you truly believed that you were possibly the luckiest person on earth to have earned the attention of two of the most extraordinary men on the planet.
prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue
wc.8.4k | architect!jeonghan x musician!seokmin x f musician!reader, fluff, smut, established relationship, polyamory, domestic humor, jeonghan thinks he runs the show but rlly ur both just whipped for seokmin, drinking, threesome, lots oâ mlm, soft dom!seok bbratty sub!han switch!reader, toy use, lk cucking again lol, male penetration, sex sandwich, light bondage (itâs just a tie), daddy kink, baby boy/baby girl, double switches gang up on their dom and itâs the best, unprotected (please use condoms), hi gyu! (not during the sex omg)
hey gang! here is the long awaited epilogue for neverending artistry!! sorry for taking so long to post, but i really appreciate your understanding around the weird hiccups iâve had in my personal life lately, and i promise to get back into the swing of writing soon. this mc is such an obvious self insert of myself that itâs embarrassing but you know me when it comes to jeonghan! cannot help it!
a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.
there was always something about his infectious laugh and his genuine nature that felt like fate to jeonghan, and maybe you were the muse that kept their red thread in tact.
prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue
wc.10662 (LMFAO) | fluff, smut, courtship, angsty in the beginning, polyamory, sugar daddy!jeonghan musician!seokmin escort!reader, hi cheol, hi gyu (again), hi boo, hi wonu, gay pining, jk heâs pan probably, discovering sexuality, daddy kink, special guest seokmin!!!!!, threesome, lots of mlm, oral, cumpla, handjobs, choking, butt plugs, male penetration, thereâs a full on reader-less memberxmember sex scene idk, unprotected sex, please use condoms, jeonghan gets overwhelmed, the TEASING, jeonghan being a home improvement freak, donât mind han jisung heâs just vibing, required listening is positions (2020) by ariana grande because itâs a perfect album
and here we have poly seokhan: the gayening!!! this is going to be the end of my scheduled updates for neverending artistry, but iâll be posting an epilogue when i finish it - probably after i post a couple of other fics. this chapterâŠ. is my faveâŠâŠâŠ i think u will see why lol. i went ahead and got a lil carried away with the house stuff but LISTENNNN i watch a lot of architecture videos ok LFJDSJ
thank you all so much for your continued support and incredible feedback on this series! it seriously means so much to me and i love seeing asks and messages from everyone telling me how excited they are to read more. i hope this satisfies you!!!
a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.
he had offered you everything just to make you happy, and you knew the way he made you feel was hard to come by.
prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue
wc.9551 | fluff, smut, courtship, almost angsty in the beginning if you squint, fem reader, sugar daddy!jeonghan escort!reader musician!seokmin, hiding in bathrooms at parties, drinking (obvi), discovering sexuality!, soft dom!seokhan, phone sex (again), daddy kink, semi-public?, oral, cum eating (oops), then later thereâs hard dom!seokhan, you only cry a little bit, cockwarming, return of the babygirl, hand over mouth, threesome, maybe too much teasing?, i just think they are the sweetest, required listening for this part is the album love and fall by bobby
welcome to part two of neverending artistry!! today we are exploring how you fell for both jeonghan and seokminâŁïž this one is pretty plot heavy, esp in the beginning which is all jeonghan because i am mentally ill, but i promise it has plenty of boning and a sweet sexy gang up at the end! we also get to hint at the triad in this one which is so FJDSLKJFDSJ i love them so much seriously. this throuple is so fun. enjoy! send me asks! say stuff in the tags (i read them all multiple times LOL)âŁïž
a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.
from the second seokmin first saw you, he thought you were far too good to be true, and he hadnât even gotten to learn the best parts of you yet.
prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue
wc.8888 | fluff, smut, courtship, oh jeez where do i even begin, the beginning i guess, polyamory, fem reader, musician!seokmin sugar daddy!jeonghan escort!reader, threesome, fingering, oral (everyone receiving), creampie, cumpla (like gunpla but with cum), (sorry), (but seriously lots of cumplay), overstim, switch!seok dom!han switch!reader, phone sex, snuck in a babygirl, hell yeah fighting for dominance, letâs talk BOUNDARIES, hi mingyu, sorry but seokmin being a special guest is hot as hell, the required listening for the last scene is the album ânew edition (1984)â by new edition (which is a real lp i own and listened to while writing it)
hELLOO!! welcome to my poly seokhan au! i have been neck deep in this universe for weeks now and i am finally releasing it in three parts! i will be posting today (obvi), tomorrow, and friday at noon pst, plus a little bonus epilogue whenever i finish it! today is all about seokmin and how he fell in love. i really poured a lot of myself into this one, between the poly reader and the obsession with architecture and the record collection (three fun facts about me, but you get no more context), so if you like it, please let me know! i did my best to portray the relationship as realistic and as healthy as possibleâŁïž also this series lowkey became a âhow many cameos can i naturally squeeze inâ kinda piece so if you spot one u should absolutely let me know hehe. and i edited my masterlist to accommodate for serial aus, let me know what you think!
please read the prelude linked in the contents of this post! it gives important context for the beginning of this part, establishes relationships, and sets the general mood đ
daddyâs little monster + lee seokmin & yoon jeonghan
the story of your side hustle, that both pays well and had some very lovely benefits.
prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue
wc.5195 | SMUT, like DIRTY SMUT, threesome, sugar daddy!jeonghan and musician!seokmin, aka my worst nightmare, hard dom vs service sub vs service dom, aka my other worst nightmare, fem reader, daddy kink, marking, cream pie, please use condoms, lk cucking? happy halloween!
i was gonna say this is porn without plot but in reality idk how to not make smut way too personal. and i have not stopped thinking about my seokhan sandwicch fantasies and desperately needed to get it out, so take my shame and run with it. gif literally does not match this at all but DONT WORRY ABOUT IT
synopsis: Going raw for the first time? DK doesn't stand a chance.
requested: AMANI IM BEGGING for breeding kink with any member of seventeen.
warnings: mdni, 18+, pwp, dubcon, unprotected, dirty talk, mating press, dk is down bad, so are you, dk big, dk strong, pussdrunk, multiple orgasm, threats/promises of impreg, breeding kink unlocked, dk crashes out, he talks you through it? yeah?, little descriptions of the idea of the reader being preg, etc.
wc: 1.2k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
Lee Seokmin doesn't know he has a breeding kink until he pushes his cock inside you, raw, for the first time.
He visibly shudders, squeezing his eyes shut as he fails to take a full breath after. You're so warm, so wet, and taking all of him so deep inside that his mouth actually waters. And when he blinks his eyes open, it only gets worse for him. Harder, maybe would be the better word. His cock twitches, rubbing against your gummy walls, and your mouth parts in awe as he looks down at you.
You're so pretty underneath him.
You're lying on your back, staring up at him with glossy lips and starry eyes, and fuck, your walls are gripping him so tightly he doesn't want to leave.
But then you start squirming, giving him the signal to start moving, and he does. He would do anything for you - and you gasp just as much as you did when he bullied his way inside as you do when he pushes his hips back. He slides back until the tip of his thick cock remains inside your drooling cunt before he surges forward. The bed creaks, your pretty tits bounce, and the mushroom-shaped head of his cock kisses your cervix in greeting, making both of you groan in unison.
It's like a flip is switched for Dokyeom. His vision whitens, his cock twitches, splurting a few gooey wads of precum along your cervix, and he can only think about cumming inside. Filling you to the brim with his seed until you're round and it sticks. The image of you, a mess, dripping with him, makes a deep groan slip from the back of his throat, and he's hitching your leg higher onto his hip to press even deeper into your weeping cunt.
The pretty noises you make rise in pitch when he does, and Seokmin's lips curve up into a lovesick grin. "So pretty, you're so pretty." His thrusts grow in strength, just like his grip on your hips does. He jostles you, pulling you back every time his hips push you up on the bed, and his tongue licks his lips with a newfound hunger for more.
Sweat begins to line his forehead, the muscles in his back straining as he gives, and gives, and gives. You're making it harder for him to leave your pretty pussy, soaking him with your sweet slick as you chant his name like a prayer. Your nails claw into the bedsheet underneath you, trying to grip onto anything, something, until they dig into his back as he brings you closer to the edge.
Your stomach flexes, your thighs twitching with a pleasurable hum, and Dokyeom can't look away from where he's connected to you. Your sweet pussy is slobbering all over his cock, coating it in a shiny sheen that makes each thrust slippier, and effectively makes DK more pussydrunk after each snap of his hips. "You're makin' it harder for me to leave, Baby." He confesses with a gasp, his pupils blown, and his jaw clenching as you whimper back in response.
The familiar heat swirls low in your abdomen, the telltale sign that you're going to cum, and it's got Dokyeom sliding his hands down from your hips and under your thighs, pushing your plush legs up until your knees bend. This position makes your mouth drop, your tongue lewdly sticking out as the mating press keeps you trapped under his strong arms. The position is squeezing the air from your lungs as he carves a deeper path inside you, his cock dragging over all the sweet spots inside your sopping cunt like you were truly made just for him.
And maybe you are. Because the idea of you just like this, dumb on his cock, can only get better if he gets you pregnant. The way your body would change, your tummy soft and round, and your pretty tits full as he makes you feel so good - the idea of you glowing and carrying his child - fuck, his eyes roll and you're falling apart underneath him with a wail.
Your pussy pulses around his shaft, trying to milk him, and it's the cause of the final thread of his sanity snapping. His teeth grit, his fingers dig into the fat of your thighs as he fucks you through your orgasm, his hips pounding you into the mattress with one goal in mind. "Fuck, you're so perfect - I'm gonna cum inside your pretty pussy, okay? Need you to take - fuck - need you to take it all, okay?"
His eyes swirl, and the filthy squelches of your pussy taking his cock to the hilt resonate louder in the room as his words begin to slur.
"So good for me, you're gonna be so good for me." He huffs, and your pussy flutters at the praise, your orgasm subsiding only to be brought back up as he blabbers, drunk off the idea that he's going to breed you. "M'gonna cum and stuff you full of my seed, Baby. And then I'm gonna do it again, and again - you'll let me, right? Let me breed your sweet pussy until it takes." Your pussy squeezes him tighter, and a baffled, delirious laugh bubbles from his lips, his smile growing more lovesick as he slips a hand down your stomach and to where you two were connected between your thighs.
Your orgasm had made it wet and sticky, your sweet slick dripping down to his balls as he fucked you with determination. He finds your puffy clit with ease and begins thumbing your little nub to get you over the edge again. His thrusts were growing erratic, and he wanted you to cum one more time before he did.
"That's it, Baby. Need you to cum one more time for me, okay? M'gonna have you nice n' wet for when I cum inside."
And just like he wants, you cum, crying out so beautifully as your eyes roll back because of him. He coos happily, rubbing sloppy hearts into your clit and giving you praise until it is his turn to shiver in ecstasy.
When he cums, he cums a lot. Rope after rope of his gooey seed spills from his thick tip, and your pussy flutters in waves as he paints your gummy walls white with a low groan from his chest. His head drops as he feels his cock jerk, and his eyelashes flutter as he presses his hips flush against your ass, making sure not to waste a drop of his seed as he keeps you in a dirty mating press.
It feels like forever when he finally moves a couple of inches from your drooling cunt. Your puffy folds are swollen, gripping onto his cock even in the aftershocks, and Dokyeom can see his cum threatening to escape - so he pushes forward, earning another sweet moan from you. "Can't let it go to waste, Baby." He licks his lips and spreads your legs wider, giving you shallow thrusts as he fucks his cum back in deeper. "Think I need to fuck you again, gotta make sure it takes, mamas."
Any response you might have for him gets silenced when your glossy eyes blink up at him, only to see him still focusing on your pretty pussy stretched around his cock. It's then that you realize he's still hard, sliding in and out at a delicious slow rate that makes you feel everything. Every vein running down his shaft, every kiss his tip gives your soft cervix, and the slosh of his cum stirring inside you.
"Yeah, this pussy just needs to be bred, Baby. Tell me, do you want a boy or a girl?"
summary: one day, youâre buying a soft, brown fur coat from the thrift store. the next, you have a man on your doorstep claiming heâs your husband.
word count: 6.8k
warnings: selkie!dino, human!reader, references to scottish folklore but a very loose interpretation, swearing, reader is bitter, mildly depressed and very tired of life, chan is the cutest sweetest boy ever, questionable self preservation instincts, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, kinda sub!chan, oral (fem!receiving), riding, slight nipple play.
a/n: so this was loosely based on an ask i got about selkie!dino, and i really did a lot of research on selkies and came up with a plot to go w it. im sure this isnât what anon originally wanted, but i loved the idea of selkies and i went with it ă
SELKIE (n.) â from icelandic, irish and scottish lore
⊟ shapeshifters. they live as seals or otters in the sea, but shed their skin or fur to change into beautiful humans on land.
⊟ a selkie must hide their skin carefully when they walk on land, because if their skin is lost, they cannot return to the sea.
⊟ whichever human finds and keeps the skin/fur of a selkie is considered as the selkieâs spouse.
These last few weeks have been the most impressive run of insanely crappy weeks youâve ever had.
Everything just keeps going wrong. With work, with bills, and even a petty fight with one of your closest friends. To top it all off, your last phone call with your mother went awry too, with her complaining about your schedule and you getting a little too harsh on the phone. You regretted it immediately, but now sheâs a little icy with you, which only dampens your mood further.
It has just been bad overall, so this shopping trip with Seungkwan is really something you need, even if you donât have a whole lot of money to spend.
âOh, I like this one.â
You hold the large coat up to your chest and turn to Seungkwan so he can take a look. Itâs huge, falling all the way to your knees, and the fur is dark brown, a neutral and earthy color that looks shiny and smooth. Itâs very soft to touch, and you have to wonder how it ended up in a thrift store. It looks and feels so high quality.
Seungkwan tilts his head as he appraises it. âPut it on.â
You do, standing in front of the full-length mirror for a better look. You turn to assess some angles, but youâre quickly being distracted from the way it looks, focusing more on the way it feels. Itâs comforting as hell, and very warm. Youâre still in awe that you managed to dig up something so good from this store.
âIâm getting it.â You announce before Seungkwan can even give his opinion. You donât know why, but you really feel drawn to this coat. Something tells you that you need to own it. And after the shit week youâre having (itâs not even Wednesday), you think you deserve this. You havenât bought anything new in ages. If this can give you a little boost of happiness when you feel like youâre drowning, then you wonât pass that opportunity up.
It doesnât cost a lot, considering how wonderful it feels on your skin and the fact that youâre getting your next paycheck after the weekend. You feel a positive sensation jump in your chest as you walk out of the store, listening to Seungkwan whine about something work related. Youâre quickly swept up in his emotions, augmenting his words and losing yourself in the conversation. You really do need to vent, and Seungkwan is the perfect person for something like that. He matches your energy, understands your struggle since he himself is afflicted with a terrible case of jerk-boss. You feel like you are shedding off pounds and pounds of negative build-up, which you are so thankful for.
Two more workdays follow your trip with Seungkwan, and they weigh heavily on you. By the time the weekend rolls around, you are so grateful you could cry. You need this, the relief of two whole days of no work. You get home on limbs that weigh like lead. With nothing but rotting in bed in your mind, you quickly change into something more comfortable, a loose shirt and leggings. You go through your streaming services to find something to watch as you cook. Just when youâre settling on the couch to start eating your freshly cooked meal, you hear a knock on your door.
Your eyebrows furrow, confused. For one, you arenât expecting anyone. And for another, you have a doorbell, so the fact that someone is knocking makes even more questions arise. Before you can think further, thereâs another knock, more insistent this time, and youâre quickly placing your bowl on the coffee table and scrambling to the door before you can wonder about who it might be. You curse the fact that front doors in your apartment building donât have peepholes. You carefully unlock and open the door a tiny smidge, peering outside. You blink, confused at the sight.
Itâs a man. He looks young, around your age, and has a head of thick, shaggy brown hair that is falling into his equally dark eyes. You look down, and you pause at what youâre seeing. Heâs wearing a sweater vest over what looks like another sweater, both terribly mismatched. And heâs wearingâŠ. a skirt?
Yes, itâs a plaid skirt. Deep maroon. Layered over dark denim jeans. And right below them, leather sandals.
You donât even know what to say. You look back up at the man, and this time, heâs wearing a wide smile. His eyes are wide and bright, and youâre caught off guard by how cheerful he looks.
âHi.â His voice is fresh, chirpy. You nod your head uncertainly.
âHello.â Your own is uncertain and damp. You hold the edge of the door tightly, bracing yourself.
âMy name is Chan.â He says.
You nod slowly. âOkay.â Thereâs no way in hell you are telling this stranger your name.
âMay I come in?â
Your jaw drops at the question. Who is this man? Why is he dressed so strangely?
âWho are you?â You canât help but scowl. You donât have time for this. If this is some strange sales call or something, you are not interested.
The man blinks, as if confused by the question. âIâm Chan.â
Is he stupid? You stare at him for a moment. âLook, I donât know you and whatever youâre selling, Iâm not interested.â
As you go to close the door, the man rushes forward, knocking his palm on the wood and stopping it in place. You freeze, feeling slightly scared now. He immediately pulls his hand away, now fiddling with his fingers and looking incredibly nervous.
âIâm your husband.â
You blink once. Twice. He doesnât say anything more, just stares like he has told you nothing more than a fact about the weather.
âExcuse me?â
He looks just as nervous, but he nods slowly. âYou took my fur. You bought it. So Iâm your husband.â
You are so confused and shocked that you donât even realise youâve opened the door properly. Youâre just holding the doorframe now, jaw dropped, an incredulous look on your face as you eye him. He shifts a little uncomfortably, swaying back and forth as he wrings his hands.
âIâm a selkie.â He babbles. âYou bought my fur. Iâve been looking everywhere for it. I lost it near the pier a few weeks ago. I canât go back without it. But Iâve found it now. It belongs to you. Which means I belong to you now. Iâm your husband.â
You donât understand more than two words out of his mouth. Briefly, you think of drugs, and you edge the door slowly closed again.
âListen,â you say, trying to keep annoyance and confusion out of your tone to make it more soft. Maybe he will listen to you that way. âThereâs a shelter just a few blocks down. I promise you will find help there. Iâm sure if you ask someone, they will tell you exactly where it is.â
You wave your arm to the left in a vague gesture for direction. He just stares at you. You fidget.
âI canât leave.â He says. âYou have my fur. I belong to you.â
You are starting to get a little scared, so you shake your head vaguely as you keep pushing the door closed. âSorry. I canât help you.â
You close the door before he can say anything else, immediately locking it. You stare at it for a second, listening. You canât hear shuffling, or footsteps. You wonder if he has left.
You double check the locks before moving back inside, wondering what you should do. The whole interaction has left you a little shaken. You eye your now cold food, and the paused movie on your television screen. It only makes you grit your jaw and huff, feeling annoyed again. You have enough on your plate without worrying about some weirdo at your door. You canât let this weigh on you. Itâs probably a one-off, someone who just got confused. And you did try to help him, so hopefully he takes your advice.
But you canât focus. Even as you sink onto your couch and finish absentmindedly eating, your stare blank as you watch the screen. You canât help but think of the gibberish he spoke. Before you can stop yourself, youâre reaching for your laptop, pulling it towards you and opening the search bar. Quickly, you type âselkiesâ.
Thereâs so much you find. Page after page of what looks like old, Scottish lore. Sketches and paintings, as well as written text. They are sea creatures, like seals or otters, that can transform into humans by shedding their skins or furs. You remember the manâs words.
âYou have my fur. You bought it.â
As you keep reading, you learn that taking a selkieâs fur means having ownership of them. It symbolises an intimate, lifetime bond. Like mates, or spouses. You recall him calling himself your husband, making an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach. Everything he said somehow makes sense. Itâs fantastical, and outlandish to think it might be real, but in the context of it all, it really isnât random words strung together. Maybe he was confusing you with someone else. Maybe they are doing some weird role play thing. Youâve seen stuff like that on the internet.
Your phone dings. You absentmindedly look at the text. Itâs from the lady who lives across from you.
[minyoung apt 34]: hey. theres a man sitting outside your door. should i call someone? are u home?
You stare at the text, confusion and a small bit of realisation dawning on you. You throw your phone on the couch and stand up, quickly beelining to the door and unlocking it, pulling it open.
He is sitting beside the door, back against the wall just to your right. He looks up when you appear, blinking at you. You gape at him.
âYouâre still here.â Itâs more of a statement than a question.
He nods. âI canât leave.â
The cheery, bright tone seems to have drained out of him. He soundsâŠ.. sad, almost. Unsure. Like he doesnât know what to do with himself. His silly skirt is bunched up to his thighs, and the jeans are maybe two sizes too big for him. You hesitate, and then you make a very stupid decision. You brace yourself.
âGet up. Come on.â
He seems surprised, and honestly, so are you. You pull the door open more and step aside, watching him quickly scramble up. His face seems to have lightened, but he still looks apprehensive. Slowly, he walks in. You sigh deeply and shut the door behind him.
Heâs looking around like he has never seen a house before. Or a living room. Four walls, pictures, a couch. His eyes are wide and beady as he stares at the television. You watch him carefully. In complete honesty, you donât know why you invited him in. But thereâs something in his voice that doesnât ring any warning bells in your head. Youâre sure your parents would have a heart attack if they heard of this, cursing at themselves and you for not instilling âstranger dangerâ as well as they should have. But he doesnât give you that vibe at all. When he turns to look at you again, thereâs something earnest about it. Sincere.
You shift uncomfortably. âChan, was it?â
He nods.
âAnd youâre⊠a selkie?â
His nod is even more vigorous this time.
âOkay.â You donât know what to do with your hands. He keeps staring. âAnd you came here becauseâŠâ
You prompt him to continue, and he does. âIâm your husband.â
You feel a flicker of irritation. âYeah, you said that already. But I donât know what that means.â
He frowns a little, lower lip jutting out. Itâs almost cute. You shake the thought away.
âYou bought my fur.â
You huff. âYeah, I donât know what exactly that is, but I donât have anything of yours, buddy.â
He tilts his head, as if thinking hard. You start to regret inviting him in.
âI-itâs brown.â He says. âDark brown. And very soft. A little heavy. And it smells like the sea.â
Your face smoothens in realisation. Wait, does he meanâŠ.?
The coat. Your newly bought fur coat. You havenât worn it yet, since itâs a little too warm for the current weather. Youâve been waiting for a particularly cloudy and chilly day to put it on. Realisation dawns on you.
You leave Chan in your living room, taking less than a few seconds to find the thing and carry it back out. The way Chanâs face lights up at the sight of it has your heart racing. Again, you are hit with the reality of how sincere and pure he feels. No one can be this good an actor.
âYou can have it.â You hold it out. âThis is what youâre here for, right?â
While he looks happy to see the coat, he shakes his head, turning his bright eyes back to you. âIâm here for you.â
You feel your face heat a little, remembering the spouse and mate stuff you just looked up. You fidget where you stand, considering him.
God, your run of insanely crappy weeks just wonât end. And you really feel like you canât deal with this right now. So you just huff and nod, feeling drained.
âFine. But you will sleep on the couch until I know what to do with you.â
His resulting smile is so blinding, you wonder if there truly is something mythical about him.
âŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠ.
You donât tell Seungkwan about Chan. Frankly, youâre still not sure what you will do about this whole situation, since you know that even if Chan leaves, he will just go back to sitting outside your door. He tells you as much himself. You also donât know how supportive Seungkwan will be when he finds out that you have an unknown man living on your couch, claiming to be a supernatural creature of the sea. You honestly donât have the energy for that lecture, or to convince Seungkwan that something deep in your chest is telling you that Chan is harmless. Maybe itâs the way he looks at you, a strange reverence in his eyes, like he has never seen something more fascinating in his life. Or maybe itâs the fact that he genuinely doesnât know anything.
You find some of Seungkwanâs and your brotherâs clothes in your stuff, telling him to change into a sweatshirt and pants and to take off whatever ridiculous clothing he is wearing. He looks much better that way, more normal, but he claims to feel weird.
âAre you sure this is enough clothes?â He looks uncertain. You canât help but feel amused.
âYes, because youâre indoors. You can put something else on top when you go outside.â
He nods, albeit a little hesitant. But he seems to trust your judgment.
When you offer him a meal, he accepts it carefully, eyeing the bowl of noodle soup like he has never seen it before. He picks at it, and makes a face when he eats it. He tries to quickly hide it, but he canât fake anything to save his life, so you spot it immediately, and when you ask him what he usually eats, he lists varieties of fish and shellfish you have never heard of before. You do end up buying some for him, and conveniently, you donât even have to cook it. He eats it raw.
âYou would love sushi.â You quip as you watch him eat. When he gives you a confused look, you just shake your head and wave it off, mentally making a note to take him to a sushi place sometime.
