I write about Seventeen, BTS, ATEEZ, Enhypen, TXT and Stray Kids.
Requests are ꕤopenꕤ
I write fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort, crack. I can do any pairings too, either it’s idol/reader or idol/idol. 🫂
Things I DON’T write: abusive relationship, tentacles stuff, horror scenarios, piss kink and that stuff (I’m sorry, I’m not comfortable writing about that), love/sexual relationships with family (stepdad, stepbrother and everything that has to do with the family), anything sexual with a minor (only 18+), gore.
* Genre: Enemies to lovers, fluff, a bit of angst, smut in the end.
* Warnings: Academic pressure, suggestive.
* Word count: 2.7k
Disclaimer: This was a request from a month ago, I’m sorry it took too long 🥺 hope you liked it anon!
ꕤ˖⸝⸝₊˚ ꕤ˖⸝⸝₊˚ ꕤ˖⸝⸝₊˚ ꕤ˖⸝⸝₊˚ ꕤ˖⸝⸝₊˚ ꕤ˖⸝⸝₊˚
It always started the same way.
The professor would pose a question, you’d start speaking, and before you even finished your sentence Jeonghan would chime in with his own take, smooth, confident, sometimes directly contradicting you just because he could.
And the worst part was that he was good. Too good.
You caught him watching you during debates, the way his lips tugged into the smallest grin when your brow furrowed in concentration. It wasn’t the big dramatic “enemies” energy you’d seen in movies, no slammed books, no shouting across rooms. It was subtler than that. Quieter. Like an invisible rope pulling the two of you tighter every time you tried to pull away.
Today was no different.
You were sitting in your usual seat, notebook open, when he slid into the chair beside you like he owned it. His cologne drifted in first, warm and clean, and then his voice followed, low and annoyingly casual.
“Color-coding your notes again?” His eyes skimmed the neat highlighter stripes across your page. “What is this, a rainbow for every paragraph?”
You didn’t look at him, flipping a page. “It’s called organization. You should try it sometime.”
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out. “Why would I? I still manage to beat your scores half the time without it.”
You turned just enough to catch the smug curve of his lips. There it was, that spark that always lit under your skin when he pushed. Not pure irritation. Not pure thrill. Somewhere in between, maddening and addictive.
“Half the time,” you echoed, smiling just a little. “The other half, you lose.”
He chuckled under his breath, eyes still locked on yours. And for a moment, you swore his smirk softened into something else. Something more curious, almost fond. But then the professor entered the room and the spell broke.
The rest of the class played out the usual way, you both raising your hands, countering each other’s points with precision, the professor letting the two of you spar because it raised the energy in the room. By the end, your pulse was racing faster than it should’ve been for something as mundane as a classroom discussion.
As you packed your bag, Jeonghan leaned close again. Too close. “You know…” he said lightly, “if you ever get tired of fighting me, you could always just admit I’m smarter.”
You rolled your eyes, but heat curled low in your stomach despite yourself. “In your dreams, Yoon.”
And as you walked away, you didn’t see his grin fade, nor the way his gaze lingered on you like he was memorizing the exact sound of your voice.
It was supposed to be just another debate.
The assignment had split the class into two sides, and of course you and Jeonghan had landed on opposite teams. It always seemed to happen that way, like the universe enjoyed watching you clash.
From the moment the discussion began, it was sharp. He cut across your points with that smooth voice of his, and you countered with calm precision, neither of you backing down. The professor was eating it up, letting the two of you go back and forth until the rest of the class didn’t even try to intervene.
But somewhere along the way, something in his tone shifted.
When you finished a particularly careful point, Jeonghan tilted his head and smirked. “You’re… not as good as you think you are.”
The words weren’t meant to be cruel, not loudly, but they landed like a punch. They weren’t a playful jab. They weren’t subtle teasing. They pierced right through your focus, the kind of thing that made your chest tighten and your hands grip your notebook a little too hard.
You laughed it off in the moment, plastered on a smile, but the sting stayed. Heat crawled up your neck and spread through your chest, a mixture of frustration and… something you weren’t ready to name.
By the time the debate wrapped up, you felt brittle, like glass about to crack.
You shoved your notes into your bag faster than usual, desperate to get out before anyone noticed the wobble in your breath. The sound of chairs scraping filled the room, chatter rising, and you slipped into the hallway, the air cooler but not enough to calm the knot in your chest.
“Hey,” a voice called behind you. His voice. “Wait up.”
You kept walking, hugging your books to your chest.
“Y/N.”
You stopped. Against your better judgment, you turned, facing him with tight shoulders. “What?”
Jeonghan slowed, brows furrowing when he saw your face. He was used to your sharp replies, your matching fire, but not this. Not the way your eyes shimmered with frustration instead of spark.
“Want to gloat some more?” you asked, voice thinner than you’d meant.
His mouth opened, then closed. For once, he didn’t have a quick comeback. “I didn’t mean—”
“You never mean it,” you cut in, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You just… poke and prod and act like it’s nothing, like it’s all just fun for you, but sometimes it actually… hurts, Jeonghan.”
The hallway was empty now, everyone else having scattered. Your words echoed in the quiet, heavier than you intended.
He froze, eyes widening just slightly, as if he’d never considered that possibility. That maybe the rivalry wasn’t as harmless as he’d always treated it.
Your throat tightened. “Forget it,” you muttered, turning away. “I’m just tired.”
But you didn’t miss the look on his face before you left, a rare flicker of something raw, like guilt carved into his usually smug expression
You didn’t see him the rest of the day.
Usually, Jeonghan was impossible to avoid. You’d spot him at the library, in the student café, leaning against a wall with that same half-smile like he’d been expecting you to walk by. But that day, he was nowhere.
By evening, your apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of traffic outside. You’d tried to study, but every few lines your mind drifted back to that moment in class, to his words, to the way his expression had faltered afterward.
You told yourself it didn’t matter. That he could think whatever he wanted. But it sat heavy in your chest anyway.
When the knock came, you almost didn’t answer.
But then you heard his voice, muffled through the door. “Y/N? It’s me.”
You froze. The last person you wanted to face was standing outside your apartment, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. Against every instinct, you opened the door.
He looked different. Not composed, not smug. Just… unsure. His hair was slightly messy, and he was wearing a sweatshirt instead of the usual crisp button-up. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and his eyes met yours carefully.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
You hesitated, then stepped aside. “Yeah. For a minute.”
He walked in quietly, gaze darting around your apartment before landing on you again. The air between you was strange, thick but not hostile. You crossed your arms, waiting.
He took a deep breath. “About earlier. I said something I shouldn’t have.”
You gave a small laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You think?”
He winced a little, then nodded. “I do. I went too far. I was trying to get under your skin, but not like that.”
“Then why do it at all?” you asked, voice softer now, but still edged. “Why keep pushing?”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Because I didn’t know what else to do. I like watching you work, seeing you so serious, so focused. You make me want to try harder. But it’s always been easier to tease you than to admit that.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
He met your gaze, eyes steady this time. “I like you. I think I’ve liked you since the first time you argued with me in class. I just didn’t know how to handle it. So I made it a competition instead.”
Your heart skipped. “Jeonghan…”
“I know it’s stupid,” he said quickly, his voice almost nervous. “But every time you looked at me, it felt like something was happening. And I didn’t want to lose that. Even if it meant being the guy who annoyed you all the time.”
Silence settled between you, deep and humming.
You could see it now, all the things you’d missed in hindsight, the way his smirk always broke when you weren’t looking, the small hesitations before he teased you, the moments when he’d chosen to sit next to you even when there were other seats.
“I didn’t think you…” you started, then trailed off, unsure what to say.
He smiled faintly, eyes soft. “Yeah. Me neither, honestly.”
The tension that had once felt sharp began to dissolve, replaced by something slower, warmer. He stepped closer, hesitating just enough to let you stop him if you wanted. You didn’t.
When his fingers brushed yours, it wasn’t electric or dramatic. It was careful, like testing new ground.
“I really am sorry,” he said quietly. “For the way I’ve treated you. You didn’t deserve that.”
You exhaled, the breath shaky but lighter. “Just… don’t do it again.”
He nodded, eyes flicking down to your joined hands. “Promise.”
It would have been easy to end it there, to let him leave with that small, fragile peace. But when he turned to go, you stopped him. “Jeonghan.”
He looked back, and you smiled, just a little. “I like you too.”
His grin this time was slow, blooming across his face until it reached his eyes. “You do?”
You nodded, and he let out a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. “You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that.”
The quiet stretched again, full of new air, new possibility.
You didn’t expect him to actually ask you out so soon.
A week after his confession, you were sitting in the library pretending to read when Jeonghan appeared beside you, that same uncertain but hopeful look in his eyes. His voice was quiet when he said your name, and when you looked up, he was holding two cups of iced coffee.
“You told me you liked me,” he said, setting one in front of you. “I want to take you out. Properly this time.”
You blinked, fighting a small smile. “A date?”
He nodded. “A real one.”
That’s how you ended up walking through the city together that evening. The air was cool, the sky fading into shades of gold and violet. Jeonghan had traded his usual button-up for a cream sweater, soft and casual, his hair falling gently into his face. He looked almost boyish like that, but his gaze was steady whenever he looked at you.
Dinner was simple, but it felt like something out of another life. He made you laugh until your stomach hurt, told you stories about the first day he noticed you in class, and shyly admitted that he’d almost asked you out months ago.
“I kept thinking I’d ruin everything,” he said quietly, his hand brushing yours on the table. “Guess I almost did anyway.”
You squeezed his fingers lightly, smiling. “Guess you fixed it too.”
After dinner, neither of you wanted the night to end. So you walked for a while, your arms brushing occasionally, until the silence between you felt too full to ignore.
“Do you want to come over for a bit?” you asked softly.
He hesitated only a moment before nodding.
Your apartment felt warmer that night. You lit a small lamp, casting a soft glow across the room, and the two of you sat close on the couch, talking in low voices that grew slower with every minute.
When he leaned in, it wasn’t sudden. It was like gravity, inevitable, quiet, and gentle. His lips brushed yours once, testing, before deepening the kiss with a sigh that you felt more than heard.
It wasn’t the desperate kind of kiss that came from tension or rivalry. It was careful, reverent, like he’d been waiting for permission to feel this way. His fingers cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth before his lips found yours again, slower this time.
You shifted closer until your knees touched. He smiled against your lips, then kissed you harder, pulling you softly into his lap.
“Is this okay?” he murmured between kisses.
You nodded, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the faint tremor of his breath. He kissed the corner of your jaw, then your neck, his voice low and a little unsteady. “You’re so beautiful.”
Every touch was unhurried. His hands found your waist, tracing up your back under your shirt, fingertips leaving a trail of warmth. You tugged gently at his sweater, and he helped you pull it off, his hair falling messily over his forehead as he leaned back to look at you.
He smiled, that familiar mix of mischief and softness returning. “Can I?” he asked, voice a whisper.
You nodded again, heart racing.
His lips followed the curve of your shoulder, then lower, the pace still tender but more deliberate now. Every kiss, every sigh felt like a quiet promise that this wasn’t just a moment, it was something real.
When you finally reached for him, helping him out of the rest of his clothes, his breath hitched, and he looked at you like he’d never seen anyone so perfect.
“Y/N,” he whispered, almost reverent. “I don’t want to rush anything.”
You smiled softly. “You’re not.”
The first time you made love was slow, almost shy. He moved like he was memorizing you, like every breath mattered. He whispered things you’d never heard him say before: how long he’d wanted this, how good you felt, how he never thought something could feel this right.
His hand stayed in yours the whole time, squeezing gently every time your breath caught. He kissed your forehead between soft moans, his voice breaking when you said his name.
When it was over, he didn’t move away. He just stayed there, breathless, holding you close, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.
You could still hear his heartbeat when he whispered against your hair. “You know, I think I fell for you a long time ago. I just didn’t know what it was yet.”
You smiled sleepily, eyes half-closed. “And now?”
He laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Now I know. And I’m never letting you go.”
The city lights filtered softly through your window as you both drifted into silence, tangled together in the warmth of something that no longer felt like rivalry at all, only love.
The moment Mingyu had you pinned to the mattress, you knew tonight he wasn’t going to let you move an inch.
“Pretty,” he muttered against your neck, his voice low and already dripping with control, “you don’t lift a finger tonight. I’ll do everything. You just take it and be good to me, baby.”
You whimpered, nodding and muttering a little “okay”, thighs already opening for him. Mingyu smirked, brushing his lips over yours before pulling back, watching the way you squirmed under his gaze.
The first thrust was brutal, deep, hard, and merciless. You cried out, nails clawing at the sheets as he immediately set a punishing pace. His big hands pinned your wrists to the mattress, his weight keeping you trapped under him, helpless and pliant.
“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, hips snapping into yours with sharp precision, “lying here all sweet for me… letting me use you like this.”
All you could do was whimper his name, legs trembling as he pushed you closer to the edge with every ruthless thrust. His pelvis would hit your clit every time. He didn’t let up, didn’t slow down, his eyes stayed locked on your fucked-out expression, his cock hitting deep enough to make your vision blur.
“You love it, don’t you? Being my perfect little pillow princess… taking everything I give you.” His voice was rough, strained with his own pleasure, but still demanding, still in control.
You could only nod, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes at how good it felt. “Words baby. Use your words. You like it?”
“Y-yes— ah!” You could only mutter and moan. You looked so cute like this, all fucked out, and he leaned down to kiss your tears away, still fucking into you hard enough to make the bed shake. You could feel the way his long, thick cock stretches your tight pussy.
“Cum for me like this,” he growled against your ear, biting down lightly on your shoulder, his fangs marking your skin, “don’t you dare hold it in.”
Then it hit you, your body arching up into his as you cried out his name, orgasm tearing through you.
“Mingyu!!” Mingyu fucked you through it, relentless until his own cum spilled hot and deep inside you.
“Fuck fuck fuck!” his groans breaking into a string of curses as his hips finally slowed.
But then the Mingyu you knew best came back.
His thrusts softened until they stopped completely, and he kissed you gently, brushing sweaty strands of hair from your face. He loosened his grip on your wrists, rubbing at the tender skin with his thumbs before pressing kisses there.
“You okay, baby?” he whispered, voice so sweet it was hard to believe this was the same man who’d just fucked you into the mattress.
You nodded, and he smiled softly, pulling out carefully and immediately reaching for the towel he’d left by the bed (because he always thought ahead when it came to you). He cleaned you up with slow, gentle strokes, pressing a kiss to your thigh when you winced at the sensitivity.
When he was done, Mingyu pulled you against his chest, wrapping his big arms around you like you were something fragile. He tucked your head under his chin, his heartbeat steady against your ear.
“You did so well for me,” he murmured, rubbing your back soothingly. “My perfect girl. I’ve got you.”
He kissed your forehead and didn’t let go, holding you until your breathing evened out, until sleep pulled you under safe, warm, and loved.
⭑ pairing: speakeasy owner!hoshi x gangster!f.reader
٠࣪⭑ for: puttin' on the ritz collab hosted by @studiosvt
٠࣪⭑ summary: Nothing’s ever been serious where you’re concerned, especially the way you flirt with him, but when Soonyoung overhears something he shouldn’t, and your perfect mask slips, he starts to wonder if you’ve been keeping other secrets hidden in the dark.
٠࣪⭑ genre: 1920s mafia AU, set in NYC during the prohibition. smut, angst, happy ending
٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact, i'll block you.
٠࣪⭑ warnings: guns, violence, blood, nothing gory but there is a gunshot wound, brief implication of torture but none described, cheol gets punched (sorry cheol), a hidden pregnancy and subsequent child, theft, drinking, smoking, typical misogyny of the era, deception. (listen, it's hard to be anything more than morally grey when you're the daughter of a mafia boss, but i tried to make her somewhat redeemable 💔)
٠࣪⭑ smut warnings: kissing, unprotected sex (don't be silly), oral (m receiving), fingering.
if you think i've forgotten any warnings please let me know so i can fix my post!
٠࣪⭑wc: 10.6k (complete)
٠࣪⭑ a/n: hello loves! i'm not normally one for writing children into fics, but for this one and the time it's set in, it felt right. this was meant to be posted ages ago but i was so busy i couldn't write for a while, and then i meant to finish it the other day but my afternoon got taken over looking after a pigeon. no rest for the wicked, ig.
٠࣪⭑ thank yous: enormous thank u 2 my beloved @starlightkyeom for reading this over in the early hours of the morning, i adore you, @joshujin for the banner (incredible as always), and @gyuswhore for the extra time 💕
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Now
“What are you doing here? He might see–”
“It’s about him, Miss. We need t–”
“Damn it, Seungcheol. Inside, quickly now.”
He doesn’t mean to listen in, never would consider invading your space without being invited, but Soonyoung’s on his way back from the storeroom when he catches your voice echoing down the corridor. Rounds the corner to see your back pressed against the door frame, and Seungcheol, the club’s bouncer, passing through it. You hastily close the door behind you, but not quite enough. He knows all too well how it sticks, sometimes.
Soonyoung hears the whispering, and inches forward as he hears his name. You and Seungcheol together, in that room? Well, repugnance rises in him like bile. What could you be doing, inviting another man into the dressing room– yours Wednesday through Sunday– when you’d swore blind that he was the only one for you? How could you do this in his place, right under his damn nose.
Are you raising your skirt for Seungcheol, like you do for him? Are you showing him how wet you get? Or worse… are you telling him of your dreams? Does he know how badly you want to be done with this place, this city, this life? Does Seungcheol tell you you’re a star? Does he say that you could shine bright anywhere in the world with that voice of yours, that face, and that he’d take you away with him one day, when the time is right?
He’s holding his breath outside the door, can’t decide yet whether to burst in or to leave it entirely, but then he hears the flick of your lighter, and the mention of his investor’s name out of Seungcheol’s mouth.
Soonyoung’s eyebrows draw together. Of course Seungcheol knows him– he’d expect nothing less of his investor to have someone on the inside to keep a close eye, but what takes him aback is that you seem to know him too.
“What’ll you have me tell Sugar, Miss?” asks Seungcheol.
There’s a long silence before you answer.
“Are you sure it’s Soonyoung?” you ask shortly.
“We are,” insists Seungcheol. “Minghao checked the records and the safe, too. He’s ready for something– seems he’s been getting ready for some time.”
Soonyoung’s blood runs cold. They know. Shit– it’s a wonder they haven’t got him tied to a chair and beaten blue already. He needs to go, needs to take the case he’s kept hidden for months, needs to take the money (if it’s still there) and leave this wretched place– but you, and the sudden quandary of your involvement in this keeps him rooted to the spot. Do you work for them too? Have you been telling Sugar all his secrets? Was spying on him the sole reason you seduced him, all those years ago?
“Miss– Miss are you listening? Your father wants you to handle this yourself.”
Father.
Your father.
Soonyoung almost loses his stomach, right there in the corridor.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
June 1923
“Why The Blue Pearl?” you ask, passing him your half-smoked cigarette.
Soonyoung has lost count of the amount of times he’s laid like this with you, in his little apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, but tonight is special. It’s his birthday, and although it’s a Monday, you brought him a cake, haphazardly decorated (but at least delicious), and told him to make a wish.
You’re in your slip, palest pink, which was bunched up around your waist only ten minutes prior, with your bare legs resting over his. He told you once his favourite part of you were your legs, but they’re not. It’s your eyes, and the starshine within them.
“For my mother,” he answers, flicking the ash into a tray on his nightstand and taking a drag. “She loved Edith Hallor. They worked on Broadway together, she even came for dinner at the house a few times.”
“Your mother’s an actress?” The surprise is evident in your voice.
“Nah. She worked on costumes.” Soonyoung smiles ruefully. “Edith was her favourite. We talked about seeing the movie together but Ma passed before it started showing.”
You turn onto your side, body pressed flush against his own and you look at him with those pretty eyes and tell him how sorry you are.
“I didn’t know, Soonie,” you say.
“How could you?” he says, stubbing out the cigarette and stifling a yawn. “I never mentioned her before now.”
“How’d she go?”
“Influenza, like every other fucker in the city.”
“You oughtn’t curse when talking about your mother!” you scold him, smacking lightly at his chest.
Soonyoung laughs and grabs your hand, twines your fingers together and holds them over his heart.
“She must’ve been a good woman,” you say quietly.
“What makes you say such a thing?”
“She raised you, didn’t she?” You press your lips to his jaw. “Only a wonderful person could’ve raised a man like you.”
And it’s the first time he’s heard you so serious in the few years since you met. Three or four nights a week you spend in his club, winking at him from your place on the stage, sitting at the bar after your set and asking him to stop washing glasses so he can come show you some of his moves. You’ve always loved the way he dances, throwing your head back laughing as he helps you with the steps, calling him New York's very own Rudolph Valentino. He’s never seen you in the daylight, but around you, he’s never felt anything but sunshine.
“What did you wish for?” you ask gently. “When you blew out your candle?”
He smiles. Some variation of the picket-fence fantasy he’s played out in his head so many times over the last few years. Pictures you in lights, maybe he teaches folk how to dance, and you’re both coming home to a house you share. Imagines what your children would look like, wonders if he could ever feel a kick underneath his palm on your belly, as his mother said his father did.
“Would you marry me?”
And as soon as those hasty words hang in the air he regrets them.
“Soonyoung–” you start, quietly, stroking his cheek. “I– I can’t. I’m sorry.”
And he knows you love him, even though you’ve never said the words aloud. Knows because of the way you look at him, the way you only have eyes for him in a room full of rich, handsome men– ones with status and power and everything else a woman like you could have. But it’s him you keep coming back to, it’s his name you gasp into his sheets, and you say it’s only him who’s ever made you feel so alive.
He closes his eyes. Lets you kiss his collarbone and his jaw and his cheek and his eyelids and say I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I wish… I wish–
“Why can’t you?” he asks, so crestfallen, as you kiss into his hair.
You hesitate, so he presses again.
“My family,” you whisper. “My daddy, mostly. He’d never allow it.”
He swallows the lump in his throat. “Because I’m–”
“No,” you quickly interject. “It’s nothing to do with you. He just has other plans for me, Soonyoung. Ones that don’t involve wasting my time on anything as trivial as love.”
Love.
Soonyoung turns his face to you, and God, you look as dejected as he feels. So he lets you kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until he wonders if maybe this kind of love could be enough.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Now
“I know, Seungcheol.” You take a long drag of your cigarette, running your finger along the rim of your champagne coupe, the vibration of it singing. “Let me think.”
It’s quite the surprise that Soonyoung would betray your father after close to a decade. He’s been as loyal as they come, careful with the staff he hires and even more so with the money. As of late there’s been a shortfall, and your fool of a brother had speculated it could be due to increased patrols in the area, as reported at other establishments under The Mob’s control, but you hadn’t noticed any difference in the level of patronage. You’d suspected one of the barmen or waitresses, maybe. Not Soonyoung. Never him.
But it seems Soonyoung finally got the balls to do what he’d always talked about with you. Get some money together and escape this wretched place. And you knew he wanted out badly, but had no idea this was how he planned to do it. What a crying shame he had to be so reckless as to steal from your father.
So you swallow your resentment as you stub out your cigarette. Your father might be out for blood but he’ll be keen to let you handle this mess, and if you can pin the blame elsewhere you’ll take every opportunity. If nothing else, you can buy Soonyoung some time.
“Follow him tonight,” you say, eyeing the crack in the door and the shadow that moves across it. “Don’t let him know, just see where he goes.”
Seungcheol frowns. “Sugar will be expecting you to have him brought in.”
“We ought to find out where the money is first, don’t you think?” You stand, smoothing down your dress. “You can pick him up once we find out where he’s keeping it.”
Your longtime bodyguard still seems hesitant, so you say, “Come on, Cheolie. You’ll want some variety by now, surely? A bit of detective work will be a nice change from looking after little old me?”
“It’s a pleasure to look out for you, Miss.”
You smile at him.
Seungcheol is your man. He’s been more of a brother these last ten years than your own blood has ever been. Loyal to you over your father, as he’s proved time and time again, but you’ve always known to keep your cards close to your chest until the time is right. You’ll tell Seungcheol the truth about you and Soonyoung, just as soon as you figure out what the hell you’re going to do.
“Sweet Seungcheol. You don’t know how thankful I am for you.” You walk over to him and blood flushes his face ruddy as you reach up to kiss his cheek. “But don’t you dare question my methods again.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
December 1919
“Joshua tells me you can sing?” asks Soonyoung, throwing the towel over his shoulder.
“Yes sir,” you say, leaning across the bar to pluck an olive from the bowl. A smile tugs at his mouth at your self-assuredness. “I’ve always wanted to perform in a place like this. It’s beautiful.”
You’re right, it is beautiful. It’d be even more so with your face up there on the stage, but he needs to hear your voice first. No use having a singer who can’t hold a tune. It’s thanks to Sugar that he can afford a performer at all. Without his investment it’d be just like any other gin joint cropping up around the city.
“Well go on now,” he says, nodding toward the centre of the room. “Stage is yours, sweetheart.”
You look around, an uncertain expression on your face. “But– there’s no music.”
Soonyoung places his hands on the bar and leans close, a smirk playing on his lips. “Aren’t you the music?”
And your voice is as spectacular as your face. His jaw hangs slack as you deliver your final notes and he can’t quite believe you’re gunning for here rather than Broadway. Rather than Hollywood. There’s been talk of modern advances that’ll allow sound in the next few years. You should surely be there, readying for the spotlights and the cameras instead singing to regular folk in this smokey room. You’re a ready made star.
He wonders where you might’ve come from, or how you even know Joshua. Anyone can tell you come from money, without a ring on your finger and standing there with a string of pearls around your neck and diamonds dripping from your ears. Your fur coat drapes over the chair at the bar, and your dress is made of silk rather than cotton, like his shirt. Women like you only come to places like this to drink and find men to marry, not to work for ten dollars a night.
“By that look on your face, I’m thinking you’ll have me, Mr Kwon?”
Your winning smile is all sunshine.
“You can call me Soonyoung, sweetheart,” he says, resting his chin on his hands. “Yes, I’ll have you.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Now
What can he do? What is there to do? You’re having him followed by his own Goddamn bouncer so he can’t very well leave now, can he? Soonyoung’s worldview has been flipped upside down and every carnal instinct he has tells him to run, but he finds himself back behind the bar in thirty seconds flat. Joshua gives him an uneasy smile as he watches him knock back a thumbmeasure of gin.
“Not like you to work through the supplies before the night’s even started,” he remarks, buffing a mark from the glass and setting it on the shelf above him. “Are you unwell?”
“Got a headache,” Soonyoung bluffs.
He’ll have to wait. Go about his business as he would’ve a few months prior and just go home after lock up, instead of to his cousin’s apartment on the Lower East Side. Maybe once Seungcheol’s off his tail he can move the money back. Maybe he could ask Jihoon to–
And the music starts, but this time he can’t even look at you as you take centre stage in your sparkling, silver dress. You sing your first and last songs for him, you always said, making eyes across the room through the haze of smoke and putting all your heart in it. This time, he can only think of his naivety, his carelessness, and the depths of your betrayal. All these years you’ve never been his at all. And the despair nearly makes its way onto his face as the song carries on, and he keeps playing pretend all is well.
Of course he’s heard stories of Sugar’s children. Knows about the oaf of a son that spends all his money on expensive liquor and cheap whores. Knows no one trusts him to inherit the empire, and that Sugar himself speaks of his uselessness. Everyone talks of how the girl is favoured, that she doesn’t have a drop of hesitation in her when it comes to putting someone in their place, and that when she kills it’s cold and clean.
So you’ve certainly inherited your father’s traits, haven’t you? All sweetness and charm and warmth until the time comes, aren’t you? Are you as cutthroat as him? Do you care anything at all for the blood spilled in his name? Have you used that twisted method of his, sweetened boiled water, poured over flesh?
And suddenly all his memories feel like falsehoods, and the loving words whispered in his ear feel like deceit and he can’t believe he fell for a play like this. Of course you wouldn’t want him. Of course he was just a job to you.
Soonyoung knows nothing at all, it seems.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
March 1925
“I’m leaving, Soonyoung.”
You’re fixing your hair in the mirror as he pulls his braces back over his shoulders. His face has that lovely flush it gets after you’ve had your way with him. Eyes still a little soft, and a lazy, self-assured smile plays on cherry smeared lips.
He smiles wide. “Come kiss me again then, sweetheart.”
“No, baby.” You turn with a sad smile. “I’m going away.” His face falls, and you can’t look at him, casting your eyes to the floor. “I know a girl who can sing and she’ll fill my spot, she’s coming to see you about it on Monday evening.”
“Where you going?” he asks under his breath.
“Los Angeles.” The lie slides off your tongue like honey. “A man from Hollywood heard me singing last week. Says I have a face good enough that I could be a movie star there, maybe.”
Soonyoung’s expression goes all hard and soft, upticks his brows in effort not to let you see how it breaks him inside, and you know this was the perfect story. He’d never dream of standing in your way. He’s nothing at all like your daddy. Nothing at all like your new husband, except for a little something in the way his mouth is shaped. It’s what makes it bearable, sometimes, that when you have to kiss him you can sometimes imagine it’s Soonyoung instead.
What breaks your heart in two is the way he smiles, so forlornly, when he quietly tells you– “you’re the star in any room you walk in, baby.”
And he must see the despondent look on your face, because his arms come around your body in a second, and you almost cry. Would do anything to stay here, with him, in this place, in his arms. But if you were to stick around, he’ll see the way your body will surely grow, and he’ll have questions you couldn’t possibly answer. You’re not the shark your father considers you to be, not with him. With Soonyoung, you’re the person you always wanted to be.
“I’ll miss you,” you say into his chest, voice choked, and for the first time today, in ages, it’s something honest.
“I’ll visit,” he offers, though you know that even if you’d give him your address he could never make time to travel to where he thinks you’ll be, somewhere across the country, while under the thumb of a man like your father.
You swallow. “That’d be wonderful.”
And he kisses you deep, kisses you like it’s the last one he’ll ever have, puts all his love for you in it and you take it, just like you’re taking everything else of his.
“You’ll write me, won’t you?” he whispers, his panted breath fanning your lips.
“Of course I will.”
Of course, you don’t.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Now
Three days go by without movement before your father’s patience wears thin. ‘Fuck the money,’ he’d growled, his deceptively sweet face turned sour. ‘Kill him.’ And so you’re outside Soonyoung’s apartment, a revolver cold against your skin under your fur coat, and Seungcheol is at the wheel.
But daddy doesn’t know that Seungcheol is your guy, and although he’s never called you anything but Miss, he’s always had something akin to a brotherly affection for you. And you know it’s no easy ask, what you’ve told him you need tonight– but he’ll do it. You can see he’s still working through your revelations, and it’s left his jaw set so tight it must surely ache. It’s a pity the outcome of tonight will have a price to pay, but for Seungcheol you’ll do everything you can to lessen his beating.
“Will he go along with it, Miss?”
You suck in a breath. “Depends if he wants to live.”
He bristles. Hesitates a moment before saying, “I don’t like it, Miss. Not one little bit. What if he h–”
“Well you’ll be right there, won’t you, Cheolie? Come fetch me when the lights go out.”
You give his arm a squeeze before he gets out to open your car door. There’s a chill tonight, your breath fogs the air and you pull your coat tighter around your body. Low light flickers in the window of Soonyoung’s apartment, and a shadow moves across it. He’s been watching.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
24th December 1924
The Blue Pearl always feels so much warmer at Christmas, with all the lights and the decorations and the huge tree dressed in red and gold in the corner of the room. He’s strung up paper stars and mistletoe all over the place, holly and ivy adorn the piano behind you, and a red ribbon bow is tied perfectly around your microphone.
Soonyoung certainly knows how to throw a party. Joshua and Vernon are run off their feet making drinks, and the girls are busy entertaining men throwing their money around like they haven’t got families at home, but Soonyoung– he’s watching you, elbows on the bar and chin resting on the heel of his palm, some proud stupid-in-love kind of look in his eyes as he smiles while you deliver your final verse.
The last notes from the piano ring in the air, and the audience still sober enough to stand do so, the noise of cheering and whooping and clapping feels almost like the roar of the ocean.
“Be sure to tip your bartenders and waitresses well tonight,” you call into the mic, smiling wide. Joshua and Vernon glance up at you with appreciation and you wink at them. “Merry Christmas everyone!”
The band kicks up again as one of the regulars helps you off stage with a firm hand, and though you only have eyes for the man behind the bar in his pinstripe shirt, unbuttoned at the collar on account of the heat in this room, you’re stopped numerous times by patrons on your way over to him. So you offer them your smile and try to slip away before Soonyoung gets caught up in some menial task that doesn’t involve stealing away to your dressing room.
“You’re too good for this place,” Soonyoung says as you finally approach the bar.
You wrinkle your nose. “And yet something keeps me coming back.”
He laughs and leans across the bar, pressing his palms flat on the counter. Looks good enough to kiss.
“Can I fix you a drink, sweetheart?” he asks, a soft lilt in his voice.
“No,” you say. “But you can come dance with me.”
“I’m working.”
“A feeble excuse,” you tease. “You’ve been watching me for the past five minutes.”
“Twenty at least,” complains a passing Vernon, and you giggle.
“C’mon, Soonyoung,” you pout. “Just one dance.”
“Might as well go, boss,” calls Joshua, shaking a cocktail. “We’ve got things handled, and your girl won’t stop sulking until she gets all your attention.”
Soonyoung laughs again, pushing his tongue into his cheek and you grin, triumphant.
And so one dance turns into two turns into five turns into slipping away to the back door, a needy Soonyoung on your heels down the corridor. Sweat drips down your skin and he kisses down your neck in the privacy of your dressing room, the cold wall against your back stealing your breath from your lungs. The noise from the club is muffled now. In here, it’s warm lamplight and the scent of powder, and Soonyoung pressing into the gap between your legs, tongue and teeth working over the sensitive spot below your ear.
You lean back just enough to breathe, and he follows instinctively, chasing your mouth. There’s something in his face that makes your chest ache– something open and unguarded and fervent.
“On your knees,” he breathes.
You’ve always loved this side of Soonyoung. This urgency, this passion, how he loses himself in you completely. Even more so on nights like this, when you wear his favourite dress and that perfume he says smells like sin. Something about it makes him forget the tenderness you see when you’re in his apartment in the middle of the night, casts it aside in favour of raw, carnal desire. Makes you feel so desperately wanted, because no one else would dare make demands of you like this.
And so you look up at him with wide eyes as you sink to the floor, and he undoes his belt. Soonyoung smirks dirty as you work the buttons of his fly– lets out some low, pleased hum as you tug his cock free and wrap your hand firm around his girth. He stares down at you with parted lips and hungry eyes, cheeks flushing pretty as you stroke him. Groans soft when you roll your hand over the head, and watches, enraptured, when your free hand finds the space between your own legs. And though he can’t see the way you slide your finger over your bare clit beneath the hem of your dress, the way you suck in a breath is enough to inspire his imagination.
Your eyes flit up to meet his again as you lean in, flicking your tongue over the bead of moisture gathering at the head and his hands fly to your hair, gathers it in his fist as your mouth sinks over him with hollowed cheeks. He hisses as you pull back, swirl your tongue around the head and take him fully in again. Panted breaths fall from parted lips as you slip into a rhythm, fingers circled around the base as take him deep in your mouth again and again. His leaking cock twitches against your lips when you pull back, when you tease the slit with your tongue and his desperate moan is so sweet to your ears.
His breaths are falling broken and rapid and you’re heated by the sound of it, fingers sinking deep into your wet cunt and it’s almost enough to get you off, this power you have over him, but he’s swearing something filthy and incoherent as he tugs you off him and drags you up to press you back against the wall.
“Can’t–” he pants against your mouth, stopping to kiss you deep and messy. “Need to feel how wet you are.”
You smirk, arching your back and lifting your leg to rest your foot on the vanity, and Soonyoung responds instantly, fingers spreading against the small of your back, drawing you in until there’s no air between you. Finds your lips and kisses you hard and senseless. Your hand slides from his collar up into his hair, feeling the soft strands at his nape, tugging gently just to hear the way his breath hitches.
His hand goes to your thigh, sliding over your stockings and brushing his fingers over the soft skin in the gap between the band and the hem of your corset. You snag his earlobe between your teeth, reach for his cock to pump him slow and easy and he groans, dimpling the flesh of your thigh beneath his fingertips.
And finally his hand finds your centre, and his eyes blow wide. Stares at you for a long moment before you say, “Merry Christmas, baby.”
He laughs loud, doesn’t waste any time before pressing between your legs and lining his cock up against your entrance and sinking into your tight, wet heat. “Filthy girl,” he rasps, bottoming out inside you and watching your lips fall apart. “Anyone could’ve seen.”
“Only you,” you gasp as he pulls out slow just to fuck back in hard. And he drops his head to your shoulder, smirks against your skin as he takes you like this, filling you with an exquisite stretch. You slip your arms beneath his shirt and around his back, fingers on sweat-slick skin, feeling the tension in the hard lines of definition there and his pace hastens, pushing hard into your wet cunt, clenching tight around him.
The buckle of his belt is digging into your inner thigh, biting at the flesh and you know it’ll leave a raw mark there, but some indistinct part of you wants it. Wants his lasting impression on your skin, because between all the small, fading scars you’ve been given by others, at least one should belong to him. Makes you want to make your own, crescent moons in his back, and Soonyoung makes a deliciously lewd noise as you dig in, and it’s all you can focus on beyond the sound his skin slapping against yours, the slick of his cock buried in your pussy, and a moan sliding from your throat.
And then he’s moving, lifting you into his arms and finding the chair in the corner of the room before falling into it. He holds you in his lap as you drag your dress over your shoulders and toss it to the floor– drops his face into your cleavage and mouths at your skin when you lift up to line his cock up against your entrance again and sink back down.
You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders as you lean back, let him see the mess he’s made of you, the sheen of your wetness on the base of his cock as you tighten around him. He curses, throws his head back and closes his eyes, cock twitching inside your pussy, and you know he won’t last much longer.
“Feels good,” you gasp.
“Yeah?” he slurs. “Shit, baby, tell me just how good I fuck you.”
Soonyoung all but shakes as you ride him, talking him through it dirty and obscene, circling your hips and grinding against him. This new position is blinding, almost, the way he feels so impossibly deep– made infinitely more so when his thumb circles your clit and you release a broken cry. That white-hot wave rushes through your veins, that telltale, dirty squelch where your bodies connect, and you’re rendered incoherent as he steadies his feet on the ground and fucks up into you, gathering the wetness that spills from your cunt with his fingers and running rapid circles over your clit. You come with a violent tremor and a fragmented whine, and Soonyoung swears, leans forward to bury his face in your chest again and lets out a velvet moan.
“God–” he chokes, eyes aflame. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna–”
“Inside me, baby. Wanna feel it.”
“Fuck fuck fuck– oh my God,” he gasps, words muffled against your skin, fingers digging into your hips to still them as he spills cum into your shaking body.
You press your forehead to his, and though it’s been several years of this– years of coming to each other in the dead of night, stealing away to your dressing room to press pause on time like this, you’re dying to tell him what he means to you. God, if you could you’d have married him years ago. He hasn’t told you he loves you since that night in his apartment with a crudely decorated cake, but you know he still does. Nothing else has changed.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Now
Soonyoung pulls open the door as soon as you knock.
“What are you doing here?” he asks evenly. “We don’t see each other on Mondays.”
You tilt your head, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach your eyes. Did you always smile like that? Is it only now that he knows who you are that he sees beyond the mask?
“Won’t you invite me in, Soonie?”
And he considers turning you out, but with Seungcheol sitting downstairs in the same Cadillac Sedan that was always parked outside your building, he figures it’ll only be a matter of time.
You glide past him like you own the place. Every room you’ve been in has been yours. He’d put it down to your quality, your inner light, but now he understands it comes with the ego that comes with carrying the name of a man that runs the whole Goddamn city. Your gloved fingers brush the edge of the table, the fabric of the curtains. You glance out the window, down to the car sitting outside and the amber end of Seungcheol’s cigarette, glowing in the dark. And he watches the way you turn, clocking the suitcase half-packed, the mess of papers on the countertop, and his coat draped over the chair rather than on the hook.
