pairing: Dark!John Logan x Housewife!Reader x Dark!Dean Di Laurentis
synopsis: As the foundation of your marriage continues to crack, the two hockey players next door become harder to ignore, and they're determined to not deny their feelings for you.
warnings: MxFxM, infidelity, emotional affair, married FMC, obsessive MMCs, love triangle, dual POV, voyeuristic themes, emotional manipulation, sexual content 18+ PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
word count: 5.8k
off campus masterlist
You had so many hobbies, so many skills you’d mastered, and yet you found yourself staring at the wall all the time. Literally, you were watching paint dry. The Bob Ross video you’d watched as a tutorial for your newest painting had ended, and another had started playing on your laptop. The seaside cabin you’d painted was nice, although not nearly as skilled as Bob’s. It was only ten in the morning, and you were being lulled into an early nap already, thanks to his soothing voice.
Breakfast was the same as usual. Avocado toast and an overeasy egg. You ate by yourself at the wooden dining table in the nook of the kitchen. The last time you’d had breakfast with another human might’ve been when you first moved into this house eight months ago with your husband. There was a short week before he started his new job at Briar, conducting marine science research for Briar’s College of Life Sciences. It was a celebratory breakfast for buying your first house and the new life you were starting.
Now that he had a tenured position, things would be different. He would have more control over the classes he taught and the places he would travel for research. No more busywork or covering topics he didn’t care about. He’d be able to make more time for you. He promised it would be a matter of time before you were pregnant, and that would finally give you something more to focus on. Except, he chose research expeditions further away than he promised, and the two of you hadn’t had enough sex in the past eight months to make a baby.
There were a few other housewives on the street you lived on. A lot of them still seemed to be warming up to you, but you did everything in your power to get close to them. You attended the Pilates classes, you brought homemade pasta salads to their barbecues, and you were even in the process of joining the local Rotary club chapter. Most of them wanted to talk about their marriages and seemed to dislike that you had little to offer on that topic of conversation. Your husband never attended their parties, he didn’t make friends with their spouses, and he was never home longer than a weekend.
You’d married him because he was smart and passionate about his career. These days, you wonder why exactly he married you.
Besides the housewives, a lot of college students lived on your road. Houses bought by rich parents that they either rented out or let their kids stay in.
Your doorbell wakes you out of your daydream. The floor of your 19th-century cottage creaked under your bare feet as you made your way through the kitchen, past the living room, and towards your front door. You’re not expecting a package, and your first instinct tells you that it’s another door-to-door salesman. You peek through the cream curtains that cover the door’s sidelights. He’s a little younger than you, his skin tanned, his hair long and dark. He’s wearing a Carhartt sweatshirt, work jeans, and a toolbox hangs at his side.
You debate opening the door for a moment, until he catches a glimpse of you peeking at him. Mentally cursing, you take a step back, take a deep breath, and then open your front door.
“Hey, I’m Logan.” He smiles, teeth white, and you fully get to take in how handsome he is. It’s almost comical. Like you’re in a cheesy porno where he’s a handsome stranger, and you’re a lonely, bored housewife. Not far off, actually. “Your husband said I could come by around this time and take a look at your bathroom sink upstairs.”
“Oh,” You realize then how crazy you must look. Looking down at your hands, you realize you have paint splattered all over your arms and your apron. You smile politely back at him, as if to appear less insane, but you’re almost sure it has the opposite effect: “He didn’t mention…”
Before you can even finish that sentence, your phone pings in your pocket. You reach into the pockets of your house dress and fish out your phone.
Rick: Handyman coming at 11:30.
Your husband sends you that text at approximately 11:35. You try not to let the frustration you feel instantly show on your face. Logan seems kind, and you trust your husband enough to find a decent, non-serial-killer handyman. “I’m Y/N,” You introduce yourself. “Come in. Sorry, I was painting this morning …I don’t usually look like this.”
Unfortunately, you realize too late that you’ve invited him to look you over. Your dress shows entirely too much of your chest and arms because you prefer to be comfortable when you’re home. And you had exactly no warning that you’d be meeting a stranger. You let him inside, closing the door behind him.
“No, no, don’t worry about it. You look …” He coughs awkwardly, and you cringe, assuming he was holding back a lie, “I live right next door, actually, so I’ve seen you…”
“More put together than this,” You finish. “That’s good, at least. So you’re one of the hockey players.”
His face starts to feel more familiar, although, from your perspective, there’s usually a million college kids coming and going from that house.
“Yup, one of them. Hope we’re not too loud for you.”
“Oh, no. I’m asleep by eight and a heavy sleeper.” You answer honestly, a little too genuinely, and worry for a moment that he’ll find your response strange.
“A great combination.” He chuckles, and you don’t expect to feel so weird about someone else thinking you’re funny. You don’t get much out of Rick, usually, probably because he’s so tired when you see him. “That’s what I look for in a neighbor.”
You laugh together for that short moment until you realize you’re probably holding him up: “Anyways, um, let me show you upstairs.” Logan follows you up the staircase to the second floor. Your house is smaller than the hockey boys’, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms in total. Still, much too big for you and your husband. If things turned around soon, you’d be making one of these rooms a nursery.
You lead him to the upstairs bathroom, which thankfully isn’t too messy. You had so much free time on your hands that it wasn’t hard to keep your house clean. You grab a bra and a pair of Rick’s underwear that’s strewn haphazardly on the floor and tuck the items behind your back.
Logan sets down his toolkit on the bathroom counter as you start to explain, “It seems like it’s getting clogged almost every week. We’ll snake the drain, and it’ll get better for a few days, and then it happens again.”
“Hmm, clog is probably deeper than you think,” He says, wheels seemingly turning in his mind, “I got it. Shouldn’t take too long.”
“Great, um, I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.” He smiles at you, and it genuinely makes your body feel warm. You have to force your feet to move past him.
You clean up the paint on your hands in the kitchen sink, scrubbing a little too hard, as if that will get rid of that warm feeling.
“Goddamn, man.” Dean groans as he looks out the dining room window. Logan is doing his best to concentrate on fixing a wobbly dining room chair. Well, it’s more than wobbly given the fact that Beau had attempted to use it as a weapon against Dean after an intense game of chess. “You have to see this. I think she’s about to get into downward dog. That’s it, baby …a little further …just like that.”
Dean’s nose is practically against the glass now as he spies on you working out in your backyard. Logan doesn’t blame him for looking; he himself had gotten a look at that butter-yellow matching set you were wearing, but he knew better than to look longer than a few seconds.
So he attempts and fails to ignore Dean.
“Oh fuck,” Dean continues, and Logan rolls his eyes. “Her ass is perfect. Genuinely. And she’s pretty flexible. Oh yeah, I gotta have that.”
“Dean, please,” Logan warns.
“Maybe I can go over and give her some tips. You can be the handyman. I’ll be the personal trainer.”
“You’re being creepier than usual,” Logan says, tightening the leg on the chair before he flips it back over. “You don’t have a puck bunny you can call or something?”
“I get it. You think you’ve got some sort of claim on her,” Dean surmises. “You’d tell me if you got any action, right?”
“You’d be the last person to know, actually.” Dean turns around in response to Logan’s remark, and his face turns into a pout.
He walks over, plants his hands on the table, and leans closer. “Don’t joke, dude. What was she like? Does she sound as sexy as she looks?”
Logan keeps his face straight, pretending as if your voice hadn’t been on replay in his mind, and that most of his thoughts weren’t consumed by you. “She sounded, I don’t know, cute.”
“Cute, not sexy, hmm …I like that more for some reason. Did she seem into you?”
“She’s married.”
Dean laughs, “Ha! Who gives a fuck?”
“I do, and she definitely gives a fuck,” Logan answers, his head shaking in disapproval. “Why would she hook up with one of us? We’re her neighbors. And we attend the same college her husband works at.”
“Because she’s so obviously touch-starved. A woman needs her release, John. I can see it in her eyes; he’s not fucking her. And if he is fucking her, she’s not finishing.”
“There’s no way–”
“You saw her up close. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Logan’s lips open to argue back, but he closes them after only a short moment. Dean claimed to be a “sex whisperer,” and Logan was nowhere close to that level of delusional, but thinking back on it, you did seem kind of …lonely.
“Exactly,” Dean smirks, turning back around and walking over to the window, “She barely leaves the house, and he’s never there. His very own angel on earth, and he doesn’t give a shit. It’s a shame.”
Logan doesn’t disagree with Dean. It’s the first thing he’s said today that makes sense.
“I can’t see her tits as well from this far. If you were to describe them in terms of size, how many handfuls would you say?”
Tucker’s voice is the one that responds this time, appearing from the kitchen, a tray of mini sandwiches in his hands: “Dean, what the fuck are you talking about?”
A motivational speaker talks to you in your earbuds as you finish your post-dinner walk around the neighborhood. The podcast is focused on increasing your confidence and independence. The middle-aged woman tells an inspirational story about how she found herself again after raising her children. How she turned her life around, got healthy, and started her own small business. It’s not the first of these podcasts that you’ve listened to. Based on your previous history, you often let yourself get motivated for days at a time before you fall back into your old habits.
You were more determined this time; that’s what made it different. The past weekend set your new mission in motion. Rick got home from a trip to a laboratory in New Jersey, and you’d spent almost the entire weekend together. You planned two home-cooked meals to make him each day and picked a local restaurant to go out to every night. He promised you that the two of you would actually explore this new town months ago, but when it came time again to be a man of his word, he failed again.
He was too tired to do any of it. You’d even planned a hiking trip with a huge lake and lovely scenery, but he’d made an excuse about wanting to lie in bed with you all day.
It was time for you to find some more satisfaction in doing things by yourself.
“If you want to change your life, you have to speak that new life into existence. Say it to yourself. I am going to change my life.”
Whispering to yourself, you repeated, “I am going to change my life.”
“I do not live for other people. I live for myself.”
“I live for myself–” You took a step off the sidewalk, a couple of blocks from your house, when a speeding car decided to blow through a stop sign. You’re a split second from a painful death when strong arms suddenly wrap around your torso and lift you off the ground.
Your back against their chest, you go from being scared for your life to being frightened that you’d been grabbed by a predator. Luckily, the possible predator sets you back down on your feet. You whip around, panicked, to find yourself staring back at a sweaty, sculpted chest.
“Jesus,” You whisper, reaching to take out one of your earbuds, as your eyes trail up to meet Thor’s himself because that’s exactly who grabbed you. Blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and sweat dripping down his brow that somehow still makes him look better.
“Your music might be a little too loud.” He pops out his own earbuds, and you realize you’ve interrupted his run.
“Right,” You stare at him, breathless, and then realize his hand is still on your waist, “I’m sorry, um, thank you.”
You step back from him, “Anytime. Dean, I live next door.”
Another handsome hockey player, obviously. The hockey gods had been smiling upon you lately.
“Y/N.” You introduced yourself. “You’re one of Logan’s roommates.”
“Yeah, best friend, teammate, practically brothers, taught him everything he knows.”
You smile awkwardly, “I should let you finish your run.”
“I was just about to cool down, actually; let me walk you home.”
You figure that he’s already held you tonight; walking you home wouldn’t be much more intimate.
As you accept the polite offer from Dean, you wonder if Logan talked about you to him. Maybe they collectively felt bad for you. Like you might care for an elderly neighbor. You weren’t much older than them, having married Rick young, but marriage makes you feel like you’ve lived a longer life.
“Your husband gone already?”
“Uh, yeah, there’s a big conference in New York. He goes every year.”
“Cool,” He says, although he sounds completely bored, and you find yourself wanting to be more interesting for him, “You ever go with him?”
“No, not really.” He’s never actually asked you to come, you realize. “I’m such a homebody.”
“When did you meet him?”
“Four years ago. I was in undergrad for veterinary science, and he was finishing his doctorate at the time.”
“You graduated?”
“Yeah,” You say, “Then we got married, and we had to move a few times so he could get a good position as a researcher.”
“But you wanted to be a veterinarian, right? When are you gonna go back to school?”
“I’m not sure. We’ve been trying for a ….” You pause when you realize you’re sharing a little too much information. “I’m just still figuring things out.
“Gotcha,” Dean replies, his voice seemingly free of judgement. You come upon the hockey house a few moments later. There are several cars parked out front, and you can hear rock music flowing from an open window and out onto the street. “I mean, I hear Briar’s veterinary program is pretty good.”
“There’s always time.” You hear Rick’s voice in your head as the words leave your lips. “What about you? Logan is obviously good at fixing things. What’s your talent? I mean, other than hockey.”
“I mean, I’m pretty good with my hands too.” You look up to see Dean has a devilish smirk on his lips. You get that warm feeling again. This time, there’s a bit of fear inside of you too: “I could show you some time. Maybe tonight?”
You laugh nervously, and you don’t want to assume his meaning, but he continues to stare down at you before he licks his lips. You should be offended, you should feel angry and tell him off, but all you can feel is nervous.
“I think that …you should get to your party, Dean.”
“We can have a party of our own.”
He reaches to touch your hip again, and on instinct you place your hand on top of his, to remove it. Except you don’t move his hand. You feel how large his hand is, and then your mind starts to wander to bad, bad things.
“I have to go.” You turn and almost trip as you start to skitter away. “Um, thanks for walking me.”
“I’ll see you around, honey,” He calls after you, but you don’t dare turn around.
What the fuck was that?
The power went out last night after a big thunderstorm. Which is great; you’re already a ball of anxiety, and you weren’t getting any sleep anyway. You tossed and turned in your bed, thinking about Dean and how he was obviously flirting with you last night.
By the time early morning comes, you start to worry, because you can look out your window and see the hockey house has power. You decide to text Rick.
Y/N: Power went out last night. Still not back on.
You wait for a reply for an hour and a half.
Y/N: Hello?
You start to worry all the food in your fridge will start to spoil, and now your phone is close to dying.
Another hour passes; you’ve called Rick three times to no avail, and your battery is at five percent.
You finally get a text back.
Rick: I’m in a meeting. Something wrong?
Did he even read your message?
At that point, you know what you have to do.
Unfortunately, a shirtless Dean is the one who answers the door when you show up at the hockey house.
“I knew you’d be back for me.”
“I’m looking for Logan.”
“Ouch,” Dean feigns jealousy, “And you’re pissed about something.”
“I’m not!” You raise your voice higher than you have in maybe…years. That only seems to make Dean smile harder, “Is Logan here?”
Dean debates something in his head that doesn’t allow him to answer your question. Moments later, Logan appears, bandana holding back his curls and his clothes giving you the impression that he’d been working out. “Dude, go away.” He pushes at Dean’s muscular chest, and Dean finally relents. He winks at you before he walks away, which again gives you that scared, warm feeling. “What’s wrong?”
The look of concern that Logan has for you is new. “My power’s still out. I tried flipping the breaker. I don’t know what’s wrong. Rick’s not answering his phone; he’s busy, and I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay, I got you.” He steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder, and you hadn’t realized how bad you wanted to be comforted. “Let me go grab my tools. I’ll take a look.”
You nod and let out a breath. “Thank you.”
Unbeknownst to you, your house has a backup generator in the backyard.
It takes approximately ten minutes for Logan to fix your issue. You’re waiting in the kitchen, lights starting to flicker back on, when he comes through the back door. “Good news, powers on. Bad news, how long have your gutters looked like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like completely detached from your roof. You’ve got rainwater pouring down on the foundation.”
You sigh, a little defeated, “Shoot, I hadn't noticed. I’ll text Rick.”
“No worries, I’ll fix it. You shouldn’t have to worry about this stuff, anyway.”
“I seriously can’t ask you to do that.”
He only grins in response, as if it’s no big deal. “I like fixing things. And this place needs some work.”
For a long moment, you consider it. You’re not sure how Rick would feel about you getting a bunch of work on the house done and him inevitably having to foot the bill. It needed to be done, though, and he was never here enough to notice anything was wrong.
“Now that the power's back on, I’m gonna make you lunch. And cookies. Do you like chocolate chip?”
He’s gorgeous, you think, when he looks kindly at you, “I love chocolate chip.”
It starts with the gutters and spirals into much more. There are lights on the exterior of the house that need replacing.
“I’ve been meaning to go to the hardware store.”
You hate going into places like that alone.
The chains that hold up your porch swing are rusting. “These would’ve snapped soon,” Logan says.
“Rick’s been meaning to replace those.”
All of your trees in the backyard are overgrown.
Your smoke detector has been chirping for so long that you’ve been tuning it out for at least a month.
You spend most of the day in the kitchen, cooking food from your fridge that had thawed to prevent any of it from spoiling. The bay windows in your kitchen allow you a great view of Logan’s handiwork. You take special notice of his exposed biceps and how the muscle flexes with his heavy lifting. By the late afternoon, Logan had completed several projects and he’d laid out plans for fixing about ten other things.
You insist he stop for the day and take a break to try your chocolate chip cookies. You sit next to him at your kitchen table, a spread of food before him, and wait patiently as he takes a bite.
“Wow, that’s good.” He compliments your baking, which you’re also not used to. “You really didn’t have to make all of this.”
“It’s my way of saying thank you. I mean, I’ll have Rick send you money for everything, but until then. And you can share with your roommates, of course.”
“Where’d you learn how to cook?”
You shrug, “Just practice, I guess. I’ve had to cook for myself since I was little.”
He nods, a shared understanding in his eyes: “Well, I appreciate it.”
He reaches out to touch your hand, and the two of you seem to have a conversation with your eyes. You feel like you’re in high school again with butterflies in your stomach. Even if the feeling is temporary, you’re relishing it. He must feel so bad for you. How desperate did you look right now?
Then, like a magnet, something pulls you together. You both feel it at the same time. You lean in. Logan leans in further until your lips are together.
Fuck.
Your chair skids across the tile, loudly, as you force yourself up and away.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Logan, wordlessly, stands up after you. His eyes are intently focused on your lips. He closes the distance between you, arms wrapping around your back, and his head dipping low to kiss you again.
“Don’t be sorry,” He says huskily, your lips vibrating from the timbre of his voice.
Pushing you against the counter, he kisses you harder. His hand grabs hold of your neck, pulling your face into his. He kisses down your chin, and then he tilts your head to have better access to your neck. Passionate kisses against the sensitive skin of your neck leave you trying to suppress your moans.
“We can’t. Please stop.”
He lifts you onto the counter in response. With a grunt, he roughly pulls at your dress, lifting until he can feel the seam of your underwear. You reach forward, trying to grab your panties, to keep him from pulling them down.
“Logan, please–”
His determined brown eyes stare back at yours. “You need this. I know you do, baby.”
One thing leads to another. Just how a quick house call led to a whole day being spent together. Your panties end up on the kitchen floor, your thighs are spread wide, and Logan’s head is between your legs.
“I’ll take care of you,” He moans against your center, “Don’t worry.”
Your head tilts back, and your chest heaves as Logan leads you to the first orgasm you’ve had from oral sex. And the first orgasm you’ve had in months.
It’s now Logan’s turn to stare out the window. This time, it’s his bedroom window that faces out towards your garage. He catches a glimpse of your husband returning. You greet him barefoot, lavender colored dress flowing as he lifts you into his arms and spins you around.
You’ve been radio silent since he left your house last week. You said you’d text him the next time he could come over to help you with the house. That text never came and now your husband was back now for who knows how long. And you looked excited to see him.
“If your goal was to make her hornier for her husband, I think you’ve succeeded.”
Dean says from Logan’s doorway.
“Shut up.”
“You still haven’t told me the details.”
“Because I’m not an asshole, unlike you.”
Dean walks in, shuts the door, and then makes himself comfortable on Logan’s bed.
“Whatever you did, it obviously wasn’t enough. So let’s brainstorm together on how we’re gonna fix this problem.”
“We?” Logan scoffs, “Fuck off.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want to hear my idea?”
Logan goes quiet as he watches you again from the window. You wrap your legs around Rick and let him carry you inside.
“I don’t get it,” Logan whispers.
“Tell me, I can’t help unless you tell me.”
Fist hitting the wall in frustration, Logan groans. “Dean, I’m serious; this has to stay between us.”
“I promise.” Dean says, holding out his pink, “Pinky promise?"
Coming towards the bed, Logan pushes his hand away. “Okay …um, we hooked up. After I did all that shit for her house, we made out and then I … uh…I ate her out.”
“She came?”
“Yes, she came. And then she felt horrible for cheating on her husband, and it kind of killed the mood, to be honest. I just thought if she let me in a little bit more, then we could move past that.”
Dean nods his head, taking in the information. “This is going to stay between us, I promise. But I need you to hear me out.”
Logan takes a seat beside Dean on the bed, elbows against his knees, as the weight of the situation starts to press down on him.
“What’s your big idea?”
“After her husband leaves again, you go back over there again. Seduce her again, but this time you’re gonna fuck her. No gentleman shit. Caveman sex.”
“She doesn’t seem like the type.” Logan starts to brush the idea off immediately.
“Oh, she’s definitely the type. She just needs coaxing. And, of course, I can come for moral support.”
“Dean–”
“Hear me out. You said you would hear me out. Imagine you go over there and just lay all your cards out on the table. She loves her husband, but it’s so goddamn obvious he’s not right for her. She wants you; she’s already shown you that. Then she has to face the fact that you know how she really feels.”
Logan hates when Dean makes a good point. Maybe he really does know more about relationships than he lets on.
“Think about what you want, Logan. If you want to run into the sunset with her, that might not be what she’s ready for. Take the situation for what it is. Our beautiful, sexy fucking neighbor wants you, Logan. So take her.”
The Briar U Hawks win their game Saturday night, which leads to a huge party at the hockey house. The largest of the entire semester. The starting line is drinking beers on the back porch when Logan catches a glimpse through his neighbor's window.
You're alone, eating dinner at your dining table. Logan downs the rest of the beer before he decides, “I’m gonna go over there.”
“You got this, man.” Dean taps his shoulder, “No gentleman shit.”
Dean watches from the porch as the whole scene plays out. For moral support, of course. You’re wearing one of those cute dresses you always wear. This one is floral printed and milkmaid style. God, Logan’s a lucky man, Dean thinks. He’d give anything to lift that dress and fuck you as you deserve.
Logan knocks on your back door, and Dean brushes off a few puck bunnies before he leans against the wooden porch railing.
You open the door for him, and Logan doesn’t make it past the threshold. Dean imagines the conversation in his head, taking hints from your body language.
Logan probably says something lame like I can’t stop thinking about you.
You have to stop thinking about me. I’m married.
That’s not what you said the last time I was here.
I was lonely, and I wasn’t thinking straight.
Logan stuffs his hands in the pockets of his Carhartt jacket. He’s being quiet now.
He’s fumbling. What kind of wingman would Dean be if he let that happen?
The rowdy party fades into the background of his mind, and he decides to slip out while no one's watching. He walks around the hockey house towards the fence line that separates the two properties.
Sneaking through your gate, Dean slowly walks towards the back of your house. He can hear your conversation now.
“I think you should go. I took advantage of you. You should be someone more like you.”
“You didn’t. I like you. Like a lot.”
“I’m married, Logan. I’m sorry if I got your hopes up.”
“Logan!” Dean appears, interrupting your conversation. Beer swinging in his hands, he walks up the back porch. Up close, he can see that slutty fucking dress. You’re begging to be fucked wearing that. “You disappeared, man. Now I can see why, though. Holy fuck, you look good, honey.”
“What are you doing?” You and Logan seem to ask simultaneously.
“Came to check on you guys. I’m thoughtful like that.” Wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulder, Dean fills your back doorway, “So, Y/N, Logan tells me your husband fucking sucks.”
“Logan?” She shoots him an accusing look, “Why would you–”
“It’s pretty fucking obvious to like the entire neighborhood. And my friend here has so kindly stepped up and taken care of business for you. You’ve been nice to him up until this point, and I think he deserves better.”
“Dean–”
“I’m serious. Why don’t you show him a little more fucking gratitude?”
You stare back at Dean with wide eyes. Part of you seems to genuinely understand his point. Why were you, all of a sudden, you were acting like Logan was nothing to you? “And do what?”
“You can start by getting on your knees.”
Your eyes swirl emotion, lust, and fear, mixing.
“Dean–” You interrupt Logan’s protest.
Something has clearly shifted inside of you because you say, “Both of you, come in and close the door.”
Dean and Logan exchange glances. It’s a quick- are we doing this? They nod at each other before following your instructions. Dean enters your house for the first time and follows your lead as you walk towards the living room.
“I am grateful, Logan.” You don’t turn to face them as you say this. Dean’s eyes are busy raking over you, “I feel like I don’t know what I need sometimes. But I really needed you last week. I haven’t felt like that …ever.”
You're hugging yourself, hands making comforting strokes down your upper arms. Dean urges Logan forward, finishing off his beer before he makes himself comfortable in the armchair that sits perpendicular to the couch.
Dean’s length is already hard and struggling against the fabric of his jeans. Your voice is so desperate. Dean was right all along, of course, and you were clearly touch-starved. Pleasure starved. When you finally turn around to face Logan, he dips his head down to kiss you.
The two of you push and pull, hungry, before Logan falls against the couch, you on top of him. Logan lifts the fabric of your dress, grabbing your ass, which Dean is grateful for. He’s more than happy to be the onlooker in the corner. It’s like his favorite porno is playing right in front of him.
Much to Dean's surprise, Logan groans out the words, “Get on your knees.”
It takes you back, but not enough for you to ignore his command. You climb down between his knees and your eyes wander over to Dean’s. Dean leans forward, his jeans straining even more, “Show him how grateful you are, honey. Show him how much of a dirty girl you are.”
Dean can’t help it; the look you give him in response pushes him to free himself from his jeans. You’re much better at sucking Logan off than Dean expects. Grabbing a handful of your hair in his hands, Logan forces your mouth up and down.
“Lift that dress up, honey,” Dean requests, and you oblige even though you’re struggling for air. “Fuck.”
Dean enjoys how messy it makes you. Your hair is tangled, your eyes are watering, and spit is dripping down your face. “You can’t come in her mouth, John. I bet she’s so grateful she’ll let you come somewhere else.”
“Crawl over to Dean, baby. I’m gonna take you from behind.”
And crawl you do. Dean swears he hears angels singing above.
“Messy girl,” Dean breathes heavily, happy to take Logan’s sloppy seconds, “You wanna make me feel good too?”
You nod, teary-eyed, “Please?”
“So polite,” Dean pulls you forward, “Of course you can, honey.”
Logan fully takes off his jeans and kneels behind you. Palming himself, he feels how wet you are. He doesn’t even need to spit. You’re starting to take Dean in your mouth when he pushes inside of you.
“She can handle it. She hasn’t been fucked hard in so long. Even if it hurts, she’s so grateful; she won't mind.”
After the first few strokes, Logan doesn’t waste time easing you into it.
The grip on your hips is tight and unforgiving. The deeper Logan goes, the deeper you have to take Dean. You’re choking and moaning at the same time.
Dean finishes first, down your throat, but he doesn’t let you rest. Logan isn’t done, and the last thing Dean wants is for you to lay your head down in his lap. Grabbing your face, he forces you to keep looking forward. “Almost there. You’re doing so well. Dirty fucking girl.” You reach your peak with Logan behind you and Dean’s fingers in your mouth.
Logan grabs onto your shoulder, pulling you back towards him, as he makes his final and deepest thrusts.
“Fuck, honey.”
“Fuck, baby.”
Reblog with your thoughts on the chapter to be added to my off campus taglist :)
synopsis: Garrett solves your roommate problem for you, but even though he gets you closer to him, you start to wonder how far he's willing to go to keep you there.
warnings: soft!dark!garrett, possessiveness, overprotectiveness, controlling relationship dynamic, innocent reader, shower spicy scene, choking, dub/con 18+ PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
word count: 3.4k
off campus masterlist
As soon as the bus got back to Briar, the next morning, Garrett Graham started his mission. Last night, he’d decided you and Paige were done. He was confident he knew what was best for you in this situation. You could’ve gotten hurt last night over Paige’s petty bullshit. It baffled him, especially now that he’d gotten to know you. He wouldn’t be exaggerating to say you’d never even hurt a fly.
He’d barely slept last night; he didn’t even close his eyes until your location showed that you’d made it to the hockey house with Jules.
Garrett knew he couldn’t hurt Paige; that was a line he’d never imagine crossing, but her boyfriend was free game. So when he and Dean knocked on yours and Paige’s apartment door that morning, still clad in their tracksuits, and a shirtless Ethan opened the door, Garrett wasted no time.
Pushing at his chest, Garrett pulls Ethan deeper into the apartment. Ethan’s smile fades quickly before the confusion surfaces on his features. Dean locks the door behind them. “What’s going on? Y/N’s not here.”
Garrett had every intention of maintaining his composure enough to make a clear threat, but he finds his blood is already boiling, and his breathing is erratic. “She’s not. She’s safe. No thanks to your fucking girlfriend.”
The three men crowd in the living room or Y/N’s makeshift bedroom. Garrett pushes him, hard, and Ethan stumbles until he falls into the blinds of the far window. “What the fuck?”
Paige appears from the bedroom, but Dean is already blocking her from intervening.
"Whoa. Stay back."
“Dean?” She asks, flabbergasted, “Garrett? Stop! What are you doing?”
Garrett sees read. Ethan charges back at him in an attempt to defend himself. Garrett stumbles, but gains his bearings quickly before grabbing Ethan by his shirt and forcing him down. The coffee table rattles at the impact. Then Garrett’s fists start to fly, each blow serving as retaliation for all the harm Paige caused you. All he could imagine was you sitting alone on those steps last night. How broken you must’ve felt.
Bruising his own fists, Garrett leaves him with a black eye, a bruised nose, and a busted lip. Only stopping when Dean grabs him and lifts him off of the older guy. “Okay, buddy, that’s enough.” He feels frustrated, initially, but the entire reason he brought Dean was to prevent overkill. And as another voice to convince Paige to back down and stay down.
It doesn’t feel like enough, but Garrett feels satisfaction when Paige kneels to expect her boyfriend’s injuries. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She shouts, and it’s completely rich coming from her.
“What’s wrong with me? You left her stranded last night.”
Paige’s lips part, hands running nervously through her red hair, “I ….I totally forgot. It was an accident —”
“Bullshit,” Garret cursed, “You forgot? You forgot the girl you’ve been using for money, your maid, as your fucking pet you drag around.”
“Y/N is one of my best friends!”
“And how did your best friend end up all alone last night while you ignored every single one of her calls?”
Paige doesn’t answer.
“Not anymore. The two of you are done. She’s not living here anymore. We’re taking her shit, and you’re not gonna call her or text her ever again.”
“Are you serious?” Paige asks, incredulous, “You can’t make that decision for her.”
“Fucking watching me, “ Garrett only continues, his voice rising as he grows more furious, “If you see her on campus, you’re gonna walk the other way, or you’re not gonna like what I do next. Do you understand that?”
“Dean?” As a last-ditch effort, she looks to Dean for some kind of validation: “You know this is crazy, right?”
“I would drop it if I were you. Be smart, Paige. You don’t want this to become a bigger conversation.”
Her relationship with Dean had overlapped with her and Ethan’s on multiple occasions. Ethan’s not able to pick up on the implied threat because of the massive headache Garrett’s given him, but Paige catches his meaning quickly.
"Dean," she says again, quieter this time.
"Drop it."
With a huff, she returned to tending Ethan, shaking his shoulders in an attempt to get him to focus.
Garrett gives Dean an impressed look. “We gonna grab Bunny’s stuff or what?” Dean asks, chin tilting towards the hallway closet.
“Yeah.”
Garrett doesn’t hesitate.
The process should take longer, but naturally, not having a real room means you can’t have many belongings. He almost didn’t believe it when you’d told him she’d turned the coat closet into your personal one. Now he could visualize the handful of hangers, your backpack tucked into the corner, and the storage bins stacked with trinkets that you had no room to display.
You’d smiled when you explained that arrangement.
Garrett’s jaw clenches at the thought.
You jolt up from your spot on Garrett’s bed when he shoves his bedroom door open.
“Shit, I thought you’d be awake.”
You’d been curled up on top of his comforter, still in your clothes from last night. “No, no, I’m awake.” You rush out, looking him over, blue tracksuit and all. His forehead is slightly sweaty, and his breath is heavy. He was an all-star athlete, which ruled out the possibility that he was winded from walking up the stairs. You noticed your quilted, cotton duffle bag that you often used as your overnight bag in his hands.
There’s a question on your lips, but you push it down. Garrett sets down your bag near the edge of the bed before he comes closer, sitting down beside you on his bed.
“Are you okay?” He grabs you by your chin as his face leans closer. He tilts your head to each side to inspect you. You're sure your eyes are puffy from crying yourself to sleep, but there was no reason you’d be bruised. No one bothered you at the restaurant, and Jules came to get you as soon as they could. It was the early hours of the morning by the time you’d made it back, but you were fine, thanks to Garrett.
“I’m fine. Thank you…for last night,” You say quietly, sincerely, because you’re mostly just embarrassed at this point that last night even happened. He tilts your chin up, and his eyes search yours before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. You’re not sure when you’ll get used to that.
“I just want you to be safe,” Garrett says against your lips, his hand moving from your chin to your arm and then down towards your waist. “You know how you agreed that you would let me take care of you?”
Your heartbeat quickens at the thought of that promise and that moment you shared in his car. “Yes.”
“Last night was a prime example of why I want you to rely on me. To trust me.”
With him this close, you see every emotion swirling in his eyes. He’s deadly serious. “I-I do trust you. I promise.”
“Trust would be calling me as soon as you knew something was wrong.”
Your throat hurts. You didn’t think you had any tears left to cry, but you feel them threatening to fall again. “I didn’t I-I…I thought she would come.” Your voice cracks, “I’m sorry.”
Garrett’s lips press into a thin line of frustration. You wait desperately for him to say it’s okay, to relieve you of this feeling of impending doom. You don’t think you can take it if he’s mad at you. It’s already killing you to think about Paige and what a disaster your relationship is turning out to be.
Besides her, Garrett was the only friend you had here. “You promised me you would let me take care of you.”
Your stomach hurts.
“I will,” You assure him, nodding your head. “I want you to.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I want you to take care of me.”
"You need me?"
"I need you."
Garrett seals your promise with another kiss. That sinking feeling fades as you melt into Garrett’s arms. He pulls you into his lap, squeezing your body against his, and there’s a long moment where he’s petting your hair as you rest your head on his shoulder. You feel better like this. Your heart doesn’t hurt as much.
For the first time, you consider a future that doesn’t revolve around work and school. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to care about something–someone else. You’d always done everything yourself. It might not be so bad to rely on someone else.
As if he could sense where your mind was wandering. “You don’t have to worry about any of it anymore.”
“What do you mean?” You ask, your voice small, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket.
“We got all your stuff from your apartment. All of it’s in the spare bedroom now. A real bedroom.”
Your body stiffens as you lift your head from his shoulders. “What? Did Paige see you?”
“Paige isn’t going to do anything, Bunny.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t …it wouldn’t be fair–” The panic starts to build again. You meet his eyes, and they’re swirling again. His grip on you tightens, and you understand that there’s a fine line between this side of him and something beneath the surface. “Was she mad?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Garrett shakes his head, jaw flexing. “You’re not giving her any more money. You will sleep in a real bed, and you won’t ask her for anything ever again. Fuck her. Do you understand?”
You don’t let yourself fully comprehend the full weight of his words and decide to take the path of least resistance. “Yes, Garrett.”
“Good. I smell like a bus. Let’s shower together.”
“Together?”
“Uh huh.” Garrett pats your bottom playfully, “This is your house now.”
“I can’t stay here for free.”
“I just said you could.”
“But–” You stop yourself, now realizing the pattern. Nothing with him was a negotiation. You didn’t make your own suggestions. You followed his lead. You could worry if Garrett told you to worry. If not, then maybe it wasn’t something to freak out about. “Okay. The guys don’t mind?”
“‘Course not. They love you, Bunny.”
You wish you could believe him. Sure, everyone was nice to you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around why Garrett was interested in you and had seemingly started to focus all his attention on you. It was even harder to understand why his friends would like you.
The events of last night and this morning, all of the new revelations made, led up to you showering with Garrett.
The two of you stood in the upstairs bathroom, steam slowly rising from the shower as you watched Garrett peel off the clothes he'd slept in. When he turned around, his expression shifted into something resembling disappointment.
You were still fully dressed, your arms wrapped tightly around your torso, looking seconds away from curling up in the corner and crying.
“It’s a lot. All of this is a lot, Garrett.”
Paige.
The fact that all your things were now packed into his guestroom.
Him.
He approaches you, carefully, as if herding a scared animal. He shushes you. “It’s a lot,” He confirms. “Change is hard. Fall a part of you want. I’m here for you.”
You nodded, heart heavy. “Lift your arms, baby.”
He undresses you slowly, lifting your crewneck above your head and then helping you out of your leggings. Your underwear and bra come next. You don’t meet his eyes the entire time. You focus on his chest, tan and sculpted.
You notice his bruised knuckles for the first time.
“Your hands?”
“From the game,” He answers quickly, matter-of-fact.
You can’t help it, an “I’m sorry” escapes from your lips as he unhooks your bra. You cover your chest with your arms as soon as your breasts are exposed to the air.
Garret tsks at the sound of you apologizing for your appearance. “Don’t, Bunny.”
Don’t apologize.
Don’t cover yourself from me.
His meaning is easy to understand. You let your arms fall back to your side, and then Garrett pulls down your underwear. He grabs your hand, wrapping your smaller one gently in his, and he guides your naked body towards the shower. You can see all of him, just like he can see all of you, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to make it through being so close to him.
Garrett is a lot of man. The magnitude of him hadn’t fully set in until now, when there were absolutely no more secrets between the two of you.
He lets you stand in front of him, and the majority of the shower is spent with Garrett’s hands roaming over your skin. He lathers your skin with body wash, and you do your best to accept the gentleness. If there were something he didn’t like about your body, he wouldn’t be touching you this way. He pays extra special attention to your nipples, his thumbs constantly rubbing over the peaks of your chest, hands squeezing at their fullness.
You feel warmth spreading under your skin, especially in your center. You squeezed your lips tightly together to keep a desperate moan from escaping you. In an attempt to get your bearings, to allow yourself to think clearly, you turn around and look at Garrett for the first time since you entered the bathroom.
He’s focused, and then you feel his hardness poking against your stomach. “I’m sorry,” You say automatically, and you cringe at yourself.
“Don’t, Bunny,” He warns again; this time, he quiets you by placing his hands around your throat.
Smooth and controlled, Garrett presses you against the wall, his grip tightening.
With wide eyes, you stare back at him, but you’re not sure what version of Garret you’re seeing now. He crashes his lips against yours shortly after that. His knees between your legs, his hands keeping you pinned, he explores your mouth with his tongue.
You’re not sure how you’re breathing at all. You feel lightheaded, but that somehow only makes his kiss feel better.
He leaves you no room to wiggle away when he reaches between your legs. “Garrett, please,” You whimper against his lips, “I can’t–”
“I know you can,” He grunts back. “I want to see you.”
Thick fingers explore your center. He squeezes your neck whenever you try to close your eyes.
“Look at me, Bunny.”
“Good girl.”
“You know what I want to see.”
He makes slow, consistent, agonizing circles over your most sensitive area. He increases his pressure when your lips part in a gasp. He reads your body so carefully that it’s as if your body reaches its crescendo as soon as he wills it. You don’t think he can choke you any harder, but you find yourself gasping for air as you let out helpless, shaking sounds.
“Jesus, fuck, get on your knees, baby.”
You’re still shaking and breathing heavy, riding out your own wave of pleasure. Your knees are against the shower floor shortly after Garrett demands it. His fingers tangle in your hair.
“Keep looking. Look at what you do to me, Bunny.”
There’s little work involved. All it seems to take is your face looking up at him. You watch as he touches himself, slow movements, and then rapid ones.
“Fuck.”
Groaning, falling hard over the edge, he paints your lips and your chest. Although you’re overwhelmed by the sight of it and then the feeling, you don’t dare take your eyes away from him.
The spare bedroom has a full-sized bed, and you find your sheets and comforter already decorating it. There’s a bay window on the furthest wall with plenty of room for all the things you might want to display. The closet is three times the size of your old one, and there’s an old wooden dresser Garrett said you could also use. The walls are bare, and there are old moving boxes in the corner, but it’s perfect. And it’s yours, which you’re not fully sure has sunk in yet.
Over the next week, Garrett helps you settle in, and the two of you step into a new routine. You ride to campus together, Garrett drives you to work when he can, and when he can’t, you usually end up with Jules or Beau.
You see Paige outside of the College of Education building before class one day, talking with one of her friends, and as soon as you work up the courage to walk up to her, she spots you. Her face falls instantly. She turns away from you, says goodbye to her friend, and actually crosses the street.
You’re surprised Paige hasn’t sent you an angry text yet.
Part of you wondered what exactly Garrett had said to her. When he told her that you were moving in, was she sad? Did she try to defend your friendship? Maybe she was so pissed that she’d never talk to you again.
Hours later, after your Literacy class, you walk out of the education building with the members of your group project. “We’re gonna study at the main library for the midterm tomorrow, Y/N, if you want to join.” Your classmate, Ben, tells you. His dark hair and sharp facial features contrast with his prescription glasses and boyish personality.
You should ask Garrett first. “Oh, okay, I’ll let you know.”
Another one of your classmates, Sydney, adds on, “No, you should come, Y/N. We can start brainstorming ideas for lesson plans.”
You smile politely. You had no other excuse except for Garrett, and you had a feeling they might give you a strange look if you told them you were asking Garrett Graham for permission to study with them.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Good, it’s a plan,” She chirps.
“If you need a ride or something, I got you,” Ben decides to add. His eyes are kind, and he seems to sense your hesitation about coming.
“No,” You say a little too quickly, “I’ll have a ride. Um, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You turn on your heels quickly, walking down a brick staircase towards the parking lot.
Garrett’s got practice tonight, but he said he’d drop you home before he had to leave. You find his car in the front row, but he’s not inside; he’s leaning against the driver’s door.
“Hey, Bunny.” He smiles, and you’re immediately relieved he’s in a good mood. “You look pretty.”