Chan tells you he has never left the water before. His pack never trusted him enough to do it, and apparently they had been right. He lost his fur very quickly, without even realising, and he has been trying to track it for weeks, claiming he canât go back without it.
âSo now that youâve found it, you can go back.â You say, but he shakes his head.
âI canât leave you. Youâre my wife.â
Right. He keeps saying that, always in the softest tone, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars. It lights your face on fire, makes you fidget where you sit, but he is never fazed by it, like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
Itâs not like youâve never had anyoneâs romantic attention before. You have had boyfriends. Granted, most of them ended terribly. Youâre still not sure if youâre completely over your ex cheating on you. But Chan is different. Hell, heâs not even human, so itâs not like you can compare him to anything from your past. Dating has always been difficult for you, and you kind of gave up on it when you moved and got hit by the shitstorm that is now your life. It was put so effectively on the back burner that you had forgotten what this felt like. Having someone like you like this.
With Chan, itâs hard to figure out how to act. You donât know what to do with all hisâŠâŠ positivity. Chan feels like something untouched, untainted. He reminds you of how you were when you just moved to this town. Hopeful and ready to start your adult life. And then the universe decided to start beating the crap out of you, until you felt like you were just surviving, going through the motions.
Chan isnât like that. Chan isâŠ.. luminous. He randomly compliments you, talking about how nice and colorful your apartment is (you donât think itâs anything special). Or saying he likes something youâre wearing, or that your hair is pretty and shiny. Simple compliments, nothing too poetic, but he says them all with so much earnestness. He especially gets giddy when you wear his coat, saying you look best in it, patting you down before you go to work. It always leaves you hot and fidgety. You really donât know how to handle him, or his easy affection.
Your life changes as the weeks go by.
Work is just as hectic as always. You get the mountain load of two or three people, enough to have you ready to pull your hair out. You slave away all day, dragging your feet as you finally get home, but this time, it is not to an empty house. Because Chan is there. Chan and his bright smile and his endlessly curious but simple questions. Chan with his many, many stories about life under the sea. He always notices that youâre tired, and he offers to cook for you. He doesnât know what heâs doing, but he is good at following instructions. So if whatever he is cooking comes from a packet with directions on the back, he ends up making something very hearty and nice. Usually, you are so tired that you donât mind anything he makes. You will eat it as long as you arenât the one who has to cook it after working all day.
You complain to him that your legs get cramped up from sitting on your desk chair for so many hours. He pulls your legs towards him before you can protest, plonking them down on his lap and kneading the calf muscles. All your rejections die in your throat as soon as you feel the glorious pressure of his hands. You moan appreciatively, not noticing how Chan positively perks up at the sound, doubling down on his efforts to lessen your fatigue.
That becomes a daily occurrence.
A few weeks of Chan living with you has made you much more comfortable with him. You watch the screen with tired, bleary eyes as he runs his fingers over the soles of your feet from where he has them in his lap. It feels wonderful, as always. While you watch the TV, he watches you. He does that often, just openly staring. It used to make you uncomfortable, and you got very close to scolding him a few times. But the look on his face always makes you stop. A look of awe that youâve never felt directed at you before. Thereâs nothing creepy about it, only pure, unfiltered marvel. So you just let him do what he wants.
A voice deep inside you says you donât actually mind, you might even enjoy it, but you try not to think about that voice.
You let out a weary sigh and shift a bit, rolling your shoulders to adjust the ache in them. Chan notices, because he always notices, and he pauses his movements on your feet.
âI can rub your shoulders.â He offers.
You blink, considering it. You already know how good it will feel, but you donât know if you want to cross that boundary. This is different, having your feet in his lap. But you donât know how you feel about Chanâs hands all over your back and shoulders. It would feel too much like testing dangerous waters.
The truth is, you like him. He has become a breath of fresh air in your bitter and depressing days. Every day, you come home while looking forward to his company. He is so different, light, cheerful, effervescent. He talks and talks and talks, about any and everything. And it doesnât annoy you. Never. He injects something warm in your cold, silent evenings.
You donât have to worry with him. Thereâs no agenda here. He doesnât want anything from you except your company. He takes care of you like no one has for a really long time.
Sometimes, he feels like a dream. And you perpetually carry the fear that one day, he will go away.
Heâs still watching you, anticipating your reply. His hands slowly work on the arch of your foot. His eyes, that deep warm brown, pores into yours. For the first time in a long time, you canât bring yourself to care about consequences. You just nod.
âOkay.â
He ends up seating himself beside you, coaxing you to turn your back to him on the couch. You can feel him touch your sweater before speaking again.
âWould it be better without this?â
You flush but nod, reaching down to tug the sweater off, so youâre left with a long sleeved shirt instead. You feel his touch right in between your shoulder blades. Slowly, he starts pressing into the skin over your shirt.
Chan is way too good with his hands for a creature that didnât even have hands until a few weeks ago. He digs his thumbs into the lines of your shoulder blades, making your eyes roll as he breaks knot after knot of tension in your muscles. He purses his lips and frowns as he gets a feel of it. You hear a soft huff of breath.
âYour muscles are so tense.â He murmurs. âThis only happens to me when I swim for a very, very long time. Hours and hours. With no breaks.â
You crack a little smile at the comparison.
âIt feels like that sometimes.â You mumble, staring at the opposite wall while lost in thought. âLike Iâm just swimming and swimming. No breaks. No end in sight.â
His touch slows, but doesnât lose its strength. His fingers coil around your shoulders, kneading. Your eyelids flutter.
âHuman lives are difficult.â His voice is barely above a whisper, but you hear him in the silence of the muted television screen. âI feel like none of you are happy.â
You purse your lips. âWhat makes you say that?â
Another exhale, this time almost like a defeat. âYou never smile. You never laugh.â
You blink, processing. You donât know why that is unexpected, but it catches you off guard. Your mind whirs. You think on it.
When was the last time you were truly happy?
When you try to look back on the last few months, you canât pinpoint anything. Then, a memory floats to the surface, from just a couple of weeks ago. Chan had tried to bake something, and while he succeeded, he left the kitchen in such a mess that he was almost reduced to tears by the end. He had pouted and whined about it, saying it is âway too difficultâ to make a cheesecake. You couldnât help but muffle your laughter at his flour caked face.
It still makes you smile.
âYou make me happy.â You say.
His hands pause. Not a falter, a complete halt. You wonder if youâve crossed a line.
âI do?â Thereâs something shaky in his voice, like he canât believe it. You just nod.
With the hold Chan has on your shoulders, he maneuvers you to turn around. You do, finally able to see him face to face. Your breath hitches at the hope in his eyes, the unadulterated happiness.
âI make you happy?â He asks again, like he just canât bring himself to accept it.
You canât help the lift of your lips. You nod again. âYou do.â
You donât expect him to kiss you, but you donât stop him either. His lips are endlessly soft, and so, so eager. When you donât push him away, he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You are hit with the very faint scent of sea salt, and it feels like youâre on the coast. Your heart squeezes. Your hands reach up, cupping his face, and you push harder into him.
Chan whines, whines, lapping at your lips like he needs them to breathe. His tongue licks into your mouth. His enthusiasm is almost too much for you. It should be a surprise, but itâs not, because itâs Chan, and he has always been like this. He hangs on to your every word like itâs law. He looks at you like youâre the mythical creature, not him. You feel his hands now, on your knees before they slide up, gripping your hips tightly. He inhales your every sigh, and something warm and electric coils in the pit of your stomach. Your hand winds in his hair. Itâs soft, just the same texture as your (his) coat, and you canât help but grip it tight. He moans openly into your mouth. Itâs too much. You break away for air with a loud gasp.
It doesnât seem to deter him, because he smooches over your cheek, your jaw, further down your neck. Your eyelids flutter, tilting your head back, your hand still in his hair. You encourage his movements. His tongue licks over your skin. He moans again.
âI want to taste every part of you.â His voice is breathless, desperate. You feel yourself clench. He pulls away so he can look at you, his eyes pleading, brighter than youâve ever seen them. This close, you can see that his pupils are completely blown.
âPlease? Can I?â His tone is shaky.
God, he needs to stop doing that. Itâs making wetness pool at an alarming rate between your legs. You so desperately want him down here, it makes your hips buck up involuntarily. You donât even think about it, all inhibitions thrown out the window. You nod.
He doesnât let you undress yourself, gently brushing your hands away because he claims he wants to do it himself. He lays you down on the couch, hovers over you on his knees as he peels your clothes off, until youâre left completely naked under him. He watches you with so much hunger in your eyes that your face flames, and it takes everything in your power not to shrink into yourself. Truthfully, you love it, love seeing the sincere lust in his face, the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes lingering over every inch of you, like he wants all of you.
Something about being so deeply desired has your head spinning.
He is true to his word. His lips trail over every inch of you. He runs them over your shoulders, your arms, even holding your hands gently to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Every few inches, he lays a soft kiss, before going back to running his lips and tongue over the skin. He licks down the valley of your breasts, burying his face in them for a few seconds. He spends extra time on your nipples, sucking and flicking his tongue over them until they are stiff and peaked. By the time he is anywhere close to your core, youâre already gasping and trembling under him in anticipation.
Finally, finally, he spreads your legs. He stares for a long time, thumbing at your outer lips, opening your slit to the cold air, peering at your little nub, swollen and ready, neglected.
âPretty.â He whispers. âYouâre pretty all over. Every inch of you.â
You feel a pressure build behind your eyes. Fuck. You canât be this lame. You canât be the one crying during sex. But Chan isnât touching you, he is worshipping you. In his hold, under his hands, you feel like something precious, something worthy of this kind of reverence. Itâs an unprecedented feeling. You donât think anyone has ever wanted you this much. Not before him.
He leans closer, and you feel his breath on your pussy as he speaks.
âThis is it, right? This is where I can pleasure you the most?â
You suddenly remember that Chan isnât really familiar with human anatomy. So far, you havenât felt his lack of experience at all, mostly because you think his enthusiasm is so intense that it masks the inexperience completely. You nod at him, swallowing tightly.
âYeah.â
He licks his lips. âCan I taste it?â
The words are way sexier than you thought they would be. You throw your head back. âGod, yes. Please.â
Something about the âpleaseâ does it for him, because he licks a long, thick stripe all the way from your clenched hole to your clit, dragging slowly over it. He hums when his tongue withdraws, just for a second, just to taste, and then heâs digging in again, flattening his tongue over and over on your slit, like he approves of the taste, like he wants more.
Heâs sloppy, not bothered by the filthy wet noises your sopping cunt makes, lips and tongue running over every nook and cranny. But thereâs one spot where you need him the most, and you canât help it. You wind a hand through his hair, tugging his head up until his tongue runs just over your clit. Your hips jerk.
âThere,â you gasp, âright there.â
Heâs a quick learner, just like he learned to cook after just a few tries, and how to work the television and your Netflix account, and how he figured out which clothes go together. His tongue flicks eagerly over your clit, like heâs hanging on to every cry and moan that falls from your lips. He must register how the noises amp up when he pays attention to your clit, because he pushes your legs further apart, buries his face deeper into your cunt, wraps his lips around it and sucks hard. Your back arches right off the couch, gripping his hair tightly. He groans into your pussy.
Itâs a cycle. His lips and tongue make you feel good, you tug at his hair in encouragement, he hums into you, and the vibrations feel even better, sending chills up your whole body. Your high builds a little too quick, and you wish this could just go on for hours and hours. You have no doubt in your head that if you asked him, he would do exactly that. And very happily too. But your need for release is more pressing than that, so you hold him close, you babble about how youâre almost there, and when your orgasm hits, you go cross eyed with it, wave after wave of pleasure cresting inside you as you shake and cry through it. Chan doesnât slow for a single second, letting you writhe and twist under him, chasing your hips wherever they go. Itâs only when you tug his hair hard enough to pull his head away that he finally stops, looking up at you with dazed, teary eyes. His whole face is sweaty, wet, and blotched pink over his pale cheeks.
Heâs a vision.
You pull hard at his sweatshirt until heâs scrambling up your body, and you kiss him hard. He moans appreciatively, immediately licking into your mouth like he needs it to breathe. Your own taste invades your tongue.
âLet me do that again.â He whines. âPlease. Wanna make you feel good. Let me lick you again.â
You moan and feel yourself clench hard, head spinning with how badly heâs turning you on. But you feel so empty, and you need him in other ways too, or you feel like you might combust.
âLater.â You promise him. âNeed your cock right now.â
âMy what?â He pulls back, still looking unfocused as he frowns down at you. You blink a little, clearing the fog in your head a little. Oh.
Your hand travels down until you palm the bulge in his pants. He jerks violently and gasps.
âThis,â you whisper, biting your lip. Chanâs eyes shoot down to where it is trapped between your teeth. âNeed this inside me.â
âInsideâŠ.?â
Itâs better to do than to explain, so you push yourself up, arranging him under you until you're straddling his lap where he sits, undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants and pushing them down enough to free his cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. Heâs girthy, way more than youâve ever taken before, and he curves just at the tip in a way that you know is going to make you see stars when he fucks you right. You run your hand over him, and he gasps again, hips bucking into your touch.
âFeel good?â You ask. Chan nods furiously.
âWanna make you feel good.â His voice sounds wrecked. You canât help your giddy smile at his laser focus on making this pleasurable for you.
âYou will.â You adjust yourself until youâre hovering over him, running his tip through your slit. You feel him grip your thighs tightly.
The first slide in is glorious. Heâs so thick that he stretches your poor pussy out enough to make your legs tremble violently. He runs his hands over them, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure and pain. If you had more control of your mental faculties, if you werenât so busy taking his massive cock in, you would try to placate the worry on his face, but you have other things to concern yourself with right now.
The deeper he slides in, the farther up his eyes roll. His jaw goes slack, and you watch with a tinge of amusement as the feeling makes his own face go through a million emotions in the span of a few seconds. It makes you brave, more daring, and it makes you feel so sexy to have the power to make him feel all this for the first time. His grip on your thighs is near bruising, which you donât think he realises, too lost in how warm and tight your cunt feels. Finally, you are fully seated on him, all the way up to the very base.
âGood?â You manage to gasp out. It seems he chokes on his own words, because he just pulls your body close and jerks his head down in a nod.
âWhat about you?â He looks up at you, blinking furiously. He looks like he might cry if you say that it doesnât feel good, not that you would lie like that. You giggle breathlessly.
âItâs so good, Channie.â You coo, running a hand through his hair. âYou fill me up perfectly, like you were made for me.â
He whines, so loud and thick with want that you think he might cum right there. He holds you tight against him.
âYes.â He gasps. âMade for you. My wife. Wanna be with you forever.â
Itâs incoherent babbling. Uninhibited because of the lust. You shouldnât take him seriously. Except you know Chan. You know he doesnât lie. You know he means this with every fiber in him. Your heart stutters, your exhale shaky. You hug his body tight to you, unable to respond. You want him impossibly closer. You tug at his sweatshirt.
âOff.â
He doesnât waste a single second, revealing wide expanses of built muscle. You run your eyes over him, hungry for the sight, for the feel of him. Once more, emotion builds inside your chest, filling you up from the inside out.
Finally, when you feel like youâve adjusted to his size, you rock your hips on him, testing. He gasps immediately, hands running everywhere he can reach you and feel you. You let him, basking under the attention now that your hesitation has melted away and the lust has left you wanting. You slowly build up a rhythm, bouncing on him with less and less care until you feel his cock properly fuck into you the way you wanted. Little gasps and moans leave your lips as well as his. Your body warms under the exertion, the deep penetration making your core clamp up slowly and steadily, pleasure building inside you. Skin against skin makes wet plopping noises, a dirty sound that only adds to what youâre already feeling. It seems Chan just canât stand to have his mouth unoccupied, because he quickly finds your nipple and starts sucking, making you cry out at the feeling.
Exhaustion starts pulling at your limbs after a while, and you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration. Youâre so close, you can feel it. You just need a little more, his cock really ramming into you, just a few well aimed thrusts and you know you would topple over.
âChan.â You pull his head up with a tug on his hair, a habit youâve created by now. âIâm- Iâm tired-â
He doesnât even wait to hear more, gripping your hips tightly and pistoning up hard into you. You gasp, arching into him.
âLike this?â His voice is raspy, rough. You nod vigorously, unable to form words as he keeps going, fucking up hard into you until you feel nothing but the intense stimulation on your sweet spot, his tip rubbing insistently over it again and again. His pelvis grazes your clit just right with every thrust. You donât even have time to warn him, clamping tight around him as your orgasm racks through your core. Your whole body winds up with the release, toes curling and eyes rolling. Your lips release a mantra of âoh god, oh god, oh godâ as you weep through it, nearly blacking out with how intense it is.
Chan groans loudly then, and you feel something warm coat your insides. Beneath you, you can feel his body jerk and shake, and you hold him tight against you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He moans into your chest as he comes down from his high.
He leans up, kisses you slowly, softly, a welcome feeling after the harsh pounding you just took. You hum into his lips, savouring the feeling of it. Your head is fuzzy, like someone just cleaned it out, leaving nothing behind. Chan nudges his nose against yours, and you blink your eyes open. His smile is dopey, giddy, and you canât help your giggle.
âI like you like this,â he whispers, âyou look so relaxed.â
âAll thanks to you.â You brush his hair away from his sweaty face, scratching his scalp a little. He visibly shivers. You canât help but smile.
You kiss him again, still light and soft. You feel his cock twitch inside you.
âCan I lick you again now? Please?â
You are a little caught off guard, huffing in amusement. âI donât think I have it in me, Channie.â
âIâll be gentle.â He runs his hands carefully up your bare back, as if to make a point. âPlease. Wanna make you feel good.â
Something stirs in your core again. God, this man will be the death of you. Well, not really a man. A selkie. Your selkie. And his blinding smile when you give in to his begging is enough to tell you that thereâs no coming back from this.
Not that you would want to. Like Chan said, you want him to be here with you forever.
summary: one day, youâre buying a soft, brown fur coat from the thrift store. the next, you have a man on your doorstep claiming heâs your husband.
word count: 6.8k
warnings: selkie!dino, human!reader, references to scottish folklore but a very loose interpretation, swearing, reader is bitter, mildly depressed and very tired of life, chan is the cutest sweetest boy ever, questionable self preservation instincts, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, kinda sub!chan, oral (fem!receiving), riding, slight nipple play.
a/n: so this was loosely based on an ask i got about selkie!dino, and i really did a lot of research on selkies and came up with a plot to go w it. im sure this isnât what anon originally wanted, but i loved the idea of selkies and i went with it ă
SELKIE (n.) â from icelandic, irish and scottish lore
⊟ shapeshifters. they live as seals or otters in the sea, but shed their skin or fur to change into beautiful humans on land.
⊟ a selkie must hide their skin carefully when they walk on land, because if their skin is lost, they cannot return to the sea.
⊟ whichever human finds and keeps the skin/fur of a selkie is considered as the selkieâs spouse.
These last few weeks have been the most impressive run of insanely crappy weeks youâve ever had.
Everything just keeps going wrong. With work, with bills, and even a petty fight with one of your closest friends. To top it all off, your last phone call with your mother went awry too, with her complaining about your schedule and you getting a little too harsh on the phone. You regretted it immediately, but now sheâs a little icy with you, which only dampens your mood further.
It has just been bad overall, so this shopping trip with Seungkwan is really something you need, even if you donât have a whole lot of money to spend.
âOh, I like this one.â
You hold the large coat up to your chest and turn to Seungkwan so he can take a look. Itâs huge, falling all the way to your knees, and the fur is dark brown, a neutral and earthy color that looks shiny and smooth. Itâs very soft to touch, and you have to wonder how it ended up in a thrift store. It looks and feels so high quality.
Seungkwan tilts his head as he appraises it. âPut it on.â
You do, standing in front of the full-length mirror for a better look. You turn to assess some angles, but youâre quickly being distracted from the way it looks, focusing more on the way it feels. Itâs comforting as hell, and very warm. Youâre still in awe that you managed to dig up something so good from this store.
âIâm getting it.â You announce before Seungkwan can even give his opinion. You donât know why, but you really feel drawn to this coat. Something tells you that you need to own it. And after the shit week youâre having (itâs not even Wednesday), you think you deserve this. You havenât bought anything new in ages. If this can give you a little boost of happiness when you feel like youâre drowning, then you wonât pass that opportunity up.
It doesnât cost a lot, considering how wonderful it feels on your skin and the fact that youâre getting your next paycheck after the weekend. You feel a positive sensation jump in your chest as you walk out of the store, listening to Seungkwan whine about something work related. Youâre quickly swept up in his emotions, augmenting his words and losing yourself in the conversation. You really do need to vent, and Seungkwan is the perfect person for something like that. He matches your energy, understands your struggle since he himself is afflicted with a terrible case of jerk-boss. You feel like you are shedding off pounds and pounds of negative build-up, which you are so thankful for.
Two more workdays follow your trip with Seungkwan, and they weigh heavily on you. By the time the weekend rolls around, you are so grateful you could cry. You need this, the relief of two whole days of no work. You get home on limbs that weigh like lead. With nothing but rotting in bed in your mind, you quickly change into something more comfortable, a loose shirt and leggings. You go through your streaming services to find something to watch as you cook. Just when youâre settling on the couch to start eating your freshly cooked meal, you hear a knock on your door.
Your eyebrows furrow, confused. For one, you arenât expecting anyone. And for another, you have a doorbell, so the fact that someone is knocking makes even more questions arise. Before you can think further, thereâs another knock, more insistent this time, and youâre quickly placing your bowl on the coffee table and scrambling to the door before you can wonder about who it might be. You curse the fact that front doors in your apartment building donât have peepholes. You carefully unlock and open the door a tiny smidge, peering outside. You blink, confused at the sight.
Itâs a man. He looks young, around your age, and has a head of thick, shaggy brown hair that is falling into his equally dark eyes. You look down, and you pause at what youâre seeing. Heâs wearing a sweater vest over what looks like another sweater, both terribly mismatched. And heâs wearingâŠ. a skirt?
Yes, itâs a plaid skirt. Deep maroon. Layered over dark denim jeans. And right below them, leather sandals.
You donât even know what to say. You look back up at the man, and this time, heâs wearing a wide smile. His eyes are wide and bright, and youâre caught off guard by how cheerful he looks.
âHi.â His voice is fresh, chirpy. You nod your head uncertainly.
âHello.â Your own is uncertain and damp. You hold the edge of the door tightly, bracing yourself.
âMy name is Chan.â He says.
You nod slowly. âOkay.â Thereâs no way in hell you are telling this stranger your name.
âMay I come in?â
Your jaw drops at the question. Who is this man? Why is he dressed so strangely?
âWho are you?â You canât help but scowl. You donât have time for this. If this is some strange sales call or something, you are not interested.
The man blinks, as if confused by the question. âIâm Chan.â
Is he stupid? You stare at him for a moment. âLook, I donât know you and whatever youâre selling, Iâm not interested.â
As you go to close the door, the man rushes forward, knocking his palm on the wood and stopping it in place. You freeze, feeling slightly scared now. He immediately pulls his hand away, now fiddling with his fingers and looking incredibly nervous.
âIâm your husband.â
You blink once. Twice. He doesnât say anything more, just stares like he has told you nothing more than a fact about the weather.
âExcuse me?â
He looks just as nervous, but he nods slowly. âYou took my fur. You bought it. So Iâm your husband.â
You are so confused and shocked that you donât even realise youâve opened the door properly. Youâre just holding the doorframe now, jaw dropped, an incredulous look on your face as you eye him. He shifts a little uncomfortably, swaying back and forth as he wrings his hands.
âIâm a selkie.â He babbles. âYou bought my fur. Iâve been looking everywhere for it. I lost it near the pier a few weeks ago. I canât go back without it. But Iâve found it now. It belongs to you. Which means I belong to you now. Iâm your husband.â
You donât understand more than two words out of his mouth. Briefly, you think of drugs, and you edge the door slowly closed again.
âListen,â you say, trying to keep annoyance and confusion out of your tone to make it more soft. Maybe he will listen to you that way. âThereâs a shelter just a few blocks down. I promise you will find help there. Iâm sure if you ask someone, they will tell you exactly where it is.â
You wave your arm to the left in a vague gesture for direction. He just stares at you. You fidget.
âI canât leave.â He says. âYou have my fur. I belong to you.â
You are starting to get a little scared, so you shake your head vaguely as you keep pushing the door closed. âSorry. I canât help you.â
You close the door before he can say anything else, immediately locking it. You stare at it for a second, listening. You canât hear shuffling, or footsteps. You wonder if he has left.
You double check the locks before moving back inside, wondering what you should do. The whole interaction has left you a little shaken. You eye your now cold food, and the paused movie on your television screen. It only makes you grit your jaw and huff, feeling annoyed again. You have enough on your plate without worrying about some weirdo at your door. You canât let this weigh on you. Itâs probably a one-off, someone who just got confused. And you did try to help him, so hopefully he takes your advice.
