◃It started with one unlucky volunteer with each new year, chosen from a folded slip of paper piled within an old ball cap. A retriever of answers, the bringer of solutions, messenger of the unknown— whatever false title the mayor could pin to the heads of the chosen only served as empty rhetoric.
To you, at least.
Everyone else soaked up the verbiage like sponge-brained sheep, crowding their trustworthy shepherd in a state of blind trust against the strange and unusual. It felt stupid to follow, and while your intentions weren’t to do so; the nosedive you take into the gaping mouth of the pit while trying to flee the hands of a real small-town monster only made you half as rash and just a quarter-inch naive.▹
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
ཐི CHAPTERS ཋྀ
◃one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen | eighteen | nineteen | twenty | twenty one | twenty two | twenty three | twenty four | twenty five | twenty six | twenty seven | twenty eight | twenty nine | thirty | ▹
note: hello! i know you might be wondering and yes this is a repost because i accidently posted this one a little early back in april and this is the only time I'm not busy anymore so i posted it again lol
choi san and his humongous breeding kink. he takes this shit seriously. he runs the tightest program known to man trying to knock you up. he has an app that tracks your cycle and he checks it everyday religiously — regardless of the fact that he's got it memorized.
when you're ovulating, god help your soul. he has you in the meanest positions possible all while he's practically praying for his seed to take root inside of you. folding you in half is always a good option, pillow shoved under your hips to help him hit deeper. missionary is fun, doggy style even more so. every position in the book, just to keep things interesting.
his favorite has to be taking you full nelson, feet bouncing as he fucks his thick inches up into your messy cunt. kissing your shoulder as he uses you like an oversized cocksleeve; pulling you up and down, he moans, "c'mon baby, make me a daddy."
tags: dom!reader, pegging, does this count as anal? who knows!, subby seonghwa, praise kink, aftercare!!, very soft, not proofread
900 sins
you come home with a package tucked under your arm, heart beating excitedly as you set it on the bed. seonghwa glances up from his phone, eyebrows lifting at the plain box.
"what's that?" he asks, voice already lowering.
you open it in front of him, pulling out the strap-on and the bottle of lube you picked with it, "thought we could try something new tonight.. if you want?"
he stares at it for a second, cheeks flushing pink as he nods. "yeah.. okay.. i've never done that before.. but i trust you."
the both of you shed clothes, seonghwa laying back on the sheets as you buckle the harness around your hips carefully. you climb onto the bed, kissing him deeply while your fingers trail down his stomach.
"we'll go slow," you murmur against his mouth, "tell me if it's too much."
seonghwa spreads his legs a little as you warm lube between your fingers, pressing one against his entrance. the slick sounds fill the room as you circle his hole gently, feeling the tight ring of muscle flutter under your touch.
seonghwa exhales shakily, one hang gripping your shoulder as you push the tip of your finger in, tensing as you go to the first knuckle.
"fuck.. that's weird," he whispers while you add more lube, letting it drip down his skin.
you work him open slowly, scissoring your fingers while you kiss his neck, bringing your free hand up to stroke his cock. his thighs start trembling, little gasps falling from his lips as you curl your fingers just right.
"please," he whimpers as you add a third finger, "need you.. wanna kiss you while you fuck me.."
you pull your fingers out carefully, laying him back on the bed and pulling his legs over your hips, lining up the strap. you pour more lube over the toy before pressing the head against him, making seonghwa's eyes blow wide.
"breathe, baby," you whisper, pushing forward inch by inch. seonghwa groans quietly, fingers digging into your back as you sink deeper and deeper into him.
"so full," he pants as you bottom out, sweat beading on his forehead. you kiss him softly, letting your tongues slide together while you rock your hips.
you slowly go faster, pulling a little then sliding back in, finding the angle that makes his back arch. seonghwa keeps his eyes on you the whole time, chasing your mouth for more kisses between breaths.
"harder," he begs, voice husky from moaning. "please, i can take it."
you obey him and start thrusting deeper, the harness pressing against your clit every time you roll your hips. his cock leaks between you and you wrap your hand around him, stroking in time with your thrusts.
seonghwa cums with a broken moan, spilling over your fingers while his hole clenches around the strap. you keep moving through it, kissing his softly until he relaxes, breathing hard against your neck.
"hey," you whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheek. "i'm gonna pull out now, okay?"
seonghwa nods slowly and you ease back carefully, the toy sliding out with a wet sound, making him shiver. he lets out a whimper at the emptiness, thighs falling open wider on the sheets as you grab a washcloth from the nightstand.
"spread a little more for me, baby," you say softly as you kneel between his legs. he obeys and you wipe him clean gently, letting the cloth soak up the mess while your free hand strokes his thigh. "feel okay?"
"yeah.. 'm sore," he mutters, voice rough. "but good sore."
you smile as you lean down to kiss his stomach, working up his body until your mouth found his. "you did so good," you praise, lips brushing his temple. "took me so well."
Okay, but Imagine San is complaining to you, almost in a begging tone, to play with your breasts. It's like he has no other thoughts but titties. Like he needed them in order to breathe.
You are sitting in bed, readying to go to sleep for the night, but very whiny San has his head in your lap groaning and huffing. His hands are clawing at the sheets, kneading them like a cat. He would be whispering things like 'please baby, just for a few minutes' or 'come on let me feel my precious babies'. God, he is obsessed with your boobs. You are a walking stress toy to him, and he needed to use you to his advantage. So when you finally agree, it's like heaven's gates had opened.
His hands grab the hem on your shirt, tugging the fabric off quickly—cause it would just be in the way if it stayed on—. His hands fit so nicely on your chest. He can see some of your soft plump fat fit between his fingers as he squeezes. Your nipples are pressed against his palm, poking him. He pinches, jiggles, and tugs on your flesh. He seems to groan and whimper more than you as if he is enjoying it more than you. Well, that may be more true than one thinks. He starts to get rougher, pinching your nipples, pulling them tightly making you gasp out. He whimpers in response.
"S-San..." You feel the pleasure snap up your spine like an electric wire hitting water. He switched breasts, suckling on the right one, leaving the left dark red and bruised. He felt like he was going crazy as if he was going to explode from just feeling his lips around your plump boobs before pulling away with an audible pop.