Your cheeks heat with embarrassment: “You saw me this morning.” He was actually the one who told you to pair your white sneakers with your denim jacket.
“And somehow you look better than before.”
Garrett grabs your chin and leans down to kiss you. The kiss is short-lived because seconds later, a male voice is calling your name. When you turn around, Ben is jogging towards the two of you. You inhale sharply and your nerves spike.
“This is yours, right?” He approaches with his hands stretched towards you; the teddy bear keychain you’d had attached to your bag forever is in his hands. “Must’ve fallen off.”
Speechless, you reach out to accept it. You part your mouth to force out a statement of gratitude, but it never comes.
Garrett breaks through the awkward silence, reaching out to shake Ben’s hand. “Hey, man, I’m Garrett. Y/N’s boyfriend.”
“Of course I know you. That was an insane game against Harvard, man. I’m Ben, we have a few classes together.”
“Good to meet you,” Garrett says, friendly.
For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re going crazy.
“Yeah, you too. You guys have a good night. See you tomorrow, Y/N.”
“Yeah,” Is all you can manage.
The drive back to the hockey house is too quiet. You squeeze the teddy bear charm in your hand. You’re the one who breaks the silence five minutes later. “I told some of my classmates I would come study at the library tomorrow night. We have that midterm Friday, and we also have this group project coming up.”
“Mmhm,” Garrett hums.
“If that’s okay with you.”
“It’s school, Y/N, of course it’s okay with me.”
You let out a small breath, “Okay. I just thought … never mind.”
“What’s his deal, though? That’s the guy who keeps offering you rides?”
“No, it’s been like two times. I think he’s just being nice.”
“Is a teddy bear that fucking precious that he needs to chase you down?”
“I don’t know. It might’ve been weirder if he held onto it … right?”
Garrett only hums in response.
“You’ve never called yourself my boyfriend before.”
“Felt right.”
“So that means…”
“What do you think it means, Bunny?” Garrett reaches across the console, his large hand enveloping your thigh.
“That I’m your girlfriend?”
Garrett smirks at you, “You’re everything to me, Bunny.”
yayyyy gf bunny :) reblogs and comments are much appreciated :):):):)
summary: The day had been going extremely well for Seungkwan. It was his sister’s wedding, his family is currently in Seoul, and Jihyun—who was already an unofficial member of the family— was beside him through it all. Unfortunately for him, however, his girlfriend is extremely beautiful, effortlessly charming, and completely capable of turning everyone’s heads the moment she walked into the venue.
timeline: may 2026
wc: 5.24k
warning: slightly suggestive, public intimacy
╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ # 𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚 masterlist
The wedding hall was already busy when Seungkwan and Jihyun arrived.
They two directly came from their shared apartment since they had a schedule last night and came home a bit late. Jihyun did her own hair and make-up, as well as Seungkwan’s styling for the day.
Staff members were busy arranging the flower arrangements inside the venue, photographers were already setting up their equipment, and close relatives of the bride and groom had already started arriving, greeting each other warmly.
Meanwhile, Seungkwan looked like he has been smiling nonstop ever since they left their apartment.
“Careful.” he said softly while holding Jihyun’s hand, helping her get out of their car.
As they walked across the lobby, Seungkwan suddenly bent forward and whispered to Jihyun, “You look really pretty today”, his eyes literally shining as he looked at her.
Jihyun looked at him and smiled immediately, lightly slapping his arm. “What do you mean? You literally watched me get ready earlier.”
“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you again.” he said, giggling as he tightened his hold around her hand.
Jihyun giggled as her face turned a soft shade of pink, clearly flustered at his compliment.
The two walked hand in hand towards the private hall where his family was already waiting.
The moment they entered, they were automatically welcomed by a very excited voice.
“Omo, Jihyun-ah!” Seungkwan’s mother immediately greeted, as she walked towards the two.
Before Seungkwan could even greet his mother properly, she was already pulling Jihyun towards her as she hugged her affectionately, to which Jihyun also returned as she greets his mom warmly.
“Aigoo, you’re so pretty today too,” she said, as she fixed the loose strands of hair near Jihyun’s face. “Seriously… our Jihyun is too pretty, really..”
“Eomma,” Seungkwan said, his tone already complaining, while pouting. “How about me? I’m here too.”
That’s when his mother finally let go of Jihyun and turned to him. “Of course, you look good too”, she said.
“It’s just that Jihyun looks slightly prettier.”
“Wah..” he said, exhaling.
Jihyun burst out laughing beside him while Seungkwan stared at the two of them in betrayal.
“You raised me for twenty-eight years, but you prefer Jihyun more than me?” he said, still pouting.
“Ahh, that’s okay! Don’t be too dramatic.” his mother said casually. She left the two for a while as she greeted other relatives.
“Unbelievable.”
Jihyun laughed harder as Seungkwan continued sulking beside her.
Honestly, none of this was unusual anymore.
Over the years, Seungkwan’s family have grown extremely close to Jihyun to the point where she naturally blended into every family gathering without effort. His parents adored her openly, his sisters treated her like an actual family, and even his relatives were casual with her because they often go to Jeju together.
At this point, the only thing technically separating her from officially being part of the family was that piece of paper called ‘marriage certificate’ and the fact that the public still didn’t know they were dating.
“Oh! Jihyun is here today!” One of Seungkwan’s aunts said as she approached them with a bright smile before lightly patting Seungkwan’s arm teasingly.
“Is it safe to say that the next wedding we’ll be attending would be yours?” she said with a teasing smile as she looked at the two.
The moment those words left her mouth, Seungkwan nearly choked. “Auntie!” he yelped immediately.
Meanwhile, Jihyun’s eyes widened before she burst into laughter beside him.
His aunt looked between them in confusion. “What? Not yet?” she asked, as if disappointed that her favorite nephew is not yet married.
“Well.. maybe not yet immediately, but soon.” Seungkwan answered, his face and ears slowly getting red. Jihyun nodded slowly beside him as well.
His aunt smiled and nodded before walking away casually, completely unaware that she nearly caused Seungkwan to have a cardiac arrest on the spot.
The teasing happened again when his cousins arrived. Others asked them when the wedding bells would ring for the both of them, while some literally called Jihyun Dongseo and Sae-eonnie, which are used to address a cousin’s wife.
This was one of the usual happenings whenever their family sees the two, whether it was his family or hers. The constant questioning of when they were getting married.
The two have always answered vaguely, simply saying ‘soon’, or even just smiling whenever the topic is brought up by someone.
What they didn’t know is that Jihyun and Seungkwan have already talked about it. But for now, that information is just for the two of them.
Jihyun continued giggling beside Seungkwan as she teased him. “Your face looks really red, Oppa. You look like a very ripe tangerine right now.”
“Stop it!” he said, whining, to which Jihyun laughed harder at.
He pouted at her for a moment before suddenly wrapping his arms around her, gently burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Jihyun laughed softly at the gesture and returned his hug. “Okay~ Sorry about that.” She said softly as she rubbed her hands that were resting on his back.
Seungkwan broke the hug and stared at her, as if memorizing her face, before sighing dramatically under his breath.
From the moment Seungkwan saw her earlier that morning wearing the soft champagne-colored dress she picked specifically for his sister’s wedding, he already knew that today would be dangerous for his sanity.
She looked extremely pretty today. And not just that, seeing her blend well with his family is making him feel extremely emotional. Not to mention that they’re currently at his sister’s wedding.
Before he could spiral further into his thoughts, Jihyun suddenly reached up to his hair and fixed it slightly. “You okay?” She said as he smiled at him.
His gaze stayed on her face the entire time. “Yes.” He answered, smiling at her. His hands came up to cradle the side of her neck before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Let’s go?”
Jihyun hummed and nodded. Seungkwan reached for her hand and held it gently as they walked towards the Ceremony Hall.
They were walking hand in hand, when Seungkwan suddenly spoke. “Stay beside me today, okay?” he said cutely, making Jihyun smile.
“Why?”
Seungkwan stared at her for another second before answering, “Because.. You look too pretty today.”
Jihyun’s expression instantly broke into an embarrassed laughter. “Yah! Stop it!”
“I’m serious tho?” Seungkwan said, and smiled to himself after watching her fail to hide her shy expression.
At that moment, Seungkwan felt genuinely happy. It was a good day—his sister’s wedding, after all. It was a day meant for celebration.
Unfortunately for him, not all the guests had arrived yet.
By the time the wedding ceremony officially ended and the reception began, the wedding hall transformed into something much livelier.
Soft music filled the hall while the guests slowly dispersed towards the buffet area, greeting one another warmly as they reached a glass of champagne. Some have already started grabbing food from the table, while others have remained seated on their seats.
The atmosphere became much more relaxed, as the sound of people’s laughter and interaction filled the space.
However, unfortunately for Seungkwan, this is where his suffering begins.
Oh wait. Scratch that. His suffering began way earlier, during the ceremony.
Originally, he planned on sitting with Jihyun at the front, together with his mom, during the ceremony. It completely slipped his mind that she wasn’t officially part of the family, hence she was seated with the members while Seungkwan remained closer to his family for most of the official program.
And even during the ceremony itself, he already kept glancing towards the members’ table every few minutes to check on her.
Unfortunately for Seungkwan, that seating arrangement continued up until the reception in the Dining Hall. The members were grouped into two, seated together, while Seungkwan was seated with his family.
Meanwhile, Jihyun was completely unaware.
She sat comfortably beside the members the entire time, occasionally laughing quietly at what the members were talking about while Seungkwan watched her from afar, eager to finally sit with her and the members.
At one point, their eyes met for a second across the hall. Jihyun smiled at Seungkwan, to which he smiled back and nodded, as if reassuring her he’s doing fine.
His gaze lingered at her as she resumed talking to the members, when suddenly, something made his smile disappear immediately.
Someone approached Jihyun.
At first it was okay. He bowed and introduced himself. But then, he even went to the extent of leaning down the table just to talk to her. Completely ignoring the other members seated within the same table.
At that time, Mingyu, Dokyeom, Jeonghan, and Shua who was seated with her were already looking at the guy, weirded out by the situation.
The guy keeps talking to Jihyun, saying that he has always wanted to meet her, and that she looks really pretty in person.
Jeonghan, who was looking at him the entire time, couldn't help but to step up. “Hello?” he said, sarcastically masked in a playful tone.
The guys looked up, and that was when he finally acknowledged the members. As if embarrassed, he bid goodbye to the table and walked away.
Seungkwan who was watching the entire time muttered under his breath, “...Who’s that?”
“What?”
Seungkwan turned his gaze to his cousin and immediately dismissed their question. “Oh– Nothing.”
His eyes landed back to the guy that was talking to Jihyun.
Upon observation, it seems like he is a rookie actor invited from the groom’s side. He went back to his table with his friends, as if talking about something while pointing at Jihyun.
“What is he doing?? Did he just flexed to his friends that he got to talk to her?”
Seungkwan was extremely weirded out by it. But he tried to dismiss his thoughts and not think much about it. He resumed greeting guests together with her second sister.
“It’s a wedding. Of course people would interact with each other. It’s normal.” He thought. But still, he couldn’t help but to get upset.
Maybe it was because the disappointment had already been quietly piling up since earlier. He had wanted to stay by her side for the entirety of the wedding, but the seating arrangement had already made that impossible. And now, this happened.
Meanwhile, across the hall, Jihyun remained completely polite as always. Few people have already stopped by at their table to greet her and talk to her, and she just greets them back warmly and casually.
But somehow, this only made things worse for Seungkwan who was quietly looking over the members table the whole time.
Because she was naturally nice to people, easy to approach, friendly, and most of all, extremely pretty.
Which apparently, made everyone, men and women inside the venue suddenly brave enough to approach her, one after another.
“Ha…” Seungkwan sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.
He stood up, about to go to the restroom to freshen up himself when Cheol suddenly walked up to him.
“Kwan-ah, you okay?”
Seungkwan looked up to him, only to find Cheol’s facial expression completely teasing him, with a devilish smile on his face.
“No..” He answered, pouting, while also giving cheol a death glare.
“Oh–” Cheol suddenly muttered, glancing towards their table. “Another one?” He added, clearly teasing Seungkwan.
“Ah really… Why are there so many of them?”
Cheol’s laughter burst out immediately as Seungkwan answered with a pouty face.
“Yah, do you want me to do something about it?” Cheol answered, as he wrapped his arms on Seungkwan’s shoulder.
“No, hyung. It’s okay. Forget about it.” Seungkwan said while still staring across the hall.
Meanwhile, Cheol followed his gaze and immediately spotted another actor laughing beside Jihyun’s chair while speaking to her comfortably.
“Oh,” he muttered. “That one’s handsome too.”
Seungkwan slowly turned toward him. “Hyung!”
“What?” Cheol defended immediately while laughing. “I’m just saying.”
“You’re making me more stressed.”
“I don’t think that’s my fault tho?” Cheol immediately answered, looking at him with judging eyes.
Seungkwan just sighed, no energy to answer him.
Because Cheol was right.
The interactions somehow kept happening repeatedly throughout the evening.
When Jihyun stood up to get some food from the buffet table, someone immediately approached her, introducing himself.
Some greeted her casually, complimenting her dress, anything just to get her attention.
And every single time, Seungkwan could only watch from afar as he stood beside his family, greeting other guests like a well-behaved son.
Which for some reason, is getting hard to do for him as minutes pass by. Because all he wanted to do right now was to walk over there, sit beside her, and make it painfully obvious that she already belonged to someone.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not publicly.
Meanwhile, at the members’ table, they had already noticed Seungkwan’s mood worsening in real time.
At some point, Jeonghan leaned slightly towards Mingyu while glancing across the hall towards Seungkwan who was clearly staring towards their table.
“Yah,” Jeonghan whispered. “Look, Boo Seungkwan is about to lose it.”
Mingyu immediately glanced at the direction Jeonghan was looking at. “Yah yah! Look at Seungkwan, he’s glaring towards here again.” He said towards the adjacent table where the other members are seated.
Dokyeom immediately followed his gaze. And the second he saw Seungkwan’s expression he burst into barely contained laughter.
“Oof.”
“Right?” Mingyu muttered while trying not to laugh at himself.
“His eye twitched earlier,” Chan added quietly from beside them.
Meanwhile, Vernon calmly sipped his drink. “I think he’s reached stage five already.”
Hao blinked, and turned his head towards Vernon. “What’s stage five?”
“The scary silent stage.”
Almost immediately, everyone at the table turned toward Seungkwan again.
And unfortunately, Vernon was correct.
Seungkwan was clearly already annoyed. He did smile here and there when someone greets him. But the second he was left alone and nobody was looking, his eyes looked extremely annoyed, his lips were in a constant pout condition, and was glaring at everyone that walks towards Jihyun.
At some point, his sister finally noticed his foul mood.
“Seungkwan-ah,” she said, calling his attention, to which he immediately looked toward her.
“Hm?”
His sister followed his gaze instinctively before immediately spotting what — or rather who — he had been staring at for almost the entire evening.
Another actor was currently trying to talk to Jihyun again near the members’ table. The sight alone made Seungkwan visibly deflate.
His sister watched him for a second before laughing softly under her breath. “Are you okay?”
Seungkwan immediately looked away from the table before exhaling dramatically. “No.”
That only made his sister laugh harder. “You look like you’re suffering.”
“I am suffering.”
His sister shook her head affectionately before lightly patting his arm.
“Do you want to join the members?” she asked gently. “It’s okay. I can take care of things here for now.”
The moment those words left her mouth, Seungkwan’s eyes instinctively drifted toward the members’ table again.
And unfortunately, that was the exact moment he saw the actor beside Jihyun pulling a chair closer toward her.
Seungkwan’s jaw tightened immediately. “Ha...”
“What now?” his sister asked, already amused.
Meanwhile, across the hall, Jihyun remained completely unaware of the emotional crisis currently unfolding nearby as she smiled politely toward the actor seated beside her.
“I’ve really wanted to meet you in person,” the actor admitted warmly. “Honestly, you’re even prettier than on camera.”
To which Jihyun just nodded and laughed awkwardly. Because honestly, she was now also getting uncomfortable with all the attention she was getting.
At first, greeting a few people was okay. But this one was her final straw.
Yes, she is nice. She greets people if she needs to. But it seems like this one guy made it his goal to befriend her. She doesn’t know where his confidence is coming from and it is obviously bothering her.
Noticing this, the members at the table visibly stiffened. Jihyun was already feeling uncomfortable, and they obviously knew that Seungkwan was also getting extremely upset.
Mingyu slowly lowered his fork before glancing toward Seungkwan across the venue and immediately regretted it. “Oh no.”
Chan followed his gaze quietly before physically wincing.
Because Seungkwan genuinely looked one inconvenience away from losing composure completely.
Meanwhile, the actor continued smiling at Jihyun comfortably. “I honestly didn’t expect you to be this easygoing,” he continued casually.
“I was nervous approaching you earlier.”
Jihyun laughed awkwardly as she gave him a short answer.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Seungkwan is now completely annoyed. His sister noticed how upset he was getting.
“Seungkwan-ah,,”
“Hm?”
“You can go now.” She said, smiling at him.
Seungkwan blinked at her, “Really?”
“I’m serious,” she laughed softly. “You’re staring so hard from here that it’s actually becoming scary.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Yes.”
His sister burst into another laugh before nudging him lightly. “Go sit with your members for a bit. Eomma and I can handle the guests right now.”
Honestly, that was all the permission Seungkwan needed.
Because almost immediately, he muttered a quick thank you before heading toward the members’ table without hesitation.
Unfortunately for him, the moment he got closer, he heard the actor speak again.
“I was actually hoping we could get closer after today,” the actor admitted casually. “Maybe exchange contacts sometime?”
Seungkwan noticed how Jihyun’s stance was getting uncomfortable, smiling awkwardly at the guy.
“Uhm.. I–” She said, about to answer when he suddenly cut her off.
“Or maybe we should follow each other first? Do you perhaps have a private instagram?” he continued, still smiling. “Ah, I’d honestly love to take you out sometime if you’re free.”
The guy just continued talking, like he hadn't noticed that the person he’s talking to was already uncomfortable.
“Excuse me—” Mingyu was about to call him out, when he noticed Seungkwan walking towards them.
The good thing was, someone approached the guy and said something towards his ear, making him finally bid goodbye to Jihyun.
Seungkwan halted mid step when he saw the actor finally stand up. He looked away first, as if calming himself because he genuinely felt like he was reaching his limit.
Meanwhile, at the table, the members collectively exhaled in relief. “Wah… That almost didn’t end well.” Chan muttered quietly.
Jihyun immediately looked up when she heard what Chan said. “What didn’t end well? Did something happen?”
Then, for a moment her eyes caught the sight of Seungkwan standing in the walkway near their table, fists and eyes closed, exhaling deeply.
“Oh— Why is Kwannie standing there like that?” She muttered, genuinely confused.
The members followed her gaze, and Mingyu immediately said “Wow, you really are completely unaware..” sounding almost fascinated.
Well, they really can’t blame her. Seungkwan rarely gets jealous of someone. The two have always been very understanding of each other.
Seungkwan had close female friends, and Jihyun had never once minded it.
Likewise, Jihyun naturally attracted attention everywhere she went, and Seungkwan usually handled it surprisingly well.
Which was exactly why seeing him this visibly affected tonight had become so entertaining for the members.
Meanwhile, Jihyun only looked even more confused. “What?” she asked again. “Did something happen?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Mostly because they knew Seungkwan would probably combust from embarrassment if they exposed him first.
And almost perfectly on cue, Seungkwan finally started walking toward their table.
The moment Jihyun saw his face properly, her expression softened instantly. He genuinely looked upset.
Not angry. Just extremely sulky.
His lips were slightly pouted, his shoulders visibly slumped, and his eyes looked exhausted in the most dramatic way possible.
It was honestly almost cute.
Without thinking much about it, Jihyun immediately stood up from her seat.
“I’ll be back,” she told the members softly before walking toward him first.
Meanwhile, Seungkwan visibly relaxed the second he saw her approaching him.
And when she finally reached him, he immediately wrapped his arms around her without hesitation before dropping his head directly onto the crook of her neck.
Like he had completely run out of emotional energy.
Jihyun blinked in surprise before softly laughing under her breath. “Kwannie?”
Seungkwan only tightened his hold around her slightly, while Jihyun instinctively lifted one hand to rub his back gently.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Why do you look so drained?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Seungkwan mumbled immediately against her shoulder. The pout in his voice was unbelievably obvious.
Jihyun nearly smiled. “Really?”
“Mhm.”
“Then why are you acting like this?” Seungkwan finally lifted his head slightly before looking at her with tired, offended eyes.
“Because I barely got to be with you today.”
Jihyun laughed softly. “Boo Seungkwan,” she teased quietly, “we literally see each other every day.”
“You don’t even know what I went through today,” he complained immediately.
The sheer seriousness in his tone made Jihyun burst into another laugh. “Aigoo, what did you go through?”
Seungkwan simply stared at her silently with the deepest pout imaginable, which honestly only made him look even cuter.
Jihyun gently pinched his side teasingly. “You’re being dramatic again.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Before Seungkwan could continue complaining further, someone suddenly approached the two of them carefully.
“Uh… excuse me.”
Both of them turned simultaneously.
A young man stood there awkwardly holding out a folded piece of paper toward Jihyun.
“My friend wanted me to give this to you,” he explained sheepishly before gesturing toward a nearby table.
Instinctively, both Jihyun and Seungkwan followed where he was pointing.
It was the same actor from earlier. The man even waved toward Jihyun with an easy smile from afar.
The moment Seungkwan recognized him, his expression immediately fell again.
Meanwhile, the messenger handed the folded paper to Jihyun before quickly bowing and leaving, completely unaware that he had just worsened Seungkwan’s emotional state dramatically.
Jihyun blinked in confusion before unfolding the note carefully.
Written neatly on the paper was a KakaoTalk ID followed by:
“Please contact me here~
I’ll wait for your message :)”
There was a second of silence before Seungkwan finally snapped.
“Seriously?”
Before Jihyun could even properly react, Seungkwan immediately snatched the paper from her hands before crumpling it without hesitation.
“Kwannie—”
“No because what is this?” he complained incredulously. “What are they doing at a wedding? What? Is this some kind of a dating event? Why are they doing that here?”
Jihyun stared at him in complete disbelief before laughter almost escaped her again. “Oh my god.”
Meanwhile, Seungkwan looked like he was genuinely at his limit now.
Without another word, he threw the note in the nearest trash bin he could find, and held Jihyun’s hand tightly with the other, pulling her gently towards somewhere.
“Oppa— wait!”
But Seungkwan continued walking quickly while holding her hand tightly.
And now, finally realizing what the members had been talking about earlier, Jihyun could barely stop herself from smiling the entire way there.
“Wait– Where are we going?” She asked him softly, but didn't get any reply.
They continued walking until they reached the Bride’s Room. The room was empty now since everyone was already busy with the reception. Seungkwan immediately opened the door, pulling her inside.
He went in first, finally letting go of her hands, while Jihyun closed the door behind her.
Once she turned her gaze into him, his back was still facing her as he lets out a deep breath.
Jihyun stared at him for a while before her eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t tell me.. I’m not actually the one you’re upset with, right?” She asked, slightly annoyed by the possibility.
Immediately, Seungkwan turned toward her.
“No,” he answered quickly before sighing again. “I’m upset because why do they keep approaching you?”
Jihyun blinked, clearly processing his answer—-which just confirmed that he indeed was jealous.
“Seriously,” Seungkwan continued while gesturing frustratedly toward the door. “Those guys were driving me crazy.”
Jihyun bit her lip slightly to stop herself from smiling too hard.
“Wow,” she muttered, clearly fascinated by what she was seeing.
Seungkwan narrowed his eyes immediately. “Don’t.” he said while pouting at her.
“Boo Seungkwan,” she said carefully while failing to hide her amusement completely, “are you perhaps jealous right now?”
Seungkwan rolled his eyes dramatically before looking away.
And when he didn’t answer, Jihyun finally burst into soft laughter.
“Oh my god, you are.” She said, further teasing him.
“Yah, Kang Jihyun.”
“No, because this is actually cute—”
Jihyun couldn’t finish what she was about to say when Seungkwan suddenly closed the gap between the two of them by stepping closer to her. His hands traveled to her nape, focusing all her attention to him as he kept his gaze at her eyes.
And this time, his expression had completely changed.
The frustration was still there. But now it is mixed with something softer.
Something that made Jihyun’s breath catch slightly.
“Do you know how hard it was standing there watching them flirt with you all day?” he asked quietly.
The teasing smile on Jihyun’s face slowly softened.
“I couldn’t even go over there properly,” he continued, voice lower now. “People would start asking questions immediately.”
Jihyun’s heartbeat slowly sped up.
“And the whole time,” Seungkwan murmured, eyes fixed completely on hers, “all I wanted to do was stay beside you.”
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
Much warmer.
Jihyun swallowed softly before whispering, “…Kwan-ah.”
And as if that was the final piece holding his patience together, the moment he heard her say his name, Seungkwan finally snapped.
He closed the remaining distance between the two of them, slowly pressing his lips against her.
The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as if they were savoring every second of it, when suddenly, his left hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer against him, while the other cradled the side of her face carefully.
The hesitation between the two of them slowly disappeared, making the kiss grow more desperate as seconds passed.
“Hmmm..” Jihyun hummed in surprise when she felt him bit his lower lip lightly. This made her gripper the side of his suit tightly.
Somehow, that made Seungkwan kiss her deeper, as if he was finally releasing everything he had been suppressing the entire day.
Jihyun could barely breathe properly by the time he pulled away for a while.
“Oppa,” she whispered breathlessly, their faces still close to each other. “Not here… What if someone suddenly comes?”
“I really don’t care right now,” Seungkwan muttered. “Also, no one is going to come here. They’re all busy partying outside.” He added before kissing her again.
Jihyun laughed softly against his lips, before whispering, “You’re insane, really..”
“And whose fault is that?”
Before she could even answer, Seungkwan claimed her lips again, kissing her deeply.
Her hands were now wrapped around his neck, while his arms were both wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, making the dress she was wearing to hike up slightly.
As the tension grew more intense, Seungkwan gently guided them towards the sofa situated at the very center of the room, making sure to move slowly to make sure she didn't trip since Jihyun was wearing high heels.
He finally broke the kiss just long enough to sit down on the sofa. Still holding onto her waist, he slowly guided Jihyun closer before gesturing for her to sit sideways on his lap.
She quietly complied, her hand instinctively resting against his shoulder as he pulled her closer against him, resting his forehead against hers, as though he still wasn’t satisfied with the distance between them
His breathing was still uneven.
Meanwhile, Jihyun could only stare at him in disbelief. “You were really suffering out there, huh?”
Seungkwan looked genuinely offended. “You think?”
Jihyun burst into quiet laughter again before Seungkwan immediately kissed her once more just to shut her up.
This time, the kiss was far less restrained. His hand tightened slightly around her waist as he pulled her impossibly closer, the frustration and longing he had been holding back finally seeping into the way he kissed her.
Jihyun could feel his breath hitch against her lips when his thumb lightly brushed against her jaw. The kiss deepened further when he tilted his head slightly, his tongue touched her bottom lip, as though silently asking for more.
And when she responded just as eagerly, whatever little self-control Seungkwan had left nearly disappeared.
His hand was already holding the zipper of her dress, second away from pulling it down right there and then when they suddenly heard the sound of footsteps right outside the door, followed by the unlocking sound of the door knob.
The both of them froze instantly.
Jihyun immediately broke the kiss, her gaze still on him. Meanwhile, Seungkwan’s gaze lowered from her eyes to her clearly puffy lips from the kiss they just shared.
He couldn’t help but to smirk at the sight in front of him.
“Yah! How could you even smile right now!” She exclaimed softly.
Seungkwan immediately pulled back while Jihyun scrambled upright from the sofa in panic, hurriedly fixing her hair and smoothing down her dress.
Meanwhile, Seungkwan looked equally disheveled beside her despite trying to act calm.
Thankfully, the person outside only muttered something quietly before walking away again.
The second the footsteps disappeared, silence filled the room.
Then Jihyun slowly turned toward Seungkwan. “Wow, We almost got caught.” She said, shaking her head in disbelief while trying to fix strands of his hair that had completely fallen out of place.
Meanwhile, Seungkwan simply stared at her for a second before suddenly laughing quietly into his hands, shoulders shaking slightly from sheer disbelief over what they had almost done.
And somehow, seeing him finally smile properly again after suffering the entire evening made warmth bloom inside Jihyun’s chest instantly.
Eventually, the two finally managed to calm down enough to leave the bridal room.
Well, mostly calm down.
Because the moment Jihyun checked her reflection using her phone camera, her eyes widened immediately.
“Kwan-ah….” She said while pouting.
Seungkwan looked up innocently. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Wah… I look like a literal mess. What should we do?”
Seungkwan only laughed, looking significantly happier now compared to earlier.
Before they could return to the dining hall, Jihyun eventually forced Seungkwan to go back toward the members’ table to retrieve her makeup pouch from her bag while she hid inside the nearby restroom first.
Because unfortunately, she looked way too suspicious to walk out like this.
Her lips were swollen, her hair was messy no matter how much she tried fixing it with her fingers, and her cheeks still felt embarrassingly warm.
Seungkwan looked like a mess as well. She had to fix his hair first before he was able to actually go outside of the room, while she waited there for him.
“You’re unbelievable,” Jihyun muttered while fixing his hair properly, and wiping the smudged lip gloss on his lips before finally letting him leave.
Seungkwan only grinned at her before leaning down briefly. “Still love me though.”
Jihyun rolled her eyes immediately. “Go already before someone sees us.”
And as Seungkwan walked out of the hallway looking far too satisfied with himself, Jihyun could only stare at the mirror afterward before covering her face in embarrassment.
Because somehow, Boo Seungkwan’s jealousy had nearly become the reason they got exposed at his own sister’s wedding.
sum; accidentally encountering a large amount of incredibly graphic material inside a lost digital camera at a house party, only to be caught in the act and punished by the very same owners for snooping around things that didn’t pertain to you + . °..
heads-ups: dom!yun x fem!reader x dom!min // cohol consumption, oral (m/f rec), breast sucking, choking, dry humping, spitting, face slapping, unprotected sex (don’t), slight exhibitionism, spanking, restraining(w/ belt) bit of yearning, names used (bunny, baby, pretty, dummy, slut+) 3waycumkiss, cumdump, cockwarming, toothrotting aftercare
wordcount: 8.9k
Your need to protect the device grew the more you took notice the amount of people that tripped over it in the small frame you observed. bumpy music filtering through your earlobes, the handfuls of strangers danced sensually against one another and your friends were now long gone with their hookups for the night whilst you stupidly fondled over a foreign camera.
The digital sat still in the middle of the living room carpet , nothing but heavy shoes tripping over it at least a dozen times now. the electronic beats stood loud, the rhythm bouncing against every single wall inside that three story house party you found yourself in, humans scattered like ants. drinks and substances everywhere for everyone to share within their own respective groups, the herby smell of weed filling your nose.
the later the night, the drunker the people, who were to be left behind? you met with a mutual joining in on their drinking circle, filling shots and throwing your head back allowing the alcohol to burn the depth of your throat, lime being shoved in your mouth instantly to reduce its harsh burn.
You gave in, the many shots you took hazily dizzying your system, along the many cheers and drinking games, your tolerance going short circuit the camera becoming your one and only target now. It’s owner hasn’t come looking for it, either you take it now or it’ll be stomped over by the end of the night.
you made your way, crouching slightly to pick up the item.
dark blue, detailed scratch on its logo as if in a way attempting to differentiate it from the rest due to its basic color. Certain it didn’t even work anymore you took ahold of the digital camera, its heavier weight soon gifting you the realization that it was definitely loaded with at least a battery.
You found your way into the nearest available room despite the incredibly loud music, dark colorful lights adorning each floor, your intent was to to try and fix your way into the film, peace and quiet was required to at best try to hear any audio it may have striving to find its owner.
handling many doorknobs you found how the majority of the private rooms were locked, all kinds of people inter-coursing one another on the few that were cracked open. Reaching the third floor, you aimlessly walked down a long quieter hallway, a door with a chipped stolen “do not enter” road sign nailed onto it.
smaller posters decorated the walls, various golden medals attached to the walls. The music went dim by a ton, like sound proof doors and walls were installed to the property. Entering the room you pushed the door shut behind you
Sitting on the edge of the bed the mattress was plush underneath your thighs, it was neatly done, a floral musky scent glued onto the sheets intoxicating your senses as you reverted your attention back to what you walked in for, immediately circling through the camera’s gallery.
clicking down the number of collections of albums.
The images looked innocent, concise, almost too picture perfect to seem legit. There were two consistent men taking over the albums, nothing too deep of an offense aside from a couple playful middle fingers in some of the images.
Adventures from shirtless tanning bodies admiring the coolness of the saltwater to rosy cheeks giggling amongst one another as snow glued to their darker locks in the winter weathers. The guys seemed to be in their mid twenties, they looked like they were having the time of their lives, years of pictures and videos.
you sighed, accepting the fact that the camera in fact did have their incredibly hot owners and it was due to be returned sooner than later. As you continue to let your eye guide you through the series of images you couldn’t help but to abruptly pause to the thumbnail of a hidden album under the title “yungi’s private”.
As if it were any other, you clicked on the privated album just to encounter a collection of other hidden videos and images followed by many named footage such as “yun-solo” and “min-solo”.
The thumbnail of “yun-solo”consisted a ruthless angle of a trimmed dick being lazily held in a darker setting, pretty set of ringed fingers dragging a stroke on himself sharply from the tip. A big gray hoodie dressed his form, scrunched up messily at the sleeves, he looked warm, cozy too cozy with the way he sat back onto what it looked like a gaming chair. His left arm extended, holding onto the camera from an upper angle that fully deducted his face from frame.
Keeping your eyes away was impossible now.
Intentionally, you glanced over at the other independent collection, it had the imagery of a shirtless man, broad shoulders and a shiny chest that combinated nicely with the ripples on his toned tummy.. unlike his friend, he had his face full on display, puffy lower lip folding into a harsh bite, same face from the previous pictures. you quickly figured the other man was his paler friend. The camera was positioned perfectly, both hands reaching down absolutely choking his cock like it was a threat. He was massive, even from the angle.
you quickly figured the man in the other album was his paler friend. You gasped to the realization, your hand going up to pinch at the bridge of your nose in embarrassment to the thought that you’ve just in fact completely intruded someone’s very private albums.. your eyes widened searching for the exit button on the smaller screen just to encounter an album just right beneath the previous two, left unlocked.. This one had a thumbnail that involved both the men
You felt like the biggest pervert in the world for what thoughts traced your mind when you saw that there yes was in fact a woman arched between them both on the freeze of the video.
what difference does it maketo watch one more? what else can you invade that you haven’t already?
Despite the incredibly graphic material on the thumbnail you wanted to see, you refused to let logic dictate your next move, you pressed the play button right in the center of the screen.
The video started calm, the lighting behind the scene looked too clean for it to be their first video together, the device was on an accurate stance. A masked girl sat between them, toyed with them both. Holding both their legs open with the stretch of her own two feet, she used her two hands to unexperiencedly jerk off their two cocks. you were now in a trance, watching countless of their videos together, it being suddenly tempered with noises nearby.
Loud and heavy steps approached the hallway before the room you broke into, absolute panic rushing your nerves. You jumped up and looked all over the room for a place to hide like a sly teen getting caught watching porn for the first time.
Instinctively, you threw the camera as you heard the door knob turn now, quickly sliding underneath the gap below the bed.
You held your breath as if it’d help, all kinds of scenarios racing through your mind about how fucked you are if you’re caught in this stranger’s room practically just watching porn like a creep.
And that’s when you heard it.
a faint moan.. coming from the camera you left forgotten on an opened video playing from the bed.
Thinking you were in the clear you hear the repetition of followed groans and skin as if the video’s gotten louder on purpose.
Steps filled the space in the room, you can tell he was following the sounds coming from the device as his combat boots fidgeted around the room before rapidly reaching over to the bed and gaining possession over the camera,
“ahh. so cute.” the man groaned to himself to the obvious spot you hid under, video playing loud in his hands, he watched, reminiscing.
“think you dropped something, naughty girl.” he furrowed, fondling the camera between his heavy hand it disappearing right between his palm as he held it low for you to view, right knee of his pressing onto the ground as his left held his weight infront of the bed, silently pressing play on the recorded video, your eyes automatically glued onto the screen, as if it were your own unique kind of hallucination.
he cupped his palm over the speaker for you to hear the sound of his own moaning better, the fingers behind the digital scraped gently at the sides, perversions rushing straight to his bloodstream as he watched with you a video of him getting sucked off by some random girl, his best friend instructing her along the way.
* “Good girl, learning so well.”
the video announced, camera was being held by the man with softer features, him recording his best friend getting teased and squeezed to the point his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
You were growing hot in your uncomfortable position, your eyes roaming at the bottom half of the kneeled man, the video long forgotten. He wore tight jeans, the middle of his pants marking his thick bulge strategically, he wore a pretty chain on the front of his belt loop. his fingertips gluing tighter against the device.
If alcohol wasn’t involved you’d gather your senses, tell him off and immediately leave the party, but no here you were making the space beneath this stranger’s bed your safekeeping, willingly watching a video of himself getting sucked off on the camera you’ve been holding onto for the past half hour. His flushed face was so heavensent that you felt your own body losing the fight against your morals.
Another tall man entered the room, catching you both by surprise. the one that toyed you turned his back facing the man that maintained his silence as he navigated the room, elegance following his every move, he moved slow, demanding, calculated. he radiated an intense heat you couldn’t explain, it genuinely made you tuck yourself in further. big leather shoes creaked against the floor within each step he took, you watched through the mirror reflecting them how he wandered around, him babysitting a a cold beer in his hand.
“mingi’s not bothering you now, is he?”
your body jolted to the new of his voice. your lips zipping, thump being heard loud and clear where you were. The man laughed deeply, as if he understood your cravings from your silence of a response. though you hated to admit it your excitement grew larger to his eccentric energy.
you watched as mingi’s eyes followed the clear of his friend’s directioning with such a communicative look it made you feel like nothing but an object below the two huge men. adrenaline rushed your veins in waves of burn and ache and you couldn’t take it anymore, the increasing need to be completely mutilated like the prey you were to them was inevitable.
They watched you through the night, both observing you from different spots in the house. mingi noticed your obvious attention onto the camera first, letting you take it, the fucker allowing just enough time to storm right behind you, catching you by surprise.
The new man lifted his shiny shoe eye level and tapped once, twice, hard repeatedly against the lower bedframe you tucked beneath, his mean attempt to spook you. remaining still, you shut your eyes tight hoping to disappear, but no you were there and they were there right infront of you trying to bully you into getting out of your hiding spot on your own.
“you have to be quieter than that if you wanted to be a pervert. cmere’ stand infront of me.” he spoke, firm, toned. he was meanly straightforward, head tilting sideways to your ignorance.
“you don’t wanna make yunnie mad, pretty baby.”
the other voice continued, earning an airy laugh from the other male, him taking his friend’s hint and joining in on the spot on the ground beside his bestest, kneeeling flexingly. The mirror attached to the closet door captured the way his back was shoved into that dress shirt he wore, his hair was well kept, head tilted slightly lower looking at the camera, hovering his hand right over Mingi’s and powering off the graphic scene on the little screen he held, tossing it onto the bed carelessly.
your breath quickened when silence filled the room, a tormenting feeling that was soon followed by the sound of shuffling infront of the bed, two pairs of heavy hands reaching, harsh, fast, meeting your now hyper eyes.
yunho pulled and tugged, yanking at your forearm to force you out of under the bed, the other male reached in to pull you from your other arm both meanly gaining entire control over you and dragging you out fully with such ease it drove you to closer to insanity, giving up the fight almost immediately when the taller male gripped your arm tighter to straighten you up when you stood on your feet.
The men stood shoulder to shoulder before you, their set of eyes killing you with intense intrigue like you were a zoo animal exhibiting yourself just for them. your chest hovered as they completely towered over you and fuck did you feel like just coming already from their glorying. the one whose porno you’ve just watched eyed you dangerously, unnoticeable grin on his face the second his eye traced down to the folded hands glued shut onto your thighs. He tilted his head back slightly, the dainty silver chain around his neck reflecting nicely against that warm lamp in the corner of the room. the other, bored his eyes onto the expose of your cleavage not even making an attempt to dissimulate the fact.
tensing stillness sat exchangingly between you three. mingi turned his head to face the door then back at you, asking himself the same questions you were
why were you still there?
why didn’t you leave?
did you want to stay?
smirk drawing onto pink of his lips as he put two and two together.
“I won’t say anything, I didn’t see anything, promise“ you broke in attempt to dispose of that sphere of tension in the air
the quieter male furrowed a brow, folding his lip into a pretty pout to your negotiating as if he found it to be the cutest thing he’s seen all day, “isn’t it too late for that, bunny?” the nickname tore through you, he gave you a condescending look, minimizing you below him.
“she looks so needy just standing there, doesn’t she?” spoke the younger male, smirk widening now as you switched your attention from his friend onto him again. speaking about you like you weren’t standing right infront him.
The back of your knees bent slightly before the bed causing you to fall sitting down, both men taking advantage of the opportunity and caging you in further.
this completely turned something inside, your legs beginning to weaken at your own demise.
“look at you..”
you shoved at the other male that breathed down your neck, unaware of his initial taller figure. he held his composure, not an inch of his being moved by your tantrum, fucked up, tired low eyes drawing you in.
“my videos by yourself on my bed? really, really bad look. how could you ever make that up to me?” , his voice silky smooth, collected with a hidden anticipation that trapped your body in a quiver. He knew his way with his words, eagerly scaring you over the edge for his own amusement. he slowly bent his neck down and took a better look at you, piercing eyes of his searching your face for an expression, an excuse, a reaction. but no, you were just as curious of what they’d do to you as they were of what you’d do to them.
“let me explain, I didn’t mean—“ you attempted to be the voice of reason, at the end of the day you didn’t mean to come across this room, this situation,
“—didnt mean to drool over mingi getting his cock sucked just now?”
