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MINORS DNI OR SCROLL THROUGH MY BLOG. BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. p1ecetinyrat! keeung+hongsan+seoksooncheolhao ‘06 liner <3

[joongtime]

damn why am i so done coups looks like one moment he’s such a awwwwww cutie patootie my baby with those eyes and that pout yes you shall have your melonpan🥰🥰🥰🥰 then the next moment 💥 BAM MY OVARIES EXPLODED FUCKKK THAT WINK AND THAT TIGHT SHIRT

[catiekayy]

Seventeen Reacts: Brat vs Brat Tamer

Anon Req. for my opinion on who all in Seventeen would be a brat and who would be brat tamer. It's a little long and there is some smut so MDNI 18+ ONLY. A/N- thank you @milk-moonbunnies for beta reading this for me and for being my sounding board for my ideas!!!

S.Coups- Surprisingly, Coups would fall into the category of brat. I think he would be the brattiest, poutiest baby when you two are alone because maybe you didn't greet him as soon as he got home from rehearsal, you were busy reading, and didn't hear him come in the door.

Cheol would lean over your shoulder and say something like, "Oh I see you just don't love me as much as that book, huh?"

You glance over your shoulder at him before responding, holding back a grin. "What on Earth do you mean? I absolutely love you Cheol." You have to hold back your giggles.

"If you did, you would've noticed when I got home." He pulls back so you can get a good look at him now. He has yearning eyes, complete with furrowed eyebrows, and a pouty set of lips that you would have to put a minium of 50 kisses on before he finally hummed out a content sound and curled up with you on the couch, finally relaxed. "So, Baby, tell me about this book." His voice is muffled against your hair as he burrows his face into your neck, sweet soft kisses being placed on your skin in return for the ones you gave him earlier, all of them an unspoken promise of what the rest of the night will hold for you two.

Jeonghan- You would think he would be a brat, but honestly, I think he's more of a brat tamer. He knows all the little attitude tricks and manipulations you could possibly pull out.

Imagine if you're both out, grabbing some food with friends, and you planned to drink heavily that evening, but Jeonghan wasn't planning on babysitting you tonight. He even warned you about it beforehand while the two of you were getting ready. You rolled your eyes and brushed off his words, so when he keeps ordering you waters before you can even get a drink order in you start getting increasingly irritated with him.

"Why do you keep doing that? I wanted to drink tonight." You murmur into his ear, your tone just drips with brattiness.

Jeonghan's hand reaches over squeezing your thigh under the table a silent gesture that answers you before he even has to open his mouth. "Because Angel, I need you nice and alert for all the things I have planned for us tonight, be good for me."

He punctuates his sentence with another squeeze, and smirks at the flush that spreads on your cheeks from his words, you sit a little straighter in your chair after that.

Joshua- He would also be a brat tamer, but like in a softer version, kind of like Jeonghan in his subtle approach to it.

For example, when you visited him while he was on tour, you were planning on seeing the city that day, but suddenly staff came to him, and asked him to do a vlog with the guys instead.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart." He gives you an apologetic smile as you all pile out of the company SUV, and onto the beach. Then Hoshi turns on the camera, and Joshua snaps into fan service mode as you stand off to the side watching.

This becomes the pattern all day long. At every stop you all make, you're getting a little pouty and sulky as the hours pass, and quite honestly? Near the end of the day, you're over it.

Joshua of course notices the attitude in your stance, and tugs you subtly into the tinted backseat of the SUV while you're at the park. "Let's straighten out this attitude, Sweetheart." He says as he adjusts you over his lap.

Minutes later, you both emerge from the car, you with a newly adjusted attitude and a slightly sore ass, and Joshua with a smirk, and a bit of a red and aching palm.

Jun- Jun would also be a softer version of a brat tamer.

Since he's gone for long periods of time filming, he of course would bring you with him whenever he had to go abroad for it. Neither of you wanted to deal with that separation.

When you're on set with him, you're usually pretty patient, and actually really enjoy watching him work, but today, you're feeling especially restless.

Every time he gets a small break, and checks in, you ask when the day will be wrapped up. And each time you ask, your pitch gets a little more whiny, and Jun notices, even if you don't think he does.

When filming for the day wraps up, you're both in the car on the way back to the hotel when you speak up. "I seriously thought today would never end." Your tone is completely bratty at this point, and Jun has had enough by now.

He reaches over and squeezes your knee, his voice low and raspy in your ear "Baobei, if you don't change your attitude and apologize for your tone today, I'll have to get creative." His words are met with an eye roll from you and a sarcastic "sorry."

And all Jun does is smirk at that, because a few minutes later in your hotel room he's got you on your knees choking on his cock.

"See, I told you I'd get creative to get those pretty lips to apologize correctly," he huffs out roughly, looking down at you.

Hoshi- Would be a brat tamer, and he would definitely be the kind of boyfriend that would purposely push buttons to get you to be a little extra bratty just so he could get you back to being nice again.

Maybe one night he's staying extra late to work on some choreography, and he did tell you he'd be a little later than normal, but it's been three hours past the end time now, and you're getting impatient and hungry.

The music is vibrating the walls of the practice room as you open the door, and a very sweaty and breathless Soonyoung is sitting on the floor drinking water. "Hey Jagiya, I'm just finishing up, give me like two more hours and we can get dinner."

He's joking of course, and he gives you a playful smile that promptly drops as he sees your crossed arms and frown. "Don't 'Hey Jagiya' me." Your voice has a whiny and slightly mocking pitch to it that pulls Hoshi to his feet, his eyes sharp and dark.

Soonyoung's steps guide you backwards until your back hits the wall, while he puts his hands on either side of your shoulders, his breath hot on your neck as his voice lowers, vibrating down to your core. "Don't make me find a better use for that pretty little mouth of yours, Jagiya."

Wonwoo- 1000% a brat tamer, and he is not afraid to remind you about it either at home or in public. Although it sometimes feels like his favorite places to remind you who is in charge are in public.

Like the night he takes you to the local arcade for your usual date night, and he's not letting you win the games like he normally does. You start to get a little on the grumpy side, and your answers start to become clipped and shortened to one word.

"Bathroom." You say with crossed arms, before you sulk off, unaware that Wonwoo was right on your heels. He follows you in, locking the door behind the two of you, and gives you a single eyebrow raise.

"We're going to fix this little attitude of yours." He states it while lifting you onto the counter before you can protest. He's quick to pushing up your skirt, pulling down your panties, and kissing up your thighs until his lips meet your pussy. He licks a long stripe that leaves you shaking immediately.

Four orgasms later, Wonwoo helps you off the counter, with a gleam in his eye. "Now, lets go play nicely, okay?" You nod your head and walk out of the bathroom on jello legs, and he follows behind adjusting his glasses and wiping off his lips with a smirk.

Woozi- Jihoon is definitely a brat tamer, but it takes a lot to get him there. Like he will let you get away with a lot before he finally decides to act on anything.

The late night you come visit him while he's working in the studio is the tipping point, this time, apparently. It's not like you've never hung out there while he's worked before, but this time you were extra fidgety, and being a little more distracting than normal.

"What's that button do? What about that switch?" You ask, reaching across the soundboard while Woozi was focused on his laptop. Not looking, he reaches over, and holds your wrist.

"Baby, don't touch. I've told you a million times, okay? Behave. I'm almost done." He looks at you now, over the rim of his glasses, and you straighten up immediately, tucking your hands away in your lap.

The good behavior only lasts for so long before you push the chair back, and start spinning around, humming songs until Woozi sighs heavily and turns around grabbing the chair, stopping the spinning. "Baby." His voice is dangerously low now, "Are you bored? Do I need to tire you out so I can finish work?"

That's how you ended up bent over the soundboard nearly drooling, and Jihoon is pulling a second orgasm out of you within 10 minutes as he murmurs something about finally getting work done after this.

DK- Okay, so I actually think DK would fall into a switch category where he could be a brat but also a brat tamer.

Because imagine if there's a time where the two of you are on vacation, and it's to an all inclusive resort, the kind that you get to do all the activities and packages through them.

Well, the activity that DK booked was swimming with the sea turtles on the second day of the trip, and that morning you guys got a message that the activity had to be cancelled and you'd been re-booked for a "surfing experience" instead.

Throughout the morning, and into breakfast, DK was extra crabby about losing his activity. "I just really wanted to swim with the turtles is all." He halfheartedly pushes a pancake around on his plate while his lips pull into a frown.

"Keyomie, it'll be fun. We'll still be in the ocean and in the sun. Most importantly, we'll be spending time together." You say trying to coax him into a better mood before you two have to head to the beach.

Of course, once you guys make it there, and actually get started surfing - DK starts to have an amazing time. He's laughing, and catching right onto the lessons like a natural.

You, however, are not having fun at all. It's as if the roles have reversed, you're now sulking, and sitting on your board kicking the water until DK paddles next to you.

"Honey, cheer up? Why don't you go relax on the beach, and watch, and then tonight I'll make sure to treat you to something extra fun." He finishes his sentence with a promising wink that ignites a heat right to your core.

Mingyu- Like S.Coups, Mingyu would also be a pouty little brat when something doesn't go his way.

Like the day you two decided to go shopping, he was excited at the opportunity to spoil you a little bit, willing to buy you anything you wanted or possibly even looked at, if you'd let him.

So imagine his surprise at the first store, when you two are up at the counter to pay for your things, he's reaching for his wallet and suddenly, he hears the "DING" of the card reader.

Mingyu looks over at you, as your tapping your phone to pay instead, his mouth gaping. "Yah! Let me pay at the next one." He insists as you two leave the store, you shrug him off and continue shopping.

This pattern repeats through the whole shopping center. You are absolutely ruining his plans to spoil you today and he is a big pouty mess by lunchtime.

"What's wrong?" You nudge his foot under the table, and he gives you the saddest puppy eyed look before responding.

"I just really wanted to spoil you today, and you keep ruining it by paying for everything." He huffs jutting out his bottom lip.

"Okay, how about this, I'll let you buy me one thing, and then I'll spoil you too." You smirk mischievously offering your compromise.

Of course Mingyu eagerly takes the offer, and that's how an hour later he's now focused on your new diamond necklace nestled between your gorgeous tits that bounce as you ride him in the back seat of the car.

At the end of the day everyone got spoiled a little bit.

Minghao- Minghao is a little tricky, but I think he would be kind of a silent brat when he brings you around the chaos of the 12 other guys.

Usually at home you're pretty laid back and relaxed around him. So, he expects the same introverted behavior around them, he thinks maybe you'll come out of your shell a little bit, but he figures you'll stick next to him most of the night.

What he did not expect was that you would go fully extroverted on him, and completely immerse yourself in the chaos.

You laughed loudly at all of DK's jokes, you fed into Hoshi's tiger agenda, and even go toe to toe rage baiting Seungkwan for a little while, making everyone in the room erupt in laughter.

Don't get Hao wrong, he loved watching you get along with his friends, it's just that he didn't like that you weren't immediately in his vicinity. He wanted you getting along with his friends, but also love up on him too.

When there's finally a lull in the madness, Minghao approaches you. "My Love, are you having fun? Can you come back and sit with me?" He asks while lacing his hand into yours to get your full attention. You only need to glance briefly at Hao to see the slightly woeful look on his face.

"Oh, are you jealous?" You tease him at first, but when you see that his frown only grows, you drop it. "Of course I will, lets go." You reply leading him to the couch, where he stays stuck to you for the remainder of the evening, and you make sure you pay extra attention to him with a knowing grin.

Seungkwan- Is a brat, but he tries so hard not to be. Especially around you, because he loves you so dearly.

For instance, you try to be the extra sweet doting partner, bringing home a bag of skincare products with a grand plan of you two staying in for the night and having a mini spa evening together.

"Oh, what are these?" Seungkwan asks peeking into the bag on the counter while you gather snacks. He tries very hard to hide the grimace on his face as he reads the labels on the products.

"I thought we could have a night in, like a mini spa." You reply with a hopeful tone.

Luckily for Seungkwan, you're preoccupied pulling out the snacks and drinks from the fridge while you explain, otherwise you'd see the absolute horror on his face as he continues going through the bag. "Yeah? That sounds like fun, Baby." He grabs the bag and follows you into the living room, where you start unpacking everything, and handing Seungkwan his face mask. "Hopefully, this won't make me break out." He mumbles under his breath with a sigh as he sticks the Hello Kitty sheet mask onto his face.

"What was that?" You ask as you smooth your own mask on with a calmed sigh, your head is thrown back against the pillows on the couch.

"Hmm? Nothing..I said I hope this clears my breakouts. I love you, Baby." Seungkwan says quickly, settling in his own spot next to you as he quiets his own thoughts.

He would do anything for you, always for you.

Vernon- Vernon is a brat tamer, but he also shows it in subtle or nonchalant ways, because that's just Vernon.

For instance, the time you asked him to teach you how to play guitar is a good example. By the time he caved and agreed, you had resorted to begging to be taught by him, and he finally gave in.

Vernon told you to come by his practice space in the evening, after he was finished with work, and you show up completely eager and even picked out your favorite song that you want to learn too.

All of that crumbles away about an hour later, when you still haven't been able to pick up the finger positions for basic chords. Vernon is still totally patient, and encouraging, but also slightly too relaxed for your liking in this moment. "No, not like that. Here try again," he repeats, and adjusts your fingers again.

He gives you another encouraging smile, and you groan loudly in frustration. "I hate this song now. Maybe if you taught me better, I would be learning it faster." You grumble, adjusting your grip on the neck of the guitar as Vernon raises a surprised eyebrow at your sharp words.

All forms of nonchalance fall away as he leans in close, his breath warm against your neck. His voice is low and rough in your ear. "Oh, I can definitely teach you something if you don't fix that attitude, Brat."

And just like that, you sit up, trying a little harder to learn as the promise still lingers between you two the rest of the evening.

Dino- Chan is a brat, but it's only because he gets passionate about things.

When you asked him to teach you the Internet's most recent viral dance trend, he was so excited to get to share something he was passionate about with you.

Dino has always longed to teach you some dances, or even a little group choreography, but you've always turned him down. Usually claiming two left feet usually, but that's until tonight.

When you meet him in the practice room, he's practically bouncing out of shoes with excitement, and he jumps right into showing you the first steps. A few attempts in, and you're doubled over laughing watching yourself wiggle around in the mirror in front of you two, totally not taking this as seriously as Chan is at all.

"C'mon, Babe, please actually try this time." He shows you the moves again, slower this time, breaking them down with counts in an attempt to get you to grasp it. As he counts you off for your next attempt, you barely get three steps in before you trip, and fall down giggling at the mishap. You swipe you hair from your face, and look up at Dino, finally noticing his sulking face.

"Channie, what's wrong? Did I mess up too much?" You stand, and move towards him, tugging his arms out from being crossed over his chest.

"No, it's that you're not really trying. You're acting like this is just a joke, and not a special moment for us to share." He explains with the widest and saddest boba eyes he's ever given you.

You nod in realization. "Okay, I'll actually try this time. Promise." You move back to your spot, and he counts you in again, but this time, you actually hit a few of the moves, leaving Chan with a bigger smile than when the night started.

[edininwinter]

New Series! (coming soon)

My First Family

Genre: Fluff, Idol!AU, ‘Parenting’, slightly suggestive??

Warnings: none

Summary: Choi Jiung from P1Harmony and L/N Y/N from Idle are handling a tough challenge in the new show “My First Family”, where they face the reality of many people’s everyday life while taking care of the house and the child that is in it. 5 year old Seo-Yun will be the one challenging them to their limit with her occasional tantrums and rough bedtime schedule. Will they survive? Find out this week on “My First Family”!!

Hi hiiiiiiii!(つ≧▽≦)つ I know I said I'd work on the Soul fic right away butttttt I had this idea and thought I'd put it out there first! It will be about 8 chapters (hopefully lol) If you wanna be on the taglist for this series, or permanent taglist, let me know in the comments!!!

@urfavleobiscuit

[kmg-snapshoot]

🎥 | 260604 MINGYU — For UNOVE © unove.kr

[liliesonthego]

My favorite jiung if you even care 🫩✋🏽

[jiungbbl]

and ill tell you why

[liliesonthego]

Keeho: Lazy Afternoon (18+ MDNI)

Summary: lazily sucking Keeho off

Pairing: Keeho x reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 500+

Authors notes: quick little fic I wrote waiting for my last flight during my 8 hour layover 😀 completely self indulgent btw made myself delusional with this one

—

You were lying curled on your side on the couch, cheek resting comfortably on Keeho's thigh. The movie you were both watching played forgotten on the TV.

You turned your face inward, nuzzling lazily against his warmth and the growing firmness beneath his sweatpants.

A small, pleased sound left you as you felt him twitch in response. Keeho breathed heavily above you, his hand sliding into your hair to gently push it back from your cheek so he could watch you.

His fingers disappeared into your scalp, scratching lightly just the way you liked, and the simple affection of it made you more eager to please him.

You pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the thickening bulge, then another, letting your lips drag along the outline of his hardening cock through the material until the fabric grew damp from your tongue. Keeho’s thigh tensed under you. A low, rough sigh slipping from his lips.

“Baby… you don’t have to—” His voice was already husky, but the words dissolved when you tugged the waistband of his sweats down just enough to free him. His cock sprang up, heavy and flushed red at the tip, curving toward his stomach. You hummed softly at the sight and took him between your lips without urgency.

There was no rush in the way you worked him. Just slow, lazy pulls of your mouth, tongue gliding in unhurried circles around the head before sliding lower.

You savored the weight of him on your tongue and the faint saltiness of his precum. His fingers kept stroking through your hair like he was petting something precious.

Every soft, wet sound you made caused Keeho’s breathing to grow deeper and rougher, though he never pushed. He simply watched, dark eyes half-lidded, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek as you sucked him off. The sight of you like this—sleepy-eyed and devoted—was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

When his hips began to twitch, you took him a little deeper, hollowing your cheeks with gentle suction. A broken moan bordering on a whimper left him, fingers tightening reflexively in your hair.

“Fuck—I wish you could see how you look right now,” he whispered, voice frayed at the edges. “So pretty… my pretty girl.”

The praise flowed through you and you kept the rhythm slow, even as his cock pulsed against your tongue, even as his thighs trembled.

When he came it was with a quiet, shuddering groan, thick spurts filling your mouth. You swallowed slowly, almost dreamily, milking every last drop until he softened between your lips.

With a contented sigh you let him slip free, pressing one last lazy kiss to the slick head before resting your cheek back on his thigh right beside his spent cock. The skin there was even warmer than before.

Keeho’s hand never left your hair. He continued those slow, worshipful strokes, chest still rising and falling as he came down from the high, a faint sheen of sweat at his temple.

For a long minute the only sounds were his slowing breaths and the distant murmur of the forgotten television. His thumb swept across your cheekbone tenderly.

“Stay right there,” he murmured, voice hoarse and fond. “Just like that.”

You smiled against his lap, eyes already drifting closed, perfectly content to remain exactly where you were pressed against him.

—

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx, @missingjulia , @hxraiiii @mingijelly, @bluedenebii, @kukkurookkoo, @tilly-death @mysweetjongseob, @lycxee @willowedjelly , @l5byrinth @tinastar13 @evemds @jellyybelly @elmolovesw33d @missmaiamay @stxrxyyz @seonghwaswifeuuuu @happilyeverafterforme @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @vvalever @oyasumiaikko @chandlxa @choxochip @ji-eun-bun @cryptothecat @izzyreadsstuff @ava-lazaza @princessthelsa @kyoluvrs @jiungs-wednesdaygirl @delicatechris @chandlxa @rockstartaeyang @orchidves @straystar-8 @fairyf1ed @liveyourownlife4good @boptak @dreamerliya @keeilly @alienslostinworld @aalyluvz @chocochipandy

Comment or message to be added to my taglist < 3

[liliesonthego]

Reblog of the day: cause i want that so bad

[envygyuu]

𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒕

ˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: thinking about clingy, possessive and cuteness aggression enthusiast reader who can’t keep her hands—or rather teeth— to herself when Seungcheol is preparing for his cxm activities.

wc: ~4.5k

pairing: idol!seungcheol x nonidol!reader (afab) [ w/ special appearance, bff mingyu ]

tw/tags: mostly pwp, established relationship, biting, marking, manhandling (he loves it), aggressive loving, oral (m.rec), jealousy, piv, choking, breath play (if u squint really hard), pet names, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, veryyy brief dry humping

< A/N: hello! this is a quick drabble i wrote out in between some WIPs i have yet to finish up. I couldn’t get this picture out of my head of domestic cheol and his clingy reader gf whose love language is presented through biting and marking him up… sighs dreamily… anyways, I hope you enjoy it and please be sure to leave a comment, reblog and/or ask! I’m eager to hear any and all feedback as it encourages me to continue my writing journey :]

At any given chance, you’re instantly sinking your teeth into his biceps, playfully tightening your grip around his throat, or simply pressing a rough kiss to his lips in passing.

There isn't a single time he doesn't accept it willingly. He knows you love him to a level he himself struggles to understand at times. The biting throws him for a loop every once in a while, sending his mind scrambling for a reason besides cannibalism.

But he finds it endearing all the same, enjoying it, even.

He loves it even more when you start doing it more often in public. He’s able to see the hunger in your eyes from a mile away and it sends a chill down his spine each and every time he catches you.

He’s posing with nonchalance for their concept photos when you first arrive, eyes darting over his form and caging your bottom lip between your teeth. He had acknowledged you with a curt smile and a nod of his head before continuing with the shoot, his own body wanting nothing more than to greet you fully in a warm embrace and kiss to your already swollen lips.

Though, as soon as the opportunity reveals itself, you’re beating him to it. You cross the set with a few quick strides in his direction before melting against him, ducking your head beneath his chin to press an innocent peck to his jaw.

He welcomes you with a tight squeeze around the hips and continues to rock you back and forth while you breathe in his scent.

“Missed you so much,” you admit with a pathetic whine. You weren't normally this needy, much less in public, but today felt different. It felt.. wrong, for once, waking up to an empty bed and a phone full of updates from his weverse, yet not a single message from him directly to you.

You knew he was busy. Hell, your relationship had been built off of his grueling schedule, back when he was promoting his second album with his group and you becoming a staff member of a sister company. He was beyond unavailable and yet you found it difficult to keep your eyes off of him. Unbeknownst to you, he was equally as desperate when it came to your attention. The few instances your schedules would align left the both of you scrambling against the clock to further familiarize yourselves with one another, and eventually build a connection from a few fleeting glances and brief conversations.

Fast forward to now, things had only progressed in both of your careers, your lives busier than ever. You’ve been officially dating for three years and whilst primarily kept under wraps, your heart longed more and more for the opportunity to remind him of your devotion to him.

Much to your embarrassment, your loyalty presented itself with an unexplainable urge to swallow him whole and take every inch of his skin between your teeth without an ounce of shame.

Hence your current predicament; Seuncheol had his arms thrown lazily around your frame as you swayed, ever so blind to the scheming smile gracing your features. You leaned back, arching yourself against him as he questioned you with pinched brows.

To his surprise, you’d managed all the strength you had and utilized his obliviousness to your advantage, yanking him by the back of his neck and crashing your lips together with haste.

His hitched breath encourages you to move impossibly closer, your chests beating against one another with every jolt of your racing hearts.

The sheer intensity of the kiss is short lived when you detach from him with one last smack of your lips. Drunk on the high you’ve fed him, Seungcheol attempts to chase your lips, urging you to continue.

His silent pleas amuse you, enticing you to lean in towards his ear and whisper,

“Be good for me, Cheol. Go do your job and make me proud.”

You send him off with a playful nip to his cheek, your canines grazing the skin gently, cautious of the hours worth of effort his makeup artists have put in. His eyes follow your retreating form as you find your place behind the cameras.

He’s an hour and a half into taking naturally candid photos around the rented estate, and it’s driving you nuts.

The setting does little to ease your eagerness to claim him right then and there, offering a much more domestic and personal light to his preexisting bachelor aura.

He’s a fucking housewife, your mind offers you to no particular request. Your grip on your jacket’s strings falters when a deep, raspy voice presents itself near the cusp of your ear.

“Did he mention the next shoot to you?”

“Hm?” You respond, sparing Mingyu a passive glance before settling back on your deity of a man leaning over the terrace.

“We’re going swimming, if you wanted to join afterwards.”

“Why would I join?” You reply coolly.

“Well considering how much you’re drooling right now from him just standing there, I figured you’d want to indulge in having him in less layers for a few hours once we wrap up.” He grins.

Your skin burns from where he perches his chin on your shoulder, striking your body in flames as you try your best to shove your thoughts away. You can’t just indulge in your boyfriend’s near nudity just for a few hours. You know you don’t have that kind of self restraint when it comes to seeing him topless and unblemished.

“Mingyu, respectfully,” you turn to him slowly. “Get lost.”

His laugh reverberates against your arm as he tosses his top half against you, bracing himself as he catches his breath. Your sneer recoils into a smile as you catch Seungcheol’s curious glance from across the room.

