the house is quiet. too quiet for a sunday morning. jongdae knows you wake up earlier than him on the weekends, but something feels off.
he finds you in the kitchen, making his usual cup of coffee for him. warmth blooms in his chest at your simple action, but something still feels off.
"morning, sweetheart," he mumbles, arms coming to wrap around your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck. he can smell his cologne on you from how closely the two of you were cuddled up the night before. the thought makes him smile.
"morning, dae," you say. sing-song, rather. there's a lilt to your voice he doesn't understand. "slept well?"
"mm. head's not hurting too much. i don't think i a lot."
you don't say anything, just continue watching the coffee drip as you go about preparing some cereal.
jongdae tilts his head. did he do something? "you'll tell me if something's wrong, right?" he asks, fingers worrying at his sweater that reaches past his fingertips. "if i said or did something stupid? that hurt you?"
"of course."
"…well?"
"you didn't do anything that hurt me," you say, and he's known you long enough to be able to read between the lines.
"but i did do something stupid."
you turn to face him, palms against the counter. there's a grin on your face too radiant for the morning. it feels like jongdae's looking at the sun.
"maybe."
he sighs. "did i sing and wake up our neighbours again?"
"no."
"did i serenade you?"
you laugh. "no, but i'd like that, i think."
"throw up on the carpet?"
you shake your head. "you just crawled under the covers and slept next to me. you even apologized for waking me up."
that sounds…good, then. what the hell did he do?
"do you really not remember?" you ask, eyes glinting.
jongdae shakes his head, mind drawing blank on the previous night. all he remembers is you being on his mind, from the moment the party wrapped up till minseok dropped him home. he'd been tipsy, but sober enough to unlock the door, slip into his nightclothes and snuggle up behind you in bed.
(and press tens of tiny kisses to every part of your face he could reach because he remembered just how much in love he was with you, even if he had to tone down his affection in favour of your sleep.)
suddenly, one memory pierces his spine enough to make him stand up straight.
no wonder you're looking at him like he just got declared the class clown or something.
"i didn't," he breathes out, mortified, hiding his face in his hands.
"you did," you say, pulling his hands away from his face and replacing them with yours. "you asked me to marry you. even told me what songs you want sung at our wedding."
"that's so…"
"sweet?"
"i was going to say cringey."
"pff. i've been waiting for you to say it again so i know you actually mean it."
jongdae looks at you. of course he meant it. he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, filled with silly moments just like this.
a grin breaks out across his lips. he'd holler from the rooftop of your building if you asked him to.
but you're not asking him for any of that.
"marry me," he says, a statement rather than a question. "marry me, sweetheart. i'd love to be your husband forever."
sleep wears around the edges of baekhyun's eyes, nearly pulling his lids shut. he stifles a yawn against the back of his hand, mindlessly tapping through the various apps on his phone as the seconds tick down. watching, waiting. the hotel mattress underneath him is soft, practically pulling him down into the slumber that awaits him, and his body so badly wants to give in. exhaustion has been his best friend lately, clinging to him from city to city, and all he wants to do at the end of each day is to fall unceremoniously into sleep for as long as his schedule allows.
but he won't tonight.
not until.
the clock strikes midnight and his phone rings not a second later. he laughs to himself as he picks up. 'helloo?' he singsongs into the receiver, as if he isn't aware of why exactly he's receiving this call.
'happy birthday!' your voice is soft, gentle, as if even though you're so many miles away, you know how tired he is and you don't want to disturb him with any loud cheering.
'thank you, baby.' he yawns again, turning over onto his side. 'you were first again. as you always are'
'yes,' you cheer. he can picture you pumping your fist in the air and he chuckles. 'what do you have on the agenda tomorrow?'
'meetings all day. i wish i was home with you.'
'i wish you were here too, baek. can you do me a favor?'
'right now?' he whines. 'i'm so tired and it's my birthday.'
'please?'
he sighs, a faint small on his lips. 'okay, sure. anything.'
'can you open the door for me?'
his eyes fly open as he sits up straight. 'are you serious?'
you giggle. the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. 'why don't you find out?'
even though minutes ago it seemed like the most impossible thing in the world, he easily leaps out of bed and runs to the door. you stand on the other side, holding your phone up to your ear with one hand, a small cupcake in the other.
'happy birth–'
he cuts you off by wrapping his arms around you, pressing you against him. you're here, and your hair smells like the shampoo you share at home, and you're wearing his hoodie, and you're beautiful and wonderful and everything that makes baekhyun's heart skip a beat. he knows better than anyone that the flight was long, tiring, and you made that journey just to see him even though he probably won't even be able to spend that much time with you... relief and gratitude suddenly fills him, emotion rising in his throat.
'baby?' you say softly. 'are you...?'
he is.
he pulls away and quickly wipes away the tear that's fallen and takes a shaky breath. 'sorry. i'm just... i'm so happy you're here.'
you don't push - you know how hard it's been for him lately. you smile at him and press a kiss to the corner of his lips, one that he chases to kiss you properly. 'i canceled all your plans tomorrow with your manager,' you say in between kisses. 'we can do whatever you want.'
even more gratitude floods baekhyun's chest and he's able to push down another fresh wave of tears before parting from you. 'can we do nothing? i know you came all this way but i'm just so–'
you cut him off with another chaste peck. 'doing nothing sounds perfect. now come on. you can't eat this cupcake if you're crying.'
he laughs, scooching over to let you through the door. 'i didn't cry. it was the lighting, made my eyes look wet.'
'mmhmm,' you hum. 'suuure byun.'
the door clicks shut behind you, sealing the two of you off from the rest of the world, safe in your little haven for the near future.
gosh i'm so senti. happy 34th angel, please be happy and healthy always <3
↳ summary: they've always been competitive about everything, and you're no exception.
↳ wc: 3.3k
↳ genres and content: baekhyun x f!reader x chanyeol | pwp, vaguely college football au | threesome, oral (all receiving), deepthroating/mentions of choking on it, hella dirty talk, degradation, and praise, p in v (and a?), dp, brief slapping, spanking, general filth
↳ a/n: requested by anon! i don't know anything about dp for real and i know even less about american football. no one mention how the title is a tennis reference please i just thought it was cool
You hear them all the way down the hallway before you hear the jingling of the key in your door. That telltale muffled bickering grows louder and louder the closer they get, until their words become crystal clear when the door slams open.
“— you had just been paying attention then we would’ve scored that final point!”
“So fucking what? We would’ve won anyways, thanks to the touchdown that I scored in the third quarter.”
The two barrel into your entryway, hardly giving you a second glance. Baekhyun and Chanyeol, the star quarterbacks of your university’s football team, who always seemed to butt heads on and off the field. They had already showered and changed out of their gear (thank God, after showing up to your place much one too many times tracking in dirt and grass), but that didn’t mean that they left their game day mindset behind.
You clear your throat from your perch on the couch, looking up from your study notes. “Have a good game?”
Baekhyun sighs dramatically, flopping onto the cushions next to you. “It would’ve been a good game if Chanyeol was thinking about anything related to football at all in the last ten seconds.”
Chanyeol frowns, helping himself to a glass of water from your sink. “Like I was saying, I scored the winning touchdown several minutes before that. Why does it matter if we didn’t get three extra points?”
“It’s about the principle, Yeol. We only moderately beat them”. Baekhyun’s eyes glint with a mixture of annoyance and passion. “If we got those extra points we could’ve gone around saying that we beat their asses into the ground.”
“What do you think?” Chanyeol turns to you. Two pairs of eyes stare at you expectantly.
You sigh. You hate mediating whatever petty argument the two of them get up to. Frankly, you simply have better things to do with your time. But sometimes, on a night like tonight when the adrenaline is still high from their game, it’s in your best interest to stir the pot a little bit.
“I dunno, Baek, it kinda sounds like Chanyeol won the game for us.”
Baekhyun’s mouth drops open while Chanyeol smirks. He crosses over to the couch to sit on your other side and ruffles your hair affectionately. “See, Baek? Your point is meaningless.”
“It doesn’t count because you weren’t there,” Baekhyun says petulantly, bottom lip jutting out not unlike a child who’s just been told no. “You should’ve felt the rush from the crowd. They were definitely disappointed that we didn’t score.”
Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “It’s not that serious.”
“It is that serious!” The volume of Baekhyun’s voice raises again, a renewed motivation to argue surging through him. “You know that I play better when I’m feeding off the crowd’s energy.”
“Guys, stop,” you say firmly. Instantly, they shut up, mouths snapping shut obediently. “Last time you guys fought I was getting noise complaints for days. Don’t make me regret giving you guys the spare key.”
“Sorry,” they say in unison.
“If you guys keep bickering I’m just gonna go to sleep. Or…” you say pointedly. “You could settle this a different way.”
That gets their attention. They perk up immediately, waiting for you expectantly.
“Whoever makes me cum the most in the next hour wins.”
Tension settles in the air, thick and heavy. It’s no secret to the other that you hook up with both of them. They don’t care on any level deeper than petty jealousy. But this… having you at the same time? It’s an entirely new experience, but one that you’d been fantasizing a lot lately, waiting for the right time to broach the subject.
To your delight, they look incredibly interested. Baekhyun swallows, his gaze drifting heavily from you to Chanyeol. The other mirrors his disposition; you can practically see the gears turning in his head. The two size each other up, ever the competitors, waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Or I could just say that Yeol was right—”
Baekhyun reaches out to grab your chin, tilting your head towards him. He kisses you roughly, slipping his tongue past your pliant lips, groaning when you fist a hand in his hair. To your other side, Chanyeol whines. He shoves his hand between your faces and pries you away from Baekhyun, kissing you when your lips part.
“Playing dirty already, Yeol?” Baekhyun huffs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before he pulls your attention back towards him. He ducks his head down to suck a mark into your neck, smirking against your skin when you gasp.
Chanyeol goes to unbutton your shirt, large hands fumbling with your buttons. “Shut the fuck up, Byun,” he grumbles, kissing your chest.
It’s a huge mess: hands and lips moving everywhere. You lose track of which body part belongs to who, whose hand is settling on your tits, who’s slipping their fingers past the waistband of your pajama shorts. All you know is that your head is spinning, whirling from their constant tugs for attention, and that you end up completely bare in between the two of them. You can feel just how soaked you’re starting to become, heat pooling in your core.
Baekhyun kneels between your legs, all but pulling you forward towards him as he hooks his arms around your thighs, locking you in place. Chanyeol continues to make out with you, a sharp sting blooming across your bottom lip when he nips at it, pulling the skin slightly towards him right as Baekhyun buries his face in your heat, nose bumping against your clit as he licks at you fervently.
You gasp into Chanyeol’s mouth, pulling away to look down at the sight below. Baekhyun’s staring up at you with a fire in his eyes, the kind of heat you only see from him when he’s on the field.
“Not fair,” Chanyeol says, slightly out of breath. His lips are dark and wet, eyes bearing a similar flame to Baekhyun’s.
“Too slow, Park,” Baekhyun mutters, smirking as he sinks two long fingers into your cunt. “You snooze, you lose.”
You open your mouth to scold him, but you don’t get a word out before Chanyeol’s lips descend on yours again. You whimper against him, instinctively arching into Baekhyun’s touch. His tongue dips into your hole, brushing against your walls as he strokes your clit with his thumb, skilled fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Can we confess something to you?” Chanyeol asks, voice heated. “We hoped this would happen when we came over tonight. We made up the argument.”
“What?” you pant. “You little shits.”
Baekhyun sinks his fingers back into your wet slit, curling them against your g-spot. “Are you complaining?” he asks cheekily. “I’ll stop right now if you want me to.”
“You’re such a basta— oh fuck, Baekhyunnie,” you moan, fisting a hand in his hair. “I’m getting close.”
“Not yet,” he says. “Why don’t you help Chanyeol out, he’s getting awfully squirmy.”
Without a second to lose, Chanyeol gets rid of the rest of his clothes, moaning breathily when you spit into your other hand and begin to jerk him off slowly.
“Ah, shit,” he gasps, his hips bucking into your touch. “Just like that, baby.”
Your senses are on overdrive trying to process everything that’s happening: the sight of the two with their desirous gazes, the slick noises coming from either side, the buildup of pleasure in your body. It all becomes too much too fast, and you tip over the edge, clamping your thighs around Baekhyun’s head as you cum. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking gently, making you shudder with sensitivity. Chanyeol sucks a bruise right under your ear. “So beautiful, so good,” he murmurs, sending another wave of desire through you.
As soon as Baekhyun moves off of you, Chanyeol’s strong arms are pulling you up and into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, mind hazy from the afterglow of your first orgasm, as he carries you into the bedroom, Baekhyun following close behind. He tosses you onto the bed and flips you over onto your stomach, not even giving you a second to breathe before sheathing himself inside of you without preamble. You cry out, head dropping forward onto the sheets in front of you as Chanyeol immediately sets a brutal rhythm. He’s not usually so rough with you, but the buildup, not being able to touch you in the way that Baekhyun has, must have gotten to him. You can feel it in the way that he grips your hips like he has something to prove, burying himself inside of you again and again.
“Fucking impatient ass,” Baekhyun grumbles, moving to the other side of the bed so that he’s in front of you. He tilts your chin upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze even as he continues to talk to Chanyeol. “You literally carried her in here.”
“Shut up,” Chanyeol bites back. He tightens his grip, holding you still as he pounds into you. “Sounds like you were just too slow.”
“Why are you both— hah— talking about me like I’m not here?” you manage to say, your words coming out unsteady.
“Aw, I’m sorry,” Baekhyun coos condescendingly. “You want even more attention than you’re already getting, hm? Getting fucked into the mattress isn’t enough?”
“Jesus, Baek,” Chanyeol says. “Isn’t that a little mean?”
“She likes it.” He settles into position so that you’re laying in between his legs, his cock just inches from your face. “You don’t feel how she’s getting wetter?”
You nod frantically. “I do— I like it, Yeollie. Please, more.”
“Good girl,” Baekhyun chuckles. He lightly slaps the side of your face, not hard enough to sting, but still enough to make you gasp. “Now open up.”
You wrap your hand around the base of Baekhyun’s cock and put it to your lips, tongue darting out to lick the underside of his head. “Come on, you can do better than that,” Chanyeol says. Before you know it, his hand is on the back of your head, pushing you down once onto Baekhyun’s length before letting you go. You choke, spit dribbling down past your lips and down his cock, the momentum from Chanyeol’s thrusts pushing you deeper onto Baekhyun. Your eyes water as you struggle to adjust, but soon you settle into a rhythm.
“God, you look so good like this,” Baekhyun murmurs, reaching out to caress the side of your face, jarringly gentle for the way you’re currently being manhandled on both sides. “I don’t think she’s gonna want to go back to having us one at a time, Yeol. You should see her face.”
“Yeah?” Chanyeol grunts. “Tell me how much you like it, baby.”
You pull off of Baekhyun with a slight pop. You feel your own spit all over your bottom lip and chin, and a string of saliva connects your mouth to the tip of Baekhyun’s cock. It’s dirty, filthy, and you think that maybe you should be embarrassed but you’re not. Not in the slightest. “I love it,” you gasp, tilting your head up so you can see Chanyeol above you. “I love it so much.”
Chanyeol wraps his hand around your throat and bends down to swap a filthy kiss with you before letting you go, lowering your mouth back onto Baekhyun’s cock. You work with the rhythm that Chanyeol sets, using your hand on whatever can’t fit inside your mouth. Baekhyun’s head tips back, lips parting. He swallows thickly, reaching out a hand to settle on top of your head. “Such a good slut,” he groans. “You love being used like this, huh? You like being our little fucktoy?”
You moan instead of answering him with words, nodding your head as best as you can around his length. The salty tang of precum touches your tongue, only spurring you on further.
“Don’t take his cock out of your mouth when you cum,” Chanyeol says, one hand grabbing your shoulder for better leverage. “Wanna hear you choke on it when you do.”
His words unlock something in you, the filth coming from Chanyeol, who’s usually so restrained with his words, dripping with pure, animalistic lust in his voice. It suddenly brings about your second orgasm, your body trembling through it, your puffy, sensitive walls fluttering around Chanyeol’s length. Your voice comes out muffled and choked around Baekhyun, making him groan. He grabs at the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
Chanyeol doesn’t wait another second and slaps your ass as he pulls out, making you jolt. “C’mon, ride me.”
“Wait, hold on,” Baekhyun pouts. “It’s my turn.”
“I’m not fucking done yet,” Chanyeol says with a huff. “You can wait.”
“Quit being a dick—”
“Or you could both do it.”
They both shut up immediately, looking at you with a mixture of apprehension and arousal. “Baek in my ass,” you continue. “Yeol in my pussy.”
“Are you sure?” Baekhyun asks, all of his previous bravado melting away to show his concern. “I know we’ve— done it like that before but never at the same time.”
“We don’t want to hurt you,” Chanyeol chimes in.
“I’m sure,” you say. “Here, like this.”
You gently push Chanyeol onto his back and climb on top of him, slowly sinking down onto his thick length. You lean down, almost touching your chests together, arching your ass as best as you can for Baekhyun.
“Oh my God,” Baekhyun groans, settling behind you. He rubs his hands over your ass appreciatively, parting your cheeks and letting some spit dribble down onto your hole. “You look so fucking slutty like this.”
You swallow and give him the go-ahead, distracting yourself by leaving hickeys across Chanyeol’s chest. Inch by inch, Baekhyun pushes in. It’s tight, uncomfortable, but not anything you can’t handle. The three of you take shaky breaths, silent for the first time as you all adjust to the new sensations. “Look at me, baby,” Chanyeol says softly, grabbing your face with both hands. “You’re doing perfect. Such a good girl for us.”
You mewl in his grasp, arms shaking as you struggle to hold yourself up. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and the feeling is almost so overwhelming you don’t know whether to run from it or towards it. “So— so much.”
“Too much?” Baekhyun asks, voice strained. You can tell that he’s holding himself back, every muscle in his body working to stop himself from losing control, from pushing all the way in.
“No,” you gasp. “Don’t you dare stop.”
It takes a bit of time, but slowly you start to feel yourself getting used to the stretch, pleasure replacing the discomfort. You drop your head onto Chanyeol’s chest as Baekhyun starts to slide in and out.
“So fucking tight.” Baekhyun leans over and scatters kisses across your back. You feel surrounded on all sides, pressed between the two of them, the warmth of their bodies heating your skin. “How you doing, angel?”
You try to say something, but all that comes out is a strangled whine. You can’t think, much less form a proper sentence. Chanyeol tips your chin up towards him and kisses you. “Answer,” he says softly but firmly, rolling his hips upwards gently.
The dual movement makes you cry out, fingers scrambling to grasp onto Chanyeol’s shoulders. “It’s good,” you whimper. “So— fuck— please.”
“Cute,” Chanyeol chuckles. He kisses you again. “You’re so pretty when you’re wrecked.”
They begin to move faster and at the same time, making you feel so full in ways you never thought possible. The two are almost just as wrecked as you, hands and lips roaming, breath hot against your skin, mumbling praise, an endless stream of, “So good, angel,” and “Our pretty slut.” You can’t return their sentiments, at least not through words, only able to babble out a stream of incoherent words and breathy whines.
It gets to the point where they’re pounding into you, hips rolling as if they were one unit. You cry out at a particularly deep thrust, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “Fuck, I’m getting close,” you whimper.
“Who’s better?” Chanyeol whispers in your ear, cutting through all the noise.
“Wh-What?” you mumble, eyes fluttering open. Your head starts to droop forward again but Baekhyun tugs your hair back, forcing you to lock eyes with Chanyeol.
“I said, who’s better at fucking you stupid, huh?” He punctuates his point with a sharper thrust upward, making you scream. “Answer, or we won’t let you cum.”
“I— I don’t know!” you wail. The tears fall, streaming down your face. “You’re both so good, too good, fuck!”
“Goddamn, who’s being mean now?” Baekhyun says, leaving a sharp smack on your ass. “If she doesn’t want to pick, don’t make her pick.”
“I— I don’t wanna,” you whine, straining back to look at Baekhyun, his sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. “Please, Baek. I— I wanna cum.”
Baekhyun swears, hips stuttering. “Just a little longer, baby.”
You’re frantic, fingers leaving red indents on Chanyeol’s shoulders from holding on for dear life. Baekhyun reaches out and grabs your wrists, pulling them taut behind you. You sob, breathless, helplessly at their mercy but you wouldn’t want it any other fucking way. “Please,” you babble, delirious, the only thing on your mind being your need for release. “Fuck, please, I’ll do anything.”
“Say who makes you feel this good,” Baekhyun hisses into your ear.
“You do! Both of you! Shit, I can’t—”
“Okay, baby,” Chanyeol grunts. “Cum for us.”
It explodes through you, white-hot and ferocious. Your vision turns spotty around the edges as it ripples through you. The two of them swear as you tighten around them, your walls fluttering, two pairs of large hands holding you still as you shudder in their grasp.
Chanyeol helps you off of them and puts you onto your back, positioning himself near your mouth. Exhausted, still shuddering through the aftershocks, you take him into your mouth, wrapping your other hand around Baekhyun.