“what I—“ you were left speechless.
“now tell me, silly girl. was it the fact that it was he himself that showed you that’s got you so heated?”
you gulped, your throat ran dry to the question, he had you cornered like no other, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it though, the way his eyes now shined with a hidden knowing, slanted smirk at his lips.
“i know she liked it.. not gonna get out or what?” mingi coursed at you, pitch coming out low and cocky. like he knew the answer to his own question.
Many thoughts roamed your drunken mind, but the one that stood out the most was how badly you wanted to get fucked by the best friends that stood toe to toe with you.
splitting their tall linked forms down the middle, you stepped your way towards the door. The tips of your feet stopping right infront of the bottom ledge of the frame. You raised your hand boldly towards the knob, taking last look back at the men you sorted your attention onto the knob, locking it.
“fucking knew it.” you heard the deeper voiced one say before rushing over to you and pinning you behind that very door you stood against, he held you still with your wrists above your head with a single hand of his. Face invaded the space of your own, his eyes now fucking into your needier ones. piercing too close, too quiet, the scent of his cologne infatuating your nostrils as he he stood bare inches away from you tilting his head to fit into the crook of your ear stopping there, not touching, just yet.
“oh just stop it. why fight what your body is so badly craving?” he pressed, free hand dragging from your neck up to pick at your jaw, tracing tentatively holding you tight nonetheless allowing the tiniest gap for you to free yourself if that’s what you chose. his breath was hot, delicate like a gush of wind that’d catch you by surprise. body warm, heavy, hugging, claiming, if it’d take him all night to get you to be his then so fucking be it. he didn’t care, not for a second. the moment he decides his interest for someone it’s them or nothing. he didn’t have to fight hard though, you wanted him just as badly.
you grabbed at his collar pulling him hard, “not fighting anything, you’re just taking too long to make me come is all.” you whispered, he pulled away a harsh at bit his lip, crazy look forming on his lower pupils to your announcement.
That’s when mingi sucked in your mouth, passionately and lazily blending his lips along your own with precise intention to fully consume you as his. he hummed against you, savoring a hint of hard alcohol on you at the initial taste, despite his taller figure his entire body fit perfectly mush against yours. skillfully, he wrapped his larger hands behind your neck, deepening your mouth closer against his.
His knee broke your connected ones
“what is that you do.. exactly?you asked right away, hoping to get some but hoping to do so safely.
“just two friends who like to have fun, pretty.. haven’t went all the way at the same time yet though..”
“..how come?”
“nobody can handle both.” mingi, muttered, detaching his lips from yours to take a read at your face.
you smiled at this, knowing that you’d be the first. you toyed the lips infront you again, latching your wet tongue onto the flesh
“you upset about something?” you tortured yunho, speaking to him with your lips on his friend’s mouth, you thought you were teasing him but you only fueled your intensity with him further. the slanted smirk he held twitched unnervingly, slightly. claiming your eyes in his own thieving ones. he nodded, barely, this awakened something inside you that you didn’t know you had.
you unclasped your lips from mingi’s, smooching sounds heard from your detachment once more, he whined lowly but quickly understood when he saw the look on his friend’s face. he unhooked your grip from the door, biting your neck harshly once, before fully letting you go.
you made your way over to his friend’s who claimed a spot against the wall not far away from you two, eyes knocked into your own, observing and reading the room to know when to attack next. you dragged your feet feeling each step closer to him filling you up with an intense feeling only he can make happen
mingi followed, he grabbed the low of your top animalistically twisting the fabric in his hand and using it to slingshot you further into his friend, your body crashing into his, he looked down at you
“what is it, dummy? can’t talk anymore?” you couldn’t find the words to describe what it was you wanted, his form was toned against your body as you held onto him, he was a lot colder than the man you just made out with but you were determined to break his shell, you wanted both, one wouldn’t suffice knowing that the other existed.
you grabbed at the belt of his pants, to which he quickly swapped your hand away.
“behave.” yunho hissed, taming you
you dispersed respecting his wishes even though you both knew he wanted your hands on you just as much if not more than his own best friend did. instead hands roamed the top half of his body, experimenting, desire rushing your head, he breathed deeply but allowed your touch there. your eyes remained closed drowning in his clean linen scented clothing
his hand now held onto the low of your waist, “weren’t you just pushing at me earlier and now you’re begging me to fuck you?” the male mused, tongue peeking right into his cheek from your audacity. you making his self control grow difficult.
“so pretty like this. all bothered, begging for cock.” his eyes widened to the way your lip tucked deep between your teeth in attempt to hold yourself in control away from him fully , eyes of his following every bit of movement, reading. You stumbled slightly, he holding your weight. quickly readjusting your uncomfortable initial stance only to hold you tighter that eye contact with him making a last attempt, “I wanna’ kiss, please yunho..” you tugged onto his arm now, he shushed you, followed by gentle ‘i knows’, placing his massive hand ontop your head rubbing gently, speaking to you like you were his personal little dummy to care for. Soft whimper coming from you at the gesture, he grit his teeth at the sound, reminiscing how soft and plump your lips looked against his friend’s. He wanted to taste your lips against the brush of his, part of him holding back to not one up mingi, given he did spot you first.
…
“really want mingi to have me all to himself?.” your voice purred, slow and specific.
mingi only smirked yunho’s way to your teasing, he sensing his best friend breaking within every plead you cried his way, his back stiffened when your nails raked against the center of it, circles swirling drawing shapes, words, faces. all that making your presence more evident. your face nudged his neck once more, lazily dragging lips face across the skin.
he cursed to himself, pressing your arms steady against your chest. the stance he held you in had you panting, your covered breasts clashed together demonstrating themselves prettily, you both inhaling and exhaling each others breaths just mere cenimeters away.
utilizing his other hand to form a light trail down your spine he finally landed a firm grip on your ass, using your mass to pull you closer to his body, grabbing you captive to him. like letting go was harder than holding on now.
“fuck..you..”
yunnie hissed against your lips losing his battle by sticking his tongue inside your mouth, stealing the breath right out of your system with his face. softer lips of his glided their way up your jaw drowning in your scent, he wanted to kiss and touch you everywhere at once, his hidden motives out in the open for you to see now.
face of his scrunched in pleasure, to the feeling of your smaller hand tugging at his length again, he giving in. long, thick outline in those thin trousers he wore, the thin flowy material of his pants accentuated by the grip his knee had between your legs.
“you two. same time. please—“ you breathed, keeping that fact to yourself any longer was useless now, your cheeks grew hot to your own confession but fuck did they grow harder to the way the man’s eyes infront you flipped into something you can’t replicate even if you wanted to. mingi heard you. fuck of course he did, the grin on his face wiped in one go and the knowing look him and his friend shared said something only they would know all about. they gave themselves away.
hot and heavy breaths lingered between you both as you ate at each other’s mouths “fuck y/n..why couldn’t you just fucking wait?” all teeth and tongue knocking you both out. mingi swooped and stood behind you, cock rock hard against the plush of your ass, he leaning on that door he previously backed you into. kissing the left of your neck whilst yunho ravished your right.
Hands roamed everywhere you were so lost in the bliss in between pants that you lost focus long ago of who was who, messy fingers tangled around your hair, one grabbed at your neck, another stayed at your belly until you felt a hand suddenly wrap around and fully cup your cunt. loud gasp ran away from your lips, mingi’s cock twitched on your ass at this, he being the culprit. his hand tangled at the cloth of your lower half before unbuckling them tentatively, slow digits fiddling around with your other lips through your underwear toying with that soft wet patch that uncomfortably stuck to your pussy.
“forgive him, baby. mingi’s not one to waste time..”
“yeah.. sorry..” his voice rasped behind you at your ear, he held you so close that you felt your bodies almost morphing as one, he grounded himself strongly, carrying your weight onto his
“she’s.. fucking soaked, fuck yunho.” the man groaned, calling out to his friend as if he were his personal handler, his voice came out lot needier than intended right into the drum of your ear too. you clenched around nothing from his desperation and you know he felt it through your thin material.
"yeah? you always this much of a needy slut? we've got you so hot and bothered over some little video?”
yunho's pupils dilated to the gluttonous moan that arose from your throat at his dirty speech, he humped his clothed cock onto your front, sandwiching you pressurely, following the opposite rhythm of his colleague's behind you.
his hand grabbed at your beasts aggressively, almost as if he was taking out his frustration for not holding himself back. you were irresistible. despite their own set of rules between the two, yunho didn’t mind catching a fight after with his friend as long as he’d have you, just for a second.
he nipped at your sensitive buds, electrifying pleasure ran your veins as he slid a finger underneath your spaghetti strap, hooking a careful digit around the thin stretchy string, pulling upwards slightly and letting go, a snap that stung good. He did it again each time harsher before completely ripping the material off of your shoulder, exposing your bare bresst from the fall of your top.
“think minki would care if I burrowed a tit.” yunho was explicit with his use of words, eyeing you like you were purely free use as his friend behind you stood quiet knowing yunho’s the one that sets shit into place. Asking for his friend’s permission instead of yours turned you on more than you can understand, it felt like they individually decided who owned what and completely left you out of the convo.
He bagan by pressing firm wet kisses around your areola, using his long fingers to grab at the outline of your flesh, cupping it perfectly for him to suckle as his. sharp teeth grassed your hardening nipple but he continued ignoring where you wanted him to pay attention to most. he licked at the soft skin of your breast, sucking bare skin into his mouth and releasing with a giant loud pop, the harsh suckle quickly marking a bruised ring around the affected area. he hummed to the feeling of his lips against the plush of your pillowy boob, finally using a singular finger and pushing at your needy nipple.
“is this where you want my mouth?”
you nodded desperately, wanting for him to give you at least the bare minimum of sucking in your sensitive nipple, the teasing sending you over the edge of insanity.
“use your words, my love.” surprising kindness in his tone.
“yes please, give me something. anything!”
yunho pressed his nose onto your breast his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking harshly, eyes looking up to you innocently like he didn’t just make you beg him to suck your tit. mingi looked at the pornographic scene infront him from the crook of your neck, the scene being entirely too hot and entertaining for him to even be mad at yunho getting ahead with his mouth.
The toned man behind you grabbed at your hand, replacing the harsh grip you had onto his shiny locks, so the his own fingers, dragging your hand down his body himself slow, teasing, your attention reverting slightly. your other hand gripping at yunho’s hair beneath you to still show him your appreciation to his rewarding gesture. your eyes looked behind you, meeting up with his hungrier ones he reached for your mouth, gluing onto you the instant his eyes meet yours like the strongest magnet is living inside him for you. his fingers reached up deeper into your cervix, punishing, bullying his fingers into your core. He took notice at the way you struggled to kiss him back and he only kissed you harder owning your mouth as his like it didn’t matter if you didn’t put in the effort.
His lips were red from the kissing, fingers rough and the hand that guided you down his body had you cup the hard bulge in his pants, hand affirming a squeeze around yours so your own digits followed through with the gesture. he guided you down the middle of his crotch wrapping your fingers around the zipper of his jeans, slow dangerous drag that went loud in the air. mingi assisted you by folding the jeans down along with his boxers just low enough for his cock to spring out loud and heavy against his stomach.
He was just as big if not bigger than what you saw him like on camera, tip mean and reddening by the minute. the male grabbed at your hair forcing your head down to take a good look at his erection, removing his bullying fingers from your core you watched as he used the same two fingers and dragged them along the head of his dick, collecting his precum along with your arousal and letting you have a taste with both sets of dark eyes observing the obscenity.
You took the fingers in, smiling brightly as you wrapped your tongue around his digits, tasting the bittersweet of your mixes together, you took a couple of seconds to share eye contact with each of the men seperately.
big fucking mistake. as this turned something inside them both.
You were now being weightlessly lifted ass up head down in the air by the male infront you, he walked diligently across the room back to the bed and carelessly threw you on there, instantly unbuckling his black leather belt with ease.
Sucking his teeth at the robbery, mingi followed behind removing the remainder of his pants along with his shirt in one quick swoop. You took the initiative to remove your own clothing too, beginning by shaking your pants off but a firm hand stopped you mid way,
“won’t repeat myself so listen to me carefully.” the tall man spoke, fondeling with the long leather article of his belt in hand.
“you don’t do or say a thing unless you’re told around us, if you ever want to stop at any moment yell “safe word”, anything other than that will be useless. say ‘yes’ if you understand, dummy.”
“yes.”
“get rid of those pants, keep your panties on. I’ll take care of that. ” mingi followed up, handling his own length with a gripped palm, eyes dancing across the exposure of your skin as you quickly followed the instructions given. He seemed a lot tamer now, looks like the acceptance that you’ll actually be for him regardless of the fact could’ve settled in now for him, the other though, you felt an intense underground feeling arising from him. He was shirtless now, the pale skin beneath his top had been filled with heat and sweat, his breathing was subtle, controlled.
yunho took a singular long stride forward to you and held your arms neatly above your head, he dragged your bare body up with him towards the head of the bed, looping your attached wrists onto the frame, expertly. the belt felt cold against your skin, you attempted to create a gap of freedom but he tied you down with such precision it had you growing wetter by the second. his bare body dragged across your erected nipples as he climbed off of you, ripping the remainder of shirt you had left.
You bit your lip to his aggressiveness, opening your thighs wide, cunt marking clearly against your cotton underwear.
mingi groaned to the sight before him, he climbed to the butt of the bed, suckling each one of your ten toes before kissing up the inside of your legs, tongue trailing saliva between the inner parts of your thighs, the patched marks growing cool with the air. He abruptly stopped right infront of your crotch looking up to you with teasing eyes, using his tongue he ate your clothed mound. he was slow on you, licking up and down from your bud to your gape, humming to the bit of taste he’s possessed. his canines bit into the corners of the cloth, ripping them off of your legs swiftly.
The speed in which he reattached his mouth onto your ecstasy made you feel electric. he was mumbling disgusting words under his breath, fully eating your sex with all mouth, lips, and tongue. you felt every breath of satisfaction exhale from his nose the longer he tasted you, eating every portion of skin between your legs. He was selfish, hungry, eyes now tightly shut as he drowned full of you, you watched him beneath you how he blew cool air into your opening, his nose getting instinctively closer to the tight hole he was fingering scenes prior.
he stopped and inhaled in your scent humming noisily.
“smell so fucking good.”
“please don’t stop, i’m close!” you screamed closing your legs around his head suffocating him full of you.
—
“did the slut just fucking speak?”
you jumped at the input, the straight look yunho had on his face twitched annoyingly to you breaking an easy rule.
“i think she just did..” mingi urged, shifting lower around the space between your legs, allowing space for yunho to toy at your upper half he focused on your lower half. with the quick slap of his palm on your sensitive cunt, edging you devilishly he kept mealing you down.
The angry male grabbed at your face, he inserted three of his fingers into your mouth, pushing it back past your uvula causing you to messily gag around the digits. he using the long strings of your saliva as lube to use for his cock, he jerked off his length right infront your face before slapping you across the cheek once, that laid position you were in leaving you with no choice but to just take whatever he gave you.
“what are you gonna do about it?” you spat.
yunho slapped you across the face again, you tested, rolling your eyes to the degradation
he slapped you again
your mouth was suddenly stuffed entirely with many inches of cock. the pale man bucked his hips downward fucking his pelvis into your face. you struggled around him choking up, gagging disgustingly but to him they were pretty tunes.
“dirty bitch knows how to take cock, you think you get to do whatever you want, huh?” yun reached down and held one of your legs up in the air, granting more access of your wound to the man that devoured desperately below.
the man went at their acts for several long minutes, pleasing you in more ways than one.
mingi stood up now, slapping his heavy length right onto your clit once, twice, the sensation overstimulating from the hardness of his cock. He held a condom wrap in his mouth, making eye contact with you instead of your pussy for the first time in a while, asking the silent question of protection.
you struggled to respond as your throat was getting violated by his companion above you, no fucks were given though, you simply reached up to catch the condom in his mouth, grabbing and tossing it across the room.
“dirty girl.”
Kissing the darkening spots he made himself on your inner thighs min slid into the spot between your opened legs, holding onto your available leg and sitting his body as close as possible to yours, balls connected to the wetness of your vulva. his length sat stiffely against your tummy, reaching your mid torso, you both taking notice on how far his cock will reach inside you
he pushed onto the low of your stomach, as he lined himself up with you
you hissed, feeling the burning of the stretch of his enlarged tip inside you, he massaged your thighs to help assist his way into you further quicker, all for his own selfish needs.
yunho was kind enough to give your mouth a break to not overwhelm you around mingi’s size, allowing you to experience what his best friend had to offer fairly. adjusting his stance to carry your head onto his now kneeled thighs caressing the hairs at your crown. he helping you take all of his unnecessarily large of a best friend, placing his hand over your mouth whenever you’ve gotten too loud.
He finally entered far enough to where moving wasn’t as destructible due to his size. he fucked you senselessly, his thrusts were deep and full of lustful need. He grabbed at your waist for support fucking himself into you further. He was painfully skilled at using his cock, each stroke hitting walls you didn’t even know you had, loud moans leaving your mouth.
“you like the way minnie feels inside you, bunny? oh, I bet you do, slutty girl. bet you can’t wait for my cock next, huh?“ a dark voice whispered into your ear, you felt hands everywhere, curses, demands, you were growing dizzy, your orgasm nearing its finale.
“Look him in the eyes as he fucks you, he loves it, bun.”
“Do ya mingi?” you smirked up at the man who’s eyes had now’ve been drenched in the stickiness of his sweaty hair, mouth hanging open retrieving as much oxygen possible.
“yeah, baby. mph, wanna see your eyes lose consciousness when you come.”
He eye fucked you, gaze deep and focused on the fix of your face, memorizing every detail
you were desperately close to your orgasm, the man fucking into your cunt growing sloppy as he neared his too. yunho held your head up in place to force your look on his friend’s
both of you releasing together messily all over eachother.
Mingi reached between you both scooping up the waste of his cum on your tummy, lathering the sticky semen in between his fingers, just to shove it past your lips again. He repeated the move and had a try for himself, humming to the taste.
his hand softly rubbed the sides of your hips, the marks of his fingers being left long to stick onto your sensitive body. he caved in, placing a peck at your lips before entirely climbing off of you, leaving you to the very patient man that held you from behind.
yunho grabbed at your belted knot against the bedframe unbuckling you, replacing the restraint the leather had around your wrists with a single one of his larger hands dragging you across the bed making you harshly land on your feet, ass up face down onto the edge of the bed.
trouble was all you felt, and from the little you knew about yunho; you took notice that he wasn’t the kind to do just a little scolding at misbehaving.
"why can't you follow simple instructions?" he broke your train of thought.
your cunt was on full display to him arched prettily, your ass cheeks perked up wiggling and clenching around nothing, he spanked you once hard experimentingly, your knees bent to his lack of mercy against you, losing balance you gripped the sheets with the tips of your fingers.
“i like to add two, every time you move. that’s plus two for bending your knees just now.”
you groaned in frustration murmuring complaints under your breath onto the bedsheets against your flushed face.
“didn’t like the attitude, two more,”
“I didn’t have an atti—“
“—two more.”
grabbing a handful of your locks, the man reached down meanly, dominantly his lips hovered the soft of your ear.
“ten total. you unwarrantedly spoke to mingi twice earlier, and you fucked with me three times just now. count along, miss one, and what.? answer.”
“two more..?” you broke.
“atta girl.”
“i thought that earlier-?” you continued mumbling confused. pout at your lips from the large amount referring to how harshly he fucked your throat for firstly breaking the established rules.
“you’ve got me confused, silly. that from earlier was for me not for you.”
he interrupted, meanly reaching down rubbing your ass in his palm prior to your punishment almost as if he were to be apologizing to you beforehand.
He spanked you, hard, open handed slap that made your face scrunch shut.
“one.”
“good girl.”
another open handed slap landed onto your right cheek this one harder than the last, you twitched at the pleasurable pain. He tapped your lower back gently to remind you to stay still cheating your way out of added punishment.
“two.” you counted.
“good baby, when we’re done you can touch me again, okay?”
—
and he fulfilled his promise once he got to number ten, finally letting go of your wrists, the indents of his fingers marking at the flesh, he kissed you passionately, gently rubbing at the bruising skin, you moaned in mixed bliss. tucking your face into the collar of his neck.
“you were so good for me. we can stop here if you want, I understand if I went a little too far.”
you heard the seriousness in his voice, you wanted to go all the way, and get your two golden-found cocks rewardingly, despite the numbness from your behind.
“but want you inside me too, want both.”
you stuttered tangling your fingers round his thick hair,
"acting like you weren't just roughed and spanked thirty seconds ago, you're fucking dripping for more?”
“fuck what am i gonna do with you.” he lowered beneath you, his breath ghosted your clit.
"i knew you wouldn’t stop, she's begging for it" hovered yunho lips over your pussy just to open his mouth, sticking his tongue out and latching it flatly over every hole you were born with. speaking to your cunt as if it had a mind of its own.
you squealed from how he replaced the feel of his tongue with the insert of his member losing no time in sliding himself into you, doggystyle. mingi sat on the same bed you got fucked on, pumping his cock slow to your showcase, testing.
the tall man began slow, careful not hurt you, the bruises on your thighs and ass forming and blending together eagerly. yunho increased his speed the more your pussy accepted him, he fucked the absolute shit out of you, the second he heard you mumble beg for yet more of him. His dark hair shifted along with the roughness he stroked you with, pounding into the deep gummy tunnel inside you. yunho grew savage as you now took all of him, he held back long enough even prior to your punishment, not even he knows how he held back from fucking you so long with your hole needy and leaky all over his face flaunting when your ass was being punished aggressively.
“still so fucking tight just for me?” he crashed into you deeper, pulling your head up from your hugging stance by your hair. mingi joined in once more seeing how you were reaching your limit, you were suddenly met with the sight of his erection, moist tip kissing the point of your nose, begging for mouth and tongue. You instinctively open your mouth allowing the man in, he’s now become a whimpering mess infront you, the overstimulating effect your tongue had on his head drove him over the edge.
“won’t last long, please yu-.” you sensed a different side to the wofie male you had in your mouth, the tone in his voice dragging out with a whine.
did he just fucking ask permission to cum?
Your breath quickened, a pace uncontrollable, the male behind you broke your back harsher riding his own cock through his and your high, slow messy strokes still sliding in and out of your slippery walls as he approached his climax.
The older male pulled out of you with such quickness that you could’ve sworn you’ve gotten friction burn, along with the same speed the younger positioned himself over your head opposite side from yunho, both pumping their cocks rapidly ontop your face, the lighting creating two huge sticked shadows to place both sides of your form
“open.” the older male gaped at your jaw, milking his cock dry right inside your mouth. mingi followed not long after, deep groans leaving his lips as he grabbed onto your hair smearing leftover cum onto the low of your bottom lip.
you swirled your tongue to collect in your mouth as much of their warm release as possible, cleaning your own face up. The men stared in awe to this, their faces softening into something more similar to need than want from their postnut.
“wanna kiss.” mingi replicated you, licking his lips wet as if your cum-glazed ones weren’t enough to make the kiss sloppy, he pulled you by your glossy neck, making out with your tongue, him tasting the combination of everything in your mouth carelessly
yunho then legit stole you from mingi’s mouth, competively one-uping his friend’s kiss, he went for the big shots, messier, thick tongue battling between you, every one of your exhales became his inhales, same boldness to taste you all together.
mingi robbed you away once more, he taking you back and you proudly followed, not having a preference for who’s mouth was sloped on yours, if you were going to do this might as well go full out. you kissed, your mouth hanging slightly open and sloppier,
that’s when you felt a third tongue inside your mouth, it coming hard and attacking, fighting to explore your throat, nothing but flesh and messy release exchanging your mouths. Opening a single eye you watched as both friends kissed you at the same time , their eyes tightly shut but still not giving up the war to claim you as theirs despite it all.
—
after many long minutes of continuous kissing with the men you all laid your worned out bodies onto the bed that belonged to yunho. no speech of what was just done.
your body felt flaccid between theirs, they squashed you, one man nudging into the soft of your neck from behind, hands wrapping around your waist. the other laid infront of you, legs of yours wrapped around their waist, their soft sleepy breaths fanning your temple.
You fell asleep sandwiched between both men, all of you nuzzling together as one, the aroma of sex and cologne still on its high point in the elder’s room. in the mix of your power nap, they carressed your body rewardingly, nothing but sweet rubs and kisses especially onto the areas they’ve gotten carried away with. both men stayed awake, thinking, watching over you, making sure you were okay after.. all of that.
—
“never saw you crack that way before, what’s gotten into you?”
“she didn’t feel like just a fuck, she was-“
“-everything.” the other finished.
“..yeah..”
you heard them lowly & tipsly talk amongst each other, faking the rest of your nap the sounds of more bottles clinking together ringed in your ears.
“the way she begged for me, i couldn’t handle myself. don’t know why, her eyes flipped, took control over me.” yunho expressed, lazy fingers raking your sweat-filled hair. he couldn’t keep his hands away from you one form or another.
“-wanna keep her forever, too.” mumbled the other.
“no.. we can’t see her again, she’s dangerous.” replied his friend, both admitting to themselves that you were a serious case. mentally fucking them up with your intensity,
you moved against them slightly, you inhaled and exhaled deeply, chest falling and rising peacefully. your uncovered nipples growing hard again to the cool aftershock tension in the air, the men taking notice as they did absolutely everything having to do with you.
“wake her. won’t be able to stop myself again.”
They woke you timidly, softly. quietly unspoken words filling the air as you were handing a clump of cleaner clothes for you to wear.
You were now getting dressed with a set of clothing yunho picked out for you, your ripped clothes being held in a bag against your form. glancing at your cracked phone, dozens of messages and calls from the friends you’ve arrived arrived at the location with, saving your apologies for later.
the air was thick as you dressed. the men had their faces turned opposite you like privacy was warranted after all you all did together, silent looks being shared between the two.
“gonna go now.” you felt a percentage of guilt to your announcement, yunho refused to turn his head to look back at you from his sat position on the bed as you left, fully dismissing your presence.
however mingi though, walked you out all the way downstairs, dodging the leftover mess from the party.
the door closed behind you, all kinds of regretful thoughts raced your head to the way your threeway party ended. making your way out onto the street locating your parked car at the furthest possible spot you found available from the late time you arrived at the get-together.
that’s when you heard your name being called out from a distance, once, twice.
“hey, y/n!” the voice kept calling from behind you, a jogging mingi approached you from a distance his clear skin reflected the street lamp beautifully, he was so much bigger out there infront you, somehow being outdoors alone with him made it all just so much more intimate.
His boba-turned eyes looked into your own, he pulled the familiar camera out of his pocket quickly opening up the gallery option from the menu before you had any time to protest.
It was suddenly empty. The storage has been completely cleared, every single picture, video, memory gone. The screen displayed a text popup that said ‘images will appear here’
“why’d you do that?” you questioned the handsome man.
“fuck those other girls, y/n. we want this camera full of just you. ”
“yunho’s going nuts right now too, he can’t explain it either.”
your eyes widened to the confession getting taken completely aback, not sure of what to think your mind roaming every single space provided by your subconsciousness.
“need to think about it, all so sudden.” you whispered. your heart jumping in excitement thinking that they were ready to never hear from you again as per usual hookups go.
“we’re not going anywhere, gonna wait for you to return to us, yeah? dunno. we’re not always this. wanna show you we can be kind and gentle too.” his hands, caressed your own, the touch completely different from what you met him as.
His friend stood from the longer distance, his long arms noticeably crossed against his chest as he leaned lazily against the front door to their shared house. His hair sat messy, eyes tucking in the shadows below the oversized hoodie he put back on.
His face sat expressionless, almost with a hint of disappointment for getting his feelings involved with a one night stand.
You looked at him, at a distance behind mingi, you smiling kindly trying to break off the sudden tension he formed against you. you then looked back up at mingi who stood infront you, delicate with his words around you at this new upbringing, eyes hidden with a worry that you’d run away if he pushed too hard.
you lifted your hand up to cup his worried check, pecking him in the the lips, soundly. yunho’s tense body language softened around the edges at the sight.
“pick me up for dinner tomorrow at eight, don’t be late. wanna see you both matching too.” you shared, leaving your contact in his heavier phone.
mingi nodded and quickly jogged back to his place alongside his best, like you’d change your mind if he stuck by too long.
He high-fived him amusingly and instantly shared the news, you saw how yunho’s eyes grinned before the rest of his face followed, the fiery look he had prior disappearing almost entirely. he held his look on to you, tracing and admiring the soft of your face and quickly shared back that same warm smile you granted him with along your comment.
They silently made their way back into their home, closing the modern door behind the two, readying for tomorrow’s eight o’clock.
genre: idol!wonwoo, nonidol!reader, mention of nudes, kisses, menace reader
word count: 755~
the sun was blazing over the resort pool, but it did nothing to warm the sulky cloud hanging over you.
you lay stretched out on the sunbed in your sleek black bikini, the one that hugged every curve like it was custom-made for trouble. your phone rested on your stomach, screen dark for the tenth time that hour.
wonwoo’s last text had been a dry “busy with soundcheck, miss you” four hours ago.
sohee dropped into the lounger beside you, cocktail in hand, sunglasses perched on her head.
“okay, spill. you’ve been staring at that phone like it personally betrayed you for three days straight. what did your fiancé do this time?”
you sighed, swirling the straw in your own drink.
“he’s just… short. one-word answers. voice notes that end in two seconds. i know the tour’s exhausting, but I’m starting to feel like an afterthought.”
sohee smirked, that dangerous little smile she got when an evil plan was forming.
“men are so predictable. especially when they’re away and think they have everything under control.”
she leaned in, lowering her voice even though no one was around. “send him a picture. right now. you in this bikini. view once. make it impossible for him to ignore.”
you blinked. “sohee—”
“trust me. he’ll either reply like a normal human or book the next flight. probably both. they act all cool until you remind them what’s waiting at home.”
you chewed your lip, heat crawling up your neck that had nothing to do with the sun.
the bikini did look lethal on you. after a moment of hesitation, you angled your phone, took a few shots arched back, one hand in your hair, sultry half-smile and picked the best one.
View once. Sent.
you tossed the phone aside and tried to act normal. sohee just cackled and clinked her glass against yours.
fifteen minutes later, your phone rang.
wonwoo’s name flashed on the screen.
you answered with a lazy grin. “hello, stranger.”
“baby” his voice was low, a little breathless. “send it again.”
you laughed softly. “oh? the picture’s gone already? That’s crazy.”
“i know you did it on purpose.” He sounded equal parts amused and desperate. “come on. just once more.”
you sat up, enjoying this far too much. “you barely texted me for days, wonwoo. short replies, no calls… and now you’re demanding pictures?” you made a thoughtful hum. “i think compensation is in order.”
“name it.”
your smile widened. “kisses. through the phone, until i say stop.”
there was a half-second pause—then the soft, unmistakable sound of him kissing the speaker. once. teice. slow, deliberate, almost embarrassingly sincere.
he kept going, murmuring between each one, “miss you… want you here… love you…” in that deep, velvet voice that always melted you.
you bit your lip, cheeks burning. “more, convince me you’re sorry.”
he obeyed like a well-trained puppy, kissing the phone again and again without complaint.
on the other side of the world, in the green room backstage, mingyu and seungkwan froze mid-conversation.
wonwoo was sitting on the couch, phone held close to his face, eyes half-closed, repeatedly pressing his lips to the screen with soft little sounds.
mingyu’s water bottle stopped halfway to his mouth.
seungkwan’s eyes went comically wide. “hyung… are you… making out with your phone right now?”
wonwoo didn’t even flinch, too focused. “Shh.”
your voice suddenly floated out from the speaker, playful and teasing. “Keep going and maybe I’ll send you the bikini one again… plus a couple without the bikini this time.”
mingyu choked.
seungkwan let out a scandalized squeak before dissolving into laughter, nearly falling off the arm of the couch. “nude pics?! Yah, keon Wonwoo! in the green room!”
Wonwoo finally lowered the phone, ears bright red, but the tiniest smirk played on his lips. He looked completely unbothered by his members howling at him.
“laugh all you want,” he said calmly, already typing something back to you. “at least I have a fiancée who sends me pictures like that.”
mingyu wheezed. “he’s not even ashamed!”
seungkwan clutched his stomach. “hhe stoic wonwoo hyung is down bad. Someone take a picture—wait, no, he might kiss that one too!”
wonwoo just shook his head, phone already ringing again as he stood up to find a quieter corner. he didn’t care that he was the group’s laughing stock for the rest of the day.
he had you waiting on the other end of the line.
and he was booking that flight the second the tour schedule allowed.
Just like the yoongi one this doesnt have a lot of romance, just some dad/daughter stuff. girl-dad Jimin ftw
Jimin as a father. Jimin sfw
“And then this one….” Your daughter rambles, adding yet another clip to Jimin’s dark hair. He’s on the floor with her, trying to focus on writing lyrics for his solo album while entertaining her at the same time. It was important to him to give you a break sometimes; even if he was often busy.
“Woww, princess,” he stays patient, unable to to see the clips but expressing gratitude nonetheless. “Im really pretty now, huh?”
“Yes- well, I think you need this one too dad… and then stickers!”
He moves his head so she could clip in yet another one.
“Stickers too?” Jimin looks over at you like he needs saving. It was his idea to join her on the floor, so you didn’t feel the least bit bad.
“Honey, maybe dad is good enough for now.” You gently suggest.
“But I have princes stickers,” she’s digging through a folder you had given her full of them. Jimin sits up, putting away his notepad and pen. He wants to give her his full attention.
“Just let her,” he sits closer to you, leaning on you. “She’ll only be little for so long…..”
“Could be worse,” you reply softly, “temporary tattoos like last time,”
“Don’t remind me,” he nudges you. “I was scrubbing them off for days. Hey- princess! I think mom wants some stickers too.”
“Mommy wants stickers, ok.” Your daughter says cheerfully, wandering over to stick one right on Jimin’s cheek.
You side-eye Jimin, who is grinning like he just won the lottery.
“Babe.” You say sternly, trying not to make a face. Why did he just subject you to this.
“Shhh-shh,” he cant help but laugh.
“Why’s daddy laughing!” Your daughter accuses.
“Im just happy mom wants to play too,” Jimin excuses. You’re about ready to strangle him by the time your daughter has moved on to putting stickers on your arms.
“Which one do you want?” She asks, holding out the sheet. You point to a flower and she sticks it right between your eyes on your nose bridge.
By the time she’s done Jimin is covered in accessories, holding a star wand with ribbons on it, he has stickers all over him and a plastic tiara on his head. You manage to get a really good picture of him for the photo-book in your living room.
cowlick a min yoongi one-shot
pairing: idol!min yoongi x wife!f!reader
genre: pwp
rating: explicit content MDNI!!!
summary: you're the reason why your husband’s hair is a mess for the 'hooligan' mv.
warnings/tags: yoongi pov, quickie in a trailer, riding, unprotected sex, they're married and reader wants to get pregnant, his boys make fun of him lol
wc: 1.7k
notes: i say im burnt out from writing smut and then i go and write this. it's just bc yoongi makes me so insane 😩 this was inspired by a convo between myself and aqua (contents of which may or may not be based on real life events) so im dedicating this to her 🫶💜 thank u for betaing last minute!!
Yoongi’s supposed to be on set. But instead he’s sweating under his leather outfit with you spread out on his lap, bouncing on his cock.
It starts off with him just going to his trailer because he forgot his lucky bracelet (the one you gave him on his birthday the first year you celebrated together). The door almost hits him on the ass by the time you jump him, and he barely has time to be surprised before you grab his face and pull him down.
“How’d you sneak in here?” he chuckles between breathless kisses, hands going to your waist like clockwork.
“I’m your wife. Duh,” you snap, fingers ensnaring the heavy chains around his neck.
“I start filming in five minutes.”
“I’ll be quick.” He never argues with you. He lets you push him down on the couch, straddle him, kiss and lick at the base of his neck, knowing you don’t need the reminder not to make marks unless you want a hit put on you by his stylist, and you’re always careful not to touch his face for that same reason. It takes him a second to realize you’re wearing a skirt. He opens his mouth to scold you for coming to see him in clothes like that since it’s so cold out but then you reach under to dip into your bare, sopping pussy. Ah. Easy access. You came with a plan.
In all the years you’ve been together, it’s never taken much for you to get him hard. You walk into a room and bam - he has to adjust himself. And when you touch him - there goes his thoughts for a few minutes. It’s always been like this, and he knows it’ll never change. So when you figure out how to get into his boxers without pushing down too much leather, he’s already stiff and leaking at the tip.
You smear down his precum and he bites his lip when you grab his cock with the fingers you had between your legs, glistening with your slick, making him nice and wet for you.
“Damn, baby. Were you playing with yourself while you waited for me?”
“Mhmm,” you nod, whimpering as you finally let him penetrate your walls. You’re so wet and warm and tight when you sink down on him that he has to hold in a breath to keep himself together. But then he reminds himself that this is a quickie. He knows you could stay here and ride him until his balls are empty, but, unfortunately, he doesn’t have that kind of time. His phone - that he shouldn’t even have on him in the first place (he does though, just for you) - has been vibrating in his pocket for the past few minutes, but the more he’s distracted, the longer it’ll take him to make you both come, so he ignores it.
Your hands grip his shoulders as you wiggle your hips to adjust to his girth that he finds so fucking cute every single time, but he can hardly feel your touch through the thick leather of his jacket. He curses, because his fingerless gloves are preventing him from fully touching the skin on your hip, so he grips you hard enough to bruise. Usually, he’d let you bounce and ride him until you came on him and got too tired to carry on, but to speed things up, he bucks up into you, watching your parted lips spill out moans as he grinds against your spot, grunting as it makes you squeeze him and suck him deeper in. He kisses you, swallowing your sweet sounds, and his balls tighten when your fingers dig into the side of his head, tightly fisting his hair. Telltale sign that you’re close. You must've really worked yourself up while you were waiting for him.
“Come for me,” he whispers against your lips, fingers dropping and finding your clit to press and rub you over the edge. You loudly cry out his name, pulling at his hair so his head tips to the side as he continues fucking up into you and kissing the underside of your jaw. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.”
“Come inside," you warble, cheek lolling against his temple, fingers still entangled in his hair, cunt clenching him through your aftershocks.
“Mm.” Eyebrows pinched, his fingers return to flex on your hip, cock twitching at the mere thought of getting to fill you up. “Remember to take your pill.”
You whine, indignant. He sighs, shakes his head. You make that sound when he doesn’t give you what you want.
“I’ll give you a baby when we come back from tour, ‘kay?”
You whine again, louder and borderline disobedient, slamming down on him like it tells him something. Sucking in a hiss because damn that felt good, he slaps your ass and massages out the sting, a silent warning to stop being a brat. This is one thing he’s not going to let you win an argument about.
“Hey, that was the deal, right? I’m not leaving you at home alone and pregnant while I fly around the world for eight months.”
“Yeah, but by the time you’d get back, you’d have a baby. You wouldn’t have to deal with all my pregnancy bullshit,” you try to reason, hips still rolling, eyes glassy and pout pathetic. He frowns. You’ve both had this conversation multiple times before, but that’s the first time you’ve made this point. He doesn’t fucking like it.
Yoongi tugs down on your waist to get you to stop, pelvises pressed together, cock deep inside you. But you know better than to move.
“Look at me.” You refuse, and the leather of his fingerless gloves rubs your cheeks as he grabs them. “I want to deal with all your pregnancy bullshit. I married you, remember? I signed up to put up with all your bullshit for the rest of my life and I don’t plan on missing out on any of it.”
His eyes dart between both of yours, making sure what he said is sticking with you, and when you lean in to sloppily kiss him, he knows the message got through.
“Now, c’mon. You said you were gonna be quick.”
You sit up straighter, and you’re clearly weakened from your orgasm but you put in effort that he’ll worship you for later to bring him to his own peak. Slick sounds of your pussy and slams of your hips fill the trailer, and within seconds of you squeezing him, sucking on his earlobe, and toying with his chains, he’s muttering an incoherent string of curses and spilling deep inside you. His balls just keep pulsing and holyyy shit, he really could get you pregnant right now. (He would love nothing more, but later he’ll text you another reminder to take your pill).
“I love you so fucking much,” he pants into your neck, wishing he had the time to leave his mark. “Even though you’re gonna get me in so much fucking trouble.”
“Love you, too. Don’t forget you married trouble,” You grin, waggling his ring on your finger in his facr, and his hips jerk as you lift off of him. He tips his chin up when you start to lean in for another kiss but your mouth drops and your eyes go wide.
“Oh, fuck, your hair-“ You reach out to try and fix it, but just as you do, a loud pounding on the trailer door startles the both of you.
“Shit, gotta go,” Yoongi mutters, quickly stuffing himself back in this godforsaken leather as his manager starts yelling for him to come out. You try your best to smooth down his hair, but when you keep muttering curses under your breath, he knows it’s not working.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He kisses you, lingers a second longer than he has time for, and leaves you sitting on the couch, skirt halfway up your waist, fingers playing with his cum dripping out. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. He needs to shoot this music video first.
Yoongi’s manager chews him all the way out onto the set, and his stylist gives him the evilest eye when she catches sight of his hair. He just scurries towards his band because his manager already said there’s no time to fix it.
“Where were you?” Namjoon exclaims as Yoongi walks towards the center of the platform. He shrugs, like he’s not still perspiring and his dick isn’t still hard. Luckily, his leather pants are bulky enough to hide it.
“I had to grab something.”
“Look at his hair! That means his honey came to visit,” Hobi says, waggling his brows. Yoongi shoots him daggers.
“Shut up.”
The maknaes burst into raucous laughter and Taehyung and Jimin mime grabbing at each other, making overexaggerated kissing noises and mimicking the way you cry out Yoongi’s name. Yoongi turns his back on them to go to his spot, just missing Jeongguk thrusting in the air like he’s mid-Baepsae.
“You brought this on yourself,” Namjoon mutters, stepping up next to him, fixing his gloves. Yoongi pretends not to hear. “It’s been, what, four years? And y’all still act like newlyweds.”