"let me suck them." He said it so desperately, humping the bed like a dog in heat. He feels so overstimulated as you are, if not more. You needed to feel him every, not just on your breasts but inside you. He spread your legs wider so he could fit in between them, coming face to face with your plump tits. You let him have it, grasping his hair, tugging him closer. His lips latch on your left nipple, sucking harshly, making you let out a sharp, high-pitched moan. He moaned against your skin, swirling his tongue around your nub while he flicked your other nipple with his finger. He moaned against your skin, swirling his tongue around your nub while he flicked your other nipple with his finger.
You whimpered at the painful pleasure, bucking your hips against his stomach. He felt himself coming just from his mouth being on you as he keeps rutting down. The feel of his length pressed between his legs and the mattress is too much and yet not enough. With you, the intensity of his orgasms doesn't decrease. His white seed bursts from the head of his swollen cock each time, making his thighs and belly sticky and soaked.
"I'm sorry baby. I said five minutes but I can't need one more. Please, okay. Let me have one more minute. Can't help myself, baby, you feel so soft on my tongue, I just wanna―" He's sealed his lips around your nipples again, moaning loudly with you as he clamps down on your tit. "You got me horny and humping the bed like a bitch, fuck please baby. The things I want to do to you..."
"Fuck San!" You rasp out and he lets out a whine, pulling away and sitting back on his heels, giving you the perfect view of the mess he's made, your eyes growing wide when you see him reaching down to stroke his still hard cock. His thighs and balls glisten with his arousal as he squeezes his shaft letting some more of his cum spill down.
♡ — 𝐕𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @liaaaafixofff @chanscappuccino @nctwishmogs @threepointstogryffindor @fixon-min send a ask to be added or removed!
A/N — This absolutely sucks, im not even gonna lie to you and say that it’s worth reading. I’m in a rut of zero energy 💔.
Gamer!yeosang who prefers to play softer, more slow games.
Gamer!yeosang who gets frustrated easily whenever he plays any sort of game with Seonghwa or even Yunho.
Gamer!yeosang who takes a lot of breaks when gaming because he will genuinely start tweaking out of pure anger.
Gamer!yeosang who doesn’t yell swear words when he’s lost a match, but he does slam his hand against the table.
Gamer!yeosang who pauses mid game to go for a walk to reconnect with nature to remind himself that it is in fact just a game, and not worth choking people out.
Gamer!yeosang who has never smoked a day in his life, but he gets the urge to chain smoke whenever he’s gaming.
— “What are you doing?” “Just play your game.” “But…oh…”
Gamer!yeosang who accidentally moans into his mic after you deepthroat him. Just for there to be complete silence on the other end for the rest of the game.
Gamer!yeosang who only games with one hand so he can hold your hair with the other, arching his back off his chair as well whenever you moan around his length.
Gamer!yeosang who tries his best to focus on the game, but instead he lets out a rather needy whine when you pull off him before he cums.
Gamer!yeosang who grinds his hips up, trying to get you to suck him off again. Instead, he ends up cumming without being touched from the pent up stress he was feeling before hand.
Gamer!yeosang who says ‘have to go’ to whoever he’s gaming with when you run your tongue along his tip despite him just cumming.
Gamer!yeosang who looks at you with that look he knows is your weakness, just so you end up fucking him properly.
💌 request: ‘could you make fake texts where reader asks if they can try something new in bed (can be anything really) via text because reader is too shy to ask in person?’
note: ask and you shall receive! i’m lowkey going through my inbox instead of studying for finals… anyway, requests are open.
warnings: nsfw. mentions of edging, face sitting, choking, overstimulation, restraints, whipped cream (?), slapping, and chokeholds. one playful mention of religion in seonghwa’s.
Summary: why hunt down his own hair ties when he could just steal yours instead?
Content: fluff, kisses, no games au, Dae-ho being a hair tie thief, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!
Word count: ~ 0.9k
The drawer was almost empty again.
You frowned, pulling it open further, as if the motion would magically summon the missing hair ties back into existence. But no, there were just two lonesome bands left. Your favorite blue one—gone. The black one that never snagged—gone.
You always kept your hair ties in a little wooden drawer, nestled among your earrings. But now, as you reached for one to tie up your hair with before washing your face, you only found there were two left.
You were meticulous about these things, always buying extras and keeping them in neat little rows. And yet, they seemed to vanish.
At first, you didn’t think much of it. You figured you might’ve misplaced them or accidentally lost a few. But then, you saw him—Dae-ho, the sweet, clingy man you adored—sitting on the couch with one of your black hair ties securing his messy ponytail.
You stared for a moment, confused. “Is that… mine?”
Dae-ho looked up from his book, his lips parting slightly as he realized what you were pointing at. Then he grinned sheepishly. “Oh… yeah. I couldn’t find mine, and, well, yours was just there…”
“Dae-ho!” you laughed, more amused than annoyed. “You could’ve asked.”
“I was going to put them back,” he said, looking so guilty you almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Of course I’d notice. My stash is gone because of you.”
He frowned softly, putting the book down and opening his arms, as if begging for a hug after being scolded by you.
His hand reached up to tug at the tie in his hair, looking up at you as you made your way over to him with a small sigh. “Do you want this one back?” he asked softly, worried you might actually be upset at him.
You shook your head as his arms wrapped around you, unable to resist when he started spreading little kisses on your forehead and temple. “No, you can keep it.” you hummed.
From that moment on, it became a habit—one you found a bit endearing, if you were being honest. Whenever Dae-ho needed a hair tie, he’d raid your wooden drawer without a second thought.
Sometimes he tried to be sneaky about it, but he wasn’t exactly subtle. You’d catch him rifling through your things, his broad shoulders hunched like a child caught stealing cookies.
Other times, he didn’t bother hiding it at all, simply plucking one from the drawer with a soft grin and a quick kiss on your lips—then a kiss on your face, as if that would make you forgive him. And it always did.
He didn’t mean to always steal your hair ties, not really. It was just... easier for him to snatch one from the drawer than to hunt down his own.
You didn’t really mind. Not on most days, anyway.
One evening though, you did need a hair tie—desperately.
You were halfway through making dinner when a gust of wind from the open window sent a strand of hair into your face. Cursing under your breath, you tucked it behind your ear, only for another strand to escape. The kitchen was too hot, the recipe was more effort than you’d anticipated, and your hair, usually manageable, felt like an uncooperative child refusing to behave.
