to be dishonest. [UNSENT]
Wonwoo: I didn’t ask for your help. [UNSENT]
Finally, the text bubble stopped. Your phone pinged with a new message. You quickly glanced at the text thread to see one single line from your best friend.
Wonwoo: I’ll try harder next time.
Another coincidental situation. Another setup emerged. As your old friend, Holly, lamented to you about missing her ex-boyfriend from two years ago over the phone, you wondered if maybe – just maybe – she would do well on a date with Wonwoo. You supposed that listening better while she complained about Derek was probably a better idea, but your mind still wandered.
You were laying on your bed after a shower, legs bent up on the headboard while your head was near the end of the mattress, wet hair wrapped in a towel. Your phone rested beside your right ear and you were picking at the hangnail that just wouldn’t come off your thumb. Mind elsewhere, you thought about what a date with Holly and Wonwoo would look like. Maybe a diner. Maybe a pub with live music. She loved a “Dad rock” cover band every now and then.
It might’ve been more wise to deliberate on what your best friend’s last text meant rather than picture what his next date would look like. But this was easier. More simpler than revisiting the implications of seeing Wonwoo on dates with beautiful and uncomplicated women you set him up with. Women that he might be uninterested in, and for what reason? Could it explain why he looked at you like that sometimes, like he was taking you apart piece by piece before putting you back together again?
You rubbed at your eyes. Yeah, definitely not thinking about that again.
“I shouldn’t even be talking about Derek right now,” Holly huffed through the speaker. “We broke up because he was an ass sometimes, but when he wasn’t … these are the times I miss him.”
You let your hands fall onto your stomach. You both tried to call and catch up every other month, so how did almost all of them loop around to Derek? He was still on her mind, even two years after the breakup. “You deserve a better love, Holl,” you muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
All her dates over the past couple of years were duds. She only went on them every so often, but you wondered if the problem was that she was going out with people she met at clubs. Holly was so cool – not many people could juggle the corporate world while going to see their favorite DJs at clubs and make it to a community theater audition the next morning. But not many men understood her, liked her quirks, or they were just meatheads she met at clubs and eventually revealed that they had no personality.
She was a catch. Always had been, since the day you met her in the women’s restroom at a concert. The best kind of friendships always formed when you were drunk in the bathroom. Holly didn’t live near you, but you both tried to catch up when you could. Her life fascinated you to no end, and she had to be one of the most charismatic people you ever met, constantly endearing people in every room she entered.
You had no doubt that she’d charm Wonwoo. Of course, you assumed the same about Jennifer, but Holly was … different. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it. If anyone could get him to talk, she could.
“I’ve been buggin’ because I want to go out to this place that he introduced me to. A Mexican restaurant in the city. The most bomb guacamole you’ll ever have, and made fresh in front of you,” she continued.
Your brow furrowed. “So why don’t you go?”
“I run the risk of Derek being there. He did show it to me. I just don’t want an awkward conversation.”
It was like a light bulb appeared above your head. “What if you went there with a date? Derek probably wouldn’t come up to you if he saw you with another guy. And if he is there, would it be so bad to piss off your ex the slightest bit?”
“Well, duh,” she snickered. “But where is this date you speak of? All my current flings have ghosted. I’m a free woman.”
You rolled over onto your stomach, smirking down at your phone screen, even though she couldn’t see you. “I’ve been trying to get my friend, Wonwoo, out on some dates. Have I introduced you guys before?”
“Hmm … Wonwoo …” She paused. “That’s your friend with the big glasses, right? The one in most of your Instagram pics? Truthfully, I …” A soft laugh escaped. “I thought you guys were together.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Well –”
“It doesn’t matter.” You huffed, looking through your contacts to share his number with her. “I can set it up, if you want. And send you his number, vice versa. He’s shy, but he’s talkative around the right people. The date could be fun for both of you.”
She took a moment to mull it over, and then said, “Okay. Yeah. I’m down.”
You grinned, already texting his contact info to her. “Excellent.”
“So you’re doing the set up thing again?”
Your tongue clicked, and you paused, debating her question. “Just for Wonwoo. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just …” That laugh again, trying to simmer the sudden tension fizzling down the line. “You told me once that you like doing stuff like this to distract yourself from whatever you’re currently feeling. Or if something tough is going on. You just … like to make someone else’s life better so you can forget what’s going on in yours. Is everything okay?”
“Okay, I told you that over one too many glasses of wine at an Olive Garden,” you replied instantly. “And I’m fine. Promise. I gotta go.”
You ended the call after you both said your goodbyes, and then laced your fingers together before resting your chin on top of them. Did you really tell her that once? How messy. It wasn’t exactly … untrue, but you’d never admit that. Everyone needed a good distraction sometimes, and if this was yours, then so be it. You liked seeing others happy. It was the kind of serotonin that money couldn’t buy.
If Wonwoo really didn’t want this … he would’ve told you.
At least, that’s what you hoped.
Speak of the devil, you should probably tell him that you gave a random woman his number. Again. You sat up in bed, took your wet hair out of the towel, and wrung it out while opening up your texts with your free hand. Your slipper-clad feet hung off the edge, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your fingers began to swipe across the keyboard.
You: hi
You: I got you another date
You: so if you get a random message, it’s my friend, holly. she’s really nice and funny
You locked your phone. It dinged instantly.
Wonwoo: Oh?
Wonwoo: Her text came just as I was about to log off of League. Thought it was spam lol
You bit down on one of your fingernails, right knee curling towards your chest. His playful tone always made you feel warm like this, and you were suddenly questioning how normal that should be.
You: not spam lol
You: just text her and feel it out, but I think she’d 100% be down for a date. she wants someone to take her out to this mexican restaurant
Wonwoo: Alright. Sounds good to me.
His mood switch made your brow furrow. Each word sounded like a pause, like he was struggling to type two measly sentences. You should leave it there, not let it get too far, but then you were typing –
You: I won’t coach you again before this date lol. I think it made you a wee bit nervous on the last one
Wonwoo: Maybe a little
A minute passed. You assumed the conversation was over for now. Standing from your bed, you padded over to your bathroom and threw your damp towel in the laundry basket. Your phone sat on your bed as you brushed through your wet hair, completely unaware that the screen had lit up again with another text.
Wonwoo: I’ll be better this time.
IV.
In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap. –RICHARD SIKEN
Friday rolled around faster than you thought. Holly had been texting you all day about her excitement for this date, but truthfully, you weren’t sure if she was more excited to meet Wonwoo or go back to his restaurant without worrying about Derek. Wasn’t any of your business.
At some point, you had to slide your phone into your pocket to get off at a different stop on the subway. Trudging through the rain, you managed to snag some of the greasiest Japanese takeout imaginable: vegetable tempura, karaage (your favorite), kushikatsu, and of course, some yakisoba. This was another one of your favorite spots that was poorly reviewed. Even the owner apologized for the mess as he handed the bag over to you, but you already couldn’t wait to dig in. You practically sprinted the couple of blocks back to your apartment, narrowly missing every puddle that came into your path, before you were hurdling through the door.
You went through your routine, regimented as always. After washing your face and putting on your comfiest pajamas, you sat on the floor and pulled out some sweet potato tempura. You practically had a feast laid out on your coffee table, paired with paper plates that were soaked through with oil and your favorite pair of chopsticks from the cabinet. You only wished, selfishly, that your takeout buddy was here to share it with you. And he would be. Later on. Once the food turned cold.
Scrolling through your phone, you found it strange that Holly didn’t keep up with you when she was on her way to the date. You guess that – again – wasn’t your business, but you were curious. You did set them up though. Wasn’t it normal to be this curious? Or maybe you were simply –
You paused, sticking your chopsticks in the yakisoba carton before your thoughts got too serious. You were an over thinker, could debate on topics for hours that truly did not matter, constantly wishing that you weren’t stuck in the deep chasm that was your own head. Sometimes it seemed that the only person who could pull you out was … Wonwoo.
Wonwoo.
His name echoed before you could stop it. Like you always do. And the grieving reality settled in from the mess of your own making. A pang of regret. This wasn’t the usual dopamine you got from fixing, and maybe that was because nothing needed to be fixed in the first place –
Your phone pinged. And there it was – that pause. When the thoughts got too loud and you finally focused on your best friend’s name lighting up your phone screen.
Wonwoo: On my way to your place. Might be a bit. The bus is taking its time
You were grounded again, worries vanishing like a speck of dust in the wind. Instead of taking a day like with Jennifer, you were going to be proactive this time. After answering Wonwoo, you scrolled down to your texts with Holly and quickly tapped your fingers across the screen.
You: how was the date ?!
You started crunching on multiple pieces of karaage when her reply came through.
Holly: man, the food is just as great as I remembered. we didn’t even see Derek, so I guess I didn’t have much to worry about lmao. but I’m glad we went and I think he also enjoyed it! he said something about showing you the restaurant sometime too!
Your brow raised. She was dodging the real question.
You: that sounds great! I was more so asking what you thought of wonwoo lol, but I’m glad it went well <3!!!
Holly: he’s great. a total gentleman. I just don’t think we have much in common
Holly: he picked out the most delicious spicy margaritas for us though
You: really??? I set you guys up because I thought you two had more in common
That was somewhat a lie and you knew it. They played a couple of the same video games, when Holly had time to turn on her Playstation, and you thought Wonwoo enjoyed theater. Somewhat. At least, he pretended to really well that one time you got free tickets to Les Misérables and brought him.
Holly: yeah, we do somewhat. we read the same books and a few video games. I just don’t think he was into it. or maybe he just wasn’t into me idk
You: I’m sorry it didn’t work out. thank you for being honest and letting me know!
Holly: of course! he’s not a bad guy at all, but we just aren’t compatible. our worlds don’t align just yet, which is okay <3 he was also shy like you said and did talk a lot more as the date went on. he talks about you in a way I’ve never seen before. I can tell he cares a lot about you
You: I care a lot about him too [UNSENT]
Your head whipped to the left when you heard Wonwoo turning your spare key in the lock. Finishing off the piece of karaage in your mouth, you fired back one last reply.
You: he always keeps me on my toes. talk to you soon!
His ears were pink from the last of the winter cold. It was the middle of March and spring would soon be upon them. Stepping into your apartment, he released a gruff sigh and let the warmth of the place seep through him. He was staring at you before you even looked up to meet his eyes. Your outfit spoke to how comfortable you were around him: the oldest pair of plaid pajama pants, your fluffy robe with a coffee stain on the front that just never came out, and a large t-shirt. Thin. White. Robe untied and allowing him to see everything. He swallowed and placed his gloves on the space heater like usual, then hung up his jacket. You were carrying multiple takeout cartons to the kitchen island as he stood in the front doorway, not bothering to greet as he helped you place them on the surface before they all fell out of your arms.
He didn’t need to always say, “Hello.” This apartment was just as much his home as it was yours.
Kicking his shoes off near the door, you watched him peel open the flimsy lid of one carton. “Thank God. I was having a craving,” he said, plucking a piece of carrot tempura and taking a large bite.
You retied your robe carelessly and crossed your arms over your chest. “So …” You fought the urge to flick his arm as he grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the cabinet. “How was it?”
“Good,” he answered quickly, as if the word was already on the tip of his tongue. Gathering a pile of yakisoba in his chopsticks, he slurped it all before adding, “She’s really nice.”
Silence. The kind that made you feel prickly, anxious from head to toe. You arched a brow. “Was it, though?”
Wonwoo crunched on another tempura piece and sent you a wary look. He always knew when you were trying to get something out of him, but you had never been the one to be coy. “I said that, didn’t I?”
“Were you into her?” You inquired further, eyes narrowed. You couldn’t blame him for his attitude, especially when your questions were a bit aggressive, but after texting with Holly, you just wanted to see if he’d have the same reaction as her.
“Yeah,” he shrugged, walking over to the sink to wash the grease off his hands. “I guess.”
Rounding the kitchen island, you let your hip press into the counter as you studied him: the way he wasn’t looking at you, the nervous tick of washing around the ring on his pinky. He was running his hands under the warm water now, longer than he had to be. “You don’t sound like you’re into her though,” you said over the loud faucet.
He turned it off with the squeaky lever and wrung his hands over the side. His frustration that he kept inside so diligently was tipping over the surface, like boiling water. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally replied, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. “You’re interrogating me. Why?”
Your mouth fell open slightly. “I … I’m not interrogating.” You tried to prove your point, how casual you were being about this, by reaching over to grab a skewer of pork kushikatsu. Biting into it, you shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong.”
His hand was still damp and he pressed it to his forehead, feeling the warm droplets trickle down his temple, grounding him. “Maybe I’m just … this is a lot harder than it looks. I’m not used to talking to so many new people.” When he opened his eyes, they were practically pleading. For what, you didn’t know. Yet.
You licked at the corners of your lips, relenting, your shoulders ablaze from the burden of carrying all the tension since sophomore year on your back. The tension you were desperately trying to smoke out. You relaxed and carefully curled your hands around his wrists. His body was frozen as you positioned him in front of you. Wonwoo realized what you were doing, providing a visual like you were both sitting across from each other on a date, but with you leaning against the stained counter like this, robe undone again, his mind wandered to a place he shouldn’t. Back in his dorm room. Your legs around his head. Your fingers tugging at his hair as he buried his face further between your thighs.
And while you couldn’t get what he was thinking, you could see in his eyes that it was something too dangerous to describe.
You cleared your throat, watching him blink. “Maybe … it would help for you to go into these dates as if they were a job interview,” you explained, your tone sounding suspiciously recognizable. Work-like. Professional who sits in a cubicle.
His eyes narrowed.
“Don’t give me that look. What I mean is … not stiff. Not nervous. Just … open body language. That’s what people are attracted to.” You took a moment, originally trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but for the purpose of your point … you placed your foot in front of you. Just one step. But it still made both your pulses jump. “And it’ll make them move closer to you.”
He physically felt his pupils dilate as he looked down at you. Wringing his hands again, he shook your grip off his wrists, noticing how fast his heart was beating. “You sound ridiculous,” he deflected. “You’re talking like how you do on the phone with your boss. This isn’t a performance review.”
Your face fell, brows pulling together. “This isn’t ridiculous, Wonwoo. You know that. I’m just trying to help.”
Something flickered in his expression then. Your words triggered his foot: one step closer, and then another. The gap between you so small that you felt the heat of his body. The small of your back was biting into the edge of the counter, head tilting up to meet his dark eyes behind his glasses. His gaze traveled, lingering on your pursed lips, moving down to where he could practically see the thump of your heart. The fabric of your white t-shirt, hiding your skin from his, and how he longed to push it up to see all of you. You hadn’t even let him see your chest when you hooked up all those years ago: too shy, too afraid of vulnerability to take off even your shirt. But now you both were nearing 30 and the only thing separating you two was this thin t-shirt that was becoming his biggest fucking enemy.
His stare flickered up before it could go too long, but he saw it. The way your nipples pebbled beneath the shirt. The tension between you two seeping from your shoulders to his like a tug of war.
“I think …” Wonwoo’s voice was low, intimate, like two fingers between your thighs. Simmering through the most private parts of you that so little people had seen.
The heel of his palms pressed into the lip of the counter, caging you. Your eyes closed, almost in surrender, easing under the warmth of his hot breath fanning your face. “I think what would help me is if –”
He immediately stopped. Your eyes opened and met his. There was something so familiar about his expression. He looked … you couldn’t put your finger on it. But your mind was flashing back to a memory: his dark eyes burning into yours, glasses slightly askew, a halo headband that was cutting into the sides of your ears, the damp autumn leaves at your feet and the buzz of tequila in your system. A memorable Halloween night from a few years back. All of that reflecting in the face of the man in front of you. Your best friend. Who was now looking at you like he was hearing something from the past in his head.
Your brow raised. He took a step back.
“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.
Just three words, shutting down an entire conversation before it could even start.
You shook your head, brows drawing together and voice suddenly desperate. “It does matter. You can tell me. You’re … you’re my best friend.”
He winced. Just for a second, but you saw it.
“No, it’s … it’s fine. Seriously,” he added, even as the tips of his fingers were lightly grazing your knuckles, making every hair on your body stand up. Your toes curled inside your socks. “We – I can try again. I promise, I’ll have more open body language.”
His smile was so sweet, agreeing to your every whim because he knew that was the best way to get you off of something. But not tonight, because you both knew why he was doing this. It was that push and pull again – when feelings began to rise over that structured wall you both built brick by back, one of you had to push it down.
And the realization of that – of what almost could have been – was making you panic and want him closer all at the same time.
Wonwoo rounded the island and grabbed the carton of yakisoba before crossing the short distance to the couch. He kicked back, digging into the greasy noodles that would surely do a number on his stomach later. Without looking back at you, he asked, “Wanna rewatch Clueless again?”
You stood in the kitchen and gripped the edge of the counter, attempting to calm your racing heart. Like clockwork, his voice from the living room centered you, reminded you that everything was going to be okay. Things were still good. It was just you and Wonwoo. Friends.
Mustering the best smile you could offer, you grabbed the lukewarm karaage and quipped, “As long as you promise not to insult my girl, Cher, ever again.”
Wonwoo left your apartment a little over halfway into the movie, falling asleep with stray yakisoba noodles on the collar of his sweater. You couldn’t blame him: it was midnight and his body naturally got tired at 11, no matter how much sleep he got. He made sure to help you clean up all the takeout, even in his tired state, and slipped a twenty underneath the candle on your coffee table for always feeding him, knowing you wouldn’t except it unless forced. You walked him to the door, and he lingered – just for a moment – his sleepy gaze on yours while his fingers jerked slightly on the doorframe. Something between you two ached, but not enough to grasp.
So he left with a faint, “Goodnight,” and headed down the stairs for the subway.
The door shut softly, leaving you alone again in your apartment, and the silence was … overwhelming. The kind where you could actually hear a pin drop. Not even your upstairs neighbors were fighting. It was just you, and your own thoughts, as you stood in your kitchen, replaying the conversation that happened earlier.
I think what would help me is if –
An unsettling shiver rolled through you. Back pressed against the door, you sank down until your ass hit the floor and your knees were drawn to your chest. You buried your face in the collar of your coffee-stained robe. I can try again, he had said. I promise. You rubbed at your eyes, wishing the words would leave your head. But they were on loop like a merry-go-round.
You pressed your chin into your palm. Sighing, you realized that you should’ve taken a shower earlier. Your hair was so dirty and you didn’t want to go to bed smelling like takeout. But you suddenly couldn’t move, too consumed by his responses – or lack thereof.
Your brain was like a remote. You hit pause, then rewind, over and over again until all you could see was Wonwoo in your head. You replayed his hesitation, the way his mouth shut immediately. When his upper lip twitched. His jaw tightening with restraint. And his eyes – the way they softened before he let himself get too close. It was the kind of affection you didn’t show to just a friend, but for someone more.
Maybe he was just frustrated, you told yourself. Because what other explanation could there be?
You were too complicated for him. Not worth the effort. And the fear of ruining your friendship was too risky to bear.
But then your skin prickled and you realized … this bothered you. Not in the funny way. This bothered you because you hated that you didn’t know what he wanted to say. You hated the not knowing, the waiting on the edge of your seat. The suspicion. Because he shouldn’t have looked at you like … like that. Better yet: you shouldn’t want him to look at you like that.
You thought, just for a mere second, What if he –
And stopped yourself.
This wasn’t about you. It couldn’t. Wonwoo was discouraged and tired after the bad dates. Anyone would be. That was the reason for his hesitation, the jaw setting, his fingers grazing your knuckles as if he was begging to hold your hand.
Placing your palm against your forehead now, you closed your eyes and mulled over every scenario. Swiping through solutions in your head like a Powerpoint presentation: simple, sensical, because this would always be easier than being truthful with yourself. You were strong; you could always carry more weight added to your burden.
“I can fix this,” you muttered to yourself, and instantly got to your feet. You practically ran to where your phone was laying idly on the side of the couch and threw yourself onto the cushions. Opening your Notes app faster than ever before, you began typing up all of Wonwoo’s interests. Completely focused. Before you could let any more thoughts get the better of you.
Perhaps it was time you found someone similar to him.
V.
If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets. –HARUKI MURAKAMI
You wished you could be one of those people who read a book to wind down before bed. Or someone that drank tea and meditated. Someone that experienced true relaxation. But, unfortunately, your brain was always wired, and the only way you found a little sense of peace was from the mere swipe of your thumb on your phone screen.
It wasn’t all play though – scrolling through whatever social media that was your poison for the night allowed you to gather intel for Wonwoo’s next date. Despite him not asking about it. Despite the sting you felt in your chest each time you wrote a name down in your Notes app. You persevered, scrolling until the light made your eyes burn and you knew it was time to finally sleep. In just a few hours, your eyes would be back on a screen again. Your life revolved around light and screens, ignoring the tension that yanked at your heartstrings every day.
Eventually, you felt a shift when your Instagram feed refreshed to show a new post: Harin, one of your old friends from college. The first person to make you pause and sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. The fairy lights above your head flickered, needing new batteries, but your attention remained focused on swiping through the set of pictures she posted.
Harin, you realized, had gotten much more attractive since senior year of undergrad, when you both lived in the same building. She was dying her hair darker, gotten Invisalign to straighten her teeth, even cleared up her acne. It had been years since you last saw her – maybe even since graduation – but Harin had always been … easy going. Helpful. Popular, but also a little nerdy. The kind of girl who didn’t overcomplicate things. Nothing like you.
You picked at the edge of the pimple patch on your chin, because you hadn’t been so lucky with your hormonal acne that came back once in a blue moon. She posted a picture with an abnormally tall glass of beer, then some with people in costume, with the final photo of her in front of brightly-lit booth. She went to some video game convention out of state, the same one Wonwoo had talked to you about for 40 minutes a couple weeks back. Your teeth sank down into your lip, concentrating, as you clicked on her profile and began looking through all her old posts.