“We’re making up for the time we missed while I was in the military.”
Namjoon’s face pulls back, disgusted. “Okay, well, can you not do that on our schedule?”
“Sorry, leader-nim,” Yoongi fake apologizes, pressing his hands together, smirk lopsided and shit-eating. “Maybe if you let her come on tour, she wouldn’t find any downtime I have now to, yknow, make up.”
Namjoon sighs, long and distressed. Yoongi only feels a little bad. You’re his wife. He needs you by his side, and not just to have little quickies whenever there’s minutes to spare. He was enough of a wreck being away from you during his service. He doesn’t want that to happen because of work.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
Yoongi smiles, lighting up inside and out. “Thanks, bro. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon waves him off, just in time for the director to call for action.
He doesn’t know how crazy his hair looks until they play the footage back to check for mistakes and potential position adjustments. His band members tease him, but it makes him smile that it’s there because you need to grab onto his hair when he makes you come. No one outside of this set will ever know his cowlick is thanks to his wife, and that makes him like it even more.
He still left his damn bracelet.
.
.
.
thank you for reading!!! ahhhh i cant believe this happened lmao pls let me know what you think with comments and reblogs!! 💜
no romance in this one just father/son chaos ft. One of my fav toys as a kid
hobi as a father. Hobi sfw
“Dad look at my spaceship!” Your son exclaims; it’s… something. Not exactly a spaceship but thats okay! Hobi can use his imagination.
“Ooh, I like the colors!” Hobi compliments. “It kinda looks like an airplane, actually, with the wings,” he points at the fins on his son’s creation.
“Thats- so it can fly in space, dad. Obviously.” His son corrects him, a lot of confidence in an opinion so factually wrong. Hobi makes a face, glancing at you.
“Yeah dad, obviously.” You repeat after your son, smiling when his look of minor annoyance turns to one of surprise. You’re busy on the carpet assembling a kit you and hobi bought specifically to spend time with your child.
The toddler scoffs, a tiny sound that makes Hobi’s chest tighten with affection. "It’s a star cruiser," the boy insists, tapping a plastic fin with a stubby finger. He turns back to his 'vessel,' his brow furrowed in intense concentration as he tries to wedge a stray Lego piece on top. “And this is the laser.”
Hobi leans back, his gaze drifting from the chaos on the rug to where you are fumbling with half assembled “adult” set. He turns the instruction page for you, setting aside what you needed for the next step so you wouldn’t have to hunt.
"He's got your stubbornness," Hobi murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. He reaches out, his thumb grazing your knee in a silent, grounding gesture. "The 'obviously' was crazy. He didn't even blink."
“Yeah, well his sass is all you.” You retort with a knowing smile. “Hear that tone? Sounds just like you.”
He lets out a soft huff, watching his son attempt to 'launch' the ship with a dramatic roar. "Hey, Captain," Hobi calls out, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Does the star cruiser need a pilot?” He assembles one of the little lego people from your kit, offering it. “I think it does.”
“Yeah!” Your son waddles over, taking the figurine and standing it up on top of the creation.
Hobi’s grin widens, a bright, gummy expression. "Alright, takeoff time," he says, scooping the boy up into his arms.
The boy settles, leaning his head against Hobi’s shoulder while still keeping a watchful eye on his masterpiece. "The pilot is ready for takeoff," he declares, his small hand gripping Hobi's shirt.
Hobi looks over at you, his expression softening into something deeply tender. He nudges your foot with his own, a playful, silent invitation to join in. “Watch this,” he says, carefully raising your kid above his head and ‘flying’ the ship around, toddler included.
Hobi mimics the noises his son makes, momentarily turning him upside down, causing the kid to laugh and flail.
“Dad!”
"What?" Hobi asks, his voice low and melodic, directed at both his son and you. "It looks like we might have a landing incoming." He waits, his eyes sparkling with the anticipation of the pretend play that is sure to follow.
“Hobi!” You warn, sitting back as he lowers your son down and ‘crashes’ into the pile of toys on the floor.
“Boom! Crash landing!”
You help your toddler up, fixing his hair. He has never been this excited.
“Again again-“ he reaches for hobi.
“Alright. One last time and then I promised to help mom with her legos. Okay?” He picks him up again.
Notes: Writing this just because I realized I have basically NOTHING about BTS, not even about my husband Jin, and that might be bad but I tried
Words:10k
Tag:Friends to Lovers,smut,idol AU,light ,angst,fluff,jealous, comedy (??)
Main masterlist / masterlist bts
You never thought that a simple stack of damp reports would change your life so much.
It had been almost six years since that rainy autumn afternoon in the hallways of the old BigHit building. You were just a nervous marketing intern, newly arrived, your feet slipping on the polished floor. The folders flew everywhere. And there he was — Kim Seokjin, still in his practice clothes damp with sweat, brown hair stuck to his forehead, wearing that ridiculously wide and perfect smile.
“Hey, careful there!” He grabbed your arm firmly, preventing the fall. “If you fall, I’ll have to save you and then tweet that the Worldwide Handsome performed an epic rescue. Imagine the trending topic.”
You laughed. He laughed. And that’s how it all began.
In the first few months, the friendship was light and easy. Jin would include you in staff lunches whenever he saw you eating alone in the cafeteria. He’d send you pictures of the meals he cooked at home with ridiculous captions: “Look at this kimchi jjigae. Want me to save you some or are you going to keep surviving on coffee and despair?” You reciprocated by bringing him strong coffee when he complained about headaches or ibuprofen after long dance practices.
Over time, the friendship grew deeper. It became something rare in the middle of that chaotic idol world. Jin told you things few people knew: the pressure of being the “visual” of the group, the frustration of wanting to be recognized as a singer and composer too, the insane homesickness. You vented to him about your insecurities, the burnout of working in the industry, and how your relationships always ended badly because no one understood your crazy schedule.
He became your safe place. And you became his.
That’s why, when Jin invited you to dinner at his house that particular Friday, you didn’t think twice. The other members were away — Namjoon in a meeting, Yoongi in the studio, the younger ones on individual schedules. It was just the two of you, as always.
His house smelled like home-cooked food. Jin had prepared everything: galbi jjim, various banchan, fresh rice, and a bottle of red wine that an older staff member had brought from France. You ate in the living room, sitting on the floor in front of the low table, laughing loudly like always.
“Seriously, Jin,” you said, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “You cook better than any restaurant I’ve ever been to. Why don’t you open one after you retire?”
He huffed, pretending to be offended, but his eyes sparkled.
“Because then I wouldn’t have an excuse to call you over and force you to praise my food. Where’s the fun in that?”
After dinner, you moved to the huge couch. The wine went down way too easily. Two glasses became three, then four. You had your legs thrown over his thighs, head resting on the back of the couch, feeling warm and relaxed. Jin’s black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his hair messy from running his hands through it so much.
The conversation inevitably drifted to relationships.
“I gave up,” you confessed, laughing without much humor. “Dating in this industry is impossible. Everyone wants something I can’t give right now. 24/7 attention, public exclusivity, stability… I just want to focus on my career, you know? But sometimes…” you hesitated, the alcohol loosening your tongue, “sometimes I miss being touched. Intimacy. Having someone make me feel desired without all the ‘forever’ pressure.”
Jin stayed quiet for a moment. He swirled the wine in his glass slowly, dark eyes fixed on you. The air between you shifted. It became thicker. Hotter.
“I get it,” he said finally, his voice lower than usual. “I can’t date either. The company, the fans, the schedules… it would be a fucking mess. But I miss it too. Having someone I can just be Jin with. Not the idol. Not the Worldwide Handsome. Just me.”
He looked straight at you. No jokes. No filter.
“We get along so well. We trust each other. We have fun together. So… why don’t we make a deal?”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“What kind of deal?”
Jin set his glass down and leaned forward slightly, his knee brushing against yours.
“Friends with benefits. For real. Only when both of us want it. No labels. No pressure. No jealousy. If one of us isn’t in the mood, just say ‘not today’ and that’s it. No drama. No complications.”
You blinked, surprised. The wine made everything feel more surreal. But also more tempting. It had been months — almost a year — since you’d slept with anyone. And Jin… Jin was gorgeous. He smelled good. He was funny. Safe.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely.” He smiled, that dangerous smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “But only if you want to. If it feels weird, we can pretend I never said anything and keep eating my kimchi jjigae in peace.”
You bit your lip. Looked at him. At his full lips, broad shoulders, and large hands resting on his own thighs.
“I want to,” you whispered.
The silence that followed was heavy. Jin stared at you for long seconds, as if giving you one last chance to back out. Then, slowly, he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you.
It started slow. Almost experimental. His soft lips pressing against yours, the taste of wine mixing between you. Then you opened your mouth and his tongue met yours. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent. Jin let out a low groan against your mouth, a sound that went straight between your legs.
He pulled you onto his lap effortlessly. You straddled his thighs, feeling the heat of his big body underneath you. His hands slid down your back, squeezing your waist, slipping under your shirt.
“If you want to stop…” he murmured against your lips.
“I don’t want to stop.”
Jin smiled against your mouth.
“Thank God.”
He lifted you from the couch like you weighed nothing and carried you to his bedroom. The light was low — only the bedside lamp on. Jin laid you down on the king-sized bed carefully, climbing on top of you. He removed your blouse slowly, kissing every inch of skin that appeared: your neck, collarbone, the valley between your breasts. When he reached your bra, he unclasped it skillfully and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly while his hand massaged the other.
You arched your back, moaning. Jin was ridiculously good with his mouth.
He moved lower. Kissed your stomach, removed your pants and panties together. He spread your legs with his large hands and settled between them. The first touch of his tongue on your clit made you moan loudly.
“Fuck…” Jin murmured, his hot breath against you. “You’re already so wet.”
He devoured you calmly. Slow tongue circling, sucking, two thick fingers sliding in and out in a perfect rhythm. He moaned against your pussy, the vibration delicious. You came for the first time like that, gripping the sheets and trembling against his mouth.
Jin moved up, pulling off his own shirt. His body was perfect — broad shoulders, defined abs, fair skin. He removed his pants and boxers. His cock was thick and long, the pink head glistening with precum. You licked your lips instinctively.
“Next time you can suck me,” he said, voice hoarse. “Right now I need to be inside you.”
He grabbed a condom from the drawer, put it on quickly, and positioned himself between your legs. He entered slowly, inch by inch, stretching you in the most delicious way. When he was fully inside, both of you moaned together.
“Shit… you’re so tight,” Jin whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “Is this okay?”
“It’s perfect. Move, Jin.”
He started moving. Slow at first, rolling his hips, then faster. The bed creaked. The wet sound of your bodies filled the room. Jin kissed you the whole time — on the mouth, neck, breasts. He was vocal, moaning your name, dropping stupid jokes in the middle of fucking just to make you laugh.
“You know that… ah, fuck the joke for now.”
You came a second time with him inside you, clenching hard around him. Jin didn’t last much longer. He thrust deep a few more times, pulled out, removed the condom, and came on your stomach with a long, rough groan.
Afterward, the silence was comfortable. Jin went to get a warm towel, cleaned you gently, gave you water, and lay down beside you, pulling you against his chest.
“So…” he said, tracing lazy circles on your back. “The agreement is on?”
You laughed, still breathless.
“It’s on.”
Jin kissed the top of your head.
“Good. Because I’m already thinking about round two.”
You fell asleep like that — naked and tangled together. For the first time in a long time, you felt light. Safe. Desired.
Neither of you imagined, that night, how much that “simple agreement” would complicate everything.
-----
Sunlight filtered softly through the half-closed curtains, warming the tangled sheets. You woke up slowly, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs and the heavy weight of an arm wrapped securely around your waist. Memories from last night flooded in — Jin’s mouth on you, his groans, the way he’d cracked a terrible joke right in the middle of thrusting into you.
You smiled into the pillow.
A soft, lingering kiss landed on your bare shoulder.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Jin murmured, voice deep and raspy from sleep. He pulled you closer, spooning you tighter, his nose nuzzling into the back of your neck. “How are you feeling?”
You turned in his arms to face him. Jin looked illegally handsome in the morning light — messy dark hair, slightly puffy eyes, and that lazy, satisfied smile. He was still completely naked under the sheets, just like you.
“I feel good,” you answered, reaching up to fix his bed hair. “Really good, actually.”
His hand slid down your side, resting on your hip with gentle strokes. It was surprisingly tender. More boyfriend than “benefits,” but you weren’t complaining.
Jin leaned in and kissed you — slow and sweet, not rushed like last night. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm.
“I’ll make breakfast,” he declared, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before rolling out of bed.
You watched him walk across the room, admiring the view of his broad back and perfect ass for a few shameless seconds. Before he reached the door, he stopped, grabbed a pair of black sweatpants from a chair, and pulled them on.
You raised an eyebrow. “Putting on clothes? I thought the Worldwide Handsome preferred to cook in his birthday suit.”
Jin turned around, now safely covered from the waist down, and gave you a dramatic look.
“Yah! Do you want me to burn the eggs because I’m distracted by my own handsomeness? Or worse — do you want me to burn something important?” He pointed at himself. “This treasure needs protection. The apron will handle the rest.”
You burst out laughing as he disappeared into the hallway.
A few minutes later, you slipped on one of his oversized white t-shirts (which reached mid-thigh) and padded to the kitchen. The delicious smell of food hit you immediately. Jin was standing at the stove wearing the black sweatpants and a pink “Kiss the Cook” apron, humming cheerfully while flipping eggs. His broad shoulders looked even wider with the thin straps of the apron.
He glanced over his shoulder when he heard you and broke into a huge grin.
“Look who decided to join the living! Sit down, my favorite friend-with-benefits. Breakfast is almost ready.”
You sat at the kitchen island, chin resting on your hand as you watched him. He moved around with confidence, plating everything beautifully — perfectly cooked eggs, grilled spam, fresh rice, kimchi, and even some sliced fruit on the side.
When he placed the plate in front of you, he didn’t just set it down. He leaned over and kissed the top of your head, then your temple, then gave you a quick peck on the lips like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You blinked.
“Okay… what is this?” you asked, amused. “Last night you said ‘no labels, no pressure,’ and now you’re kissing me like we’ve been married for ten years. Are you sure you read the friends-with-benefits contract correctly, Kim Seokjin?”
Jin froze mid-motion, chopsticks in hand, ears turning bright red. He tried to play it cool but failed miserably.
“I-I’m just being a good host!” he protested, voice going comically high. “Worldwide Handsome etiquette demands post-sex care. It’s in the manual. Page 47.”
You laughed harder.
“Page 47? So there’s an official manual now?”
He sat down across from you, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly flustered but still smiling.
“Fine, fine. Maybe I’m being a little… extra. But you looked cute sleeping in my bed, okay? And you smell like me now. It’s satisfying.” He pointed his chopsticks at you. “Don’t tease me or I’ll burn the next batch on purpose.”
You took a bite of the eggs and moaned in appreciation.
“Jin, this is so good. If this is what I get after sex, I might start demanding benefits every other day.”
His eyes lit up with mischief.
“Every other day? Bold of you to assume I’d say no.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I could do every day. Morning, lunch, and dinner service. I’m very dedicated.”
The two of you ate while chatting comfortably. Jin kept stealing glances at you, smiling softly every time your eyes met. At one point he reached across the table and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, then casually licked it off.
You raised both eyebrows this time.
“Jin.”
“What?” he asked innocently, but his ears were still pink. “I hate wasting food. Very eco-friendly of me.”
After breakfast, you helped with the dishes. Well — you dried while he washed, because he was extremely picky about how the pans were cleaned.
“You know,” you said while drying a plate, “for someone who proposed a no-strings-attached agreement, you’re being suspiciously cuddly and domestic this morning.”
Jin flicked water at you from the sink, laughing when you yelped.
“Stop exposing me! I’m allowed to be nice. We’ve been friends for six years. One night of amazing sex doesn’t erase that.” He paused, then added quieter, “It actually makes me want to be nicer.”
Your heart did a small flip.
You poked his side.
“Careful, Jinnie. If you keep this up, I’m going to think you like me.”
He turned off the water, dried his hands, and suddenly pulled you into his arms, back against his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, swaying you both gently.
“Maybe I do like you, idiot,” he whispered, voice playful but sincere. “As a friend. A very attractive, very good-in-bed friend.”
You laughed and leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth.
Later, you both ended up on the couch watching a random variety show. Jin pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. His hands rested on your thighs, sliding under the hem of the t-shirt he’d lent you.
“So…” he started, more serious now, “we should probably talk about the rules. Before this becomes too chaotic.”
You nodded, playing with the strings of his apron (he still hadn’t taken it off).
“Okay. Rules.”
Jin ticked them off on his fingers, still looking ridiculously cute with you on his lap.
“1. No jealousy. We can see other people if we want, but… honestly, I don’t think I will.”
“2. Whenever one of us doesn’t want it, just say so. No pressure.”
“3. This stays between us. Nobody knows — not the members, not staff.”
“4. We can still be normal friends. The benefits are extra, not the whole thing.”
He hesitated, then added with a shy smile, “And 5… breakfast after sex is mandatory. Chef’s orders.”
You laughed and leaned in to kiss him.
“Deal. All of it.”
The kiss quickly grew heated. Jin’s hands squeezed your thighs as you rocked slowly against him, feeling him harden beneath you.
“Shower?” you whispered against his lips.
“Shower,” he agreed, standing up with you still wrapped around his waist like it was effortless. “But I’m warning you — I plan to be very thorough.”
As he carried you toward the bathroom, both of you laughing between kisses, you couldn’t help but think that this agreement was already feeling dangerously comfortable.
And Jin, holding you tight, seemed to be thinking the exact same thing.
------
Three weeks had passed since that first night, and the agreement was working better than either of you had expected.
At least on paper.
The sex was still incredible — spontaneous, fun, and ridiculously hot. Sometimes it was quick and filthy in the Hybe parking garage after late meetings. Other times it was slow and lazy at his place on Sunday afternoons, with Jin taking his sweet time until you were a trembling mess beneath him. He still made you laugh mid-sex with his terrible jokes, and the aftercare remained top-tier: warm towels, water, cuddles, and always something delicious to eat afterward.
But something was… changing.
It started small.
---
Monday – 11:47 AM
Your phone vibrated for the fifth time during a marketing meeting. You discreetly checked it under the table.
Jin 🍳:
Are you still in that boring meeting?
I made extra kimbap this morning. Want me to bring some to your desk?
I miss your face. Send me a selfie so I can survive until I see you later.
You bit your lip to hide a smile and quickly typed back.
You:
Jin, I’m literally in a meeting with your manager right now. Behave.
And stop sending me food every day, I’m going to get fat.
Jin 🍳:
Good. I like you soft and huggable.
Also, no. I will not behave.
[photo attached — Jin making a sad puppy face while holding a perfectly arranged lunchbox]
You had to mute your phone before you laughed out loud.
---
Tuesday – 7:32 PM
You had just gotten home from work when your doorbell rang. Confused, you opened it to find Jin standing there in a black hoodie and mask, holding two large plastic bags.
“I brought dinner,” he announced, walking straight in like he owned the place. “And dessert. And myself. You’re welcome.”
“Jin, what— how did you even get here without being seen?”
He shrugged, already taking off his shoes and heading to your kitchen as if it was routine.
“I have my ways. Now sit. I made your favorite doenjang jjigae and I even added extra tofu because I know you like it.”
You watched him move around your small kitchen with ease, humming happily. He had been over four times this week already. Last week it was five.
While you ate together on the couch, he kept one hand on your thigh the entire time, thumb stroking absentmindedly. Every few minutes he’d lean over to kiss your cheek, your shoulder, or the top of your head.
“You’re extra clingy today,” you teased lightly, poking his cheek.
Jin just smiled, uncharacteristically soft.
“Can’t help it. Work was exhausting and I wanted to see you. Being with you makes everything better.”
Your heart did that annoying little flip again. You told yourself it was just the agreement working. Close friendship plus great sex. That was all.
---
Thursday – 2:15 PM
Your phone buzzed nonstop during your lunch break.
Jin 🍳:
What are you doing?
Jin 🍳:
Are you eating properly?
Jin 🍳:
I saw a video of a cat that looks like you when you’re sleepy. Sending it now.
Jin 🍳:
[video]
Jin 🍳:
When can I see you again? This weekend? Tomorrow night? Tonight?
You stared at the messages, a mix of warmth and slight unease settling in your chest. This wasn’t exactly “no pressure, whenever we want.” This was Jin acting like… well, like a boyfriend who missed his girlfriend.
You replied carefully.
You:
Busy with deadlines this week, Jinnie. Maybe Saturday?
His reply came in seconds.
Jin 🍳:
Saturday is too far.
I can come over late Friday after practice. I’ll be quiet. I just want to hold you while we sleep. No sex if you’re tired. Promise.
You sighed, smiling despite yourself. How were you supposed to say no to that?
---
By the end of the third week, the pattern was clear.
Jin texted you good morning every single day — sometimes with selfies, sometimes with photos of breakfast he wished he could share with you. He found excuses to bump into you at Hybe: “accidentally” showing up at the same floor, bringing coffee to your team “because he was already there,” or pulling you into empty practice rooms just to hug you for ten minutes.
During one late-night session when you stayed behind to finish a project, he appeared at your desk at 10:47 PM with snacks and a blanket.
“You work too hard,” he scolded gently, draping the blanket over your shoulders before sitting beside you. He rested his head on your shoulder, arm wrapped around your waist. “Take a break. Five minutes.”
“Jin… someone could see us.”
“I locked the door,” he mumbled, already closing his eyes. “Just stay like this for a bit. I missed you today.”
You froze for a second. Missed you today.As if you hadn’t seen each other yesterday.
You let him stay there anyway, one hand gently playing with his hair while you tried to focus on your screen. Inside your head, thoughts were spinning.
This is getting dangerous.
Because the truth was… you liked it. You liked his clinginess. You liked how he looked at you now — softer, warmer, almost fond in a way that went beyond friendship and benefits. But the agreement had rules. Clear rules. And Jin was breaking them one by one without even seeming to realize it.
Or maybe he did realize it.
That thought scared you more.
Later that night, after he finally convinced you to go back to his place, Jin fucked you slow and deep in his bed, face buried in your neck the entire time. Every thrust came with soft praises and little kisses.
“You feel so good… I love being inside you like this,” he whispered, voice rough. “Love having you here with me.”
He didn’t say “love you,” but the word hung heavy in the air anyway.
When you both finished and he pulled you tightly against his chest like always, refusing to let even an inch of space between your bodies, you finally asked, half-joking:
“Jin… are you okay? You’ve been really clingy lately.”
He stiffened for half a second, then let out a dramatic sigh and kissed your forehead.
“I’m fine. Just… enjoying the benefits. A lot.” He paused, then added quietly, almost too casually, “Is it bothering you?”
You looked up at him. His eyes were vulnerable in the dim light.
You shook your head.
“No. It doesn’t bother me.”
But as he smiled and pulled you even closer, falling asleep with his face pressed into your hair, you lay awake wondering how long this could stay “just benefits” before one of you — probably both — got hurt.
---
Jin’s POV
I’m screwed.
That was the only thought running through my head as I stood in the middle of the shopping mall, staring at a delicate silver necklace with a small star pendant. It reminded me of her — the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed at my stupid jokes, even the ones that made everyone else groan.
I bought it anyway. No occasion. Just because.
Three weeks. Only three weeks since our agreement started, and I was already acting like a man obsessed. Every spare second my mind drifted to her. During dance practice, while recording vocals, even in meetings with Bang PD. I’d catch myself smiling like an idiot thinking about how she looked in my t-shirt the morning after, hair messy, cheeks still flushed from the night before.
It was supposed to be simple. Just sex. Just comfort. Just two friends helping each other out.
So why did I miss her the second she left my apartment?
---
I slipped the small gift box into my bag and headed back to the dorm. As soon as I walked in, Namjoon looked up from his book, one eyebrow raised.
“You went shopping again?” he asked, eyeing the bags. “That’s the third time this week, hyung. What’s going on?”
Yoongi, sprawled on the couch with his laptop, let out a low chuckle without even looking up.
“He’s in love. Or at least heavily whipped.”
My ears burned instantly.
“Yah! Both of you shut up,” I complained, walking straight to the kitchen so they wouldn’t see my face. “I just felt like buying some stuff. Can’t a man treat himself?”
Hoseok appeared from the hallway, grinning like he knew everything.
“Treat himself, huh? Since when does ‘treating himself’ involve buying women’s skincare, a cute keychain with a chicken on it, and that expensive-looking necklace box I saw earlier?”
I froze.
“You went through my bags?!” I hissed.
“Didn’t have to,” Hoseok laughed. “You left them on the table like a lovesick puppy. So… who is she? Do we know her?”
I groaned, rubbing my face with both hands. The members had been teasing me nonstop for the past week. They noticed I was smiling more, disappearing at odd hours, and constantly on my phone. But they had no idea it was her. My longtime friend. The one person I wasn’t supposed to catch feelings for.
“She’s… someone,” I muttered vaguely. “And it’s not like that.”
Yoongi snorted. “Hyung, you literally hummed while doing laundry yesterday. You never hum while doing chores. You’re down bad.”
I escaped to my room before they could interrogate me further, heart pounding.
---
Later that evening, after a long practice, I still couldn’t stop thinking about her. She said she was busy with deadlines, but I wanted to see her so badly it almost hurt. I sent her another text.
Jin🍳:
Just got out of practice. You probably haven’t eaten properly, right?
I can bring you something light if you’re still at the office.
Her reply came after a few minutes:
You:
Jinnie, you don’t have to keep feeding me 😭
I’m okay, really. Working late but I’ll eat soon.
I stared at the message, thumb hovering. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t doing it because I had to. I was doing it because the thought of her tired and hungry made my chest feel tight. Instead, I just sent:
Jin🍳:
Okay. But text me when you get home. I miss talking to you.
Pathetic. I was completely pathetic.
I headed to the bathroom for a shower, hoping the hot water would clear my head. It didn’t.
The moment I stepped under the spray, my mind went straight to her. The way she moaned my name when I was deep inside her. How her thighs trembled around my head when I ate her out. The soft, sleepy smile she gave me the morning after.
My cock hardened almost instantly.
“Fuck…” I muttered, leaning one hand against the tiled wall.
I wrapped my other hand around myself, stroking slowly at first. Water cascaded down my back as memories flooded in. Her on her knees in my kitchen, looking up at me with those pretty eyes while she sucked me off. The way she gasped when I fucked her against the shower wall last week, legs wrapped around my waist, nails digging into my shoulders.
I tightened my grip, pumping faster, thumb rubbing over the head.
“Shit… baby,” I whispered to myself, imagining it was her hand. Her mouth. Her tight, wet heat squeezing around me. I remembered how she looked riding me — head thrown back, breasts bouncing, moaning my name like it was the only word she knew.
My breathing grew ragged. I stroked harder, hips jerking into my fist.
I wanted her here right now. Wanted to pin her against this wall and bury myself inside her until she couldn’t think straight. Wanted to hear her laugh turn into those breathy whimpers right before she came.
“Fuck… I miss you,” I groaned quietly, eyes closed tight. The pleasure built fast, too fast. My thighs tensed, balls drawing up as I imagined her voice moaning “Jin… Jin, please—”
I came hard with a choked groan, thick ropes of cum hitting the shower wall. My legs shook as I kept stroking through it, milking every last drop while her name echoed in my head.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of water and my heavy breathing.
I leaned my forehead against the cool tiles, eyes still closed.
This wasn’t just benefits anymore.
I was falling for her. Hard. Every message, every gift, every moment I craved her presence… it was because I wanted *her*. Not just her body. Her laugh. Her teasing when I got clingy. The way she looked at me like I was just Jin, not the idol.
And it terrified me.
Because the agreement was clear: no feelings. No labels. No complications.
Yet here I was, buying her gifts for no reason, jerking off in the shower while moaning her name, and counting the hours until I could see her again.
I cleaned up slowly, mind still racing. As I dried myself, I caught my reflection in the mirror and let out a bitter laugh.
“You’re so fucked, Seokjin.”
I already knew I wouldn’t stop. Even if it meant breaking every rule we made.
Because the truth was simple.
I didn’t just want the benefits anymore.
I wanted her.
------
Jin had been planning this for days.
He stood outside your apartment building, heart beating faster than it had any right to after years of performing in front of thousands. In his hand was a small, elegantly wrapped box containing the silver star necklace he’d bought weeks ago. He’d even gotten it engraved on the back with a tiny “For my brightest star” — something he told himself was just a friendly, harmless thing. Nothing that broke the rules. Nothing that screamed I’m falling in love with you.
He adjusted the hood of his black sweatshirt and the mask covering half his face. It was late — almost 11:30 PM — but he knew you usually stayed up working on projects. He had texted you earlier saying he was exhausted after practice and would probably just sleep at the dorm. A little white lie so he could surprise you properly.
“I just want to see her smile,” he whispered to himself as he climbed the stairs, refusing to use the elevator in case someone recognized him. “Drop off the gift, maybe steal a kiss or two, and leave. Easy. Simple. Still within the agreement.”
His stomach fluttered with excitement. Lately he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every spare moment. Every quiet second in the practice room. Even during recordings, his mind would drift to the way you laughed at his dad jokes, the way you looked when you came undone beneath him, the way you teased him for being clingy but never actually pushed him away.
He was in deep. Deeper than he wanted to admit.
When he reached your door, he raised his hand to knock but paused. He could hear voices inside. Your voice… and a male voice. Laughing.
Jin’s hand froze mid-air.
He told himself it was nothing. Maybe a delivery guy. Maybe your cousin. Maybe a colleague dropping off work stuff. But then he heard it again — loud, genuine laughter. Your laughter. The one you usually saved for him.
His chest tightened.
Instead of knocking, he leaned closer to the door, ears straining. The voices were muffled, but he could make out words.
“…you always make me laugh so much,” the guy said, voice warm and familiar. “I swear, these late-night talks are the best part of my week.”
Your reply came soft, affectionate. “You say that every time, Mark.”
Mark.
Jin knew that name. You had mentioned him before — a colleague from the marketing team who worked on some of the same campaigns as you. Friendly. Harmless. Or so you’d said.
But right now, standing outside your door with a gift in his hands like a lovesick fool, it didn’t feel harmless.
He heard movement. The sound of glasses clinking. More laughter. Then your voice again, lighter, happier than it had sounded with him in days.
Something ugly twisted in Jin’s stomach. A burning, heavy feeling he wasn’t used to. Jealousy. Real, raw jealousy.
She’s laughing like that with someone else. While I’m out here like an idiot bringing her gifts and missing her every second.
His hands started shaking. He looked down at the perfectly wrapped box and felt stupid. Pathetic, even. Here he was, breaking every boundary they had set, catching feelings he promised he wouldn’t, and you were inside having a cozy night with another man.
He didn’t knock.
Instead, Jin crouched down slowly and placed the gift box right in front of your door, along with the small bag containing your favorite late-night snacks he had picked up on the way. He stared at it for a long moment, throat tight.
Then he stood up, turned around, and walked away.
Each step down the hallway felt heavier. By the time he reached the street, his eyes were burning. He pulled the mask higher, but it didn’t stop the sting. He got into the car he had borrowed (one of the company’s discreet ones) and just sat there for several minutes with the engine off.
“Why am I like this?” he whispered, gripping the steering wheel. “We had an agreement. No jealousy. No strings. She can see whoever she wants.”
But logic didn’t stop the pain. The image of you laughing with Mark kept replaying in his head. The way the guy’s voice sounded so comfortable in your space. In his space.
By the time he got back to the dorm, the anger and sadness had mixed into something suffocating. The members were mostly asleep or in their rooms, which was a relief. He didn’t want anyone seeing him like this.
He went straight to his room, closed the door, and sat on the edge of his bed. The necklace box he had kept for himself (he’d bought two, just in case) felt heavy in his pocket. He took it out and stared at it.
Then the first tear fell.
“Fuck,” he choked out, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
He cried quietly, shoulders shaking. Not loud dramatic sobs — just silent, painful tears that came from somewhere deep. He felt betrayed, even though he knew, rationally, that you hadn’t done anything wrong. You were single. You had made no promises. But his heart didn’t care about rationality right now.
All he could think was: She’s mine. She’s supposed to be mine.
After several minutes, he wiped his face roughly and grabbed his phone. His thumbs moved across the screen almost on autopilot, messages pouring out faster than he could think.
---
Jin🍳:
I came to surprise you tonight.
I brought you something. And food.
But you already had company.
I heard you laughing with him. Mark. You sounded really happy.
I know we said no jealousy. I know it’s just benefits. I know I have no right.
But it hurt. It hurt so fucking much, Y/N.
I stood outside your door like an idiot holding a gift I bought weeks ago because I saw it and thought “this reminds me of her smile.” And then I heard you with someone else.
I left the box there. You’ll see it when he leaves. Or maybe he’s still there. I don’t know. I didn’t stay to find out.
I feel stupid. I feel pathetic. I promised myself I wouldn’t catch feelings but here I am. Crying in my room because my “friend with benefits” was laughing with another guy.
I think about you all the time. Every day. Every night. When I’m practicing, when I’m eating, even when I’m on stage. I keep buying you things just because. I make extra food hoping you’ll come over. I check my phone constantly waiting for your texts.
And tonight it hit me that maybe I’m the only one feeling this way.
I’m sorry. I know this breaks the rules. I know I’m being unfair. But I can’t pretend anymore.
Seeing you with him felt like you were cheating on me. Even though we’re not together. Even though I have no right to feel this.
I hate this. I hate feeling like this.
---
He sent the messages in a long string, one after another, without giving himself time to regret them. Then he threw his phone onto the bed and lay back, covering his eyes with his arm.
Tears kept slipping down the sides of his face.
He didn’t know what would happen now. Maybe you’d panic. Maybe you’d get angry. Maybe you’d end the agreement.
But for the first time since this all started, Kim Seokjin didn’t care about keeping things simple anymore.
He just wanted you.
And the fear that he might lose even the “benefits” version of you was tearing him apart.
------
Your POV
You woke up the next morning with a slight headache from the wine you and Mark had shared while working on the campaign presentation. Nothing had happened between you two — just two colleagues laughing over bad ideas, ordering takeout, and finishing a project that was due in two days. Mark was funny, safe, and had zero romantic interest (he was openly seeing someone else). But last night had been genuinely fun.
You stretched, checked your phone, and froze.
There were dozens of notifications. All from Jin.
Your heart dropped as you opened the chat and began reading. Message after message. Long paragraphs. Raw. Vulnerable. Hurting.
I came to surprise you tonight…
But you already had company.
I heard you laughing with him…
It hurt. It hurt so fucking much, Y/N.
You sat up in bed, stomach twisting. Scrolling further, the messages kept coming — each one heavier than the last. He admitted to crying. He admitted to thinking about you constantly. He admitted that seeing you with Mark felt like betrayal even though you weren’t together.
Your eyes burned.
“Shit… Jin,” you whispered, voice cracking.
You got out of bed on shaky legs and walked to the front door. When you opened it, there it was — a beautifully wrapped box and a small bag with your favorite snacks. You brought everything inside, heart pounding, and sat on the couch.
The necklace inside the box was stunning. A delicate silver star with tiny engraving on the back: For my brightest star. You ran your thumb over the words, feeling a wave of warmth mixed with overwhelming guilt.
You liked Jin. A lot.
You loved spending time with him, loved his laugh, loved how safe and wanted he made you feel. The sex was mind-blowing and the friendship even better. But this… this level of intensity? The crying, the jealousy, the “I think about you every second” — you weren’t there yet. You cared deeply, but you weren’t in love the same way he clearly was. Not even close.
And that realization made you feel like the worst person alive.
You read the messages again, slower this time. Each word felt heavier. You could practically hear his voice — that usual playful tone completely gone, replaced by raw pain. The image of Jin, your confident, worldwide handsome Jin, sitting in his room crying because of you made your chest ache.
You typed and deleted several replies before finally sending something.
You:
Jin… I just saw all your messages.
I’m so sorry. Can we talk? Please?
No reply. You waited ten minutes. Nothing.
You tried calling. It rang twice and went to voicemail.
The silence hurt more than you expected.
You spent the entire morning in a fog. You tried to work from home but kept rereading his messages. Part of you understood his jealousy — things between you two had been getting blurrier for weeks. The constant texts, the surprise visits, the way he held you after sex like he never wanted to let go. You had noticed. You had enjoyed it, even. But you never thought it had reached this point for him.
You liked what you had. The friendship. The benefits. The comfort. You weren’t ready for more — not with his idol life, not with the secrecy, not with the risk of losing him completely if things went wrong. But reading how much he was hurting made you question everything.
By afternoon, you couldn’t take the silence anymore. You grabbed your things and headed to a quiet café near the dorm area that you both knew. You sent one more message.
You:
I’m at the café we went to last month. The one with the terrible strawberry cake. I’ll wait here for an hour. If you can come, please. If not, I understand. But I really want to talk. I’m sorry, Jinnie.
You sat by the window, nursing an iced americano that was slowly turning warm. Your leg bounced under the table. Every time the door opened, your heart jumped.
Thirty minutes passed.
Then the door opened again and there he was — Jin, wearing a black hoodie, mask pulled up, cap low. He looked exhausted. Eyes slightly puffy. Shoulders tense.
He spotted you immediately and walked over, sitting across from you without a word. The silence was painful.
“Jin…” you started, voice soft. “I’m really sorry about last night. Mark was just helping me with work. Nothing happened. We were just laughing because the presentation concepts were awful. That’s all.”
He stared at the table, jaw tight.
“I know,” he said quietly. “Logically, I know. But when I heard you laughing with him… it felt like someone punched me in the stomach. I stood there outside your door holding that stupid necklace like an idiot and I just… I couldn’t knock.”
You reached across the table but stopped halfway, unsure if he wanted you to touch him.
“I saw the necklace,” you whispered. “It’s beautiful. The engraving… Jin, it’s really sweet. But I didn’t expect you to feel this way. I thought we were both on the same page with the agreement.”
He let out a bitter laugh, finally looking up at you. His eyes were glassy.
“I thought so too. But I can’t help it anymore. I think about you all the time. When I wake up, when I go to sleep, during rehearsals… I keep buying you things just because they remind me of you. I make extra food hoping you’ll come over. I get happy when your name pops up on my phone. And last night it hit me that maybe I’m feeling all of this alone.”
The confession hung heavy between you.
You swallowed hard, throat tight.
“You’re not alone, Jin. I care about you so much. I love spending time with you. The sex, the talks, the mornings after… I enjoy all of it. But I’m not… I’m not at the same level as you right now. I like you. A lot. But I’m scared. Your life is complicated. Mine is too. If we turn this into something real and it goes wrong, I lose my best friend. And I don’t know if I can handle that.”
Jin stayed quiet for a long moment, staring at his hands.
“So what do we do?” he asked, voice rough. “Pretend everything’s fine? Keep fucking and acting like I’m not falling for you? Because I can’t do that anymore, Y/N. Not after last night.”
You felt tears prickling your own eyes.
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t want to lose what we have. But I also don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”
Jin reached out and gently took your hand. His thumb brushed over your knuckles — that familiar, comforting touch that always made you melt.
“I left the gift because I was angry and hurt,” he said softly. “But I bought it for you. Because you make me feel lighter. Even when everything else is heavy.”
The sincerity in his voice made your chest hurt even more. You squeezed his hand.
“Thank you, Jinnie. I loved it. Really.”
You both sat there in heavy silence for a while, hands linked across the small table. The café noise felt distant.
Finally, Jin spoke again, quieter this time.
“I’m not asking you to feel the same way right now. I just… I needed you to know. No more hiding it. If you want to end the agreement, I’ll understand. It’ll hurt like hell, but I’ll understand.”
Your heart clenched.
“I don’t want to end it,” you whispered. “But I need time to think. And I need you to be honest with me from now on. No more pretending everything is casual when it’s not.”
He nodded slowly.
“Deal.”
You stayed like that for a few more minutes — holding hands, unsure of what the future looked like, but at least the truth was finally out in the open.
The agreement had cracked. Now you both had to figure out whether to repair it… or let it become something entirely new.
---
Four weeks later
The agreement was still technically standing, but everything felt… off.
You and Jin had fallen into a strange, careful rhythm. After that emotional conversation at the café, you both promised to try and keep things as they were — friends with benefits, no pressure, no heavy feelings. Jin said he would try to dial back the intensity. You promised you wouldn’t pull away or treat him coldly.
It sounded healthy in theory. In practice, it was exhausting.
---
Jin still texted you, but the messages were shorter now. More controlled.
Jin🍳:
Practice ran late.
You eaten yet?
You:
Not yet, ordering something now.
Jin🍳:
Okay. Good night.
No selfies. No long voice notes. No “I miss your face.” Just polite, safe replies. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.
He still invited you over sometimes, but the visits felt different. Less spontaneous. More planned. Like both of you were walking on eggshells.
Tonight was one of those nights.
You were at his place again. The dorm was empty — the members had gone out for dinner with some staff. Jin had cooked (of course), but instead of the usual playful teasing while he moved around the kitchen in his apron, the atmosphere was quieter. He smiled when he saw you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it used to.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said, placing the plate of bulgogi and perfectly arranged side dishes in front of you. “I made it mild this time. I know you’re not in the mood for spicy lately.”
“Thanks, Jinnie,” you replied softly, offering him a genuine smile. “It looks amazing, as always.”
You ate in relative silence for a few minutes. The quiet felt heavy.
Jin cleared his throat. “How’s the new campaign going? The one with Mark?”
He said the name casually, but you caught the tiny tension in his jaw.
“It’s going well,” you answered carefully. “We finished the main concepts. Mark is actually really good at coming up with slogans. Nothing more than that, though.”
Jin nodded, poking at his rice.
“Good. That’s good.”
You hated this version of him — the one who was clearly holding back. The old Jin would have made ten jokes by now, would have reached across the table to wipe sauce from your lip, would have pulled you into his lap halfway through the meal. This Jin was polite. Distant. Trying so hard not to be “too much.”
After dinner, you both moved to the couch. Usually this was when things would turn heated — hands wandering, kisses turning greedy, clothes coming off. Tonight, you sat with some space between you, pretending to watch a variety show.