“Dae-ho!” you called, wiping your hands on a dish towel.
He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression somewhere between apologetic and guilty, as if he already knew what you called out to him about. His hair was tied back, as usual, and you could see one of your missing hair ties keeping it in place.
“Yes... love?” he asked, his voice so soft and warm it nearly melted your resolve.
“I need a hair tie,” you said, folding your arms. “And it seems you’ve taken all of mine.”
He blinked, then glanced down at his wrist. You hadn’t noticed before, but he had a spare hair tie looped around it—your hair tie. Without hesitation, he pulled it off and handed it to you, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Here,” he said. “I always keep an extra for you. Just in case.”
For a moment, you were too stunned to speak. You stared at the hair tie in his hand, then back at his face. He looked so earnest, his eyes warm and full of love. It wasn’t just that he had thought to keep a spare for you—it was the fact that he had done it so naturally, so effortlessly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, even if he had taken it from you in the first place.
You took the band, your chest tightening with a wave of affection. He stepped closer to kiss the top of your head, his arms looping around your waist. “Don’t be mad. I love you.” he murmured softly, his nose buried in your hair as he nuzzled against you.
“I love you too, you thief,” you muttered, though there was no bite to your words. How could there be, when he was wrapped around you like that? Adorable and impossible to be mad at.
── he’s a little shy for his first relationship. good thing that’s just your type.
ෆ ͜ ̩͙ f!reader x daeho. praise. body worship(?). virgin / subby bf dae. dryhumping. 18+
in the month that you’ve known daeho, it hadn’t dawned on you that you’d never seen his arms.
he usually opts for an outfit layered with a baggy jacket or long-sleeve hoodie. it’s not like he’s covering up because he’s out of shape, you can tell that much.
you’ve gotten quite acquainted with his body, in fact. particularly in this past fortnight that you’ve been dating. nothing more than just some light touches or accidental grazes — but enough to make out what he keeps under the covers. and god, do you want to rip them off.
but patience is a virtue.
daeho’s been nothing but sweet to you — being raised in a home with four older sisters will do that.
you don’t want to scare him off by escalating things, not when he’s the first man this attractive to not guilt trip you into his sheets. the first man to blush while asking you out, stammering about how there’s no pressure and if you’re not interested then he can leave you alone and pretend like—
the smile that spread across his face when you told him yes has been permanently etched into your brain. you replay the memory when you miss him.
you’re his first girlfriend, as you’ve learned. the thought of holding his hand as you show him past first base gets you all excited, but you really hadn’t done anything past kissing, and daeho hasn’t shown interest in doing anything more.
was he catholic? perhaps secretly an obsessed gooner? maybe he’s closeted. maybe a girl’s never liked him back before.
it had you a little frustrated. pent up, maybe.
you’ve tried pushing his buttons here and there: flaunting your skin with low-cut tops and watch him fight a war with himself, sitting on his lap just to feel him tense up beneath you.
daeho wouldn’t dare go further than you’re willing to. his sisters would clip him ‘round the ears for rushing a girl, and it’s not like he knows the steps past kissing anyways.
it embarrassed him. and maybe he was subconsciously covering up his body because of it — how could someone as gorgeous as you want him, when he doesn’t know the first thing about how to handle all that?
he couldn’t have been further from your actual thoughts.
one day, he showed up to your house in a coat thrown over a tank top. he’d been in bed when you had called, and changing his shirt slipped his mind in his rush to see you. he walked through your door feeling a little sheepish at the amount of bare skin showing — but it couldn’t have been more in his favour.
once your eyes took notice of the top fitting tight on his chest, your hands moved with minds of their own.
it’s how you both ended up on the bed: you straddling daeho’s lap, kisses breathy and desperate, hands eagerly shrugging the jacket from his shoulders.
your lips popped off of his so you could crane your neck back, taking in the view of his exposed arms. you nearly fucking drool.
“you okay?” he breathed, hand hovering off your waist. not touching, in case you’ve changed your mind. but he gasps when your palm closes tight around his bicep, muscles involuntarily flexing at your touch.
“fuck, dae,” you sighed. his throat bobs with a gulp. “you were hiding this from me?”
he lets out a nervous chuckle. his brain’s short-circuiting from your palms trailing up his arms, ass pressed warm against his lap — pupils swallowed in black with pure want.
your fingers ghost over his tattoo, nails lightly tracing the ink. he’s not quick enough to suppress the little noise that leaves his throat.
you’ve kissed before. hugged. held hands. but you haven’t touched quite like this. it took daeho days to recover from each move you had made on him — pulling him into your first kiss, planting his hand on your waist for him — but maybe you’d been holding back until now, because his mind could not keep up with how quick you were moving.
bless his heart, he had no clue just what you’ve wanted to do to him.
your hands gently glide over his skin till they reach the back of his neck, where your fists curl into the hair scruff. you give a light tug, just to test the waters, and you know you’ve hit a goldmine when daeho whimpers.
your mouth wastes no time crashing onto his, all teeth and tongue. you haven’t kissed him so crazed before — daeho’s got trouble keeping up.
you pull away for a second, just to pant: “you thought about this?”
you don’t wait for an answer since your lips are immediately back on his, but he’s got time to think as you practically eat his face, but your impatience gets the better of you when your hips roll against his. daeho’s soft moan into your mouth might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.
you want to hear it again, out loud this time. your lips come off his, craning his head back by the fist in his hair to watch his face twist as you rock into him again.
“have you thought about me? like this?” you repeat.
daeho’s lashes flutter as he glances down, too shy to meet your gaze — but instead seeing where your bodies were pressed firm together. you snicker when you feel the pulse of his dick, even through all the fabric layers.
he shakes his head, lips parting breathlessly. “i’ll sound like a pervert,”
“you wouldn’t. and i wanna know.”
he can’t just turn you down — not when you’re sat on top of him, making his fucking eyes roll back from just a few sways of your hips onto his already embarrassingly hard erection. so he lets out a shaky exhale.
“yeah, i did before.”
“when?” you smile, thumb caressing his cheek.
he closes his eyes when he says it. at first, you think he’s recalling a pinpoint moment.
“all the time.”
your jaw falls to the floor. as does daeho’s stomach. he thinks he’s fucked it all up, that he’s made a creep out of himself and you must be about to slap him—
you suck the air right from his lungs when your mouth mashes with his. it’s desperate and you can’t stop thinking about how he’s only getting more perfect.
