➳ hey my dudes, so I don’t really know if I’ll keep writing for tbz bc of the whole haknyeon debacle; it’s so fucked up and it hasn’t really sunk in that he’ll seriously won’t come back to the group, and the boys are quiet on it and he has Tor ight this injustice in court and I haven’t really heard any big resistance from deobi either so I’m just kind of fed up with their company and the fandom and the other boys, even or whatever
REQS CLOSED | BETA READERS
about me / rules 𖤐 masterlist 𖤐 bluesky 𖤐 rec directory 𖤐 buy me a coffee (every cent goes to gfm's of palestinian families)
➳ afab!reader x seungcheol (technically fem!reader bc of the term 'oppa' but i don't believe in those reductive rules, i personally call people hyung/oppa and noona/eonnie based on vibes, thx for coming to my tedtalk)
➳ WARNINGS: just smut, dudes, but pretty tame smut :3, oral (male receiving), fingering, pin sex (protected), cowgirl, lovey-dovey-ness BEWARE!, L-bombs dropped hehehehehe (can you tell this was entirely self-indulgent? // nicknames: baby, oppa (for him), love (for reader)
➳ AN: there was one instance of 'baby girl' in here but during the editing process the strength to leave it in (that's what he said) left me; I always try hard to also write stuff I'm not necessarily into bc I realise there's different preferences but boooyyy does that term give me the ick. :/ also, I obviously started this around 'lalali' times, finished drafting during 'Thunder' and only got around to final editing now. as a result, the timeline is a MESS! pls ignore that, thx, love u
masterlist
“You know, you should also take off your shirt more often,” was the first comment you made as you returned the laptop to Seungcheol, leaning against the couch behind you. The tone of your voice was teasing, searching for his gaze to add a wink. Just for good measure. To make sure he knew that you were just trying to pull his leg.
He giggled, avoiding your eyes in favour of scratching Kkuma behind the ears. She had trotted over to the two of you when you had first taken up residence on the living room floor. The pup had jumped into Cheol’s lap, snuggling up against his tummy. Now Kkuma was licking his hand as he was trying to pet her, her red bow on her head dangling precariously – come loose from all the affection she had been receiving from the two of you all evening.
Finally he asked, “You think?”
“Of course! Carats will love it.”
He was quiet, simply continuing to scratch Kkuma’s ears for a few seconds before replying, “I just don’t think I’m that kind of person. And after the injury and stuff…”
The silence sounded unfinished, so you waited for him to find his words and replete it.
“I should try harder for the fans…” he trailed off, his hands still absentmindedly rubbing his muscles. Reaching out your hand in, what you hoped was, a comforting gesture, you squeezed his shoulder.
“I’m sure Carats would rather see you healthy and happy. I was kidding earlier, Cheol. No one expects you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”
He finally looked up, his lips jutting out in a pout. A very kissable pout, in all honesty. His voice came out equally pouty when he asked, “But don’t you think they’re expecting it a little bit? Like, hoping for it?”
You mused over his question, the doubt in his eyes making your chest constrict.
“I think they would be happy, of course. But they wouldn’t mind if you kept your shirt on and buttoned up.”
Cheol’s expression still seemed unconvinced, so you hurried to add, “not to mention, it isn’t like couprangs are completely starved of your content. Remember that vacation photo of your bare back you posted not long ago? That was very sexy!”
Instead of a verbal response, Seungcheol merely cocked an eyebrow. It was hard to decide which expression – this or the pout – you found more attractive. Hoping that the burning of your cheeks wouldn’t give you away, you grinned widely. “See? Do this instead, and everyone will forget about whether you’re wearing a shirt or not!”
This finally got a laugh out of him, so full and honest that it jostled Kkuma in his lap. He cocked his eyebrow again, winking at you as you pretended to swoon. As you fell dramatically back against the couch, Cheol’s arm shot out, as if on instinct, to catch your head. His palm rested against the back of your head, the warmth radiating from it like a late summer bonfire. You didn’t move, simply tilting your head to look over at him.
“Are you re-enacting for me how Carats watch our videos?” He chuckled, eyes glued to yours as Kkuma tried to regain his attention by licking at his fingers furiously.
“Well, you should know what it’s like!”
“That’s how your friends react?”
“Me and my friends, yes,” you finally lifted your head again, Cheol’s touch following you for a second longer than strictly necessary.
“We’ve just spent thirty minutes watching music videos and you didn’t faint once.”
Before you could question if this was toeing the line too much, you had already replied with a joking “I only faint when you wink at me.”
Seungcheol gasped. “We just watched ‘LALALI’!”
You laughed at his expression of mock offence, as if you failing to faint at his wink reflected poorly on your character. Or on his acting. He was chasing your gaze when you turned to finally scratch an anxiously ignored Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m not going full-fan-girl-mode in front of you, Cheol.”
“Why not? We’re friends right?” When you looked up at the tone of his voice, he was still looking at you intently. His gaze seemed more intense than usual, somehow darker and purposeful. But it was gone within a second, leaving you to wonder whether it had only been your illustrious imagination. You simply shook your head in soft refusal, “trust me, you are not ready to see that. The only person I am fully unhinged with is Bora, and that’s just because she behaves the exact same way.”
“Oh, come on!” He was whining again, presumably wearing that heart-melting pout. So you decreed it safer to continue looking at Kkuma. Unfortunately, it only led him to lean in closer, cocking his head in an effort to squeeze into your line of vision. Even more unfortunately, this meant that, upon looking up, your face was mere inches from his. And if his pouting drew your eyes to his lips, that really couldn’t be considered your fault. Your eyes kept flickering between his pouty lips and the pleading gleam in his eyes. The stare-off lasted a moment too long before you remembered to lean away.
“I want to see you react to LALALI.”
“But we just watched it!”
“So? We just watch it again. I want to see your honest reactions,” there was just a beat of hesitation before he explained, “to know what Carats feel when they watch our music videos.”
While he had been talking, the pout had never left his face. On the contrary, Cheol had – further – taken to puffing out his cheeks, giving you a really hard time trying not to squish his face.
“You’re doing this on purpose!” You groan, throwing your head back. His hand shot out again.
“Of course,” he murmured, softly turning your face back towards him. When your eyes met, he dropped his hand, as if the back of your head had spontaneously spouted spikes. You had no way of knowing if it was because of your look of shock or because he realised he was sending signals that he had no intention of sending.
Cheol handed you the laptop again, smiling as if nothing had happened. Which it hadn’t, technically.
“How about this, I’ll show you the new unit song that Mingyu and I have been working on. Something new to react to. And there may or may not be winking involved.” His tone was unbearably teasing. If you looked at him now, you were sure he would just wink at you again.
You knew that Cheol knew that he had you convinced the second he had employed that puppy pout. Why pretend any longer that you were putting up a fight?
Your voice sounded far off to yourself when you said, “Anything for the fans, huh?”
A familiar nagging voice returned, reminding you not to read too much into his actions or his interest in your reactions. Reminding you that Seungcheol had explained himself. The two of you were friends. You were helping him get a better understanding of the fandom. With the added benefit of boosting his ego a little. That’s why he was interested. That’s why you were watching music videos early. Not because you were special or he felt differently about you.
A sigh escaped you as you clicked through the files he indicated. Seungcheol shifted even closer to you, Kkuma whingeing in annoyance at all the movement. Suddenly the air felt stiff as Cheol’s thigh pressed up against yours, his arm on the couch behind you, wrapped around your shoulders, so he could lean in closer and watch alongside you. If you turned your head to the side, you would be able to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“If you’re sitting this close, you’ll probably get smacked in the face a bunch of times. I have very physical reactions.”