His posture tenses while raking his eyes over you and mingyu, taking a moment to readjust before continuing his scene. The photographer calls for a break just a few moments later, satisfied with the outcome.

Your body is moving before you register it, slipping out of Mingyu’s reach with one last glare before you’re crashing into Seungcheol’s rigid chest.

“Baby,” he says softly, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before placing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you staying for the whole shoot?”

“Do you want me to?” You ask coyly, having preemptively cleared your own schedule in favor of following his.

“I always love having you here, you know that.” He smiles.

“Then I’ll stay.” You say and rise on your tip toes to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Aren’t you two tired of being this clingy?” Mingyu invades your bubble in just a few seconds, separating your bodies with a sudden jut of his hip to yours.

You scowl at him as you’re rudely tossed to the side. His shit eating grin grazes his stupidly handsome features while returning your attention to him.

You two had always been at each other’s throats, both playfully and unwittingly at times. He was your best friend, nonetheless, but it sent Seungcheol’s mind reeling with how kittenish you became when he was around.

Something in his chest twinged with envy and had jealousy rearing its ugly head every once in a while when you two stood too close together, shared a meal during his turns to film or pose for photos, or even as you bantered and bickered in front of him.

He knew it was nothing. Knew you loved him too much to replace him so easily, nevertheless with his own friend and group mate.

“You’re just jealous, Gyu.” You huffed while snaking your arms around Seungcheol’s middle again.

“Me? Jealous?” He gasped, feigning an appalled expression while placing a hand to his chest.

“Yah,” Seungcheol growled. “Get lost before I call Heejoo and tell her you’re moping around on set.”

Mingyu’s eyes wander to the ground at that, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck as he begins backing away solemnly. The mention of his current situation-ship seems to strike him a lot harder than you’d both expected, and you smirk at his crumbling confidence.

“You’re a dick for that.” He grumbles toward your boyfriend, unable to hide the sudden flush peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.

Seungcheol grunts at him once more, sending the younger man away with another dismissive threat before finally turning his attention to you.

“Will you help me put some sunscreen on before the next set?”

The following hour of camerawork concludes with a brief discussion about tomorrow’s expected schedule, all the more exhausting and seemingly endless as the last. You can see the fatigue draped over Seungcheol's features from where you stand, plummeting your heart into your stomach as you continue to watch him, mingyu and the team wearily deliberate future activities and propositions for upcoming promotions.

With a supportive clap to their backs, the team dissipates around them to end their workdays.

You take the remaining opportunity after the last staff member's departure to approach your boyfriend, your hands instinctually attached to his neck and puling him toward you. He moves pliantly, allowing his head to fall into the crook of your shoulder and neck as he exhales tiredly.

"Long day, bunny?" you remark quietly, raking your nails across the nape of his neck.

"Too long," he grumbles, ignoring the nickname you know normally grinds his gears any other day. You feel his muscles returning to their tense state as he removes himself from you begrudgingly.

"Can you stay the night?" The light in his eyes flicker with something akin to hope before clouding with uncertainty at the sound of your defeated sigh.

"I have a meeting early in the morning. Have to meet with the company to discuss some upcoming solo works." Your words fall on deaf ears as he's already groaning and pouting, choosing to disregard your excuse in favor of throwing a short-lived fit.

"I can have someone drive you early in the morning?" His offer hangs heavily in the space between you, an offer you really want to take him up on.

To your misfortune, calling out for today was enough of a reason for your company to dismiss you of your duties permanently should you choose to do it again.

The short notice had thrown your team for a whirlwind, a mini crisis plaguing the workplace and blowing up your phone for the entirety of your time spent watching Seungcheol. You were ashamed to admit it out loud, but you'd give anything to quit and replace your priorities with becoming a stay at home simp for your boyfriend. You'd give anything to watch him all day long, cling to him at every beck and call, and devote yourself to being the best version of yourself you could be for him.

Were you insane for thinking that far? yes.

Were you that serious about him? also yes.

You couldn't help the pained complaint that escaped your throat upon seeing his face fall. It shredded every single piece of you to know you couldn't stay, and even more so when he began to beg for you to.

"Please? at least for a few hours? 'Till I fall asleep?" His eyes drift between yours, searching for any bit of redemption, consideration, confirmation.

Removing your hands, you smooth over your features to look at your watch, noting the late hour and the dread pestering your mind. Your notifications peer back at your for a second, reminding you of the dedication you had to your work for the following morning.

It would only be a few hours, you consider.

A beat of silence passes by before you inevitably agree with a nod of your head. "Okay."

To say he's elated would be an understatement. He's over the moon at your response, immediately linking your fingers and dragging you inside the airbnb, shifting his direction towards the bedroom as you enter.

"I'll take a shower and then we can watch a movie!" He suggests after leading you to the bed where you sit patiently, smiling as he trips over his own two feet while dashing toward the bathroom.

God, you can't believe he's yours.

"Did you know you had a mole here?"

Seungcheol meets your eyes through the reflection of the mirror, watching you trail your nails down his spine as he finishes his skin routine at the bathroom sink. You've since changed into a spare set of his clothes, a simple t-shirt that drapes over your dips and curves and ends just past the apex of your thighs.

His gaze lingers for a moment longer than it normally does, mouth subconsciously watering at the sight of you.

"I don't think so." He chuckles softly while returning to his process of unfolding a face mask and spreading it across his features carefully.

"Your back is so..." your voice drawls with a pensive hum, considering your words intently before continuing. "boring."

"Huh?" He turns in your grasp, catching the faint smirk pulling at the corner of your lips.

"It's just missing something." You utter.

"Like what?" he murmurs, his lips pursed in effort to keep his mask from slipping.

Your grin spreads along your face, head cocking to the side as you maneuver your hands over the expanse of his bare chest, raising goosebumps along his skin in their wake.

"Could use a little more me on it."

You spot the shift in his demeanor, shoulders tensing slowly, eyes sharpening, and the veins in his neck straining as he swallows dryly. You don't give him a chance to act on his desire, gracefully pinning his wrists against the counter and slipping your tongue out to lap at the flushed skin of his neck.

His groan rumbles from between your pressed chests, audibly forfeiting all control as you continue to press open mouthed kisses to his throat. His hips buck desperately when he feels your teeth graze just past his jugular, sinking deeper into his flesh with every breath he gasps.

"Baby," he whimpers against your persistence. You pull back, relishing in the subtle chase of his lips toward yours, halting just out of his reach with an arched brow.

"Bunny?" you counter, urging him to proceed with what he needs to say.

"Can't." He whines, overwhelming mortified with displeasure for having to restrain himself.

"Can't what?" You probe innocently, inching closer once more, guiding him back to you by the draw strings of his shorts. He lulls forward without resistance, drawn to your lips with nothing except a mere inch between them.

"Can't be marked. Not now." He says petulantly, eyes downcast as he drops his head, dejected.

Your heart thuds against your rib cage at that, growing restless as fondness ebbs away at your brain, turning it into mush. He knows you so well, knows that you need to mark him up, leave your presence on his skin for everyone to see how taken he is.

Love smothers your senses, your head cloudy and full of him. Your everything. Your person.

You reach to curl your fingers through his blonde, wet strands, tugging with enough force to lift his head once more. He moans quietly at that, his own hands finding purchase on your hips as he stares at you through his dark lashes.

You smile and tap his bicep with your free hand. You notice his eyes trailing your features hungrily before placing a gentle kiss to his muscle, right below his shoulder.

"'S okay, Bunny." You coo.

His arm flexes under the warmth of your fanning breath, twitching with every peck of your lips you lead up his arm and toward his chest.

You freeze once you've reached his collar bone, slowing your breathing and blowing a long, heavy exhale that mists over his already clammy skin. You smirk triumphantly at his muted mewl, watching his chest rise and fall erratically.

"I won't mark your pretty skin just yet," you reassure calmly, your hand still twisted in his hair as you pull it experimentally once more, lavishing his skin in praises when he moans.

"Stay still for me, m'kay?"

You don't wait for his response before sinking your teeth near his clavicle with pressure, not enough to break skin but plenty to stimulate both him and you when he ruts against you.

"Gentle," He reminds you through brief, measured breaths.

"I know, I know." you chide and release your grip on his hair briefly to instead hold his throat between your hands.

His eyes peer down at you for a short moment before flashing you a playful grin. You mirror it with your own before squeezing lightly at his neck, reveling in the meek sound he coughs out.

"So pretty," you murmur lovingly. "All mine to play with however I want. Whenever I want."

To his dismay, his nod is restrained and dismissed by you when you apply just a bit more pressure, your gaze darkening as he wraps a hand around one of your wrists, wordlessly pleading for more. You oblige and wedge your knee between his thighs, now aware of how engrossed he truly was upon feeling his pulsing erection against your bare skin.

"Is this why you wanted me to stay so bad? So you could be manhandled by your pretty girlfriend? Hm?"

Your hands release him, dropping to your sides as he heaves a few labored breaths, his eyes never once leaving your retreating form as you saunter toward the bed, patting the space beside you once you're perched at the edge.

He carries himself on wobbly legs to where you sit, landing ungracefully onto the bed with a soft "oof" before reaching a hand out toward you. You link your hands together momentarily, allowing yourself to soak in the appearance of his current state; dazed, spent, and utterly beautiful with every inch of his skin painted a bright red by an angry flush.

"Roll onto your belly for me, Cheolie." you direct.

He does so without complaint, damningly compliant to your every command. You absentmindedly trace shapes into his spine, your lips curling into a smile each time he flinches against the brush of your nails.

He rests his head against his folded arms, unintentionally flexing his muscles at the broadness of his shoulder blades. You chuckle, quietly shifting your attention to the taut skin, lowering yourself to place lingering kisses.

A sigh creeps out of his deflating body, audibly enjoying your attention. You proceed to kiss your way up, pausing to nip at the fat of his arms playfully and releasing a giggle of your own when he claims he's ticklish with a laugh.

You bite back the quip on your tongue, choosing to focus more on his twitching hips by running your hand over the smooth skin of his arched lower back. He hums, satisfied, and groans when your begin to pull his shorts down his thighs, allowing them to fall aimlessly to the ground.

He jolts upright when your hand collides with a loud smack against his ass, immediately coiling into himself with a yelp.

"What, you can do it by I can't?" You joke when he replies with a harmless glare.

"I'm not letting you peg me, if that's what you're leading up to." He chastises with narrowed eyes.

You feign a look of betrayal, simultaneously guiding him onto his back once more as you move to straddle his hips.

"Tough, I really wanted to see your cute little ass all perked up for me." You can't hold back the devious giggle that threatens to escape you, fully leaning against his chest to stabilize yourself.

"You're insane." He huffs with an eye roll.

"Yeah, but it's kind of cute." Your smile lingers a moment longer as he presses his lips to your forehead, soft and everlasting.

It's then that you lift your head and laugh once more, your fingers reaching to remove his face mask he'd long forgotten.

"I was really trying to keep a straight face!" You giggled. He levels you with a bashful scowl, turning away from your gaze as you settle down with a quiet sigh.

In the blink of an eye, your playful character is gone, replaced by your previous deviant nature.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He murmurs against your skin when you begin grinding your clothed pussy onto his exposed cock.

"I better act quick then," You retort while reaching down and clutching onto your panties to pull them side, angling your sopping folds to trail over the head of his cock.

"Fuck, Bunny. You're so fucking perfect." You groan into the dip of his shoulder, pressing yourself harder against him. His grip on your waist returns, clambering against your ministrations.

"Just— just take me already." He grits out through a particularly sharp inhale. "And don't call me bunny— shit —while we're fucking, jesus."

"You got it, Bunny." Your voice cracks ever so slightly as you begin your descent down his length, abdomen flexing with every ragged breath you take as he breaches your entrance. The stretch is painful, tearing you apart no matter how many times you've taken it. Tears spring to your eyes, threatening to spill before you finally settle, flush to his groin with a shaky breath.

"Oh fucking hell," He moans deeply. He recovers with a sudden shift of his hips, stripping you of all power you previously obtained.

You lurch forward with a startled mewl, your face falling between the crevice of his jaw and throat. Your mouth latches on helplessly, teeth grazing the stubble of his chin and biting down impishly.

He returns the favor, pausing to rip your (his) shirt off and tossing it aside hurriedly, attaching his mouth to the mound of your breast, nibbling at the supple flesh and grinding up into you when you elicit a borderline pornographic moan.

"Please, Cheol, please." You moan against his ear, grinding against him feverishly. Your begging fuels him further, ripping every ounce of self restraint out of him, replaced with an insatiable appetite only you can satisfy.

"You're so beautiful, baby. I'm gonna let you mark me as soon as all of this is over. Soon, my love. So soon." His attempts to soothe your desires warm your insides, your knees near gelatinous as he rams into your pulsating heat without a second regard or worry.

You feel his pace quickening with every plunge, your own movements futile in contrast with his. Your back hits the mattress in a flash, your legs forcefully pinned to your sides as he impales you over and over.

Your moans melt into short, wispish screams when you feel his mouth latch onto your breasts again, leaving deep, bruising indents from his teeth.

The mere idea of him biting you, the same way you've done with every given opportunity in the past, has your legs clenching against his waist, your teeth clamping around your lips as you feel yourself release into the euphoria of your climax.

"More, Cheol, please more—I want—I need more." Your cries fill his chest with pleasure and vanity, thrusting him head-first into the deep end of your satisfaction. He comes with a choked out cry, muffling the sound into your chest as he curls inwards, pumping himself dry into your tightening core.

"Baby," his hand leaves your waist to settle on your sweaty cheek, caressing the crimson skin as he adores your spent features. "You did so good, my love. so good for me."

You groan softly in reply, motioning for him to lay beside you with a limp wrist. He chuckles softly and gently pries himself free of your tight cunt with a groan.

“One more round?” You mumbles into the pillows, peeking an eye in his direction to catch the faint grin on his dewy face.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Shit,” he hisses. “Slow down.”

Your tongue slips between the slit of his cock, catching every last drop of his seed from his second release.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about your boyfriend in the past three years of dating him, it’s that he’s prone to over sensitivity after his second high. While you can recover relatively quickly after an orgasm, his stamina is overmatched by the mere pain of reaching another climax so short apart.

It’s something you both teetered the line with, not knowing whether it was right or even possible to milk him for as many rounds as he could. But, much like the rest of your ideas and suggestions, he couldn’t say no to you.

So you pumped his cock even faster, watching his jaw slack and chin quiver with a cry as he came down from his third match.

“You’re doing great, bunny.” You encourage, slowing your pace down to run a stripe along the side of his length with your tongue.

His brows dip and another moan escapes him. “You’re— you’re killing me.”

“Mh,” you hum. With a final tug to his half hard cock, you trail your lips over the smooth surface of his inner thigh, relishing in his breathy exhales.

“You’re always so good for me.” You say.

The tip of your tongue traces the faint stretch marks of his upper thigh, nearing the edge of his hip where you still.

The pads of your fingers skim over the flesh before you’re leaning forward and clamping your mouth down full force, undoubtedly leaving a mark this time.

You hear his choked shriek of pleasure and pain, the sudden grip on your hair paired with it.

“Fuck! ‘M gonna come again.” His voice lilts, pitched higher than usual.

You continue to pepper kisses along his waistline before meeting his opposite thigh with another skin-breaking bite. Your moan pulsates against the irritated skin, soothing the burn and easing the mark against the fat of his thigh to an eventual bruise with the flat of your tongue.

“Can’t take anymore.” He cries desperately, loosening his fingers wrapped around your disheveled locks as he comes down from his final release.

You give in to his whining after another brief moment of caressing the enflamed skin. You carefully ascend up his hiccuping body, tiny pecks littering his bareness before you connect your mouth with his with the upmost tenderness you could possibly muster.

“I love you so much.” You speak quietly against his lips.

His eyes remain shut, fluttering in and out of consciousness as he nods his head in response.

“Love you too.” He murmurs.

Laying your head on his chest, your entire being laxes against him, fully satiated and enraptured in his presence. A hand creeps up your waist, squeezing your side carefully as his body deflates beneath you with a deep exhale.

You could never truly thank him enough for indulging in your antics. You’re aware your love languages are drastically different; yours being entirely unhinged and bordering aggressive, where as his is prevalent in his gentle mannerisms, gift giving and pure compliance when it comes to you.

Nevertheless, the love you both have for one another surpasses all expectations and continues to surprise you day after day, year after year.

Even if you have to hide your love bites from the public eye.

< A/N: fin! this took a lot less time to write than i anticipated, despite the fact that smut tends to discourage my creativity. but! after getting all of my thoughts out and returning to the storyline with fresh ideas and inspiration, i was able to pump out a pretty decent chunk of raunch to satisfy my expectations for my first time writing smut.

that being said, i hope this flows well and encourages you to leave a comment or repost! feedback and suggestions are always appreciated. :) thanks!!!

[jiuchip]

ᯓ YOU WANT HIM, TOO? — keeho & jiung (18+)

℘ — fuckbuddy!keeho (기호) x reader x jiung (지웅) ▸ ⌜ 3k ⌟

synopsis ▸ your current fuck buddy plays matchmaker for you and your longtime crush—but an attempt at sabotage leads to something much, much messier

δ — nsfw (mdni), f/m/m, m/m (yes more yaoi), threeway, dom!keeho, sub!jiung, sub!reader, light angst, making out, dry humping, thigh riding, oral (f. rec), unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, degradation

ᯓ an — “jiung will be put on hold after this fic” i said, like a liar. but keeho is in this one too so it doesn’t count… nevermind that jiung was in the last fic with intak too… okay yeah i have problem sue me

“You know, staring at him any harder won’t get him to fuck you.”

Your gaze hesitates to pull from Jiung, who stands across the club at the bar looking unbelievable in all black under strobing lights. 

You turn to glare at Keeho across the booth. Your glare sharpens even more when you realize just how insufferably good he looks in that black tank and bomber jacket slipped low on his shoulders. 

“You sure?” You raise a brow. “It worked with you.”

Keeho snorts, pointing the lip of his beer bottle accusingly at you. “Hey. We were both desperate and lonely that night.”

Well, he’s not wrong there. Jiung had introduced his new girlfriend to your group that night at the pub, the very girl that Keeho had been crushing on for months. 

One look at him, at that dejected looking in his eye mirroring yours had led to a wordless, frantic night where you’d poured your frustrations out into each other. 

And multiple nights after that… to this day. 

To your defense, Jiung still hasn’t reflected any interest back at you even though he’s single again. How else are you supposed to spend your lonely nights?

You look back to where Jiung waits for drinks, thrumming his hands awkwardly on the counter as he glances around. 

You’ve been working up the courage to go up to him for a few minutes now. You don’t understand why it’s so difficult for you—if you weren’t such a coward, maybe something would have happened by now. 

“Fuck it,” you huff before tossing back the last of your martini, slamming the glass back down with vigour. “I’m going in.”

Keeho beams at you, raising his bottle. “That’s my girl!” He yells a little too loudly, voice a tad too liquor loose. “Go get him.”

You roll your eyes despite your smile, his cheer infectious as you rise to your feet. But then you see the situation unfolding at hand and sit your ass right back down. 

There’s a girl sidled up in Jiung’s space. Short, dainty, cute.

“What is it?” You can hear Keeho asking but you can’t bring yourself to answer him. 

Jealousy burns hot and ugly in your gut when Jiung points his awkwardly charming grin down at her, answering whatever flirty question she was surely throwing at him with those batting eyelashes. 

You quickly turn back to stare at your empty glass, trying to keep your fraying heart together. It doesn’t matter how many times this happens, it never gets any easier. 

And Keeho can’t stand it, that defeated look on your face. 

He stands abruptly, bumping the table on the way and you jump at the sudden sound, eyes snapping up to him. 

“What are you doing?”

“You a favour,” Keeho says with a grin, leaning down on his palms to hover over your face. “Gotta wipe that pout off your face somehow.”

You blink, forcing your expression to smooth. “What? You don’t have to—“

“I’ll do it for a price,” he interrupts, his grin growing wider. “Meet me in the bathroom in ten?”

You can’t help your grin. Of course he wouldn’t willingly have a conversation with Jiung without a price. Not a charge for helping you, but more so because he can’t really stand the guy. 

Which speaks to how far Keeho is willing to go just for you.

Your smile sobers into something more grateful. “Just don’t scare him away.”

He flicks the tip of your nose affectionately and straightens. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Keeho takes a breath, rolls his shoulders back and marches in. He hones in on Jiung’s shy, giggly expression as he closes in from across the bar, his own expression souring. 

It makes him sick to his stomach, to watch Jiung put on his nice guy facade and make all the girls fall for it. It sometimes feels to Keeho like he’s the only one who sees past the smoke and mirrors for what Jiung really is—an emotionally detached control freak. 

What the hell do you see in this guy anyway?

Whatever it is, it’s not his business. He has one job—to sabotage, and he does it well. And if it gets you to stop feeling shitty about yourself, he will gladly butt in there and make a situation wildly uncomfortable. 

You watch from your shrouded seat as Keeho intercepts the conversation smoothly, throwing his arm around a miffed Jiung who stares at him befuddled and a little angry. 

You can’t tell what Keeho’s saying, gesturing animatedly and jostling around a helpless Jiung, but the girl’s smile slowly fades away as she subtly steps back. 

You have to bite down on your lip to smother your smile. It’s horrible, you know it, but you’re not above being selfish. 

The girl leaves shortly after, and only when she’s gone do you see Jiung’s expression drop to something cold and angry as he pushes Keeho off of him. 

It takes you aback—to see his pretty face twisted up so unfamiliarly. 

But you don’t get the chance to mull over it or see what happens next because Taeyang and Intak crowd your vision and butt into your space. 

“You’re still sitting here?!” Cries Intak, his hands clamping down on your shoulders as he shakes you. “Come dance!”

“Intak,” Taeyang warns, elbowing him. “Don’t subject these poor people to that.”

You glare up at Taeyang’s snickering grin, shoving Intak’s sweaty hands off of you. “Fuck you,” you snap, leaning back to look past his tall frame to continue watching the scene you’d unwittingly incited—only to see that Keeho and Jiung are no longer there. 

“Where’s ever’one else?” Intak asks as he slips down onto the seat beside you, his body swaying under his alcoholic spell. 

You shove him off when his body slumps against you. “I don’t know,” you grumble, glancing down at your phone when it lights up with a Pokémon GO notification to see if there were any messages from Keeho. 

There’s none, but the clock tells you it’s time to meet your end of the deal with Keeho. 

“Bathroom,” you announce as you grab your phone and slip out of the booth, Intak’s body thumping down onto the seats without your body to hold him up. 

“Don’t drown!” Taeyang calls noncommittal after you as you swerve through the swarming bodies. 

Your mind reels with what might have gone down with Jiung, but you suppose you should save your questions for after you blow Keeho. 

But you get stopped short at the door of the bathroom when you hear low, familiar grunts through the barrier. 

You blink. Did Keeho find another girl? That might be record time. 

You’re about to step away and leave him in peace when you hear another voice, higher and whinier and… masculine?

You blink again. Oh, you think to yourself, good for him. 

You turn to leave again, but then you’re stopped again at the words you hear. 

“…you knew she’s been into you this whole time,” you hear Keeho say, his voice rough and breathy. “And you didn’t do a damn thing. It’s fucking pathetic.”

Your heart pounds. Is he talking about…

“Well maybe if you were fucking her I would have.”

Your heart stops, the words not even processing in your head. That’s Jiung.

“Ow, fuck!” You hear him hiss, and you’re hit with the sudden realization that the noises you heard were them fighting.

And you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Because there they are, Jiung and Keeho, the two people in your friend group always at each other's throats, trying to shove their tongues down each other’s throats.

Your brain has stopped working. The image doesn’t quite process in your mind, of Keeho pushing Jiung harder into the grimy wall, of him pulling Jiung’s head back by the hair to dig his teeth into his lips, of Jiung’s eyes rolling back as he lets out a guttural moan, his hips rocking up to the thigh Keeho has shoved between his legs. 

Of pushing hands and biting kisses and choking fists. 

You consider shutting the door and turning around and throwing yourself into a vat of acid. 

Instead,

“What the fuck?”

Jiung bristles immediately at your voice, ripping away from the kiss with a startled noise as he tries to push Keeho away without success. When he sees it’s you though, he freezes completely, his fists tightening at Keeho’s shoulders, watery eyes going wide. 

You stare at him. That’s all you can do with the storm of confusion, betrayal, and a hint of unprecedented arousal swarming messily in your head. 

Keeho is the last to react, lifting slowly from where he’d started mouth at Jiung’s jaw. He looks at you with a lazy grin, if a little sheepish. 

“Surprise?” He says, scrunching his nose. “Turns out Jiung’s not only into you but he’s—“

Jiung slaps his palm over Keeho’s mouth, glaring at him. “Can you not?!”

Keeho stares back. “It’s a little late, don’t you think?” He muffles against his hand. 

Jiung’s gapes, mouth opening and closing as he tries to put together something to say, anything really, but he comes up short. 