“Not gonna last long,” Baekhyun groans, tipping his head forward.
“Me neither,” Chanyeol replies, fisting a hand in your hair.
It doesn’t take long until they both release, Chanyeol into your mouth and Baekhyun across your tits and stomach. He drags his fingers through the mess, slipping his fingers past your waiting, open lips, giving both of them a fucked-out smile. You’re spent, your limbs turning to jelly, and if you had any say in the matter you’d just sink into the mattress and be a part of the furniture forever.
“You okay?” Baekhyun asks softly, running a hand through your hair.
“Mhm,” you hum, kissing him. You turn your head towards Chanyeol to give him the same treatment. “That was insane.”
“You’re so perfect,” Chanyeol murmurs. “Let me get you some water and clean you up.”
“Get me one too?” Baekhyun asks, fluttering his eyelashes.
Chanyeol rolls his eyes and flips him off, but comes back juggling three glasses of water all the same. They both work to clean you up, whispering soft praise into your skin the entire time. Through the haze, you realize that they’ve gotten you ready for bed, and they’ve gotten ready for it as well. You’ve never done this before, spent the night with both of them, but it’s as easy and natural as though you’d done it for years.
“So who won?” Chanyeol asks.
“I thought you made up the argument,” you reply.
“No, your challenge. The one about making you cum.”
“It was a tie,” you mumble sleepily, curling into Baekhyun’s chest. “One for Baek, one for you, one for you both.”
“That’s not very satisfying,” Baekhyun frowns.
“Try again tomorrow, then,” you reply. “Now be quiet. I want to go to bed.”
Chanyeol settles into your other side, draping his warm body across your back, and the three of you drift off into a deep, undisturbed sleep.
thank u for reading! for more, check out my masterlist.
a/n: inspired by the post @chananyeolbong reblogged, this is about you and your man fr
chanyeol hates getting out of bed.
he's wide awake already, having set his alarm ten minutes before he actually needs to wake up because he likes spending that time just looking at you. looking at how peaceful you look when all the inevitable stress and work of the day don't consume you.
more importantly, he feels so proud of the fact that you feel comfortable enough around him to fall asleep like this—even if you hate that he makes fun of you for drooling a little in your sleep. it's not something he ever takes for granted even though you've been together for so long.
it might sound creepy, but chanyeol really loves looking at you. when you're sleeping, when you're eating, when you're telling him about something funny you saw happening with those hand gestures he can't always keep up with.
he loves you, plain as day.
and even though he loves you so much, he knows your sleep is pretty important to you. so he lets his love for you pull him out of your shared bed and go about his routine, without making too much noise.
even though he's gotten used to mornings like this, part of him wishes you'd kiss him goodbye. but the rest of him knows you're going to text him a thousand times during the day anyways, little updates about what's happening at work and planning impromptu lunch dates, and that's enough for him.
there's something magnetic about the way you look right now. hair splayed messily across the pillow, hands next to your head, body curled towards's chanyeol's side of the bed like like you're seeking warmth from where he no longer is.
chanyeol could watch you like this forever. if he didn't have work, this would be what he'd be doing all day long. but then his phone rings with a message. a reminder from the outside world that he needs to start moving soon.
just like he has been doing for the past so many weeks, he bends down to press a light kiss to the top of your head. if he kisses your face you'll wake up, and he knows your beauty sleep will be ruined even if you insist you don't really need it. he rests a large hand gently on top of your head like he's cradling it, like he's willing for all his love to be passed on to your sleeping form. leaving you is always the hardest thing he does every morning, but the blow is sweetened by the fact that he gets to welcome you back home every single day.
and just like you've been doing for the past so many weeks, he gets a text from you by the time he's finished with his breakfast.
you didn't even kiss me this morning.
“i did,” he says, laughing as he picks up your call. “i always do.”
“but i wasn't awake to feel it.”
“i'll make it up with extra kisses when i get back home, is that better?”
“i'll think about it.”
“baby....” he whines.
you giggle, and the sound warms his heart. “come back home safely. let's cook something new tonight.”
part of love notes— an exo ot9 valentine’s day special
⋆˙⟡♡ summary: your commute-mate takes you to the museum and surprises you with his art knowledge.
⋆˙⟡♡ word count: 1.1k words
⋆˙⟡♡ content: junmyeon x gn!reader | fluff | no warnings
⋆˙⟡♡ a/n: also dedicated to miss @madeinmyeon ! happy happy happy birthday miss m, i hope u get all of ur birthday wishes. i love u!! and yes! i was that anon who asked about an ideal first date and this was specifically why!! mwahahaha
Hi,
I was thinking about our conversation yesterday and I have to admit something to you. I think you’re incredibly beautiful and smart and funny, and if you’d like, I’d really like to take you out on a date. Please don’t feel any pressure, I completely understand if you just want to stay friends.
Junmyeon
The warmth from the museum is a welcome reprieve from the bitingly cold night air. As you step inside, you cast a look at the man accompanying you. He looks different in clothes other than his business professional office-wear, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome, dressed in a cozy sweater and dark trousers. Endearingly, he’s also wearing glasses that you didn’t know he needed, tortoiseshell frames that sit prettily on the bridge of his nose.
He catches you staring, and as if knowing exactly why, he pushes them up. “I forgot to put in my night contacts last night,” he says sheepishly.
“No, I like them!” you say. A little too enthusiastically. Your face burns as you try to recover, but he just grins and looks away, giving you the grace to drop the subject.
You pick up a guide and flip through the pages, skimming through the special exhibitions in search of a worthy starting place. Junmyeon reads along over your shoulder, and the close proximity to him sends a thrill down your spine. “How about here?” you ask, pointing at one of the exhibits.
Junmyeon nods approvingly. “Sounds perfect.”
The sounds of your footsteps as you move through the halls echo just slightly above the quiet chatter of the other patrons. Junmyeon clears his throat softly. “Is this okay? I know it’s not a traditional Valentine’s date like we talked about.”
You laugh, remembering your previous conversation. You had lamented to Junmyeon offhandedly that you had never actually experienced a Valentine’s date. You’d always been single during the holiday, and the thought of going on a bad one when it was supposed to be all about experiencing love… yeah, no thanks. But with Junmyeon, the man who always saved you a seat on the bus ride home from work, even after your first meeting when there had been no other seats available… you’d be willing to try.
“I much rather prefer this,” you say. “It feels like there’s less pressure and I can actually enjoy myself rather than just think about how much it feels like a capital-d Date.”
You arrive at the exhibit you chose and the two of you stroll over together toward the closest painting on the wall. “You know, the majority of these were painted while he had cataracts?” Junmyeon says quietly. “It’s incredible.”
He lets a few more facts slip as the two of you go through the exhibit, ever so often, always in a low, quiet tone. You notice how his eyes sparkle when you get to a piece that he knows something about, admiring the art with a careful eye.
“Will you tell me about this one?” you ask as you approach another, seeing that look appear in his eyes once again.
His eyes widen ever so slightly. “Are you sure? It’s not too overbearing?”
“It’s interesting,” you reply. “I like hearing it from you.”
Grinning, Junmyeon launches into a passionate script about the art in front of you, his gestures growing more animated with each passing word. He even draws the attention of a few other passersby, including a museum guide who nods in approval. You are interested in what he has to say, but with each second you find yourself slipping further and further under some kind of spell, your eyes drifting from his twinkling eyes down to the curve of his lips. He’s just so… pretty, you think.
“So yeah,” he says, quieter now. “That’s how this piece ended up inspiring a bunch of modern artists.”
“Fascinating,” you breathe.
“Really?”
You nod, trying to will the tips of your ears to stop burning. “Really.”
“Are you hungry?” Junmyeon asks. You’re now in the cafe attached to the museum, standing in line for the check out counter. Your feet and your cheeks both have a slight soreness to them— your feet, because of the endless amounts of walking that you’ve done, and your cheeks, from the endless amounts of grinning. You found yourself unable to control your smiles throughout the night, charmed as Junmyeon had grown bolder and bolder, talking about the artwork in increasingly more detail.
“Not that hungry, but I’d like to stop for a minute here to take a rest.” You scan the menu, frowning when you don’t find anything you particularly like, then the counter itself. “Oh!” Your eyes light up when you finally see the ‘specials’ sign. “I’m about to suggest something crazy.”
“Okay, shoot,” Junmyeon replies, raising an eyebrow.
You point at the sign. “Gelato?”
“Gelato in this weather,” Junmyeon sighs, but smiles when he sees your pleading eyes. “Not crazy at all,” he amends quickly.
The two of you sit side by side in the cafe booth, eating your gelato. You dip your spoon into his to taste his flavor and he does the same to you.
“How did you get to know so much about art?” you ask.
“Oh, I got really into it in college. When I was studying and I needed a break, I would just click through random articles online to learn about something else completely unrelated to my classes. I ended up looking through some artists’ histories and I got obsessed.”
“Wow,” you say, deadpan. “You took a break from studying with studying. You’re just full of surprises.”
“In what other ways have I surprised you?” He tilts his head, looking at you with an adorable, inquisitive look.
“Well for starters…” You reach out and tap the corner of his glasses lightly. “These were a surprise.”
“So I have bad eyesight. Is that a crime?”
“Of course not,” you laugh. “But what would be a crime is if you didn’t wear them for our second date.”
Junmyeon sputters, choking a bit on his spoon. His face turns the same shade as his strawberry sorbet. “You want a second date?”
“Mhm.” You reach over and take another spoonful out of his bowl. “Don’t you?”
“Well… yes,” he blinks. He looks at you quietly for a second, contemplative, before he starts laughing.
“I’m not the only one full of surprises, it seems.”
ᥫ᭡ content: fiancé!chanyeol x f!reader, beach wedding au, fluff, light humor, teasing, pre-wedding jitters, practice kiss, soft romance, non-explicit, established relationship, chanyeol x you
ᥫ᭡ words: 1.3k
ᥫ᭡ summary: a few hours before your beach wedding, what starts as a simple “practice kiss” turns into something far too real to be just rehearsal.
ᥫ᭡: a/n note: wow, first chanyeol story on this account! how exciting! this was suggested by an anon, with a little twist of mine… i wanted to make it different with a beach wedding setting! hope you enjoy, happy reading! xoxo
There were only a few hours left. A few hours until everything changed.
And still, there you were. Laughing and laughing, as if it were just any ordinary day.
“Chan, come here for a second,” you called, already lifting your phone.
Chanyeol turned his head toward you, his hair messy from the wind, his white shirt slightly open, completely relaxed in a way that clashed with the fact that he was getting married in just a few hours.
“That’s suspicious,” he narrowed his eyes, but walked over anyway.
“Just say hi,” you insisted, trying not to laugh.
He let out a dramatic sigh but stepped into the frame.
“Hi,” he said, way too simply.
You made a face behind the camera. “Wow, that’s so boring. Try harder.''
He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair before looking straight into the lens again.
“Hi,” this time more animated, with a small smile. “If you’re watching this in the future… I’m probably already a really cool dad.”
You laughed immediately, lowering the phone.
“Probably?”
“I’m being humble,” he shrugged.
You shot back, still laughing. “And who said our kids are even going to want to watch this?”
He tilted his head, stepping a little closer. “They’ll want to know how dramatic their mom was before getting married.”
“I am not dramatic.” You lightly pushed his shoulder.
“You made me record a video for the future,” he raised an eyebrow.
“…okay, maybe a little.”
You both laughed, and for a moment… it went quiet.
Not uncomfortable. Just… full. You looked at the ocean for a second, taking a deep breath.
“Chan…”
“Hmm?”
You hesitated, lightly biting your lip before speaking. “We should practice.”
He turned his head immediately. “Practice what?”
You made a vague gesture, avoiding his eyes.
“The kiss.”
Silence. And then he started laughing.
“Are you serious?”
“I don’t know how long it’s supposed to last!” you said too quickly. “Like… is it short? Is it long? Is it just a peck? What if it’s awkward in front of everyone?''
He tried to hold it in, but he was clearly enjoying himself way too much.
“Respectful?” he repeated, holding back a laugh. “We’re getting married.”
You opened your mouth to argue—
But didn’t get the chance. Because he just stepped closer. And, without any warning, started.
One quick kiss. Another... and another... and another.
Short pecks, one after the other, barely leaving any space in between.
“Chan—” you tried to speak, but he interrupted you with another kiss.
You let out a laugh in the middle of it, lightly pushing his chest without actually wanting him to stop.
“Stop!” you said, laughing. “That’s not how it works!”
“Oh?” he murmured between kisses, clearly amused. “I’m testing all the options.”
“This isn’t a test, this is an attack!”
He laughed against your lips, stealing one more quick kiss before finally pulling back a little.
You brought a hand to your face, slightly embarrassed, but smiling.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re blushing,” he shot back immediately.
You turned your face away, trying to hide it, but ended up laughing again.
And without realizing, the moment pulled a memory with it.
“You used to do this in high school,” you said, glancing at him.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“This,” you gestured vaguely. “Bombard me with kisses when I was nervous about something.”
He thought for a second.
Then a slow smile spread across his face, like he had found the exact memory.
“It worked.”
You let out a short sigh, shaking your head.
“I hated it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I hated it in front of other people,” you corrected, crossing your arms but still smiling. “It was humiliating.”
“You were the one who walked around with me during breaks,” he shrugged.
“Because you wouldn’t leave me alone!”
“And you never really tried to avoid me.”
The wind blew stronger, messing up your hair again, and this time you didn’t try to fix it.
You just let yourself fall onto the sand. He looked at you, slightly surprised.
“Comfortable there?”
“I am now,” you replied, staring up at the sky.
After a second, he laid down beside you too, your shoulders almost touching.
The sky stretched above you, painted in warm tones, and the sound of the ocean felt more distant from that angle.
For a few seconds, neither of you said anything. Until—
“Look,” you pointed.
A plane crossed the sky, leaving a long white trail behind it, cutting through the blue like a drawn line.
He followed it with his eyes.
“Funny,” he murmured.
“It looks like someone drew on the sky,” you said.
He kept watching it for another second, eyes slightly narrowed, as if memorizing it.
“Yeah… it does,” he murmured.
Then he turned to you.
“Our last sunset like this.”
You frowned slightly. “Like what?”
“As fiancés,” he said simply, but with a different kind of smile. “In a few hours… that changes.”
“You know this was always kind of a dream of mine, right?”
He turned to you immediately. “This?”
You gestured around — the ocean, the sand, the open sky.
“Getting married on a beach…”
He watched you closely.
“When I was younger, I used to imagine it,” you continued, smiling softly, a little shy. “Nothing too big. Just… this. The sound of the ocean, the wind, a few people… and someone who was actually worth it.”
He didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you.
“I used to think it was kind of impossible,” you let out a quiet laugh. “It felt like something out of a movie.”
“And now?” he asked.
You turned to him, meeting his gaze directly.
“Now it feels… right. I just know I want you forever.”
You stayed quiet for a moment, letting it settle. The wind passed again, softer this time, and the sound of the ocean seemed to fill the space between your words.
“Husband and wife…” you repeated, almost testing how it sounded.
He let out a quiet laugh. “Weird?”
“A little.''
You turned to him again, finding that calm smile, but with something deeper underneath.
“But not bad,” you added. “Just… different.”
He nodded slowly, looking back at the sky.
“I think I like that.”
“Me too.”
The silence returned, comfortable.
“But since this is our last sunset as fiancés…” he started, his tone shifting slightly.
You turned your head immediately. “Here we go.”
“I think we should do it properly,” he continued, completely ignoring you.
“Do what properly?”
He turned his body slightly toward you, resting on his elbow.
“The test.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“Chan…”
“I’m serious now,” he insisted, though the smile gave him away. “No sabotage, no complaining, no ‘that was weird.’”
“I don’t sabotage!”
“You literally failed my kiss.”
“Because it was weird!”
He laughed, shaking his head.
“Then let me fix it.”
You opened your mouth to respond—
But he was faster. His hand found your arm, gently pulling you closer. The movement felt too natural for you to resist. And before you could say anything, he was already close enough. This time, no rush.
No teasing at first. The kiss came different. More firm. More certain. And for a second, you completely forgot this was supposed to be “just practice.” When he pulled away slowly, still way too close, you blinked a few times.
Trying to come back.
“…okay,” you murmured, still a little dazed. “That was—”
He leaned in again, just enough to interrupt you.
“Hm…” he said softly, a playful smile forming at the corner of his lips.
“…you didn’t actually think that was the real test, did you?”
Your heart skipped.
“Chan—”
But he was already back. And this time… it didn’t feel like practice at all.
for all that he's the captivating performer when he's on stage, baekhyun is pretty shy when it comes to being captured on camera in the comfort of your own home.
he's lying on the couch, head resting on your thighs as you're watching a show on the television. he's not really paying attention till he realizes you're watching him, through the camera of your phone, a fond smile on your face.
“stop,” he says, reaching out to block your camera. you just shift it higher, out of his reach.
“no.”
“i look terrible,” he complains, hiding his face in your thigh.
“absolutely not. lies are not tolerated in this household, baek.”
“i just woke up! my hair is a mess.”
“the cutest mess i've ever seen,” you say, ruffling it.
“fine. my eyes are crusty.”
“nothing new there.”
“you hate me, right?” he asks, turning to jokingly glare at you.
“you're just so pretty like this,” you admit, far too earnest for a casual sunday morning. “i like seeing you like this. i like knowing i'm the only one who gets to see you like this.”
and for all the flirt that he is when he's on stage, baekhyun is stunned into silence.
“i'll stop if you want me to,” you say, lowering your phone, “because i love you.”
“you're going to be the end of me,” he mumbles, pushing himself up so that his head rests on your chest. one of your arms comes to wrap around him, holding him in place. “but that's the best way to go.”
For weeks now, every time Jaehyun leaned in to kiss you, you found yourself turning away.
It wasn’t dramatic. Not obvious (or at least you try not to be).
Just subtle shifts like: your face angling toward his shoulder instead of his lips, or you suddenly "remember" a chore that couldn't wait another second. Laughing and stepping out of his reach like it was a joke.
Anywhere but his mouth.
Each time you walked away, the air between you felt heavier.
At first, he didn’t say anything. Maybe he thought it was timing. Maybe he thought you were distracted.
Jaehyun wanted to test the waters, though.
Tonight, when he leaned in again and you instinctively flinched toward the sofa cushion just slightly out of reach, he stopped.
His lips hovered near your cheek for a second before he pulled back, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
"Wha—what’s wrong?" he asked, confusion bleeding into something softer.
"Nothing," you murmured, though the way you were aggressively picking at a hangnail gave you away.
"You haven't kissed me back in a long time," he said, his voice dropping to a soft, hurt plea. He looked smaller somehow, his shoulders hunched. "You always pull away. Did I… did I do something?"
You swallowed.
“It’s just…”
The words felt stupid. Small. Embarrassing.
But they’d been sitting in your chest for weeks, the weight of the intrusive thoughts finally bubbling over.
“I can’t get your kissing scene out of my head.”
You felt a sharp stab of guilt the moment the words left your mouth.
You didn't want to make him feel bad; you knew the deal— and this was part of it. You’d known that when you said yes to him.
You had cheered for him when he got the role, ecstatic that his hard work was finally paying off. You thought you were ready for the professional reality of his job, but you hadn't expected the visceral reaction of seeing him—your Jaehyun—looking at someone else with that specific, melt-into-you gaze.
You had told yourself it wasn’t him. It was lighting. Angles. Scripted intimacy.
Silence filled the room.
Not defensive silence.
Not annoyed silence.
Just… processing.
Jaehyun paused, the realization washing over him. A small, tentative pout formed.
"Are you… jealous?" he asked carefully.
“No,” you said too fast. Then, quieter, “I don’t think so.”
You lied, though your heart wasn't in it.
"I'm aware it's just acting. I'm being supportive."
You didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t that you thought he liked her. It wasn’t that you doubted him.
You just couldn't shake the feeling of sharing his lips with someone— even if it’s for work.
"If it makes you feel any better, we only shot it once," he offered quickly, trying to downplay the professional intimacy. "One take. That was it."
You stared at him.
“That makes it worse!” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I just… the way your lips… ugh."
You let out a frustrated huff.
You were trying your best not to be unreasonable. It was his job, for God’s sake!
“Maybe I am jealous. I don’t even know what I feel. I just know I see it every time I close my eyes…”
Jaehyun scrambled closer, his hands hovering near yours.
"You don't have to worry about that. She didn't kiss me back, she barely moved—she’s got nothing on you."
You cringed.
It didn't matter if it was "work"; the camera had captured him looking so effortlessly romantic, and it felt like that version of him belonged to the world now.
The intimacy you thought was yours alone had been broadcast in 4K.
Jaehyun went quiet, his eyes searching yours as he chewed on his lip.
Suddenly, his face lit up.
He stood up abruptly and disappeared down the hallway.
You heard the distinct sound of the bathroom faucet running, then the snap of a towel rack.
When he came back, he was carrying a small, damp towel.
He sat cross-legged right in front of you, his expression intensely focused.
Without a word, he began wiping his face, scrubbing with more effort than necessary.