Mutual connections. (You both had several.) Tagged posts. (Did she have any bad angle?) Her story highlight that documented her Letterboxd reviews. (You dreamed of watching this many movies in a year.) There was something here. Maybe there wasn’t chemistry – only time would tell – but there was alignment, something everyone needed in their lives. A sense of symmetry. Two pieces that fit so perfectly that it was shocking they never crossed paths before.
You sat back more, playing with a strand of damp hair while zooming in on a picture of her from a concert she went to a year ago – some niche band you might’ve heard Wonwoo also mention. Her smile was effortless. Her hair was shorter and she had star earrings that dangled from her lobes. And suddenly, a thought hit you, cutting, like a blade: He wouldn’t have to explain himself to her. They would just click.
Biting the end of your fingernail, you processed the future before it even had seeds to take root. A bad habit that you weren’t willing to break now, because this could work. Harin made sense. Wonwoo and Harin made better sense.
No more weird looks. No more charged pauses. The dust would settle between you and the man that had been your best friend for nearly a decade.
You swiped to DM her before you could stop yourself.
You drafted a message. It was long, too personal, so you deleted it.
Redrafted, and still, too much. Frustration poured out of you. Why did every message feel like too much pressure? You needed to keep this simple.
You: hey, harin! you seem like you’re doing really well. weird question – are you single? I think you would really get along with my friend. you both like the same things!
The message was perfect, so why was your thumb hesitating over the send button? There was no reason to hesitate; you never did. You were impulsive, almost to a fault sometimes. You could stop this. Close the app and be honest with yourself for once. Quit pushing your feelings down and drowning yourself with work. You could –
Sent.
Your lips pursed. You set your phone down and hugged your knees to your chest, the clean sheets pooling over your bare feet. The room was still, colder than before. Maybe even quieter, although you didn’t quite understand how that was possible. You hadn’t breathed properly in more than a minute. Then, somewhere deep, past your ribs where your greatest desires roamed free, a tiny voice escaped to ask, What if he doesn’t want someone else? What if he wants you?
But you didn’t let yourself process the words, because your phone dinged and – shit, Harin had answered you. She was thrilled to hear from you, congratulated you on your accomplishments. Conveniently, she was now living just outside of the same city, but she seemed uncertain. I don’t typically do blind dates, she wrote. So you made it easy for her by sending a picture of Wonwoo – the one you took of him last winter, when he was carrying both large buckets of popcorn before you went to go see an anniversary screening of Twilight – and she immediately agreed to meet him for a date in the city.
You shared his Instagram profile with her, telling her to message him on there. Maybe texting was too much pressure on him. Maybe her taking the initiative and messaging him on a safe place like Instagram would give him less anxiety. That seemed to be the source of his issues. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.
She was so kind, so excited to reach out that she was asking for advice on the perfect message. And you thought, for once, this might be the date that actually worked out, but you’d been let down by Wonwoo time and time again. No one seemed to be worth the effort. But Harin could be.
You didn’t tell Wonwoo that you sent his profile to Harin, but he kind of figured you were behind the sudden DM he got from a woman totally and completely out of his league. You weren’t exactly hiding your involvement; you were simply … letting Harin do the work. And maybe your assumptions had been right after all, because when Wonwoo texted to let you know that he knew you set him up with Harin, he seemed … more inclined to go on the date than usual.
You weren’t sure how it was possible, but you felt both the satisfaction of being right and stab of something sharp in your heart all at once. Neglecting the latter was easier said than done.
He told you their date was on Thursday night, and conveniently, you were stuck at the office for longer than usual, making sure the latest marketing project with in tip-top shape before you submitted it to the VP tomorrow. Even your subordinates stayed well past their time, wanting to make sure you didn’t have to be at the office alone. It was 7 PM when you all finally left, and you sprinted fast enough to make the 7:15 train, which – of course – was packed to the brim. You were squished like sardines next to an old man who smelled of cigarettes, and you found yourself pushing through the crowd as soon as your stop arrived.
It was strange that you hadn’t heard from Wonwoo yet about the date, but you tried not to think about it that much as you got through the doorway of your apartment. Too tired to even call for takeout, you toed off your office heels near the door and settled on a frozen dinner. There weren’t even any leftovers in the fridge. As you placed the hard brick of lasagna in the preheated oven, you phone pinged and you retrieved it faster than you liked to admit, heart hammering in your chest.
Wonwoo: On my way over :)
Your brow arched. Since when the hell did he text smiley faces? You set the phone back down, and irritatingly threw your hair up into the most unkempt ponytail imaginable, loose strands hanging from the backside of your head. Why were you so frustrated? An emoji didn’t mean anything. And there was nothing to be angry about. Your mind was still lingering on work, projecting your exhaustion onto such a non-issue –
The door opened just as you were pulling the now bubbling lasagna from the oven, setting it on the kitchen island before looking up at your best friend. Spring had definitely come, because Wonwoo was wearing a striped button up that was halfway tucked into his jeans and a light jacket. His hair was messy, as if someone had ran their hands through it, and he had a smile on his lips that was … real. Not tired or forced. Genuine.
The room shifted and neither of you had even said anything yet.
“Hi,” you addressed immediately, realizing his gaze had drifted down. Too caught up in your own thoughts, you didn’t even noticed that he had been taking in your disheveled blouse, the pencil skirt that hugged your hips too perfectly, the sheer black tights that made him jealous of any man at work who got to see you in them.
But then his stare was instantly on yours as soon as you spoke. His smile reached his eyes and he replied, “Hey.” It was casual, sure, but there was … energy behind it. The kind of energy you never heard from him before.
You stuck your fork in the lasagna, and before you could even place it in your mouth, he dipped his pinky in the red sauce. Your chin tilted up, watching his expression sour. “It’s tastes …”
You leveled a look at him.
“– Better than anything I could’ve made,” he recovered, and you noticed the pep in his step as he headed for the living room, tossing his jacket on the coat rack.
You paused, eyeing him with suspicion from the kitchen, before looking back down at your sad excuse for a dinner. It was late. You were tired. And instead of eating the greasy goodness of takeout, you were left here with a shitty lasagna and your best friend who looked like he had far too much fun on the date you set him up on.
This wasn’t time for a pity party.
Rounding the corner, you carried your foil tin of lukewarm lasagna to the couch and sat down beside him. You crossed your legs and anxiously pulled at the hem of your pencil skirt before asking, “Did the date go well?”
His smile got bigger and you had to fight the urge to throw up the huge bite of shitty pasta in your mouth. Usually, his debriefs were short and flat. Lacking any kind of emotion because clearly all he wanted to do was watch a movie with you. But he was speaking a little louder this time, gesturing with his hands as he said, “It was … really good actually.”
He went on to talk about the arcade bar they went to, one she knew about before him. He eagerly told you about how she laughed at all of his jokes, especially the bad ones, and how they were into almost the same things. Video games, music, even the same soju flavor. How the fuck had you set something up so perfect? You had to stuff forkfuls of lasagna in your mouth just to stop your teeth from grinding down.
But … wasn’t this your plan after all?
“She’s also really funny,” Wonwoo continued, breaking you out of your thoughts. He ran a hand down his face, as if remembering something she said. “You were right about the game thing. I don’t know many people that have played Arctic Warfare, and she’s apparently good at it. She told me her rank. Crazy. We kept arguing about this mechanic in the game that always makes my brain go –” He shook his hands in the air, laughing at the memory.
Your tone remained normal, despite the war inside your head. “Yeah? What’d you guys play at the arcade?”
This set him off on another tangent, explaining the hour long foosball game they played that ended in him paying for another round of beers. Harin had felt bad, insisted that she was kidding and let them split it, but he wanted to. And then let her pick out her favorite game at the arcade to play next. (It was pinball. You hated pinball.)
“She went to that convention I told you about recently,” he continued as you set the half-eaten tin on the coffee table, suddenly queasy from eating too fast. “And – oh, wait. She showed me this cosplay she did last year. Check it out.”
Wonwoo pulled out his phone and unlocked it, her Instagram profile already pulled up. He found the picture immediately – like muscle memory – tilting his phone towards you to show you the Animal Crossing cosplay she made. Her smile was so bright, cute, in the photo, pink cheeks and yellow eyeshadow on her eyes.
You cleared your throat. “Oh, that’s –”
“Cool, right?”
“Yeah, cool.”
He grinned big, placing his phone right side up on his thigh. Something he never did while at your apartment.
“She understood every reference I made. You know how sometimes I make those references to Portal and you kinda stare at me like I have three heads?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that –”
“She completely got all of them. It was … seriously funny.” He was laughing again, the kind he only did when he was drunk or when you reminded him of the time in junior year of undergrad when you puked in a punch bowl at a frat party. It was sacred and intimate, and right now, it was because of … Harin.
He met your eyes with a soft, authentic smile. “The date was fun. It was … easy.”
You felt your eye twitch.
Easy.
One word had never caused so much devastation to run through your entire body, the type you couldn’t will away with the armor you built for years. To compare yourself to another woman was cheap and not like you whatsoever. You would never think that way because you would never pit women against each other. It was wrong. Distasteful.
But Harin was easy. And you, certainly, had never been that.
As he continued – and you were keenly aware that this was probably the longest he spoke in all the years you knew him – you thought back to his previous girlfriends. The ones from college, the girl he dated three years ago … All those women he’d been attracted to were nothing like him. Opposites attract, after all. But Harin was the farthest from opposite. Your goal for this date had been symmetry, someone that aligned with Wonwoo, which meant this was a success. She changed something in him.
You felt the soft drop in your stomach.
Oh, you thought, he might actually fall for her.
That was the reason why you started this whole thing. It shouldn’t be a shock, right?
Right?
“So …” You played with a loose thread on your skirt, asking the question you always did. The one where you got the same answer. “Would you see her again?”
You were used to his hesitation, the way he would ponder exactly how to say, No, in the nicest way possible. But he didn’t do that this time. Wonwoo’s lips tugged up again as he replied, “Yeah. Yes, I think I would.”
There wasn’t much excitement this time, but his tone was unquestionable. Certain.
Good, you told yourself, this is good.
The silence between you two felt heavy. A constant, wavering cloud of gray.
This was what you wanted.
That knife in your heart dug in deeper, twisting, and you felt the invisible gush of feelings pour out of you. So much that you didn’t know how to push them back inside.
Then why does it feel like this?
His phone buzzed, breaking the tension completely. You sat up a little, peering to see who was on his lock screen, but you already knew the answer. Wonwoo smiled shyly and opened up his texts with Harin. Like clockwork, she was asking if he’d like to go on a second date. He was giddy; you could tell because he was making that face that he only made around you. But he didn’t want to show it, because he was getting to his feet and muttering, “Let me answer this and then we can watch a movie.”
You were completely frozen, hands laced on your lap as you grappled with reality. Every other date didn’t sting like this, because he didn’t like them. Not like this. Those bad dates kept him as yours, but this one might not. And – god, it was wrong of you to ever think he could stay yours because he was his own person and your best friend, but this hurt and your brain felt like it was imploding.
“Hey.”
You turned, seeing Wonwoo lingering by the doorway of the living room. He was grinning from ear to ear.
“Thanks for setting this up,” he said. “I mean it this time.”
You forced a smile. “Of course. I’d do anything for you.”
As he disappeared into the bathroom, you licked your lips and told yourself that everything was going to plan, that was a good thing. You repeated it like a mantra, hoping it would stick. And you believed it … for about ten minutes.
Wonwoo, rather unconsciously, tortured you with information on every date he had with Harin. If he couldn’t come over to talk, he simply texted you. And you feigned interest because – maybe, just maybe – you were terrified that he was going to forget about you. He was just so excited about her, and you could tell. This was your doing and all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy. But now he was happy and it wasn’t just with you anymore. What if, sooner or later, it wasn’t with you at all?
You had bitten your nails down to nubs because of it.
He had gone on more dates with Harin, almost every week for the entire month of April. Spring was quite literally in full bloom. He had even taken her to see the cherry blossoms – something you both typically did together. (But it was fine. It had to be.) He wasn’t coming over as often anymore and the takeout you got on Thursdays and Fridays started to taste a lot worse when you were alone. You thought you had gotten used to being alone all these years, but not like this. Not when the thoughts got too loud and you missed him so much that you debated on downloading a dating app. But then you thought back to that horror movie and decided you didn’t want to go on a date with a possible serial killer.
The bed you had made for yourself was cold and not in the good way. The kind that reminded you how lonely the armor around your heart had become. How yearning felt worse when your best friend wasn’t by your side.
You tried to busy yourself with work like always, but not even the late night phone calls from your worried boss were a good enough distraction. (Although, they did keep you up on the customer service hotline with whatever billboard company he decided not to do business with anymore.) For a second, you considered calling up your ex – the older one, Sean – even just for a one night stand. But Sean had never been one for casual. And you couldn’t remember the last time you were intimate with someone.
The fear struck you like lightning. You stirred in bed, flipping onto your back to stare at the ceiling. After attempting to go to sleep early, it was clear that your racing thoughts were going to keep you up, making dread pulse in your chest.
What if no one ever wanted you again? Not even just intimately, but physically. Your presence.
Worse – what if Wonwoo didn’t want you anymore?
The sound of the oscillating fan at your bedside drowned out, leaving you with the echo of the words that just came into your subconscious. Somehow, the world got so quiet, and you were clutching at the stretched out collar of your pajama shirt, breathing suddenly becoming difficult. What the fuck – this couldn’t be anxiety, could it? No way, you hadn’t felt that in year. You were being dramatic, ridiculous, and –
Your phone vibrated and you had never swung so fast to grab it.
Wonwoo: Sorry for the late text but I miss you
Wonwoo: It’s starting to get warm at night and my fan here sucks compared to yours
Wonwoo: Do you have plans Saturday night? Maybe we could get some drinks at the dive we like
And suddenly, breathing didn’t feel so hard to do. You accepted, of course, because the opportunity to see him after so long was more important than anything else in the world right now. He had never been one to initiate plans, so the fact that he was – let alone, asking to meet you at a bar – was progress. He missed you. Of course, he did. You were best friends, but it was clear that the distance truly made the heart grow fonder.
You prepared what you were going to say, how casual your tone was going to be, and the exact beer you planned to order – Stella Artois, of course – but your entire plan seemed to be interrupted when you turned your head to the side that Saturday night. The bar was getting more full, and you could see from the space you cleared out for him at the bar top that Wonwoo wasn’t alone. His hand was on a woman’s back as he ushered her forward and – oh my god, he brought Harin.
Your body froze mid sip as the cold bottle of Stella was at your lips. Wonwoo pushed his wonky glasses up on his nose and waved to you, helping Harin get through the growing crowd, and it took everything in you to force that smile. Once they were in front of you, your eyes raked down and took in the pretty sundress she was wearing: purple flowers scattered in a pattern over white polyester. She looked beautiful and still so casual with her hair undone like this. Your hand smoothed over the off-shoulder top you picked up on the Express clearance rack and your jeans that were a trusted pair since college, suddenly self conscious. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this way, but then you noticed how she was the perfect height next to him and now you were picturing yourself as a fucking Amazon woman next to her and –
You needed to stop this, but you were already upset, eyes getting the tiniest bit pink as you went in to hug Harin. She slipped past you after to order her drink of choice – a rum and Coke – at the bar, and that was when you felt Wonwoo pull you into his broad chest, and you realized just how well you fit here, his nose pressed against your hairline. Your fingers notched into the short sleeve t-shirt he was wearing, and then he muttered, “Missed you,” making you tug on that cotton a little more than a friend should.
“You too,” you replied, voice muffled by his shirt. “You’ve been busy though.”
He laughed under his breath before whispering in your ear. “She wanted to come see you after all these years. This okay?”
“Of course,” you replied, but there was no vigor behind it.
He hummed as you leaned back from him, and he absentmindedly lifted your hand to notice how badly you’d bitten down your nails. His brow furrowed, but you pulled away before he could comment.
Taking out his wallet, he handed Harin his credit card so she could get them both drinks. “You should’ve waited for me,” he said, nodding towards the Stella in your hands. “I wanted to buy your first drink.”
“I’m very capable of paying for my own beer, Wonwoo,” you remarked, and then realized how bitter you sounded, how the frustration that you pummeled down for weeks came up to the surface so easily. Your expression softened as you added, “You can pay for my second.”
He smiled, all goofy and kind. “Sounds good.” Noticing the strand of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, he reached up to push it behind your ear at the same time Harin was turning around with the drinks. Wonwoo’s hand instantly retracted, but came back out to take his card that she handed to him.
“Oh,” she beamed while handing Wonwoo his Stella, “you guys like the same beer.”
Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to you with his chin. “She turned me on to it. I was into Guinness for a bit.”
Harin stuck out her tongue in disgust and you suggested to move over to a high top table, desperate to let this conversation die before it could even begin. You didn’t want Harin thinking that you were one of those weird girl best friends, that you and Wonwoo had secretly hooked up on the side – even though that … definitely did happen in college. Nevertheless, you didn’t want her to have any assumptions of you. This night had already gone off the rails and you were desperate to get it back on track.
So you asked how they were doing, which was another mistake on your part because then Harin glanced at him and he was doing that goofy smile all over again. But not at you. Especially not now. She sipped at her drink through a tiny straw, nudged him with her elbow, before mumbling, “C’mon, you tell her. Don’t be so nervous, Nunu.”
Nunu?
You blinked.
When the hell did he start liking that nickname?
Without meeting your eyes, his hand found Harin’s wrist on the tabletop as he muttered, “I asked her to be my girlfriend last week.”
“Oh,” you blurted, and his gaze instantly lifted to yours. Your lips sealed for a moment, and then you added, “I meant … oh! That’s great news. I just never …” You should stop yourself, because Wonwoo’s eyes looked like he was pleading with you to be silent and Harin was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in this sea of drunk people. “You’ve always taken so long to be exclusive. I never expected it. But I … I’m happy for you two.”
Harin’s face shifted into a huge grin, her eyes closing and her laughter hard to control. Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief that he thought no one noticed, but you did. You took a long swig of your beer as Harin looked to Wonwoo to exclaim, “And you were nervous to tell her! I told you that it wasn’t a big deal.”
That made you both pause. Your eyes flickered to his, the beer bottle frozen to his lips, and you set your own down on the table. Your hands were sweating as much as the cold glass. “You were nervous to tell me?”
He took a sip and shrugged. “Well, I –”
“I think he just …” Harin’s voice trailed off as she looked at him, her own hand coming up to lock around his wrist now. “He values your opinion more than anyone else’s. I’ve noticed it when he talks about you. Besides his parents, I took you as one of the most important people in his life.”
She was speaking in his direction, but once she finished, her head turned to you and she gave you the kind of smile that made you utterly hate yourself. Not out of jealousy, but because she was kind and perfectly perfect for him. Unchallenging and effortless.
For a moment, you were stunned, not sure what to say. But then you were setting down your beer again and suddenly replying, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Be right back.”
You spun on your heel, shoving yourself through the crowd of people that had assimilated around the bar, before finally propelling inside the two-stall bathroom. Walking up to the sink, you clutched the edge and let yourself breathe for a minute, inhaling the heavy scent of Febreze. You debated on splashing your face with cold water before you remembered that you decided to not wear waterproof mascara tonight.
He values your opinion more than anyone else’s.
Bile started to rise in your throat, making you cough and finally turn on the sink to cup water into your mouth. Your eyes got pink again, but you held back the tears that were damn near burning to be let out. If you cried now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and you’d be damned if you let yourself cry over this. Over something so … nonsensical. What were you even upset about anyway?
The soft sounds of Maroon 5 only got louder when the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of Harin’s flushed cheeks. She smiled at you and you immediately sucked in whatever boogers were trying to leak out, grabbing a paper towel to dry your hands. “I didn’t get to tell you yet,” she said, walking forward and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into her orbit, “but you look even better since college. I’m in love with this top.”
And to think you were second-guessing it an hour ago.
She leaned back to grin back up at you, and looking at her now … you could see how she was able to charm just about anyone. People said that about you sometimes, but Harin was different. Something about her aura made you instantly want to let your guard down, feel more at ease, realize how silly you’d been feeling about all of this.
Until you remembered she was now your best friend’s girlfriend and something about that deeply unsettled you.
“Thanks,” you smiled as she detached herself from you. “I really like your dress too.”
“My mom got it for me! Target find, I think.” She shrugged, quickly washing her hands and looking over her shoulder at you. “I stalked you on LinkedIn a little bit. Not sure if you got the notification. You’re a Marketing Director now? That’s so cool!”
“It’s fun sometimes,” you waved off, unsure how to take compliments, even at this age. “You must be doing something cool now.”
She shook her head and dried off her hands. “Nah, I’ve been at the same software developer position for years. But I want to get into game development at some point.”
God, you thought, I really did find him his match.
You nodded, unsure what to say next, but then she was approaching you and reaching out to squeeze one of your hands. She looked up at you like you were important, like you hung the stars one by one. “I just wanted to thank you privately,” she whispered, “for introducing me to Wonwoo. I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings this fast or got along with anyone so well, and I just … thank you. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”
Your heart broke, and you needed to mend it in an instant. But this stung more than you could’ve prepared and it wasn’t fair that you were hurt when this was your doing. The bed you made. The music you had to face. Etcetera, etcetera.
“It was no biggie,” you muttered, wondering how you could make a break for it. Even if that meant going into one of the stalls that had more litter on the floor than a dumpster.
“It is a biggie. It just feels like …” She trailed off, looking off to the side as she mulled over her next words. “You know how I knew it was a big deal when he asked to be exclusive? He wanted to watch a movie – In the Mood for Love – and I learned only later that was one of his favorites. Did you know that?”
Of course, you did. It was only a couple months ago that you two watched it together and he never added anything to his Letterboxd Top 4 so fast.
But you shook your head, eager to get this over with. Maybe you could pretend to be nauseous and go home early.