So he opts instead to look at you again, at your indifferent expression, and prays that you don’t completely despise him now. 

“So let me get this straight,” you start slowly, putting the staggered pieces together because you need to make some sense of… of whatever this is. “Jiung… you like me?”

Jiung can’t do anything but give a meek nod, unable to look you in the eye. 

“…and you like Keeho?”

Keeho winks at Jiung when he looks up, to which Jiung squeezes his hand tightly around Keeho’s face getting a pained grunt in return. 

He nods again, keeping his gaze averted. “Yes,” he finally says, his voice thinning out. “But—but I figured you guys were together and I just thought…” He trails off when Keeho slips away from Jiung’s hand and leans back in, pressing a low, warm kiss to his neck. His train of thought gets completely derailed as the presence lingering in his gut reminds him again of what almost was. “I-I didn’t…”

He trails off with a soft moan as Keeho takes his hips again and rocks his aching cock down on his muscled thigh, his brain completely rewiring to focus on the pleasure instead. 

You watch, almost entranced as Jiung shudders and wraps his arms around Keeho’s broad shoulders, taking over and starting to grind himself down at a more eager pace. 

You lose your train of thought too, quickly forgetting whatever it was you were so wound up about. Does it even matter now when you get to see him all blissed out like this, cheeks flushed and hair messy and making out with your fuck buddy?

Keeho’s voice snaps you out of it. 

“C’mere,” he beckons you with a hand stretched out for you, that sly smile on his just a little warmer as he points it to you. 

You step forward and take his hand, letting him pull you into their tangled bodies. 

You can’t really focus when Keeho pulls you into a slow, indulgent kiss. You try for his sake, pressing back half heartedly, but your eyes are open and stuck on Jiung as he mouths at the hinge of Keeho’s jaw, panting into him as he keeps rutting needily against Keeho’s leg. 

Your attention gets pulled when Keeho nips at your lip, making a dissatisfied grunt that finally gets your attention on him. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you give into his pull; you came here to pay him back in the first place. Though you're not sure if it even counts anymore, you’re not one to go back on your word since he did technically succeed. Whatever, you can figure it out later. 

You lose yourself quickly to the kiss as it grows hungrier and more frantic by the second, Keeho’s tongue sliding against yours in a familiar, heady rhythm, his hand sliding down to your ass to hold you firmly into his side. 

You nearly forget the other presence—Keeho has a good way of melting away every other thought but him when he’s with you—until you feel a pair of lips, soft and light, brushing timidly against your cheek. 

You break from the kiss with a soft gasp at the sudden touch, turning to see Jiung startling away and burying his face into Keeho’s other shoulder. 

“S-Sorry,” he says quickly, his body trembling. Though whether it’s from the arousal or nerves, you don’t know. 

Keeho pays you both no mind as he starts trailing his mouth down your neck, like it’s his way of giving you two a little privacy, ridiculously enough. 

Jiung peeks out at you before quickly looking down again, and it fills you with such a sudden force of aggression from how fucking cute he really is like this, that you grab his chin and pull him into you. 

He grunts as his lips crash painfully into yours, mouth parting with a gasp when you immediately bite down on his lip. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling against his lips at the wide eyes he watches you with. “You can make it up to me.”

And make it up he does, on his knees in front of you moments later with his mouth buried into your cunt while Keeho fucks you from behind. 

It was a blur leading up to this predicament, with your hands braced against the dirty walls, bent over Jiung on one leg with a knee propped on his sturdy shoulder while Keeho holds you in place by your hip and pounds his cock into you with no mercy. 

His thrusts are brutal as his hips snap into yours, punching noises out of you each time that go muffled into the tight hand he has over your mouth. 

“You’re so fucking loud,” Keeho hisses into your ear, pushing his cock all the way in and rolling it as deep as it can go with a low grunt. “You want the whole club to know what you’re doing right now?”

You whine into his hand, shaking your head rapidly as you heave at the little reprieve you get. But then he starts up again, even harder this time, pushing your clit right over the tip of Jiung’s nose with each thrust. 

Your eyes roll back and fill with tears at the overwhelming sensation.

Your sobs go unanswered as Jiung wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, his round eyes peering up at you over your short skirt and watching every little twitch in your expression. 

He wants to be the one fucking you right now. But he can settle for this, fisting his aching dick as he lets his tongue unravel you on Keeho’s cock. 

“Pretty,” he muffles without much thought, his brain too filled with pretty moans and the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “Sound pretty,” he says again, before fixing back on rapidly flicking his tongue over your throbbing clit. 

You moan needily, legs trembling as your body struggles to keep upright. 

Keeho laughs over your shoulder, slowing down to deep, grinding thrusts that don’t help you in any way. 

“Doesn’t she?” He coos. “To think you could’ve had this a long time ago if you didn’t have such a dumb little brain.”

Jiung whines at the words, faltering against you, but you hear the slick sounds of his hand fisting his cock start speeding up. 

Keeho chuckles, low and amused as he reaches around to grab Jiung’s hair and push his face further into your heat. He sighs when he feels the wet slide of Jiung’s tongue flick momentarily against his cock as he starts to lap at where he’s connected to you. 

“Don’t cum yet, Jiung,” he warns, giving his head a short pat before he takes your hips with both of his hands, pulling out until the swell of his tip stretches your entrance. 

He preens at your pained whine spilling freely into the air when he starts to just tease his tip in and out of you, just toying with your hole. 

“We’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he says, then slams in right against that gummy spot in your walls that makes you scream out, see stars, and come all over Keeho’s cock and Jiung’s face. 

Jiung only laps faster at your dripping cunt, drinking up your arousal that seeps out with Keeho’s cum as he spills into you with a choked grunt. 

Keeho fucks into your pulsing cunt a couple more times to ride out his high, letting out a shuddering breath as he slips out of you. 

Through his own haze, he preens when he hears the slick sounds of Jiung’s eager mouth fire up even more, and he takes advantage of your state of pure, mindless euphoria to reach down to your cunt and scissor you open, letting your mixed arousals pour freely onto Jiung’s seeking tongue. 

His head spins at having you both reduced to this; animalistic, filthy, fucked out and brain dead to everything except pleasure. 

If Keeho had known that insulting Jiung to his face and dragging him into a closed corner would get the both of you like that in his bed every other night, he would’ve done it ages ago. 

But then again, he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

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[sillyseob]

piercings, tattoos, and flowers, oh my! (003)

previous | series m.list | next

fluff, suggestive, crack, angst if you squint.

a/n: this one is a bit 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂… panty stealer keeho is real btw, thanks for coming to my ted talk… and i think i’m so funny ive been giggling at this

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series taglist: @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @emmatheclown @pxronbeat1 @edininwinter @p1shunseob @meeoowchi @jongseobsno1fan @joongtime @halluci-nati0n @xblve @narratedforbutterflies

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[studioeisa]

that’s so true ❤️‍🩹 mingyu x reader.

he’s thinking: she’s so cool. he’s also thinking: you were, too. scratch that. present tense. you’re cool, too.

❤️‍🩹 pairing. exes!mingyu x reader. ❤️‍🩹 word count. 4.4k. ❤️‍🩹 genres. alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: uni. romance, humor, pinch of angst. ❤️‍🩹 includes. mentions of food, alcohol; profanity. second chance romance, reader is a singer/cover artist. mingyu is very dramatic, svt ensemble supports his delusion, psych terms i’m not 100% sure of, gracie abrams’ that’s so true as a plot device. ❤️‍🩹 notes. @gyubakeries is the first mutual i made on this account. more than that, tiya has been such a consistent fixture in my carat journey that i can’t imagine being on tumblr without her. i’m not sure if you remember, but you actually asked this of me waaay back in november—i give it to you now as a present!!! happy birthday, my sweetest girl. your metaphorical big sister from oceans away will always wait on your updates. <𝟑

The living room smells like kettle corn and stale beer, the kind that’s been spilled and wiped and spilled again over the warped parquet floor. Someone’s Bluetooth speaker is playing a remix of something ironic—Britney, probably—but no one’s really listening. The bass is more of a heartbeat now, thumping through the walls, the couches, the soles of everyone's shoes.

Mingyu’s on the armrest of a sunken couch, red Solo cup in hand, legs spread like he’s too large for this party, this furniture, maybe this whole city. You know the look on his face. Eyebrows slightly raised, mouth doing that thing where it’s half-interested, half-inviting. 

She’s across from him, laughing at something someone said, maybe him. She’s not beautiful in the way you are, but she’s curated. Hair in that loose, glossy blowout style, the one that says, I woke up like this but cost seventy bucks at a salon in Itaewon. Her shirt is sheer. Her lip gloss is strawberry. She knows the angles.

Mingyu is thinking: she’s hot. He’s also thinking: she probably doesn’t cry in parking lots.

She won’t ask him about attachment theory. She won’t remember that his left wrist aches when it rains because of that skateboarding injury in middle school. She won’t know what he looks like when he’s not trying.

She won’t, but you would. You did.

They’re kissing before they’re really talking. Her hand slides up his arm and he smiles against her mouth. She tastes like cranberry vodka and something synthetic. Her perfume is expensive but too floral. It’s cloying. It fills his nose, his throat, his lungs.

In the bedroom, she pulls her hair down and says, “Oh my God,” like she’s in a teen drama. She laughs when he fumbles with her zipper. He laughs too. It’s easy, he thinks. Easier than it ever was with you.

But when she pulls his shirt over his head, he flinches. For half a second, the cotton brushes his collarbone, and he thinks of your fingers there. You used to trace that spot like it meant something. Like it was sacred.

He kisses her harder, trying to wipe the thought clean.

Later, when the room is dark and she’s asleep beside him, limbs flung over the covers like a thrown coat, he stares blankly up at the ceiling. Wondering if you ever ended up on someone else’s couch, laughing at someone else’s jokes. Wondering if they made you laugh the way he used to.

He’s thinking: she’s so cool.

He’s also thinking: you were, too. Scratch that. Present tense. You’re cool, too. Maybe even more. 

The next morning, Mingyu’s shoes are sticky with someone else’s spilled life. Beer, soda, something sentimental he can no longer imagine. He kicks his shoes off at the door of the apartment he shares with Wonwoo, who is curled up on the couch with a psychology journal and a judgmental brow raised just high enough to qualify as a greeting.

Wonwoo doesn’t look up. “So,” he says dryly, “did you learn anything at your extracurricular activities?”

Mingyu groans, dragging himself to the fridge. “Yeah. That Bacardi should come with a warning label.”

Wonwoo flips a page. “You’re spiraling.”

“Am not.”

“You slept with someone who pronounces ‘Freud’ like ‘fruit.’”

Mingyu opens a yogurt and points the spoon at him. “She was cool.”

“She was unironically quoting astrology memes.”

He shrugs. “You should’ve seen the way she took her hair down. It was cinematic.”

Wonwoo finally looks up. His eyes are soft but sharp. “You know what else was cinematic? You and—” He pauses. Doesn’t say your name. Just gestures vaguely, like it’s a word too big for the room.

Mingyu exhales through his nose and leans against the counter, eyes on the floor. “That was… different.”

He doesn’t say your name either, but he thinks it. Quietly. Like an incantation.

It started in PSYC 231: Theories of Personality, where he made fun of Freud and you corrected him, deadpan, mid-laugh, with a full citation. You were brilliant and unbothered and slightly intimidating. He liked that.

You liked that he made you laugh.

You studied together in a café with sticky tabletops and slow jazz. You fought over which theorist was most overrated. He said Jung. You said Skinner. He said Skinner wasn’t even a theorist, he was a behaviorist. You said exactly, and he fought the urge to kiss you in that damn library that was too cold for anybody to be studying in.

Somewhere between arguing and annotating, he started noticing little things—like how you hummed when reading, or tapped your pen when you disagreed with something. How your eyes didn’t just read but searched. That, in particular, always made him feel like he was being flayed open for you to study. For you to make sense of whatever theory you thought would best fit. 

By the time you were dating, he already knew how you took your coffee, which hand you used to tuck hair behind your ear, and what your childhood smelled like.

The relationship ended quietly. Not with a scream but with a sigh. 

Final exams were brutal. You’d both been tired, stretched thin. One day, in the middle of a café you used to call yours, you said, “I don’t think we’re good for each other anymore.”

He wanted to argue. But he knew. You were both too gentle, too smart to force what had already unraveled. And now here he is, eating yogurt at 11AM, with his hoodie on backward and a girl’s perfume still clinging to his shirt that’s probably inside out.

“She was cool,” Mingyu repeats, but his voice lacks conviction.

Wonwoo returns to his article. “So was New Coke.”

Mingyu flips himself off and stalks into his bedroom. He plops down on to his bed, pulls out his phone, and decides he deserves to doom scroll. Kill time. Avoid the mountain of notes on his desk and the group chat buzzing about someone’s birthday dinner. But his fingers are traitorous. They know muscle memory too well.

Your username appears in his search bar before he even finishes typing it. The profile loads like a held breath.

Still no new posts. No stories. Just the familiar grid of moments you once chose to share with the world. Sepia-toned coffees, a blurry picture of your dog mid-jump, and, in the third row, dead center, the one video he always returns to.

Your cover of One Direction’s If I Could Fly.

It’s from months ago. Posted three days after your first date. He remembers that timing like it’s stitched into his skin.

He taps the video. The screen brightens. The opening notes begin—soft piano, distant as a memory—and your voice floats into the room.

If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you.

The camera angle is simple, framed by fairy lights and your curtain swaying gently in the background. You’re seated cross-legged on your bedroom floor, hair tucked behind one ear, guitar resting against your knee. There’s a candle flickering off-screen. He remembers you saying it helped with nerves. He bought you a dozen and you accused him of love bombing. 

Your voice is clear. Honest. Not trying too hard. The kind that doesn’t need to prove anything.

He closes his eyes, lets it wash over him.

The first date had been spontaneous. You’d both stayed late after a 3PM lecture, loitering in the Psych building’s stairwell with iced americanos and a half-formed debate about the ethics of the Stanford prison experiment.

He asked if you wanted to grab dinner. You grinned and said, “Only if you're paying.”

You ended up at a street-side kimbap place, elbows bumping over shared plates. Your shared laughter rang louder than the traffic. He remembers watching you talk about your music—how you’d grown up humming along to your mom’s CD collection, how you hated performing live but loved the quiet of recording.

You compared it to bottling emotion and labeling it. Days later, you would post the video with no caption, no tag, but Mingyu knew. He’d bet his entire degree on the possibility of the song being full of emotion for him. He had played it over and over, heart stuttering every time you hit the line: For your eyes only, I show you my heart… 

Now, he listens to it again. Months later. Same voice, same room, but everything’s shifted. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are…

Mingyu presses the phone to his chest. Just for a second.

He doesn’t cry. But the silence that follows is loud.

He replays the video. 

Again, and again, and again.

Jeon Wonwoo 🐈‍⬛   @everyone_wonwoo If I have to hear ‘If I Could Fly’ one more fucking time... 🙂

Mingyu doesn’t bring it up directly. He just says he’s bored.

“Bored?” Seokmin echoes, squinting at him over a protein shake. “You’re never bored. You’re either studying, cooking, or stalking that Facebook page about people’s worst dates.”

“Okay,” Mingyu sulks, eyes pointedly avoiding the phone on the counter. “Then maybe I’m tired. Of everything.”

There’s a pause, a beat of silence that stretches long enough to be suspicious. Seokmin leans forward slightly, his expression softening. “You still checking her profile?”

Mingyu doesn’t respond. Doesn’t have to.

Seokmin eyes him for a beat longer, then slaps a hand on the table like it’s been decided. “We’re going jogging.”

“Jogging?”

“Fresh air. Blood circulation. Endorphins. It’s either that or I drag you to a Zumba class with my aunt.”

Mingyu regrets agreeing almost immediately.

The sun is too bright, his hoodie is too warm, and Seokmin runs like someone being chased by a scholarship. His legs move with the speed of divine punishment. But Mingyu keeps pace, mostly because it’s better than curling up in his bed like a dumpling of misery, and because Seokmin insists on making a dad joke every time they pass a new kilometer marker.

“How do joggers stay in touch?” Seokmin pants. “They go the extra mile!”

Mingyu nearly trips on a loose pebble just to end it all.

They’re rounding the curve near the Han River, where the breeze carries the faint sting of river water and distant hotteok from a food stall parked by the trees. The air smells like silt, spring grass, and something damp and persistent, like memories that refuse to fade.

Mingyu is just about to complain when Seokmin stops so abruptly he almost crashes into him. “What?” Mingyu wheezes, catching his breath.

Seokmin’s eyes widen. “Bush,” he says, low and urgent.

“What?”

“Bush. Now.”

Before Mingyu can even formulate a protest, Seokmin is manhandling him into the nearest patch of overgrowth like a poorly disguised cartoon criminal. Leaves slap Mingyu in the face. A twig pokes him directly in the ribs. Dirt makes its way into his shoe.

“What the f—”

“Shh!” Seokmin hisses. “Look.”

Through the gaps in the foliage, Mingyu sees why.

You.

You’re walking toward them, earbuds in, tote bag swaying by your side like it’s following its own rhythm. Hair a little messy in the wind, your expression somewhere between focused and free. 

You look good. Still you, but lighter. Like a burden he hadn’t realized was shared is now just yours to carry alone. Or maybe you already set it down.

Seokmin is now fully visible on the path, standing like he’s waiting for judgment. You spot him easily.

“Oh. Hey!”

Your voice is like a dropped pebble in a still pond—too familiar, too immediate. Mingyu forgets to breathe.

Seokmin waves with the nervous energy of a man who knows he’s one sentence away from disaster. “Hey! Uh, great to see you here.”

“I run this route sometimes,” you say, slowing your pace. Your eyes scan the area casually, briefly grazing the suspiciously shivering bush nearby.

Seokmin laughs too loudly. “Yeah, uh, me too. With Mingyu. I mean, not that we’re, like, training for a marathon or anything. Just... casual cardiovascular bonding.”

There’s a beat. Your eyebrow lifts. “Is that code for hiding in bushes now?”

Seokmin freezes like a deer caught mid-excuse. Mingyu’s heart drops to his ass. He’s crouched among the leaves, silently reciting every mistake that led him here.

You don’t press. Just smile—cordial, unreadable. Like you know exactly who’s buried in the shrubbery but decide to gift him the mercy of not dragging it into the daylight.

“Tell him I said hi,” you say. And then you’re jogging again, disappearing into the path ahead with the same effortless grace you always carried. 

Mingyu exhales so slowly it feels like releasing a trapped lifetime.

Seokmin crouches to peek into the bush. “You good?”

“No,” Mingyu says, brushing twigs off his sleeves. “That was the most cardio I’ve done all semester.”

It’s not necessarily what Seokmin is asking about, but he’s at least somewhat willing to leti t pass. “You owe me,” Seokmin mutters, offering a hand.

Mingyu takes Seokmin’s hand. In a way, Mingyu is starting to think that moving on isn’t a sprint, isn’t dramatic or cinematic or even particularly graceful.

Maybe it’s just the slow, undignified crawl out of the shrubs—twigs in your hair, knees scraped, heart still stupidly hoping for a glimpse of someone who’s already halfway down the road.

Seokmin claps him on the back. “Tomorrow, we jog at dawn.”

“I’m blocking your fucking number, man.”

SEOK ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜   @dk_is_dokyeom JOGGING IS THE SOLUTION TO ALL HEARTBREAK !!! ᕙ(  •̀ ᗜ •́  )ᕗ 5KM MARATHON NEXT WHOOOP

The thing about studying with Minghao is that it’s almost productive. Almost. 

He’s efficient, focused, the type to highlight with color-coded precision and take Cornell notes with monk-like discipline. But he also plays ambient jazz remixes of anime openings and occasionally pauses to psychoanalyze fictional characters in the middle of their Cognitive Psychology notes.

Mingyu doesn’t mind. The rhythm of it is comforting, like sharing a library table with someone who’s silently agreeing to not let either of you fail.

They’re halfway through Chapter 9—something about memory recall and flashbulb events—when Minghao stretches, pops his neck like an old man, and says, “Ten-minute break. Don’t fight me.”

Mingyu doesn't. He leans back in his chair, eyes slipping toward the light of his phone. It’s muscle memory at this point. Tap, scroll, sigh.

And then he sees it.

A new post. From you.

It’s been months since you last uploaded. Radio silence since the breakup. But there it is, timestamp fresh: a new cover. You, singing again.

He taps it before he can stop himself.

The video opens on your bedroom wall, fairy lights glowing soft gold. Your guitar is nestled in your lap. You’re already playing when it starts, your voice soft but steady, clear as breath in cold air. I could go and read your mind, think about your dumb face all the time.

He doesn’t even blink until the bridge hits.

Made it out alive, but I think I lost it. Said that I was fine, said it from the coffin. 

The words come like a slap—no, a symphony of emotional gut-punches conducted with the smug finesse of someone who knows exactly who might still be watching.

Remember how I died when you started walking? That’s my life, that’s my life. 

Mingyu’s jaw slackens. His stomach turns to wet newspaper.

I’ll put up a fight, taking out my earrings. 

He gasps. Actually gasps. The kind of sharp inhale usually reserved for plot twists in dramas or sudden stab wounds. Minghao looks up from his notes, alarmed. “Did you just find out you’re adopted?”

Mingyu stares at his screen like it’s physically wounded him. “No. Worse.”

“There’s worse than that?”

He turns the screen toward Minghao, who watches blankly as you croon you should spend the night, catch me on your ceiling with the conviction of a woman who’s been through three divorces. “Oof. That’s brutal,” Minghao deadpans. “She posted that publicly?”

Mingyu nods slowly, as if he’s been sentenced to emotional exile. “With hashtag song cover and everything.” 

You’re still strumming and singing on screen, humming along to the pop song in a way that might be innocuous. Except Mingyu’s hobby is making everything about him, and he has made the executive decision that this one is most definitely about him. 

He slumps forward like someone has cut his puppet strings. “I think she wrote that just to kill me,” Mingyu laments. 

“Gracie Abrams wrote that.”

“Exactly. Which means she used an outside contractor.”

Minghao shuts his textbook with a flourish. “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere you can scream into the void without getting noise complaints.”

Mingyu doesn’t argue.

Because some pain demands movement. Or, at the very least, screaming into a gorge like a man who knows he lost something important. Something musical. Something with perfect pitch and the ability to destroy him in 2 minutes and 46 seconds flat.

Mingyu is mid-tragic sigh when it happens. He’s still staring at your video, thumb hovering over the screen, when betrayal strikes.

A double-tap, when he meant to swipe. 

The accidental like.

The screen flashes with a bright red heart. Liked by @min9yu_k and 26 others. For a post that’s only been up for five minutes. 

Mingyu freezes.

Minghao, who was zipping up his hoodie, senses it instantly. “What? What happened?”

Mingyu’s voice is a whisper. A horror film crescendo. "I liked it."

Minghao frowns. “Liked what?” 

“The post. Her post. I liked the video.”

There’s a silence. A long, stretching silence. Then Minghao inhales slowly. “Okay. Okay. That’s not the end of the world. Just unlike it.”

“I’m trying!”

He taps the heart again. It unlikes. In the cursed chaos of his frantic thumb, he hits the comment button, clicks on the red heart emoji that comes up as the suggested, and slams on the button that’s meant to send it out. 

Mingyu stares in blank, glitching horror. “NO.”

Minghao leans over, sees the screen, and reels back like it’s radioactive. “Oh my God. You commented. A heart. A full heart,” the younger boy huffs judgmentally. “Not even a broken one. That’s—that’s commitment.”

“I didn’t mean to!” wails Mingyu. 

“The algorithm thinks you did.”

Mingyu is full-on spiraling now. He opens the comment section. His name. His profile picture. His heart. Right there. Bold as day. Public. “Delete, delete, delete—”

His fingers are moving like he’s hacking into NASA. He finally deletes it.

“Did she see it?”

Minghao makes a face. “It was up for ten seconds. So… maybe. Maybe not.”

“What if she has post notifications on?”

“Who has post notifications on for their ex?”

Mingyu stares at him.

Minghao sighs. “Okay, fair point.”

Mingyu buries his face in his hands. “I have to fake my death.”

“You can’t fake your death over a heart emoji.”

“Tell that to the death certificate I’m about to file right fucking now.” 

Minghao pats him on the back, not unsympathetically. “Look. If she saw it, maybe she thinks you're just… appreciating her art.”

Mingyu lifts his head, eyes bloodshot with melodrama. “I can’t be art-appreciation guy. That’s worse than being ex-boyfriend guy.”

“Well,” Minghao says, pulling him to his feet, “at least you’re not boring.”

Mingyu glares. “Take me to the park. I need to scream again.”

“You already screamed at the river yesterday.”

“Then today I’ll scream at the sky.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They leave for the park like two men walking into battle—one brokenhearted, the other holding the emotional equivalent of a mop and bucket.