“Hmmm,” he mused, as if moving away was a difficult decision to make, “I think I’ll be able to block your flailing arms.”
You gasped in pretend offence, “Flailing? My arms don’t flail! They move gracefully and accurately! How long have you known me?”
He laughed again, full-bodied, in a way that vibrated through his whole body. The feeling diffused through your body from where your thighs were pressed against each other’s.
“Years. But apparently I’ve also never seen you react honestly to a K-Pop video.”
“Well, if I did, you would have gotten jealous!” You meant it in jest, nudging his shoulder and winking cockily for good measure. To your surprise, instead of meeting your joke, Seungcheol’s eyes darkened. The small yes that he replied with sounded entirely too serious. Maybe it was the late hour, the bottle of wine you had shared over the course of dinner or the physical proximity. Whatever it was, something in the air tonight had Seungcheol gently poking the existing boundaries of your relationship. Or, perhaps, one of the aforementioned factors simply had your wishful thinking take the helm, hoping to see signs that weren’t actually there.
Fuck it, you thought, looking over through hooded eyes and whispering, “Don’t be, you know you’re always my favourite.”
You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning back immediately to make sure you weren’t making him uncomfortable with the closeness. Turning back to face the laptop screen, you missed the way Seungcheol leaned in for a second, lips parted slightly. You missed how he blinked himself out of the stupor. You missed how his eyes traced your profile as you started the video, his gaze softening at the vision of you in his arms.
Instead, you were greeted with the opening scene of the new GyuCheol subunit’s music video. The intro started, you tapping your foot along to the rhythm. You made it all the way to the first solo shot of Mingyu before Cheol reached over and pressed fast forward.
“Hey!” You exclaimed, slapping his hand away, “I thought you wanted my reactions?”
“Yeah, but we can skip the less important parts.”
“How dare you suggest that Kim Mingyu is unimportant! He’s my favourite!”
“I thought I was your favourite!” Cheol’s tone was somewhere between indignation and genuine upset.
“All of you are my favourites!”
“That’s definitely not how favourites work.”
“Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it? Because—”
“No,” he interrupted you, quick fingers jump across the keyboard to pause the video.
“Huh?” You started, “I’m sorry, what?”
Seungcheol’s hand slammed the laptop shut and pulled it off the coffee table; he threw the device onto the other side of the L-shaped couch beside you. Cheol’s free hand came up to turn you towards him.
“What are you—”
“You don’t get to see it again until you’ve told me who your actual favourite is.”
Eyes met, yours wide in surprise, his narrowed in conviction. He leaned back to give you more space, but wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand towards him and away from reaching, futilely, for the laptop.
“Okay, first of all,” you started, attempting to tug your hand back, but Seungcheol’s grip remained firm. “First of all, you’re the one who wanted me to watch this!”
Cheol only grinned, shrugging his shoulders.
“And secondly, aren’t you the guy that said he would only get jealous if Carats liked other groups, not other members?”
“I said that?”
“Yes you did!”
“Hmm,” he cocked his head as if he was considering your words, “I don’t think I did.”
“Ugh, you incorrigible gaslighter!”
Cheol giggled, dropping his head to your shoulder. He mumbled against your collarbone, “That statement only goes for regular Carats…”
His breath tickled against your skin as you rolled your eyes, pretending like your heart wasn’t going to jump out through your throat any second. It was difficult to stay mad at him when he was cuddling into your side like that.
“So I’m not a regular Carat?”
“No,” he whispered. If it wasn’t for the soft exhale against your skin, you would have missed his reply entirely. Trying to lean in closer to catch the rest of his sentence, you realised there was nowhere closer to go. You still made out his next words, “You’re special.”
You’re special. It wasn’t a side effect of the alcohol or your imagination. You were special to him.
If things had turned out differently, you would have attributed what followed to a cruel joke of fate. A temporary lapse of judgement brought on by the booze or the drowsiness or the comfortable warmth of his body next to yours. But with the way things went, it was more of a stroke of divine intervention, a heavenly kick in the butt.
Whatever it was that made you lean forward, tilt your head, and press your lips to his, it somehow bypassed all revision by your disciplined, fully-developed and entirely in-control frontal lobe. Or she was betraying you. The bitch.
At any rate, your lips were now pressed against Choi Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol – close friend, certified insanely attractive person, and leader of one of the biggest boybands on the planet. You would have pulled away the second these thoughts occurred to you. But of course your brain was too slow, no surprise there. Before you could react and pull away, Cheol’s hands were on you. One rested lightly on your cheek, the other tangled into your hair, effectively keeping you from moving out of his space.
Your cognitive functions were still stuck on the fact that he hadn’t turned away and rejected you softly when he cocked his head and nibbled at your bottom lip. At that point any thought of rationality flew out the window. You gave in easily, finally melting into his touch, into his heat. It was seeping through his clothes, small sparks of warmth travelling through your body and lodging in your chest until it felt like there was a candle ignited behind your ribcage.
Your arms snaked around his neck, soft and loose, as if the warmth was actively melting all of your muscles. If you still had had a faculty of rational thought, you would have cringed at the frankly embarrassing whine escaping you at the feeling of his tongue and his hands and his warmth pressed against you. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, both of you turned halfway, Kkuma trapped between your bodies, so you had to move apart much sooner than you would have liked. Seungcheol gave you no way to gauge his expression, immediately burying his face in your neck again. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, coming out in slight pants. The noise that escaped him was somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.
“Sorry,” he eventually breathed.
“For what?” You giggled. Maybe you would have been worried by the implications of that word, if he hadn’t still been hanging off your neck like a baby monkey.
“I think I’m a little drunk…”
You didn’t say anything in reply. Knowing his tolerance and how long it had been since you two had finished the wine, you seriously doubted that statement. So you remained quiet, giving him space to figure out what he was really trying to say. Cheol remained silent until you threaded your fingers into his hair, at which point he sighed blissfully.
“Don’t stop,” he muttered.
“Do you want to call it a night?”
He grumbled into your neck in a way that made your heart constrict. Kkuma, too, seemed to sense her daddy’s distress and stood up between the two of you. Her little paws were trying to find purchase on you while trying to lick Cheol’s face in consolation.
“Since when are you so shy?”
He stayed silent for a while, just leaning into your hand that was still carding through his hair. Eventually, he mumbled into your side. When you asked him to repeat himself, he sighed, relapsing into silence. When he spoke up again, it sounded nothing like his first sentence.
“I’m not actually drunk anymore.”
You giggled, “then why did you say that?”
“Because maybe you hated that?” You could tell from the tone of his voice that he was pouting again.
“What? Making out with you?”
He whined, which just made you chuckle again.
“Did you get the impression that I hated it?”
“Mmmmhh… no…?”
“No,” you confirmed. He smiled against your skin and lifted his head to look up with soft eyes. Just studying your face for a few seconds, he finally reached up to your chin, beckoning you closer. “Then,” he murmured against your lips, “is it okay if we keep going?”
In lieu of an answer, you connected your lips with his. The two of you toppled back against the couch and Cheol’s arm locked around your waist, pulling you into his lap. Poor Kkuma had to escape with a quick jump and a yelp but neither of you were paying much attention. You were too busy focusing on the way Seungcheol’s thighs felt under you, how his hands left trails all over your body, and how firm his shoulders were when you grazed your flat palms over them. They continued their path down his arms, over his biceps and back up, one hand snaking across his back, the other running down his chest. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away sharply. But when you pulled back, his eyes were full of adoration.