“It was during a really pivotal scene that he insisted I pay attention to,” she continued, “but then … I felt his hand in mine. And it was like … the way you can feel someone looking at you. Then, he asked me, and something about it felt so right. The moment, his hand … everything. Which I know sounds super corny, but I just … I know this is good for me and I have you to thank. So again – thank you.”
You took the opportunity to carefully slip your hand out of hers. “You’re … you’re welcome,” you forced the words out. “I’m really glad it’s working out and you’re good for him too. This is … the best news.”
You sent her one last quick smile before your shoulder brushed hers. “If you’ll excuse me. My beer must be getting warm,” you added with a chuckle.
In that moment, as your palm pushed against the door and you felt the humidity of the packed bar all over again, seeing your best friend wave and keep watch over the high top table … you realized that getting over him might not have been what you wanted in the first place.
VI.
I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you. I don’t wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you. I’ve been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night. And now I see daylight. –TAYLOR SWIFT
October 31, 2023
It was a particularly warm Halloween. A slight breeze had settled over the brightly lit city, but humidity lingered from the constant on-and-off rain all day. The weather just made the local dive that much hotter: bodies packed like sardines in a small bar that still smelled like cigarettes with a tinge of men’s deodorant. You and Wonwoo had moved downtown a few months ago and were lucky enough to find this place so close to your building. And the best part was – no cover charge.
Not that they could with how bad it smelled in here, but beggars couldn’t be choosers sometimes.
You were wearing a cheap angel halo from Dollar Tree that was far too tight on your head with a pair of light wash jeans and a top that fell off one shoulder a bit too far, enough to make a few men turn their heads and Wonwoo stand close. He had no costume – of course – but maybe he had the right idea when it felt like this headband was compressing your actual skull. However, when a pirate woman that was far too inebriated from multiple Dirty Shirleys asked what his costume was, he replied, “Game developer,” with a cheeky smile.
After twenty minutes, you were finally greeted with the sight of your friends from your new job pushing through the crowd to get to your free corner of the bar. You handed Wonwoo your beer without thinking – and he had to make a mental note which one was yours since you drank the same beer – as you tugged Jennifer into a hug. She was flagged by your other coworkers, Felix and Hunter, who he only recognized because he heard those names come from your mouth more often than not these days.
He introduced himself when you brought them over, but still kept to himself, practically sinking into the corner of the dark bar as you rambled on about something ridiculous happening with your new boss, who seemed like an anxiety-ridden mess. But you already knew that. You were distracted, yet you could still feel Wonwoo’s awkward presence near you. He had always been quiet, since the day you sat next to him in that History of Cinema class, but something was different tonight. Although he didn’t say it out loud, you knew he was still thinking about the girl he broke up with so he could move around the same time as you. He always said that she was nothing more than casual and the career opportunity he got here meant so much more, but … his demeanor tonight spoke to more than that.
Sometimes you wondered if Wonwoo just wanted to belong to somebody.
You wanted to tell him that he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him, but something about that felt too intimate.
Leaving the bar with a fresh buzz, your arm hooked around his and you allowed him to take the lead for once. Wonwoo might’ve been a tiny bit tipsy, but his broad shoulders and height made it easier for him gain the upper hand when your footsteps got a little too fast. You had one too many tequila shots more than him and it was enough to make you feel tingly, to make you a little overconfident when you tried to walk without his help. It almost ended with you face-first on the sidewalk.
Wonwoo grabbed your hand as you tripped over the tip of your shoe, and then simply … never let go. His palm was so warm in yours, albeit a bit sweaty, but you assumed that was from the fluctuating weather. And totally not because of anything else, even as he avoided eye contact.
He kept you close, bringing you into his side when someone else walked past. Your hand was in his sweaty one for a solid three blocks until you reached the door to your building. Feet slowing, his hand slipped out of yours, and it was supposed to look casual but when you turned to him, he was clumsily punching said hand into his jean pocket and trying to hide his pink cheeks.
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, feeling the lip gloss you put on earlier crust at the corners of your mouth. It felt like your brain was swimming, drowning in whatever cataclysm of feelings you were trying to flush, but it was impossible. Wonwoo was impossible.
“You can stay over if you need to,” you offered. “I don’t want you walking back to your place all alone.”
Wonwoo shrugged. “It won’t be that bad. I might just have my roommate pick me up. I think Mingyu’s hanging out with someone just a few blocks away.”
He was staring at your hand, and you noticed, enough for the heat of your gaze to make his chin finally lift like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
Nodding, you replied, “Thanks for going out with me tonight.”
His smile was effortless, so incredibly easy. “I know you hate spending Halloween alone.”
You chuckled, spinning slightly to hide your grin and purposefully whacking his shoulder with your purse. “It’s too spooky,” you argued, turning back to him and realizing now that his body was suddenly within reach. Your lips pursed and you met his dark eyes, the tequila in your system suddenly making your guard slip, as if it was made by mere paper and not bricks.
“Sometimes I think you’re the only person who actually knows me.”
His body went still, taking in your response, and then he asked quietly, “Is that … okay with you?”
Words failed you, dying on your tongue like ash, but you still allowed gravity to pull you in his direction. You were closer now – close enough that your chests brushed, feeling his warm breath on your face. It made a cold sweat appear on your hairline that mingled with the vaguely cool air around you, a reminder of the bitter winter ahead. But at that moment, it was just you and him, and the fallen leaves collecting in puddles around you, and the humidity that made your hair frizz a little. The alcohol running through you had your cheeks flushed and when your head tilted down, you realized your pinky was hooking with his.
You never wanted anything more than this: his warmth, his presence, Wonwoo. The only person that you trusted with your life. Your closest friend. You wanted him everywhere and nowhere. Wanting him was a blessing, but it was also too much, suffocating you from the inside out.
Your gaze lifted to his again, and your lips parted to say something that might ruin everything: “I think … I think I’d be okay with –”
But then, you hiccuped. And again, and again. Enough that you had to hold your breath for a couple seconds to calm down. Your finger was still looped around his and you didn’t look down to make sure it was real, but you felt his thumb running over your knuckles in a way that screamed want. Desire.
The tingles from alcohol started to fade, remnants of tequila ebbing away, and you reframed instantly. Your pinky carefully slipped out of his and you chuckled, “Obviously. You’re my best friend. I mean – that’s kind of the point, right?”
Wonwoo hesitated, brow quirking up for a less than a second. “That’s … that’s good.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped back from you. Your fingers twitched, already missing his warmth.
“I should get going.” He crooked his thumb over his shoulder, feigning a smile. “See you next Thursday for movie night.”
May 7, 2026
He hadn’t been coming to movie nights.
Out of all things, Wonwoo typically didn’t skip a movie night. Not even when he had a date. Hell, he was frequently trying to watch one with you after the dates you put him on. But once turned into twice, and then it was May and the peonies were sprouting in the soil by your apartment and Thursday had become their date nights.
It’s the best day for both of us, he told you in text once. I don’t usually work past 5 and her meetings end around 4:30. It just worked out that way. Which you couldn’t blame him, because Harin was his girlfriend and making time with her mattered. But there was this thing called a weekend – that they were using for dates too (you’d know; you saw the cute photos Harin posted on her Instagram story) – but of course, Thursdays were date night too. Convenient for them. Lonely for you.
You typically embraced loneliness like an old friend. It was never cold – actually, it was rather comfortable – but you regarded it with indifference. You had been alone for so long that you were used to it. It didn’t matter, as long as you had your friend. But your friend was preoccupied with someone else now – someone you set him up with. And this was supposed to make you feel good, but for the first time, you felt yourself grimacing when the shroud of loneliness appeared at your bedside and you flipped over, curling a blanket around yourself despite the heat.
So you called him.
You shouldn’t have. You should’ve let the feelings fester and eventually, they would pass. They always did. But it was another Thursday night alone and the mindless arguing from the reality show on your TV was doing little to silence your loud thoughts. Your glass of homemade sweet tea was left abandoned on the coffee table, water dripping down the sides, as warm air filtered from the open window. Summer was near and yet the spot next to you on the couch felt cold as ice, like someone had deserted it for longer than normal.
You flipped your phone over before you could stop yourself, scrolling down to his name. It was late and he was probably just getting into his apartment after seeing Harin, but you didn’t care. You didn’t really care about anything anymore, truthfully. The line only rang for two seconds before you heard a click and he was saying your name. So faint, like a prayer.
For a moment, you were sure you heard Harin’s muffled laughter leave the speaker.
“Are you just never going to come to movie night again?”
Wonwoo paused, and then said, “Hello to you too.”
“It’s late and I have to go to bed soon because I have a 9 AM meeting tomorrow. I don’t exactly have time for ‘hellos.’” It was a lie, and you both knew it. You’d been staying up way longer than you should’ve most nights and going to work exhausted. It could probably be heard in your voice.
He exhaled heavily, and you could almost hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for skipping. It’s just … you know why. But I feel terrible. You have to know that too. You know I wouldn’t skip plans with you if there wasn’t a legitimate reason.”
You picked at the corner of the pimple patch on your jaw, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been skipping a lot of things recently.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
There was an indistinct woman’s voice on the other end, and then a door closed. He was alone now.
“Wonwoo,” you chastised, “you don’t need me to spell it out for you.”
“Is this still about movie night? I’m not a mind reader.”
You took a moment, swallowing down your pride and sitting up. If you didn’t say it, you feared you never would. The festering wouldn’t cease until you let the word vomit out.
“I feel like you’ve just forgotten me since you started dating,” you said, and then clarified, “since Harin.”
Silence echoed. The minute began to draw out, enough for you to ask, “You there?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “just thinking.”
“About what?”
Wonwoo clicked his tongue then. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
Your head jerked back, the grip on your phone tightening. “It is. I’m happy for you. Don’t I sound happy?”
The sound of his lips opening came muffled through the speaker, but you kept going on.
“I just –” You let your head fall into one hand as you rubbed at your temples. “I’m frustrated. I know people grow apart as they get older, but … I don’t see you anymore and it’s like you don’t give a fuck.”
“Now you’re putting words into my mouth.”
“So? Who cares?”
“Well, it seems like you do.” His words made your heart sink into your stomach, like you’d been caught in the biggest lie of your life. Maybe you had. “Why do you care so much?”
You blinked. “I …” Every nerve in your body died. Even if you wanted to speak, you couldn’t. There was nothing to say anyway. How could you possibly explain the truth when you had buried it in the deepest cavern imaginable for so long?
Finally, your mouth began moving for you: “I just think you’ve forgotten about your friends.”
Wonwoo sighed, frustration evident in his tone. “Listen,” he started, “You’re my longest friend. I know this is what you like to do. You like to fix people because it feels good –”
“It’s not just that, Wonwoo –”
“– But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” he added. “I do.”
Any response you had ready seemed to burn in your throat. It was like he took your whole vocabulary, leaving you mute and helpless as static buzzed from your line to his. Your mouth hung open slightly, and you prayed something would come out, but … nothing. You were nothing in a sea of nothingness and Wonwoo wasn’t yours anymore.
Eventually, you heard him exhale with a tinge of regret. “You there?”
You moved your phone away from your ear, staring down at his contact name. The text began to blur when you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. But you couldn’t let yourself; this hurt but you would survive. You always did, and he’d come back to you and you’d accept him with open arms because this was you and Wonwoo after all. Every friendship – or whatever this was now – went through a rough patch.
But instead of replying, you immediately ended the call.
Wonwoo didn’t come back like you thought.
Silence stretched, thinner than a bed sheet. The distance was colder than you imagined, almost arctic, and you felt it settle deep in your bones, but it did nothing to cool you at night when the humid breeze blew through your open window. No communication was harder than it looked, but in your defense, you really hadn’t expected this. And now, you were too embarrassed to even text him, the fear of rejection still clawing at you just like in college. (Let’s be real: it never really went away anyway.)
You had never been broken up with in the twenty-something years you’d been alive. Typically, it was you who broke things off, and sure, you were sad afterwards, although nothing ever lingered because it was you who ended it in the first place. Maybe you were heartless; maybe no relationship really mattered like Wonwoo’s friendship – but no breakup really hurt. This, however, felt worse than you could ever imagine. Your entire world seemed like it was falling apart and you couldn’t even go to him.
You missed him – more than you ever thought you could, more than that time he went away to Italy during summer break junior year – but you were getting by as much as you could. Jennifer took you out for drinks, and the sugary margaritas made your head swim for a solid night before you were right back to sulking in your chair at work. You got a promotion – one you had been gunning for for a year, one that you deserved. That felt good, and finally, your mood was turning around. Even your parents were going to visit for your birthday in September, something they hadn’t done in a few years. Your mother’s usual saying, “It’s always so busy around your birthday,” graduated to, “I think this year calls for celebration. The last year of your twenties is a big one.” There was a possibility of them cancelling, but you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
So many things to be excited over, and you were trying to focus on them, especially on those dreaded Thursday nights. Instead of popping a movie on your TV and watching it in silence like a lonely 50s housewife, you were taking matters into your own hands. Matters that involved a leak you tended to ignore every time it came back. You were blasting the loudest heavy metal music possible though your AirPods, the kind of stuff you hadn’t listened to since high school, as you tried fixing your bathroom faucet on your own. The sink was older than the apartment, it seemed, and would leak at the most inopportune times. You had been paying a technician to come fix it almost every year, but after the last time when he stared at your chest a little too long, you decided maybe it was time to get up off your ass and try.
In a loose pair of sweatpants and a tank top that was doing nothing to hide your genetically lopsided boobs, you hunched forward and inspected the pipe below the basin. You watched a tutorial online, then watched it again, and settled that this should be easy enough. Gone were the days of you paying a pervy technician far too much money to stop a leak that kept happening. You were a new woman now: independent, self-sufficient, definitely not lonely.
You followed the instructions to a T, but something was just wrong. Maybe it was the day or some form of karma that just wouldn’t get off your back – you would never know. Using all the strength in your body, you tried turning the shut-off valves clockwise, but it was hardly budging. It was like there was something preventing them from moving and condensation was already creating a puddle on your tiled floor. You even tried turning the water on and all the way off to see if something was just clogged, and yet … nothing. Were you really that weak that you could figure out how to fix a fucking sink?
There had to be a solution you didn’t know about. Connecting the drain to the stopper was a washer where the leak was dripping from. You picked up your wrench, the tip of your tongue meeting the corner of your lips, like you did when you really concentrated. The music blaring in your ears was reaching a peak, the bridge so loud that your could feel your neurons kissing – or whatever it was that neurons did. Maybe if you yank the wrench this way around the washer that would stop the leak –
Water erupted from the pipe, spraying all over your face to the point you felt like you were being fucking waterboarded. You reached out with fumbling, desperate hands, trying to tighten the washer again with your eyes closed, realizing you’d been stupid enough to leave one handle turned. After a couple more seconds of what you could only describe as a horrific form of torture, the washer went taut and the water stopped, albeit still leaking, but at least it wasn’t blasting into your nose.
You slumped back against the wall, coughing up the water that had entered your nose, before resting your head back against the peeling wallpaper. Your body was soaked, the thin cotton of your tank top completely ruined and your sweatpants looking like you pissed yourself, and – oh, now you were crying.
Tears welled up before you could stop them, rolling down your cheeks and clogging up your throat. The current song in your ears faded, replaced with an equally louder one that you simply had to turn off at this point. You couldn’t prevent the sobs from absolutely wracking through your body, like it was relieving tension from your system. But still, something about it almost felt violent: your face was turning red and you could already feel a headache coming on as tears practically stung at your eyes. You looked at the sink like it killed someone in your family and it was in that moment that everything became clear. Well, somewhat – warm, wet globs were still falling and it almost hurt to breathe.
You couldn’t believe you’d met your match and it was a sink.
The realization hit you and it felt like you were wearing an invisible dunce cap. You couldn’t fix everything. You could try and do everything in your power, but there was always going to be something that couldn’t be fixed on your own. And it wouldn’t feel good – actually, it made you feel like utter shit – but you had to get over it. You couldn’t do it all and not everything – not even a faucet – could be fixed.
As your eyes followed the water trickling from the pipe, you knew then that you’d been treating Wonwoo like this, like a sink. A project instead of a choice. Perhaps it should’ve been clear when you told him to go into his dates like a job interview, or when he told you that his dates weren’t a performance review. There were a multitude of times when you should’ve realized, but you didn’t,and now you were paying the consequences with this leak in your bathroom and no Wonwoo by your side.
You got to your feet and padded to your room for a fresh set of clothes. It wouldn’t help sitting there and sulking at the stupid leak you couldn’t fix.
On the rare occasion that your absent-minded mother called you to check in, she’d ask you the same things – “Are you still working at that company? How’s Wonwoo? Did you get a cat yet?” – but one always stuck with you, to the point her voice would echo in your head before you went to sleep. Sometimes she’d prod about why you weren’t dating anyone, why you hadn’t experienced love yet when you were pushing thirty. And it stumped you, because surely, you should’ve experienced love at least once. But you never wanted to think too deeply about it out of fear, and then came up with a quip like, “I’m waiting for a love like I’ve seen in the movies. Find me my own Harry Burns from When Harry Met Sally, then we’ll talk, Ma.”
It was all farce though.
And as you sat down on the edge of your bed, clean clothes abandoned in a neatly folded pile at your hip, you knew the reason why now. You’d always known, deep inside yourself, but you pushed it down for so long that these feelings had no choice but to come up when a leaky faucet made you the most defenseless. Like your armor of sturdy bricks had finally crumbled from a mere gust of wind.
You were in love with Jeon Wonwoo.
Maybe you always had been.
VII.
Orpheus: How will you remember?
Eurydice: That I love you?
Orpheus: Yes.
Eurydice: That’s easy. I can’t help it. –SARAH RUHL
You attempted to text him for an entire week, an abundance of words spilling from your subconscious, the same ones you buried since the day you shook his hand while saying, “Just friends?” That one sentence seemed to haunt you for life, repeating over and over in your head when not even audio porn could dull the ache in your chest. You poured your heart out into your phone all week: ranging from essays you drafted in the Notes app to actually opening up your texts with him and letting the bright light blur into your retinas until sleep finally took over.
Nothing was right though.
Maybe it was all you. The ideal words just weren’t coming and it was all too embarrassing. You weren’t 28 anymore; it felt like you were 11 logging onto AIM with trembling fingers before messaging the boy you liked. The same boy that you shared Social Studies with, that you didn’t give a Valentine’s Day Fun Dip to because you thought that would make him like you – but I digress. You were shriveling into your past shelf and you didn’t know how to make it all stop.
The next blow hit before you were able to expect it.
While you’re on your lunch break eating the saddest salad known to man, you open up Instagram and see a story update from Harin. Instinctively, you know you shouldn’t. It could be nothing and it would still make you upset. The last thing you needed was to drench this limp salad with your tears. Your finger hovered over her icon, and you almost stopped yourself but the temptation was too much.
A video started playing, making your hands fumble as you struggled to turn the audio down and grab your AirPods at the same time. Once they were in, you replayed the first video: she was showing off a new apartment with a big smile. She was so beautiful and graceful as she moved around the new place, presenting the big kitchen and best indoor heating system for the winter. (You wondered how she’d fair with your tiny space heater in the kitchen, and you chuckled to yourself.) She opened the door to the bedroom, rambling on about the size and how it was made for two people.
You held your finger down to pause. Made for two. As in … a couple. Moving in together.
Lifting the pad of your finger, her voice came though your headphones automatically: “This move all came up pretty fast,” she sighed, plopping down on the clean carpet. “But it’s a new opportunity and I’m so excited to start this new journey, as corny as it sounds. I’ve been a little bit of a cornball recently. If you know, you know. Trying to romanticize my life and all that.” She slid down to lay on the carpet then. “Here’s to new beginnings!”
It was wrong to jump to conclusions. You knew that; you preached it. But when your heart was beating a little too fast like this, it was hard to not make your imagination run wild. Because obviously, Wonwoo was moving in with her. After only a few months of dating. You knew it shouldn’t come as much as a shock because she was his girlfriend after all, but also you thought maybe – just maybe – this was something he could’ve told you. Even when you both weren’t speaking.
You stood from your desk, smiling politely to each coworker you passed until you got to the bathroom. It was only when you locked yourself in a stall that you felt the devastation hit you. Like an avalanche. Your palms laid flat on both sides of the stall as you stared at your feet, waiting for something to change. But it was just you: calm on the surface with your feelings eating you up inside, swallowing you whole until you were nothing left.
If you didn’t confess, then you’d become a shell. A walking set of bones and muscles. But what if he completely cut you off? What if he was disgusted, absolutely horrified that someone who was supposed to be his friend had been hiding their feelings for ten years? You couldn’t blame him, but you didn’t want to imagine losing him. Not yet.
Friendship without honesty was still a loss. It was time for both of you to be honest with each other.
After a debilitating train ride, you almost reconsidered your plan. But as you stepped onto the platform for the stop closest to Wonwoo’s apartment, looking around at the crowd of people swarming around you, the only way out was in. You couldn’t postpone this to another day; not when you’d been repeating this cycle since college. So you pushed through – past the tired women in blazers that were looking forward to their Friday night glass of wine, past the men on the phone with their partners and assuring them they’d pick up whatever they wanted for dinner – until you got to the stairs and climbed up. You were out of breath by the time you got to the top, lungs burning, and a drizzle was starting to fall, but you sprinted forward into the crowd. Your dying courage would lead you to where you needed to go.
Once you were standing outside his building – newly refurbished a few years ago with a huge garden planted in the front – you began to dig in your work tote for your keys, which still had his fob attached to it. You didn’t use it very often since he was almost always at your place, but it was instances like this that you were grateful to still have it in your possession. Swiping it at the door, you tugged at the handle and stepped inside, pulling off your wet hood as your shoes squeaked all the way to elevator.
Sometimes you wished you had the strength to just move into a nicer building like Wonwoo’s. It wasn’t like you didn’t have the money, but you had just gotten … accustomed to your old place. The heating system was shit and the lack of proper AC sucked in the summer, however … there were a sense peace there that you never experienced anywhere else. That was where you built a home and memories. With Wonwoo.