Somewhere, your phone buzzes twice.

hao   @xuminghao_o currently witnessing levels of crash out yet unknown to man

“So,” you say, appearing like an accusation in human form. “You liked my post. And then took it back. And then commented a heart. Which you also took back.”

Mingyu does not choke on his coffee, but only because he hasn’t sipped it yet.

He thought he would get away from you. Or that you hadn’t seen. It’s been a couple of days, after all, since the That’s So True-gate that had Mingyu screaming his head off while Minghao quizzed him on behavioral psychology. 

When you didn’t immediately message, Mingyu assumed he was in the clear. Enough to start studying back in the café that saw the beginning and end of your relationship. 

Big, fat mistake. Still, Mingyu tries to play it off. “I think that was an AI-generated coincidence.”

You raise your eyebrows as you slide into the seat across from him. Uninvited but not unwelcome—that seemed to be your whole gig. “An AI-generated coincidence?”

“Yeah. Like those deep fake videos. Except emotional.”

“You deepfaked a heart emoji on my video?”

Mingyu puts his mug down. “Look, I was just appreciating the vocals. You were serving serious tone and resonance. Any casual listener would have been compelled to engage.”

“Right. With a bright red heart. For the song about dying when your ex walks away.”

“That is... purely coincidental.”

You hum. Not quite convinced. Then, in that same effortless way you always had—like peeling back the foil lid on someone’s yogurt without asking permission—you add, “Because it would be weird, otherwise. Especially since Wonwoo kinda revealed you being in your little Directioner phase.”

The jab nearly misses its mark. When it hits, though—bullseye. The implication doesn’t elude Mingyu. “You’re keeping tabs on Wonwoo’s tweets?” he asks. 

You pause. Not long. Just enough to suggest you may have miscalculated. “They came up,” you say vaguely. 

“They came up,” he repeats, savoring the words like a hard candy made of gotcha.

You, ever quick, counter: “Yeah, well, at least I’m not the one with crash outs unknown to man.”

Strike two. Verbatim. Word for word to Minghao’s tweet. Mingyu starts to laugh, even as you level him that deathly, I-will-murder-you glare. “You’re keeping tabs,” Mingyu wheezes, and you look mortified for only a fraction of a second. 

You smile ruefully. That same maddening look you used to give him in the middle of debates you’d already won. “You know, you could’ve just said hi,” you say once Mingyu has calmed down, and he has a feeling you’re referring to more than just the incident in the bushes or the post liking incident. 

He exhales. “Yeah, but where’s the emotional turmoil in that?”

“Tragic. Really,” you say dryly. “You missed your calling as a K-drama second lead.”

Mingyu lifts his coffee. Takes a long sip. Lets the silence stretch just long enough to taste what’s underneath. You’re sitting across from him after what feels like forever, wearing that smile like a borrowed shirt. Ill-fitting. Too hopeful for somebody who has no business to care this much over how your ex is faring. 

After a moment too long, you reach for your bag like you didn’t just throw a rhetorical grenade and watch it bloom between you. “Anyway, I should go.”

“Right,” Mingyu says, nodding slowly, “back to curating cryptic playlists and pretending not to spiral.”

You shoot him a look. Deadpan. Disarmed. Slightly impressed. “I don’t spiral.”

“You’ve started titling things in lowercase.”

“That’s aesthetic.”

“You quoted Phoebe Bridgers in your Instagram story and didn’t provide context.”

You shrug, lips twitching. “If he wanted to, he would.”

“He did,” Mingyu says, meaning himself, but he doesn’t clarify.

You smile then. Small. Real. The kind that makes his chest feel like it forgot how to carry breath.

He watches as you stand, adjusting the strap on your shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve like they always do when you want to say more but don’t trust the air to hold it right. The fluorescent light above you flickers. You blink up, then laugh softly, like the moment decided to flirt back.

Your perfume is faint. The smell of a summer afternoon you never quite got to finish. It follows you, subtle as breath, lingering in the booth and the hollow of his throat. You pause at the door. Not long enough to be dramatic, but enough to be remembered.

And then you’re walking away.

Mingyu doesn’t stop you.

Not because he doesn’t want to. But because it’s always been like that with you. The tension not in the holding, but in the letting go. He thinks of all the times you looked back, and all the times you didn’t. Each one a verse in a song he doesn’t know how to stop humming.

The door swings. The bell above it jingles like an afterthought. Something unresolved in a symphony.

And just like that, the moment ends.

He sits for a while. Lets the mug cool. Lets the ache spread out soft and even.

Memory doesn’t arrive with warning. It bleeds.

Your knees tucked into his side on the couch, face half-covered by a blanket, both of you too tired to talk but too in love to turn away. How you reached for his hand without looking. How he kissed the inside of your wrist like it held your name. How your laugh cracked something open in him that had been sealed since childhood.

He remembers how you said things without saying them. How silence between you didn’t feel empty, just honest. Like breath between words. Like a secret passed through eye contact and lazy fingertips tracing collarbones.

That one night you got caught in the rain after a concert and neither of you had an umbrella. You laughed, drenched and shivering, mascara a little smudged, mouth full of lightning. You kissed him under a streetlamp and whispered something he didn’t catch. He said “what?” but you shook your head and kissed him again. Water streamed down your cheeks like tears that didn’t hurt.

He never asked what you said. He didn’t need to.

Mingyu runs a thumb along the rim of his mug. It’s chipped.

So is he, maybe. But not broken. Not yet.

You’re both so young. Still are. Young enough to believe in maybe. In could be. In if not now, then later. In second chances that don’t come with prerequisites.

He thinks about running after you. Thinks about not thinking. About blurting it all out like a prayer or a punchline.

Instead, he finishes his coffee, stands, and lets the door swing shut behind him.

The space you left behind—still warm. Still scented. Still shaped like you.

The echo of your last smile lingers like a line in a song he can’t stop repeating.

Again, and again, and again. 

KMG   @min9yu_kbtw if you see this i still love you 

[ts19009]

I love the little Twitter inserts

[himewonu]

STRAWBERRY SCENTED STRINGS ౨ৎ kim mingyu

౨ৎ mingyu loves sweets. what wasn’t sweet, though, was the cellist from his rival band. your aloof and irascible attitude toward his band always left them in a bad mood. somehow, you and mingyu can only get along through your love for desserts.

starring bassist! mingyu x cellist! f reader

word count 16k (thanks 4 betareading soph and alya >_<) | playlist

genre fluff, humour, rivals to lovers (?), band au, suggestive

contains profanities, food, alcohol, petnames, mentions of sex, they makeout once (not really), idk anything abt the bass or cello or being a professional musician, ambiguous ending

from rhin, this was heavily inspired by mingyu shredding the guitar during their clap performance. i’ve been itching to release this since dec 2023 but i have been inconsistent with writing it so i’m leaving it halfway finished!!

please support by reblogging and feedbacks ♡

TRACK_001_SWANSONG

Just as your quartet is finishing the first movement of the piece, you hear a soft guitar riff lingering from the practice room next to yours. It interrupts the practice and causes someone to make a mistake. Given how painfully obvious a cello is compared to any other instrument in the violin family, it was unquestionably yours. They began to glance at each other until they finally turned to face you, who was attempting to reprise the bar—this time, correctly. 

Swearing under your breath, you carefully set down your cello, trying not to let your rage get the better of you and throw the instrument across the room. You left the practice room, slamming the door behind you. The other musicians in the corridor noticed your little outburst and walked away when you gave them a stern look. 

If there was one thing you hated more than making mistakes, it would be rock music. Whether it was the genre or the people indulging in it, it was the bane of your existence. The hardcore melody and the blaring noise the instruments made, especially when they were all playing at once, were too much for your ears to handle. The genre is what you would call offensive to you. 

The people who participated in that genre weren’t any better. The majority of rock bands you’ve encountered were merely conceited and brash rebels. The thought of having your worlds clash was like another war, and you might prefer to switch back to the viola than subject yourself to those monstrous pieces of work. 

Since rock bands make up the majority of the bands playing at the festival, your quartet is starting to doubt their ability to perform well. You sharing a stage with them was already hell enough. In fact, you should be intimidating to them rather than afraid of them. They serve only as a distraction from the masterpiece that your quartet is about to unveil. 

Half applauded for your quartet's performance, but their enthusiasm wasn’t meeting your expectations. Your quartet played flawlessly with no delay or off-key parts that could show a lack of praise from the audience. They mostly consisted of teenagers who were cheering for rock bands and probably new to your performance, hence why the crowd felt muted. Of course, they only like bands. 

When the emcee introduced the following band as you were leaving the stage, the audience was cheering far louder and more enthusiastically than they had for your group even before they had taken the stage. Their height blocked your view as they made their way to the stage, making you promptly move aside since you were in the way. 

Cherry Bass. The audience appeared to really enjoy them; some were yelling nonstop, which makes them seem popular. They stood out from the majority of bands in the area for a few reasons. Their concept suited their name—the outfits and height were pointed out. 

They are somewhat alike and both formal and informal. Their performance is meticulous, and they remain still rather than circling the stage. Not only are their lyrics poetic, but their music is also non-aggressive and loud. Rather than being a typical song about heartbreak, it's more about friendship and fun. 

It’s no wonder the audience likes them. 

The way their cherry red leather outfits complemented their physical structure, combined with the lack of awkwardness when staying still and somehow nonchalantly engaging with the audience. Whenever they play their instrument, they give off a cool, edgy vibe and appear more like a bunch of friends who are simply excited to perform in front of an audience than like they are trying to prove they're the greatest band in the world. Despite their lack of professionalism, they give off the impression of having some band experience. 

Still, they’re a distraction.

The realization finally dawned on you as the hot air of summer was draining out your energy and killing your ego. "We should go." You uttered. Your group trailed behind you as you made your way out of the alluring scenery before your pride could die.

TRACK_002_ESPRESSO

Mingyu doubts his place in the band. There are some songs where people can barely hear the bass in their extended plays, and he sometimes can’t even hear himself during practices when his bandmates are loud. Whenever he notices that he made a mistake, he doesn’t bother redoing that bar since it’s so quiet that not even the others can hear it. 

He mainly relies on the feeling of friction between his fingers and the strings to play along. 

During practice, a certain sound caught his attention that was definitely not his bass or any other instrument. Its subtle taps or thuds resonate in his ears. It’s not in the room, and it sounds like it's coming from outside. As they wrap up their practice, Mingyu decides to investigate as he puts his bass down and strolls towards the door. Slowly opening it, he peeks his head out to meet with the sight of movers holding boxes. They drop them inside the room in front of theirs. 

“We have new neighbours,” he announces to his bandmates. 

“And they’re most likely gonna move out. Everyone hates using that practice room since we’re loud,” Vernon mocks, pulling out the cable from his guitar. 

Just like every other neighbour they had, everyone kept moving out due to their infamous noise. They all tried to get them kicked out, but it was impossible since the landlord of Choi’s Music Store and Apartments for Musicians was their leader’s dad. Since then, all he could do was talk his way out of not mentioning that room. 

The landlord mentioned how he didn’t recommend renting your room, as the room in front of yours was going to be noisy. But that didn’t stop your quartet from using it; it doubles as a practice room and an apartment, and you all needed to move out of your brother’s basement as a practice room. The only con is that it's downtown. 

This was one of those times when your ensemble was willing to be nice to rock bands—except you. You refused to cooperate with them since your excuse was that you didn’t want to see their faces. 

Ryuwon had to go build your bed frames and told you to bake muffins for your neighbours, hence why the three of you had to be nice. 

“She better be joking when she wants us to bake for them,” you scowled. 

“Let’s just do it in her favour. After all, we should let them know they have new neighbours,” the violinist proposed. “I don’t want to deliver, though.”

“Not it,” Yoonhee utters, quickly touching her nose as the other does the same, leaving you with the responsibility. 

“What the hell! I didn’t even agree to this!” You grumble as you all head to the kitchen.

Meeting them was a questionable encounter. You urged them that you really didn’t want to give them the muffins, but they were insisting on it to the point where they pushed you out of the apartment, giving you the container of muffins. You were banging on the door, yelling at them to let you in. They didn’t answer, and you just so happened to give in, asking them what you should even say. Their response to you was to just come up with something from the top of your head.

You were finally facing their door, knocking rapidly until someone opened the door. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of you holding muffins in your hands. His tall figure was practically towering over you, making him seem intimidating. But the only intimidating thing between you was your mad expression and how you looked like you didn’t want to be there. 

“Hi, not sure if you know, but we’re your new neighbours,” you greet, still retaining the muffins in his face. 

He scratches his head. “Uhh, what are the muffins for?”

You didn’t reply right away, as you were trying to come up with an answer. "Think of it more as an advance apology. We practice loudly, so hopefully you and your band can handle that," you sarcastically remark.

He scoffs as he takes the container. "Oh, we’ll be much louder than you,” he brags before shutting the door on you. 

You wonder why you would even agree to live next door to a rock band. But he looked awfully familiar to you. How he held onto his bass and the way he was towering over you. The band was undoubtedly one you have seen before, even though the landlord didn’t mention their name. 

He takes the lid off and gazes at the freshly baked muffins. “What’s that?” Vernon proceeds to ask Mingyu. “Not for you!” he retaliates. Vernon rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the music sheet, while Mingyu pulls out a muffin and begins to bite into it. He hums in pleasure. 

Strawberry banana—his favourite. 

Your quartet decided to establish a rivalry with the band next door. It all began two days after you moved in, at five in the morning, when they practiced, more specifically, by clashing their instruments together to aggravate you four. 

The following day, you practiced more loudly than you usually would, and you practiced for hours on end until they started banging on your door to beg you to stop. That day, they found it amusing since you were their opposing genre, especially being that quartet they saw at the summer music festival. 

Since then, the eight of you have always found a way to piss each other off—everywhere, every day, and every time. 

Everyone in your quartet likes to disappear off to their own places when the group isn't practicing, leaving you alone. You’d either be at work or out in public, because there’s absolutely nothing you could possibly do at home except practice, write songs, or bake. You want to ensure that your day is peaceful and that you’re not being disturbed during your alone time. Whenever you see someone from that band approaching you, you usually scare them off with your words, or if you don’t feel like losing your voice, you just give them a death glare. 

For someone who’s so graceful, you sure can be frightening. 

“Why are you so sour?” A voice utters before you. Lifting your gaze from your journal, you see the man you gave muffins to. You were at a nearby cafe, quietly penning some lyrics for yourself. He puts his coffee down on the table and sits in front of you, attempting to strike up a conversation.

His words cause you to furrow your brows before you snap back. “Excuse me? I didn’t even ask you to sit with me!” 

“You sure look like you need someone to sit with,” he mumbles against the rim of his coffee cup. 

"Maybe you can't tell, but everyone here knows that I prefer to be by myself, except for you and your stupid ass!" He doesn’t leave; rather, he stays in his seat, still drinking the coffee. You ignore the fact that he isn’t going to leave you alone and glance down at your journal once more. You continue to write a line on the current song you’re working on. 

He sets his coffee back on the table and leans in so that his face is just inches from yours. You try to pay attention to the burning sensation that’s growing on your cheeks from the proximity. You’re still writing and not even trying to look at him. He pulls his arm out and reaches in to quickly grab your journal. 

“What’s even in here?” He questions, holding it with both hands as he looks at the page of lyrics. “Flash Forward,” he mutters as he reads the title of the song. Before he can take another look, you snatch it back from him and stuff it into your bag. “That’s none of your business,” you retort as you get up from your seat and walk away.

There was nobody home when you returned to the apartment. You run to your bedroom and lie on your bed as you stare at the ceiling. The light was shining on your eyes, making you get up and realize that you still haven’t finished writing the song. You grab your journal out of your bag and open it to the unfinished page.

The moment the tip of your pencil touches the paper, your mind goes blank. Nothing comes to mind for the next few lines. All you can think about is what the man from earlier said about you. 

“Sour? What does he know about being sour? I’m anything but sour!” You quietly complain to yourself. 

You were writing down exactly what you had said before you even realized it. After continuing to stare at the words, it finally dawned on you. You turned the page to an empty space and began to write a heading. 

‘Sour Grapes’

Other than writing lyrics, you like to bake in your free time. You would have been a baker without a doubt if you had not been a musician. Since you were a child, you have always enjoyed baking. Always trying out how to bake different kinds of pastries and other desserts. Your family never brought desserts home, except for birthday cakes, and no one really taught you how. 

All you remember is how it all started, when your brother was watching a food channel and the show that was airing was about young bakers. It was kind of annoying to watch them fail at their recipes so often. You recalled remarking that even you, a seven-year-old, could accomplish it because it was so simple. Joshua wanted you to give it a try, but he said it was not easy.

For one thing, he was a little stupid to encourage his younger sister to go into the kitchen and possibly set the house on fire. Either way, you proved him wrong in a way. You followed a recipe that you remembered seeing on the screen. You weren’t precise with the measurements since you eyeballed it. However, the outcomes were better than shown on the show. Joshua seemed to like it and mentioned that you should try baking when you’re much older.

That's how your interest in baking began. You don’t really bake for yourself. Usually, you just serve your friends or family whatever dessert you make. Their constant approval encouraged you to bake more and more. 

Here you are, by yourself, in the kitchen. Since it's less disruptive and you get to surprise them when they get home, you actually prefer to bake when no one else is home. On days like these in September, people would be craving autumn-related baked goods. Unlike them, you’ve been craving anything with strawberries lately, and this was going to be one of those times where you bake for yourself.

Baking is the only hobby you have where you don’t have to stress. It’s funny because baking requires you to be meticulous at every step. As long as you have the basics, you just grab everything from the refrigerator and cabinets and toss it all together.  

Loaded with all the essentials and a pack of fresh strawberries on the counter, you took your phone out and looked up strawberry dessert recipes. The most common pastry to ever exist, Strawberry Shortcake, appears first, and surprisingly, you’ve never tried to make one. 

Doing it on the first try was nothing. You could probably open a bakery knowing how good you are, because it was undoubtedly one of the easiest desserts you’ve ever made. It smells delicious, and by looking at it, it was pleasing. 

Since you haven’t shared anything on social media in months, this was your chance to showcase your accomplishments. The majority of your pages are composed of scenery, which makes them visually appealing. 

As you opened the camera app, you noticed how the kitchen in the background was ugly to look at. You looked around the apartment for a spot, but nothing seemed to fit the mood. The sky was still blue, and all of a sudden, you recalled that the rooftop had a patio. You put your phone in your pocket and picked up the plate with the cake on it. 

You ran into a familiar face as soon as you opened the door and stepped outside, and it was not just your eyes that met him. It just so happens that his bass pickups are now covered in whipped cream, and your strawberry shortcake was lying on the ground when you dropped it. You’re so glad the plate was plastic, because if it were ceramic and shattered, it would’ve made this situation really painful. 

Your gaze soon shifted to the guitar, which was now drenched in whipped cream. Your initial reaction, if you were looking at a guitar, was probably to yell at him for running into you. Though slightly different, this scenario is exactly like the one you had in mind. 

You would’ve definitely scared him away if his bass had not gotten in the way. If he wasn’t wearing that same black t-shirt he always wears, again, you would’ve scared him off. The scenario can go in a million different directions, but they all come to the same conclusion—you get upset at him. So why is it that pity comes out of your mouth?

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You blurted as you tried wiping off the mess on his bass. Other than opening his eyes wide and staring at you, he remains motionless. He wasn’t sure if he should be angry or sorry too, but he was in full panic mode.

“I-It’s fine!” He huffed, backing up to get your hands away from him. He returned to his apartment, leaving you by yourself in the hallway. You stood there, looking at the mess on the floor and realizing that you just pitied a bassist. 

TRACK_003_RUNAWAYBABY

“Enjoy!” You exclaim as you hand a cup of Americano to the customer before they leave. As usual, your quartet ran off. Fortunately, you were working a shift at your part-time job, so you wouldn’t be by yourself this time. Although you don’t see the band on your shift, you always end the day annoyed because of how aggravating your co-workers are. 

Being a barista isn’t entirely bad, but you wish you had another music-related job. After college, you thought of pursuing songwriting as a side job, but no agency would hire you, and they weren’t entirely convinced by a music degree either. So you stuck with being a musician with your friends and performing for fancy birthday parties and whatnot. It doesn’t really work in your favour since you can’t entirely write songs for a genre that doesn’t need lyrics, but at least you get to flex that you were the only one out of the four who went to college for music. 

Since the customer was the last in line, you turned away when they departed. After hastily adjusting your apron, you turned to face the tall man you have always seen. “Oh, fuck, not you again,” you mutter. You raise an eyebrow before uttering in a sulky tone. “What are you doing here?”

“Good question. What are you doing here?” He retaliates. 

“It’s called a job, something I’d doubt you would have.”

He scoffs. “I have a job, and it’s better than your miserable coffee-making job.” You don’t fight back since he’s right; it is miserable, and you would do anything to get you out of there. The only good part is that it pays better than other part-time jobs you worked for, and you work once a week.

“Are you here to waste my time, or are you actually going to order something?” You provoke as you cross your arms and rest them on the counter. 

“Got anything cold?”

You tilt your head up, indicating the menu on the screen above you. “Refreshers, iced tea, smoothies, cold brew coffee—we have a ton,” you add. He looks up at the menu, contemplating the choices to pick from.

To be honest, he never came here for a drink to begin with. He found it amusing that you were behind the counter wearing an apron. He entered merely to cause you trouble, particularly in light of the incident; he’ll make sure that this isn’t the last time you see him. An arrogant expression appeared on his face as one of the menu's distinctive images highlighted a specialty.

“I’ll have a medium strawberry refresher, pretty girl,” he decides, putting a lot of emphasis on the fruit and making your eye twitch as the pet name rolls off his tongue. When you nod and inquire if he needs anything more, he simply shakes his head and makes the payment. Making his drink was fairly simple; all you had to do was fill a cup with ice, then add ginger ale and strawberry syrup, and finally garnish with a fresh strawberry slice. 

You gave him the drink and thought he would at least walk out of the cafe, much less with you. With the counter separating you both, he remained exactly where he was—in front of you. He takes a sip of the beverage and stares at you. He’s testing your patience, and it’s infuriating you, but you’re not willing to give in. The tension relaxed when he spoke up. 

“So when do you plan on paying for my pickup replacement?” He asks, swirling the drink. He confused you for a moment because he didn’t provide any context, but based on the keywords he used, he implied that you owed him for damaging his bass.

“How much do they cost? Fifty dollars?”

"Double," he corrects, smiling from ear to ear. 

You shudder at his response. “Don’t you have another bass for emergencies?”

“Don’t you have another cello?”

“Right… We can go to the bank after my shift.”

“Which is in…?”

You check the clock on the monitor. It won’t take you that long for him to wait. "In half an hour, but I have to clean up, so I guess around forty minutes?"

He nods and heads over to an empty table near the entrance of the building. He waits by scrolling through his phone, checking unanswered texts, and stalking accounts on social media. It wasn’t long before he began to doze off, only to be jolted awake by a nudge. He raises his head and rubs his eyes, looking at you, who is already out of uniform and waiting for him.

“So do you still want that replacement or not?” You ask after vigorously tapping his shoulder. He shifts his gaze to the table, where the ice in his refresher has completely melted and his phone has already reached twenty percent. Has he been asleep for so long? He returns your gaze and immediately stands up, pushing the chair into place. 

“Hell yeah, I do!” he exclaims. He exits the cafe while you trail behind. Just as he turns in the direction of where he parked his car and heads over there, you turn the opposite way. He looks back and notices you walking away from him. “Where are you going?” he yells. You pause in your steps and turn around.

“The train station?” You answer, puzzled by his question.

“And let you sit between sweaty middle-aged men on the way? No way, pretty girl!” 

You grumbled at his response and began walking toward him. “I’ll stay with you if you stop calling me that!” you protest. 

He opens the passenger door and motions for you to enter the car, which you do after slapping his hand away. He gets in the car and fastens his seatbelt before chuckling. He moves his hand to the side and presses a button, followed by a clicking noise. 

"I can’t make any promises," he smirks, placing one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the keys as he starts the car.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," you mutter, buckling your seatbelt as he begins driving. He remained silent for the first few minutes of the drive, with the music filling the void between you two. 

"You know, I just realized we don’t know each other's names, and this is the fourth time I’ve run into you," he remarks, quickly shifting his gaze to you and back to the road. You’re staring into nowhere at the window as your fingers tap your thigh to the rhythm of the song. “It’s my band’s song,” he pointed out, causing your fingers to stop going along.

“You like to run your mouth, don’t you?” You scoffed as you turned your head to look at him.

“If you tell me your name, I’ll be quiet,” he bargained.

“Why would I tell you that?”

He hummed. “So I can sabotage your quartet and blame the conceited cellist.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who wants to ruin their opponent’s image.”

Following that, you both remain completely silent. He silently questions why you’re not saying anything like he had expected. “Aren’t you gonna ask for my name in return?” He asks.

“Why would I want to know your name?”

“‘Cause I’m sexy and rich, and if everyone heard my name come out of your mouth, society would shake.”