Across his cheeks, his forehead, down the bridge of his nose.
Then his lips.
He scrubbed there last.
Thoroughly.
Almost aggressively.
Until the skin flushed pink.
You watched him, completely baffled.
"Jae? What are you doing?"
"There," he said, tossing the towel aside with a satisfied nod. "All clean."
"What?"
"We were wearing heavy makeup during that scene," he explained, inching closer until your knees touched. His skin smelled like water and soap now. Clean. Familiar. "Think of the makeup as a 'protective barrier' between us. It wasn't even me kissing her; it was the character's lipstick and some expensive concealer."
He reached up, cupping your face gently. “My face is bare now. No makeup. No camera. No lighting. Just me.”
His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.
“Only you get to kiss the real Jaehyun.”
Your chest tightened.
A wet, shaky laugh escaped you.
It was the most ridiculous "actor logic" you’d ever heard, but looking at his sincere, hopeful eyes, the mental image of the screen kiss finally began to dim.
"You're such a dork," you whispered.
"Yeah, but I'm your dork," he countered.
This time, when he leaned in, you didn't pull away.
---
a/n: i wrote this during the release of his first ever drama: Dear.M ! so proud of him btw. did not expect a kissing scene tho. but yey for actor!jaehyun <3
The TV was on, but neither of you were really paying attention to it.
You were sitting side by side on the couch, legs tangled under a blanket, the light from the screen flickering across the room. Jaehyun was leaning slightly into you, shoulder pressed against yours, one arm stretched along the back of the couch behind you.
It had been quiet for a while.
Too quiet.
You were still in that stage of dating where you hadn’t figured out all of each other’s habits yet—the stage where you still cared if your hair looked like a mess, but were comfortable enough to spend the whole night glued to his side.
“You know,” he said casually, eyes still on the TV, “there’s something missing.”
You didn’t look at him.
“If this is about snacks, the kitchen is right there.”
He huffed softly. “Not that.”
Jaehyun shifted, turning his head towards you to get a better look at you.
“I can't believe you’re still holding out. We’ve been at this for months.”
You kept your face neutral. “And?”
“And you still haven’t said it.”
There it was.
“I’m not holding out on anything,” you replied. You refused to tear your eyes away from the screen, even though you could feel the tips of your ears turning pink.
“Really?” He pouted, a dramatic, chest-heaving sigh escaping him. “So that’s it? You just don't love me then.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart gave a traitorous little thump at the word love.
“Well, I haven't heard those words from you, either. So by your logic, that means you don't love me, right?”
Jaehyun sat up so fast he nearly knocked the blanket off you two.
“What?! No! That’s completely different and you know it!”
“How is it different?” you teased, pointing a finger at his chest to keep him from leaning in too close. “Me not saying it doesn't mean I don't love you, Jaehyun. I do—”
You froze.
The room went quiet so fast it was terrifying; the space suddenly felt way too small.
You held your breath, the half-formed word hung heavy and hot in the space between you.
Jaehyun’s eyes went wide.
A triumphant, blinding grin started to tug at the corners of his mouth.
He leaned in, practically radiating victory.
“You do?” he asked.
You immediately leaned back. “Don’t.”
“You were about to say it.”
“I was not.”
“You said ‘I do—’” he whispered, his voice dropping into that smooth, dangerous register. “You do… what?”
You scrambled to find the brakes, your face practically on fire.
“I do… think you're incredibly annoying,” you recovered, though your voice lacked any real conviction. “You'll never catch me that easily.”
“Oh, just say it!” he groaned, laughing as he fell back against you, burying his face in your shoulder and shaking you dramatically.
You yelped as he dragged you with him, your back hitting the couch cushions harder than expected.
His laugh vibrated straight through you, warm and loud against your collarbone.
You laughed too, the tension breaking into something sweet and easy.
You threaded your fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck—your own private way of confirming what you weren't ready to voice yet.
“Nope,” you said, smoothing your thumb absentmindedly against his skin. “I show my love in different ways, Jae. You just don’t pay attention.”
Hours later, the apartment was draped in shadows, the only light coming from the muted glow of the TV.
You were tucked into the crook of Jaehyun’s arm, your head resting on his chest, drifting in that heavy, comfortable space just before deep sleep.
You felt him shift, his arm tightening around you as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.
He stayed there for a long time.
His breath steady against your hair.
He clearly thought you were long gone, lost to your dreams.
“Stubborn,” he whispered into the quiet, his voice sounding rawer than usual.
“But it’s okay.”
“I love you anyway.”
You didn't move.
You didn't dare breathe, afraid the moment would shatter if you acknowledged it.
But as you drifted off, the tiny, secret smile that tugged at your lips was yours alone.
⟡ summary: when your best friend signed you two up for cooking classes, you didn't expect to find junmyeon, your ex, as the chef.
⟡ content: sfw, exbf!junmyeon x gn!reader | word count: 2.5k words
⟡ a/note: tbh, i didn't know if that was what you were looking for on your request, but i really tried my best. hope you like it <3
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You looked at Liz, one of your coworkers and friends, who was… beaming with excitement.
“Of course!” She pressed the elevator button. “You won’t believe how handsome he is! Just imagine if we get a chance to speak to him—ah! I’m so excited!”
You just laughed at her sudden eagerness, leaning against the wall. “So you know him?”
“Not in person, but,” Liz fixed his hair, checking her reflection in the elevator mirror. “When I signed us both up on the website, he was on the preview. So… I did my research and found his personal IG.”
“Creepy…” you murmured, teasing her.
“Shut up!” She smacked your forearm while you laughed, following her out as the elevator doors slid open.
When you arrived in the classroom, you found the space packed with women who were clearly there for him—some of them checking their hair, others reapplying their makeup, others just murmuring about him. You looked at Liz, who seemed even more surprised than you were.
“That’s not fair…”
You grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the last two empty seats near the front. “C’mon!”
“Do you… think we’ll have a chance to talk to him today?” Liz looked genuinely down, but you didn’t have the heart to give her a realistic answer.
“Of course!” You smiled, giving her a tight hug. “Liz, I’m pretty sure he’ll notice you the second he walks through that door!” Her face lit up. “Now, what was his name again?”
“Kim Junmyeon,” Liz replied, smiling back at you.
Your face fell as if you had just heard the worst joke imaginable. “What?” You froze. It couldn’t be the same Kim Junmyeon you knew. He couldn’t be your ex.
“Kim Junmyeon,” she repeated, oblivious to your shock. “He’s literally the face from the last culinary competition in—”
“Morning, class!” Junmyeon’s voice filled the room, drowned out slightly by the collective, flirtatious response. “It’s so good to see you all again.” He scanned the crowd with that bright, familiar smile. “It seems like there are new faces here, and…” He paused a second when his gaze landed on yours. “Some others I knew all too well.”
You were panicked, feeling the desperate urge to escape. But Junmyeon seemed like he was genuinely happy to see you again.
“Did he… notice us?” Liz whispered, vibrating with excitement. You could only manage a stiff nod, feeling numb.
You sat stiffly in your chair as Junmyeon moved to the front of the room to begin his class. He stole everyone’s attention, speaking with practiced ease and laying out the safety protocols, but... you doubted anyone was actually listening to his words. Instead, they watched the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows or flirted shamelessly when he laughed with them at his small jokes.
Every woman in the room leaned forward, chins resting on palms, looking at him with heart eyes. Even with your frustration, you thought it was the perfect distraction—quietly, you could slip out the back while they were all under his spell.
“Liz.” You leaned in close so only she could hear. “I need to go to—”
Liz’s phone buzzed across the table, cutting you off, and she nearly knocked it onto the floor in her scramble to grab it. Her eyes went wide as she read the notification.
“Oh… no, no, no,” she hissed. “I totally forgot it! The furniture delivery! My landlord won’t let them in without me, and they’ll send the whole thing back to the warehouse!”
Before you could even process the words, Liz was already grabbing her bag. She gave you an apologetic look, her hands hovering in the air as if she wanted to hug you but didn’t have the time.
“I have to go! I’m so sorry! Good luck with the class—and with him!” she whispered.
Liz practically sprinted toward the exit, murmuring a quick excuse. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving an empty seat beside you. You were completely frozen, trapped, and you had missed your chance.
Up to the front, the rhythm of Junmyeon’s voice didn’t falter. He transitioned from the introductory lecture to the hands-on portion of the day: handmade pasta. It was meant to be a collaborative effort, and he suggested working in pairs to manage it.
The room erupted into a flurry of movements as friends leaned together and strangers introduced themselves. But you? You remained rooted to your spot, without a partner, so you had to swallow your pride, focusing on the mound of flour, and mimic the movements he had demonstrated.
Later, you were so focused on the sticky mess on your hands that you didn’t see the shadow falling across your workspace.
“Hhm? The walls are a bit too thin.”
You snapped your head up to find Junmyeon leaning over your table. He wasn’t looking at the class anymore; he was looking at you with an expression that was entirely too friendly.
“Do you need some help?” His tone was soft enough that it felt private.
Immediately, a wave of disgruntled muttering rippled through the room. Everyone was glaring in your direction. One or two women even raised their hands, calling out for his attention, but Junmyeon didn’t even turn his head.
“I’ll be with the rest of you in just a moment.” His voice regained its professional projection without losing its focus on you.
The pressure was suffocating. You could feel dozens of envious eyes boring into your back, and the weight of his undivided attention made your hands shake as they remained coated in flour. Of course, you weren’t just a student to him.
You nodded, accepting the inevitable. You kept your eyes fixed on the wooden board, trying to maintain a shred of dignity while your ex leaned in to show you how to stabilize the flour walls. Every time his hand brushed near yours, your heart skipped a bit. Yes, he noticed it; however, he didn’t say anything.
Once he was satisfied that your doubt wouldn’t collapse, he stood up and gave you a soft smile, moving to the next group. You sighed in relief and threw yourself into the work, imitating his instructions step by step. The dough was stubborn, but eventually, it turned smooth and elastic under your palms. You rolled it out until it was translucent, the rolling pin clicking rhythmically against the table, and sliced it into long, uneven ribbons of fettuccine.
You were so mesmerized by the process that you didn’t realize how much time had passed. You just heard Junmyeon thanking everyone for being there, and the room began to clear as people packed their bags and wiped down their stations. You, however, were still struggling, your movements clumsy, leaving you trailing behind everyone else.
You stood there with flour still dusting your forearms, desperately pulling at the strings of your apron. They had somehow knotted behind your back, and the more you tugged, the tighter they became.
A soft, familiar chuckle echoed through the kitchen. Junmyeon was standing a few feet away, tidying his own station with a grace that made you feel silly—you were trapped, messy, cheeks completely red—there was no point in pretending he wasn’t there.
“I didn’t know you were the instructor,” you said quickly as you finally yanked the apron knot loose, desperate to clarify things. “I only came because of my friend. If I had known you were the one teaching this, I wouldn’t have been here.”
A slow, gentle smile spread across his face, and he gave a small understanding nod. “I believe you.”
His lack of defensiveness only made you more frustrated. It felt like he was handling you with the same patience he used for a difficult recipe.
“I mean it,” you snapped. “I’m not trying to follow you or… or make things weird. It was a total accident!”
“I know.” Junmyeon remained perfectly relaxed; he looked happy to see you.
He reached for his own apron again, trying it back on with practiced movements. He walked over to your station and reached for the tray of raw fettuccine you had just finished cutting.
“What are you doing?” Your brow furrowed in confusion.
He looked at you with a slight tilt of his head, as if the answer should have been obvious. “You’re the only one who didn’t actually cook the pasta,” he explained. “The water is still hot. I’m gonna help you finish it so you don’t have to take home a tray of sticky dough.”
Frustration bubbled up in your chest. Junmyeon was acting as if the years of silence between you didn’t exist, as if the bond you had once shared hadn’t been snapped into pieces.
“You don’t have to do that. I can just… throw it away.”
“I know. But you worked so hard today,” he countered, dropping the ribbons into the boiling pot.
You wanted to be mad and yell at him, but… he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just being nice—the same sweet, attentive Junmyeon who always took care of the details—and it felt like he was intentionally messing with your head.
“Look,” he said gently. “I know you were the one who decided we needed distance. I know you broke up with me because I was immature. I respected that then, just like I respect it now.”
Junmyeon took a small step closer, though he kept enough distance to ensure you didn’t feel cornered. “I’m just… honestly happy to see you again. I’m happy to see that you’re doing well.”
You felt like your tongue was physically trapped in your mouth. You had spent the last hour treating him like an enemy, and he was standing there offering you nothing but grace.
“You can go home. I don’t want you to feel trapped here,” he added, noticing your silence. “The pasta will only take another minute. I can pack this up and leave it at the front desk for you, or I can just toss it if that’s easier for you.”
“I’m not doing good or bad. I’m just here,” you admitted.
“Just being here is enough sometimes,” he murmured, carefully lifting the fettuccine from the water, smiling softly. He looked at you. “Are you still writing reviews?”
You blinked, surprised he remembered such a specific detail. “I… yeah. I still do.”
“I knew it.” Junmyeon nodded, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve actually read a few of them. Your review of that little bookstore downtown was spot on—you always had a sharp eye. I’m glad you’re still doing it.”
You felt your cheeks turn a deep red. The idea of him sitting somewhere, scrolling through your words long after you had left his life, made your stomach do a nervous flip. “You’re lying,” you countered, trying to deflect.
“No,” he let out a nervous laugh. “Actually, it’s funny. I spent all morning rehearsing what I’d say, worrying about the new students... and when I saw you, everything just went out the window.”
“You seemed pretty composed to me,” you muttered, looking at the floor. “You were flirting with the whole front row.”
Junmyeon let out a short, surprised laugh. “Is that what you saw? I was terrified. I was trying so hard to look at everyone except you because I knew if I stayed in your gaze for too long, I’d forget everything.”
“You? Terrified?” you mumbled. “You’re far too busy with your classes and all those students… trying to catch your attention.”
Junmyeon let out a laugh again—that genuine, melodic sound that you realized… you had truly missed. “Are you asking if I’m single?” he teased, catching you completely off guard.
“What? No! That’s not—I wasn’t—” You stumbled over your words, your hands waving dismissively in the air as you tried to regain your footing.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said gently, though his smile remained. “To be honest, I haven’t actually dated anyone since you.” He carefully swirled the pasta into the container.
You froze. “But it’s been…”
“I know,” he interrupted softly, looking at you with a warm smile. “You were my first true love. I didn’t wanna erase all those memories from my heart and fill the space with someone else. At least, not for now.”
The way he looked at you in that moment made you realize why you had fallen for him years ago. You felt nervous, completely seen, and somehow, deeply loved.
“Oh! Wait—” He came back to his station for another container—one filled with a rich, fragrant sauce he must have prepared earlier. He walked back toward you, offering you both containers. “There.”
You looked down at the plastic lid. Even without tasting it, you knew exactly what it was. “You made it again…” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I always loved this sauce.”
“I know.” A small knowing glint appeared in his eyes. “I thought, if I was gonna make sure you actually accepted something from me, it must be something you could never turn down.”
Your cheeks flared red again. The warmth of his presence was starting to feel less like a threat and more like a familiar blanket.
“Thank you, Junmyeon.”
His expression turned even softer, like he wasn’t ready to hear his name from your lips again. “Will I… see you again?”
You met his gaze, and for a second, you felt your mind racing through a thousand excuses, your tongue heavy. Seeing your hesitation, he quickly clarified.
“As friends,” Junmyeon added, holding up a hand as if to offer a truce. “If that’s what you want. I just… I’d like to catch up properly, y’know… without a room full of people.”
You doubted yourself for a heartbeat, the memories from the past coming back, but then, you looked at the containers in your hands and back at his sincere expression. You just nodded softly, almost imperceptibly.
A look of genuine relief washed over him. “There’s a new coffee shop that just opened around the corner,” he suggested. “The interior is beautiful—lots of natural light and plants. You’d have plenty to write about for your blog.”
Your enthusiasm suddenly broke through your defensive shell. “A new one? That sounds great.” You looked at him, a familiar spark returning to your eyes. “Will you buy the coffee, right?”
Junmyeon let out a bright, genuine laugh that echoed against the kitchen. “Of course,” he said, nodding softly. “It’s on me!”
After you two exchanged numbers, he walked you toward the door, the air between you finally feeling light. As you stepped out into the hallway, you felt him linger for a second. “I’ll text you the address,” he sounded hopeful.
“I’ll be waiting for it,” you replied, clutching the warm containers to your chest.
Junmyeon looked like he didn’t quite want to let you go yet. “Go on, before the pasta gets cold. I’ll text you later.”
You nodded and reached the elevator, pressing the button, looking back one last time to see him waving from the classroom door. You stepped inside, the doors sliding shut on the sight of his smile, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about the past—you were looking forward to that coffee.
✧˚ ⋆｡˚ exo x madeinmyeon month masterlist | main masterlist Ი︵𐑼
genre: college!au, stupid kyungsoo x nerdy reader, light angst, zico & crush cameos
summary: kyungsoo gets dared to 'date' the 'weird' girl in their astronomy course.
7.1k words
inspired by an old jungkook drabble by oilblotter that only lives in my memories now :')
“Fuck.” Jiho swears when he sees his graded exam with a bright red 47 on it.
He passes you and glances back curiously. He rolls his eyes when he sees the green 93 on yours.
“Fucking nerd.” He mutters lowly to himself. He sighs when he reunites with his friends at their seats. “What’d you guys get?”
Hyoseob shows his 74 and Kyungsoo his 72.
“You guys did so well. The fuck?” Jiho swears, stealing their papers to compare answers.
“Not well enough. I can’t let my GPA sink any further than it already has.” Kyungsoo leans back, bored. He studied his ass off for this exam. A 72 wasn’t going to cut it.
“You see her?” Jiho nudges his head in your direction. Kyungsoo follows his line of vision and sees you. You have your hair up in a messy bun, tortoise framed glasses and a Batman shirt that looked a bit too big for you.
“Yeah?” Kyungsoo doesn’t steer away from looking at you. You were chewing on the end of your pen. A dinosaur pen.
“She got a 93.” Jiho says with pure malice.
Kyungsoo’s eyes widen in surprise, but not really. You looked smart. Kyungsoo studies you a bit longer, watching you frown profusely at your paper. Surely you weren’t anxious about your grade. You were staring down your paper like it had personally offended you. He chuckles to himself. It’s somewhat admirable to see you stress over a 93.
“I swear, people like her have it so easy. So painfully awkward and weird they don’t have a social life to distract them.” Jiho spews out unsolicited insults. Kyungsoo’s used to it at this point. His friend has never been the one to shut up, even when he has something awful to say.
“She’s kinda cute.” His head tilts when you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose with the chewed up dino pen. There was a weird charm to you that prevented Kyungsoo from looking away. You type something on your laptop and reveal your Jurassic Park wallpaper. Kyungsoo chuckles to himself.
“You think every girl is cute. But I promise you. There is no getting through to this one. I bet she won’t even notice you’re flirting with her if you tried.” Jiho says as if he was challenging his friend.
“I don’t think you’re giving Kyungsoo enough credit.” Hyoseob chimes in. “If he can bag that shy library girl, I’m willing to bet a hundred he can hook up with miss dino over there.”
Kyungsoo can’t help but chuckle at his friend. Hyoseob hadn’t returned a book in time and instead of paying the fee, he sent Kyungsoo to return the book for him, knowing how charming his friend could be. Kyungsoo didn’t mind. Mina was pretty and he liked pretty girls.
“Alright, a hundred if he manages to do it before the semester ends. What do you say Kyungsoo?” Jiho’s criminally obnoxious smirk appears on his face.
“What am I getting exactly?”
“Our two hundred bucks if you can pull it off.”
“Alright.” Kyungsoo shrugs.
Easy money.
--------
Class ends and Kyungsoo quickly gets up from his seat to catch up with you, papers and pen still in hand. He watches as you hide your highlighters and pens into your Jurassic World pencil case. A smile creeps up on his face unknowingly. Cute.
He finally reaches you, backpack slung over his shoulder. You don’t notice him right away, grabbing your own backpack filled with superhero enamel pins. Both Marvel and DC. You didn’t discriminate. Kyungsoo has to clear his throat to get your attention.
Your face lifts at the sound. Your eyes widen in surprise and confusion. Apprehensive, you check around you to make sure he was looking at you.
“Hi!” Kyungsoo greets you first. “I loved Battinson.”
He points at your shirt and you follow his finger, darting your eyes down at your chest. It makes you pull your backpack closer to you nervously. You’re cute and squirmy. Like a baby deer. You had the eyes for it too.
“Ok?” You say back in a confused tone. You’re so wary, so cautious. Kyungsoo catches your eyes shift to the papers in his hand. And it’s as if something clicks in you that you’ve found the confidence to assert yourself.
“I’m sorry. I don’t tutor.” You apologize as soon as you see his grade and continue to pack your bag once you’ve come to the conclusion that he was here to ask you for academic help.
“What? No. I’m Kyungsoo.” He introduces himself with his most genuine smile. It’s as if there is no bet in place and he is purely interested in being your friend.