Jin lasted fifteen minutes before his hand slowly moved to rest on your thigh. Not possessive like before. Just… there. Testing.
You turned to look at him. He was staring at the TV, but his ears were slightly red.
“Jin,” you said gently.
“Hm?”
“You don’t have to hold yourself back so much. I can feel you doing it.”
He let out a long breath and finally looked at you. His eyes were tired.
“I’m trying not to overwhelm you,” he admitted. “You said you needed time. You said you’re not at the same place I am. So I’m… giving you space. Even if it’s killing me a little.”
Your heart squeezed. You shifted closer and cupped his face with one hand. He leaned into your touch immediately, almost instinctively, before catching himself and pulling back slightly.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to walk on eggshells around me,” you whispered. “I still want you. I still enjoy being with you. I just… I’m scared of rushing into something serious when your life is already so complicated.”
Jin gave you a small, sad smile — the kind that made him look younger and more vulnerable.
“I know. And I’m trying to respect that. But it’s hard when I still want to text you twenty times a day, buy you random stuff that reminds me of you, and kiss you every time I see you.” He laughed quietly, self-deprecating. “I’m not very good at being casual anymore.”
You leaned in and kissed him. Soft at first. Then deeper. Jin responded immediately, hands finally moving to your waist and pulling you onto his lap. The kiss grew hungry, almost desperate — like he had been starving for weeks.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, sucking lightly on that spot he knew drove you crazy.
“I missed this,” he murmured against your skin. “Missed you.”
“I’m right here,” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark.
“Can I have you tonight?” His voice was low, almost hesitant. “Not just sex. I want… I want to feel close to you again.”
You nodded.
Jin stood up with you in his arms like you weighed nothing and carried you to his bedroom. He laid you down gently on the bed, undressing you slowly, almost reverently. Every touch was careful. Every kiss felt loaded with things he wasn’t saying out loud.
When he finally pushed inside you, both of you groaned at the same time. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, breathing shakily.
“Fuck… you feel like home,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.
He started moving — slow, deep thrusts that made your toes curl. There were no jokes tonight. No laughter in the middle of it. Just intense eye contact and heavy breathing. Jin held your face with both hands, kissing you between thrusts like he was afraid you might disappear.
You came first, clenching around him, moaning his name. He followed soon after, burying his face in your neck as he spilled inside the condom, hips jerking.
Afterward, he didn’t pull away immediately. He stayed on top of you, still inside you, breathing against your skin. His arms were tight around your body.
For a moment, it felt like old times.
Then he pulled out, cleaned you both up, and lay beside you. He wanted to pull you into his chest like always, but stopped halfway, unsure.
You noticed. You moved closer yourself and rested your head on his chest. Jin’s arm came around you instantly, but looser than before.
“You’re still holding back,” you said quietly.
“I’m trying to find the middle ground,” he replied, voice tired. “I don’t want to scare you away by being too much. But I also don’t want to pretend I don’t feel anything. It’s… hard.”
You traced patterns on his chest with your finger.
“I know. I’m trying too. I don’t want to be cold with you. You mean a lot to me, Jin. More than just benefits.”
He stayed silent for a long time, just holding you.
Eventually he spoke again, softer this time.
“Sometimes I miss how it was in the beginning. When it was easy. When I could text you stupid shit at 3 AM and you’d send me memes back. When I didn’t have to think so much about every word.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat.
“Me too.”
Neither of you said what you were both thinking: that the agreement was slowly dying. That the feelings were already there, messy and uneven, and pretending was becoming harder every day.
Jin kissed the top of your head — a small, careful kiss.
“Let’s just… try to sleep,” he murmured. “We don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”
You nodded against his chest, closing your eyes.
But as you lay there in the dark, listening to his heartbeat, you both knew the truth.
Things had already changed.
And neither of you knew how to go back.
------
Six months later
Time had a funny way of reshaping things without ever asking permission.
Six months had passed since the night Jin had poured his heart out through dozens of painful messages, since the café conversation where everything cracked open, and since you both had promised — somewhat naively — to keep things “normal.” The agreement was still there in name only, a ghost of what it used to be. You no longer called it “friends with benefits” out loud. It felt too small, too cheap for whatever this had become.
You weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. Neither of you had said those words. There had been no official confession, no “will you be my girlfriend,” no changing of statuses on anything. But the way you treated each other told a completely different story.
Jin still had his schedules. You still had your work. The secrecy remained. Yet somehow, you had slipped into a rhythm that felt dangerously close to something real — something deep, warm, and quietly committed.
---
It was a cold Thursday evening in mid-November when you arrived at his apartment again. Jin had managed to get the dorm mostly to himself for a few days while the others were away on individual schedules. The moment you stepped through the door, the familiar scent of his cologne and whatever he was cooking wrapped around you like a hug.
Jin appeared from the kitchen wearing gray sweatpants and one of his oversized white t-shirts, hair still slightly damp from a shower. His face lit up in that genuine, eye-crinkling smile that always made your chest feel warm.
“You’re here,” he said softly, walking over and pulling you into his arms without hesitation. He held you tightly, one hand on the back of your head, the other around your waist, burying his face in your hair. “I missed you. These four days felt like a month.”
You hugged him back just as tightly, letting yourself melt into his broad chest. “I missed you too, Jinnie.”
He didn’t let go for a long time. These long hugs had become routine now — wordless, grounding, full of everything you didn’t say out loud. When he finally pulled back, he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you slowly, deeply, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.
“Come on,” he murmured against your lips. “I made your favorite. And I even attempted that brigadeiro thing you taught me last time. It’s… questionable, but edible.”
You laughed as he led you to the kitchen, his hand never leaving yours. The table was beautifully set — two plates, wine glasses, candles (he always lit candles now when you came over). The food smelled incredible. Jin pulled your chair out for you like he always did, then sat across from you, watching with soft eyes as you took the first bite.
“Jin… this is amazing,” you praised.
His ears turned pink, but he tried to play it cool. “Of course it is. Worldwide Handsome Chef Seokjin never disappoints.” He paused, then added more quietly, “I just like making you happy.”
The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. You reached across the table and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back immediately, thumb stroking your knuckles.
After dinner, you moved to the couch. Jin pulled you into his lap without asking, wrapping his arms around your waist as you leaned back against his chest. A drama played on the TV, but neither of you was really watching. His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns on your stomach under your shirt.
“How was work this week?” he asked, voice low and warm against your ear.
“Stressful. Deadlines, meetings, Mark being dramatic as usual…” You felt him tense slightly at the name, but he didn’t say anything. He had gotten better at that. “But I survived. How about you? The new choreography looks brutal.”
“It is,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But thinking about seeing you made it easier. I kept imagining you here, wearing my clothes, complaining about my dad jokes.”
You turned your head to look at him. “You think about me that much?”
“Every day,” he said simply, no hesitation. Then he smiled softly. “But I’m trying not to be overwhelming anymore. I know you need space sometimes.”
You turned fully in his lap, straddling him, and cupped his face. “You’re not overwhelming me, Jin. Not anymore. I like this. I like us like this.”
His eyes darkened with emotion. He kissed you again — slower this time, deeper, hands sliding under your shirt to caress your bare skin. The kiss turned heated fast. Clothes came off gradually, scattered across the living room floor. Jin carried you to his bedroom like you were something precious, laying you down on the sheets with care.
That night, he made love to you like he had all the time in the world and still not enough. Every touch was reverent. Every thrust deep and intentional. He kept eye contact the entire time, forehead pressed to yours, whispering things between kisses.
“You feel so good… I love having you like this.”
“You’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”
“I’m so lucky you’re here with me.”
He didn’t say “I love you,” but the words floated in the air anyway, unspoken but felt. You came undone beneath him, moaning his name, and he followed right after, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your bodies together.
Afterward, he cleaned you gently with a warm towel, then pulled you into his chest, tangling your legs together under the blankets. You traced the lines of his collarbone while he played with your hair.
“Sometimes I wonder what we are,” you whispered into the darkness.
Jin was quiet for a long moment, his heartbeat steady under your ear.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “We’re not just friends anymore. We’re definitely not casual. But we’re also not… labeled.” He kissed your forehead. “And honestly? I’m okay with that for now. As long as you’re here with me, as long as I can hold you like this, cook for you, miss you when you’re gone… I’m okay.”
You nodded against his skin. “Me too.”
But deep down, you both knew it wasn’t that simple.
---
The following weeks continued in that same gentle blur.
Jin would show up at your apartment with groceries when he knew you were tired. You would surprise him with coffee at the company when you could sneak in safely. He kept buying you small things — a new scarf because “your neck looked cold,” a plush chicken because “it reminded me of you complaining about my dad jokes,” and once, a beautiful pair of earrings he saw and “couldn’t leave behind.”
You wore the star necklace every single day.
You treated each other with the quiet devotion of people in a relationship, but without the title. He called you “baby” when you were alone. You called him “Jinnie” with so much affection it made his ears red. You slept over multiple nights a week. He kept your favorite snacks stocked in his pantry. You knew his schedules by heart and he knew yours.
Yet the fear remained.
You were still scared of what a real label would mean — the secrecy, the company rules, the fans, the risk of losing this beautiful thing if it went wrong. Jin was scared of pushing you too far and watching you pull away.
So you existed in this beautiful, terrifying in-between.
---
One quiet Sunday afternoon, months into this new rhythm, you were both lying on his bed again. Sunlight filtered through the curtains. Jin had his head on your stomach while you played with his hair.
“Do you ever think about the future?” you asked suddenly.
He turned his head to look up at you, eyes soft and thoughtful.
“All the time,” he admitted. “I think about what it would be like to not have to hide. To take you on real dates. To introduce you to my parents as someone important.” He paused, smiling sadly. “But I also think about how much I love what we have right now. How safe it feels. How happy you make me without any pressure.”
You swallowed hard.
“I feel the same,” you whispered. “I don’t know what we are, Jin. But I know I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”
He crawled up your body and kissed you deeply, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining.
“Then let’s not lose it,” he said simply. “Whatever this is… let’s keep it.”
You nodded, pulling him back down for another kiss.
Outside, the world kept spinning — schedules, work, expectations, secrets. Inside his bedroom, with his arms around you and the star necklace warm against your skin, everything felt possible.
You weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend.
But you were each other’s.
And for now, in the soft golden light of a quiet afternoon, with Jin’s heartbeat steady against yours and his gentle kisses on your shoulder, that felt like more than enough.
The future was still unwritten.
The label didn’t exist.
But the love — quiet, patient, and growing every single day — was undeniably there.
jihoon didn’t put much thought into this lead, but it was catchy enough to turn into a whole song. eventually, matching lyrics and flows were added.
seungcheol, mingyu, and vernon spent less than 40 minutes in the recording booth. they had complimented the beat while chatting with jihoon who had turned towards them, while you had focused on working on the equaliser, lost in your own world and your headphones cancelling out any convo behind you.
wonwoo took his time. not only was his verse not as good as it sounded in his head, it felt that every time he started with his lyrics, the only thoughts that lingered were the way your eyes were pressed onto the keyboard in front of you, perfecting something while missing the shy yet frustrated looks wonwoo shot at you, while jihoons sharp eyes guided wonwoo to their best ability.
wonwoo was getting frustrated, shedding layer after layer after each and every failed attempt at recording.
“hey, you’re okay.” you had finally looked at him, pressing onto the button that relayed your calm voice into his ears directly.
he gave you and jihoon and firm nod.
another trial, and yet nothing seemed to be working. the lyrics were jumbling into one another and nothing seemed to be making sense. it was as if he was just rapping for the sake of getting the song to three minutes.
“wonwoo. pretend you’re on a boat and that the waves are unpredictable. your voice works like the wind, above the waves.” your voice seemed sure and steady. strict even, if he prodded more into you.
suddenly, he’s on a yacht, sun nearing the horizon, and he sees you, fixing him a drink with a loving smile while he hears the rest of his friends in the background.
his voice starts producing a direction of its own, lyrics not following the scratched out paper in front of him, but earnest and steady nonetheless.
he looks up, sunny goosebumps under his sweating shirt, suddenly breathless.
jihoon gives him a thumbs up, while your eyes meet his to give him a proud smile.
wonwoo walks out of the recording booth, sea salt in his hair and a newfound weightlessness on his shoulders.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ A chance meeting with Kim Seokjin is the start of something you never expected...
Pairing ❤︎ Kim Seokjin x (f)reader
Rating ❤︎ 18+ (MDNI) | W/C ❤︎ 8568
❤︎MASTERLIST❤︎
A/N ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ My first here for Kim Seokjin. I was compelled to write this after being lucky enough to see Jin live on his Run Seokjin! tour recently, and was totally enamoured by him although he isn't my ultimate BTS bias! He is an absolute darling! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it, and as ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked.
Kim Seokjin walks protectively closely behind you, like a shadow, having insisted on walking you back to the hotel you were staying at here in New York where you had journeyed across state to see him. As you walk through the hotel corridor, neither of you speaks, and the only sounds are the soft pad of your heeled feet against the plush carpet as you lead the way.
It had been an amazing night, your fourth date actually, and it was almost unimaginable that only a couple of months ago, he you hadn’t even known who you were. It had been sheer coincidence that you had both gone to the same restaurant in L.A. on the same evening where somehow by pure chance, you had caught his eye.
Le Ciel Blue Restaurant, L.A (4 Weeks Ago)
You had been invited out tonight by your work colleague and friend whose date had fallen through at the last moment, and when she had told you where she had managed to score a booking −at none other than one of the top French restaurants in the area, you simply couldn’t refuse.
It was hard not to be impressed. Soft golden light cast from large crystal chandeliers illuminated intimate velvet booths and crisp, white linen tables. Low chatter of private gatherings, business meetings and romantic dates accompanied by clinking cutlery and tinkling glasses filtered through the gentle sound of classic piano music that filled the dining area with a romantic vibe. Waiting staff in neat black shirts and pants weave between tables and booths gracefully, speaking in hushed, polite tones as they took orders, cleared away plates and refilled glasses efficiently.
It was the kind of place people with the right connections came to eat. Unbeknownst to you, at a corner booth opposite your table with a large party of people, sits Kim Seokjin who had just put in his order and was now laughing at a private joke −until he notices you.
He hears the way you laugh lightly, smile in an understated way as you listen attentively to your friend and distractedly stir your wine around its glass, your attention unwavering from her every word. His focus seems to find itself on you every so often, and he finds himself being pulled in, intrigued by you.
For the first time, Seokjin decides to throw caution to the wind and does something he has never done before. Discreetly, he signals to one of the nearby waiters.
You sip at the wine delicately, it’s sweet and full, and you feel relaxed, satisfied that you had agreed to accept your friend’s invitation. The chances of you eating here again were probably next to none so you might as well enjoy yourself tonight.
You lean back and give a contented sigh, wine glass still in your hand. You are just about to summon the waiter for a refill but he’s already making his way towards you. You scoff quietly, does service in this place involve mind-reading? You sit up, noticing the waiter is carrying a silver tray that contains a folded note on it.
“Did you ask for the bill already?” you ask your friend, who nods her head no.
The waiter leans in towards you without making eye contact and tells you in a low voice as he offers the tray out towards you. “Excuse me, miss. This is from the gentleman at the table opposite.”
It’s all very cloak and dagger, and your eyebrow raises. Your friend leans in curiously, watching you take the embossed piece of paper and unfold it, suddenly feeling nervously excited as your eyes scan over the handwritten words.
‘Hello. Please excuse my forwardness, I don’t make a habit of this, but I couldn’t help but notice you. If you allow, I’d like to pay for your dinner −or maybe exchange numbers? Seokjin.’
You glance up, and it’s then that you see him. You weren’t the type to get flustered over celebrities, but it was hard not to pay attention and notice someone who looked like him. The first reason being that you recognised him immediately, how could you not? Kim Seokjin was one of the members of a world-famous band, and secondly but more importantly −even from where you were sitting, he was hands down the single most handsome man you had ever seen −and that was no exaggeration. The man was positively glowing.
Suddenly, he meets your gaze. He seems calm but you detect his hopefulness as he offers you a small smile and a respectful nod whilst taking a sip from a tall glass of clear liquid. There is a flurry of movement around his table and particularly over him which momentarily distracts you, and it’s hard not to roll your eyes at the scene. Upon catching your unhidden reaction, he smiles almost apologetically in your direction.
The gesture invokes a smile back from you, and your heart does a confusing little flip. He had earned himself some points by taking the time to handwrite the note, but your pride bristles in light of knowing who he is. He probably had women throwing themselves at him left, right and centre and you don’t want to appear too desperate in front of him. Who wrote notes nowadays anyway? Quickly, you scramble in your bag for a pen and compose a reply.
‘Sorry, I don’t give my number out to strangers in fancy restaurants. If you’d like not to be a stranger, you’re welcome to say hi properly.’
Your heart is pounding as you watch the waiter obediently bring your reply to his table. Seokjin wastes no time in reading it. You see him giggle softly and tip his head to you in acknowledgement. In less than a minute and without hesitation, he excuses himself from his table and starts to walk over determinedly.
Your friend’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head, and you kick her under the table in an attempt to get her to remain cool. You hoped your outside exterior wasn’t displaying any telltale signs of the thunder of your heartbeat as you watched him approach. Seokjin’s smiling warmly at you, hands in the pockets of his formal black pants, and you can’t help but think what a beautifully disarming smile he has.
“Hi,” he says, coming to a stop by your table. “I’m Seokjin. I’ve been told I’m a stranger here.” He grins, taking his hands out of his pockets to hold them up, the note in one hand, “Guilty as charged.”
You smirk in amusement, liking his wit instantly. “At least you own it,” you tell him. “I was wondering whether you would actually come over or send another note.” You tilt your head to one side and regard him. “Are you always this mysterious?”
“I did consider writing back, but it seemed like overkill,” he says thoughtfully, “I thought I might take the chance to at least hear your voice.”
You lean forward, propping your elbow on the table, intrigued. “Smooth,” you say. “Is this something you’ve practiced a lot?”
He takes it in his stride and chuckles. “Usually this side of me comes out when I’m nervous,” he answers sheepishly.
“Nervous?” you echo disbelievingly. “You −you’re nervous?”
He scrunches his face up adorably, and it does something to your insides. “Well, I guess so,” he admits, “A little bit I suppose, yes.”
You decide he’s cute when he’s being like this, and it makes you want to tease him just a little more. “Kim Seokjin, global star −nervous?” you probe, “I’m flattered.”
He gives an awkward laugh and shakes his head shyly. “I did wonder if you knew who I was,” he says. “But yeah, I am nervous truthfully. I think I was thrown by the fact you didn’t lose it when I sent a note. It intrigued me −you intrigued me.”
You pause, caught off guard by his sincerity under the charm he exuded, and your prideful exterior softens. He had thrown a line, and you had been caught in the hook.
“Alright,” you concede, holding up your hands. “I’ll admit I didn’t expect someone as famous as you to be quite so…”. Seokjin waits in anticipation as you search for the right word for a moment. “−Human.”
His smile reaches his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
A few seconds pass in silence between you before he boyishly puts his hands in his pockets and addresses you. “So have I earned it −the right to know your name?”
Shit. You hadn’t even given the man your name yet, never mind your friend’s. You grimace and give him an awkward smile. “Uh, yeah, sorry,” you apologise. “I’m Y/N.” You contemplate whether you should offer him your hand or something and decide against it.
He grins. “Seokjin,” he says, giving you a nod. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”
It’s then that your friend kicks you back under the table and you are reminded she’s still there. Hurriedly you introduce her to Seokjin, and whilst he is friendly, it is definitely you he keeps his attention on. Your friend, who isn’t someone not to notice when she’s running the risk of becoming somewhat of a gooseberry, politely excuses herself with mumblings about an urgent situation she has to attend to.
You want to press her further, but the discreet wink she gives you eases your mind, and you silently mouth a thank you to her before she disappears. You make a mental note to buy her some very expensive wine or chocolates at some point this week. Maybe a gift card. But that’s something for another time, now you are in a situation that was probably the fantasy of millions.
“So, what now?” you ask a little cheekily, turning your attention back to the international pop star standing by your table. “Are you going to ask if you can join me for dessert, or will you go back and keep looking over?”
Seokjin laughs playfully. “Actually, I was going to ask if I could sit with you,” he informs you, “−for dessert of course. Then negotiate further maybe?”
You can’t resist laughing back. “If you’re going to do that, you’d better do it before I change my mind.”
Seokjin slides into your friend’s vacant chair opposite you cautiously, as though he’s worried you’re going to change your mind. He looks at you and in a dramatic whisper asks, “Is this the VIP section by any chance −it’s almost too comfortable?”
“Hmm,” you muse, going along with him, “Actually it is. Didn’t you realise? You’re in the ‘Impress Me’ zone now, where the stakes are really high.”
“High stakes?” Seokjin echoes in shock complete with theatrical gasp, “I thought this was just dessert so I didn’t bring my A-game jokes, or even a costume I could have wowed you with.”
You shake your head in mock disappointment. “Now, that’s too bad. If you’re going to try and get my attention, a costume might have edged it. That I would pay good money to see up close and personal.”
The waiter materialises with your chocolate soufflé and sets it down in front of you. You smile. “If you want to compete with this baby, you’ll need to find something better than a costume and some jokes anyway. This thing has won awards, maybe even a Michelin star I hear.”
Seokjin’s face becomes suddenly solemn, and he eyes your soufflé accusingly. “Don’t be fooled,” he says seriously, wagging a long, neatly manicured finger adorned with silver rings at it. “It’s trying to seduce you with chocolate and sugar, I know its game.”
You burst out laughing as you pick up your spoon, finding him more likeable by the minute and loving the interaction. “I’ll give you that, it is pretty seductive,” you admit. “Watch this.”
You place your spoon into the soufflé and drag it down to reveal the smooth insides as you lift out a bite. Seokjin flinches dramatically, clutching at his chest as though you’ve just reached in and took out his heart.
“That’s not fair,” he cries, “I wasn’t ready!” He leans back, hands still over his chest. “Is this the standard for all your admirers?”
You can’t stop smiling. “It could be,” you reply ominously. “If they try and get between me and dessert.”
Seokjin mock salutes you. “Duly noted.” You take another spoonful of soufflé. “So, if I want to impress you, stay on your side of the table, right?” Deftly, he picks up the spoon left at your friend’s place and cheekily steals a small spoonful of your soufflé from the other side, his eyes remaining locked with yours.
You’d never admit it, but the gesture is ridiculously sexy. Instead, you raise an eyebrow questioningly, but Jin only closes his eyes as he savours the mouthful and swallows. “What can I say?” he tells you, eyes flickering open with a mischievous glint, “−I like to live dangerously.”
Inwardly, you like it, but you feign shock. “Did you just steal from my soufflé?”
“I was going for sharing to build trust,” he replies quickly. “But really, the damn thing looked too good. If I apologised I’d be lying.”
You sigh with a smirk. “Lucky for you that you’re charming, and ridiculously famous,” you say. “I bet that combo buys you some serious perks.”
“So I’m charming you?”
You clear your throat. “Maybe a bit.”
“Good to know I’m not just a pretty face with global recognition,” he laughs with an over-the-top pout. “With incredible cheekbones too.”
“Not just very skilled at contouring then?” you venture with a wink.
Seokjin appears scandalised. “Uh no!” he exclaims. “My mom tells me this face is a gift. Don’t you know I’m Worldwide Handsome?”
“In that case, Worldwide Handsome −you can share my dessert,” you concede. “Your mom had a point.”
Another pause stretches between you, before Seokjin leans in slightly closer over the table towards you. “I think this is going better than I imagined,” he confesses, speaking in exaggerated hushed tones. “You didn’t throw wine in my face or ask me to sing something about moons.”
“You know, I did think about it,” you joke, “But you were pretty charming −in a slightly chaotic sort of way I guess.”
You consider whether you should you have said that, but Seokjin beams as though you’ve just paid him the best compliment. “I’ll take that, it has a nice ring to it −and actually it’s not too far off,” he tells you. “You though, you’re still a mystery.” He surveys you for a beat. “Quick, overly passionate about dessert, and dangerously beautiful.”
You blush furiously. This was the stuff of dreams −Kim Seokjin of BTS giving you that sort of compliment.
“So, tell me,” he continues, “−what’s your story, Y/N?”
You give him a small smile and tilt your head coquettishly. “Thank you for the compliment,” you say, “As for my story, it’s still being written. But it seems as though you could feature in the next chapter.”
Seokjin looks at you deeply, and his warm brown eyes captivate you. “Do you say that sort of stuff to all the guys, or am I just really lucky?”
“Perhaps you’ll find out −over another dinner?” you suggest casually, “If you behave.”
You’re mentally assessing whether you’re being too forward yourself and put your bravery or foolishness down to the wine, but Seokjin’s face lights up brightly.
“I can’t promise anything,” he says mischievously. “But I can promise to sort dessert....”
The memory of that evening brings a smile to your face; how you had kept catching one another’s eye, and exchanging little light, flirty looks between conversations. It was so sweet the way his gaze always seemed to find you, and by the time you had finished your soufflé, Kim Seokjin had a new phone number stored on his phone.
Admittedly, even after that night ended, no matter how sincere Seokjin had come across, you still had your doubts a celebrity of his status was ever actually going to call you. But to your delight and utter surprise, Seokjin had called you the following day and your first real date was formally set. It seemed like the stuff of fairytales.
The First Date
The trendy rooftop café Seokjin had made reservations at was tucked away in a quiet part of New York where it overlooked the city skyline. You knew this place had a waiting list that ran for months, and it was known for serving notoriously good food.
Soft fairy lights, neat tiny tables and the hum of soft acoustic music is the vibe. Dainty pots of tea, coffee and various other beverages are served, and the clientele seem to be artistic, fashion-conscious-types of the neighbourhood.
You watched in fascination as the setting sun behind the buildings throws warm amber tones over everything. The air is filled with the scent of coffee beans and vanilla that linger in the light breeze around you. You liked it immediately.
Seokjin had arrived first, earlier than you had arranged, and dressed in a smart black shirt and jeans which gives you the impression that he is trying not to look as though he thought too hard about what to wear. He hasn’t seen you yet, and from the top of the rooftop steps, you observe him for a moment as he frantically checks his phone.
You laugh secretly as you see him checking his reflection in the phone camera and fixes his already perfect dark hair. With a dissatisfied shake of his head, he immediately tousles it up again and sighs. You take a moment to appreciate just how handsome he is, and he really is. Clear skin, bright eyes, with plump, pink lips that any girl would be fortunate to be kissed by.
You are still having a hard time really believing this is all happening for real, so much so you had barely slept and had taken a record breaking entire two hours to select something to wear and get ready.
You shake your head and take a deep breath, before you start to head in his direction. Seokjin sees you straightaway and the nerves on his face immediately dissipate into a broad smile. With the golden rays of sunset behind him, he seems to glow as he stands up to greet you, and it makes him appear even more striking than he is.
But the way he is looking at you as though you were a goddess that had somehow materialised from the sky for him makes your heart miss a beat.
“Hi,” he says, still lost in taking you in.
“Hey,” you say brightly, using everything you have to pull yourself together in front of him.
“You look beautiful,” Seokjin says, smiling at you in that sweet, bashful way he does as he gestures for you to sit down.
“Thank you,” you reply, as you gather the skirt of your white sundress about you as you take a seat, thankful you had taken so long in choosing your outfit and relieved Seokjin seemed to like it.
He is dashing in a silk black shirt and pants. “You look very smart too,” you add truthfully.
“I thought this outfit might bring out my cheekbones,” he grins. “Most women can’t resist them.”
His goofy humour is adorable, and it gives him a charm that draws you to him. You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face.
“Women?” you ask, eyebrow raised in amusement, although you have no doubt Seokjin had a million women who wouldn’t resist that face. “Okay, Romeo.”
“Oh hell, what am I saying?” he says quickly, face turning serious. “I’ve no doubt you can destroy me in any debate so can we agree to let that one go please?”
You pretend to consider it carefully before you nod your head. “Alright, done,” you agree. “I’ll pretend I don’t know you have an entire army of women who have fallen for those cheekbones.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Seokjin says, giving a small nod of his head. “That’s very kind.” You smile. “I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of ordering some drinks ahead,” he continues. “I wasn’t sure what you drink, so I ordered some lemonade. I hope that’s okay. If not, I’ll get you something else?”
“Good choice,” you tell him. “Seems like a safe first-date drink. Sort of reminds me of you actually −approachable and friendly.”
Seokjin gasps. “You’re comparing me to a… beverage?”
You purse you lips together thoughtfully. “Hmm, that depends. Do you come with a real straw or a paper one that dissolves in a minute?”
“I’m premium class,” Seokjin replies. “Slightly expensive. But built to last.”
“Mm, makes sense.”
You both laugh together, and it feels comfortable between you. “You have to take your time with me, anything too fast and it could get messy,” he says, meeting your eyes. “Kind of how I am.”
You had sat up late for a few evenings watching as many clips as you could of the band, especially of Seokjin, and with the way he seems to put you at ease without much effort, it’s difficult to remember that he is an internationally famous pop star of such magnitude.
“You look really confident on stage,” you comment. “Sharp I guess.”
“You don’t think I’m confident in person?”
“It’s not that. You’re a little… different.”
“Different how?” he probes curiously, wide-eyed as he sips his lemonade.
You reach for yours too and take a quick gulp. “You seem softer,” you explain. “Funny, yes −but also very real.”
Seokjin gives you a small smile and a strange expression settles over his handsome features. It makes you want to touch his face gently, just to see if it’s as smooth as it looks. “Most people only want that version they see of me on stage,” he says quietly. “They don’t really know the real me.”
It must be tough. Although it was the same cliché fame story that had been told a hundred times over, this was the first time you could really see just how true it was for those living through it.
“I don’t need the stage persona, Seokjin,” you tell him sincerely. “I’m happy with the guy who took the time to handwrite me a note and steal some of the soufflé.”
Seokjin gives you a smile, and you can see the genuine appreciation in his gaze as he relaxes back in his chair.
“You wanna know something crazy?” he asks. “I’ve faced so many people asking me questions, but I was more nervous writing that note to you than answering any of them.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” he admits. “For all I know, I could have been rejected, or you could have had a boyfriend already.”
You scoff. “Well, high risk, high reward.”
“So you’re a reward?” Seokjin teases.
“I might be.”
He leans in across the table, his eyes holding yours. “Good,” he says slowly. “Because I want to earn it. Properly. With soufflé bribes if necessary.”
“Okay,” you reply. “I like the sound of that.”
In the background, the city lights begin to appear as the sun disappears below the skyline. The date had an element of the surreal about it, but you could see Seokjin was making the effort. Despite the fact you hadn’t spoken much in your lives, the conversation had flowed easily enough after the introductions. You talk about so much, about something and nothing, from childhood memories, musical tastes, food cravings, and even past romances.
He was funny in that quick-witted way that endeared him to you, and even though the food was out of this world, it came a distant second to his company. You love the way he uses humour to impress you and whenever he succeeds in making you laugh, his face lights up like a schoolboy who has just won his first trophy. You don’t recall ever having such a fun first date as this one.
Seokjin didn’t talk about the band or his fame, he didn’t even give the air of someone famous at all. He concentrated on you, asking about things you did and liked, being attentive to what you might need, and the whole time keeping a very close eye out for any unwanted attention that might come your way from being seated at a dinner for two with him.
You had finally mustered up the courage to question why he had asked for your number, to which he had turned very serious again, looked you in the eye and assured you that he had never done this sort of thing before. There had been something about you that he had felt drawn by, like a connection −one that he knew from the moment he met you he had not been wrong about.
The evening finally starts to wind down, and you realise that you’ve been talking for hours. Time had slipped away without either of you noticing, or even caring, and most diners had already gone −the place was now gearing up to close.
Seokjin walks you down the rooftop stairs and out onto the sidewalk where it is quiet. You face one another outside as you wait for your uber to arrive. His car sits nearby, ready to discreetly whisk him away back to his life as a superstar. You try not to think about whether this could be the first and only date you would ever have with him, even though it’s all you can think about.
“Thank you,” you tell him. “I don’t know when the last time was that I laughed so much. My sides will be in pain tomorrow.”
He chuckles. “Being with me comes with built-in workouts, so just consider it a fitness session.”
“Romantic and good for my figure?” you venture mischievously.
“That’s exactly right!” he exclaims proudly, “I’m the full package, you know? Humour, handsome and heart −and don’t forget this body that under specific lighting is the one all guys want.”
You laugh heartily before quietening, giving him a gentle smile, your hand touching his forearm softly. “I didn’t know what to expect, but I really did have a good time.”
Seokjin takes you in carefully. “You don’t think I’m a little… crazy?”
You scrunch up your face. “Maybe a little.”
“Huh? A little?” he repeats. “That’s disappointing. I was going for ‘endearingly unhinged’.
You hit him playfully. “You!” you chide, but you’re smiling inside and out.
He feigns injury for a moment, but suddenly the atmosphere between you changes and a long pause ensues. He looks at you like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the right words.
“What is it?” you ask quietly.
He inhales deeply as though gathering his nerves. “Can I…?” he starts hesitantly before standing up straighter and clearing his throat. “Can I do something I’ve wanted to do since I laid eyes on you?”
Your breath catches slightly, a light flush staining your cheeks under the streetlight. “Soufflé revenge?” you whisper softly, “−or something else?”
Seokjin steps in closer to you, his voice low and steady. “Something else.”
Unhurriedly, as though the moment is playing out in slow motion, he reaches out a hand and brushes your hair behind your ear. It’s a gentle touch, seeking your permission. He looks into your eyes and in the silence, it’s just the both of you together on the verge of something new.
He leans in slowly and places his lips on yours. The kiss is warm and uncertain, but sweet as sugar. You exhale into it, fingers grazing the smooth skin of his jaw, as though to confirm he is real and not a fantasy.
When you part, he stays close to you, smiling down at you. It’s a different smile to his public persona, this smile is one just for you and your heart is thundering.
“Better than any soufflé,” he whispers gently.
You laugh softly, resting your forehead on his chest briefly before looking up at him. “Are you comparing me to dessert?”
He’s already leaning in again. “Never.”
Seokjin kisses you again, deeper this time and your arms curl around his neck, kissing him back. When he pulls away this time, you let out a soft moan of disappointment before you see him indicating that your taxi has arrived. You sigh, wishing it hadn’t arrived so fast.
“So,” he begins shyly as he walks you up to the car. “Second date?”
“Only if it comes with dessert?” you joke, relief and elation coursing through you as you open the door.
He gives you a wink and a smile. “You can have two if you call me Jin.”
From then, it had been somewhat of a whirlwind. Seokjin had wanted to keep seeing you and four dates and a month later, the chemistry between you had grown. Tonight had been the best night so far. It’s gone midnight and you and Seokjin walk hand in hand down a quiet street in Seoul. He is walking you back to your hotel nearby, having spent the evening having a cosy dinner with a few of his friends – the first time you had been introduced to any of the band members.
“You impressed them by the way,” Seokjin tells you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.
You look across at him hopefully. “You think so?”
“Oh absolutely,” he confirms. “I think Hobi was seriously impressed when you complimented his shoes. Any mentions of fashion gets his approval.”
You both laugh. “They’re easy to be around, I like them,” you say. “You have a lot of fun with them.”
Seokjin halts, looking up to the sky where a light peppering of bright stars adorn the darkness. “I love being around them,” he says quietly. “It’s safe, you know? That’s a rarity in our industry. Those guys are like family to me −like brothers.”
You stroke his face, which is even smoother than it looks. “I know.”
“It’s crazy isn’t it?” he says. “I’m almost never alone with what I do, but it can be a very lonely place.” He lets out a deep breath. “We just don’t show that a lot −sometimes even to each other.”
You can hear the unease in his voice, sensing this is an area he isn’t used to sharing. “It’s okay,” you assure him. “You don’t have to hold back with me.”
His expression tightens somewhat as he looks back at you. “It’s hard not to wonder whether I’m only seen as either the singer or the joker.”
You blink in surprise at the vulnerability he’s showing you and it melts your heart.
“It’s hard to step back from that −being the funny one, turning on the charm. It’s like if I don’t run with the energy, the silence can become too loud, you know?”
He swallows and looks down as your hands tighten around his, and you feel a sudden surge of protection over him. “You don’t have to do any of that with me, okay?”
“People usually don’t want to stay once the act stops.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Jin,” you say fiercely. “I like this version of you −the real you.”
He brings you in close, placing a kiss on the top of your head and resting his chin on top of it. “I’m glad you’re here Y/N,” he whispers.
“Me too.”
You rejoin Seokjin outside your hotel room, having entered the hotel separately, wary as ever of prying eyes. He smiles the moment he sees you again, and you let him take you into his arms for a kiss. You pull away quickly, still mindful of being seen by someone.
“I’d better get inside,” you tell him quietly, reaching into your purse for the hotel keycard.
As you turn towards the door, the flimsy strap of your pastel green cocktail dress falls away suddenly. You whip around, head angled ever so slightly towards him. Seokjin notices instantly, taking in the flesh of your shoulder left exposed where his eyes linger for just a moment too long. Instantly as though remembering himself, he averts his gaze from your body.
You feel shy as you note the hungry and almost tentative way he looks back at you, eyes flittering down over the bare skin at your back and then quickly, as though tearing his gaze away for fear he might savage you, he clenches his jaw and mutters a curse word under his breath just loud enough that you pick it up. So, the man who was always so mannered, polite, and sometimes even awkward, is human after all you muse.
The moment broken, you hurriedly drag the strap back over your shoulder, cheeks staining with a deep flush. The way he had looked at you then, the carnal want in his eyes, the obvious strain of the way he had visibly fought for restraint, had made you feel as though you were a being as tempting as an angel from heaven itself. It had been a while since you had felt so desired by any man, yet he had managed to make you feel like Aphrodite herself in one intense glance. It was a feeling you wanted to get used to, a good one.
You know how lucky you are to be here, only too aware of how envious so many would be of you, the sole recipient of the attention of such a worshipped idol. Yet it doesn’t matter, Seokjin could command your attention if he were a newspaper seller earning a living on a street corner. Since when did anyone’s occupation detract from what they had inside? Seokjin could work as anything and still you’d want him as much as you had come to want him now.
“Do you have to go back in the morning?” he asks you with an apprehensive expression.
You nod apologetically. “Yeah. I have some work commitments I need to go back for,” you explain, wishing that you didn’t. “I’m sorry.”
You distract yourself by slotting in the hotel keycard to open the door. You lean against the doorframe and sigh. Goodbyes were becoming the worst with Seokjin. Anytime you were with him always seemed to go by so fast, leaving you wanting so much more. No matter what you both did, how much you laughed together and had a great time, it never seemed like enough.
But it wasn’t as though you both didn’t know it would be difficult. The band were working on upcoming projects and were about to enter another busy phase soon, which would leave even less time for much romance. In all honesty, when he had told you about all that on your first date, you hadn’t envisaged any realistic possibility of seeing him again at the time, so you hadn’t placed much focus on it.
You hadn’t counted on catching feelings like this, and what’s more, you hadn’t counted on Seokjin reciprocating your feelings either −but he was so open, his emotions always seemed to be laid bare before you, so it wasn’t difficult to see he was totally enamoured with you. The way he made you feel was different to anyone else, you could feel his protective side every second you were beside him. You loved how he listened, really listened, to you. He heard you, and he saw you.
You had both giggled at him being Worldwide Handsome, and you knew it was a running joke he had with fans, but as you took him in, it seemed there was less joke in the title than not. Those pictures online you had rifled through in the beginning didn’t do him justice, he was even better in person. You had to see it to believe it.
Tonight he looked the most handsome he had so far, dressed in a fitted black dress shirt and black pants that highlighted his long legs. His jet-black hair was neatly combed, and the top button of his shirt had been left open to display the slightest hint of his smooth, light skin.
The first time he had kissed you on your second date, it had been nothing short of magical. He had been the perfect gentleman, not expecting anything more than you gave him, and you, keen not to seem overeager had held back. The reality was you had wanted him from the moment he had given you that sweet secretive smile in the restaurant all those weeks ago. You just hadn’t realised how much then.
Yet still, at the back of your mind, you knew who he was. Even though he was right here with you, saying and doing all the right things, making you fall for him, there was that niggling feeling that all this could come to an end any minute and you would both go your separate ways because how could you belong in his world? But just as you always did, you pushed the feeling to the back of your mind, giving Seokjin your best smile.
Seokjin’s brow creases momentarily as though contemplating something as he takes both your hands in his. “I wish you could stay here longer,” he says quietly.
The tension around you had elevated, causing you to become a bundle of nerves. Desperately seeking some means to escape, you turned towards the open doorway, needing to leave before you did something stupid −like beg him to stay the night.
As you turned towards your room, you felt a hand on your wrist pulling you back. You gasp and turn around to come face to face with Seokjin.
“Don’t go,” he says firmly, looking down at you in a way that took your breath away with its intensity.
You both stand together for a second facing one another, before with one quick motion, Seokjin takes you in his arms. Surprised, you gasp as he looks deep into your eyes. “I don’t want to go yet Y/N,” he whispers, and the way he says your name makes your heart giddy. “Can I stay −just for a little while?”
Still stunned, you manage to nod your permission as Seokjin steers you through your open room door and closes it behind you. He manoeuvres you until your back rests gently against the door, and his body pins you there ever so lightly. You haven’t experienced this side of him before, and a thrill begins to course its way through you. It’s unexpected but it’s sexy, and you can feel yourself responding to him.
He takes your face softly in his hands, his long fingers warm against your skin, making you feel as weak and light as a feather. Gently, his thumb runs across your lower lip and your mouth parts beneath his touch, your own heightened emotions reflected in his dark brown eyes.
“Aish!” he sighs frustratedly. “What have you done to me?”
You place your hands over his, feeling his beneath yours as you breathe him in. “The same thing you’ve done to me,” you tell him sincerely. He places a soft kiss at your brow. “Stay with me, Jin,” you whisper simply, no longer able or willing to restrict yourself or caring what happens. “I want you to stay with me. Please.”