But you canât focus. Even as you sink onto your couch and finish absentmindedly eating, your stare blank as you watch the screen. You canât help but think of the gibberish he spoke. Before you can stop yourself, youâre reaching for your laptop, pulling it towards you and opening the search bar. Quickly, you type âselkiesâ.
Thereâs so much you find. Page after page of what looks like old, Scottish lore. Sketches and paintings, as well as written text. They are sea creatures, like seals or otters, that can transform into humans by shedding their skins or furs. You remember the manâs words.
âYou have my fur. You bought it.â
As you keep reading, you learn that taking a selkieâs fur means having ownership of them. It symbolises an intimate, lifetime bond. Like mates, or spouses. You recall him calling himself your husband, making an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach. Everything he said somehow makes sense. Itâs fantastical, and outlandish to think it might be real, but in the context of it all, it really isnât random words strung together. Maybe he was confusing you with someone else. Maybe they are doing some weird role play thing. Youâve seen stuff like that on the internet.
Your phone dings. You absentmindedly look at the text. Itâs from the lady who lives across from you.
[minyoung apt 34]: hey. theres a man sitting outside your door. should i call someone? are u home?
You stare at the text, confusion and a small bit of realisation dawning on you. You throw your phone on the couch and stand up, quickly beelining to the door and unlocking it, pulling it open.
He is sitting beside the door, back against the wall just to your right. He looks up when you appear, blinking at you. You gape at him.
âYouâre still here.â Itâs more of a statement than a question.
He nods. âI canât leave.â
The cheery, bright tone seems to have drained out of him. He soundsâŠ.. sad, almost. Unsure. Like he doesnât know what to do with himself. His silly skirt is bunched up to his thighs, and the jeans are maybe two sizes too big for him. You hesitate, and then you make a very stupid decision. You brace yourself.
âGet up. Come on.â
He seems surprised, and honestly, so are you. You pull the door open more and step aside, watching him quickly scramble up. His face seems to have lightened, but he still looks apprehensive. Slowly, he walks in. You sigh deeply and shut the door behind him.
Heâs looking around like he has never seen a house before. Or a living room. Four walls, pictures, a couch. His eyes are wide and beady as he stares at the television. You watch him carefully. In complete honesty, you donât know why you invited him in. But thereâs something in his voice that doesnât ring any warning bells in your head. Youâre sure your parents would have a heart attack if they heard of this, cursing at themselves and you for not instilling âstranger dangerâ as well as they should have. But he doesnât give you that vibe at all. When he turns to look at you again, thereâs something earnest about it. Sincere.
You shift uncomfortably. âChan, was it?â
He nods.
âAnd youâre⊠a selkie?â
His nod is even more vigorous this time.
âOkay.â You donât know what to do with your hands. He keeps staring. âAnd you came here becauseâŠâ
You prompt him to continue, and he does. âIâm your husband.â
You feel a flicker of irritation. âYeah, you said that already. But I donât know what that means.â
He frowns a little, lower lip jutting out. Itâs almost cute. You shake the thought away.
âYou bought my fur.â
You huff. âYeah, I donât know what exactly that is, but I donât have anything of yours, buddy.â
He tilts his head, as if thinking hard. You start to regret inviting him in.
âI-itâs brown.â He says. âDark brown. And very soft. A little heavy. And it smells like the sea.â
Your face smoothens in realisation. Wait, does he meanâŠ.?
The coat. Your newly bought fur coat. You havenât worn it yet, since itâs a little too warm for the current weather. Youâve been waiting for a particularly cloudy and chilly day to put it on. Realisation dawns on you.
You leave Chan in your living room, taking less than a few seconds to find the thing and carry it back out. The way Chanâs face lights up at the sight of it has your heart racing. Again, you are hit with the reality of how sincere and pure he feels. No one can be this good an actor.
âYou can have it.â You hold it out. âThis is what youâre here for, right?â
While he looks happy to see the coat, he shakes his head, turning his bright eyes back to you. âIâm here for you.â
You feel your face heat a little, remembering the spouse and mate stuff you just looked up. You fidget where you stand, considering him.
God, your run of insanely crappy weeks just wonât end. And you really feel like you canât deal with this right now. So you just huff and nod, feeling drained.
âFine. But you will sleep on the couch until I know what to do with you.â
His resulting smile is so blinding, you wonder if there truly is something mythical about him.
âŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠ.
You donât tell Seungkwan about Chan. Frankly, youâre still not sure what you will do about this whole situation, since you know that even if Chan leaves, he will just go back to sitting outside your door. He tells you as much himself. You also donât know how supportive Seungkwan will be when he finds out that you have an unknown man living on your couch, claiming to be a supernatural creature of the sea. You honestly donât have the energy for that lecture, or to convince Seungkwan that something deep in your chest is telling you that Chan is harmless. Maybe itâs the way he looks at you, a strange reverence in his eyes, like he has never seen something more fascinating in his life. Or maybe itâs the fact that he genuinely doesnât know anything.
You find some of Seungkwanâs and your brotherâs clothes in your stuff, telling him to change into a sweatshirt and pants and to take off whatever ridiculous clothing he is wearing. He looks much better that way, more normal, but he claims to feel weird.
âAre you sure this is enough clothes?â He looks uncertain. You canât help but feel amused.
âYes, because youâre indoors. You can put something else on top when you go outside.â
He nods, albeit a little hesitant. But he seems to trust your judgment.
When you offer him a meal, he accepts it carefully, eyeing the bowl of noodle soup like he has never seen it before. He picks at it, and makes a face when he eats it. He tries to quickly hide it, but he canât fake anything to save his life, so you spot it immediately, and when you ask him what he usually eats, he lists varieties of fish and shellfish you have never heard of before. You do end up buying some for him, and conveniently, you donât even have to cook it. He eats it raw.
âYou would love sushi.â You quip as you watch him eat. When he gives you a confused look, you just shake your head and wave it off, mentally making a note to take him to a sushi place sometime.
Chan tells you he has never left the water before. His pack never trusted him enough to do it, and apparently they had been right. He lost his fur very quickly, without even realising, and he has been trying to track it for weeks, claiming he canât go back without it.
âSo now that youâve found it, you can go back.â You say, but he shakes his head.
âI canât leave you. Youâre my wife.â
Right. He keeps saying that, always in the softest tone, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars. It lights your face on fire, makes you fidget where you sit, but he is never fazed by it, like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
Itâs not like youâve never had anyoneâs romantic attention before. You have had boyfriends. Granted, most of them ended terribly. Youâre still not sure if youâre completely over your ex cheating on you. But Chan is different. Hell, heâs not even human, so itâs not like you can compare him to anything from your past. Dating has always been difficult for you, and you kind of gave up on it when you moved and got hit by the shitstorm that is now your life. It was put so effectively on the back burner that you had forgotten what this felt like. Having someone like you like this.
With Chan, itâs hard to figure out how to act. You donât know what to do with all hisâŠâŠ positivity. Chan feels like something untouched, untainted. He reminds you of how you were when you just moved to this town. Hopeful and ready to start your adult life. And then the universe decided to start beating the crap out of you, until you felt like you were just surviving, going through the motions.
Chan isnât like that. Chan isâŠ.. luminous. He randomly compliments you, talking about how nice and colorful your apartment is (you donât think itâs anything special). Or saying he likes something youâre wearing, or that your hair is pretty and shiny. Simple compliments, nothing too poetic, but he says them all with so much earnestness. He especially gets giddy when you wear his coat, saying you look best in it, patting you down before you go to work. It always leaves you hot and fidgety. You really donât know how to handle him, or his easy affection.
Your life changes as the weeks go by.
Work is just as hectic as always. You get the mountain load of two or three people, enough to have you ready to pull your hair out. You slave away all day, dragging your feet as you finally get home, but this time, it is not to an empty house. Because Chan is there. Chan and his bright smile and his endlessly curious but simple questions. Chan with his many, many stories about life under the sea. He always notices that youâre tired, and he offers to cook for you. He doesnât know what heâs doing, but he is good at following instructions. So if whatever he is cooking comes from a packet with directions on the back, he ends up making something very hearty and nice. Usually, you are so tired that you donât mind anything he makes. You will eat it as long as you arenât the one who has to cook it after working all day.
You complain to him that your legs get cramped up from sitting on your desk chair for so many hours. He pulls your legs towards him before you can protest, plonking them down on his lap and kneading the calf muscles. All your rejections die in your throat as soon as you feel the glorious pressure of his hands. You moan appreciatively, not noticing how Chan positively perks up at the sound, doubling down on his efforts to lessen your fatigue.
That becomes a daily occurrence.
A few weeks of Chan living with you has made you much more comfortable with him. You watch the screen with tired, bleary eyes as he runs his fingers over the soles of your feet from where he has them in his lap. It feels wonderful, as always. While you watch the TV, he watches you. He does that often, just openly staring. It used to make you uncomfortable, and you got very close to scolding him a few times. But the look on his face always makes you stop. A look of awe that youâve never felt directed at you before. Thereâs nothing creepy about it, only pure, unfiltered marvel. So you just let him do what he wants.
A voice deep inside you says you donât actually mind, you might even enjoy it, but you try not to think about that voice.
You let out a weary sigh and shift a bit, rolling your shoulders to adjust the ache in them. Chan notices, because he always notices, and he pauses his movements on your feet.
âI can rub your shoulders.â He offers.
You blink, considering it. You already know how good it will feel, but you donât know if you want to cross that boundary. This is different, having your feet in his lap. But you donât know how you feel about Chanâs hands all over your back and shoulders. It would feel too much like testing dangerous waters.
The truth is, you like him. He has become a breath of fresh air in your bitter and depressing days. Every day, you come home while looking forward to his company. He is so different, light, cheerful, effervescent. He talks and talks and talks, about any and everything. And it doesnât annoy you. Never. He injects something warm in your cold, silent evenings.
You donât have to worry with him. Thereâs no agenda here. He doesnât want anything from you except your company. He takes care of you like no one has for a really long time.
Sometimes, he feels like a dream. And you perpetually carry the fear that one day, he will go away.
Heâs still watching you, anticipating your reply. His hands slowly work on the arch of your foot. His eyes, that deep warm brown, pores into yours. For the first time in a long time, you canât bring yourself to care about consequences. You just nod.
âOkay.â
He ends up seating himself beside you, coaxing you to turn your back to him on the couch. You can feel him touch your sweater before speaking again.
âWould it be better without this?â
You flush but nod, reaching down to tug the sweater off, so youâre left with a long sleeved shirt instead. You feel his touch right in between your shoulder blades. Slowly, he starts pressing into the skin over your shirt.
Chan is way too good with his hands for a creature that didnât even have hands until a few weeks ago. He digs his thumbs into the lines of your shoulder blades, making your eyes roll as he breaks knot after knot of tension in your muscles. He purses his lips and frowns as he gets a feel of it. You hear a soft huff of breath.
âYour muscles are so tense.â He murmurs. âThis only happens to me when I swim for a very, very long time. Hours and hours. With no breaks.â
You crack a little smile at the comparison.
âIt feels like that sometimes.â You mumble, staring at the opposite wall while lost in thought. âLike Iâm just swimming and swimming. No breaks. No end in sight.â
His touch slows, but doesnât lose its strength. His fingers coil around your shoulders, kneading. Your eyelids flutter.
âHuman lives are difficult.â His voice is barely above a whisper, but you hear him in the silence of the muted television screen. âI feel like none of you are happy.â
You purse your lips. âWhat makes you say that?â
Another exhale, this time almost like a defeat. âYou never smile. You never laugh.â
You blink, processing. You donât know why that is unexpected, but it catches you off guard. Your mind whirs. You think on it.
When was the last time you were truly happy?
When you try to look back on the last few months, you canât pinpoint anything. Then, a memory floats to the surface, from just a couple of weeks ago. Chan had tried to bake something, and while he succeeded, he left the kitchen in such a mess that he was almost reduced to tears by the end. He had pouted and whined about it, saying it is âway too difficultâ to make a cheesecake. You couldnât help but muffle your laughter at his flour caked face.
It still makes you smile.
âYou make me happy.â You say.
His hands pause. Not a falter, a complete halt. You wonder if youâve crossed a line.
âI do?â Thereâs something shaky in his voice, like he canât believe it. You just nod.
With the hold Chan has on your shoulders, he maneuvers you to turn around. You do, finally able to see him face to face. Your breath hitches at the hope in his eyes, the unadulterated happiness.
âI make you happy?â He asks again, like he just canât bring himself to accept it.
You canât help the lift of your lips. You nod again. âYou do.â
You donât expect him to kiss you, but you donât stop him either. His lips are endlessly soft, and so, so eager. When you donât push him away, he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You are hit with the very faint scent of sea salt, and it feels like youâre on the coast. Your heart squeezes. Your hands reach up, cupping his face, and you push harder into him.
Chan whines, whines, lapping at your lips like he needs them to breathe. His tongue licks into your mouth. His enthusiasm is almost too much for you. It should be a surprise, but itâs not, because itâs Chan, and he has always been like this. He hangs on to your every word like itâs law. He looks at you like youâre the mythical creature, not him. You feel his hands now, on your knees before they slide up, gripping your hips tightly. He inhales your every sigh, and something warm and electric coils in the pit of your stomach. Your hand winds in his hair. Itâs soft, just the same texture as your (his) coat, and you canât help but grip it tight. He moans openly into your mouth. Itâs too much. You break away for air with a loud gasp.
It doesnât seem to deter him, because he smooches over your cheek, your jaw, further down your neck. Your eyelids flutter, tilting your head back, your hand still in his hair. You encourage his movements. His tongue licks over your skin. He moans again.
âI want to taste every part of you.â His voice is breathless, desperate. You feel yourself clench. He pulls away so he can look at you, his eyes pleading, brighter than youâve ever seen them. This close, you can see that his pupils are completely blown.
âPlease? Can I?â His tone is shaky.
God, he needs to stop doing that. Itâs making wetness pool at an alarming rate between your legs. You so desperately want him down here, it makes your hips buck up involuntarily. You donât even think about it, all inhibitions thrown out the window. You nod.
He doesnât let you undress yourself, gently brushing your hands away because he claims he wants to do it himself. He lays you down on the couch, hovers over you on his knees as he peels your clothes off, until youâre left completely naked under him. He watches you with so much hunger in your eyes that your face flames, and it takes everything in your power not to shrink into yourself. Truthfully, you love it, love seeing the sincere lust in his face, the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes lingering over every inch of you, like he wants all of you.
Something about being so deeply desired has your head spinning.
He is true to his word. His lips trail over every inch of you. He runs them over your shoulders, your arms, even holding your hands gently to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Every few inches, he lays a soft kiss, before going back to running his lips and tongue over the skin. He licks down the valley of your breasts, burying his face in them for a few seconds. He spends extra time on your nipples, sucking and flicking his tongue over them until they are stiff and peaked. By the time he is anywhere close to your core, youâre already gasping and trembling under him in anticipation.
Finally, finally, he spreads your legs. He stares for a long time, thumbing at your outer lips, opening your slit to the cold air, peering at your little nub, swollen and ready, neglected.
âPretty.â He whispers. âYouâre pretty all over. Every inch of you.â
You feel a pressure build behind your eyes. Fuck. You canât be this lame. You canât be the one crying during sex. But Chan isnât touching you, he is worshipping you. In his hold, under his hands, you feel like something precious, something worthy of this kind of reverence. Itâs an unprecedented feeling. You donât think anyone has ever wanted you this much. Not before him.
He leans closer, and you feel his breath on your pussy as he speaks.
âThis is it, right? This is where I can pleasure you the most?â
You suddenly remember that Chan isnât really familiar with human anatomy. So far, you havenât felt his lack of experience at all, mostly because you think his enthusiasm is so intense that it masks the inexperience completely. You nod at him, swallowing tightly.
âYeah.â
He licks his lips. âCan I taste it?â
The words are way sexier than you thought they would be. You throw your head back. âGod, yes. Please.â
Something about the âpleaseâ does it for him, because he licks a long, thick stripe all the way from your clenched hole to your clit, dragging slowly over it. He hums when his tongue withdraws, just for a second, just to taste, and then heâs digging in again, flattening his tongue over and over on your slit, like he approves of the taste, like he wants more.
Heâs sloppy, not bothered by the filthy wet noises your sopping cunt makes, lips and tongue running over every nook and cranny. But thereâs one spot where you need him the most, and you canât help it. You wind a hand through his hair, tugging his head up until his tongue runs just over your clit. Your hips jerk.
âThere,â you gasp, âright there.â
Heâs a quick learner, just like he learned to cook after just a few tries, and how to work the television and your Netflix account, and how he figured out which clothes go together. His tongue flicks eagerly over your clit, like heâs hanging on to every cry and moan that falls from your lips. He must register how the noises amp up when he pays attention to your clit, because he pushes your legs further apart, buries his face deeper into your cunt, wraps his lips around it and sucks hard. Your back arches right off the couch, gripping his hair tightly. He groans into your pussy.
Itâs a cycle. His lips and tongue make you feel good, you tug at his hair in encouragement, he hums into you, and the vibrations feel even better, sending chills up your whole body. Your high builds a little too quick, and you wish this could just go on for hours and hours. You have no doubt in your head that if you asked him, he would do exactly that. And very happily too. But your need for release is more pressing than that, so you hold him close, you babble about how youâre almost there, and when your orgasm hits, you go cross eyed with it, wave after wave of pleasure cresting inside you as you shake and cry through it. Chan doesnât slow for a single second, letting you writhe and twist under him, chasing your hips wherever they go. Itâs only when you tug his hair hard enough to pull his head away that he finally stops, looking up at you with dazed, teary eyes. His whole face is sweaty, wet, and blotched pink over his pale cheeks.
Heâs a vision.
You pull hard at his sweatshirt until heâs scrambling up your body, and you kiss him hard. He moans appreciatively, immediately licking into your mouth like he needs it to breathe. Your own taste invades your tongue.
âLet me do that again.â He whines. âPlease. Wanna make you feel good. Let me lick you again.â
You moan and feel yourself clench hard, head spinning with how badly heâs turning you on. But you feel so empty, and you need him in other ways too, or you feel like you might combust.
âLater.â You promise him. âNeed your cock right now.â
âMy what?â He pulls back, still looking unfocused as he frowns down at you. You blink a little, clearing the fog in your head a little. Oh.
Your hand travels down until you palm the bulge in his pants. He jerks violently and gasps.
âThis,â you whisper, biting your lip. Chanâs eyes shoot down to where it is trapped between your teeth. âNeed this inside me.â
âInsideâŠ.?â
Itâs better to do than to explain, so you push yourself up, arranging him under you until you're straddling his lap where he sits, undoing the drawstring of his sweatpants and pushing them down enough to free his cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. Heâs girthy, way more than youâve ever taken before, and he curves just at the tip in a way that you know is going to make you see stars when he fucks you right. You run your hand over him, and he gasps again, hips bucking into your touch.
âFeel good?â You ask. Chan nods furiously.
âWanna make you feel good.â His voice sounds wrecked. You canât help your giddy smile at his laser focus on making this pleasurable for you.
âYou will.â You adjust yourself until youâre hovering over him, running his tip through your slit. You feel him grip your thighs tightly.
The first slide in is glorious. Heâs so thick that he stretches your poor pussy out enough to make your legs tremble violently. He runs his hands over them, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure and pain. If you had more control of your mental faculties, if you werenât so busy taking his massive cock in, you would try to placate the worry on his face, but you have other things to concern yourself with right now.
The deeper he slides in, the farther up his eyes roll. His jaw goes slack, and you watch with a tinge of amusement as the feeling makes his own face go through a million emotions in the span of a few seconds. It makes you brave, more daring, and it makes you feel so sexy to have the power to make him feel all this for the first time. His grip on your thighs is near bruising, which you donât think he realises, too lost in how warm and tight your cunt feels. Finally, you are fully seated on him, all the way up to the very base.
âGood?â You manage to gasp out. It seems he chokes on his own words, because he just pulls your body close and jerks his head down in a nod.
âWhat about you?â He looks up at you, blinking furiously. He looks like he might cry if you say that it doesnât feel good, not that you would lie like that. You giggle breathlessly.
âItâs so good, Channie.â You coo, running a hand through his hair. âYou fill me up perfectly, like you were made for me.â
He whines, so loud and thick with want that you think he might cum right there. He holds you tight against him.
âYes.â He gasps. âMade for you. My wife. Wanna be with you forever.â
Itâs incoherent babbling. Uninhibited because of the lust. You shouldnât take him seriously. Except you know Chan. You know he doesnât lie. You know he means this with every fiber in him. Your heart stutters, your exhale shaky. You hug his body tight to you, unable to respond. You want him impossibly closer. You tug at his sweatshirt.
âOff.â
He doesnât waste a single second, revealing wide expanses of built muscle. You run your eyes over him, hungry for the sight, for the feel of him. Once more, emotion builds inside your chest, filling you up from the inside out.
Finally, when you feel like youâve adjusted to his size, you rock your hips on him, testing. He gasps immediately, hands running everywhere he can reach you and feel you. You let him, basking under the attention now that your hesitation has melted away and the lust has left you wanting. You slowly build up a rhythm, bouncing on him with less and less care until you feel his cock properly fuck into you the way you wanted. Little gasps and moans leave your lips as well as his. Your body warms under the exertion, the deep penetration making your core clamp up slowly and steadily, pleasure building inside you. Skin against skin makes wet plopping noises, a dirty sound that only adds to what youâre already feeling. It seems Chan just canât stand to have his mouth unoccupied, because he quickly finds your nipple and starts sucking, making you cry out at the feeling.
Exhaustion starts pulling at your limbs after a while, and you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration. Youâre so close, you can feel it. You just need a little more, his cock really ramming into you, just a few well aimed thrusts and you know you would topple over.
âChan.â You pull his head up with a tug on his hair, a habit youâve created by now. âIâm- Iâm tired-â
He doesnât even wait to hear more, gripping your hips tightly and pistoning up hard into you. You gasp, arching into him.
âLike this?â His voice is raspy, rough. You nod vigorously, unable to form words as he keeps going, fucking up hard into you until you feel nothing but the intense stimulation on your sweet spot, his tip rubbing insistently over it again and again. His pelvis grazes your clit just right with every thrust. You donât even have time to warn him, clamping tight around him as your orgasm racks through your core. Your whole body winds up with the release, toes curling and eyes rolling. Your lips release a mantra of âoh god, oh god, oh godâ as you weep through it, nearly blacking out with how intense it is.
Chan groans loudly then, and you feel something warm coat your insides. Beneath you, you can feel his body jerk and shake, and you hold him tight against you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He moans into your chest as he comes down from his high.
He leans up, kisses you slowly, softly, a welcome feeling after the harsh pounding you just took. You hum into his lips, savouring the feeling of it. Your head is fuzzy, like someone just cleaned it out, leaving nothing behind. Chan nudges his nose against yours, and you blink your eyes open. His smile is dopey, giddy, and you canât help your giggle.
âI like you like this,â he whispers, âyou look so relaxed.â
âAll thanks to you.â You brush his hair away from his sweaty face, scratching his scalp a little. He visibly shivers. You canât help but smile.
You kiss him again, still light and soft. You feel his cock twitch inside you.
âCan I lick you again now? Please?â
You are a little caught off guard, huffing in amusement. âI donât think I have it in me, Channie.â
âIâll be gentle.â He runs his hands carefully up your bare back, as if to make a point. âPlease. Wanna make you feel good.â
Something stirs in your core again. God, this man will be the death of you. Well, not really a man. A selkie. Your selkie. And his blinding smile when you give in to his begging is enough to tell you that thereâs no coming back from this.
Not that you would want to. Like Chan said, you want him to be here with you forever.
pairing: lee seokmin (dk) x f.reader
genre: idol!au (kind of?), smut
rating: explicit, minors DNI
warning: swearing, drinking, hoshi is a shithead (yes, that's a warning), honestly this is mostly just smut with a little bit of background
smut warnings: thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (don't do this), vaginal sex, they were drinking but it's not drunk sex, dk calls reader baby
word count: 4140 (don't @ me)
summary: you say yes to a vacation with the new group you're working with. what else are you going to say yes to?
a/n: i really don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a drabble for a request that @playmetheclassics sent and here we are. thank you so much to @here4btsfics for being a wonderful beta reader and to @classicscreations for the banner (even though i wouldn't let her beta). i hope you like this, indigo! and please be gentle, it's my first seventeen fic
a/n 2: a second part is in the works so stay tuned đ
You knew a lot of things before you agreed to come on this trip. You knew that you needed a break, knew it was an all-expenses paid trip with little (if any) work, and knew it was a chance to get to know the people you were going to be working with better.Â
So you quickly agreed. Who would say ânoâ to running away to the sun during the coldest parts of winter? Certainly not you. There were definitely moments when you looked back and questioned your decision-making skills. This wasnât going to be one of them.