“You’re wondering about the case… I’m visiting my aunt in W–”
“Give it up, baby,” you say softly. “Let’s not pretend you don’t know who I am.”
He forces a laugh, before asking– “what’re you talking about?”
“Oh, Soonyoung.” You slip off your gloves finger by finger. He watches the movement. Two weeks back he’d have pulled those same gloves off with his teeth. “You were never any good at lying.”
The air thickens around him, jaw tightening. So this is it? These are his final hours? Moments? God, how he wishes he could’ve gone out in blissful ignorance. Wishes he could’ve gone out loving you as he thought you were, rather than loving a fabrication.
“So you’re here on your father’s business?”
You laugh, and the sound cuts him.
“I’m here on my–”
“Don’t lie to me! Sugar sent you, right?” he asks coldly, a tick in his jaw when you nod. “Well, you can tell him I’m flattered. I did wonder if I was worth a personal visit.”
You stare at him, and Soonyoung can’t bear the look in your eyes. “You’re worth everything to me.”
“Spare me the bullshit!” He hates the sound of his voice, all sharp and unkind and not a tone he’s ever used with you. “All these years you’ve been spying on me, huh?”
All that anger coiled in his gut over the last few days unfurls– the flames ripping up his gullet and out of his mouth with every intention of burning you like you did him. He’s only in this mess because of you anyway. Because of his stupid, reckless love for you. “Bet you laughed about it! Bet you have some other man in your bed and you laughed at me and my ignorance and what a fool I’ve been for you!”
And it spurs him on– the way your jaw clenches and the way you can’t look at him.
“Did you really have to screw me too? You had to go and make me love you? What was that for, sweetheart? Your fucking ego? Fuck you!”
You regard him for a moment, and Soonyoung is thrown by your silence. Instead of fighting with him all you do is huff a frustrated breath and reach into your purse for your cigarettes. You take a seat at the table by the window before lighting one, and pointedly gesturing for him to sit down too.
The audacity of you– telling him to sit in his own fucking home. The anger fizzes at his bones, near vibrates in him, but it’s not enough to stop him from noticing how tired you look. He can’t sit. He’s incensed. Feels the rage in his fucking bones and you’re just sitting there with your cigarette in furs your daddy must’ve paid for and expecting him to be reasonable, expecting him to buy any lie you’re selling.
Instead he puts more space between you, fetches his almost empty glass from the counter and the bottle beside it and pours himself another drink– barely a second later he knocks it back.
You cross your legs and gaze out of the window, and after a long, silent moment, you quietly ask– "Why'd you think I left that gap in the door?” Soonyoung scowls but he doesn’t answer. “I wanted you to hear. I wanted to buy you some time while I–”
“Bullshit. You could’ve talked to me!”
“Don’t be naive–” You take a quick drag of your cigarette. “I had to be sure we weren’t being watched.”
“And what of the last eight years?!” he cries, voice cracking. “If you’d told me the damn truth I would’ve understood! I’d have caused no hassle–”
“Don’t speak to me of causing hassle when you’re the one who’s been cheating my father out of his money.” Your lip curls, a bitterness on your tongue. “There was no hassle until you saw fit to take what isn’t yours. This is your doing, Soonyoung, and I’m the one here to fix it.”
And though he scoffs, he’s losing steam. Can’t work out why you’re trying to convince him you’re not here to bring him to meet his maker. What’s the point? Can’t piece together the image of the you that sits here as Sugar’s daughter, and the you that he kisses so sweet whenever he gets the opportunity.
“So tell me,” he says bitterly, pouring himself another glass. “Was I just a job?”
“You think I needed to seduce you to keep tabs on you?” you shoot back. “I could’ve watched you from across the room and learned everything. You were as loyal as me until I came back.”
“Then why would you get involved with me at all?”
“Because I love you, Soonyoung.”
The words hang heavy in the air. He rolls his eyes but fuck, he wants to believe it. You stand, crossing the room slowly to stand on the other side of the counter. You take his glass from his hand and he lets you, watches you swallow it down, the movement in your throat, and the lipstick you leave on the rim.
He shakes his head. “You lied to me.”
You put your hand on the counter, barely an inch from his own. “Yes.”
“About who you are– about why you were there.”
“Yes, I did.”
Each admission is a punch to the gut, and you don’t even try to soften the blow.
“What about Hollywood– was that a lie too?”
A pause, and Soonyoung watches the mask slip– catches a flash of fear in your eyes before you close them. “Yes,” you breathe.
He swallows. “So where were you? Over a year you were gone– were you still in New York, jerking around some other guy running your fathers’ clubs?”
“I was not,” you insist.
“So where?”
“New Jersey.”
Soonyoung’s laugh is loud and sharp. “Jeez. All that time I missed you thinking you were thousands of miles away. You’re unbelievable. A dirty fuckin’ liar.”
“And you’re a thief!” you all but yell, but he shouts over you with a snapped– “You know damn well he was taking too much–
“Oh! Don’t pretend you’re some fucking angel, Soonyoung,” you hiss, cutting him off. “You stole from my father!”
“I stole from a brute!”
The silence almost rings. Wonders if you might slap him across the face before your eyebrows tick up in a sort of amused resignation, and you let out a dark chuckle.
“If he’s a brute, then I’m a brute,” you say.
And he can’t find it in him to agree. Yes. You might be, but he can’t bring himself to say it aloud. After a moment, your hand draws back, and you’re reaching into the lining of your coat. You pull out a revolver, and Soonyoung’s heart thrums in his ears as you set it carefully on the table between you.
“He wants me to kill you, Soonyoung.”
“I figured,” he says hoarsely, mouth going dry. “Been wondering why you haven’t done it already.”
“Well the thing is, baby,” you murmur. “I rather like you alive.”
He looks at the gun. Can’t imagine you using that thing, can’t picture you as the woman he’s heard all those rumours about. That stone cold killer.
“You had me followed.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re handing me over? Having someone else do your dirty work?”
“No, Soonyoung. You’re going to run.”
The certainty in your voice makes him look up.
“Run?” he echoes. “I don’t understand.”
“In a few minutes,” you say, slipping off your coat and tossing it to the armchair behind you. “You’re gonna go downstairs and take that car of mine and drive far far away. Wait til you’re a few states over and sell it. Buy another car somewhere else and keep going. The money you stole, plus a little extra, is on the backseat. It’s enough to get you set up on the west coast. Or in Mexico if you’re smart about it. Personally I’d rather be on the other side of the world.”
Soonyoung lets out a tiny, disbelieving laugh. “I– what?”
“You’re gonna change your name, and then you’re gonna find somewhere to settle down and live an honest life. Keep yourself out of trouble. Start teaching dance, like you always said, maybe? And if you want– if you can forgive me, you can write me–” You reach into your coat again, pulling out a scrap of paper and placing it in front of him. It’s the address to your apartment. “–write me here. They don’t know about this place but don’t sign your name and don’t write anything about our past– just in case. Draw a little star in the corner so I know it’s you.”
You say it so earnestly that Soonyoung can hardly breathe. Feels his heartbeat in his throat and he’s choked with it. You’re helping him? God, he wants it to be true, despite everything.
“I don’t understand,” he says, voice thick. “What about Seungcheol?”
“There’s no need to worry about him,” you explain. “He’s mine. He’ll leave the keys for you on the seat as soon as the lights go out in here.”
He thinks it over. Chews on the fat of his cheek until he can taste metal. And you just stand there, quietly regarding him, and waiting for him to accept that he must mean something to you, for you to go to all this trouble.
“And–” he eventually starts, voice so small. “And what of the gun?”
You smile a little sad.
Oh so gently, you say, “You’re gonna have to shoot me, baby.”
And Soonyoung feels all the blood drain from his face. He– he can’t find the words– just gapes at you like a dolt as you don’t seem affected in the slightest, as if it were a simple conversation about the damn weather.
You push it closer and he stares at it in disbelief. He’s kept a gun behind the bar of The Blue Pearl for eight years and he’s never once had to use it. The thought makes him feel somewhat sick.
“No.”
You huff a small, frustrated breath. “I’m not telling you to kill me. Aim low.” You place your hand on your abdomen, just below your belly button– and Soonyoung can’t imagine it, maiming your body in such a way. “Seungcheol’s right outside to t–”
He shakes his head. “You’re crazy–”
“My father won’t believe I let you get away without a str–”
“This is ridiculous–”
“Soonyoung, please,” you try to reason. “There has to be some ev–”
“No!” Soonyoung grabs for your hand, tightens his fingers around yours, and he catches a flicker of contrition in your eyes at the touch. “I can’t do this!”
“You must!”
“Tell him you killed me!” he begs, almost delirious. Panic is taking grip of his spine, a cold sweat forming on his brow. “Tell him you tossed my body in the river and take the money back. I’ll leave! He need never know!”
“Soonyoung, listen to me!” you snap, eyes hard and resolute. “He’d never believe it without a body. If I were to tell him you were dead without your blood on my hands he’d know in a heartbeat what I feel for you, and then you have no idea what he’d do to us both. You have no idea how cruel he can be. Family means nothing to him without loyalty. You’ve heard the stories about what he did to my mother, don’t think for a second he wouldn’t do that to me too.”
And he hates the way your time together has come to this crashing end. Can’t stand the way you shake his hand off to take the bottle and pour yourself a large glass. You down it quickly, a few drops of liquor spilling from the corners of your mouth, that you brush away with your thumb.
“I can’t hurt you,” he whispers, voice cracking.
“Come on now,” you say firmly. “He’ll forgive me a screw up in letting you take my gun, but he’ll never even try to understand anything e–”
You’re interrupted with a sharp rap at the door and you snatch the gun from the counter, start to raise it toward the door before it’s cracked, and Seungcheol slips inside. He doesn’t acknowledge Soonyoung as he stands tall, hands clasped in front of him as he does at the club, and he says, “You’re taking too long, Miss.”
“I’m aware,” you say, frowning. There’s a resigned look of understanding between you as you hand him the gun. “Soonyoung’s finding it all a little difficult.”
Soonyoung lets out a scornful noise. “Oh, I apologise that I’m not inclined to hurt you for the sake of a lie!”
You place your hand over his, and he can’t bring it in him to snatch it away. Your thumb traces over his knuckles and you smile something pitiful, eyes welling up, and his heart is pounding in his chest. He’s never once seen you cry. You tug his hand up to your lips, press a soft, lingering kiss to his fingers, and under your breath, you murmur, “loving you is the only honest thing I ever did, baby.”
But then your hand slips away, and you turn towards Seungcheol. “Do it.”
And before Soonyoung can process what’s happening, before he can even blink, Seungcheol is raising the gun, and the shot rings in his ears.
Your cracked sob echoes in his skull as you crumple to the floor, and Soonyoung is over you in a heartbeat, your blood coating his trembling hands as he holds you, ugly stains on your silk dress, and all he can hear is useless, panicked whimpers before he realises those pathetic sounds are spilling from his own lips.
“Baby… baby, no–”
“Get out of the way,” Seungcheol grunts, wrenching him off of you. He presses his hands over your belly and pushes down in a way that has you crying out, eyes rolling so far back all he can see is the whites of them. And he knows that this sound, this moment, will stay with him forever.
“You–” you slur, reaching blindly for his hand. You grip him tight, and he finds some small relief in the strength of your fingers, but it’s not enough to make him feel any less hollow. “You need t– ah! Go, Soonyoung. Leave now.”
Seungcheol is lifting you, ignoring the way the movement draws a sharp gasp from your lungs, and your hand slips from his. “I’ve got you, Miss.”
“Where are you taking her?” Soonyoung demands, hysteria clawing at the edges of his vision as he’s losing you, losing everything he’s ever wanted.
“She needs a doctor,” Seungcheol mutters as he makes for the door. “Remember the plan. This is worth nothing if you don’t do as she says.”
Your body sags in his arms as he crosses the threshold, and Soonyoung’s stomach twists sharp. What if the last conversation he has with you was one in which he didn’t tell you how he loves you? What if you die not knowing all he wanted these last eight years was to make you his wife, to take you away from this wretched city and make you happy for the rest of your lives?
“I love you,” he calls urgently, tears spilling down his cheeks, as Seungcheol rushes you out.
And he doesn’t even know if you reply, if you even hear him, because Seungcheol is making down the stairs, and Soonyoung is left alone in his apartment once more, kneeling in a scarlet puddle.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
April 1926
You’ve been back three days before he realises you don’t talk of Hollywood at all.
(Soonyoung’s world has shifted on its axis again, everything slid into view in full colour again as soon as you stepped through the door, and he didn’t care a jot for the glass he dropped on the floor, because you’re back. You were in his arms and you were spinning and laughing and kissing and God, he’s been so breathlessly happy since he saw you again, the first time in over a year.
“Can I come back?” you’d asked. “You’ll have me back here, won’t you?”
He’d tsked at the ridiculous question. “Like there’d be a shadow of a doubt,” he’d said. And you’d smiled, relieved.)
And now it’s well after hours– you’re on the rooftop of The Blue Pearl waiting for the sunrise, a champagne coupe in hand and leaning on the edge of the wall looking out over the city, while a million questions he’d long put to bed rise to the surface. His front presses against your back, arms caging you against the wall, and the familiar scent of your perfume overwhelms him again.
“Why didn’t you write?” Soonyoung asks quietly, when he finally builds up the courage.
The question doesn’t take you aback, and he wonders if you’ve been expecting it. Instead you just sigh, set your coupe on the ledge, and tip your head back against his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t have had a good word to tell you, baby,” you say sadly. “I would’ve come back in a heartbeat if I’d heard from you, and then it’ll have all been for nothing.”
He sits with that for a moment. “So why is it you’re back now?”
“My family wanted me back in the city,” you say, blinking up at the night sky. “And honestly, I just needed any excuse to come back to you. I only wish it were anywhere but here.”
“You missed me?” he whispers, face turned into your hair.
“Every day,” you admit, reaching for his hand and pulling it over your chest. “I missed you all the time.” And he has so many more questions, so many pieces of the puzzle lost, but you’re looking up at the sky and saying– “I looked at these stars every night and kept imagining you were looking too.”
And he did. He stood on this very rooftop and looked up at them fading, as they are now, and wondered where they went. Where do stars like you go in the light of day?
You talk for ages, until the sunrise shines amber between the buildings and you grow hungry and tired. He tells you to wait for him by the door (get your coat on, sweetheart, I’ll just be a minute) and he slips into the office.
He finds an old briefcase in the closet and opens the safe, heart hammering in his throat. He’s never dared before. Mainly because he’s not inclined to steal, but also because he knows what Sugar does to those who do. But all Soonyoung can think of is the look on your face when you spoke earlier, when you said anywhere but here. So he takes some bills and slips them inside the briefcase, and tries not to think of the way Sugar earned his name.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Now October 1926
Your father is incensed. You can tell that much, as your vision fades in and out. You cry out as you hear the crack of the back of his hand across Seungcheol’s face. It’s not his fault, daddy, you try to gasp out in the small respite you get while the doctor eases up on your body, but your father always has needed someone to punish.
At least he believes, you think, letting out a fractured sob as the doctor sinks his fingers into your belly again. At least Soonyoung’ll live.
Stupid of you really, to suggest being shot in the gut, when a leg would’ve probably worked out better. Sure, you might’ve once seen an artery hit there and watched a man’s life slip away within the minute, but bleeding out would’ve been better than the agonising throb of this doctor’s instruments digging around in your belly while someone else, blurry on the sidelines, fumbles his hands while drawing up the morphine.
But you can’t die without knowing if Soonyoung made it out of the city. God, you hope he’s been smart and not wasted time. You can’t die without holding your girl first, who only learned how to say mama last week, much to your husband’s chagrin, but it’s not like you’ve had any inclination to teach her a word unfit for his role in her life.
“You let this happen! You stupid motherfucker,” your father rages, and you hear a dull thud as he strikes Seungcheol again. “Where is he?!”
Gone, you hope. Please be gone.
“Saw him bolting for tenth avenue in her car when I carried her downstairs,” Seungcheol says, voice thick. “He must’ve taken her keys.”
Your father releases him and Seungcheol rags his hand over his face, smearing the blood dripping from his lip down his chin.
“Is she gonna be alright, Jeonghan?”
“We’ll see,” says the doctor, eyes wide and panicked. Jeonghan. You’ve only ever seen him in passing. You feel almost nothing now as your arm falls from the table, swinging down heavy and limp, and this Jeonghan almost looks like an angel, with the stark light in a ring above his head.
Seungcheol has gone ashen with worry, ignores his own bleeding face as he falls backwards against the wall, away from your father, who clenches his fists and growls “Find him!” to the men huddled just outside the door.
Please don’t. Please, God, don’t.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
One Year Later
You get Soonyoung’s– or rather, Hoshi’s first letter, on a Tuesday morning, a star marked in the corner like you asked. It’s nothing much. Just one that wishes you well and asks if you’d like to visit ‘her’ at her new home in San Diego. You press your face into your arms and cry and cry and cry for what feels like a decade. This past year has had a weight on your chest like no other. He’s safe. He’s safe and he wants you to come to him.
You memorise the address and burn the letter, and write back as soon as you can pull yourself together.
Dear Hoshi,
It’s wonderful to hear from you. May I visit now?
Three weeks later, you get his reply. One word. Yes.
By midnight, you’re in the back of your car with your girl sleeping on your lap, somewhere between Pittsburgh and Columbus. Seungcheol is driving. Insists he’s not tired, despite the time, but you’ll make him swap out before the hour is up.
You’d considered not telling him at all, but you love him like a brother, and leaving him confused and hurt after everything he did for you would only break both your hearts. He said he’d always wanted to see the Pacific anyway, and surely there’ll be jobs in California for a guy like him.
Sweet Seungcheol. In truth it’s better he’s with you rather than left to deal with the fallout of your disappearance with your husband and your father. This way, there’ll be no one for them to question, no one who knows a thing about the secrets you share.
And it’s better for you too– if Soonyoung turns you and your girl away, at least you’ll be with someone you know, someone your girl knows as her favourite uncle, and you can find somewhere else to call home together.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
He’s only home from work fifteen minutes before there’s a gentle knock at the door. He checks his reflection in the mirror and smooths back his hair, as he has so illogically done every single time someone’s visited since the day he posted that last letter, as if you could appear on his doorstep in an instant.
And he prepares himself for disappointment as he works to keep his pace even down the hallway, but he can’t stop his heart jumping into his throat.
You turn as he pulls open the door, a smile lighting up your lovely face. You’re unchanged. As radiant as the day he met you, more so in the dappled sunshine. How has it been a decade and this is the first time he’s seen you in the afternoon light?
“Hello, Soonyoung,” you breathe.
The name would feel alien now, coming from anyone else's mouth but yours. God, how he’s missed it. God, how he’s missed you.
You seem a little anxious to draw close, so he makes the decision for you. Wraps his arms around your waist and twirls you tight, wants to hear your sweet laugh before he believes you’re truly here. Wants to feel your body relax against his, wants your kiss on his cheek and your things in his room and–
“Shall we sit outside, Soonyoung?” you say, pushing off him as he sets your feet back down on the deck. “Let’s sit a while.”
And so you take a seat in one of the chairs on the porch, while he fetches water with slices of lemon from the kitchen. Wonders if he should offer you something to eat but doesn’t want to waste time preparing anything right now, so he carries the glasses outside, and passes one to you before sitting in the other chair.
“The weather is… incredible here,” you say quickly. “You can hardly tell it’s almost November.”
You are anxious– he realises, as you thumb away the condensation on your glass and avoid his eye. A year ago his first instinct would’ve been to kiss it away, had he ever seen you like this. Now he keeps his hands to himself, and asks how you’ve been.
“Well,” you say, the tension obvious in your shoulders. You roll them, taking a sip of your water before cradling it in your hands in your lap again. “What about you? What’ve you been doing since you came here?”
And so he talks. Talks of his job– started working in construction just for something to do with his hands, keeps his mind occupied, before he found a place he could teach dancing after work. Runs a class out of the neighbourhood schoolhouse on Wednesday and Saturday evenings. It’s mostly older folk, but they’re sweet to him and he enjoys his time with them.
And you smile, laugh along with the stories he tells you of people like Doris, and Jim who’s wildly in love with her, but your eyes keep flicking away from his, and he wonders at first if you’re struggling, being around him. After a while he notices you’re looking toward the car parked a little ways away, on the corner of the road. There’s a man in the front seat, face obscured by shadow from the tree overhead.
“You come here with someone?” he asks.
A pause. “Seungcheol,” you say. “He’s just making sure I’m safe before he finds us somewhere to stay tonight.”
Soonyoung straightens his spine. “Oh. I see.”
You tut. “Not like that, Soonyoung,” you say softly. “I think of him as my family. He’s done more for you than you could imagine.”
He looks over toward the car again, watches Seungcheol reach into the backseat with what looks like an apple, and a little hand reaches up to take it.
“He has a kid?”
Your eyes dart back to the car, and you suck in a juddered breath. “No. He doesn’t.”
And Soonyoung almost stops breathing. Can feel his pulse go all thready and weak and the air in his lungs thins out.
“Baby, I need to tell you the truth,” you say, turning fully toward him. Soonyoung still watches the car, the way Seungcheol twists his head to smile down at your child, this little thing. “Is that okay? If you want me to leave after, it’s okay, I promise, but I need you to know everything. Can I tell you?”
“I– yeah… yeah you can tell me.”
He almost doesn’t want to hear that you had a child with someone else. And it’s not that he blames you, it’s just that he’s sick with envy. But you’re trying to pull him back to earth, trying to ground him, with your fingers slotting through his and pulling his vision back into focus, with an “okay, okay– Soonyoung– look at me, baby.”
He does, and you smile at him, but he sees the worry in the creases around your eyes and he can’t stand it.
“You remember I lied about Hollywood,” you start. “I was in New Jersey. That’s where she was born.”
“She–“
“Yes, she.” You swallow audibly. “She’s called Hannah.”
Hannah. He likes the name.
“I left, and I got married, and I had my sweet girl, and–”
“You got married,” he interrupts, voice rasping over his drying throat.
Your face cracks. “Yes,” you breathe. “And I wish I could’ve married you instead, baby, I do. But you know my father would’ve never let me marry you, you know that… right? He’d have killed you just for touching me.”
He knows. Doesn’t dull the pang in his chest.
“So I married a man who looks a little like you, and let him think nothing of it when she was born. And she’s so wonderful, Soonyoung. Wild too, I think. Oh! And she loves to dance like you, she does th–”
And his vision swims again, can’t quite comprehend what you’re saying, you’re still talking and he’s only hearing half the words because– because–
He grips your hand tight, steadies himself with the other on the arm of the chair, and stammers, “She’s… is she–”
“She’s yours, baby.” You smile broken, tears spilling down your cheeks and you swipe them away just as quick. “I’m sorry. Soonyoung, I’m so so sorry, I couldn’t– leaving you was the only way I could keep her.”
He stands. Tears his gaze from your face and stares toward the car. Seungcheol is getting out now, and he’s got a tiny fist clasped around his fingers. And all Soonyoung can see is small feet in white shoes and frilled socks hopping along the pavement and he feels the sunlight on his face and your hand in his and something like hope and regret swirling together in his gut. He’s missed so much. You’ve been robbing each other in circles, he thinks. Money and hearts and time, all stolen goods.
“Can I meet her?”
You squeeze his hand. “She won’t understand you’re her daddy, yet.”
He nods, clenching his eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “I know– I know that.”
“We need to go slow for her,” you say quietly. “If that’s what you want? If you’ll have us?”
And this is something he’s imagined for years. Not just you coming to him, escaping the city and your family, but a white picket fence in the suburbs, you and him together at last, high pitched giggles from children playing in the yard. The promise of an honest life. And it’s so fucking scary, now it’s right within his grasp, but he knows he can’t ruin it with rashly made decisions again.
“I’ll have you,” he says, turning to take your face in his hands. “Of course I’ll have you.”
Kisses you so hard it takes you by surprise before you’re melting into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing him back. You kiss him like you’ve been starving. Slow, and tentative at first, before you’re clutching at him to steady yourself as he pulls you flush against his body. Your mouth is warm and desperate and trembling, and when he finally breaks away it’s only because he has to breathe. You make a soft, admonishing noise as you thumb the tears away from the hollows of his eyes, and he lets out something between a laugh and a sob.
This is where stars go, he thinks, as he hears the clap of his daughter’s shoes on the steps up to his porch. When the night fades, they go out west.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
thank you so much for reading! taglist will be added on the next reblog.
all interaction is appreciated more than you could know, so if you liked this fic, please consider reblogging with any thoughts to help get this fic seen outside my following!
Can you please do svt members who eat out their girls because they want to pleasure them vs those who genuinely fucking love the taste of pussy vs those who are so into eating out they might just cum totally untouched while eating you out
why svt like to eat pussy?
WARNINGS: pure putaria and smut, oral (f. receiving), pussy-drunk analogy.
eats you out bc he wants to pleasure you
seungcheol: the type to give you a speech about how he’s a man of duty and literally write essays about making sure you have toe-curling, back-arching, crying-in-pleasure levels of satisfied.
seungkwan: gold star service provider. it’s giving “nothing but the best for my baby.” he type to ask for feedback mid-session like, “is that good? or do you want me to go harder?”
wonwoo: mf reads books about anatomy to perfect his technique. he’s meticulous as hell, but he’s also so quiet and focused while doing it that you’re left wrecked because how does he even know your body better than you??
seokmin: he’s just so happy to make you happy. he’s the king of telling you how good you’re doing while he’s down there, and it’s the most wholesome yet sinful thing ever.
vernon: this man’s lowkey about it. he’s not saying much—he’s just doing it. very intuitive, very chill, but still SO effective. the kind who gives lazy and broad licks but somehow leaves you shaking. and when he’s done, he’s like, “you wan’me to order some food?” like he didn’t just wreck your entire existence. would probably frown at the sight of your legs shaking. (gives this vibe of that one meme: my boyfriend just left me trembling, and now he is playing minecraft)
2. loves the taste of pussy
jeonghan: smirks while wiping his mouth this man will straight-up tell you he loves the way you taste. and the thing is, he’s cocky but he’s earned it. you’re left wondering who’s being pleasured here because he’s moaning like he’s the one getting off.
joshua: sweet, until he’s between your legs like a man possessed, act like you’re a full-course meal, and he is starving. will kiss you after, totally unbothered that you can taste yourself on his lips.
minghao: he’s the type to tell you you’re delicious with the most deadpan sincerity while licking his lips, and it’s lowkey terrifying how good he is at it.
jun: this man is an enthusiast. he’ll legit say, “I could do this all day,” and you believe him. will pause mid-session to kiss your thighs just to prolong his enjoyment. he is is savoring you like the main course you are.
vernon (again, because he’s sneaky like that): listen, once he gets a taste, it’s game over. sure, he acts chill, but he’s obsessed. you’ll hear him humming into you, vibing just like when the waiter put your fav food on your table.
3. so into eating out they might cum untouched (y’all already know these men are problems)
mingyu: he would grind against the mattress and your leg just from how turned on he is. you’d hear him moaning WITH YOU, and suddenly it’s not just about you anymore—he’s a mess, and it’s hot.
hoshi: would put his whole chest into it like it’s a performance. he’s slurping, he’s whining, and he’s holding onto you for dear life while losing himself in the process. will look up at you with those wide, starry eyes like, “did I do good, baby?” (might need a minute after because he is too into it)
woozi: his arms are locked around your thighs so you can’t run. his tongue is completely illegal. you’re sobbing, and he’s just groaning into you like it’s his orgasm. would cum untouched 100% and then smirk about it.
chan: this man is hungry. his whole vibe is;; “you’re my first meal of the day, and I’m starving.” mf has no shame, no chill, and no limits. he’s gripping your thighs like his life depends on it, grinding into the mattress because he’s that turned on. when he cums untouched, he’s shocked AND EMBARASSED like he wasn't literally eating you out seconds ago.
"while he bites on his necklace so it won't hit my face,"
It was your usual weekend night where you would found yourself loafing at the coach, wrapped in your favorite thick blanket while watching an episode of a Netflix show you've been keeping fermented in your watchlist for months.
And you did all of these while missing your boyfriend.
It's been about two months since Kwon Soonyoung enlisted to the military in the active duty services. He would contact you sometimes but it has grown lesser and lesser these day. Not that you're complaining as you have grow accustomed to it.
Though it's pretty difficult for you to adapt since he's the type to overshare almost everything and anything related to his life, so your daily seems a bit empty without all of his useless TMI he thought you need to know.
As the show reached the mid mark of the episode that even you had started to yawn, you heard the sound of your security keypad beeping from the outside.
What the hell?
You froze on the couch, heart racing before you whipped your head towards the door.
Robber? No. Why would a robber enter a house by entering your house passcode?
Then, a stalker? Damn it!
You urged yourself to think fast as you launched yourself to your feet and slowly padded towards a corner where a baseball bat was resting against the wall of your home. Perfect weapon for a self-defense, you thought.
The door creaked open and you had your bat out ready to welcome whoever intruder passing through the door with a pounding chest.
Only for you to caught yourself frozen in the next minute.
Because there he is, Soonyoung stood in the doorway, one duffel bag in one hand. He was still in his tight olive green that clung to his frame that you haven't touched in months, one you've been missing lately.
He looked at you like he hadn't seen sunlight in weeks. In fact, you were to him.
"Surprise," he said. "Though I would say what an interesting way to welcome me,"
You didn't say a word. The bat dropped to the floor as you walked straight towards him. The slow steps turn into a light jog as you finally launched yourself into his arms as he voluntarily threw his bag away to welcome you in.
Your arms wrapped around his nape, along with your legs tightening around his waist, clinging on him like a koala. Soonyoung chuckled before he also buried his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent he has been missing a lot.
"Miss me?" He asked.
"Idiot," You murmured. "More than you think,"
You barely remembered stumbling into the bedroom with your lips on each other and clothes hastily discarded to the floor. Everything was blurred until what was left is his heat and his body above you.
His rhythm was deep, slow and steady. Each thrust he drawn out like he wanted you to feel how much he missed you, how long he has waited for you and your touch against him again.
Your fingers curled into his back, nails digging deep into his now slightly tanned skins, drawing blood that cause him to hiss from time to time. Your breathe coming a little sharp at every rolls of his hip against yours.
But then you finally noticed it.
The dog tag chain that currently swinging between your bodies. You've felt its cold metal kissing the slope of your chest at first, then bouncing off your collarbone, then :
Flick!
Your cheek.
It kept swinging everytime he thrust.
Clink!
Your chin.
Clink!
Nose.
Tap.
Right on your lips.
It was so ridiculous that you let out a helpless laugh between moans. "S-Soonyoung, your tag-"
He paused to glanced down at your face, watching it swinging before it lightly smacking you on your face again.
"Oh, sorry..." He chuckled. His fingers then grabbed the chain and bit down on the tag.
Just bit it in between his teeth. You can even see his jawline slightly flexing as he did.
Your breath caught in your throat, your brain totally went short-circuited.
The tag no longer swung like it did before. It hung, tight and stretched, the metal glinting under the dim light, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to keep looking at anything else but him.
"Are you gonna focus now?"
You gasped, clutching at his shoulder.
Holy shit.
A/N : yea i feel a little bit crazy after seeing that comment on tiktok. Anyway, made my debut finally yay
◁ II ▷ now playing: everybody here wants you - jeff buckley
wc: 4.8k
contains: mdni nsfw!!!, oneshot, wedding night, mutual yearning, domestic fluff, chan is a cutie we love him, unprotected p in v, slight pain kink, spitting, implied sub!chan, creampie, reader is lowk freak nasty, body worshipping (r!receiving 😛), chan is a little whiny
The front door clicks shut behind you, your ears still ringing from the prior festivities of the night.
There’s no applause. No voices rising up to congratulate you. Just quiet—real, unprompted quiet. It spreads through the house, almost feeling louder than any music.
Chan exhales a soft laugh beside you, the kind that’s let out more so to fill the silence more than the result of humor. “We’re married,” he says, like he’s testing the sentence out loud.
He doesn’t let go of your hand when he says it. If anything, his grip tightens, thumb brushing slow, affectionate circles against your knuckles. You can feel the energy still radiating in him, bright and warm and barely contained. He’s been like this all night—eyes a little wider, smiles coming easier than usual, like the word wife was gonna be coming out of his mouth every second from now on.
You step further into the honeymoon house, shoes clicking softly against the floor until you toe them off. Your feet were absolutely killing you. You were positive that you’d wake up with blisters after walking, dancing and celebrating in those godforsaken heels all day. The place smells faintly of clean linen and citrus, something neutral meant to please a wide demographic. Lamps glow low and welcoming, casting a soft light across furniture that isn’t yours. Nothing here is yours.
Outside the wide windows, the sky is a deep blue-black, but it’s brighter around the edges, dawn waiting its turn.
You’re still in your wedding dress.
The fabric pulls gently at your shoulders as you move, heavy in a way that didn’t register earlier. Hours ago, it felt light as a feather, something you had been waiting years to wear. Now it feels like something you were counting the seconds before you could step out of and just be comfortable.
Chan drops the overnight bags by the door, then turns back to you, eyes glazing over you in a way that’s overtly fond. Just taking you in.
“You did so good today,” he says quietly, like it’s something he’d been waiting to tell you. “I know that was a lot.”
You hum in response. Words still feel a little far away, like they’d had to travel to reach your ears.
He reaches up and gently adjusts one of the hairpins that’s started to loosen, careful not to undo anything just yet. His touch is very light, reverent even.
The living room opens up ahead of you, and that’s when you see them.
All the gifts.
They’re stacked neatly on the coffee table and along the wall, ribbons slightly rumpled from being moved more than once. There’s cards tucked under bows. All different handwriting. Different friends and family members.
You lower yourself onto the couch with a quiet sigh, the dress spreading around you like a tide. The cushions dip under your weight as you get comfortable for the first time all night. Chan sits beside you immediately, close enough that your thighs touch. His knee bounces once, then twice—before he stills it, catching himself. He grins, glancing at the pile. “I can’t believe how many there are,” he says, wonder threaded through his words. “My mom’s going to text me tomorrow and ask if we liked what she got us.”
That pulls a faint smile from you.
You reach for the closest gift because it’s there, because you wanted to occupy yourself before putting all your leftover energy into getting ready for bed. The paper makes a soft tearing sound in the quiet room—making it feel much louder than it actually was. You wince without meaning to.
Chan notices how on edge you seem while adjusting to the quiet after what might’ve just been the biggest day of your life.
Not immediately does he act upon it. He lets you unwrap it, lets you pull out a couple of simple ceramic bowls with your initials engraved on them. But when you set it aside instead of commenting, when you don’t reach for the next one right away, he then decides to address it.
His smile softens, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“You okay?” he asks, attentively.
You nod, because you are.
He watches you for another second, then nods like he’s answered his own question. “I get it,” he murmurs. “Loooong day.”
He reaches for the lamp behind you and dims it a notch, and the room immediately grows softer. Then he leans back into the couch, opening his arms in a quiet invitation rather than pulling you in outright.
You shift without thinking, settling into the space beside him, your shoulder brushing his chest. He presses a kiss into your hair
“We don’t have to open these tonight,” he says. “We don’t have to do anything, actually. We already did the hard part.”
You huff out a breath that might almost be a laugh.
You're married.
The word still feels unreal, but when his arm tightens around you, solid and warm, it stops feeling scary. Just new.
He lets the quiet settle after that, like he’s learned the shape of it and knows better than to rush you through it.
Your head rests against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest something you can finally tune into now that there’s nothing else competing for your attention. Outside, the darkness morphs into another shade, you didn’t even want to know what time it was. Time feels suspended—it’s no longer your wedding day, but not yet tomorrow.
You glance down at your hand, at the physical and symbolical weight circling your finger. The ring catches the lamplight when you move. You’re a wife. The thought still doesn’t come with fireworks. Just a quiet click into place, like you’ve finally reached the milestone you’ve heard so much about.
Chan follows your gaze. Of course he does.
He lifts your hand gently, turning it palm-up. “You’re done for tonight,” he murmurs, voice gentle but firm in that brings you a deep warmth. “We can look at the rest tomorrow. Or next week. Or whenever you’re ready.”
You let out a soft breath, relief blooming in your chest. “Thank you.”
He smiles, leans in to brush his lips against your temple. “C’mon. Let me take care of you.”
He stands first, careful not to jostle you as he offers his hands. You take them, letting him help you up, the dress shifting heavily as you move. You hadn’t realized how stiff you’d become until you’re on your feet again.
“Okay,” he says, scanning you with affectionate concern. “Do you need help getting out of the dress? You look so exhausted..”
You huff a tired laugh. “It was beautiful. I loved it.”
“I know,” he agrees immediately. “You were gorgeous” He stops himself, shakes his head with a soft grin. “You still are. But you look like you’re about to collapse.”
He guides you down the hallway toward the bedroom, his hand steady at your lower back.
The bedroom is dim, curtains half-drawn, the bed neatly made and waiting for you. Chan flicks on a low lamp and then pauses, watching you again.
“You want a bath?” he asks. “I can start it.”
The thought of a warm bath could probably bring tears to your eyes. You nod.
“Okay,” he says, immediately moving, rolling up the sleeves of his button up in a way that makes butterflies settle deep in your stomach. He disappears into the bathroom, and you hear the soft rush of water, the clink of bottles as he chooses between soaps.
You stand there for a moment, looking into the distant vanity mirror. You barely recognize yourself—not because you look different, but because the weight of the day had a clear effect on you. Mascara smudged just slightly. Hair loosened from its careful pins.
Chan comes back, all soft smiles like he always is. “Water’s running,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He steps behind you without rushing, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your dress. “Tell me if anything hurts,” he murmurs, breath warm against your shoulder.
The zipper slides down slowly, deliberately. Cool air meets your skin, and you sigh, tension draining from your muscles. He takes his time helping you out of the layers, careful and unhurried, like this isn’t just about helping you undress but about easing you back into yourself.
When the dress is finally off and carefully set aside, he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “There,” he whispers. “You did it.”
You lean back against him for just a moment, letting your weight settle into the warmth and steadiness of his body. His hands linger at your sides.
The bathroom is soft and fragrant with steam rising. Chan nudges the door open wider, letting the smell of lavender and cedarwood reach you, and kneels briefly to check the bath, adjusting the temperature. “Be careful, it’s a little hot” he murmurs. You dip a toe in first, and the heat makes you suck in a quiet breath, toes curling into the water. Chan’s hand hovers at your back, ready to guide you. You step in fully and let yourself sink just a little once you sit down. You close your eyes, resting your forehead lightly against the tiled wall around the tub.
He sits on the edge, towel in hand, just close enough to brush a strand of damp hair from your temple, thumb tracing a slow, affectionate line along your cheek. “You’ve been everywhere today,” he says softly, voice careful and warm. “All that celebrating, all those people… but now you can finally relax.” He said it like the idea of you relaxing brought him more satisfaction than if he were the one relaxing.
The water laps gently against your skin at the slightest movement. Chan’s presence is steady, grounding—and you can feel it filling the room.
“Want me to wash your hair?” he asks, his tone patient. You nod, turning to the wall so your back was turned toward him. His hands were meticulous and gentle as he took your hair down before massaging warm shampoo into it.
When he rinses your hair, he carefully guides your head forward so the water doesn't spill on the tile floors. He brushes your damp hair back from your neck, thumb lightly brushing the nape where the tension has gathered.
You sigh softly, letting yourself sink a little more into the warmth, letting him steady you. His hands glide lower, methodical and tender, washing your sides and back, the warmth of the water mixing with the warmth of his touch.
Once the bath is over, he reaches for your hands to help you lift yourself carefully, keeping his one hand steady on your waist as you rise. He places a towel around your shoulders, wrapping you in softness immediately. The heat of the bath clings to your skin as he guides you to the bedroom without letting you stumble.
On the bed, he has laid out a set of soft clothes for you—an oversized t-shirt and loose pajama shorts. He kneels before you again, hands hovering to help you step into them with gentle instruction. “Slowly,” he murmurs, brushing stray damp strands of hair from your face. “I’ve got you.”
The shirt slips over your shoulders, falling loosely around your frame. You pull the shorts up, tugging them gently into place, and he waits patiently, his hands sometimes adjusting a fold of fabric or smoothing your hair back. When your done, he sits beside you on the bed, brushing the remaining droplets from your skin with his fingers and letting his warmth keep you steady. “There,” he whispers, voice low, content. “All done. Comfortable now?”