“You good?”
He nodded, his eyes raking over your body, his hands following at a slightly slower pace. He sighed, “You’re just so…”
“I’m hardly the pinnacle of hot bodies,” you laughed.
“No, you’re perfect.” His tone was soft, matter-of-fact.
“Look who’s talking.”
He was blushing immediately, incapable of fighting the smile that crept onto his face.
“I should work on my abs a little more fi—”
“Not this again!” You reached forward, squishing his cheeks between your hands, and leaned in menacingly.
“If you talk about my favourite person like that again, I will have to ddakbam you!”
He laughed, “okay, okay. No reason to threaten me.”
Seungcheol smiled softly, his hands running down your sides and resting on your hips. He still didn’t seem fully convinced, as if scared you would change your mind once you saw him out of his t-shirt. As if he wasn’t incredibly fit.
“We don’t have to go any further,” you reassured him.
“Do you want to?”
You smiled softly, more concerned with his comfort than your own simmering desire.
“Do you want to, Cheollie?” You could watch his expression darken at the use of that nickname. Formerly, you attributed it to your imagination, but this wasn’t the first time you had been able to observe him react like this. It was the exact reason you were calling him by it right now.
“I want to pick you up, carry you to my bedroom and just have my way with you.”
You were smirking. “What’s stopping you?”
“You,” he huffed, “you haven’t given me the green light yet.”
Catching his lips in a short kiss, you whispered against them, “I really really want you to take me to your bedroom and have your way with me.”
You could feel his smirk, rather than see it.
“Alright. What my girl wants, my girl gets.”
He didn’t even give you time to calm your fluttering heart at his choice of words before he picked you up, his strong arms wrapped around you. He got up with you in his arms, and as he carried you towards the bedroom, there was nothing but wonder in his expression, his eyes glued to your face.
Cheol stopped in front of his bed, surprising you by laying you down softly. As he crowded you against the mattress, one biceps supporting his weight beside your head, you could watch his expression change in a beat. His gaze, so adoring a second ago, darkened, roving over your features like he was trying to take in everything at once. You were tempted to turn your head and nibble at the bulging muscle next to you, but his eyes were holding you in place. He grinned as he leaned closer, kissing along your jawline while drawing one knee up, slotting it between your legs. As he caught your lips in a kiss, suddenly uncontrolled and heated, his knee kept sliding up until it pressed against your core, eliciting a soft moan from you that Cheol swallowed readily.
His hands made quick work of the old t-shirt of his that you were wearing, tossing it aside before resuming the kiss. You sighed at the feeling of his hands finally meeting bare skin as they ran up and down your body, toying with the hem of your old sports bra. He was panting as he let up, resting his forehead against yours.
“Still sure of this?”
“Sure as anything.”
“If you waited a few months, you’d definitely have a better view,” he tried to joke. But his tone betrayed him. You saw the glimmer of real insecurity behind his façade.
“How about this,” you asked, pushing against his chest softly. Cheol went without resistance, rolling over onto his back as you straddled his lap. He was looking up at you with a mix of amusement and intrigue.
Undeterred, you proposed, “I take care of you first. And help you realise how fucking attractive you are. And then we can go back to you having your way with me.”
He chuckled, hands squeezing your hips to move you over a little. You had to push down the smugness at the feeling of his already rock-hard cock poking against your thigh. This wasn’t about you or about control. This was about showing Seungcheol how goddamn hot (and blind) he was. So you decided to give him a show. First, you got rid of the meddling bra. Then, slowly dragging your hands over your body, you swayed from side to side, rocking against the obvious tent in his pants. His eyes were tracking your every move, dark and mesmerised; his grip on your hips tightened. Your left hand found its way to your tits, massaging it. The other dragged down Seungcheol’s chest again, slowly and deliberately as you held eye contact with him. This time, he didn’t stop you. On the contrary, his breath hitched as you leaned down, pressing a row of featherlight kisses up the column of his throat.
“Baby,” he breathed, the sound just on the verge of impatience.
“Hm,” you hummed against his throat, ignoring him as your hands continued their ministrations. They were covering every inch of his upper body, smoothing over his arms and his t-shirt, up and down, until they reached the hem. You tugged at it, cocking a questioning eyebrow. Seungcheol’s eyes found yours, still blown wide. He nodded wordlessly, preferring to focus on chasing your lips instead of concerning himself with your hands. Exactly where you wanted him. You grinned, meeting his lips and giving him what he wanted, moaning into his mouth as his hands shifted lower and started kneading the flesh of your ass. He lifted himself up, so you could pull the shirt over his head, and used the opportunity to pull your body down, grinding you over his erection. In reaction, you used a not insignificant part of your own strength to push him back down. He frowned at the loss of friction.
“I’m not done looking… and kissing you, all over…” you trailed off, pouting and batting your eyelashes for extra effect. Cheol grinned.
“Who am I to say no to you?”
You smiled brightly, your hands wandering downwards from his shoulders over his chest and stomach. Your eyes trailed them, raking over every inch of bare skin you could see. You were sure there was something akin to hunger in your eyes. You hoped Cheol could see it too.
“Wow, you look good,” you murmured, almost to yourself, when you finally leaned down to continue the trail of kisses you had formerly abandoned, by fault of his t-shirt. You picked it up at his pulse point, continuing down his body.
His amusement vanished, breath growing shallower by the second. One of his hands entangled itself in your hair, loosely. You smiled, kissing downwards from his navel.
“You’re so adorable…” you looked up at his tone, and he cradled your face, “wanna keep going, pretty girl?”
The eagerness must have been evident in your eyes because Seungcheol chuckled at your expression. He made quick work of his pants, unbuckling his belt and shoving them down to free his dick. His hand found its way back into your hair, tighter this time. You went easily when he guided you downwards, eagerly pressing close to him, sticking out your tongue to lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, tracing the vein there. Cheol groaned above you, tugging at your hair lightly.
You smiled, kitten-licking at the head as your hands trailed over his thighs. For a few minutes you mouthed at his cock, taking your time; taking pleasure in the way Cheol’s groans kept growing more and more agitated while you pressed your tongue into his slit, one hand moving to squeeze and tug at his balls.
“Stop… ngh… stop teasing, baby.”
You smirked at the expression on his beautiful face – eyebrows knit together, his bottom lip red and swollen from the way he kept biting it in pleasure. His tone was still commanding, but you found it difficult to take him seriously while he was looking mussed up like this.
“Or what?” You asked, finally earning eye contact.
Cheol’s pupils were blown out, focusing on you with unmistakeable intention. His hand tightened again, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that slipped past your lips at the sharp tug. He mirrored your grin, a wild quality to his expression, “Keep misbehaving and you’ll get to find out.”
You held eye contact as you lowered your mouth around him, just the head for now. As your tongue swirled around him, one of your hands squeezed around the base of his cock, the other still paying sweet attention to his balls. Another smile and a wink, and Seungcheol (finally) broke. Contrary to your expectations, the pressure in your hair pulled you off instead of shoving you down.
“Cheol…?”
“Safe word.”
You gulped, “Uhm… red?”
“And when your mouth is otherwise occupied?” He cocked an eyebrow, a devilish smirk on his lips.
“I’ll tap out.”