Seokjin says something in Korean in a hot whisper under his breath that you don’t understand, before his mouth covers yours in a long overdue kiss. Instantly your mouth and body react to him, willingly conforming at his command.
He kisses you softly at first, his tongue finding yours and his teeth nipping at your lips intermittently. It was making you crazy, but when the kiss grew hot and intense and he pins you against the wall, your longing went into overdrive.
You moan into his mouth, never wanting him to stop and needing more, your hands curling into his dark silky hair as he presses his hips against yours. It’s a sensation that sends your need spiralling and you grip at the material of his shirt as he plants a series of kisses along your jaw and over your cheek.
“You make me forget my manners,” he says hotly against your ear. “I think I will lose control with you.”
His words and breath against your skin were turning you on even more, and you arch your head back to let him trail hot kisses down your neck.
“Jin,” you groan, “Don’t stop −please.”
“Even from this distance,” he says, voice low in a whisper as his head bends towards your upturned face,”"−your mouth is still too far away.”
Your arms reach up and curl around his neck, pulling him down towards you, unable to wait a moment longer. Seokjin kisses you then, softly, his lips barely grazing yours, but the touch of his lips against yours sends shivers of delight down your spine. He smells so damn good too, the designer fragrance custom made just for him had been created to perfection, suiting him with its fresh, clean scent.
Your thoughts have barely began gaining coherency when his lips find yours again, and this time he kisses you longer, deeper, and your eyes close beneath him. You’ve kissed before, but nothing like with the intensity of this one. You feel the weight of his body more as he presses up against you, hard and heated, and it's positively brutal just how badly he is making you want him.
He’s never demonstrated this sort of hunger to have you, always maintained a respectful distance and taken things at the pace he let you set, but this was another level. Something inside you snaps and all the need you had been repressing since the moment you lay eyes on him flows out like a waterfall, and you cling to him like your life depends on it. Being in such close proximity to him, your heart races so fast you were sure he could hear it thumping behind your ribcage.
You push back against him, succeeding in surprising him as you push him towards the large bed in the centre of the room, and you both crash down onto it, you on top of him and you both giggle like a pair of schoolkids.
As you look down at him, your laugh ceases as you take him in beneath you. He is stunning, so insanely handsome it shouldn’t be allowed. How could he be so damn beautiful? He was like a beautiful angel that had fallen from the skies and into your path.
You trace every feature on his face with delicate fingers, featherlight touches along the angles and contours, as though if you pressed any harder you might ruin the perfection, fingertips linger over the soft pink hues of those lips you long to feel dance over your skin, awakening every sense within you.
Seokjin looks back at you, his eyes dark as they stare back at you in fascination and amusement as though blinded to all else, until the dusting scrape of his lashes blink over your nails and cause you to shiver with anticipatory need.
“Kiss me,” you whisper.
“If I continue to kiss you, I might not be able to stop,” he says, and you can tell he means it by the seriousness in his eyes.
“That’s okay, I don’t want you to stop,” you reply softly with a smile. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”
Seokjin looks back at you. “Me too.”
His breathing is ragged as he manoeuvres himself around you, eyeing you like a predator. You feel too weak from his kisses to move and hear yourself say his name again before he is on top of you, kissing you again.
His hand trails down your body, over your breasts and down to your thighs. You had imagined this situation a few times before, but now that it was really happening, it felt better than any dream or fantasy you had had. His touch on you was driving your body wild with desire, and you cling to him fervently, writhing and wanting more, craving him inside you with an ache you never knew was possible.
He starts to pull down the straps of your dress and pulls it down to your waist, before reaching round to unclasp your bra to reveal your naked breasts. You cry out his name as his mouth closes down over your nipple, his other hand caressing your other breast. As he sucks at your breast, you arch your back to push yourself against his hot, needy mouth.
The way he was licking at you, sucking, biting at you was so erotic, and you can feel how hard he is as his hips grind against you. You open your legs to allow him closer to you, eager to have his cock inside you.
You hear him groan as he continues to pleasure your breasts, his arousal increasingly evident against you. Your hands bury themselves in his hair, pushing your breasts up to him, wanting more. His mouth leaves your breast to return to your parted mouth, kissing you deeply. You were yearning for him really badly now, your body completely compliant and under his control. You had waited too long to be in his arms like this, to feel his lips on yours this way – alone with your feelings.
He eases off you to tug down your dress, leaving you in just black silk panties. His eyes continually devour you, and it thrills you to see your own desire, love and lust reflected in his darkened eyes. He is beautiful and dominant as he resumes kissing you, his hands caressing down your body and down to your thighs.
You tremble as you feel his hand for the first time on the bare flesh of your inner thigh. Slowly, it snakes its way to the opening between your legs, and you moan out loud under his touch. Seokjin strokes you over the material of your panties. You can barely contain yourself, desperate to feel him inside you. He kisses your moaning mouth as he strokes you slowly. You writhe beneath him, your legs parting for him eagerly.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks softly between kisses.
“Mm,” you murmur, kissing him back, not wanting his mouth to leave hers. “Don’t stop Jin, please.”
Seokjin trails kisses down your body, down to your stomach, and you lose herself in your pleasure and anticipation as his lips go over your belly button and down to the hem of your panties. He slides his fingers under the sides and starts to pull them down.
You reach down and hurriedly slide them off, before he positions you back in place and opens your legs. As his hot mouth comes down over your exposed flesh, you call out his name again, bucking upwards and clutching at his hair. You feel the tip of his tongue tease at your opening, pressing against your as his hot breath arouses you to desperation.
You throw your head back lost in your own pleasure under his wet mouth, your hands moving from him to clutch at the pillow. You bite your own lip, trying to stop yourself from screaming out his name so loudly it would wake the entire hotel.
You steal a look down and the image of him, his dark hair between your thighs almost makes you finish right there, but you hold on as he continues. Now his fingers join his mouth, and he inserts a long finger into you, followed by another.
“Jin, please!” you groan, “−I’m too close.”
You can feel the edge of delirium coming nearer, but you want to finish with him inside you. He continues just a little more before coming back up to you, a proud wolfish smile playing about his lips, and his eyes ravenous. It’s a sexy look on him.
He touches your lips with his fingers, putting them into your mouth so you could taste yourself. Then when he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his lips and it added to the eroticism.
Seokjin sits up and unbuttons his shirt, while you watch him, eyeing the contours of his body, wanting to touch and explore him like he had to you. Then he stands up and takes off his pants, sliding down his boxers. God, he really was beautiful. You admire his naked body through half closed eyes that never leave him as he re-joins you on the bed.
“Turn around,” he orders raggedly, and he sounds like a man who can barely control himself. It’s a turn-on.
Obediently you turn around and he grabs your hips and brings them to his. You can feel his hard cock press against you from behind, and you feel him rub his head against your opening. You are so wet and his cock slides effortlessly up and down your slit before he enters you.
You moan loudly as finally he was inside you with his full length, filling you beautifully. He starts to thrust into you slowly and rhythmically, grinding against your ass with his movements. It was ecstasy, and as he gets faster and harder, the pain and pleasure pushed relentless towards your climax.
Seokjin grabs your hair and turns your face to his, kissing you before he begins to thrust faster, hitting the right spot inside you at the right pace, until you feel yourself ready to come.
“I’m nearly there,” you whisper breathlessly.
“Good?” he asks breathlessly.
You moan your response as you feel yourself tighten around him. A few more thrusts and you are done, your orgasm taking you with force and erupting through your body like a volcano that had laid dormant for millennia.
“Jin!” you scream, “−Fuck!”
He holds you as he goes deeper yet, before you hear him gasp and curse as he comes inside you.
When he finally pulls out of you, he lies on his back and you lie in his arms, your head resting on his chest as he holds you. You listen to his heartbeat as it slowly returns to normal, wishing you could be in his arms like this for eternity.
Seokjin kisses your forehead as you look up at him. “This was everything,” he says, pushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.
“Yeah,” you reply, “−It was.”
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I wish I had done this sooner.”
“It’s okay,” you say, kissing him on the lips. They’re soft and warm under yours. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
“I didn’t plan this,” he says. “I just want you to know that.”
“Oh I know,” you tell him. “But for the record, this beats every other dessert!”
Seokjin laughs, and the sound makes you happy, but you knew the night wouldn’t last forever, real life beckoned and all this had to come to an end −for now at least.
“I have to be up early for−,” you start, but he silences you by covering your mouth with his hand, his face sobering up.
“Don’t Y/N,” he tells you, “I don’t want to think about that now. Let’s just enjoy the moment.”
You rest your head back on his chest with a sigh. Seokjin was right, who knew when the next time you could be like this would be.
All you knew is that you were falling hard for him.
Jeong Yunho is the human equivalent of a system crash. A 6’2” wreck of stuttered sentences, fogged-up glasses, and nerves he can’t outgrow. He has spent his first year of college trying to be invisible. He’s a tactical genius on screen, but on campus, he can barely survive a three-word greeting without his voice cracking. He tries to start a Gaming Club in a basement that smells like dust and dump.
When a pack of “Mean Girls” turns his recruitment drive into a public execution, you step in. You lie. You improvise. You claim you’re his pro-tier carry—his star recruit.
Now you learn the hard way: Rule #1 of saving a cute nerd from bullies is this—don’t claim you’re an expert in a game you’ve never played.
➢ gamer!yunho x fem!reader | ➢ collage au, romance, strangers to lovers, slice of life |
➢ mdni, bullying, emotional manipulation&deception, substance use | ➢ ~21k | ➢ this is my humble contribution to LIVE ALIVE! collab, dear @sungbeam thank you for letting me be a part of this! ♡ | ➢ disclaimer: i am not a gamer!! i played Valorant like three times so please bare with any mistakes!! after all it’s just for fun!! | ➢ part one out of three
The floorboards groaned under Yunho’s socks as he carved a frantic circle into the small room. He looked frayed—ashy blonde strands of hair standing up in jagged peaks where he’d clawed at them for the last half an hour. His tall shadow flickered across the wall, momentarily eclipsing Seonghwa, who lay sprawled like a discarded coat across the duvet. “We have to jump on this, hyung,” Yunho snapped, his voice tight, vibrating with a caffeine-edge. “The internship panel won’t even look at me if the ‘Extracurricular’ section is a desert. High marks don’t mean a thing when everyone else is out here saving the world on weekends.”
Seonghwa didn’t move, save for the rhythmic motion of his jaw. He was focused on a bag of mango jellies, the scent of artificial fruit heavy in the stuffy air of Yunho’s bedroom. He popped another one into his mouth, the plastic crinkling like a slow-burning fire. “I hear you, Yunnie. I really do.” Seonghwa’s voice was muffled by the gummy candy. He stared at the ceiling, eyes tracking a hairline crack in the plaster. “But what’s the pitch? We’re ghosts on this campus. We don’t have a network, and you can’t exactly launch a club with two guys and a half-empty bag of sweets.”
Yunho stopped mid-stride, his chest heaving. He looked down at his best friend, his hands twitching at his sides. “We don’t need a network yet. We just need like... five names and a mission statement.”
Seonghwa finally looked at Yunho, his expression skeptical as he swallowed. “You’re visibly shaking, sit down before you go through the floor.”
Yunho’s socks hissed against the wooden floor with every sharp turn of his pacing. “We don’t need a crowd. We need a list. Five names only and a faculty advisor who’s too tired to read the fine print.” Yunho stopped, his reflection flickering in the darkened window. He looked gaunt in the yellow light of the desk lamp, his fingers digging into his scalp again. “Professor Shin said my resume looks like a blank sheet of printer paper. ‘Technically functional, but nobody wants to hire a void,’ he told me. A void!”
Seonghwa sat up, the plastic bag of jellies crinkling. He swallowed, the sugar coating scratching his throat. “So you want to start a... what? A hiking club? We both hate stairs. A film circle? You fall asleep during the opening credits.”
“A— ” Yunho tripped over his own tongue, the momentum of his panic outstripping his vocabulary. He lunged toward the bed, knees hitting the mattress with a heavy thud that sent Seonghwa’s phone sliding toward the crack between the wall.
The door to the room creaked open, the rusted hinge screaming. Mingi stood there, one headphone hanging off his ear, a half-eaten convenience store kimbap in his hand. He looked between Yunho’s frantic posture and Seonghwa’s sugar-dazed expression. “Are you starting a cult?”
Yunho spun around, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, slick with a fine sheen of nervous sweat. “Mingi. You’re exactly the third person I was looking for.”
The navy haired boy took a slow, cautious bite of his kimbap, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. “I feel like I should leave.”
“No, no, stay!” Yunho blurted, the words tripping over each other and coming out in a jagged, high-pitched heap. He lunged forward, grabbing the hem of Mingi’s red hoodie with white-knuckled intensity. The fabric felt rough and smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. “You’re perfect! You’re… you’re non-affiliated!”
Mingi’s deep hum of confusion was a rumble that seemed to settle in the very marrow of Yunho’s bones. He stared at Yunho’s hand on his sleeve, then back at Yunho’s face, his eyes tracking the frantic twitch of the taller boy’s eyelid. “Man, your eye is doing that thing again. The glitchy thing.”
“I’m not glitching, I’m innovating!” Yunho squeaked, his voice cracking like dry parchment.
Seonghwa groaned, the sound muffled as he shoved another mango jelly into his mouth. “He’s lost it, Mingi. The internship panel broke him. He wants to invent a personality before Monday so he doesn’t have to put ‘Good at Valorant’ as his primary life skill.” Seonghwa sat up fully then, his brown fringe a mess around his face. He looked at Mingi, his eyes softening with a weary, beautiful sort of pity.
Mingi shifted his weight, his heavy boots clunking against the floor. He looked down at his kimbap, then back at the duo. “A club for what?” he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. The wood groaned under his weight. “I’m not doing anything that involves physical labor or... talking to girls. Or boys. Or people in general.”
Yunho’s chest puffed out, his spine straightening until he was a full, looming 6’2” of confidence. He adjusted his glasses with one trembling finger, the plastic clicking against the bridge of his nose. “It’s... The E-Sports and Strategic Digital Coordination Union.”
Seonghwa paused, a mango jelly halfway to his lips. “That’s just a fancy word for a gaming club.”
“It’s a prestigious organisation, hyung!” Yunho’s hands began to fly, sketching invisible monitors in the stagnant air. “I’m talking high-level tactical analysis. We provide a space for competitive excellence. The university will see ‘Leadership’ and ‘Team Management’ on my resume. They’ll see a Captain!”
Mingi let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-choke, the scent of the kimbap’s sesame oil wafting through the air as he doubled over. “A gaming club? Yun, we’re in university, not fifth grade. Are we gonna have juice boxes and snack time after we lose a round of Roblox?”
“I am a Radiant rank! I have a sixty-percent win rate!” Yunho’s voice cracked on the last syllable, a sharp sound that betrayed his nerves. He lunged to his computer on the desk, the fans whirring to life like a jet engine. The glow of the RGB keyboard splashed neon violets and electric blues across his pale face, making his eyes look wide and manic. “Look! Look at the stats! I’m literally Top 200, I’ve spent 4,000 hours mastering utility lineups and macro-rotations. If I can IGL four randoms against pro players, I can lead a campus organisation!” He turned back to Mingi, his expression pleading, his fingers twitching. “Please. Just let me put your name down. I’ll buy you the deluxe kimbap for a month. The one with the double tuna.”
Mingi paused, his jaw working as he chewed, the saltiness of the dried seaweed sharp on his tongue. He looked at the frantic, giant nerd in front of him, then at Seonghwa, who was now slowly licking sugar off his fingers with a look of utter resignation. “Double tuna?” he finally stepped fully into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that made the air feel suddenly heavy.
Seonghwa finally sat up, the blanket sliding off his shoulders to reveal a rumpled oversized sweater and grey sweats. “I don’t even know what ‘utility lineups and macro-rotations’ are,” Seonghwa said softly, his voice a smooth, grounding contrast to Yunho’s frantic energy. “The last time I played with you, I spent the entire round following you around and shooting at… whatever was moving. And then my gun started making that sad click noise, so I assumed it was tired.”
Yunho’s head snapped up. “That’s—hyung, that’s because you ran out of bullets. Guns don’t have infinite ammo!”
“They do not.” Yunho jabbed a shaking finger at the screen like it had personally betrayed him. “You sprayed thirty rounds into a wall because the wall ‘looked suspicious’ and then, mid-fight, you started panic-staring at the floor like the bullets were going to grow back.”
“I thought it was like… Mario Kart,” Seonghwa said carefully, as if trying not to offend the concept of ammunition. “Like you just keep going.”
“It’s not Mario Kart!” Yunho hissed. “So then you picked up some random gun off the ground—because you had to—and you asked me if it was the ‘loud one’ or the ‘pointy one.’”
Seonghwa’s expression stayed serenely blank. “Well, they all look like… gun-shaped.”
“They are all gun-shaped,” the words were filled with nothing but pain. “But they’re different guns. Different fire rates. Different recoil. Different—”
Seonghwa waved a hand. “I didn’t want to be picky. I just grabbed the first one that fell out of a man.”
Yunho made a strangled sound. “And then your aim—hyung, your crosshair was doing figure eights. You were shooting walls. You were shooting the sky. You were shooting me. Repeatedly.”
“By mistake! I was trying to be supportive,” Seonghwa said, utterly unbothered. “In Animal Crossing, when someone looks stressed, I give them a gift. I thought I was giving you… covering fire.”
“YOU BLINDED ME,” Yunho snapped, eyes wide. “You hit me with your ‘blue ice balls’—”
“They’re pretty,” Seonghwa offered.
“They’re called Slow Orbs! And you used them like confetti!” Yunho’s hands flew up. “You threw one at spike. You threw one at a door we weren’t even pushing. You threw one at the ceiling because you said you wanted it to feel ‘wintery.’ And then you asked why you couldn’t throw more.”
Seonghwa frowned, offended on a philosophical level. “Because it should come back. It’s my power.”
“It doesn’t come back in the same round!” Yunho said, voice cracking. “Most abilities are one-time use, and you have to buy them before the round starts. You forgot to buy them. Half the game you were just—just a guy with a gun and no abilities because you spent all your credits on a ‘pretty’ pistol and then abandoned it in a corner because it clashed with your gloves!”
“It was clashing,” Seonghwa tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Fashion is a form of leadership, too.”
“And the agent you picked—” Yunho continued, clearly spiralling, “—you didn’t even know what they did. You used your ultimate because you said the button looked ‘important’ and then you immediately walked away because you got distracted by a plant texture.”
Seonghwa considered that. “It was a very nice plant.”
Yunho’s voice jumped an octave. “Then you found the Spike—”
“The beeping backpack,” Seonghwa corrected immediately.
“—and carried it to spawn to ‘meditate’ because it sounded anxious!” Yunho screamed, burying his face in his glowing keyboard. A series of random ASDFGH keys appeared on his screen. “That wasn’t a backpack! That was the objective! We lost the game because you were roleplaying a pacifist florist!”
Seonghwa shrugged, a tiny, elegant smile playing on his lips. “I just don’t think you should be in charge of an organisation if you can’t handle a little ice and some flowers, Radiant Rank.”
Yunho froze, his forehead still pressed against the keys. The mechanical switches clicked rhythmically under the weight of his head. Slowly, he peeled his face off the keyboard, a faint grid pattern from the keycaps imprinted on his cheek. “A… pacifist… florist…” Yunho whispered, his voice dangerously low. “Hyung, they have guns! They have knives! They have limited ammo. They have economy management. There is no ‘meditation’ in Valorant. There is only the grind.”
Seonghwa hummed a soft, melodic tune—the Wii Shop theme, Yunho realized with a jolt of horror—and reached for his Nintendo Switch on the nightstand. “If you say so. But while you were ‘grinding,’ I actually managed to cross-breed a gold rose today. It took a lot of discipline. Far more than clicking on heads.”
Yunho stared at him, his mouth hanging open. “You’re comparing a Top 200 Radiant peak performance to… to gardening?”
“I’m just saying,” Seonghwa said, his screen lighting up with the cheerful jingle of Animal Crossing. He didn’t even look up as he delivered the killing blow. “In my game, everyone likes me and the island is thriving. In your game, you just spent ten minutes screaming at the screen about a backpack and explaining to your Vice President that bullets are finite. Who’s the real leader here?”
Yunho let out a sound that wasn’t quite a scream and wasn’t quite a sob. He abruptly spun his chair around, slammed his headset on, and aggressively queued for a match. “I’m going in,” Yunho barked, his eyes narrowing as the MATCH FOUND sound boomed through the room. “I’m going to IGL this team into the dirt. I’m going to show you leadership!”
“Don’t forget to hydrate,” Seonghwa chirped, his thumbs happily clicking away at his Joy-Cons. “And try not to get mad at the ice balls this time. It’s just a game, Yunnie.”
“IT’S NOT A GAME, IT’S A CAREER!” Yunho roared, just as the loading screen popped.
Seonghwa only sighed, tilting his head. “So dramatic. He’d never survive a Bowser level in Super Mario.”
The room was a cacophony of clashing digital worlds. On one side, the high-octane thwip-thwip of tactical utility and the aggressive, metallic clack of Yunho’s mechanical keyboard; on the other, the soft, whimsical tinkling of Seonghwa’s island paradise. Mingi stood frozen by the doorway, his half-eaten kimbap forgotten in his hand. He looked like he’d walked into a glitch in the simulation. His eyes darted from Yunho—who was currently whispering into his mic with the intensity of a bomb squad technician—to Seonghwa, who was humming while digging a hole for a digital tree.
“I... I think I’m having a stroke,” Mingi finally said, his voice sounding too dramatic, cutting through the Animal Crossing theme. “I am standing in a room with a 6 ’2” tactical mastermind, and a man who just admitted to committing international digital terrorism because the bomb was ‘anxious.’ What is happening? Why are we even like... alive right now?” He gasped loudly, then finally dropped onto the edge of Yunho’s bed, the springs groaning in protest. He buried his face in his free hand, his silver rings catching the neon glow of the keyboard. “Yun, look at me,” Mingi pleaded, his voice dripping with theatrical despair. “Look at your life! You’re queuing for a match at 11 PM on a Tuesday to prove a point to a guy who thinks a tactical shooter is a fashion show! You’re Radiant! You’re the 1%! Why are you letting the ‘Pacifist Florist’ over there get under your skin?”
“Because he’s wrong!” Yunho barked, not taking his eyes off the screen. His glasses were fogged up at the edges from his own heated breath. “He’s fundamentally undermining the integrity of the competitive ladder! He’s—SHOOT HIM, JETT! SHOOT HIM!”
Seonghwa didn’t even flinch at the shouting. He just tilted his Switch screen toward Mingi, a serene smile on his face. “Look, Mingi-ya. I got a new hat. It has a little sprout on top. Doesn’t it make me look approachable?”
Mingi stared at the tiny, pixelated sprout. Then he looked at Yunho, who was currently biting his lower lip so hard it was turning white as he clutched his mouse. “You guys are insane,” Mingi whispered, his drama levels reaching a fever pitch. He flopped backward onto the bed, limbs flailing, nearly kicking the empty bag of jellies onto the floor. “I’m the only normal person in this circle! I’m the only one seriously worried about the charter! We can’t start a gaming club if the Vice President thinks the objective is a Zen garden and the President is a hair’s breadth away from a literal cardiac arrest!” He sat up abruptly, his eyes wide. “Wait. If we start this club... do I have to play? Because I swear to god, Yunho, if you put me in a match and Seonghwa throws a ‘gift’ at me, I’m going to throw myself off the campus library roof. It’ll be a whole scene. I’ll make it very aesthetic and tragic.”
Yunho somehow died in-game—a crisp headshot that echoed through his headset. He slumped in his chair, the neon light making his ashy hair look like a halo. He slowly turned his head to look at Mingi, his expression completely hollow. “Mingi,” Yunho whispered, his voice cracking. “The Jett just told me I have ‘no rizz’ and muted me.”
Mingi snatched the headset, the plastic frame creaking in his large grip. He didn’t put it on; instead, he held it out like it was a piece of contaminated evidence. The muffled, tinny sound of a teenager screaming about “utility” leaked into the room, a sharp contrast to the peaceful clink-clonk of Seonghwa’s shovel. “No rizz?” Mingi looked at Yunho, who was currently trying to disappear into the mesh of his gaming chair, his ears a glowing, fiery red. “I’ve seen you trip over your own feet while standing still. I’ve heard you say ‘you too’ to a vending machine. But I will not let a twelve-year-old on the internet say you have no rizz!”
“I was just—the comms were cluttered!” Yunho squeaked, his hands fluttering toward his fogged-up glasses. He looked like he wanted to crawl into his own PC tower and live among the wires. “I’m a tactical leader! I don’t need ‘rizz’!”
Mingi tossed the headset back onto the desk with a heavy clatter. He stood up, stretching his long limbs until his knuckles brushed the ceiling. A smirk, sharp and teasing, pulled at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at the wreckage of the two “leaders” before him. “Right. Good luck with that, Captain,” he chuckled mockingly. He reached out and ruffled Yunho’s hair, intentionally messing up the peaks Yunho had been stressing over. “You’re a genius behind a screen, but out there? In the hallway? You can’t even look the librarian in the eye without your voice doing that little flip.”
“It’s—it’s an efficiency tactic!” Yunho stammered, his face heating up until it felt like his skin was going to melt his glasses. “Minimal eye contact saves... saves social energy!”
“Sure it does.” Mingi turned toward the door, pausing to point a finger at Seonghwa, who was still happily planting bushes in his digital paradise. “And you. Vice President of Flowers. If you’re going to be the ‘face’ of this club, try not to tell people about the ‘anxious bombs.’ It’s bad for the brand.”
Seonghwa blew him a distracted kiss, his eyes never leaving his Switch. “The brand is empathy, Mingi-ya. You should try it sometime.”
Mingi let out a sharp laugh and pulled the door open. The rusted hinges gave one last, dying scream as he stepped out, “You guys still need two more names for that charter,” he called back, his voice echoing. “Two more people who are willing to be led by a guy who glitches in public and a florist who commits war crimes. Good luck finding those unicorns! I’ll be at the convenience store if you decide to give up and just become full-time losers!” The door clicked shut, leaving the room in a heavy, neon-blue silence.
“He’s right,” Yunho whispered, the “system crash” finally reaching its peak. “Hyung... who else is weird enough to join us?”
Seonghwa finally put his Switch down, his expression turning thoughtful as he looked at the door. “Well... I did see a guy in the library yesterday who was trying to fight a printer. He looked pretty motivated.”
Yunho groaned, his head hitting the desk with a soft thump.
The library didn’t smell like books; it smelled like a dozen overheating processors and approaching deadlines. Yunho marched toward the printer bay with his spine fused into a rigid, trembling line, clutching his flash drive like it was the last hope for humanity. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes were darting—left, right, checking the corners of the stacks—expecting a flank from a disgruntled librarian or, worse, a peer who might actually make eye contact. He reached the printer. Every shuffle of a sneaker against the floor sounded like a gunshot in his ears. His palms were so damp the flash drive nearly squirted out of his grip like a wet soap bar. “Focus, Yunho,” he hissed under his breath, a whisper that barely escaped his throat. “Check the angle. Execute the print. Clear the site.” He slid the drive into the port. The computer let out a cheerful ding that felt like a flash bang to his frayed nerves. On the screen, “his recruitment asset” bloomed in neon violets and electric blues—a masterpiece of digital authority. It looked like the login screen for a professional tournament. It looked like someone who had their life together. Then, he clicked Print.
The machine didn’t hum. It choked. A wet, mechanical gurgle echoed through the quiet of the library, followed by the shrill, rhythmic scream of a red light.
[PAPER JAM. OPEN TRAY 2.]
Yunho froze. His breath hitched, fogging his glasses into two opaque white discs. He was blind, trapped in a public space, and the hardware had just staged a coup.
“Uh… excuse me?” The voice was smooth, casual, and utterly terrifying. Yunho spun around so fast his neck made a sound like a dry twig snapping. A student stood there, hip cocked, holding a stack of neatly stapled essays. They looked... functional. They looked like they had never felt the cold sweat of a botched social interaction in their entire life.
Yunho’s throat didn't just lock; it welded itself shut. He stared at the student, his 6’2” frame looming over them like a skyscraper that was about to be demolished. He tried to summon a word—any word—but his internal server was timing out. “I— I’m—” He produced a sound that was less a syllable and more the noise a laptop makes when it’s overheating. His hands tightened around the creased, jammed poster that was slowly being spit out of the machine’s maw like a piece of chewed gum.
“It’s jammed,” the student said, their voice dripping with a pity so sharp it felt like a knife-edge to Yunho’s chest. They reached past him—their arm brushing his sleeve, a contact that sent a literal jolt of electricity through his nervous system—and yanked the paper free. The poster was ruined. A jagged, diagonal scar ran through the word Coordination. It looked less like a prestige organisation and more like a ransom note.
“Thank you,” Yunho croaked. The student lingered. They were waiting. This was it. The perfect time for mission recruitment.
“Do you play games?” his brain shouted. “I think I’m dying,” his mouth felt.
“Do you…” Yunho began, and then his voice did a spectacular, triple-axel flip into a high-pitched squeak.
The student’s eyebrows shot up. “Do I…?”
The printer saved him from the final blow by letting out a long, mournful beep.
[OUT OF PAPER.]
Yunho didn’t just flinch; he practically performed a crouch. “Yes. Paper. Right. Objective. I mean—sorry!” He turned and fled. He didn’t walk; he pathfound the quickest route to the exit, clutching his mangled poster to his chest like a shield. His phone buzzed. A lifeline from the only other person on the planet who understood his specific brand of insanity.
Hwa Hyung: Did you die? Also I bought more mango jellies.
Yunho stared at the screen, his vision blurring. He was the human equivalent of a blue-screen error, standing in the middle of a library while students swirled around him.
Yunho: Not dead. Printer jam. No recruits. Emergency.
He hit send. And then, because his motor functions were officially offline, his fingers turned into wet noodles. The phone slipped. It didn’t just fall; it performed a graceful, mocking arc before slamming into the tile floor with a sound that echoed through the quiet library like a thunderclap.
A dozen heads turned.
Yunho stood there, 6’2” of pure system failure, looking down at his cracked screen.
“Reset,” he whispered to the floor. “Please... just... reset.”
The library’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a persistent, droning hummmm that matched the static frequency currently vibrating through Yunho’s skull. He hadn’t moved. Not an inch. His sneakers were practically fused to the linoleum, and his phone—his poor, shattered lifeline—lay face-down on the floor like a fallen soldier.
An hour.
The sun had shifted outside the high, narrow windows, casting long, mocking shadows across the room. Students had ebbed and flowed around him like a tide, some casting confused glances at the towering, blonde statue clutching a mangled piece of paper, others just assuming he was part of some niche performance art piece. Yunho’s eyes were fixed on a specific scuff mark on the floor, his breathing shallow, his internal processor stuck at 99% completion on a task titled: Recover_Dignity.exe. His glasses had long since cleared of fog, leaving his vision sharp enough to see the microscopic dust motes dancing in the air. He felt like he was floating in a void, a soul trapped in a high-refresh-rate nightmare where the “Exit Game” button was grayed out.
The silence of his catatonia was suddenly shattered by the rhythmic, elegant click-clack of loafers. The scent of artificial mango and lavender fabric softener hit the air before the person even spoke. “Well,” a smooth, melodic voice sighed, vibrating with a mix of genuine concern and a hint of suppressed laughter. “I see the recruitment mission went... exactly as predicted.” Seonghwa stepped into Yunho’s vision. He looked like he’d just stepped off a runway, his hair perfectly swept back, his oversized knit sweater hanging off one shoulder with devastating grace. He looked down at the shattered phone, then up at Yunho’s frozen, pale face. “Yunho-ya,” Seonghwa said softly, reaching out. His cool fingers brushed against Yunho’s wrist. “The library is closing soon. Unless you’re planning on becoming the ghost of the printer bay, we should probably move.”
Yunho’s eyes slowly flickered. The “system crash” began to resolve, but the hardware was still glitching. He blinked once, twice, and then his head creaked toward Seonghwa like a rusted hinge. “Hyung,” Yunho whispered, his voice a dry, jagged husk of its former self. “The... the printer... it was a trap.”
“I know, Yunnie. Technology is a cruel mistress,” Seonghwa cooed, bending down with agonisingly slow grace to retrieve the broken phone. He inspected the spiderweb of cracks on the screen. “You really did a number on this. It looks like it’s been through a fight.” Seonghwa tucked the phone into his pocket and took the crumpled, scarred poster from Yunho’s death-grip. He looked at the neon gradient and the diagonal crease. “It’s actually quite aesthetic. Very... post-apocalyptic.” He moved to stand directly in front of his friend, taking both of the younger boy’s hands in his. “Mingi is waiting at the cafe across the street,” Seonghwa lied—Mingi was actually currently complaining about Yunho’s “dramatic disappearance” while eating a second blueberry muffin, but Yunho didn’t need to know that. “He says if you don’t show up in ten minutes, he’s going to register the club himself and name it ‘The Yunho Stutters a Lot Society.’”
That did it. The mention of Mingi’s chaotic interference acted like a hard-reset. Yunho’s spine snapped back into its 6’2” glory, and his eyes regained a flicker of that Radiant-rank focus. “He wouldn’t,” Yunho gasped, his voice finally returning to its normal frequency. “He doesn’t have the paperwork. He probably doesn’t even have his student ID on him!”
“He has a pen and a dream, don’t test him,” Seonghwa tugged Yunho toward the exit. As they walked—Yunho stumbling slightly like a newborn giraffe whose legs were still being calibrated—he looked down at Seonghwa. The older boy was smiling, that tiny, serene smile that always made Yunho feel like the world wasn’t actually ending, even if his “no rizz” status was now officially campus legend.
“Hyung?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Can we... Can we go the back way? So nobody sees the guy who stood in the library for an hour?”
Seonghwa squeezed his hand, his eyes sparkling under the library’s dimming lights. “Of course.”
The sun was a warm, heavy weight against your eyelids, the kind of heat that made the world feel blurry and kind. After a winter that had felt like an endless loop of grey slush and biting winds, the spring air was a gift—smelling of damp earth and the faint, sweet drift of cherry blossoms from the quad. You were sprawled across the wooden slats of the bench, your head tilted back, letting the Vitamin D sink deep into your skin until your bones felt soft.
The distant hum of the campus was just background noise—until it wasn’t. The rhythmic, frantic thump-thump-thump of heavy sneakers hitting the pavement began to override the chirping of the birds. It was followed by a sharp, melodic sigh that sounded far too elegant.
“Yunho, please, your legs are three miles long. Slow down before you break the sound barrier!”
You cracked one eye open, the sudden light stinging after the blissful darkness. Two figures were silhouetted against the blinding afternoon sun. One was slight, moving with a fluid, feline grace, his oversized knit sweater catching the breeze. But it was the other one who caught your attention. He was massive—a 6’2” wreck of ashy blond hair and frantic energy. He was clutching a piece of paper to his chest like it was a sacred relic, his glasses sliding so far down his nose they were barely hanging on.
“I have to find a spot, Hwa!” the tall one barked, his voice cracking mid-sentence. “A high-traffic area with low-judgmental density! If I don’t post this in the next five minutes, the momentum is gone!” He stopped abruptly, right in front of your bench. His shadow fell over you, instantly stealing your warmth. You looked up, squinting. From this angle, he looked even taller, a looming skyscraper of nerves. He was staring at the bulletin board directly behind your head, but as his eyes traveled down, they landed right on you. He froze. It was like watching a computer program hit a fatal error in real-time. His pupils dilated behind his fogged lenses, and his mouth fell open just enough for you to see his bottom lip tremble. He looked like he wanted to bolt, but his feet seemed to have forgotten how to function.
The shorter one in a beige sweater stopped beside him, crossing his arms like he needed the pressure to keep himself from dissolving. “Oh. Hi,” he said, and then immediately cleared his throat like the word had gotten stuck on the way out. “Sorry to interrupt your... nap.”
The tall blonde boy let out a sound like a strangled bird. “I—uh—we—post!” He thrust the paper toward the board, but his hand was shaking so hard the flyer was blurring when you looked at it. It was a neon-violet mess with a giant, jagged crease running through the middle. Before he could pin it, a gust of wind snatched it from his trembling fingers. The paper fluttered through the air, performing a mocking, graceful arc, before landing right on your lap.
You looked down at the flyer. It was covered in aggressive, messy handwriting in the margins that definitely wasn’t part of the original design.
“LEADER HAS NO RIZZ BUT IS GOOD AT CLICKING HEADS. JOIN OR HE WILL CRY. - M”
You looked back up at the tall boy. He was now a shade of red that you didn’t think was biologically possible. He looked like he was about to spontaneously combust right there on the path. “I’m—I’m—I’m—” he stammered, his voice doing a spectacular, agonising flip.
You didn't just look at the flyer; you took your time, your thumb smoothing over the jagged crease that ran through the words Strategic Digital Coordination. Then, your eyes drifted to the margin. To the messy, black-inked betrayal of someone’s handwriting. “Leader has no rizz but is good at clicking heads...” You felt the heat of the sun on your skin, but the heat radiating off the boy in front of you was ten times more intense. You slowly looked up, the paper crinkling in your hand. You didn’t say a word. You just tapped your finger against the “no rizz” comment and raised a single, questioning eyebrow.
It happened in stages. First, the taller boy’s eyes widened until the whites were visible all the way around his irises, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks behind his glasses. Then, his mouth, which had been hung open in a frozen “O,” began to twitch. The vivid crimson of his cheeks didn’t just stay on his face—it surged downward, staining his neck, disappearing under the collar of his hoodie, and rising up to the very tips of his ears. He looked like a pressure cooker seconds away from a catastrophic failure. “I—it—he—Mingi—that’s—not—” He produced a series of choked noises that weren’t even syllables anymore. He tried to reach for the flyer, but his arm stopped halfway there, his hand spasming in mid-air before he jerked it back to his side as if he’d been burned.
The shorter boy made the mistake of meeting your eyes for a second. His expression did that same tiny, fatal stutter—like a screen trying to load a page on bad Wi‑Fi. The amusement drained right out of him, replaced by a polite, blank panic. His ears flushed pink. He opened his mouth like he had a line ready. Nothing came out. “Oh dear,” he managed finally, but it came out too soft, like he was apologising to the air. He stepped back half a pace, shoulders lifting as if he could physically make himself smaller. His fingers twitched at the hem of his sweater, an idle, nervous fidget. “I think he’s reached his limit. Yunho-ya? Are you still with us?”
Yunho clearly wasn’t. The 6’2” tactical genius had officially left the chat. His knees buckled just a fraction, his height dropping by an inch as his entire posture slumped. His glasses chose that exact moment to finally lose their battle with gravity, sliding down the bridge of his nose and hanging precariously off the tip. He didn’t even push them back up. He just stared at you, his eyes glazed over, his brain having successfully completed a total system shutdown to protect itself from further trauma. He was a statue of defeat, looming over your bench in the warm spring sun.
The Hwa guy, or whatever the tall one, Yunho, called him, stared at the flyer like it had personally attacked him. He reached down to pick it up, then hesitated, like touching it would make the situation more real. When he finally took it from your lap, his fingers brushed yours for the briefest second, and he flinched like he’d been hit with a static shock. “Um.” He swallowed. His throat bobbed. “So.” Another pause. His eyes darted anywhere but your face: the bulletin board, the path, the sky, the violent amount of sunlight. “If you… if you don’t mind.” He cleared his throat again, the sound too loud in the open air. “Do you play games? You don’t have to. That’s not— it’s not mandatory. This is— it’s just a club.” He shoved the flyer toward the board with a jerky motion, like he was trying to pin his own dignity up there with it. “And if you don’t, that’s fine too,” he added quickly, words tumbling over each other. “We can— we can find someone else. Or we can disband. Immediately. Right now. We can pretend this never happened.”
Before you could even open your mouth, they retreated. Yunho made a strangled noise—half apology, half evacuation order—already stepping backward like the ground in front of your bench was wired to explode. “S-sorry. Sorry for— for being here. Bye.” The word came out too fast, too high, and then he was turning, shoulders hunched like he could fold his frame into something invisible.
The other boy didn’t let it get any worse. His hand snapped around Yunho’s wrist with gentle, practiced efficiency, and he tugged. “Sorry,” he echoed, the syllable soft and polished, like it had been ironed. He didn’t look at you for more than a heartbeat. “Have a nice day.” And then he dragged stumbling Yunho away down the path. The air felt suddenly, jarringly still after the frantic energy of them vanished. The click-clack of loafers and the clumsy scuff-thud of retreating sneakers faded into the distance, leaving only the scent of expensive, floral cologne and the lingering warmth of the sun. You sat still for a second, your fingers still tingling from where the brown haired boy hand had brushed yours. You looked down at your lap, expecting to find the flyer, but then remembered he had pinned it—or rather, shoved it—onto the board behind you.
The quad was back to its normal, sleepy spring rhythm. A couple of students walked by, laughing about a lecture, completely oblivious to the fact that the human equivalent of a system crash had just suffered a total hardware failure right on this very spot. You felt a strange, fluttering curiosity in your chest. They were so... much. Absolutely, catastrophically weird.
You stood up, your joints popping after being sprawled on the bench for so long. You turned around to face the bulletin board, squinting against the glare of the sun reflecting off the glass casing.
There it was. It was pinned lopsidedly, one corner already fluttering in the breeze because Hwa had been too flustered to line it up properly. The flyer looked even more tragic up close. The giant crease across the middle made it look like it had survived a war, and the aggressive handwriting was shouting at everyone who walked by.
“LEADER HAS NO RIZZ BUT IS GOOD AT CLICKING HEADS. JOIN OR HE WILL CRY. - M”
Beneath it, in neat, technical print, was a Discord handle for an interest meeting that was scheduled in two days.
Your eyes trailed down to the bottom of the board. There, lying in the grass beneath the pins, was something they’d dropped in their frantic retreat. It was a small, plastic bag, still half-full of yellow, translucent squares. Mango jellies. You picked up the bag. It was warm from the sun, smelling cloyingly sweet and artificial. You looked down the path where they had disappeared. They were long gone, probably hiding in some dark corner of the student lounge trying to figure out how to change their identities and move to a different country.