You lean into him again, feeling your muscles finally unclench, your body remembering how to feel at ease. “Much,” you murmur.
He smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not letting you move until you’re fully rested,” he teases softly, though it carries the unmistakable weight of care and love.
You stay on the bed as Chan moves to the bathroom. You watch him in the soft light as he washes his face, brushes his teeth, runs his hands through his hair. Even in this ordinary routine, there’s something exciting, something that feels new.
“You really think I made a good impression?” you ask softly, voice low, almost lost amidst the sound of the running water. “With your family… I mean, I tried, but what if—”
Chan pauses mid-brush, glances over his shoulder at you with a smile that’s still bright despite being tired. “Hey,” he says, voice steady and warm. “Stop. They love you. All of them. My mom hasn’t stopped talking about how wonderful you are, and my dad keeps saying he knew I’d find someone amazing.” He laughs lightly, rinses his mouth, then spits carefully into the sink. “You were perfect. Just you being you. That’s more than enough.”
You let out a soft breath, letting some of the tension drain from your shoulders. “I just… I wanted them to like me,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just want to be the girl that—”
“You’re not some random girl,” he interrupts gently with a chuckle, stepping out of the bathroom. “You’re my wife. And they love you because I do. That’s all that matters.” He steps out of the bathroom, still towel-drying his face, a simple sight that makes your heart feel light.
You watch him change into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair is slightly damp from washing his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead, but it’s impossible not to smile at how natural he looks.
“You looked… incredible today,” you murmur, voice quieter than usual, almost shy. “Even when I couldn’t see your face.”
“Me?” He uttered in disbelief before sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “Seeing you walk down the aisle has to be in the top three moments of my life…it was everything I hoped it would be. And you…you were stunning… gorgeous, pretty, beautiful, radiant. All of it. You have no idea how proud I was.”
You tuck a leg under yourself and lean a little closer. “I still feel… a little out of body. I don’t know, it all happened so fast. Like it feels the same but also really different.”
He takes your hand, thumb brushing gentle circles over your knuckles. “That’s normal..”
Chan shifts slightly, letting his hand rest lightly on your thigh, thumb brushing slow circles. He leans in, voice low and soft.
“I could tell you were overwhelmed today,” he says, almost like he’s thinking out loud. You let out a quiet breath, leaning a little closer, letting his words sink in.
“And now..” he murmurs, voice thick. “Now the only thing I want is to take care of you. Help you forget all that stress. To make you feel good. Tonight… it’s just about you.”
He presses a gentle kiss to your neck, soft and lingering. “I just want you to relax, to feel happy… and I’ll do whatever I can to make that happen.”
Chan slides closer, guiding you gently to lie back on the bed. He leans over you, careful not to crush you with his weight, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips linger at your forehead for a moment before he begins to trail down. He presses a kiss to your temple, then the curve of your cheek. His warm breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
“I love you,” he murmurs against your neck, voice low, thick with sincerity. “I love you so much… and I’m so proud of you. Proud to be your husband.”
His hands rest lightly on your sides for a second, then slide down your hips. “You did so well today, baby” he whispers, almost as if he’s reminding you for the millionth time. “Everyone loved you.”
He presses a gentle kiss just under your collarbone, lips warm and soft. “I want to show you how much I love you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion before slowly taking your shirt off. You involuntarily suck in a breath to which he tells you to relax. His eyes scan over your bare chest before leaning down and pressing a kiss to it.
His lips move down again, soft kisses trailing down the valley between your breasts. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against your skin. His lips find their way lower as he kisses along your stomach.
He pauses, looking up into your eyes briefly, his pupils dilated. “I love you,” he whispers between kisses, voice low, almost trembling with emotion. “You’re everything. Everything I could have hoped for, everything I could have dreamed of.” You feel an aching sensation settling between your thighs as you squeeze them together. You could feel yourself growing impatient with how slow he was taking this.
“Please,” He whispers against your skin. “Let me make you feel good… I can make you feel so good if you’ll let me.” His hands were cold against your flushed skin as he peppered kisses along every inch of your body. You couldn’t stop yourself as you bucked your hips up against him.
“Chan—” you start before he interrupts, “I know, baby… I'm gonna make you feel so good.”
He stills, one hand firm at your hip. His forehead rests briefly against your stomach, like he’s grounding himself before continuing.
“I don’t want to rush,” he whispers. “I want to take my time with you. I want you to feel every second of it.”
You huff slightly at his words. His reverent nature was never not attractive to you. He took his time with everything he did. It was just who he was. But right now, you felt like you’d die if he didn’t touch you.
“You’re okay..” He murmurs against your skin. His hands move down to your shorts, tugging them down and sliding them off your legs before dropping them onto the floor. You hold your breath as his fingertips trail along the damp fabric of your panties, and his lips find your neck again.
You were so exhausted, but still very much needy, and his name was the only word that came out of your mouth. His hand finally slips past the waistband of your lace panties, making you sigh as he finally touches you. You bring your hand down to grasp his wrist, keeping his hand in place as you rock your hips.
“There you go,” he sighed as you rutted against his hand. His fingers moved slowly, circling your clit torturously slow.
After what felt like hours without any escalation, you finally took things into your own hands when you sat up. Your sudden movement clearly threw him off guard as his hand slid to your lower back. “Are you okay?”
“Lay down,” you murmur, your voice coming out more eager than you intended.
“But..” Chan huffed, a slight pout gracing his lips as he looked at you. “Tonight was supposed to be your night. I wanted to treat you.”
His sulking basically forces you to wrap your arms around his neck and embrace him, which only resulted in you wanting him more as you inhaled his scent.
“You were taking too long,” you whisper in his ear before straddling him, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of him. His hands quickly find their way to your hips as his head leans forward, forehead pressing against your shoulder.
“I was taking my time,” he whispers back, his hands feeling anywhere they could reach on you. Your hands rested on his shoulder as you steadied yourself while rolling your hips against him. The bulge in his pants was unmistakably hard and each time you rocked against it, you could hear his restrained whines. His hands guided your movements as he simultaneously bucked his hips up against your lace-clad core.
“Please,” he began, not even trying to hide how worked up you had now gotten him. Still, this wasn’t enough for you. You lift your hips off of him just enough to tug the waistband of his sweatpants down, leaving his cock only covered by the now damp fabric of his boxers.
His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning against your skin made shivers run down your spine. His fingertips dug into your plush hips, the slight pain making you bite your bottom lip as his nails left crescent shaped indents in their way.
“Please,” the word left his mouth again as his grip on your hips tightened once more, red marks blooming on your skin. “Let me make you come.”
His words made you clench around nothing as the rocking of your hips halted to a stop. You knew neither of you could handle delaying this any longer. He let out a strangled breath as your palm found his clothed dick. He lifted his hips just enough for you to pull down his boxers to where his flushed cock sprung out, the feeling of the air hitting it just enough to force a choked whine from him.
“Just wanna feel you,” he begged, looking directly into your eyes.
“Open your mouth,” you breathe out, not yet touching his now exposed cock.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but nonetheless, his mouth instinctively fell open upon your words.
Your hands came up, cupping his now very warm face. You leaned in, your breath fanning against his face as you let spit fall from your mouth to his, gathering on his tongue. You watched intently as his expression morphed into one of surprise before he quickly swallowed. The way he looked up at you while it all happened like you were some sort of deity made warmth pool in the pit of your stomach.
“I’ve been so good,” he huffs, still not breaking eye contact with you. “All day,” he adds.
“I know..” you assure him, letting your manicured nails drag down his chest and abdomen, leaving soft red marks in their path. At that, he lets his head fall back with a sharp inhale.
You finally slip your panties to the side, confident that you were wet enough to the point of not needing any preparation. You let your clit brush past the tip of his cock, warranting a moan from the both of you.
After some deep breaths, you let yourself sink onto his dick, holding your breath as it works you open. Your nails dig into his shoulders, hard enough to the point where you probably could’ve drawn blood. Chan inhaled sharply, barely caring about the dull sting as he kept his hands at your side to steady you. You let yourself adjust to his size, acutely aware of the skin on skin contact where his pelvis met the underside of your thighs.
“You can take it,” he huffs, his hands resting on your hips once again, fingertips smoothing over the now faintly bruised marks. His cock filled you up so good you could’ve sworn it was handcrafted for you by whatever god made him.
Everytime you rocked your hips, you watched as his face contorted in pleasure, slack-jawed and all. You bring your lips forward, closer to his glistening face where his hair stuck to his forehead. You let your tongue run along his damp skin, picking up the salty taste of his sweat. He shivers beneath you, hips stuttering as his cock thrust in and out of your cunt. Every movement was familiar and tender.
His dick hit all the right spots that were just aching for him a few minutes earlier. Despite him literally being inside of you, you still wish you could get closer. Feel more of him. Your lips find his and you can’t stop the sloppy makeout that ensues. Well—it’s less of a makeout and more so just you letting your tongue explore as much of his mouth as it could. The taste of his saliva was enough to draw moans from your mouth.
“You're so tight,” he sighs into your mouth. The words were quiet and breathy but unmistakable. You'd be lying if you said it didn’t inflate your ego just a little. “Please let me—” his words trailed off as he looked away, cheeks glowing pink.
“You want to come?” you pant, interlocking your fingers with his as your rocking motions became a bit more desperate and lazy, the exhaustion finally catching up to you.
All he could do was nod as you lean forward, your chest against his, nipples brushing over the fabric of his t-shirt. You could feel your orgasm approaching, but with how sore and tired you already were, it felt like it was still so out of reach.
Nonetheless, you quicken up your pace just enough to carry you over the edge. You let your head fall, lips parting as your teeth sink gently into his shoulder, drawing a quiet moan from him. The ache between your thighs built until you finally finished, halting all your movements to a stop as your body trembled.
Your walls clench around chan’s cock, to which he lets out a string of moans and whines before burying his face against your chest, cumming inside of you with a final thrust. You looked down as he filled you, and it didn’t take long before it seeped out of you, dripping back onto him.
“Ah- fuck,” the words leave his lips quietly as you stay still on his now pulsing cock. Your throat constricted and your vision blurred at the edges as tears pricked your eyes before slipping down your heated cheeks.
You’d never been one to cry during sex, but with the day’s celebrations behind you and this intimate moment with your new husband consuming you, the emotions bubbling up were impossible to hold back—and tears welled anyway.
Once chan finally opened his eyes and took a look at you, the tears staining your skin must’ve surprised him as he quickly reassessed and his breath caught for a second, he blinked rapidly, as if trying to process everything at once. His hand trembled slightly as he reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek, and he swallowed hard.
“You’re crying,” he said, voice uneven. “Are you okay?” His eyes searched yours, wide and serious, worry etched onto his face.
You managed a small nod. “uh huh,” you whispered, voice faltering, “just… overwhelmed.”
Chan exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to compose himself. He leaned in slowly, forehead resting against yours. “Was it okay?” He asked, as he always did after sex as if every time was the first.
You finally muster up the energy and lift off of him, sharply inhaling at the loss of him inside you. You swallowed, blinking through the tears that still threatened to spill. “It was more than okay,” you whispered.
He lifts a hand and brushes your hair behind your ear then lets out a shaky laugh. “You make me feel like I can never do enough.. like to make it as good for you as it is for me,” he murmured.
You shake your head gently, letting yourself chuckle. “you know you don’t have to,” you whisper, reaching up to pinch his cheek. “Just being here with you— it's more than enough.”
You push yourself up slowly, muscles still sore and trembling. “I… need to use the bathroom first,” you mumble.
Chan nods right away, brushing a hand over your shoulder. “Of course. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
You pad across the room, quiet in your bare feet. Once inside the bathroom, you close the door behind you and lean against the counter, letting the lingering warmth in the air from your bath wrap around you. A few minutes later, you hear the fridge open and close faintly from the kitchen. You know Chan must be getting you water—but for a moment, the absence of his presence makes your chest ache.
When you step back into the bedroom, you don’t see him immediately. The room feels a little emptier without him, and a small frown tugs at your lips.
“Hey, sorry about that,” he says softly as he comes back, holding a bottle of water. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”
You shake your head, smiling faintly as you catch sight of the red lines across his chest and the teeth mark gracing his shoulder. “I should be saying sorry,” you say quietly. “For… the bite marks and scratches and stuff.”
Chan chuckles before tossing the water bottle onto the bed to take your hands, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “It’s really nothing—I don't mind.”
He presses a kiss to the top of your head and wraps an arm around your shoulders, handing you the water. “And promise me,” he murmurs, “you’ll rest as much as you can tomorrow.”
You sip the water, before nodding slowly. “Promise,” you reply.
You knew morning was probably on its way, and the two of you would most likely stay in bed all day. For the first time in a long while, you felt a true, quiet peace. You hoped that, going forward, every day with Chan could be at least half as perfect as this one.
🎐 thanks for reading , please enjoy ! feedback and reblogs appreciated
Mingyu doesn't want to pay you any mind. To him, you're just another girl that'll get her heart broken by his dumb best friend.
Why would he care, right? He shouldn't care about the crying sounds he hears from his bedroom when his friend stands you up for the girl he's actually in love with. And he shouldn't be getting close to you. He shouldn't dread the day his friend decides to end things with you and bring someone else home. He shouldn't be wishing to have met you first.
pairing: mingyu x f!reader (with a side of bad bf!jungkook)
word count: 30,2k (lmaooo)
genre: 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
content warnings: emotional cheating, tsundere mingyu at first, too much crying, self-manipulating, moral dilemmas, jealousy, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, denial (tons), one minor injury, mention of blood, a love triangle?, sexual tension, inappropriate things happen between mc and mingyu, petnames: babe, baby, princess (hers) | explicit smut, teasing, body worship, praise, marking, protected penetration, it's love making guys
🎧: mine — ive, breathing — nct dream, knew you — kailee morgue, begin again (taylor's version) — taylor swift, i wanna tell u — lexie liu
a big thank you to tiya @gyubakeries and ro @shinysobi for reading this over and telling me it doesn't suck ♡ and rae @nerdycheol for supporting my simp and pathetic men agenda ♡
THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY! I can't control what people read, but I can control who interacts with my blog. MINORS CAUGHT INTERACTING WILL BE BLOCKED.
disclaimer: i didn't want to make any svt member the asshole so i made him jungkook, but i love jungkook he's literally my bias in bts and my forever ult so please just remember that this is a work of fiction and it doesn't represent how he is in real life nor how i view him (it pained me writing him this way you have no idea kdjfgnrjeskgf). i also didn't proofread the last two scenes i¿m sawrry
last note: there are several pov switches throughout the whole fic, because it just went where it wanted, I had no control over it, it was the fic i swear.
check out my main masterlist ♡ dividers used: heartbeat, paper texture (banner)
i hope you enjoy! i'd love to read your thoughts :)
“Are you sure I won’t bother him?"
You’ve blocked Jungkook’s hand from opening the door to his shared apartment, forcing him to look at your pleading eyes.
“Babe, it’s not the first time you’ve come to watch a movie, he doesn’t mind, stop worrying.”
“It’s just... he always locks himself up in his room when I come over. Maybe he doesn’t want to get to know me.” You whisper, in fear the door doesn’t muffle the sounds from outside and he’s standing just by the entrance.
The few times you’ve crossed paths with your boyfriend’s roommate, he barely said hi before sprinting out of whatever room you were in. Sure, your relationship with Jungkook is fairly new, and you don’t expect to become friendly with his circle of friends so quickly. But if his closest friend won’t pay you any mind then how are you supposed to get along?
“He does that to give us privacy, I promise it has nothing to do with you.” Jungkook doesn’t notice the coldness you're sure his friend exhibits towards you, as he has been that way every time he brought a new girl to their home. Jungkook attributes it to his friend simply giving him some space, to not make everything awkward by being the third wheel. “He wanted to watch a movie, and he said it was cool when I told him you were coming over.”
A deep breath leaves your lungs at his confirmation, even if it’s already the tenth time you’ve asked the same question and got the same answer.
Inside the apartment, Mingyu sits manspreading on the couch, phone in his hand and headphones at the maximum not-deafening volume. Jungkook’s still in his fairytale phase, that time at the beginning of a relationship when he still tries to introduce his new partner to aspects of his life, in which Mingyu is included. That’s the only reason he accepted his friend’s insistent plea to hang out with you both tonight. And when a hand shakes his shoulder lightly, he knows it’s his Jungkook with his new catch of the semester.
You sit on the other end of the couch, as far as possible from Mingyu’s motionless body, still unsure on where you stand with him. Neither of you make the effort to talk to the other while Jungkook goes to his bedroom to change. You don’t want to bother him and make him have a reason to dislike you, and Mingyu notices your nervousness, but prefers not to do anything about it.
Mingyu has learned to not try hard to get to know Jungkook’s fleeting girlfriends, because no matter how nice or how pretty you are, in a matter of weeks, he knows his friend will find something to complain about and eventually use as an excuse to break things off. It’s a never-ending cycle, and he learned he can’t do anything to stop it.
“What are we watching?”
Jungkook’s loud voice breaks the ice beginning to build up in the living room, and quickly sits down between Mingyu and you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He doesn’t seem to notice the ignoring contest going on, chatting with Mingyu like the other man wasn’t just dead silent.
After discovering you’ve never seen Rocky, a few gasps from Jungkook and a lot of convincing later, the movie starts playing on the screen in front of you. You didn’t actually care what they chose, just happy to spend some time with your boyfriend, even if you’re not alone.
Mingyu knows the movie from beginning to end and backwards, could even recite the dialogues if asked, not because he particularly likes it, but because Jungkook somehow always convinces the girls he brings to their home to endure it.
He used to argue with him about the reputation he built of being a heartbreaker, but Jungkook doesn’t see it that way. To him, he’s just trying to find the one in an endless quest that never fulfills him the way he thinks a relationship should. But Mingyu knows Jungkook well, and the real reason why he can’t last in a relationship for longer than a few months is clear as day, but Jungkook’s blind to it.
You pretend to focus on the storyline, Rocky’s growth journey that Jungkook was so excited about, while he comments on his favorite parts. It’s not a movie you’d pick if you were alone or with your friends, too manly for your taste, and the romance aspect is too shallow, but Jungkook’s perspective and insightful comments are making you appreciate it more.
Tears begin forming on the corners of your eyes as the final fight progresses, your throat closing up in warning as the rounds pass and Rocky gets beaten up by his opponent. No matter the genre, movies always make you cry during the final act as the protagonist reaches the goal after struggling so much.
After the referee separates both opponents, tying at the 14th round, the public demands a rematch, but Rocky’s more preoccupied to look for the woman he loves. You try to sniffle quietly, no longer being able to put a stop to your weeping, and snuggle against Jungkook’s chest, just as his phone rings, receiving a call from Cathlyn.
From the corner of his eye, Mingyu notices the whole interaction, and he almost gets shocked by Jungkook blankly rejecting the call in an instant and putting his attention back on the screen. How didn’t Jungkook notice you’ve been loudly sobbing for the past fifteen minutes is beyond him. But the shock lasts less than two seconds, as Jungkook's phone rings again and he gets up from the couch, heading to the kitchen with his phone in his hand and his thumb already opening Cathlyn’s text conversation.
You know Cathlyn has been your boyfriend’s best friend since high-school, and became inseparable since then. You even came to meet her a few times. She’s funny, nice and outgoing, effortlessly being the center of attention.
The living room gets cold again after Jungkook goes to the other room, and it’s too obvious that Mingyu just doesn’t have any interest in engaging in small talk with you. Your last sniffles echo against the walls, and the sigh Mingyu lets out almost sounds louder in the sea of dense silence.
Another sniffle from you and a tired sigh from him, Mingyu gets up to go after his friend who doesn’t seem to be coming back to the couch soon enough. He leaves a pack of tissues in front of you without sparing you a glance, and just walks past the couch.
"Dude, don’t just leave me alone with her.” You don’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation. You really don’t. But the sound carries. And it just proves that Mingyu clearly doesn’t like you. “She’s your date, not mine.”
“Sorry bro, Cathy was calling me nonstop. I thought something had happened.” Not necessarily true, as she called only once and Mingyu's aware of it. “She wants to go out tonight, clear her head a bit.”
“I don’t care what Cathlyn wants. Your girlfriend was crying and you just left her there.” It’s almost like he was defending you, but something in his tone suggests that it isn’t about you specifically. You blow your nose one more time, and the sound echoes into the kitchen. “Listen, she’s still crying like a baby, go with her bro.”
Last words you hear before heavy steps begin and get closer and closer to the living room couch until the man sits by your side.
“Sorry babe, I know movies always get you emotional.” Jungkook apologizes sweetly, even if there’s something else in his mind.
“It’s okay.” The sun setting behind the windows draws your attention away from your boyfriend. “I should get going. It’s getting late and I promised my roommate we’d go out for dinner.”
Lame excuse, but you’re aware you’re not wanted at the apartment anymore by half the people living under that roof, and it really is too late.
Jungkook nods, unbeknownst to the uncomfortable situation he's a part of, and grabs your coat as you get up from the couch. You turn back, smiling to Mingyu coming out of the kitchen as a form of goodbye, but he just nods and sits back down.
“We're going out later, and Cathy’s paying, you wanna come? It’s a bar close to here.” Jungkook naively asks as he walks you to the door. He might be genuine with his invitation, but you’re not sure.
“I told you I have an important meeting for the congress tomorrow morning, I can't go out."
Jungkook hasn’t proven himself as someone with the best memory out there. You’ve had to remind him of important stuff a few times already. The key is to just take a deep breath and not let it stir up any anger within you, because that’s just how he is.
“Oh, I thought it was on Sunday.” Jungkook asks just as Mingyu walks past the end of the hallway into his bedroom and shuts the door.
Even he knows about your meeting, because you told Jungkook last time you were there, and even if he locks himself up in his room, the walls might as well be made of paper the way he can always hear your conversations.
“Tomorrow is Sunday.” You note as you chuckle lightly.
“Oh, shit. Then I guess I’ll see you when you're done.” He gives you a sweet kiss for the first time in the day, light and fleeting like a feather, and closes the door after you take a few steps towards the elevator.
Nayeon closes her macbook suddenly, done with all the work you have been doing since the early morning, ready to take a deserved break. “So? How was the hot date last night?” She rests her chin on the palm of her hand, ready for whatever gossip you’re willing to share.
“It wasn't hot.” Your eyes don’t leave your notebook, in an intent to work on ideas to make the presentation more interesting.
“You’re so secretive! C’mon, tell your best friends forever and ever what you did!” She insists, making you chuckle as you see your other friend mirroring her from the corner of your eye.
Your pen drops from your hand onto the table as you finally look at them. “It was just a movie night with his asshole roommate.”
“The hot one?” Jennie intercepts, now more interested than before.
“I don't know Jen, his only roommate.” You try to go back to your notes but your friends’ unrelenting stares make it impossible to concentrate. “And how do you even know him? I’d never seen him before meeting Jungkook.”
“It’s ‘cause you’re too cool for campus gossip,” Jennie takes the chance to poke fun at your lack of knowledge of basically anyone, “but everyone knows Jungkook and Mingyu.” They both giggle at their mention.
“Be serious, we're not in high school.” You deadpan, but deep down you know nothing really changes from high-school to college. The drama remains the same, just with a few years added to the people involved. “There’s no such thing as the popular guys.”
When you were younger, the different cliques that formed were crucial to what the experience was going to be for the years to come. And you used to live for the gossip. You always knew the latest fight or the newest couple before anyone else. It felt important at that time and it kept you entertained. But as you grew older, got into college and met new people, meaningless gossip lost its interest, your focus now on passing your classes, meeting new friends, and having the best contacts to move forward with your career.
Sure, you knew of a Jungkook, as your best friends are up to date with the gossip and like it or not, you end up hearing everything even if you don’t know the people they’re talking about. But before he approached you at a party, you had no real idea who he was. It’s true that when you first saw your boyfriend at that party, he caught your attention immediately, and it’s undeniable that if you had seen him before, you would’ve been caught in his spell like every other girl on campus.
“What I mean is that people take notice when two hot guys hang out everyday.” Nayeon points it out like it’s the most common thing in the world. And maybe it is. “They’re like candy to the eye, too sweet, unapproachable, but nice to see nevertheless.”
You don’t forget to roll your eyes before replying. “Mingyu’s still an asshole. He never talks to me! I’m sure he curses at me in his head every time I show up at their apartment.”
“He seems so serious all the time.” Nayeon adds, having your back. “He’s probably a stem major or something like that.”
“He’s always hunched over his computer, so he probably is.” You note, eyes returning to your notebook so you can keep working on the presentation and be done with the topic.
“I once tried talking to him at a party, but he just looked me dead in the eye and said he wasn’t interested.” Jennie’s stare gets lost to the view out the window as she remembers. “I barely told him my name.”
Nayeon and you exchange looks before erupting into laughter.
“You guys are so mean!” Jennie complains, but joins to laugh with you two.
“Hey, at least he had the decency to tell you that and not lead you on.” Jennie shrugs, not really hurt as she has already forgotten that cursed interaction. “He barely says hi to me before sprinting out of my sight.”
“He doesn’t really talk to many people except that group of friends they have. It’s not personal, he's just a little anti-social.” Nayeon puts her two cents in. “Just let him be an asshole if he wants to be one!”
“I shouldn’t let him occupy that much space in my mind.” You nod at them and they both nod back in agreement. “I’m dating his best friend, he’s going to have to accept it.”
Nayeon and Jennie exchange looks, raising their eyebrows at your words before going back to you.
You have a vague idea what they meant by that, but you still ask, incredulously. “What?”
“Nothing!” They say in unison.
They tried several times to enlighten you about Jungkook’s “reputation”, as they called it, but you prefer to get to know him on your own and not have your judgement clouded beforehand. Rumors are just that, rumors.
“Look,” with your hands slapped on the table, you order their attention, “I know you guys don’t really like that I’m dating him,” you observe, “but I promise, It’s fine! He’s really nice and I think he really likes me.”
“It’s not that.” Jennie says at the same time as Nayeon exclaims, “I’m sure he does!”
“We already told you, he usually dates for a few months before breaking up all of the sudden.” Jennie continues, paraphrasing every warning they already gave you. “We’ll have your back with whatever you want to do, just be careful.”
“I won’t let a tattooed man who I've only been dating for a couple of weeks break my heart.” At least you think you're stronger than that.
“Am I an asshole if I tell you to just not get your hopes up?” Nayeon asks, and if it was any other person, you'd get mad, but only because it's her and she just lacks tact sometimes, you let it slide.
“Yes! You are!” You chuckle, knowing she’s just looking out for you. “Thank you guys for worrying about me. Now, I think we should shorten the introduction a little bit. Everyone there already knows who Durkheim is, we don't need to explain his whole biography.”
The notes you've been taking all day stare back at you, now more of a bunch of senseless scribbles than useful annotations.
“Ugh! Back to work already?” Jennie’s body falls limp on her chair, not ready for more hours of brainstorming and not reaching any goals.
“The professor wants to hear the whole thing tomorrow, we can't show up with anything less than a perfect speech.” You insist, opening Nayeon's macbook again against her will.
“Do you promise to tell us any good gossip about those friends of his, in about…” she looks at her empty wrist, pretending there's a watch there, “two hours? We'll work diligently until then.”
A deep sigh leaves you with a barely there smile you try to hide. “Fine. Two hours, and then we can take a real break.”
The waitress carries two pieces of cake and the biggest strawberry smoothie you’ve ever seen in your life, heading to your table. The size of the cup brings out chuckles from both Jungkook and you, but as soon as it gets placed between you on the table, the two straws draw your attention, and Jungkook asks the waitress for another smaller chocolate smoothie.
“You can have that all for yourself babe, I know how much you love strawberries.”
You don’t admit that you were excited for the corny romantic moment of sharing a smoothie with two straws, appreciating that he at least remembered your love for berries.
Jungkook’s phone keeps vibrating with notifications, which he reads but doesn’t respond to, trying his best to focus on whatever you’re telling him. His mind is anywhere but the diner where you decided to have an afternoon snack, battling between answering Cathlyn’s worrying texts and listening to the ideas you gave for the presentation you’re doing with your friends in front of various colleges soon.
In the middle of your story is when you realize Jungkook hasn’t said a word, his eyes lost to the much more interesting brown swirls on the wooden table.
“Is everything okay?” He’s been noticeably distracted lately, getting lost in thought more often, taking longer to reply to your texts. You attribute it to the time of the year, as he’s busier at work and with his studies, and so are you. But even if he says he’s fine, you’re beginning to worry.
“Yeah babe, sorry, just a little tired.” His lips line up in a tight smile in an attempt to reassure you. “Do you mind hanging out at my apartment after we’re done eating?”
Scraping your plans to catch an afternoon movie, you hum and nod before returning to eating your piece of cake, seemingly disguising your disappointment since he doesn’t ask any more questions.
Jungkook leaves his plate exactly the way the server left it for him, the piece of chocolate cake with not even a particle less, his fork unused and clean on the side. He gulps down his new personal smoothie in a second, and as soon as the last piece of your cake is entering your mouth, he’s asking the waitress for the bill. He knows you’re still talking to him, he can see your lips moving, but your words enter one ear and leave through the other, having no meaning in his mind.
Jungkook pays without asking for your share, which you weren’t even going to argue with him about. You’re usually a heavy supporter of each person paying for what they ordered, but as the minutes pass by, it’s becoming harder and harder to not get mad at him, so you’re going to spend his money without feeling bad about it. You know you should ask him about it, but shouldn’t he tell you if something was wrong? Especially after you’ve already asked him? Between being a pushover and pretending nothing’s happening, you end up choosing to just spend the rest of the afternoon with him and hope he’ll just tell you the truth.
The walk to his apartment is less than 10 minutes long, but every dreaded step drags heavily, making everything move slower, with the both of you in silence, and the incessant notifications blowing up his phone acting as a remainder of his true priority.
Jungkook’s trying to ignore the constant ping coming out of the pocket of his jeans, pretending he isn’t dying to just answer who keeps trying to contact him.
And you have a vague idea of who it could possibly be.
The cold apartment doesn’t feel welcoming as you enter through the door, lights off and deadly silent. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you tiptoe around as if in fear. Your reflection in the mirror looks unmistakably disappointed and sad, and you wonder if Jungkook really didn’t notice or just didn’t care.
He can be charming and gentle when he wants to, always so polite and respectful, but the ability to be aware of your feelings may be something he could work on. Or at least understand that the things he does ultimately affect you too.
In the kitchen, he’s already forgotten his one rule for the date, and is carefully answering every message he got, the glasses of water he was filling for the both of you forgotten on the counter.
When he hears you come out to the living room, Jungkook rushes to sit with you, with a plan already in mind.
“Babe, will you get mad if I go for a bit?” His fingers trace lines on your forearm, and you begin to lean into him before your brain registers his words.
“What? Why?” You ask as your eyes search for any type of clue on his face.
“Cathy called me,” he takes a second to think about the best words to use, “she had a fight with her boyfriend, and I have to be there for her.”
Jungkook never liked Cathlyn's boyfriends. Something about them always feels off about them, as if none of them are ever right for his best friend. In his eyes, he just wants the best for her, someone who'll really be able to care for Cathlyn in the way he thinks she deserves.
“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” Deep down, you wonder if it really is so serious that Jungkook feels obligated to stand you up. But it’s fair, she needs her best friend when she’s having a bad time. The fact that her best friend is your boyfriend is a coincidence you can’t be mad about.
“I’ll be back before dinner and I’ll make it up to you, okay?” He’s already standing up, his arms on both of your sides as he crouches to give you a quick peck goodbye.
The door closes shut before you can even utter a reply, and his steps echo on the hallway, getting further away every second, until you’re left in complete silence.
In the quietness of the apartment, you instantly feel out of place, unwelcomed by the inanimate objects surrounding you. Seconds turn into minutes, the ticking of the clock being the only sense of time you have left. You don’t want to grab your phone, avoiding the inevitable feeling of disappointment that’ll take over you if there are no texts from Jungkook waiting in your notifications.
How stupid is what you’re doing? How desperate? Waiting for your boyfriend to come back from the home of the woman that seems to be his priority? You know you shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially since he's already told you that she’s just his best friend. But it’s still hard.
The back of your eyes burn as tears threaten to come out, blurring your vision just as you hear a key turn, heavy steps entering the home you’re not supposed to be in.
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄
Mingyu knew he'd find you at his apartment.
Jungkook texted him that he had an emergency and had to leave in a rush. And Mingyu knows what “emergency” really means in that context. It means Jungkook rushed over to Cathlyn's at the first sign that she was feeling off, and he wanted to hide it from him so he wouldn’t have to hear the same reprimand again.
What Mingyu didn’t expect was to find you on the verge of crying on his couch, scattering to find any form of tissue paper somewhere inside your bag.
You both freeze, looking at each other for about half a second before rushing to greet. You pretend you weren’t crying, and he acts as if he didn’t notice. Mingyu utters a quiet hello as you mumble some kind of apology for being there, and then he locks up in his bedroom as usual.
His friend put him in an awkward situation once again. Mingyu doesn’t want to get to know you more than he already does. He knows you're on a different major and that’s enough, because one day, in the near future, it’s going to be another girl walking through the door instead of you, and he’ll never see you again.
He tried a few times to stay friendly, but no one really wants to stay in contact with someone so close to the man that broke their heart. And he gets it. That's why he stopped trying all together.
Mingyu would usually come home from work, put on his headphones, and spend a few hours on his computer until his stomach urges him to eat something. But for this particular afternoon he’s been put in, he skips the headphones in case you need something, or at least until Jungkook comes back, which he isn’t even sure is going to happen.
A project for work distracts him for a good while, organizing different stats and numbers on the excel sheet his boss sent him earlier in the day. He almost forgets you’re on the other side of the wall. Almost.
If he loses his focus on his computer screen, he can hear when you move around on the couch. What can you possibly be doing? Is what he asks himself at any noise that reaches his ears, but there’s never an answer. Until something alerts him that you’re not doing well. The same sniffle he heard days ago as you were watching a movie with Jungkook echoes against the walls of his bedroom.
You’ve been trying hard not to make any sounds that may disturb Mingyu, as you assumed he was busy by the way you could hear the non-stop clicking of his keyboard from where you were sitting. But your mind seemed to have other plans, so much so that you lost control of the cascade of tears brimming from your eyes.
In between everything, you miss the sound of a door opening and steps getting closer to you. Mingyu comes into view as you’re wiping away tears with the back of your hand, and you can’t pretend he didn’t see you this time.
He sits by your side in silence, mainly because he doesn’t know what to say, but also because he can’t just leave you alone in this state. He feels responsible in a way.
“Is he with…” Are the first words that come out of his mouth after seconds of dead silence.
“He didn’t tell you?” You look up at him to find him staring into the wall. He shakes his head, glancing at your slightly blotchy face before looking down.
“He just told me you'd be here, but I figured.” Your body relaxes the tiniest bit. Good, at least you’re not an unannounced guest.
“She had a fight with her boyfriend.” You explain, more frustrated than understanding.
“Right.” He simply replies.
Both of you sit there, fixed on your spots, too aware of the other. Mingyu realizes you’ve stopped crying, maybe because you don’t want to cry in front of him, but at least your breaths became less deep than before.
A growl from your stomach reverberates through the room, and you flush in embarrassment.
“You can–” he coughs before continuing, “you’re here often, you can help yourself if you’re hungry, it’s no big deal.”
“Oh, thank you,” you chuckle, trying to conceal the humiliation, “but he said he didn’t have anything. That’s why we went out. And I can’t really cook, so.”
Never in the past weeks would you have thought you’d be sharing embarrassing details about you with your boyfriend’s cold roommate, but life has a funny way of turning things around.
“I’m sure that’s not true. There’s no way you can’t do the basics.” His body turns, now facing you as he takes an interest in your not so fun fact.
“I’m not lying! I can’t even make scrambled eggs.” You hide your face behind your hands, and you immediately hear Mingyu laughing as the dent beside you on the couch disappears.
“C’mon, I’ll teach you. I happen to be a great cook.” Your stomach growls again, and Mingyu looks back at you as he walks towards his kitchen, leaving you no choice but to follow him.
Mingyu’s not thinking about this exchange with you too much.
Yes, he’s doing exactly what he promised himself he wouldn’t, as this will inevitably make you both closer and he will not be able to turn back to his cold self again. But he couldn’t just go on with his day knowing you were having a bad one, and even worse, knowing you were crying because of his friend.
He had to do something, and if that something is becoming your friend for the afternoon, then so be it.
“Grab the egg carton with his name on it.” You chuckle as you follow his instructions, “and his milk too, why not.” If he left you stranded, the least you can do to get back at him is use his stuff and not Mingyu’s.
Between laughs and Mingyu indicating instructions like he was teaching a 5-year-old to cook, time passes, you forget why you were at the apartment in the first place, and you end up with a fine plate of scrambled eggs that doesn't taste bad at all.
“I told you it wasn’t that hard.” Mingyu sits in front of you on the rounded table as you share the food.
“Well, I’ll let you know if your teaching lasts until I have to cook alone.” You chuckle and avoid his stare, realizing your words sounded much friendlier than you intended.
Back in the living room, Mingyu’s ringtone disrupts your conversation, and his sigh alerts you that he might already know who’s calling. He gets up with another sigh, throwing you a knowing look before going to answer Jungkook’s call.
You appreciate his effort to make you feel better, and when he doesn’t ask Jungkook any questions over the phone, only replying with yeahs and okays to whatever he’s telling him, you understand that Jungkook’s not coming back, and whatever he’s telling Mingyu will just make you feel worse.
Before Mingyu comes back, you do the dishes that you used and get your stuff together. The decision to leave has already been made.
“Leaving already?” He appears at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning on the edge of the door like a statue.
“I know he’s not coming back. I’m sorry, I should’ve left earlier, I didn’t mean to be a bother.” It’s the first time you’ve addressed that feeling you have that you constantly bother him, and it’s kind of freeing.
“You’re not a bother.” A man of few words, Mingyu feels like he meant a lot more with that simple statement than just dismissing your apology.
His blank reply doesn’t feel forced, not like he only said what you wanted to hear. No. He said it automatically, not thinking much about it, and it took a heavy load off your shoulders.
“Still, I should–” You’re now standing right in front of him, looking up at his face as he doesn’t realize he’s in your way.
“Right, sorry.” Mingyu rushes to get out of your way, stumbling against his own feet as he walks backwards to go get his keys. “Do you need a ride? I could–”
“Oh, thank you, but it’s okay. I’m meeting a friend at a restaurant close by.” A warmness spreads on your cheeks at his offer. “Do you happen to know which way to go? It’s supposed to be a few blocks from here.”
To redirect his attention away from you, you show him the address of the restaurant on your phone screen. You frequent the neighborhood on a weekly basis, but the blocks tend to mix up, as the buildings look too similar to each other. Mingyu scratches the back of his neck, trying to remember the names of the streets around his place.
“I think it’s three blocks to the right, and then two to the left.” He doesn’t sound very convinced, but you trust you’d be able to tell if he’s sending you the wrong way, so you take his word.
Even after denying him, Mingyu still accompanies you downstairs, and you politely say goodbye to each other at the entrance before separating.
The sun sets on the horizon, the golden hue painting the streets beautifully as you walk. ‘Third block to the right, then turn left,’ you mentally repeat, trying to concentrate on the directions as well as you try to find a street sign that'll tell you if you’re going the right way.
As you reach the second block to the left, where Mingyu implied the restaurant should be at, your phone vibrates inside your purse. The unknown caller doesn’t give up while you contemplate whether to pick up or let it go to voice-mail, but something in the back of your mind urges you to answer. So you do.
“Who is this?” In case that another telemarketer got a hold of your phone number, you try to sound annoyed.
“It’s Mingyu, sorry,” his deep voice sounds the tiniest bit robotic due to the poor service, “I realized I sent you the wrong way. You have to turn right instead of left.”
“Oh,” you chuckle as your eyes read the street number you’re at, “thank you.” You don’t tell him you could’ve figured it out on your own, a tiny smile appearing on your face at his gesture.