“Good girl,” he cooed, soothing one loving hand over your cheek. “You’re still sure of this?”
When you simply nodded in reply, his hand returned to your locks, shoving you down in a singular abrupt movement. You offered no resistance as you took him into your mouth.
A few shallow thrusts, one short hesitation, “Think you can take more?”
Answering would have been a futile endeavour, so you opted for simply moaning around his length, pressing your tongue against the underside of his dick with intention. Trying desperately to shuffle even closer to him, you became acutely aware of the pooling wetness in your panties. You were forced to adjust again in order to be able to grind yourself against the floor, in desperate search of any kind of friction.
“Fuck,” he swore, forcing you to let your jaw go slack as he pushed deeper. Your eyes rolled back, looking at him where he was sitting above you. Cheol’s eyes were zeroed in on where your lips were stretched around his cock as his chest heaved with every breath. His hips bucked upward, inadvertently, judging by the way he apologised, his free hand stroking your cheek.
The hand that was resting in your hair tightened, holding you in place firmly as he began to move in earnest. You gagged, focusing on breathing through your nose, letting your tongue push against that vein as he lifted his hips off the bed and continued to fuck your mouth. Your hands tightened around his thighs, loosing track of time amongst the lewd sounds and the dim bedroom lighting, until he pulled you off him, telling you to give him a second.
You continued grinding yourself down on the floor, still chasing that stimulation until a small tug drew your eyes upwards to him. He was panting, staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were there, kneeling on his bedroom floor before him. Cheol opened his mouth but you only slapped his hand away. It was still holding you back. Disregarding his silent command, you dove back down to suck on his balls, your hand wrapping around his cock tighter than strictly necessary. As much as you had enjoyed him treating you like you were fragile and precious, it was high time he got what he wanted. After all, during your years of friendship you had become first-hand witness to the way he enjoyed taking charge. With how riled up he was, it was only a question of pressing a few calculated buttons before he would inevitably throw you onto the bed and finally make good on his promise. When your mouth returned to his member, he hissed, his hips twitching forward unwillingly.
“Sto— ah, shit, baby…” Cheol pushed you back, stern eyes. They were dark, caught between anger and arousal as he growled, “What did I just say?”
You bit your lip, taking your sweet time with a reply. In the most saccharine tone you asked: “Stop?”
“And did you listen?”
A shake of the head, still grinning. It didn’t seem to please him to see you so happy with yourself for disobeying him.
“You don’t want me to fuck you, huh? You can just tell me.”
Your eyes widened. Well, that was an unexpected development. If you hadn’t been so keyed up yourself, maybe you would have noticed the desperation in his gaze, the raging need to feel you against him, the impatience to finally take you. But as it stood, the tone of his voice sent you into a frenzied sort of worry. With a frantic shake of your head, you pawed at his skin, kissing up his torso once more.
“No, please. Cheollie, I’ll be good.”
Making your way up his chest, you were rewarded with a ribald look in his eyes. Gone was the insecurity, gone was the hesitancy. What remained was fucked out Cheol, his hair standing up in all directions – curtesy of your roaming hands; his chest heaving and flushed; the air around him generally bordering on desperate. He caught your jaw while you were making your way up, guiding you to his lips and crashing them against yours. This must be delirium, you thought, as he licked into your mouth, bit at your bottom lip, mirrored your whines.
“Cheollie…” you mewled again, feeling so evidently how that nickname affected him, especially coming from you. If only he would finally—
His hand loosened its iron grip on your jaw, both arms sneaking around you, grabbing at your ass. Seungcheol hoisted you up, practically throwing you over his shoulder onto the bed.
You pushed up onto your elbows, but a short, decisive shove of Seungcheol sent you back again.
“How about this time you stay down, hm, baby?” His eyes said that there was no debate to be had. For a second, you contemplated it, just for the hell of. Just to see what his reaction would be if you still refused to listen like his good girl. But, really, there was no more merit to his. This was the exact position you had been aiming for. Not to mention, his last threat still hung heavy in the air, and you weren’t going to take any chances or delays.
You laid back, one hand trailing up your inner high, sighing softly under his gaze. Cheol’s own hand, so much digger in direct contrast, followed the trail you were marking until he pushed you fingers aside in impatience. He dragged your old sweatpants down your legs (why were you still wearing those?), immediately resting a finger over your core.
“Hypocrite,” he grinned,” you make such a big show of teasing me, when you’re this soaked yourself.”
“I never pretended you weren’t affecting me,” you breathed, holding his eyes, determined for him to see your candour. He smirked.
“That so?”
He leaned down, lips attaching to your chest as the hand on your soaked centre finally started to move. Despite the small relief it brought, Seungcheol stubbornly refused to push your panties aside. You whined, threading your fingers into his hair. There was barely space in your head to resent him for insisting on teasing you after you had been so generous.
“Is this payback?” You whispered, desperation seeping into your tone. Cheol’s only response was the smirk you could feel against your skin. He continued to touch you, the pressure just enough to be teasing, never enough to bring you to your peak. With the breath of his name and another tug at his hair, you kept pleading with him. Cheol wasn’t usually able to resist your wishes.
He chuckled at your poorly veiled attempts. “You should be happy I wasn’t in the mood for actual punishment.”
“Cheoool,” you moaned, drawing out his name and grinding against his hand, you can’t just say that.”
“Don’t tell me you’re into that, baby.”
“If you’d finally put your fingers or dick where they belong, you would’ve felt exactly how ‘into that’ I am.” Undeterred, you kept grinding against him as Seungcheol let out an undeterminable sound. Somewhere between exasperation, regret, and slipping self-control. Most importantly, it finally got him to pull your panties down your legs and push your further up onto the bed. He followed immediately, resting one elbow next to your head and shifting his weight. It allowed his other hand to return to your core, with an added sense of urgency.
“We’re going to have to change the bedding,” he whispered as two of his fingers finally found your entrance. Your arms wrapped around his broad back as you tried hiding your face in his shoulder, considering for a second to bite down on his pretty skin. Maybe next time you would discuss it beforehand and get the green light.
“Feels good, huh?” His voice pulled your side-tracked mind back to the present. He sounded more smug than you had ever heard him. As he continued slowly fucking you open, he leaned down to whisper directly into your ear. “After all, it’s where they belong,” he parroted.
Robbed of all words, you could only close your eyes and throw your head back, focusing on the feeling of his fingers moving inside you. You heard him chuckle in response. The pad of his hand found your clit, exerting pressure while his fingers kept pumping in and out of your heat. Despite your continuous pants and moans, he felt the need to repeat his earlier query. This time, a distinct smugness snug into his tone, “feels good, baby?”
Apparently that hadn’t been a rhetorical question. His fingers stilled, until you forced yourself to open your eyes, meeting Seungcheol’s inquisitorial gaze. For a moment, you contemplated teasing him more, asking where the cocky promise of punishment had gone. But something in his gaze gave you halt.
“Feels so good, “ you murmured, holding eye contact. Your hand cupped his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. You felt the burning need to pull him in for a kiss, deep and honest and loving. Both of you groaned into it. When you broke apart, you whispered against his lips, “Now can you please get back to fucking me, oppa.”
He smiled down at you, shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” His smile turned into a smirk as you gave him your best innocent doe eyes. Seungcheol laughed outright.
“It’s working, love,” he admitted, eyes clearly stating the unsaid: two can play that game. The new nickname sent shivers up your spine. Or maybe it was simply Cheol’s frank tone or the unmistakeable emotion in his eyes.