Until it was.
Because there were things you didnât know, too. You didnât know how everything changed without eyes everywhere. Didnât know how much more relaxed everyone got when they were truly alone. Didnât know that you didnât actually know much at all about these people that you worked with.
You certainly didnât know much about Lee Seokmin.Â
Previous interactions with him had been brief, usually. There wasnât much reason for you to be hanging around him. Despite that, you knew him to be someone that was kind, caring, and generally always had a smile on his face. In the grand scheme of what you knew, he seemed relatively tame, innocuous even. Certainly not an obvious walking problem like Kim Mingyu, who you had been careful around so far.
And it was all fine, until you saw Seokmin sitting on the side of the pool in a bathing suit and realized just how thick his thighs were. Then you werenât really sure what to do or where you could go that was safe. So you sought out the one person that you genuinely considered a friend and nothing more. There was one person among this group that you genuinely connected with. He had been an instant friend. You figured you would be safe with him.
âAre you hiding from Mingyu again? Because honestly, youâre gonna have to get over that,â Soonyoung said, more mocking than disapproving.
âNo, I am not hiding from Mingyu. I havenât hidden from him,â you hissed back.
âMhmm,â Soonyoung hummed.Â
âCanât I just want to hang out with you?â you asked and rolled your eyes at him.
ââCourse you can,â Soonyoung said easily.Â
Soonyoung seemed a little distracted and you figured it was okay to sneak a look back over to where Seokmin sat. He was laughing and trying to drag Minghao into something, an impressive accomplishment if he managed it.
âAhhh, right year, wrong person,â Soonyoung chuckled. Apparently, he wasnât distracted and you played right into his hand. When you looked over at him, his eyes were on Seokmin.
âItâs nothing,â you said, brushed any thoughts off immediately. âI just guess I didnât know you guys that well before this.â
âItâs only the first day,â Soonyoung commented and that gave you pause.
You shook it off quickly. âExactly, itâs the first day. Iâm just getting used to everyone.â
âYouâre used to me,â he said and you were worried for a second he meant it as a bad thing. If the smirk on his face was anything to go by, he was just causing problems on purpose. Again.
âYou donât count,â you said.
âWow, rude, Iâm a person too,â Soonyoung whined.
âI know you are,â you said patiently.
âAnd Iâm hot too,â he added. Your eyebrows shot up at that.
âNo, Iâm not falling for that. Because if I agree that youâre hot, which you know you are, youâre going to ask me who else is hot since you said you were hot too,â you said and watched his smile fade.
âYouâre no fun.â he pouted.
Crisis averted, at least for the time being.
Thankfully, the rest of the day was pretty easy and you were able to enjoy time with Soonyoung as well as some of the others. Although he made little comments, it wasnât obvious what he was talking about. And that really was par for the course with him anyway. When you walked around thinking you were a tiger (that wasnât all for the cameras, apparently), people took what you said with a grain of salt.
Dinner was a chaotic affair at best. With so many people, you had to spread out over several tables. It was easier that way for you too because it gave you a chance to have more personal conversations. You were fine in big groups, usually, but with so many people there often wasnât room to get a word in. Especially when they knew each other so well and you were still brand new.
You sat down at the only two-person table, figuring Soonyoung or maybe Chan would sit with you. They had been the easiest to be around so far given they were the two youâd spent the most time with prior to the vacation. Easy. It would all be so easy.
âAre you saving this for someone?âÂ
The voice caught you off guard, mid-bite, and you wanted to curse at yourself for not paying more attention. Seokmin was standing before you, all smiles as he held his plate. Soonyoung was right over his shoulder and for a moment, you thought you might be saved. Seokmin followed your gaze and saw his friend.
âOh, were you coming to sit here?â Seokmin asked, friendly as always.
âNo, no, itâs all yours. I was going to sit with Jun and Jihoon,â Soonyoung said with a clap on the younger manâs back.
Yes, Soonyoung was one of the people that you knew best. So really, you shouldâve seen that coming. Youâd never met anyone else that got so much pleasure out of causing problems on purpose. Not that sitting with Seokmin was a problem. It obviously wasnât and you hoped your face remained neutral while you internally spiraled.Â
Dinner was easier than it shouldâve been. Sitting at a table like this, it was much easier to just focus on what Seokmin was saying rather than any thoughts you had earlier. Not surprisingly, he had a lot to say and just as much that he wanted to ask you. He listened intently as you shared things that you thought were boring, insisted they werenât, and smiled the whole time.
Maybe Soonyoung actually was good for something, not that you would ever tell him that. His head was already big enough. But you were also much more comfortable now and maybe he deserved a small thanks.
The warm feelings toward Soonyoung lasted until the next morning when he asked you to meet him in the gym to work out. You should have known something was off. Even though you had wanted to keep up with your gym schedule on vacation, Soonyoung had whined about it before leaving. Then, there was a sudden request and you were still thankful from the night before, and you didnât think much about it.
Another mistake.
You walked into the small gym to find Seokmin and Chan working out with Soonyoung nowhere to be found. And okay, yeah, all those thoughts were definitely still there. Chan, being the sweetest human, asked if you were looking for someone and then laughed. Apparently, your friend was still sleeping.Â
Soonyoung - 2, you - 0.Â
That was how the next several days went. It was like a game to Soonyoung, just to get you to admit something that you didnât want to because he knew it already. And because you were stubborn. He was doing this for his own enjoyment and you werenât going to keep indulging him. So heâd wave the white flag, sometimes multiple times, lull you into a false sense of security, and then force you into a situation with Seokmin that was making it harder and harder to act normal.
âOkay, okay, okay,â you finally said and threw your hands up for good measure.
âWhat?â Soonyoungâs face was pure delight.
âYes, you complete and total pain in the ass, I think someone here is hot. I mean, youâre all hot, but yes, thereâs someone Iâm struggling around,â you said softly.
âMhm, and who is that someone?â Soonyoung pressed.
âDo I really have to say it?â you asked. You knew your cheeks flushed under Soonyoungâs gaze.
âNo, of course not,â Soonyoung said and you exhaled. âWe can just keep playing these games.â
âI knew you were doing all this on purpose, you fucking demon,â you hissed at him.
âGive me a name and itâll stop,â Soonyoung responded, not even acknowledging that you were right.Â
âFine,â you shot back. âItâs Seokmin. Happy?â
âEcstatic,â Soonyoung said.
Apparently not playing games just meant that he wasnât going to keep trying to fabricate situations for you to end up alone with Seokmin. It did not extend to actual games, which he had on the schedule for that night. He was dying to play drinking games, or so he said, and he dragged anyone he could convince along with him. Some of them looked strong-armed and you wondered why he had left the rest alone.
âI didnât force anyone,â Soonyoung protested.
âDid too,â you fired back.
âPlease, you wanted to play,â Soonyoung said.
âWhat about Jihoon? Whyâs he safe?âÂ
âBecause that man could end me with a single look, I donât fuck with that.â
Fair, honestly.
Everyoneâs secrets came out when they were drinking and you tried to observe more than anything. You didnât want to reveal too much, that was the key. And the key to doing that was making sure you stayed clear of being truly drunk. Soonyoung, on the other hand, as the designated host, ended up pretty drunk. It was cute and you spent most of the game laughing so hard you were near tears. Until a couple of the guys announced it was time to call it and head off to bed, for Soonyoung most of all.
People filtered out until it was just you and Seokmin left in the living area. Unlike every other time, though, it was comfortable. Easy, even. A sort of silence settled around you and you soaked it in, not eager to break it.
âAre you having fun?â Seokmin asked after a few minutes.
âYeah, itâs been really great to get to know you all better,â you answered.
âIâve been, well Iâve been noticing we wind up together a lot,â Seokmin said and you looked over at him.
Was this going to be venturing out of easy again? That was the last thing you wanted. âOh, yeah. I guess we have.â
âSometimes I feel like Soonyoung has been setting me up,â Seokmin confessed.
It was the perfect opening to admit that you knew thatâs exactly what your darling Soonyoung had done. The drinks made it seem like a good idea. âWhy would you think that?â
You chickened out anyway. But as you felt dumb, Seokmin rubbed his hand along the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. Did he know? Was he about to let you down easily?
âAh, well itâs kind of embarrassing? But I told him I wanted to get to know you better and was having trouble,â Seokmin admitted.
âWhat?â It was all you could blurt out.
âYeah, I know, it was dumbâŠâ Seokmin stumbled.
âNo, no, itâs not. I will literally kill him though,â you said and Seokmin looked defeated.
âThatâs, uh, a little drastic,â Seokmin said.
âNo, oh my god, Iâm so sorry,â you rambled. âItâs justâŠI thought he was doing it because he knew I thought you were hot and the whole timeâŠwe couldâve avoided all this.â
âYou think Iâm hot?â The question fell out of Seokminâs mouth like he couldnât believe it.
âUm, have you looked in a mirror lately?âÂ
âIâŠcan I kiss you?â Despite your confession, his question was still unsure. You had both been drinking, sure, but you werenât drunk.
All you had to do was nod and he closed the space between you on the couch, took your face in his hands, and kissed you hard. Like he really had been waiting to do it. Like maybe Soonyoung had done both of you a favor in pushing you together over the past several days. Even though it wouldâve been a lot easier without the games.
But it was a weird angle, sitting next to each other, so you repositioned into his lap, enjoying sitting on top of the thighs youâd been dreaming about. Seokmin slid his hands up your thighs and around to your ass, holding you in place against him. Your skin burned under this touch. His lips were steady against yours, confident.Â
You couldnât remember kissing someone and feeling this much. How had you completely missed this side of Seokmin when you were considering who to be careful around?
You couldnât take it anymore, needed to feel him against you even a little. When you broke off the kiss, he looked confused. All youâd done was kiss him but his hair was messy from your hands running through it and his lips were swollen. You pulled your shorts down so you could get back into his lap only in your underwear and t-shirt.Â
And it was a lot.Â
Everywhere your bodies met felt like it was on fire. He looked confident, nothing like the carefree and smiling person you had seen up until this point. Seokmin watched the way goosebumps erupted on your skin as he ran his hands along your bare thighs. Carefully, he repositioned you so that you were straddling one thigh, which was probably more comfortable and maybe meant that this wouldnât be too rushed. Neither of you seemed to want to rush despite being out in a common area.Â
You really couldnât take it and you started to slowly roll your hips against his thigh. The muscles tensed underneath you and it only made you move a little faster. His hands felt like they were everywhere. They moved from your thighs around to squeeze your ass and up your sides under your shirt. It made you shiver with how he switched between gentle and firm. He sure knew how to drive you crazy.
Your hips continued to roll against his thigh and the friction of the fabric was doing more for you than it should have been. You let out a moan that Seokmin immediately caught with his lips. One of his hands returned to your ass to keep your hips moving against his thigh. The other found the back of your neck to hold you against his lips. Not that youâd want to be anywhere else.Â
When you couldnât take it anymore, you moved a hand down between you and started to rub your clit through your underwear. Seokminâs hand moved from your ass immediately and pulled your hand away, gentle but firm. Like he was in control. You wanted to break the kiss to question why he pulled your hand away, but his hand on the back of your neck stayed firm. A second later, you felt his own long fingers moving your underwear to the side and taking over for your finger.
âFuck,â you groaned against his lips. He still wouldnât let you break the kiss.
This wasnât something you had ever really done before. You hadnât ever gotten off on someoneâs thigh like this, but here you were. His finger rubbed circles over your clit and you rocked your hips against his thigh faster, chasing a high that you hadnât expected.Â
Seokmin finally broke your kiss and moved his mouth along your jaw and over to your ear. He nipped at your skin and smiled at the string of moans and encouragement that slipped from your lips. His fingers never broke their rhythm as he kissed whichever part of your skin that his lips could reach.Â
âPlease, I donât think I canâŠIâm gonna,â you muttered, so close to a release.
âCome for me,â Seokmin whispered into your ear.Â
It was all you needed to let go and his finger guided you through your release. Your breaths fell heavy as you came down, still straddled over his thigh. Without another word, he lifted his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. And then he pulled you in again, kissing you deeply.Â
Fuck, this man was hot.
You looked down at the space between you and saw the wet spot on his shorts. You had been so caught up in the moment that you hadnât even registered that he was still dressed.Â
âSeokmin, Iâm so sorry,â you started and he shook his head, eyes still filled with desire.
âDo I seem like Iâm complaining?â He was all confidence now, and it made you shiver.
âWell, no,â you said and he smiled. Not his usual smile. Something much less like sunshine.
You adjusted in his lap and brushed against his cock, already hard in his pants, which earned a groan from him. You were still so sensitive but you couldnât stop yourself from rolling your hips again. Seokmin threw his head back and bit on his knuckle to muffle some of the moaning.
âCome on, weâre going to my bedroom,â he said.
There was no room for disagreement or debate and fuck, why was that so hot? He helped you get your balance so you could climb off of him and grabbed your shorts when he stood up. Part of you wondered if this was a good call. Then again, youâd already made a mess of his shorts, so there wasnât much use in turning back now.
With so many people, you didnât realize how he had gotten his own room and were very appreciative when he led you back to what seemed to be the most secluded part of the main building. It was a little late to even think about that, though, since you had just gotten off on his thigh in the common area.
Once the door was shut, and locked for good measure, Seokmin pulled you against his body and captured your lips in yet another kiss. How did they just keep building and getting more intense? That didnât seem like it should be possible and yet it was. His fingers trailed along your skin at the hem of your shirt before he pulled it up and over your head.Â
While the kiss was broken, your hand snaked down to palm him over his shorts and found he was already hard. Was that just from getting you off on his thigh? And you wanted to tease him, wanted to continue running your hand along him without giving him enough.
But you couldnât. All you wanted was for him to feel as good as you had. You dropped to your knees and pulled both his shorts and briefs with you. You thumbed over the tip of his cock, spread the precum already there along the tip. When you looked up at him, you found he was watching you and so you licked a careful strip up the underside of his length. His eyes fluttered closed for a second.Â
You experimented and took more of him into your mouth slowly. He groaned when your mouth moved back to his head and you swirled your tongue around the tip. His hand twitched like it wanted to hold you in place but he wasnât sure if that was okay. It wasnât like there had been time to talk about any of it. So instead, you grabbed his hand and put it on the back of your head. His eyes found yours and even from your knees you could see his pupils were blown. Like he couldnât believe what was happening. Not that you could either.Â
His hips bucked into your mouth and you hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked. You put your hands on his thighs as you bobbed, felt the muscles there tense under your touch. And you couldnât help but run your nails down them. The shiver you earned in response was all the motivation you needed to keep going.
Until he stopped you suddenly and you looked up at him. He pulled you to your feet and kissed you hard. With his hand on your lower back, he molded your body against him as if any space would kill him. Something about him being so in control fucked with your mind. Made you a needy, whiny mess. You were sure he couldâve asked for anything and you wouldâve agreed.
âI really need to fuck you,â he murmured against your lips.
âFuck,â you whined in response.
He pulled away and you knew you looked disappointed. Your lips chased his for a second. âCondom?â
âI wasnât exactly planning on this happening,â you responded with a light chuckle.
âShit,â he said. His breaths were shallow.
âIâm clean and I have an IUD if you wantâŠâ you started and his eyes snapped to yours.
âYou sure?â he asked.
âYes,â you breathed out and his lips were on yours again.
Strong arms traveled down your body and gripped under your ass. You gasped into Seokminâs mouth when he lifted you and moved the two of you to the bed. Another thing you hadnât realized about this man. Everything he did caught you off guard. And you shouldâve been prepared by that point, but how could you be?
The two of you settled on the bed and your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of him. His hand trailed down your body and he let his fingers skim your folds. You were wet for him again and stifled a moan when two of his fingers entered you. Just a couple pumps and he pulled his fingers out again to grip his cock. You sat up so that he could line himself up against your entrance.
Seokmin let you adjust and you took him in slowly. As soon as you had all of him inside of you, he sighed. Told you how good you felt clenching around him. Told you how much he liked stretching you out. Told you a lot of things as you started to slowly roll your hips. The pace was slow and you knew it needed to be faster. But there was something really nice about having a moment of control. Something nice about watching him. Something nice getting him to beg.
âPlease,â he whined.
And so you gave in. You rolled your hips faster, dug your nails into his shoulders, enjoyed his finger tips digging into the skin at your hips. Every sensation added to the next and only made you want more. More of him, more of this feeling, more everything.
As if he couldnât help himself, his hips bucked up into you. When you let out a string of expletives, he took it as permission to do it again. His hips bucked up into you in rhythm and it was almost more than you could take. You were sensitive from your first orgasm but he felt so good. The pace quickened again as he thrusted his hips up into you. He was so deep and it was so much. You reached your hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. But he knocked your hand away and kissed you hard. A second later, his hand was on your clit.
It was all too much. His thrusts started to falter and you knew he was close. You adjusted so that you could make up for him faltering, rolled your hips as hard and fast as you could manage. Chased the high for both of you.
Seokmin swore and released into you. His thumb on your clit had you cumming right after him and you both rode it out together. You moved slower on him as he thrust into a final few times. You stilled on top of him and his lips found yours again, hands moved to tangle in your hair.Â
This time the kiss was soft, almost like a first real kiss. It was so, so gentle and so filled with care. So at odds with everything that had just happened between the two of you. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket on a cold day, warm and familiar. You had a thought that you could kiss him like that again. That you actually wanted to.
But you needed to pull away. You needed to get off of his lap and you both needed to get cleaned up. Those were some dangerous thoughts and you didnât really need to be having them.Â
If only his face wasnât all care and affection when you pulled away. If only he didnât offer to go get some washcloths to help you clean up. If only he didnât offer you his clothes to sleep in. If only he didnât ask you to cuddle in bed with him that night. If only he didnât look so cute when you agreed.
If only, right?
i hope you all enjoyed that! please let me know your thoughts â€ïž
đৠpart 4/17 of happy haolidays with haologram!
â synopsis: ten years after being crowned prom queen and thinking you'd left your small town in your rearview, you tuck your tail between your legs and come right back home...only to find out that the boy that took you to prom has been waiting patiently for your return.
â genre: brother's best friend au ; minimal angst, fluff, smut.
â pairing: best friend's brother!lee seokmin x reader.
â word count: 9.4k
â rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
â warnings: mentions of fuckass WISCONSIN. mentions of virginity loss (almost too many), swearing. mingyu is yn's brother and annoying as shit. kissing, etc. smut warnings: unprotected sex (if it's lee seokmin anything's possible.) brief body worship (f.rec, including the feet), unspoken high heel kink (?), brief cock worship, oral/brief fingering (f.rec), overstim, praise kink, hair pulling (m.rec), multiple orgasms (2 / f. rec) ; creampie. that's about it!
â what to listen to: ten years - the black lillies ; million days - sabai, hoang, claire ridgely ; when you're gone - avril lavigne ; star - loona.
â author's note:  [special thanks to @/saradika here on tumblr for these lovely snowflake dividers!] welcome back to haologram! this is a special segment iâve created to give a quick thank you to all of my friends this holiday season, and this one is for (all my ladies) my cuties g, @miniseokminnies. bennie, being your friend this year has been one of the most rewarding experiences i've ever had. i have never felt so loved so quickly and in the way i'd always hoped. thank you for always sending me pictures of cool lamps and always letting me know that you love and miss me. i hope to see you soon and give this LDR a better chance than just 'maybe', my baby. happy haolidays, bennie! i love you!
"I'M JUST SAYING, THERE'S NOTHIN' DRY ABOUT THE WAY I HUMP, Y/N."
You roll your eyes, leaning over the cart as your best friend pushes it. Soonyoung insisted he come grocery shopping with you â something about you not being back home in years (ten, to be exact) and how much the supermarket has changed. Spoiler: it hasn't changed at all aside from them finally getting a better selection of snacks, gallon boxes of Goldfish included (and tucked neatly into the corner of your cart.)
"I really, really wish I cared, Hosh." You give him a feigned apologetic look, and he juts his lip in a pout as he fishes through the bag of grapes. He plucks one out, shoving it into his cheek as you swat his hand, "stop that! I'll have to get another bag if you keep eating them!"
"You said we'd go to lunch and we've been here for an hour and a half," he whines, popping another grape into his mouth as you scowl.
"I just moved in, Soonyoung. I have nothing at my apartment and don't forget, you begged me to tag along. I told you I'd swing by your place after I was done!" You scold, only for him to stick his tongue out at you as you toss a sack of apples into the cart, nibbling on your lip as you peruse the produce. Your list was crumpled and long forgotten in Soonyoung's jacket pocket, and the blond groaned loudly as you tentatively picked up a pineapple and brought it to your face, "quit that before I send you to go sit in my car."
"At least the car has AUX."
"Kwon Soonyoung, I mean it."
"Alright, alrightâŠ" he trails off, sighing as he looks around the supermarket. You place the pineapple into the cart, the scent sweet and lingering as you cross your arms before Soonyoung's gasp grabs your attention.
"What? What? Is it an old teacher? Are they pregnant?" You look up, your eyes darting around the produce section before Soonyoung's hand grabs your jaw gently and tilts it towards the pile of 'organic plums' â your eyes landing on a white shirt stretched exhaustingly across the broad expanse of shoulders far too familiar. Your jaw tenses at the sleeves that leave nothing for the imagination, straining against toned biceps as your eyes travel further, a slim waist cinched by a black belt and holding up a nice pair of light blue denim jeans. A wallet is tucked into the back pocket and you follow the movement of the arm tying up a plastic produce bag full of said plums â decorated in a singular silver ring on the pinky and a thick watch on the wrist.
"Lee Seokmin, in the flesh!" He calls, and you feel your face hot as said Lee Seokmin turns around, a bright smile spreading on his face as he spots Soonyoung as his hand drops from your face. He makes his way over, the basket in his hand flexing the tendons in his forearm as he gives Soonyoung a one-armed hug, "good to see you, buddy. Did you get a chance to catch up with Seungkwan? We're planning that dinner next month with the guys, it'd be really great to get everyone togetherâŠ"
He trails off as he sees you standing next to him, a softness glazing over his eyes as he extends his hand to you, "My apologies, I didn't see you. You lookâŠfamiliar."
You hadn't changed much from high school. Maybe grew a couple of spontaneous inches, learned how to properly do your makeup, stopped acting like you didn't care about other's perception of you and actually put an effort into being more social. He tilts his head as Soonyoung shoves your shoulder, your hands twitching at the hem of your denim miniskirt you'd foolishly worn in the biting Wisconsin wind.
"Sorry," you mumble, taking his hand and giving it a quick shake. "We went to prom together."
"Oh my God, so it's true! I heard that you'd moved back home but I wasn't sure if Yoon Jeonghan of all people was worth getting my news from," he rolls his eyes, before the smile on his lips grows slightly warmer. "It's good to see you, Y/N. You lookâŠnice."
"You hesitated." Soonyoung huffs, shoving his friend's shoulder. "Coward."
"Soonyoung," you elbow him, pressing your lips into a firm line as you nod at Seokmin. "It's fine. You look great, I'm glad to see this town did someone well."
Soonyoung pouts at the insinuation that he's not that someone, making you snicker inwardly as Seokmin eyes you carefully. Like he's studying you, like something is different and he can't figure out what.
"Are you settling in okay? Is Soonyoung being helpful?" He asks, leaning against the apple display, hooking his thumb on his belt loop. You tongue your cheek as you look up at Soonyoung, who acts like the Virgin Mary herself is calling his name as he clears his throat, "oh, look. They haveâŠuhâŠrotisserie chicken. I'll get you one! You guys catch up!"
He scurries off, and you just shake your head as you move stuff around in the cart.
"I'm settling in fine. I only came back to spend time with my parents, Gyu moved out to go to grad school, but I'm sure you knew that." You shrug, "Soonyoung is Soonyoung. He helped me unload the boxes from the moving truck but I'm taking the weekend and next week to unpack. Just me and a glass of whiskey on the rocksâŠor two, or three."
You smile as he nods, "do you need help? I'm free all weekend."
"Oh, I'm alright." You respond quickly, almost too quickly. "I've uhâŠbecome quite the collector of things. Things I don't exactly need everyone to know I like."
"Vintage Playboy magazines, huh?"
"Shut up!"
He laughs softly, his eyes forming crescents as he glances down at the cart, "have you met up with anyone from here?"
The question stings slightly, but you force yourself to brush it off as you shake your head. "No one to meet up with besides Soonyoung, you know. Wasn't always that good at keeping bad company around, you know me."
He does.
He does know you.
The thing about Lee Seokmin is that he knew everything there was to know except where you went the moment you peeled out of this stupid town â small and not at all living up to the Pleasant Hill name. Wisconsin was still Wisconsin, and you still loved the cheese curds from Culver's but the fact of the matter was that Lee Seokmin was likely the only memory you allowed yourself to revisit when you thought about this stupid place.