It’s not as convincing as Kyungsoo thought.
“Yeah, I know.” You get up and try to move around him.
Kyungsoo’s taken aback.
“Sorry?” He steps aside to stop you. Why were you being so difficult?
He can’t hear them but he knows Jiho and Hyoseob are giggling behind him.
“Nevermind. I can’t help you with whatever you need.” You say, avoiding eye contact with him – the false confidence evidently gone. He can see you a lot closer now. Your bun was being held by a batman hair tie, flyaways all around your head. Your skin was close to perfect. Your lips were a bit chapped, and he could tell you pick at them. You were rough around the edges but overall pretty. Kyungsoo likes pretty.
“Wait, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I just thought you were pretty. And I was hoping we could be friends.” He apologizes, lowering his face to get you to look at him. He watches you hesitate, sucking in a cheek. He does his best to put on a nervous looking smile to get you to pity him.
You release a big exhale, accepting defeat.
“I’m Y/N.” You introduce yourself, eyes still darting behind him towards the exit.
“Hi Y/N. It’s a pleasure meeting you.” He extends an arm out for you.
You suck in your bottom lip nervously. You push your glasses up and rearrange the book in your arm to shake his hand.
You take the deepest breath.
“Likewise.”
Kyungsoo’s smile widens.
--------
If Kyungsoo knows anything about nerds, they love being ahead of everyone.
Kyungsoo arrives for ASTRO101 half an hour early for class. As predicted, he smirks when he sees you there, already waiting on the floor to be let in, laptop sitting cozily on your thighs. He slides beside you effortlessly.
“Hi, Y/N.” Kyungsoo laughs when you jump in surprise.
“Kyungsoo, you scared me.” You have your hand on your chest to ease your racing heart. He doesn’t mean to but he glances down anyways to find you’re wearing a very fitting superman graphic tee with a loose white dress shirt on top.
You can’t be real.
“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention. Love what you’re wearing by the way. Very Clark Kent of you.” Kyungsoo says, pointing up and down your body. This makes you blush and has you stuttering like a mess. So you do know when you’re being flirted with.
“What do you need Kyungsoo?” You manage to ask, your focus not budging from your work, though Kyungsoo can tell you’re still nervous. He’ll take it you’re a bit interested.
“You know when you said you already knew who I was. What’d you mean?” He asks and you didn’t think he would bring that up by the surprise look on your face.
“You’ve been to my house before.” You inform him as if that’s supposed to help Kyungsoo figure it out. If anything, he’s a lot more confused now. You sigh, seeing his puzzled expression.
“My brother is Park Chanyeol.”
Oh.
Kyungsoo’s $200 flashes before his eyes.
Though, he’ll never hear the end of it from Hyoseob and Jiho.
“Chanyeol. Giant, party thrower, team captain of the basketball team Chanyeol and does jiu-jitsu as a hobby?” Kyungsoo asks, a little dumbfounded, his jaw slack.
You scoff. “That’s the one.”
“Huh.” Kyungsoo checks you one last time and it suddenly clicks how similar you two look. Although you’re not carbon copies, you definitely have similar features. It doesn’t explain how he doesn’t remember you though.
“So we’ve... met... through him?” Kyungsoo asks carefully as not to offend you.
It’s too late. You’re already grunting in frustration. Annoyed with him, you shut your laptop and pack it in your bag so you could get away from him.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Kyungsoo’s a lot quicker than you are though, anticipating your moves before you even know it. He reaches for your wrist and feels how soft your skin is. He lets go like it burns him. “I keep offending you. I’m really sorry. High school was a long time ago.”
“We met last year.” The frown on your face is so cute like a kid pretending to be mad at him, but he gets the idea that you’ll crack with a simple smile.
“Yeah, that’s a long time ago, sweetheart.” He does just that, smiling charmingly into your good graces. You do break as he predicted. It’s cute to see your lips purse in annoyance. Your face was betraying you, wanting to smile too.
“You... asked me where the washroom was.” You mumble shyly because although he can’t hear your thoughts, without a doubt, now that you’re saying it out loud, it sounds ridiculous that he’d remember that. Kyungso doesn’t laugh at you. Instead, he holds a hand to his chest.
“Please forgive me for ever forgetting such a beautiful encounter and of course, such a beautiful woman. I promise I won’t ever make that mistake again.”
Kyungsoo crosses his heart comically, grinning ear to ear when he sees you purse your lips to an eventual smile.
“I guess it is silly...”
“Do you think we can start over and be friends?” He looks at you expectantly.
He knows he has you exactly where he wants you when you nod shyly.
--------
It takes a bit of convincing - what doesn’t when it comes to you, but Kyungsoo gets you to study with him. But I’m not tutoring you. You write your own notes. You had told him with a not-so threatening pointed finger.
Your guard was very much up. You weren’t making it easy to get to know but at least you let him study with you.
Kyungsoo sneaks glances at you when he pretends to study. He doesn’t understand the material. Studying you was far more entertaining. He was going to get ai to summarize it for him anyways.
“So, we went to the same high school.” Kyungsoo breaks the silence to which you hum in response. “Crazy we never met... Other than that one time.”
“Did you finish reading the chapter?” You don’t lift your face to look at him.
“No.”
“Why’d you ask me to study if you’re just going to talk?” You frown at him, spinning your pen around your fingers.
“Because I want to be your friend.” Kyungsoo says simply, not breaking contact with you when you try to avoid his stare.
“Why?” You ask for the nth time. Was it that hard to believe he would approach you? Yes, he was doing this for a bet, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find you pretty and interesting.
“You seem fun. You dress up as superheroes and like dinosaurs. What’s not to be curious there?” It’s easy for Kyungsoo to find a reason because he’s not lying. You had that weird charm to you.
“I was like this in high school too.”
“And I was like this too. You didn’t approach me then either.” Kyungsoo argues. “I wanna get to know you now. Let me.”
“It’s just hard to believe that you want to get to know me. You’re just so... popular.” You cringe at the word popular and Kyungsoo does too. He never liked being called that. It sounded so forced and awkward.
“I just like making friends. Your brother is the same, you know.” Kyungsoo lightly pokes your side with a pencil.
“Yeah, I know.” You say, a bit annoyed. Not really. There’s a small hint of a smile at the corner of your lips that you try to hide with a big sigh.
“What’d I say this time?” He teases you. “Is it your brother? Do we not like your brother?”
You laugh a bit too loudly for the library, earning a few stares from the other students trying to study. “No, I like Chanyeol. He’s a nice brother.”
“Then why the long face?” Kyungsoo taps your chin with the same pencil to your annoyance. He likes to see you get annoyed with me. It’s a nice change of pace from Jiho who ragebaits him for a living.
“Nothin’, still in disbelief that you want to be my friend too.” You shrug and return to your textbook.
Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, choosing to stay quiet. He lets you study a bit longer before bothering you half an hour later to get pizza.
Because that’s what friends do.
--------
Sometime between classes, studying with you and walking you home, Kyungsoo finds out you’ve never driven stick.
“You want a Miata? You have to learn how to drive manual.” Kyungsoo throws you the keys to his car. You almost fumble them. He laughs at you.
“But I don’t get it. Yeol has a TSX. He didn’t want to teach you?” Kyungsoo lets you get comfortable in the front seat while he waits for you with the door open. His smile grows when you grin and rub your hands across the wheel of his SI.
“No, he says I drive recklessly.” You look up at him with a small, devious smile.
Kyungsoo’s breath stops.
Maybe it’s the way you bite your lip anticipating his lesson or maybe it’s the way you’ve fully let your guard down that makes his stomach flip.
Seeing you smile cutely like this. In his direction…
Nevermind that. He has to shake the image out of his mind.
He bends down and points at the pedals. “This is the clutch. Make sure to release it slowly when you’re shifting. Act like the pedals are eggs, okay? Don’t hurry it.”
He makes the mistake of looking up to see if you’re listening. He’s met with your face filled of curiosity - brows brought together in complete concentration. He’s suddenly made aware of how close he is to you. How you’re wearing a well-fitted Spider-man tee and denim capris. How you smell like vanilla. How you surprisingly have a fresh pedicure.
He clears his throat and stands up.
“I’ll, uh, show you the gears.”
He shuts the door and runs his hand through his hair. He exhales and hopes you aren’t looking at him as he walks to the other side.
“Nervous Do Kyungsoo?” You push your glasses up with the cheekiest smile on.
Kyungsoo scoffs at how cocky you pretend to be in the driver’s seat of his car. But he learns that you’re actually nervous by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears.
“Relax, we’re just driving around the lot.” He chuckles as he sits down. He explains how to shift the gears and you nod along. Kyungsoo has to force himself to focus when you purse your lips and keep pushing those damn glasses up. Can’t you get them adjusted?
“K, think I got it.” That’s the last warning you give before you start driving.
Kyungsoo barely has his seatbelt on, panicking over nothing when he realizes you’re… not stalling?
“The fuck?” Kyungsoo laughs at how ridiculously easily you catch on. It seems you’re as gifted driving as you are academically. You shift so seamlessly. “Let’s go on the main road.”
“What?!” You try to look at him but he quickly pushes your cheek to focus on the parking lot.
“Yeah, yeah! Let’s get some ice cream. You can do it.” He leans over and takes the wheel to gently turn the wheel in the direction of the main road.
“You’re crazy.” You laugh nervously but Kyungsoo has full confidence in you.
“I trust you. Come on, let’s go.” Kyungsoo says with the widest smile.
“Stay in this lane.” Kyungsoo sees how tightly you’re gripping the stick, knuckles slowly turning paler. His first instinct is to place his hand on yours. He feels you soften under his touch.
“Relax.” He reassures you, helping you shift the gears. “You’re doing really good. Are you sure you didn’t secretly take Yeol’s car for a joy ride?”
He tries to make you laugh to break the tension in your body. You chuckle a bit solemnly to yourself.
“No, but I did play a lot of racing games at the arcade.” You say, never once leaving your focus off the road. Only shifting your eyes to check your blind spots.
“Oh, like on dates?”
“Uh… Not exactly. I used to play there a lot on my own. When our parents would be gone on business trips and Chanyeol threw parties, I would go often.” You reveal a bit too casually.
“With friends?” Kyungsoo regrets his question the second he sees you wince.
“By myself.”
He knew you weren’t from the coolest of crowds. He didn’t realize you didn’t have friends either. His gaze softens looking at you.
He imagines you in the same Spider-man shirt but it’s a lot looser, your hair was probably in the same ponytail and you probably sported a lot nerdier glasses. He imagines a lonely you leaving your own home to find solace at the arcade. It pains his heart to imagine how lonely you must have been.
“Please don’t look at me like that.” You must have caught a glimpse of the solemn look on his face.
He can’t shake the image of a sweet and geeky you playing racing games on your own.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some stray cat. I’m okay. And it’s not Chanyeol’s fault either. He’s just a lot different than I am. He tried to keep me home where he could watch me, but sometimes I just couldn’t… Not with those… people.”
He squeezes your hand comfortingly. His heart warms up when he sees a smile seep onto your face.
“I’m sorry you went through that. I wish I had known you then.” Kyungsoo’s face saddens once again. This time, out of guilt. It never occurred to him other people were going through a much different high school experience than he did.
“Me too.” You say, creating a pregnant silence.
“Turn here.” Kyungsoo points at the rundown ice cream shop, disturbing the moment.
You park with ease. In reverse too.
You’re just full of surprises for Kyungsoo.
“It’s really okay, Kyungsoo. I know it’s sad I didn’t have any friends growing up but I did have Chanyeol when it did count. He took care of me the best way he could. I promise my life isn’t as sad as it sounds.” It’s your turn to reassure him because clearly, he was taking it a lot harder than you were.
“You’re paying and driving back by the way.” Your tone is lighthearted again. Then you flash him a little smile.
“Of course.” He follows right behind you, unable to hide the silly grin appearing on his face.
--------
Kyungsoo finds himself texting you nonstop, arguing with you on whether or not Iron Man really was the only one who could’ve done the snap. He completely forgets that Jiho is next to him on the couch waiting for him to finish texting so they could proceed to play the next round.
Jiho’s jaw tightens in annoyance when Kyungsoo has the audacity to chuckle to himself. He wants to wipe off that shit-eating grin off his face.
“She cannot be that funny.” Jiho has a bored look on his face.
Kyungsoo barely looks up from his phone, typing the rest of his text and pressing send.
“Sorry.” He apologizes, picking up the controller as if Jiho didn’t just wait 15 minutes for him to be ready.
Jiho doesn’t take the apology lightly.
“This is like the third time she’s texting. What’s with her? It’s been a month. Why are you guys still hanging out? Are you having trouble sleeping with her?”
“So many questions.” Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at his friend who looks annoyed. Jiho was never one to be patient. Kyungsoo knows this. He grew up with Jiho. Yet, he has no clue why he’s being so rude right now. “She’s actually really sweet and funny. I want you guys to meet her.”
Jiho stares at him, analyzing his friend who is so smitten by a seemingly ordinary girl with a weird obsession with dinosaurs.
“What is this? Are you falling for her?” He narrows his eyes at him. “She’s a bet.”
“She’s not a bet. I don’t care about the bet anymore. It was stupid.” Kyungsoo sighs and rolls his eyes. It stopped being a bet the second you let him in your life and became his actual friend. It was no longer a game when he found himself genuinely having fun hanging out with you. He looked forward to watching random youtube videos in a parking lot with you while you munched on fries. Sure, he’d have to convince you to drive his car, but he always paid for the snacks.
He didn’t know when it happened. The tiny crush he had on you. He figures it was around the same time he started looking forward to the astronomy study sessions with you. Kyungsoo hates astronomy.
Somehow and someway you had claimed a spot in his heart.
“She doesn’t find it weird that you randomly came up to her one day?” Jiho asks, putting the controller down, finding this new turn of events interesting. He never pegged Kyungsoo the type to get with a geek. He was always around cheerleaders, prom queens, conventionally women. “What are you gonna do when she finds out?”
“She’s not going to find out.” Kyungsoo frowns. “Why do you care so much?”
“I care about my friend making the mistake of dating a geek like her. She’s a lost cause. Won’t even know you’re into her.” Jiho’s tone is a lot more vicious and spiteful than anything Kyungsoo has ever heard before.
It does not sit well with Kyungsoo.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s a human being with actual feelings and interests. This isn’t high school anymore. Stop being so weird about this. The bet was stupid and juvenile and she’s never going to find out about it.”
Sometime between the fit of rage, Kyungsoo had gotten up and is now looking down at Jiho with a pure look of disgust. Jiho stares up in disbelief that his friend would defend a girl like you this hard. It’s rare to get him speechless like this because Kyungsoo has never yelled at him. Never in their decade long friendship.
Kyungsoo sighs, he could stay mad at him all day but he’s been friends with Jiho for as long as he can remember. He hates it when they fight. On the rare occasion that they do, Kyungsoo always forgives Jiho.
“Look, I’m sorry I’ve been distracted but she really is a nice girl. I’ll bring her to the pub next Saturday night and you guys could meet her. Okay?” His voice softens for his longtime friend who’s doing his best to stand his ground.
But Jiho breaks too, finding it hard to stay mad at Kyungsoo. He agrees to meet you reluctantly.
Jiho was curious now. He wanted to see what magic you were pulling to get his best friend so smitten and protective over you.
--------
The next day Kyungsoo finds himself studying for the midterm with you in your family’s dining room. Your parents weren’t home for yet another business trip and Chanyeol’s whereabouts were unknown to him. He was alone in a house with you. And for the first time, he was feeling nervous to be alone with a woman.
“Do you need some water?” You ask, concerned. He must not be acting as calm as he thought he was. Or maybe you were just being a considerate host.
“Yes, please.” Kyungsoo smiles when you get up to get him a glass.
“Thank you.” He says as you place it down for him. It’s new to him. The racing of his heart. He’s here to study, yet he can’t even think to read his textbook, distracted by you and your crooked glasses on your head.
“You’re very welcome.” You beam, taking a seat right next to him to continue studying. He watches you plug in your right earphone, letting the other hang loose on the table. You still use wired earphones cause you swear it sounds better when you do. Kyungsoo rests the side of his head on his knuckles, elbow on the table, and just, looks at you.
Who was he joking? He was never going to get any work done with you. Not when you left an ear open for him in case he has any questions.
Studying you was distracting. He swears he can study your little quirks all day.
Like how you use your glasses as a headband when you really want to force yourself to read the material. Or the fact that you’re literally swimming in a broken and oversized Miles Morales shirt, revealing the frustrating fact that your bra strap keeps falling off your shoulder.
“Kyungsoo, did you get this part?” You point at a page in the textbook. It’s really sweet of you to think that he would understand a concept far better than you do but he tries anyway. He pulls the book closer to him and reads the excerpt for the first time. He reads it over and over again, actually. His frown deepens and he wonders if you think he’s an idiot by how long it’s taking him to understand.
It’s all gibberish to him. Why would you ask him if he understood -
It takes a second to register what just happened. His head is still resting on his hand. Your eyes are wide and hands are covering your mouth in complete shock with yourself.
“Sorry!! I- You just- Your lips were-” You stutter after giving him the world’s record quickest peck on the lips.
“Did you want to try that again?” Kyungsoo asks, watching your throat swallow nervously. Then you nod. You lean closer with a little more confidence this time, flickering your eyes to his for confirmation. He nods, giving you the go-ahead.
Your lips softly press onto his and he lets you move your mouth the way you’re comfortable with. He doesn’t rush it, wanting to feel your lips massage his for as long as he can. You surprisingly swipe your tongue against his bottom lip, making Kyungsoo moan slightly and finally drop his arm on the table. He uses the other to cup the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss.
His body leans closer into yours, feeling your body against his. He can smell the vanilla on your skin, making him groan against your lips. It was driving him insane.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” You ask breathily, lips tickling his as he chases after them. They were already tingling at the loss of you.
Kyungsoo almost instantly caves when he looks at your now swollen lips and crooked glasses on your head. He’s never seen you in like this before: wanting him. And God, did he want you too.
But he wants to do this right. You deserve to have this done right.
“I want to.” Kyungsoo says a bit reluctantly.
“But?” You sense his hesitation. It’s absolutely killing him the way you look disappointed and hurt.
“But I want to take you out on a date first. A proper one.” He explains, hoping this makes that look disappear.
“A date?” You frown like you’ve never heard that word before.
“Yeah, a date.” Kyungsoo affirms.
“I’ve never been on a date before.” You say, more to yourself, like you’re trying to convince yourself that this was happening. “With me?”
“Yes, with you. Will you go on a date with me?” Kyungsoo laughs at your pure innocence. God, you’re so good, so nice, so everything to him.
“Okay.”
The stars don’t shine; they burn. Yet here you were, with your smile shining brightly at him.
--------
The date starts off strong with Kyungsoo coming up to your door with a bouquet of yellow flowers wrapped in black paper.
He’s about to knock on your door when you open it almost instantly. You look shocked like you weren’t expecting him.
Kyungsoo’s jaw drops at the sight of you.
You had a leather jacket on with a tank top and a midi skirt. Your hair was down with your hair pushed back by a headband. You had curled your ends. Your glasses were a metal frame instead of the tortoise ones he was used to.
You were painfully and beautifully you.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. I don’t think I got a text?” You check your phone, expression a bit worried. Kyungsoo has to place a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.
“Relax. I was going to come to your door like a gentleman. These are for you.” He extends an arm out for you. That’s when you finally notice the bouquet and blank.
You stare at him then back at the flowers.
“I- You didn’t have to.” You say timidly, smiling at the flowers so preciously. Kyungsoo would give you another bouquet for a chance to see that smile on your face again.
“I wanted to.”
“Yellow and black for Batman?” You bite your lip and give him a kiss on the cheek, making Kyungsoo blush. “I love them. Thank you.”
You quickly place the flowers inside your home.
“Okay, I’m ready.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. Kyungsoo chuckles at your excitement before taking your hand to escort you to his car.
He only lets go to open the door to your surprise. You look uncomfortable as if no one has ever done this for you before.
“You really don’t have to.”
“It’s your first date. I want it to be memorable.”
You blush, quickly sitting down to hide your face behind the door but Kyungsoo catches it nonetheless.
The first spot he brings you to is a trendy brunch spot in the city where he learns that you are a bottomless pit and you can eat three pancakes on your own within 15 minutes. He then surprises you with a trip to a thrift store with an extensive comic book section where you browsed the endless piles, going through the comics one by one.
He had checked on reddit for recommendations and found this store. He’s happy to see that he made the right call and brought you here instead of an actual comic book store. He almost laughs aloud at how concentrated you look. He loves seeing your brows furrowed. He rarely gets to see your hair down so watching strands fall down your face sent Kyungsoo’s heart fluttering. You just looked so effortlessly pretty.
Kyungsoo doesn’t really read comics but he browses all the same, showing you every cool cover he sees.
“This one’s cool. Doc Ock Wins?” Kyungsoo pulls out the comic to show you and is taken aback when your eyes widen in surprise. You rush to his side immediately. Your vanilla perfume hits his nose and he melts. His hand unconsciously settles on your hip while you grab the comic from his hold.