“You’re stunning,” he continued. His hand left your middle as he leaned back a little. You didn’t even have time to protest at the distance before both his hands grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him, your core meeting his thigh. An involuntary moan escaped you. Immediately, you started grinding against Seungcheol’s thigh as his hands wandered over your body, mimicking your earlier movements.
“I know I was talking big game just now, but I need you to know that I lo— I really care about you.” His words were only half-registering. You were too busy pushing your body upwards into the warmth of his hands. Only humming in agreement, you simply pulled him down by the nape of neck.
He moaned into the kiss, giving up resistance quickly in favour of wrapping his big arms around you. Flipping both of you over like it was nothing, he pulled you into his lap, your body flush against his. The two of you stayed entangled, lost in each other’s touch for hell knows how long. It was only when Seungcheol started grinding up against you, his hard-on painfully evident, that you were made aware of any passage of time at all. In the end, it was him that finally broke the kiss, red in the face and panting like he’d just run a marathon.
“As much fun as this is, if I don’t get inside in the next few minutes, I think I might actually go insane.” You smiled and nodded, making clear that the feeling was mutual.
“There’s condoms in the top drawer.”
He nodded to the bedside table. You leaned over, refusing to leave his lap, so he steadied you with his hands on your hips. Opening the drawer, you had to hold back a giggle at the wild assortment. There’d be time to tease him about it. Later.
You grabbed a normal one, but exclaimed, “Oh! Flavoured! My favourite.”
“Sorry, should I have suggested that earlier,” he looked a little chastised but you shook your head.
“There’s always a next time,” you said with a wink as you rolled the condom down his length. He groaned in response, whether to your touch or the promise of a next time, you weren’t sure.
“You want it like this?” He asked, once you had resituated yourself on his lap. As if you needed clarification, he ground up into your soaked folds, his dick catching on your clit deliciously. Barely holding on by a thread, you nodded enthusiastically.
“Is this okay for your knee?”
Instead of a reply, Seungcheol scooped one arm under you, biceps bulging as he lifted you up. You had to fight demons not to get lost in the endless possibilities your imagination was offering you about that, instead choosing to keep your wits about yourself in order to help him inside of you. The manhandling daydreams would have to wait until later, or maybe just until that promised next time.
Cheol’s other arm flung around you, stabilising you as you started to sink down on his cock. Judging by the look on his face, he was having as much trouble as you staying focused while you sunk down, centimetre by centimetre. You had thought he hadn’t heard your earlier question or simply deigned it unnecessary to answer, when he buried his face in your neck as he said, “if I have to ruin my knee again just to fuck you right, so be it.”
The way you moaned his name in response, made him twitch inside you and momentarily lose all focus. You slipped through his grasp, taking his last few inches at once. The head of his cock hit you deeper than you would have thought possible, and it knocked all the wind out of both of you. Cheol threw his head back with a groan and gripped your hips like his life depended on it.
“Fuck, baby, gimme a second,” he whispered, pressing his lips against yours softly.
You grinned, squeezing around him as you teased, “need some time to adjust, baby?”
At the feeling of your pussy constricting around him, Cheol’s breath hitched. He searched for your gaze, his expression itself unsure whether it should be annoyed or pleading. In response, you only cocked an eyebrow, grinding down against him. It was a rare occasion to get Choi Seungcheol this meek, his big puppy eyes looking up at you. And while you thought it was heart-warming he was trying to be careful with you, you also thought it would be a waste of those perfectly huge arms to keep things this vanilla. So, while you watched his expression continue to falter as your arms snaked around his broad shoulders, you leaned in, kissing a torturously slow line of kisses along the side of his neck to his ear, to whisper, “please move, oppa. I want to feel you.”
You punctuated your statement with a sharp rut against his pelvis. He practically growled as he grabbed your ass roughly, holding you up slightly so he could fuck up into you at a punishing pace. Moaning, you dropped forward, leaning against his chest in an effort to ease the strain for him, but equally keen to egg him on more. You kept whispering his name in his ear as Cheol continued to bully his cock into your heat, hitting all the right spots with every stroke. You met every stroke, managing to find friction against his skin that dragged deliciously against your clit.
“Oh my god, Cheollie,” you whined, eyes screwing close as the arousal mounted and you could feel your core constrict. He groaned, long and drawn out, seemingly just as overwhelmed at the tightening sensation as you.
Barely able to form a full sentence, he asked, “you close, baby?” His question was punctuated by his thrusts, coming out in syncopation with his movements. You hummed in reply, a long string of desperate cries of ‘yesyesyes’ tumbling from your lips.
Cheol’s grip tightened impossibly as he continued fucking up into you, his arms starting to shake with the effort. You clawed at his back when he gave a few more sharp thrusts, each increasing the white, hot feeling bubbling in your core, winding you higher and higher. As you felt your core tighten, his lips found yours again, desperate and hungry, biting and moaning into your mouth like a man possessed.
“Come for me,” he panted, somewhere between commanding and pleading, “come on, baby. Come on my cock, be good for me, yeah?”
You couldn’t begin to fathom a reply, head vacant of anything except for Cheol’s last few words, playing on repeat as the pleasure exploded through you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you barely registered Cheol stuttering out a groan as he came into the condom, rocking both of you through your orgasms. In the aftershocks of it, you simply sacked forward against him. After a few breaths, he heaved you off of his lap and pitched himself forward, landing on top of you with his full weight. The air was pressed out of your lungs upon impact, leading you to smack him across the back of the head with little conviction.
Barely audible, you exclaimed, “Choi Seungcheol! Do you have any idea how heavy those muscles are?”
You tried to wiggle free, but Seungcheol snuck his arms fully around your middle, tightening his grip. He lifted his head from your shoulder, looking at you with a smug grin, “just give me a second, yeah? Then I’m ready for feedback.”
You snorted, trying to somehow manoeuvre his body off of yours, but he had your arms pinned to your sides.
“Cheol,” you whined, “I should go to the toilet.”
“Why bother?”
“It’s important to pee after sex,” you insisted, rolling your eyes. Making another attempt at wriggling free, you were stopped in your tracks when he murmured, “you can go once we’re finished.”
Too fucked out to think of a proper comeback, you just said, “we’re not finished?”
“You were the one who brought up a ‘next time’.”
“Yeah, next time, as in, like, next week or something…”
You cocked an eyebrow at him, receiving no response. Cheol just looked at you, expression remaining blissfully relaxed, pupils blown wide.
“We can also do it again next week, but you were so excited about those flavoured condoms.” He was smirking now, holding your gaze and wiggling his eyebrows.
You giggled, shaking your head. For a few seconds you pretended to mull it over before stating, “I guess you deserve a reward.”
This made him laugh, the sound reverberating through both your ribcages. Cheol leaned up a bit from where his head was resting against your collarbone, one hand turning your face towards him. He pressed his lips against yours, soft and sweet until you bit his bottom lip, slipping your tongue into his mouth. You used the welcome distraction to finally pull one arm free from his grasp, then broke the kiss. He simply continued to stare at you, so you used your newly liberated limb to brush some hair out of his face. He blushed.
Smirking, you imitate his earlier tone, “I lo— care about you, too.”
Seungcheol pouted, burying his face in your shoulder again. Despite his whining, you could feel the corners of his mouth lift. He shifted upwards, hiding against your hair to whisper, “you want me to say it? I’ll say it. Right now.”