Sweet, understanding Seokmin that graduated the same year Mingyu did. Sweet, understanding Seokmin that was so cute and absolutely your (and all your friends') hallway crush from grades six through eleven, before you got a boyfriend halfway through your junior year. He still waved at you in the halls, and you still smiled back â but eventually, the boyfriend grew tall enough to block your line of vision and the idea of Seokmin melted from your mind.
You met Seokmin when you were nine years old. He'd been your brother's friend for ages but only when you were in fourth grade was Seokmin officially allowed to come over to your house to spend the night with Mingyu. Your brother would lock his bedroom door as his friends huddled over baseball cards and delicious sandwiches made by your father with the crusts cut off. Eventually, your friend Minghao made it into your brother's get-togethers â effectively rendering you hypoethetically friendless until one of the boys slipped out of Mingyu's room for snacks or water, or even to suck up to your father for an extra serving of dinner before bolting back into the room.
Before Seokmin came around, you had Jihoon, Soonyoung and Minghao â they usually huddled up with you at the dinner table and asked about your friends and your schoolwork. They'd ruffle your hair, they'd pinch your cheeks and steal home fries off your breakfast plate; so they were like three more version of Mingyu you never asked for, but loved nonetheless. You'd swat at them, shove them away before they inevitably got picked up and left you to get thrown around by Mingyu on the trampoline in your backyard as he debriefed all the girls that they liked that were in your grade.
Then, Seokmin moved in next door.
His family bought the beautiful brick two-story with a wrap-around porch that once housed the town doctor before he up and took off out West, chasing a wild wet dream (read: his mistress.)
He was suddenly over at your house every single day, glued at Mingyu's hip â tossing a pigskin around, tinkering around under the hood of your mother's 1969 Cadillac DevilleâŠbothering your father for a sandwich with the crusts cut off because Mingyu was a big baby. He'd split it with your brother on the porch and ask about your day as you stomped up the steps after dance practice. You'd never delve too deep into details, simply shaking your head or giving him a thumbs up before ducking inside and burying your head in the books.
Mingyu and his friends graduated, going all over the country for college â but Seokmin stayed. He went to state school to stay close to his parents, but not so close that he didn't get that same taste of freedom that your brother and Minghao were enjoying at Rutgers in New Jersey. You were a senior in high school, trying to make the best of all the changes â only for it to be the worst year an 18-year-old girl could have.
You got (and crashed) your first car, which was Mingyu's before it was yours so it had that gross 'I give my friends rides home from football practice' smell permeated in the seats. You failed your first semester of Calculus and had to go to tutoring and Saturday school for six weeks to even attempt to earn a C. You injured your foot during practice and got benched for the rest of the year, so there was nothing to look forward to (not that they would've kept you on the team anyway, since you failed Calculus.)
To top it all off â your best friend and your boyfriend were in cahoots. Six years of friendship (and her gross crush on Mingyu) and almost a year and a half of dating were wasted, and both presented their end three weeks before prom â which was two days before graduation.
You'd stared at your dress for a good while the night before it was all supposed to happen. It'd been hung up on your closet door, the one thing you looked forward to after such a shit year that wasn't graduation â and it was sullied. The sparkly butter yellow tulle made your stomach hurt, the sweetheart neckline littered with glittering rhinestones making your eyes prickle with tears. You stared at the French pedicure you'd gotten at your local nail salon that would've peeked out the bottom of your dress â your shoes six-inch tall heels and the straps were decorated with flowers.
You were a nominee for Prom Queen. You had your hair and makeup inspiration saved to a Pinterest board you'd been curating since you found out prom was a thing that would happen in your life. Your ex-boyfriend's matching tie and corsage sat on your dresser, abandoned. You didn't have a date, and now an extra ticket to a gathering you weren't sure you wanted to attend.
Until Mingyu knocked on your door.
He'd come home from college for the summer a week earlier, making the drive back to Wisconsin right after his last final. He dropped Minghao off at his house, and skirted right into the driveway of your house, welcomed lovingly by his parents and confused when his little sister was holed up in her room, staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling.
"I'd go with you if I could, pipsqueak." He said softly, sitting on the edge of your bed as you let hot tears pool in your eyes. "But I know you'd think that's mega lame."
"It is mega lame. Gyu." Your voice had been so thick you could hardly understand yourself, but he squeezed your ankle through the blanket before sighing. "Mingyu, why has this year been so shit? Was your senior year this shitty?"
"Well." He adjusted slightly, "I got dumped because I chose Rutgers over staying here, and I had to take Minghao to prom. We still had a good timeâŠmaybe you can take Soonyoung. He's in town again, I know he swung by earlier to see how you were holdin' up."
"I look like such a loser taking a friend to my fucking prom. It was supposed to be me and my boyfriend." You huffed, angrily wiping at your eyes. "I don't even have a cute guy that I could pretend is into me."
The silence that blanketed over you both was deafening, before you met each other's eyes in that way siblings do when something is so good but it's crazy. It's so good, and it'd work so well â but it's absolutely insane.
Mingyu grabbed the tie and corsage while you practically tumbled down the stairs in your pajamas, running out the front door and across the lawn barefoot as the sprinklers started going off. You banged on the front door of the Lee house, hearing rustling before the door swung open and your fist was caught by one Lee Seokmin.
"Go to prom with me."
Naturally â as a favor to an old friend's little sister, Seokmin agreed. He blindly agreed as Mingyu instructed him to be your arm candy all night long, to show you off, let you be the star of the show. Pretend that an older boyfriend in college was far more interesting than some cheap party thrown together by the school in a fancy hotel â essentially, make you something worth envying.
It worked.
It worked like a dream â he stayed by your side the entire night, speaking softly to other dates, getting along with your dance team members, even greeting his old teachers with a bright smile that made them forget he was there with a student and wasn't one himself. They asked if he was your boyfriend, and you interrupted with a loud yes â his cheeks tinging pink as he held you close and kissed your temple. It was sweet, it was cute, and it was triumph coursing through your veins as you were crowned Prom Queen and left right after.
You sat in your mother's '69 Cadillac Deville with him, parked at a Dairy Queen on the outskirts of town with a sweet vanilla milkshake in your hand. He's thrown his suit jacket in the backseat, the top button of his shirt undone and his tie haphazardly pulled off. He rolled his sleeves up, leaning his head back against the seat when you snorted.
"You know what's funny?"
"What's funny, sweets?"
He toyed with the straw of his own milkshake, his silver watch glinting in the low light.
"You can't tell Mingyu I said this."
"I wouldn't tell Mingyu anything that's happened tonight if he paid me."
"I was supposed to lose my virginity tonight," you roll your eyes, kicking your heels off and crossing your legs at the knee. You stare up at the sky, "I was going to go to a motel with him, my ex. Get it over with so that I wouldn't go to college a virgin. Stupid, isn't it?"
"If that's the only reason you were going to do it, then yeah. A little bit." He nodded, plucking the cherry out of his cup and pulling the syrupy fruit off the stem with his teeth. "But I'm not any better, so I can't judge because I'm speaking from experience."
"You're not a virgin? I thought you were."
"Haven't been since last summer. Why are you even thinking about it? I'm nineteen. I doâŠthings."
"Sure, man. Was it good? Is that TMI?"
"No," he snorted, shaking his head as he sighed, sucking his teeth. "It was justâŠthere. The opportunity, I mean. I wasn't dating the girl either. It was a mistake and I regret it but life goes on. It should be with someone you trust and actually like, it adds to it. I guess. What do I know?"
"Lots of stuff."
"Name two things."
"You know my favorite color and you know how to drive. I trust you with my life, I think."
He laughed then, shaking his head as he played with his straw, "yeah, well. I'm sorry your senior year turned out this way. If it's any better, mine was pretty shit, too."
"Nah. I'd say it ended pretty well. I'm eighteen, I have a license, I graduate on Sunday and then I'm gone. I'm off to California and I never have to see this shitstain town again." You shook your head, sucking your teeth as you twisted in your seat. His eyes were wide, "you hate it here that much?"
"I have no good memories."
"That might be a stretch, but I understand."
"Thank you." You shrugged, tracing the stitching in the leather. The thread was a custom cobalt blue, to match the exterior of the car and paired with creamy beige seats. "Hey, Seok?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember how you used to say hi to me everyday before you graduated last year? In the halls?"
He smiled, and you swore you saw a hint of a blush creep up the shells of his ears as he nodded, "yeah, of course I remember."
"Why'd you do it?"
"BecauseâŠI don't know. It was a habit, and I liked seeing youâŠI don't know. It's courteous."
"When you say I don't knowâŠyou mean you do, but you don't want to tell me. Right?"
"Right." He agreed, and you leaned slightly closer, holding your pinky out to him. He glances at it, and you scoot closer to him on the bench seat so your thigh is brushing his as you push your hand into his space.
"Pinky promise I won't tell Mingyu."
"Mingyu doesn't scare me anyway."
He rolled his eyes, but linked his finger with yours. You waited for him to let go, but he interlaced his fingers with yours and held them on this thigh.
"For starters, everything I said is also true."
"I figured, yes."
"I thinkâŠI had a little bit of a crush on you. Nothing insane, of course. JustâŠa little one. Hallway crush, I think I heard Mingyu call it once."
You shifted then, your hand subconsciously squeezing his as you cleared your throat.
"Would you have let me kiss you?" He asked suddenly, and you lolled your head to the side, scanning his face with your eyes before shrugging. "Y/N."
"Depends. Are you kissing me because you want to or because it gives you the rush of kissing your best friend's sister?"
"Mostly the first."
"Cynical."
"I'm honest."
You laughed then, squeezing his hand before sitting up properly. You tucked your legs under you, the fabric of your dress hanging off the edge of the seat as you kneeled next to him, your knees pressing into his thigh as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Thanks for taking me to prom. You didn't have to."
"I don't do these things for free, you know. Pay up, sixty bucks."
The smile on his lips said he was joking, but you feigned shock anyway and softly smacked his shoulder. He laughed, pulling his hand out of yours to wrap his arms around you. You let him pull you into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you buried your face into his neck. He patted your back, humming softly before he spoke.
"Thanks for thinking I was the right choice to leave a lasting impression. College boyfriends don't do this sort of thing, at least none of the ones I know."
"Well, you're my college boyfriend for the night." You shrugged, pulling back slightly. Your eyes met his, your faces centimeters apart. He shamelessly glanced at your lips, shifting slightly, "I'm sorry I missed your birthday. I know Mingyu came home, I was slammed."
"Are you going to keep talking about my brother or are you going to kiss me?"
You try not to remember the kiss, or the soft scent of vanilla floating off both your mouths.
Quite often, you shove it out of your mind and force yourself to think about what could've been if he'd said no. If your mother had called just a moment earlier, before your lips met his. If your brother had texted him just three minutes before his hand cupped your face gently and pulled you closer, milkshakes forgotten as his tongue slipped into your mouth.
You never retell the story with the kiss included. You always just say your brother's best friend took you to prom and took you to milkshakes after. That he drove you through the outskirts of town in your mother's '69 Cadillac and made you feel like a princess.
Every single person lets you know that they think that 'brother's best friend' had a crush on you.
So to stand in this grocery store and know that Lee Seokmin has kissed you, has had a crush on you, has seen you cry â it feels vulnerable.
"Let's have dinner soon, if you're not busy. I'd love to catch up." He spoke softly, and Soonyoung was still acting stupid around the selection of rotisserie chicken, acting as if lemon herb and garlic rosemary were such hard choices. You gave Seokmin a small smile, holding up a finger as you called across the store, "pick a damn bird and get over here!"
Soonyoung pouted, grabbing one of each as you turned back to Seokmin. He was still looking at you with that same twinkle in his eyes, like he still wondered if you thought about him. If you thought about that night, if you thought about the sweet vanilla on his tongue as he kissed you for what felt like decades in the bench seat of your mother's car. If you thought about the way he pulled you into his lap, the way you pulled his hand up the expanse of your thigh that peeked out through the slit of your dress.
If you thought about the way he stopped kissing you before it could end the way most prom nights end â losing your virginity to him in a car. If you thought about how embarrassed he looked that he let himself get carried away, kissing down the slope of your neck and how he apologized because you were Mingyu's sister, because he was a year older than you and had more life lived, because, because, because.
Never in those reasons did he say because he didn't want to.
"We should, if you'd like. Uh, I'd offer my apartment butâŠ" You rubbed your neck sheepishly, and he only shook his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening a new contact. He handed it to you, your fingers trembling as you typed in your number, "was Mingyu very annoying while I was gone?"
"He actually told me earlier that I'm not allowed call him annoying." Seokmin scoffs, "because I'm, in his words, ten times as annoying but I don't think that's all that true."
"It's not."
"Of course you say that, he's your brother."
"Birds of a feather flock together, Seokmin. If you're annoying, so is he." You deadpan, typing your name into the contact file. "But, you're less annoying because I have no obligation to tolerate you. If you piss me off, I can just walk away. Can't do that with Mingyu, I'll just have to see him again. Family and all."
You roll your eyes, handing his phone back. He nods, "valid."
"I see you've gotten acquainted once more," Soonyoung tries to ease into the conversation, but frowns as you and Seokmin both point your eyes at him. "Yah, you'd think I asked about that stupid prom night kiss."
"Anyway." You speak quickly, your cheeks hot as Seokmin's ears tinge pink under the fluorescent lights of the supermarket, "uh, Friday? Does Friday work for you?"
"Friday's great!" He blurts, "we can just do it at yours. I don't think you should be unpacking all those boxes by yourself."
"She doesn't even have a mattress, Seokmin. A mattress!" Soonyoung exclaims, and you nibble on your lip in embarrassment as Seokmin shoves his shoulder lightly, "you should be helping her!"
Soonyoung scoffs, wrapping his hands around the cart handle and pushing it forward, "I don't have to take this shit from you guys. I'm the glue that holds this family together, damnit."
He stalks away, head held high as Seokmin shakes his head.
"He's dramatic."
"Oh, tell me about it. He's been whining about how hungry he is when I told him this would take time."
You sigh, your face still hot as you take a tiny step back, "well, it was nice seeing you, Seokmin. Uh, Friday, yeah? I'll send you my address."
"Sure, sure." He nods, clearing his throat. Things feel awkward in the air between you, "sorry about Soonyoung."
"It shouldn't be awkward. It was years ago," you try, but still cover your face with your hands. "God, I'm sorry."
"No! It's okay, it was justâŠnot something I was expecting today." His laugh is still warm, but there's something else in it. Maybe embarrassment, maybe frustration.
Maybe guilt.
You extend your hand, "well, it's fine. Friends, right?"
He glances at it, taking it gently. He runs his thumb over your knuckles, "friends. Now, run along. I can see his blond head in the bakery from here, he's gonna make you buy him a cake."
"It's the least I could do," you snort, squeezing his hand carefully. "Bye, Seok."
"Bye, sweetheart. Be safe."
YOUR APARTMENT IS STILL A MESS WHEN SEOKMIN ARRIVES.
You are still a mess when Seokmin arrives, a pout on your lip as you open your front door and see him nicely dressed in a soft sweater and a crisply pressed pair of chinos under his brown peacoat â and the little black hoops looped through his ears that you hadn't seen in ages.
He only laughs, gently pinching your cheek between his knuckles and stepping inside to a mess of broken down boxes and old tape rolled into a ball, chucked over your coffee table. You've got an old, paint-stained t-shirt that used to belong to Mingyu over your pajama shorts, and you insist that you'll be ready soon â which he only smiles at your half done hair and full face of make-up (sans lipstick.)
"Take your time," he shrugs, "seems like you had quite the week getting this place fixed up. Nice work."
"Don't praise me, it won't bode well." You huff, scurrying back to your bathroom to make sure the curling wand didn't burn a hole into your sink.
The week had been insane â you paid Soonyoung in cheesecake on Monday and Tuesday to help you unpack your kitchen and your bathroom, and then told him not to bother you until Sunday because you were going to do the rest on your own. You managed to get most of it done, including getting a mattress delivered and your bedframe set up by WednesdayâŠ
But the lingering boxes, trash and the like were all cause of your frequent back-and-forth texting with one Lee Seokmin.
You caught up on minute things â him leaving UW-Madison his sophomore year and meeting Mingyu and Minghao at Rutgers. Him getting a masters degree, you getting a masters degree. You living in California for six years and four in Oregon, and the unspoken knowledge that the other four were purely for a boyfriend.
One that you wound up breaking up with (and one that fueled the fire of you moving back home) after catching him in your bed with his ex-girlfriend. From high school. Who was also engaged to his best friend!
There was a joke in the conversation from Seokmin, asking how college was as a virgin. You fired back that it was much better than having a crush on your brother's best friend, to which he replied with a frowning emoji and insisted he was better to crush on than some snotty-nosed frat boy who drank like a fish.
You both silently acknowledged that the Mingyu wedge was still present, and neither of you would be making the move to overlook itâŠeven if you silently hoped he would.
You also swapped social media accounts in the process â his was full of adventures. Trips to Seoul and Osaka with your brother and other friends of his, trips to the mountains and skiing out east. Gardens in New Jersey and his graduation from Rutgers (and the impressive Cornell, despite not being nearly as snooty as half the other people you'd met in California that had come from the Ivy League.)
Yours had been curated carefully â luncheons, aesthetically taken shots of you by your old roommates who had all moved home back east. There was summer vacation carousels, photos of you with Aperol Spritz' in your hand and lounging on boats in bikinis you begged your brother not to tell your mother about (who only asked why you weren't showing more skin when you called her that following Christmas.)
Seokmin only liked the latest carousel on your profile. Your goodbyes to the beautiful wilderness that surrounded you in Oregon, and a promise to return someday â a photo of your packed up apartment, a cat lounging in the mid-morning sun atop your U-Haul, a thickly packed bagel with one for the road written across the top corner in an Instagram font you used almost too heavily during your days as a sorority girl hoping to reach prospective sisters.
And a selfie of you and Minghao, who had flown out from Boston to help you make the drive back home. Your heads were touching, his long hair ruffled against yours as you both winked at the camera, holding up to-go cups of hot tea and coffee â which you never liked, even if it was winter.
You ignored the shirtless photos on his profile.
"Have you decided where you want to go? So I can dress for the occasion." You called from your bathroom, having turned the curling wand off and opening the door to relieve some of the warmth you felt all over your face. You slipped out, seeing Seokmin staring at your wall of trinkets. Little clown figurines made by an Oregon artist that were grouped with Nyota and Skullpanda figurines you'd gotten in blind boxes, a couple of framed photos of you and Mingyu as kids, a snowglobe with a picture of you and your mother in it when Mingyu and your father got stuck in New Jersey during your senior year of high school.
"Uh, there's a nice place in Madison, if you don't mind the drive. Plus the potential traffic, it is a Friday." He nods, "just wear a dress? Maybe a long one?"
"Gotcha, yep."
You rooted around and found a long dress you'd worn back in California once for a Christmas dinner with your boyfriend during grad school. It had off-the-shoulder long sleeves, and a skirt that stopped at the ground with the right pair of shoes (read: your favorite pair of black heels.) You scurried around, grabbing your shoes and nibbling your lip at the slit that ran high up your thigh in the dark red fabric in the mirror of your vanity.
It felt a littleâŠderivative.
You put your jewelry on, swiping on a creamy layer of lipstick before grabbing your purse and switching things around to your clutch. Your winter coat was in the hall closet, and you held your heels in one hand as you exited your bedroom hurriedly. Seokmin glanced over his shoulder from the pinned tour posters on your wall, turning around fully as you fixed your hair in the mirror that hung on your wall.
"Is this okay?" You ask, not bothering to look at him as you wiped the corners of your lips.
"Yeah, perfect. You look greatâŠand we're running late." He teased, making you groan as you look at him in the mirror, "you told me to take my time!"
"I didn't think that meant forty minutes, sweetheart. Hop to, or we'll miss our reservation." He taps his watch, "where do you keep your coat?"
"Hall closet," you sit at a chair in your dining room, bending at the waist to pull on your shoes as he ducks past. He returns with your coat and a red mark on his forehead, a pout on his lip as you look up from your shoes, "what happened?"
"Your box of photo albums fell on me. How did you not hear that?" He whines, and you coo as you let him help you slip your coat on. Your fingers gently rub at the spot, "you'll be okay."
"Yeah, easy for you to say." He huffs, and you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to your fingers before patting them against his forehead.
"Yeah, it is. Now, move along."
The drive to Madison was slow, but the restaurant he chose had been well worth it. You were sat at a rounded booth in the back, the lights dim and the environment cozy with soft jazz playing overhead. The waiter was sweet, but a bit too flirty for your taste â and clearly for Seokmin's as well, because he pulled you closer to him by your waist, his fingers lingering on your hip long enough for the waiter to see as he brought your drinks from the bar.
Dinner was relatively fun. Soft conversations, bringing up old memories, catching up on things. Seokmin asked about your psychology degree, you asked about his sudden move to Rutgers.
"Home isn't as fun without having a neighbor girl to bother." He stated, shrugging his shoulders as you gave him a deadpan look. He swiped a scallop off your plate then, making you scowl because you were not going to take a bite of his steak. "Plus, it was quiet. Madison is nice but Jersey was new and exciting. I roomed with Mingyu, Minghao and our friend Wonwoo, and it was fun until I would come back to one of their rooms with a sock on the door."
"Ew, I don't want to know about their adventures. I got enough with Hao complaining about his boyfriend wanting them to move to New York. Something, something, is the sex not filthy enough that he wants to move to Manhattan?" You scrunched your nose, making him laugh as you crossed your legs at the knee. Your dress splayed open, your thigh exposed to the warm air of the restaurant and the soft fabric of Seokmin's pants.
He didn't bother looking down, only tapping your knee before pulling the fabric over it.
"They're going to end up moving. Junhui has a hold on Minghao that you wouldn't believe. You would love him." He nods, "I helped Junhui plan the proposal."
Your eyes widened at that, and Seokmin swore you into secrecy before spilling the beans of your childhood friend potentially getting engaged before the end of the year.
Dinner came and went, dessert was sweet on your tongues despite the dark chocolate and Seokmin pouting when you had the last bite. You kept talking â your families, how shitty the holidays are as you get older and lose the childlike wonder of Santa Claus and gifts under the tree, girlfriends, boyfriendsâŠ
Your jaw tight as he mentioned his, his tight when you mentioned yours and a frown gracing his lips when you mentioned the Oregon boyfriend in particular.
"Well, he sucks." Seokmin clicked his tongue as he held the door open, the receipt blowing in the wind between his fingers. He'd fought you to pay the bill, shoving his card in the waiter's hand as he pinned you to your seat with a hand on your thigh.
A move that neither of you spoke about but both knew it could've created something neither of you were too sure you'd dislike. Not that either of you knew the other felt the same about the latter, but it wasn't your business to know.
Not yet, anyway.
The drive back is comfortable. You took AUX as he drove, complimented the recently refurbished bench seat of his truck. He smiles, says he also helped your mother get her '69 Cadillac get a beautiful new layer of that cobalt blue paint she loves. He prompts you to sit closer, and you end up resting your head on his shoulder with his hand low on your hip as you drive back into Pleasant Hill.
He's warm. He smells floral, like iris and neroli with a hint of cedarwood. He's drumming his fingers against you, running his hand slightly up and down your hip as you watch the sky become clearer the further you get into your small town.
He feels like home.
"Did you miss me while I was gone?" You ask suddenly as he rolls to a stop at a red light just half a block before your apartment complex. He raises a brow, looking down at you with an amused expression.
"You think I didn't?"
"I wouldn't be asking."
"Of course I missed you, Y/N." He shakes his head, subconsciouly squeezing your hip. "I left Pleasant Hill because I missed you. I came back because I missed you."
"Or because my brother asked you to."
"Your brother is the closest thing I get to you, so you have to give me some credit. Hallway crushes don't disappear as easily as I thought, especially not after you kiss her on prom night."
Your cheeks burn as the light turns green, your hand on his knee tracing circles as he presses on the gas.
"It's been ten years since then, Seokmin."
"No, it's been nineteen. I've liked you since I was ten years old."
Your eyes widen as he pulls into your apartment complex, expertly slipping into a shaded parking space. He turns the car off as you look up at him, "you should head inside. It's late and you'll need your rest to finish unpacking."
"Mingyu's coming in the morning to help me." You murmur, and he nods simply, "he always was a nice guy. He's making long distance work with Tzuyu."
"Seokmin."
"Yes?"
"Are you going to keep talking about my brother or are you going to kiss me?" The words slip from your mouth as easily as they did ten years ago, but he doesn't bother responding before he presses his lips to yours. Soft, smooth but hungry as he pulls you on top of him, his hand wrapping around your neck and holding you firmly in place. Your hands pulled at his sweater, shoving it up as his tongue slipped into your mouth. He let go of your neck, shoving your coat off your shoulders as you sucked on the tip of his tongue, your fingertips toying with the buckle of his belt before he pulled back.
"We can't."
"We can."