Kyungsoo’s head tilts as you examine the colourful paper. He chuckles when a cheeky grin appears like you’re an evil mastermind about to unveil your super evil plans.
“What? Is it valuable?” He laughs, hand rubbing up and down your side.
You push your glasses up in the nerdy way Kyungsoo loves so much.
“This is a 1967 issue in near mint condition. You can get this appraised and it could go for hundreds. And you just picked it out of the hundreds of comics here.” You explain, handing it back to him. “It’s a really good find.”
“Oh shit.” Kyungsoo looks down at the comic in his hands. It didn’t seem fair to find such a gem as someone who didn’t appreciate them the way you did. “I’ll get it for you.”
“What? No, you keep it. You found it. It’ll be a good investment. I can show you reputable grading companies if you’d like.” You shake your head, pushing it back to his chest.
“We came here for you. This is yours.” He tries to sway you, pulling you in closer by the waist. “Take it.”
You purse your lips, trying to stop yourself from showing how happy he just made you.
“Are you sure?”
“Seeing you smile like this, why wouldn’t I be sure?” His hand reaches your cheek, rubbing your thumb mindlessly.
You beam, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down for a quick kiss.
“Thank you, Kyungsoo.” You look up at him with glossy eyes. “For always being so nice to me.”
Kyungsoo’s melts at the sound of your small voice. It makes him sad to think not everyone has been kind to you the way you deserved. You were often overlooked, even by him. He was seeing you now. He won’t make that same mistake again.
--------
“It’ll just be a sec! I want my friends to meet you!” Kyungsoo says excitedly as if he was trying to convince you to be excited with him. But you couldn’t share that sentiment with him. You knew the kind of people he hung out with. And Kyungsoo knew that too.
Just how he did with you, he wanted you to give them a second chance to get to know them.
And just like the sweetheart you are, you comply, holding his hand tightly and holding your breath as you walk into the pub.
You come to a halt when you see the familiar faces from high school.
“They’re not as scary as they look. And if they do say anything weird, I’ll be there, okay?” Kyungsoo rubs his thumb on your hand. He hopes it’s enough to reassure you. He really wants to show his friends that you were sweet and funny. You weren’t just that weird girl in class who was weirdly obsessed with dinosaurs and superheroes. That you were the girl he was slowly falling for.
“Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends Hyoseob and Jiho.” Kyungsoo’s hand is rubbing your lower back reassuringly. You introduce yourself perfectly in his eyes. Hyoseob shook your hand as the normal one of the two. Jiho, on the other hand, has some odd vendetta towards you and doesn’t reach to shake your hand, only nodding in your direction to acknowledge you.
At least that was something. It was a start.
“Did you guys order already?” You ask as you slide into the booth. You were trying to make conversation to Kyungsoo’s delight. He knew how nervous you were yet here you were, being considerate and polite for his sake.
“We got some nachos for the table.” Hyoseob, fortunately, responds to you, reciprocating your politeness. “You’re welcome to share with us.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you, Hyoseob.” You smile, closing the menu and setting it on the table.
“So how was the date? Kyungsoo wouldn’t stop talking about it all week.” Hyoseob continues.
Kyungsoo smiles when you reply with excitement and a blush, excitingly showing them the new comic Kyungsoo got you. He knew he could count on Hyoseob to be friendly. The two of you continued to bounce off each other, quickly getting comfortable enough to joke around with each other.
Jiho was on the quieter side. Nothing Kyungsoo wasn’t used to. It took his multi-layered friend time to get to know.
It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.
“Did you ever finish that build?” Jiho randomly asks when there was a pause between you and Hyoseob’s conversation. Kyungsoo has no idea what he’s referring to.
“Build?” Kyungsoo turns to you for explanation. You don’t seem fazed by it.
“I did! I didn’t think you’d remember me.” You reveal a bit more, leaving Kyungsoo a lot more confused. Jiho always held some weird resentment towards you. He thought that stemmed from some deep insecurity of his to hate on people smarter than him. Maybe he was wrong. “I used to go to Jiho’s dad’s shop a lot to get the parts for my computer. They always had good discounts.”
Well, that’s news to Kyungsoo. Having you surprise him was nothing special. Having you know Jiho even back in high school, that was news.
“Oh, I didn’t know you guys knew each other back then too.”
That’s when Kyungsoo feels you freeze beside him.
“Uh, yeah. Jiho used to be really nice to me.” You share apprehensively as if you knew you were about to shift the mood.
Jiho scoffs and takes a sip of his beer. The waiter brings the nachos to the table, interrupting the moment. Kyungsoo would probably have to ask you about this later to fill in the blanks.
Whatever it is, you continue to be the pleasant person you’ve been since you got here. You tuck in your hair behind your ears. Kyungsoo sucks on his bottom lip, reaches for your hand, and squeezes it reassuringly. He hopes it’s enough to get through this night. He didn’t think you would have some weird history with Jiho.
Something happened between you two in high school. Kyungsoo thinks you might have dated but that wouldn’t make sense. He knows of every girl Jiho has been with. Unless he was embarrassed to be with you. Maybe that’s what created the riff.
Kyungsoo shakes his head. It didn’t add up. You seemed genuinely surprised to find out he remembered you. People who date don’t forget one another.
“My dad really wanted to help you build an inexpensive pc.” Jiho suddenly mutters like he’s too embarrassed to admit it.
“How is he? I hope he’s doing well. I really appreciate everything he did for me.” A small smile appears on your face, remembering Jiho’s father’s kindness. Then you turn to Kyungsoo with a glint in your eyes, excited to share a little glimpse of your teenage life. “He used to order parts he wouldn’t stock just so I can buy it from him.”
He remembers how you were alone for a large part of your teenage life. They must have been the few who showed you grace and kindness. He wonders what went wrong that Jiho would feel comfortable badmouthing you.
“He’s okay. He’s been threatening to retire soon.” Jiho, for the first time tonight, actually laughs and you giggle with him like this was some inside joke.
“He’s always saying that.” You give Kyungsoo context, being the considerate person that you are.
You don’t seem nervous anymore. He can tell by the way you lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder. He’s learning that every time you feel comfortable, you initiate contact. Kyungsoo smiles down at the image of how cozy you look under him. He can finally feel himself relax knowing you’re okay with his friends.
The night goes on. Hyoseob and Jiho order another pint for the table, eventually getting to the point of sloppy, tipsy drunk. They try to get you to play darts with them, but they soon realize you’re a bit too coordinated and gifted in games. You win against them easily. Sometime in the night, they end up at the pool table for a 2v2 where you’re shooting all the solids for Kyungsoo. Jiho whines while Hyoseob cheers you on.
Kyungsoo is at bliss knowing that you fit right in.
“I’m gonna to the bathroom real quick.” Kyungsoo places a hand on your lower back to let you know. You smile at him, holding the cue upright, and reply with a short and sweet “okay”.
The moment Kyungsoo enters the restrooms, he’s hit with an overwhelming feeling in his chest. He knew his friends would fall for her as hard as he did. He can’t remember the last time he introduced a girl to his friends and it going this smoothly.
And Kyungsoo has introduced his friends to many women.
He can’t contain the smile on his face. You’ve made him so happy this past month.
He wants to bring you on so many other dates, bring you to all the places you never got the chance to visit as a teen. He wants to recreate memories with you and replace every single lonely one.
Although you both come from very different childhoods, Kyungsoo finally feels that he’s met his match. Someone that will bring out the best in him even if he feels that he might not deserve you. He hopes he can do the same for you so you can show off that shiny bright personality of yours to the world. It deserves to get to know you too.
Kyungsoo washes up quickly so he can be by your side as soon as possible. He walks out the doors with a stupid grin on his face.
It slowly disappears when he notices how uncomfortable Hyoseob looks.
“What’s wrong? Y/N beat you guys again?” Kyungsoo laughs lightheartedly.
Hyoseob doesn’t answer, instead his eyes shift to Jiho. Kyungsoo frowns when Jiho avoids his stare. He follows Jiho’s line of vision to the door.
He looks around. There’s a sudden drop in his stomach.
“Where’s Y/N?”
Jiho’s eyes flick to Kyungsoo’s by accident. He sees the guilt in his eyes.
“What did you do?” Kyungsoo’s tone darkens, a lot graver and threatening.
He grows angrier when Jiho stays silent.
“I was gone for a minute. What did you do?” He asks one more time.
“She was going to find out eventually.” Jiho mutters, barely reaching Kyungsoo’s ears to hear. But when it does, it’s loud. The volume of the chatter in the bar is becoming deafening.
His breath hitches and that pit in his stomach grows tenfold. He can’t think about anything else but you. He grabs his keys and storms off. He can hear Hyoseob calling his name behind him. He doesn’t care. He can’t care when you’re out there thinking he lied to you.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” He chants to himself, hoping you’d pick up the phone, be the understanding person that you are, and hear him out. It’s to his surprise that you do.
“Y/N? Where are you?” Kyungsoo tries not to sound too frantic.
He hears you take a deep breath.
“Don’t call. Don’t text. When you see me in class, don’t even look at me. Fuck you, Do Kyungsoo.”
You hang up abruptly, not even giving a chance for Kyungsoo to speak.
He tries calling again, phone shaking in his hold.
The number you have dialed is unavailable.
chananyeol bong: if anyone has a copy of that oilblotter drabble :') pls send it my way. i think it about it a lot 🤕❤️🩹💔 this will have a second part (and maybe third - i can only hate myself for this lol) this was started when i was being moody from my period and it was hard to finish cause i was in my usual sunshine and rainbows mood after lol
on this segment of memes that made me think of this story:
You adore your friends, how they make sure to invite you to things, even if they know you’ll more than likely turn down the offer. Which is probably why they just said it would be asleep over tonight and failed to mention the major rager they had planned.
It’s not that you’re straight edge or anything like that. In all honesty, it’s just that you’re too shy, too socially awkward, find your personality too quiet in the midst of the Olympian sized ones in the other room.
So instead, you snuck away, curled up on the twin side top bunk of your friends’ younger sisters’ room. It’s quiet, or well, as quiet as it could be with the music phasing through the walls like a ghost. You know that your friend has chosen to play Primary in an attempt to lull you out of your hiding hold, but you cannot bring yourself out of the safety you’ve found in the covers.
You know the majority of everyone outside of this room, see them on campus and in class. They call you a part of their group, make sure to include you in everything they can, to purposely ask you things so you never feel excluded. Especially Chanyeol.
He asks you questions the most, wide eyes always on your face as you spoke, like he was memorizing your entire being. Maybe it was because it took him an entire semester to learn your name.
The day he finally said your name without having to ask first was the day you realized you were undeniably in love with him. It was the day you realized that somewhere between asking you questions and bringing your hands to his mouth to warm them when you complained of being cold, between they way he would pull your earbuds out of your ears to replace them with his own anytime he wanted to share a song with you and the way his face lights up when he sees you, that you know you’ve fallen for him.
You know he’s out there, can hear the bass of his laughter over the bass of the music, perhaps because your ears are attuned to it. You can almost see him, black snapback with some vape company he doesn’t even know on it, ears sticking out, smile the brightest thing in the room. You know he’s making rounds, secret handshakes being exchanged, hugs distributed, inside jokes shared. It makes you sigh in disappointment for yourself.
You know that if you were to join the party, they would welcome you fondly, would pull you into hugs of your own, know someone would pull you along with them so you were never alone, know they would go out of their way to keep you included.
Because they understand.
They understand your anxiety, your social uneasiness. They take it in stride and work hard to make sure you knew you were wanted, to make sure you knew you were their friend.
And you couldn’t even join the party.
You sigh again, burying yourself in the covers, trying to make yourself less of a mouse.
You don’t know how long you stay like this, trying to will a dandelion into a tree, but when you hear the door open you freeze.
“C’mon kid. Let’s get you in bed.”
“Yeol, I may have overdone it.”
“You think so?” Chanyeols voice is teasing as he helps Sehun into the bed below you. “But lucky for you, I’m partied out, so I’m on Hunnie duty.”
There’s no response from Sehun and you know from the soft snores below you that he’s passed out. You can hear Chanyeol sigh, a soft sound before you hear movement, what sounds like jeans against carpet. You’re careful to stay silent as you peak over the guard rail to find him stretched out on the floor, elbow over his eyes.
You know from experience that the carpet is uncomfortable and the floor unforgiving. You close your eyes and muster up every ounce of courage you’ve been channeling all night.
“There’s room up here, if you don’t want to sleep on the floor?”
“Y/N? I didn’t know you were here.”
“Ah, yeah. I didn’t know there was going to be a party. I was just told it was a sleep over. I probably wouldn’t have come if I had known.”
“You could have stayed with me out there, you know I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“I know, but you know how I am. Can’t make a soloist out of a background singer.”
“You sound like Professor Harris.”
“Ah yeah, I got it from her. It’s what she told me.”
“Wait, I thought you were an English major?” It’s at this that he moves his arm, leaning on the elbow instead, looking up at you.
“Oh, I am. But I was a music major first semester.”
“Why did you switch?”
“Because of that.”
The conversation falls silent at this. The music has stopped in the living room and you aren’t sure if it’s because the party has ended or if everyone has passed out. You’re chewing your bottom lip, trying to figure out what else to say when Chanyeols face appears beside you.
“It doesn’t look like there’s a lot of room up here.”
“Oh, uh, here.” You scoot to the other side of the bed, showing him the space left. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just didn’t want you to sleep on the floor. It’s up to you.”
“Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make yourself small.” He tilts his head at you and you know your face is red. You shrug, unable to form words. It’s the first time someone has ever asked you that and you aren’t sure how to say you were taught to be neither seen nor heard.
“Let me empty my pockets.” He moves back and you can hear his wallet and keys against the dresser. “Is it going to bother you if I take my jeans off?”
“Not if it won’t bother you that mine are.” He grins and looks at you, something you don’t recognize painting his features. “That was funny.”
“Thanks. I channeled my inner you.” You can’t help but giggle as Chanyeol climbs the ladder. He’s’ only on the second rung and his head is already touching the ceiling. “How the hell did you get up here?”
“There wasn’t anyone else up here when I was trying.” Chanyeol huffs, and ducks as he climbs one more rung before slinging his leg over the guard rail and rolling into the bed beside you. You cover your mouth to keep from laughing any louder when Sehun moves below you. You think you’ve woken him until his snores resume.
“So, I’m up here. What should we do?” He’s on side, head propped up on his elbow as he looks at you.
“I really only called you up here so I could sacrifice you to the moon.”
“Sorry, the moon and I aren’t on the best of terms right now, but I’ll accept Satan.”
You hum to yourself in fake deliberation. “You’re too pretty to go to Satan.”
“Did you just call me pretty?”
“I did.”
“I’m flattered.”
“So how did you know about professor Harris?”
“I had her for a music elective.”
“Aren’t you a business major?” You shift in the bed, turning on your side as well to face him.
“Yeah, it was required.” He shrugs.
“What kind of business?”
“Jongin and I have had a dream to open a record studio since we were freshmen in high school. I want to produce, but I don’t really need to go to school for something I’m already good at.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to produce.”
“That’s because I’m always asking you questions about yourself. Speaking of, why an English major?”
“I want to write. I’ve been told I have a way with words.”
Chanyeol grins and you know what’s going to come out of his mouth before he even says it. “You don’t talk much though.”
“I do too. I’m just not great with crowds.”
“You don’t seem to have a problem talking to me.”
“It’s cause you’re pretty.” You grin and bat your eyelashes.
“Lucky me then.”
It’s easy to talk to you like this Chanyeol finds. Outside of crowds, you transform into another person, one who’s all smiles, words and unhindered thoughts and Chanyeol finds himself getting lost in them easily. His eyes are on your lips as you speak, enthralled by the way they form syllables, hypnotized by the spell they unknowingly cast upon him.
It’s addicting, listening to you talk like this. Chanyeol can see the notes of your voice as they touch his ears, the soft scales climbing and falling down the lines on the music staff and he finds himself composing a song of it.
He grins at the realization, that it’s you. You’re addicting.
“Yeol? Are you okay?”
“What song is on your mind right now?”
“Nineteen by Tegan and Sara.” It says more than you know. It tells him things words cannot say, tells him things about you that you cannot bring yourself to vocalize. He can feel his heartbeat quicken and he chews on his inner cheek as he tries to subdue it, as he tries to figure out if you know that he has a playlist with your name on it, that song appearing twice. He wonders if you listen to it the same way he does, your face painted over the lyrics, senses drowned in you although you are no where near.
“What about you?”
“Are You Gonna Be My Girl.”
It’s the question that’s been on his mind for a while now. He wonders if you know that he asks you everything he can think of because your voice calls to him like a siren song, wonders if you know that he waits for you to say you’re cold so he can glue himself to your side because the coconut smell of your shampoo is intoxicating, wonders if you know that he always shows you new songs because your face interprets the lyrics along with your mind and it’s the closest thing he can get to reading your mind.
He wonders if you know that he pretended not to know your name for an entire semester because he was falling in love with the way that you said it.
You’re sure your heart is going to beat out of your chest. You know he’s naming a song, but the way the words fall from his lips turns the atmosphere in the room into a fragile thing and you’re terrified to open your mouth, too terrified to break the bubble the two of you have created for yourself.
Instead, you turn away from him, rolling over to face the wall, arm tucked under your shared pillow, eyes blinking back tears that threaten to fall as you realize you’re reading too much into his answer, the way you always do. Because truthfully, why would he ask you that?
He is Helios, his smile the sun. He is a warmth you do not think you deserve yet find yourself a glutton for. He is all laughs and words, wide smiles and crescent eyes. You find yourself wondering if he knows of the gravitational pull he has on everyone around him, or if he is simply floating through space, unaware of the beauty that is his entire being.
If this were a movie, you’d admit to your friends that you are not his type, middle too round, thighs too large and existence too small to be his because your friends would not be his friends. But this isn’t a movie, and your friends are mutual, and there is not a day that goes by that you do not see him, the small voice in the back of your head bringing you down as you try to stand in the light that he casts.
He shifts next to you and you prepare yourself for the loss of his warmth as you assume he is leaving, and instead freeze as the pillow moves, his right arm curled around yours, fingers tracing small patterns on the back of your hand. His left drapes over your waist and you stop breathing as goosebumps raise along the soft flesh of your stomach at someone else’s touch.
Chanyeol can feel you freeze under his touch but he doesn’t stop, left hand traveling north as it searches for your own, fingers finding purchase in your wrist as he pulls it from under your chin, tangling his fingers with yours. He can feel your pulse in the tips as he lets your joined hands rest on your hip. He is unapologetic as he scoots closer to you, shifting to nuzzle his nose at the nape of your neck, one leg tucked between yours and he wonders if you can feel the way his heart races too.
He knows your mind, knows your fight or flight response is kicked into over drive as your pulse pounds from every inch of your body. It doesn’t take long for yours to sync, hearts beating as one as the atmosphere turns heavy with words neither of you dare to say. So instead he does the only thing he knows to do without ruining the conversation your bodies are having for you; he hums.
It takes a moment for your pulse to die enough in your ears for you to realize that he’s humming your answer, humming the song on your mind right now. The vibration against the back of your neck lulls you into a relaxed state, letting your body fall into his, trying not to think about how well you fit into him. Part of you says to turn over, to face him and address the thoughts running through your head, though the other half of you says not to move or you’ll ruin everything.
His grip on your fingers tightens as he feels you relax against him, pressing his body closer to yours until you are no longer sure where he starts and you end. His voice is muffled against your skin, warm like the rest of him, “do you want me to move?”.
You shake your head, throat dry as you respond with a dry “no”.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time..”
“Give me a heart attack?” He chuckles behind you, laughing with his whole body and you feel the final shards of fear melt from your skin with the sound.
“No, to touch you without you pulling away from me.” Your heart is in your throat at his answer, mind racing as you try to interpret what he could mean.
“Why…why would you want to do that?”
He’s silent for a moment and you can hear him swallow, his hand suddenly clammy in yours. You try to think of another time you’ve seen him this nervous, but nothing comes to mind and you wonder what you’ve done.
“Because I’m in love with you, Y/N, is it really that hard to notice?”
“You can’t be in love with me Chanyeol. You didn’t even know my name for an entire semester of our friendship.”
“Yes I did. I’ve known your name since the first time Kyungsoo introduced us. I just liked hearing you say it and the way you smiled at me when I asked for it again.” His thumb rubs circles into your skin at his confession.
“Why would you be in love with me?” Your voice is small and he hates it, hates the way you’ve returned behind your wall, hidden back in your shell.
“It’s simple, why wouldn’t I?”
He doesn’t say anything else, and soon you can feel his breaths deepen against the back of your neck and you know he’s fallen asleep. Something in you tells you to let it go, to wonder what he could mean tomorrow when the world is back to normal.