You looked back at the flyer. “Need 5 names,” it said. They didn’t just need a member. They needed a miracle. Or at least someone who could hold a conversation without blue-screening.
The air was crisp, that biting spring wind nipping at your skin, but you didn’t mind. You leaned against the cold stone of the terrace wall, the acrid, familiar scent of tobacco smoke swirling around your head before being swept away by the breeze. You watched the quad through a hazy veil, your eyes narrowed. Down by the main path, you noticed the tall boy from a few days ago—Yunho, was it? He’d set up a rickety card table, his flyer taped to the front with too much Scotch tape. From up here, he looked like a giant trying to hide behind a blade of grass.
Then, you saw them. They didn’t walk; they prowled. A trio of girls whose coordinated outfits were as sharp as the insults they dealt. You felt a wave of cold disgust wash over you. You had the misfortune of sharing a few classes with them. They were—to say the least— annoying, mean in that practiced, effortless way—the kind of people who looked for blood everywhere. You watched as they circled the table. The leader, Seoyun, a girl with hair so polished it looked like she just left a hair salon, plucked a flyer up and laughed. The sound was high and brittle, carrying across the quad like a physical strike.
Yunho’s reaction was visceral. You saw his shoulders hike up toward his ears, his frame trying to fold itself into a smaller, less noticeable shape. He reached up, his fingers trembling as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the table, the plastic groaning under his weight.
“Wait, is this for real?” Seoyun sneered, her voice loud enough to make a passing group of freshmen stop and stare. “The ‘Strategic Coordination Union’? Is that a fancy name for ‘I have no friends and my breath smells like energy drinks’?”
Yunho’s head bowed. He tried to speak—you saw his jaw move, saw the frantic way he swallowed—but the “system crash” was in full effect. “I-it’s… it’s a p-professional… we have a r-ranking…”
“Oh my god, it stutters,” another girl, whose name you couldn't remember, giggled, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. She leaned over the table, poking at a small figure Yunho had placed there for decoration. “Do you think if we keep talking, he’ll actually burst into tears? That would be such a vibe for my story.”
The disgust in your chest boiled over into a sharp, white-hot heat. You took another drag, the tip of the cigarette glowing bright, before walking down the stairs.
“‘Strategic Digital Coordination’?” the third girl drawled, her laughter a high, brittle sound that made your jaw ache. “Is that what we’re calling it now? It’s a gaming club for losers who can’t hold a conversation. It’s actually embarrassing.”
Yunho’s head dropped, his chin hitting his chest. He looked like he was trying to implode.
“It’s tragic, honestly,” the leader interrupted, her voice dropping into a register of fake, disgusting pity. She looked him up and down, a predatory glint in her eyes. “Look at you. You’re, what, six-two? And still managing to look like you’re asking permission to exist. You can’t even say one full sentence. Do you practice being embarrassing, or does it come naturally?” The other two girls erupted into giggles, the sound echoing off the walls.
Yunho’s face didn't just turn red; it went a deep, bruised purple. He looked like he’d been slapped. His hands began to shake so violently the table rattled, and he squeezed his eyes shut behind his fogged-up glasses, his entire frame trembling with the effort not to cry. Seoyun stepped toward the rickety table. She reached out, her manicured fingers snagging the collar of Yunho’s oversized flannel. She yanked him forward, forcing his frame to hunch awkwardly over the plastic table. The legs of the table groaned, a sharp, plastic screeech that set your teeth on edge. “Six-two and you’re trembling because a girl touched your shirt?,” she hissed, her voice loud enough to draw a crowd of whispering onlookers. “It’s pathetic. You’re so useless.” She leaned in, her voice dropping into a register that made your skin crawl. “All that height, all that potential... and no one is ever going to fuck you. Not even for a pity fuck. Who would want to deal with a guy who probably stutters in bed as much as he does in the hallway? You’re a waste of space.”
Yunho looked like he was physically choking on his own shame. He tried to pull back, but his motor functions had completely stalled.
Then, Seoyun took it too far. With a lightning-fast motion, she reached up and snatched the glasses right off his face.
“Hey! Give them—!” Yunho’s voice broke, a high, desperate sound. Without his lenses, his eyes looked wide, glassy, and utterly terrified.
“Oh, look,” she mocked, holding the glasses high above her head like a trophy while her friends giggled. “The gamer is blind now. What are you gonna do, hm? Cry? Or are you just gonna stand there like a statue while I—” She didn’t finish. With a cruel, casual flick of her wrist, she dropped them. The glasses clattered across the pavement, the lenses hitting the concrete with a sickening clink that felt like a bullet to your chest.
Yunho let out a sound that wasn’t even a word—just a raw, strangled sob of pure humiliation—and started to sink to his knees to find them, his hands groping blindly at the dirty ground.
The heavy soles of your Dr. Martens hit the pavement with a rhythmic, menacing thud-thud-thud, each step echoing the white-hot rhythm of the pulse in your neck. You took one last, deep drag of your cigarette, the smoke hot and biting in your lungs, and flicked the butt directly at Seoyun's feet. It sparked against the concrete, a tiny explosion of orange embers that matched the fire behind your eyes.
You didn’t just intervene. You crashed into their little circle like a wrecking ball.
When the glasses hit the ground with that sickening sound, you saw Yunho’s soul shatter along with them. He was folding, collapsing into himself, his large hands trembling as they looked for the glasses. Seoyun reached out to kick the glasses away, her mouth open to deliver another filth-ridden insult about “pity fucks,” but you were faster. You stepped into her personal space, the scent of well-worn leather and stale smoke drowning out her sugary perfume. Without a word, you brought your hand up and slammed it into her shoulder. You didn’t just shove her; you launched her. She flew back a good three feet, her heels skidding on the pavement until she hit the dirt, her two friends shrieking as they scrambled to get out of your way.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you pathetic, bottom-feeding bitch?” Your voice wasn’t a whisper; it was a roar that silenced the entire quad. You stepped over the table, your fishnets snagging slightly on the plastic edge, and loomed over her. You flexed your fingers, your long black nails catching the sunlight. “You think because he’s quiet, he’s a target? You think because you’ve got a high-end concealer on, no one can see how fucking ugly you are on the inside?”
“You’re—you’re assaulting me!” Seoyun shrieked from the ground.
“I’m teaching you a fucking lesson,” you barked, leaning down until you were inches from her nose, your heavy eyeliner making your gaze look even angrier. “Touch him again. Say one more goddamn word about what he does or who would fuck him. I dare you. I will drag you across this campus by your fake-ass extensions until there’s nothing left but a grease stain. Pick up the glasses. NOW.”
She scrambled. It was a frantic, undignified crawl. She snatched the cracked frames from the dirt and thrust them toward you, her whole body shaking. You grabbed them, the metal cold against your skin, and stood up straight, your leather jacket creaking as you squared your shoulders. “Get the fuck out of my sight,” you snapped.
They didn’t wait. A sharp, jagged click of heels cut through the heavy silence of the quad. Seoyun hadn’t gotten far. She’d turned back, her ego unable to swallow the humiliation of being shoved in public. Her friends hovered behind her, waiting for her lead. She tipped her chin up, her eyes raking over your Dr. Martens, your fishnets, and your heavy eyeliner with a sneer that was more defensive than dominant. “Whatever,” she spat, her voice trembling just enough to betray her. “You’re the same kind of loser he is. You just wear it louder.”
You didn’t flinch. You took one slow, deliberate step forward, the leather of your jacket creaking like a warning. “Wrong,” you said, your voice a low, razor-clean growl that seemed to vibrate in the space between you. Without breaking eye contact, you jabbed a thumb toward the 6 ’2” wreck of a boy behind you. “I’m his star. You heard me.”
Seoyun’s mouth curled into something ugly. “Oh my god. What, are you his girlfriend now? Is that the only way a freak like him gets a pity-save?”
You let out a sharp, jagged laugh—a sound that had no humour in it, only teeth. “No,” you said, leaning in until you were close enough to watch her pupils shrink. “I’m his pro-tier controller. His star recruit. The kind of player who doesn’t just win games—I end careers.” You let the silence hang for a heartbeat, watching the sweat break on her forehead. “And if you ever touch him again,” you continued, your voice dropping to a dangerous, lethal purr, “or if you even think about opening that mouth to say that shit again, I will drag you so hard across this campus they’ll think you got hit by a fucking truck. I’ll make sure the only thing people remember about you is the way you looked when I was done with you.” The girl’s expression didn’t just flicker; it collapsed. . The “mean girl” mask shattered, leaving nothing but a terrified student who realized she had finally stepped in front of a real monster. “Go,” you said, the word flat and final. “Before I change my mind and make this genuinely embarrassing for you.” She did’'t wait for a second invitation. She turned on her heel, her “backup” stumbling over each other to follow, their frantic footsteps sounding like a retreat.
The adrenaline was still humming in your veins, making your hands itch for another fight. You stood motionless for a second, chest heaving, watching the retreating backs of those three girls until they were nothing but a bad memory and a faint scent of perfume. Slowly, you turned back to the wreckage of the recruitment table. Yunho was still frozen. He was standing there in pure shock, his hands still hovering in the air where he’d been trying to shield himself. Without his glasses, his eyes were wide, blinking rapidly, looking incredibly soft and vulnerable against the harsh sunlight. He looked at you—at your scuffed boots, your leather jacket, the unapologetic sneer still ghosting on your lips—and he didn’t say a word. You stepped closer, the leather of your jacket creaking. You reached out, your long black nails glinting as you held out the cracked glasses. “Here,” you said, your voice still rough and low with leftover rage. “One of the lenses is fucked, but they’re still in one piece.”
Yunho’s hand shook as he reached for them, his fingers brushing against yours. The contact was like a live wire. He flinched, his face turning a shade of red that looked physically painful. He slid the glasses back on, the spiderweb crack bisecting his vision, and finally looked at you properly. “You...” He choked on the word, his voice cracking spectacularly. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Y-you... just... you shoved her.”
“She deserved a lot worse than a shove,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. You kicked at a fallen flyer with the toe of your Martens. “You just gonna stand there and let those bottom-feeders talk to you like that? You’re twice their size, for fuck’s sake.”
Yunho flinched again, his shoulders hunching as he looked down at his boots. “I-I... I don’t... I’m not good at... people. T-talking. It’s hard.” He looked back up at you, his eyes shimmering with a mix of terror and absolute, unfiltered awe. “N-no one has ever... done that for me. Ever.” He looked at the rickety table, then back at you, his expression shifting into something frantic and desperate. He lunged for a crumpled clipboard that had survived the scuffle, holding it against his chest like a shield. “I—I’m Yunho,” he squeaked, the word coming out an octave too high. He was shaking now, a tremor running through his massive frame. You introduced yourself without breaking the eye contact. “I’m starting... a club. For... for gaming. Competitive gaming.” He looked at your heavy eyeliner, your fishnets, and your “don’t fuck with me” aura, and for a second, he looked like he wanted to run away. But then, he stayed. He planted his feet, his jaw tightening even as his hands continued to shake. “You’re... you’re really cool,” he whispered. “And... and I think you dropped this.” He reached down, picking up your lighter that must have fallen from your pocket. He held it out to you, his fingers trembling, his eyes searching yours behind his broken lenses.
You took the lighter from his shaking fingers, your black nails grazing his palm. You tucked it into your pocket, eyes narrowing as you watched him.
It was starting to sink in. The word Pro-tier was echoing in his head, overriding his fear, his shyness, and the humiliation of the last minutes. “You—you really…” Yunho gripped the clipboard so hard the plastic groaned. “You said you’re a controller… You said it to her face.” He took a step toward you, his frame finally unfolding. He was still blushing, still stammering, but his eyes were suddenly burning with an intensity you wouldn’t expect from him. ”What—what’s your rank? Are you Radiant?” he squeaked, his words starting to tumble out faster and faster, a waterfall of gamer-jargon fuelled by pure adrenaline. “I—I’ve been looking for someone for my team with that kind of... of aggressive spacing! Did you see how you took that space? You cleared the site! You didn’t even hesitate, you just—you just executed!” He began to pace in a small, frantic circle around the broken table, his hands gesturing wildly as if he were explaining a map strategy to a ghost. “If you’re a carry... if you can click heads like you just shoved her... oh my god.” He stopped, looming over you again, his breath coming in short, excited huffs. “Do you play on high-sens? You look like a high-sens player. Your movements are so—so flick-heavy! Please tell me you have a decent headshot percentage.” He thrust the pen at you, nearly poking your chest in his excitement. He was a mess—a gorgeous, stuttering, 6 ’2” mess—but for the first time, he wasn’t looking at the floor. He was looking at you like you were the final piece of a puzzle. “Sign it!” he pleaded, a manic sort of grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Sign the charter. I don’t care if you’re scary. I don’t care if you smoke! Mingi smokes too! If you can play like that... we’re going to be unstoppable. We’ll make them all eat their words. Please. Just tell me... what’s your main?”
You looked at the pen, then at the “Member 4” slot on the crumpled charter. Behind that spiderweb crack in his glasses, Yunho’s eyes were wide and shining—not with tears anymore, but with a frantic worship. To him, you weren’t just the girl who had dog-walked his bullies; you were the legendary carry who was going to save his failing dream.
Yunho kept looking at you like an excited puppy who’d just seen a leash, all trembling hands and too-bright eyes, like he might start wagging his entire body if you gave him one more second of attention. You should have told him the truth. You should have said you didn’t even have the game installed, that you only knew the words coming out of his mouth because your roommate, Wooyoung, treated Valorant like a religion and wouldn’t shut up about it. But Yunho was holding the pen out like it was a lifeline, and after what those girls had said to him, you couldn’t bring yourself to cut him down with something as small and stupid as honesty.
Viper.
The second the name left your lips, you wanted to swallow it back down along with the smoke still stinging your throat. You hadn’t even thought about it. It was just a memory of Wooyoung screaming at his monitor at 3:00 AM, something about “toxic screens” and “lineups” while you pounded on the wall telling him to shut the hell up. You bit down on your lower lip, your eyeliner masking the “oh shit” moment happening behind your eyes.The reaction from Yunho was visceral. He didn’t just freeze—he looked like he’d been struck by lightning. His mouth fell open, and for a second, the stuttering stopped completely. Then, he let out a sound that was less a word and more of a high-pitched, strangled whistle. “A... a Viper main?” he squeaked. His voice didn’t just flip; it broke into a dozen different pieces. He looked down at your long black nails, and you watched him swallow so hard his Adam’s apple practically did a backflip.
In the game, Viper was a cold, commanding scientist in a skin-tight suit. Looking at you in your leather jacket, looking like you’d just come from a riot, the resemblance was... unfortunate for his heart rate. “You... you play the chemist?” he clutching that clipboard to his chest like it was a shield against his own feelings. “She’s—she’s one of the hardest agents! She’s... sophisticated. D-dangerous. You have to be so... in control to play her.”
Oh, I’m in so much trouble.
Internally, your brain wasn’t just panicking; it was a full-blown room on fire. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, you screamed at yourself behind your cool, “unbothered” expression. Who is she?! you frantically demanded of your memory, trying to scrape together every late-night rant you’d ever heard from your roommate. Wooyoung—that loud, chaotic menace—usually spent his nights screaming at his dual monitors while you tried to study. Think, think! You remembered him yelling something about “Mommy Viper” while slamming a peach flavoured Red Bull. You remembered him complaining about a “poison cloud” and something called a “snake bite” that apparently didn’t involve actual snakes. Most importantly, you remembered him mooning over her voice—how she sounded like she was bored of everyone’s existence but would also kill them without blinking.
“I—I have a lot of... respect for Viper mains,” Yunho stammered, his ears glowing a luminous pink. “I mean, I think her kit is... very balanced. And her—her voice lines are—I mean, her strategy is very... intense.” He was lying through his teeth about the “strategy part.” Everyone on the server knew Yunho’s desktop wallpaper was a high-res fanart of Viper looking down at the camera. And here you were, smelling like smoke and looking like you were ready to decay anyone who crossed you.
“She’s the Queen of the Pit, you don’t understand!” Wooyoung had wailed once while you were trying to sleep. “She’s scary, she’s smart, and she makes everyone feel like they’re suffocating!” And now, looking at Yunho—who was literally staring at you like you’d just cured every known disease—you realized you’d accidentally stepped into the most dangerous role of your life.
“Please,” he pleaded, his voice soft and desperate. “Sign it. We need a Viper. I need a Viper.” You looked at the clipboard, but all you could think about was the absolute, ruinous devotion in Yunho’s eyes. He wasn’t just recruiting a teammate; he was recruiting his literal idol.
The pen felt heavy in your hand, like a weapon you didn’t know how to safety-check. Your brain immediately started screaming. What was the line? Ugh, Wooyoung would always say it was the hottest thing any agent ever said—he’d rant about it for hours while his neon-green keyboard light bathed the dorm. And then it hit you, clean and sharp, like a bullet you didn’t see coming.
With a sharp, aggressive flourish, you scrawled your name. The ink was dark and bold, cutting into the paper just like you’d cut through those bullies. You handed the clipboard back, your fingers lingering against his for a second too long, and leaned in. “They call me a monster,” you purred, the words vibrating low in your throat, mimicking that bored, lethal rasp you’d heard coming from Wooyoung’s speakers a thousand times. You tilted your head, your smirk growing razor-sharp as you looked at him through the spiderwebbed crack in his glasses. “Shall I prove them right?”
You almost cringed at yourself, the internal embarrassment hot enough to melt your make-up, but you forced your face to stay ice-cold. If you were going to commit to this lie, you had to commit all the way. You couldn’t just be the girl who saved him; you had to be the chemist he was currently daydreaming about. Keep it together, you told yourself. Don’t blink. Don’t apologise. What would a ‘monster’ do? You let a slow, icy smirk crawl across your lips, even as your stomach did a nauseating somersault.
Yunho didn’t just freeze; he looked like his soul had been physically yanked out of his chest and replaced with high-voltage electricity. His eyes blew wide, his pupils dilating until they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises. The crimson flush didn’t just stay on his cheeks—it raced down his neck, disappearing under the collar of his T-shirt. He let out a sound that wasn’t even human—a tiny, strangled wheeze that sounded like a tea kettle reaching its breaking point. “V-Viper...” the word was barely a breath. He was trembling so hard the clipboard rattled in his hands. The “Gamer Persona” was fighting a losing battle against the “Massive Fanboy,” and the fanboy was currently screaming in a language only gods and nerds understood. To him, the pixels had just stepped out of the screen, put on a leather jacket, and threatened him with a good time.
Holy shit, it worked, your brain hissed, even as your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. He actually thinks I’m her. I’m going to hell. I’m literally going to hell for this. You didn’t give him time to recover. You reached out, your thumb brushing the edge of his jaw for a split second—a touch so brief it could have been a hallucination, but it made him flinch like he’d been burned. It was the final killing blow. Yunho practically jumped out of his own skin. He looked down at you, his chest heaving, his breath hitching in a way that made it clear he’d forgotten how to use his lungs for anything other than worship.
“I—I—” he fumbled with the clipboard, nearly dropping it twice before he managed to pin it against his chest. “Discord! I need—we need—to coordinate the... the lobby! The server! I have a private channel for the SCU—the Strategic Coordination Union—and I... I need to...” He stopped, blinking rapidly. He looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe, let alone how to operate a smartphone. “I don't have... I mean, I have a QR code! Somewhere!” He began frantically patting down the pockets of his jeans. He looked like a giant puppy trying to find a lost bone while on a sugar high. “Wait, no, it’s—it’s on the flyer! The one those girls... they...” He looked at the ground where the crumpled, dirty flyers lay, and his face fell for a split second, a flicker of that earlier hurt returning. But then he looked back at you—at the Viper who had just claimed him—and the panic returned tenfold. “Just—just tell me!” he squeaked, holding his phone out with both hands as if he were offering you a sacred relic. His hands were shaking so hard the screen was a blur. “What’s your username? I’ll—I’ll add you! I’ll make you an Admin! I’ll give you a custom role! It’ll be neon green! Like—like your... like the pit!”
The username. Your brain went into a full-blown emergency lockdown. What the fuck is my Discord username?! You usually only used it to send Wooyoung memes or tell him to turn his volume down. You blurted it out, praying to every god of gaming that it was correct. Yunho’s thumbs flew across the screen, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in sheer concentration. He hit ‘Send Friend Request’ with a flourish that was almost cinematic. When his phone chirped with the confirmation, he let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-whimper. “I'll send you the link at 8:00 PM. We’ll run a warm-up.” He was beaming now, the trauma of the bullying completely overwritten by the sheer, geeky ecstasy of having a Pro Viper on his team.
“Don't be late,” you warned, putting on your best cold-voice one last time as you began to back away. “I have a very low tolerance for... technical difficulties.”
“I’ll be early!” Yunho shouted after you, waving his phone in the air as you walked away. “I’ll be there at 7:30! I’ll be there forever!”
The second you turned the corner and hit the shade of the wall, you collapsed against the brick, your lungs finally burning with the air you’d been holding. Your hands were shaking so hard you almost dropped your phone.
“Wooyoung,” you hissed into a voice note, your voice trembling with pure panic. “You have four hours. If you don’t teach me how to play your game and be a ‘toxic scientist’ Viper by dinner, I am telling everyone you still sleep with a nightlight!”
Your phone buzzed against your hand with such violence you nearly jumped out of your skin.
[1] New Discord MentionServer: Strategic Digital Coordination (PROVISIONAL)
Channel: #general-tactics
Golden_Retriever_Yunho: GUYS WE HAVE 4TH MEMBER! SHE SIGNED IT!!! I’M LITERALLY SHAKING. SHE CALLED HERSELF A MONSTER. MINGI, SHUT UP, SHE’S GOING TO BE OUR VIPER AND IF YOU ANNOY HER I WILL PERSONALLY UNINSTALL YOUR LIFE.
FixOn_Mingi: lol. i’m scared but also... i’m sat.
“Oh, I’m so dead,” you whispered, sliding down the brick wall until your thighs hit the gravel. “I am a dead person. I’m a corpse.”
Your phone erupted. Wooyoung wasn’t just replying; he was calling. The second you hit ‘accept,’ his voice blasted through the speaker. “A VIPER MAIN?!” Wooyoung screeched, and you could practically hear him falling off his gaming chair. “YOU? YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE THE WASD KEYS ARE! YOU ACCIDENTALLY OPENED THE CALCULATOR THREE TIMES THE LAST TIME YOU TRIED TO PLAY MINESWEEPER!”
“Shut up!” you hissed, clutching the phone to your ear like a weapon. “I had to! He was getting bullied by those three girls, they broke his glasses, and he looked like a kicked puppy. Then I signed the charter and—oh god—I did the voice—the monster line I always hear from your speakers!”
“Wait, wait, wait—hold on. Pause. Full stop,” Wooyoung’s voice dropped from a screech into a sharp, nosy hiss, like he’d just smelled drama in the air. You could hear the frantic squeak of his gaming chair as he scooted closer to the mic. “Who are we even talking about? Since when do you care about the general public? Last week you said men were a ‘distraction from your sleep schedule’ and you meant it with your whole chest.”
You squeezed your eyes shut so hard you saw stars. “It wasn’t about caring. It was about him getting publicly mauled like a wounded deer, and me being biologically allergic to injustice.”
“Uh-huh,” Wooyoung said, drawing the syllable out like he was tasting it for poison. “So you shoved his bullies into a different zip code, lied about being a Viper main, and then role-played a femme fatale voice line at a campus nerd. On purpose?”
You opened your mouth to defend your honour.
He cut you off immediately, his voice climbing an octave. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you actually… ovulating right now? Because the last time your hormones hit that level of insane, you tried to hit on me and I am still severely traumatised! I still see your ‘come hither’ eyes in my nightmares, and let me tell you, they were terrifying! Are you literally in heat for a nerd right now or what is actually happening?!”
“I was NOT in heat!” you snapped, your face turning a shade of red that rivalled Yunho’s earlier meltdown. “And I did NOT hit on you, I was just being—"
“You were being a menace to society!” Wooyoung shouted, deeply offended. “You looked at me like I was a snack-sized bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos and I had to lock myself in the bathroom for two hours! And now? Now you’re out here in the wild, using ‘Mommy Voice’ on a nerd who probably looks like he’s never even seen a woman before! It’s predatory! It’s shameless! I’m reporting you to the campus authorities!”
“I was saving him from bullies!”
“By claiming his soul?!” Wooyoung cackled, the sound of his keyboard clacking like a machine gun in the background. “Girl, you didn’t save him, you claimed him. You hit him with the Viper line! That poor boy is probably currently writing your name in his notebook with little hearts around it while he shakes like a leaf. You’ve ruined his life, and frankly? I’m proud. But also, I’m calling a priest.”
“He’s… tall,” you said, the word coming out like a confession of a crime.
Wooyoung gasped so violently he actually smacked his mic. “TALL? Oh my god. Of course. Your type is ‘could carry me to safety’ even though you literally bite people when they try to help you.”
“I do NOT bite people!”
“You bite the air when you’re mad, it counts! Okay. Tall. Glasses. Nervous. Is he rich? Is he sad? Does he look like he needs a hug? Because that’s your kryptonite. You see one pathetic little tremble and suddenly you’re Mother Teresa in heavy eyeliner and a leather jacket.”
“I wasn’t being Mother Teresa!” you hissed, pushing off the brick and starting to pace. Gravel crunched under your boots, sounding like it was being punished for your sins. “They took his glasses, Woo. Like cartoon villains. And he just… stopped. Like his body got unplugged.” There was a beat of silence. Not the teasing kind. The rare, dangerous kind where Wooyoung’s actual brain engaged.
“Okay,” he said, his voice dropping. “Yeah. That’s… actually trash. I’d have kicked them too.” The softness lasted exactly two seconds. “But also,” he added immediately, “you should still be arrested for what you did. ‘They call me a monster’?” He made a choking, gagging sound. “WHO ARE YOU? A Wattpad villain? EXO member? I’m calling the police. The crime is terminal cringe.”
“Shut up!” you yelped, mortified all over again. “It just came out of my mouth! Like vomit! Like a demon possessing my vocal cords!”
“A demon named Mommy Viper,” Wooyoung sang, his voice dripping with glee.
You groaned, dragging a hand down your face, feeling the cold metal of your rings against your skin. “I don’t even know what she does, Woo. I just remembered you screaming about her at 3 AM.”
Wooyoung’s inhale was sharp and delighted. “Oh, baby. This is my Super Bowl. This is my villain origin story.” In the background, you heard the familiar click-clack of his mechanical keyboard, the aggressive thunk of his desk drawer opening, and then—like he was summoning a ritual—an energy drink cracked open. Tshhh. “Step one,” Wooyoung’s voice suddenly calmed in a way that made your skin prickle. “You are going to stop pacing like you’re about to fight God. Step two, you have four hours. Four hours to become a toxic scientist with commitment issues. And you’re going to do it because I refuse to let you die of embarrassment on a Discord server’”
You made a strangled noise. “It’s called ‘Strategic Digital Coordination (PROVISIONAL).’”
“Everything about this is provisional. Your self-control. Your dignity. Your ability to keep a straight face when you see him again.”
“Woo,” you said quietly, staring at the notification on your screen like it was a live grenade. “He’s going to want to… play. With me.”
Wooyoung’s voice softened, just a fraction. Not gentle—he didn’t do gentle—but less jagged. “Then we make you good enough to not get exposed in the first round.”
“And if I do?”
“Oh, you will,” Wooyoung said cheerfully. “But you’re going to get exposed later, after you’ve already emotionally imprinted on the tall nerd boy and he’s already given you a custom neon-green role. We’re playing the long con, Viper.”
“What if he’s… like… actually nice?” you muttered.
Wooyoung made a loud, wet gagging sound. “Oh my god. You’re in heat. I’m hanging up. I’m calling a vet.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“Too late! I’m already Googling the nearest 24-hour animal hospital!” Wooyoung was fully committed to the bit now. “I’ll tell them I have a rabid Viper main who needs to be tranquillised and put in a cage before she flirts a 6’2” puppy into a coma!”
“I am going to actually murder you!” you hissed, finally reaching a bus stop, your travel card trembling as you tapped it on the reader. “I’m coming in. If I see one TikTok of a golden retriever on your screen, I’m snapping your keyboard in half.”
“Oh, you’re so scary when you’re feral,” he cooed, his voice dripping with mock-terror. “Listen, I’m sending you a link. Click it. It’s the ‘Viper Voice Lines’ compilation. Listen to it until you can say ‘Come here’ in a way that makes me want to file a restraining order. And for the love of God, stop blushing! I can hear your face getting hot!”
“I’m hanging up now,” you muttered, leaning your forehead against the cool glass of the window.
“Wait! One more thing!” Wooyoung’s voice turned deathly serious, dropping into a dramatic whisper. “If he asks about your ‘lineups,’ just look him dead in the eye and say ‘I don’t need a map to know where to strike.’ It means absolutely nothing and it’s a total lie, but he’ll probably fall to his knees and offer you his firstborn son.”
“You are a menace to society,” you breathed, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your throat.
“I am your only hope, Monster,” Wooyoung sang. “Now get in here. We have a reputation to build and a tall boy to accidentally-on-purpose traumatize.” The line went dead, leaving you seated with the hum of the bus ringing in your ears and your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You looked down at your phone one last time. A new message from the server was sitting there, glowing in the dim light.
Golden_Retriever_Yunho: Hi. Sorry. I forgot to ask. Do you... do you prefer the Phantom or the Vandal? I want to make sure I buy the right skins for you to use when we swap.
You stared at the message. You didn’t even know what a Phantom was. It sounded like a car. Or a ghost from the opera.
You: Surprise me.
You sent it, your thumb trembling. It was the only “Viper-coded” thing you could think of.
The apartment was no longer a living space; it was a high-stakes command centre for two men who had completely lost their grip on reality. Yunho was practically glowing. He was standing in the middle of the kitchenette, staring at a piece of toast as if it held the secrets to Viper’s heart. “She’s real, Viper is real,” Yunho breathed, his voice swinging wildly between a reverent whisper and a panicked squeak. “She’s real. She’s not just a collection of pixels and voice lines. She wears Dr. Martens. She smells like tobacco and—and justice. She shoved that girl so hard!”
Seonghwa was sitting on the edge of the sofa, a microfibre cloth in one hand and a bottle of lens cleaner in the other. He looked like he’d aged five years in the last hour. He was meticulously trying to polish the smudge off Yunho’s broken glasses, but his eyes were narrowed in deep suspicion. “Yunho, she smells like smoke,” Seonghwa muttered, his voice full of protective fret. “And she was aggressive. From what you just said she’d probably been in a street fight. And I still remember her eyeliner from the other day... It was so heavy. How can you trust someone whose eyes you can’t even see properly? And look at these frames! They’re spiderwebbed! We have to go to the optometrist or you’re going to get a migraine.”
“I don’t need eyes where we’re going!” Yunho shouted, throwing his arms out. “She’s a pro-tier carry! She’s a Viper main! Do you know what she said to me? She looked me dead in the eye—the broken lens side—and she said, ‘Shall I prove them right?’ I nearly died. I actually felt my soul leave my body.”
From the corner of the room, a loud, muffled thud sounded. Mingi, who had been sprawled across his gaming chair with his headset on, suddenly ripped his ears off. He spun around, his jaw practically hitting his knees. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were wide with a very specific, very desperate brand of terror. “Wait, back up. Did you just say... a Viper main? Who quoted the ‘Monster’ line?”
“Yes!” Yunho beamed, tripping over a stray power cord in his excitement.
Mingi’s face went completely pale. He looked at his second monitor, where a high-res wallpaper of Viper stood in her emerald-green gas. Then he looked at Yunho. Then he looked at the door as if he expected you to kick it down right now. “No way,” he whispered, “No. Way. That’s—that’s the dream! Yun, if she’s actually a pro Viper... I’m trash. I’m literally garbage beneath her boots. You realise she’s going to eat us alive, right?”
“I want her to!” Yunho yelled, completely unhinged. “I mean—tactically! I want her to lead!”
Seonghwa stood up, holding the cracked glasses out like a peace offering, though his face was a mask of pure worry. “This is a disaster. You’re both in love with a girl who sounds like she’s going to set the apartment on fire. Yunnie, please, put these on. At least see the girl clearly before you give her your social security number.”
“I don't need to see!” Yunho cheered, grabbing the glasses and sliding them on, the crack splitting his vision of the room into fragments. “8:00 PM, boys! The Queen is coming to the Pit, and I haven’t even vacuumed!”
Mingi scrambled to his feet, suddenly frantic. “Vacuum? Screw the vacuum! Hyung, help me find my good jersey! The one that makes my shoulders look broad!”
Seonghwa just sank back onto the couch, buried his face in his hands, and whispered a silent prayer for their sanity—and their internet bandwidth.
“I’m going to marry her,” Yunho announced proudly, his voice reaching a frequency that made the nearby windows rattle. “I don’t care if she’s a monster. I’ll be her monster-husband. We’ll have a green-themed wedding. Everyone will have to wear gas masks. It’ll be aesthetic.”
“You met her an hour ago! She shoved a girl! She threatened to drag someone across the pavement! She probably has a criminal record!”
“She has a vision!” Yunho lunged for a notebook and began scribbling frantically. “I need to know her favourite map. If it’s Bind, we’re honeymooning in Morocco. If it’s Icebox, I’m buying a puffer jacket. I’m already looking at engagement rings—do they make them with miniature poison canisters? Is that a thing? Mingi, look it up!”
Mingi wasn’t looking anything up. He was currently having a spiritual experience in his gaming chair. He had draped a green hoodie over his head like a cowl and was staring at his reflection in his darkened monitor. “I’ve decided,” he whispered, his voice deep, gravelly, and entirely delusional. “I’m going to be her loyal guard dog. I’ll be the one who dies for her. Every round. I’ll run into the line of fire just so she can get one extra kill. We’re going to be a power couple, Yunho! You, me, and the Goddess of the Pit!” Mingi yelled, spinning his chair around.
“That’s a throuple! That’s a completely different team comp!”
Seonghwa could hear the sound of his own blood pressure rising. “She is a girl with a cigarette and a bad attitude,” he moaned into his palms. “She is going to join the server, realise you two are barking like stray dogs, and she’s going to delete us. She’s going to delete our whole lives.”
“She’s a pro-tier!” Yunho squeaked, ignoring his hyung entirely as he started practicing his ‘cool gamer voice’ in the microwave door reflection. “‘Welcome to the team, Viper-nim. I’ve prepared three different site-executes and a bouquet of black roses.’ No, that’s too much. ‘Hey, Queen. Ready to decay?’ Yes. That’s the one.”
Mingi started doing push-ups in the middle of the living room. “I have to be in peak physical condition,” he gasped between reps. “What if she wants to 1v1 me? I have to have the stamina to lose gracefully!”
“THE GAME IS PLAYED WITH YOUR HANDS, SONG MINGI!” Seonghwa screamed, finally snapping. “PUT YOUR DAMN COMPUTER GLASSES BACK ON, SIT DOWN, AND PRAY SHE DOESN’T REALISE WE’RE ALL IDIOTS!”
But it was too late. The delusion had taken root. In their minds, the wedding bells were already ringing.
You slammed the door behind you with a force that made the pictures on the wall rattle, your boots thudding against the hardwood as you sprinted toward the living room. The apartment smelled like spicy ramen and Red Bull. “WOOYOUNG!” you bellowed, the panic finally boiling over. You rounded the corner into the living room, and the sight stopped you dead. Wooyoung was slumped in his $500 ergonomic gaming chair, back-lit by the neon violet and acid-green glow of his dual monitors. He was wearing his oversized hoodie, his black hair a chaotic mess where he’d clearly been tugging at it in anticipation. He didn’t even turn around; he just held up a single, dramatic finger while his other hand flew across the mechanical keyboard in a blur of click-clack-clack-clack.
“Don’t speak,” he commanded, his voice tight with focus. “I’m in the middle of a clutch. If I die now, it’s a bad omen for your entire fake career.” A second later, a loud, metallic SHINK sounded from the speakers, followed by a frantic cheering noise. Wooyoung threw his hands up, spun the chair around with a violent kick of his heels, and levelled a look at you that could have withered a cactus. “You,” he said, pointing a half-eaten pocky stick at your face. “You are the harbinger of my demise. Look at you. You’re practically glowing. You look like you just committed a felony and enjoyed it.”
“I’m in a crisis!” You collapsed onto the beanbag next to his desk, burying your face in your hands. “He’s... he’s so earnest. He’s 6’2” and earnest and I’m a liar!”
Wooyoung leaned back in that stupidly expensive chair, one knee bouncing with rhythmic, caffeinated energy. The neon from his monitors carved hard, jagged edges into his face, making him look like he’d been rendered in the same high-stakes engine you were about to embarrass yourself in. He looked you up and down, a slow, theatrical scan that felt like a character inspection. “Oh,” he said, his voice syrupy with a judgment so thick you could drown in it. “So this is what we’re doing tonight. We’re doing panic-romance cosplay. We’re really committing to the bit.”
You dragged your hands down your face, the cold metal of your rings dragging against your skin, and made a noise that was half groan, half prayer. “It wasn’t romance. It was—it was triage. Battlefield medicine, Woo.”
“Sure.” He clicked his tongue, his eyes glittering with delight. “Medical emergency. You had to administer CPR with your mouth. On his self-esteem. Very heroic.’”
“I didn’t—” you snapped up, then immediately deflated. “I didn’t administer anything.”
Wooyoung raised his brows, his grin stretching wide enough to show teeth. “You literally said, in your best ‘Mommy Viper’ voice—” he deepened his tone into a velvety, gravelly imitation that made your skin crawl, “‘They call me a monster. Shall I prove them right?’”
You grabbed a throw pillow off the beanbag and hurled it at him. It hit his shoulder with a soft whump and fell to the floor like it was ashamed to be involved. He didn’t even flinch. He just smiled wider, like you’d fed him exactly what he wanted. “Don’t do that,” you hissed. “Don’t repeat it. It sounds worse when someone else says it.”
“It sounded like a war crime when you said it, too,” he corrected. “Okay. Tell me everything again. From the top. But this time, don’t downplay it. I want the unedited director’s cut. I want the part where the 6’2” puppy looks at you like you’re his owner.”
You folded your arms so tight your leather jacket creaked. “I am not doing this.”
“Then I’m not teaching you how to use a Snake Bite,” he said, instantly businesslike. He spun his chair back to the screen. “Good luck telling Mr. Golden Retriever that your ‘toxic screens’ are actually just you running into walls.”
The silence lasted exactly two beats before your pride crumbled. “…He looked at me like a puppy,” you muttered, the confession tasting like ash.
Wooyoung slammed a palm on his desk like he’d just won the lottery. “YES! That’s the juice! Okay. Continue.”
You glared. “He was getting bullied. They took his glasses. Like cartoon villains.”
Wooyoung’s expression sharpened for half a second—real irritation, real disgust—before the chaos reasserted itself. “Okay, no. That’s actually vile. That’s ‘getting shoved into a locker in a 90s movie’ behaviour. I’d have bit them too.”
“I didn’t bite them. I shoved one of them. And then,” you prompted yourself, your voice going small, “he looked at me like I was a limited edition collectible that just dropped.”
“The tall nerd looked at you like you were a limited-time mythic skin,” Wooyoung corrected, then pointed at you like a prosecutor. “And then you lied. You lied right to his face. You said you main Viper. You, a woman who thinks a ‘ping’ is the sound a microwave makes.”
“It just—came out!” you said miserably. “It was either that or admit I didn’t play and then he’d feel stupid for asking, and he’d already had his glasses broken!”
“Ah.” Wooyoung’s tone went mock-soft. “So you committed identity fraud out of compassion. You’re a saint. A saint in a push-up bra and combat boots.” He sat back, hands behind his head, looking blissful as the green light from the monitor bathed him in a villainous glow. “God, you’re so insane. I love this for us.”
“You’re not helping.”
“No, I am helping,” he corrected. “I’m helping by bullying you into competence. That boy has already gotten attached to you. If you load into a game and stand there staring at the floor like a baby deer with a concussion, he’s going to lose it. You’ll kill him. His heart will actually stop.”
“I don’t stare at the floor!”
Wooyoung’s eyes widened with fake offence. “You stare at the floor professionally! Last month you walked into a door because you were mad and refused to look at your surroundings!”
“That door started it.”
“It was a push door, you psycho!” Wooyoung exhaled through his nose, trying to keep it together. He failed. His laugh cracked out sharp and loud, and he actually had to wipe his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers and spun back to his monitors, suddenly all business. “Alright, Monster,” he announced, opening Valorant with the gravitas of a general. “Sit. Hands on keyboard. No, not like you’re about to perform surgery. Like you’re about to commit a felony.” You slid onto the floor beside his desk, back against the sofa, and eyed the keyboard like it might bite. “Stop looking like that. WASD won’t hurt you.”
“The last time I tried, I opened fourteen menus and a calculator.”
“That was iconic,” he said warmly.
You groaned. “I hate this.”
“You love this! You’re in your little ‘I did something stupid and now I’m emotionally invested’ era.”
“I’m not emotionally invested.”
He turned slowly in his chair. The silence was lethal.
“…He asked what skin I wanted,” you confessed, your voice barely a whisper.
Wooyoung’s face did something violent. He clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “HE ASKED ABOUT SKINS? ON DAY ONE?”
“Yes,” you snapped, defensive. “Isn’t that a normal thing you gamer people ask?”
“That’s not ‘normal,’ that’s a dowry!” Wooyoung shouted. “That’s offering you resources! That’s—oh my god—he’s nesting! He’s building you a little green toxic pit to live in!”
“It’s not like that!”
Wooyoung stared at you, deadpan. “What did you say?”
You froze. “I told him to surprise me.”
He pointed at you again, his finger inches from your nose. “You. Told. Him. To. Surprise. You. That is the Viper equivalent of saying ‘I’m yours, do what you want with me.’”
“I PANICKED.”