"Mingyuâ"
"You came up for a nightcap and helped me unpack. Too drunk to drive home and spent the night on my couch." You unbuckle his belt as he groans, his hands eagerly pulling at the slit of your dress to expose your thighs. His fingers are warm as they slide up the plush flesh, squeezing shamelessly as you pull his belt through the loops and toss it to the side, "not embarrassed about your little collections anymore?"
"What I do with my Maxim subscription is between me and the comfort of my bedroom."
"Better read than Playboy, eh?"
"With the same beautiful women. Are you going to Prom Night me or what, Seokmin?"
"We're using that as an adjective now? Prom Night-ing?" He huffs, your lips parting with a soft gasp as lithe fingers squeeze the swell of your ass over the lace of your underwear. "I wasn't going to take your virginity in a car."
"Well, someone else has that shit now, and we did it on a fraternity beanbag."
"I don't want to hear about that. The guys you've been with didn't deserve you in the first place."
"Then prove you deserve me more than they did." You whisper against his lips, "and it'll be like it never happened. Just you, just me. Yours, and mine."
He sits for a moment, his eyes boring into yours as he slides his hands over your hips carefully. He kneads the soft skin between his fingers, nibbling on his lip as his thumb toys with the hem of your panties before plucking at it.
He blinks, nodding slowly as he clicks his tongue.
"You think Mingyu knows?"
"Are we going to keep talking about my brother?"
He presses his lips to yours, a mumble of no slipping out as he pulls you higher on his lap. Your fingers undo his pants easily, the sound of the zipper catching his attention as your hand dips beneath the fabric of his boxers to palm at his cock. His fingers immediately slip between your legs, pulling the embarrassingly damp fabric of your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb. Your thighs tighten around his hand, your gasp swallowed by his lips before you pull away, letting him kiss down the expanse of your neck and littering the soft skin with nips of his teeth.
His fingers slip lower as your thumb swipes over the leaking head of his cock, shaky breaths falling from your lips as he circles your entrance with his fingertips before pushing in slowly. He sighs against your chest at the wet sound of your cunt swallowing his fingers, a whimpered groan falling from your lips into his shoulder.
"Seokmin, we s-shouldâ"
"We should go upstairs."
It's a tumble to get out of the car, his pants hastily buttoned and your fingers shaking as you try to unlock the door. He pushes it open from behind you, shoving it closed with his foot once you both step inside and pinning you against it. He pulls your coat off as he kisses you desperately, throwing the coat over a bunch of boxes labeled bedroom before his hands wrap around your thighs and lift you up. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, the kiss turning to teeth and tongue as he carries you in the direction of your bedroom.
"I could worship you for the rest of my life and it still wouldn't be enough to deserve you." He mumbles against your lips as he nudges the bedroom door open, your cheeks heating as he sets you on the edge of your bed gently. He pushes you back against it, kissing you carefully â a total switch up that makes your head spin as he cups your face with one hand, his knee slotting between your thighs as you move to lean back on your elbows. "I would've waited ten more years if it meant you'd come back to me."
"Seokmin," you pout against his mouth, only for him to kiss you chastely before his hands move to gather the fabric of your dress at your hips. You sit up, letting him pull the dress over you and toss it across the room before his hands slid down your sides. His eyes don't make you feel self conscious as they trail over you, his fingers hooking with the waistband of your panties and easily pulling them down your thighs. He shamelessly tucks them into his pocket, smiling inwardly as he kisses your parted lips.
"You're a pervert."
"You're beautiful."
"Well don't be nice to me, it ruins the purpose."
"It's banter, gorgeous." He trails his lips down your jaw, making your skin prickle as his hands spread your thighs. He traces a path down your chest, murmuring soft praises as he kisses each of your nipples before kissing down your soft belly, his hands massaging the muscle of your thighs as he spread them further. He drags his lips across your hips, peering up at you through his lashes as he litters kisses on the inside of your thighs, kneeling at the edge of your bed.
"Seokmin."
"Patience."
"I waited ten years, isn't that enough?"
He raises a brow, sinking his teeth into your skin and making you flinch, before quickly running his tongue over the mark.
"I waited ten years, too, you know." He says pointedly, his lips ghosting over your clit before he presses an open mouthed kiss to it. Your thighs twitch around his head as he pulls you closer to his face, "I spent the entire week fucking my hand, thinking about you in that little skirt at the grocery store."
He doesn't let you reply, opting to slip his tongue between your folds in long, languid strokes â gathering your arousal in his mouth before swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit. Your spine arches off the bed as he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your hand carding through his hair and giving it a harsh tug as soft pants fall from your lips. His fingers slide down your thigh, prodding at your entrance gently before sinking in carefully, your thighs closing around his head as he works you over with his tongue. Your mewled moans of his name fill the air, your hips rutting against his face earning nothing but hums and curls of his fingers as he finds that spongy spot that makes your legs tremble around his head. Your heels dig into his shoulders as the wet sound of your cunt around his fingers hits your ears, your cheeks burning hot as the coil in your belly snaps with a whimper from your lips.
You can feel him smile against your skin, the smug bastard.
"Did so well for me, honey." He whispers against your thigh, his fingers slipping out of you slowly and circling your clit. Your skin prickles as you jerk away from him, closing your legs around his hand as he catches your ankle before it hits him, using it as leverage to pull you flush against the tent in his pants. "You can give me another, can't you? Just one more, baby."
He keeps his eyes on you as he kisses up your calf, his fingers still tracing circles on your clit as you squirm. He kisses the side of your foot, his teeth tugging at the strap of your heel around your ankle to grab your attention.
"One more."
"On your cock."
"Whatever you want, baby."
He slips his hand out from between your thighs to shuck his sweater off, tossing it somewhere in the room before reaching into his back pocket and pulling his wallet out â procuring a gold foil packet between his fingers. You sit up, rolling your eyes as you pluck it from his hand, flicking it across the room before pulling him closer to you and kissing the bulge in his pants. Your fingers unbutton them swiftly, mouthing at his cock over his boxers.
His hand drops his wallet as your fingers curl around the waistband, his own raking through your hair as your spit soaks through the fabric before you pull them down his thighs. Your hands circle the muscle, digging your nails into the side as you lick the tip of leaking precum. He bites down on his lip as take him deeper in your mouth, peering up at him through your lashes as the tip hits the back of your throat. You sink slightly further, your nose brushing his lower stomach as he groans, gathering your hair in his hand asyour hand slides up his thigh, cupping his balls as you slowly bob your head up and down his length. You pull off briefly with a soft gasp, lips swollen as you kiss his shaft before he pulls you away gently.
"Later," he whispers, bending to press a kiss to your spitslick lips. "Lie back, baby."
"Seokâ"
"Later, I promise."
You pout but do as you're told, leaning back on your elbows as he kicks off his pants, toeing off his shoes before you reach to undo your heels â only for him to grab your ankle and pull your leg away from you, "leave them on."
"Freak."
He doesn't reply, only smiling inwardly as he spreads your thighs for him, your cunt still glistening with his spit and your cum. He wraps his hand around himself, sliding the thick head of his cock through your slick folds with a soft moan. You rut your hips up, begging for any kind of friction when he pins you to the mattress, "be patient."
"Fuck me."
"I am."
"You're taking your sweet tiâ" Your sentence is cut off by his cock sinking inside you slowly, a smirk playing on his lips as your eyes flutter shut. He holds your thighs apart, his eyes trained on the way your cunt sucks in him, his lips parted as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Your breathing is shallow as he presses his chin to his chest, the low light of your bedroom light showing off all the soft contours of his body as your fingres itch to touch him.
He leans forward, brushing a kiss to your lips as your hands slide up his arms, digging your nails into his shoulders as he gives a tentative roll of his hips. A punctuated fuck falls from your lips, making him trail wet, open mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat. His hand snakes between you, thumb finding your clit and pressing against it hard as he rocks into you with a barely controlled pace that settles the idea in your brain that he wants you just as bad as you want him.
"Feel so good, baby," he whines into your neck, his hips meeting yours with hard thrusts that make your breath hitch in your throat. "Such a good girl, yeah? Say you're mine."
"'M yours," your voice is hardly steady as you can taste the embarrasingly close end on the back of your tongue, your limbs fuzzy as you drag your nails down his back. He shivers, your walls clamping around him as he drags his lips down your neck, holding your knees tight to your chest as he swirls his tongue over one of your nipples. You thrust your chest up, your back bent in half as his cock drags deliciously in your spasming walls as you stave off your orgasm. "Want to you cum inside me, p-please."
"Please, huh? My baby's so politeâŠ" he kisses back up your chest, dragging his tongue up the slope of your neck before his teeth tug at your earlobe. "You're mine, right? My girl. Mine."
You nod with a soft whine, your orgasm ripping through you and making your body feel hot as he spills inside you. Your fingernails are digging into his biceps, tears pricking at your eyes as he fucks you through it, your thighs shake around his waist, his hands quickly sliding over them and squeezing the soft flesh. Your skin is slick with sweat as he kisses down your chest, "you did so good for me, baby. So good."
You drape an arm over your eyes, embarrassment coating your cheeks in warmth as he carefully undoes the strap of your heels without pulling out. You feel his fingers gently circle the reddened dip of the straps, massaging the spot as you clench around him. He jerks in response, making you gasp as you close your legs as much as you can with him holding your ankles. He's still hard inside you, his hands pulling your ankles together over one shoulder and giving a slow roll of his hips; your hand darting out to push his hip away.
"S-Seokminâ"
"Just one more. You can do it, I know you can."
Your hand on his hip slides off, "slow. I mean it."
"Whatever my girl wants."
"You."
"You have me, baby."
"And you're mine, too?" You peer up at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he nods, stopping his movements to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. You scrunch it, pursing your lips for a kiss. He obliges, speaking against your lips.
"I'm yours, Y/N."
IT'S VERY OBVIOUS THAT NEITHER OF YOU REALLY STUCK TO THE STORY THAT SEOKMIN GOT DRUNK AND COULDN'T DRIVE HOME.
You're twenty-eight years old, sitting on your couch with your twenty-nine year old (newly pronounced) boyfriend as your brother (unfortunately, also his best friend) screams like a husky wanting out of the house. He goes on and on about the integrity of a promise â apparently, Mingyu did know that Seokmin had the hots for you way back when, and made him swear he would never make a move on you. It doesn't help that you and Seokmin both spill the beans at the same time about how the two of you almost slept together the night of your prom â making Mingyu rub his face in embarrassment as he paces in front of you both.
"Fine, fine! Whatever!" He exclaims, throwing his arms up in defeat. "You win! Just don't ruin my sister's life and I won't fucking kill you."
You chew on your lip, shifting in your brother's old, paint-stained t-shirt as he huffs, crossing his arms on his chest.
"So you're not mad at me, right, Gyu?" You murmur, and Seokmin immediately scoots closer to you, tucking you into his chest as your older brother sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Well, it's not like I didn't expect this." He mutters, "neither of you are very good at keeping your feelings a secret."
"Then why are you over here yelling like a banshee?" You ask, and he sighs again, crouching next to your coffee table.
"Because you're my sister. It's my job to embarrass you and also yell at any of my friends that think they have a chance with you." He says pointedly, before looking at Seokmin. "I mean it. She was gone for ten years, and if I lose her again I'm killing you. The grave will be a ditch in Appalachia and no one will ever find your fucking body."
Mingyu didn't stay to help unpack, instead handing the task over to Seokmin with the label of it being 'to prove he was worthy of being with you.' He left with a kiss to the side of your head and a sniff at Seokmin, stalking out of your apartment and slamming the door so hard the walls shook.
"âŠHe wouldn't actually, would he?"
"No, I'm pretty sure he would. It's the could that I'm skeptical about, Mingyu can't even go hunting."
Seokmin snorted, laying back on the couch and pulling you on top of him with a soft brush of his lips to your cheek.
"Well, he doesn't have to worry about it. After all, I could spend the rest of my life worshipping you and it still wouldn't be enough."
context: random story ideas ive had with idol!seventeen and possible ideas of their significant others <3
pairing(s): hyung line, idol!seventeen x f!reader
genre: very very super sugary SWEET... yeah, i love fluff
warnings: cursing + intentional lowercase + hybe hate (i dont think thats a warning though). quite literally nothing else. fyi, i dont know how half of the logics work in this... so we don't question any of the logistics and pairings and just how possible it is...
author's notes: i've had these ideas in my head for about 2 months, and now im sharing them >< anyways, pt2 of the nana tour svt will be uploaded soon~ also, prob never doing hyung/maknae line post again and will divide it again by the age lines... this is a long post... also, i might return to a bunch of these ideas, so let me know if there's any that you'd especially like âĄ
svt pairings hcs | hyung line | maknae line
c. seungcheol x events manager!reader
reader as the new events manager that hybe brought in sometime late 2023 to early 2024
i feel like cheol would need someone to be just as independent as he is + someone who he KNOWS won't be a complete disaster when he has to go on tour every 6 months
he would love a woman in power guys
just like someone he could depend on yknow yknow
âĄâĄâĄ
this was before you and cheol started dating, where you were stared at the folder in front of you one night - completely flabbergasted at all the schedules that publicists, managers, and everyone in between was able to approve and send your way for the final stamp or approval. usually, you'd be fine with it. usually, you'd tell yourself that the artists are strong. usually, you'd tell yourself that fans will be at the artists doors, demanding why they didn't attend this event or missed that event. usually, you'd give in.
but this?
this was way too much. there was no way this was healthy for any artists, let it be veteran or rookie. 5hr+ dance practices, 4+ variety show appearances, 3+ travel accommodations, 7+ recording schedules... all packed within two weeks, for almost every single group under the labels.
so? what could you do?
being the same age as cheol and being comfortable enough to be around him (after all, you are one of the few managers and hybe staff that listened to him and his team), you approached him and asked for his input.
you compiled research papers, paperwork, photographic proof of overworking employees, statements from other artists and even staff, and with the help of cheol, you got way more information than you could ever imagine.
whenever he had time, cheol would head back to his apartment and pull up your research notes in your shared document, adding his own private insight, clarification on anything you worked on for the day, and even more detail to further prove all your points of overworking the artists
and by the time the presentations came around? seungcheol was with you every step of the way - because not only was it something that was going to benefit him, his members, and all the other artists under their label, but also it was something that you really wanted
it was attractive - how dedicated you became and how focused you were. seungcheol, leading up to the day of the presentations, found himself hanging around your apartment more than his own. he watched runthroughs, provided feedback, and even got some input from the other artists
when the day of the big meeting was over, you collapsed into seungcheol's arms, who was waiting in the parking lot downstairs in order to take you out for dinner. that was the first time he had seen you shiver and shake, letting go of the wall of confidence you had for the last 3 months
you were the star that day. the meeting had gone well, and for a while, seungcheol and the rest of the artists had seen a significant drop in some activities and schedules, which they all appreciated and loved. eventually, you became a bit of a popular employee among the artists, which only made seungcheol even more proud when he finally decided to ask you out - officially - on a date.
y. jeonghan x medical staff!reader
jeonghan's known for being... physically, on the weaker side, and i'm saying that with as much love as possible. like man has low stamina, gets tired way too easily compared to everyone else, and gets injured a bit too often (going seventeen - insomnia zero iii, pt1)
so what better pairing is it with a tired medical staff employee at hybe!!
âĄâĄâĄ
you had just been transferred to the pledis department of the medical team after working under big:hit for so long. nothing was wrong with the transfer, just the fact that pledis needed some extra hands after all the injuries that their artists have been getting lately... seriously, take care of yourselves better omg
you were patient with jeonghan as a new member of their medical team. you had read his chart and information before, knowing all of his previous injuries and all the areas that still hurts him, but still... you were genuinely surprised at all the messed up parts of his body that he managed to get in the course of X amount of years he's been active as an idol (and that's not even counting all the training years before, too)
to be honest, you were entirely ready to call it quits when jeonghan walked into the medical space of the company building for the very first time. it was due to shoulder pain, apparently.
at first, you were gentle. i mean, you had to be. you tried to get a good feel to where the shoulder pain was coming from, and from what you were doing, it was actually working - messaging areas that felt a bit too tight, explaining in thorough detail about what the idol should be doing and how he should be taking care of himself
you were sure that the other staff had told him the same thing countless of times, but for some reason, jeonghan was finally letting himself listen to what the medical staff had to say... and it didn't help that it was soothing being around a medical staff that was near the same age as him
after a few weeks, you got used to being around the 13-member boy group. they were fun to be around, but they were also... very stress-inducing. i mean, seriously, how often can you accidentally injure yourself because you're too busy playing foot volleyball instead of doing their actual job?
anyways, that's not the point
one day, you were both late - you and jeonghan. you were both late for your respective schedules. you had a stupid meeting to attend by your office with the rest of the medical staff, and jeonghan had a really important practice to be at.
unfortunately, with both of your bad luck combined, the face id in front of the hybe building stopped working
it just... wouldn't work.
you tried to call your colleagues, but they were at the meeting. jeonghan tried to get a hold of his members, but they were at practice. all their phones were thrown into a drawer for the utmost focus.
"fuck..." jeonghan cursed, turning his head over to the medic. "sorry, y/n."
you didn't bother to be mad. "it's okay... i should've known this was coming with my kind of luck."
so, as it turns out, both of you had terrible luck with the hybe face id security system. you've filed complaints wrote to your manager and bosses, but you haven't gotten back from any of them - and neither had jeonghan. or at least, nobody had ever written back to tell you they've fixed it.
for about 20 minutes, you and jeonghan was locked out of the building. jeonghan was sure that one of the members was going to come find him eventually, and you were sure that one of your close work friends would notice you were gone and finally check their phones.
so... what better way to spend 20 minutes trapped just outside the hybe building than to talk your way out of boredom of being stuck?
you two ranted about how bad the tech system of hybe was, despite it being a multi-billion company. you two complained about a lot of things during those 20 minutes that you were sure could probably get you fired, but you didn't give a fuck anymore (seriously, not only did you wake up at 6am to attend this stupid meeting, but it was really cold).
finally, one of jeonghan's members came down with security after realizing that jeonghan was stuck outside. they unlocked the gates and after the two of them showed their id's (security measures still in place, after all), they were finally let inside.
but when it was time for them to go their separate ways, you and jeonghan couldn't help but feel that something began to stir during those 20 minutes locked outside of the company building. it was strange. after all, all you did was bond over the broken tech, the desire to burn the hybe building... and maybe the fun topic of just getting up to leave and grab breakfast instead of attending your schedules.
h. joshua x actress!reader
so the way i could def see shua getting together with another celebrity... sorry, i love the americana of it all (yall im canadian)
anyways reader as a famous hollywood actress and model based in the united states (korean-american like shua) <3
âĄâĄâĄ
a little bit after you and shua got together, shua got a message from the states. it was from his mom... which was kind of strange.
in between the shoots, he checked the message. and you could only imagine his surprise when he saw a photo of you, his girlfriend, casually sitting at the dinner table, in his home in la, enjoying a home-cooked meal.
friendly reminder, this was a photo that his mom sent.
shua called you immediately, and you picked up after the second ring.
it was the first time you were having a dinner with joshua's mom. sure, you two have met before and you've even exchanged phone numbers, but you've never had a chance to go out for lunch or dinner... primarily because joshua was always busy and never in la for more than 3 days (and usually, 2/3 days were tour dates).
so it was safe to say you were genuinely surprised to receive a message from the Jamie Hong, asking if you were in the area and would like to eat.
you, not wanting to disappoint or get off on the wrong foot with her, agreed immediately (it does help that you were, in the area, when she sent you that message)
you two - you and the jamie hong - started to talk over the food that jamie hong had made, despite a somewhat awkward atmosphere at the beginning. shua's mom told you stories of joshua; how he was like growing up, the kind of people he used to hang out with, how he got started playing the guitar... and how much he had wanted to quit as a trainee, as well.
joshua was, safe to say, not having it when he learned of this. not only was your relationship with him still somewhat newly established, he also had to deal with all the teasing and remarks from his own members when they learned of the relationship.
it did not get any better when jamie hong mentioned how she had always wanted a daughter, and she wouldn't complain if it was you who would fulfill that dream (no pressure at all).
m. junhui x actress!reader
ok i know we just did another actress kind of thing with shua, but like cmon
a-list c-actress!reader who worked on shows with jun while he was in china during his filming period of second half of 2024... imagine that <3
âĄâĄâĄ
you were both casted for a c-drama as the two main leaders. jun had just landed back in china after his schedules with seventeen in korea, and you had just wrapped up your third photoshoot of the day... and it was only 11am. you were both exhausted - and it was incredibly obvious to the people around them
the day that you two first met, you could both vouch that you two were asleep. you two had barely greeted each other, too tired to even process that you were meeting for the very first time.
during the read through and script breakdown, you had both fallen asleep and shot up at the same time when the director scolded them. thankfully for you and jun, the director was kind and understanding enough (and that's hard to come by these days).
you two were completely sleep deprived, so when they were given a chance, the two of you didn't hesitate to collapse on the couch on the set.
when the staff woke you two up from your sudden naps (the staff by the way - not their managers or agents...), you were both left in a slight state of horror because you were basically cuddling. somehow, you ended up sleeping on top of jun's chest, and he had his arms draped around your shoulders.
without hesitation, both of you frantically apologized and greeted each other again - officially, and your faces burning red like a tomato.
it seriously didn't help that your manager said that the two of you would have to film a kiss on scene so they should probably get used to being closer.
thanks a lot, manager. great first impression.
k. soonyoung x dancer!reader
professional competitor dancer!reader who was called during your off season to choreograph a k-pop group's next comeback...
imagine the power duo they could be... performance team leader (hoshi) x professional dancer & team captain!reader ... man thats hot who said that
i love dancers i say that as someone who cant dance
âĄâĄâĄ
you got to the agency earlier than the original scheduled time, mostly because you got out of your own practices early, some other schedules got cancelled, and you were genuinely excited to be choreographing for another group that was not your own
you told the manager of lesserafim, the group that you helped choreograph for their next comeback, that you'd be arriving early, and he allowed you to have access to the dance rooms in order to warm up, stretch, and practice.
when you arrived in the dance studio, you started to warm up and go over the steps you had in mind. with nothing better to do, you started the song on your phone and began the choreography that you had worked on.
it was intense and full of sharp movements - along with very careful footwork. when you first worked on it, you were worried that you had overdone it. after all, your experience in competitive dance was different from a girl group, but the feedback she received was nothing more than full of positivity and praise.
halfway through the song, you heard the door to the studio unlock. the door was in the only blindspot of the studio mirror, so you couldn't tell who entered. you didn't think much about it (assuming it was either the girls or the performance directors) as you continued the dance.
when the song ended, you knelt over to your phone and paused the next song that was about to play.
when you turned around, you almost jumped in surprise.
so... it wasn't the girls or the performance directors that had entered. it was an idol that your teammate had frantically given you a quick breakdown of when they learned you were going to hybe.
that was the first meeting you had with hoshi - kwon soonyoung - who had not-so-subtly watched you move to the music as if you were a bird of freedom in the wind...
you were filled with purpose when you were dancing, and it completely captured him.
j. wonwoo x professional gamer!reader
lowkey, no surprise here
BIG INSPO TAKEN FROM FALLING INTO YOUR SMILE (i love that c-drama)
anyways, wonwoo who loves playing games and he's like actually really good at it x pro gamer!reader who plays for the best team in south korea... yup, t1
is that a stretch?
... so falling into your smile plot anyone?
man who cares about plot anymore i dont gotta justify myself /jk
âĄâĄâĄ
a special moment that you had shared during your initial friendship with wonwoo was during the filming of the show, self-ON kode.
for anyone that doesn't know, self-ON kode is a variety show where 2 celebrities are brought into a room without knowing who the other is and joins a chatroom together under nicknames. for the videos + filming, the two celebrities have to basically ask questions, talk, and later guess who the other is.
side context: wonwoo was actually on this show with t1's keira! it was such a fun watch <3
so back to this story...!
self-on kode. to be honest, you were surprised when your team manager told you that you were asked to make an appearance on a random wednesday. after all, you're a gamer with no correlation with the entertainment industry, and self-on kode was definitely more of an entertainment kind of thing. but your team manager insisted that you accept... and so you did.
wonwoo, on the other hand, didn't care as much, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised that he was the one of the 13 member group to be asked to make an appearance.
by the time the filming started, you two have really only met once, at the end of the 2023 LoL world championship that was being held in seoul... and that was only a few months ago.
to be honest, you two have had a lot of history.
you two met on accident through a voice call on valorant, where wonwoo was the only one on your team being even remotely friendly to you (everyone else was lowkey not having it because you were a female gamer).
you decided to get his contact on discord after the two of you talked and laughed at the douchebags that was still trying to justify his loss and to find more excuses to them not doing good during the game.
from then on, you two have been playing online games ever since, only knowing each other of your gaming handles rather than your actual names.
it wasnt until you decided to invite him to one of your professional games when you started to notice that your gamer friend did not have a regular job like you originally thought he did. if he wanted to come to your game, he would have to have a bunch of security and go through a lot of people before being allowed to go.
of course, you were curious about all of that, but you were busy preparing for the next competition to think more about it.
after the competition (you guys won <3), you got a message from your manager that someone was here to see you
that's when you met jeon freakin wonwoo of seventeen. and that's when jeon wonwoo realized that you were l/n freakin y/n.
in his defence, he thought you were just a staff for the professional team, which is why he got tickets... he didn't expect you to be actually a member of t1
(it did cancel out tho - with your skill level in games, he wasn't surprised that you were a professional for the best time in south korea)
so after the initial surprise and shock for both of you, the two managed to hit it off just as easily in person as you did online. you introduced him to your teammates, the staff, brought him to behind the scenes, and showed him the actual stage of where you and your teammates play your games.
tl-dr, it was a wonderful day... but that was also kind of the only day where you two hung out.
anyways, so back to the original story of self-on kode...
as mentioned earlier, you two had a lot of history together.
it was also a pretty famous highlight that you and wonwoo hanged out on the day of the competition, which is exactly why the staff and production team of self-on kode thought it was a great idea to bring you and wonwoo on the show.
so, the two of you filmed without knowing who the other was for 30 minutes. you had your ideas and guesses, and he had his own.
by the time the reveal came, you both had a general idea of who the other was...