So for now, you listen and tighten your grip on his fingers as you let yourself fall asleep, body pressed and wrapped up in the boy you love and the last thought that passes through your mind is that for once, you’re glad no one told you a party was going on.
synopsis: jaehyun loves being a girl dad, his chest fills with love and pride whenever he looks at your daughter. he's also convinced he knows her better than you do, and that she'll love her first ever snow. spoiler alert: she doesn't, and you have a screaming baby and a sulky husband on your hands.
pairing: girl dad!jaehyun x female!reader
genre: fluff, domesticity, established relationship
word count: 2.8k
contains: fluff galore. a glimpse of parenthood, overprotective father jaehyun who loves his daughter too much, reader is married to jaehyun. daughter doesn't have a name but jaehyun calls his daughter ttalgi (strawberry in korean).
author's note: jeelings (jaehyun feelings) hours: open! you can send your jeelings thoughts in! i'm the biggest girl dad!jaehyun enthusiast you'll find out there. no one can beat me on this. he'd be so loving and careful and considerate and such a good father :( this is a peek into my daylight delusions, i hope you'll enjoy! not proofread (yet) <3
“Can you believe this is our baby’s first snow ever?” Your husband rasps excitedly. He giggles looking at you trying to dress your daughter up, getting her ready to go outside, and his dimples make an appearance as soon as he sees your daughter poking her little tongue out while you pull her small arms through the sleeves of her top. He can’t resist the amount of cuteness and, as soon as you’re done and you move to pick up her trousers, he bends over her to kiss her chubby cheeks. “You’re so excited about this, aren’t you, ttalgi?”
You snort while looking at the scene, waiting for him to be done with his cute aggression over your daughter, who giggles feeling the proximity of her daddy and all his kisses all over her face and hands.
“I’m starting to think you’re the one excited about this, Jae,” you joke, and he doesn’t mind you poking fun at him, because honestly there’s some truth to it.
You take his looks in. He’s good and ready to go, all dressed up, the only things missing are his jacket, his beanie, and his shoes. The moment he woke up this morning and noticed it had snowed all night, seeing everything covered in white, he couldn’t stop grinning thinking about how he wanted to play in the snow with your daughter.
So he got you out of bed for breakfast and then he urged you into getting ready before dressing your daughter up in warm clothes, so he could take her out to see the snow and play with it.
“Don’t listen to mommy, ttalgi,” he instructs, using his baby voice while he continues his ministrations of kisses, “We’re going to have so much fun together! Daddy will even buy you a sled!”
“You liked playing in the snow as a kid, didn’t you?” You ask, grip tight around the small pair of trousers you’re waiting to put on your daughter.
“It was my favourite time of the year!” His tone is excited, and he finally moves away, making way for you. “I know she’s going to love this,” he tells you, still keeping an eye on her as she kicks her feet excitedly.
“Please, ttalgi,” you sigh, because this is a habit she picked up lately, kicking her feet and not letting you dress her up. Not only that, but she moves too much, ending up sweating, and that’s really not convenient as you prepare her to get out in the cold. “Jaehyun, make her stop,” you look at him, using your authoritarian tone with him.
“How?” He feigns cluelessness, but he knows exactly what you mean and want him to do.
“Kiss her again, she’ll stop kicking for a few seconds if she feels you on her,” you instruct, pointing at your baby as she keeps kicking her feet.
He grins, dimples on full display, but he does as instructed nonetheless. He’d never pass on the occasion of smothering his little girl with kisses and cuddles. While he does as asked, smooching every available spot on her face, making her giggle, you try sneaking your hands between the two of them, grabbing her feet and pulling them through the trousers legs.
“Besides,” you start after accomplishing your mission, pulling the trousers up to her waist, “How do you know she’s going to love the snow?”
“She’s my daughter,” he gives you the simplest, most logical answer, “You always say she’s too much like me, so I know she’ll love the snow,”
And in all honesty, Jaehyun and your daughter are so much alike that it’s impossible not to notice the resemblance. Not only physical, but also emotional. She’s this small, adorable, eleven months old meatloaf, who inherited even her daddy’s full cheeks and dimples. And sometimes you feel like an outsider, like your genes never even tried to assert dominance while battling with his genes, like yours just gave up. Even as a baby, she’s stubborn, determined, unbothered, sometimes in her own little world just like Jaehyun is, and you can’t wait for her to grow up and discover her personality.
So you get her ready to go, and Jaehyun keeps her in his arms as you exit the house, dragging your feet on the white pavement as you make your way to the park just around the corner. It’s wide, all powdered up with crisp snow that crunches under your and your husband’s heavy steps.
“She seems uncertain of this,” you mumble, looking at her little frown as she looks at everything white around her.
Jaehyun doesn’t even listen to you, too stubborn to show you that you’re wrong. Your daughter will love it today, and that’s it.
Except she doesn’t. He crouches down, with her still in his arms, and he places her on his leg, grabbing a handful of snow to bring up to her level in order to make her accustomed to the cold and wetness.
She trusts him, touching his hand but she retracts it back in a split second almost as if it burnt her, and she lets out a whine at the discomfort — the snow too cold and too wet for her delicate small hand.
Jaehyun looks at you, only to find you looking at him already, and you want to tease him, but he looks too disappointed, a sour scowl appearing on his face the moment your daughter starts crying.
“Look, ttalgi,” he tries, putting his big hand down in the snow to grab another handful and bring it up to her level, only for her to scream louder and to make grabby hands towards you.
Although you want to slam him with the classical I told you so, you refrain from doing so, knowing that he’s disappointed and he’s getting upset. Not because he’s upset with your daughter for not liking the snow, but because he was wrong and he thought he knew everything about your child.
You pick your daughter up, patting her back trying to calm her down, and Jaehyun stands next to you, hands in his pockets as he waits for you to either roast him or start your nagging while using your mommy voice on him.
“Jae, quickly, make a snowball,” you instruct, and he looks at you puzzled, but does as asked nonetheless.
The moment he hands it to you, you take a few steps back, throwing the snowball directly at his head, striking him in the face.
“You were supposed to dodge it!” You let out an outraged gasp, and it takes you three second in total before you give in an let out a howl of laughter, you shoulders shaking, and you squeeze your daughter in your embrace as you try to recompose yourself.
Jaehyun is unmoving, still as a statue as he looks at you, snow still on his face. You’re sure he’s still processing what just happened, you can literally see gears turning in his head as he processes.
“I’m so sorry, baby!” You coo at him, but you burst out laughing once again when you see he’s still unmoving, blinking slowly while looking at you.
“What just happened?” He rasps, his tone uncertain, like he’s making sure you just struck him directly in the face and he’s not dreaming.
Your daughter is not crying anymore, she stopped the moment she heard you howling with laughter, not understanding why mommy’s laughing while she’s the one crying her little lungs out. You trot towards your husband, snow’s now melting off his face with the help of his skin’s warmth, and you bring one hand up to get rid of the snow covering his nose and eyelashes.
“Hi, handsome,” you grin at him after all traces of snow are gone from his beautiful features, and he tries his best to give you a passive look, but one dimple makes an appearance, and you poke it immediately. “Have you always been this handsome?” You question him, seeing as your daughter makes grabby hands to be in his arms.
“Nuh-uh,” he’s quick with his response, “It’s the after snow glow,”
His words make you rewind the whole scene in your mind, and you can’t control the laugh that escapes you once again, and you fall on the ground covered in snow.
“I can’t believe you didn’t dodge it!” You’re amused, and he knows you’ll giggle about this for the rest of the month, “The world’s too quick for you, Jae,” You look at him from the ground, your back on the soft snow, and you start making snow angels just like you did when you were a child playing in the snow. “You took it like a champ, though,” Your tone is serious this time, and you raise an arm to express victory.
Jaehyun’s dimples are once again on display, and he looks down at you and your limbs moving in synchronised motions. Your cheeks and nose are full of colour, the cold biting them gently, and your eyes are still sparkling after he made a fool of himself. After you turned him into one.
Yes, the world might be too quick for him, you’re always telling him this because he likes taking his time with everything he does, everything he says, and everything he thinks about. And you’re the only one allowed to tell him this, you’re the only one who can make him act a fool.
When Jaehyun first met you, he thought you were untouchable and unreachable. Your carried yourself a certain way, you giggled sweetly whenever someone complimented you or made silly remarks to get a reaction out of you, and you also never bothered sparing boys a glance. You were unreachable in the real sense of the word, and Jaehyun thinks he saved three nations in his previous lives because you gave him a chance and he bagged you.
He holds your daughter in his arms a little tighter, getting down on the ground, imitating you. Your daughter is now resting on his chest and stomach, pink snowsuit making her look like a total roly-poly, small nose red from the cold — and Jaehyun has to fight the urge to peck it right this moment, — her small head covered with his favourite winter hat that he personally picked up last october while waiting for the cold season, fluffy bear ears peaking on each side of it, and his cute aggression is suddenly hard to control while looking at her. So he wraps his arms around her to steady her small figure and he bites her gently on one of her chubby cheeks, but she doesn’t mind — she’s used to having her daddy in her personal space, suffocating her with kisses and hugs and belly rubs.
Jaehyun turns his head to throw you a quick look, you’re still grinning, content while feeling the peace of mind you felt during childhood when there was nothing better in this entire world than waiting for a snowy night so you could go outside and make snow angels the following morning.
So a small smile creeps up on his features as well, remembering how happy he used to be as a child, whenever he woke up to snow.
He moves his limbs in synchronised motions, just like you do, and the big flakes coming from the ski rest on his warm skin. He closes his eyes, the weight of his daughter grounding him from being too much into his own head while rethinking of his childhood and the memories form the past, and he realises this is where he wants to be — here, with you, with your daughter, the product of the two of you. Love, energy, ambition, and beauty encapsulated in a small body, full of gentleness and calmness.
He opens his eyes the moment he feels your daughter moving slightly, and then sliding off his body, small hands landing directly into the cold snow, but this time she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t scream, not even a screech leaves her small mouth.
Jaehyun looks at you only to find you already looking at him, and then he looks at your daughter. “I guess it took mommy and daddy frolicking in the snow for you to give it a try. Right, ttalgi?” His voice is gentle, and he pinches her cheeks before standing to his feet.
He pulls you up, helping you steady yourself by keeping you close to his body, and you give him a series of pecks before taking a few steps back and away from him.
“Let’s play a bit,” you tell him, but it comes out more as a question, and you crouch down, gathering some snow between your hands.
Realising what you’re doing, Jaehyun crouches down forming a snowball — that you think it’s the size of your head — with the help of his huge hands, and he’s very quick with throwing it your way, his competitive side on full display.
The snowball is heavy when it hits the right side of your head as you try to brace for impact, but Jaehyun’s too fast, driven by the rush of competition — that’s in his head only.
You screech, losing your balance a bit, wobbling like an empty bottle that has just been kicked, and you hear Jaehyun let out a bark of laughter, his timbre unmistaken.
You look at him outraged, thinking that the humongous size of the snowball might cause you a concussion, but Jaehyun’s chest still vibrates with laughter, and he falls to his knees.
Nose scrunching up with laughter, his infamous whiskers make an appearance while he tries to tell you something between huffs of laughter.
“What’s so funny? You did this on purpose!” You accuse him, pointing at him, but he only laughs harder.
“Your screech,” Just remembering the way you wobbled on your feet and the screech you let out has Jaehyun shaking on the ground.
“You definitely did this out of spite!” You launch yourself towards his figure, and you grab his puffer jacket, tugging on its collar until it loosens up a bit, and you slide the snowball you’ve been holding in your grasp, inside his shirt.
Your husband is quick to react this time, the world’s not too quick for him anymore. He takes a breath through his teeth, feeling the cold snow melting all over his back, but he laughs nonetheless. He pulls you down on the ground, rolling you around like you weight nothing.
“Wait, wait!” You plead, feeling dizzy after all the ways he’s handled you on the ground, not giving you any chance to escape away from his grasp.
He takes pity on you, and he falls to his knees in the snow, his hands on each side of your head, entrapping you. He pecks your lips and then your freezing nose, and he means to let you know how much he loves you, but the sound of a child coughing rings in your ears, and both of you feel your pupils increase in size.
You totally forgot your child is playing in the snow by herself, and the moment the two of you look towards the spot you left her sitting in, you immediately understand the reason for her sudden coughing.
“Ttalgi, no!” You warn her, authoritarian tone clear and loud.
“No eating snow, ttalgi!” Jaehyun’s voice echoes, and he gets to his feet to stop her from further eating the dirty snow. “Maybe we should head back home, my back’s all wet,” Jaehyun suggests, picking your daughter up.
You nod, “Good idea, we can still play tomorrow,” you extend your hand, letting a few snowflakes falling from the sky sit in the palm of your hand, and you see them melting immediately. Judging by the way it’s snowing, and knowing the forecast for the next days, you know you’ll have a full week of playing in the snow.
Snow crunching under your husband’s heavy steps, he turns to look at you, “Seriously though, if I catch a cold it’s all your fault,” he alludes to the snowball you slid between his shirt and the skin of his back.
You roll your eyes, scoffing, “I’ll cook you your favourite chicken soup. Plus, you’ll get to stay at home with us,”
And Jaehyun smiles, because the idea’s not that bad after all. Because, there’s nothing better than staying home with his two favourite girls in this entire world.
pairing: donor! best friend! johnny x client! best friend! reader | genre: smut | words: 10k+
warnings: STRICTLY 18+ inappropriate use of a doctor’s examination table, clitoral stimulation, domination, dirty talk, fingering, hair-pulling, kissing, nipple-play, brief! oral sex, raw sex, rough sex, size kink! multiple positions, multiple orgasms, squirting, use of pet names: baby, doctor, doll
an: donor johnny is finally here! the layout for this doesn’t follow the usual of the previous orgasm donors which is why the warnings are already included above. you’ll understand why i had to do it this way as you read. without further ado, i give you the first donor - with love, c.
✚ THE BUSINESS PROPOSAL ✚
“what if i told you my friends and i’ve got this idea. something big. revolutionary, even,” johnny said, voice low and serious.
you arched a brow, setting your phone aside, as you look up at him from your shared couch, “revolutionary? like curing world hunger revolutionary, or your usual ‘let’s invent the next uber but for tacos’ revolutionary?”
he chuckled, leaning in, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled like some ceo in a boardroom, “no, this is different. it’s about women. helping women, specifically…making sure they get what they deserve.”
you eye him warily, “that sounds like a threat…spit it out, suh.”
he took a deep breath, glancing away for a second as if mentally preparing himself. when he looked back, there was this fire in his gaze mixed with amusement.
“a clinic. called the orgasm donors. founded by me and the guys, you know who they are — we’d be the donors, of course. women will come in, pay for the service and we guarantee they leave satisfied. no strings, no bullshit. just pleasure.”
the words hung in the air, thick and electric, your mind racing to process. was he serious? a clinic for…orgasms? like some upscale spa, but instead of massages, it was…this?
“johnny, what the actual fuck?”
you finally managed, half-laughing because it had to be a joke, “you’re telling me you and your boys want to open a sex clinic? like, hookers with a business license?”
he didn’t even flinch, “not hookers. donors.” his voice dropped to that husky timbre that always made you listen a little too closely, “it’s consensual, empowering. think about it. how many women go unsatisfied? we’d change that. discreet, safe, guaranteed results. and yeah, paid. but it’s not just about the money, it’s about fixing a real problem,” his hands gestured, emphasizing every point, his passion a little too infectious.
you shifted on the couch, “and you’re….what? the poster boy for this? the first donor?”
a grin tugged at his lips, slow and wicked, “damn, right. but…every idea needs a trial run…someone to test the waters, make sure it works before we go public.”
“test the waters,” you mumble, your brain already connecting the dots, knowing exactly where your best friend’s mind is headed, “with…who?”
his eyes softened, but that cheshire smirk on his lips never wavered, “well…that’s why i’m telling you about it, i was hoping you could test it out?”
you laughed. loudly. awkwardly. the sound burst out, sharp and disbelieving, echoing off the walls. but as seconds ticked by and johnny just watched, arms crossed, that steady gaze unwavering, the humor drained away.
“fuck. you’re actually serious?”
“do i look like i’m joking?” he says, his voice dropping an octave, laced with challenge.
“johnny what the actual hell!? you want us to have sex!?” you say, the words tumbling out blunt and breathless, your heart slamming against your ribs.
“yes. but it’s for science. nothing else.”
“we’ve known each other since we were fourteen.”
“exactly why you’d be the perfect first client, i know you won’t let anything slide that easily, and you’ll actually criticize what’s wrong.”
“this is crazy.”
“c’mon…for science, doctor y/n,” he convinces, his smirk widening, his voice dripping like honey.
“i’m not a doctor yet,” you mumble, half-protest, half-tease.
“yet.” he repeats, “but you will be. and hey, if this becomes successful, i’ll even put your name on it. if not, the world will never know.”
and somehow, somehow, no matter how batshit crazy this is all sounding. he’s convinced you. like he usually does.
you nod slowly, a rush of adrenaline flooding your veins, “okay…fine, do we do it now or?”
he smiles, that slow, knowing curve of his lips pulling wider, eyes gleaming with triumph, “no, meet me at the clinic tomorrow. 7pm.”
you look at him with wide eyes, the reality crashing in like a wave, “you guys already have a building?”
he just nods, still smirking, a little too pleased with himself.
“fuck, you’re really serious.”
✚ THE CLINIC ✚
you pull up to the address johhny texted, your nerves buzzing as the building draws nearer — a subtle signage that reads orgasm donors in minimalist font comes to view. no neon, no sleaze, it could pass for a high-end spa if you squint.
but — as you push through the heavy door at exactly 7:00pm — the illusion shatters.
bright white walls assault your eyes first, sterile and unrelenting under the harsh fluorescent lights that hum overhead angrily. the air smells faintly of antiseptic, cool and clinical, with zero warmth to soften the edges. your eyes water from the flare, a sharp sting that makes you blink hard.
you part your lips to voice the critique bubbling up, but then johnny shows up, coming from a side door.
your best friend has swapped his usual grey joggers for tailored black slacks and a black button down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those veined forearms that flex as he gestured you forward. his hair’s styled back but a few strands rebel, giving him that effortless edge.
“hey,” he greets, voice low and teasing, “right on time. come on back.”
“this lighting,” you start, the words spilling out before you can stop them, “it’s like staring into the sun. how are your clients supposed to–”
he holds up a hand, stopping you mid-sentence, “please save all criticism for the end of the session,” he says, firm but with that signature smirk tugging his lips, like he’s already anticipating your roast.
he knew you too well. knew that the two of you would never get anything done if you started your critics already.
you roll your eyes, the gesture dramatic enough to convey your exasperation. “fine.” you mutter, biting back the flood of suggestions.
mental note: this place should feel relaxing the second you step in. dim lights, softer hues on the wall, plush seating, maybe some ambient music or scented humidifiers. anything to ease into the vibe. not this doctor’s office nightmare that screams ‘pap smear incoming.’ it’s killing the mood before it even starts.
as you follow him down a short hallway, taeyong’s voice cuts through like a burst of sunlight. he pops out from what must be a prep room, all eager energy and bright smile, dressed in a similarly professional getup — slim-fit shirt hugging his lean frame with pants that accentuates his build.
“y/n! thank you so much for doing this for us. we know it’s a lot to ask.”
he steps closer, clasping your hands briefly in his. cool palms, gentle squeeze, his enthusiasm genuine, almost boyish, a stark contrasts to the room’s chill. you can’t help but soften a fraction, even as your brain whirs with more critiques.
“it’s…unconventional but i am curious,” you admit, smiling at him.
taeyong nods thankfully while johnny’s smirk deepens, his hand brushing your lower back to guide you inside one of the doors in the private rooms.
✚ THE APPOINTMENT ✚
johnny’s hand lingers a beat too long on your lower back as he nudges you through the door, clicking it shut behind him.
the inside is no better than the lobby — worse, even. the lights blaze down like surgical spotlights, white and merciless, making your skin prickle. you squint against the glare, blinking away the burn as your eyes adjust to the setup.
in the corner, sits a white table, bare except for a single chair tucked under it. but dominating the center of the room?
a doctor’s examination table.
padded in white paper, complete with stirrups at the end — straight out of a routine check-up. the kind where you brace for a cold speculum and awkward small talk about your last period.
no silk sheets, no mood lighting, no hint of the erotic promise johnny was hyping up. just clinical efficiency that screams spread ‘em for science.
you spin on your heels, dress swishing against your thighs and lock eyes with johnny. he’s leaning against the wall now, arms crossed over his chest, that expectant gaze pinning you in place. his dark eyes search your face, trying to gauge your thoughts.
“what the fuck?”
the words burst out of you, sharp and unfiltered, echoing off the sterile walls. your hands plant on your hips, “this is your big seduction setup? i feel like i’m here for a pap smear, not…whatever the hell this is supposed to be? this seems like a goddamn ob-gyn’s perverted wet dream.”
johnny pushes off the wall, closing the distance with that unhurried stride, his presence filling the room like he owns every inch of it. he doesn’t laugh it off like he usually would have. instead, his lips curve into a slow, knowing smile, the kind that’s both challenge and command.
“trust the process, y/n,” he says, voice dropping low, smooth as velvet. his hand finds your elbow, guiding you backwards until the back of your legs hit the examination table.
“sit. let’s start slow. you’re the client. i’m your…donor.”
you huff a breath, but his grip firms enough, until you’re sitting on the table, legs dangling off the table.