“I should’ve warned you that I’m terrible with directions.” His breathy chuckle reaches your ear at the same time as a metal ruffling sound. Was he heading out to find you in case you didn’t pick up?
“No worries.” Your mind is blank, as the two things you’re most awkward at doing are getting combined in one: phone calls and talking to Mingyu. “How did you get my number?”
“I asked Jungkook for it just now.” That feels weird for some reason, but you toss that feeling away, trying not to overthink about it. “You okay?”
“Yep! Heading that way now! Thank you! Bye.” You abruptly hang up on him, the only way you thought to end the awkward conversation.
Your heart rate escalates, pumping hard like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you go the correct way now. Whatever you do, your mind still manages to replay what just happened over and over again, until you’re standing in front of the restaurant hostess.
Walking towards the table you see Nayeon sitting at, the idea of Mingyu having your number saved makes the back of your neck tingle with nervousness, and you can't shake the feeling even as you greet your friend and she starts telling you about her day.
Maybe you’re giving it way too much thought. It’s just the excitement of finally feeling like you’re growing closer to your boyfriend’s friends. Nothing more.
There's been a noticeable shift in the awkwardness of your “friendship" with Mingyu. You didn’t become best friends overnight, but at least he stopped fleeting away from you anytime you'd be over at their apartment, and wouldn’t deliberately choose the spot furthest from you at any group gathering.
As you and Jungkook step out of his car and walk over to the front door for the costume party a classmate of his was throwing, you can only take a deep breath and hope your extroverted self appears after a few drinks, and that Mingyu doesn’t decide he hates you again, because he’ll be the only other person you know at the party.
Not much of a partier yourself, you’re just trying, for him. Trying to join your boyfriend in what he likes, especially after he showed interest in you being there with him by inviting you.
The loud music can be heard even with the door closed, and Jungkook texts his friend to come pick them up, because ringing the bell clearly won’t do anything.
“Hi man! Sorry for making you both wait.” A tall blonde man who you’re sure is named Jackson welcomes you in, giving Jungkook a man hug before looking you up and down and asking. “What did you guys come as?”
“I’m a firefighter dude! And she’s...” Jungkook looks at you waiting for your answer, not even trying to remember the name of the character you’re dressed up as.
“Mavis, from Hotel Transylvania!” You smile as Jackson finally lets you in, and you can see in his expression that he has no idea who you’re talking about when you walk past him.
As soon as you cross the door, it is a relief to find Jungkook’s whole friend group there, sitting occupying the entire couch for themselves, only one big body missing from the ensemble.
Jungkook only takes his hand off you to greet his friends one by one, and makes them promise to save you seats while you go to the kitchen to find something to drink.
It hasn’t been long since the party started, but the crowded house is already filled with that dense air mixed with the smell of sweat, and the sticky bodies make it harder for you two to advance into the kitchen.
Part of you is relieved that Mingyu’s nowhere to be seen, if he’s even at the party. Sure, you’re getting along now, but being around him is still stiff and awkward. Maybe you can use this opportunity to try and get close to Jungkook’s other friends.
Sitting between him and other two strangers that squeezed themselves on the far end of the couch, that plan is quickly scrapped. It’s possible Jungkook doesn’t realize you’re too far away to be included in any conversation, he wouldn’t do it on purpose, but you have no will to tell him. Not when his body is fully turned away from you as he talks to Cathlyn and the guy she's dating, Yugyeom.
The music's too loud for their voices to travel backwards and let you hear, but judging by Jungkook’s menacing body next to yours, he doesn't seem to be liking the conversation. He didn't talk much about Yugyeom, that name being new to you as Jungkook’s hadn't even mentioned him before. And from what you know, he and Cathlyn have been having some problems for the past few weeks, so it's normal for her best friend to dislike him.
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄
Mingyu thinks of himself as somewhat of a good friend. Sure, he may have some faults and he fucks up every now and then, as everyone does, but whenever his friends need him, he’s there. He covers for Jungkook at school, listens to his girl problems as any friend would do, hates whoever he hates, and he’d never break that friendship over any random girl. That said, he’s still a man, and he has eyes.
When he comes back from the patio after catching up with some old friends he bumped into, he first lays eyes on the striking yellow costume Jungkook’s wearing. But as he follows the bright color, he sees you sitting by his friend's side, his arm wrapped around you but giving you no attention as you drink from an almost empty cup.
It's no surprise to him that Jungkook's too enthusiastically talking with Cathlyn instead of any other friend, or instead of dancing and enjoying the party. What shocks Mingyu is how blatantly he’s ignoring you, sitting so pretty by his side.
Yeah, Mingyu can admit he finds you pretty. He might be a good friend, but he’s not blind, and denying it would just make him stupid. Any guy with a brain should be lining up for a chance to talk to you, getting lucky to be the ones you spare a glance to. Instead, you’re sitting with an arm around you and being ignored by its owner. It could be that he’s gulping down his fourth drink already, but he might even go as far as saying you’re his type. But that’s about as far as it could possibly go. You’re pretty, nice, and in love with his best friend. Well, maybe not in love yet, but you like him enough to put up with his shit. And Mingyu’s not interested. He can’t be.
A smile forces itself on your face as your eyes catch his across the room. The most polite way to acknowledge his presence without trying to interact with him further.
Mingyu nods your way and drives his eyes elsewhere. It’s not like he wanted you to do anything else, and even if he wanted to go up and chat with you, he couldn’t have fit in between you and the people on your other side crushing your free arm.
So, he stays there, standing against a wall on the only free hallway –in which there aren’t any people because Jackson threatened anyone who dared to step within a two feet radius of his bedroom, watching the scene progress before his eyes.
Where his friend has a reputation of being a heartthrob, a player, or a heartbreaker, Mingyu’s always thought of as Jungkook’s serious and mean friend. A bad school reputation is the least of his priorities, and he doesn’t care to change how people he doesn’t care about think of him. It’s not like he’s not enjoying the party, he just prefers to stand alone and drink. If that paints him as a boring guy, so be it. He tries scanning the room to find a friend to catch up with, but it's pointless, only the bright yellow costume makes itself visible.
It's mostly a blur of bodies messily dancing to 2000’s pop songs inside that room, but Mingyu could recognize his best friend's silhouette if he was miles away and 90% blind. Your costume contrasts with Jungkook's in a way that even drunk Mingyu realizes it’s you who's being dragged onto the “dancefloor".
He sees you get loose as his friend's hands wrap around your waist and move your bodies in sync. It seems that every single light in the house is on despite it being a party, and you’re in the center of his line of sight, constantly and too easily catching his attention.
What he doesn’t see, however, are your constant complaints about dancing, appearing as flirty whispers to anyone who wasn't listening. And after he takes his eyes off of you two to find a glass of cold water, you’re back again to your original place on the couch, this time with much more space around you.
“Not much of a dancer?” His feet directed Mingyu to where you sat almost instinctively. There’s finally room to sit down so he’s going to take the opportunity before somebody else does.
“Only when I’m in the mood.” Your stare’s lost somewhere in the room, paying attention to your drunk boyfriend dancing with his best friend.
“I see.” You both sit awkwardly, body facing front and eyes focused on the same view.
“Cool costume, by the way. I love Hotel Transylvania.” Mingyu manages to fill in the gaps of the heavy silence.
“Thank you! You’re the only one that recognized me.” A small smile appears despite your bad mood.
“People here lack basic culture.” A simple joke followed by awkward laughs from the both of you, the atmosphere doesn’t help to ease the tension of your interaction.
“I wanted Jungkook to dress up as Johnny.” You have to stretch your neck to Mingyu’s side so he can hear you above the loud music.
“That would’ve been cute.” Mingyu doesn’t know what else to say. It’s been a common occurrence for him to go blank when talking to you.
“I guess he’s not a fan of matching costumes.” You try your best to continue the conversation, not really caring whether he’s interested or not. The little alcohol in your system won’t let you fall on an awkward silence again.
“He probably got tired of them after so many years.”
You freeze.
“What do you mean?”
Mingyu realizes he just fucked up. All those drinks he had before you came, and that one after, finally brought him to the stage where his mouth gets loose and he starts blurring out things he shouldn’t.
“Uh–, I mean, Cathlyn used to force him to do it for halloween.” Force.
For the record, Mingyu's not a liar. He might be loyal to his friend, not wanting to put him in bad situations, but he’s not going to go above and beyond to protect an already weak relationship. So, he picks a word that’s going to save Jungkook’s ass, but still saying part of the truth.
“Right.” If you caught on to his deliberate choice of words, you don’t show it to him.
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄
It’s pointless to get mad at your boyfriend for such a meaningless piece of information. Every relationship is different, and you shouldn’t be comparing yours to a much older one. Their bond’s just different! It doesn’t have anything to do with you if Jungkook didn’t want to do stupid matching costumes.
Still, you’re glad Mingyu slipped and gave away the truth, and you appreciate his effort to make it sound less bad.
Jungkook gives you no time to ponder on what to do though, as he stumbles his way back to you, so drunk he can’t regulate his strength and falls hard on the couch.
“My heead hit the back of the c-couch with my head.” Jungkook pouts and slurs his words.
“Ow, baby, you’re really drunk.” Mingyu’s eyes pierce through your back, and a wave of self-consciousness takes over you. “Should we go home?”
Jungkook’s cheeks feel warm in your hands as you try to get him to look at you, but his drunk mind can only concentrate on one thing at a time, and for the time being, his eyes are focused on Yugyeom’s hands groping Cathlyn's ass shamelessly as they dance.
“I don’t feel so good.” He only says, his drunk stare having a hard time straying away from that scene as he gets up and stumbles his way out the house.
Mingyu runs after Jungkook just behind you, and manages to catch him before he faceplants on the damp grass outside.
“Where did we leave my car?” Jungkook asks no one in particular, disoriented from his almost-fall. “Wait, you’re not my girlfriend!” His eyes go wide as he realizes who was helping him and tries to escape.
“I’m here, babe.” Before he manages to, you wrap your arm around his other shoulder, leaving him no choice but to be embraced by yours and Mingyu’s hold so he doesn’t hurt himself again.
Now that you’re outside, with no music blasting at full volume, no people around pushing you constantly, and breathing fresh air, you’re too aware of your surroundings. Or more specifically, how Mingyu’s arm and yours touch behind Jungkook’s back.
It's a weird way to break the ice of skin to skin contact in a friendship, but maybe it’s what you need to end the lingering awkwardness that surrounds your interactions once and for all.
“I saw you drinking.” You scold Mingyu after you two lay Jungkook down on the back seat and he turns to find his way back to his car.
“I’m not drunk anymore.” He mutters just before he trips with his own foot. “Okay. I’ll crash on the back seat for a while and then I’ll go home.”
“I’ll drive you.” Mingyu's silence as he thinks of a polite way to turn your offer down only eggs you further. “I’m going there anyways.”
“I-I wouldn’t want to take advantage.” He fiddles with his keys, avoiding your eyes.
“Of what? Me? His car?” Mingyu hesitates, the gears in his brain visibly turning.
“I don’t know.” It’s quiet, his response, and no matter how cute and defenseless he looks when he’s drunk, you don’t really have time to wait.
“I’m offering.” You deadpan, but try to flash a small smile so his drunk brain doesn’t understand your hurriedness as anger. “You’re clearly still drunk, c’mon, don’t make me have to drag you.”
Realizing there’s no way out of this other than listening to you, Mingyu caves in and gets on the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car. “You wouldn’t be able to drag me anyways.”
Of course, you can't push an over six-foot-tall gym bro even if you use all possible bodily strength you have. "Hell yeah I can!” Your teasing stare meets his, and you know he got what he wanted by pushing your buttons.
"I’d love to see you try.”
An indescribable feeling completely shuts down the workings of every organ inside you. It could be what he said, but it’s just a common phrase to tease a friend. It could be his eyes that refuse to leave yours. Or it could be the silver of a smirk that appears as you hold your breath. Whatever it is, you push it down, hide it on the very back of your mind and put up ten walls to disguise as a simple and normal response to teasing.
“We should-”
“I don’t like him.” The drunken backseat passenger you had forgotten about interrupts you.
“Who?” The distraction allows you to break eye contact with Mingyu. A believable excuse to put a stop to whatever was happening.
“That guy she was with.” Jungkook looks like he’s talking to himself, his eyes closed as if he wanted to fall asleep and unaware of who he's actually talking to.
“Cathlyn? Her boyfriend?” Mingyu intercepts so you wouldn’t have to ask the awkward questions, already knowing where this conversation’s going. “Yugyeom?”
“Ugh, don't say his name.” Mingyu’s instinct tells him to see your reaction, to check if you realize what Jungkook means by all of this, and especially if it hurts you. “He has a douchebag face.”
You chuckle at his pouty statement, but deep down his words pierce a surface cut on your denying heart. It’s gone as fast as it came, but it was there, and your hands automatically started the car, urging you to start driving like nothing happened.
Ever since the evening started, Mingyu knew Jungkook wasn't going to have a good time. Not since opening the door to the bar that revealed Yugyeom there with Cathlyn.
“Why is he here?” Jungkook muttered under his breath, annoyed, on the verge of being angry.
“She's allowed to invite her boyfriend. Just like you invited your girlfriend.” Is all Mingyu replied.
Jungkook has been in his life ever since he can remember. When their first tooth fell out, when they schemed behind their parents to figure out if Santa was real, when he got his first bicycle and Jungkook laughed in his face when he fell and scraped his knee, when they met Cathlyn in high school and Jungkook’s eyes shined brighter than ever, when they went to prom and lost their virginities on the same night, and when they got accepted to the same college and joined the same classes. Every memory Mingyu has, it’s always Jungkook by his side. He can't mess with that peace, no matter how violently he wants to tell his friend to stop playing with girls’ hearts and realize he’ll be much happier if he owned up to his true feelings.
So, he resorts to trying to make Jungkook connect the dots himself by telling him harsh enough truths. It’s a work in progress.
In the few hours you’ve all been at the bar’s pool table, Mingyu hasn’t said a word. He's been sitting alone at one table on the side, seeing his friends sucking at playing and actually having fun.
With the excuse of being tired and simply enjoying watching each round, he took the opportunity to be temporarily invisible. With all of them busy, he can look at you all he wants, smile to himself when you miss your shot, and pretend to be drinking from his half empty glass.
There’s not much more he can do. Whatever he thinks he feels, whatever he thinks of you, it’s wrong. That’s why, at that moment, he prefers the loneliness of his table. The crude reality punishing him in real time is enough.
Doesn’t matter if you’re on the same team as Jungkook or not, your attention is always focused on him. You search for his touch, his eyes, crave his attention on you. But the more drunk his friend gets, the more competitive he gets, and the little patience he had with your lack of pool skills is quickly dissipating.
Another round finishes, with the both of you losing to Cathlyn and Yugyeom again, and it’s more than obvious that Jungkook’s annoyed. When your opponents excuse themselves to the bar to get more drinks, you try playing on your own and see an opportunity to try and get Jungkook in a good mood again.
“I swear I know where to hit it! My arms just won’t cooperate.” A chuckle escapes during your lighthearted shout.
Jungkook sighs at your missed shot, your pout having no effect as he’s trying to conceal his annoyance. “Which one are you thinking?” He only asks.
“The red one, close to the middle?” You point to it, waiting for any reaction, but he just waits for you to continue. “If I hit it a little to the right, I think it can go inside the left corner hole.” Bodily coordination may not be your strong suit, but you’ve played enough online pool that your brain’s trained to draw the imaginary angles.
The main idea was telling Jungkook your theory, him realizing you actually have an idea of how to play the game, and finally teaching you how to get a hold of the cue stick correctly.
“You have to do it like this.” Jungkook takes the cue from your hands and takes your place, ushering you to the side to watch as he takes the shot. “Your index and middle fingers serve to place the tip of the stick where you want it.”
“But I-” You were right, and the ball enters exactly where you said it would, but you can’t chant victory. Not when his attention shifts to a heated argument just meters away from you.
In the second it takes you to focus on what’s happening, your eyes land on Yugyeom stomping out of the bar, a crying Cathlyn left behind. You don’t even have to check if Jungkook’s still by your side, as he soon enough appears with an arm around her shoulders in an intent to console her.
When he starts getting the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and heads to walk out the door, you realize the comforting session won’t be quick. But why would it be? His best friend just had a screaming fight with her boyfriend in public. It makes total sense that he’d want to take her out to have some fresh air and a little more privacy than inside the full bar.
“If I knew the night would be like this, I would’ve stayed home resting for next week.” Your body falls on the chair next to where Mingyu’s been sitting in silence. His flat expression rapidly makes you uncomfortable, like you just crossed a line. “Shit, they’re your friends, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t hav–”
“No, you’re right.” He interrupts you, with a tone that implies you must've taken the words right out of him. “I get having troubles, God knows I've seen them go through stuff, but we're allowed to be tired of it.”
Between his cold exterior and sometimes unfriendly choice of words, Mingyu's surprisingly capable of understanding other people's feelings.
“Has this been happening a lot recently?” You don't care to sound like a gossip. “Her fighting with her boyfriend, I mean.”
Mingyu sighs, eyes wandering to the door through which both of his friends just stepped out of. “Let’s just say, it’s been a regular occurrence.”
“Well, let’s not let other people’s problems ruin the fun.” You decide out loud. You’ve been having fun since you got here, regardless of your boyfriend’s bad mood, and you’re not going to let anything ruin your last night out before the busy week you have ahead. “Do you want another drink?” You down the last sip of what Jungkook was drinking.
“Oh, actually, I’m saving to pay for gas for the trip we have next week. I promised to drive, so.” Mingyu explains, too apologetic for simply refusing a drink. “You’re coming right? It’s a congress that our college’s doing.”
“Of course I’m coming,” maybe you should be offended that he doesn’t know, but it’s not his fault, “I’m the one giving the presentation.”
“Wait, seriously?” Mingyu’s eyes go wide, in slight shock as well as in embarrassment. “I knew you had a big thing coming up, but I didn’t think it was that! How did I not know?”
“Maybe Jungkook forgot to tell you. You know how he is…” Mingyu nods at your statement, but the answer brewing in his mind gets cut short by the glass door opening once again.
As if he was summoned, Jungkook re enters the bar alone, quickly lets you know he'll wait outside for Cathlyn's uber with her, and leaves again without sparing you another glance.
Silence fills the void between Mingyu and you, only murmurs from the people around the bar manage to make it not unbearable. Awkward again, you never seem to have a normal conversation with Mingyu without feeling some type of way. Jungkook interrupting seemingly added a layer of tension very hard to dissipate.
“I’m gonna… practice playing.” You aren’t the best at handling awkward silences, so you stand up with that excuse. “I’m so bad at it! I think the stick does the opposite of what I want on purpose.”
Mingyu chuckles behind you, following you to the pool table to watch up close. “You’re not that bad.” You look at him dead in the eyes, head tilting to the side with scepticism. “I’ve been watching you play! You just need to learn how to get into position correctly.”
Your arms cross in front of your chest, deciding if what Mingyu’s saying is in any way true, or if he’s just trying to make you feel better. He takes the cue laying on the table, accidentally knocking a few balls away from their places in the process.
“Show me how you’d do it.” As he hands the pool stick to you, warm smile and standing tall facing you, you feel secure he won’t tease you if you’re awful.
“Okay, but don’t you dare mock me.” The lighthearted threat makes him chuckle again, and your fingers tremble grabbing the stick from his hand. “This is my usual.”
You mentally cringe at yourself, but you push through it and lean your chest forward, hovering over the table, setting the tip of the stick between your fingers and analyzing which ball to hit.
“I see where things might go wrong.” His voice sounds closer with each word, but it's not enough to prepare you to feel his chest against your back, his arms embracing you to guide your hand where he wants to. “Your hand’s too close to the end of the stick. You’re not in full control of it.”
When he places his hand over yours, helping you slide it up the cue, you’re sure your whole body’s covered in goosebumps. Your heart accelerates to unimaginable speeds, about to jump out of your chest as Mingyu’s breath fans on the back of your neck.
“I think we can get the blue striped one,” your mouth blurts out faster than your brain can think, “If I manage to hit the white a little to the left, I can go right and push it into the middle hole.” You try to play off the unprecedented effects Mingyu has over you, forcing yourself to get your mind back in game mode.
He doesn’t let go of his hold on your hand, his arm grazing yours even more closely. “Are you sure? That one seems like a long shot.” You can hear his smirk through his teasing words.
“Just help me hit it there.” Your head turns just barely to the side, finding his face much closer than you imagined, and your eyes roll before going back to the table, trying to mask the blush you feel creeping on your cheeks. “I know I’m right.”
“Relax a bit. It’s close to the hole, so you don't need to hit it too hard.” Mingyu extends his other arm over the table, helping you position the tip to hit exactly where you told him to. You don't dare move, his cheek brushing against your temple freezing you in place momentarily.
When you feel his hands tighten over yours, taking control of the stick with your fingers tangling with his, your arms fall limp, letting him shoot the shot. With the tiniest push, the barest tense of his muscles all around you, both your arms move the cue forward and hit the white ball.
The both of you smile as the striped ball falls in the hole you said it would, relaxing against one another before realizing just how close you really are.
“I told you, I was right.” You chuckle away from him, using cue in your hands as a barrier.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted your skills.” Maybe it’s the drink he was stalling to finish until you approached him, but Mingyu’s more relaxed with you tonight, a little more prone to smiling than usual.
“Babe?” But Jungkook’s voice quickly wipes it off his face. “Let’s get going, wait for me outside.”
“Wait!” You get off Jungkook’s hold, almost offended that he thinks he can drag you away at his will. “I was finally getting a hang of it. Mingyu’s a better teacher than you, you know.” You try to joke to ease the suddenly tense atmosphere, but it doesn’t work.
“I’m really tired, babe. And I promised I’d take you home, so, please?” Jungkook retorts, face turned your way, but his eyes are on his roommate.
The staring contest between the two men doesn’t stop, an indecipherable friction you don’t really want to find out the meaning behind.
“O…kay,” there isn’t really an out where the three of you will be happy, so you just accept Jungkook’s petition to leave, “bye Mingyu.”
You walk away, your hand in the air wishing for Jungkook to take it and come after you.
Mingyu begins to grab his stuff, assuming the both of you will be quickly out the door by the time he’s done paying his tab, but it seems the night is not over for him yet.
Jungkook grabs him by the arm and turns him around so they’re face to face. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What the hell man?” Mingyu shoves the other’s hand away, a hunch telling him his friend’s anger has something to do with you.
“I leave for a minute and you’re all flirty with my girl.” Jungkook’s always been a jealous man, but Mingyu can’t help but sigh at the accusation.
Still, Mingyu can’t lie and say he wasn’t flirting. He can’t say he didn’t love the way you were blushing and squirming under him. And he can’t say that it wasn’t what he was looking for.
“I was entertaining her because you left.” He retaliates with a part of the truth. “It’s getting old man, you can’t just leave her to go after Cathlyn all the time.”
“You’re back with that again.” Jungkook throws his arms in the air, easily irritated by the topic. “You know what? I’m tired of this.” As the confrontation he was looking for didn’t turn out the way he wanted to, Jungkook begins walking away, “I’m leaving, we’re leaving.”
“You never want to talk about it, but you know it’s wrong.” Mingyu adds, a little louder this time. “You gotta stop.”
“Why are you so worried?” Getting more frustrated by the second, Jungkook barely turns, not fully facing Mingyu. “You never cared about it before.”
“C’mon man, I’ve always noticed.” How awful of a person he is. Accomplice to his best friend breaking girl after girl’s hearts, it’s true that he never cared this strongly about Jungkook’s extracurricular activities. Even though he always tried to make Jungkook realize the truth by himself, for his own good, Mingyu can admit, to himself at least, that now he has an added, selfish reason to want his friend’s behavior to come to an end.
“It’s my life. When I need an opinion, I’ll ask for it.” With that, Jungkook finally leaves, getting out the door to where you’re waiting in the cold.
Mingyu wasn’t done with the conversation. There was so much more he wanted to say. He wanted to say that it’s your life too. Jungkook's messed up feelings were affecting the people around him too, especially every girl he dates to forget. Especially you. But he just couldn’t keep pushing it, not without the truth coming to the light.
Mingyu’s reputation of being too serious, or even heartless sometimes, wasn't born out of nothing. He's aware of his resting bitch face, of the way he bolts in and out of class and the way he's never the first choice for group projects in the classes none of his friends attend. If he cared what other people thought of him, maybe it'd hurt. But he has enough friends, friends who like him the way he is, and doesn't go to college to expand his contact list.
Going to university, to him, was exclusively a way for him to learn more about his likes and interests. He goes to his classes and focuses maybe a little too much, but it’s how he lives his days, how the hours pass until he has to go to work. That is, until you came into his life unprovoked, and disorganized his sharp and efficient lifestyle.
He never crossed paths with you on campus before, and if he were to run into you after the first time he met you, he would've probably ignored you and scurried to his building like a flash. But today, he unconsciously looked around, hoping to catch even a glimpse of your figure coming out of your major’s building. He hoped you’d see him and smile at him as you walked his way to make useless small talk. But you didn’t, of course you didn't, and as soon as he sat down on his usual seat in his favorite class, he realized. He’s fucked.
For the first time in his life, the numbers on the chalkboard didn't make any sense, the words coming out of his favorite professor's mouth sounded like a mumble of pure nonsense. His mind couldn't focus, diving into the memory of your sweet smile next to his ear. Or the shivers your body graced him with as his hands purposely covered yours on the cue stick. His hand would grab his pen to try and write a single sentence, and the feeling of your fingers barely interlaced with his would overwhelm him.
What’s worse than pining after your best friend’s girl? As of the moment, Mingyu has no answer. There’s nothing he can really do either, besides accept you’re in a sort of happy relationship. He can’t take you aside and say ‘hey, you know your boyfriend? My friend? Yeah, so I have a theory that he might be in love with his girl best friend, sorry!’ Even thinking of doing so puts a bad taste in his mouth.
He's aware that, currently, he's at least top5 worst friends in the world. And he's not looking to end your relationship and get bumped up to the top1. It's decided. He'll just ignore whatever feelings are bubbling on the pit of his stomach until they disappear!
Easier said than done, because nothing he does seems to get you out of his mind. And the vivid reminder that he’s nothing more than someone you have to get along with is screaming at him everywhere around his home.
The four walls of his bedroom imprison him, suffocate him with the thought of you. He is a bad friend. He does want you. He does resent Jungkook for keeping you his. But if he broke up with you, would Mingyu ever see you again? Would he ever get the chance to see the heat visibly rushing to your cheeks as he walked closer to you?
Mingyu hates himself. He hates himself for getting turned on at the memory of your body heat against him, shivering at his closeness but not pulling away, letting him wrap himself around you, even if the both of you knew he shouldn't. He needs to drive his mind elsewhere.
Locking in to work in front of his computer, trying to scare away the sturdiness building up in his jeans, it might become the first time he wishes it was his day to go to the office. The front door of the apartment opens, rushed steps and messy, wet, breaths echoing against every thin wall that surrounds him. The reminder that what he deeply wants, it's not, and should never be his.
Working from home has never been so much of a curse.
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄
Jungkook grips at your sides, his body flushing against you and pressing you further into the couch. The near desperate way his lips roam over yours has you gasping for air, but he doesn’t relent, hands making a mess of your hair as he hopes you give him the satisfaction he craves for.
He grinds his hips against yours with determination, and you press against him trying to give him what he’s hopelessly looking for. But no matter what you do, he goes in for more, your bodies getting more and more out of sync.
You try to give him what he wants, emitting sounds of a satisfaction you're nowhere near feeling. His mouth moves to the side of your neck, leaving marks you're not sure you want.
The white door, now in your line of sight, calls for your attention. You shouldn’t be thinking about other people while you have a man in between your legs doing everything to feel any type of pleasure. But if the yellow light sneaking below the closed door alerts you of something, is that the person at the back of your mind is probably right there, behind the dangerously thin cardboard the architects of the building call a wall.
“Isn't Mingyu gonna hear?” The choked up question comes out in a whisper, in fear, in panic. And the mention of his name speeds up your heart rate far more than your current activity.
Jungkook barely cares about your worry. “He's gaming.”
You know gaming implies wearing noise canceling headphones and tuning out of the real world. But is he really?
“I don't know, babe, shouldn't we check?” It sounds stupid to even ask. Check? Knock on his door to very politely ask him if he can hear you having sex?
“He's not gonna hear,” Jungkook sighs, finally looking you in the eyes to answer, “and I wouldn't care if he did. He has to know you're mine.”
There's a speck of disdain behind his words, behind the weirdly possessive statement he just made. It leaves you more breathless than ever.
“What are you talking about?” You don't know what kind of egotistical manly fight they have going on, men friendships are not exactly your expertise, but it can't be about something you're aware of.
“Don't tell me you don't see it.” Jungkook hasn't gotten up from on top of you, but his hands on the sides of your waist tighten a bit more after your question.
“I don't know what you mean.” You chuckle in an intent to ease up the newly tense atmosphere. You didn’t mean to make it about him. “He's your friend, you shouldn't be jealous.”
“And you shouldn’t be talking about another man while you're under me.” Jungkook retorts, half angry, half still turned on. It's a weird mix. One that doesn't let you reply to correct yourself.
Jungkook lowers down to your mouth once again, kissing you fervently to make you forget about anyone else. And you decide to let go. He’s here, your bodies tangled together and your loose clothing crumbled up your torsos to feel each other’s skins. You shouldn’t doubt that, in that moment, he wants you.
You drift away into the feeling of his lips against yours, both hands cupping his jaw to relax the hurried pace he’s setting. His hands under your t-shirt feel good, like he knows what he’s doing, like he knows how women like to be touched, and it helps. It helps free your mind of everything else.
Still, you’re careful of the sounds that leave your lips. You let Jungkook’s tongue slip inside and dance with yours, muffling any soft moans you don’t get to restrain. He searches for something, his hips angling with yours to feel some kind of friction. If he keeps moving like that, you’ll be in the mood in no time.
A ringtone coming from the back pocket of Jungkook’s jeans disrupts the quiet setting. You stiffen under him, but he doesn't let his mood come down. You're grateful when he grabs his phone to decline the call and puts it on the end table in a rush, finding your body with his hands once again.
It's like, for the first time, he's prioritizing the time he planned to spend with you. He searches for your touch like nothing happened and you're the only thing he's thinking about.
“Just let it go to voice-mail.” Your hoarse voice surprises you, echoing over a new call. Jungkook doesn’t respond, not stopping the trail of kisses up your neck until your lips are against each other again.
But a call comes in again, and he groans against your mouth, trying to ignore it, letting the default ringtone soundtrack your activities until it stops on its own. It’s awkward, but he doesn’t stop kissing you and wraps your legs around him, trying to make you forget.
By the fourth call, you're both annoyed, and Jungkook reluctantly gets up from on top of you to check who's bothering him so much. The caller gives up just when he gets the phone in his hand, but from the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of him opening his texts. You don’t mean to spy on him, not wanting to be a controlling girlfriend that needs to know everything her boyfriend's doing, but it’d be nice to simply… get told.
The clicking sounds of his fingers typing on the small screen of his phone are about to send you straight to a mental hospital. Why's he typing so fast? So insistent? Is he mad? He's not telling you anything, as if he forgot he was just kissing you out of breath.
“Did something happen?” You dare ask, even if deep down, you know the answer is clear as day. You know who’s the only one capable of making him drop everything in a heartbeat. “Is Cathlyn okay?”
“She needs me.” Is all he replies. Cold. Decided.
“What do you mean?” The question manages to mask the anger brewing inside you. For now. But you need an explanation. How many times can you put up with the same situation until you blow up? He can’t expect you to be all right with being stood up constantly.
“Yugyeom broke up with her.” He explains without looking at you, like that’s enough of an excuse.
“She always needs you when you’re with me.” Bitterness bleeds through your mumble. It doesn’t feel good. You should understand that best friends need each other. But why are you never on the receiving end of his undivided attention?
“You can’t expect me not to care when she’s going through something. She’s my best friend. She goes first. Always.”
His words are like a bucket of ice water in the middle of winter. The explicit revelation that his priorities are carved on stone. There's silence as he realizes what he said, and neither of you dare speak up.
Your lungs expand but no air gets inside, and your throat threatens to close as your body prepares to start shedding tears. “Why make plans with me if you're just gonna sprint her way at any sign of trouble?” You can’t stop them. “You’re supposed to be with me.”
Tears cascade down your face, quiet sobs getting in the way of your pathetic pleads. Covering your face from the outside world, you shrink in place, giving in to the crying as Jungkook kneels in front of you.
“Baby, I'm sorry.” His now soft voice barely reaches you over your sobs. “I know I haven't been very present.”
“No, you haven't.” His hands carefully withdraw yours from your probably blotched face.
“I promise you,” Jungkook makes the effort to look you in the eyes, “after this, I’ll be better. I'll make it up to you.”
He tries. But you, convinced or not of his willingness to fulfill the promise, don't want him to leave. It's not about the fight, or the sex, or even him. If he leaves, it cements you as the second option. If it was about winners or losers, you'd lose.
“Stay.” It comes out so quiet you're afraid he didn't hear you.
But he did.
“I can't.”
Silence again. Deafening silence as you look at each other with different thoughts racing through your brains. He decided. There's nothing to be done.
Jungkook takes your hand in his and squeezes it tight in an attempt to bring you comfort. He thinks he's doing the right thing. He thinks he'll be able to nurse his best friend's heart and then come running back to you after.
At your silence, he stands up, reaching for his coat hanging on the hallway before sparing you one last look and heading out.
The soft click of the door closing behind him breaks you a little more inside. The couch, no longer warm with the weight of two bodies, feels empty, too big for you to fill.
Bare, exposed, you let yourself be vulnerable only for him to cut you off and leave you there, with your feelings blurting out of you in the form of tears and sobs. The undecorated walls judge you as you cry your eyes out. Is there something you can do that’ll make him like you more? You already try so hard, you’re just not… her.
When the white door opens to reveal the other man of the house, you're not surprised. Of course he was there, and of course he heard everything. Your luck wouldn't let you escape this situation without throwing a more embarrassing one at your hands.
It took Mingyu all of two seconds to realize what was happening. His headphones in the grip of his hand are proof that he did not want to hear what you two were doing, he just didn’t get to put them on. He may be a bad friend, but he's not one to invade someone's privacy.
That's why it took him a bit more time to decide to step out of his room. Would you let him be there for you? Would you be too embarrassed? You shouldn’t be, he thinks. It’s not your fault.
At one point, he got used to Jungkook abandoning his fleeting girlfriends at the first notification from his best friend that popped up. Mingyu never did anything for the girls, and they usually left after a few minutes. Maybe that's why most of them didn't like him. He didn't care, and they always cut ties with everything Jungkook related after the break up, so why would he?
He shouldn't be doing anything. Caring that you're crying alone in the middle of his living room goes against every rule he imposed onto himself. He should be cleansing his mind of you, stepping away from the weird not-friendship you two developed and going back to focusing on the things that matter. He shouldn’t let you climb up that list.
But as soon as he heard his roommate standing up and leaving, the itch at the back of his brain started screaming at him to do something. How can he step back and do nothing? He can’t be indifferent this time. Unfortunately, he does care. Unfortunately, every sob and quiet sniffle tugs at his heart and urges him to be there for you, to come out and try to be there for you as best he can.
The sight of you, even if it's not something he hadn't seen before, breaks him. Making yourself as little as possible, with your clothes wrinkled and your hair a mess, you let him sit by your side, the cold couch caving under him as he settles at a good enough distance that he’s close enough to feel him beside you, but not sticking to your side inappropriately.
The silence with him is a more understanding one. It’s not the first time he’s seen you cry, but you don’t dare say anything. Is there even something to say? You didn't argue, Jungkook didn't run away angry at you, he didn't tell you he hates you and wishes you were somebody else, yet, you feel as if he did something worse. Empty yet full of self deprecating thoughts you wouldn't voice out to the best psychologist on the planet. You couldn’t tell Mingyu even if you wanted to.
A hand, warm and firm, places just above your knee. It’s soft, careful, an innocent touch to understand that he’s there for you. The gesture is oddly comforting, and you allow yourself to feel everything. The embarrassment, the disappointment, the hurt, knowing Mingyu won't judge you for it.
“It’s not your fault.” Mingyu claims, his voice overpowering your racing thoughts.
Maybe it’s the way he says it so sincerely, but you break down even more. Your hands cover your face once again, bending down until your forehead touches your knees. Mingyu’s hand frees itself from the cage you created. He’s definitely had enough of your crying for the night by now. He tried to help and you repay him by dropping half your weight onto his hand and continue crying? If he leaves too, you wouldn’t blame him.
But he doesn’t leave. Instead, Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you closer to him. “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”
Your heart stops for a second, taking in your closeness and the reason behind it, and what he said about his close friend. Your head lays against Mingyu’s shoulder almost on its own, and he keeps you there, even if your tears start staining his shirt.
“He wasn’t like this before.” Your voice breaks trying to defend the you of the past, and the arm behind you stiffens before you feel his hand hold onto your other shoulder for comfort. “They warned me, and I didn’t listen.”
He shouldn’t be the one to tell you. Mingyu knows that. But you’re so broken, crumbling against him like there’s nothing else you can do, that he almost lets the truth slip out. It’s on the tip of his tongue, the thing that’ll break you even more. But he can’t allow himself to do it.
So, he stays silent, offering a place for you to let out all your feelings. Whatever you need to feel better, even if it’s just a little.
Mingyu doesn’t know how much time passes, or what you’re thinking, but he can feel how your breathing regulates with every second. Eventually, your sniffles become rarer and rarer, you straighten your posture and, unfortunately for him, step away from his hold.
“I’m sorry, I–” You can’t look him in the eyes, taken aback by the realization of what happened, guilt making you trip over your words, “I shouldn’t have–”
Getting up and gathering your things is the only thing you can think of doing. Whatever solace you found in his arms is now gone, replaced by an awkwardness you don’t know how to handle. Mingyu’s eyes bore holes on your back as you pick up your things that fell down when you first entered the apartment without care.
“It’s okay,” Mingyu’s gentle words help you relax, but the need to get out of the apartment is stronger. “You can stay, I don’t want you to leave while being upset.”
“I can’t be here, Mingyu.” You don’t mean to sound so hostile, but everywhere you look is a reminder of how pathetic you just were. It’s pushing you away.
“Is there anything I can do?” Mingyu hovers around you, not wanting to scare you away. He’ll do whatever you ask him to. “Anything.”
“I– I just want to be alone.” You walk yourself to the door, too tired to think about how you feel about everything that happened. Too busy to consider anything else. “I have to get ready for tomorrow.”
“Right, it’s tomorrow.” He’d forgotten about the college thing. Your college thing. He was so busy pretending to mind his own business and hiding from his feelings that he forgot you have your own life too. “You’re gonna do great.”
“Thank you…” Your hand rests on the door handle, hesitating leaving Mingyu after he helped you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Your lips tight in the best smile you can manage, in an attempt to not seem mad at him.
“We’ll pick you up in the morning.” Mingyu announces, even if he knows you planned to come on your own.
“There’s no need for that.” You let out a sad, airy chuckle that squeezes Mingyu’s heart.
“No, We’ll–” he starts, but corrects himself, “I’ll pick you up. It’s not up to discussion. You, focus on resting.”
Mingyu takes the decision for you and opens the door himself, both of you ignoring the tingling at the touch of your hands. A quiet mumble goodbye is all you manage to say before going for the elevator. And Mingyu stays at the door until he’s sure the elevator’s going down.
The scorching mid-day sun heated the car so much you can’t rest against it. A few feet ahead, the guys stand in line at the convenience store at the gas station, with mainly energy drinks in hand and a few sandwiches. After driving the entire morning, everyone collectively decided to stop for a while for a bit of leg stretching and to recharge for more hours of driving.
It’s been a weird day from the start.
Mingyu picked you up like he promised, and even made sure you didn’t dare take an uber to their home by texting you they were on the way too early in the morning. You were about to open the uber app when he texted.
You barely got any sleep during the night, your brain switching from replaying the evening at Jungkook’s place and revising for the presentation. You rested so little, yet the usually soothing hum of the car isn’t helping you sleep, choosing to focus on everyone’s voice.