"holy crap, i knew it!" you laughed, quickly approaching your somewhat still new friend. not like you two havent spoken since that competition.
you two still play games all the time and talk on discord - it's just different to see him in person, that's all.
"i told them i thought it was you," wonwoo agreed. "let's... um, take a seat?"
at the camera, the two of you explained their relationship - how they met, how they got to know each other, their promotions for their schedules and whatever they were working on, and more.
it wasnt until after the shoot was done, when the cameras finally stopped rolling, when wonwoo approached you again.
"hey, so... i'm wondering if you have anything after this?"
l. jihoon x producer!reader
music genius x musical genius
thats all i have to say
maybe prideful jihoon??/ i could definitely see that
hes DEFINITELY the protective type - aka he doesnt let people mess with the things he love, and if there's one thing he loves more than anything, its seventeen and the music hes writing
so imagine his surprise when he heard that hybe - freakin hybe - told him that they'll be bringing on a new producer (you) to work on the next comeback with him, bumzu, and the rest of the his regular production team
so... producer!reader who's used to working with soloists and not groups was suddenly brought on to the seventeen production team... that's gotta be fun, right?
âĄâĄâĄ
jihoon hated the idea of bringing in a new producer the moment it was brought up. he and his team were doing just fine. it felt like the company was trying to take another stab at their artistry all over again. the only reason he even agreed is because bumzu managed to convince him
when you walked in, jihoon expected something completely out of tune, something that was not fit for seventeen to play, but much to his surprise, you came in prepared.
you had sample tracks, lyric ideas, and even voicing suggestions for each track... and each track was good.
he'd never admit that, though.
bumzu was smiling boldly throughout the entire listen, playing around with the files you had mixed, and even praised you for your skills. he even drew comparison to you and jihoon, especially when jihoon was younger (his "less experienced" days, bumzu had called it)
you then argued that you were not a rookie. you've been producing and writing for solo artists for years by now, but this session would be your first time working with a group - especially a group as large as seventeen.
jihoon remained silent for the entire day. even when the meeting was done and you had left a rather impressive image to the production team, he couldn't help but listen over and over again to the demo recording you had filmed by yourself, in your own studio. there was one specific moment - a high note that scratched just the right parts of his brain.
your voice was incredible. it had range, it had the proper support... and it had power.
he didn't notice it then, but maybe that was when he became completely whipped by your voice...
ââ after helping vernon clean up on aisle his pants, you think it canât get any crazier until you realise you might be to blame.
tags : f!rea x vernon | crack, pwp 18+
wc : 4.8k
content : alcohol, bestie mingyu, kinda loser!vernon, wet dream, smut with handjob/blowjob (and some feelings).
notes : vernonâs debut in my fics enjoyyy
đšOU WAKE UP WITH YOUR HEAD POUNDING. you blink, watching the room spin around you as you sit up in bed. with each throb in your temple, fragmented memories from last night flashbang behind your eyelids. groaning, you try to make sense of them all.
you can just barely recall when the night started: all your friends chatting in the living room, mingyu making quick work of ensuring everyone had a drink in their hand like the thoughtful host he is â including you, the other host.
you probably shouldâve asked what it was that he poured for yours, since thatâs most definitely to blame for your killer headache, not to mention the actual amnesia.
you manage to piece together an order of events. shredding the fuck out of the living room floor with soonyoung when gnarly came on, interlinking arms with minghao to toss back a jager jello shot, bumping into seungcheol in the hallway on your way to the toilet and realising he was making out with a chick⊠or that mightâve been jeonghan.
whatever happened last night, you somehow ended up tucked nicely into your bed, fan spinning, and no drinks racing back up your throat as you sat up. you just really had to fucking pee.
you take notice of the multiple empty plastic bottles sitting on your beside table and realise someone mustâve helped you to bed and made you chug all of this water. mingyu, probably. the least he can do for getting you blacked out on whatever motor oil he was serving you.
with a pained groan, you throw the covers off and trudge out from bed to door.
one of the many perks to living with mingyu is that he thrives off of taking care of people. he loves to cook, and he loves to be the centre of attention. heâs the guy that whips up breakfast the morning after a night out and has all the hungover people fawning over him.
thereâs alot of downsides though, and one of them is how he hoards the bathroom like heâs protecting sacred territory. you can only hope heâs in the kitchen where he belongs and not clogging the toilet or using up all that hot water you pay rent for.
you shuffle out of the hallway, peaking into the kitchen. you canât exactly miss him, but you didnât see mingyu anywhere. the kitchenâs spotless, thereâs not even any dishes drying.
you didnât see anyone matter of fact. it looks like everyone went home already.
perplexed, you scan the rest of the room, and have a fucking heart attack when you realise thereâs someone on your couch.
after blinking furiously a few times, heart threatening to pound from your chest as you think frantically for a weapon around the room, you realise that itâs just vernon.
heâs completely silent, so you donât even know if heâs fully asleep or just laying there with his eyes shut. though you think heâs asleep with how he hasnât seemingly sensed your presence. heâs laid up with his hands behind his head, legs spread out on the cushions like he pays rent.Â
you live with a giant, whoâs also a social butterfly, so youâre used to being startled by men just lounging around the place or appearing suddenly behind corners.
difference is now: youâre alone, youâre hungover (possibly experiencing the scaries), and you have no idea where mingyu is and why the rest of your friends just.. left vernon here.Â
tiptoeing through your own living room like itâs a minefield, you dart into the bathroom and check mingyuâs location once the doorâs shut and locked.
heâs at the grocery store. looks like you woke up too early for breakfast.
you ignore his incoming call 0.2 seconds after you send the text, huffing as you walk over to the toilet. so mingyu thinks heâs funny or something. he thinks heâs fucking jigsaw and wants to play games.
you do really enjoy being around vernon, even though you only recently met him through your mutual friends when he got adopted into the group a few months back. youâd also be lying if you said you didnât think he was attractive as shit, and that on more than one occasion youâve lingered around him to get a few words in, to catch a whiff of whatever delicious cologne heâs got on.
you think really hard back to last night, to the point where your headache starts banging again. it takes until you almost pop a blood vessel for a memory to bubble up to the surface. you grasp onto it, piecing it together.
you remember sitting at the dining table because jeonghan wanted to play a drinking game. you remember stealing the seat next to vernon. his laugh in your ear, his drink somehow in your hand, sipping from where his own lips had.
itâs not like you can recall the finer details, but next to his fine as fuck self, you can only imagine how you mustâve been swaying in your seat and giggling like a schoolgirl.
another memory wafts back to you, and you groan as cringe rolls over your body, realising you were probably trying to suppress it out of embarrassment.
by some miracle, you can remember vernonâs chin on your shoulder and his arm slung around your middle â to your horror, realising you ended up sat on his lap.
how the fuck did that come about??? youâre not that shameless. and vernonâs definitely not that fucking forward.
oh my god.
head in your hands, you groan. you scrub at your hands when you wash them. you canât look your reflection in the eye.
is mingyu trying to set you up after seeing how close you got with vernon last night? was this a group effort to get you both alone and see what comes about?
brainstorming the quickest ways to die, you walk back to the living room, surprised to see that vernonâs sitting up.
âoh, hey.â you say, coughing through your strained voice.
vermon looks like a fish out of water. heâs got his hands awkwardly wringing in his lap like itâs his first time using them, sitting on the very edge of the couch cushion, horrified when he hears your voice. after him initially looking up, his head had ducked back down, suddenly incredibly interested in the carpet.
âhey.â he croaks.
âit looks like the guys all left you.â you start, trying to ease this into a comfortable conversation for your own sanity.
âuh. yeah.â
fuck. he was being so awkward. you start cursing at yourself, convinced heâs regretting how touchy-feely you got with each other last night.
âum, mingyu actually woke me up earlier and said he was coming back. iâm alright. just sticking around for breakfast if thatâs okay.â
âyeah, of course!â you nearly trip over your own tongue telling him. god forbid he feels unwelcome here. especially if heâs not.. repulsed by you, after being all over him.
silence cloaks the room again, vernon looking weirdly around the place at anything that wasnât you. you realise he must be waiting for you to leave.
he coughs, self-conscious, and when his hands shifts in his lap, you realise just why there was such a suffocating tension in the room.
vernonâs shielding the front of his pants from you. and though heâs trying his damn fucking hardest to act natural while covering it up, you know exactly whatâs happened. you live with a man after all.
âoh.â
all the colour drains from his face at that sound of your voice. he knows you know, and you think he might be contemplating death behind that thousand yard stare.
you pivot, already starting towards the tissue box on the kitchen island.
âiâm sorry, i donât want to embarrass you, but.. here.â
you toss the tissues to the couch, and vernonâs head turns reluctantly to see where itâs landed on the cushions beside him.
âthank you.â he croaks. âand, um, iâm sorry.â
âitâs okay. iâm not judging you, so you donât have to worry.â you try your best to reassure him, even as he visibly winces. âiâm gonna go through gyuâs closet and i can give you a change of pants?â
âthank you.â he murmurs, grabbing a handful of tissues from the box. âuh, iâm really sorry, again. i donât know if um.. the couch..âÂ
âitâs okay.â you try for a smile. all you can think about is how youâve heard from your friends that vernon can be sensitive, which initially shocked you with how otherwise nonchalant he seemed. the last thing you wanted was to make him feel more embarrassed than he already is.
and to be honest, youâre not entirely phased. even another dude like seungkwan might scream if he were in your place, realising vernon just came his pants on your couch.Â
but youâve been best friends with mingyu for years, not to mention literally living with him, so youâve seen it all. only a few weeks into buying the apartment did you become accustomed to seeing him walk around the place half-naked on a regular weekday.Â
any normal person would think that heâs trying to seduce you, but really, heâs just a fucking show off. youâve never been interested in men who practically throw themselves at women anyways.Â
maybe thatâs why youâve had a little baby crush on vernon since you met him.Â
he doesnât try too hard (or even just try at all). heâs reserved, but heâs not shy; selective with his words and who he shares them with. itâs very entertaining to look for vernon at a hangout and notice heâs off in his own world, and still always willing to talk when you offer a penny for his thoughts.
youâd be a liar, and not a very good one, if you said you hadnât wondered if you could get any closer to him. itâs not that he seems unreachable, you just didnât know if he had it in him to be anything other than unconcerned with the concept of dating.
surely he had women launching themselves at him. he looked like leonardo dicaprioâs birth son, and whatâs that they say about quiet men and being well endowed again? maybe he got cheated on by his last girlfriend. or maybe heâs never had a girlfriend ever..
or maybe thatâs just what you want because the thought gets you a little turned on.
after rummaging through mingyuâs closet, you settle on a pair of grey sweatpants, and you also swipe a pair of boxers so vernonâs not just freeballing while heâs not at home. youâve heard them talk about how they share clothes like itâs air anyways.
you return to the living room where vernonâs already standing, hands clasped over his front. he still looks uncomfortable, probably because the cool AC isnât helping the wet sensation in his pants, but you can also see relief in his face when you come back.
âi donât know if theseâll fit, but,â
âthank you. oh, this is mine.â he says, taking the boxers from your hands.
âwhat?â
âyeah, it went missing months ago.â
âer..â
you direct vernon to the bathroom, and while heâs getting changed, you inspect the couch. no cum stains fortunately.
in desperate need of a coffee, you boil the kettle and send mingyu a kind text without any cuss words or derogatory language telling him to hurry up because youâre hungry. and also because you might die from the nerves of being alone with vernon after he just had a wet dream on your couch. but you donât type that part out.
he sends the middle finger emoji back first, followed by a message that heâs gonna be a while because he ran into a friend (code for one of his sneaky links).
you sigh. you and vernon better get comfortable then.
you turn on the tv with the remote, navigating to disney plus and typing up âstar warsâ. even with the limited words vernon used to speak early on, you learned pretty quickly of his love for the franchise.
vernon returns with the dirty clothes bunched in his hand, face lighting up when he hears the music playing from the movie.
âyou put star wars on?â he beams, walking over to where youâre stood making a coffee.
âwell, iâve gotta be a good host.â
vernon watches with wonder at your side as you pour an espresso shot over a mug of water. you giggle, sliding the americano towards him.
âhave it. itâs yours.â
âreally?â his look of surprise has you huffing a laugh. heâs so expressive when he wants to be.
you nod. âi can put those through the wash if you want. you donât have to carry them around. they should be done by the time mingyu gets back.â
âoh, sure.â he brings the mug to his lips, throat bobbing as he takes a hefty sip. his ears are flush with red, though you donât think itâs because of the steaming drink.
once his soiled clothes are spinning through the washing machine, you and vernon find yourselves on the couch watching the movie â you sitting on the opposite end of where he slept, since he insisted on taking that side.
vernonâs not the type to talk during movies, and neither are you, but heâs seen star wars enough that he didnât seem to care as you conversed over your cups of coffee. or more so, he yapped your ear off about the movie and also random shit and you tried your best to keep up. you didnât know he even had it in him to say more than five words in a sentence.
the atmosphere had flipped with ease. it was far from awkward as you joked with each other and talked about nothing in particular.
you think back to when jeonghan had told you that vernon liked you a few months back. you donât take anything jeonghan says to heart, so you figured he mustâve meant it in the way that vernon had finally gotten comfortable with you.
because he had eventually come out of his shell, talking to you with more than just clipped replies and actually looking you in the eye.
but now, you could doubt it meant just that.
heâs chattier than you are right now as you both ignore the movie playing. before last night, you couldâve never seen yourself being so comfortable while alone with him. not to mention, sharing the same drink, sitting in his lap?
you could be called crazy for thinking it, and youâd welcome it, but maybe vernon.. needed just as much of a push as you did.
you still feel a wave of embarrassment when you think about how shameless you mightâve acted while you were drinking. vernon notices it when your expression falls, and his brows pinch as he stares at you with concern.
âwhatâs up?â
you gulp. âiâm sorry if i was.. like, weird last night. i donât know what mingyu gave me that i got so drunk off of. i know thatâs not an excuse, but iââ
ââno, no. youâre fine.â
you blink. âwhat?â
âitâs alright, seriously. donât apologise. i didnât mind it.â
your eyes flit all over his face, trying to find any hint of reluctance, but heâs serious.
you guess thatâs close enough to him saying heâs not opposed to being that close with you. you laugh, trying to ease your nerves, and itâs smoothed over when he smiles in turn.
you canât be more embarrassed than he must be after this morning, anyways.
doubting that you can dig yourself into a hole deeper than this, you decide youâll bite.
âdid i⊠end up on your lap? at some point?â you chuckle.
âi think so, yeah.â he gives a laugh too, though his sounds a little strained, broken with a cough.
âi did have alot of fun. weâll have to have everyone over more often.â
âahhh,â he groans, âiâm not sure i can spend the night again.â
he cocks his head with a grimace as he glances down at the couch, and you crack into laughter. youâre relieved heâs loosened up enough to joke about the incident, even if his jaw ticks with a little tension.
âitâs okay, vernon. really.â you pat his arm in reassurance, and it feels like victory when he smiles at the contact. âwas it good at least?âÂ
âoh..â he mutters, eyes almost flinching away from yours. his bicep involuntarily flexes under where your fingers linger atop his skin, and that entices some very unwelcome thoughts to start floating through your head.
you werenât thinking it before, but now, seeing how red his ears have gotten, how heâs avoiding looking in your eyes like the plague â you briefly wonder if it was you he had the dream about. recency bias, and allâŠ
he gulps a boulder down. nods. âuh. yeah? i mean..â he coughs, letting you finish the rest of the sentence in your head.
you bite the inside of your cheek. heâs gotten so shy. itâs driving you kind of crazy.
you do wonder how far you can take this. youâve already gotten this comfortable talking about it. you helped him clean up and fetched him a fresh pair of pants, for godâs sakes. and anyways, if it turns too awkward, this is still your house. you can just.. kick him out.
âcan i.. ask what it was?â you add a laugh at the end, trying not to completely wring him out and embarrass him into an early grave.Â
vernon looks like heâs gone into rigour mortis. heâs completely frozen, pale in the face, and all the remaining life in him is channeled into his eyes: staring at a scuff in the floorboards like it scared the shit out of him.
tentatively, you brush your fingers against his shoulder with a quiet âheyâ, and thereâs a sharp intake of breath from him.Â
his hands start to shift, and your eyes follow the movement and fall down to his lap â realising whatâs got him deathly silent.
the very obvious tent in his sweats.Â
you say his name just above a whisper. heâs completely rigid next to you, save for a twitch of his fingers on his lap, halting futilely on their way to hide his current predicament.
what are you even meant to do in a situation like this? if youâre of sound mind, that is. youâre suddenly only thinking with your clit, and impulsively, you want to make another mess of his pants just to help him clean up again.
âiâm sorry, excuse me.â he finally mutters, going to stand. you wrap a tight hand around his arm before he can get there, delighting in how the muscle hardens under your touch.
âdonât be.â you tell him, serious as you stare him in the eye, though he still canât return it.
silence stretches for a moment, and your hand skims down his arm, fingers curling softly around his. if you donât speak out loud whatâs blaring like a siren in your head, then you might not get another chance. so you exhale your reluctance and speak.
âi could⊠help?âÂ
his neck almost cracks from how quickly he snaps it back to stare at you, eyes wide as saucers.
âwhat?â he utters, almost in disbelief. âreally?â
âyeah.âÂ
âyouâd want to?âÂ
âyes, vernon.â
you gently guide him to sit down on the couch and lean back, and heâs staring at you in wonder like youâve got a halo above your head.
âokay.â he says breathlessly, still in doubt that this isnât just his imagination. âjust donât feel like you have toââ
âi donât.â you cut in. âwasnât i literally sat on your lap last night?â
âyeah, butââ
âvernon, i like you. okay?â you smile reassuringly, planting a hand on his thigh. âthat is why i want to.âÂ
âoh. okay.â his eyes flick to where your handâs sitting, then back up to you with a newfound heaviness. he swallows. âi like you too.â
âreally?â it nearly sounds sarcastic as you ask. itâs not like you wouldâve believed it to be true anyways until, well, he just got hard while talking to you. âsince when?â
he gulps. â.. since always.â
so jeonghan really wasnât just talking shit. itâs his own fault that people never believe him though.
you canât help the giddy smile that splits across your face. heâs wanted you just the same. and now, you get to do something about it.
turning your attention to his lap, your fingers curl around his thigh to give an experimental squeeze, and you snicker when the muscles tense under you once again. itâs not like heâs beefed up, but you could tell vernon was fit under that tee and jeans he wears each day like a uniform, and feeling it in your hands had your mind spinning.
your hand begins its path upwards, drawing sharp breaths from vernon as you inch towards the imprint of his arousal.
when you look back up at him, he nods, a silent permit to keep going.
it takes all your self control and then some to only lightly brush over his clothed dick. the moment your fingers glide over it, vernon gasps, hands gripping his own thighs. you cup your palm over his length, squeezing gently as you ride your hand up and over him.
after a few barely-there strokes over the fabric, in which you were basically disassociating from how unbelievably horny youâve gotten, you finally realise just how loud vernonâs breathing has been.
flicking your eyes back up, you meet his gaze â taken aback by the sheer amount of want swirling in his pupils swallowed with black.
vernonâs breath hitches as your pointer finds his tip, circling over it. he shifts in his spot, and you can read him like a fucking book as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
you think you ask him if he wants to kiss you, but you canât remember if he even got a nod out before you were diving in and swallowing his breath into your mouth.
itâs far from what you hoped your first kiss with vernon would be, but you canât help it, neither of you can. itâs all tongue and teeth and spit â your mouths moving against each otherâs like this isnât nearly close enough.
palming his tip through the fabric, you can feel the wetness as it leaks onto your skin. you close your hand as tight as you can manage over his whole length at that, and vernon groans, a sound that sends a pulse straight down to your core.
your fingers turn sticky from the precum seeping through his sweats. heâs so responsive, spilling soft grunts onto your tongue as you kiss him; itâs bordering on sensitive. he sounds like heâs close just from you palming him over two layers of clothing.
it canât be because heâs got pent up energy. he literally already came earlier, so itâs surprising that heâs this sensitive to the touch. you do wonder, just maybe, if heâs this worked up becauseâ
ââit was you.â vernon says against your lips, sounding like heâs almost gasping for air.
you part with him, and take in the sight before you: vernon slumping against the couch, dick achingly hard under your hand, panting like heâs just scaled a mountain.
âthe dream i had earlier. it was about you.â
oh wow.
youâve got no doubt your underwearâs absolutely soiled through now. no wonder youâve been so down bad for vernon since you first laid eyes on him. he just keeps getting more fucking perfect.
âseriously?â you smile, in complete and utter awe of the boy before you. he manages a nod, face flushing a pretty pink. âand what were we doing?â
âi donât know, i canât remember that well.. it was,â his breath hitches when your fingers curl around the hem of his sweats, pulling it back. âfuck, it was just really good.âÂ
âyeah?â
âyeah.â
you start with just peeling back his sweatpants, and you have to clench your jaw so it doesnât completely detach at the sight of the outline of his cock, straining against the confines of his boxers. he looks big. you couldâve guessed that, but still, knowing youâre about to hold him in your hands has you buzzing with adrenaline.
vernon hisses through his teeth as your fingers dance over his clothed length, trailing back up to the waistband.
you roll down the last thin layer separating your skin from his â and you can feel your mouth water (among other places) when his cock bobs free, flushed red and leaking pre and so, so hard.
âgod fucking damn.â you murmur under your breath. vernon catches it, huffing a noise thatâs half humour and half nerves.
you place your palm over his tip, smearing the skin with precum as your hand curls into a fist, riding down over his length. as wet as he is, you spit onto the tip anyways, vernon twitching in your hand as you stroke the mix of fluids over his cock.
he throws his head back on the couch, heaving what sounds like his dying breaths as you start to jerk him off properly. the room quickly fills with the slick sound of your hand working at him, punctuated with a moan from vernon as you experimentally add a flick of your wrist at the tip with each stroke.
his headâs spinning. he tried to channel all his focus into memorising how the circle of your hand feels around him (for future use), but heâs completely lost in it now â hips bucking up to meet your movements as he bites his lower lip til he can taste copper.
one of vernonâs hands reach for you, holding your wrist with a vice grip as you keep stroking him undeterred, and the otherâs knuckles turn pale as he grips your couch cushion.
fuck, he didnât know handjobs could feel this good. he didnât even know wet dreams werenât just a myth until he woke up from one, and about you.
vernonâs heavy pants escalate into quicker and higher closed-mouthed whines, and you know heâs close with how violently his lengthâs throbbing between your fingers.
the last dying ember of your rationality reminds you that heâll probably die from the shame if he makes yet another mess on your couch. so, entirely on impulse, you bend at the waist and catch vernonâs cock in your mouth.
the guttural noise you pulled from him will be etched into your memory forever, and it will most definitely be playing on loop the next time youâve got a date with your hand.
it doesnât take much: your tongue glides up the underside of his cock, swirling at the tip to taste him before you hollow your mouth to suck, and then vernonâs soul leaves his body.
his orgasms slams into him like a freight train. youâre everywhere, flooding his senses and setting his nerves on fire. you almost want to check if heâs crying from how wrecked he sounds above you, but it only spurs you on to keep bobbing your head until you taste the warm ropes coating your tongue.
youâre merciless as you pull off of him with that same tightness of your mouth, leaving him shaking when your lips loudly pop off the tip. through half-lidded eyes he watches your throat bob as you swallow him down, and his dick twitches at the sight.