As the doors opened and you stepped inside, it started to settle in what you were doing. Your heart rate kicked up like a drum, and your nails were pinching tiny crescents in your palms. This was really happening. Why the fuck were you doing this again? Could you really not get through another few years of pushing down these feelings and postpone this all over again? You wanted to, desperately, and you were half tempted to turn around. But your feet had a mind of their own, walking out of the elevator that stopped on the third floor, halting at his door and rapping your fist against it.
You still had time to back out. He might still be on the way home from work. Maybe it was just Mingyu there right now, and he’d keep your secret if you left. If you spun on your heel and already started for the elevator, he wouldn't be able to see you –
The door opened, and there was Wonwoo, blinking at you in surprise. He was running a hand through his combed wet hair, fresh from a shower, with a black t-shirt that was clinging to his slightly damp body and – oh. No matter how old you got, a pair of grey sweatpants would always get to you, especially on him.
Meeting his eyes again, you asked, “Are you busy? Can I come in?”
His lips pursed for a moment, and as much as you knew he wanted to be mad at you, his face softened. “Yeah,” he nodded, holding the door more open, “of course.”
You stepped through the threshold, noticing that his living room was as clean as it would get, something he had gotten sick of you chastising him for so you fought to always keep your mouth shut. Bills and junk mail were scattered on the coffee table, but you noticed – right near the TV – a candle was lit, almost burnt to the bottom. It was the candle you gave him for Christmas last year. The one he said reminded him of you.
Placing your work tote near the door, you didn’t bother sitting down, didn’t even take off your rain jacket. It was just you and him, standing in his living room that was lit with just one candle and an artsy lamp that his roommate had bought. You didn’t hear any rustling anywhere else; Mingyu must not be home.
A smart person – someone wanting forgiveness – would say something simple, like hello. But you didn’t, because clearly this was the stupidest decision of your life.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You blurted, making his brow furrow.
“What are you talking about?”
You gawked at him, and then replied, “Don’t play stupid, Wonwoo.”
He was blinking again, confusion wracking his brain. “I wish I was. I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I saw Harin’s Instagram story.” You paused, suddenly so aware about how childish you sounded. Getting upset over something as silly as Instagram. Your mouth went dry, and when you met his eyes again, you realized he was waiting for you to say more. “About the new apartment.”
“Oh,” he nodded, then thought for a moment. “Wait, she got the apartment?”
Your lips opened for a moment, processing his words. Something was off; were you both talking about the same thing right now? Why would he not know if his girlfriend got the apartment, presumably for the both of them?
“Are you intentionally acting dumb?” You asked, a little more irritable than you should be. He tilted his head and your hands balled into fists, standing up straighter. “Because if you keep doing this, I’m going to start crying again and I’m already so high strung and I haven’t slept and I’m confused –”
Wonwoo stepped closer then, his face losing every hint of anger towards you. He wasn’t really angry; he could never be that angry at you. His large hand circled around your arm, and you could feel the caress of his thumb running up and down even though the thin layer of your rain jacket. “Hey, take a breath,” he insisted in a soft voice. “Everything is okay.”
You inhaled sharply, and then let it out. Your gaze was practically glued to his as you felt every wall that was ever created inside you crumble. Originally, you assumed there was just one, tall as the eye could see, made of bricks. But there were actually several walls, and when your eyes connected with his, you could practically feel them collapsing in your stomach, one after the other.
“It’s not though,” you finally said. “And it pisses me off that you’re still so calm about this.”
His hand slowly left your arm. “About what?”
“About you and Harin moving in together!”
Wonwoo went silent, brows drawn together, and then he muttered, “Oh, that’s what this is about?”
“What else would it be about?!”
“Harin and I aren’t moving in together.”
You blanked. “Excuse me.”
“We actually aren’t …” He looked off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. Your brow shot up to your hairline. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Oh, I …” You shook your head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been in my head for days. I shouldn’t have assumed –”
He mimicked your movements, and now you were both shaking your heads at each other like bobble heads in a toy shop. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s just –” He exhaled heavily, and now it was your turn to grab his arm. You watched his body physically relax under the heat of your palm, his eyes fluttering down to burn into yours. “I broke up with her two weeks ago. She wanted to me to partially move in with her to see if our lives were compatible. We’d only been together a little under two months and I wasn’t ready. Obviously,” he added, gesturing to the state of his shared apartment.
You squeezed his forearm, and maybe you were just imagining it, but you swore you could feel his pulse quicken.
“I don’t think I would ever be ready. Because I’ve never …” He paused, and if he didn’t continue, you were sure that your courage would vanish. “I’ve never gotten over you.”
The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Your voice so small when you replied, “What? Ever since –”
“Sophomore year.”
Your grip slipped from his arm. “But I thought you … you had never met anyone worth the effort?”
Wonwoo leveled a look at you, like he’d been completely obvious all along. “You have never been just anyone. I thought you knew that.”
You scoffed, acting so nonchalant as if you both weren’t confessing to every feeling you ever had for each other. “Of course, I didn’t know. I’ve been setting you up on dates because I thought if I fixed your love life …” You feigned a laugh as your hand came up to your mouth. “Maybe it wouldn’t blindside me. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much when you really fell in love with someone. And of course, I was very wrong about that one.” Swallowing hard, your fingers were now lacing with his, placing your heart in his careful hands. “You deserve someone great, Wonwoo. Someone who doesn’t push her friend away because she’s in love with him.”
And just like that, they were out of your system. The words flowed off your tongue so easily too, like he was always supposed to know. Like you were meant to tell him all those years ago.
His voice was so low that it almost sounded like a breath: “You’re in love with me?”
“You’ve never been just anyone either, Wonwoo,” you sighed.
He shook his head. “But I thought … I thought you said … you said we would ruin everything if we tried.”
“I was terrified. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship when it just started, and then years went on and … nothing ever went away. I thought about you all the time.”
Wonwoo took a moment, relishing in the feel of your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. He finally brought your laced fingers up, his nose brushing against your wrist as he breathed in your scent. You smelled like that perfume he loved, and paper, and rainwater – everything he loved about you and more. Because he loved you. Of course, he loved you, and you could see it in his eyes, and now you were wondering how you survived being this blind for so long.
“I thought I lost my chance years ago,” he murmured, his naturally long lashes sweeping against your skin. “I thought you truly wanted me with someone else.”
You realized then that your face had moved closer to his without knowing, wanting to be more in his orbit. You couldn’t remember the last time you both were this close. “I thought I did, but …” Your top teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “I don’t think that’s true anymore. And I’ve been sick to my fucking stomach because all I’ve wanted to do is be honest, but there was never a good moment or the right words.”
His chest was pressing against yours now and your fingers unlaced, only so he could hold your face in his warm palms. He shushed you, already seeing the tears prick at your eyes when you got too worked up, wiping them away with his thumbs. “Come on now. You’ve always known the right words to say,” he smiled, and you felt your mouth wobble at just how good he was. You had been an ass to him, you had hid these feelings for years, and yet … he always let you in. “I’m sorry it took me so long to be honest too. Every time I had a bad date, I thought it was proof that wanting you was useless. So I opened myself up, because I thought Harin might just be it. But she wasn’t you.”
His thumb traced your lip, making you release it from in between your teeth. “No one’s like you.”
You did your best not to cry again. All those years of blocking the tears were catching up to you. “I’m sorry for the way I went about this,” you muttered. “I should’ve been honest. I should’ve told you. But I guess you can still be a coward even at our age.”
“You’re not a coward,” he laughed. His finger swiped down the slope of your nose, as if he was committing every bit to memory. “I’m sorry for what I said on the phone. You were right – I did get caught up in the relationship, but I was trying to so I would forget about my feelings for you. I didn’t mean any of it. I like that you fix people.”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“Okay, maybe I don’t,” he confessed, and then his lips pulled into a smug grin, leaning in so close to your face that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. “Sometimes I like when you micromanage me though.”
The shock that this was all happening hit you, practically struck you like lightening. You stuttered out a series of incomprehensible words, until you finally asked, “Really?” All the confidence, bitterness, it seeped out of you when Wonwoo’s lips were this close to yours. “Well, I … maybe I could –”
“Finally let me kiss you?”
“Oh.” The tension in your body faded, and your hands were curling around his neck because this was happening and he was oh, so yours. “I mean … I guess that’s fine.”
He sneered, “Always needing the last word –”
Your mouth crashed onto his and it felt – god, nothing was more right than this. Your first kiss in college had been messy, almost clumsy, two young adults trying to figure out what the other liked, but Wonwoo had been a quick learner. And oh, did he remember. He didn’t forget the way you liked your bottom lip being sucked on, or how your breath hitched when he licked inside your mouth. His hand slipped from your cheeks, down your torso, before resting on your hips and pulling you even closer by your belt loops. Your fingers were tracing his shoulder blades through the fabric of his tee, an area you didn’t realize until now made him kiss you harder.
“Mingyu’s not home,” he breathed against your lips, shucking your rain jacket off your shoulders.
“I don’t care either way,” you quipped, more desperate than you realized, because you had already started shoving him to the right, where his room was located. Your mouths a hairsbreadth apart, you asked, “Do you still know how to do that thing with your tongue?”
He pulled back with confusion when his spine hit the door of his bedroom, and then realization crossed his features. “Oh, that. I might be out of practice. You were the first person I ever went down on and –”
You raised a brow, causing him to smirk. “It would be an honor,” he replied.
Once his bedroom door closed, the goofiness cleared out of him and his hands were tight, all over you like this was your first time all over again. He had your back pressed against the door, your wrists in his firm grip and pinned over your head. You chased his lips as he went from kissing you soft to hard, making you huff because – Jesus, you really were starved for his attention. Tugging on your bottom lip, he released it and let his mouth trail near your jaw, breathing in that deadly perfume again. The same one that didn’t cease to make him hard.
And you felt it. Right against your leg, heat seeping into your slacks. Was he not wearing any underwear?
“In case I didn’t say it already,” he muttered, his nose now connecting with yours, one palm sliding down to thumb at your nipple over your blouse. “I’m in love with you too.” His teeth skimmed your jaw again, then your collarbone, sucking hard on a particular spot and you felt like you could maybe cum untouched. This was pathetic, being reduced to nothing at your big age from just a hickey.
“I’ve been dreaming of the day you’d let me in,” he hummed, squeezing your breast and feeling the weight in his palm, “when you’d let me touch you again.”
Your knee nudged in between your bodies, smoothing over the growing bulge in his sweatpants. “Wonwoo, please,” you whimpered, already feeling the warmth pool in your stomach, panties drenched and desperate for anything.
“Are you gonna let me micromanage you now?”
Your eyes snapped open, lips pursing as you processed his dirty talk. A snort escape you, and he lifted his head to look at you from underneath his messy, wet hair. His cheeks were tinged a pale pink. “Sorry,” you giggled.
“It sounded sexier in my head,” he muttered, releasing your wrists so he could use that hand to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want to … right? I think I have condoms somewhere. If not, I’ll steal one from Mingyu. I’ve seen his dick once. Accidentally. We’re kind of similar –”
You placed a hand over his mouth to get him to quiet. “This is the most you’ve talked about your roommate and I’d rather not think about him before you fuck me.” Letting your hand fall, you played with the hem of his t-shirt, fingers now splaying on his lower abdomen. His skin was hot to the touch, still a little damp from his shower. “Don’t worry about it – I’m still on the pill. Hormonal acne and all that.”
Now your cheeks were pink, embarrassment creeping through your entire body. But Wonwoo was quick, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip again, and you relaxed by pulling him closer with the ties of his sweatpants. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your mouth, “always have been.”
Before you could catch your breath, he was picking you up and laying you down on his bed. You landed on top of the remote, making the TV flicker to life, and the soft sounds of When Harry Met Sally filled the room. But Wonwoo was too distracted to notice, one knee between your legs and nudging them apart as his mouth descended upon yours again. He kissed you breathless, like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d be content if you were the only person he could kiss forever. And when he lifted his head, half-lidded eyes burning into yours – you knew it was true. He didn’t even half to say it.
Sitting up slightly, his deft fingers slowly started unbuttoning the puffy-sleeved blouse you wore to work today. (Which you definitely didn’t expect him to be taking off when you dressed yourself this morning.) When all the buttons were free, he paused, simply admiring the view of your exposed stomach, the curve of your breasts nestled in your bra. You almost wished you wore something cuter, but how the hell were you supposed to know this was going to happen? You grabbed his hand, calling out his name in a voice that he had only heard in his deepest fantasies.
“Sorry, I just …” He finally pushed the fabric to the side, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. As his hand came around to unhook your bra, he continued, “I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long. It doesn’t seem real.”
You realized then … that night in his dorm – you hadn’t taken your t-shirt off. Anxiety had riddled your head, too scared of him seeing all of you. Although you had let him between your legs, being fully nude was different. That was true vulnerability, and you hadn’t been ready for that.
Until now. You shrugged off the bra, letting it fall onto his floor, and laid back.
He was looking at you like he’d seen God.
So you took his hand in yours and placed it on one of your breasts. “Fucking Christ,” he muttered, leaning down and wrapping his lips around one nipple. Your back arched off the sheets – purple, the same ones you bought him when he moved here – moaning softly while he played with the other nipple in his right hand. The weight of them was out of this world; all his perverted fantasies when he saw you in low-cut tops coming to life in this very moment. Every time he felt guilty for staring at you too long – they didn’t matter anymore. Because you had wanted this just as much as him.
“God,” he huffed, mouth dragging over to the other nipple, laving his tongue over it. “You’re a dream come true.”
Maybe he was just in love but the sounds you made were practically pornographic. Your hips bucked against his knee in between your legs, begging for friction. You could already feel your own arousal through your slacks – a mortifying cleanup you’d fret on tomorrow morning. As much as he wanted to play here forever, he knew how much you wanted his tongue inside you, so he relented.
His gaze on yours, Wonwoo peppered kisses down your stomach, making sure to nip at that beauty mark near your belly button, before he stood tall again. Pulling his t-shirt over his head, you were reminded just how toned he had gotten since college. You had never like a hulking, strong man, but Wonwoo had definition, hidden muscles in his biceps that had gotten bigger than you thought. He hid all this underneath those oversized tees, the sweaters he wore to work everyday. It was like he crafted in a lab specifically for you, nerdy interests and all.
Setting his glasses on his desk, he finally pulled down on the zipper of your trousers, and you both worked together to shimmy yourself out of them. But you almost wished you didn’t, because underneath those slacks was the evidence of just how much you wanted this, how utterly wet you were for him.
Wonwoo leaned over you again, so close to your face that you could see the lines underneath his eyes. “You’re completely soaked,” he murmured, snaking a hand between your bodies to graze two fingers down your clothed slit. The material of your panties was practically translucent, and your hips bucked immediately. “Needed me that bad, huh?”
“Don’t act so smug –” You barked, until you felt it: one finger pushing the fabric to the side while the other just barely prodded at your entrance. Breath hitched, you whimpered, “Yes.”
He smirked, going back down and kneeling at the foot of his bed. Pulling your panties off slowly, you expected him to take his time, even though you had both been waiting for this longer than you could remember. A yelp escaped your lips when he hauled you forward, and you felt his hot breath there, making you clench around nothing. One ankle rested on his left shoulder, opening yourself up to him, and you were pushing back hair from his forehead when you realized he was inhaling your scent. Your breathing stuttered, barely able to get out, “I’m sorry, I didn’t shave –”
His face was already buried between your legs, sucking your clit into his mouth like candy. Your head thrashed to the side, fingers digging into his hair and you yanked at him – hard. He groaned into you, teasing your wet hole with the tip of his tongue, devouring you whole. Everything about you was intoxicating: your taste, your sounds, even the way you pulled at his hair. It felt like you were actually trying to rip it out, and truthfully, that was a fate he’d risk if it meant he could stay here forever. Between your thighs, lapping at you until you were overstimulated and begging him to stop.
Your hips were now bucking against his face, free hand clenched at your side, as you lost yourself in the magic of Wonwoo’s tongue. The memory of how good this was in college diminished to nothing in that moment. He was out of practice and yet, this was the best you had felt in a long time. Wonwoo had this way of sucking on your clit before tongue-fucking you like it was out of style, and then repeating those steps all over again, sometimes using his nose to play with your clit in between. You yanked on his hair again, bringing him that much closer as you moaned, “Wonwoo.”
“Harder.”
“What?” Your head lifted.
His eyes met yours from the end of the bed. Mouth just barely leaving your pussy, he demanded, “Pull my hair harder.”
He didn’t give you a second to respond, already diving back into you. His mouth wrapped around your clit and you yanked on his hair as hard as you could and – the groan he let out reverberated through your entire body, making your nipples hard all over again. You felt that tip of his finger again – no, it was two – sliding into you and nestled in that place only he would remember. Because Wonwoo was attentive. Wonwoo remembered. He knew that the best way to get you there was tugging your clit between his teeth while he crooked those two fingers against a spot that made your thighs shake.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pumping his fingers into you. “You’re so tight.”
You pulled on his hair, making him press his erection against the bed frame. “It’s been a while.”
He was looking up at you again, noticing the way your jaw clenched, and he clarified, “That doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. A name you never thought you’d hear from his lips. You clenched around his fingers, sucking them more in.
“You close?” He asked, going in to drag his tongue through you. “Want me to edge you?”
You scoffed. “You know I don’t like that.”
He chuckled, slipping his fingers out to lick them clean. “Maybe next time.”
A snarky reply was on the tip of your tongue until his tongue was circling that swollen bundle of nerves. Three fingers were now stuffed inside you, sliding in and out while curling against that – “Yes, right there” – spot. If you felt this full with his fingers … you couldn’t even remember what his cock felt like. Your breathing was already uneven and he was moaning while sucking on your clit and – oh. Your orgasm crested and you were pulling on his hair so much that you were sure there’d be a funny, little bald patch after. His name fell from your lips and he kept licking you through it, grinding his achingly hard cock against the bed.
Despite his own greed, Wonwoo pulled away when your ankle relaxed on his shoulder once again. You already looked so fucked out on his bed: chest heaving, sweat dotting your hairline. This was something out of a dream, one that he had many times, leaving him waking up hard until he fisted his cock to completion. Your arousal dripped down his chin and he hardly made an effort to clean it up, instead crawling up on the bed and kissing you breathless, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
Your hands had other plans though. One tugged on the ties at his waistband, while the other slipped under it, finding his erection so easily. No underwear, just like you assumed.He was throbbing, precum staining the thick fabric of his sweatpants, and you trailed a digit along the base. “Since when do you not wear underwear, you pervert?” You laughed against his mouth.
You felt him smile against yours. “In my defense,” he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I didn’t exactly expect anyone would be coming over.”
“What about Mingyu?” You squeezed at the middle of his shaft, earning a grunt from him.
“I thought we were done talking about my roommate before I fuck you.”
Your nose wrinkled. “Touché.”
He sat up on his knees between your legs, allowing you to help him pull his cock out. Wait. Was he always this big? That night in college was clearly a blur because this was not what you expected. The trail of dark hair that led to his groin didn’t surprise you – he had always been on the hairier side, too lazy to shave even his fingers – it was the whole package. His cock was long, thicker than you remembered, that dark hair trailing all the way down to the base and scattered around his balls. He had just two veins etched towards a flared pink tip, dripping more precum onto his sweats that were hanging just under his ass.
You didn’t even bother having him kick them off, wrapping your hand around his shaft again and slowly dragging it up, his whole body tense as he held himself back. He almost fell forward, but then braced one of his long arms by his hip to steady himself. “This is – fuck –” He muttered when you squeezed him at the tip. “This is evil.”
“I’m micromanaging.” You grinned, your finger leisurely tracing the vein on the right side of his shaft, making his knees buckle.
He laughed under his breath. “You have no idea –” His jaw shifted when you started pumping him a little faster. “– How many times I thought about this.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he choked out. “Felt so guilty after I jerked off – fuck – but nothing got me hard like the thought of you. And then, there were the dreams –”
Your hand paused at the base. “Wait, you’re being serious?” You asked, and his eyes flashed open, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Then, you confessed, “I had dreams about you too. Touched myself and imagined it was you. For years.”
“Oh, my god.” His head fell into your shoulder, as if this revelation was physically painful. Or maybe it was because your grip was squeezing him a little too well. “If we don’t finally have sex, I think I might cum.”
You chuckled, louder than you expected, placing your free hand over your mouth. But he removed it as your other palm slipped from his cock, muttering something about how much he loved the way you laughed, but your heart was pounding too much to hear it. Hooking one of your legs around his waist, he gripped his cock and guided it forward, nudging your entrance. His eyes lifted to yours, darker than you’ve ever seen.
“Tell me how much you want it,” he muttered, but his tone suggested that it was more of a demand. “How much you want me inside you.”
Your brow lifted. “Don’t be silly. I thought we were on a time crunch here.”
Now his brows were shooting to his hairline. “So you don’t want it?”
“Wonwoo, stop playing around –”
You hadn’t even realized until you felt it: his hand leaving his cock to rub slow circles on your already sensitive clit. Legs parting even more, you whined and you almost didn’t recognize your own voice. “What was that again?” He smirked, pinching your clit in a way that made your toes curl.
“Jesus, okay – I want it so bad,” you moaned, eyes closed as you surrendered to his touch. “Wonwoo, please – just … Oh, my god – please, fuck me. I think I might go fucking crazy if you’re not inside me in the next ten seconds –”
He pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt. You almost cried from the stretch. It was more than you expected, but you now realized that maybe you should stop having expectations with Wonwoo. He groaned, still rubbing your clit to get you to loosen up more, while hiking your right leg on his waist higher. Savoring the feeling of finally being inside you again, he peppered kisses on your cheek, humming against your skin, “You feel so good, sweetheart,” and, “my best girl, my sweetest girl.”