“you’re so cute, dae.” you coo, encouraging him by grinding down on him hard. his hands shoot out to hold you by the hips, a breathless moan falling from his lips.
“and you’re so big, too. my handsome boy.”
your rocks pick up a steady pace, and you lean down to press a kiss to daeho’s bicep — mouth opening up to latch onto the skin, tongue swirling hot on his arm. daeho jolts at the sensation, hips twitching further up into you. he’s all compulsion right now. it’s why the words come tumbling out his mouth before he can think them.
“wanted you so much,” he sniffles out, all worked up from all the sensations you’re giving him. “i always jerked off after hanging out with you. felt like such a gross asshole,”
you raise your head to face him, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. “you’re not, dae. can’t you feel me right now?” his eyes trail down, a shaky whine leaving his lips when he watches you rut against him. “got me all worked up,”
his eyes flutter shut, focused on the feeling of your heat riding over his length. he’s so hard it fucking hurts. it’s pure luck that he didn’t cum the second you sat in his lap. he’s so sensitive, and he’s never finished as quick as when he fucks his fist with your face in mind. his imagination doesn’t do you justice — he’s leaked way too much cum in his boxers to be considered pre.
his throat’s raw from moaning shamelessly. if he’s this fucked out from clothed grinding, you cannot wait to actually feel him skin to skin. the thought makes your core pulse.
daeho’s hands start fumbling at your back, a desperate and whiney string of words falling from his mouth. you can make out enough to know he’s close, and he’s panicked.
“gonna cum for me?” you coo, giving a sharp tug of his dark locks.
“ah— don’t wanna yet,” he stammers out, palms holding your sides tight like he’s not sure if he wants to pull you closer or push you off. he groans when his dick twitches, mumbling something about how embarrassing it is that he’s close this quickly.
“dae, you’ve got me soaked.”
“really?” he pants out. you almost laugh — did he think you were just grinding on him for shits and gigs?
“i wanna feel it.” you tell him, voice breathless. “i want you to.”
but just as he nods his head, letting the balloon inside him pop — you’re hovering up off of him.
except he doesn’t have time to think before your hand is closing around his crotch, palm tight around the outline of his erection. and when you stroke him through the pants, just once? he’s gone.
daeho cums just like that: your hand closed tight on his dick, mouth coming to suck on the spot below his ear. your canine grazes the skin, and his hips buck up from it.
you give one last squeeze of his length, just for fun — grinning when he keels over, freshly sensitive. but he still whines when you retract your hand, already missing your touch.
you curl a strand of his hair around a finger, smiling at your work as you watch him catch his breath.
“we can go again,” you tell him softly. “wanna take your pants off this time?”
it’s adorable how his head ducks, blush creeping across his cheeks like he didn’t just make a mess of his pants for you already.
he nods. “please.”
mlist · taglist 〃 note. requested (kinda). wrote instead of sleeping
oooooweeeee thinking about cockwarming namgyu with your mouth but like just in an “im bored and i need something in my mouth” kinda way… does that make sense??
his shirt is pulled up just enough to reveal his navel and happy trail, his pants and boxers are low enough to reveal his cock. you’re on your side, laying your head on his lower belly with the tip of his cock in your mouth giving it little kitten licks and the occasional little suck. its a fidget toy for you while you mindlessly scroll on your phone.
you’re too busy watching those pibble rating videos (too niche??!) on instagram reels to notice the way he twitches and slightly writhes when you circle the tip of his cock with your tongue. he’s whimpering and whining and trying to keep his composure. he’s trying soooo hard to not knock that phone out of your hand and throat fuck you dry, but he knows this is only the beginning to a loooonngggg nighttttt *licks lips*
PLEASE I LOVED YOUR NAM-GYU COCKWARMING POST I BEG THE SAME SCENARIO BUT WITH THE OTHERS PLEASE
IM SO GLAD U LIKED IT!!! heres more mouth cockwarming drabbles with my big two: daeho and thanos 👅 (if u have any other specific character in mind, let me know ;))
daeho:
you're cuddled up together watching a movie and he’s so focused until he feels your hand wander under his shirt to rest at his lower belly. your fingers start to play with the small hairs that rest under his navel and reach down to his pubic area (ommfgggngjg daeho happy trail yess pleaseeee need to lick that so fucking bad)
“is this okay?” you’re asking him and when he nods his head at you furiously, you reach down to free his already hardened cock from its confines— his tip already leaking. “keep watching the movie” you tell him and he’s nodding again— softer this time. he tries to regain his focus on the movie, he really does but he’s too focused on the way you softly jerk him off after letting a glob of spit trail down your tongue and onto his cock. he’s watching the way you lay your head on his lower belly and how your hand is still softly moving against his sensitive dick.
for a few minutes, he’s able to regain his composure. that’s until he feels you take his sensitive and flushed head into your mouth. you can feel him start to writhe under you which is exactly how you wanted him. you keep slowly playing with him, letting him subconsciously know that you want to take it easy. one of his arm is propped up behind his head while the other one is reaching down to caress at your hair and your cervical spine.
you can hear him letting out light whimpers and deep breaths every time you lightly suck on the head. he's so infatuated with the way your warm mouth just rests around him and just finally when the credits of the movie start rolling, you're taking him deep in your throat.
thanos/subong:
thanos is currently sat at the desk in the corner of the room, staring at the obnoxiously large monitor adding and reviewing his newest song, and guess what! you're sat on your knees and legs under the desk in between his legs. his pants and boxers are pulled low enough just to free his cock. he knows how this works, this wouldn't be the first time you're doing this, he knows how needy you get when he's paying more attention to his music and to quote him: "lord forbid you wait until i finish editing this shit."
you're laying your head on his thigh, running your finger along his flaccid dick watching it slowly get hard while your fingernail runs across that one vein that slightly protrudes. you keep just taking it easy though, not wanting to distract him and actually wanting him to finish his song but my god how can you control yourself when you've got his semi hard fat cock in front of you.
with your head still resting on his thigh, you're slapping his dick so it comes down to bounce off your cheek. you repeat this motion until you're taking what ever you can fit of his cock in your mouth and he's letting out an airy hiss. you're repeating the motions of keeping half of him in your mouth for a few seconds before pulling him out to press a chaste kiss to the frenulum.
you're so rudely interrupted when his dick is ripped away from your hands from him pulling his chair back to reach under to grab at your face and pull you up to be at eye level with him. the night is only beginning from there!!! *wink*
a/n: im not good when it comes to trying to trying to describe a penis so i used one anatomical term because i genuinely dont know what we call that part of the dick. also this made me miss my ex trololol... hope u like !!!!!