Cheol pressed his lips against the soft skin there, lingering for a bit longer.
“You don’t have to,” you finally said, “I don’t want you to say it just to make me happy. I want you to mean it.”
He tried pulling you even closer, a futile endeavour, given there was no space between you currently. Almost too low to hear, he murmured, “I could’ve said it after the first four months, and I still would’ve meant it.” You cart your fingers through his hair, waiting for him to continue. “I just didn’t want to put you on the spot.”
You took his face in your hands, nose brushing against his. Without breaking eye contact you said, “I love you.”
He crashed his lips against yours, hands pawing at your sides.
“I love you, too”—with his free hand he pushed the both of you back up, manoeuvring you into a lotus position. “Let me show you just how much.”
AN: i've finally (mostly) finished the rough draft of this monster, so i hope this teaser will be accurate and i don't have to change even more things btw now and publication of the fic; this was supposed to be 2k max, so..., we'll see how much i'll have overshot by the end; (also this is, potentially, still a working title, jsuk)
I. Mean
The meanest kid in your primary school class was Xu Minghao. He almost never smiled, he never shared his coloured pencils (despite having the biggest collection), and he always made fun of your snacks. You would have done the same to him, if his packed lunch wasn’t always meticulously prepared: fluffy, white rice; star-shaped vegetables; fried egg; and sausages that looked like tiny octopi. All this made him the centre of attention of every lunch break.
Not only was Minghao generally stand-offish and cold-shouldered, he seemed to have it out for you in particular. Even when he wore soft smiles around his other friends, they dropped the second you came into view. Minghao, turning grumpy and tight-lipped, would barely speak and deliberately look anywhere but directly at you.
No matter how much your mutual friends tried getting you to warm up to one another, the relationship remained frosty. Not even Shuomin’s sunshiny nature or Minkui’s adorably clumsy disposition did much to lighten the mood. But the worst part of it all was that Minghao and you hadn’t always been on the warpath. On the contrary, you had crisp memories of days spent together, laced with fondness, laughter, and adventure.
When you first met Minghao, his family had just moved in next door. You were the very first person to make his acquaintance, even before he was officially introduced into your kindergarten class. Your mother had dragged you over to meet the new neighbours that very first afternoon. Stepping into their living room, you were met with a small boy, all spindly legs and scratched up knees. He was peeking out from behind his mother’s legs, black hair unruly and sticking up every which way. Introductions were made by your mothers before an expectant silence descended over the room.
Your mum smiled, nudging you forward, but the boy made no move to meet you halfway. Realising, in that moment, that someone had to take the first step, you made a decision. If it had to be you, bridging that incipient gap, well then you resolved to meet that responsibility head-on. You stepped forward, reaching a tentative hand out to wrap your fingers around his. Staring in a stupor, you realised you had not thought any further than this.
“Hi,” he said, quietly meeting you halfway. For a few seconds, you felt the parents’ stares burn into your head before he continued, “do you want to see my pretty stones? I have a lot now.”
You nodded enthusiastically, and he pulled you outside into their garden. Minghao led you over to a tree in the far corner, explaining how it was a special tree and his new perfect hiding spot for his most important possessions. From a nearly imperceptible hole under one of the roots, Minghao retrieved a smooth little wooden box. He opened it, shielded from your view, and retrieved one stone after the other to hand to you for appraisal.
“This one is the first one I ever found. This one has a hole in the middle! This one is from our holiday in Shenzhen. This one is the colour of the sunset!”
Despite the joy in his eyes, he was hesitant to let you handle the stones. Initially, he watched like a hawk as he dropped them into your palm one by one. But as he saw the genuine care with which you handled them, like holding a week-old kitten, he relaxed. Leaning in more closely, he told stories about how he had found each stone until you reached a small blueish pebble. As you held it up to the light, it seemed to sparkle.
“This one is my favourite,” he admitted in a small voice.
“Wow,” you murmured in awe, “it’s the prettiest stone I’ve ever seen!” Minghao smiled proudly, his cheeks a shade darker than before.
From that day forth, you spent the next few years practically inseparable. You passed every free second together: collecting stones, watching cartoons, dancing, playing beside the brook behind your houses. You were the guest of honour at his Kermit-the-Frog-themed birthday parties, sitting beside him for the entire day. It was like you were glued together at the hips.
And then everything changed in your fifth year. Nothing could have prepared you for falling out of his good graces. Because in the abruptness of its loss, the absence of Xu Minghao’s unconditional and unlimited love felt like a physical thing. From one day to the next, he stopped talking to you, leaving you with the feeling of being pushed into a glacial lake without warning. The break was as abrupt as it was unexpected, as painful as it was unexplainable to you.
And yet, fate did not end its cruelty there. For it seemed hell-bent on pulling you two into each other’s orbits again and again. You went to the same schools, were seated beside each other in class, fell in with the same friend group. Not even university granted that long-awaited reprise, both of you accepted into the same program at ZJU, too driven to let childhood animosity throw a wrench into your futures.
At this point, the enmity was less a reflection of slighted feelings than a force of habit. And as much as your other friends continued their efforts of mediation, there was no smoothing over the long-standing unfortunate rift and the bruised egos. As soon as their backs were turned, old habits resurfaced; the same hurt feelings, seething gazes, and cutting words were slung. It appeared that, no matter how hard you tried or how much you wished for things to be different, you seemed destined to live forever in the disorienting absence of Minghao’s affection.
Behold, all spooky creatures and enthusiasts thereof!
Welcome to the KPOP Halloween Week! This is an open collaboration event and a space to share the Halloween-themed KPOP content.
The event will take place from 25th to 31st October, 2025. During this time, Halloween-themed works of creators (graphic and written) will be reblogged here, on @k-halloween-week.
Any groups and types of works will be accepted, as long as they follow the Rules.
To have your work reblogged, you need to use #k-halloween-week so we can see it! It does not require any form of registration or acceptance prior, anyone can participate!
Every day of the Week will have Themes that content creators are welcome to adhere to. They aren't mandatory, though!
If you would like to take active participation in creation of the Themes, don't forget to fill the 2nd Halloween Survey!
Timeline:
1st - 15th August, 2025 - The 2nd Halloween Survey will be up! Fill it to let content creators know what would you like to see!
10th August, 2025 - The official Rules will be published!
16th August, 2025 - The Themes for each day of the Week will be announced. Get inspired!
Up until 24th October, 2025 - At any point before the week starts, you can post teasers of your works for the week. Make sure to @ our blog so they can be reblogged!
25th - 31st October, 2025 - Halloween time! Post your works and use the # or @ tag to let us know they are up!
After 31st October - You can still post your Halloween works, but make sure to use @ tag so they are not omitted!
Important Links (will be updated as the posts go live):
Reblogs of this post are highly appreciated, and don't forgot to follow @k-halloween-week to see all the updates and the Halloween content as it comes!
old enough to remember when smut was called ‘lemons’ but young enough that i had absolutely no business knowing that smut was called ‘lemons’ at the time
Unholy thoughts of the day, my bunnies: They say all good boys have the darkest and most perverted desires, and Yunho is the nicest boy of them all.
Or your puppy boyfriend might be crazy about how beautifully you cry for him while sucking his big, thick cock.
God, you looked so fucking beautiful. How could anyone resist you when you were like that? On your knees, between his legs, with that sweet, pretty little mouth, completely stuffed with his thick, heavy cock and your glassy, lust-filled eyes.