Since you opened your eyes, after tossing and turning all night, you didn’t let yourself think about anything that wasn’t the presentation. When to pause, how much to wave your hands in the air. It worked to an extent. But hearing Jungkook sitting by your side making the effort to talk to Cathlyn, who was sitting in the passenger seat while Mingyu was driving, almost made you go insane.
The only reason you’re alone waiting while the rest of them shop is because you insisted. No, you don’t need to go to the bathroom. No, you don’t want anything specific to eat. No, you don’t need to walk it out. Just in need of a little bit of peace. And Jungkook let you be. He’s been pretending nothing happened the previous night, and you’re glad he’s not forcing you to voice out your thoughts.
The bell above the store’s door chimes as everyone leaves altogether. Instinctively, you reach for the passenger’s door, as the idea was for Mingyu and Jungkook to switch seats so Mingyu can take a rest from driving, but a voice reaches you before you get the chance to open the car.
“Is it okay if I stay there?” Cathlyn runs over to you with a pack of chips in hand.
“Shotgun again?” Jungkook appears behind her, a sly smile on his face before he rounds the car to open the trunk.
She giggles at him but turns her attention back to you when she notices your silence and questioning look. “I’m sorry, I just get really dizzy in the backseat.”
Giving up on reality is easier than fighting it. You’re not going to be the one to deny the poor girl who just got broken up with. Sure, sit with your best friend, laugh with him and ignore the rest of the world outside your bubble. Who cares? “Sure, I don’t mind.”
The car is not that small, but with Cathlyn’s friend, who you didn’t know was coming on the trip until you were in front of the car on the street by your building, you end up between her and Mingyu in the backseat.
Feeling him by your side wakes up flashbacks from the previous night. But if before he was warm and comforting, he’s now rigid in place, looking out the window as the car gets back on the road. You don’t know what you expected, or why you feel a hint of disappointment at the pit of your stomach, but there’s nothing you can really do. You aren’t giving him many chances to be friendly with you either.
For a moment, you’re thankful for the cease in conversation, when Jungkook turns up the volume of the radio and random pop hits start entrancing everyone in the car into listening quietly. Cathlyn and her friend, who they call Mel, bob their heads to the song in sync without realizing, and it’s peaceful.
But then, the next song plays, and the two people sitting in the front part of the car collectively gasp. Mingyu shifts on your side, and you know he recognized what they did too.
“This is the song that–” Cathlyn starts, but they both laugh before she can finish explaining.
“He really hated you for that.” The only reason Jungkook’s eyes are on the road is because he’s driving, because if he weren’t, you’re sure he’d be laughing his ass off with Cathlyn.
“He hated me before too!” She slaps his shoulder before erupting into laughter again. “For no reason may I add.”
All three of you in the backseat just stare at them, listening, waiting for one of them to think of telling the anecdote. Your instincts want nothing more than to look at Mingyu, side eye him for a little help, but you fight them.
“What did you do?” Mel asks by your side, trying to get the attention from the party in the front.
“Our history teacher hated her in senior year.” Jungkook looks at Mel through the rear-view mirror. “She argued with him almost every day.”
“I can see her doing that.” While her friend chuckles at the bit of the story, Cathlyn still doesn’t turn around, almost exclusively laughing with Jungkook.
“And he threatened to fail me on the last test we had!”
“I keep telling you, there’s no way he would’ve done that.”
“It seemed like a very real threat to me.”
“So, you had to blast this song outside the classroom?”
“I had to make a show out of it!”
As they keep bickering about their senior year, leaving you out of the fun, the air around you becomes as awkward as ever. Mel’s laughing with them, the only one paying real attention to their jabs at each other. Mingyu, on the other hand, looks down as he plays with his fingers. You’re… bored.
The conversation you’re not a part of doesn’t interest you, the music’s no longer loud enough to help you take your mind off everything, and you have at least two more hours of agony.
So you focus on the cars on the road, the ones you pass, the ones that pass you, the grass, the animals, the farms, until your eyes finally close on their own.
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄
When you open your eyes again, the car’s slowing down, arriving at the motel that’ll house the five of you for the following days. It’s still bright outside, but the slightly orange tones in the sky and your stomach growling indicate the beginning of the evening.
A familiar hard surface below your temple holds your head in place. When exactly you fell asleep is the first question that pops up in your head. The second one answers itself quickly.
“We’re here.” Mingyu’s low voice accompanies his soft grip just above your knee, with a little reminder of the last time it was there.
As you lift your head and stretch your neck until it pops, it hits you. You fell asleep on Mingyu’s shoulder. A whole two hours where you bothered him, again. Made him take care of you, again.
“You should’ve woken me up.” Mingyu shakes his head at your intent of an apology, but you interrupt him before he speaks up, “I’m sure you were uncomfortable.”
“Really, I didn’t mind.” In the background, Cathlyn and Mel excuse themselves out of the car to look for their room in a rush. “I can wash all the drool off my shirt just fine.”
“I do not drool.” The way he chuckles compels you to join him. It’s easy, and the first time you even smiled in the day.
The door to the driver’s seat shuts closed with force, and both you and Mingyu scurry to get out of the car as soon as possible.
You don’t miss the way Jungkook studies you as he hands each of you your bags from the trunk. Cold as ice, he stays silent when Mingyu excuses himself to find their shared room.
“If your plan’s to make me jealous, that’s not gonna cut it.” Jungkook’s voice surprises you from behind, and the frown he wears on his face accompanies the angry tone.
“I didn’t plan anything.” He doesn’t speak to you the whole trip, and now he has the audacity to be mad at you? “But by the looks of it, whatever you think I did, it clearly worked.”
“Already looking for a rebound?” He follows behind you to the entrance of the motel.
“Jungkook, I don’t have time for this.”
You have hours and hours of practice ahead of you, and they might not be enough for your talk to be perfect. He knows the congress is a big deal to you, or at least he should. You can’t be thinking about anything else. Not about him. Not about your relationship with him. Not about Mingyu.
“Are you planning to break up with me?” You’ve never heard him talk like this before. He doesn’t sound hurt, just angry, jealous.
You scoff. “If you keep being an asshole, I might.” The answer blurts out without checking with your brain first. He didn’t expect you to say something back. You didn’t either.
“Fine.” Jungkook crosses his arms, waiting for you to say the words you’re not even sure you want to utter. “Do it.”
“Look, I can’t deal with this right now.” You take a deep breath, trying to think clearly, to not do anything impulsively. “You’re mad and I’m stressed. It’s not the best time.”
“Are you saying you’ll do it tomorrow?”
“What? I’m not saying anything, Jungkook, stop.” Your bag’s heavy on your shoulder as you rack your brain for anything to help you out of this. “Why don’t we take the night off, I’ll practice for tomorrow, you can relax after all the driving, and we’ll have a proper talk tomorrow. Okay?”
Jungkook huffs, mumbling something close to a ‘fine then, bye’ before storming off.
The back of your throat feels dry and hoarse from the hours of speech practice. How to modulate correctly, how to make your voice bigger. It takes a toll on you.
When you and your friends planned to do the finishing touches the night before the congress, none of you thought you’d be trapped in a tiny motel room for hours, tweaking the words to seem more professional, timing yourselves to fit in the 15 minute time slot, and even going as far as to plan when and how to look at the screen behind you.
Your stomach growls incessantly. You haven’t had anything to eat in hours, besides the simple dinner the three of you had after setting up in your rooms. Seeing every one of you is tired, the girls don’t stop you when you get up and leave the room in search of a vending machine.
Somehow, the balcony has better lighting than your hallway, and you spot a big vending machine just outside your hallway. Picking a snack is not hard when your tummy begs for anything, so you grab the random chip bag you picked and begin to head back when you hear a loud thud and a curse coming from the next hallway.
Judging by which hallway you’re walking into, and the sheer size of the person bending over in pain in front of their door, it’s Mingyu.
“Are you okay?” You rush to help him in any way you can.
Mingyu’s head shoots your way and he curses again. “Shit, it’s you, hi, yeah.” He grunts in between words and tries to stand up straight. “I closed the door right in my hand. It’s no big deal, really. Go rest for tomorrow.”
Even from afar, you could see the sweat stains on the back of his sleeveless t-shirt. His shallow breathing and sweat dripping down his hair and face welcome you as you reach him. It's a sight. His skin glistening under the white hallway lights catches your attention a second longer than it should before it goes back to the cause of his pain.
“You’re bleeding!” Taking a closer look at the hand he’s holding, you see a growing red bubble right under the ring finger’s nail. “Let’s get you inside.”
“You don’t have to–”
“Shut up and go put your hand under running cold water.” After he’s helped you so many times, the least you can do is google what to do when someone has a bubble of blood growing under their nail.
The empty room catches your attention as you read the quick answers your search pulled up. “Jungkook’s not here?”
Looking over to the open bathroom door, Mingyu’s hand is under the running tap like you instructed, but he’s staring at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes. He must know about the fight you two had.
“He went out with some friends that came here too.” He answers before giving up and drying his hand. “It’s not clearing out.”
You should be used to him sitting closely by your side. Your breath shouldn’t quicken and your hands shouldn’t sweat as the bed creaks below him. Actually, you need to stop getting into situations where Mingyu needs to sit beside you. But you can’t help it.
Maybe focusing on his minor injury can help your body relax. “Okay, so, google says it should go away on its own in like… two or three days.” Even if there’s so many questions you have for him that you avoided all day, it’s not the time.
“I'll have to stay with a blood bubble on my finger for days?” His threatening pout lifts your mood quickly.
You chuckle, taking his hand in yours once again. “Does it hurt?” Mingyu shakes his head with a small smile growing in his face, letting you have your way.
Now that he’s calmer than when you found him outside, his fingers relax in your hold as you look for any bruises. His hand that held you and comforted you one too many times, now being taken care of by you. Rushes of warm blood follow where your skin meets his, even the lightest of touches aren't free of his effect on you.
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Your mouth betrays you once again, voicing out your thoughts instead of getting through the silence. “Your friends.”
“Didn’t feel like it.” His answer is simple. And you wish it was enough to satiate your curiosity, but you simply can't stop asking questions.
“Nothing more?” You don't know what you expect him to answer. Maybe you're just looking for excuses to keep talking to him, to stay in the momentary bubble that surrounds you every time you’re with him.
“I haven't been… liking him much lately.”
Mingyu's careful with his choice of words. Still believing it’s not his place to talk about what goes on in Jungkook’s life, he can’t not be honest with you, not when you’re so close to him he’s sure you can read every expression on his face.
A drop of sweat drips down the side of his face, training your eyes to follow its way down until it dampens the side of his mouth.
“You're best friends.” A remainder, more to yourself than to him.
“Doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he does.”
Mingyu hopes you understand the meaning behind his words.
You hope he doesn't notice the way your eyes stayed too long on his moving lips before going back to his eyes.
You both hope for things you can't voice out, charging the little space between your stares with electricity. With his hand forgotten in your hold, reading his expression becomes your main task.
None of you dare move, and you know, somehow, that he's waiting for you to do something –anything. What you don't know is what you want.
Your phone chimes in your back pocket just when you part your lips to speak. There's a millisecond, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't watching Mingyu's gaze closely, where his eyes drift down your face. With your lips dry at his attention, you break the spell, letting go of his hand to reach for your phone.
Nayeon asks where you disappeared to, and sends a long chain of suspecting emojis when you tell her who you’re with.
“I–I have to get back.” Getting up from the weak motel bed in a flash, Mingyu's eyes follow you to the door. “Sorry for taking up your time.”
“You gotta stop with that.” He stops you in your tracks, with a soft grip on your wrist to turn you back to him.
“Stop talking like you're a bother.” He doesn't let you dismiss him. “You don't bother me. I wouldn't spend time with you if you did.”
“You didn't use to like me. And now you pity me, that's why you spend time with me.” Even if you'd like to believe otherwise.
“That's not true.” He doesn't let go of you, and you stop aiming to get out the door. “I don't pity you.”
“You never talked to me until you caught me crying that day.” Your head tilts, trying not to seem so serious with your counter argument.
Another text comes through your phone. You shouldn't be wasting time on such an important night. But is it really wasted time if you're spending it with him?
“It wasn't about you.” Mingyu reveals, but it doesn't really clear up your doubts. “I don't like getting to know people I'm not sure will stick around.”
“So, it's true.” You bring your arm out of his grip, a way to protect yourself. “I wasn't supposed to last this long.”
“Look. It's not my place, and I've already gotten too involved.” Mingyu's words fly over you, choosing not to overthink what he means. “Jungkook's shit is Jungkook’s shit, but you can decide what to do too. Don't wait for him to make a decision for you.”
“I'm capable of making my own decisions, Mingyu.” You say, convinced but weary of his tone.
“I know you are. He doesn't.”
The silence is striking, breathtaking, heartstopping. Words don't come up in your brain, an infinite echo of Mingyu's remark rendering you incapable of following a simple order.
“See you tomorrow.” You can only offer him a small smile before finally leaving the room full of him.
The applause almost breaks you down. You can finally take a deep breath. The thing you’ve been preparing for weeks, taking up most of your sleep time and raising the bar for how much stress you can handle, is finally done.
Well, not completely. Your speech is done, yes, but the time for questions begins. Jennie and Nayeon answer everything swiftly as your eyes scan the room for any known faces. You finished the presentation and you can barely catch your breath as your heart tries to slow down, so they take on the most annoying part of the job.
From across the room, behind the people eager to ask their questions with their hands in the air or attentively listen to your friends’ responses, the tall man only looking at you makes your heart stop.
Was he there the whole time? When you speak in a room full of people, you tend to disappear into your own mind, barely registering what surrounds you until your time’s up. He could've just got here, but deep down you know he didn’t. Deep down, you know he’s been there since the start, supporting you without your knowledge.
As a hand on your shoulder starts gently dragging you away from the stand, splitting the way between your connected stares, a sense of accomplishment washes over you. You're done, you can carry on with your life.
In the hallway just outside where you just spent the most stressful hours of your life, you can hear the next group beginning their presentation, one that luckily you’re not required to be present for. Perks of being in the line up.
Getting out the other door, Mingyu searches for you and finds you walking over to him with the biggest smile adorning your face.
“What did you think?” Your friends’ giggles make it to your ears from behind. Merging the constant teasing you’re the victim of with their infatuation with Mingyu is dangerous, but there really is only one thing in your mind now.
“You talked really well.” The highlight of every word as his eyebrows wiggle with confusion lights a warmth in your belly that spreads across your body into a chuckle.
“You didn’t understand a thing, did you?”
“I didn’t.” It’s his chuckle, and his smile, and his eyes glimmering, and his chin tilted down to get a better look at you.
Have you ever felt this way before? Easy under someone’s gaze, unafraid of making them feel less intelligent. He’s… genuinely happy for you. Out of all the presentations in the schedule, your subject matter was the least close to his field, yet he chose to listen to your sociology lesson.
“Thank you for coming.” You say before the magic fades. “You–you didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t want to miss it.” He’s the most genuine he can possibly be.
Mingyu undoubtedly, and selfishly, cares about you. From the sidelines, he saw you getting the opportunity, the toll the preparations were taking on you. He wasn’t going to skip one of the biggest moments of your life after seeing you struggle for so long.
“That makes one of you.” You don’t mean it to sound as spiteful, but the sour taste in your mouth as you realize who isn’t present triggers the resentful tone. “Anyway, I’m not gonna let some asshole ruin my day! We’re going to celebrate with the girls and some guys I have no idea how they managed to make friends with, do you want to come?”
Mingyu doesn't think about what you mean behind your invitation. “Sure, if you want me there.” He’d jump at any chance he got to spend time with you.
Ever since that night at the pool bar, Mingyu never forgot your willingness to not let one bad moment overshadow an otherwise enjoyable day. A quality he could learn from. That’s why, he also can’t forget about the moments he comforted you, when everything became so overwhelming you had no choice but to let it all out.
“Let’s go then!” Your hand aims to stretch back for him to take, but the little angel on your shoulder wins this round, and you just walk out the hall with Mingyu following you, hand hanging cold by your side.
The evening sky greets you on the outside world, and the fresh air filling your lungs after being trapped inside the suffocating new college is very welcomed by your body.
Following your friends wherever they go, letting them choose which bar or club to go celebrate, you can only smile and silently walk behind them. Mingyu’s towering presence occupies the space to your right. He’s also silent, admiring the new city, letting you have the unspeaking moment you need.
It’s not long before you’re getting into a club with flashing colored lights and loud pop music coming out of the speakers. The sense of accomplishment embodies you whole. One less thing to worry about, one less thing weighing you down. You won't let anyone take the freedom from you.
It’s a carefree night. You let yourself be dragged to the packed dance floor, your friends leading the way amidst all the bodies crowding as they dance out of sync.
Being drunk could never compare to the happiness you feel as you join everyone dancing. You allow the music to take over you, with your hips and limbs coordinating to the rhythm of each song playing, blending into the sea of people.
You don't know when, you don't care how, and with no will to stop, you and Mingyu drift towards each other, the little space and dim atmosphere making it easy to hide everything wrong with what you're doing.
“You're happy.” Mingyu leans down to say to your ear. The only way you could hear him over all the noise.
“I am!” You don't fight the smile growing in your lips, focusing on the way Mingyu's eyes scan your face under the blue lights.
This time, the battle between the little angel and the devil dictating your choices ends with the victory of the mischievous voice that tells you to inch closer to Mingyu.
With the excuse of the loud music, you stand on your tiptoes to reach the side of his face, your lips grazing his ear as you say, “I'm glad you came.”
His hands steady you in place before you lose your balance, holding onto your hips and keeping you in place.
You should swat his hands away. He should stand back from the girl who isn't his. The tension sizzles from the tip of his fingers barely dipping into a bit of uncovered skin and up your body until your chest tightens.
“I'm sure you'd want someone else here.” Even with the scandalous meaning behind his words, you don't ignore the light teasing tone he purposely uses.
“I'm not thinking about him right now.” His eyes search for yours, finding only truth in them.
The people surrounding you, unscrupulously dancing against each other and paying you no mind, sway your bodies from side to side. Neither of you make a move to separate, letting the pushing crowd be the excuse for your closeness. You have the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, but you fight it. Maybe if he was something else, you would.
But the universe would never let you be this careless without some karma waiting for you.
When your gaze reluctantly disconnects from Mingyu's in search for your friends, the sight of two familiar people catches your attention a few meters to the side. You should've known he was with her. That he'd choose her over you even for this.
They're just dancing, and you can't complain about it because you're currently in the arms of another man too. It's just… different.
Your hands find Mingyu's still on your sides, grabbing them softly to get them off you as your eyes go from the scene you just witnessed to him and then back. Of course, he gets it immediately.
“I can talk to him.” Mingyu has this instinct now, to shield you from having a bad time.
“No, I'll do it. I have a few things in mind to say.” While you appreciate him wanting to help, it’s something you have to do on your own. You can’t shield behind Mingyu any longer.
Making the sacrifice of looking like a psychotic girlfriend, the adrenaline moves your legs forward, no time to think further about what you’re about to do. They don’t see you coming, they probably didn’t even see you with Mingyu before, too sucked into their bubble to notice other people.
“Jungkook.” His shocked expression just confirms your theory. He notices you’re mad quickly, but the wheels turning in his mind, failing to find the reason for your anger, are so visible you can’t control your mouth. “Glad to see you’re having fun.”
“Hi, babe! I didn’t—see you come in!” He leans into the wall behind him for support, body as stiff as ever. “Having a good time?”
“Are you kidding me?” Admittedly, you’re raising your voice a few decibels over the necessary amount, but you’ve never cared less about drawing attention than at this moment. “You really forgot, huh?”
Only then, Jungkook realizes he messed up. It’s not normal to see you angry, especially not at him. “Let’s talk outside, okay? It’s quieter.”
You catch his eyes going back to Cathlyn before he places a hand on your lower back to direct you to the door. Astonishing, really.
“You could make it less obvious, at least.” The harsh cold night wind slaps you even more awake. “I’m not stupid, Jungkook.”
You’re not dressed to be standing outside on the street at this hour. The city’s too windy, making you shiver as if it was the middle of winter. You don’t want to look weak in Jungkook’s eyes, you need to look like you stand your ground. The cold is a mental state anyway, you can fight it.
“You’re not, babe, but what are you talking about? What are you doing here?” His cluelessness does everything but help his situation.
“We’re celebrating that our presentation was a success.” At the news, everything clicks in Jungkook’s mind.
“It was today.” Jungkook reminds himself out loud.
“Of course it was today! Why else do you think we drove all this way?” He has to be a special kind of disengaged and disinterested to selectively wipe his memory like this, you think.
“I’m sorry, baby! So much happened today, and I thought you didn’t want to see me after last night.”
“Don’t use one fight as an excuse. You forgot or you didn’t care. Either way, this was important to me and you didn’t come.”
People passing you on the street side eye the scene you’re making. Jungkook seems to care about being judged, taking in account the way his eyes widen at every raise of your voice.
At his silence, you keep going. “What did Cathlyn fucking need this time? What could have possibly been more important than your girlfriend?” It feels pathetic to call yourself that.
“You have to understand,” his voice becomes tense at the utterance of her name, “she’s my best friend. She means everything to me.”
You’re positive she’s listening to all of this. Hiding behind the club’s door waiting for the chance to come out and comfort her oh so dear best friend. It’s not her fault, but it’s hard not to grow an ill feeling thinking about her.
“Don’t I mean anything? Why get into a relationship with me if you won’t take it seriously? If you’re in love with someone else?”
It’s hard to form an articulated sentence when the anger and the sadness spar in your mind. It’s hard not to feel desperate, a pitiful attempt at making a careless man care about you.
Your gaze trains on the floor, tuning out Jungkook’s lame excuses and not truthful apologies. Without looking at him, and with only the grey sidewalk on sight, it’s like you can think clearly for the first time.
“I’m sorry, baby, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” It’s just a moment where you let his words register, and it’s the last thing you need to decide.
“No. You won’t.”
Jungkook shuts up instantly. Your gaze doesn’t falter this time, locking into his with your best poker face. You can see every thought passing through his mind, every little reaction he fights to show. He analyzes your expression, looking for another meaning, for any sign that you don’t mean what you said.
“I promise I will, baby, c’mon.”
The thing is, after so many promises, those words coming out of his mouth become meaningless. They’re just empty words he uses to get you to forgive him, he’s not being truthful, he’s just begging so he can feel better with himself.
“No! You won’t! That was your last chance.” It gets clearer and clearer to him what you’re saying.
You shouldn't have been silently enduring the scraps of his attention he was giving you. Waiting for your growing feelings to be reciprocated by someone who doesn’t respect you. Those feelings, however big or small —you’re not sure, quickly started dissipating at the realization that he simply didn’t care. It wasn’t his memory, or his busy schedule, it was the lack of intention. Care and intention he always showed to someone else.
“Babe…” He sounds like he gave up too, one last pity attempt you know he doesn’t mean.
“We’re done. You never wanted to be with me, and I certainly don’t want to be with you anymore.”
When you start walking away, Jungkook doesn’t stop you, standing where you left him with his eyes lost to the ghostly street.
Realizing the burden he’s been on your life and letting it go finally lets you see clearly. Your night might’ve been ruined, but you’re liberated from that pain. You’re not happy, but you’re not sad either, just walking forward, a new future ahead.
You’ve walked almost two whole blocks, the motel a half block away, when the sound of rushed steps chasing you alerts you. You didn’t think anyone would be coming after you, but you realize who it is right when the figure appears in your line of sight.
“Are you okay?” Mingyu’s breathless, slowing his pace to match yours. He definitely heard everything that happened.
“Yeah, I think so.” Even if you sound convinced, he stays walking with you.
“I’ll walk you inside.” He doesn’t look back, deciding on what to do. But you know he should be making sure his friend is okay. You guess he is, though.
“I'll be fine. You can stay with—”
“I want to make sure you’re okay.” Mingyu interrupts you before you can say the other’s name. “I don't care about him right now.”
Your heart stops for a moment before your brain catches up. All those times Jungkook left you and Mingyu came right to the rescue, when he got annoyed at them in the pool bar, or admitting he didn’t like what Jungkook was “choosing”. Of course he has to know how his best friend and roommate feels about everyone.
“You knew it all this time.” He doesn’t look at you, staring at the distance as he listens closely. “That he’s in love with her.”
“I didn't want to be the one to tell you.”
Your room door’s just one step away now, but you still stop in your tracks at his words. You never thought of his silence as his way to shield you from the truth. You never thought that the initial pity he took on you —even if he denies it, came from a place of hiding something from you.
“He was in love with somebody else while being with me! That’s the kind of thing you need to tell me!” Luckily, the hallway is completely deserted at this hour. You wouldn’t want to make another scene. You’re more aware of everything now, free but raw, as if anything could scar you.
“It wasn't my place!” For a second you understand Mingyu. Imagining him even implying it hurts more than realizing the truth yourself. But it still hurts. You trusted him with your most vulnerable moments, and all that time he hid that he knew the real cause for that pain. “And don't act like you didn't know it too.”
Mingyu’s harsh comment feels like a punch in the gut. There’s no malice in his tone, you’ve come to know him and his tendency to be too direct sometimes, it was just unexpected this time.
But he is right. There were signs everywhere for you to see, signs you turned a blind eye to. It was a thought that often crossed the back of your mind, but you dismissed it before you could think about it further. You were stupid to think you were paranoid and it meant nothing.
“Stop.” You realize you weren't looking at him and shoot your gaze up. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t blame yourself. He’s the asshole and you’re not at fault for believing him.”
“But I shouldn’t have. I thought I was smarter than that, turns out I’m just dumb.” You want to curl up in bed, hide from the judging outside world and forget all about Jungkook and the past few weeks. But not all of it.
“He’s the dumb one for not seeing how great you are.” Mingyu's hand on your shoulder manages to comfort you enough to hold off on the tears. “Are you okay? About breaking it off?”
“I know it was the right choice for me. But I have to assimilate it, I think. Sleep it off”
Mingyu nods in acknowledgement as your hand reaches for the doorknob. As if that was your way of ending the conversation, he turns his body to head out the grimy hallway, because he knows what’s next. You’ll cut off everything related to your now ex, a pack of memories in which he himself is included. This is why he shouldn’t have gotten involved with you. There’s no way you’ll want to be in touch with him after everything.
“Mingyu.” It’s your voice that makes him turn around. Even considering how heartbroken you must be, there’s a slight grin on your face as you think about what to say next. “I didn’t say I wanted to be alone.”
His heart accelerates as if it was miles ahead of the thought process his brain is having a hard time catching up with. Still, beyond whatever he wants and feels, he knows you need some time to think clearly, someone to be there for you regardless of feelings.
At his hesitation, you open the door and look back at him as you enter. It’s a clear invitation, one he accepts immediately.
After closing the door behind him, the unmade bed calls his name and he sits at the edge to take his shoes off as you begin your night routine in front of the bathroom mirror.
“I’m curious about something.” You look cute smothering moisturizing cream all across your face, Mingyu thinks. “Do you think she likes him back?”
He finds it in himself to chuckle. “Do you really want to talk about that right now?”
“Look, I won’t be sad about it if I can turn it into a gossip session later. It’s my way of getting over things, so please just indulge me this time.”
You’re looking at him as you tap your face with the pads of your fingers. Mingyu doesn’t see an ounce of sadness in your expression, instead, you’re very serious with what you’re asking. And he won’t argue with that logic, if that’s what it takes to help you forget and spend more time with you.
“She never told me anything.” Your half closed eyes and head turned to the side signal Mingyu to keep talking. “If he confessed, I think she could like him back. They already act like a couple anyway.”
Mingyu realizes he went too far. You don’t say anything, but your shoulders slouch before you grab your pajamas from the nightstand and lock yourself in the bathroom. That was definitely not what you wanted to hear. Shit.
“I hope they can finally realize they’re idiots.” When the door opens to reveal the loose but all too revealing clothes barely covering your body, Mingyu can almost hear all the air in his lungs escaping at once. “Are you getting in bed?”
Maybe it’s his mind playing sick games with him. You can’t possibly be asking him to slip under the covers with you and be calm about it. There’s a lot of things he can calmly face up to. The idea of laying down so close to the person who’s been making a mess of his every thought is not one of those.
Still, he follows suit with your not so indirect invite. He doesn’t want to make assumptions about you, about the situation, or about what you want, so he lets you take the lead for tonight. Trusting that you’ll show him what you need and believing that he can give it to you.
The both of you lay awkwardly side by side, facing the ceiling deep in thought. Only the breathing sounds and the way your arm grazes against his keep Mingyu’s senses in check. He feels like a highschooler having his first conversation with his crush. He can no longer be the cool, calm self he praised himself to be. So, he resorts to silence.
“Was he always like that? Ending relationships after realizing it’s not what he wants?” You turn in your place, facing him with those doe eyes of yours that always make him fold.
“If it makes you feel any better, I think it’s the girls that break up with him.” He mirrors your position, feeling better at the entire situation when he sees your smile at his comment.
“Good for them.”
There’s something in your gaze that makes Mingyu question if it’s worth it to be loyal to his friend. Though that moral code must’ve been broken already, there’s still a line, no matter how thin, he hasn’t crossed yet. Emphasis on ‘he’, because he can never be sure what’s your next move.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He dares to ask again.
Mingyu’s hyper aware of how close you are. How you shift a bit closer to him as you think your answer. He thought the clothes he was wearing were okay to sleep in, but his bodily temperature keeps rising at the thought of you.
“I still feel a bit stupid.” He can’t stand hearing you talk about yourself like that, but he doesn’t get to argue. You shut his mouth closed, placing your index finger on the center of his lips before he can utter a word. A touch so innocent he immediately feels bad at how electrifying it felt. “My friends warned me that his relationships never lasted. And I guess I wanted to see it for myself. Have the empirical data, if you will.”
He sees your gaze go down from his eyes, and your hand goes down with it to whatever caught your attention. He swallows hard, waiting for just one signal. The chain around his neck tugs at the back, and he realizes you’re inspecting the little charm hanging from it.
“It’s not like I was in love with him.” Every word you say feels like fire on his end. “He was fun at first. That’s what I liked about him.”
You play with Mingyu’s chain like it’s second nature. Like you don’t realize your hand’s dangerously close to his chest, about to feel the beating of his heart growing stronger each second.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” That makes your eyes go up again, eyelashes fluttering so close he could count each one of them.
“I get why you didn’t, you’re a good friend. And I think it was better for me to realize on my own, if that makes you feel any better.” The smile that grows on him matches yours perfectly.
“I don’t know how much of a good friend I am anymore.” The honesty slips out of him under your scanning stare. “I’m here after all, aren’t I?”
Mingyu should feel guilty. He left the bar to go after you without so much of a second thought, leaving his supposed best friend to deal with everything on his own. That’s how much he cares about you. His need for you overflows into every area of his life, making the guilt disappear into the stream of things that don’t matter. You’re not taken anymore. And, deep down, he knows Jungkook’s going to be fine. He doesn’t care about you even a fraction of how much Mingyu does.
He’s still deep in thought when he feels your hand going up the side of his jaw. Your icy fingers contrast against his fiery skin, driving him to lean into your touch. He’d close his eyes and let you do anything you wanted if it wasn’t for the intoxicating force of your gaze.
The irrational part of his brain doesn’t let him stop you as your face gets closer so his. You’re slowly testing the waters, seeing if he’ll back down, but Mingyu’s quicker, and leans down the last millimeters to finally connect.
Your lips melt against his with a soft sigh, and everything stills for a moment. Enveloped with the tenderness of your touch, he feels you hazily pressing further against him, unsurely yearning for more.
But the rational part of his brain, the one that tugs on the last strand of morale he has, retrieves his head from your electrifying kiss.
“We shouldn’t—” Mingyu regrets it instantly at the sight of your saddened eyes. But he knows it’s for the best. He couldn’t live with himself if you weren’t sure.
“You don’t want to?” The way your hand flies away from his personal space almost makes him take it and put it back where it belongs.
“I do.” He sounds desperate. He needs you to understand. “But you should see how you feel when you have a clear mind.”
A thousand thoughts rush through your mind, visibly turning your expression soft again. Mingyu offers his arm for you to lay on, the most outlandish peace offering he can make without losing his mind first.
“Okay.” Your soft voice reverberates up his arm as you lay your head on his relaxed bicep. “Do you want to leave?”
He couldn't begin to imagine any dimension in the multiverse where he'd choose to stay away from the featheriness of your skin against his. “Do you want me to leave?”
“I asked you first.” Your light chuckle heals the worry beginning to creep up on Mingyu. In the future, he'll make sure you never doubt him again.
“I don't want to leave.”
The way your smile keeps making a blank slate of his brain should worry Mingyu. But he's never felt this way before, and if there's a chance, however big or small, that you could feel the same way, he won't go back.
“And I want you to stay.”
The morning sun rays bleed through the flimsy curtain, illuminating the otherwise plain motel room in a golden light. You feel warm all around, wrapped in Mingyu’s arms instead of the bedsheets that sometime along the night seem to have fallen to the floor.
But even in the confinement of Mingyu’s backhug, you feel free. What has been dragging your spirit through the floor finally cut from your life. The previous night’s events faded to a distant memory as soon as you laid your head in Mingyu’s chest and drifted to the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.
You don’t dare turn in his hold, afraid to wake him up and make him face the day. That’s the one thing you haven’t been able to dust off since you opened your eyes. The guilt.
Maybe for you, cutting Jungkook out of your life was the best decision, but Mingyu was his friend first, and last night, for whatever reason, he chose you. He chose to comfort the whiny girl that dumped his boyfriend instead of his best friend since they were in the womb.
The morning with him feels like sunrises on the beach, like a warm cup of coffee on the coldest day, like being trapped in an infinite bear hug. It feels like hope. And the guilt from wanting it all could consume you whole just like the need for him.
Mingyu must have mind reading superpowers, because his arms tighten around you before the guilt overwhelms you, easily forgetting it all at the feeling of his breath on your neck.
Neither of you say anything, sharing the comfortable silence, relishing being in each other’s arms. You don’t stop him when he tangles his legs with yours, feeling him everywhere from head to toe. You let your hands caress his forearms as they drift dangerously close to your lower belly.
It’s wrong. It’s definitely wrong on some moral level. Borderline evil even. It’s too soon, and you need to understand what you’re feeling before moving forward with whatever this is. This that feels so nice, so right, but so wrong.
Mingyu doesn’t seem to be having the same moral dilemma that’s running around your mind anymore. The hardness you feel pressing against your inner thigh followed by a gasp that spreads goosebumps all across your back confirming your theory.
In the morning haze, in the limbo between days where time doesn’t run and actions don’t have consequences, you give into his infectious desire. The agreement you made the night before flying out the window as soon as a fire ignites all across your body.
You purposely grind against him, the indecent action causing your face to feel even warmer. A low moan gets caught in Mingyu’s throat at the feeling of your ass against his morning wood, one hand gripping your hip to keep you in place.
“What are you doing?” His raspy voice sends another fire down your body, making you squirm in his grip.
“Nothing.” You feign innocence, pretending to straighten your posture but ultimately pressing yourself harder against his chest. “You don't like it?”
The space between your bodies is crushed impossibly tighter until all you can feel are his muscles tensing in his search for you. The barrier you left standing the night before, demolished with little care as he sighs to your ear.
“It's not that, princess,” every bit of skin Mingyu touches works like a button to make you need him more and more, “we should wait.”
You'd agree with him if it wasn't for the elastic of your sleeping shorts stretching to fit his wandering hand. It’s a timid action, one that contradicts his words but only gets encouraged by your gasp. These aren’t the hands that held you close when you were broken, no, these are the ones that felt you shiver pretending to teach you to play pool, the ones that pushed you against him in the dimness of the club. The ones you crave with your whole body.
At your reaction, he drifts further down, playing with the hem of your panties so painfully slow the grip of your hand on his forearm grows stronger with each second he doesn't fully touch you. His lips graze your shoulder, trying to contain himself from kissing every inch he can reach.
When he flattens on your pelvis, pressing you against his faltering hips, you swear your whimper drives him to not so innocently thrust behind you. The room is impossibly hot, but you don’t care, nothing matters other than your need to feel him inside.
Your mouth opens, hoping to work enough to plead for him, but a loud knock on your door startles you both out of the embrace.
If the earth it’s going to swallow you at any point in life, you hope it’s right then and there. Your panties are uncomfortably sticky as your embarrassed gaze connects with Mingyu, the both of you speechless with guilt. The most awkward second ever before another knock echoes into the room.
“Tell Jennie I’ll be out in a second? I promised her we’d go out for breakfast together.”
The embarrassment doesn’t let you look at him a second longer before you lock yourself in the bathroom. Maybe a splash of cold water on your face can help you not look like you just got cockblocked.
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄
However Mingyu thought his morning would go, the reality was far from his imagination, though it felt far better. He wouldn't mind waking up next to you again, heating up your skin with his touch until you whimper for him.
The sight of you, just woken up and shy at the boldness of what you just did, puts a sheepish smirk on his face. He almost forgets the wrongness of everything. But the decision he made, selfish and long forgotten, quickly comes back to bite him in the ass as he opens the door.
“Wow, this is a nice sight!” Jungkook's face morphs into sarcastic shock as the door reveals a disheveled Mingyu.
“What are you doing here?” In all honesty, Mingyu didn’t think about his friend last night, deep down knowing he wasn’t going to be hurt for long.
“Are you her bodyguard now? I just want to talk about last night.” Jungkook attempts to take half a step into your room, but Mingyu immediately blocks the door.
“It’s not the time to get in my way, man.” The baseless threat doesn’t make Mingyu budge in the slightest, which pisses Jungkook off. The man’s eyes widen after scanning the state of the room. “Did you fuck her?”
“What?” Mingyu can't believe what he's hearing.
“I asked, Did. You. Fuck. Her?” Speaking each word with clenched teeth, Jungkook's voice bleeds anger.
“Why do you care?”
Jungkook barely lets him finish his question. “So you fucked her.”
The crude language puts a bitter taste in Mingyu's mouth. As if only the sex mattered and not everything else. Not that he comforted you at your weakest, that you opened up your heart to him, that you kissed him so softly he almost passed out. Mingyu can only hope the bathroom door miraculously becomes soundproof.
“Don't pretend to care about her now.” Never in his life has he talked to Jungkook this way, always afraid of what could happen to their friendship if he tried to put some sense into him. Then again, his actions never hurt someone Mingyu actually cared about.
“I bet you couldn’t wait for me to dump her.” The words spit out of Jungkook’s mouth like acid. “Eager to take on my leftovers.”
“Dude, I get that you're mad, but you're getting out of line.” The peacemaker in Mingyu takes over —it’s either that or a punch in the face, and tries to get his friend back in the hallway.
“I’m not mad!” He gasps with a hand to his chest. “Just shocked, that's all. Didn’t even let a day pass.” Venom coats every word he says, justifiably betrayed by the one friend he thought he could always count with.
“I didn’t mean for it to come to this,” Mingyu admits quietly, “I wasn’t supposed to care.”
There’s nothing as Jungkook processes those words. A tense second that becomes an infinite one, a void sucking every apology out of his mouth. Mingyu would pay millions to know what’s going on in his friend’s head. He could always tell what he was feeling even when he shut everyone off. But he was never the one causing his anger.
“I can g—”
“I’ll take the bus home with Cathy.” Is all Jungkook says.
His blank face waits for Mingyu to nod before walking away with no second thoughts. Out of the million outcomes he thought for this conversation, Mingyu never thought he’d be the one left speechless. But they both clearly need some time alone before going back to being roommates, before talking like two grown adults and resolving this.
It’s the sound of a door closing just meters behind him that takes him back to the room, your room.
Mingyu doesn’t know what to do to shield you from the hurt. He’s tired of simply being there to comfort you in the aftermath. He can’t stand the sight before him, your lips turn downwards trying to get a hold of your feelings. He can see it all, the process of all the emotions going through your brain, until your face settles to a serious expression.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Mingyu stays at the threshold of the door, not sure if you’d still want him as company.
“Don’t be. I’m glad I did.” You stay put in place, half a step from the messy bed, looking everywhere but at him. “At least I don’t have to feel guilty anymore.”
Guilt. That’s what he noticed when he gained consciousness and felt you tense in his hold. “About what happened earlier—”
“I’m sorry about that,” you interrupt him in his hesitation, “you said you didn’t want to and I crossed the line.”