“It’s so – too much, Wonwoo,” you mewled, even though you suddenly didn’t want to imagine a second without him stuffed inside you like this. So full, so deep – you wondered if you’d feel him the next day.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he cooed, tilting his head to graze his lips over yours. “I know you’re tight, but you can take it, right?”
He leaned back slightly to look in your eyes, wiped the tears that threatened to fall, and you nodded.
“Good girl,” he muttered before pulling all the way out. You didn’t even have a moment to catch you breath before he was slamming back in, his jaw unhinging at just how good you felt.
This was different than that time in his dorm. You were both older, not all that wiser, but there was purpose here. He created a rhythm between you two that had you feeling every vein, every fucking ridge, and you were now wondering who taught Wonwoo to fuck like this. Because it surely hadn’t been you. Or maybe this was just a case of his memory again, because it only took him a few deep thrusts to find the perfect angle that brushed your g-spot, causing your legs to jerk upward. He caught your right thigh before it fell, and then bullied his cock back into you as stars flashed in your vision.
Your arms wound around his neck, fingers raking at the nape of his neck, and then pulling, just the way he liked it. “Fuck –” He groaned, his warm breath mingling with yours. “Missed you so much. Missed being inside you. God –”
The discomfort subsided, as if your pussy had molded itself to the shape of his cock, and it was then that you realized that you never wanted to fuck anyone besides Wonwoo for the rest of your life. You had ten years to have your fun, but this – he punctuated your thought with a hard thrust that made your whole body tremble – was it. You didn’t need anyone else, didn’t want anyone else.
Just Wonwoo.
You whined out his name, yanking on his hair as he filled you to the brim over and over again. His fingers – those long, fucking fingers – tweaked your nipples just right, and your back arched into him. “Please, don’t stop,” you begged, catching his lip between your teeth for a moment. “Close. So close. Wanna cum with you.”
“I’ll get you there, sweetheart,” he promised, making that warmth in your gut pool even more. If he didn’t get you over that peak soon, you were going to lose it. “Don’t worry. I got you.”
It was almost funny: the lewd sounds of him fucking into you mixing with Billy Crystal reciting the most devastating monologue known to man as When Harry Met Sally continued on his TV. Your focus shifted when his fingers gave one last pinch to your nipple before dragging down, down, down – all the way until his thumb was rubbing circles on your aching bud again. Harder this time. Like the way you pulled his hair. His digits were harsh, eager to feel you tighten around his cock. He wasn’t even fucking into you anymore; he was buried so deep that you felt him everywhere.
But then it happened: your walls clamping around him, your breathing stifled, and he was trying to fight the urge of cumming himself to praise you. “That’s it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You whimpered his name, orgasm crashing over you, and he was still rubbing your clit. “There you go. I got you, sweetheart.”
Your whole body was shaking, and it felt almost religious coming undone for him like this. Like it was written in the stars, or maybe your own obliviousness. It felt like every good memory led to this: the best orgasm of your life with the man you’d been in love with since you were 20.
When he felt your walls start to unclench the slightest bit, that was his cue to move again. He pulled out, and then pushed back in so deep that it felt like you were cumming all over again. Fucking into you like this would become an addiction, he just knew it, because when he finally chased his high and practically cried against your mouth, there was no other feeling like it. The way you held onto him, sucking him back in like a vice, as he fucked his release back into you – maybe you were made for him all this time.
All those years depriving himself of this left him desperate and enamored. He was already going soft but he was still pushing into you, not letting any of his seed escape, and you were clenching yet again, cumming all over his cock like it was the only thing you knew how to do. In all honesty, Wonwoo was tempted to keep going, but when he saw the way your body was damn near shivering in his arms, he decided that it was probably not the smartest to overstimulate you during the first time in so long.
He waited almost a decade for you. He could make up for lost time eventually.
Collapsing on top of you, he kissed you softly, feeling you smile into it. Even though him slipping out of you felt empty after all that, you were almost grateful for the reprieve. His soft cock pressed against your thigh, but he stayed there, on top of you, kissing you like you two were 80 and had been doing this all your lives. You hoped that could be your future after all. Because when he leaned back slightly and your hand came to rest on his jaw, you saw the kind of love you secretly always wanted: the kind that would span years, reincarnated in different people.
Wonwoo rolled onto his back, pulling the waistband of his sweatpants back up before relaxing against the pillows. You curled into his side and he picked up the forgotten remote, seeing the credits run across the small TV at the foot of his bed. “Shit, we missed all of the movie,” he joked.
You chuckled, arm circling around his middle as he tugged a sheet over you. “We can rewind.”
VIII.
You are where all roads lead back to. Parts of you exist in everything I’ve ever loved. –UNKNOWN
You had never been one for morning sex. Always preferred to wake up without distractions and get to your day as soon as possible. Wonwoo might change that though.
After realizing that it was a Friday night and the both of you had no plans the next day, he obviously had to twist your arm to stay over. You had come to his apartment with no plan, just the tote bag you brought to the office everyday and your rain jacket, so you mildly freaked at the idea of staying over without your favorite toothpaste or facial cleanser, only to find out that Wonwoo kept them stocked just in case. Like he was waiting for the day you slept over again. Except it was different this time, because you were dozing off in his arms as he whispered, “I love you,” and your smitten ass was saying it back.
Waking up to his chest against your back, hard cock pressed into your asscheek, as his hand snaked around to your front to dip his fingers between your legs wasn’t exactly what you imagined, but you liked it. Far more than you ever realized. And you supposed that maybe you secretly wanted this to happen because you did fall asleep in just his t-shirt. (Who’s to say?) It wasn’t long before he was having you cum on his fingers, prying your legs open with his own so he could fuck you on your side like this. Your head had turned to meet his lips from over your shoulder and – oh, absolutely nothing was better than this.
Once you were both spent, he let you fall back asleep – something you never did. You were typically an early riser, never once allowing yourself to sleep in and waste the day. He knew this already, which meant he had to physically tuck you back in under his duvet so you would make yourself comfortable again. “Just relax for once,” he chuckled before pecking your cheek. “Give yourself another hour. I’ll have Mingyu whip us up something.”
“Oh, good,” you replied sleepily, cheek flush with his pillow, “I thought you were going to cook and burn the kitchen down.”
He flicked your nose. “Funny.”
When you rolled out of bed an hour later, you chose to look decent and pulled on a pair of his clean boxers. You looked ridiculous, covered head to toe in Wonwoo, and even though he had let you borrow his clothes before, this felt special. What’s his was also yours now.
You ran a hand through your tangled mess of hair and tugged it through a scrunchie, padding out into the common area. Mingyu was already gone, probably off to his restaurant, and left Wonwoo some bills to go food shopping later. You crossed the threshold of the kitchen and paused, admiring Wonwoo. He was humming to himself while placing a pod in the Keurig, another steaming mug already waiting for you at his small dining table. You always thought he was handsome, but there was something about his hair sticking up in different directions, the way his sweatpants hung loose on his waist, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose … it did something to you. Nothing was more perfect than Jeon Wonwoo in the morning.
“Is this for me?” You asked, pointing to the mug on the table, and he didn’t even jump at the sound of your voice. As if he expected you there all along.
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m almost done with mine, and Mingyu cooked us up some of those fluffy eggs with veggies. The ones you like.”
Sitting down at the table, you crossed one leg underneath the other and took a hefty sip. It was bitter and dark – just the way you liked it. Wonwoo joined you at the table after pouring a splash of milk in his mug, and you both sat there for a moment, perfectly at peace with the silence. It reminded you of that morning – after the first and only hookup – how your knees just barely brushed and the open windows that smelled of fresh flowers, like spring in bloom. Except this time, the weight of liking him didn’t feel like a curse. There were no final exams to worry about. And Wonwoo was now reaching out his hand: still hesitant, but certain. It was a declaration.
An origin wound now healed.
You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “We really are terrible at casual,” you mused, “which is why I really want to try this time.”
Wonwoo brought your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. His voice was almost cinematic as he replied, “Me too.”
IN WHICH The dreams you once had have died a long time ago. You realized you and music weren’t meant to be, and you learned to be okay with that. While it once ate you alive, you are better now. Knowing you can help aspiring artists pursue their dreams is better than trying for your own anyway. Seokmin doesn’t see it the same way, though. And while he loves your radio show with his whole heart, he loves you just a little bit more. Everyone knows love makes you do stupid things, and it’s no different for him.
pairing » singer!seokmin x radio host!fem!reader
genre » fluff, smut, tiniest bit of angst
featuring » BSS, dino, jennie
contains » strangers to lovers, radio show setting, BSS as an artist group, self doubt, lost of passion, green flag!Seokmin, nicknames (pretty, princess)
warnings » dry humping, voice kink, lots of eye contact, he wraps it up, fingering
word count » 13.5k
↪ izzy adds... oh Seokmin please tell me I didn't do you too dirty akdgakhdgakg I tried I promise. This is only lightly proof read, bear that in mind.
A huge shout out to my favorite banner maker @livmarauder, who did this beauty for me again <33 Also a shout out to @studiosvt for making this amazing collab happen! You all know how much I love our little (big) group.
seokmin masterlist | first time caller
If there is one thing you are unable to live without, it's music.
Humming as you walk the company halls, you allow yourself to only focus on the song playing in your headphones, everything around you becoming blurry. LNGSHOT has been playing on repeat lately, and you can't wait to have them on the show next week.
"Where have you been? I've been texting you all morning!" Chan's voice reaches you as soon as you take your headphones off, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as he disturbs the melody still playing in your head. You take your time getting your jacket off and hanging it on the wall right beside the entrance, turning around just to find your best friend looking at you like he is not happy with the shit you're pulling right now.
You met Chan back when you were twenty one, still struggling with being comfortable with music. It was weird back then but thanks to Chan's constant meddling and encouragement, you managed to love music again. You don't tell him enough, but you are extremely grateful to him for what he did for you all those years back, despite him not even knowing about it.
It's not like he did much in theory, but to you it felt like he did everything. He reminded you why you always loved music, and that was more than anyone else has done for you in a while. He became your best friend shortly after, your shared hobbies and opinions drawing you closer together.
"I'm sorry," you apologize as you cross the room and take your seat beside him. "I didn't notice you were texting me, and I thought I'd take my time this morning when we aren't going live today."
He sighs, unable to be mad at you for long. Taking his phone out, he lays it out in front of you, clicking though multiple tabs before finally landing on the YouTube one. You blink confusedly, your eyes flickering between him and his phone. Chan's weird, that's nothing new, but he is the loud, excited, and overly joyed weird, so seeing him just click through things without saying anything catches you off guard.
"It feels weird since it's my friend I'm talking about here, but he's got a band and they just released their first album and it's really fucking good. I wanted you to listen as soon as I heard it to see what you think," he explains as he clicks on a music video titled CBZ and you finally realize why he's so serious. This is work related.
Focusing instantly, you close your eyes in order for the music to do what it knows best—impress you. You categorize all the voices in your head, the melodies, rhythm, and lyrics. You nod your head in the rhythm, letting yourself enjoy it. Despite you liking a variety of genres, it's still hard for songs to be to your liking. This one though—you are not disappointed. You open your eyes to try and grasp the video as well, but with how short the song is, it switches to a different one at the exact same time.
It's another song by them, by BSS, titled Love Song. Right off the bat, it's different from the first song, but still as good. You like what they have going on, and by the look on Chan's face as he listens with you, he does as well.
"Who is this friend of yours?" You question as the second song comes to an end.
"Seungkwan. Boo Seungkwan. I've known him for a few years and he texted me a few weeks ago asking for my opinion on their CBZ demo. I told him then that it was perfect and it's even better now."
"They write their songs themselves?"
"Yes and no. They have a part, but most of it is by Woozi."
"They got Woozi on this?" Your eyes widen and he laughs at your reaction. "Man, you can't just casually tell me one of my favorite producers was on the team!" You nudge his shoulder. Woozi producing these songs explains a lot—like why you already love it so much.
Chan laughs, the serious tone in his voice disappearing again, like it tends to do around you. You can't blame him because you're the same. Every time you try to be serious at work, it leads to moments like these. It's not your fault. You promise it's not. It's just what happens when your coworker is your best friend. Especially when you get paid for talking together on a radio show about the things you love the most. "I was thinking about pitching them to Jennie. What do you think?"
"I think you should," you encourage him. "I'd love to have them on. I think they fit us. And I'm not saying that because Woozi produced the song," you roll your eyes when he gives you a knowing look. Having Woozi helped, but you seriously think they have a talent. "Talk to Jennie about it first and then send Seungkwan an official email so we can plan further."
"Yes, ma'am," he salutes, causing you to shake your head at him.
♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝
Seokmin always dreamed big. From wishing he'd grow as tall as his father when he was a child, up to this day, hoping for his career to take off and showcase his voice to the whole world. He's one step closer to that goal now that their first album has been released, and he couldn't be happier. The first hundred views was already a blow, but nothing could prepare him for how it'd feel to wake up and their song to blow up.
He's been buzzing all morning, constantly texting all his closest friends and freaking out about it. It's a dream coming true, and with each new compliment he sees, his love for music only grows.
But what makes him jump up from his bed entire is the message sent into the BSS group chat just a week after CBZ was released. There are many things Seungkwan could say—they are trending, people hate their song, people love their song, Woozi wants them to get into the studio again, or maybe that Seungkwan's mom is inviting them for dinner again—but a forward of an invite for behind the mic, one of Seokmin's favorite shows, is on the very bottom of things he expects.
It only takes him a few clicks before he is on a call, waiting for both Seungkwan and Soonyoung to join. "You're serious, right? This isn't a joke of some sort? Because if it is, Kwan, I cannot promise you I won't slap the shit out of you."
"Whoa, violence," Seungkwan raises his free hand up in surrender, blinking at him. When he joined the video call, he was not prepared for Min to start with this without any greeting. "It's real. Remember the friend I mentioned before, Chan?"
"The first person who listened to our song? No, how could I remember him?" Seokmin fakes a confusion, causing Soonyoung to snicker as he hides his laugh with his hand.
"He is a host on the show. They want us on sometimes next week. We need to tell them what day we're free as soon as possible."
"How did I not figure out your Chan is Lee Chan?" Seokmin curses at himself quietly, plopping down on his bed again. "This has been a milestone ever since they first started broadcasting, you don't get it."
"Trust me," Soonyoung starts, smiling awkwardly as he passes a group of people at the store he's at, "we've heard plenty enough about them from you to get it."
"As if you didn't find a bunch of new artists you listen to through them," Seokmin scoffs.
"Never said otherwise."
Behind the mic started broadcasting three years ago, with you and Chan as the hosts. He was on his way to visit his family back then, the car radio on a random station. It was a coincidence, really, but Seokmin likes to call it fate. He remembers Sombr being on that day after his first EP was released. He debated changing the station to something more popular when he stopped at a red light, but your voice stopped him. He couldn't tell what it was you were talking about, but he certainly remembers the pull he felt.
He's been tuning in at two pm every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday like a clock, looking forward to the new artists you were going to introduce to him and finding out more about them. To now be offered the same opportunity, to sit in the studio with both of you and talk about the process behind writing CBZ and what he does in his every day life, truly feels like a dream come true. Not only will it bring new fans their way, but he will also finally get to talk to the two people that have been brightening his days for the past three years.
If he is honest, he might be looking forward to one of the hosts more than the other, but he wouldn't dare to say that out loud.
Friday is what they guys have decided on, Seungkwan sending Chan a message as soon as their video call ended and Seokmin stopped freaking out over being on his favorite show. His friends can't blame him though, they would have done the same had they been in his shoes. So they sat there patiently on the call with him, letting him talk their ears off.
Just like the week ago, and the week before that, and the one before that, Seokmin turns on his radio right on time, finding the right station. "That was amazing, 16," your voice rings in his ears. He's a little late today, so he didn't get to hear the first song, but it's okay, he's surprisingly always preferred the chatting segment more either way. "Can you tell us more about the process behind writing Not Anymore so the fans can get to know the song a little more before they get to know you?"
Seokmin listens to the radio as he paces around his room, taking the time he has on hand to clean his room. He stops in his track every once and then when you say something that catches his attention, taking the time to listen to what you have to say or ask before he resumes what he was doing.
One may call him biased, but he swears it's not like that. You just happen to ask the more interesting questions, while Chan is the one to make the chats more funny. You each have your own strengths, and he just sometimes prefers the interesting questions over funny moments.
He listens till the end, staying for the ending song Make no sense as well and adding it to his playlist before turning the radio off again as your broadcast comes to an end. Checking the time as if he didn't already know the show ending means it's three pm, he quickly collects all his things before rushing out of the apartment to get to the studio.
Soonyoung will complain he is late again, but it's not his fault. He needed to listen to today's behind the mic, otherwise the rest of the day would just go wrong.
♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝
You've met many artists since you started behind the mic with Chan. Much more than you could count if anyone asked you. But you are certain none of them were ever as excited as the man standing in front of you right now. His eyes flicker all over the room, taking in the sight of the studio. It's not much, but it's enough to have your show running. Neither you or Chan ever troubled yourself too much with how the interior looks since the fans can't see it anyway.
The walls are all white, decorated with different kinds of paintings and awards you got. There is a large black desk with six chairs and a dark green couch in the corner that Chan likes to occupy during his break. Despite your show only being on for an hour a day, there is a lot more work the two of you do. Planning future broadcasts, scouting artists, budgeting their fees, helping your other coworkers when they need, and even making music together.
Chan is the only person you're comfortable around enough to show him your music and have him hear your voice, whether that's through singing or simple lyrics composing. You know you will never showcase it to the world, you've made your mind on that back when you were fifteen, but he likes taking his ideas to the finish line and consulting you along the way. He released his first song two years ago, and you couldn't be prouder of him. You still have the demo version of Wait somewhere on your laptop, thinking about the day he let you listen to it for the first time whenever you question if what you're doing is really the right move for you.
Being reminded of the smile on his face when he showed you his song, and then the one he wore as he talked about his single on the show always reassures you that you are right where you're meant to be. Making your own music and showcasing it to the world might not have been in your cards, but helping others reach their goal and support them on their way certainly is.
"Please, take a seat anywhere," you smile at the three guys known as BSS. "We are sorry if calling you here so early was an inconvenience for you. We just need to go through some things before the broadcast starts and there is no way of knowing how long that will take."
"We used to meet thirty minutes before the show would start and it always ended up being a mess, which is why we prefer it this way," Chan explains, motioning towards the couch with his hand for them to sit.
"No worries, we cleared our schedule for today in advance," Seungkwan brushes him off before shooting Seokmin a look, almost as if it was his fault. Well, it might have been. With how he wouldn't stop talking about it, it was the only way they could get him to shut up. "Thanks for having us," he smiles, pulling Chan into a hug.
It's the first time you've had someone he knows on the show, and the vibe is already entirely different. It tends to be awkward at times at first, but thanks to how comfortable the guys are together, you don't think you'll have to worry about that.
You watch them with a smile before turning on your heel and going to one of the drawers you have, pulling out three papers from it. "These are some of the questions we ask on the show. Please, look through them and let us know which ones you don't want us to ask, for whatever reason. On the other hand, feel free to mark, underline, or anything else, with the questions you want us to ask. It's nice when we can talk about something that excites you, whether that is your hobbies outside of music, your family, or how you grew up."
They all nod as you hand them the papers. They all tower over you, so you appreciate it when they all sit down on the couch and you don't feel so little anymore. Chan takes the opportunity and reminds you of their names as they study the questions, only Seokmin raising his eyes from the paper when his name falls off your friend's lips.
"Lee Seokmin," he grins, extending his hand towards you. You return his smile, holding his hand in yours as you name slips past your lips. "I know," he chuckles. "Kind of a fan."
"Kind of," Soonyoung laughs and Seokmin shoots him a glare. "Should have seen him when we got the invitation."
"Soonyoung is known for lying any chance he gets, please don't listen to him."
You laugh at their interaction, shaking your head before turning to your colleague. "Coffee time?" He immediately agrees, and so you ask the same question the other three.
Seokmin watches as you leave the room to make coffee for everyone, nudging Soonyoung's shoulder harshly when the door closes. "Can you not embarrass me? I know a lot about you, stuff that I could talk about when the show starts."
Soonyoung raises his hands in surrender, "I only spoke the truth. In fact, by the smile on her face I believe she liked it."
"I thought you guys were here to promote your music?" Chan raises an eyebrow as he watches them, a teasing tone lacing his voice.
"We are," Seungkwan assures him quickly, not catching the hint of amusement on Chan's face. "Seokmin is a fan, though, and by how much he talks about the show and how excited he was when he found out we would be on, one would think he is in love."
"I love the concept you two built," he jumps right in, ignoring the comment about him being in love. Because he isn't. It's normal to have a favorite broadcast and to tune in every time it's on. Many of your fans do it, so why would it be any different for him? He simply enjoys listening to you talk and learning more about great artists. "It's nice to look at music from a different perspective and learn not only about how the song was made, but also about who made it."
"A lot of the artists you guys introduce are either freshly on the scene or aren't as popular as others, so their fans don't have many sources where they could learn about their lives, but you provide that. You allow the fans to learn about the person they listen to while still promoting their music," he finishes his rant, his cheeks heating up when he realizes how much he said. He's glad you're out right now and he saved this embarrassement from at least one of the hosts.
But Chan's lips curve up into a smile much to Seokmin's surprise. "You should repeat that when she comes back if you want to make her even more excited about working with you. It was her idea, really. I just chased her around and complimented her until she allowed me to be a part of this project. I still don't get how it worked out."
His words ring in Seokmin's ears loud and clear. Chased her around and complimented her until she allowed me to be a part of this. It's definitely not an advice he should take, those are completely different situations and most importantly, how he feels about your radio show does not mean he also feels a certain way about you like his friends tend to believe.
He has always been good at chasing and complimenting, though.