Your plump lips, sticky with saliva and lacquer-pink lip gloss, were stretched so beautifully around the reddened, swollen head of his cock as you hesitantly plunged the tip of your kitty tongue into the tiny slit oozing with viscous, bitter-sweet pre-cum to taste his arousal.
Long strands of saliva drip from the corners of your mouth, and your long, thickly painted eyelashes flutter as you suck diligently on the head as though it were one of those sugar lollipops you loved so much. Your soft, chubby cheeks are flushed with a rich strawberry blush, all shiny and wet with streaked, smudged mascara and glitter eyeshadow as you swallow, taking his cock deeper into your throat.
You try your best to please him, pampering his massive, veiny cock with your pretty, tiny hands and mouth. But you still have so much to learn.
And yet, what made you almost irresistibly attractive to him were the endless streams of tears that flowed freely down your angelic face. Beautiful? No, you were divine, and Yunho knew he was completely hooked on you.
You were such a cute crybaby with all this whining and whimpering that was driving him crazy, but especially when you were choking on his heavy, slippery length, which was completely filling the narrow, wet space of your small mouth, while the rounded tip of his cock pressed against the back of your throat.
Yunho had never seen anything like it before, and it made him addicted to you.
You always struggled so hard to take all his huge, long dick into your throat until his big, cum-filled balls pressed against your chin and your little upturned nose touched the smooth skin on his pubic area.
Yunho couldn't tell if you were crying out of disappointment because you couldn't give him the pleasure he wanted or because his penis was so fucking big that you kept choking, wheezing, and sobbing while you sucked him off. But he didn't really care. Yunho liked seeing you cry, and he didn't feel bad about it.
Maybe it's true when they say that good boys have the dirtiest fantasies, after all. And Yunho was a very good boy. The best of them all.
'Do you have any idea how beautiful you look, princess?' He asks you, running his thumb over your damp, rosy cheek, while you continue to run your soft, little tongue over his cock. 'So fucking beautiful.'
He wasn't lying; you look like something from his wildest fantasies: that cutie from his favourite hentai anime with crossed eyes, drooling, and wearing the cutest bunny-print panties.
And if you liked it that much, he wouldn't mind giving this naughty bunny the biggest carrot of all.
He was addicted and had the knowledge that he would never get enough.
'Can you take me deeper? Please, princess…" Yunho lets out a breath, taken aback, at the whimper you let out, and you feel his erection twitching on your tongue.
You closed your eyes and nodded obediently. You will try; you will do everything to please him. You will do everything for him, no matter how sore your throat is or how painful your knees are, and he is well aware of this fact.
one of the more bleak things to acknowledge is that if you pirate literally all of your music and then set aside a spotify subscription's worth of money each month to spend on a single pay-what-you-want album, it would almost immediately amount to you supporting those musicians more than streaming does
pirating all of your music and then buying a hat or something four times a year still makes you pull significantly ahead of the person who streams thousands of songs every year. it's not really a fair or good system for anyone
I saw a lot of people reblogging this with my addition two days ago and now I'm afraid some of them might have thought it was bandcamp friday that day lol. So for anyone with post timestamps turned off: I made that addition on Friday March 7th 2025. Bandcamp fridays always fall on the first friday of the month (when they do them) so the next one should fall on April 4th
➳ WARNINGS: death of a loved one; aside mention of a past ED (just one line), sadness, self-harm; this one's heavy my dudes
➳ AN: i wrote this about six months ago when i lost someone really really close to me; this kinda was my way to cope and i wasn't sure if i was gonna post it, but here we are; this one is also written in a very fancy, litfic kinda way; sally rooney would be proud of my refusal of direct speech
masterlist
The room is dark, which is how she prefers it right now. There’s an odd comfort in the ignorance of the passing of time, like you can’t waste what you aren’t perceiving. Her pillow is wet from every conceivable side at this point, and the mountain of used tissues on her bedside table has begun to tumble down to the ground. It has been a blurry amount of hours since she crawled under the blankets and tried to drown out the rest of the world. Her journal lies open on the floor, pages scrawled full of disjointed scribbles, haphazard, bordering on purposeless. Repetitive observations of how life is inscrutable; how its changes come without forewarning or rhyme or reason, sudden as a riptide.
She imagines no one feels good about being at the whims of fate or God or chance or at whoever else’s feet you want to lay the responsibility. But she also knows she has always had issues with control. It showed in her compulsive reliance on routines, her short foray into the world of disordered eating. But other than that, she is faced with the fact that she had neither noticed nor appreciated how life had been, until very recently, oh so under control —dependable, expected, routined. Even daily challenges adhered to the framework of her carefully curated existence. They fit neatly into the scaffolding she had been building up for years, a freedom that adulthood had handed to her.
Now the same places have turned unpredictable. The well-worn paths now call to mind thoughts previously unsounded. This afternoon, hours after the fact, she found herself unlocking her bike from its usual spot, thinking, just this morning I locked it up here, and they were still alive.
Just like their existence hadn’t been isolated, so their death stretches its fingers across her life, snaking through the frames, rattling the scaffold. Time, suddenly, has changed. It is light, escaping her in the blink of an eye. Or it is tar, viscous, thick, obtrusive. Like now, when minutes or hours or a day passed while she was away. Under her blanket, the last structured bulwark beneath the crash of her routines.
She wonders, detached, impassionate like watching a football game, whether it’s past midnight. Whether it’s, technically, no longer the day that they died. Which, of course, would do fuck all to help. Death being continuous, and all.
She returns from the distance to her room when her phone dings, annoyingly. Ideally, she would retrieve into the most profound parts of her consciousness, to the most base electrical signals. Somewhere even deeper inside itself, further from the upside down of life, that teetering reality that has shifted to accommodate the negative space they used to occupy. It dings again. She thought it was on do not disturb. For a second, she considers ignoring it in favour of staring at nothing for another pocket of eternity. But the promise of distraction, and its steady companion—the blissful, temporary reprieve of awareness of the cold, hard facts— proves too strong to pass.
It's Dokyeom, of course, who had been there when she had first found out. Just checking in. Letting her know he’s there for her if she wants it. If she needs it. What she needs, she thinks dimly, is to sleep. But sleep has not come knocking in ages. And the longing to see a friendly face has been returning in waves almost as crushing as the grief. She replies in the affirmative. Before she can realise that it is three in the morning, he has replied with a thumbs up. I’m bringing food.
Time resumes its blurry texture for an indiscernible amount of time until her phone pingsagain. She considers just texting him to leave again for the sole purpose of never having to crawl out from behind her bulwark, back into the concept of reality, which only seems to start outside the safe confines of her bed. That would create other problems, however. Most of them tied to the very probable result of his worry. What gets her up, eventually, is the thought that she hasn’t cleaned since the news broke. The shock of it makes her sit up ramrod straight. On the contrary, she realises. In a fit of irrationality, she had started every hitherto procrastinated project: hair dye, closet reset, painting that poster. There’s old dishes from yesterday still piled in the sink, and dust in all corners of the room. Her phone pings a third time that night. You okay?
Her thoughts are a constant loop as she moves to the front door, mechanically. Unpresentable. I need to clean. She buzzes him in. Her first words are a warning against the onslaught of the mess that Dokyeom will encounter. He smiles softly, shaking his head that he doesn’t mind a little clutter at all.