“What an exaggerated way to say, ‘I’m better than you if you knew my name.’”

“I wouldn’t say better, but I am cooler.”

"And annoying," you mumble, causing him to quickly turn his head to you and raise an eyebrow before returning his attention to the road.

"The offer is still open," he adds.

You let out a heavy sigh. “(Name).”

When you finally arrive at the parking lot, he parks in front of the bank, and the silence lingers. You step out of the car without uttering a word, feeling the breeze of the air hitting your face. His eyes follow your figure as the car door slams shut, the sound resonating in the quiet atmosphere. He watches you enter the bank, the neon sign flickering and dancing to the beat of your steps. 

Your name echoes in his head like a melody. It’s a perfect name for a cellist. The music still plays, and his fingers tap on the steering wheel to the rhythm. The door of the bank swings as you come back running to the car with a small stack of cash clutched in   your hand. Without exchanging a glance, you shove the money into his hand. You fastened your seatbelt and gestured to him to start the car.

He turns the keys and starts driving back to the practice building, which was only a few minutes away. You closed your eyes and sat a bit too comfortably in the seat. You listen to the music. Is this really his band’s song? 

It was too good to be true; it’s too sensual to be a song from a rock band. You didn’t even notice you were slowly bobbing your head until he mentioned it, making you scowl and sit up straight. Before you know it, the car comes to a halt, and you open your eyes to the parking lot of the studio. 

You got out, and he trailed behind, catching up to you at the back entrance. You enter the elevator and press the button to go to the floor you both were going to. He plays with the hem of his jacket as he watches the numbers go up, his gaze shifting to you, then back to the numbers. 

The door opens to the corridor of your floor, and you both walk out. You tried walking faster so you could quickly leave him in the hallway, but he tries to make small talk with you when you reach your apartment’s door.

“By the way, pretty girl,” he speaks up as you hastily rummage through your bag for your keys. “If you wanna sabotage my career as well,” You finally found your keys, looked for the key to your apartment, and stuck the key into the lock. “It’s Kim Mingyu,” he finishes his sentence as you open the door, entering the apartment and slamming it shut to indicate that you don’t want his name.

You ran to your room and dropped your bag by the door. You went to your desk and took out your journal from the drawer. You flipped to the incomplete page of your current song. You still have yet to finish the other one from two weeks ago, but this song was simply an excuse to rant about that stupid ass Mingyu.

As you try to think of a few lines for the song, you mutter his name several times. You jot them down, take out an empty sticky note that is lying on your table, and adhere it to the page. 

You began writing down the recipe for that strawberry shortcake you made last week, and for some reason, you even drew a doodle of the cake in the corner. You chuckle at the paper, realizing that the sticky note had strawberries on it, but the title contained grapes.

You just seem to be drawn to fruits.

The following week, Mingyu found a way to always be with you, and you were just quick to assume it was a part of his band’s way to annoy you all. 

On Monday, he came to your door with a broom in his hand and the other gripping your forearm. He was practically begging you to let him into your apartment. When you turned him down, he urged you to kill the cockroach in his apartment as you tried to push him away. You refused to believe someone giant like him was afraid of something so small. 

On Tuesday, he saw you use the display cello from the music store he works at. He went up to you and had the audacity to ask you why you weren’t using your cello. Apparently, when your quartet wanted to practice, the minute your bows touched your instruments, the strings suddenly broke. Mingyu admits it was his band’s doing, which left you confused since, one, how the hell did they break into your apartment, and two, when did they do this? Not only did you land some free strings, but you also landed a punch on his stomach.

On Wednesday, he followed you around the building. The only time he didn’t was when you were in your apartment. You kept telling him to go away, but he insisted you tell him that strawberry banana recipe from three weeks ago. In the end, you never told him the actual recipe, only telling him to make a muffin batter and add the fruits. 

On Thursday, it wasn’t intentional. You happened to run into him at the grocery store. He needed butter, and you needed whipping cream, so it was a coincidence to meet in the dairy section. Like the friendly man he was, he tried conversing with you, but you were trying to ignore him by making your way to the yogurts. 

He kept eyeing the overripe bananas in your basket and attempted to convince you to give them to him. Apparently all the other bananas in the aisle were unripe or ripe, and he wanted to copy your strawberry banana muffins. You told him that he could use ripe ones and it would still taste the same, but he insisted that he preferred it sweeter when using overripe ones. So you two had to fight for the bananas. Or, in other words, he stole them from your basket. 

On Friday, it was a much more peaceful day for you. No quartet, no shift, no chores, and most importantly, no Kim Mingyu to pester you around. You spent most of the day writing songs. You were able to finish the song you’ve been wanting to finish since three weeks ago and start a new one—still leaving Sour Grapes untouched. 

It was around eleven in the evening when you stopped writing since Ryuwon texted you that her package had arrived. When you left the apartment, you happened to bump into Mingyu, who looked dishevelled and was close to letting go of his grip on the handle of the case of his bass. Although he was exhausted, he still wanted to talk to you. 

On your way down, he followed you and mentioned how his band was unfortunate to have two gigs in one day. In the morning, their first gig was at a folk festival, and they played for five hours straight with a fifteen-minute break in between. Their other gig was at a bar, and the people there seemed to enjoy it more than the audience at the festival.

It was weird how he was tired. Despite hating rock bands, you know well enough that bass players are equivalent to violists. It was either the fact that he spent the whole day playing the bass or he’s simply exaggerating. Whatever the case was, it was Mingyu anyway, so there was no reason to be perplexed about him. 

Saturday is your usual weekly group practice, but due to Ryuwon’s and the violinist’s instruments being broken, you all agreed to push it to tomorrow. As the two went to visit a specialist for reparations. you spent that day isolated in your room until Yoonhee called you to say that there was someone waiting for you at the door. Her brows were furrowed, and she really emphasized “someone.” 

The door was closed rather than open, and Yoonhee stood by the door as she was anticipating for you to open it. When you opened it, Mingyu unexpectedly showed up at your door, beaming and waving. 

You groaned, and Yoonhee whispered in your ear along the lines of asking if you and the bassist were friends. You were quick to reply and retorted that you two were never friends in the first place, and he was just trying to seek attention from you.

“What do you want?” You asked in a careless demeanour as Yoonhee left you two alone. 

“Can’t I see my amazing best friend in the whole wide world?” He responds as he leans against the doorframe and gazes at you with what seem to be puppy eyes. 

“I don’t recall being your friend. Go away,” you say, closing the door on him before he stops it by putting his hand in between. 

“Wait, let me take you somewhere. Cat cafe, arcade, music store, you name it.” 

You silently judged him with your eyes. “Me? Go out with you? Never in a million years! I’d rather jump off a bridge than be stuck in a room with some hot and arrogant bassist!”

He pouted at your words, but his eyes started to light up, and he slowly started smirking. “You just called me hot,” he teases.

“I never said it like that,” you retaliate. 

“You think I’m hot!”

“Not! Stop twisting my words!” Those were the last words you yelled before shutting the door on him. He kept knocking on the door as you went back to your room. You can hear your roommates complain, and the noise eventually stops. 

You spent Sunday practicing with your quartet. The two were able to get their instruments repaired, and you four sounded perfect, like always. Despite preferring to be alone all the time, you always liked playing with others rather than by yourself—although you never admit it when someone brings it up. 

From playing with your grandparents to joining your high school’s orchestra to being a cellist in a quartet, you were always with someone when playing—except when composing your songs by yourself. Even when your cello didn’t have strings that one fateful week, someone from a rock band you despise was with you.

TRACK_004_FALLINGFORYA

‘Don’t usually swoon but I’m over the moon.’

That sentence was a line from the very first song you wrote when you were still in high school. The line was originally from a poetry assignment for English class back in your first year, and it has stuck with you ever since. 

It was so simple yet so inspirational and relatable, and it perfectly described your love life. You remember writing that line, thinking about your first crush, who was a bassist from a boy band established by other students from the performing arts department. You weren’t the type to have crushes, so it was a new feeling.

He caught your eye when he was leaving the performing arts department as you were about to enter. You never knew his name or what grade he was in, only knowing his band was called Cerise. 

You labelled him as a hallway crush since you never shared any classes, and you only ever saw him in the music room or at events the student council would hold. You easily got over him when you joined your school’s orchestra and choir ensemble, since those two were your priorities. That was also when you started to grasp the idea of rivals being a distraction. 

Thinking about that one song makes you realize that the majority of the songs you write are about love. You don’t know where you get the motivation to write those since you’re not much of a romance fanatic, but you’ve definitely written a lot. You have a total of sixteen songs written. The first four were simply poems, but you began putting music notes on the others. 

You like to write anywhere since it gives you inspiration, and in every song you finish, you add melodies and adjust them if there are too many or too few words in a line. You first hum out a melody, then use a piano your roommates have on display in the living room, and use your cello afterwards. 

You’re currently trying out your recent song on the cello. Your fingers are starting to feel sore from moving the bow a lot. The melody is too upbeat for your liking, and it’s not the usual mellow or melancholic songs you’d write. 

Singing it sounds right, but playing it with the cello sounds off; it might just be better off with the piano or some other instrument. 

You close your journal and quickly put your cello back in the case. You take a deep breath as you lean down in your chair. You’re not the type to give up, but the song is making you doubt your skills. You get up to grab your journal from the stand and take your purse lying on the floor. 

You shoved the book in as you left your room to head to the door. Quickly locking the door, you went down the hallway to go to the elevator. To be honest, you have no idea where to go; you're just hoping there’s a place out there to solve your small problem. 

As soon as the elevator doors close, they open again, revealing a smiley face you’d recognize anywhere. “Where are you headed now, pretty?” Mingyu asks, making you scowl even more at that stupid-ass nickname he calls you. 

“I don’t know; maybe away from you,” you say, pressing the button that leads to the lobby. 

"Ouch, it looks like someone pissed in your cereal today. Not surprised, though, since you’re always salty,” he jokes, earning him a hard slap on the shoulder from you. 

“Last time it was sour, and now it’s salty; what’s next? Sweet?”

He cackles, “You wish.”

The door opens, and the two of you step out. He heads over to the exit, and you couldn’t believe that your steps are following his. “Bassist!” You yell out, causing him to stop walking and turn his head. 

“It’s Mingyu,” he corrected. 

“Whatever. Are you going anywhere?”

“I have a gig in twenty minutes at a resort. Wanna come?” 

“Nevermind, I heard ‘gig,’ and my ears turned off.” 

“I’m not bad at the bass, trust me. I’m pretty hot when I play.” 

“Even worse,” you turn away and walk back to the elevator. “Break a leg—literally, bass boy.” 

“I’ll treat you to dessert if you come!” He yells out, making you leave the elevator to face him again. Dessert is tempting; then again, you have to watch his show—unless you don’t but still eat. Running away with the plate might be a better idea; what’s the worst that can happen? 

“Fine, but only if it’s before your show. And I’ll only be there until I finish the dessert. I’ll call my friend to pick me up,” you sigh before he takes your hand and brings you to his car. 

When he mentioned a resort, you assumed it would be some small resort by a lake, not the most luxurious resort in the city by the beach. It pays a lot, and he’ll be playing for tons of people, not to mention rich tourists. 

Your mouth is agape at the sight of the massive resort when you two stand in front of the entrance. You see his friends setting up through the glass door before walking in. His bass is on display next to his band, and it piques a thought. 

“Why didn’t you go with your band for rehearsal?” 

“I was recovering from a hangover. I can rehearse the whole setlist within five minutes.” 

“Wow. Alcoholic much?” You joked. He didn’t deny it, but all he did was change the topic to the dessert he promised. He left for a few minutes and unexpectedly came back with a cart of plated desserts. He rolls the cart in front of you, showing you all the options. 

Key lime pie, apple rhubarb pie, chocolate-covered strawberries, peach cake, matcha French macarons, caramelized banana pudding, lemon galette, grape yogurt tart—there were too many to name. This might interrupt your plan. You looked at the cart, then at Mingyu, then back at the cart. It looks good, it smells delicious, and it might taste amazing. Baked goods may be your weakness, but the mastermind behind this is your biggest enemy. Thinking about it is making you suddenly wish you didn’t agree in the first place. 

But you’re smarter than this. If you can bake at the age of seven without parental supervision, you can get your way out of this. Maybe you can eat three plates of dessert, then call it a day. Though that wouldn’t work since he expects you to bring the rest home. Or you could pretend to eat it all and throw it away, but food waste is so careless. 

“I’m suddenly not craving carbs. I’m more thirsty than I am hungry,” you mention, smiling to mask your lie. “I’ll have water, then I’ll be out of here.”

He stares at you with confusion. Carbs? More thirsty? Water? You’re just spitting nonsense at this point. First it was spilling whipped cream on his bass, then you kept calling him random names, and now you want to leave five minutes after arriving—he thinks you’re more eccentric than he is. “How about staying for just one song?”

“Hell no.”

“C’mon, it’s not that bad.” It’s very bad. Detrimental, you may say. You know it’s vile; your quartet knows; heck, his past neighbours experienced how atrocious it was. 

“It’s terrible.”

“Another one of your lies; you just love lying, don’t you?” He teases. His words remind you that you don’t remember lying to him at all. 

“I’m an honest person.”

“And what about that time you were enjoying my band’s song?”

“It was an honest mistake; I didn’t know you guys knew how to make indie rock songs.”

“We’re literally an indie rock band.”

This small argument is getting you nowhere out of this building. All you want to do is perfect your song with a better instrument, something that isn’t a part of the violin family, and that might just hurt your pride. 

“I’ll do anything for you to stay for just one song.” His words finally hit your head, connecting the dots—and this might hurt your pride even more. 

“Do you know how to play the guitar?” You ask. You came up with an idea while thinking about your song. Never in your life would you think of someone like Mingyu helping you, but it’s your only hope. You could give up on the song, yet knowing you, you’d rather give in than give up. 

“Is that even a question? Of course I can.” In less than three seconds after he responded, Mingyu suddenly found it weird how you would ask a question like that. Even though he met you a month ago, he knows well enough that a word about rock would never come out of your mouth unless you were talking shit about it. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty one?” He asks, and that already has you thinking about the other option, giving up instead.

“If I stay for one song, will you help me with something?” Mingyu is already beaming from ear to ear when he hears your answer. Before he can agree and ask you about your favour, his bandmate calls him to start the gig, leaving you without a word. His supposed five-minute setlist rehearsal has already passed due to talking with you. He’ll be fine though; he’s a bassist after all.

Now you don’t know if he agreed or not, so now you’re not sure if you should speak up to your word or not. You sit down on a stool by the bar, which is close to the band. The rich guests were already interested when they introduced themselves. Seungcheol on drums, Vernon and Wonwoo on guitar, and last but not least, the man himself, Mingyu on bass. They started off with a song, which, ironically, was the song Mingyu was mentioning earlier—the one you’re quite familiar with and their only song you know. 

Every time Mingyu told you he was good at the bass, you never believed him since bassists barely did anything. Now, after seeing it with your own two eyes, he’s way better than what you awfully expected. Despite not rehearsing right when he arrived, his bass slaps are hella impressive. 

The way his fingers move a lot on the neck and how his eyes are so focused on people instead of his instrument. It’s alluring; it’s distracting; why does it feel like you’ve seen this before? The audience cheers, and you can see his smile widening. When the guitarist begins his solo, Mingyu averts his gaze from the others to you, tilting his head in a way of asking for commendation. You roll your eyes and ignore him by turning to face the bartender, who was watching as well. 

By the time they finished the song, everyone applauded. You turned to look at them again, and the lead guitarist’s action caught your eye. He was shyly waving at someone in the audience, and as you averted your eyes to see who he was waving at, you couldn’t believe who waved back. While the band was asking people for song requests, you got up from your seat and moved closer to the person. 

When the next song began, you nudged her as she looked at you with fear in her eyes. “What are you doing here?” The violinist asks.

You glanced at the band, then returned your gaze to her. “I should be asking you the same. Are you seeing the guitarist behind our back?”

“No! We’re just friends.” She was swift to deny, but her voice was strained.

“Friends? Do you realize that you, being friends with him, are putting our music in a dangerous position?” 

“You say that as if you don’t do the same!”

“It’s different! I don’t want to be the bassist’s friend, yet you’re willing to be friends with the enemy.” The frustration rose between you two. It’s leading you to so many thoughts about her and the quartet. 

You were quick to end the argument by calling Yoonhee to come pick you two up. By the time she arrived, she was confused as to why the two of you were at a resort, but she easily read the room that something bad had happened. The car ride back to the studio was extremely silent, with no music playing on the radio and the middle seat separating you and the violinist.

Yoonhee overreacted when you brought up the fact that the violinist and the guitarist from the band are friends. She began jabbering about how disappointed and mad Ryuwon would be if she found out—and everyone knows how terrifying it can get when the leader is mad. 

The violinist fought back and called it hypocritical because it wasn’t fair how they let it slide when the bassist talked to you. “We talked about this before; he’s only there to pester and sabotage me, while you and that guitarist have some sort of friendship,” you remarked earlier. “You know he’s an enemy.”

After Yoonhee parked in front of the studio, the violinist left the car before the argument could get any worse, slamming her door as you two watched her enter the building alone. That was the first time you ever saw her explode. 

The following week, you eventually apologized for scolding her about it and mentioned that you were only worried for her as a musician rather than as a friend, because if your non-cellist persona was aware of what was going on between them, you wouldn’t give a damn if she had a thing for him. The three of you acted as if that day never happened, not even telling Ryuwon about it. The violinist was a lot busier music-wise than the rest of you since she got invited to perform a concerto at her instructor’s birthday, making her practice a piece non-stop two weeks prior. So none of you practiced for those two weeks. 

You had nothing to do at home since, one, in order to finish your current song, you needed to use your cello, and two, if you were to bake, it would be disruptive. So, you simply went out all the time to see if you could do anything and hopefully get inspiration to write new songs.

Those times may have been unlucky for you because no matter where you went, the stupid bassist would always be there. Each time you saw him, it was always the same: he would go up to you and make small talk, would clown you all the time, and at the end of the day, you would find yourself writing a few lines for ‘Sour Grapes.’ 

The first time he encountered you was at a music store. Not the store in the studios, but a studio that’s at the opposite end of the city. You both stared at each other in bewilderment, him wondering why you’re here and how you should be asking the same since he clearly works at one. He brought up that you left the resort early, and you simply told him important matters came up. 

“You didn’t get to eat the desserts I gave you,” he pouts. “I had to give them all away to new fans.”

“What a bummer,” you sarcastically remark. 

“You should do that all the time when I have gigs.”

“Keep dreaming, Bubble Bass,” you say, walking away from him, but he keeps following you.

“When will you start calling me by my actual name?” He asks while looking through vinyls of classical composers. Disgust grows on his face with each vinyl cover he looks at. Seriously, he doesn’t understand how one can only listen to classical music. 

“I could say the same. It’s always ‘pretty girl’ but never (Name).”

“But you are pretty.”

“Go home, weirdo.”

Little did you know that you went home before him and slept for twelve hours straight. By the time you woke up, it was already four in the morning. That sleep was probably the best you’ve ever slept in your entire life. Your hand reached for your journal that was lying on the nightstand, and you didn’t think you’d ever write another line.

‘I’m the only one who’s going to get hurt.’

Mingyu heard of the grand opening of a new cafe that was a block away from the studio; he had a feeling you were going. So there he stood by the corner of the building, waiting in line. He didn’t think there would be such a long line, but what did he expect? Everyone just loves coffee.

He’s suddenly thanking his genes for his height when he tiptoed to look at the front of the line. He instantly recognizes you, who was entering with a group of friends. He steps back down and rethinks. Since when did you have friends, and how the hell were you earlier than him? The line was moving, but he only had to take two steps. He’s going to be here forever. 

Around twenty minutes later, Mingyu finally entered the cafe. He scanned around; the place was minimal and the decor was cute, something you definitely like. 

When you saw him walk in, you were quick to hide your face by turning your head to face one of your friends and whispering in her ear. You mentioned the ‘don’t look’ code, but you knew that never works and looked at Mingyu. Her eyes moved a lot from her cup of coffee to him to your eyes and back at her coffee. The more her eyes were on him, it clicked in her head why he looked so familiar. 

She turns her head to whisper back in your ear, your face still away from his direction. “Wasn’t he your hallway crush from high school?” She questioned before you lightly pushed her away from the idea. You forgot how your hallway crush looked since you last saw him years ago, but there was no way he was Mingyu. He was hotter and more talented than the latter. 

But the idea still struck you. Him? Sure, there were some similarities, like being the bassist of a band and being super tall, but that’s mostly all bassists you’ve encountered. Your friend is just tripping. Or maybe you don’t want to admit that it could be him. You take a quick glance at him, who was by the counter ordering, and the more you look, you can’t help but think that he might be the bassist you wrote a song about.

‘It’s bittersweet that I don’t wanna taste.’

Two weeks have passed, and you’re here sitting in Yoonhee’s car next to the violinist, adjusting her necklace for her. The four of you are on your way to drop her off at the birthday party before the rest of you go to a nightclub. You all agreed that while she was at her instructor’s party, you’d be at the club until she called to go home. 

There were a few rules Ryuwon established, such as if Yoonhee was drunk, either you or she would drive, and the club had to be near where the violinist would be in case something happened. Luckily, after you dropped off the violinist, you were able to find a club that was two blocks away from the banquet. 

“Wanna bet who’s gonna get hit on first?” Yoonhee asked as you three were heading to the entrance of the club.

“Hmmm, Ryu, for sure, her back is showing,” you say, poking her revealing back.

"Yeah, and I’ll tell them three hundred ways to go get lasik because they clearly can’t see the ring on my finger,” Ryuwon provoked. “If they aren’t actually blind, it’s either you two.”

“(Name) would be the last to go home with a guy because she hates men,” Yoonhee mentions. 

After you finally go in, Ryuwon speaks up. “Nah, (Name) doesn’t hate men; she’s loyal. And besides, we all know she has a thing for men who play bass, whether it’s someone that plays double bass or bass guitar, mainly bass guitar—which, yuck, by the way!”

“I do not! Everyone knows I hate bassists, especially if they’re men,” you retort.

“Says the one who used to like one back in grade nine.”

“And has a bassist head over heels for her!” Yoonhee adds. 

“Speak of the devils,” you mutter when you spot the band sitting by the bar with the bespectacled guitarist missing in the picture. Out of all places and times, why do they have to be here? 

As you looked by your side, the two had already run off, and you swore you were going to kill them if you saw them. You’re all alone, and there’s a fifty percent chance you might run into Mingyu. Maybe if you avoid him for the night, you won’t have to talk to him; just pray he doesn’t approach you. 

You sat on the end of a couch and spotted Yoonhee in the crowd. Just as you were about to go up to her, an aggravating and well-recognized voice stopped you from getting up.

“The club is the last place I thought I’d ever see you,” Mingyu brought up, who was standing next to the arm of the sofa you were sitting on. “What are you even doing here?”

“My friend is performing at a birthday party, so the three of us agreed we’d go clubbing while she’s busy.”

“That’s ironic; so is mine. My friend’s dad’s birthday is today, and his dad is a violin teacher. Who knows, they could be attending the same one.”

Your mind trails back to the day you found out she and the guitarist were friends. “I found out they’ve been seeing each other.”

“That’s odd; Wonwoo was never the romantic type. Is that why he’s always gone?” Now it’s really convincing that the violinist and he have connections. She mentioned his name once in a conversation, but no one bothered asking who he was. 

“While you’re here, want a drink?” He asks. 

“Not much of a drinker, but sure.”

You both head to the bar, and as you sit on the stool, Mingyu gives cocktail recommendations. He suggests a lot that you’ve heard of, like Margarita and Mojito, but never tried since you only ever drink once every two or three months. He mentions one that catches your attention, and you immediately ask for that one.

Strawberry Daiquiri. 

While waiting for your drink, Mingyu comments that it’s his personal favourite, mainly because it’s strawberry-flavoured. That made you realize he likes a lot of things strawberry-related, like you. The muffins, the refresher, fighting over a pack of strawberries, and the daiquiri—your love for the fruit is the only thing you two have in common.

Surprisingly, he’s still talking to you despite not saying anything but nodding. You’re listening, and for some reason, you’re glad you have company. The bartender places the drink on the counter, and Mingyu eagerly watches you hold it. You brought the brim to your lips, and the first sip was strong. It tasted more delectable than you expected, and you were quick to down half the glass.

You feel bad for keeping the conversation one-sided, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. It kept going, and before you knew it, your drink was already finished. You asked for another one, and this time the conversation was mutual. You two were on the topic of music, and you got to know a little bit about him from his implications.

From what he mentions, his band has been going on since high school, and he once injured his arm so much that his little sister had to replace him for a while. He was never serious about music and played for fun. You remember earlier that he knew how to play the guitar, and apparently, he used to be a guitarist until he learned that the bass was much easier. He mentioned the school he went to, and that information alone confirms he was the bassist you had a crush on. 