“You didn’t panic,” he said, voice dripping with delight. “You purred through text.” You made a sound that could’ve been a scream if you had any dignity left. You shoved your face into your knees. “Look at me,” Wooyoung ordered. You peeked out. He held up two fingers. “How many brain cells do you have left?”
“None. They’ve all evaporated.”
“Correct.” He patted your cheek twice. “Okay. We do not have time for shame. Shame is for people who don’t have a Discord match at eight. Now, hit me with the line. In your Viper voice. Like you’re bored. Like you’ve never once apologised in your entire life.”
You swallowed. “This is stupid.”
“Say it.”
You inhaled, forced your shoulders down, forced your face into ice-cold stillness. “They call me a monster.”
Wooyoung’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Wait. Okay. That was—unfortunately—very good.”
“Shall I prove them right?” you added, your voice dropping into that lethal, bored rasp.
Wooyoung made a noise like someone witnessing a masterpiece. “Oh my god. You’re actually evil. And now? Now we’re going to learn how to throw a smoke so you can be evil with evidence!” He clicked into the practice range. The screen filled with targets. “Alright, W-A-S-D. Try not to hit my desk like it owes you money. You’re Viper. You slither. You don’t stomp.” You set your fingers down. You pressed W. Your character lurched forward like a drunk baby. Wooyoung slapped his desk and cackled. “YES! That’s it! That’s my girl! That’s my pro-tier controller! Look at you go!”
“STOP,” you snapped, trying to correct. You slammed into a wall.
Wooyoung wheezed. “A NATURAL. A GODDESS. THE QUEEN OF THE PIT HAS ARRIVED AND SHE IS CURRENTLY STUCK IN A CORNER.”
“Wait.” You froze, your character currently spinning in circles on the screen because you’d accidentally sat on the mouse. “Wooyoung. Look at me.”
Wooyoung stopped cackling long enough to wipe a tear from his eye. “I’m looking, but I don’t see a pro-player. I see a girl who just tried to ‘shoot’ a tree.”
“You’re going to play,” you said, the realisation finally coming to you. “I’ll be on the Discord call. I’ll have my mic on. But the screen? The gameplay? That’s all you.”
Wooyoung’s eyes widened. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, radiating pure, unholy energy. “A Ratatouille play? You want me to be the little mouse under your leather jacket pulling the strings?” He slammed his hands together. “Y/N, that is diabolical. That is fraud. That is... the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Can you do it?” you asked, leaning in. “Can you play on your PC while I talk to them on my laptop?”
“Can I?” Wooyoung scoffed, “I can play Viper with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. I’ll make you look like a god. I’ll hit shots so clean Yunho will think he’s hallucinating!” He paused, pointing a finger at you. “But you? You have to keep the act up. If I get a Triple Kill, you don’t cheer. You don’t giggle. You stay cold. You stay... bored.”
“I can do bored,” you whispered, trying to channel the ice in your veins.
“And,” Wooyoung added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss, “if I clutch a 1v4, you have to say something so toxic it makes their toes curl. None of that ‘good job team’ trash. I want ‘Don’t get in my way again.’”
[Voice Channel] Strategic Digital...
Golden_Retriever_Yunho is in the channel.
StarHwa_04 is in the channel.
FixOn_Mingi is in the channel.
“They’re in,” you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs. You put on your headset, adjusting the mic until it was hovering right by your lips.
Wooyoung settled into his chair, his expression going dead-serious. He cracked his knuckles, the glow of the monitor reflecting in his dark eyes. “Alright, Monster. Hide your screen. Open your mic. Let’s go make a puppy fall in love with a lie.”
You clicked ‘Join.’ The silence in the channel was immediate. You could practically hear the collective sharp intake of breath on the other end.
“...Hello?” Yunho’s voice came through, sounding of pure, unadulterated nerves. “V-Viper? Are you there?”
You looked at Wooyoung. He gave you a sharp nod, his fingers already dancing over the keys as he loaded into the lobby. You leaned back, hooded your eyes, and let out a long, slow sigh—the sound of someone who had better things to do than exist. “I’m here,” you rasped, the tone low and dangerous. “Don’t make me regret it.”
On the other end of the line, you heard a muffled thump—the distinct sound of Yunho’s forehead hitting his desk—and a faint, wheezing moan from Mingi.
“She’s here,” Mingi whispered, sounding terrified and delighted. “Hyung, she’s actually here. I think I’m going to faint.”
Wooyoung’s fingers moved like they were possessed—clean, lazy arcs on the mouse, taps that sounded bored even when they were lethal. He loaded you into a custom lobby with the practiced ease of a magician making a coin disappear: fast enough that no one could see the trick, but smooth enough to feel like an insult.
Yunho, on the other end, made a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a prayer. “O-okay. Great. Custom. Yes. Uh—what map do you want?”
You leaned closer to the mic, letting your voice go low, flat, and unimpressed. “Anything.” The silence that followed was immediate and devotional.
“Anything,” Mingi repeated, his voice hushed like he was standing in a cathedral. “She said anything. Hwa, she’s literally the main character.”
Seonghwa cleared his throat, the sound tiny and careful. “Yunho-ya. Pick one. Before you actually pass out.”
Yunho’s laugh came out strangled. “Right. Yes. I’m—sorry. I’m picking. I’m fine.” You could hear the lie cracking over. On screen, Viper stood in the agent preview, all sleek confidence and emerald poison. Wooyoung selected her with a flick that looked like pure contempt. Yunho’s voice went even quieter. “You’re… actually locking Viper.”
“Obviously,” you said.
Mingi made a low, wounded noise. “I would die for you.”
“Don’t say that,” Seonghwa snapped immediately.
“I’m not saying it like a threat!” Mingi rushed, his voice jumping an octave. “I’m saying it like—like… a service. Like customer support. I am at your disposal, Queen.”
Wooyoung’s laughter hit the mic by accident—a short, sharp cough of amusement that was far too masculine to be yours.
Yunho froze. You could hear the sudden stillness in his breathing. “Who was that?” Your spine went rigid, Wooyoung stopped moving so abruptly that Viper’s idle animation looked like it was waiting for permission to breathe.
Seonghwa’s voice slid in, quick and protective. “Yunho. Don’t be weird.”
But Yunho didn’t back off. He never did when the strategy felt off. “It sounded like… a guy,” he said, the words measured and dangerous. He was holding an angle now, his mental crosshair trained right on the centre of your lie. “Is someone there with you, Viper?”
You let the pause stretch. One beat. Two. Long enough for the panic to rise. Then you said, bored to the bone, “My roommate. He’s not involved.”
A long, shaky inhale on Yunho’s mic. Then, quieter: “Okay.” He sounded like he was pretending not to care, but the air in the call had shifted. The ‘Golden Retriever’ had just tilted his head, sensing a stranger in the yard.
Mingi, trying desperately to stop the server from imploding, blurted, “Yeah, okay, cool! Roommates are normal! I have roommates! Like… Seonghwa and Yunho. And shadows. And my own crippling student debt!”
“Please stop talking,” Seonghwa muttered.
Wooyoung started the warm-up. The first shot cracked. A headshot. Clean.
Yunho inhaled so hard it whistled. “Oh my god.” Another headshot. Another. A string of taps that sounded like an execution.
Mingi’s voice went reverent again. “She’s farming. She’s actually harvesting their souls.”
Wooyoung leaned closer to your shoulder, his eyes bright with unholy chaos, and mouthed: Say something toxic. Now. Your mouth went dry. You forced the voice back into place. Cold. Controlled. “Keep up.”
There was a small, broken sound from Yunho’s mic—the sound of someone trying to swallow their own heart. “Y-yes,” he breathed, immediate and automatic.
“I’m going to throw up,” Mingi whispered.
“Great,” you said, flat. “Do it off-mic.”
The match was pure chaos. Wooyoung was playing like a possessed demon, flicking the mouse so fast the screen was a blur of green smoke and headshots. Meanwhile, you were leaning into the mic, delivering lines that made Yunho and Mingi lose their minds. Your eyes were glazed over, staring at a monitor that had become a fever dream. You watched a tiny digital woman in a gas mask sprint while the world exploded around her. Wooyoung was a frantic, blur-motion mess next to you. His fingers were dancing over the mechanical keys like he was playing a Mozart concerto at 2x speed. Every time he clicked, a loud CRACK echoed, followed by a little skull icon popping up. You had no idea what was happening.
The round timer bled out in the corner of the screen, but Wooyoung was bleeding the bots out faster. His fingers were a blur of violent, efficient motion—the only sound in the room was the rhythmic, aggressive clack-clack-clack of his mechanical keyboard.
“Last one,” Yunho said, his voice tight with a mix of awe and pure adrenaline. You could hear the desperation in his mouse-hand through the mic, the way he was trying to sound captain-like and failing miserably under the weight of his own crush. “We’ll—uh—we’ll run one more execute. A-site. I’ll entry, you wall, Mingi trades. Seonghwa… Seonghwa, you just… vibe.”
“Strategic contribution: vibes,” Seonghwa echoed flatly, sounding like a man who had already accepted his fate.
Mingi made a strangled noise. “I’m contributing my life insurance policy. I think my heart just did a backflip and died.”
Wooyoung’s fingers hovered over the keys, his eyes darting to you with a manic grin. You leaned closer to the mic, hooding your eyes, and let your voice go low, flat, and lethally bored. “Stop talking,” you rasped. “Start moving.”
Yunho’s sharp inhale hit the channel like a stun grenade. “Y-yes, ma’am.”
On Wooyoung’s screen, the world was an emerald blur. A wall cut vision. A cloud bloomed. A molly landed with the lazy precision of someone who had done this a thousand times and hated everyone involved. Yunho tried to follow the plan. Mingi tried to follow Yunho. Seonghwa tried to follow the minimap, walked into a corner, sighed, and corrected himself like the wall had offended him personally.
Then, Wooyoung swung. Tap. Tap. Two skulls flashed on the screen. A third followed instantly. The kill banner hissed.
“Holy—” Mingi’s voice cut off into a breathy, hysterical wheeze. “She’s—she’s—Yunho, I’m going to file a formal complaint with God. This isn’t fair.”
Yunho’s mic crackled with the sound of frantic movement. “I—okay—okay, we’re up! Site is clear! Plant, plant, plant!” You watched the spike go down. You watched the last bot step into the poison like it owed you money. Wooyoung ended it with a flick so fast it barely looked real.
VICTORY.
Silence reigned in the Discord. It was the kind of silence usually reserved for witnessing a miracle or a car crash.
Then Yunho spoke, his voice sounding like it had been ripped out of a very small, terrified body. “That was… perfect.”
Seonghwa cleared his throat, the sound of a man trying to reboot the universe. “Yunho-ya. You are being weird again. Your breathing is audible.”
“I’m not being weird!” Yunho protested immediately—the verbal equivalent of tripping on a flat surface. “I’m being… appreciative. Professional. Captain-like!”
Mingi whispered, his voice thick with reverence. “Captain-like. Sure, buddy.”
Wooyoung elbowed you lightly, a silent, chaotic go on. You made your voice colder. Sharper. The kind of tone that made people sit up straighter even through cheap headsets. “If you’re done worshipping,” you said, “schedule the meeting. Get your five names. And fix the comms. I don’t work with amateurs.”
Yunho choked on air, and the sound of him hitting his forehead against his desk filled your ears. “Y-yes. Yes. We’ll do that. Absolutely. Tonight.” A frantic, high-stakes pause. “Also—uh—do you… want to queue? Like, an actual game? Not customs. If you’re… if you’re not busy. If you’re not going to—you know—delete us from your life.”
Mingi exhaled like a man walking toward a guillotine. “Queueing with her is how people die, Yunho. I’m not ready to meet my maker.”
Seonghwa’s voice went soft, a warning. “Yunho. Don’t push it.”
You glanced at Wooyoung. His grin was pure criminal intent, his fingers already hovering over the ‘Queue’ button. You turned back to the mic, leaned in, and let the lie take its throne. “Queue,” you said, your voice a silken threat. “One.”
Yunho made a sound that was half victory-yelp and half cardiac event. “O-okay! Okay! One! One is good! One is—yes! Loading now!”
The lobby clicked. Match Found.
On the other end of the line, Yunho whispered like he was praying to a Goddess he didn't quite understand. “Welcome to the team.”
The campus cafe was a circle of hell. It smelled of burnt espresso and the metallic tang of wet umbrellas, the air thick and humid from too many students crammed into a space designed for half their number. You sat in the corner booth—the only quiet spot you’d managed to snag by sheer intimidation—and stared down your third cup of coffee. It was lukewarm, the surface of the liquid filmed over with a depressing sheen. You hated lukewarm things; they felt like indecision. That was when you saw him. Jeong Yunho was impossible to miss. He moved through the crowd like a lighthouse in a storm, a head taller than everyone else, his blonde hair a messy, ashy halo where he’d clearly been stressing at his scalp. He looked like a deer caught in high-beams, clutching a paper bag and a volume of manga tucked tightly under his bicep.
His eyes scanned the room, desperate for a square inch of table space, until they landed on you. For a split second, the tactical genius who led your unit through the trenches of the server—glimmered in his gaze. Then, reality hit. His eyes widened behind the spiderweb crack in his glasses, his ears turned a vivid, violent shade of pink, and he immediately whipped his head toward a ‘No Smoking’ sign, staring at it like it contained the secrets of the universe.
You rolled your eyes, the movement sharp and impatient. On the server, he was a frantic, commanding presence. Here? He looked like he wanted to phase through the drywall. “Jeong Yunho!” The name didn’t just leave your mouth; it cut through the cafe’s roar like a sniper round. A few freshmen at the next table jumped, nearly sloshing their lattes. Yunho froze mid-step, his shoulders hiking up to his ears as he squeezed the paper bag until it crinkled. Slowly, like a man walking toward a guillotine, he turned back.
“Oh! Hi—hey. Is it ‘hi’ or ‘hey’?” His voice cracked, pitching higher than anything remotely “Captain-like.” He stumbled forward, long limbs suddenly clumsy in the cramped space. “I didn’t... I didn’t see you there, Viper. I mean—Member Four. I mean... Hi. Or hey. Whatever you prefer.”
“Liar,” you said flatly. You didn’t move your bag from the seat; you just gestured with a sharp tilt of your chin. “Sit. Before someone else tries to take this table, and I have to bite them.”
He slid into the booth, his knees immediately knocking against yours under the small table. The contact was electric—the heat of his jeans searing against your skin. He recoiled as if he’d been hit with a taser, a frantic, “Sorry, sorry, so sorry,” tumbling out of his mouth as he tried to tuck his frame into the tiny space.
“What’s in the bag?”
He blinked, his long lashes fluttering behind his lenses, then slowly pulled out a bagel. A plain bagel. No cream cheese, no golden toasted edges, no life. Just a beige circle of misery. “A bagel,” he stated.
You stared at the dry bread, then up at him, your eyes narrowing. “A plain bagel? No toppings? Are you a Victorian orphan or a psychopath?”
Yunho let out a small, startled laugh—the sound was rich and warm, the first glimpse of the boy you actually knew from the server. “It’s efficient!” he defended, a spark of playfulness dancing in his eyes. He lifted the book slightly. “I don't have to worry about getting cream cheese on my manga. And it‘s... it’s comforting. Quiet. Like a reset for my brain.”
“You’re weird,” you muttered, but you took a long, judgmental sip of your coffee to hide the fact that your pulse was starting to sync up with the frantic rhythm of his.
“And you’re addicted to caffeine,” he countered, voice dropping an octave, gaining a sliver of that server confidence as he leaned in just a fraction. He noticed the three empty cups, and his gaze softened, trailing up to the dark circles under your eyes. “Are you okay? You look like you’re ready to delete the entire campus if someone breathes too loud.”
“I might,” you said, the corner of your mouth twitching despite your best efforts. You leaned forward, bracing your chin on your hand, letting the Viper mask slip just enough to let a predatory, teasing light into your eyes. “But honestly? It’s hard to stay grumpy when you’re sitting there looking like an adorable puppy in a cute sweater.”
Yunho had just shoved a massive, ambitious hunk of dry bagel into his mouth. Then, he froze. His eyes blew wide, the pupils expanding until they nearly swallowed the iris. For a heartbeat, there was total silence. Then, his lungs remembered they needed oxygen, and his throat remembered it was currently occupied by a dense ball of un-toasted dough. “—Guh?!” He started hacking, a frantic, wet wheeze that sounded like a vacuum cleaner sucking up a sock.
“Oh my god,” you deadpanned, watching as he flailed, his long arms nearly knocking over your third coffee cup. “Don’t die. The Captain dying of a bagel-related injury is not the lore I signed up for!”
“I—cough—I’m—wheeze—” Yunho grabbed his water bottle, his fingers fumbling so hard he nearly dropped it into his lap. He took a desperate, undignified gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically. He finally managed to swallow, letting out a sound that was half-sob, half-gasp. “You...” his eyes watered behind his cracked lenses. “You can’t just... deploy compliments like that! That’s a violation of the Geneva Convention!”
“It was just an observation,” you said, your voice dropping back into that silken purr, though your heart was currently doing a drum solo against your ribs. “You do have a very... symmetrical face. Even with the broken glasses.”
Yunho looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. He leaned back so hard the back of the booth groaned in protest. “Symmetrical? Symmetrical is for geometry! I’m—I’m a mess! I have bread crumbs on my One Piece!” He frantically brushed at the pages of his book, his movements jerky and chaotic. “You’re doing this on purpose. You’re trying to destabilise my mental state so I’ll miss my skill shots tonight.”
“Is it working?” you asked, tilting your head.
Yunho went quiet, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a fraction of a second before he looked at the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention from the industrial lighting. “Why are you being nice to me?” he asked, and the humour was suddenly gone.
You didn’t answer immediately. Your eyes were locked on his hand—the one pointing at you with that trembling, accusatory finger. Up close, without the barrier of a glowing monitor, his hands were… ruinous. They were massive, his long, elegant fingers spanning half the width of the table. You could see the faint, rhythmic pulse in the blue veins tracing paths over his knuckles, stretching taut under his pale skin. His hand was shaking—just a fraction—a manifestation of the absolute system crash you were causing him. It made your stomach do a slow, heavy roll. You wanted to see if those hands felt as warm as they looked. You wanted to see if they’d go still if you covered them with yours—
Your stomach dropped.
No, not metaphorically. Not the cute little flutter people wrote poems about. This was a full, violent plunge like your organs had missed a step on the stairs and decided to take the rest of you with them. Heat rolled up your throat, sharp and humiliating, and for one terrifying second you couldn’t tell if it was adrenaline or nausea or something worse—something soft—curling in your ribs. Get it together. You weren’t supposed to feel anything. You were supposed to be the cold thing. The monster voice. The leather jacket. The girl who could shove a bully three feet and keep walking. But the way his fingers shook and the way his voice went honest on that single question—Why are you being nice to me?—hit you so clean it made your brain stutter. Oh no. Oh no. This was the exact moment you realized you weren’t playing a bit anymore. Your body had already made a decision without asking you. And now you were sitting here, staring at his hands like a starving person, while panic clawed up the inside of your chest because wanting things was a liability and you were suddenly, catastrophically aware of how much you wanted this one.
“Nice?” You finally spoke, your voice dropping into that jagged, low register that usually sent Mingi into a panic. You reached out, slow and deliberate, and used your index finger to gently, slowly push his trembling hand down until his palm was flat against the cold laminate of the table. His skin was like a furnace. The contact sent a jolt of pure static through your fingertips. “I’m not being nice, Yunho,” you whispered, leaning in until you could see the way his pupils flared, swallowing the honey-brown of his irises. “I’m being observant. There’s a difference.”
Yunho’s breath hitched but he didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, his fingers twitched under yours, his large palm instinctively trying to cup your smaller hand. “It feels…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that was distractingly masculine. His voice was now, a voice of a man who was very, very aware of the girl sitting across from him. “It feels like a trap. Like you’re waiting for my guard to drop so you can… delete me.” His eyes darted to the coffee-stained napkins. “I mean… girls don’t usually… talk to me. Not like this. I mean—it’s not like I don’t like girls! I do! I really do! It’s just—the efficiency—the social energy—it’s just—” He cut himself off with a strangled noise.
You stared at him for a long, flat second. The cafe’s humidity seemed to condense right in the space between you, making your skin feel tight and your coffee-fuelled heart thrum. “Breathe.”
He did not. His lips parted, but no sound followed. His gaze flicked to your hand—where your fingers were still casually draped over his—like it was a live grenade with the pin pulled. Then his eyes jumped to your mouth, then away so fast the movement bordered on physical pain. His shoulders hiked another inch, his massive frame trying to crawl into the sanctuary of his oversized hoodie and vanish into the cotton.
“Oh,” you muttered, unimpressed, though your own pulse was starting to hammer against your ribs. “So that’s where we’re at.” Yunho’s throat worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically. A tiny, pathetic noise—something between a wheeze and a whimper—escaped him. You leaned back in the booth, crossing your free arm over your chest, your expression carved into something bored and sharp. The Viper mask settled over your face like a habit. Like armour. Like a bad decision you kept making on purpose because the alternative—being vulnerable—was a “Game Over” you weren’t ready for. “You don’t have to deliver a presentation,” you said, your tone dropping into that lethal, low-register rasp. “Just breathe.”
His fingers twitched under yours. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the faint, rhythmic tremor of his large knuckles. “D-do you—” he started, then immediately failed. His voice snapped up an octave, betrayed him, and then vanished entirely into the steam of the espresso machine.
You sighed, slow and dramatic, like his software was personally inconveniencing your day. “Captain. Your brain just alt-tabbed.” The effect was instant. Yunho made a sound that should not have come out of a human being—a high-pitched glitch of a gasp. His mouth opened. Nothing. He shut it. Opened it again. You watched him quietly implode, chin propped in your palm, observing him like. “Mmm,” you hummed, deadpan. “It still runs on the ‘Captain’ trigger. Good to know.” His hand finally jerked—too fast, too clumsy—trying to pull away from the contact, but your finger pinned him down with casual, precise pressure. You dug your nail slightly into the skin of his wrist, right where his pulse was thumping. He froze, his breath hitching so hard his chest hit the edge of the table. You leaned in just enough to make the air between you feel electric. “You’re allowed to like girls,” you said, sounding almost bored, though you were tracking the way his pupils flared. “You’re also allowed to talk. Without apologising for existing every three seconds.” Yunho swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the table as if the wood grain could save him. You clicked your tongue, the sound sharp in the quiet booth. “Look at me.”
He tried. It was the saddest, most beautiful attempt at bravery you’d ever seen. His long lashes fluttered, his gaze landing somewhere near your shoulder before drifting toward your eyes like it had to cross a literal battlefield to get there. “I’m—”
You lifted a brow, your thumb starting a slow, ruinous circle over the back of his hand, feeling the prominent veins under his skin. “If you say ‘sorry,’ I’m going to bite your bagel.”
His head snapped up, genuine horror masking the blush for a split second. “D-don’t—! It’s dry! You’ll choke!”
You let the corner of your mouth twitch. Not a smile—just a crack in the ice. “Efficient.”
Yunho stared at your mouth like it had committed a federal crime. His fingers—still trapped under yours—curled involuntarily, his large palm seeking yours, wanting to hold on even as his brain told him to run. “I… I do like you,” he blurted. He looked like he wanted to eject his soul from his body and haunt the cafe instead. “Not like— I mean— as a person— and also— the utility— and—” He stopped as he realized he was rambling.
You tilted your head, eyes narrowed, voice dry as his sad bread. “Pick one sentence and finish it, Captain.”
Yunho’s throat bobbed. He took a breath, his shoulders dropping just a fraction as he finally met your eyes. “I like you,” he said again. Smaller. Realer. Without the stutter.
You held his gaze, your expression still grumpy, still sharp. But your thumb did something traitorous—it dragged, once, slowly, over the edge of his knuckle like you owned the right to touch him. “Yeah,” you said finally, as if it didn’t matter. As if it wasn’t making your heart feel three sizes too big for your chest. “I figured.” You leaned in further, so close the scent of his woodsy cologne mingled with your stale coffee. “And for the record? If I wanted to delete you, Yunho, I would’ve done it already.” You let your gaze drop to his mouth for one, lethal second. “So stop flinching like you’re about to get patched out of existence. It’s annoying.”
Yunho didn't just smile; he beamed. It was like someone had flicked a switch and flooded the dark cafe with pure, unadulterated sunlight. His entire body seemed to expand, his shoulders dropping from his ears as he let out a shaky, relieved laugh. “Copy that, Member Four,” he chirped, the stutter completely gone, replaced by the giddy energy of a man who’d just secured a legendary drop. He grabbed his dry bagel and took a massive, triumphant bite, looking like he’d just won the World Championship.
You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and standing up. The Viper mask was back on, sharp and cold, but as you turned to walk away, you stopped. “Enjoy your bread, Captain,” you called out over your shoulder.
You were slumped on the sofa, a condensation-slicked bottle of beer dangling from your fingertips.
“You’re doing it again,” Wooyoung was sprawled in the armchair opposite you, his legs draped over the side. He popped the cap off his second bottle with his teeth—a move that was 100% for drama—and leveled you with a look that was way too sharp for someone three beers in.
“Doing what?” you muttered, taking a long, defensive swig of your beer.
“The stare. You’re looking at that bottle like you’re calculating its trajectory into someone’s skull.” Wooyoung leaned forward, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. His dark eyes glittered with the kind of mischief that usually ended in a campus-wide scandal. “Is it the Captain? Did the Golden Retriever finally trip over his own oversized paws?”
You let out a breath that sounded like a tire deflating. “Woo,” you said, your voice cracking just enough to be pathetic. “I’m fucked.”
Wooyoung’s entire aura shifted. He didn’t offer a platitude. He didn’t say it would be okay. He let out a cackle—that loud, high-pitched, signature siren-wail that echoed off the kitchen tiles. “I KNEW IT!” He practically teleported to the sofa, shoving your legs aside to claim the spot next to you. “Tell me everything. Did he cry? Did he stutter? Did he do that thing where he looks like he’s trying to swallow his own tongue because you breathed in his general direction?”
“He bought a plain bagel, Woo. A plain bagel.” You stared into the amber liquid of your bottle, feeling the heat of the memory creeping up your neck. “And I touched his hand. To pin him down. And his pulse… It was frantic. And he said he liked me.”
Wooyoung gasped so loud it was practically a theatrical performance. He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you until your teeth rattled. “He confessed?! On campus?! In broad daylight?! My son! My giant, clumsy son finally levelled up!”
“It was not a confession!” you shrieked, your face heating up so fast you were worried you’d trigger the apartment’s smoke alarm. You clutched your beer bottle like a weapon. “He just! He likes—he didn’t mean it like that! It’s the team dynamic! It’s... it’s professional respect!”
Wooyoung didn’t even blink. He just stared at you, one eyebrow arched so high it was practically receding into his hairline. He took a slow sip of his beer, then let out a dry, mocking pop of his lips. “Professional respect,” he repeated, his voice dripping with enough sarcasm to drown the entire campus. “Right. Because nothing screams ‘HR-approved professional boundaries’ like pinning a 6’2” man to a cafe table and making him swallow a dry bagel whole.”
“I was stabilising the situation!”
“You were mark-marking your territory!” Wooyoung barked a laugh, slamming his bottle onto the coffee table. He leaned in, his eyes narrowed into twin slits of pure malice. Wooyoung’s cackle didn’t fade—it echoed, like he was trying to make the universe itself understand how right he’d been. “You’re fucked,” he repeated, delighted, dragging the words out like he was tasting them. “Monumentally. Astronomically. Biblically.”
You tightened your grip on the bottle until it slicked your palm. “Shut up.”
“Oh, I will not,” he was far too happy, pointing at you like you were a whiteboard in a lecture he’d been waiting to teach all semester. “I knew this was coming. I smelled it. I felt a disturbance in the force. The second you said ‘he bought a plain bagel,’ I knew your brain was doing that thing it does when you see something pathetic and your maternal instincts wake up like a sleeper agent.”
“I don’t have maternal instincts,” you snapped.
Wooyoung leaned back, propping his feet on the coffee table with the confidence of a man who had never once experienced shame. “Right. Sure. You just have… what do we call it… feral spring hormones and a violent allergy to tall men who apologise to a mailbox.” You made a strangled noise and took another sip, purely to have something to do with your mouth other than confessing crimes. Wooyoung watched you over the rim of his beer like a predator with a PhD. “Oh my god,” he breathed, eyes widening with theatrical awe. “Look at you. You’re doing it!”
“Doing what,” you said flatly, even though you already knew you were losing.
“The defensive drinking,” he nodded like a disappointed coach. “The ‘if I swallow enough beer, my feelings will dissolve’ technique.” You flicked a glance at him, trying to weaponise boredom. It didn’t work. He looked like he’d been waiting his whole life for you to glance at him so he could start a powerpoint. “Okay. Timeline. You touch his hand—”
“I didn’t touch his hand,” you cut in. “I—pinned it. For emphasis.”
Wooyoung’s mouth fell open in a silent scream of joy. He slapped his knee once, hard. “FOR EMPHASIS,” he repeated, losing his mind. “Oh my god. That’s worse. That’s not casual. That’s not ‘haha friendly.’ That’s dominance. That’s territorial. That’s you going—” he deepened his voice into an obnoxious, smoky imitation, “—no. stay. be still.”
“Don’t,” you warned, staring at your beer like it might provide an emergency exit.
He did it anyway, because he hated you in the way best friends do. “And then,” he continued, relentlessly, “he said he liked you.”
“He didn’t say it like—” you began.
Wooyoung held up a finger. “No. Don’t. Don’t you start that ‘professional respect’ propaganda again. I’ve seen you be professionally respected. You don’t spiral for hours and drink like you’re trying to erase a memory.”
You swallowed, jaw tight. “I’m not spiralling.”
“You are spiralling,” he said gently, and somehow that made it worse. Then his face snapped right back into menace. “And you know what the root cause is?” You didn’t answer. You just stared at him, because silence was safer than whatever his mouth was about to do. Wooyoung pointed at you, triumph blooming. “Female hormones.”
“Oh my god.”
“OH MY GOD, YES,” he exclaimed, thrilled. “You’re in your ovulation-phase villain era or whatever. Your body’s like, ‘Find tall mate. Acquire golden retriever. Bite anyone who interferes.’”
“I’m not in anything-phase,” you hissed.
Wooyoung leaned in, whispering like he was telling you government secrets. “You’re in the ‘I’m going to pretend I’m above romance while actively aching for it’ phase.” You kicked at the coffee table. His boots didn’t move. Neither did his confidence. He took another sip, eyes never leaving yours. “Listen. You can deny it all you want, but I have evidence.”
“What evidence,” you said, instantly regretting giving him a prompt.
Wooyoung started counting on his fingers with nauseating precision. “One: you saved him. In public. Two: you lied to protect his feelings. Three: you role-played a voice line at him. Four: you touched him. Five: you’re sitting here drinking and saying you’re ‘fucked’ like he’s a disease and not a boy who bought bread and looked at you with sad eyes.” You went still, bottle halfway to your lips. Wooyoung’s expression softened for half a beat—something sharp and sincere under all the mischief. “He’s nice,” he said, quieter. “And you’re not used to that. You’re used to loud. You’re used to mean. You’re used to people who swing first so you can justify swinging back.” Your throat tightened. You hated that he could do that—drop one line that hit clean, then immediately go back to being insufferable. Because he did. He sat up straighter, the softness evaporating like it had never existed. “But,” he said brightly, “the good news is: if this is hormones, it’ll pass.”
You narrowed your eyes. “That’s the good news?”
“The bad news,” he continued, grinning wider, “is if it’s not hormones, then you’re actually catching feelings, and I’ll have to watch you become… domestic.”
“I will not become domestic,” you said, disgusted.
Wooyoung gasped. “You’re right. Sorry. Not domestic. Just… compromised.” You made a noise like you wanted to throw the bottle at his head but cared about the deposit. Wooyoung leaned back again, smug as sin. “Oh. You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re literally overheating,” he said. “You look like an Internet Explorer running twelve tabs and a guilt complex.”
You covered your face with your free hand. “Wooyoung.”
“Yes?” he said sweetly.
“I’m going to kill you.”
He hummed, pleased. “That’s fine. But first you’re going to tell me if the Captain’s ‘I like you’ sounded like ‘I like you as a teammate’ or like ‘I like you and I’m about to implode because you exist’.”
Silence.
Wooyoung’s grin sharpened. “Ohhhhh.” You lowered your hand just enough to glare at him. He didn’t gloat. He glimmered. “It was the second one,” he whispered, like he’d just uncovered buried treasure. “It was the second one and now you’re panicking because you can’t decide if you want to run or bite.”
“I don’t bite,” you muttered.
Wooyoung looked you dead in the eye. “You bite emotionally.” You just stared at him. He stared back, unflinching, then lifted his beer in a tiny toast. “Welcome to being a person,” he said, mean and fond at the same time. “It’s disgusting. You’re going to hate it.”
You took another sip. “I already do.”
Wooyoung nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now drink your beer, God knows you need it if you’re going to keep up the scary act while he’s being a literal ray of sunshine. I’m all ears, tell me everything. And if you leave out details, I’m calling him ‘your boyfriend’ until you combust!”
The first time Kim Seokjin read your letter, it was past midnight.
The dorm was quiet lights were dim, the world outside finally still and he sat cross-legged on his bed with a small stack of unopened envelopes beside him. It was something he didn't really admit to anyone, not even the members.
He read them.
Not all the time. Not every single one.
But on nights when everything felt too loud even in silence—he found himself reaching for them.
For something real.
For something honest.
For something that reminded him why.
He picked one at random.
No name on the front. Just his.
Inside, the handwriting was neat but not perfect slightly slanted, like the writer had been rushing to get their thoughts out before they lost the courage.
He smiled faintly.
Then he read.
"Hi, Jin…I don't really know how to start this. I guess... thank you feels too small, but it's the only word I have."
His expression softened immediately not dramatically nor exaggerated.
Just... simple. He kept reading.
"I had a bad day today. The kind where everything feels heavier than it should. But I watched one of your videos, and you were laughing about something so small... and it made me feel a little lighter too."
Jin exhaled quietly.
"You probably hear this all the time, but... you make things easier. Even if it's just for a few minutes."
His grip on the paper tightened slightly.
"I hope you're taking care of yourself too. You deserve that, even if you forget sometimes."
He blinked.
Once and then again.
"Anyway... I'll stop here before this gets too long. You don't know me, and you don't have to. I just wanted you to know that you matter. A lot more than you think.
-Y/n”
He read it twice. Then a third time and for reasons he didn't quite understand...
He kept it.
—
It became a habit after that.
Late nights a quiet rooms and your letters. They didn't come every day. Not even every week but when they did, he always knew.
The same handwriting.
The same quiet honesty.
The same way you never asked for anything. You never begged for attention. Never asked to be noticed. Never even expected him to read them.
You just... wrote.
About your days..
About small things…
About how you hoped he was okay.
And Jin—
He started looking for them. Out of all the letters, all the messages, all the noise. He looked for yours.
Months passed
Schedules got busier. Life got louder.
But your letters stayed. They were constant. Something steady. Something... grounding.
Until one day the letters stopped
At first, he didn't think much of it.
Maybe you were busy. Maybe life got in the way.
It happened but then a week passed.
Then two.
Then a month.
And for the first time, when he sat down late at night with a stack of letters—
He felt the absence.
Noticeable.
Loud.
Unsettling.
He didn't like it.
—
"Hyung, you're staring at that pile like it offended you," Hobi joked from across the room.
Jin blinked, snapping out of it. "I'm not."
"You've been sitting there for ten minutes."
"I'm thinking."
"About fan mail?"
He hesitated.
"...maybe."
They laughed it off.
But he didn't.
Because he knew exactly what he was thinking about or rather who. He told himself it didn't matter. That it was just letters. That he didn't even know you but that didn't stop the way his eyes lingered a little longer.
Didn't stop the quiet disappointment when your handwriting wasn't there. Didn't stop the question that kept coming back—
Why did you stop?
He never got an answer.
Not in a letter.
Not in a message.
Not in anything.
Until—
"Today, we'll be inviting a few fans for a small event," the staff explained.
Jin nodded along with the others, listening, smiling, doing what he always did.
But something about it felt different.
He didn't know why.
Not yet.
—
You almost didn't come. Standing outside the venue, invitation clutched in your hand, you seriously considered turning around.
This had been a mistake. A huge mistake. What were you thinking? You hadn't written in months. You'd disappeared without explanation and now you were here?
Face-to-face?
It felt wrong maybe too real, to much but before you could convince yourself to leave—
The doors opened and suddenly you were inside..
Jin wasn't expecting anything.
Not really.
Just another fan event. Another day.
Until…
He saw you. He didn't know why you stood out there were dozens of people. Dozens of faces.
But something…Something felt familiar.
Not your face, not your voice but something.
You stepped forward when it was your turn, hands slightly shaking, heart beating far too fast.
And when you looked up—
Your eyes met his and for a second—
Everything paused.
Jin smiled automatically, warm, practiced but it faltered.
Just slightly because there was something in your expression.Something he'd seen before, felt before. Even go to say read before.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Your breath caught.
"...yeah," you said quickly. "Sorry."
Your voice.
His heart stuttered not because he recognized it but because it felt like he should. Like it belonged somewhere in his memory. Somewhere important..
"What's your name?" he asked.
He didn't usually ask.
Not like this.
Not with this much focus.
You hesitated just for a second. Then—
"Y/n."
—
It clicked not all at once. Not perfectly but enough.
Enough for his expression to shift subtly carefully in a way.
"...Y/n," he repeated.
Your stomach dropped. You forced a smile.
"It's nice to meet you."
But your hands were trembling.
Your voice wasn't steady.
And Jin—
Jin noticed everything.
"You've written before," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question it was a guess but it landed like truth. Your breath hitched.
"I—" you started, then stopped.
Because what were you supposed to say?
Yes, I'm the one who disappeared?
Yes, I'm the one who wrote those letters like they meant everything?
Yes, I couldn't keep writing because it started to feel too real?
You looked down and that was answer enough.
—
Jin didn't say anything for a moment. He didn't push nor did he make it harder.
He just—Reached out gently and slid a small piece of paper toward you. Your eyes flickered to it then back to him. Confusion took over your face.
"Next time," he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips, "don't stop writing."
Your heart stuttered.
"You..." your voice wavered. "You read them?"
He let out a quiet huff of a laugh. "Not all of them."
Then, after a beat—
"But yours, I looked for."
You froze completely because somehow that felt bigger than anything you'd written. Bigger than anything you'd imagined.
"...why?" you whispered.
Jin tilted his head slightly, studying you—not like a fan. Not like a stranger but like someone he'd known in pieces.
In words.
In quiet moments you'd never shared out loud.
"Because," he said simply, "you never wrote for me to read."
Your chest tightened.
"And that made me want to read them more."
—
You didn't realize you were crying until you felt it.
Warm
Silent
Embarrassing
You laughed weakly, wiping your face. "This is so—"
"Real?" he offered.
You nodded.
"Yeah."
He smiled. Softer this time, less polished, more like him.
"Good," he said.
Then, gently—
"I like real."
You looked down at the paper in your hand.
A number..
Simple, unexpected and impossible.
Your heart raced even more.
"You don't have to," he added quickly, like he suddenly realized what he'd done. "Just—if you ever feel like writing again..."
You looked back up at him and for the first time since you walked in you didn't feel like leaving.
"...maybe I will," you said quietly.
Jin smiled and this time it didn't feel like something meant for everyone.
Taehyung as a dad… ive gotta do this for each of the boys I think
one more. Taehyung sfw
“Boys!” Taehyung calls after your twins— theyre holding hands, walking fast up to the next enclosure at the zoo. You’re holding your daughter, only two and a half, in one arm. Shes tired after being outside all morning.
“Boys don’t run! Walk please!” He calls again, catching up with them.
“Yes dad!” You hear one of them call, stopping short to reach out and try to pet the deer through the bars.
“Honey don’t let them bite the kids,” you try to remind him.
“They’re deer, they’re not gonna bite. — open hands when you pet animals, remember?” He fixes the cap on one of the boys’ heads. “If you don’t have an open hand they think you have food.”
“Wheres their horns?” The other little boy asks. Taehyung kneels to their level. “This one is a girl deer.”
“Oh. Girl deers dont have horns? How do they fight?”
“Only boy deers fight.” The other one says, still petting one of the deer on the nose. It sneezes and he yanks his hand back with a squeal.
“Ewwwww!”
“Thats okay- no dont wipe it-“ Taehyung gently takes one of the kids’ wrist. “Mama’s gonna get you wipes. Just a second. I know…”
You unzip your bag with one hand and Taehyung unpackages a few wipes to fix the problem.
“All better.” He confirms as the twins wander off again. He has his eye on them
You hear your daughter whine and you rock her some more, trying to get her back to sleep. Taehyung offers to take her from you.
“Theyre so cute…” he watches as your twins make animal noises and imitate the things they see at the zoo.
“Taehyung…” you know where this is going.
“Whats gonna happen when she’s their age? The boys wont want to play with her.”
“Im sure they will. Theyre sweet boys. She will have two perfectly good big brothers.”
“I think she wants a sister.” He gazes at his sleepy daughter lovingly. He gently makes her nod with his hand. “See….”
“You cant guarantee it would be a girl. — what if I have twins again?”
“So?” Taehyung shrugs. “Ill take care of you. And them! All of us. I have all the time and money in the world. We can have a big family.”
“We have a big family,” you express, knowing he wont be satisfied until there are at least four little ones wandering around.
“— Dad!” The boys shout. He realizes theyve walked way far down to the gift shop. One of them has a toy kangaroo, the other one has a whale.
“No, boys….” You catch up with them. “You’ve got enough stuffed animals at home.
“But I dont have this one!” One of the twins protests. “Cmon mama just one more!”
Taehyung smiles. “Yeah, what he said,” he nudges you.
You cant with these three. “Fine. One more, but dad’s paying. Go pick one out for your sister.”
Taehyung kisses you on the cheek as he passes by.
“We’re talking about this later!” You tell him. He’s already grinning about it, just as happy as his twins are.