You come back into the room with a trail full of coffee mugs and Seokmin stands up from the couch as soon as he notices you, crossing the room in a few long strides. "Here, allow me," he offers with a bright smile, taking the trail from your hands.
Blinking up at him, you let your hands drop down to your sides. "Thank you," you return his smile, your eyes flickering to the rest of guys in the room. They're all watching you for some reason, making your cheeks heat up. Clearing your throat, you quickly avert your eyes from them and fix your shirt, letting them each take a cup.
"Thank you for inviting us," Seokmin says as he approaches you again, leaving the trail with two cups—one for you and one for him—on the table. "Like I said, I'm kind of a fan," he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes closed and an adorable smile on his lips. "And maybe Soonyoung wasn't so far from the truth. It does mean a lot to be here."
"We aren't anything you should freak out over," you shake your head, even though a smile creeps up on your lips as you listen to him. "Wait for when you get a Buzzfeed invite."
"As great as it would be to be on Buzzfeed, Behind the Mic means the same to me," he assures you. "I've been listen to you guys ever since you started, and I just want you to know how much I love what you and Chan built together. It's a great opportunity for artists to introduce themselves to fans and get out there."
Seokmin watches as your cheeks catch the color red, your eyes flickering all over your face, as if trying to find a proof of him not being real. He has to admit, you're cute. With your eyes focused on him, a soft smile playing on your lips, partly in disbelief and partly from how proud of yourself you are, and your hair framing your face, you exceed all expectations he's ever had of you.
He's seen you before, of course he has. Shortly after finding your broadcast, he started following both you and Chan on instagram. It helped him put a face to the voice he is always listening to, but if he's honest, you look so much prettier in person. He would never dare to say you wouldn't be beautiful in the pictures he saw you post on your feed, but the camera simply doesn't capture your beauty as well as his eyes do.
"You've—" you pause, trying to grasp the situation. You know people listen to your radio show, you know you have fans who have been here for a while and all that, but it's the first time you're standing in front of an actual artist who just expressed to you he is probably a bigger fan of you than you're of him. "How long have you been listening for?"
"Got here when Sombr did." You don't have to do the math in your head, knowing exactly when that was. You had him on at the very beginning, your room half the size it's now as you were just starting and your boss wasn't sure how well you'd do. Three years. This man has been listening to you and Chan talk for three years. Oh God. Is this the right time to freak out?
You snap out of it, trying to look as unbothered as possible as you reach for your cup of coffee and bring it to your lips. "Thank you for sticking around for so long," you mumble, looking at him briefly through your eyelashes. "We appreciate it a lot." The smile never leaves his lips, not as he takes his own cup with his eyes never leaving yours, not as he tells you about his favorite interviews so far, and definitely not as you admit you really loved their first album.
"We are on in ten," Chan interrupts your talk with Seokmin as he passes by you. Your eyes widen at the realization of how long you've been talking to him for, panic taking over you in worry of things not being ready.
"Fuck," you curse, standing on your tiptoes to look over his shoulder at his two band mates. "Are there any questions you guys have for us before we go live? Anything you want to know about? We need to talk about how it's going to go, what segments will be on and if you're okay with everything. We don't want to share anything you aren't comfortable with."
"Calm down," Seokmin's voice reaches you at the same time as his hands do. He's holding both of your shoulders, his eyes reminding you it's all okay and there is no need to panic.
"I already went over it with them," Chan smiles, but it's not as reassuring as Seokmin's smile is. No, his is much more teasing, as if he was trying to tell you something with it. You don't pay it any attention, shifting your attention back to Seokmin. You like looking at him more than looking at your coworker anyway. "Hope you don't mind we did it without you, Min. You just seemed so occupied."
You catch him rolling his eyes a bit as he shakes his head. "I'm sure whatever you guys decided on is great. As much as I hate they do, the two of them know me more than I know myself."
Soonyoung scoffs behind him. "Took you long enough to realize."
"Just about what? Three years to accept what we've been saying this entire time?" Seungkwan is smiling as well as he walks past you, patting his friend on the shoulder before sitting down at the table. Soonyoung follows suit, and it's only then that Seokmin let's go off your shoulders again. He shoots the guys a look you can't read, making your brows furrow as you look at them. You have a feeling there is more to what was just said than you can understand, and you hate that Chan's teasing grin makes it look like he is in on whatever is going on.
"Just so you know, you are still full of bullshit," he points at both of them. You take a step aside from the table and he smiles at you once more before taking a seat. "I'm just growing and realizing some things. Neither of you have anything to do with it, though."
"Sure we don't," they scoff at the same time and Seokmin rolls his eyes. You round the table to take your own seat, collecting the papers with questions from the guys and taking a look at them.
"We have two of your songs ready," you proclaim as you look up. "One is going to play at the beginning before we start talking, and the other is going to end our segment. Would you like for CBZ or Love Song to play first?"
"Let's play Love Song first," Seokmin decides. The guys don't question him in the slightest, nodding along. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but more people are listening at the end than right at the beginning."
"You're right," you blink, amazed by his knowledge. Your eyes stay on his and his smile grows, easily one of the prettiest ones you've seen in a long time. You shake your head out of it, glancing at your colleague. "Ready?"
"I always am," Chan grins, checking the time once more before changing the radio status to live.
♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝
As the live light turns off again, you lean back in your chair, stretching your hands above your head. "Good work today, you all did awesome," you praise them, catching Seokmin's eyes. The two of you have been playing eye tag the entirety of the broadcast, checking each other out as sneakily as possible.
At least that's what you think you've been doing. You can't exactly see inside his head and read his thoughts—even though you'd love to be able to do that—but you can speak for yourself and the longer you look at him for, the more attractive you find him.
You'd like to blame it on the fact you love his music, and so it's only natural to be curious about him, but in the last three years, you never felt like this while on the show. Sure, you had a bunch of artists you admire and look up to, but that's all it is, admiration. When you look at Seokmin, and catch the smile on his face, it's attraction much more than anything else.
"It was great having you guys on," Chan adds, extending his hand forward over the table for them to shake it. Soonyoung is the first one to reach towards him, praising the work you two did as he shakes his hand. Seokmin follows right after, until finally, Seungkwan stands up from his place and instead of just shaking his hand wraps his friend in a hug.
Seokmin watches you as you get up to clean the papers with questions back to where you took them from, exchanging a glance with the other guys. "Go for it," Chan chuckles at him, shaking his head slightly before continuing his conversation with Seungkwan. They did perfectly until now, so who is he to stand in Seokmin's way when he saw how much you laughed with him before they went live?
"Hi," whispers as he joins your side. You glance at him over your shoulder, greeting him right back. "I still can't believe I just did that."
You roll your eyes playfully, "We aren't a huge show," you remind him, but you're sure he doesn't pay much attention to your words. It's nice to know someone thinks so highly of the show you created and supports it with his whole heart.
"You are huge to me, though."
You keep your eyes on the cabinet in front of you, reorganizing things as if there was anything that would need fixing. Truth is, you just don't want him to see how red your face gets when he talks to you. You enjoyed today's broadcast more than others, partly because of how friendly the atmosphere was, but mainly because you got to know him more.
Who would have thought this man was in a rock band when he was in middle school, that his role model is Yoon Dohyun, or that he likes anime? He walks around you, leaning on his side. You glance at him briefly before looking down at the cabinet again, ignoring how handsome he looks while watching you.
"I enjoyed today a lot, being able to sit here and be on the receiving end of your questions instead of just listening over the radio," he tells you. "Knowing how it actually works now, I think I'll like your show even more from now on."
"It's not just my show," you remind him, finally looking at him properly again.
He shrugs, his significant smile on. "That's true, but I learned I tend to care about you more than Chan, so I think I'll keep addressing it as such."
The last thing you expected today is to have the guy you were just interviewing to be so openly flirting with you. Is this how Hailey felt when her favorite artist started flirting back with her? You bet it is. Quickly shutting the cabinet close, you look at him in panic. His eyes soften as soon as he meets yours, offering you a gentle smile.
"Min, we should get going."
Seokmin doesn't look at his friends as he answers, keeping his eyes on you, "Just a second!" You swallow under his gaze, feeling more and more nervous. As much as you liked playing eye tag with him during the interview, this is a completely different situation. You didn't have enough media training. You have no idea what you're supposed to do when he looks at you like he's just as—if not more—interested as you are.
Have you lost your mind? You might have if you think it's okay to look at him like this—like you want him to cross the invisible line you're trying so hard to draw. Okay, trying might be a strong word.
"What are you doing on Saturday?" He tilts his head. You shake your head quickly but his smile only grows. "You're not doing anything or you're already rejecting me?"
"Is there anything to reject?"
"If you'd like for something to be there," he shrugs innocently. "Any plans for Saturday?" He repeats his question when you don't give him a clear answer.
You hesitate, your eyes flickering all across his face, trying to decide what the right answer is. It's not helping that you can feel Chan's eyes on you. As much as they're pretending to be busy in a conversation, you know all three of them are watching you and waiting for what you have to say.
You wonder what Chan would do if he was in your position. If someone from a girl band flirted with him and gave him the opportunity to take her out, would he go with her? Thinking back to all the times he talked your ears off about some female celebrities and how he swore he would shoot his shot with them if he ever met them because he only lives once, you think he would.
"Whatever you have in mind?"
"Perfect," Seokmin nods. He digs his phone from his pocket, unlocking it for you before extending his hand towards you. You blink at the screen for a second before taking it from him, typing in your number.
As much as it feels like a dream to have your number in an artist's phone, it's scary. What if your boss finds out and decides you're being unprofessional? What if it causes a scandal that will destroy everything you worked on until now? What if even the last one of your dreams gets buried because of the fact you decided to be selfish for once?
"I'll text you," Seokmin's voice brings you out of your thoughts again, his proud grin reassuring you that whatever happens, it's okay to see it though first before panicking. He joins his friends, wrapping his arm around Soonyoung's shoulder and showing him something on his phone—your number, no doubt. You shake your head at them, unable to hide your own smile as you watch them all say their last goodbyes before leaving the room.
♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝
Just like he said he would, Seokmin texted you that night. At first, you simply exchanged a few words about the interview earlier, but those messages shortly turned into him trying to get to know you more.
Asking anything that came to mind as well as sharing random things about himself, he managed to completely forget about the show playing on his TV screen. He could not say what the last thing that happened there was, but he could confidently talk about what your favorite show is, or your favorite color, or the flowers you like, or literally anything you told him about yourself in the past hour.
You're not doing any better. The songs you put on as background noise while cleaning your kitchen after dinner have long been forgotten, and so has your kitchen, sitting still as messily as it did before you ate your food. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you keep a smile on your face while exchanging messages with Seokmin, your interest growing with each thing he tells you about himself.
He is adorable. His favorite movies are the Harry Potter movies—and as much as you don't share the same interest, you are convinced you could listen to him talk about it for hours—he loves sunflowers, all kinds of sports, and apparently used to act a little before forming BSS with his friends. You will never regret asking him more about it, because as soon as you did, you received not only pictures of him when he was playing in the theater, but also pictures of his other hobbies, including a photo of him in the swimming pool, which you know he sent on purpose.
You certainly don't mind, taking a good look at him before answering, teasing him about how hard he's trying. When he asks you back if it's working and you admit that it is, you create a smile on both your and his face.
Saturday comes around quickly, and you find yourself in front of a coffee shop, the first stop on today's plan as he informed you. Fixing your hair one last time, you walk inside and immediately search for him. It's not hard when your eyes find his instantly, the smile he offers you as you walk to the table he is occupying causing a warm feeling in your chest.
"Hi," he greets you softly.
"Hi."
He goes order for the both of you, using what he's learned about you last night to order your favorite. He's cute. You watch him as he does, admiring him from afar. He's dressed in a white button up, his sleeves rolled up slightly to show off his forearms, blue jeans, and there's a black jacket hanging over his chair. It's simple, and yet you still can't stop looking at him. He's handsome, radiating off this energy you feel drawn to.
He places a latte in front of you and you bring it closer, thanking him for buying it for you. He brushes you off, acting as if it wasn't anything as he takes his seat. Resting his hands on the table, he let's his coffee sit for a while, simply watching you. You feel your cheeks flush under his gaze, looking down at the table. "You didn't tell me what the rest of the plan is," you mumble, suddenly nervous as you sit in front of him.
"I want for it to be a surprise. And, truthfully, I'm scared if you're going to like it or not so I'm deciding not to think about it and stay in the moment instead."
"As long as you're not planning to feed me to the sharks or something, I think we're good," you glance up at him again, a reassuring smile on your lips. He returns it, his nerves slowly disappearing. He can do this. What's the worse that could happen? You tell him to go fuck himself and he won't be able to listen to your show anymore without feeling like shit? Oh yeah, there's nothing to worry about today.
The shift in the vibe as soon as he starts talking about what he did in the morning is obvious, both of you getting more relaxed. He tells you about another interview they did this morning, and how he completely memorized the story meaning behind their music video now, telling you all about that as well when you ask. You keep nodding along, unable to look away from him when he speaks so excitedly. You can tell he is genuinely proud of himself and the guys.
"That's incredible, Min," you praise in awe after he shows you how well their songs are doing right now. You knew they would right away when you first listened. "You deserve all the love— Fame. I meant fame," you quickly correct yourself but it's too late already, his easy going smile is now replaced with a teasing smirk, his chin resting in his palm and his head slightly tilted.
"I deserve the love?" He repeats, the grin on his face so annoying you just with to slap it away. Or kiss it away. Both options work for you at the moment. "I know of one person's love I want. And if you think I deserve it, then surely it's possible."
"Love? I didn't say love," you shake your head, acting as if nothing happened. "You must be hearing things. The fame probably got to you already and now you're imagining things."
"What does one have to do to have you admit you are also interested in me," he sighs, but nothing about it screams exhaustion like he probably wants. If anything, he sounds dreamy, holding back his smile as he bats his eyelashes at you. "At least a little bit."
"A little bit," you nod, keeping your eyes on him as you do. You see his back straighten immediately, his grin growing. It makes you laugh. He looks like a little puppy, excited because his owner just said he'll give him a treat. He truly is adorable. It'd be a lie if you claimed you aren't interested, or that you don't wonder what he'd be like in a relationship, how he'd act and if he'd treat you well. Something tells you he'd be a perfect boyfriend.
If you're lucky enough, maybe you'll be able to find out.
"Tell me what you did this morning," he prompts, doing nothing to hide the fact he is excited like a little kid. "I want to hear all about it."
You take a sip of your latte in an attempt to not dwell on his words and fall for him right then and there, but it doesn't do much to help. Clearing your throat, you glance at him briefly before letting him know you visited your sister earlier. When he asks further, you also tell him what you talked about together, and what you watched. When he says he'd love to watch a movie with you another day as well, all your hopes at staying sane vanish out the window.
You leave the café an hour later, walking side by side with him. Your hands keep brushing against each other, but he doesn't do anything to pull away, so you don't either. There is constantly a smile on your face when you're around Seokmin, and if the easy conversations you have with him didn't already convince you enough to want to pursue this further, this certainly does.
You still don't know where you're headed next, blindly following Seokmin as he guides you through the streets. At one point, when you are about to step on the crosswalk at the same time as the green light switches to red, he grasps your hand in his, pulling you back until you hit his chest. Gasping, you quickly raise your eyes to meet his, obviously panicked while he just carries his carefree smile. You push yourself off him again, but let him keep holding your hand. As not to get lost, you convince yourself.
When you see how happy he is from the simple act, from being able to hold your hand for a while, you stop convincing yourself of anything and admit to yourself you also want to hold his hand. You lace your fingers with his, tugging your free hand into your pocket and looking down at the ground beneath your feet as you keep walking, the conversation with him never dying.
Finally stopping again, you look up at the building you're standing in front of, trying to figure out where he took you. "Oh no," you quickly shake your head as you read the name, facing him. "Let's not do this. Let's go somewhere else. I'm sure there is something playing in the cinema, or maybe we could go get dinner? I could even go for a swim with those sharks right now."
He chuckles at your reaction, thinking you're just joking around. But honestly, karaoke is the last thing you want to do right now. When he notices your eyes full of distress, he raises your connected hands and draws small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. "It'll be fun, c'mon. Please, the fact that I'm technically a singer doesn't mean I'm good at karaoke," he smiles, hopping to make you feel better about this. He managed to completely forget about his worries of you not liking this as he was talking with you, but it's all slowly coming back to him now. "We don't need to be serious about this at all. Let's just laugh together and order some good food to it, hm?"
Your eyes flicker all over his face, debating turning around and running away for a good second. As much as you don't want to do karaoke tonight and find out what he thinks about your singing, you don't want to leave, though. You want to stay with him, listen to him singing, laugh a lot with him, and eat that delicious food. So, after giving it a second though while gazing into his eyes, you sigh. "Let's go in."
"Yes! You won't regret this, I promise. And, who knows, maybe we'll find out you're a much better singer than I am."
Yeah, you're convinced that won't happen. If anything, you're expecting for him to run away the moment he hears you singing, realizing you're just embarrassing and whatever he saw in you before is now gone. People tend to do that. And as much as you don't want him to be like that, you're always expecting the worst when it comes to you and music.
The karaoke room is pretty, white walls lined with colored lightnings that change it to purple, a nice brown couch that could easily fit an entire party, and most importantly, a karaoke machine with a projector. Seokmin doesn't hesitate going to the machine, already looking through the song list while you take a seat on the couch, looking around the room.
It's been a while since you last visited a karaoke place. Almost ten years, if you remember correctly. Who are you trying to fool here? You know exactly when the last time you were here was. You were fourteen, going out with your old friend and a bunch of her older friends. You were the youngest of them all, and the one in love with music much more than they were.
Thinking back to it, it was just your fault, really. Hadn't you tried so hard, hadn't you hoped for one of the older guys to notice and praise you, you would be saved from the embarrassement that followed. But at fourteen, you couldn't possibly know guys don't like music like you did, that they go here just to laugh and joke around instead of actually trying.
You thought singing your heart out would give you the attention of the boy you liked, and it did, but in a completely different way than you wished for. You still remember the Britney Spears song you sang, and how everyone looked at you weirdly when they realized you weren't just playing around like they were. They claimed you tried to embarrass them by being better, that you did it on purpose to make yourself feel superior. You tried to argue, explain the situation and apologize, but before you could do any of it, you were interrupted by who you thought was your friend. "She does this all the time. She thinks she's going to be a singer or whatever. Her notes are all full of texts she wrote in class, look."
You felt proud at first when she pulled out your notes book from your bag, but as soon as everyone started laughing while flipping through the pages, your smile quickly fell off. You quickly dropped the mic, trying your hardest not to let their words get to you and snatch the book away. At fourteen, though, it's not easy to ignore what others say about you and how they feel about the things you love.
It was never easy to ignore how others perceived you, but at that moment, even the last bits of accomplishment left you. You stopped loving music for years, completely giving up on the dream you once had. There was no reason to continue trying if what you got in return was this.
It was only after Chan came into your life that you managed to stop hating music again and pick up your old notes, smiling as you red through the lyrics you wrote as an early teen.
Sitting here now, all the bad memories you have with music come rushing back, the image of Seokmin replaced with the image of your old upper classmates, the pretty smile on his face gone and a loud, mocking laugh facing you instead.
You quickly shake your head, but the image doesn't disappear until finally, finally, Seokmin's voice reaches you, the call of your name making you snap out of it. "You're in your head," he says, not in a way that would be meant to accuse you, but rather wondering what it is you're thinking so hard about. "Do you really hate this?" He tilts his head and you're about to burst from how pretty you find him. "We can leave. I should have asked properly first if you wouldn't mind going here, I was selfish deciding on what I wanted instead of thinking about you—"
"Let's stay," you interrupt him with a smile. "I want to hear you sing live. And, I was promised some delicious food." He smiles again at your words, nodding enthusiastically.
The first song starts—a Korean ballad you heard a few times when you were little—and Seokmin's voice echoes loudly in your head instantly, helping you stay grounded in the present. He pushes aside all the bad memories of this place, doing his hardest to replace them with happy once without even knowing it as he sings while looking at you. His eyes stay locked on you, and you happily nod your head along to the rhythm, only focusing on the music.
He's great. You knew he was, but getting to hear him sing in person, his raw voice the only thing you hear in this closed room, is so much better than you thought it'd be. He motions with his hand for you to stand up and join him, but you just shake your head, refusing. When he lowers his mic so you can see his face fully, his eyes gently commanding you to listen to him, you do as he says and get up. Your steps are hesitant as you cross the room to him, but he doesn't seem to pay it any attention.
Lowering the mic to your height, he encourages you to sing with him and turn the song into a duet. You don't. Keeping your lips shut, you let only the melody play in the background with no support of the vocals. Seokmin reaches for your hand with his free one, lacing his fingers with yours again. His voice is closer to a whisper now as he continues singing, keeping your mind wondering what the right move here is. Deep down, you want nothing more than to sing with him and give into your passion again, but you're also freaked out.
You're not sure how long you just stand there for, but eventually, once a different song is on, you join in. You keep your voice quiet, enough for the mic to pick it up but not loud enough like he did before. A smile spreads on his lips—wider than before—instantly, squeezing your hand gently. It takes a moment for you to get comfortable, but as soon as you do, it's a lot easier to have fun again.
He spins you under his arm, laughing into the mic while also trying his hardest to keep the song going, glancing on the wall where the projected screen falls to check on the lyrics every now and then. You laugh with him, dancing with him to the Korean ballad he sings that certainly doesn't suit this dance. Neither of you care though, and it helps you forget about the bad memories.
Eventually, you even take the mic from him, choosing your own song to sing. He takes a seat on the couch, watching you with such a proud smile you feel like you can do anything at the moment. It's definitely thanks to him and his continuous cheers that you get to let go of your worries and sing loudly again, completely forgetting about why you stopped loving singing in the first place.
You watch the lyrics on the wall, doing your best not to mess up while he whistles behind you, causing a laugh to bubble out of you. The food he ordered after the first few songs arrives in the meantime, but you don't look back to acknowledge it. Not until the song ends and you look at Seokmin to see what he thinks.