Your words were starting to slur, and you don’t know how you ended up confessing that you went to school with him—still trying not to mention that he was the reason why you started writing songs. You finished your second drink quicker than your first one and laid your head on the counter before asking for a third. While drinking your third one, the words coming out of your mouth are foreign to you. When you tried getting up from your seat, you almost stumbled, but Mingyu was lucky enough to catch you, his hand on your waist.

“You know if I was sober right now, I’d punch you for holding me like this,” you mumble. He doesn’t say anything in return. Your faces are close, and his lips are practically hovering over yours. 

He leans in more to your ear and whispers. “I’d like to see you try.”

After that, the rest of the night was a blur, only remembering how his other hand held the back of your neck, your back pressed against the cold wall, and your fingers brushing against his soft hair.

TRACK_005_KISSYOU

Jihyo opened the front door to the sight of you standing there, holding your cello and a few cardboard boxes lying on the porch. She looks like she just woke up with bedhead, with a blanket covering her upper body. She rubs her eyes as she tilts her head as to why you’re on her doorstep, and then she remembers. “You told me it was next week!” she yells.

“Yeah, I told you that last week!”

The band practiced late at night often, and it started to piss your quartet off and ruin everyone’s rest, so you all decided to move out. The agreement stayed the same: every Saturday, group practice in your brother’s basement. Ryuwon rented a small condominium, while the violinist and Yoonhee moved in with their group of friends. As for you, you decided to be housemates with your cousin Jihyo since the only payment she accepts is your offering to pay for groceries and the bill for fine dining. You’re grateful to have Jihyo because, without her, you might be living in Joshua’s basement again. 

She pushes each box inside the house with her foot. As unfazed as she is when pushing it, it’s lighter than she thought it would be. Knowing you, when it comes to packing, you pack lightly, which is why on flights abroad, some of your friends would add their own personal belongings to your luggage because ‘there’s a lot of space.’ 

Jihyo led you to your room, which was still empty, as she had planned on decorating it tomorrow if she knew you were coming this week. Still, as long as you had a bed and a desk, it was fine. You were quick to drop your cello and lie down on your new bed. If there was something that you were glad to know, it was that Jihyo’s parents owned a mattress store, and their mattresses were known to be the softest in the city. It was like resting on a cloud, and you don’t think you could ever get up after this.

“Don’t think that you can take a break; you have some unpacking to do,” she reminds you, taking a pillow and throwing it against you. Luckily for you, the only belongings in the boxes are clothes and other necessities like skincare and your unhealthy collection of fruit-themed hair clips.

She opens a box, and it turns out to be said collection, and only that, in the box. “Damn girl, I thought you stopped collecting in grade eleven.”

“I did, but I started collecting again after I saw a cute set when I went to France, which was not too long ago,” you say, sliding off the bed. 

"Well, I can’t blame you; it’s not a bad addiction.” Jihyo puts the collection aside and helps you by unpacking more boxes with you. After several boxes were unpacked and your belongings kept tidied away, it was already past four in the afternoon. Jihyo went to cook dinner, which left you with nothing to do. You could either A: stay in bed on your phone until dinner or B: roam around the area. The first option might be better. 

The minute you lay back on your new bed, Jihyo calls your name out, then proceeds to mention you getting the mail outside for her. Damn, Jihyo really doesn’t want you resting in her house. You head out the front door to her mailbox. As you pick up all the mail, you look through the letters and offers that were sent to her. A letter from the bank, a few coupons from fast food chains, and a letter that was supposed to be sent to the house next door to Jihyo. You quickly made your way to her neighbour’s house to drop off the letter in their mailbox, but by the time you turned around to leave their porch, a living nightmare froze at their gates, holding eye contact with you.

“Long time no see?” Mingyu comments but is perplexed by the sight of you. ‘Long time no see,’ as in the last time he ever saw you was the night you went clubbing, and that will be the last time you’ll ever go to a club. Ever since that night, you started avoiding Mingyu because, to be honest, you didn’t really know what actually happened that night between you two. You were scared of what he was going to say, like mentioning the fact that you probably made out with him—which you’re not too sure if you actually did. 

Luckily, when Ryuwon brought up moving, you were quick to agree, mainly because this was a chance to escape Mingyu’s clutches. The reason why you specifically asked Jihyo to be her housemate was due to the fact that she lived in the suburbs, which is far from the music plaza. So how the hell did you encounter Mingyu at your secret hideout place that was half an hour away from his place?

“What are you doing here now?!” you complained. 

“I live here? What are you doing in front of my house?” Live. You. His house. He’s your neighbour again? And just as you thought you could escape, he has another place to stay that just has to be next to yours again. Seriously, what’s up with rich boys and having houses everywhere? 

“Your mail went into my mailbox; I just didn’t think it was your mail.” You clarified, stepping down from his porch. You didn’t think too much about the letter when you saw the owner’s last name. ‘Kim’ is a typical last name, and it could’ve been anyone. Unfortunately, that ‘Kim’ was related to Kim Mingyu. Mingyu looks to his left, looking at the house you were currently living in. 

“You moved out? Is that why your apartment was suddenly quiet?” He asks. Out of nowhere, your quartet’s apartment was dead silent. He noticed how no one left or entered, and he never saw you or your members around the plaza. And now that he thinks about it, he never saw you around the area. You weren’t sitting at a usual café or looking for CDs in the music store. He even went to the café you worked at in hopes he'd find you working, but you weren’t there behind the counter. 

“Yeah, we all did because we were tired of your band’s bullshit. You won.” You say, walking past him and leaving his property to go to yours. Leaving that band alone was supposed to be a new era—no more rivalries and only playing for yourself. Mingyu, however, just keeps coming back into your life, and it’s sickening. 

The following several days of staying at Jihyo’s, you noticed a pattern of when Mingyu would go to his house. It turns out it’s his childhood house, and he visits his family four times a week. Ever since he found out you’re his neighbour once again, he has visited you on the same days. 

One time, you came back from work and found Mingyu sprawled and napping on your bed. You kicked him off your bed, started throwing pillows at him when he woke up, and kept calling him a pervert. Apparently, when he was looking for you, Jihyo let him in and told him to wait until you came back—but what she didn’t know was that you hate his guts. 

When you tried kicking him out of the house, she caught you two and asked why you were kicking your boyfriend out. The moment she called him your boyfriend, Mingyu's lips grew a smirk, and he snaked his arm around your shoulders. 

You were irked when he continued with, “Yeah, love, why are you?” Jihyo was, without a doubt, geeked out. You were quick to push him away and tell her that he wasn’t your boyfriend. She offered to stay for dinner, as Mingyu thought it was a great idea while you thought it was a horrible idea. 

Eventually, he did stay over for dinner since the only person who was terrifying to fight was none other than Jihyo. She made the two of you sit next to each other, and the only thing she talked about was embarrassing you in front of him, telling him how you once cried over your orange falling in the toilet and how you always mistook some random person in the hallways as her. 

It was humiliating to the point where you left the room for a few seconds. Bad idea, you thought. Who knows what kind of bullshit Jihyo will tell him? You quickly came back to your seat just as she finished whispering to him, causing him to smile a little. Jihyo excused herself to the bathroom, and it was just you two, eating in silence. 

Whatever your cousin told him is making you nervous since Mingyu isn’t talking at all—and he always has something to say. You take a small glance at him, who was already looking at you, and turn your head away. Did he catch you staring at him? Or did you catch him staring at you? 

"So, what’s the song called?” He asked without context. Song? Whatever Jihyo told him has to be music-related; otherwise, he wouldn’t be asking at all. What did she tell him, though?

“What song?”

“Your cousin told me you wrote a song about me back in high school.” What the fuck? Self-note to your next life: never tell anyone about your crushes. You internally push the panic button, and your jaw only drops. You’re left speechless, debating whether you should lie to him by telling him Jihyo says anything for the plot or be honest and confess you liked him before. 

“It was just a poetry assignment, nothing special,” you clarify, lying about the last part because you know damn well it was dedicated to him. 

He moves his face close to yours, innocently smiling and holding eye contact with you, as your faces are most likely two inches away from kissing. “Does that mean you like me?” He teases as he tilts his head. 

You shoved his face away and started yelling at him. “It was freshman year! Any girl would have liked you more!”

“Well, now that I know you were one of those girls, I wish I had known you back then.” He starts laughing, as your hand is the only thing that's creating a barrier between you two. Jihyo comes back and asks what he was laughing about. 

Without answering her, you immediately asked her, “Did you tell him I liked him?”

She grinned as if she were clueless and took a closer look at Mingyu. “Ohh! So you were the bassist in my Geo class,” she commented and turned to you. “No, I only told him you were downright horrendous for a guy who plays bass, to the point where you wrote a song about him.”

You groaned and sank in your seat. “Remind me to never tell you about any man I like.” While your eyes are shut, Jihyo looks at Mingyu, then at you and back at Mingyu, and starts wiggling her eyebrows. He looks away while he coughs aggressively and gets up from his seat as you sit properly. 

“I should probably get going. It was nice meeting you again,” he concludes, shaking Jihyo’s hand. You all head to the front, and before he heads out, he looks at you once more and beams. “Goodnight, you two. Dream of me, (Name)!” He jokes before you push him out the door. 

Unbeknownst to you, you dreamt of him that night—and you can’t deny that the idea of it made you giggle just a bit when you woke up.

TRACK_006_BREAKINGNEWS

Mingyu literally flipped when he finally got your number. It took him several months to convince you to give him your number. Whenever you asked why, he would simply answer with ‘cause why not’ or ‘don’t worry about it.’ Since then, he would text you nonstop whenever you two didn’t see each other, always starting by asking about your day and ending it off with goodnight texts at three in the morning.

He would also call you out of the blue, always giggling like a little girl whenever you answered his calls, and ramble random things about his day to you. Mingyu likes talking to you, and he loves it when you talk to him. His day isn’t complete without annoying you, even if it’s just for a few minutes. 

Unfortunately, his time is up with you. 

“I’m sorry?” He asks after hearing what Seungcheol, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, told him. His friend randomly woke him up after his fourteen-hour sleep to tell him he had to go on a date soon.

“I set you up with someone, and your date is in,” Seungcheol mentions as he checks his watch for the time, “three hours.”

Mingyu quickly sat up and began to make random noises, shouting a bunch of ‘whys.’. 

Seungcheol tossed him a shirt and explained. “Well, once upon a time, I went for your beautiful sister. Vernon doesn’t mind the idea of dating, and Wonwoo is in love with music. It’s your turn.” Before Mingyu could defend himself, Seungcheol spoke up again: “And if you’re gonna mention that cellist, she’s our rival; don’t get yourself attached to someone who’s willing to sabotage your career.”

He’s right. Knowing you, you can drop the act and ruin everything he worked hard for. You’re dangerous. But he loves danger and wants to take the risk. 

[Mingyu]: i survived!!!!

You were the first person Mingyu texted after his date. Long story short, he doesn’t want to go on another date. Seungcheol set him up with another bassist from a girl band. He wasn’t interested at all and would’ve preferred someone who didn’t play the same instrument as him, like a drummer or a cellist. 

He’s engulfed in the warmth of his blanket, waiting for your reply to his message that he sent two hours ago. When it comes to texting, you’re very odd. You text people like you’re a mother. You would leave his messages on seen and text back hours later. He knows you’re a busy person, but he also knows you prefer calling over texting. 

Seungcheol crashes into his room and slams himself on Mingyu’s bed. “How was the date?” He asks. 

“Not a big fan. I prefer drummers,” he lies, keeping his eyes on his phone, still waiting for your response. 

“Good choice. Your sister is a great example; she, a talented bassist, went for a hot drummer,” he comments, pointing at himself. Mingyu shrugs in response and doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. Seungcheol heavily sighs and snatches Mingyu’s phone from him. He glances at the screen and shuts it off. 

“I’ll find a drummer for you, cause they’re rock stars, and rock stars don’t play the cello,” he provoked, tossing his phone back to the owner and leaving his room. Mingyu’s phone flashes open, a notification popping up on his lock screen.

[You]: The date?

[Mingyu]: yeah

[Mingyu]: it was the worst

[Mingyu]: i dont get along with my kind of people

[You]: You would be a very horrible boyfriend.

[Mingyu]: ur horrible boyfriend ;)

Thumbs down. That was how you responded to that—reacting to the message with a thumbs-down emoji. Mingyu chuckles at your reply and shuts his phone off. He can feel his heart beating fast. He likes to tease you by shipping you with himself, but it was always just jokes. This joke, however, has him thinking what it would be like to date you. He likes the sound of that—(Name)’s horrible boyfriend, Mingyu. Maybe he won’t mind going on a date with you. 

12:37 AM. Mingyu had another date at seven in the evening with a drummer. Seungcheol expected him to come back in three hours, but when it was already almost midnight, he assumed the date was successful and thought he slept with her. In reality, the date ended earlier than he expected. As soon as Mingyu had met up with her, she was honest and admitted that she was forced to be here as well. He left right after and secretly went over to your house. 

You were in the middle of baking strawberry cheesecake cookies, requested by Jihyo while she was at work. The cookies were in the oven when Mingyu rang the doorbell. When you opened the door to his face, you closed it before he could even greet you. 

“I brought ice cream,” he mentioned, trying to convince you. The door creaked open, and he let himself in, watching you head to the kitchen to take the sheet pan out of the oven. He places the plastic bag on the coffee table and sprawls on the couch. You come into the living room, quickly place the plate of cookies and two spoons on the table, and sit next to Mingyu. 

As he tries to grab a cookie, you slap his hand away from it. “Not for you.”

“So you’re just gonna put it on the table in front of my eyes and expect me not to eat it?!” He complains as you nod in response. “Ouch, princess, you might just be the cause of my death.”

“Do you expect me to feed you whenever you show up to my house uninvited?”

“Pretty much an unspoken rule between us.”

“Uh, no, we did not establish that at all.”

He pouts, his attempt at distracting you from his hand sneaking to the plate, which easily caught your eye before you slapped it away again. You pass the TV remote to Mingyu as you look through the flavours of ice cream in the bag that he brought. Cookies & Cream, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Neapolitan, Mint Chocolate Chip, and the best flavour out there, Strawberry Cheesecake—which is no doubt the one you picked. 

You look back up to the TV, where Mingyu was about to start playing a musical. “I’m feeling a High School Musical marathon right now.” He looks at you, his eyes practically pleading for you to say yes. You give in and agree, him cheering and quickly pressing the play button as a result. 

Mingyu gets weirder and weirder each time you meet him. He’s a whole different person when he’s not on stage, like he’s about to conquer the world. How he went from an intimidating bassist to a man who can’t even kill a spider to save his life. You doubt he would be able to protect his image from the public. 

All this doesn’t mean he’s a bad person, though. Despite you saying a lot of awful things about him, there are some parts of him that you tolerate. Even though he bugs you all the time, he’s a caring person who doesn’t want you to be lonely—although you prefer being alone all the time. His smile is a little detail you notice about him—how his grin gets wider each time he sees you. 

Does he know you’ve been staring at him instead of the screen since the movie started?

After you two finished the first movie, you suggested watching the second one since your cousin wasn’t home yet and she hasn’t even replied to your texts. So you ended up watching the whole trilogy while eating the cookies that were about to get cold. By the time you finished the third movie, it was already past eleven in the evening, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Jihyo. Mingyu played a documentary to pass time, which was mundane, so you two pan out in small talk here and there instead.

Mingyu’s phone buzzes as he takes it out to look at texts from his leader. 

[Seungcheol]: enjoy ur little “date” with little miss drummer

[Seungcheol]: REALLY take ur time with her

[Seungcheol]: girls love it when ur rough

[Seungcheol]: if you know what i mean ;)

Mingyu mutters out a ‘yuck,’ and if you were in his shoes, you would’ve said the same thing. He glances at you, who was perhaps reading his messages with his leader, and all you did was raise a brow at him.

“I swear I’m not having sex with anyone!” He refuted, not even giving a care about leaving his friend on read.

“Sure…”

“Seriously! I’m done with going on dates with my kind of people.”

A thought popped up in your mind. Mingyu was never serious about playing in a band, so that would mean it wasn’t his first priority. Serious musicians prioritize music over relationships, so why is it that he’s not interested in dating? “How come you don’t want to date?”

Mingyu was taken aback by your question. It’s a broad topic. He actually wants to be committed to a relationship. It’s not that he doesn’t want to date, but he doesn’t want to date rockers. He sees how they act and the chaos they would start. He would know; he’s one of them. So he wants to balance it out; he would want someone who’s the opposite of him. That’s why he was so intrigued when he met you. How is he supposed to tell you he doesn’t want to date anyone but you?

He shrugs as a response instead, trying to avoid the question. You suddenly recall that time you went to the club and encountered him there. It’s been bothering you since you don’t want to believe that you kissed him, but you needed to clear it from your mind.

“What happened that night we went clubbing? Did we do something…suggestive?” You ask out of the blue. Mingyu says nothing but smiles to himself. 

“What if I said we did?” You groan at his response and cover your face. “I was kidding! We actually didn't.” He laughs sheepishly. “You assaulted me instead.”

What the hell? You always say that you’ll make your enemies pay, but you didn’t think you’d actually do it, especially when you’re drunk.

“Right after I whispered in your ear, you literally grabbed my lips. Then when I tried pulling your hand away, you pushed my face away.” When Mingyu stops explaining, you think that's it, but from his awkward expression, he definitely had more to say. “So I may or may not have gripped onto you by the neck.” ‘His other hand held the back of your neck’ was really his attempt at strangling you. 

“You splashed water on me, and when I was gonna go to the restroom to clean myself up, you followed me, so I made you stand against the wall until I was done.” ‘Your back pressed against the cold wall’ was another way of saying that he put your grown ass on time-out. 

“When I came out, you started pulling my hair, and I had to call your friend over to take you home before you could give me a second bald spot.” Mingyu turns his head and parts some of his hair out of the way to show you the small growing bald spot that you did on the back of his head. ‘Your fingers brushing against his soft hair’ is more like your hands ripping his hair out.

Damn, you can’t believe you did all of that. It doesn’t sound like you, but at the same time, it definitely does!

"Wow...” is all you can respond to about your actions. You sigh in relief, and your worries about that night are washed away. “I’m kind of relieved I did that instead. I thought we made out or something.”

The instant regret comes to you as soon as you confess your thoughts, with Mingyu slowly turning his head to face you with his awkward expression now forming into a smug face. “So you thought about us kissing, didn’t you?” Before you could defend yourself like always, you were saved by another notification that popped up on Mingyu’s phone.

[Wonwoo]: cheol said you're not coming home tonight, but I know you're not screwing with other women right now.

[Wonwoo]: I also know you're at the cellist’s house because you have your location on. so I advise you to turn it off if you don't want to get caught.

[Wonwoo]: are you going to bring her to the festival?

Mingyu looks back to you, who was actually trying to watch the documentary instead of looking at his messages. “Do you want to go to the winter music festival this Saturday?”

“Sure, I’ll bring my friends there too,” you agreed without hesitation or careful consideration, not even looking at Mingyu but keeping your eyes on the screen.

[Mingyu]: yeah, r u bringing yours

[Wonwoo]: obviously, that’s why I asked you because I don’t want to get caught.

[Wonwoo]: and if I did get in trouble, you too would be in trouble with me.

[Mingyu]: im surprised no one found out abt ur little relationship

[Wonwoo]: I’m surprised you’re not afraid that our manager knows about yours.

[Mingyu]: we’re not a thing YET!

[Mingyu]: but we should never hide what we love!!!

[Wonwoo]: …

[Wonwoo]: it is a tough world we live in.

Mingyu takes another look at you, who was dozing off from the boredom of watching. Wow, the documentary must really be that boring. He thinks about what Wonwoo said. it’s a tough world they live in. Rock and classical are never a good mix. You’re the polar opposite of what he is. He’s supposed to hate you, but there’s something about you that draws him to you. However, you’re very competitive and dedicated to the feud. Oh, how he wishes there was never rivalry in the first place.

[Mingyu]: life is hard but im harder 🗣️

[Wonwoo]: shut the hell up.

When you woke up, Mingyu was already gone, and the TV was off. The table was sparkly clean, and you found yourself wrapped in a blanket. Jihyo walked in the living room, caught off guard when she saw you sitting up. "Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” she joked as she went to sit next to you on the couch.

“What time is it?”

“Past midnight. I came home not too long ago and saw you with you-know-who.” Jihyo must’ve showed up when he was still here and kicked him out. Yeah, that’s it—or what you hope you think.

“Did he leave right after you came?”

Jihyo giggles and pulls out her phone, showing you a picture she took of you and Mingyu sleeping together on the couch. “You guys are so cute, I might just set this as my lockscreen!” You groan at her words as you get up to do your nightly routine, hoping that this won’t haunt you in your dreams like always.

Mingyu sneaked back into the apartment and quietly exulted in the lights being shut off, a sign that all his roommates were asleep. When he headed over to the kitchen for a glass of water, he heard footsteps behind him, and the lights turned on. Too afraid to turn around, he continues slowly reaching for a cup in the cabinet and places it down on the counter. It could be anyone behind him: a blind Wonwoo, a tired Vernon, a scary Seungcheol, or all three of them—but he’s especially afraid of looking face-to-face with everyone.

Instead of any of those options, the mysterious person speaks up, and he recognizes the voice a bit too well. “The fuck are you doing here?” his little sister complains before Mingyu turns his head to look at her.

“I should be asking you that. Also, be mindful and cover up!” He throws a pair of oven mitts at her, who was wearing nothing but Seungcheol’s oversized t-shirt. 

“I would’ve put on some proper clothes, but no one is here except me and Cheol—until you showed up. He told me you were fucking some girl.”

“I didn’t even tell him that; he just assumed I did.” He fills the glass with tap water and takes a sip after speaking.

“So, where were you then?”

Right, she doesn’t know about you yet, and Mingyu doesn’t want to tell her at all. She’s practically another version of Seungcheol, and she’ll snitch to him—even though he’s already on his ass because of you.

“It’s not like you would care,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, you’re right. You probably just went out to drown yourself in alcohol—you reek of beer, by the way.”

“Whatever.” Mingyu leaves the kitchen and makes his way to his room. She’s not entirely wrong. He stayed in the parking lot for half an hour, drinking beer before he decided to sneak in.

Saturday rolls by, and you show up at the festival with your quartet. The field is covered with people, but there’s a decent amount, like most music festivals. The violinist had already gone off into the crowd—most likely to see her man. You’re 100% sure she was invited before you were since she brought it up to the other two before you could. Ryuwon thought this was a perfect time for the four of you to bond, and well, Yoonhee only agreed to come for the food. You want to say you’re here for the vibes and just to explore other artists, but honestly, you only came because Mingyu asked you to.

It was only just the three of you walking around, and in a crowd like this, you doubt you can find Mingyu anywhere. A jazz band was in the middle of performing, and you don’t know if a few bands had already passed or if this was the first band on stage. All you know is that his band is fifth in the line-up, so you’ll just have to wait for the announcement.

“I wonder why they didn’t invite us to perform. It’s literally in our name, Snow Swan,” Yoonhee pondered, looking at a pamphlet that was most likely about the festival.

"Well, there’s always next winter,” Ryuwon reasoned. She picked up a sample cup of hot chocolate from people handing it out and downed it in seconds. “For now, let’s just enjoy what it’s like to be the audience.”

The three of you were roaming around the field, visiting pop-up shops, vibing to the bands performing, and spending most of your time in the food stalls—mainly that last bit. As you were in the middle of eating a potsticker, you overheard a group of girls talking about Mingyu’s band and that they were going to make sure they got to see them up close when they performed. They ramble about how hot they look when they play and how they would love to be serenaded by them. Hah, if only they knew how miserable it feels to be tormented by them. 

The fourth band finishes their performance by the time you finish your plate of potstickers, and the speaker announces that Cherry Bass will be up in less than five minutes. You hurry your way over to the stage, where there were hundreds of people piled up in front just to see Mingyu’s band perform. They were in the middle of preparing their instruments, as the audience was already getting ecstatic over them. You can barely see their faces from where you’re standing, and you doubt Mingyu can locate you.

Their drummer starts off their first song, and the crowd goes wild before they even start singing. Throughout the whole song, you can only hear Mingyu’s bass, despite him being the quietest out of all of them. The cellist in you can recognize his rhythm, his slap bass, his fingerstyle, and even his muting. There’s some groove to it and a bit of funk, but it’s still rock. You hate rock; you’ve always despised it. But the way Mingyu plays it has you thinking otherwise. 

Why does he have to be a rock star? Why couldn’t he just play something normal like the double bass? He’s a stupid man who plays the bass; he just had to be a bassist. The rhythm is pounding—is it even the rhythm, or is your heart just beating really loud and fast? You spent the rest of the performance listening to their setlist, mainly focusing on Mingyu’s parts. You can’t lie; he is good at the bass, like he always says. 

The band left the stage, and the majority of the audience disappeared too. “They were good,” the violinist comments, who was watching right next to you the whole time. Like you, she was gazing at her guitarist friend. You can tell she has no shame in their friendship and ignores the whole rivalry that surrounds them.