Synopsis: It was bad enough when your roommate Nam-gyu was dealing with a hangover. But when he wakes up with a cold too, all his symptoms are combined and amplified. And, as his roommate and somewhat-friend, you felt an urge within you to take care of him, and encourage him to take proper care of himself too.
Contents: Sfw, Sickfic, mentions of drug/alcohol usage, Nam-gyu is sick as FUCK, and also very pathetic about it, he also swears like a fuckin sailor, mostly hurt/comfort with a little angst too, fluffy ending, reader is very caring
Note: I decided to write this because I see a lot of people writing Nam-gyu as a toxic asshole, and I get that, but he's so much more than that, and it's nice to acknowledge his softer side too, because he does have one. I feel like Nam-gyu needs to be loved and genuinely cared for, even if he is a bit of a dickhole. (Also the reader's lil anecdote about her former roommate is based on a personal experience of mine hehehe-)
After living with Nam-gyu as a roommate for around half a year now, you had become acquainted with the fact that this man had the immune system of a sopping wet cat. He got sick surprisingly often; at least once or twice a month he’d come down with a cold, and you'd see him curled up on the couch in his biggest hoodie, wrapped up in a blanket and surrounded by medicine boxes, throat lozenges and a huge pile of tissues, groaning to himself. And several times a week, he’d be suffering from a nasty hangover; the aftermath of a night full of vodka shots, drugs, blaring music and blinding neon lights. But one thing was for certain; you'd always end up taking care of him. However, you'd always keep it discreet, as to not hurt his pride.
And much to his misfortune, this morning was one of those mornings. This became apparent when you woke up that morning and, in your half-asleep state, heard Nam-gyu’s pained groaning through the wall, as you had expected from the moment he had stumbled back into the apartment late last night. Though what you didn't expect, however, was to hear the sounds of sneezing and muffled coughs too.
Meanwhile…
The moment Nam-gyu woke from his hazy, restless slumber, he was sure the universe hated him. He had expected to wake up horrifically nauseous, with a churning stomach, a mouth like sandpaper and an intense, pounding headache due to all his activities that previous night. But what he didn't expect was that his nose would be so stuffed up that he couldn’t breathe through it (no matter how hard he tried to), nor did he expect his throat to feel like it was coated in barbed wire, nor for the insides of his ears to ache and feel blocked, nor for his body to feel both hot and freezing at the same time. He felt like death.
He should have suspected he was getting sick from the previous day, from the moment he felt his nose running and kept having to bury it in tissues, or when he began sneezing into his sleeve on his drunken subway ride home from his shift at the club. But he didn't, his mind was simply too foggy with drink and drugs. He was used to getting sick, but this was something else. He hadn't been this sick in a long while. It was like he had a cold on steroids. He didn’t want to move or do anything at all. Didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't even have the energy to pull the covers over his head. All he wanted to do was shrivel up in bed and die. Anything was better than this awful combination of being hungover AND being sick at the same time.
"Ohhhh god... h... hah..." That was until he felt an itch inside his nose, and sneezed into his sleeve, worsening his pounding headache. Aw fuck. Feeling like his head was full of mucus, he attempted to lift his head from off his pillow. Big mistake. As he did, he felt the room start spinning, as though he were trapped on a swaying boat in the middle of a hurricane. The nausea hit him instantly, sweltering in his stomach and he felt something terribly sour stinging the back of his throat, and he let out something that sounded halfway between a cough and a gag. Fuck, he was about to throw up.
On the other hand, you had drifted back into a light snooze, until you heard frantic footsteps padding across the hallway, followed by the slam of a door, and faint sounds of vomiting. Immediately, you jumped out of bed, throwing a cardigan on over your pyjamas half-heartedly and left your bedroom.
Unsure of whether or not to check on your roommate, you stood against the door frame of your room, and cringed listening to the sounds of Nam-gyu’s heaving, and the contents of his stomach splashing against the toilet water.
Eventually, after what seemed like forever, it sounded like he had stopped puking, so after some hesitation you crept to the kitchen and filled a glass up with water right up to the top, because god knows he needs it. A LOT of it. You carefully knocked on the bathroom door, and sleepily called out “Nam-gyu…? Are you okay in there?”
After a few moments of trying to regain his stability, he responded shakily “What does it fuckin’ sound like…?” He sounded awful. His voice, usually deep and smooth like the sound of a cello, was now all croaky, and so congested that it sounded like he was plugging his nose while he spoke.
“Okay well… can I come in?” you asked. And after a few seconds, you heard him rasp out “Yeah… sure…”
Once you opened the door, you saw Nam-gyu kneeling on the bathroom floor, hunched over the side of the toilet and shakily gasping for air, with streams of drool chunky with vomit sliding down from his mouth and chin. Once he lifted his head up to look at you, you began to notice just how sick he looked. His face was pale, drawn and sweaty with fever, his eyes were glassy and half-open with lethargy, and his hair, usually soft and shiny, was now messy and greasy with strands of it falling into his face.
“Oh my god, you look terrible…” you murmured, kneeling down next to him, examining him further, your brow furrowing in concern.
Nam-gyu opened his mouth to speak, but exhaustion had already overtaken him. He instead felt a sharpness in his already parched throat and began coughing heavily into the sleeve of his hoodie. And as he did, you touched his forehead with the back of your fingers. He was burning up.
“Get off-” Nam-gyu snapped at you through coughs, feebly trying to swat your hand away from his forehead. There was nothing he wanted less than you worrying and doting over him, the idea of it made him squirm uncomfortably on the inside, it made him feel sicker than he already did.
"Okay, well I got you some water..." you murmured, picking the glass of water up that you had placed at the side of the sink. Without thinking, Nam-gyu snatched the glass from out of your hand and began to down it as if he had walked miles through the Sahara. Jesus, he was thirsty. The water was drained from the glass in seconds. To him, though swallowing anything felt like needles tearing the inside his throat, the water tasted like liquid gold.