“It’s not—” Your lips part in surprise as your eyes fly to his. “I—shit, I don’t want you to think I’m only being nice for something in return.”
“You should be glad I don’t think of you that way.” It’s a weird feel of rejection, the one in your heart as you start picking up your things. A man says he doesn’t want to have sex after rubbing himself against you and fighting with your ex boyfriend. “We should pack, get ready to leave.”
“What do you think of me then?”
Mingyu standing leaning against the doorframe, following your every move with his eyes, makes you stumble upon every possible obstacle on your way. Even with your gaze elsewhere, you can feel him watching your every move.
“I think you’re a good man that lacks a sense of urgency.” Unfortunately, you didn’t bring much stuff on the trip, and you’re getting to the end of things to take your mind off of Mingyu. “Are you going to stare at me all day?”
“I like you.” Mingyu’s sure about a lot of things, but at the weight lifting from his shoulders, the way you stop at his words and how you wait for him to continue, he’s certain he’s never felt like this before. “I’m sorry if that's weird and wrong to say, but I do.”
“I—” There’s no way to describe it, how your mind clears of any reasonable thought the second those words escape Mingyu’s lips.
“You don’t have to say anything. Like I said last night, I want you to figure out how you feel on your own time. I’ll be here, you can count on me. I’m not going anywhere.”
His assurance helps. He somehow always knows how to help you, what to say, how to act.
Before you know it, you’re face to face with him, his warmth embracing you as he tilts his head down, waiting for your next move. Your cheek lays softly on his chest after wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tightly, the only way you have to express your gratitude.
Warm air effortlessly fills your lungs, the scent of him coating every one of your senses as he replicates your hug. His arms feel right around you, as if you were meant to be like this forever, and you relax in his hold.
“Thank you.” Two simple words that mean so much more are the only thing you manage to utter, hoping he'll understand.
“Always.”
Some girls my friends met at the congress came to town and begged for us to take them to a club
Do you want to come? It’s close to my place
As soon as you press send, you throw your phone at your bed on the other side of the room.
It’s been two weeks since the most eventful weekend of your life. Two weeks since you finally stood up for yourself and chose your well being for once. Two weeks since Mingyu started being one of the most important parts of your everyday life.
Those afternoons when he made you wonder if you actually fit in his friend’s life, when the thought of him would cause you an immediate headache, feel like a ghost of the past. You couldn’t imagine not being around him now, not receiving his ominous texts in the middle of the night after he finishes a random project for college that you don’t understand, or not seeing his face after class when he picks you up and rambles about how good his class was that day.
He promised he’d be there for you, waiting for you to see how you feel about him without expecting anything in return. And every day that passes, the hurt and confusion fades away bit by bit, and a new, stronger, unexplored, feeling grows in your heart.
You don’t know what compelled you to invite Mingyu out of nowhere. You’re fully dressed, about to leave and with your friends already waiting on your building’s front door, but something at the back of your mind itched with a potent need to see him. Your fingers clicked on his contact and texted him before you could realize what you were doing.
It’s not two minutes later that your phone vibrates with a new notification. Your skin crawls with the combined anxiety of wanting to see him but also not wanting to see him at all. The usual two feelings that fight to take over every time you think of him.
You’re quick to run out your apartment before your friends come up and drag you out themselves. With your unlocked phone in hand, Mingyu’s name lights up your screen.
Sure. Text me address.
I’ll meet you there.
The simplicity of his texts always makes you chuckle, embarrassingly smitten by his short sentences. You quickly text him the name and address before hopping off the elevator and joining your friends in the cold weather in which you’re not meant to be wearing the club clothing you chose.
You’d be a liar if you didn’t admit you were nervous to see Mingyu. The change came without warning. After getting used to him checking up on you, learning your coffee order and your class schedule, the anticipation started taking over you. Your eyes look for him around campus, your feet flee out of your classroom knowing he’s going to be there waiting for you.
You try to distract yourself when you get too in your mind about it, about him. It’s a difficult new kind of occurrence you’re not sure how to navigate, so you resort to acting nonchalant about it. That’s why, when he arrives and your friends make eyes at you, you don’t let the subject go further than admitting you invited him. It’s a normal thing for people to invite their friends to hang out!
But no matter how hard you try, your eyes don’t stop wandering to the bar, where Mingyu’s forgotten his quest to get another round of drinks and is talking to the most graceful and gorgeous woman alive.
Of course, Mingyu chose tonight of all nights to look like a prince coming to the rescue. A fitted black shirt that even with the lack of light inside the club managed to highlight his build. You almost fainted when he locked eyes with you across the room and smiled walking all the way to you.
And you’d caught that girl’s eyes glued to him when he first entered the club and greeted you all. As soon as he took one step away from you to walk to the bar, the girl unhooked herself from your group and followed him.
“I wonder what’s taking so long with the drinks," You’re barely processing your words as they leave your mouth. As if you haven’t been policing the interaction since it started.
“Yeah, did he…” Jennie’s voice trails out before she can finish, following the line of sight you basically burned in the air after so many stares. A small smirk flashes through her before she mumbles, “Oh.”
Now there’s four more pairs of eyes witnessing why you’re making a fool out of yourself.
“Guess he found something else to do.” Still digging your own grave, you can’t stop making stupid comments.
Jennie and Nayeon exchange a look you’re too busy to catch, while you make sure your empty drink is still… empty. Yeah, the very interesting plastic cup in your hand. Definitely the most interesting sight you can be staring at. The cheap cocktail you thought could ease out the anxiety, and now that the little effect it had left your body, all you can do is laugh at yourself.
“Who is she anyway?” You didn’t even catch her name before she jumped at the chance to get Mingyu alone.
“We presented right after her.” Your friend’s voice barely reaches you over the loud music, and on top of that, you don’t really care to know much about her anyway.
“Right…”
It’s not a big deal. What else did you expect? That he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you like the last time you were in a club together? That you’d feel him all around you again as he felt you up with everyone watching? Stupid. You got too comfortable, took him for granted, and he got tired.
“Are you okay?” Nayeon materializes by your side, her hand on your arm steering your eyes back to her.
“He can do whatever he wants! I really don’t care.” Seeing how they can always tell what’s going on with you, of course they read through the lines.
The other two girls you came with look confused before they dare to speak up.
“We tried telling her that he was off limits," One says as the other confesses, “We thought you two were together.”
The girls’ confusion only fuels yours. You really didn’t want to think about it further before, just in case, but it gets you wondering. “W—why would you think that?”
“We just saw you talking after you presented," The blonde one giggles before her friend adds. “You guys looked cute!”
How did they get to that conclusion after the simplest interaction? Were you that obviously nervous? Was the prickling of your skin visible when he stood too close by your side? It’s become the norm for you two to act this way, the invisible skinship boundary long broken.
Deep down, you know there’s no reason to doubt him. You want to be weary of him, find one single flaw to use as an excuse to not like him, but it’s pointless. Mingyu’s never proven to be anything other than supportive. He’s been so patient with you, the deeper feelings for him developed almost on their own. No warning.
Even before breaking up with Jungkook, Mingyu was always present. Since that first day he found you crying, he made sure you had company, made sure you didn’t get too in your head and helped you have a good time. He was there for you before you even realized you needed it.
You took him for granted for too long, and now he has a pretty girl in front of him showing clear signs of attraction, all while you get scared texting him.
You've been so stupid, so blind to what you had in front of you, that now you're losing it, seeing it disappearing from your life with your own eyes.
The charged stares you've been sparing them must've made their way into Mingyu’s sixth sense, because he finally unglues his eyes from the girl and connects them with yours. You know you have no right to be jealous, you two are nothing, just two people with a very complicated relationship.
As if he knew everything going through your mind, Mingyu smirks your way. He fucking smirks. The twist of his lips cause a chain reaction from your hanging jaw down to your insides becoming a roller coaster. You barely hear your friends saying they’re going to the restroom, choosing to stay and challenge Mingyu.
⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄
When he got your text inviting him out, Mingyu was sitting on the couch that had seen it all happen. Jungkook, just beside him, easily took a peek at the notification that lit up his friend's mood.
“Is that her?”
Even if they’ve resolved the bad blood between them, Mingyu couldn’t help to hide the reality of his feelings from Jungkook. “Yeah," He told him after replying to your text.
Mingyu could count with one hand the few times you had dared to text him first these past few weeks. Seeing your name pop up, inviting him out, was thrilling.
It's been no secret that every time Mingyu disappeared to go somewhere unannounced, he was going with you. Jungkook knew it, but it was time he encouraged it.
“Dude, if you like each other, I'm not looking to get in between," Jungkook assured with his eyes back to the tv in front of them.
“Isn’t it weird?” Mingyu tested the waters, checking if he was hallucinating the support.
“It’s only weird if you make it weird," Jungkook shrugged, as if it were that simple.
The situation is weird. And maybe it will always be weird.
Mingyu started making up this fantasy in his head, where, in the future, you’ve finally let him in and he can love you the way you deserve. One where you can look back at the past and laugh with that blinding toothy smile of yours, with all the hurt being just a distant memory. But before you two get to that point, Mingyu will make sure nothing gets in the way of your happiness ever again. And he foolishly hopes you find it with him.
“Is she okay?” Jungkook’s question took Mingyu out of his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking if I should apologize or not.”
“She’s fine,” at that moment, Mingyu realized that maybe his best friend is better at hiding how he feels than he thought, “but an apology wouldn’t hurt.”
Having long conversations was never their strong suit, so the topic ended there, with Jungkook deep in thought and Mingyu getting up to change clothes.
Something drove him to try and be more presentable for you. The last time you two went to a club together, he almost gave up everything right then and there. Now that there are no barriers between the two of you, he won’t hold back at your advances, he won’t freeze if you dance close to him. At least that was his initial goal.
When he arrived at the club, Mingyu had to pause as soon as he saw you across the room. The smile you showed your friend after something she said illuminated the whole room, leaving nothing else in front of his eyes but you.
He greeted all your friends as politely as he could without straying his eyes off you. His hand traveled itself onto the small of your back, keeping you intoxicatingly close to him as best he could. And he didn’t want to leave your side, but maybe breathing an air free of your perfume would help him think clearly, he thought.
Talking to one of the girls you were with, Mingyu partly feels bad for already forgetting her name. The overworked bartender’s taking too long to prepare all the drinks, and he has no other choice than to entertain the girl.
Answering her questions gets harder and harder with the music blasting, and as she places her hand on his arm to get closer to him, Mingyu can feel the interaction being under someone’s scrutinizing eyes.
Is this all in his head? Are you really standing with your arms crossed and the cutest frown ever on your forehead, almost killing the girl in front of him with your stare? The corner of his mouth lifts autonomously at the thought of you not liking him flirting with another person.
He hasn’t seen this side of you, the jealous and slightly possessive one. And even if you’re nothing more than friends, he loves it. He loves the way you squint when you lock eyes, how you shrug when he doesn’t back down. It’s easy for him to excuse himself and walk towards you again.
At the sight of him, you turn your back on Mingyu, pretending to be dancing alone. So, he has no other choice but to stand behind you and ask in your ear. “Something on your mind?”
Your back tenses against his chest, but you don’t move away, allowing Mingyu to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you close. With your friends suddenly nowhere in sight, he interlocks your fingers while in his hold, helping you relax even if you’re still pretending to be mad.
“You took your time.” The initially suffocating sea of people now feels protective, working like a barrier between your bodies pressed tightly together and the outside world. “Having fun?”
“I am now," Mingyu’s lips graze the side of your face as they lit up in another smirk, growing goosebumps all across your body. “How about you?”
Somehow, being like this doesn’t feel weird. You’ve had Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you so many times now that they easily mold to your figure. There really is only one difference, one that none of you dare speak up but washes over your every interaction.
“I was thinking of going home already.” You look down at your hands tangled in one, fearing that Mingyu can notice at any time how butterflies erupt in your stomach at every word he purrs right in your ear. “Not much to do here.”
“I can take you," His choice of words halts your breath, but you remember.
Untangling Mingyu’s hands from yours, you turn around in his arms to face him, regretting instantly as soon as your eyes connect again.
“You should stay. You looked like you were having fun.” That makes Mingyu chuckle, and an embarrassed warmness bursts inside you at the sound.
“I didn’t think you were the jealous type, princess.” And you didn’t think he was the type to tease you in public, but life takes you to unthinkable roads sometimes.
You scoff as an excuse to take your eyes off him for a second. “Jealous, huh? You’re funny.”
In an intent to get away from his menacingly broad body, your hands take the unconscious decision to push his chest away. But you don’t have the true will to do it, or the strength. He’s too big, too muscly for you to move, and he traps your hands against him, against the sheerest shirt ever that lets you feel every muscle tense under your touch.
“I’d like to think I can make a girl laugh sometimes.” He’s all you can see, covering every spot in your vision with his unerasable teasing smirk.
“Yeah, I saw that.” At the roll of your eyes, there’s no denying that you’re jealous anymore. Do you really care if he knows anyway?
“Oh, you did? Controlling.”
“I’m not controlling! You can do whatever you want, I won’t get in your way.” If he wants to flirt with an emotionally available girl after the infinite amount of time he waited for you, you can’t stop him. You’ll take your feelings to the grave.
Something brews in Mingyu’s mind at your rebuttal. “You won’t?”
“No.”
For the first time in forever, Mingyu willingly unclasps one of his hands from yours, “And if I do this?”
Mingyu’s fingers creep up your neck and get a hold of your chin, titling it up until you have no other choice but to look him in the eye. He waits for your answer, as if you’d ever say no. As soon as you nod, giving him the okay, another smirk is the only warning you get.
Your lips, meant to be pressed against his forever, part with a sigh as Mingyu's arms wrap around your waist. The world around you, with frantic music and people moving at lightspeed, fades to nothing in his embrace. You move along Mingyu’s soft lips naturally, letting your heart convey your feelings through the kiss.
The memory of that last kiss you dared give him all those days ago can’t compare to this one. There’s no hesitation this time, no guilt restraining you from following your true desire. Nothing outside your bubble really matters as your hands travel up his chest to keep his head in place.
His hair feels soft between your fingers as you push yourselves together closer and closer. You never want anything else in life, just kissing and kissing Mingyu until your lungs give out. It’s unfortunate that you can’t.
“Let me take you home," He gasps with your lips just millimeters away.
Your stomach twists and turns with anticipation. “Okay,” barely a whisper accompanies your nod, fearing the way your voice could come out if you said more.
With his hand in yours, walking the moonlit streets in swift steps and giggles, any worries you had slip away with the wind. The feeling of his lips linger on yours every second it passes, every breath you take, every step forward until you stop at an intersection and Mingyu pulls you into him again.
The walk blends between kisses and hand squeezes to check if you’re in a dream or not. You never want to back away from his hold ever again, but as your building materializes in front of you, you're forced to take your hand off the hem of his shirt.
The elevator’s wall hits your back as soon as the automatic doors let you in, barely giving you time to push your floor’s button before Mingyu’s over you again. His mouth takes yours with a hunger that grows every second you’re not inside your apartment. He’s losing control, succumbing to his desires the more you show your want for him.
By some way, your tangled bodies manage to reach your door, though Mingyu’s hands refusing to stop going over your hips and waist are the challenge to overcome. Your fingers tremble trying to turn the key the right way, your nervous system focusing on the lips kissing every inch of the side of your neck he can reach and his fingers slipping underneath the fabric of your top.
As soon as you close the door behind you, the reality closes in on you. With Mingyu’s arms wrapping around your waist again, the bag you forgot you were holding dropping onto the floor with a thud, and the bright lights in your apartment making everything clear.
Mingyu notices your sudden hesitation and stands before you, worried eyes studying you, looking for any sign to tell him what's happening in your mind.
“I made you get in a fight with your best friend," Your reminder is like a dagger against the silence.
“Is that what's bothering you?” His eyes find yours and understand immediately. “We're fine,” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “he actually encouraged me to come tonight.”
Your eyes widen with hope, leaning into his touch when he doesn't retrieve his hand from the side of your face. “Did you guys—”
“We talked,” Mingyu's voice explains so softly, one wouldn't think he was just making you gasp with that same mouth on yours, “and I told him he should apologize to you.”
Standing in the middle of your entrance hallway, you feel stupid for even bringing that up. He wouldn't be here with you if he felt guilty. He wouldn't be cupping your face in his hands, making you look up to him to find the glimmer in his eyes outshining every light source in the room.
“And you’re sure about this?” What ‘this’ means, you’re not sure either.
“I've never been more sure about anything.” Your breath hitches at his answer, your body noticeably frozen as you look for a non-existent lie in his eyes. “Maybe we should take things slow, let you figure out what you want.”
Before he can back away from your personal space, you react. “No, no, I want this too. I want you.”
Those words coming out of your mouth combined with your hands gripping his shirt to keep him in place quickly make Mingyu regret his previous statement. You're so close, too close to him, saying you want him with your eyes dark and wide.
Mingyu’s hands stay on you, caressing the side of your face as if he was debating whether to give in and kiss you again or do the rational thing. Yours, instead, find the first button at the end of the all too well fitting shirt Mingyu’s wearing, and start unbuttoning it one by one.
“I should take you out on a real date first," Mingyu maintains with a sigh, but not stopping you in your quest.
“I personally think,” at his unmoving body, you take a step closer, with your hands against his chest not daring to sneak under the welcoming fabric, “we’re past that, don’t you think?”
For a second, Mingyu thinks you’ll be able to feel the rapid beating of his heart, stronger with each second your hands lay on his chest. Rationality is losing the fight against his desire.
“Just making sure this isn’t a rebound situation,” Mingyu blurts, even if he doesn’t really care about it for himself. He’d take whatever you give him.
“You aren’t a rebound. This isn’t a revenge plot.” You think for a second before you continue, “You saw me cry way too many times and were there for me at my weakest. You make me feel seen, wanted, and getting to know you has made my life better in ways I could’ve never imagined.”
Your words go through Mingyu's ears and right into his bloodstream, getting warmer and warmer the closer you get. His hands go down your body, encouraging you to move forward until your chests touch.
“I needed you even before I knew what I needed.” You can sense the tears beginning to build up, but you push through. He has to know. “I know what I want now, and it’s you.”
“If this is a dream, I never wanna wake up,” every word Mingyu says comes with a widening smile.
You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck with confidence, “I can assure you, it's not.”
As if you've been getting chased by your feelings all this time, putting it into words and letting it all out works, and your brain stops racing. You can finally breathe, think, see.
“So, was that a no about the date?” As always, Mingyu manages to make you chuckle again, and it reverberates all across both your bodies. Every shiver of his, you feel, with the minimal skin to skin contact against his barely uncovered chest and the tiniest top you found to put on.
“You can take me on a date another day. Now, I want something else.” You don't know where all this confidence is coming from, but seeing the shock in Mingyu's eyes, it only grows. “You okay with that?”
“I’ll give you anything you want.”
The space between your faces charges with electricity as you take in his words. An unconscious bite on your lower lip pulls his gaze down, egging him to close the space slowly. You almost don’t register his advance, focusing on the part of his lips that were just on yours minutes ago.
There’s nothing more to be said, no invisible walls to tear down, only you and him and the pull between you, pushing you closer until your breaths mix. After all the obstacles you overcame, and the bumps that lead you to where you are now, there’s no more time to waste.
When your heads meet again, your tingling lips mold against Mingyu’s for the thousandth time, worried about nothing and wanting it all. And he doesn’t hold back either. His hands on your waist venture up inside your top, feeling your back tense at his touch as the fabric crumples up, leaving more of you exposed to him.
You can’t hide your craving for him any longer. You follow his rhythm eagerly, making a mess of his hair between your fingers and pushing him further against you. Every touch of his makes you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your jaw and neck. His hands and lips everywhere.
“Might as well just take this off.” Mingyu’s lips print a smirk on the sensitive skin of your neck before pulling back. You get what he means immediately as he tugs on your top, taking it off you as soon as you put your arms up.
His hands feel your chest up to his liking, getting to know the places that make you sigh into his mouth. Every touch of his fingers makes that spot light up like fire, and every sound you make encourages Mingyu more and more.
Your hands sneak under his opened shirt, feeling the firmness of his chest directly elicits a groan from Mingyu, making you shiver as you slip the fabric down his arms.
Your living room becomes a cliché mess of scattered clothing before you direct the both of you to your bedroom. You barely have time to drink in Mingyu’s body before you’re falling with your back on the mattress, chest to chest again, bare against one another, free of any fabric in between.
Mingyu slots between your legs effortlessly, a low moan coming from him as his hardening length grinds softly on the crevice between your limbs. His golden skin that was the star of your every dream, finally at your reach, soft and warm under the pads of your fingers.
“Gyu—” Words choke up on your throat as you feel his lips wrapping around one of your nipples.
“You're gorgeous,” His lips against your chest makes you halt your movements, mind focused solely on him, “so pretty, only for me.”
It's almost as if he was talking to himself, but you moan at every compliment, arching your back for more of him. And he loves it. Loves the way you react to the stream of thoughts that run around his brain every time he looks at you.
“Fuck!” The curse leaves you both in unison when Mingyu finds his digits against your core.
“I barely even touched you and you're already ready for me?” Mingyu feels your reaction to his words first hand as a wave of arousal hits you.
“Fuck you,” you gasp and he chuckles, kissing down your torso until he’s facing your core.
“I'll take care of you, don't worry, baby.” His breath fans at your wet folds, so close to where you want him but still teasing you with his fingers.
You’re about to fight back when you feel him teasing at your opening, his eyes entranced by how ready you are for him. All the anticipation, the tension between you from the past weeks, culminating at once at this very moment.
The slickness leaking out of you from all the kissing and groping makes it easy for him to set the pace. Mingyu’s fingers stretch your insides with expertise, as if he learned every spot of yours to touch to have you squirming.
The torturously slow thrusts of his fingers drive you crazy, curling and hitting exactly where you need them before he’s pulling back. You don’t hold your sounds back, your every reaction letting Mingyu know how good he makes you feel.
“That’s it, baby,” His low voice sets fire to the blood rushing through your veins, and your walls clamp harder around his fingers.
Your knuckles turn white as you grip the sheets below you, and Mingyu’s other hand has to hold your thighs apart so you don’t close them around his head.
“Mingyu—shit!” His lips leave a trail of breathy kisses on your inner thigh, trying to help you relax and take him in, but ultimately turning you on further. “Gyu, wait.”
“I love that you’re calling me that.” He listens and stops thrusting, leaving his fingers to fully fit inside you.
“I need you.” You’re not embarrassed to say what you want. Not with him.
“But you have me?” He tries to tease, but you’re ahead of him already and immediately correct yourself.
“Inside.” His fingers adjust themselves inside you, almost making you forget what you were asking for. “I need you to fuck me.”
Mingyu chuckles at your neediness, but you know he wants it just as bad. His rock hard length draws your attention as he stands up and retrieves his wet digits from you, leaking and ready to split you in half.
There’s a second of hesitation as he looks at you splayed on the bed, as ready for him as he is for you. You recognize the train of thought going through him and stretch your arm to open the drawer below your nightstand, where you keep condoms just in case.
It’s sinful, the sight of Mingyu rolling down the condom as his eyes rake up and down your body. When he kneels on the mattress, fitting like a glove between your legs, it takes another kiss of his on each of your spent legs for you to realize that what’s happening is real.
Caged between both of his arms, his hands holding his weight on both sides of your head, your legs wrap around his waist and push him inside you, at last.
His length fits inside you, opening up your walls to mold to his shape as you both moan.
Your hips collide as he hits your deepest parts. “Being inside you is gonna kill me.” You can feel the twitching of his cock deep inside you. He paused to let you get used to his size, but the last thing you want to do is wait.
“I’m gonna kill you if you don’t move.”
You’ve learned teasing him works wonders, and as soon as those words leave your lips, he’s complying with what you ask of him. “Whatever my princess wants.”
Whatever thoughts you had, they fade at the drag of his length deliciously making you his with each thrust. Deep and slow, he lets you feel everything he has to give before almost pulling out.
The skin of his back becomes the victim of your scratches, your nails digging into his tense muscles with every grind of his hips. But no matter what you do, how you touch him, how loudly you moan, his pace remains at the same torturing speed.
“Relax, baby.” A hand caresses the side of your face, and you realize you’d shut your eyes closed at the feeling of him pushing inside you.
Mingyu lowers his head, flushing your chests together again as he kisses you softly, matching the pace of his thrusts with his tongue tangling with yours. He drinks every sound you make, as they are only for him, and lowers his hand down your torso until it meets your connected cores.
Your sensitive clit feels like fire under the touch of his fingers, circling around it to help you ease up the tension. “That’s it, baby, taking me so well.”
Everywhere he reaches becomes your new favorite place for him to touch. From your lips, down to your cunt, and all the way inside you, everywhere now has his name written. You’re his.
The pulsing of your walls around him doesn’t cease, becoming quicker and harder the more he continues with the slow pace. Your insides wait for every intoxicating thrust as if starved of him, craving everything he gives you and more.
His lips move on yours, parted and unable to work, mumbling praise you don’t get to hear as every one of your senses focuses on the fire inside you threatening to burst. Mingyu’s hips falter, having trouble thrusting inside you as you tighten impossibly tighter around him.
Your vision turns white as your orgasm explodes without so much as a warning. Your legs tremble around Mingyu’s pistoning hips, thrusting endlessly searching for his release.
Mingyu’s broad body falls limp on you as his length twitches, coming inside the condom with a groan while your walls hug him tight.
You lay under him happily, a smile on your face as you stare at the ceiling. He feels warm all around you, a feeling you could get used to. Mingyu can’t resist it and kisses you again. He’ll take every opportunity he can get to feel your lips on his.
“What's on your mind?” He asks, eyes locking in to yours as he slips out from you before attacking your lips again.
You both smile in the kiss before he stands up to discard the used condom and put his boxers back on. “Just thinking where you can take me on our date.”
He turns around with a glowing smile. “You’re thinking about that already?”
The way he lays down on your bed with you, naturally wrapping you in his arms and pulling you to him, feels like a dream come true.
“Of course, baby, I always think ahead.” You note the way he blushes when you use that nickname on him and snuggle against him.
Listening to Mingyu’s steady breathing and heartbeat under your ear, drifting to sleep has never been easier.
The smell of freshly grounded coffee fills the air around the café Mingyu picked. A cozy new place, lighted with yellowy light bulbs and with a space designated to read books you can borrow from the shelves covering the walls. It opened a few weeks ago in his neighborhood and he’s been insisting you try it out together since.
You’ve been on countless dates with him already, but you still feel nervous having him sit by your side in the booth. Still get embarrassed when he asks for a big smoothie with two straws for you both.
You don’t see a future where you don’t get nervous around him, but he’s always there. A future without him wouldn’t be life at all. And the best thing is, Mingyu feels the same way.
“Are you sure they’re coming?” You ask as your eyes drift to the glass door for the tenth time in the past five minutes.
“I promise they are!” Minguy takes your jaw in his fingers to make you look at him. “Remember to not say anything about the apartment. He'll as her when he's ready”
“What are you talking about?” You ask, feigning cluelessness, and Mingyu chuckles before giving you a peck.
Detaching your lips is always the hardest chore. But after a few awkward instances where you let your kisses deepen in public, you both decided to control yourselves, even in a secluded booth like the one you’re currently in.
Mingyu’s eyes light up watching the street from the window you’re sitting against, and you turn around to see the people you’ve been waiting for.
Jungkook and Cathlyn walk inside the store holding hands and with matching smiles on their faces as they greet you. How Mingyu convinced them to go out on a double date with you still astonishes you, but you’re glad everything that happened could finally be put behind you.
It was hard at first, even after Jungkook apologized to you, you didn’t dare go inside their apartment for months until Mingyu moved in with you a few weeks ago.
As soon as they sit in front of you, the plan you’ve been scheming starts. Your eyes lock with Mingyu’s and he instantly realizes what you're about to do, but not even his hand squeezing your thigh under the table can stop you. “So, Jungkook, what are you going to do now that you live in the apartment alone?”
note: it's finally here!!!
thank you all for being so excited this past month and for reading this monster of a fic i somehow came up with.
if you reached the end, just know that i love you, and i'd love to hear your thoughts <3
Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, smut, best friends to lovers, reader's a svt fan (lol), unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f & m receiving), Joshua is HUNG and is confident about it, reader gets proved wrong, light atmosphere, Joshua's jealousy mentioned, sweet, slow sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie.
A/N: inspired by that one thirst tweet BuzzFeed interview, y'all know which one lol 🤭 finally got around to writing for SVT shsjshsj gotta write for my fellow carats too 🫣 anyway, enjoy, and as always, this is not how I depict the idols in real life, this is purely fiction! (This might get a part 2)
Word count: 4k
Dividers from @cursed-carmine
Joshua had just returned from another interview and was heading back to his apartment, where you were apparently waiting for him.
It was a surprise, really; he definitely didn't expect that one of his newest interviews—the one with the thirst tweets, where he, Dino, and Dokyeom were in.
He called out your name questioningly, which immediately caught your attention.
"Hong Jisoo." You stared at him seriously as if he'd done something wrong before pointing at the TV, where the interview was paused.
"Joshua Hung—" you stated, getting cut off by a groan. "—you really didn't hold back on the translations this time, did you?"
You asked, and your best friend rolled his eyes. Of course, this would happen. He had been dreading it since he knew you were a carat.
"Listen, the guys wanted to know, so I explained, it's as simple as that."
"Nuh uh," you disagreed, shaking your head. This video was more... detailed than the last thirst tweet video Joshua's members were in.
"You were more straightforward with it, unlike Vernon. And Joshua Hung? Really?" You scoffed at the thought. There was no way.
“What? The fans say it, so it must be true, right?” He shrugged, playful about the whole thing. Now you were curious, glancing down for a brief second before looking back up at his face.
“Oh, yeah? Prove it.”
“What—” Joshua’s eyes went wide, sputtering slightly at your words. He couldn't comprehend the fact that you were asking for proof. “A–are you serious?”
He scoffed out a laugh, but you were unconvinced. “Yeah. Come on, prove it. I bet you don't even know how to use it, do you?”
“Excuse me? I know how to use my dick just fine, thank you. I don't need to prove shit to you,” he muttered, ears flushing red at the topic. Why were you so insistent on challenging and teasing him about this?
“Yeah? I think you’re just scared.” You defied him, tilted your head, crossed your arms, and then stood up to walk over to him.
Joshua shook his head at your insistence, knowing how stubborn you could be at times like these. “You shouldn’t be asking things you aren’t ready for, you know… plus, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
It was your turn to scoff; you’ve had experience before Joshua, but he always treated you like you didn’t. Like he ignored the fact you’d had sex with different men before.
This wasn’t an appropriate topic between best friends, either, even though you and Joshua had known each other for almost a decade and had seen the best and worst moments of your lives.
You decided to step closer, squinting your eyes at him as you continued the conversation.
“What if I could handle it? What then, Shua?”
The question hung in the air, the atmosphere thick as your best friend tried to find a logical answer. Obviously, there was only one, and as much as he wanted to say “fuck it”, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to cross that line just yet.
“Earth to Joshua—are you in there?” You waved your hand over his face, snapping him out of his train of thought before taking a deep breath.
Before you could even utter another teasing remark, he cupped your face with his hands, tugging you towards him and pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes widened, the action unexpected but not unwelcome, as you let out a soft noise and grabbed onto his forearms.
Joshua kissed you as if you were a flower, gently and caressingly. His thumbs rubbed the apples of your cheeks as his lips moved softly against yours, as he slowly backed you towards the couch.
Not pulling away from the kiss, he managed to turn the two of you around, so he was the one sitting down before pulling you to his lap, only to accidentally hit his head against the backrest.
“Ah—” He let out as he broke the kiss for a brief moment, and saw you trying to hold in your giggles.
“Haha, yes, laugh at my pain whilst in the middle of a makeout session, real funny.”
Joshua’s sarcastic remark made you finally break, giggling into your hand as he just watched you with a fond expression, ignoring the dull ache at the back of his head.
Once your fit of giggles was over, you spoke up, smiling sweetly at him. “Listen— I told you to stop leaning your head there, but you keep making the same mistake.”
“Laughing at my pain won’t help-!” He retorted playfully, shaking his head.
“And proving you have a small dick will?” You started again, the small accident almost diminishing the earlier curiosity, but you weren’t quick to forget.
“You just won’t let it go, will you?” He muttered, bringing your face close to his again, and kissed you, as soft as earlier, but with a bit more intensity, as if trying to prove a point now.
Joshua tangled his fingers through your hair, gently tugging as he adjusted the two of you on the couch, holding onto your hip with his other hand. His kisses were reverent, full of something the two of you weren’t able to describe.
It was something out of a dream for him—being able to finally kiss you. Being your best friend was fine; it was enough for Joshua, but he couldn’t help the burning feeling of jealousy in his gut every time he saw you with another guy.
Of course, he respected your decision and supported you no matter who you were with in a relationship, but you always got hurt somehow, and it pissed him off. He would treat you better. He knew he could.
“Is this okay..?” He murmured against your lips, stealing a few more kisses, which made you giggle and nod. Keeping you comfortable with everything was the first thing he’d always prioritise.
“I bet I can treat you better than all of your lousy boyfriends,” he remarked, confident that he could, but you huffed, unconvinced.
“Shua, I thought you liked them—”
“I lied. I hated them the moment I shook each one of their hands. And I hated them even more the moment they decided to hurt you,” he stated, clear with his words that he wouldn’t fuck around with your feelings. Not now, not ever.
That made your stomach flip. Joshua had always been sweet and gentlemanly towards you, knowing when to be playful and when to be serious. He always knew what you needed without asking; he just came prepared.
“M’sorry..” you mumbled out an apology, ducking your head down, as he blinked in surprise.
“What are you sorry for, pretty girl? It’s not your fault.” He rubbed your back, comforting you as he made you look up at him. He moved his hand from your hip to rub your back, and caressed your cheek with his other hand to make you look up at him. “Just saying that I can treat you so much better… if you’d let me.”
His words made you feel warmer than usual; his soft, warm touch melted you as you nodded.
With that, Joshua pressed kisses along the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips once more, kissing you sweetly.
His hands roamed, squeezing your sides gently as he pressed you down onto him, making you feel how you were affecting him.
A lump was stuck in your throat, having felt his erection poking your ass. You didn't want to admit it, but he was packing, even through his pants.
“Feel that? Do you believe me now?” He muttered, looking at you with increasing arousal, gently grinding up.
“Oh, that? I thought those were your keys.” You sassed, earning a scoff. You were truly something else when it came to teasing him.
“Baby, you don’t know what you got yourself into.”
Joshua grabbed you up by the back of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist before hoisting you up. You yelped at the sudden movement, latching onto his neck as he carried you to his bedroom.
He gently placed you on the bed, settling himself between your thighs as he kissed your face all over, making you laugh softly. Gently pushing up your shirt, he whispered soft praises and sweet things against your skin.
“You’re so beautiful.. You deserve to be loved and cherished,” he murmured, finally getting your shirt off of you. Joshua ducked his head down to kiss your neck, occasionally nipping the soft skin, and trailing down to your collarbones and chest.
He kissed along the hem of your bra, pressing his lips between the lacy fabric and your soft mounds. You moved your hands to his hair, carding through the silky locks as you moaned his name.
“Fuck, don’t do that and moan my name or I might just..” He muttered against you before shifting lower, pressing kisses on your ribcage down to your abdomen until he was facing the zipper of your pants.
You were already panting, feeling your panties sticking to your cunt, the gussets of your panties soiled. Your fingers were still tangled in Joshua's hair as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes.
“Can I?” He asked as he held onto your thighs to spread your legs a bit to give his body some space. You huffed, rolling your eyes at the question, which made him pinch your hip. “I'm serious.”
“Shua, I gave you permission to fuck me with your so-called big dick, so yes, you can.”
“So sassy, I'm being nice here,” he murmured with a slight pout before yanking your pants down gently along with your panties until they were pulled down to your ankles and out of the way. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, getting himself comfortable between your thighs.
Once he was facing your pussy, his breath hitched. You looked so beautiful, exposed to him like this. “Fuck..”
Murmuring to himself, you watched him lean in and open his mouth, flattening his tongue against your slit, tasting your sweet juices. Your legs trembled as a soft mewl came out of you.
“You're shaking like a leaf… is this your first time receiving head?” he asked bluntly, but when he saw your flushed and seemingly embarrassed expression, he blinked in realisation. It was your first time being eaten out. “Fucking hell…”
He groaned, disappointed and relieved. Disappointed at your past boyfriends—useless pieces of shit—but relieved that he would be the first to pleasure you.
"I'm gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbled against your cunt, a promise made as he lapped up and suckled on your clit like it was his favourite candy.
You tilted your head back against his pillows, trembling and moaning, tugging on his hair when his mouth was on your sensitive nub.
“Joshua—” you keened out a whine, breathless from the pleasure and the increasing pressure in your lower abdomen. “Shua, I’m gonna—”
Whining out at the loss of his mouth on you, you watched him shake his head. “Not yet. I’m not done with your sweet cunt just yet.”
He leaned back, settling on his knees as he took his shirt off. Soon after that, his jeans followed, tugging them down to his thighs. His erection was more prominent, and you couldn’t help but swallow.
Joshua noticed your gaze on his crotch, making him grin smugly.
“What? Believe me now?” he teased, but he was gently rubbing your knee, soothing your upcoming anxieties.
He was big; he knew it could be intimidating at first. That’s why he was going to do everything to make sure you were comfortable.
Pulling down his boxers, Joshua finally let his cock out of its confines. It was long with a reddish-pink tip, already leaking precum after tasting you. He was aching and begging for attention.
You licked your lips, gawking at his length. Well, there go your small dick jokes.
“My turn…” You stated, moving over to him, surprise painting Joshua’s face. He hadn’t expected to receive head from you, and he didn’t expect it from you at all. He wanted to focus on you, but seeing the hungry look in your eyes was an overwhelming ego boost.
So, he leaned back against the headboard this time, switching positions with you. He watched you settle down between his legs, eyeing his twitching dick. A soft groan came out of him when you gently grabbed the base. The feeling of your hand on him was enough to make him leak more precum.
“Fuck—” he moaned when you licked a stripe on the bottom side of his cock before giving his tip kitten licks, all while looking up at him. You were going to be the death of him.
His hand moved towards your hair, running through the soft, silky strands as he guided your head. You started taking him in slowly, suckling on his tip gently before delving deeper, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his length.
“Ngh—just like that—fucking hell, you’re trying to suck me dry, what the–nnmgh..” He moaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he bobbed your head up and down his length, letting you take him deeper and deeper down your throat until you couldn’t, soft muffled sounds coming out of you.
“Fuck, fuck—sorry,” he apologised, out of breath as he let you breathe before guiding you back to deepthroating him again, getting you used to his girth inside your wet mouth. “Your mouth is so—ngh, I’m gonna end up fucking your face if you continue sucking the life out of my dick, sweetheart.”
You let out a muffled moan at the idea, the vibrations going to his thick length, causing him to grunt softly.
“Yeah? You want that? You’d let me fuck your pretty face? God, I’m the luckiest man alive right now…” He moaned out the last part when you started sucking him harder, slurping and getting sloppier with each bob of your head.
Joshua’s eyes started rolling to the back of his head, his hips moving as he held your head with both of his hands, fucking his cock up into your throat. Holding and clawing his thighs, you gurgled, letting him use you for his pleasure until he stilled, spilling hot cum down your throat.
His legs were clenched, slightly shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, when he finally let you pull away, gasping for air.
You were panting, throat sore and sticky from his release as you swallowed thickly to recover. Once you did, you wiped the spit, which was dribbling down your chin from how sloppily you had sucked Joshua off.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve done in a while,” he admitted as he ran his fingers through his hair, forehead damp with sweat as his chest rose and fell. “C’mere.”
Joshua signalled you over, taking your hand into his as you climbed over to straddle his thighs. Your exposed heat was hovering over his half-hard dick, still aching for your attention. When he opened the drawer to get a condom, he clicked his tongue in distaste.
“I can take the morning-after pill—” you blurted out, seeming to have no problem in fucking him raw.
Joshua’s tip nudged your soaked entrance unintentionally, his hips thrusting up out of habit. The thought of feeling your heat without any barriers was tempting, but he wanted to be one hundred percent sure you were all in.