Clapping loudly, he is unable to take his eyes off you. "Encore! Encore! Encore!" He shouts, making you laugh. You shake your head at him, taking a seat beside him on the couch and leaving the mic to rest on the table for now. "You are so amazing. I don't get why you didn't want to sing right away."
"I'm not really good," you shake your head. He doesn't need to say what he thinks about the bullshit that just left your lips, his gaze giving it away clearly enough.
"I'm not even kidding, I wonder how on earth BSS is doing so good when there are singers like you out here. You're going to steal my job," he nudges your shoulder playfully. You roll your eyes at him, but it'd be a lie to say his words won't be on repeat tonight. Your name leaves his lips, a hopeful attempt to get you to look at him again. Once you do, he offers you one of his smiles. "You are an incredible singer."
Is this what it feels like to fall in love? Your head spins. You feel drunk, drunk on him and his words. It's the same thing you've wanted to hear for ages, words of encouragement you needed so desperately when your life was falling apart at the mere age of fourteen. You could cry. You're pretty sure if he says anything else, you actually will.
So, before he can do that, you lean forward and press your lips to his.
The shock he feels is evident, but it's also gone as fast as it appeared, his hands finding your waist with ease and pulling you closer. His lips mold perfectly with your own, his hands on your skin burning in just the right way, making you feel like that's exactly where they are supposed to be. Your body inches towards him on its own, melting into him.
"Thank you," you breathe out against his lips, your voice barely above a whisper.
He watches you, a little confused and blown, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. "I didn't do anything," he shakes his head gently, but that's not true. He did everything you could possibly want him to do.
You had relationships before, casual hook ups but also things more serious. Not once were you told what he managed to assure you of on your first date together. Maybe it makes you easy, maybe it screams how broken you are, but you could not ask for more. It's the only thing you always ached for, to hear you shouldn't give up on your dreams and that you have potential. Your sister tried, but it never felt the same coming from her like it does hearing it from him.
"I should have asked first," you pipe nervously, still not moving away, staying with your face inches from his.
He shakes his head again, "You don't have to. In fact, please kiss me whenever you like." You chuckle at his response, his eyes desperate, never leaving yours. You nudge his shoulder with your palm, only for him to catch your wrist and lean forward, kissing you again. The smile is evident on both your and his lips as you kiss, moving closer and closer, until you're practically sitting in his lap.
You fight the urge to thank him again, for making you feel so comfortable, for making you forget about stuff, for reminding you how much you love singing, for being here with you. There is a lot you want to thank him for, but you decide not to for now. For now, you'll just settle on kissing him until you're sure he knows exactly what you're thinking.
It doesn't feel like the first date anymore as you eat, sharing giggles over the dinner. You can't explain it well, but being around him makes you feel like you've known him for years. It's easy with him, just like you always thought it was meant to be. "What's the plan after this?" You wonder, interrupting the song he is in the middle of right now. He finished eating just a few minutes back, picking up the mic right away.
He glances at you, forgetting all about the right lyrics and answering you instead. "Whatever you'd like to do. I'm open to anything. Unless you want to feed me to the sharks," he grins.
You think for a moment, your eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes, wondering where the line lies in his head. "We could watch a movie or something?" You suggest nervously.
He brings the mic to his lips, not hesitating in the slightest as he loudly sings, "Yes. Let's do that," into it.
You let him hold your hand again as you walk through the busy streets, following him to his apartment. When you suggested watching a movie, there was a lot more on your mind than just a piece of some filmography, wondering if he'd take you home with him. And now that that's exactly where you're headed, you're rethinking yourself more and more. Because while you want nothing more than to kiss him all night long, you have no idea what's going on in his head.
Seokmin's place is exactly like one might expect; clean, organized, filled with only necessities and his hobbies. There are traces of music everywhere you look, and you could not love it more. Taking off your shoes, you follow him into his living room, taking a seat on his couch while he disappears into the kitchen to fetch you something to drink. You take your time looking around, taking in the sight of his apartment.
You make yourself comfortable on the couch, waiting for him to join you. He comes back with not only a drink for the both of you but also a bag of chips, placing it all on his coffee table before taking a seat beside you. You look over at his, your expression a mix of nervousness and joy. He meets your gaze curiously, waiting for you to say what's on your mind. "What if I'd like to kiss you again?"
His smile grows. "Then I'd tell you to get here," he motions with his head for you to move and you do, allowing him to pull you into his lap. Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you take your time looking at his face. He brushes your hair behind your ears, cupping your face gently as he leans forward and kisses you.
With one of his hands on your cheek, he grips your waist with the other, keeping you close. You ran your fingers through his hair, causing a groan to escape his lips. You feel the sound in every inch of your body, moaning into his lips yourself. You're quick to close your lips shut after, refusing to open your eyes and look at him. "Come on, pretty," he kisses the corner of your lips, and you're not sure if it was on purpose or if he missed. "Give me another one of those sounds."
You shake your head, keeping it in. Slowly opening your eyes, you find him already looking at you, his eyes full of the need and desperation you feel deep as well. "Please," he nudges your nose with his, his lips hovering over yours. "Let me hear more of you." A whine leaves past your lips as you feel him grow hard under you, the boner in his pants showing you had nothing to worry about when you thought he'd find you weird for wanting him so much already.
Sliding his hand under your shirt, he presses his palm against your hot skin, staying in place until you tell him otherwise. "Tell me what you want, hm? Where do we go from here?"
You think about it, unable to voice what you want out loud like he wants you to. Instead, you slide your hand under his shirt, feeling his abs tense under your fingertips. You trace his body, feeling his chest and then shoulders, keeping your eyes on the skin you're exposing. He let's you watch, let's you take his shirt off, and even let's you rock your hips forward on top of him. He doesn't do anything, though, waiting for you to answer like he asked.
"Min," you plead, itching for more.
"What do you need, princess?" The nicknames makes you bite your bottom lip as you glide your hips forward again, his clothed cock pressed against your core. "Do you want me to do something?" You nod, desperate. "Use your words. I want to hear you."
"Touch me, please," you beg, his smile showing that's exactly what he wanted to hear.
"Where?"
"Anywhere," you sigh.
It doesn't seem to satisfy him enough, but he he moves for now, sliding his hand up until he cups your breast. He works your shirt over your head, groaning at the sight of you in your bra. A lacy white fabric covers your breast, and as much as he knows you probably didn't wear it with the intend of him seeing it tonight, the possibility of it being true after all gets him so much more worked up. "Will the bottom match?" He trails his fingers down your skin until they land on the zipper of your pants, looking up at you.
You bite onto your bottom lip in an attempt to steady yourself, nodding. "I didn't— I didn't plan for us to end up like this—" you try to excuse, knowing exactly how it looks like. God, what will he think of you now?
"Fucking hell," he curses, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "You're so beautiful. All for me, hm?" You nod again, unable to think much about it. You're certain you'd say yes to anything right now if it means he gets his hands on you again.
Gripping your waist, he helps you roll your hips over him. You don't hesitate, leaning down to kiss him again. Feeling his muscles as you kiss him, you keep riding him, chasing after the pleasure you so desperately need. "Tell me what you're thinking about," he prompts, another whine leaving your lips upon losing the feeling of his lips on yours. "Please, talk to me."
"About how much I want this off," you tug at the hem of his pants. "And this," you do the same with yours.
He nods, "I can take care of that."
"Please."
"I'm also going to change the setting, okay?"
You nod, not questioning him in the slightest. Standing up from the couch, he grips your ass, carrying you into a different room. You wrap your legs and arms around him as quickly as you can, resting your head on his shoulder. Seokmin takes you to his room with ease, only letting you go once he is standing in front of his bed.
"I'm sorry but I don't think we're going to watch a movie anymore."
"I never wanted to watch one anyway," you shake your head and his soft smile gets replaced by a teasing smirk.
"Oh? Is that so?"
You feel your cheeks redden under his gaze, moving back on the bed until you hit the headboard. He climbs in after you, catching your ankles to pull you back to him. You yelp, but don't do anything to get from him again, getting lost in his eyes as he hovers over you. Shirtless, horny, and looking like he is absolutely gone for you—do they even get any better?
"I'm pretty sure I've liked you for the past three years, so I'm good at waiting. We don't have to do anything tonight," he assures you, just in case you'd have any doubts. "Or we could only do some things," his eyes trail down your body, his fingers coming to circle your clothed core. "I could just take care of you."
"You're pretty sure you've liked me?" There is a smile on your face as you repeat his words, watching as he scoffs in embarrassement, his red ears giving him away.
"That's the thing you decide to focus on?" You nod and he shakes his head. "I need you to tell me how far you want to go today."
"All you want me to do is talk, talk, talk," you roll your eyes before wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him flush against you. "I want to feel you inside me, Min. I want to come on your cock."
He groans as soon as you finish the sentence, thrusting his hips against you. Your lips part, which he immediately takes advantage of, stealing another kiss. You wrap yours hands behind his neck, playing with his hair as he works your pants down, not hesitating anymore. You don't stop kissing him until all your clothes are off—or at least as off as he can get them without pulling away.
Throwing them aside, he takes a moment to admire your naked body, eyes scanning every inch of your skin, memorizing it. You feel nervous, especially when he locks his eyes with your wet pussy, licking his lips at the sight. It's hot, he's hot.
Undoing his jeans as well, he gets rid of the last piece of clothing in the way, and you instantly let your eyes fall to his bare legs. You do the same as he just did, taking your time with memorizing every inch of him. Not only does he have a handsome face, his build is equally hot.
"Get here already," the command is laced with the need you feel, causing him to chuckle as he joins you again. You don't hesitate, wrapping your hand around the length of his cock as soon as he's in your reach. "I need you in."
"Keep talking and I'll come before even getting to it," he groans. "I love your voice."
"Yeah?" You tilt your head prettily, loving how desperate he looks between your legs with your hand on him. "Is that why you want me to talk so much?"
"Yes," he nods without giving it a second though. You slide your hand over his tip and he whimpers. This man fucking whimpers. Your eyes widen at the sound, your pussy clenching around nothing. There is no way you're coming back from this now, from knowing how he sounds when he is completely and utterly gone.
He pushes your legs up to your chest and you let go off him just to hold them up, watching him as he reaches for a condom and rolls it over his length. He doesn't give you what you want right away, though. Your eyes flicker over him confusedly as he doesn't move, begging him to do something. "Don't worry, pretty. I got you," he assures you, his eyes locked on your pussy.
You figure what he meant as he spreads your folds with his fingers, collecting your wetness before dipping two of his fingers in. A whine leaves past your lips as you watch him. It's crazy how good he makes you feel with just his fingers, spreading you open for him. "Min," you plead. "More."
"Don't you want to come once before?"
You shake your head quickly, not caring about that. "With you. I want to come with you."
He doesn't need to be told twice, pulling out his fingers and bringing them to his lips to taste you. You miss his fingers already, a disapproving whine escaping you. He moans at the taste of you, giving his cock a few pumps before aligning himself with your pussy.
Thrusting into you with ease, he leans down and wraps your legs around his waist instead, connecting his lips with yours again. You kiss him back, scratching his back gently as he starts to move. Digging your heels into his lower back, you keep him as close as possible, the way he makes you feel so full making your head spin.
His moves are slow and steady at first, but as soon as you moan into his ear, asking for more, he shifts his pace to suit your needs. You melt together completely, mixture of your and his moans filling the room. It's lewd, the sounds you let out, but you can't care less right now. All you care about is satisfying your urges.
He rubs your clit with his thumb, helping you get where you need. You feel every one of his veins inside, your walls clenching tightly around his length. For a second, you wonder if there is anything this man is not absolutely amazing at. Not only is a an awesome singer with a great face, full of kindness, he's also incredible at fucking you in the exact way you want him to.
"Almost there," you gasp, your mouth hanging open. Your breathes mix together due to how close you are to one another.
He nods, looking down at your connected bodies. "Me too. Just a bit more, yeah?" You nod frantically, rolling your hips forward in response. He curses under his breath, pinching your clit. Your legs shake around him as you reach your high, his name falling off your lips like a prayer.
He's right behind you, burying his head in your breast as he fills the condom, slowly thrusting into you even after to let you both ride it out. "Thank you," you breathe out, exhausted.
"Anytime," he chuckles, the easy smile you're learning to love spreading on his lips.
♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝
The sound of your phone blowing up stirs you awake in the morning. You open your eyes with much more effort than you're used to, remembering where you are once you see the room. Prompting yourself up, you search for Seokmin with your eyes. He's nowhere to be found, but judging by how warm the side of the bed he slept in still is, you're assuming it's not long since he woke up as well.
After showing together last night, and getting one more orgasm out, you fell asleep in his shirt and boxers, cuddled up in his arms. It felt amazing to be held like that, dreams coming easier than ever before.
Remembering why your sleep was interrupted, you reach for your phone on his nightstand. Thankfully, you brought it over here before going to bed last night, otherwise it'd be going off in the living room where you originally left it.
There are messages from both Chan and your sister, but the one that catches your attention the most is from your boss. Jennie doesn't text you much unless it's important. Opening the chat with her, you find a link attached with a simple question: 'That's you, isn't it?'
Before you can think properly, realize what you're watching, you're rushing out of the bed, searching for Seokmin. "Good morning," he smiles at you warmly, a plate filled with scrambled eggs and bread in his hands, a matching one lying in front of him on the counter. He opens his mouth, probably to explain he made breakfast for the two of you, but closes it again when he sees your face—your eyes wide, clearly panicked and distressed. "Is everything okay?"
You shake your head, unable to look away from him as you grip your phone in your hands. "Why did you— Why did you post that?" Despite trying your hardest not to, your voice stutters, partly from the betrayal you feel and partly because what the fuck? Why would he do that to himself?
His brows furrow, confusion written all over him. Not because he wouldn't know what you're talking about, he knows exactly what post you're referring to, but no matter how hard he tries to, he can't seem to understand why you're so upset, why you're looking at him like he just pointed the gun at you.
"What— Let's sit down, pretty, okay? Let's talk about what's bothering you. Tell me what goes in that head of yours." He places the plate in his hands down, not hesitating to cross the room and get into your space.
"You need to delete it," you state quickly, not stepping away from him but also not inching forward. "You—" You frown when you see the look in his eyes. "How does none of this bother you? Have you even checked to see what people are saying? How your followers count changed? What this can do to BSS? The guys or—"
He doesn't let you go into a spiral like you'd like to, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him. "I didn't check because I don't care," he whispers into your hair. You hesitate about hugging him back, carefully wrapping your arms around his sides when he doesn't let go off you. "I wanted everyone to hear how great you sound, so I shared it."
"I care though," you complain. "You need to delete it." He shakes his head against you, but doesn't verbally argue again. "This is going to be bad for your image."
"I don't care," he repeats. "Let it be bad for me if it's good for you. Let the world hear your voice, it's beautiful." You take a step back, looking up at him and shaking your head. "I've known this ever since the day I first heard you, and they should all know it too. Who cares if some people don't like me because they're insecure I might have a girlfriend and they don't—which I'm not labeling you as, I swear. I'll need a date or two before I ask you for that title." His rush makes you chuckle, but it doesn't help how you feel about the situation.
You gave up on music when you were still a child because of this exact reason, because you let people hear you sing. You don't want to hate music again. You're desperate to not let it come to it, and the only way you see possible is to convince him to delete the video off his feet and pray no one saw it. You can only see the laughs, the faces of your childhood friends, or what you thought they were, as they laughed at you for having a passion, as they made sure you wouldn't dream about something so stupid again.
It's not only that, though. As much as you're scared for yourself, you're scared for him. For him losing his passion, his love for music, all because he decided to post a video of you singing on his account, thinking it would be good for you.
This can't be good for either of you. You're convinced.
"You need to delete it," you beg again.
He doesn't acknowledge your comment, simply smiling at you. "Let's have breakfast together, hm?"
Sitting on his couch, your knees pulled to your chest, and an almost empty plate in your hands, you bring it up again. "Seokmin, I'm serious. I need you to delete the video. Now."
He sets his empty plate on the table, turning to face you in his seat. "If that's what you really want me to do, then I will. But please, tell me you don't want me to just because you think it's going to hurt my image or anything like that. I'm also serious, and I think you deserve all the love in the world. I think you deserve for your voice to be heard and appreciated by not only me, but everyone else as well."
You swallow as you look at him, letting your gaze fall down to your legs. How do you explain to a man as perfect as him that, even though it's been ages, you're haunted by the memory of your peers making fun of you for the exact same reason he now wants them to appreciate you. How do you tell him that you fear other people's opinions more than anything else in the world, and have no idea how to move without letting it consume you?
"I could get fired," you whisper. "For being with you. Crossing the line." You're not sure if Jennie would actually fire you for this, but you can't cross the option out. It's not only you who depends on people's views, it's also the radio, Chan, and Seokmin's group too, no matter how much he says he doesn't care. "It's not professional."
He moves closer to you, cupping your face so you'd look at him. "We could figure that out together. I could help, if you'd let me," he tries to hard to find a solution for you, to show you how much he wants to keep the video out there, to have you out there. "You don't always have to do the right thing. The professional thing. The grown up thing."
You frown, because you're pretty sure you do. You need to be perfect to save yourself from those disgusted looks again. "It's okay to be selfish sometimes. It's okay to chase after things you want, even if it means being immature." Your eyes soften instantly, because you're sure you heard similar words before. From Chan. When he first found out you love music like he does, and that you can produce it even though you keep from it, he said something along the lines as well. He didn't know anything about why you were so keen on not being involved with music so much, still doesn't, but he probably had an idea unlike Seokmin, who is trying his hardest to assure you it's okay to want this without even knowing what it is that bothers you deep down.
"Do you know how many times I've been called a child?" You don't answer, letting him continue. "If you let me help, I promise I'll take care of everything that worries you. I'll make sure nothing happens to BSS or your radio show, that you can stay with Chan and do what you love. And if it's what you want, then I'll also love to help you purse this career, because I truly believe you should. I think you should sing, if that'd be something you'd enjoy."
"It would," you admit quietly and his smile grows wider. "It always has been."
"Okay," he nods, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, tender, kiss. "Then let's do something about that, hm?"
♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝
If someone told you weeks ago that you'd be in the recording studio with Woozi and your boyfriend on the other side of the glass, you would have laughed in their face.
You're not sure if the fact Woozi is helping you produce this song or the fact you get to call Seokmin your boyfriend that is more unbelievable right now.
You let him keep the video of you singing at karaoke up, deciding to face your fear and see what would happen if people heard you sing. To your surprise, except for the few people hating simply for the fact you were suddenly on their artists' feed, others were supportive of you getting into the music industry. Fans who already knew your from the broadcast were amazed when they heard you sing, and the rest were immediately asking for your social to see more of you.
You couldn't have been happier at the moment.
"Let's go from the top again," Woozi tells you and you nod, glancing briefly at Seokmin, who wears the proudest smile on his face as he watches you record your own song.
It's a dream come true, really.
You called Jennie as soon as you decided to trust Seokmin and believe it'd be possible to pursue this, asking her if she's mad at you and needs you to take the video down anyways. She laughed into your ear before assuring you that's not why she texted you. She explained how she looked at you at the studio as soon as the video reached her, wanting to question you for not telling her you have such talent way sooner, only to find a giddy Chan in the room. He took his time talking about all the times you spend writing lyrics with him and helping him produce his songs, praising you to her just like he always did.
Both Seokmin and her decided to call a few people that day, trying to make sure it doesn't cause any damage to him or BSS as you worried, and also to see if there's a way to get you into a studio.
Which eventually happened. It happened.
"Great work today," Jihoon praises you with a smile. Your cheeks flush, but before you can thank him, Seokmin steps into your vision, opening his arms for you. You gladly steps into them, offering him a kiss.
"The best," he praises. "My pretty girl who can just do about anything."
You shake your head at him, wondering what you did to deserve all this. "Thank you," you whisper so only he can hear, stepping away again to look at your favorite producer. "Thank you for helping me so much. I hope I don't leave you disappointed with the result."
Jihoon shakes his head. "You have a great voice, and we all know it. You won't disappoint me or anyone else for the matter. Just keep chasing."
˙⋆✮ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: radio host! vernon chwe x night nurse!f.reader
you two share a lot in common. you’re next door neighbors, you’re both night owls, you both have nonexistent romantic lives, and you both also have a crush on each other without the other knowing. you spend your nights in the emergency room, and he spends his nights hosting a radio show. you find comfort in the chaos of your job by listening to your neighbors radio show. things between you start to change after another long night at work.
˙⋆✮ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, neighbors to lover, smut
˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non-idol
˙⋆✮ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k
˙⋆✮ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, smut, lover boy vernon, they’re both a little awkward
˙⋆✮ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: protected p in v, big dick vernon, couch sex, riding, fingering, oral (fem rec), face riding, they’re both kinda desperate, lots of making out, nipple play, hair pulling (him rec) Nicknames: baby (hers)
˙⋆✮ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw
˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐧: this was written for First Time Caller ☎️ collab, hosted by @studiosvt. thank you @haologram for helping me with so many things from naming this, to figuring out the plot and giving me tips on working on my banner. Thank you @thestraybunny and @supi-wupi for beta reading.
🎧: 12:34 - the band camino | headlights - in color | DOA - armors | see you later - the band camino | fronting - seventeen
FROM AN EARLY BIRD TO A NIGHT OWL
There used to be a time when you weren't a night owl. You used to love waking up early and enjoying a cup of coffee while the morning air was still fresh. You probably would still be an early bird if the hospital didn't switch you to the night shift in the emergency room.
Your once peaceful nights have turned into chaos filled nights in the ER. There is one thing you've found that helps relax you. Anytime you’re in the nurses station, you listen quietly to 171.3 SVT fm. The middle of the night DJ is your fave. There is something about his voice you've grown fond of.