“Here, you should go back to bed.” You told him, holding your hand out to him to help him to his feet. Avoiding eye contact with you, he pushed your hand out the way, and instead leaned on the edge of the sink for support. However, he could barely stand up, due to how intensely he felt the world was spinning, and he was already swaying, close to falling. After a few seconds of consideration, he took up your offer, placing his shaky hand into yours and lifting himself up.
That didn't last long, and he collapsed against you, to the point where you stumbled and nearly toppled down beneath his sudden weight, until you caught hold of him, and put your arm around his slender waist, letting him lean his head on your shoulder, his inky black hair tickling your collarbone, and began slowly leading him back to his room. Nam-gyu's breath stunk badly of alcohol and vomit (as the poor guy could only breathe shakily through his mouth), so you held your own breath to keep yourself from going through the same nausea that he was.
Once the two of you got back to his room, you took slower steps in an attempt to not trip over any of his scattered clothes on the floor. He should really pick those up at some point.... Anyway, you gently kicked his clothes out of the way of the floor and brought him to his bed, and he collapsed instantly onto the mattress and curled up in a foetal position, clearly in pain and freezing, shivering violently. So you took his bedcovers, and one of his blankets, and draped them over him, making sure he's cosy, and making sure his curtains were shut tightly. "Be right back-" you whispered before scooting out of his room.
When you returned to his room with the glass of water for him in one hand and a small cold compress to try and break his fever in the other, you saw that Nam-gyu had buried himself under his sheets, trying to retain what little warmth he felt he had left, and trying to protect his eyes from the slit of light burning from the curtains. He was softly groaning to himself.
"Hey, um... Gyu?" you nudged the mountain of covers gently, until the sheets wrinkled and he turned around to look at you, his under-eyes puffy and a nauseated frown on his features. “Here, I brought you some more water, and a washcloth to try and bring your fever down…” you softly spoke to him, trying not to speak too loud and worsen his symptoms. He slowly turned his head to look at the cup of water being placed down at his bedside. Normally he was fiercely independent, hating when people looked after him. It made him feel weak and incapable. But right now, what with how shitty he felt, he just didn't care.
He stared up at you for a few moments, before speaking-
"Thank you..." he mumbled, sighing. He may be a bit of a slob but at least he has manners. He slowly turned over to his side, closing his tired eyes and letting tendrils of his hair fall into his face as he croaked out, rather pathetically "I feel like 'm dying... My head feels like s'gonna explode and I can't even sleep it off... I'm so nauseous... my throat hurts and I can barely fuckin' breathe... everything's blocked..." before he coughed into his fist.
There were times when he was sick that he'd tell you that he was dying, but just as a silly joke, a "I'm kinda dying right now" sort of thing. But hearing him say it now, though you knew he was just dealing with a particularly bad cold, made worse by an unfortunate hangover, and that he'd be okay in a few days, made your heart ache for the poor guy more than it should.
Anyway, you bring out the thermometer, and sweep some of his hair out of the way of his face so you can keep track of his fever. Despite the way he scrunched up his face and weakly protested, you hold the thermometer to his forehead, until it beeps, revealing his temperature. "38.6 Celsius. That's not good-" You read it out to him calmly, as though trying to reassure him in some way. It doesn't. He groans miserably.
"I need a cigarette..." he then slurred, leaning over to open his bedside drawer painfully slowly to find his pack of cigarettes, albeit his blurry vision and his whole body limp with exhaustion. Before he could reach for them, however, he felt himself get stopped when you gently took his hand and pushed it away. You had seen him smoking on the balcony before while he was sick, and it didn't really do him any favours. Sure it relaxed him but it also made him double over in coughs.
"Huhhh, the fuck are you doing? Get off my hand-" he gazed up at you with tired eyes, his brow furrowing.
"Sorry, it's just that don't think it'd be good for you to smoke right now, it'll just make your throat worse, and besides, it's breaking the lease to smoke indoors."
He glared at you weakly. "What are you, my fucking mom? I'm a grown ass man, don't tell me what t- ...h-hah..." His voice trailed off before he could retort further. He paused for a moment, his face scrunching a little, before he sneezed into his sleeve. He groaned in total disgust with himself, and though you tried not to, you couldn't help but cringe a little yourself.
"I know, I'm not trying to act like your mother, I'm only trying to help." You replied, sheepishly handing him a box of tissues.
"Well you're not fuckin' helping..." Nam-gyu grumbled thickly, yanking a few tissues out of the box and forcefully blowing his nose into them. The sound of it was disgusting. "I can't do shit here clearly-" he continued, sniffling and collapsing wearily over the edge of his bed. He could barely muster up the energy to argue with you. "Dunno if it occurred to you that I feel awful..." he moaned, coughing again.
"I can go and get you some medicine?" You offered, plugging in the humidifier, watching billows of steam rising from it.
After a few tries, he lifted himself up a little and rolled back onto his pillow, and his eyes lit up and he smirked crookedly at the mention of drugs. “Can you just get me some of the good stuff instead? That would work better for me…”
“Legal medicine, Gyu.” You rolled your eyes at him, but you felt a chuckle rattle in your chest, and you couldn’t help feeling amused at his sudden change of demeanour at the slightest mention of drugs, as much as it concerned you too. As you gently placed the cold cloth onto his forehead, he winced, and inhaled sharply (through his mouth) at the sensation but withdrew a long sigh once he became accustomed to it. The coolness of it soothed his burning skin.
"You’re such a little goody-two-shoes..." he remarked, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pain and congestion in his sinuses.
“Yeah and you have the world’s worst immune system.” You teased him on your way out of the room. And as you did, you hear him mutter a "fuck off" under his breath. Charming.
-------------
Once you had returned to the kitchen, you stood idly for a second, wanting to make some lunch for your roommate but trying to conjure up an idea on what would make him feel better. Nam-gyu’s diet was... not the greatest, so to speak, and didn’t really bother with healthy eating as much as you did, no matter how much fruit you bought, or made healthier meals for the two of you. No wonder he was always sick in some way…
After a few seconds of thought, you rummaged through the pantry and found a pack of mild chicken ramyeon that you could make a soup with.
Some time had passed, and you stood near the stove, absent-mindedly stirring the soup, watching the noodles follow the motion of the fork like a school of fish, as the broth gradually starts to bubble with warmth. Despite the sharp sound of Nam-gyu’s coughing from down the hallway, you felt yourself get somewhat hypnotised by your own stirring. As you did, you began to ponder over the past six months.