“Yeah, really good.” The two of you walked around the field, trying to find the other two while looking through some pop-up shops. One of the shops was selling tote bags, and they were selling a particular bag that was displaying a giant embroidered strawberry on both sides. You spent such a long time admiring the bag and considering buying it that you didn’t even notice someone was creeping up behind you.

“Hey pretty, long time no see,” Mingyu jokes. He eyes you, then the bag, then back to you. “Never thought you would show up, honestly.”

You put down the bag and began to walk away as Mingyu followed you from behind. “I never skip music festival days—unless it’s country, then that’s when I’ll dip.”

“Guess that’s a sign I shouldn’t switch to country.”

You both leave the tent, and to your surprise, flurries of snow start falling. It’s a beautiful sight, and you're glad you brought a scarf with you. “Hey, it’s snowing!” You exclaim, reaching your hand out to look at the intricate detail of each different snowflake. You admire each one of them as some fall on your hands again and the former ones melt away.

Mingyu ruffles your hair while he watches you admire the snowflakes. “You’re getting snow in your hair; you look like you have dandruff,” he jokes. 

You bent down to grab snow from the ground and threw it at his face. “And you look like Frosty right now.” He wipes the snow off his face, and you both laugh it off. He gazes at you, who’s not even noticing that he’s looking at you while you’re busy laughing your ass off. You stop eventually, and somehow, you two make eye contact.

Neither of you is talking, and all you can ever hear is the pop band playing in the background.

‘If it’s okay with you, I think I’m gonna love you for a long time.’

You look into Mingyu’s eyes. He’s not saying anything, and you don’t think he’ll say a single word in the next minute. Look away, (Name), while you have the chance. This is odd, yet it feels so intimate.

To Mingyu, you look like a flock of doves or maybe a dancing swan. You’ve always looked pretty in his eyes, but today, it’s different. He can’t tell if it’s the way you styled your hair up, did your makeup simple, or the ivory outfit you picked out. But you look so beautiful that he feels he doesn’t deserve to look at you.

A smile creeps up on his face, and you scowl, lightly punching his shoulder after. “You weirdo! Don’t go silent on me like that.” All he responded was a chuckle, and you two walked into the crowd to listen to the band.

‘I think I’m gonna love you for my whole life.’

more from rhin, this is originally a spin off to an unreleased hhu band au (which is why the violinist and mg’s sister are unnamed bc they were supposed to ww’s and sc’s readers). i most likely won’t continue the other works since when i first came up with this idea, i used to be a violinist but i quit so i don’t remember anything abt the violin😭 this is actually my old writing style so i didnt even bother changing things other than fixing the grammar lmao. i hope u guys liked reading this as much i loved writing this!

svt masterlist .ᐟ

[ts19009]

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 5

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: June 2nd, 2025)

when their bb girl steals ur phone @mi9yuz

the small romantic gestures that seventeen would be @fairyhaos

Kim Mingyu

guilty as sin (the thought crosses your mind that this is something you definitely shouldn't be doing. that what you're just about to do will be a terribly wrong move for you and your freshly broken heart.) @toruro

clarity (bf's best friend mingyu, (awkward) acquaintances to lovers, the other side of the f2l trope, angst, smut, you could say there's a drizzle of fluff) @hannieoftheyear

pure coincidence (office worker!mingyu x officer worker!reader) @sluttyminghao

that’s so true ❤️‍🩹(exes!mingyu x reader.) @studioeisa

The Admirer Was Right in Front of You — Kim Mingyu (Non-idol au, college au, romance (?), comedy, modern au (no specific setting, but contemporary vibe), slice of life and light-hearted mystery ) @mylovesstuffs

STRAWBERRY SCENTED STRINGS (bassist! mingyu x cellist! f reader) @himewonu

SAVE THE DATE (5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.) @goldenhourology

Back To Me (Mingyu or Hansol? You finally decide who you want to be with.) @xomakara

still yours (exes to lovers, second chance romance, fluff, angst, smut MDNI!) @cherrynpink

Theories & Heartstrings (Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.) @wongyuseokie

croissant cravings (A seating chart mix-up has you crossing paths with a very good-looking pastry chef. ) @facethesunflower

Let Me Hear You Say... (mut (minor dni), heavy angst, fluff, toxic, ranch au, brothers best friend au) @onlymingyus

KITTY'S GOT CLAWS (a svt spiderman x jujutsu kaisen au (what a mouthful >< ), spiderman!mingyu, blackcat!reader, lots of banter, mild fighting scenes = mentions of blood and injuries !!, fluff with angst if you squint) @yi2huo

might let you make me juno @straylightdream

good behavior (just smut tbh) @ddeonghwa-s

Jeon Wonwoo

My Ride or Die (Late one night, you're attacked outside the library—your bag stolen and safety shattered. But someone saw everything. A mysterious stranger steps in to recover what was lost. What begins as a random rescue soon hints at deeper intentions and unexpected connections.) @missgraylock

WHAT IF you were wonwoo’s gf and almost got caught during NANA TOUR surprises… @cherriicou

good sport | wicked games series (bartender wonwoo, bartender mingyu, messy love triangle, friends with benefits, right person wrong time) @hannieween

on call (you'd never sleep in an on-call room, but that doesn't mean you won't find other uses for it.) @kkaetnipjeon

first love/late spring (first love/s, feelings realization/denial, reincarnation.) @studioeisa

The Fine Print (Enemies to Lovers | Fake Dating | Revenge Pact | Forced Marriage Fallout) @kathaelipwse

Lip Tint Stains and Hair Ties (childhood friends to lovers, school, college, slow burn, fluff, one shot, peachesndreams) @shineesbackbitches

Yours to Keep (Before leaving for military service, Wonwoo hands you a disposable camera, saying, "Take a picture whenever you think of me." At first, you laugh it off, but as the days pass, you find yourself reaching for the camera more often than you expected) @nerdycheol

make 'em sweat (introducing you to his friends doesn't go quite the way wonwoo expected (title from water by seventeen ; technically a sequel to fuck the neighbors but can be read as a standalone) @sluttywonwoo

progress report: i am missing you to death - jww(Childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, college au) @imnotshua

CHEMTRAILS (Wonwoo is the last person you expect to find at a grief support group, but he may just be the peace that you need to weather all of your storms.) @vampsol

Warning Signal (In a treacherous turn of events, your most recent mission gets tangled with Wonwoo's, the last person you'd want to partner up with. As the lives of your targets get more and more intertwined, and your plan gets more complicated, memories of the past and feelings you thought you could put aside threaten to ruin the mission.) @hannieoftheyear

A New Vendetta (Wonwoo x Mafia's daughter reader) @thedensworld

wish you were here (you don't do long-distance. you never have, and you never will. not unless it's jeon wonwoo - and those chances are slim, as it is.) @haologram

My Brother's Bestfriend (fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper) @honeyhaeya

SLACKING OFF. ( being technologically averse, yet a complete control freak to your core, you tend to annoy senior IT specialist, jeon wonwoo, to no end. but after an apology brings you two closer together, wonwoo finds himself reaching out to you more often than not. on and off slack. despite what you two had originally perceived, you find yourself thrown into feelings that neither of you could've ever prepared for.) @goldenhourology

Hong Jisoo

tough love? (boy dad!joshua, parents au, teeth rotting fluff, domestic asf) @mvnscloud

heaven knows (non-idol au, seminary student joshua, hurt/comfort (??), secret relationship, mentions of church, joshua is the pastor's son, mutual pining, physical touching (ex: hugging, holding hands), pet names (joshua calls reader baby), they are not slick your honor everyone knows they're in love) @seokminfilm

When Tangerines Give You Lemons (joshua fluff, joshua angst, joshua both, joshua breathing, joshua existing, non-idol!au, lawyer!au, hurt & comfort, angst first fluff later kinda; a warm rain after a heavy storm) @moonstarsunflower

Break (h.js) (Witch!Joshua x Cursed!Reader) @sailorsoons

dude, nice try! masterlist (strangers to lovers, revenge fic, humor, smau bits) @joshujin

starting again (you're wallowing in self-pity at your friends' wedding after being cheated on. you think you're unworthy of love until you meet someone who changes your mind.) @wonwootattoo

i can still see it all. (best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, non au, set in svtverse, idol!joshua, hairstylist!reader, some angst, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling, dacryphilia, teasing, fingering, multiple orgasms, drunk sex, mentions of alcohol.) @woncheolisms

we both 🐚 (romance, friendship, light angst. 🐚 includes. mentions of food, death; cussing/swearing. alternate universe: non-idol; joshua is a marine biologist. bad-at-being-exes/exes to ???) @studioeisa

blurring the lines (you think you know everything about your best friend, dashing bachelor joshua hong. when you stumble upon his suggestive literature from his recent travels, however, reading even an extract is enough to make you question everything. unsure of your newfound feelings, you turn to your confidante, unaware of just how much knowledge—and experience—he has to offer.) @amourcheol

begging for the next (no one needs to know what you and joshua get up to except the two of you.) @100vern

Yoon Jeonghan

dropout | part one (okay, so you dropped out of law school. and you need a job. and the only job your wildly specific resume can get you is… lifeguard at the local 3.2-star water park, and the person assigned to supervise you at your new post is the mysterious and gorgeous yoon jeonghan. what could possibly go wrong? ) @kkaetnipjeon

always the lover, never the loved (lovers to ??? ; angst, mentions of suggestive themes) @haologram

Undue Influence (lawyer fem!reader x lawyer!jeonghan) @starlightxsvt

the final defense of the dying (hunger games mentor!jeonghan x tribute!reader.) @studioeisa (IM OBSESSED WITH THIS ONE)

Even Dumbasses Deserve Love (Yoon Jeonghan, your beautiful, wonderful, amazing, dumb-ass of a best friend who somehow doesn't see how hopelessly in love with him you are. ) @cheers-to-you-th

like starglight (howl’s moving castle-inspired au, fluff, humour, romance, magic!) @gallivantingheart

𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 (after an arranged marriage you come to realize that your new husband, the crown prince, and his kingdom are not like anything you expected) @yerimacoustic

Lee Seokmin

you deserve each other (co-workers seokmin x reader.) @studioeisa

Best Neighbor of All Time Award | Lee Seokmin (M) (Seokmin is the best neighbor you've ever had, making it impossible not to fall for his charms.) @drunk-on-dk

picture of a perfect rose (n total years of your whole life, you met Seokmin only twice. That will change drastically starting now. Because the young King is unfortunately a good person, loves his mother, and a true believer in good of people. No matter how hard it is to find and how cold he looks outside.) @youngwonhui

You Know What They Say About Men With Big Feet @hansols-yoda-boxers

Lee Chan

Cherry Sours (l.c) (Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Strangers to Lovers) @sailorsoons

CHWE HANSOL

Dark Gospel (c.hs) (After experiencing what you’re sure is a possession, you try to help Vernon get his old self back. Except - Vernon doesn’t want his old self back and you’re not sure you hate the new Vernon either. ) @sailorsoons

KISS 'ER UP (CHV) pt. 1 (baseball player!vernon x fashion designer/fan!reader) @shuastar

Kwan Soonyoung

in the zone | ksy (strangers to lovers, (accidental) roommates; smut, fluff, lite angst) @100vern

we can be all we need (best friends to lovers, idiots in love, a bit of miscommunication, angst for like one second, happy ending) @joshujin

the accidental kiss (fluff, comedy, strangers to lovers au, college au, idiots to idiots in love, profanity, alcohol consumption—please let me know if i’ve missed anything!) @fxstpace

busy woman @straylightdream

Echoes of Summer (Get ready for the most unforgettable summer yet at Camp Logan, where lifelong memories are made, friendships are strengthened, and old crushes make new appearances.) @mr-cha-n

red wine supernova (friends to lovers, childhood friend to lovers, romance, fluff, smut) @straylightdream

Xu Minghao

Rain Room (x.mh) (Waterpark Worker!Mingao x Waterpark Worker!Reader) @sailorsoons

the quiet world (minghao saves his words for you.) @studioeisa

[mydearandy]

texts with your ex! boyfriend keeho

sypnosis ; your ex boyfriend keeho who you caught cheating on you is trying to get back into your life!

warnings : keeho cheated, reader is kind of a dick but he deserves it, heavy boundaries, cheating, mentions of oral sex

#taglist - @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @choxochip, @jiungs-wednesdaygirl , @xxxykvv, @louis4sho, @alienslostinworld

[nothoughtsjustfic]

X Marks the Spot - K.SY

🏴‍☠️Who: Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader 🏴‍☠️What: Humour. Best friends to Lovers. I guess some fluff? Suggestive (18+). 🏴‍☠️Word count: 5.9k 🏴‍☠️Warnings: Profanity. Party typical alcohol mentions but neither of them are drinking. Kind of jealous/ possessive Soonyoung. Making out in public places. Multiple mentions of Soonyoung’s dick (flaccid, unfortunately). The whole point of this story is Soonyoung in a costume marketed for women; so if that's not your vibe, then this story is not for you, friend. 🏴‍☠️Summary:

For some insane reason, you thought that you could trust your best friend with the task of buying the pair of you costumes for Seungkwan’s upcoming party. Now, you’re paying for your mistake and have to spend the entire night watching Soonyoung dancing in those tiny little shorts initially intended for you. You’re not sure you’ll survive this night with your dignity intact.

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.

Masterlist

A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I’ve decided to private a lot of stuff on that account and just move it over to here after some editing, where I can actually track it all properly.

Completely out of the blue last week, Seungkwan decided to send a message in the group chat to say that he's throwing a costume party. No reason for it, nothing had happened to warrant a party; he had simply decided he wanted to do it and demanded the entire group be there and in costume.

Soonyoung had, unsurprisingly, already been by your side on your couch— watching the latest episode of the drama you two are obsessed with—, when the message came through. After the episode, you both looked at your phones, and Soonyoung immediately started to look for costume ideas excitedly. He soon found and fell in love with a pirate outfit; after showing you it, he said it's part of a couple costume and as besties, you have to match because “that's what besties do”.

In the year you have known Soonyoung, you have never truly said no to him and this was no different. Though, perhaps, you should've at least looked at the female half of the matching costume before agreeing instead of blindly trusting your best friend.

Which leads us to here.

It's an hour before the party is due to start, and Soonyoung has just turned up at your apartment to get ready together, just like always. He has the parcel of costumes in his arms, and a bright, excited grin on his face when he hands it over to you to allow him to remove his shoes.

“I haven't opened it yet,” he informs, watching you walk over to the couch to lean the parcel against the arm and open it like you know he wants you to. Soonyoung knows you get an odd sense of joy from opening parcels— whether or not they're for you—, so he often brings his orders over or invites you to his apartment to allow you to open them for him.

“So I see,” you muse with a little giggle.

Soonyoung appears at your back a moment later, leaning his chin on your shoulder to peer into the bag as you open it.

The first costume out is his, packaged in another bag, though this one is clear, revealing the cardboard insert with a picture of a man donning the costume on the front. He takes it happily when you offer it and bounces aside to start to open it excitedly.

There's only one more item in the bag, your costume, so you take it out, as excited about your matching pirate outfits as Soonyoung is. Up until you turn the packet over to look at the picture and realise that this truly is not what you expected. Especially not from your best friend.

“What the actual fuck, Kwon Soonyoung?!” you demand, flabbergasted.

“Uh-oh, the full name.” Soonyoung looks up at you in alarm, all signs of joy gone. “Did they send the wrong thing?”

“I hope so, because if you saw this on the site and still ordered it, you and I are going to have some issues.” You turn the packet to show him the picture on the cardboard insert.

A picture of a woman in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts— if they can even be considered that— with fishnet tights underneath. There's an attempt at a white top that honestly could be a lot worse; it's off the shoulder and cropped, but it's not as bad as it could be for a female-focused costume, yet still far too revealing for your liking. To finish it off, she's wearing a striped bandana on her head, and grasping a plastic sword in her hands. You're very certain that the sword alone is the only reason the packet is this big, because there's certainly not enough material creating the costume to require such a size bag.

Soonyoung stares at the picture for a second, then looks up at you with a confused little pout. “It's a pirate outfit.”

“Show me yours,” you demand with a sigh. He doesn't hesitate to move over and hand you his costume, still just about in the packet.

There's a very clear difference in costumes. The picture on this packet depicts a man in three-quarter length, vertically striped, trousers; and a simple, white shirt with an open neckline, revealing a thin, triangular strip of skin down to his sternum. It’s finished with the same bandana as your costume, and a plastic sword. Though, the man's sword is a lot bigger than the woman's sword. Of course, the men get the big boy sword and the women get the toothpick.

“You seriously don't see a problem with this?” you ask, holding the two packets side by side so that he can see the photos together.

Poor, naive Soonyoung looks between the pictures rapidly in a desperate attempt to understand. Yet he winds up just shaking his head as he looks at you with such an innocent expression that you know that he seriously doesn't understand the problem here at all.

“Then you can wear this one,” you declare while handing him the woman's outfit, before turning to stalk off to your bedroom.

“What?!” he sputters, scrambling to follow you down the short corridor. “This is for women!”

“You've said before; clothes have no gender!” you remind, turning at the threshold with a hand on your open door ready to close it, and a sweet smile on your face. “If you want to match with me, Soonyoungie, you wear that, and I'll wear this.”

He stares between you and the packet in his hand for a moment before agreeing with a nod and a simple “Okay.”

And that right there, is your second mistake.

When you had told Soonyoung to wear that outfit, you really hadn’tbeen prepared for how fucking good he'd look in the skimpy little outfit. Now, you have to spend the next hours at Seungkwan's bustling apartment pretending that your gaze isn't constantly locating Soonyoung in the dim lighting as he happily dances amongst other costumed bodies.

Sure, you've seen Soonyoung topless before, so you know the man has a frankly incredible body— usually hidden under the baggy clothes that he prefers to wear—, but the sexy little pirate outfit highlights his strong torso and biceps so well.

The cropped top stops at his sternum, giving full view of the top half of his defined abs, the bottom half hidden by the high waist of the shorts. And those shorts? They really do not leave a lot to the imagination at all. Soonyoung has spent the entire night so far carefully doing his best to keep the sword strapped around his hips carefully located to dangle in front of his crotch to keep some of his dignity.

You had obligingly given him the bigger sword when you had realised that the 'woman's' sword wasn't exactly wide enough to cover him. Neither of you had made eye contact when you handed it over without a word, because you both knew what it meant; that you had obviously seen the bulge of his flaccid dick in the tight shorts. Which, honestly, had only made you wonder how big he is when hard, and that is a thought that you usually try to avoid, thinking of your best friend in a sexual situation.

Though his pure existence alone makes it very hard. No pun intended.

Kwon Soonyoung doesn't realise how attractive he is, and you're kind of grateful about it. Because if that unfairly effortlessly attractive man knows how hot he is, then you know he'll be cocky and dress to show off more often than just for nights out or special occasions, and you would not mentally survive that.

As it is, you're not sure you'll survive tonight.

“One day, you two are going to stop being stupid and just fuck it out,” Chan comments from your right where he stands in his doctor's outfit. Seungkwan's wearing a matching one somewhere else in the apartment and you really can't tell if it's intentional or not with those two. They're always bickering and acting like they hate each other, but they're always the first the other goes to for any reason whatsoever.

“Please make it before the end of summer so I don't lose money,” Seungcheol requests from your left, leaning against the wall with you, and dressed in a suit just like his own best friend and roommate, wherever she has disappeared to. She's likely with Junhui, based on the way the pair have been eyeing each other for the past hour— and since they met really, but that's another story entirely.

“You assholes have bets on us fucking?” you gawp in betrayed disbelief at the suited man.

“Yup,” Seungcheol confirms shamelessly, while Chan tries to sputter out a denial that makes you level the youngest with an unimpressed look.

However, it doesn't last because you hear Soonyoung's loud voice, even over the music, and automatically look over to where your best friend is trying to stop Seokmin from grabbing at his sword. No euphemism, even if the plastic is in the right place.

“Looks like Seok's going to get further with your boy than you ever have,” Seungcheol sniggers. You shove his arm, making him laugh harder.

“Swordplay,” Chan giggles to himself, then wanders off without another word to refill his cup after swallowing the last of its contents.

“Seriously though, you should, like, go fuck him,” Seungcheol says a moment later, when Soonyoung has successfully distracted Seokmin by grabbing the younger's hands to make him dance with him. Soonyoung shoots you a world-weary, wide-eyed look that makes you snicker and wave innocently at him.

“You really don't want to lose money, huh?”

“It's not even about that, just… you two. This has been going on for over a year now; this gross pining shit. Just sit on his dick and ask him on a date; it's not that hard.”

“You can't say shit, Cheol,” you remind.

“Hey, I've fucked her, regularly,” he defends with a pout before sipping at his drink.

“Oh yeah, because fucking your best friend who you've been in love with since childhood while encouraging her to go after your friend, who she's been mutually eye-fucking for the past three months, is so much better,” you retort sarcastically and give him a look.

He can't refute it at all, it's entirely true, and he's confided in you enough for you both to know that he's constantly making his own heartbreak worse by continuing to indulge his best friend, both in bed and when she comes home and whines over how good Junhui looks.

“We're as bad as each other,” he decides after a second.

“Don't lump me with you. I've never fucked him.” You scoff and turn back around to naturally locate Soonyoung where he's back to smiling away as he dances with Seokmin and some others.

“You want to.”

“Yeah, I really fucking do,” you exhale, and then swallow down the last of your drink, only to frown down into the empty disposable cup. “I need a real drink.”

“You know you can't drink around him like this or you will ask to suck his dick,” Seungcheol reminds you of the very reason why you're always the designated driver when Soonyoung dresses up.

Because yes, you have come close to getting on your knees in the middle of a club for him. Luckily, Seungcheol had noticed and took you home before you actually acted on the urge to publicly defile your best friend. Unluckily, Seungcheol had noticed and hasn’t failed to mention it at every chance. But at least it's stayed between the two of you.

“At this rate, I'll do it regardless,” you mutter, still frowning into your empty cup. “Back in a bit.” Seungcheol just grunts to show he heard before you slump off to the kitchen to refill your cup with one of the non-alcoholic beverages lining the counter.

You've barely finished filling your cup when a familiar hand reaches around you and picks it up to start gulping down. Even though you know it's Soonyoung, you still look over your right shoulder where he's chugging down the drink, entirely unaware of your thirsty gaze watching the drop of liquid that escapes from the corner of his mouth trail down over his chin and jaw, and down his neck to catch on his collar bone. You refrain from leaning in to slurp it up and lick your way up the trail it left all the way to Soonyoung's mouth. Even if you really want to do just that, and more. Much more.

Instead of staring at the way his throat bobs as he swallows down the last drops, you turn back around and wait for him to place the cup down so that you can refill it. And then he grabs it again before you can, making you groan in complaint. “Seriously?"”

“M'thirsty,” he defends, barely pulling the cup away and accidentally dribbling some of the liquid from his mouth onto your shoulder. You look at him in disgust. He just grins sweetly and kisses your cheek in a sticky, apologetic way before leaning back up to get back to his task of once again, stealing your drink.

At least this time when you've refilled the cup, he doesn't steal it away and lets you actually lift it to your own mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you drink, so you side-eye him questioningly without moving the cup away.

“Are you taking Seungcheol home again?” he asks, stepping closer to you as someone passes too close behind him; his left hand falls to your hip and his right onto the counter, sort of caging you in, though you know it's unintentional— even if you wish it wasn't.

“He can take himself home, he's not drinking tonight,” you reply, distracted by the feeling of plastic pressing against you. “Your sword is digging into my ass.”

Soonyoung lets go of the counter to tug his sword belt around and lays the toy on the outside of his left thigh, leaving him pressed directly against you. You genuinely can't tell if he's even noticed that as he seems to be focused on the conversation, judging by the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows. “That's not what I mean and you know it.”

“If I know it, wouldn't I respond to what you mean?” You give him a look; puzzled by his words, and hoping he understands that you seem to very much not be having the same conversation here, and you are completely unaware of the conversation he's having with you.

“Not when you're both pretending nothing's happening.”

“What?” You nudge him back enough so that you can turn and face him, which admittedly, is not your smartest move when he moves straight back in. He doesn't press against you again, but his left foot is between both of yours as you lean your ass back against the counter. Any closer and his thigh will be very close to pressing to your crotch.

“Come on, I'm your best friend, I think you should at least be honest with me, even if you play ignorant with the others.” He frowns and leans heavier onto his right hand on the counter beside your hip, bringing him in closer so that he doesn't have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music. “You two often leave together when we go out. And even though his place is closer than mine, you drop me off first so it's just you two left. I'm not stupid.”

“Wait, you think that's so we can go fuck?” you realise with wide eyes.

“It's obvious; you always find each other when we're all together like this and spend the whole fucking night hiding off to the side whispering to each other.”