“Joshua, if you ask me if I’m sure, I’m gonna sink myself on your cock myself.” Your expression was serious, yet flushed, wanting to really fuck him.
You were all in.
And if you were, he was going to do this correctly—focusing on your pleasure instead of his. So, he flipped the two of you over, with you on your back while he was between your thighs again.
“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right, and my way. Which means your pleasure comes before mine, got it? So, tell me if it’s too much. I can wait.”
You nodded at his words, licking your lips at his dominant attitude. You didn’t mind being told what to do by Joshua more often.
He nudged his against your wet heat, groaning softly to himself as he hotdogged his cock between your folds, rubbing himself against you to coat himself with your slick.
You were so wet, it almost drove him insane. When he was finally satisfied with grinding against you, he positioned himself and slowly pushed his length into you, watching how his fat cockhead stretched your hole out.
“Joshua—” You gasped, immediately grabbing his shoulders, your hole spasming and tightening around his shaft as he pushed in deeper. Not even halfway in, you shook your head, signalling him to pause, gasping and whining out softly.
“Is it too much, baby? Do you want me to pu—”
“No–! No, don’t pull out... I can take it. Just... just give me a second, damn.” You panted, rubbing your best friend’s shoulders, digging your nails into his shoulders every once in a while as you recovered. Once you did, you gave Joshua a small nod to continue.
“God, you’re so perfect for me, so pretty, tight and wet. I could fuck you on every surface of my apartment, and I still wouldn’t be satisfied.” He murmured, finally bottoming out inside you, the two of you moaning in unison. Your cunt was driving Joshua into a frenzy—the way your walls pulsed around him, stretching to accommodate his size—he was doing everything in his power not to thrust hard and deep.
“Move, Shua, I need you to move.. I wanna feel you.”
With that, Joshua pulled his hips back just enough to leave his tip inside you before pushing back in with a slow, teasing thrust, making you feel his whole length. He repeated the action a few times, watching as you writhed underneath him and whined, begging for more.
“Shh, let me make love to you. I wanna worship you before ruining you completely later.”
And Joshua did as he said he would—he'd ruin you with his big dick, proving you wrong and making sure you ate your words.
“Fuck, your pussy is squeezing me so tight— gonna bust a nut if you keep spasming around me like this—” he groaned against your hair, pressing a soft kiss on the crown of your head as his thrust got a bit sloppier and faster before slowing down again, letting your first orgasm build up slowly.
“Shua, I'm— I think I'm gonna come—” you keened out a soft whine, breathless and delirious from pleasure. Joshua's cock twitched inside you at the soft admission, making him kiss your forehead before giving you the green light to come around his shaft.
Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your toes curling and pussy clenching around your best friend's dick as you gushed out slick that it dripped down into Joshua's sheets.
His release came soon after, painting your walls white as ragged breathing came out of him when he spilled his cum into you. So warm, so tight. So perfect.
He pulled out, watching as his cum dribbled out of your spasming hole, causing his dick to harden once more. “Can we go again?”
That made your pussy clench, not expecting Joshua to want to go again immediately after he had just cum inside you. But you nodded nonetheless, needing to feel him over and over until you were a boneless mess in his sheets.
Joshua pulled you closer by your legs, wrapping them around his waist loosely, before sinking into your used hole once more, slipping in way more easily with your mixed juices.
“Fuck, how are you still so tight after I just fucked you..?” It was more of a rhetorical question, really, but you were one to push buttons when you didn't have to.
“Maybe you haven't fucked me enough—eek-!” You squealed when Joshua snapped his hips a little too harshly this time around, but still stayed slow and gentle. He could punish you some other time, more focused on watching his length disappear into your heat over and over again.
Joshua was so entranced by how your stretched hole was barely accommodating his length, his hips rolling in rhythmic thrusts.
He was getting harder at the sight of the white ring forming at the base of his dick, seeing how wet he was making you.
He soon moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing the pudgy nub gently and matching it with his strokes. The way you arched your back and moaned for him was addicting, and he couldn't get enough.
“That's it, baby, moan for me… fuck, I might just breed your pussy—would that be okay? Would you let me breed you?” Joshua babbled, leaning down to kiss your face all over, his soft kisses matching his slow, sensual thrusts.
“Shua, faster—please, please—” you begged, and he complied, setting his pace a bit faster, rubbing your clit a bit more harshly, which made your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him in the same position, which made him groan.
You were practically begging him to keep coming inside you—locking him in place like this. He was fucked, completely fucked. And he didn't want to be anywhere else.
Feeling your cunt tighten around him, he could feel that you were getting close again. He continued working on your clit, moving his head down to your neck, kissing and sucking hickeys into your pretty skin. He, himself, was getting closer, but he wanted to make you come first.
“C'mon, sweet girl, cum for me, cum for me and I'll give you a big load. Please—”
Your orgasm came in bursts, squealing as you held him close, your limbs wrapped around him as you came around him once more. Your back was arched, your mouth agape, and your eyes rolled back, seeing stars from how hard your second orgasm hit you.
Joshua groaned as his hips stuttered, spilling hot, sticky cum inside you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
He cursed as he kept thrusting, making sure his release was deep inside you, spilling out of your entrance while he was still inside.
Pulling out of you was a difficult thing to do, not wanting to leave your heat even with his softening cock. But when he finally did, he saw how beautiful you looked, ruined and panting.
He kissed your skin all over, worshipping you until he got to your pussy again, kissing and biting your inner thighs before kissing your clit. You squeaked, pushing his head away, whining about how you couldn't come anymore.
“Not gonna eat you out… just let me worship you like you deserve to be worshipped.” He kissed your legs until he got to your ankles, grabbing both of them and folding your legs to your chest.
“God, I might get hard again by just watching my cum drip out of you…” he murmured, his eyes lidded before snapping out of it when you playfully slapped his arm.
“Have some self-control, Hong Jisoo..” you laughed breathlessly at your best friend, but noticed his already hard length.
“That's hard when it comes to you.”
After one more round, Joshua finally decided to let you rest, bringing you a snack and a glass of water. He noticed that you were wearing one of his T-shirts, sitting up on the bed as you took the snack and water from him.
“Okay.. so, uhm..” you started, flushing post-sex, your brain slightly hazy but clear enough to talk to him. “What.. what are we?”
Joshua snorted gently, sitting right beside you while stroking your calf. “I dunno, you tell me. From what I know we're best friends who decided to fuck because someone watched a thirst tweet interview and asking me to prove I have a big dick.”
“Shua, I'm serious,” you whined, looking at him with that soft look in your eyes which always made him melt.
❅pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader
❅ theme: exes to lovers
❅ w/c: 13k
❅ warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol and being drunk, insults, jealousy, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, protected sex (that's a yes yes), marking, fingering, choking, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, oral [f. recieving], praise kink, angst, miscommunications, death of a parent (pre-fic), holiday depression, minor character calling reader a bitch, feelings of being lost and directionless
❅ a/n: this entire fic is based off of the album stick season by noah kahan. it is truly a love letter to grief, love, small towns, and growing up. as someone who has a lot of complicated feelings surrounding the holidays it felt fitting to write something a bit sad for the season. this fic is absolutely dedicated to @tomodachiii as she is the first person who heard this idea over a year ago and i am so excited to share it with her and all of you. i really hope that it means as much to you as it does to me. also a huge thank you to @haologram and @seungkw1 for being with me every step of the way on this one. enjoy and happy holidays.
dividers by @strangergraphics
Seungcheol Choi felt like an idiot as the cold Vermont wind ate through his clothes. He knew the snow was coming this morning and still pushed off digging out his winter coat for another day. Shoving his hands in his pockets he jogged the short distance from his truck to the front entrance of the local grocery store. He pulled out a cart from the line and pushed into the store. Sighing he pulled out his phone to check his grocery list, unfortunately this was one of those grocery trips where he needed just about everything. He just wanted to go home.
Snaking through every aisle was proving to be much more of a task than he would have anticipated for a trip on a Monday night. Most people would be too tired from work to try and make it to the grocery, or so he thought. That was of course how he ended up with a mile long grocery list. His body worked on autopilot while his mind wandered. He really needed to figure out what he was getting his mom for Christmas.
"Seungcheol?" The sound of his name down the cereal aisle pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up toward the voice.
"Mrs. L/N?" He feigned a smile.
"Hi!" She pushed her cart up next to his. "How are you doing?" She smiled widely, he suppressed a wince. You look just like your mother.
"Oh, uh," He shrugged. "As well as I can I suppose."
"I understand, it's been a hard year." She nodded. "It's almost over though, hang in there and say hello to your mother for me." She patted him on the shoulder.
"I will, absolutely." He nodded at her. She gave him a small wave before moving down the aisle past him. He let out a sigh and put in his headphones. He didn't want any more unwelcome conversations.
Seungcheol dragged himself through the front door of his apartment, all of his groceries in his hands, he refused to make a second trip, not with the wind as cold as it was. He dumped the groceries on the floor of his kitchen and began to put everything in its place.
He didn't even want to make dinner for himself, he hated getting home late. He settled for throwing a frozen pizza in the oven. His feet ached for him to sit on the couch while he waited for dinner but if he didn't get his coat out of the closet now he never would. He dragged himself over to the hall closet. It shouldn't be hard to find the coat, he didn't keep much in here.
He sifted through the hangers until he saw his big brown coat. He pulled it from the hanger and folded it over his arm.
"What is all this shit on the floor in here?" He wondered out loud. He turned and threw the coat over the back of the couch and crouched down to see what he had shoved in here months ago and forgot about. Several pairs of shoes were scattered there, slides, tennis shoes, boots. He pulled out the pair of boots to set by the door. A green sweatshirt was nestled against the back wall of the closet, his heart sunk before he even reached for it. His fingers touched the fabric and he pulled it out only for his suspicions to be confirmed.
Vermont Law School was printed boldly across the chest and it still smelled like you.
"Are you sure you have to go?" Your coworker, Lina, asked while she watched you pack up for the day.
"What are you talking about?" You laughed. "I've had this PTO approved for months!"
"I know," she leaned against your desk. "But there's so much to do! You're one of our top attorneys and we'll really miss you."
"I know," you sighed. "But I haven't taken a day off in over three years so I could spend two weeks with my parents." You reminded her.
"Where are you from again?" She asked.
"Vermont," you slung your bag over your shoulder. "Small town about an hour from Montpelier." Lina looked at you blankly. "Montpelier? The capitol of Vermont?"
"Right." She said, not convinced. "How long of a drive is that?"
"A little under four hours." You told her. "I'm leaving in the morning so I can get there by around lunch time."
"Well be safe!" She smiled. "Can't wait until you're back!"
"Hold it down for me!" You winked before you practically ran out of the office.
Coming home wouldn't be complete without your soul leaving your body courtesy of the pothole off Elm Street. Your tire hit it full on and you just knew it was flat. Dread settled in your stomach when you remembered what that meant. You pulled over and desperately googled any tire repair shops in the immediate area, you knew it was a fool's errand because the only shop anywhere close to you was Choi and Sons and you would have to drive the small stretch of Main Street to get there.
You pulled into the parking lot slowly, feeling sick to your stomach. This isn't the reunion you were hoping for, you were actually banking on avoiding him for the next two weeks entirely. Now you realized how foolish that was.
Seungcheol watched the car, your car, pull into his lot. He snatched the hat off of his head and threw it beneath the counter. He was running his hands through his hair when the bell above the door chimed. Time seemed to stand still as you stood in the doorway of your ex-boyfriend's shop. Your mouth went dry and you fiddled with your keyring.
"Let me guess." He broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. "That pothole on Elm and Main is still givin' you shit?"
"I haven't been here in three years." You mumbled. "It should be filled by now."
"It's been there since before we could drive." There was a pain in his chest at the familiarity of the conversation. "You thought they'd fill it now that you're gone?" He forced a laugh. "Let's see what we're working with."
You led him out to where your car with an extremely flat tire was parked. Seungcheol walked around the car a few times as you shoved your hands into your coat pockets, shielding them from the cold. "You still drive this hunk of junk?" He asked finally.
"It's a perfectly fine car." You bounced on your heels. "Can you fix the tire or not?"
"You know I can." He fixed you with a look. "Don't talk crazy." He started back towards the lobby of the shop and you followed in tow.
"How long do you think?" You asked, leaning against the counter.
"Couple hours, tops." He assured you, typing your information into the system. "No one else is here so I can start now." He looked up from the computer at you, "you hangin' out here or is your mom coming to get you?"
"I'll probably just stay here." You nodded. "I wouldn't want to make you wait for me to come back later." Seungcheol bit back a response as he held out his hand.
"Keys."
"Oh." You fished out your keys from your purse and placed them in his hand. He shoved them in his pocket, trying to ignore the fact that the keyring with his football number was missing.
"Have a seat wherever." He told you, avoiding your eyes. "I'll give you updates as I have 'em." With that he was out the door. You watched him duck into your car and pull it into the garage.
The lobby of Choi and Sons was exactly as you remembered it. Pictures of the Choi family littered the walls, Seungcheol playing football, he and his brother's Little League team from elementary school, professional family Christmas photos his mother forced upon them. Your favorite seat in the house, a worn out denim couch, was still here. You sank into the well loved piece of furniture and lifted the matching cover on the arm. Doodles done in black sharpie, fading with time, were littered under it.
'Y/N ♡ Seungcheol'
'Class of 2013'
'Seungcheol and Y/N Choi ♡'
You sighed and placed the cover back down. You were a stupid kid, even so, you hadn't expected it to end the way it did. Looking around, you noticed while everything was pretty much the same, it was all like the couch, worn out. The neon sign on the wall behind the counter that boasted the name of the business was flickering, probably will need to be replaced soon.
Overall, the place felt empty. You knew Seungcheol's brother ended up moving halfway across the country after he graduated college, Mr. Choi and Seungcheol stayed behind. Distance was a big factor in your breakup, Seungcheol lost his scholarship after sustaining an injury at Semi-State your senior year. He was thankful to have the family business to pour into, but the plans the two of you had got shaken out in the wash.
You always felt bad. He assured you it wasn't your fault, and that you should still chase the future you wanted, but a future without him was hard to comprehend. Until it hit you in the face.
Now here you were, feeling 17 again, waiting for him to fix the tire you kept blowing out on the same pothole. It was embarrassing and uncomfortable.
The bell above the door pulled you from your thoughts. Seungcheol strode toward you, his cheeks bitten from the cold.
"Not too bad this time." He told you, wiping his hands with a rag. "Shouldn't be too long." You nodded. "Do you…can I get you anything?" You could tell his customer service instincts were betraying his feelings.
"No, I'm good." You forced a polite smile.
"You know where everything is, so if you change your mind…"
"Got it, thanks." You nodded.
"No worries." He took a step backward. "I'll get going and get you out of here."
It took Seungcheol less than an hour to replace your tire. You were always so impressed with how good he was at this. You watched him type everything into the system.
"How's your dad?" You blurted out. You don't know why you asked, it just bubbled up. Seungcheol's eyes cut to you suddenly. It was almost as if he was trying to figure out if you were serious.
"Dead."
The world came to a screeching halt. You hadn't even known that Mr. Choi was sick. It had been that long, and now you felt like the worst person on Earth.
"Oh, Seungcheol, I'm so sorry—" You started.
"Don't." He cut you off. "It'll be $90 today."
"Huh?" You blinked at him. "That's a lot cheaper than I expected.." You added, pulling out your credit card. You heard Seungcheol sigh behind the counter.
"Friends and family discount." He said through gritted teeth as he glanced at a photo of his father on the wall.
The clinking of glasses filled your ears as your two best friends smiled widely.
"The girls are back in town!" Nayeon beamed from across the table. You smiled into your drink before taking a sip, the cheap vodka burning your throat on its way down. This was the only bar in town, a town so small you knew everyone in it. You came back to this bar year after year, to visit with friends, and up until a few years ago, your boyfriend. However, with your schedule you've missed the last few opportunities, leaving Nayeon and Eunbi to fend for themselves, but not without protests in your messages.
"I'm so glad you're here, Y/N." Eunbi laid her hand over yours and gave you a sincere look. You smiled at her before you heard Nayeon tapping her nails on her glass.
"This is all very nice and gooey," she stated matter-of-factly. "But we're here to drink and have fun, remember?"
"Fine, fine." You laughed and lifted the straw to your lips once more. The three of you spent the better part of an hour catching up. Eunbi really likes her class this year, a lot of really bright kids. Nayeon was dead set on a promotion when she got back from the holiday break.
"What about you, Y/N?" Eunbi asked. You opened your mouth to respond but your response was cut off by the jingling of the bell above the door. Looking up, you saw his friends first. Jeonghan and Joshua greeted the bartender as soon as their feet crossed the threshold. Friendly, as usual. Your stomach dropped as Seungcheol followed them in, his head hung heavily and his hands were stuffed into his pockets.
You slumped back in your seat, your mouth tasted bitter. You could feel your friends eyes on you but you stared at the condensation pooling on the table under your glass.
"He follows me everywhere." You muttered. Eunbi and Nayeon exchanged a glance.
"This is the only bar in town." Eunbi leaned forward. "He comes out once a year."
"How do you know?" Your eyes flicked to hers.
"I still live here, remember?" She sighed. "I go out with the other teachers and I've never seen him anywhere but work, his apartment, or his mother's."
"Well, tonight isn't about him!" Nayeon smiled. "Right, Y/N?"
"Yeah…yes." You sat up. "Sorry, old habits and all that." You forced a smile onto your face.
It took Seungcheol approximately four minutes to glance in your direction. He should have known Nayeon and Eunbi would have dragged you out tonight, just like Jeonghan and Joshua drag him out the minute Jeonghan gets back into town.
"Don't worry about it." Joshua told him, following his gaze to the table the three of you were sitting at. "Tonight is for us, their night is for them, okay?"
"I'm fine." Seungcheol muttered into his beer.
"No one said you weren't." Jeonghan pointed out. "Pool?" He tacked on, hopping off of the bar stool. Seungcheol sighed and downed his beer, signaling to the bartender for another round before joining Jeonghan who was racking up the balls. Joshua opted to watch from the bar, his eyes dancing between his friends and Eunbi.
You eyed Seungcheol warily while Nayeon was rattling on about some guy she's been flirting with from the IT department at work. He sucked at pool, always had. He'd be lucky if Jeonghan didn't put money on it this time, he'd be stupid to play if he did. A few years ago you would have been sitting beside Joshua, laughing at the pout on Seungcheol's face as Jeonghan hustled him, again.
You watched Seungcheol line up a shot but suddenly, as you heard the crack of the cue ball, there was someone blocking your view. Their presence even stopped Nayeon's lightning speed recap of her week at work.
"Can we help you?" She narrowed her eyes at the guy in front of you.
"I just," his eyes darted from you to Nayeon and then back to you, "wanted to introduce myself." He gestured to you. Nayeon knew you better than almost anyone. She took one look at your confused face and spoke up again.
"It's girl's night," she sat up on her knees, getting closer to the man. "So we're not interested, but thanks!"
"I wasn't talking to you." He deadpanned. He was young, maybe just barely 21, that would explain why you didn't know him and why he felt so confident to talk to Nayeon that way. Plus, flirting with you in front of your ex-boyfriend was an interesting choice.
"I'm not interested." You rolled your eyes. "Especially if you're going to talk to my friends that way."
"You don't have to be a bitch." He didn't even have time to continue before a fist connected with his cheek. Your eyes widened as you saw Seungcheol standing over the man as he fell to the floor. Seungcheol just stood there, not looking at anyone, the skin of his knuckles reddening from the contact.
"Choi!" The bartender shouted gruffly as he approached. "Out." He grabbed Seungcheol by the collar. You watched wordlessly as Seungcheol shook the man's hold off and he stalked out the door. You could feel eyes on you, looking up you realized all of your friends were staring at you. All your friends and Jeonghan from across the room. He was waiting you out, wanting to see if you would follow or if he would have to do it.
"Go get him." He mouthed to you, stealing a glance at the front door.
"I'll be right back." You mumbled. Without giving Eunbi and Nayeon time to respond you crossed the small bar quickly. You cut a glare in Jeonghan's direction but tunnel vision prevented you from catching his reaction.
The cold air bit into you as you pushed out the door, you left your coat on the bench next to Nayeon. Seungcheol hadn't gone far, he was leaning against Joshua's car with his back to the bar. He had also forgotten his coat.
"I had that handled you know." You called out to him. His body flinched at the sound of your voice breaking the quiet of the night.
"He called you a bitch." He turned toward you.
"I've been called worse." You informed him stepping closer.
"Yeah well I wasn't around to hear any of that." He crossed his arms over his chest.
"It's not your responsibility to defend me." You bit, anger rising again. "Not anymore." You saw the expression on his face morph into something soft and hurt before hardening again. You had meant for the words to sting, you laced them with poison on purpose.
"What were you going to do?" He pressed. "Throw your little vodka cran in his face?"
"You think I can't do anything for myself!" You shouted. "I could have handled it, I don't care what he called me."
"What?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Like you can handle the pot hole on Elm and Main?"
"Fuck you Seungcheol." Your face twisted with disgust.
"You used to." He muttered.
"You're drunk and an asshole." You turned on your heel and pushed back into the bar. "Go get your friend, Jeonghan. Leave me out of it." You spat at the man who was watching Seungcheol walk in the direction of his apartment from the front window.
"Ma!" Seungcheol called, entering his childhood home through the garage. "It's me!" He knelt down to greet his dog, Kkuma. He cooed at her and scratched her behind the ears.
"Hi sweetheart," His mother entered the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting you today!"
"Brought dinner," he shrugged as he moved to kiss her on the cheek. "Preheat the oven to 350, it's a pasta bake from the store." His mom bustled over to the oven. He took the tray out of the plastic grocery bag and slid it onto the counter next to the oven. He attempted to shove his hand back in his pocket but his mother was faster.
"What's this?" She clicked her tongue as she held his hand, his knuckles painted with a bruise.
"Y/N's in town." He diverted as he pulled his hand away.
"Becky told me she was coming in." His mother had always been close to yours, so it was no surprise that they talked about you coming in for the holidays.
"And you didn't think to tell me that?"
"Seungcheol."
"Eomma."
"She's coming home to see her parents." His mom stroked his cheek. "Just like Jeonghan, just like every kid who moved away. No need to be so worried about it."
"Got banned from the bar."
"What?" She glanced at his hand again.
"Some kid was bothering her and Nayeon and Eunbi." He shrugged. "He deserved it."
"A kid, Seungcheol?" She nearly shrieked.
"21 probably, I didn't know him."
"Seungcheol you need to stop doing things like that."
"Ma, he was a jerk, Dad would've done it!" He dug in the refrigerator for something to drink.
"Even so, you can't do stuff like that!" She insisted. "You're 30 now. You can't punch 21-year-olds." Seungcheol shrugged again.
"Fine." He shut the refrigerator. "Next time some kid calls a girl I care about a bitch, I'll let him."
"Seungcheol." She warned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Watch your language." The oven beeped. Seungcheol slid the pasta bake in and set the timer.
"She came to the shop." He admitted quietly. "I wasn't expecting to see her."
"Did she?" His mother sighed.
"Yeah the pothole got her again." His fingers gripped the can of soda in his hand. "She didn't know Dad died."
"Oh.."
"Yeah, that was awkward." He chuckled in spite of himself. "Dad always liked her."
"We all did." She sat next to him. "We all do."
"I guess." He sighed. "I gave her the friends and family discount."
"Good, your father would've been beside himself if you didn't." She laughed.
"Why do you think I did it?" He smiled.
"Right," she sighed. "No other reason."
Nine reindeer made of tinsel crashed into the shopping cart. You leaned your arms onto the handle of the shopping cart and watched your mother reach for more garland. She grabs a package and looks back at you. Sighing, you move around the cart and grab a few bustles as well.
"What is all of this for again?" You asked tossing the garland into the cart.
"Are you serious?" She looked at you like you had grown a second head. "Our Christmas party, Y/N!" The two of you started down the aisle again, you pushing the cart behind her.
"Oh." You deadpanned. "You still do that?"
"Y/N, we've done this every year even before you were born." She sighed looking at snowmen figurines as you passed. "Those are overpriced."
"All of this is overpriced." You laughed.
"That's true." She noted before putting the snowmen in the cart.
"Do I have to come?" You asked.
"It's at our house."
"So yes?"
"Yes!"
"Is…he invited?" You stared at the back of your mother's head as she stilled for just a moment.
"His mom is coming, so I wouldn't be surprised if she brought him." She eyed you nervously. "It's been a terribly hard year for them, she still relies on Seungcheol a lot."
"I know.." You conceded.
"It won't be so bad, it's going to be enough people to avoid him." She assured you.
"Dad is gonna kill you for all this stuff, you know?" You changed the subject.
"I know." She winked.
The doorbell rang as you were hanging green and red tinsel around the door. You climbed down from the step ladder and opened the front door. Mrs. Choi smiled at you from the porch. You could feel your heart sink so low it settled in your stomach.
"Hi sweetheart!" She pulled you into a hug.
"Hi Mrs. Choi." You muttered. She pulled back and looked at you up and down.
"Boston is treating you well." She smiled.
"I think so." You smiled back. "Come in!" You moved aside to let her in. She somehow managed to smile even wider at you as she shuffled past you. "Mom's in the kitchen." You offered. The sounds of your mother and Mrs. Choi greeting each other echoed through the house.
The tinsel dangled from where you taped it above the door as you ran up the stairs to your bedroom.
You felt stupid for crying, you knew she would be here, Mrs. Choi helps every year. You just weren't expecting to see her so soon. The framed photos of you and her son were turned away from you, the first thing you did after he broke up with you. Your parents had left your room untouched, aside from the few Christmas presents for your nieces stashed away in your mostly empty closet.
Wiping your tears you pick up one of the photos, it was from your senior prom. Your dress was hot pink. You laughed in spite of yourself at the glaringly 2013 aesthetic of it. Seungcheol was smiling widely next to you in his black suit and matching hot pink tie. If your memory was accurate this was one of the few moments, in front of your parents, where his hands weren't on your ass. He loved that dress.
You set the photo back down on your dresser and moved to the next. Seungcheol sweaty from his football game, still in his uniform. Your lips were pressed to his cheek as he held your waist, you were draped in his Letterman jacket and a warm headband wrapped around your head.
It was strange that things could just fall apart seemingly out of nowhere.
You heard your mother downstairs and the sound of the front door. Scrambling, you ran to down the stairs to see Mrs. Choi on her way out. You ran on to the porch.
"Mrs. Choi!" You called to the woman in the driveway. She turned around, smiling brightly at you. "I'm so sorry about Mr. Choi…and I'm so sorry I didn't say anything to you until now." She walked toward you and you almost thought she was about to yell at you, something she has, to your knowledge, never done to anyone. To your surprise, she wrapped you into a warm hug.
"Thank you, honey." She whispered. "It's not your fault."
The weight of her words was not lost on you.
Seungcheol woke up, earlier than he wanted to, to his mother calling. He contemplated ignoring her and going back to sleep, but he knew that was a bad idea.
"Hi Eomma."
"Are you up?" She sounded frazzled. Seungcheol checked the time, it was 10:03 in the morning. Later than he thought but still not late.
"Well I am now." He grumbled.
"Don't get smart with me, Seungcheol." She warned.
"Mama, what's going on?" He sighed.
"You forgot?" She deflated.
"Forgot what?" He panicked, it's not her birthday.
"The Christmas party is today and you just woke up!" He could hear her shuffling around, stuffing things into grocery bags. Seungcheol silently tried to wrack his brain for an excuse. "Mrs. L/N's Christmas party, Seungcheol!"
"Do you really think that's a good idea…" He started.
"This is my social event of the year." Her voice was becoming stern, Seungcheol knew this voice well.
"Ma.." Seungcheol scrubbed his face. "It's at Y/N's house, where Y/N will be."
"It's the first year your father won't be at this party with me." Her voice was quieter now. "I just..would like you to be there."
"Of course, Eomma." He hated the crack in his voice. "I'll be there."
There were only a few cars in your driveway when Seungcheol and his mother pulled around the corner. He recognized your car and Eunbi's. He assumed Nayeon would be here too, if she wasn't already and hadn't carpooled with Eunbi. He was feeling unprepared. He'd seen you twice since you came back to town and both of those times were unbearably awkward. This will be worse.
Your mom greeted them before they had the chance to ring the doorbell. Nayeon, Eunbi, and yourself were gathered around the kitchen island stealing bites of the snacks your mom told you to leave for the party. Your friends stole glances at you as they heard her greet Seungcheol.
"I'm fine." You hissed at them, "stop looking at me." You popped a pretzel in your mouth and wandered toward the dining room to straighten up the table settings that had already been set to perfection.
You were able to avoid him while he helped your dad with getting folding chairs from the basement. Your mom enlisted you and your friends to make punch, so it wasn't hard to stay busy. Nayeon buzzed by your side the entire time so even if Seungcheol wanted to talk to you he wouldn't want to piss Nayeon off.
As the other guests began to arrive Seungcheol stalked into the kitchen and stood behind the island. He nodded at you and you as you scurried out of the kitchen to retrieve your nieces from your brother.
The girls squealed as you greeted them, Seungcheol smiled to himself in the kitchen as he popped a piece of the puppy chow into his mouth. Your mom always had the best recipes.
"Where is Uncle Seungcheol?" Charlotte asked, affixing a crown to your head. You froze for a moment. What were you supposed to say? He's in the kitchen.
"Oh, I'm sure he's around here somewhere!" You faked a smile. "Am I princess yet?"
"Oh!" She skittered over to where her sister was organizing the necklaces from your old copy of the Pretty Pretty Princess board game. She scooped up a handful of the necklaces and some plastic rings and ran back to you. "Here, these are your family gems." She put the necklaces over your head. "You must protect them Princess Auntie Y/N!" She exclaimed as she slid the rings onto your fingers.
Charlotte and Madison wouldn't allow you to take the jewelry off even when your brother came to get them ready for bed. They insisted that you wear it downstairs. You loved these girls so you humored them, you'd take it off when you got to the kitchen.
Seungcheol was still there when you got there, powdered sugar on his lips and his black button down. You stifled a laugh and he raised an eyebrow at you.
"You've got powdered sugar.." You gesture to your lips.
"Nice get up." He mumbled. "Nice of you to talk to me."
"You've been hiding out in here the entire party." You reminded him as you took off the crown. The plastic rings clattered onto the counter next to the crown.
"Can you blame me?" He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I was upstairs with the girls all night." You deadpanned.
"And risk Nayeon grilling me?" He leaned against the counter.
"She could've come in here on her own." You reminded him. "Your logic isn't really airtight."
"Whatever." He sighed. "Are the girls good?" He asked.
"They asked where you were."
"You haven't told them?"
"They're 6 and 7, Seungcheol." You reminded him.
"Shit." He pushed off the counter. "They're that old now?"
"It's been four years since you've seen them, yeah." You watched as he crossed the kitchen to you. He reached past you to grab a cup.
"I guess that's true." He ladles your mom's 'famous' holiday punch into the paper cup, there was something amusing about him drinking punch out of a green paper cup with snowmen all over it. "Crazy how things change."
"Funny how things don't." You mutter, watching the powdered sugar melt off his lip as he sips the punch.
"What?"
"Nothing." You push off the island, suddenly wishing to be anywhere else. "See ya, Seungcheol." Something about how you said his name had his heart sinking. He searched frantically for something to keep you close to him, even for a few minutes.
You were on your way to the dining room, all of the guests were in the living room. Setting his cup down he met you in the doorway, away from the eyes of everyone you've ever known you crashed into his chest. "What are you doing?" You bit, agitated. He cleared his throat and glanced above your heads.
"Rules are rules…" He whispered. You followed his eyes up and there it was.
Mistletoe.
"No." You attempted to move past him but he caught your arm.
"No one is watching."
"It doesn't matter." You tore your arm away. "I don't want to kiss you." You lingered in the doorway for a moment too long for that to be believable. He saw it in your body. You did want to kiss him, and he knew it.
"Just one." He said lowly, taking your hand. "To appease the Mistletoe Gods."
"My mother?" You asked, dazed as he pulled you to him.
"I guess." He shrugged. "We've kissed in her kitchen enough, she won't mind just one more." He pressed his lips to yours softly. It was a whisper of a kiss, he didn't linger. You could feel how unsure of himself he was, as if he didn't think this was a good idea either. It was over before it started and he left you standing in the doorway as he busied himself with the snacks again.
Your lips tasted of powdered sugar and cherries for the rest of the night.
"Soooo…" Nayeon smiled mischievously at you over her glass of iced tea.
"So?" You stirred the ice in your drink.
"You were talking to Seungcheol at your mom's party." She raised an eyebrow.
"And he's annoying." You cut. "Nothing much has changed."
"I don't know." She flipped through her menu. "Looking kind of cozy these days."
"Nayeon." Eunbi warned.
"It's fine." You shrugged. "We're not back together, we won't be getting back together. Can it rest now?"
"Fine, sure." Nayeon sighed. A silence fell over the table as the three of you looked through the menu, you knew that none of you actually needed to look it over, you would all end up getting the same thing you always did. You couldn't help feel a bit fidgety over the fact that you're lying to them. Seungcheol kissed you in your parent's kitchen and you hadn't stopped him. That isn't technically lying is it? A quick kiss didn't mean you were getting back together. Right?
The waitress pulled you from your thoughts asking for your orders. You were right, same orders since you were in high school and started coming here. Once the waitress had walked away Nayeon turned her attention to Eunbi.
"So you and Joshua?"
"Oh my God, Nayeon!" Eunbi rolled her eyes. "You're just a gossip."
"He's had his eyes on you since junior year." You forced an airy laugh, "it's okay." Eunbi smiled at you widely before launching into a recount of all the little dates Joshua has been taking her on for the last few months. You were happy for her, but it did nothing for the pit that was slowly forming in your stomach.
The sun was starting to set and you were pounding your fist on the door of Seungcheol's apartment. The ghost of your breath fanned out in front of you as you heard him shuffling around inside. You continued banging until the door flew open. He looked down at you, bewildered.
"What are you doing here?" He blurted.
"To give you a piece of my mind!" You jabbed a finger into his chest.
"Okay?"
"You shouldn't have kissed me."
"Oh." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You leaned in first."
"No I didn't!" Your voice raised in spite of you trying to keep yourself calm.
"If you're going to yell at me let me drive you out to our spot." He leaned against the door jam.
"No." You replied firmly.
"Why not?"
"We never 'talk' out there." You roll your eyes, accentuating 'talk' with air quotes.
"We will this time."
You fidgeted in the passenger's seat of his truck, you hadn't been there in so long. Your hands were wedged under your thighs as you stared out the windshield. Music was playing lowly on the stereo you helped him install four years ago. Everything about this truck, hell this town, was a tapestry of your relationship with Seungcheol.
Night had fallen soon after he convinced you to get in the car. The headlights sliced the darkness in front of you just enough to recognize the familiar incline of the small hill. Seungcheol and yourself used to come here to get away from everyone, and eventually to hook up in this same truck. He cut the headlights but kept the engine running to combat the cold of the outside.
"You can talk now." He murmured from the other side of the truck bench.
"We're not getting back together." You said, not looking at him.
"Okay." He chuckled. "Is that all you needed to say?"
"No." You turned toward him. "You need to stop trying to defend me, or talk to me at all."
"Got it."
"You're not reacting."
"What do you want from me, Y/N?" He turned toward you. "Do you want me to beg? You don't want me."
"I want to know what you really think!" You threw up your hands. It would be so easy to reach toward him and feel the warmth of his skin.
"What I really think?" He inched closer to you.
"Yes." You nodded not moving away from him.
"You're it for me." He stated simply. "You've ruined me for anyone else." He continued as he slid across the bench to you.
"What are you talking about?" You pressed, looking everywhere but his face.
"I don't want anyone else." He insisted. "And maybe you're mad at me now, but you won't be forever. And the minute you're not anymore, that's when I'll prove to you, I'm it for you too."
"Seungcheol.." You whispered as he leaned into you.
"It's us in the end," his breath fanned across your face. "It always has been." His hand snaked through your hair and anchored itself on the back of your head. He leaned in close to you without allowing himself to touch his lips to yours.
The warmth of his breath wrapped around you and the intimacy of his words went straight to your core. You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for some relief. His free hand wrenched your knees apart.
"Want me to help?" You nodded chasing his warmth. He pawed at the waistband of your leggings as you tilted your hips so he could pull them down to your knees. The pads of his fingers grazed the patch of arousal soaking through your panties. He sucked his teeth, "oh baby, I've missed that." Without another word he hooked his fingers in the fabric and pushed it to the side. "Come over tomorrow." He demanded, almost too quiet for you to hear.
"What?" You breathed.
"You heard me."
You gasped as you were exposed to the cool air. He began to slowly drag his fingers through your wet cunt, it was almost agonizing. His lips connected to your skin, just below your ear. It seemed as if Seungcheol did not forget anything about how to drive you crazy. His index finger began to circle your clit as he left sloppy kisses on your skin. A moan ripped from you as he pressed the pad of his finger pressed onto the bundle of nerves harshly. "Missed that too." He grunted. Your hips sputtered as you started to feel the pleasure mounting. "Not yet, please baby, you can't cum yet." He whined.
Something about his pathetic whining set your skin on fire.
"Please." You choked. Your hips bucked in search of any kind of relief. He lazily dragged his fingers away from your clit, gliding through your folds again. A broken protest fell from your lips but was silenced quickly as he slipped two fingers inside of you. "Fuck, Cheollie." You breathed.
"Shit." He muttered, his voice deep and gravely with lust. "Missed Cheollie." He emphasized his sentence by pumping his fingers in and out of you, setting a pace you were happy to keep up with. Your hips jerked in time with his passes at the spot inside of you only he could reach. "God you're beautiful." His lips were on your hairline now. The thread in your stomach was snapping, you couldn't help yourself from crying with pleasure as fireworks exploded behind your eyes. "That's it, let go."
Your fork scraped against the plate as you pushed the green beans around. Your mother was asking your father about the mundane details of his day while you were weighing your options. You knew your mom had no idea what your dad was talking about, even after nearly three decades of marriage she didn't understand his job, but she always asked anyway. Your parents had a way of making each other feel valued despite it all.
Suddenly, you felt like TV static took up residence in your ears.
"I have to go." You announced as your fork clattered out of your hand. "I have plans with the girls, don't wait up!" You were already grabbing your keys and fleeing the house before your parents had a moment to react.
Your car roared to life as you turned the keys in the ignition. The air vents blasted out cold air, begging for a moment to heat up before you left but you didn't care. You threw it into drive and peeled off for the short drive to Seungcheol's apartment.
Your usual spot next to his truck was somehow miraculously empty for it being a Wednesday evening. The knocks on his door were gentler this time. He knew it was you before he even saw you.
"You came." He smiled down at you.
"Just to talk." Your face hardened. "We didn't get a chance to talk yesterday."
"Right," he stepped aside for you. You entered the apartment, it looked the same as it did the last time you were here. Not surprising, considering how busy Seungcheol is and not to mention his aversion to change. You laughed in spite of yourself. "Talk." He offered, closing the door behind him.
"I have questions for you." You started, standing in the middle of the living room, feeling somewhere between comfort and like you were a stranger in a place you had been a thousand times.
"Okay, shoot." Seungcheol busied himself with arranging the cushions on the couch, clearly he was also having some feelings about seeing you in his apartment again.
A million questions swirled around in your mind but for whatever reason the one that escaped your lips was, "why did you punch that guy in the bar?" You heard a surprised chuckle bubble up from him.
"He was bothering you."
"I could have handled it." You protested. "I know the owner I could have gotten him kicked out. "
"We all know the owner, Y/N." He deadpanned.
"Well…still."
"Sure, I handled it a lot faster than you could have." He moved to straighten the magnets on his refrigerator.
"Now your banned from the only bar in town." You crossed your arms over your chest.
"They'll let me back around in a few months, besides, it's not like I care much about going out." He scoffed. "I only go around Christmas to appease Jeonghan." You nodded quietly from where your feet might as well have been glued to the floor.
"Why did you come to my mom's Christmas party?"
"My mom made me." He straightened a magnet from your school trip to Washington D.C. "You know how she can be, remember senior prom?"