Living with Nam-gyu as your roommate was far from easy, due to how unruly, and at times inconsiderate he was, and how argumentative he could be towards you. He could barely keep his room clean, he rarely cooked for himself, as he was usually too lazy or too high, and so you would cook an extra portion of food to give to him, even if he never asked you to. And there were times where he'd return late at night from the club, too drugged up to tell the difference between your room and his, and he'd stumble into your room and switch on the light, startling you awake and sobering him up into realisation for one moment. And as groggy and agitated as you’d be with your sudden awakening, you'd get out of bed and direct him to his own room, help him under the covers and he'd pass out the moment his head hit the pillow.
However, within the six months of living together, the two of you found yourselves growing a little bit closer each day. From those lazy mornings where you’d sleepily chat over cups of coffee at the kitchen table, to those movie nights where you’d order pizza and take turns choosing what to watch, and perhaps the occasional midnight smoking-blunts-and-shit-talking sessions with him. Maybe with something a little stronger, if it was the weekend and you didn't have work the next morning.
This is because, in spite of his flaws, you had always cared deeply about him. You were always patient with him (or at least, you put in your best efforts to be as patient as you could), even during the times you felt like you were on the end of your tether with him.
This is because you were one of those rare people who saw him. Not the drugs, nor the alcohol, but just… Nam-gyu. Through all the masks, all the personas, all the false versions of him he’s put on, you’ve seen right through all of that. He was your friend.
BUZZ BUZZ. You were snapped out of your reverie by the sound of your phone vibrating with a text. Blinking yourself back into focus, you picked up the phone and read the notification. It was from Nam-gyu.
"Yo whats taking so long?" the message read.
Reading this, you audibly sighed and called to him from the kitchen. “You know you can just call me from your room, Gyu? And anyways, I’m just in the kitchen, I’m making you some lunch, I’ll be like 5 minutes at most.”
And within a few seconds, you had received another text from him, which read: "I did try but my throat hurts too much and I sound like shit anyway" Fair enough.
And you kept your word, and within five minutes, you had got done prepping his meal. Some simple chicken ramyeon soup, and you decided to pair it with some toast on the side, a few strawberries in a little bowl, (one of the fruits he DID eat), and a bottle of gatorade. Hey presto, a meal that was perfect for colds, AND for hangovers.
When you came back into his room with a tray of food and medicine in your grasp, Nam-gyu still seemed to be pretty weak and floppy, but a little more upright than before. Perhaps the humidifier really was made of magic. He was laying in bed texting on his phone, his bed littered with used tissues and his eyes squinting due to the light, his hood up, his glasses on and his nose rubbed red. The light of his phone illuminating his face, and casting shadows on the wall behind him against the darkness of his room. You couldn’t help bit chuckle softly about how silly he looked.
You could tell from the crooked grin stretched on his face that he was most likely texting his best friend Choi Su-bong, also known as Thanos; Club Pentagon’s frequent guest rapper. Your roommate had often brought him over to hang out, and he had been exactly as you’d imagined him; loud, obnoxious, and red-eyed with weed. You didn’t hate Su-bong in the slightest, in fact you usually welcomed him, but you wished that maybe Nam-gyu would tell you when he was bringing his friends over, so they wouldn’t stumble in on you changing by accident or startle you by pounding on the bathroom door when you were in the midst of showering, not realising you were in there, or startle you awake at 5 in the morning with blaring music.
“Oh there you are,” Gyu rasped out once he noticed you coming in. Though his voice was so hoarse it was almost gone, you could still hear the sarcasm laced in his tone before he turned back to his phone, “Was starting to think you’d passed out or somethi-“ he couldn’t finish and launched into a fit of coughs, his head pounding painfully at each cough he expelled.
"No, I was just making you something to eat-" you replied, carefully setting the tray down onto his bed at the side of him. He slowly leaned up, being careful not to worsen the vertigo he already felt, albeit the room already spinning as he did, and the many tissues he had used all cascaded off the cliffside of his bed as he leaned up.
"The soup will help with your cold, and the bread will settle your stomach and help with your hangover; it's like killing two birds with one stone." You grinned softly, hints of pride weaved into your words. And to your surprise, he nodded gently and murmured a quick "Thanks", and began digging in right away. He hadn't realised how ravenous he was until the first bite of food hit his lips.
He didn't say much, but you could tell from the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes blinked slowly, he was enjoying his food.
"It's best you don't get wasted like that for a few days now-" you told him off lightly, grinning.
"Yep, yep, spare me the lecture-" he replied mid-mouthful, waving his hand at you irritably.
"Okay, well I'll be in the living room, just call me if you need anything-" but as you were about to leave, you heard his voice rasp out "Hey, wait-"
"Can you, uh..." He cleared his throat, "Can you just stay for a bit?" he asked you quietly, feeling his words trail off with embarrassment.
"Yeah, I can stay for a bit, just try not to get me sick too..." you responded, chuckling and bringing Nam-gyu's swivel chair from his desk to the side of his bed so you could have somewhere to sit. And while he wouldn't dare show it externally, Gyu was grateful you were here with him.
----
And so, for the next hour, the two of you just sat and watched whatever Nam-gyu had put on Netflix. The room was blanketed with the warmth from the humidifier and the dulled sound of the television, and the occasional sound of your roommate sniffling or coughing. Gyu had laid back down, having taken the ibuprofen, and finished his meal, and you sat cross-legged beside his bed, enjoying some of your own snacks.
You were right, the meal DID help line his stomach, and the soup helped soothe his throat and loosen the gunk in his sinuses a little bit. However, your roommate couldn’t focus on the show, and just stared at the screen. He couldn’t tell if it was his sickness clouding his mind and causing his thoughts to dismantle the moment he could form them, or if it were the odd feeling of heaviness he had felt in his chest since you had come back into the room. Maybe it was just the medicine kicking in, but he felt... soft. Tender. And he hated it. Absolutely hated it. It felt like behind his aching eyes, a floodgate full of tears were forming, but he'd rather swim in a vat of acid than let them spill right now.
When he first moved in with you, he tried to ignore you as much as he could. Always staying out for hours at a time, only talking to you when absolutely necessary. He didn't want to find himself getting close to a total stranger.