You can't help but laugh. “Do you all think we're fucking?” He nods in confirmation. You laugh again. “Oh man, I gotta tell Cheolie this.” You start to push off the counter with every intention of going to find the older man, knowing he will find it as hilarious as you do, but Soonyoung puts his left hand on your lower stomach to push you back, and then he pushes himself against you to pin you there. “Soonyoung–”

“No.”

“What? No? No what?"”

“I'm not letting you go back to him. You came with me, you're staying with me, and leaving with me, no one else,” he declares firmly.

You stare up at him trying to decipher what the fuck is actually going on right now; what prompted this sudden conversation and behaviour. Not that Soonyoung has never pinned you before, but it's usually playful as he whines and pouts cutely to get his way, or to just joke around. But he's entirely serious now and looking at you with something kind of dark in his eyes.

Admittedly, it's pretty fucking hot.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, even if you know he's not; you can't smell any alcohol on him, and drunk Soonyoung gets cuddly and clingy, not whatever this is.

“You know I'm not.” He places his left hand on the counter on your other side, well and truly caging you in, and causing him to lean down a little closer to reach comfortably.

“Then why are you suddenly acting like this?”

“It's not sudden.” You give him a look. “Okay, fine, acting on it is; but wanting to, that's not sudden. I've wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Then why haven't you?”

“Because I care about you too much.” He frowns a little as he takes in your features from up close, gaze catching on your lips for a few seconds before lifting back up to meet your eyes. “There's a bet, you know, about us fucking?”

“I just found out.” You pull a displeased expression. “Cheol's in on that, you know? He wouldn't bet on us fucking before the end of summer if he's fucking me.”

“He is?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “They made it sound like he's against the bet; said he's been trying to stop them from talking me into it.”

“Yeah, no, he just told me to fuck you. He's always telling me to fuck you.”

“Oh.” He licks his lips as his eyes divert thoughtfully. “Guess I should stop being a dick to him then.”

“You've been a dick to him?” you ask, genuinely surprised. You really haven't noticed Soonyoung acting badly towards Seungcheol at all.

“Mm, I always take his favourite snacks at movie night.”

You can't help but burst into giggling laughter at his confession. Of course, the man doesn't have a single genuinely mean bone in his body and would think purposely taking someone's favourite snacks would be a giant dick move. You bet he's been feeling kind of guilty about it while, no doubt, Seungcheol hasn't even noticed.

“What? why're you laughing?” He pouts at you.

“Oh, Soonie, you're so fucking cute,” you coo and cup his cheeks fondly. He smiles a little dopily at the compliment; the same smile he reserves for you and your doting attention on him, even if neither of you have noticed that. The rest of your friends have though.

“Nice ass,” you hear before Soonyoung's hips jerk into you when he yelps and tries to escape the slap that lands on his ass.

“Hey!” he complains, looking over his shoulder to pout at Jeonghan as the man appears from behind your best friend.

You really can't tell exactly what Jeonghan is supposed to be; you think it's some kind of anime character, or something kinky. Maybe both. Either way, his costume is a strange mix of faux black leather, and shimmery red, lacy wings. And he pulls it off unfairly well, considering that you know he hadn't been prepared for the party this morning at all.

“What? Don't look at me like I'm disturbing something,” Jeonghan scoffs, reaching around you to grab the same big plastic bottle you had been filling your cup from. Though he stops and looks at the way Soonyoung is very much pressed against you. Jeonghan grins after noticing that Soonyoung's crotch is definitely smushed against your upper thigh; something you have been doing your best to ignore yourself because yes you can feel everything through the thin material covering you both. “Or maybe I am.” He smirks at you both.

“What are you supposed to be exactly?” you ask in an attempt to change the topic to one that won't kill your last remaining dregs of sanity. Then again, with the things that come out of Yoon Jeonghan's mouth, you could still be rendered insane, but for a reason other than feeling your best friend's dick pressed against you.

“No idea, just grabbed some shit from Hao's costume closet.” Jeonghan shrugs as he looks down at himself. “Kind of think this might be less about his costume designing and more about sex though.”

“He's definitely worn that harness while fucking someone,” you agree, and reach out to hook your finger over the thick horizontal strap over Jeonghan's chest. You're pretty sure it's directly over his nipples, but the slightly sheer tank top he's wearing underneath the harness kind of obscures your view enough that you don't have confirmation.

“Mm, definitely,” Jeonghan agrees, and smirks at you. “Want to take it home yourself?”

“And take it from you? I wouldn't dare, you look so handsome, Hannie,” you coo, playing along with the flirty banter you two have always partaken in. Not because anything has ever happened between you, nor will it; you've discussed it plenty of times to make sure you're both on the same page. But it's just fun to harmlessly flirt.

“Never said I won't be wearing it.” He licks his lips and gives you a suggestive look.

“You're not going home with her,” Soonyoung argues firmly, crowding up against you further; though his gaze is on Jeonghan in warning, so he misses the way your eyes widen and dart down to where Soonyoung is now pressing his dick against your hip with his own thigh pressing up between your thighs. Jeonghan doesn't miss it though and cackles, leaving without another word with his cup and the entire bottle of drink clasped in his hands.

“S–Soonyoung,” you stammer, hands fluttering at his sides, wanting to push him back for your sanity, but you think putting your hands on his exposed skin will just make you pull him closer.

“Do you have to flirt with him all the time?” He frowns at you, entirely unaware of the screaming in your mind; mostly just sounds with the odd yell of the word penis. He'd probably laugh if he heard it, to be honest, just because of the word penis. He wouldn't even realise it's his penis you're mentally screaming about. “And when I'm right here too. Did you forget I'm here or something?”

“No,” you choke out.

“Then why– are you okay?” He suddenly realises how wide your eyes are.

“I can feel your dick,” you blurt, unable to think of anything else.

He blinks at you for a moment, then looks down at where he's pressed against you as if he hasn't even noticed until now. “Oh.” He pulls his hips back, and his thigh from between yours, making you let out a heavy, shaky exhale as your body relaxes a little. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ha, not the word I'd use.”

“What word would you use?”

If he was any other man, you'd say the little quirk of his head and innocent eyes locked onto you is fake; just some kind of game, a way to flirt. But it's Kwon Soonyoung, and you've seen this man miss the most obvious of flirtations since you've known him. The number of times you or the guys have had to bluntly tell him that someone had been trying to take him home to fuck, is frankly absurd.

“Stop touching my ass!” his sudden exclamation makes you jump a little, while he looks over his shoulder in annoyance, glaring at Seungkwan, who's giving him an innocent look.

“I'm very happy that you two are finally doing something about your consistent sexual tension and mutual pining, but take it out of my kitchen, please. I don't want to have to burn my home down if you defile my counters,” the younger man speaks bluntly with a slightly sweet edge to his words. You can't even see him, but you just know that he's got that too sweet smile on his face that always feels more threatening than anything.

“What?” Soonyoung blinks at him puzzled as the annoyance of his ass being grabbed melts away. “We're not doing anything.”

“Hannie told me you're being possessive, and we all know that she likes that, so–”

“Hey!” you exclaim offendedly, not because you can argue it, but just more that you're being talked about like you're not here. “She has a name!”

“Well, take Soonie home and he can moan it for the neighbours to hear.” Seungkwan gives you that sweet-threatening smile as he leans around Soonyoung to meet your gaze. “My neighbours don't want to hear it.”

“My neighbours won't hear that,” you scoff.

Soonyoung can't help but frown; he feels like he's just been rejected, even though he hadn't even gotten to the point of actually asking to take you home and fuck you like he wants to, like your mutual friends had convinced him you want him to. But your firm dismissal of Seungkwan's words sounds like you putting that boundary securely in place before he can even ask to tumble over it into your arms.

“He's loud–” Seungkwan starts to point out, but you're not done talking, even if you had taken a quick scoff break.

“I don't live in a cheap-ass building with paper for walls like you do, Kwannie,” you finish.

Both men stare at you for a second; Seungkwan at first just blinks in surprise at the fact you're not even disputing the Soonyoung moaning your name part, just whether or not your neighbours will hear. And Soonyoung is full-on gawping at you, mouth open and eyes wide, wondering if this means that boundary even exists between you.

“Does that mean you won't get a noise complaint? He’s pretty loud, you know? There's a reason we don't live together anymore.”

“I don't know,” you reply with a shrug.

“Then go fucking home already and stop humping against my kitchen counter!” Seungkwan grabs Soonyoung by his hips to yank him backwards away from you, while the scantily dressed pirate yelps and flails a little at the unexpected action. Then he's shoved towards the kitchen exit while Seungkwan grabs your wrist to tug you along.

You're both too genuinely dumbstruck by Seungkwan's sudden, forceful actions to do anything but stumble along until you're both outside of the apartment, shoes in hands, and staring in shock at the door that's just been shut in your faces.

“Did we just get kicked out?” you mutter.

Soonyoung nods slowly and then looks at you. “I think we got kicked out for sex.”

“Is it still sexile if you're the ones getting kicked out and told to go elsewhere to fuck?” you muse, attention downwards as you focus on shoving your feet into your shoes with one hand on the wall behind you, and the other out in the air pointlessly.

“Uh, reverse sexile?” he offers, dropping his shoes to shove his feet into.

“Sounds like a sex position.”

He laughs. “What would that even look like?”

“No idea.” You grin at him, then figure that, well, it seems like you've both been outed enough already, seeing as all of your friends have stopped hiding the fact that they expect you to finally have sex, which really implies a mutual attraction. So, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a second as he frowns down at his shoe that just will not accept his right foot for some reason. “Shall we go find out?”

Immediately, Soonyoung looks up at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“Shall we go find out what reverse sexile looks like?”

“Like...us?”

“Yeah, Soonyoung, us,” you confirm with an amused twitch of your lips. “You said you're the only one to go home with me, right?” He nods. “Then let's go home and find out, Soonie.”

“Ye–no, wait.” He steps closer and takes your hand gently before you can start walking down the hall to the staircase. His fingers are barely holding onto your own. It's perhaps the most cautious he's ever taken your hand into his. Even the very first time you held hands, he had boldly laced your fingers together, and you had only met ten minutes previously.

“No?” you ask, feeling really kind of stupid all of a sudden. You had been so unusually confident in asking him to go home and fuck you.

“Not because I don't want to because I do seriously, I really want to fuck you,” he breathes out, sounding rather affected by the thought alone as he stares at you longingly and holds your hand a little more securely. “I just...I don't want it to wind up like Seungcheol.”

“Uh, what about Seungcheol?” You shuffle a little closer while giving him a questioning look.

“Regularly fucking his best friend who has a crush on someone else, while he...while he wants her as more than just company in his bed.” The way his expression turns serious and yearning makes your heart start to race a little with hope. 

“While he...Are you saying you want more?” you ask quietly.

“Earlier, when I said I care about you too much, I meant I care too much to be able to have sex with you if it means nothing. I really fucking like you, and I don't want to go home with you like this if you don't feel the same. I can't do that.” He shakes his head a little. “As much as I've thought about this, about you and me doing all kinds of kinky shit all over your apartment, and mine when Jihoon isn't there. Or when he is, if you're into exhibitionism; I don't know your kinks, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even notice anyway because he never leaves his fucking room, an–” He's rambling at this point, frowning down at your connected hands as he talks.

“Soonyoung.” He makes a soft hum of a noise as he looks back up at you with rounded eyes. “We can talk kinks later, I'd really like to get back to the matter of it sounds like you're confessing to me?”

“Oh, right yeah, I guess I am.” He chuckles a little and nervously scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “So, uh, yeah, I really like you and uhm, I guess now comes the part where, hopefully, you say you like me back; but I really don't know if you do because the guys just really said you want to fuck me, and–” You cover his mouth with your hand this time to shut up his second bout of nervous rambling.

“I really like you too, Soonie,” you confirm softly, and giggle at the way his features light up adorably behind your palm. “Can we skip the trial dating bullshit and go straight to being together? I'd like to show you off as my boyfriend.” His eyes widen dramatically, and then he's nodding rapidly in agreement without dislodging your hand. “You're so cute,” you coo, and lean in just to press a kiss to the back of your hand over his mouth. He looks utterly betrayed and heartbroken when you lean back. “What?” You play innocent and lower your hand while backing up, lacing your fingers behind your back.

“You can't tease me like that, baby!” he whines, toddling after you, and dragging his feet in a sulk as he moves along the carpeted flooring of the hall.

“Tease? Me? Never.” You grin at him, then stop as your back hits the door to the staircase.

“You are. Teased me for the past year. Teasing me now,” he continues to mumble away as he nears, though cuts off when you reach out to grab the sword and yank on the plastic to pull him in right up against you. His hands automatically fly up to catch himself on the door above your head while his breath catches in his throat. 

“If you're so worried I'm going to keep teasing you, Soonie, you better hurry up and take what you want,” you warn in a low voice, chin tilted up so your faces are only inches apart.

Soonyoung groans in the back of his throat before he leans down and seals his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He presses his left forearm flat against the door beside your head, so that he can firmly hold your jaw with his right hand and tilt you further into him with his thumb pushing on your chin to urge your mouth open wider and deepen the kiss in a manner much too filthy for a public hallway of your friend's apartment building.

“Oh, for fucks sake!” the loud voice of the friend in question forces you both apart, to peer over Soonyoung's shoulder to where Seungkwan is in the hallway with the cute neighbour he's recently started to date, their hands clasped together, and clearly with one intention in mind while sneaking away from his own party. They're standing outside of the neighbour's slightly open door, but Seungkwan is staring at you and Soonyoung in disbelief. “I told you to go home! Not get your booty here!”

“Ha, booty, pirate joke,” you snigger, and Soonyoung giggles; both at your amusement, and the pun he honestly hadn't even noticed.

“You two are fucking useless,” Seungkwan decides, and lets his neighbour tug him into the apartment. “You better be gone before I'm back!”

“90 seconds, right?!" Soonyoung calls as Seungkwan disappears. The younger's head pops back out to glare at the other and flip him a very heartfelt middle finger before the door actually shuts behind him that time. Soonyoung turns to look at you with a mischievous smirk. “Should we go fuck on his bed just to piss him off?”

“As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather only I hear you like that, Soonie.” You pout at him cutely. “I'm not very good at sharing my toys, you know.”

“Oh, I'm your toy now?” he muses, reaching down to open the door carefully and back you through it with his other arm wrapping around your waist.

“Mm, mine and only mine to play with when I want, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yours and yours only, baby,” he agrees lowly. “And you're mine.”

“I am,” you confirm, and tilt up to kiss him teasingly. “Let's hurry and get home so I can show you everything that now belongs to you.”

Soonyoung really doesn’t need any further encouragement and enthusiastically rushes out with his hand locked in yours and excitement on his face. He’s more than ready to unveil your body little by little and discover all of the sweet spots that make you loud enough that your neighbours will know his name before the night is over, thick walls be dammed.

Don't forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle, @jaja-salute

[coupsiesss]

i have the biggest loserish crush on him

[seobmoji]

ft. y. keeho : Crush

[15!] ─── 📁. Text messages between you and your sweet, but annoying classmate who only ever asks for your notes!

COLLEGE!AU once again bc i’m on a streak and i genuinely can’t be stopped. pls don’t stop me ok.. lowk blackcat!reader x goldenretriever!keeho SIGHHH + the pacing/timeline might be confusing let’s. Let’s not bring it up okay. ENJOY OKAY HAI! :p

A/N: me leaving my jongseob smau in the dust i’m crying hold on. anyway okay this was. OKAY THID WAS KINDA DRY IM HAVING A MOMENT JUST BEAR WITH ME

🏷️ @wonubug @endoll @chccnne @aesprn @wonwounds @kamxstar @cherryhazy @seonghwaswifeuuuu @hardbeingcasual @alienslostinworld @sullyswife @seraph1cfae @seomisaho (want tags for any and all things p1harmony? yoooooooo)

[theoswifey]

p1harmony : eating you out

⌦ .｡.:*♡ ot6 x f! reader

: ̗̀➛ piwon and how they eat you out.

: ̗̀➛ warnings: oral (f! rec (duh!)), face sitting (soul), ass grabbing (seob, kyo, soul), clit play, fingering (theo), spit play(?)(kyo), mommy kink (intak, yes ik im obsessed leave me alone), not proofread, dont kill me </3

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶

keeho

now when keeho gets down there.. oh he gets down.

hes an eater to his core, he goes down on you everytime you have sex. sometimes all he wants is to eat you out, and you guys dont even actually fuck.

its a saturday night, you were over at his place when things escalated, and long story short, yall have been at it for about an hour now.

“fuck.” he groans, pulling out of you after finishing inside for the second time tonight.

“kee..” you whine, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him back in. he grabs your ankles, prying them from around him and squatting down.

“i know, let me just..” he whispers, lips already connecting with your lower ones. you immediately moan, back arching off the bed from overstimulation.

his hands have a firm grip on your inner thighs, keeping them pinned open. his tounge moves around your clit then pulls it in his mouth, sucking at it harshly.

“taste so fucking good.” he growls against you, his hands snaking under you, pulling you further to his face, hands now gripping your ass.

“keeho! oh, fuck, im gonna come..” you say, moans getting louder, hands burying in his hair.

“come for me.” he says, his hand coming up before slapping back down on your cheek. he pulls away, moving his tongue around in his mouth before spitting on your pussy.

he smiles at your moan, then dives back in, slurping it back up. it only takes a couple more licks and one harsh suck before you finish.

“mhm, good girl.” he says, coming back up. “you ready? ready for more?

“yes, give me more keeho.” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck. he reaches between you, pushing his cock back inside.

⋆ ★

theo

now theo, kind of like keeho, also gets down, but hes not messy with it.

theos more strategic, if you will. he has a strategy that he sticks too, and it has you seeing stars every time.

when hes eating you out, hes not just using his tounge. his fingers and sometimes, i know it sounds crazy, but his nose also comes into play.

youve been giving him those eyes all date night, so he knew exactly where he wanted to be as soon as you got home, and he didnt even let you change! he just threw you on the bed, pushed your dressed up, and got to work.

“oh my god, tae.. feel so fucking good!” you cry out, your feet planted on the mattress, legs spread wide for him, theo on his knees between them.

his mouth is attached to your clit, sucking on it softly, one of his fingers carefully circling around your entrance.

“yeah? feel good?” he asks, his mouth moving down, tounge replacing his finger as he pushes it inside, purposefully shaking his head to rub his nose right against your clit.

you dont even get to respond, your moans answer his question enough. he laughs, pulling away for just a second, running his hand through his hair before moving back down.

he flicks his tongue, lapping at your pussy all while his finger is pushing into you.

“oh my god, tae! im gonna come, dont stop..” you moan, fingers gripping the sheets tightly. his finger goes in and out of you quickly, feeling you tighten around him.

he doesnt say anything, just sucks harder and moves his finger faster, pushing your orgasm out of you.

“fuck..” you whisper, your body slowly relaxing into the bed. he pushes himself up, pressing kisses up your body before pressing one to your lips.

⋆ ★

jiung

now jiung is a soft sex guy all around and hes a big giver.

he makes sure to get down there everytime you have sex because it makes you feel good and he feels good doing it.

youre layed on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, his lips locked onto yours, his hips are slowly grinding down into you.

he breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your body. he strips you of your clothes as he moves, and as soon as he comes face to face with your cunt through your panties, hes already leaning in.

he kisses around your inner thighs, then kisses your pussy through the cloth.

“jiung..” you whimper, your body already melting into the cushions.

“mhm.” he hums, one of his arms wrapping around your thigh, his hand grabbing ahold of your hand while the other moves to pull your panties to the side.

his tounge peeks from between his lips, pressing a firm lick to your hole to your clit before stopping to swirl around it.

“oh my god..” you breathe out, your legs on instinct spreading wider.

he continues his movements, his tounge switching from licking and flicking at your clit to dipping inside your hole, each sound he draws out of you giving him confidence to keep going.

“ji.. im gonna come..” you whisper, your hand moving down to move his bangs from his face. he speeds up his movements, his head tilting slightly to the side, eyebrows knitted together.

it only takes a couple more seconds before youre finishing on his face.

⋆ ★

intak

now intak, doesnt play. he is the eater of p1harmony.

intak gets on his knees whenever you want him too, whenever he wants to and youre in the mood, and like keeho, sometimes he doesnt even need the sex. he just wants a taste.

youve been horny all day, and hes been at work all day. so as soon as he walked through the door, you pounced.

“i want you to go down on me.” you say, breaking the kiss and sitting on the edge of the bed. he, without a word, gets down on his knees, scooting closer and moves to grab your underwear from under your oversized shirt.

he pulls them down, then spreads your legs, already moving to dig in. “youre already so wet.” he says, pressing a kiss to your clit before sucking it in.

you lift your shirt up, then your hand dips down, spreading your lips for him. your head falls back, arm behind you holding you up, moan after moan escaping your throat.

his hands move to your inner thighs, gripping them tightly while his tongue flicks rapidly at your nub.

“is it good, mommy?” he says, pulling away to look up at you. you nod, your head lifting back up to look at him.

your hand moves to his head, rubbing the top of it before pushing him back in. “so good, baby. dont stop.”

he digs back in, burying his face even deeper in your cunt. he shakes his head, slurping up the juices from your hole, moaning at your taste on his tongue.

“god, baby! dont fucking stop, gonna come!” you moan, removing your hand from his hair to grip your own tit, hips grinding against his tongue.

he sucks harder on your clit, then pulls away, bringing his fingers up to rub fastly at your clit, forcing your orgasm out of you.

“fuck, good boy..” you whisper, your body falling limp on the bed.

intak smiles up at you, then comes up off his knees, crawling on top of you, ready for more.

⋆ ★

soul

now shota isnt much of an eater, he’ll do it if you ask, but he wouldnt go out of his way to do so.

now when you ask, hes surprisingly super good at it. he doesnt really know what hes doing, he kind of just goes with the flow and it works!

“sho.. can we try something?” you ask, climbing on top of him. he nods, his hands moving to your hips immediately. youve been wanting to try face sitting for ages, but you just never brought it up until now.

long story short, you break down exactly what you want, he nods along, and now, here you are. knees planted into the mattress on either side of his head, your pussy right on top of his face.

“fuck! oh my god, sho, so good..” you moan out loud, your hands braced on the head board, hips grinding down against his face.

his hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh in his fingers, occasionally planting a slap on it. he groans into your skin, his tongue traveling around your pussy, focusing mostly on your clit.

“shota, youre so fucking good, im so close!” you cry out again, one hand moves from the board to his hair, removing his bangs from his forehead to get a look at him.

he opens his eyes, looking up at you in admiration. he doesnt say anything, just closes his eyes again and continues, moving to suck your clit again.

“god, youre gonna make me come, shota, fuck!” you start to ramble, thighs tightening around his face. about a minute later, you finish on his face with a loud moan.

but he doesnt stop. he just continues licking at you. you try to pull away, but his arms tighten.

“sho! okay, okay! done, im done.” you say quickly, finally prying him off you, collapsing on the bed.

“was it good?” he asks, sitting up and wiping his face.

you laugh, sitting up as well, scooting closer. “it was amazing..”

⋆ ★

jongseob

come on guys, i feel like everytime i say anything abt seob i mention his love for booty.

kind of like soul, seob is not a big eater either. you dont necessarily have to ask, he’ll do it without you asking, but not for long.

you both have been teasing each other all night, sneaky touched under the blanket while watching a movie with the members, so when you finally were alone, you already knew what was coming.

youre both in his room, door locked, undressed on the bed, seob hovering above you, making out. he breaks the kiss to kiss your neck before standing up.

“turn, bend over.” he says, eyes on your lower half as you roll onto your stomach, hoisting yourself up on your knees, back arched.

“good girl.” he whispers, both his hands landing on your ass, shaking it to force a recoil. one hand slides down to your pussy, rubbing it softly.

“fuck, seobie..” you whine, arching further, pushing yourself into him.

“feel good?” he asks, finger tracing circles knto your clit. you respond with a nod and a moan, your lips falling open as you press your cheek into the mattress.

he squats down, his hands spreading your cheeks before he leans in, tounge circling around your hole. you moan immediately, body twitching against him.

he doesnt speak, he just licks around your cunt, sucking at your clit and sticking his tongue inside you.

“seob, oh my god..” you moan louder, feeling yourself begin to reach your orgasm before he pulls away.

you groan, ready to argue with him for edging you, but then you feel him push his tip inside you, slapping your ass again.

“aht, dont start. you know if youre gonna come its gonna be around my dick.”

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚. ︶︶︶︶

: ̗̀➛ a/n - yall!! my first post after my little breakkk 😩 i hope everyone enjoyed this though, yes i went a bit overboard w intak but unfortunately i go feral with intak and the mommy kink so i couldnt help it.. but yes! i hope you enjoyed my comeback, and i do not have any ideas on what to write after i finish part two to “just married”, so send reqs pls and ty and i love you goodbyeee <333

tags - @lilmiyavmiyav @princessthelsa @afanok @momochips @sama6toki @seonghwaswifeuuuu @halaziasupremacy @boptak @jiungbbl @alienslostinworld @kamxstar @stxrxyyz @foreveronez