"Of course I do." You smiled. "Treated those pre-prom pictures like a tight scheduled photo shoot."
"So I assume that answer will suffice." You hummed in response. "Anything else?"
You stared down at your shoes, a long silence filling the room.
"Y/N?" He called.
"Why didn't you kiss me?" You asked, barely above a whisper. Something fluttered in his chest as your words.
Suddenly he was crossing the apartment with purpose, once he reached you he cupped your cheeks with his calloused hands and tilted your face toward his. He smashed his to yours so forcefully that it almost hurt. Properly kissing Seungcheol was like riding a bike, you might have forgotten what it felt like but it didn't take long for you to remember how to do it. His lips moved against yours hungrily, like he's been craving you his entire life. His hands stayed there on your cheeks as he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip. Your lips parted for his tongue. He re-familiarized himself with your mouth as your hands anchored at his hips.
You raked your tongue against his, drawing a deep rumbling sound from his chest. You knew that sound, you've missed that sound terribly. His hands dropped from your face to wrap his arms around your shoulders. Your chest brushed against his as your head tilted up more sharply. You reached under his shirt and splayed your fingers over his back. He broke the kiss and sucked in a lungful of air at the cool touch.
"I didn't think you'd want me to." He muttered, so quietly you almost didn't hear him. His nails raked over your sweatshirt covered skin lightly.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"You know why." His gaze hardened for a moment. You leaned toward him and let your breath linger on his lips.
"Well kiss me now, make up for lost time." You watched his pupils blow wide.
"Let me do more." He breathed. "Let me show you how much I missed you…how sorry I am." You felt your heart sink in your chest at his words. You felt yourself nodding your head. He pushed you back towards his couch, you felt the cushions against your legs. He sat you down and gently pressed a kiss to your hairline, the intimacy of it almost sent you reeling. Before you had time to react Seungcheol was sinking to his knees between yours.
He took his time, untying and removing your shoes, he tossed them to the side before shuffling closer to you and tucking his fingers beneath the waistband of the Christmas pajama pants you came here in. If the burning between your legs wasn't so intense you might be embarrassed. "Cute." He mumbled as he hooked his fingers around the fabric and pulling them down your legs, impossibly slowly.
Leaning forward he kissed every swath of skin that came into view. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his lips and you shuttered in anticipation as the pants finally landed next to your shoes. You caught him staring up at you from the floor. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came. The arousal between your legs was so intense you longed to squeeze your thighs together for any sort of relief.
Suddenly Seungcheol lurched forward buried his face in your clothed cunt. You gasped as his nose pressed your clit despite the barrier of your underwear. Slowly, his teeth brushed against your panties, you threw your head back onto the couch at the stimulation. You knew you were soaking through at this point but you weren't sure where your arousal ended and his saliva began.
He was moaning into your wet underwear. He felt pathetic, but maybe he was. His fingers peeled the ruined fabric from your body. He barely gave you a moment to catch your breath before he was diving back into you. His tongue was warm as he licked the first fat stripe up your cunt. He groaned at the taste, he missed it so much. Your skin was on fire as he dipped his tongue into your leaking entrance. His tongue pumped in and out slowly as you unspooled in his mouth. He pulls you closer to him, sliding his arms underneath your bare thighs, his tongue flattens over your folds as he lets you rock your hips over it. Eventually, he dragged his mouth up to latch on to your swollen and neglected clit, you nearly screamed at the contact.
You could feel your orgasm bubbling under the surface, almost ready to boil over. His fingers ghosted over your weeping hole.
"Yes." You screwed your eyes shut at the rumbling of his laugh in your pussy. He slipped two fingers in easily. Immediately your hips bucked, chasing your high. As your stomach tightened Seungcheol added a third finger. A moan ripped from your chest as you rode his fingers, he let you fuck yourself as his tongue circled your pulsing clit.
Your orgasm ripped through you. Seungcheol pulled out his fingers, replacing them with his tongue. He lapped up every last drop. The warmth of him left you as you came down. You shivered at the cold air. Your eyes stayed closed until you heard the sound of his pants joining yours on the floor.
Cracking open your eyes you watched him retrieve your underwear from where he threw them. His cock was stiff and leaking as he wrapped your wet panties around it. He hissed as the slick covered fabric touched him. Slowly, he began to pump himself, moaning at the ruined sight of you in front of him. He stood tall, jerking himself off into your panties, your arousal covering his chin. He has never looked better to you.
You itched to touch yourself. The visual in front of you was too much, despite your orgasm from just a few minutes ago the burning between your thighs was back. Without taking your eyes off where his cock disappeared into your panties in his fist you slowly spread your legs open. He bit his lip. Your fingers trailed down your body and dipped into your folds shallowly.
"God baby." He breathed. You couldn't stop the whimper from escaping your lips at the pet name. Your fingers circled your clit slowly. You were hurtling yourself toward overstimulation but you didn't care. "Can I.." He moaned. "Can I fuck you?" You nodded, maybe too eagerly.
He discarded your underwear back onto the floor. He pulled you toward him by your ankles, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he hoisted you up off of the couch. He nipped at the skin below your ear while he walked you back to his bedroom. Suddenly you were flat on your back on his bed. His familiar scent was flooding your senses. The room was dark, you shuttered when you felt his hands on your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, chuckling at the sad excuse for a bra you wore. That joined the shirt somewhere in the dark room quickly. "One second, honey." His hands left you and you heard him fumbling with a condom.
When he joined you in the bed he was everywhere. You felt the sting of his teeth on your collarbones and your breasts. The process of biting was followed by licks of his tongue to soothe. You knew his affinity for marking well. He knew where to place them so they were only for the two of you to see. You felt almost giddy to see his art on your skin later after the bruises had bloomed on your skin.
"Ready?" His voice was was gravely and laced with lust. You nodded your head eagerly. "Gotta hear you, it's dark in here."
"Yes." You whined. "Fuck me, please."
"I love when you beg, you sound so beautiful."
The fat head of his cock nudged your entrance. Excitement fluttered low in your stomach. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you, the stretch stinging as every inch dragged against your walls. He stilled every few seconds to give you time to adjust before he continued before he bottomed out. You felt like you could feel him in your throat.
Slowly, he began to thrust in and out of you. You could feel every drag against your walls. After a few slow drags he began to pound into you at a faster pace. Tears began to prick at your eyes as you cried out in pleasure.
"Cheollie…" You moaned.
"Take it, baby." He grunted. "Take it all. You know how." He articulated his words with harsh thrusts into your cunt. The command set your skin on fire. You wrapped your legs around his waist so he could get deeper. He hoped the evidence of your nails on his back was still visible later. He wanted you to claim him as yours again.
Suddenly, he flipped you. You were on your knees, your back to his chest. He held you to him with a hand lightly wrapped around the column of your neck. You leaned your head back until it hit his shoulder. His free hand found your breast. He pistoned in and out of you from behind as he kneaded the flesh.
"You're doing so well." He praised. "You're always a good girl, I've missed this pussy." He whispered to you. You could feel your walls tightening around his cock as your pleasure began to mount. "Gonna cum?"
"Mhmm.." Was all you could manage. His hand moved from your breast down to stimulate your clit as he continued to fuck up into you. You felt his hips sputtering but he kept going. His calloused fingers stroked your abused bumdle of nerves as your white hot orgasm took you by surprise. You cried out in pleasure and surprise as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. You chanted his name like a prayer as you came undone on his cock with the assistance of his fingers. Your nails dug into his thighs below you.
"That's a good girl." He coaxed the last of your orgasm out of you before laying you facedown in the bed. "I'm gonna make quick work of myself, okay?"
"Okay." You whispered between aftershocks. He thrust in and out of you a few more times before he sped up and his thrusts got sloppy. You heard him moan as he finished into the condom. "Are you okay?" He whispered after a few minutes. His cock softened inside you as he pulled you to him.
"Yes." You breathed as he stroked your hair.
"Can I get you cleaned up?"
"Shower with me."
"Deal." He kissed your hair.
The warm water cascaded over your skin as you stretched out your muscles. Seungcheol had to hold you up every so often. He held you to his chest as he ran a warm washcloth through your folds and over your skin. "Did a number on you, didn't I?" He chuckled.
"Don't you always?" You yawned.
"At least I take care of you." He kissed your temple. "Did anyone in Boston do this for you?"
"Are you asking about my other exes right now?" You turned to face him.
"Exes?" He cocked his head. "Multiple?"
"Two." You pluck the shampoo from the shower rack. "Neither of them took care of me or washed my hair." You held the bottle out to him.
"Turn around, brat." He teased, taking the bottle from you.
A comfortable silence settled between you while he massaged the shampoo into your hair.
"Cheol?" You broke the silence after several minutes. He hummed in response. "What happened to your dad?" You whispered.
"Oh." His fingers stilled for a moment.
"I'm sorry..I shouldn't have asked."
"No, it's okay." He continued scrubbing. "You should know, I'm sorry no one told you. He got sick just before Christmas last year. Maybe…the end of November?" He sighed. "It happened really fast, he was gone by mid December."
"I'm so sorry…"
"Byungcheol and Sadie came in for the funeral and stayed for Christmas but they were gone by New Year's." He continued. His mouth had a bitter taste after mentioning his brother and his sister-in-law. "Your mom really helped pick up the pieces." He admitted.
"Really?" You whispered.
"Yeah, turn toward the water, baby." He began to wash the suds out of your hair. "I lived at my parent's for a month and your mom organized a meal train for us. Everyone came through for us." He smiled sadly. "I only came back here because my mom made me. I contemplated moving back in." He admitted.
"I'm sure Kkuma would have loved that." You mumbled.
"You're right." He chuckled. "She slept in my bed every night."
"Cheol, I really am sorry."
"Don't be, you didn't tell the universe to do that."
As much as you didn't want to leave him, you had to go. You bid him goodbye and he stole as many kisses as he could manage before you were out the door. You snuck in through your bedroom window that night, as if you were 17 again.
"Cut to the chase, Y/N." Nayeon demanded as she slammed a shot glass down on the bar. The liquor barely had time to warm your stomach before she was looking at you with those eyes that told you she wasn't about to back down this time.
"What?" You sputtered.
"What's going on between you and Seungcheol?" She demanded. You cut a glance toward Eunbi but she and Joshua were huddled close to each other, absorbed in whatever conversation they were having.
"Yeah!" Jeonghan's voice rang in your ear as he slung his arm over your shoulders. "What is going on there?"
"I told you!" You insisted, letting Jeonghan warm your shoulders. "Nothing, we're not getting back together."
"Mhmm." Jeonghan hummed, leaning his cheek into the crown of your head. "That's why your car has been parked next to his at his apartment twice since you got back last week." You stiffened at Jeonghan's side. You had forgotten that his parent's house, where he was staying, was the block over from Seungcheol's apartment.
"Nothing is going on…" You repeated. You wanted another shot, or ten.
"You can tell us, you know." Nayeon's voice softened as she reached out to run her hand over your arm. You suddenly felt out of control, the situation was out of hand. You should have never let him talk you into kissing him.
"Can I have another drink?" You muttered. Nayeon and Jeonghan shared a glance before Nayeon turned toward the bar to order another round.
"You can tell me." Jeonghan echoed Nayeon's previous statement. You heard the sincerity in his voice. You broke free of his hold and dragged him to the table you sat at just a week ago when Seungcheol got banned from this bar. "You're really this freaked out?" He asked, sliding into the booth.
"Yeah.." You nodded.
"Did you fuck him?" You cut him a look. "Oh, Y/N…"
"Jeonghan don't do that." You crossed your arms.
"Do what?" He pulled your hand free and held it across the table.
"Talk to me like you pity me for sleeping with your best friend."
"I don't pity you because you slept with my best friend." He squeezed your hand. "I pity you because you slept with your ex."
"You slept with him?" Nayeon attempted to conceal her shock with a thin veil of nonchalance. She set the shots on the table as well as a vodka cranberry for you. You groaned. "Take the shot, girlfriend, and then spill." She told you, holding out her shot for you and Jeonghan to cheers. The three of you clinked your small glasses, tapped them on the table, and threw them back.
You confided in your best friend and Seungcheol's best friend, who you had grown close to in all your years of dating. They listened attentively as you told them all about how it came to this.
"Do you still love him?" Jeonghan asked bluntly, four shots in, at the end of your story. The room was going fuzzy at the edges and you were probably drunk. Your suspicion was confirmed as soon as you answered his question.
"Yes."
"Then you should go tell him that." Jeonghan tipped his glass toward you.
"What if he doesn't love me?" You slumped in your seat.
"Y/N, a guy doesn't treat a girl the way Seungcheol has treated you in the last week if he doesn't love her." Nayeon pointed out.
"And he hasn't shut up about the fact that he loves you in the last four years." Joshua's voice chimed in from your left as he pulled up a chair for himself. Eunbi squeezed in next to Nayeon. "We are talking about Seungcheol aren't we?" He smiled at you.
"Obviously!" You whined. "Has he really been talking about it that long?"
"Yes." Eunbi and Joshua asserted at the same time.
"Come on," Joshua stood and held his hand out to you. "I'm designated driver, I'll drive you over to his."
"Should I tell him when I'm drunk though?" You were grabbing his hand anyway.
"No," Joshua laughed, walking you toward his car. "But you won't tell him when you're sober."
For the third time in a week you were knocking on Seungcheol Choi's door. It was one in the morning, you were drunk and cold. Seungcheol answered the door in his boxers, hair askew.
"Y/N?"
"I'm drunk." You stated matter-of-factly before pushing past him into his apartment. Joshua waved from the car, Seungcheol waved back, more confused than he was before. Seungcheol closed the door behind him. You were standing in the middle of his living room.
"Are you okay, baby?" He asked groggily.
"I love you." You blurted out. He blinked at you.
"You're drunk."
"I'm drunk and I love you."
"I love you too." He told you. "Let's talk about that when you're sober." He wrapped an arm around you and led you back to his room. "You need a shirt to sleep in?"
"Yeah." You yawned. "You love me?"
"Never stopped." He rifled through his drawer. "Here." He set a shirt from your high school on the bed. It was still big enough for you to swim in. He helped you undress and get into the shirt before tucking you into his bed. "Where's your phone?"
"Pants." You snuggled down into his bed.
Seungcheol fished your phone out of the pocket of your jeans and walked back into the kitchen. Keying in your passcode, Charlotte's birthday, he unlocked your phone and scrolled through your contacts before he found the one he was looking for and pressed call. It only rang once before she picked up.
"Y/N?" Your mom's voice crackled through the phone. "Are you okay?"
"Hey Mrs. L/N." Seungcheol grabbed a glass from the cabinet. "She's fine, Joshua dropped her off here."
"Oh, okay. Good." She sighed. "Is she staying over?"
"Yeah, she's already in bed." He chuckled. "She's safe."
"Thank you for the update Seungcheol." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Have a good night."
"No problem, you too."
He filled the glass with water and padded back into his room, expecting you to be asleep.
"If we love each other," he jumped at the sound of your voice. "We should sleep together again."
"Not tonight." He laughed. "You're drunk." He set the glass of water on the bedside table next to you. "And falling asleep already."
"'m not." You insisted.
"Goodnight, baby."
You woke up the next morning with only a slight headache. You thanked the universe for bestoying this gift upon you. Seungcheol was latched to your back, his warmth spreading through you. You blushed as you realized his hardening cock was pressed to your ass.
"Do you remember last night?" He whispered before you even had time to wonder whether or not he was awake.
"Yeah.." You whispered back, terrified he would reject you now that you were sober.
"You love me." He pulled you closer.
"I seem to remember that you love me too." You smiled, grinding your ass back, rubbing onto his length just slightly.
"Never stopped." He repeated.
"You also declined to fuck me."
"What a fool I was." He breathed. His fingers pressed to the spot of arousal soaking through your underwear. "Let me fix it." He pleaded.
"Mhmm.."
He picked your leg up and hooked it over his hip and shimmied out of his boxers carefully. He continued to spoon you as he moved your panties to the side and slid into you slowly. He groaned at the feeling of your walls hugging him tightly. He savored it as he let you adjust.
"You still look good in my clothes." He mumbled before biting your shoulder. You began rocking your hips slightly, seeking relief. He took the hint and began thrusting into you lazily.
"You love me." You moaned, meeting his thrusts.
"I love you." He agreed.
"What does that mean for us?" You asked as his fingers came back to press your clit.
"You're asking what being in love means while I'm inside of you?" His finger applied slightly more pressure. You whined.
"I'm efficient." You moaned.
"Let me fuck the girl I love." He pleaded.
"Fine." You conceded. His fingers circled the bundle of nerves while his thrusts picked up their pace.
Apparently, being in love makes a person cum faster because you both lazily tumbled off the edge too soon.
"Hand me the tape, please." Your mom asked, her finger holding down a piece of wrapping paper. You slid the roll of tape across the table to her. You fluffed the tissue paper in the bag in front of you. "So.." She started.
"So?" You pressed, moving the present to under the tree in the living room.
"Seungcheol called me last night." She stated casually.
"He did?"
"He wanted me to know that you were at his house and safe." She taped the paper down.
"That was nice of him." You pulled another present from the pile.
"Are you guys getting back together?" She asked. The question was valid enough, but something about talking about the possibility with your mother had nerves settling in your stomach.
"I…" You bit your lip. "I don't know.."
"I support you either way, I just know that long distance was really hard for you guys last time." She reminded you. "I would hate for it just end the same way if you did try again."
"I know.."
"Seungcheol is a great guy, Y/N." She moved the present to the done pile. "I would just hate for one or both of you to get hurt again is all."
"I know Mom." You sighed. You would hate for that to happen too. "Mom..?"
"Mhmm?" She hummed as she tried to figure out how to wrap a seashell shaped toy for one of the girls.
"Why didn't you tell me about his dad?" You whispered. You watched your mom put the tape down on the table.
"Honey.." She started.
"No, seriously." You insisted. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"
"You two had broken up…"
"Three years before he passed."
"And you were so busy with work.."
"I should have been able to go to the funeral." You pressed.
"See, that's why." She conceded.
"What?" You blinked at her.
"You're so headstrong, and I knew if I told you, you'd insist on being there." She sighed. "And I didn't want to take that choice away from Seungcheol."
"And he never told me.." You mumbled.
"I'm so sorry…"
"No I get it."
Not even two hours later, Seungcheol had you pinned to his bed under him. Your wrists crossed under his hand as he fucked into you.
"Tell me again." He pleaded.
"I..I love you." You choked out.
"Good girl." He pulled almost all the way out just to slam himself back into you. "I love you." He reminded you. You felt every vein drag against your walls deliciously as he said it. You knew he meant it, so why did it scare you suddenly? "You're so perfect." He continued, "like you were made for me."
Even though you were nervous about what the end of the week might mean for this fragile relationship, his praises went straight to your cunt. You moaned his name. His thrusts picked up their pace as he chased his high. If he had any inclination that your mind was somewhere else he didn't let on. He fucked you the way he knew you liked to be fucked all while making himself feel good as well.
You felt your orgasm run its course through you as he finished in the condom. He cleaned you up in silence, he had to know something was up by now. He never said anything. He laid you down and pulled you to his chest.
He placed featherlight kisses to your shoulder as he waited for you to tell him what was going on. Tears blurred your vision, everything in his room being distorted.
"Why didn't you tell me?" You finally whispered.
"Tell you what?"
"About your dad.."
"You weren't here." He stated simply.
"I would have been." You sniffled. "For your dad, of course I would have come back."
"No." He fidgeted behind you. "You weren't here." You sat up, his arms falling from your body limply.
"You broke up with me." You reminded him, looking around for your clothes.
"Because you weren't here." He repeated.
"You broke up with me because we were long distance?" You grabbed your leggings from the floor. "Something you agreed to?"
"Well excuse me for thinking you'd still have time for me when you were off doing better things!" He bit. His sudden venom caught you off guard, you weren't expecting a fight.
"Preparing for my future?" You leveled.
"A future without me."
"What are you talking about?"
"I was never a part of your world, once you went to college." He sat up. "I didn't fit anymore. I saved you the headache of breaking up with me."
"Seungcheol what are you talking about?"
"God, Y/N” Seungcheol all but shouts, “The crazy thing is, I could listen to you talk about blueberry yogurt, or law, or the branches on the trees all day!” he shoves a hand through his hair, “I don’t care, as long as you’re talking to me—"
"Cheol.." You attempted.
"No, let me get this out or else I will regret it forever," he continued, holding a hand up, "I needed you, fuck, maybe I still do, but you weren’t there. You weren’t there and how the fuck am I supposed to live with that?" Your mouth went dry. "Everyone left, aside from Joshua, but he's always so busy with Eunbi, I see him just as much as I see Jeonghan."
"It's not my fault that your plans fell apart." You spat.
"Remember when they were our plans?" He laughed. You looked at him in disbelief. He just shrugged. "Am I wrong?"
"What happened?" You asked.
"You used to love—"
"I still lo—"
"No, you don't." He assured you. "It's fine. But you used to love Vermont.." He wiped his eyes. "You used to love me." He stood up off the bed and pulled on his boxers. "You've changed."
"You haven't."
"Maybe I haven't." He handed you your shirt from the floor. "Better than selling my soul."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"You used to be cool." He pulls on a shirt. "Since when are you a lawyer?" Static sounded in your ears.
"I was in law school when you broke up with me." You couldn't help the tears falling from your eyes now. He shrugged. "You knew that. Seungcheol there is no way you didn't know that!"
Did he not know you at all?
There was a sleeve of green fabric sticking out between his bed and the wall. He followed your eyes to it.
"Is that my Vermont Law sweatshirt?" You moved to go pull it out but he stopped you. "Why do you have that still?"
"It smelled like you."
"Why did you lie about not knowing I'm a lawyer?"
"I don't know."
Christmas after fighting with your ex sucks. There's no other way to put it, both of you felt it. Too bad neither of you wanted to make the first move to extend the olive branch. Seungcheol thought of you the entire day, he spent his time at his mom's house watching cheesy Christmas movies in his pajamas with Kkuma in his lap.
Your day was spent with the chaos of two little girls on Christmas, it warmed your heart to see them so happy. However, every so often you longed to share this moment with someone, with Seungcheol. You thought about texting him several times, but his words rang in your mind every single time.
You ended up going home early.
"I have lunch!" Joshua announced happily, entering Choi and Sons at noon three days after Christmas. Jeonghan followed him into the lobby of the shop. It was Jeonghan's last day in town before going back to being the big corportate HR guy he was most of the year.
"Be right there!" Seungcheol called from the garage. Joshua and Jeonghan busied themselves with setting everything up in the employee break room.
"You're gonna tell him, right?" Jeonghan whispered to his friend.
"Well, yeah, I just need the right time." Joshua muttered.
"What'd you bring?" Seungcheol asked, crossing the small room to wash his hands at the sink.
"Leftovers from my mom." Joshua smiled as he took the lids off of the tupperware.
"Nice, tell her thanks from me." Seungcheol sat at the table. The three of them ate in silence for several minutes before Jeonghan started giving Joshua glares from across the table.
"Sooo.." Joshua started.
"Spit it out, Hong." Seungcheol said with a mouthful of noodles.
"What?" Joshua faltered.
"Jeonghan has been making mean faces at you for ten minutes," he swallowed. "So out with it."
"Are you done trying with Y/N?" Joshua sighed.
"What?" Seungcheol put his fork down. "What are you talking about?"
"It's just…" Joshua leveled with him. "Don't you think you've fucked it up with her one too many times?"
"I mean, it'll work out." Seungcheol sighed. "It's us."
"How can you be so sure?" Jeonghan asked.
"I'm going to go apologize to her today."
"Cheol…" Joshua turned to him. "She went home on Friday."
"What?" Seungcheol shouted.
"Yeah, Eunbi told me she left early.." Joshua said cautiously.
"Fuck.." Seungcheol scrubbed his face and slumped in his chair. He had really messed up this time. He was so hellbent on not losing you a second time that he didn't even realize that he neglected to fix what went wrong the first time.
"Maybe it's time to move on." Jeonghan suggested. He wasn't afraid to say what Joshua was implying more directly. He knew Seungcheol needed people to be direct with him sometimes.
"Do you not like Y/N?" Seungcheol asked. He wasn't sure why.
"No, I actually love Y/N." Jeonghan bit. "And I love you. Which is why I know you need to move on."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're terrible for each other." Jeonghan sighed. "At least you have been for the last six years. The two of you have serious shit to work out if you can ever dream of actually giving it another go." He put a hand on Seungcheol's shoulder. "You've put that girl through enough."
"I need to fix it." Seungcheol sighed.
"Do you think she even wants you to fix it?" Joshua asked.
"I don't know." Seungcheol crossed his arms over his chest. "I really don't"
Your apartment felt too big. You felt too small. There was still several days left of your time off from work, you weren't supposed to be back yet. Days were spent pacing around the apartment, you were worried you might wear holes into the ground. Seungcheol's words were still bouncing around in your mind. You could call Nayeon or Eunbi but you were worried they would just lecture you about how foolish it was to sleep with your ex.
Being alone was awful, Lina was your only friend in Boston and she was a work friend. Most of the time you didn't mind the lonely nights but this was not one of those times.
You woke up the next morning to a voicemail.
Voicemail: Seungcheol 3:12 am
'Hey. I shouldn't be calling you, I know that. But I'm drunk and I wanted to hear your voice. Don't worry, I'm still banned from the bar, I took from my personal stash. I know you probably don't wanna hear from me, especially when I said what I did, and when I lied. I really don't know why I did that, Y/N. Because the truth is, I'm so proud of you. You achieved everything you said you would, everything I always knew you would. I'm jealous, sure. But above everything I am so so proud of you. God' he laughed. 'You're so amazing, you always have been. But you just keep getting more and more amazing. I want to try again. Like, us, I mean. Long distance sucks, but I can do it. And this time I won't get weird and distant and jealous. If you'll have me of course. If you don't want any of this, tell me to fuck off. Block me. You probably should have done that a long time ago. But you didn't, which has to mean something right? Anyway, call me back. I need to sleep, but I miss you and I can't wash my sheets because they smell like you. I love you, I'm sorry.'
You were crying.
You listened to that voicemail every night before bed for three days. His voice, heavy with sleep and intoxication lulled you to sleep. That should have given you the answer long before it hit you.
You loved him. You wanted him back, no matter the cost. You knew that now and you felt ashamed that you ran away from home before you realized.
Incoming Call: Y/N 11:54 pm
"Shit." Seungcheol cursed as he stared at your name on his phone. The wind whipped his hair as the last snow of the year swirled around him. He accepted the call. "Hello?"
"Hi." You breathed on the other line. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest at the sound of your voice.
"What's up?" He tried to sound nonchalant.
"About your voicemail…" You started.
"I'm sorry, Y/N." He sighed.
"No, no it's okay." You laughed, nervously. "I thought about what you said."
"Oh." He braced himself.
"Yeah I think we should try again." You breathed. Suddenly there was a knock at your door. You jumped. "I'm sorry, someone knocked on my door."
"You should answer it." Seungcheol's heart was beating in his ears.
"No, it's 11:56 pm on New Year's Eve." You laughed. "It's probably some drunk idiots being annoying."
"Y/N." Seungcheol pressed. "Open the door."
"No? That's dangerous!" You insisted. "Besides don't you care about what I just said.”
The knocking turned into pounding. You could hear it at the door and through the phone.
You could hear it through the phone.
You ran to your front door and flung it open. Your phone fell to the ground.
"Can I come in?" Seungcheol asked with tears in his eyes. "It's freezing out here and I'd like to kiss my girl at midnight, if you don't mind."
synopsis: while you are on vacation in rome, italy, you meet joshua and hit it off great. but, while he’s supposed to be filming nana tour, he has another idea for fun.
word count: 2.8k+
warnings: below the cut
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warnings: alcohol mention(wine), pwp (kind of??), p in v, unprotected sex (pls don’t. it’s for the plot), soft dom!joshua, soft sub!reader, oral (m&f rec), soft face fucking, fingering, quick mention of aftercare (lmk if i’m missing anything), lowercase intentional
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when in rome. that’s what they always say, huh?
that seemed to be the motto while you and your friends were on a girls trip to italy. you’ve never been before and truly you fell in love with the city, choosing to go out and see anything you can even if it means you’re doing it alone— your friends opting to stay back and rest.
their loss, you thought. when in rome.
you saw that there was a wine festival happening that evening and with or without your friends, you were going!!
when you made it through the large crowd towards all the tents, you made it to the first vendor, taking a glass of the red wine. you swirled the liquid around the glass, giving it a sniff to smell the notes inside, a sweet hum leaving your lips.
“smells good, huh? tastes good but i think the next booth has a better merlot.”
you looked over and see a man smiling down at you, a glass in his hand. he was handsome, had a kind smile and black fluffy hair. “oh, thank you!” you smiled back. “mhm,” he started as he took another sip. “would you want me to show you where to go?” you shrugged, then nodded, offering the man another smile before he led the way. the crowd around was thick of people but you stayed close to the guy.
he grabbed two glasses from the vendor, one for you and another for him. you thanked him, feeling a bit of blush creep up your cheeks when he smiled again.
“my names joshua, by the way.”
“y/n”
“pretty, i like it.”
you felt blushed again, taking a sip of the wine. he was right. it was really good. you hummed in approval as you pulled the glass away from your lips. “i’m glad you liked my recommendation!” he mused as he took another sip himself. “do you have any others?” you asked back, tilting your head to the side slightly.
he thought you looked so cute, kind of innocent with the way your eyes looked up at him. he should go back to his group… finish filming what he needs to for his pov of the episode. he should.
but he looked around you briefly and raised an eyebrow. “are you here alone?” you nodded, “yeah, my friends didn’t want to come.” he bit his cheek, he doesn’t want you to be alone, especially in this crowd of people.
“i haven’t tried all the wine yet. want to walk together?” you lit up, nodding your head while sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
as the festival was winding down, na pd and a few members were looking all over for joshua.
you and him had maybe one too many glasses of wine, feeling more giggly and talkative as you found a secluded spot to sit and talk. he felt easy speaking with you… like he wasn’t an idol here for work, filming content instead of enjoying his vacation in a foreign country. joshua is a huge wine enthusiast so for him to take his time, drink and talk with you just really made his trip so much better.
the alcohol, sure you didn’t have a ton, but it was starting to get to you… making you a bit more bold. you were playfully touching his hand, eyes looking down at his lips.. and he loved it.
there for sure was tension here, neither of you were blind to it.
as the sun was setting, he was more interested in looking at you, listening to you talk but also thinking about how beautiful you looked under the sun. you caught his glance and smirked at him, ending your story abruptly. “what?”
“can i kiss you?”
caught off guard entirely, you blinked at him a second but eventually nodded while a smile crept up on your face. his lips met yours in a sobering kiss. his lips molded to yours. when he pulled away, you let out a small giggle and reconnected once more. he liked the forwardness, giving you a few pecks before the kiss got a bit more heated.
before things got too out of hand, he pulled away and took your hand, taking dragging you behind him to a nearby alley. it wasn’t the most romantic but it got both of you (mostly him for the idol image) out of the public eye.
he backed you into the nearby wall, his arm caging you under his taller frame while the other hand found purchase on your waist, ghosting his lips over yours. you smiled at him, biting your bottom lip while your hand gripped his shirt. “i don’t normally do this..” he breathed out before kissing you again with the same passion from before.
with his hand on your waist, he tugged your body to meet his— your chest pressing into his. the way he moved your body how he wanted earned him a soft moan from your lip. his tongue trailed over your bottom lip then into your mouth, taking dominance of the kiss once more.
both your hands ran feverishly over his body as the two of you made out. his hand on your waist moved down to your ass, making you gasp when he squeezed his fingers into the soft flesh.
“you sound so pretty for me…” he spoke into your neck while placing kisses anywhere he could, lightly dragging his tongue over your warm skin.
with no luck finding him, jeonghan resorted to texting joshua, the younger groaning when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
jeonghan: we’re leaving, where are you
jeonghan: pd is freaking out that we can find you
sigh.
“i need to go.. i'm so sorry..”
there was annoyance in his tone. “o-oh. well. that’s okay.” you replied with a sweet smile. he checked his phone again briefly when he asked “what are you doing tomorrow?” thinking for a second, you replied “nothing. what’s up?”
“i’d love to see you again before we both leave.”
you smile wide, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “i’d love that too, joshua.” he gave you another kiss.
“i have something to do in the morning but after, meet me at the coliseum. around 2?”
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
well. 2 pm!
you left your friends for the afternoon with a smile on your face. you didn’t admit you were seeing a guy but with how you dressed, took extra long in the shower and the smile on your face, they knew. they’ll just be sure to pester you about it later.
you waited outside the coliseum and a few minutes after 2, joshua approached you with a wide smile. “hi, y/n.. you look great.” he cooed. you thanked him, eyes lingering on his lips a bit too long. oops?
being sober, the tension from yesterday was much more thick.
“my friends are out doing something. wanna come to my airbnb for a little?”
that was more than okay with you. after yesterday, you’re dying to finish what you two started.
you agreed and to not waste anymore time before the members came back, he took your hand and led the way. luckily it wasn’t too far of a walk, the coliseum being in view from his window.
once you two were in his room, locking it behind the two of you for extra measure.
he looked down at you with a smirk, his hands finding your waist. “i’m sorry about yesterday.” “that’s okay, shua.” the nickname made him weak. “we can pick up where we left off.” you smiled innocently. he bit his bottom lip, sliding his hands from your waist to your hips, “well, where were we?”
you got on your toes and pressed your lips together, his hands picking up where they left off yesterday on your ass before he pushed his tongue into your mouth. he backed you into the bed, letting you fall on top of the mattress, smirking down at you while taking his shirt off and tossing it somewhere else.
“don’t think less of me— we just.. don’t have much time.”
you reassured him it was a-okay, scooting back more onto the bed when you glance out the window. “wow, this view is amazing..” he climbed into the bed beside you, wrapping you up in his arms and pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.
“mhm. but i’m more interested in looking at you.”
cheesy but still it made your heart stutter a moment, pressing your body back into him. he worked you out of your shirt and started feeling you up through your bra, small gasps and needy whines escaping your lips. “this okay, love?” he asked with a kiss to your bare shoulder. your throat was dry, a stuttered “y-yes.” came out as you licked your lips.
he laid you back, moving to straddle your hips as he leaned down to kiss you again— from your lips to your jaw, on to your breasts. he gently massaged the mounds while placing delicate kisses over the cups of the bra, looking into your eyes with a teasing glint in his. “shua.. more..” you whined.
still looking at you, he pulled the cups down, exposing your nipples. they began to harden in the cold air-conditioned air, making his length ache behind his jeans when he captured one of them in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud before sucking on it. his other hand tweaked the other nipple, gently flicking it and rolling it between two fingers. your hips were bucking upwards, looking for friction as you grew more turned on. he grazed his teeth over the bud before moving to the other, giving it the same treatment he gave the first one.
he then kissed down your stomach to the waistline of your shorts. you nodded a silent approval and before you knew it, your bottoms along with your panties were off, leaving you fully bare for him. he sat back on his knees, looking breathless as his eyes drank you up.
“fuck.. you’re so beautiful, baby.”
joshua slotted his hand between your legs, dipping his middle finger into your slit. “so wet, too.. fuck. can i eat you?” you frantically nodded, “i’d be mad if you didn’t.” a small chuckle left him as he got comfortable on his stomach in front of your needy core, draping your legs over his shoulder. he placed soft kissed to the inside of your thighs, fingertips massaging the supple skin. each kiss was driving you insane while he worked on getting closer to you pussy, eventually finishing with a kiss to your clit making your eyes roll into the back of your head.
slow at first, his tongue teased through your slit, groaning at the taste of you. he’s not sure which is better— the wine last night or the taste of you right now.
focusing on your clit, he slid a finger into you slowly, then another, pumping them at a slow pace. when you moaned so beautifully, it gave him the go to move them faster, angling them into your sweet spot while he sucked on your sensitive nub. he spoke into you briefly, “shit, you taste so good, baby.” before he went back to eating you like a starved man, making your orgasm approach quicker than you expected.
your hand tangled in his hair, tugging slightly at the roots with a long grunt escaping you. “shua.. close, fuck, please don’t stop!”
no way he was going to stop. not when you sound the way you do.
“cum for me, pretty..”
his tone was so hoarse, a twinge of desperation behind his words to get you to finish.
a few more pumps of his fingers, you came hard against him— legs shaking and threatening to close around his head. he slowed his movements down, letting you slowly discend from your high. he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean, groaning as your taste hit his tongue one last time.
moving to sit beside you, he took your jaw in his hand and gave you a rough, tongue filled kiss. you took it upon yourself to sit on his lap, feeling him smile against your lips. his hands found your hips again, helping you while you slowly ground down into him. your hands slid down his toned stomach ti the button on his jeans, fumbling while trying to undo it. he softly laughed and pulled away from you, looking at your hands.
“want them off?” you pouted a bit and nodded.
“wanna suck you off..”
the sudden lewdness caught him off guard but was surely welcomed.
“can you get on your hands and knees, baby?”
you quickly did as he asked, mouth watering while you watched him remove himself from his pants and tossing them off the bed. just like him, his cock was so pretty… on the long side and slender. no imperfections. your mind was racing.
he stroked himself a few times, biting his lip at the eager look in your eyes. “open.” you did, allowing him to push his tip into your mouth. you hummed, closing your eyes blissfully when the taste of precum hit your tongue. he started doing shallow thrusts, making you take more of his length while you hollowed out your cheeks. “fuck. look at me, pretty.” opening your eyes, you squeeze your legs together at the sight above you. he just looked so hot… so pretty towering over you, abs tightening with each thrust of his hips.
his cock felt heavy on your tongue as he continued to watch you. “you look so pretty with your mouth full.” he smirked, pushing his dick a bit farther into your mouth. your took what didn’t fit in your mouth in your hand and pumped, making him moan loudly. “fuck.. keep doing that, i’m gonna cum..” he laughed while tossing his head back effortlessly. his hand carded though your hair, keeping your head still.
his moans grew louder, breathing becoming more labored and thighs tensing, signaling he was close. you kept your cheeks hollow, sucking hard with each thrust from him. when he felt close, he pulled out, not ready to finish just yet. disappointed a bit but you were excited when he moved you onto your back again and positioned himself between your legs, pushing in quickly. he groaned, digging his blunt nails into your thighs as he bottomed out.
“my god.. i’m not gonna last long..”
leaning down to cage you under his frame, joshua began thrusting into you. you wrapped your arms and legs around him to keep him as close as you can. he growled against your ear, a slur of curses leaving his lips.
“shua, f-feels so good!”
he slid a hand between you two to rub against your clit, making you moan even louder now. “cum for me, pretty.. cum and i’ll fill you up. you want that, yeah?”
not trusting your own voice you just nodded, eyes rolling back while the knot in your stomach tightened.
he was quick with his thrusts, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you came against him, a broken whine leaving you.
he was in awe with you, triggering his orgasm and cumming deep inside of you, leaning down to kiss you through it.
eventually your arms went limp, falling to the bed and feeling exhausted from the orgasm. he pulled out of you and smirked seeing his mess leak from your pretty hole.
you laid there, half asleep while he cleaned you up with some tissues before he got back into bed beside you, nuzzling up into your neck.
“that was great.” he mused with a kiss to your shoulder. “mhm~ shame we’re both leaving soon.” he bit his cheek and sighed, “i know. hopefully i can see you again.”
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
you and joshua laid in bed a bit longer, talking and snuggling until it was time for you to leave. joshua didn’t want you to be seen by his members or worse… management. but it was nice for him to forget about being an idol, even for a little bit.
he walked you back to the coliseum, giving you a quick kiss and his number before departing.
when you reached your hotel, you see your group of friends leaving with a huge smile on each of their faces. “where are you going?”
“i just saw on twitter that seventeen is here filming something! we got to go find them!” your friend sarah said. “who?”
“seventeen! the kpop group? you’ve never heard of them?” you shook your head no. she scoffed and pulled up a picture of them, trying to jog your memory only for your heart to fall in your ass seeing joshua front and center.
“they’re insanely popular. come on, let’s try to see them!”
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
a/n: i have a part two written with more idol joshua!! lmk if i should post. thank you for reading :)