LATE NIGHT NEIGHBORS
Sitting in the nurse's station taking a break, there is finally a lull. It's four in the morning and you only have two hours left. You're munching on some chips. You have your headphones in one ear. You're listening to your favorite radio station.
Luckily it's a segment where the DJ is talking. You could listen to Vernon ramble on about anything. His voice is so smooth, anything he talks about sounds interesting.
"Tonight on 171.3 the after midnight hours were playing some of my favorite songs." Closing your eyes you listen to his voice. You're well aware your favorite dj lives next door to you. Many of your friends know about your unrequited crush on your neighbor. "This song is called Fronting."
Someone grabs your shoulder, startling you. Whipping your head to the side you see Minghao standing next to you, trying not to laugh.
"Are you that distracted by radio boy, that you didn't hear me?"
Putting your headphones away quickly, you stand up and smooth out your scrubs. "I was just zoning out. It's calm at the moment so I decided to take a break."
Minghao lets out a little laugh, leaning against the wall. "You can just admit you have a crush. I promise I won't tell your neighbor."
Minghao is one of your closest friends. You met back in nursing school, and immediately became friends. He knows all about your infatuation with your neighbor. Since becoming a nurse, your dating life has been basically nonexistent. Hell you don't ever really mention having interest in anyone. The second you showed signs of having a crush on the Vernon, the boy Minghao lovingly calls "Radio Boy", he immediately started teasing you.
"We have two hours left and we're home free." Minghao says before taking a sip of his coffee.
"You two are needed in room twenty two." The charge nurse says.
"Aye aye capitan." Minghao salutes.
-
As soon as your shift ends you're sitting at your locker. Minghao is searching through his bag. You've put in your headphone in one ear so you can listen to the last few minutes of Vernon's radio show.
Heading out of the hospital Minghao heads with you to the train station. You both live near the same station. You keep your air bud firmly in your ear listening to Vernon talk about the last artist he played for the final song.
Luckily the train arrives as soon as you get to the platform. Your train ride is maybe thirty minutes. The hospital is only a handful of stops from the station near you.
Vernon's show is over and you're now just listening to a playlist that you like. You and Minghao are sitting next to each other. He's busy scrolling through his phone. It looks like he's reading messages from a girl he's been casually seeing.
"Did you hear about Dr. Choi?" He asks.
You take your air bud out and put it back in the container. "Is this about him and the new front desk girl?" Dr. Choi is extremely good looking and lots of the nurses always talk about him.
"Yes. Mingyu was telling me that Dr. Choi asked her out." Minghao somehow always knows all the latest gossip going on in the. hospital.
"Of course Mingyu was gossiping with you."
The train is about to arrive at your stop. You both stand up, and move towards the door. Walking out of the station, you're greeted to the sun starting to rise. It's six in the morning and the sky is a shades of orange and pink.
"I can't wait to nap." Minghao stretches his arms above his head a little.
"I just want to eat something before I even think about sleeping."
"I'll see you at six." Minghao waves and then heads in the other direction.
The walk to your apartment is only a couple minutes. Walking into your building you head for the elevator. You press the button and wait.
You hear footsteps behind you. Glancing over you see your crush (and favorite radio host) walk up. Vernon is standing there looking good. He's wearing in a pair of jeans, and a baggy shirt. Glancing down you see his red converse.
"Morning neighbor." He says.
"Morning."
"I see you're a fellow night owl." The doors open, and you both set inside he elevator. Vernon quickly hits the thirteenth floor. Vernon leans against the railing. You notice he's holding a take out bag from breakfast spot that's below your apartment building.
"The night shift at the hospital is the reason I'm a night owl."
"Your job is more thrilling than mine." He tilts his head looking at you.
"I think being a radio host sounds fun."
"I don't know, being an er nurse is way cooler." You lean back against the wall next to him. "I think it's pretty funny that two next door neighbors both work the night shifts." Maybe it's because you haven't dated in forever, but you can't tell if he's flirting with you.
"It's nice that the man that shares a bedroom wall with me also sleeps the day away."
He bits his bottom lip, holding back a smile. "You won't find me complaining."
The bell rings and the elevator doors slide open. You follow Vernon as he heads down the hallway towards your apartments.
"So are you going straight to bed?" He asks.
"No, I'm going to eat something. After these shifts, I'm always hungry."
He raises up the take out bag. "Well I have an extra breakfast burrito, if you don't mind having breakfast with me." This is a first. You and Vernon haven't ever hung out. Your normal interactions are elevator rides you share a handful of times a week.
"That would be amazing."
"Did you want to come over to my place?" You've never hung out with Vernon before. You've just shared elevator rides with him.
"Yeah."
You follow him to his apartment that’s next to yours. He pulls his keys from his pocket. He pushes open the door, and you follow him inside.
His apartment feels very him. There is a tv sitting on top of a shelf that is clearly made to hold vinyls. There is a table in the corner with a record player.
Vernon slips off his shoes, and drops his bag by the door. You follow his lead and slip off your own shoes. You continue to look around the room. You notice his grey couch, that looks like something a lot of men have in their homes. In front of the couch is a glass top table. On top there is a book on famous bands, and another about the guitars. His rug has a nice pop of color, its subtle pattern with different shades of blue.
"The kitchen is this way." He says catching your attention.
Following him towards the side of the house that doesn't share a wall with your place. His kitchen looks exactly like yours, just with less decorations. He places the bag of food on the table. You take this as your sign to sit down. Taking a seat you watch as he looks around the fridge.
"What would you like to drink?" He asks.
"Water is fine."
Grabbing two bottles, he joins you at the table.
You both sit there silently eating for a few minutes. "How long have you been a nurse?" Vernon asks between bites.
"This is my third year."
He takes another bite of his burrito.
"How long have you been working at the radio station?" You found his station a year and half ago. You're curious if he's worked there for longer.
"A little under two years."
"Your radio show is something I listen to every night at work." The moment you say it, you instantly feel embarrassed.
"You listen to my show?" He raises his brow and gives you a smile.
"Yeah." Your cheeks flush bright red.
You take another bite of your burrito. Vernon can't help but watch you. He's always thought you were cute, and now as you sit across from him blushing he's reminded of just how strong his crush is.
"I like that you listen to my show ."
"Your voice is soothing." Now it's his turn to blush. Who knew the cute nurse that lived next door likes his late night radio show.
"Do you have any songs that you recommend I play?"
"I could give you a few."
You both finish your breakfast and you give Vernon a list of your favorite songs. He gives you his own list, suggesting that they make a good playlist.
Standing at Vernon's door he's standing in front of you. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he watches you carefully.
"This was really nice. Maybe we could hang out more and get to know each other." Suddenly butterflies are fluttering in your stomach. It sounds like Vernon is asking you out. That's maybe because he is, he's trying his hardest to be nonchalant, and not be awkward.
"I would like that." You're trying to play it coy.
"Maybe I'll see you again soon Ms. night owl."
"Maybe you will, Mr. radio host."
Walking out the door, you can't help but smile. The butterflies are still fluttering, and your cheeks feel as warm as the sun. Walking into your apartment, you lean against the door.
You let out a sigh and close your eyes. You feel like a giddy school girl, whose crush finally noticed them.
LATE NIGHTS THINKING ABOUT YOU.
Sitting in the break room your headphone is snuggly placed in one ear. You're scrolling through your phone while listening to Vernon's radio show. You're finally getting a proper lunch. Your last few patients have left you absolutely exhausted.
Vernon hasn't spoken in a few songs, he's been playing some songs he's mentioned being his favorite. You can't help but smile, realizing that almost all of them have been songs that you mentioned to him that you love. It feels as if he's dedicated his show tonight to you.
Minghao sits down across from you. Raising his eyebrow he slides you a cup of coffee. You take out headphone.
"Do you mind taking your break with me, or do you prefer listening to your radio boyfriend?" There isn't a single day Minghao doesn't tease you about your crush on Vernon.
"Feel free to join me." You take your other earphones out.
He opens a cup of fruit. He carefully takes a piece of pineapple before taking a bite. You silently watch him, knowing that he's definitely going to have something to say to you.
"Were you listening to your radio boy?" And there it is. He's not going to miss an opportunity to bring up Vernon.
"Yes. He was playing songs I told him about." You try not to blush thinking about this.
Minghao raises his brows. "Oh, radio boy took song recommendations from you?"
"Yea." You reach across the table and steal a slice of strawberry from his fruit cup.
"That's interesting." He knits his brows at you. He stabs another piece of pineapple.
"What do you mean?"
"It sounds like radio boy is flirting with you." Minghao says smoothly as he pushes the cup of fruit towards you.
"It kinda felt like he was when we hung out yesterday after work."
Minghao's eyes immediately go wide. "You hung out with him?"
"Yeah after our last shift. We bumped into each other in the elevator and he asked if I wanted to come over to his place for breakfast."
"My sweet beloved oblivious friend, Vernon is flirting with you."
You hope he's right and that Vernon is actually flirting with you. It felt like he was last night, but you weren't sure if you're reading too much into it.
-
Being at the radio station feels like home to Vernon. Since he’s started working here. He absolutely loves hosting his own radio show. Vernon had one idea for his show tonight, and that was he was going to play the bands you mentioned to him. This is his not so subtle way of dedicating his show to you. It's been so long since Vernon has been interested in someone. Most of his relationships in the last couple of years have just been sexual, but there is something about you that makes him want more. In his eyes you're the perfect girl.
You're sweet, beautiful and funny. He loves the fact that you’re a nurse, and you clearly care about people. He likes the fact that you seem to be a little awkward, he thinks it's charming.
He started playing a song he remembers you mentioning. He takes off his headphones and looks across the studio to see Seungkwan watching him.
"These aren't the usual bands you play." Seungkwan says walking closer to desk.
Vernon shrugs, and leans back. "I had a friend recommend these bands." He can't help but smile.
Seungkwan sits down at the guest host chair across from Vernon. "A friend?" He raises his brow.
"Yeah a friend."
"Is this supposed friend your neighbor, the one you have a crush on?" Seungkwan knows all about you. After hearing Vernon talk about his cute night nurse neighbor for months, he's well aware his coworker/best friend is down bad.
"Possibly." Vernon doesn't even bother denying he's got a crush. He has no problem with anyone knowing that he likes you. He's just oddly nervous you'll find out.
"Is she listening?"
Vernon takes a slow deep breath. He knows you listen while you're at work on your break, and when you get a few moments to yourself, but he doesn't know when you're actually able to listen.
"I hope so."
Seungkwan grabs a set of headphones and puts them on. He gives Vernon a cheesy smile. "Your song is ending, maybe mention when you talk that a special someone recommended this band."
Vernon puts his headphone back over his ear. The song wraps up and he turns his mic back on.
"That was 12:34 by The Band Camino. A special someone recommended this band, and it's safe to say they are officially on my playlist. Night owls were in the final half out of our late night hang out. To end the night, here are some other songs recommended by that special someone."
Seungkwan is trying his hardest not to smile. Vernon rolls his eyes and lifts his headphone off his ear again. He clicks his mic off quickly.
"You can tease me all you want. I'm aware I'm down bad for my neighbor."
EARLY MORNING CONVERSATIONS
Walking into the lobby you see the man you were hoping to see. Vernon is standing in front of the elevator. You immediately notice he pressed the button. You walk towards and nudge him the moment you stand next to him.
"Hi there, neighbor."
"Howdy, miss night nurse." He reaches out pressing the button on the elevator.
"Fancy meeting you here."
The doors open and Vernon holds out his hand. You walk in first and he follows right behind you. He quickly press your floor.
"How was your night?" He leans up against the railing.
"Long, how about yours?"
"It was pretty good. Did you listen to my show?"
You take a step towards him, leaning against the railing next to him. You want to play it cool. You don't need him to know that you were practically giddy at work, about the fact he basically only played songs and bands you mentioned.
You shrug your shoulders and smile. "I listened to it."
"Did you hear the songs played, were just for you?" He gives you a grin.
"I did. I heard you say a special someone recommended those bands."
He lets out a soft laugh. "You have good taste in music."
Looking down your cheeks burn. This once again feels like you're both flirting. It's time to be confident and just fully flirt back.
"That's a massive compliment coming from you." You look back up at him, and smile.
"Is that because I'm a radio host?"
"No, it's because you have good taste."
"I have good taste?"
"I think so. So you think I'm a special someone?"
The elevator doors slide open. You step away from him, as he follows right behind you.
"I like to think so."
Suddenly the hallway feels so small. Part of you wishes it was smaller so you could be closer to him.
Silently you both walk down the hallway together. Vernon is walking close by you. Every couple of steps, your hands brush against each other. You don't want to just go into your apartment and go to bed. You want to spend time with him.
You stop in front of both of your apartments. "You know I just worked a full shift, and I'm not tired."
He leans against his door. He gives you a crooked smile. "Me neither. I don't know, did you maybe want to hang out?"
"Sure."
Vernon pushes himself off the door. Reaching into his pocket he fishes out his key. Opening the door he steps inside, and holds it open. You both kick off your shoes.
Heading over to the couch you sit down, and he sits down right next to you. Your thighs are touching. Vernon turns on the tv, that's sitting on a stand under the window. He has the curtains open, so you can see the sun starting to rise. The sky is painted beautiful cotton candy shades of orange and pink.
Picking up the remote he turns on a random drama that's playing. "Do you mind if we watch this?" He's crazy if he thinks you can actually focus on anything playing.
"Sure."
You get about twenty minutes in before he rests his hand on your thigh. Trying to play it cool you glance down at his hand.
"I like spending time with you." He says glancing over at you.
"I like you." For some reason your brain decides not to use its filter and you just blurt out you like him.
He moves on the couch so he's facing you. Reaching out he pushes some stray hair away from your face. Everything moves in slow motion as he rests his hand on your cheek. Slowly he drags his thumb across your cheek.
"I like you too." He says softly. Slowly he starts moving in closer to you. The idea of kissing Vernon would make you weak in the knees if you weren't already sitting. "I think I have had a crush on you since the first time I saw you struggling to carry in your groceries." He drags his thumb across your bottom lip.
"I had a crush on your voice and then I realized you're my neighbor." You lean in closer. You rest your nose against his. "Vernon?"
"Yes?" His lips are so close to yours.
"Please kiss me." You don't care if you sound desperate, you need to kiss him.
The moment your lips touch for the first time you feel those sparks everyone has always mention in the romance novels. Your lips move together in perfect sync. He's like fresh air in your oxygen deprived lungs.
Pulling away slightly he grabs your hips, helping guide you on to his lap. Neither of you can seem to keep your hands to yourself. His hands are anywhere they can touch. He moved from kissing your lips, to leaving a wet trail of kisses across your jaw, and down your neck. Occasionally he nips at your skin, definitely leaving marks across your delicate skin. Minghao is going to have a heyday when he sees you sporting hickies from your neighbor.
Closing your eyes, you lean your head back. Biting your lip can't stop the moans passing your lips. Instinctually you roll your hips against his crotch. One of his hands focuses on squeezing your breast. The other is plastered to your side. You're dressed in a pair of leggings and with each roll of your hips, you feel his jean cover erection giving you the perfect amount of friction.
Tangling your finger in his hair, you tilt his head back slightly. "Vernon—" his name is nothing more than a broken moan.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me." You're desperate and you just want to feel him inside you.
"God, you're incredible."
Pulling away you scramble off of him. You make quick work of stumbling out of your clothes. The quicker you get naked the better. Vernon stands up and strips down to his boxers. You're standing in front of him completely naked, while he's standing there in just boxers, and erection straining against them.
"Are you going to get naked?"
"After I eat you out." He tilts his head at you. That's definitely not what you thought he was going to say. Most men you've been with have never openly offered to go down on you.
"Oh."
"Lay down on the couch, baby and spread your legs."
You don't need to be told twice. You make quick work of laying down and spreading your legs. Vernon sits on his knees between your spread legs. He starts kissing the top of your breast, taking his time toying with each nipple. He starts his descent down, leaving a trial of wet kisses from the valley of your breast, down to your mound. He leaves one last kiss there before looking at you with almost pleading eyes.
"Can I?" That might be the stupidest question he could ask right now. You push yourself up on your elbows so you can watch him.
"God, yes." He moves so he's laying on his stomach with his face pressed up against your needy core. You're already drenched and you know he's going to make you cum easily.
With two fingers he parts your folds. He starts off by licking your sensitive clit a few times. Pulling back, he runs his index finger through your folds. He looks at his finger that's already wet.
"Is this all, just from us making out and dry humping?"
"Yea." Your cheeks burn bright. God it's hard not to be embarrassed at how easily turned on he makes you.
"Baby don't be embarrassed, I think that's so hot." He slips his finger into his mouth, licking it clean. "God, you taste incredible."
He leans back in and starts sucking on your sensitive clit. He slides one finger into you, and starts thrusting it in and out of you testing the waters. He can tell by your whimpers and moans that you're enjoying this. He adds another finger, slowly stretching you out. He's a little bigger than average, and he knows that he needs to make you cum at least once.
Without thinking you tangle your fingers in his hair. You rut your hips against his face. He's focused on making you cum. He loves how desperate you are as you chase your high. He moves his fingers in a come hither motion, touching that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.
"Vernon—" you moan his name like a sinful prayer.
Your sweet sinful moans egg him on. He keeps up his good work, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Without thinking he ruts his hips against the couch, for some sort of friction.
"Right there." You release his hair. Dropping back on the couch, you squeeze your eyes shut. Your orgasm hits you hard and fast. The air feels like it's been knocked out of your lungs. Your gummy walls flutter against his fingers. He slowly pumps them in and out of you, helping you ride out your high. He pulls his face away from your needy pussy. He lost in a haze of lust watching you unfold.
"That was the hottest thing I have ever seen."
Your eyes slowly flutter open. Staring up at the ceiling you're trying to calm down. "I need you to fuck me."
He pushes himself up on his knees. "You're so cute when you're needy."
"Do you need me to beg?" You push yourself back up on your elbows.
"Absolutely not. How do you feel about riding me?" He hops off the couch. He kicks off his boxers leaving him just as naked as you. He looks absolutely beautiful, and you normally don't think guys have pretty cocks, but that might be because you've never seen his. It's a little longer than average, but thick and a pretty rosey pink.
"Sounds perfect."
"Let me grab a condom." He sprints off naked to his bedroom to fetch a condom.
He gives you just enough time to stand up. Walking back into the living room he tears the foil package open with his teeth. He wastes no time rolling the rubber down his straining length.
Sitting back down on the couch he taps his thighs. Crawling onto his lap you waste no time grabbing his cock. You pump your hand up and down a few times.
"I need to be inside of you, so fucking bad."
Lifting your hips you guide his length to your needy entrance. Ever so slowly you sink down his thick cock, giving yourself time to adjust. It's been quite a long time since you last had sex.
The moment he's fully inside, you let out a sigh. Your butt is flush against his thighs. You don't bother trying to move. For a long moment you just want to enjoy the feeling of him stretching you out.
Leaning towards he starts kissing your collar bone. He starts kissing the side of your neck before he moans against your skin. "You feel so good."
"I just need a minute." You moan.
"I could stay like this forever."
"You're big, my body just needs a second."
He helps to distract you by playing with your breast. He suddenly has a fondness for playing with your tender nipples.
Slowly you lift yourself up, until everything but his mushroom tip is out. Dropping back down he brushes that special place inside of you.
"Fuck—" he moans.
You keep a steady pace, sliding up and down his length over and over. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close to you. With each brush of his rosey tip against your g spot, he's pushing you closer to the edge.
His hand moves to your hips, helping to guide you up and down. Your pace changes when you stop bouncing and start grinding against him. This angle feels completely different for both of you. With each rut of your hips your clit brushes against the well trimmed pubic hair at the base of his cock.
Smashing your lips into his, you desperately try to muffle your whiney moans. Reaching between you he starts rubbing your clit.
"Fuck—" Your body feels like a live wire on the brink of exploding. "Please. Harder."
He focuses on making quick hard circles against your clit. Breathless gasps pass your lips, and you rut your hips at a quick, desperate pace.
"Cum for me, baby."
The ice cold wave that hits your body is like nothing of this world. Your gummy walls flutter like a rapid beating heart. You still for a moment, your head tossed back and you moan. Vernon's hands grip your sides a little tighter, helping to guide you against him. His own release is so close.
With each thrust of his cock against your fluttering walls you moan. Your fingers tangle in his hair again, desperate for something to hold on to.
He lifts his hips up over and over again, helping you both. His own orgasm breaks hard and fast. He slams you down against his thighs, grinding himself against your slowly. He lets out a mix of low moans and groans.
The aftermath of both your orgasms, leave you both exhausted.
Slowly you crawl off of him. He takes a moment to dispose of the condom before dragging you off to the bathroom. You both step into his shower, tub combo for a quick shower to clean yourself up. He takes this time to gently clean you up, before dragging you off to his bed.
His bedroom looks just how you thought it would. He's got a bookshelf near the window with more vinyls and some fun figurines, and a few vintage looking video game consoles. His bed is one of those lower to ground bed frames, with led lights built into the headboard. His comforter is a light blue and grey plaid one. His room feels very like him.
Laying in the bed you stare at him, not sure what to say. He rolls over so he's facing you. Reaching out he laces his fingers with hours.
"What's on your mind?" He asks.
"What happens now?" You aren't sure you could handle this becoming an awkward one nightstand.
"Well I was thinking, I'm off today and if you're off maybe we could spend the day together."
You knit your brows together. "Like a date?"
He lets out a little laugh and smiles. "Yes, I'm asking you out on a proper date. I maybe should have asked you out before we had sex on my living room couch. I just couldn't help myself."
"I would really love to go on a date with you."
He leans in and presses his lips to your for another kiss. "Are you still going to listen to my radio show all the time, even though we're dating?"
"Absolutely."
"That's good. I can't wait to start dedicating all the love songs to you."
Turns out working the night shift and becoming a night owl is one of the best decisions you've ever made.