But during the 6 months of living together, he gradually began to notice you a little more. From the way you'd smile and wave at him when you saw him, to when you'd softly sing to yourself while cooking dinner, and how you'd subtly make two portions of food on purpose so he could have some too. The way your hair hung messy as you sipped your coffee sleepily in the mornings. How you'd always ask him how he was doing, and sometimes he'd respond with a shrug and a nonchalant "hm", and other times he'd rant on and on about the shitheads he had to deal with at the club. And you'd listen to his every word, nodding along, occasionally muttering "that guy sounds like a bastard" if Nam-gyu had dealt with such that night. Nobody ever truly listened to him the way you did.
When his lungs were filled up with cigarette smoke, seeing you every day was like a breath of fresh air, like the gentle fiery glow of the sunrise after a night full of blinding neon lights, the soothing melody after the ringing in his ears from the blaring music. You felt like home to him. He'd never dream of saying any of this out loud though, but it was the truth. It was just nested deep down inside him.
He knew he didn't deserve this. Such tender treatment from you. It's not like he was a very good roommate. He barely helped around the house, he rarely stopped to ask you about your day the way you asked about his. There were even a few occasions where, after a tough shift at the club, he had taken it out on you, shouting at you for no reason. And then, recalling all these hazy memories, he could finally pinpoint what he felt. Shame.
“Why do you care so much about me?" He asked, out of the blue, taking you by surprise.
After a few seconds of hesitation, you responded "Well... I just do." with a shrug of your shoulders before turning back to the TV screen.
"I'm an asshole... and a shitty roommate..." he mumbled, hoping for some reason the hoarseness in his voice would quieten it to the point you couldn't hear him. "You don't... deserve that,"
But, unfortunately for him, you did hear all of this, and you stared at him for a few seconds, completely unprepared and caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. But hearing what he was saying triggered a past memory of yours.
"Can I tell you something, Gyu?" you asked him, to which he sniffled and tilted his head to look at you. "Before we became roommates, I used to live with a hoarder as a roommate. She kept on ordering things every other day, and all of her shit would clutter up the whole apartment, making it disgusting to live in. There was little to no space and we even had a few bug infestations because of her. So you're definitely NOT the worst roommate I've ever had-" you chuckled on that last line. "Damn..." Nam-gyu croaked, let out a weak chuckle too, in spite of his sore throat and constant cough.
"And yeah, you can be a bit of a dick sometimes, but you still deserve to be taken care of when you need it. You're my friend." This one sentence, though short, was enough to make Gyu feel like his heart had both warmed up and shattered at the same time. He can't remember the last time someone was so tender towards him. The lump in his throat grew, and his eyes began to burn, and suddenly the room was blurrier than before.
"I'm gonna go to sleep now, can you get out?" He mumbled quickly, pulling the bedcovers up, trying to hide the fact he was about to break. Just when he thought he couldn't get any more vulnerable...
But it was too late. You had already seen the way his eyes became shiny with tears, and his voice wobbling, but you decided not to comment, as you knew he would hate it if you saw him cry. "Okay, I'll be in the living room, but just let me know if you need anything."
And as soon as you got up and left the room, Nam-gyu pulled the covers over his head and grabbed the nearly-empty tissue box, and finally let the tears finally fall from his eyes. Quiet sobs racked his body, his tears streaming sideways across his face into his pillow. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone as nice, or as patient as you. No, maybe that was just his fever getting to him. Or maybe not? The man cried to himself, burying his runny nose into tissues until eventually he drifted off to an incoherent sleep, his mouth gaping open for breath.
-----
Over the next couple of days, things had gotten a little better for him, day by day. He was no longer hungover or bedridden, but was still lounging round the apartment like a sneezing, sniffling zombie in his black hoodie and boxers. Meanwhile, you would keep the apartment nice and warm, often make herbal tea for him to help soothe his raw throat, and leaving a box of cold medicine and a note for him on the counter before you leave for work. And though for the most part, he tried to tough it out (it was just a cold, after all), he did appreciate you taking care of him. It made him feel... loved. Seen. Appreciated.
Eventually, the worst had passed, and Nam-gyu finally got over his cold, with only a slight cough lingering with him. However, what you hadn’t anticipated for was catching your roommate's cold yourself, and waking up with the same fever, stuffy nose, headache and persistent dry coughs that he had just recovered from.
"Aw shit, uh... sorry I got you sick." He mumbled awkwardly, once he saw you slumped over at the table, trying to eat your breakfast through the exhaustion and the lack of appetite you had.
"It's fine, I can deal wi-" you couldn't even finish your sentence before launching into a coughing fit.
He stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, not knowing what to do, before he backed away a little and scooted back to his bedroom. Feeling a little hurt, you watched after him, assuming that he was just going back to bed, or quarantining himself away from you to avoid dealing with you and your illness. However, you understood his reaction, due to how bad his own bout of sickness was, so you just murmured to yourself, "That's just typical", before returning to your breakfast. It tasted like nothing, and felt like razors against your throat, so you grimaced at each bite.
But, to your surprise, a few seconds later, he returned, carrying a large blanket which draped over his arms, cascading down to the floor. "Here," he muttered, unravelling the blanket and before wrapping it around your shoulders like a cape.
"...Huh?" You managed to rasp out, your mind foggy and struggling to keep up. You had thought he had gone back to his room, not wanting to deal with your germs.
"You took care of me when I felt like shit, s'only fair." He replied, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. And to say this caught you off guard would be an understatement.
With tired eyes, you watched as he made his way to the kettle, filling it up and placing it back on the stove. Neither of you saying a word, you watched absent-mindedly as he prepared tea, with Nam-gyu occasionally coughing into his sleeve.
"Here-" he muttered, placing down a mug of hot ginger tea in front of you quickly, avoiding eye contact with you, before walking over to the couch and sitting down to scroll his phone. And you began to feel your eyes burn, and your vision blur.
"Thank you, Gyu..." you sniffled, wiping at your face with your sleeve, though in your fevered state, you felt like you could cry forever.
"Don't mention it." He responded quickly, his eyes not leaving his phone, but his face darkening a little.
Now, some people would call this the bare minimum, but coming from someone like Nam-gyu, it was a big deal. But still, he was your roommate. And your roommate could be a bit of a dick here and there.
But, in his own way, he was still your friend no less.
Thank you for reading this lovelies !! I really did enjoy writing this, I'm such a sucker for sickfics and soft Gyu