“this is insane,” you blurt out, voice laced with sarcasm as the paper crinkles under your weight, “not hot. not even a little. it’s like role-playing a doctor’s visit gone wrong and—”
he steps between your knees then, hands settling on your thighs, light at first, thumbs trading idle circles that send an unwelcome shiver racing up your spine, shutting you up.
a decade long friendship, and you’ve never been this close before. he smells like clean soap and that faint cologne you’ve memorized, a reminder of lazy afternoons and shared secrets, now twisted into this bizarre from of intimacy.
“feet up,” he instructs, nodding toward the stirrups, his tone professional but laced with heat, eyes never leaving yours, “we need to make sure you’re….comfortable.”
your breath hitches, a mix of resistance and reluctant curiosity bubbling up. you swing your legs up, heels clicking into the metal holds, the position splaying you wide — vulnerable, exposed, even with your dress still hiked modestly to mid thigh.
you clench you jaw before speaking again. “i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you say, more to yourself, the words tumbling out as you meet his gaze defiantly.
he gives you one last smile, his famous cheshire smile this time, a little comforting, before one of his hand slowly slid under your dress, inching it upward with deliberate slowness. no rush, no fumbling. leaving goosebumps behind.
“see? not so bad,” he murmurs, voice husky now. the tension builds, your muscles stiffening under his touch and despite the weirdness — a traitorous warmth pools low in your belly.
he leans in, breath ghosting over your ear, “relax. i got you.”
his fingers brush the edge of your panties, testing, teasing the fabric aside just enough to graze bare skin. you hold your breath, your body bucking up to his touch, betraying the sarcasm still sharp on your tongue, “this better be good, johnny. or your whole empire’s dead on arrival,” you warn him breathlessly.
“this will be good,” he says confidently, having full-faith in this idea, “—now lie back.”
his voice is steady and reassuring as he gently pushes you down onto the table.
the crinkly paper rustles beneath you, cool against your back, and you let your head rest on the thin padding, staring up at the blinding lights that make everything feel too clinical.
johnny’s hands move with purpose, hooking into the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your thighs, over your knees, past the stirrups.
the fabric whispers against your skin before he lets it drop to the floor with a soft thud, leaving you bare from the waist down, dress bunched up around your hips.
and with absolutely no warning — his head dips between your legs and his mouth finds your pussy in one bold motion, tongue flattening against your folds, licking a slow, firm stripe from bottom to top.
the sudden wet heat shocks you, pulling a gasp from your throat as your hips jerk involuntarily.
you didn’t think he’d just go for it like that — straight to the main event, no buildup, his lips sealing around your clit with a suck that sends a jolt through your core.
you try to close your eyes, forcing yourself to sink into the sensation, to let the rhythm of his tongue — circling, flicking, probing deeper — pull you under. but the harsh lights pierce through your eyelids, the sterile scent of the room clings to everything and the awkwardness clings to everything.
this might be someone’s wet dream. but it was definitely not yours.
your body responds, wetness gathering, but no real fire catching. your mood refuses to ignite.
after a couple of minutes, the frustration builds too high. you push at his head, fingers threading into his hair to lift him away.
“stop—johnny, this isn’t working.”
he pulls back immediately, lips glistening, eyes wide with slight shock as he straightens up between your thighs, “fuck….i never had a girl say that to me before.”
you roll your eyes as you sit, your hands behind your back holding you up, amusement cutting through the tension despite yourself, “it’s not…you.”
he quirks a brow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, curiosity sharpening his gaze, “then what is it?”
you think for a bit, “you just…you can’t start it like that. and this room is not helping. you need to get me in the mood first.”
“okay,” he nods, “got any tips on how i can do that for you?” he asks, actually invested, leaning his hands beside your hips, his body heat a welcome contrast to the chill in the air, almost caging you.
“hmm,” you ponder, biting your lip as you glance up at him, the defiance softening into something more collaborative, “maybe start with kissing me?”
“i can definitely do that,” he says, voice dropping low, that cheshire smile flickering back as he closes the distance. his hand slide up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek, you share one last look of confirmation and then his mouth is on yours — soft at first, testing, lips pressing with warmth that chases away the sterile cold of the room.
you’d never thought you would be kissing your best friend of ten years like this, tongues tangling in a way that’s equal parts familiar and forbidden. but then again, you’d never thought he would have his tongue on your pussy first. you can taste a hint of you on his lips.
and surprisingly, it’s not as awkward as you’d imagined.
johnny is a good kisser. really good. his lips move with confident ease, parting yours to deepen the connection, his tongue sliding in to stroke against yours in slow, deliberate sweeps that make your pulse quicken.
the two of you find a rhythm really fast, breaths mingling as the kiss builds from tentative to hungry. one of your hands come up to fist his shirt, pulling him closer until his chest presses against yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric.
a soft moan escapes you, vibrating into his mouth and he answers with a low grunt, his grip shifting to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to anchor you both.
the kiss heats up, turning messy and urgent — teeth grazing lips, tongues dueling as you tilt your head for better access.
your legs are still wide open, held up by the stirrups, the hard line of his cock pressing through his pants against your bare core, sending sparks up your spine.
one of his hands make’s their way to your thigh, lightly squeezing, thumb circling the exposed skin where your dress rides up, pulling you into the friction as quiet moans spill from your lips, raw and unrestrained.
you were definitely turned on now.
you break for air first, barely, your forehead resting against his, breaths ragged, eyes closed, “johnny—” you murmur, voice breathless and whiny, “you can touch me now.”
“anything you want,” he says, smirking, voice husky as his hand slides under your dress. fingers finding your clit with unnerving precision.
he rubs slow circles over the bud, the slick heat between your legs betraying just how turned on you are now — your pussy coating his fingertips as he presses firmer, parting your folds and teasing your entrance.
you can’t help but pull him back into the makeout session, lips crashing against his desperately, tongues sliding wet and frantic.
then — two thick digits thrust into you, shallowly at first, the initial intrusion making you gasp into his mouth. his fingers felt so fulling already. nothing like the way yours feel when you touch yourself. his hits deeper, perfectly curling to stroke that sensitive spot that makes your hips buck against his hand.
“fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts against your lips, eyebrows a bit furrowed as his fingers stretch your walls with each plunge, scissoring them apart and grazing every ridge inside you.
“holy shit — johnny,” you cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, the building heat coiling tighter, your body arching involuntarily.
then his thumb flicked back and forth over your clit — and your muscles weaken, spine going liquid. you can’t hold yourself up anymore. with a gasp into his mouth, you slump back onto the examination table, the cool paper crinkling under your shoulders as you pull him down with you, his body following without missing a beat.
he hovers over you, his free hand planting beside your head to steady himself while the other keeps driving into your pussy, faster now, curling just right, hitting your g-spot with deliberate force.
“johnny—oh god, right there,” you whimper, head falling back, as you rock your hips up to meet his thrusts, chasing the friction that’s turning your insides to fire.
johnny’s breath fans hot against your neck, lips brushing your ear, “that’s it, feel how you’re squeezing me? so fucking wet for me,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, encouraging, the stretch burning sweetly while his fingers fuck you deeper, knuckles bumping your clit with every slam.
“fuck—fuck—fuck—” you squeeze your eyes shut as the pressure builds unbearably fast, your pussy clenching around him.
he doesn’t let up, his fingers relentlessly curling inside you, thumb circling your swollen clit in tight loops that make your toes curl on the table. if it weren’t for the stirrups holding you open, your legs would definitely be squeezing shut to gain a moment of relief.
“breathe through it, baby,” johnny murmurs, his voice low and commanding.
the pet name hits you like a spark, spiraling through you, twisting the building orgasm into something deeper, more consuming. your walls flutter and tighten even more around his invading fingers, a sharp, involuntary squeeze that betrays how that single pet name pushes you closer to the edge.
he feels it immediately — the way you clamp down on him, hot and slick, your body pulsing in rhythm with his words. he can’t help but feel smug.
“gonna get you all ready for me,” he grunts, a low growl rumbles from his throat. then he adds a third finger, stretching you even more, his eyes locked on your flushed face, drinking in every twitch and whimper.
“let it build, baby—fuck, you’re gonna come so hard,” he growls, his fingers curling harder, faster.
your breaths come in sharp gasps now as the edge rushes closer, your walls continuing to flutter around his digits.
“johnny—,” you moan his name, the sound breaking from your throat raw and desperate, just as the wave crests, ripping through you like a storm.
your first orgasm hits you like a brick as you gush slick that soaks his hand and drops onto the table beneath you, staining the paper as he milks out every last shudder from you.
“that’s it baby, cum all over my fingers,” he says darkly, a small smirk on his face as your pussy spasms wildly around his fingers.
after a moment, johnny eases his fingers out slowly, his hand glistening with your release, spreading it along your inner thigh, painting you with your own cum.
he watches you, that smug pride radiating from him like he’s just conquered something monumental.
your chest heaves, breaths coming in ragged bursts, and for a couple of seconds, he just lets you lie there, a hand massaging your thigh, stirring goosebumps along your skin and slowly pulling you back to reality.
when your eyes finally flutter open, hazy and unfocused — he’s right there. hovering closer, his cheshire grin in full force, way too proud like he’s won some secret bet against your skepticism.
he slides his clean hand under your back, the other still slick on your thighs, as he helps you sit up, removing your feet off the stirrups.
your legs dangle off the edge of the table again, weak and jelly-like, but his grip is steady, grounding.
“fuck,” you finally manage to say, “so what now?” you ask, voice breathy and a little wrecked, your gaze flicking down to where his fingers, still shiny from you, rest casually on your skin.
“well…” he hums, drawing it out low in his throat. he leans in a fraction, “we can keep going and i give you another one or…we can stop here. whatever you want — you tell me. that’s how this works, after all.”
fuck.
has your best friend always been this hot?
yes. but you’ve been ignoring that fact for ten years.
now — his words hit different and your mind is going crazy with the way his touch lingers, the warmth of his large hand still tracing lazy patterns on your thigh.
the heat in your belly hasn’t faded. in fact — it was stronger now. ready to flare at the slightest provocation.
you can feel the pull. that enticing ache building again, your body already craving the stretch, the friction — him.
and he sees it, clear as day — the calculations flickering across your face, the way your breath hitches when his fingers flex against you.
the skepticism since he first pitched this insane clinic idea cracking under the weight of what just happened — what he’s capable of pulling from you — with his hands alone.
the appeal hits you like a revelation. this isn’t some clinical farce. it’s raw, unfiltered pleasure tailored just for you. no judgments. no expectations beyond chasing the next high. your body hums with it, that post-orgasm flow sharpening into hunger, and yeah...maybe you were starting to get it now. as ridiculous as it sounds.
he smirks wider, tilting his head, eyes dark and knowing and you know he’s enjoying this a little bit too much.
“what’s it gonna be, doctor?”
your pulse thuds in your ears, the sterile hum of the clinic fading into white noise as you meet his gaze, the defiance from earlier melting into something hungrier.
“fuck it,” you say, the words tumbling out, your voice steadier than you feel, “keep going.”
johnny’s grin turns predatory, satisfaction flashing in his eyes, “good choice.”
“but,” you start, shifting on the examination table, “i really don’t feel comfortable on here…i feel like i’m a patient.”
he laughs at that, the sound low and genuine, rumbling from his chest as he skims the room quickly.
there’s not a lot of options — just the sterile exam setup and that table in the corner.
without a word, he scoops you up in one fluid motion, his large hands under your thighs, lifting you off the crinkled paper like you weight nothing. a surprised squeal escapes you, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance, legs wrapping instinctively around his hips.
“johnny!” you half-laugh, half-protest, but he’s already moving, placing you gently on the coner table — the surface firmer, less clinical, feels almost normal under your ass. your dress settling haphazardly around your hips.
“this better?” he asks, hands lingering on your waist.
“much,” you reply, smirking up at him, the shift in position grounding you, making this feel less like an experiment and more like….you two.
your fingers curl into his shirt collar, tugging him down as you lean in, crashing your lips against his in a kiss that’s all heat and no hesitation. he slots himself closer between your thighs without missing a beat, his hips pressing forward, the hard line of his erection grinding against your core through his pants, drawing a muffled moan from you into his mouth.
you break the kiss just enough to tease, your breath mingling with his, “now…my donor,” you say, throwing his own word back at him with a playful lilt, your hand sliding down the planes of his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs under the thin fabric, feeling them flex under your touch.
“is cumming on your dick allowed?”
“that’s what i’m here for, doll,” he murmurs by your ear, voice a rough whisper that sends shivers racing down your spine, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there before nipping lightly.
if you didn’t already cross it before, you were definitely about to cross the line best friends shouldn’t even be teetering on now.
but hey…it’s all in the name of science! right?
his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, the friction of his clothed cock rubbing tight where you’re aching, your slickness soaking through to dampen the front of his pants. you arch into him, grinding back with a deliberate roll of your hips, the tease turning urgent as your fingers dip lower, fumbling with his belt buckle.
the metal clinks softly in the quiet room. he doesn’t stop you. in fact, he helps pop the button, shoving his pants and boxers down to his ankles, his cock springing free — already hard, thick and heavy and so…so…big.
“oh….shit,” you breathe out, eyes widening as you take him in fully.
you had an inkling that your best friend was big, just by looking at the size of his hands, but fuck…he is much bigger than your brain could’ve even imagined. the length curves slightly upward, veins prominent along the shaft, the head flushed and glistening with pre-cum.
he smirks, that signature grin pulling at his lips again as he watches your reaction, “is that a good oh shit or a bad oh shit?”
“it’s an oh shit, i don’t think you’re gonna fit,” you say, half-joking, half-serious, your voice laced with a mix of awe and nerves.
and still, you can’t help yourself — your hand reaches out, wrapping around his length, squeezing the girth that barely fits in your palm.
he lets you stroke him slowly, from base to tip, then again, feeling the heat of your fingers. a quiet hiss slipping from his lips at your touch, his hips twitching forward instinctively.
“don’t worry about that,” he grunts, eyes darkening as he stares down at where your hand works him, “i’ll make it fit.”
and then he’s slapping your hand away gently but firmly, taking control as he aligns himself against your entrance. the broad head of his cock pressing against your folds, parting them with ease, coating him with your slick, as he circles his leaking tip around your pulsing clit.
your breath catches in your throat, stomach already clenching from want. but before you could lose entirely, you push him back a bit with your palms on his chest, heart pounding.
“wait…we’re doing this without a condom?”
he rolls his eyes, amusement flickering in his gaze, but there’s no impatience in it.
“i know for a fact you’re on birth control…unless you prefer it with a condom?”
you shake your head no, the idea of that barrier suddenly feeling wrong, but practicality continues to nag at you.
“no, but what if you get a client that isn’t on birth control? or god forbid, a client that isn’t clean?”
he chuckles, low and throaty, leaning in closer so his breath fans over your lips.
“well, they’re not the one’s i’m about to fuck right now, are they?…i’ll worry about it when that happens, but right now…it’s just me and you,” his voice drops, seductive and intimate, wrapping around the words like a promise, making the room feel smaller, warmer.
just the two of you in this sex bubble.
and before you could point out something else — his tip nudges at your entrance, sliding in with a slow, deliberate push.
it steals your breath, the stretch immediate and intense even with just the head breaching you.
he’s sooo fucking big, filling that first inch like it’s a challenge, your pussy yielding but clenching around the intrusion.
you gasp, sharp and involuntary, your fingers going up and tightening around his bicep, nails digging into the hard muscle there for purchase, your mouth open in a silent moan. the burn is sweet, bordering on too much, but your body responds on instinct, hips tilting up to take more, slick easing the way as he holds still, letting you adjust.
“easy,” he murmurs, one hand stroking your thigh soothingly while the other braces on the table, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of expression, “breathe, baby. you’re doing so good already — so fucking tight around me.”
the praise hits low, sending a fresh wave of heat through you and you nod, exhaling shakily as your force your muscles to relax. inch by inch, he sinks deeper, the thick length of him stretching your walls — it’s overwhelming, the fullness making your toes curl.
a low whine escapes your throat as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, his balls pressing warm against your ass.
“johnny—oh god,” you whimper, your head tipping back as you hold your weight up on the table. he’s already so fucking deep it’s sparking that spot inside you with pressure.
he groans in response, the sound raw and strained, like he’s holding back everything to give you this moment.
“see? fit’s perfect. told you.”
“now…you gotta tell me how you like it. this will only work if i know,” his voice is husky, edged with restraint.
you nod in response and he starts to move — pulling out just enough to let your pussy grip him on the way back in, building the rhythm slow and teasing. the drag of his cock sends sparks up your spine, each shallow thrust testing your reactions, his eyes locked on your face like he’s memorizing every gasp and twitch.
“you like that?” he asks, voice low and gravelly, rolling his hips in a gentle circle onces he’s fully seated again, grinding against your clit with the base of his shaft.
“mmm, yeah—deeper,” you breathe out, your hands sliding up his arms to anchor yourself, directing him with your words and the subtle lift of your hips, “angle it up a little…right there—fuck”
he adjusts on the next thrust, bringing one of your legs higher and settling it on his shoulder, and when the head of his cock nudges that perfect spot inside you — your eyes roll back so far you see stars.
a loud moan spills from your lips, unrestrained and needy, echoing off the walls, “oh shit, yes—johnny!”
the slow build shatters into something urgent, his thrusts gaining purpose as he chases that reaction again and again.
“faster,” you moan out, the word a desperate plea, your body already chasing the edge. he follows well, hips snapping forward with more force, hitting that spot faster and faster, each thrust driving the air from your lungs in sharp gaps.
his grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise, holding you steady as he pounds into you.
“fuck doll, you feel so good,” he grunts, sweat beading on his forehead.
you try your best to meet his pace, pushing up with one of your heel planted on the table, your pussy clenching around him greedily. your fingers curling at the table behind you, knuckles white, trying your best to ground yourself as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core.
“don’t stop — oh god, johnny – just like that!”
the right sleeve of your dress falls of your shoulder mid-thrust, exposing more skin and it’s so hot to him — the disheveled look, the way you’re coming undone under him.
“fuck,” he growls at the sight, eyes raking over you hungrily before he reaches up and pulling both of your sleeves down completely. the fabric bunches at your waist, your black lace bra coming into view, the thin material doing little to hide your hardened nipples as your tits bounce up and down with every thrust, jiggling enticingly, drawing his gaze like a magnet.
“goddamn, look at you,” he rasps, thrusting deeper, his rhythm faltering for a second as he drinks in the view.
you grab one of his hands, trailing it up your body — over the curve of your waist, the dip of your ribs until he’s cupping your tit through the bra, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. the lace scratches against your skin, adding a teasing friction, and you arch into his palm with a whine.
“take it off,” you demand breathlessly. he doesn’t hesitate, one hand reaching for the hook and removing it swiftly, letting your tits spill free — heavy and flushed, nipples pebbled in the cool air. his large hand engulfs one breast, thumb flicking over your nipple, squeezing just hard enough to make you cry out.
“these are fucking perfect,” he grunts, leaning in closer, his thrusts never slowing as he continues to stimulate all your senses.
you pull him down for a kiss then, crashing your lips against his in a messy, open-mouthed clash. tongues tangle hot and desperate. you moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you and he answers with a deep grunt, hips continuing their thrusts even as your pussy flutters around him.
“johnny—fuck—i’m gonna—” your words break off in a gasp, the coil snapping without warning as you hold onto him for dear life.
and before you know it, you’re cumming all over his cock as your second orgasm hits.
“that’s it doll, cum all over me — just like that,” he groans, pounding through your orgasm with short, brutal thrusts, prolonging the bliss until you’re trembling, oversensitive and spent.
your body shakes, slick coating his length as he drives in one last time, grinding deep to feel every quiver.
he stops then, bringing your raised leg back down on the table but he doesn’t pull out — staying buried inside you, his cock twitching as he feels you pulse around him, making his breath hitch. the aftershocks hum through your nerves, sweat slicking your skin, his chest heaving against yours.
“think you can take more?” he asks, voice rough and low, his thumb stroking lazy circles on your hip as he watches your face, eyes dark with hunger.
you try to catch your breath, a light chuckle slipping out of you as your mind tries to catch up, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts. a lazy smirk tugs at your lips despite the haze.
“fuck—i mean, isn’t that the purpose of this whole thing? we keep going until i say stop?”
he reflects your smirk, that grin flashing wide and wicked, “now, you’re starting to get it.”
with a gentle but firm grip, he slides out and helps you to your feet, your legs wobbling a bit. your dress, already bunched at your waist, slips completely to the floor, leaving you completely bare except for your heels. the cool air hits your flushed skin but his gaze rakes over you like fire.
“fuck—you’re so hot,” he says, the words raw and appreciative, hanging heavy in the air.
yeah, that best friend line has been completely obliterated.
heat creeps up your neck but before it can make you blush fully, you take two steps, closing the distance, hands reaching for his button down. your fingers work the buttons open one by one, trembling slightly from the exertion, revealing the hard planes of his chest down to his rock hard abs.
you’ve seen his abs plenty of times, considering johnny loves walking around your shared apartment shirtless half of the time. but seeing it this close — you can’t help but admire, biting your lip as your nails graze down each line.