She sits in between her piles of accumulated life while Dokyeom puts the take-out he brought onto proper plates. For the ambiance, he insists. She shrugs, and he puts on a mindless commentary video on his phone. It strikes her how she doesn’t even have to ask. It’s like he can feel how the silence has grown oppressive in its totality. Like he can feel how it has been expanding for the last hours until it has begun bloating into every corner of her place. They sit next to each other, inches apart because, again, he knows her. Knows how, in these moments, her skin feels raw. As if any sort of contact would scrape off another layer of humanity. Instead, they eat in silence. He points out a few funny parts of the video, encouraged by the smallest nod. Minimal interaction. Silence whose quality has changed. Lifted, somehow. Less like a beam of steal, more like a weighted blanket.
They finish the food and she realises, only when the shaking stops, that she hadn’t eaten in over a day. Dokyeom brings her water and leaves the video running. He scrubs dishes without comment, the kitchen door ajar. Sometimes he throws in a comment about the video content, voice unfailingly soft. Just as the credits roll, he returns.
Do you want help tidying up in here?
She shakes her head, you’ve done enough.
There isn’t really a protocol for this, she thinks. How do you behave in this situation? Does Dokyeom know any better? Maybe he does because he steps closer. He does know. Maybe not the protocol, but she realises he knows her. A blink, and his arms are around her. Like a young fledgling’s first attempt at flight, unsure. More a muted question than an action. Dokyeom does not push the floodgates open, he gives her space to open them as far as comfort allows. For now, it is only a crack. The explosion has already detonated. What remains is the trickling aftermath. She sniffles into his shoulder, tears dripping onto his sweater. His voice is soothing, a soft shushing, a small hum. It doesn’t say ‘stop crying’ or ‘it will be okay’. It says, feel what you need to feel, I will be here either way. They stand like that for a while. Even when her arms drop, he's still holding on. One single sob ebbs out.
It takes everything, but she forces out a thank you. It’s infinitesimal, the syllables broken nearly to incomprehension. But Dokyeom smiles against her hair. His hands are still running over her back. They say, don’t worry about it, I am here for you. They say, you don’t have to say anything, I understand you in every language, even silence. Soothing, she thinks again. She’s reminded of the blinding grief, right at the beginning, that made her feel inhuman. Sobbing, wracked, contorted, unrecognisable to herself in the pain. It turns us into animals, the grieving and the being consoled. But if it is Dokyeom, she doesn’t mind.
He understands. He has space for her, in every form, if he has to carve it out from the circumstance with his compassion. It moulds itself to the exact scope she occupies at a given time, expects nothing less, takes nothing more. Maybe that’s a way to explain it.
Dokyeom lets go. Both hands on her shoulders, anchors. He looks at her face, one hand running down the side of it.
She still averts her eyes. They’re puffy and red, almost to the point of pain. She has spent a big part of the After clawing at her own skin. Not consciously attempting to externalise that which couldn’t fit inside, but using the outlet of physicality all the same. She’d like her chest to cave in.
Should I stay, he asks. Because he understands. She thinks, a second, a minute, or five. Dokyeom stands, at ease. Looking at her but not watching, granting her the respite of solitude, without the weight of loneliness. She nods. The first thing she also knows for certain. He smiles and nods back. Like he knew.
Dokyeom stays while they brush their teeth, he stays to apply ointment all over the irritated skin, no judgement in his fingertips as they kiss the claw marks on her forearms. He stays when another call comes through and she finally learns more. They went peacefully. He stays all throughout the fleeting few hours that are left until daybreak.
She knows, if everyone had someone to hold them through the ache, life would be a lot lighter. And yet, nobody can take the responsibility of her anguish. But if she doesn’t have to go it alone, a part of her thinks it is also a privilege, to get to grieve them.
just read the perfect set series you have and omgggg this is genuinely one of the best things i've ever read 😭😭😭😭😭😭 so excited for the next part (and for them to finally get together!!!!) this is ripping my heart out in such a crazy way
how dare you put this is as anonymous 😭😭😭 i'm almost done with the rough draft of the story, then i can get to editing part 04. i know i'm the slowest writer under the sun, but these messages always give me such a motivation boost!
thank you so much, anon! if i ever find i will have to kiss you on the mouth, sorry <3
also i think i'll just take the time to be candid here, but another reason why i fell out of love writing for caratblr is bc people can be so... non-interactive? readers will spam-like your stories without even a single reblog (the thing that tumblr posts thrive off of btw), and actual comments on the work are hard to come by as well. of course, you're not obligated to do any of these things, but just know that writers aren't obligated to keep pushing out content for free if they don't feel appreciated in the space they share their craft with either.
you liked the writer's work? reblog it. or even leave a reply. it doesn't even have to be a novela-length comment. knowing i'm not just screaming into a void in the tags already means the world to me.
it's sad that even 2 years later, we still need to have this conversation but: please appreciate your writers more.
In the wake of people being so unappreciative they've chased off my favourite svt writer, I reposting this twice to get it though ppls heads. Creatives keep saying again and again that reblogs are so important for exposure and INTEGRAL to tumblr culture.
It's so disheartening to see how much it's died out. Honestly, 99% of the people reblogging are other creatives. The writers themselves are the only ones who appreciate the stories when there's so many lurkers reading them and leaving nothing but a quick, easy like. I've received two actual reviews from people and they've made my year, both times.
Why have people on tumble become so entitled and averse to socialisation.
hi kai!! i know that your requests are closed—AND IT'S TOTALLY FINE I SWEAR, but you're the only person I trust and believe who'll give justice abt this 😞 so, I saw this somewhere in Instagram, and I thought it'll be better as a series or anything. mingyu and reader trying to k!Il (metaphorically) each other in university to be #1 and how mingyu dated the reader to distract her from school so he gets to be the smartest but instead he got distracted first. (YOU CAN TAKE YOUR TIME I SWEAR IT'S JUST THAT YOU'RE THE ONLY PERSON WHO'LL REALLY GIVE JUSTICE TO THIS PLOT) tnx hehe
it feels so childish to be set off by a single (1) ask but please never pull shit like that to any other writer on here :/ not only is it disrespectful but also inconsiderate. do the bold letters 'requests are closed' not make sense anymore? what's more is that, despite my last psa, i've received several asks asking where part 3 of starcrossed losers is without so much as a minimal commentary abt the fic itself and you know what? i'm probably just not going to continue writing it anymore bc of how demanding people can be.
to everyone who showed nothing but love for my writing, all of you who took the time out of your day to reblog, comment, and let me know how much you loved it, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. but i might have to prematurely leave this blog altogether because the resentment i've felt for the way people treat my writing on here outweighs my desire to deliver stories to those who actually cherish them. this is not on you, never on you, but i see no benefit to staying in a space where i haven't felt respected nor appreciated in a long while now.
i hate to leave something i loved so much with so much bitterness for it, but i think it's really the best path forward for me now.
also i think i'll just take the time to be candid here, but another reason why i fell out of love writing for caratblr is bc people can be so... non-interactive? readers will spam-like your stories without even a single reblog (the thing that tumblr posts thrive off of btw), and actual comments on the work are hard to come by as well. of course, you're not obligated to do any of these things, but just know that writers aren't obligated to keep pushing out content for free if they don't feel appreciated in the space they share their craft with either.
you liked the writer's work? reblog it. or even leave a reply. it doesn't even have to be a novela-length comment. knowing i'm not just screaming into a void in the tags already means the world to me.
it's sad that even 2 years later, we still need to have this conversation but: please appreciate your writers more.
⋆pajarin’s pages⋆ @pajarinwrites - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