“like what you see?” he teases, an amused grin on his lips.
you roll your eyes playfully before shoving the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside, leaving him naked too — his cock still hard and glistening with your release, jutting out thick and demanding.
he watches you the whole time, arms loose at his sides, that intense stare making your pulse kick up again.
and when you’re done — he tilts your jaw up with two fingers, pulling you into a breathless kiss, your neck craning up as his lips crash softly at first, then deeper, tongues sliding slow and filthy.
before you can melt into it fully — he breaks away. spinning you around with a hand on your waist.
your palms slap against the cool wall. he presses in close, body caging yours, cock nudging between your thighs from behind.
with no warning — he thrusts back in with one smooth, powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt in your soaked pussy.
no easing in this time. now that he knows you can handle him.
the sudden fullness rips a sharp cry from your throat, your walls stretching around him again, the angle hitting deeper than before.
“johnny—ahh, fuck!” you gasp, forehead pressing to the wall as your body arches instinctively, heels scraping the floor for purchase, your tits squeezed against it.
it’s intense — the way he fills you up so completely, reigniting the fire that barely dimmed.
he doesn’t give you time to adjust, hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm, fucking you against the wall with grunts that vibrate through his chest into your back.
each thrust jolts you forward, tits scraping the surface, the friction adding sparks to the overwhelming pressure building for the third time.
“so fucking perfect like this — you can take it like a good girl, yeah?” he growls, one hand splaying across your stomach, holding you upright as your legs start to feel like jelly, knees buckling under the force.
his hold on you is so strong that he’s practically lifting you up. the tip of your heels the only thing touching the ground below you.
you whimper, at a loss for words, your teeth clenched so hard as you try your best not to break so quickly.
but he’s got you pinned, his grip firm on your belly and god, you can feel it — his hand pressing down on your stomach, the bulge of his cock moving beneath your skin with every plunge, the sheer size of him outlined through your abdomen.
it’s obscene, intoxicating, spurring you both on like a dirty secret.
“shit — shit — johnny, i can feel you — so deep —fuck — you’re huge,” you moan, the words spilling out in a haze, your pussy clenching harder at the though, slick dripping down your thighs.
“yeah, baby you like that?” he rasps, voice deep but strained with effort, “that’s me owning this pussy,” his fingers splaying wider over your stomach to push into the ridge forming there.
his other hand slides up to grip your hair, pulling you back onto him harder, making your eyes roll back as the slap of skin echo louder in the room. your legs are trembling, barely holding you, but he keeps you steady, bouncing you on his cock, his groans right by your ear as he watches the way your body yields to him.
“gonna make you feel every inch—cum again for me, doll.”
the pressure builds impossibly quick, your breaths coming in pants, your hand coming down to grip the arm around your stomach for support, every thrust sending jolts through you until you’re teetering on the edge once more, lost in the raw, pounding heat of him. his bulge under your skin a constant reminder of how deeply he’s claiming you.
it hits like a freight train — your third orgasm crashes over you so hard you can’t even make a noise anymore, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body seizes.
you’re sure a vein in your forehead is popping as your vision blurs at the edges, legs giving out completely as he lets you slump against the wall, held up only by his unyielding grip, the intensity leaving you boneless and dazed.
johnny pulls back just enough too look at you — smug as hell, eyes gleaming with triumph as he takes in your wrecked state.
“look at you — so beautiful when you come apart for me,” he murmurs by your ear, voice sweet yet thick with satisfaction.
but he’s far from done.
his cock is still rock-hard, throbbing inside you.
he doesn’t give you time to fully process the aftershocks, easing out with a wet slide before manhandling you again.
your gasp echoes as he guides you back to the corner table, bending you over it, face-down, tits pressed into the surface, ass up and exposed.
the position leaves you vulnerable, body still humming from the high, your mind foggy, trying to string thoughts together amid the haze of bliss and exhaustion.
he leans over you, chest to your back, his breath hot against your ear as he cages you in, “i think you can take one more,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell, the words laced with dark promise, as he parts your legs wider.
you’re so fucked out, words fail you — so you just nod, an incoherent yes that comes out as a whimper, head lolling to the side.
that’s all he needs.
“good girl.”
in one motion, he lines up and thrusts back inside, cock spearing into your soaked heat with a slick squelch.
you’re not sure it was possible, but the new angle hits even deeper, bottoming out against your cervix. and johnny — he doesn’t hold back.
he fucks you faster, harder, the pace relentless as his hips slam against your ass, the table creaking under the force. each thrust is punishing, building that impossible tension again.
you’re a mess.
drool slips from the corner of your mouth onto the table, screams tearing from your throat in broken cries of—
“johnny–johnny—johnny—fuck!”
your hands flail back, reaching desperately to hold onto him for dear life, fingers clawing at his thighs, pulling him closer even as it overwhelms you.
the room fills with the obscene sounds of skin meeting skin, your pussy slurping around him, the air thick with the scent of sex.
then his hand snakes around, fingers finding your throbbing clit, rubbing tight, firm circles — rough and precise, no mercy.
“c’mon baby, let go,” he practically growls, voice rough with his own building strain.
it’s too much, the dual sensation shattering you.
“no—wait—fuck, i can’t—” you babble, but your body betrays you, the pressure exploding outward.
your pussy convulses violently, pushing him out with a gush as you squirt all over him — hot jets of your juices spraying across his cock, stomach, and the floor in messy arcs, soaking everything in sight.
the release of your fourth orgasm drags a guttural moan from deep in your chest, body shaking uncontrollably as you collapse forward, utterly spent.
the way you squeezed him, the sight of you squirting, marking him in the rawest way — it all pushes johnny right to the edge, his eyes locked on the way your body erupts and the next second he’s groaning low and deep.
“shit—i’m cumming,” he rasps, stroking himself furiously, ropes of thick cum painting your lower back in hot, sticky bursts of white.
the warmth splatters across your skin, dripping down your skin as the top half of his body weight falls on you, pressing you into the table.
he holds himself up only with his elbows braced on either side, caging you in completely, his chest heaving against your back.
your shared moans of release echo in the room, the only sound breaking the heavy silence, raw and intertwined, as you both ride out the aftershocks.
his cock twitches against your ass, spent but still pulsing, while your walls flutter emptily, aching from intensity.
after a minute or three, the tremors fade and you turn around slowly, wincing at the soreness blooming between your thighs.
johnny straightens up, concern flicking in his eyes as he lifts you back onto the table with gentle hands, sitting you down carefully.
you lean into him without thinking, head finding comfort in the solid warmth of his chest, ear pressed to the rapid thump of his heartbeat slowing to a steady rhythm. his arms wrap around you loosely, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your bare back, tracing lazy patterns over the sweat-slick skin.
he breaks the silence first, voice soft and tentative, “did i hurt you?”
you shake your head no, nuzzling closer for a moment before pulling away just a bit, enough to meet his gaze. a teasing smile tugs at your lips despite the exhaustion.
“sooo….now that you came, does that mean the session is over? how does that work?”
he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, that familiar cheshire grin returning but softer now, less predatory.
“no…it’s only over once the client say it’s over.”
you quirk a brow, the words sinking in.
yeah, you definitely see the appeal of this whole thing now.
maybe your best friend is a genius after all — turning mind-melting ecstasy into a moneymaking business.
“do you want to keep going?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts, his thumb still stroking your skin.
you laugh at that, the sound light and breathless, your head falling back into his chest, “no, fuck…i’m so tired i just want to sleep it off.”
he laughs too, the vibration soothing against you, “so no reviews for today?”
you smirk up at him, playful, “oh, i got reviews…plenty of complaints too…but let’s save it for tomorrow.”
he laughs again, genuine and warm and when you yawn, wide and unapologetic, that’s when he nods, “okay, let’s go home,” he says softly, helping you slide off the table.
his touch is careful as he gathers your discarded clothes, kneeling briefly to slip your underwear back up your legs, fingers grazing your thighs with tenderness. he clasps your bra into place next, hooking it efficiently before easing your dress over your head, smoothing the fabric down your body like he’s done it a hundred times.
you watch him dress himself too, that easy confidence back in place. then he takes your hand, leading you out of t he room, the door clicking shut behind you on the echo of what just happened.
“wait–,” you say, pausing mid-step, “do we just…leave our mess in there?”
he chuckles, pulling you towards the lobby, “don’t worry about it, we’ll have someone clean it up,” he says, still holding your hand for some reason, fingers intertwined loosely, like it’s the most natural thing after everything.
taeyong’s head pops out from behind the computer at the front desk, his eyes lighting up with excitement when he spots the two of you.
“was it okay?” taeyong asks curiously, observing the way you’re leaning into johnny’s side, the subtle flush still on your cheeks.
“yeah, actually,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips, and the two men share a look — quick, loaded, like yeah, this business is going to work.
there’s a spark of triumph there, the kind that says they’ve just tested the waters and found them perfect.
taeyong smiles, sliding a sleek black bag across the counter then, “as our first ever client, you should be the first to have this,” he says, pushing it toward you with a wink.
you quirk a brow, curiosity piqued, letting go of johnny’s hand to grab the bag and peer inside. your fingers close around soft fabric, pulling out a hoodie — white, oversized, with the words orgasm donor printed boldy across the chest in block letters.
“wow,” you say, bursting into laughter, “you guys even have merch?”
the two of them laugh with you, the sound filling the lobby, light and infectious, “what can we say?” johnny says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, “we’re really serious about this.”
you shake your head, still chuckling as you fold the hoodie back into the bag, the absurdity of it all hitting just right after the intensity of the session.
and with johnny’s arm still slung over your shoulder you head out of the clinic together.
✚ THE REVIEWS ✚
you two didn’t make it very far last night, the weight of exhaustion crashing down the moment you stepped through the apartment door. the couch became your makeshift bed — clothes half shed, the orgasm donor hoodie swallowing you whole paired only with your panties underneath.
meanwhile, johnny stripped down to his boxers, collapsing beside you with a contented sigh, an arm under your head as sleep claimed you both in seconds. it’s not like the two of you haven’t fallen asleep together on this couch multiple times before.
now, the morning light filters through the half-drawn blinds, pulling you away first. your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the familiar clutter of the living room.
johnny’s still out cold next to you, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, his hair tousled across his forehead. he looks like your johnny — peaceful, almost boyish, a far cry from the commanding presence he wore yesterday.
a faint ache lingers between your thighs — a reminder of what happened. but it’s not unpleasant. just a quiet echo of pleasure.
you sit up, reaching for the notebook and pen on the coffee table to jot down your thoughts from yesterday’s session.
after a while, the page fills and you set the notebook aside, glancing at johnny’s sleeping form.
you pat his stomach rapidly, “wake up,” you say, voice soft but insistent.
he groans, low and muffled, burrowing deeper into the cushion, “ugh…five more minutes.”
you roll your eyes, patting a little harder now, “do you want your feedback or not?”
that does it.
he sits up quickly, blinking against the light, rubbing a hand over his face as his sleepy eyes adjust slowly. stray sunlight catches the sharp line of his jaw, and yeah, he looks cute like this.
“fine, i’m up,” he sighs, voice gravelly from sleep.
for a split second, the memory of yesterday flickers back. you ignore the way your body feels hot while recalling it.
but you push it away, forcing your playful best friend nature to snap into place — the ease of a decade’s worth of banter overriding the fresh intimacy. like the two of you didn’t strip bare and chase ecstasy together just hours ago.
you sit up too, smirking, “alright, mr. serious businessman,” you tease, your notebook already open in front of you, “review time. and don’t interrupt until i’m done.”
he chuckles, settling back against the armrest legs stretching out to brush yours as you sit opposite from him.
“yes doc, lay it on me,” his eyes sparkle with that familiar mischief, but there’s a genuine curiosity there too, like he’s hanging on your every word already.
“one,” you start, tapping the pen against the paper for emphasis, “you gotta get rid of those harsh lights. make the lobby feel more like a nice, relaxing spa. and not a doctor’s clinic. seriously, it was like walking into a hospital. who wants to get off in there?”
he nods slowly, “fair. we were going for clinical precision but yeah, ambiance matters.”
“two – you need to know your clients. why are they coming in? what’s their purpose? what turns them on? and you need to cater the experience to them. because i’m telling you right now, johnny, the doctor’s office setup ya’ll have going on? sure, that might be someone’s fantasy. but not everyone’s. personally, i thought it was creepy.”
his eyebrows shoot up, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to defend the vibe, but you point the pen at him warningly.
“zip it. i know you’re thinking about role-play potential, but save it. this is about customization, not one-size-fits all.”
he closes his mouth, nodding again, though his eyes dance with amusement.
“three,” you continue, gaining momentum, your voice steady as you lean into the critique, “you need some sort of consent waiver or this whole thing can fire back on you fast.”
johnny’s expression turns serious for a beat, and he gives a firm nod, “already on the list, but noted.”
“four — the condoms thing? make sure everyone who signs up for your service is tested. same goes for your donors. and i highly suggest that every donor wears a condom. i mean, come on — health first, even in fantasy land.”
he shifts slightly, his leg pressing a bit more against yours, but he just hums in agreement, fingers drumming on his thigh.
“five – i’m sorry but the whole ‘we keep going until the client says stop,’ is bullshit okay? treat yourselves with respect too, just because you're selling this service doesn’t mean you can’t have lines as well. what happens if they want to fuck for 8 hours straight? it’s not plausible. set a limit. and if they’re not satisfied then i don’t know, maybe you can offer a partial refund.”
johnny chuckles softly, leaning in a bit “but what if—”
i “nope,” you cut him off, poking his knee with the pen, “limits protect everyone. end of story.”
he settles back, chuckling again, his gaze warm and attentive.
“six,” you say, flipping the page for effect, “reviews are important. i think you already know that. so keep implementing that. make it easy, anonymous if they want, and actually use the feedback to tweak things. it’s gold for building trust and improving.”
he nods enthusiastically this time, no attempt to speak, “i completely agree.”
“and lastly,” you finish with a grin, closing the notebook with a satisfied smirk, “i like the hoodie. it’s fun, comfy, cheeky — the perfect merch to make people laugh and remember the experience.”
johnny bursts out laughing at that, reaching over to ruffle your hair, “thanks for the reviews, doc,” he smirks as you two share a smile.
✚ END OF SESSION ✚
bonus scene:
“thanks for the reviews, doc,” he smirks, “but have i ever told you…how hot you get when you talk like that?”
he shifts closer on the couch, his body heat cutting through the morning chill, that grin widening as his knee nudges yours.
the air thickens, charged with the same electric pull from yesterday's session.
“all stern and commanding, my little know-it-all,” he murmurs, voice dropping low, his hand brushing your leg.
your pulse quickens, body leaning in before your brain catches up, heat pooling low in your belly. but you catch yourself, planting a hand on his chest.
“nu-uh, suh,” you say, pushing him back with a playful shove, though your voice wavers just a touch. “don't even think about it.”
he tilts his head, eyes gleaming with amusement, feigning innocence, “think about what?”
you smirk back, crossing your arms to hold your ground, “you're not starting a friends with benefits relationship with me when you're about to open a sex clinic.”
he laughs, deep and rumbling, the sound vibrating through you, “well…the clinic isn't open yet,” he teases, his hand sliding up your leg, to your thighs and settling on your hip, fingers digging in just enough to pull you closer across the cushions.
his touch is firm, insistent, drawing you into his orbit, your breath syncing with his.
“hmmm... i guess it isn't?” you murmur, the words half-question, half-surrender, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his gaze.
he knows he's got you — that smug spark in his eyes says it all.
in one smooth motion, he tugs you onto his lap.
then he plays with the hem of your hoodie, the two you of talking with your eyes as you give him the go signal.
he pulls the hoodie up and over your head, leaving you bare from the waist up, skin prickling in the cool air, your breasts bouncing free.
“review number two,” he says, voice husky, echoing your earlier words as he settles you onto his lap, straddling him, “know your client.”
“what about it?” you ask, breath hitching, trying to cling to that confident front even as your body betrays you, thighs clenching around his.
“does my client like getting her tits sucked?” he looks up at you, eyes still soft from sleep, but his words drip with filth, thumb circling your nipple teasingly.
you nod, swallowing hard, “she does.”
“good to know,” he growls, before his lips close around your nipple, hot and wet, tongue flicking the peak as he sucks hard. the pull sends a jolt straight to your core, your pussy clenching empty, already slick with want.
his free hand grips your ass, kneading the flesh, pulling you down so you grind against the growing bulge in his boxers.
you moan, fingers threading into his messy hair, holding him there as he switches to the other breast, teeth grazing just enough to sting before soothing with a swirl of his tongue.
“johnny—” you gasp, hips rocking instinctively, the friction of his hard cock pressing through the thin fabric making you ache.
this is definitely much hotter than yesterday. the couch a familiar place. making everything feel more intimate. real.
he hums against your skin, the vibration buzzing through you, then releases your nipple with a pop, looking up with that wicked smile.
“see? customizing the experience already. what else does she like? tell me, doc — guide me through it.”
his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly so he can yank down his boxer enough to free his thick cock. it springs up, heavy and veined, brushing your inner thigh.
your mouth waters at the sight, that familiar stretch from yesterday flashing in your mind — the way he fills you so completely.
“she likes... you inside her,” you whisper.
he doesn’t waste another second, tugging your panties to the side, his tip nudging your wet folds.
“then take it baby, come on,” he groans, hands on your hips guiding you down slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretching your pussy wide.
the initial breach makes you whimper. you’re not too sure you could ever get used to his size.
you sink lower, feeling every ridge and vein as he claims more space inside you, your body trembling from the fullness, as he reshapes you to fit him all over again.
he's so deep, the tip pressing against your cervix, that overwhelming stuffed feeling making your toes curl — his size dominating every nerve, leaving no room for anything but him.
“god—johnny—,” you start to move, rolling your hips in a slow grind, his hands helping set the pace, thumbs digging into your skin to lift and drop you with control.
the size of him makes it intense, your thighs quivering from the effort, but the pleasure builds fast, that perfect friction against your inner walls amplified by how he stretches you so wide.
“just like that, baby—ride me just like that,” he pants, thrusting up to meet you, the slap of skin echoing in the quiet living room.
your breasts bounce with each bounce, and he captures one again, sucking as you ride him harder, chasing that building pressure.
you pick up speed, grinding down harder, your clit grinding against his pubic bone, the way his thick base rubs your entrance sending sparks through you.
“god, we should have done this years ago,” he growls against your skin, voice rough, his hips bucking up sharper now, driving deeper.
his words turn you on even more. you lean forward, hands on his chest for leverage, riding him harder, the rhythm turning frantic. your ass slaps against his thighs, the couch creaking under the force, and you feel him throb inside you, swelling even thicker, pushing your limits further.
and he meets your pace. fucking up into you faster and faster to the point your arms shake, falling forward, high-pitched moans spilling from your lips.
the coil tightens unbearably, your walls clamping down on his massive cock as he keeps thrusting up into you, his balls slapping your skin.
“johnny—i'm close,” you whine by his ear, the words tumbling out between gasps, your body on fire from how he fills you completely, no empty spaces, just pure, overwhelming sensation.
“me too, doll, fuck — come with me,” he grunts, his large hands squeezing your as as he continues his relentless pace, slamming you down onto him.
your body listens to him well, your orgasm ripping through you just like that. you cry out, nails digging into his skin, and he follows right after, groaning your name as his cock jerks, hot spurts of cum flooding your depths, painting your walls as you ride out the shared high together, bodies locked in shuddering release.
minutes pass in lazy silence, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his shoulder as the high fades into a warm, sated glow.
you lift your head, meeting his gaze, those dark eyes soft now, stripped of the earlier hunger but no less intense.
he’s still inside you, the weight of him a comforting pressure, your walls molded to his girth like they've forgotten how to let go.
gently, you reach up, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead, the strands sticking slightly to his skin from the sweat of your shared frenzy.
“you know, if you ever get tired of being a donor...” you say, the words trailing off with a knowing lilt, the implication hanging between you like an unspoken promise.
he chuckles low, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating where you're connected, making you shift slightly and feel him nudge deeper.
“i know where to find you,” he finishes your sentence, knowing you too well. his voice is rough from exertion but laced with that familiar tease, his hands stroking your back in slow, soothing circles.
you smile, leaning in closer, your nose brushing his, “mhm, you know where to find me,” you reply, the words sealing the quiet vow.
then he closes the gap, capturing your lips in one last, slow kiss — soft and unhurried, tongues tangling lazily as if savoring the taste of each other after the storm.
✚ THE ORGASM DONORS ARE NOW OPEN ✚
—
18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
an: and the first founding father is done! anyone else hot and bothered rn? 🙈 because i was lowkey so horny every time i wrote for this 😇…i hope you liked donor johnny! let me know what you think! if you hate it please keep it to yourself i can’t handle hate rn bro mark just left nct 😐 ANYWAY, we go back to regular orgasm donor layout in the next stories! and a kind reminder: this whole entire concept is supposed to be silly! please don't take it too seriously :)
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