âhavenât you done that before?â you ask before you can stop yourself, wiping your chin with the back of your hand.
vernon manages to shake his head.
âwhat?? donât tell me youâreââ
âis it obvious?â he says, voice hoarse from all the huffing like a dog. âshit, i feel so shame..â
âwell donât.â
you swing your legs over him to sit in his lap, (clean) fingers coming to thread through the hair at the base of his neck. you see your reflection in his eyes: looking completely captivated and a little crazy. you just canât help the adrenaline coursing through your veins at the thought of being vernonâs first anything.
âdo you wanna..â you glance down, bite your lip, watch his eyes go completely black. âin me next?â
his throat bobs as he audibly gulps. âyeah, just.. you didnât get to. iâm sorââ
you shush him with a quick peck to his lips. âvernon, you can take care of me another time.â
âanother time?â his eyes almost bug out of his head as he echoes it. you just laugh and pull him in for another kiss.
of course thereâs going to be another time when youâve been crushing on each other for months, and he literally just came in your mouth.
contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]
words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD
synopsis:
In all your years of academic endurance, youâve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldnât know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this.
However, statistically speaking,âŠit could.
[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!
I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey đ„č I love u guys
Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much đ€
on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333
masterlist
Monday
A normal person wouldâve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it.Â
But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feelâŠnothing.Â
You couldâve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative.Â
Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught.Â
Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope youâll hold back from spitting in your professorâs coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.
You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did. Â
Which was little to none.Â
That was a lieâon your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe.Â
Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room.Â
Heâs wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. Thereâs pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters.Â
This man thatâs pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath.Â
âI have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.â
Heâs talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any youâve had to bully yourself through.Â
âAll I can say is to read through the feedback Iâve given and try a little harder next time.â His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing â?ââs and ânoââs with zero further explanation. He could say more, but youâve learned that he simply chooses to not.Â
Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, thereâs another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. Heâs hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand.Â
The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. Heâs crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were todayâs worksheets.Â
â...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.â
The poor TA looks like he thought heâd have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before heâs flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. Thereâs a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks.Â
You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables.Â
âPass it down, please⊠pass it down, pleaseâŠâ
Thereâs a voice that calls from one of the front seats, âWhat formula is the sheet talking about?â
Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one youâd have to figure out yourself).
 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased.Â
By the time youâve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.
Sure enough, thereâs a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker.Â
Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around.Â
Thereâs one person thatâs zipping back and forth, just like there always is.Â
You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else.Â
Thereâs a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasnât going to help.
Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation.Â
Tuesday
Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did.Â
So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building.Â
Youâve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you donât dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again.Â
Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door.Â
Nothing.Â
You knock again.
Silence.Â
You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the roomâŠempty.
The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professorâs desk has been occupied this entire time.Â
Except heâs asleep.
No, thatâs not the professor.Â
Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But thereâs none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.
You donât need to see his face to know itâs the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you arenât quite sure what to do.Â
Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek.Â
Itâs his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesnât take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance.Â
Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you heâs actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit.Â
âUm, excuse me.â He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. âExcuse me.â
You couldâve sworn you heard a snore.Â
Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. âExcuse me!â
Thereâs a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire backâs worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.
âWhâow!â The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other.Â
âWâwhatâre you doing here?â he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. Thereâs a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you canât decipher.
âUm, itâs officeââ
His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something.Â
âI have to go,â he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag.Â
âWait, isnât it still office hours?â you call out as he whizzes past you.Â
Heâs swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, âWednesdays and Thursdays.â
âButââ
âItâs on the portal.â
âNo itâs not.â
âYes itââ he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. âIâll double check. But itâs Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.â
âHowââ
A loud slam! of the door.Â
ââlongâŠâÂ
Youâre left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room.Â
He said heâd be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now.Â
Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back.Â
The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. Itâs another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class.Â
She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, âAm I in the right room?â
âUh, yes! I was just leaving,â you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately.Â
Youâre halfway out the door when you hear another call of an âExcuse me!â
âAre these your papers?â The professorâs full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table.Â
The No is ready on your lips. Until it isnât.Â
Later on, youâd consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How youâd ducked under the table to ensure youâd gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face.Â
But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that youâd committed.
And nothing of the hourglass youâd just turned over.Â
Wednesday
In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.
I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. Iâm aware itâs on the portal but Iâd like to reconfirm.Â
Regards, YN
Dear YN,
Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.
Kim Mingyu, T.A.Â
So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath.Â
The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professorâs desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen.Â
The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isnât too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early youâve swooped in.Â
Thereâs a brief consideration whether this was in the TAâs job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found.Â
The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait.Â
You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain.Â
People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is theyâre doing, too busy to notice your blank stares.Â
The faces are familiar, none of which are people youâve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. Thereâs a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume thereâs one thing in common the both of you werenât doing.Â
Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room.Â
Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebodyâs already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the firstâs intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves.Â
Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. Thereâs multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyoneâs time management.Â
Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didnât want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls youâd noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table.Â
Once again, the TA doesnât seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation.Â
It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. Itâs then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you.Â
âAre you here to see him?â
You donât expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. âPardon?âÂ
âAre you here to see him? Mingyu?â
âUhââ Wasnât everybody? âYeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.â
The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, âGod, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.â
âYeah heâs a bitâŠunorthodox.â
âHeâs unorthodox too.â She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. âA face like that is rare.â
It wasnât that she was wrong, it didnât take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people youâd meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a veryâŠoverwrought⊠suggestion wherever he went.Â
It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be.Â
But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool youâd sound if you admitted to anything other than such.Â
âIt is. His willpowerâs somehow even rarer,â you add. âDonât know how he does it.â
âGod, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.â Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory.Â
Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores.Â
Thereâs a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and itâs like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head.Â
You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldnât hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics.Â
Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind.Â
Alas, you donât tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat.Â
You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you.Â
Suddenly, the girl looks startled as sheâs told to wait.Â
âSheâs been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you donât mind,â you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him.Â
For whatever reason, you had no thought that he mightâve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when heâd spoken to you, perhaps he mightâve thought he dreamt it. Or heâd just forgotten it altogether.Â
The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality.Â
âThank you.â
It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student.Â
âYou can come right after her,â he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading.Â
Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables.Â
You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin.Â
Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason.Â
It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising youâd forgotten your bag in your seat.Â
Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an âOh!â as you spring back up immediately. Itâs easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat.Â
The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like sheâs trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat.Â
Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once youâve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do.Â
âRight. How can I help you?â
Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him.Â
One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page.Â
âItâs a 37,â you inform him like he couldnât see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell.Â
âDo you think you deserved a better grade?â he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know.Â
It stumps you regardless.
âWellâŠI know I can do better, at least,â you decide to answer.Â
âYouâre here, which means youâre at least willing to try. Thatâs a start,â he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.
âI remember marking this,â he says, looking up to address you. âYour concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.â
âYou marked them?â
He raises his brow, âI hope that wasnât an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.â
âI thought the professor marked the lab reports.â
âHeâsâŠsupposed to.â Thereâs a forced reservedness in his voice. âI mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But Iâm not sure youâd fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.â
Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise youâre at a loss for words.Â
Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You donât have an explanation, but itâs somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man thatâs meant to help you. âI donât know what to do anymore.â
âThatâs alright,â he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. âWeâll work through it.â
He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand.Â
Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.
âLab reports can be quite tricky if you arenât sure what youâre doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?â
You mean the one that did nothing to help? âYes.â
âYou got those bits right, format and whatnot. Butââ
âIt was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,â you say plainly.
Mingyu lips are in a tight line. âWell, yes, but it helpsââ
âI know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I donât need a PDF to tell me that,â you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. âI want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.â
âDr. Choââ
âIs no help.â
âI understandââ
âHe canât even mark his own papers. Iâm quite sure thatâs not in your job description. Itâs supposed to be him here. Not you.â
Itâs silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyuâs fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger.Â
âAnd yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.â He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. âAnd, better that Iâm here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.â
Help, he did.Â
Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag.Â
You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.
âI almost forgot,â you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him.Â
âWhere did you find this?â he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue.Â
âYou left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,â you say, before quickly adding, âThere was a class right after you left. I took them off the professorâs hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.â
âIâve been looking all over for these,â he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. âThank you.â
You flush for some reason, âOâof course, couldnât just leave them there.â
Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. âMaybe donât run out of rooms still half asleep.â
By the grace of God, he laughs, âNo, youâre right. I should be careful.â
It isnât till youâre pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. âYou can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.â
âPardon?â
Heâs stood up as well. âI have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.âÂ
Feet planted on the ground, thereâs not much you can do but stare. âUm, sure. I can come in a little early.â
He nods casually, âThanks again for the papers. And the watch.â
You smile, âNo problem.â
Thursday
True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.
Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.
âI donât know if I can make time for thatâno, I understand, sir,â
Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt heâs entirely comfortable with.Â
âIâll see what I can do.â
His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.Â
âLight on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,â he startles when he notices you.Â
Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. âSorry.â
You know itâs invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. âImportant call?â
âUh, yeah, um, just work stuff,â he states, shaking his head swiftly like heâs trying to shake the thought out of his mind.Â
Thereâs a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more.Â
âIt was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,â he says. âAs always.âÂ
âDoes he do anything other than show up to class?â you ask through a snort.Â
âOf course he does. He cusses out every article he doesnât agree with, is anything but objective andâŠthe occasional relay of blatant misinformation.âÂ
For the record, youâd never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months heâd been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear.Â
The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation.Â
Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable.Â
That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professorâit was something you couldnât quite believe he was capable of.Â
âIâm sorry you have to put up with him.â
Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, âAnything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, heâs done a lot for the area, canât discredit him entirely.â
With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh.Â
Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, âIâm stuck.â
Thereâs nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. âI am too. Help.â
Help, he does.
Monday
Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday.Â
The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch.Â
Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you donât tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, âMake that two, please.â
It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early.Â
Something isnât right.Â
Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job.Â
It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction youâve had with him.Â
He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. ââMorning!âÂ
â...Morning.â
âYouâre early,â he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach.Â
âFigured we both needed this,â you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. âItâs a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.â
âOâoh, thank you. And youâre right I did need this.â
Now that youâre closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer.Â
To Do:
Call mom
Shoot myself
âYou, umââ Itâs alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lilâ something on your face.
But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know.Â
Thereâs a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. âFor fuckâs sake.â
âItâs okay! I wannaâŠshoot myself too sometimes.âÂ
What the fuck?
âI mean!â you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. âItâs okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.â
Itâs all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesnât try to sabotage your education.Â
âGood thing it was just you. Yeah.â
Just you.
âAnyways, I think Iâm done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?âÂ
âHave you seen the time?âÂ
âNot a morning person?â
âNope!â
âAnd yet itâs 7:40 on a Monday morning and youâre absurdly early.â His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you.Â
âDo you want the coffee or not?â you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself.Â
The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair.Â
He gives you a crooked grin,âI apologise.â
âTo be fair,â he continues. âIâm not much of a morning person either.â
You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, âIâm starting to think no moneyâs worth this job.â
Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, âYouâre right. Not sure why Iâm still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.â
âAnd that isnât happening becauseâŠ?â
Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. âI like Dr. Cho.â
âYouââ
âI know,â he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. âI know. I sound like a lunatic.â
âI donât know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.â
âAnother would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.âÂ
âDonât get smart with me.â
âExcuse me for doing my job.â
He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, âNo, but really. I canât imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.â
Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. âWhen I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.â
âPSYCH101?â
âThatâs the one. Iâd never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Choâs studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything heâd published, some of âem before any of us were even born.âÂ
âOh. So youâre a fan.â
âEveryone tells you to never meet your idols,â he snickers. âHeâs done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.â
âIâm sorry it had to be you,â you half joke.Â
Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, âThat might also be my own fault.âÂ
âDonât tell me you offered.â
âI might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was justâŠplain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldnâtâcanâtâstand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know itâs not true. He was always emailing me extra resources whichâŠIâm pretty sure he isnât supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.âÂ
He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, âI guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know Iâm getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.â
âDid heâŠhave a TA when you were in his class?âÂ
âFour.â
âFour?!â
âTwo at a time. All of âem quit at some point. Said they didnât want the recommendation or the pay.â
âWould heâŠnot give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.â
Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, âHeâs a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If youâve impressed him, youâve impressed everyone.â
You take a moment to really absorb everything youâve just learned. âThatâs a sucky position youâre in.â
âTell me about it. But itâs okay. Threeâthree and a half more months to go? This isnât even the worst of it, Iâm just dreading study week when Iâm gonna have to handle all the crying.â
You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept youâd be alright with this class.Â
âI know youâre not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.â
âEver heard of barriers to entry? Iâd be ruined if I wanted a career in this.â
You roll your eyes playfully, âAll Iâm saying is Iâve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months Iâve spent cursing this very lecture hall.â
If you werenât lying to yourself, you couldâve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you canât help but bite back your own smile.Â
âIf I can help you then itâs worth losing myself.â
Your heart is in your fucking throat.
âIâm glad when students tell me that,â he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. âMakes me feel like Iâm doing something right.â
âYouâreââ you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. âYouâre doing more than just something right. Youâre saving us therapy and an extra semester.â
He laughs at that, and you wish heâd let you breathe.Â
âFeels like Iâm doing something wrong sometimes,â he huffs. âMy friendâs a TA too and heâs got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else heâs got going on.âÂ
He goes on, âDo you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuckâs sakeââ
Mingyu is cut off because youâre laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. âWâwhat?â
âIâm sorry,â you hiccup. âItâs justâŠIt sounds like you donât know what you look like.â
âWhatâs wrong with how I look?â he frowns.
âNothing!â you exclaim. âBut thatâs the problem isnât it.â
Mingyu doesnât seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.
âCanât possibly be enough to distract people,â he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he canât get through to.Â
âMajority of the class would beg to differ.â
Thereâs a pause as he registers what you imply.Â
After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, âWould⊠you alsoââ
Thereâs a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, heâs already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned.Â
âThatâs our cue,â you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professorâs desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu whoâs suddenly frantic.Â
Of course you realise thereâs people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.
But you feel the soft of Mingyuâs shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is.Â
âRelax,â you whisper. âYouâll be better off without all the panic.â
You donât see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyuâs face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes.Â
Thursday
Midterm season is nothing youâve ever really had to worry about.Â
Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons.Â
Except this class isnât ordinary, and itâs all youâre able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full.Â
âIâm not ready.â
âYouâre more ready than anyone else in class.â
âHow do you know that?â
Mingyu stares at you blankly, âIf I donât know that, then who else does?â
You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time youâve teared up in front of him, but also because youâre in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return.Â
âBut I donât feel like Iâm ready,â you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book.Â
âYouâll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,â he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up.Â
Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, âYou only feel that way because Iâve been giving you harder problems to work on. Youâre past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, youâre more than prepared.â
âButââ
âListen,â he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. âItâs only the midtermââ
âOnly theââ
âIf this goes wrong, Iâm just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it wonât go wrong because I said so.â
You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard.Â
âIâm assumingâŠâ you start.Â
âHm?â he looks over to you.
âIâm assuming you canât hint at whatâs on the paper.â
Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, âYou assume correct. Iâm not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.â
âBut itâs just the midterm,â you mumble, not even close to remotely audible.Â
âWhat did you say?â Mingyu smirks.Â
âNothing,â you huff.
âYou know, Iâm a little offended you donât trust me.â
âWho said I didnât.â
âWell then, stop being such a worrywart.â
There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind.Â
He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. âI made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know youâre gonna be fine.â
In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you donât see it illuminate anything other than the man before you.Â
Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you donât take anything into account as you note Mingyuâs eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone youâd ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know youâd feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.Â
Heâd given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you.Â
You sniffle.Â
His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal.Â
You know heâs real. And you donât know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.
Monday
You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.
Itâs midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow youâd have to perform for today.
It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater.Â
Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you.Â
âMorning, champ,â he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest.Â
Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed.Â
âWhyâre you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?â he huffs in one long, rapid question.Â
âUm, I mean,â you stare at his shirt thatâs backwards. And inside out. âI canât tell if thatâs a choice or a mistake.â
Looking down at his front, he looks back up, âWhat?â
âYour collar isâŠnot at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirtâs inside out.â
Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. Heâs immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like itâd all disappear if he keeps them like that.Â
âWait!â you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. âDo you wanna strip for the CCTVs?â
You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him.Â
Youâve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, heâs blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes.Â
Itâs hard for you to listen to him when youâre more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasnât a breathing corpse.Â
âMingyuâŠdid you sleep at all?â
âHm?â His eyes are glazed over and unfocused.Â
âSleep? Rest?â
âOh,â he frowns. âNot really. I had emails coming in all night.â
âAnd you were replying?â
âIt's the midterm today,â he responds flatly, like it shouldâve been enough explanation.Â
You almost donât believe him. âDoesnât mean you stay up to answer something that shouldâve been cleared out beforehand!â
âCouldnât just leave them to fend for themselves,â he dramatises.Â
âYes, you could!â Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what heâs doing to himself. âYou barely look human and itâs only the midterm.â
âWhatâre you trying to say?â
âI donât know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.â
Mingyuâs jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. âI canât get anywhere if I donâtââ
âMingyu, please. This isnât good for you.â
He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. âIf you think this job isnât worth it then you just donât know.â
âMingyuââ
âNo, you donât, because Iâve seen how good of a job Iâve been doing.â
âYou have, youâve been amazing butââ
Mingyuâs own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. âThen whatâs the problem?â
âHave you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!â
And then heâs getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, âWhy on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if Iâm doing my job?âÂ
It mightâve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger.Â
Why on earth do you care so much?
Right. Why do you?Â
âAre you asking me that?â
âWhat?â
âAre you asking me why I care?âÂ
Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before.Â
His eyes are bloodshot.Â
âI have to get the exam pack.â
Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, youâre left with a feeling thatâs right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professorâs desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin.Â
Thereâs a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. Itâs like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.
Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.
Everything youâd subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didnât fit where the laws wouldnât allow it.Â
The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.
Monday
Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch.Â
It wasnât broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didnât work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again.Â
You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.
Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to âshut downâ when overwhelmed or stressed.Â
Itâs happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when youâd neglect food or water on busier days, or when youâd stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday.Â
Regardless, youâd found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset.Â
Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldnât work, just like how the latch wouldnât fit when youâd do the same with your beloved old box. So youâd take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click.Â
On the morning of your midterm, when youâd ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones youâll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself.Â
Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, youâd seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to.Â
Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you.Â
âPass it on, pleaseâŠpass it on, please.â
The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong.Â
You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most.Â
That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again.Â
Because it was quite the opposite. You couldnât hate him.Â
As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you donât. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom.Â
Throughout your years of living, youâd learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it.Â
Everything. You tried everything.Â
But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.
Itâs Wednesday.Â
You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; itâs safe and you know youâll like it.Â
Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone elseâs cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash.Â
Itâs 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. Itâs strange. It feels like youâre missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements.Â
The papers are the same. But you read them anyway.Â
Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another.Â
Itâs accursed the way the universe wonât let you live.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect.Â
Estimation cannot be perfect.Â
[_]
Itâs Thursday
Class. Eat. Drink. Work.
Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!
[_]
Itâs Friday
Eat. Drink. Work.
Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out
[_]
Itâs Saturday
Eat. Drink. Work.
P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)
              ââââââ
                     P(B)
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;
 it gets less complicated
 promise :/Â
[_]
Itâs Sunday.
Eat. Drink. Work.
The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;
youâve got this!!! < 3
You give up.
Itâs Monday.
8:14 AM.Â
You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Choâs outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least thatâs what the twinkle from up here looks like.Â
Heâs insulting another author, the manâs ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal.Â
Thereâs another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds.Â
An hour later, youâre staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language.Â
Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note.Â
Bright pink sticky note.Â
You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that.Â
9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag.Â
Dr. Cho doesnât even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.
In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours.Â
Itâs Tuesday.
Youâve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are.Â
They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better.Â
Itâs silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it.Â
Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely.Â
The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf.Â
Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.
Itâs Wednesday.
After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.
Itâs Thursday.Â
Walking out of class, your mind is empty. Youâre still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears.Â
This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something youâve learned to appreciate.Â
With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway.Â
It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.
You freeze like youâve been caught.Â
The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed âHey!â knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension.Â
Youâre off centre. But itâs fine.Â
Itâs Monday.
âMidterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions Iâll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, eitherâs fine.â
Dr. Cho isnât here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour.Â
You want to leave, not caring about how strange itâd look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you donât understand but more familiar than anything else.Â
Mingyuâs voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference.Â
Itâs Tuesday.
Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.
â 92/100
Itâs Wednesday.Â
4:10 PM. Itâs almost too much for you. Almost.Â
The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handleâs rebound even more so. The room doesnât so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things.Â
The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up.Â
Itâs ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months youâve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, heâs breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view.Â
âDid you feel bad?â you spit.
âWhat?â he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, âCan we talk? Please.â
âAnswer the question, Mingyu,â you snap. You donât care thereâs a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. âDid you feel so bad you had to give me something I didnât earn?â
Heâs stood up now, half confused. âIs this about the midtermââ
âI did not get a ninety two, I know I didnât,â you grit. âWhatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldnât.â
Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. âWhat makes you think Iâd do something like that?â
âI donât know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?â you announce, louder than before.Â
The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyuâs face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage youâve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense.Â
Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning.Â
Thereâs a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes.Â
A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.
âHere. It was all you, if you canât believe me.â
Itâs a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two.Â
Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason itâs only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You donât open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages.Â
Because you know youâve lost.
Itâs Thursday. And itâs full of regret.Â
Thereâs a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. Itâs in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live.Â
Thereâs a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you arenât waking up from this one.Â
In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true.Â
In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad thatâs been sleeping with you every night.Â
If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, youâve crossed it with the resentment youâve now fostered for yourself.Â
Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet.Â
Itâs Friday.
At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial.Â
Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. Youâre crying over Bayesian inference and itâs somehow more pressing than any other emotion youâve ever felt.Â
Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a foolâs game altogether.Â
Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth.Â
[Mingyu]: switch to bF10Â
[Mingyu]: youâve been pulling numbers from bF01
Itâs immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01.Â
With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with.Â
Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. Itâs stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before.Â
Do you not miss me?
Do you not want me around?
Talk to me
I miss you
Please talk to me
âI couldnâtâcanâtâstand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know itâs not true.â
Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine heâs helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing youâd make blunders out of.Â
The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knifeâs twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything heâs bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place.Â
Thereâs a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality.Â
Itâs Saturday.Â
Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same.Â
The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too.Â
âLatte, please,â you voice. âIced.â
âWe have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?â The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice.Â
âUm, no thank you. Just one, please.â
She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldnât bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand.Â
Youâre plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name.Â
â...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.âÂ
âHe has time to hook up?â
âI remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.âÂ
âA ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.â
âWhatever, at least we know heâll entertain you if he likes you enough. Iâm just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.â
Thereâs an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further.Â
âUnless he flirts in variables.â
âAll is forgiven when youâre born with a face like that.âÂ
Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual.Â
Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls.Â
There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily.Â
She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition.Â
Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesnât look as menacing as you feel. You donât wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.
Itâs Sunday.
It seems every sip of water youâve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears youâve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.
Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. Itâs another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle.Â
Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesnât make sense, the commands youâve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page.Â
Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator.Â
With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you canât help but feel a little relieved it wasnât that particular snag.Â
The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear sheâs playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work.Â
The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. Youâre going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and disappearing before going back to normal.Â
Itâs like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone elseâs dark blue on your notes.
no null hypothesis in bayesian approach
Bayesian approaches donât use null hypotheses. And z scores are inâŠ
âOh my god, this is a t test,â you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, youâre scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set.Â
And there it wasâŠa clear 0.067 under the p value.Â
In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely.Â
It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you canât help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library.Â
When the initial adrenaline fades and youâve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students.Â
The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click.Â
Thereâs an attached file in the email you draft.Â
The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version.Â
Regards, YN
Itâs almost like youâre trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact.Â
You donât need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own.Â
But you donât email him, backspacing till itâs empty once again.Â
Dr. Choâs email sits in that place instead, a first for you.Â
SEND.
You donât expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you arenât sure if heâs going to respond at all. Youâve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. Youâre forced to consider.Â
Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well?Â
A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrowâs class when youâd have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week.Â
Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox.Â
Thereâs a new email in your sent box after youâre done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar.Â
Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. Youâre out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this.Â
Youâre afraid if you put a hand to your stomach itâd be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox.Â
Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop.Â
The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. Thereâs no way to tell if youâre shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen.Â
RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu
It couldnât have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, itâs almost funny you expected any different from him.Â
The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and itâs like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift.Â
Clicking on the notification, the email opens.Â
Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. Iâll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.
Kim Mingyu, T.A.
There was no way he didnât have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and youâre sure he knew youâd realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes.Â
But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building youâd once considered a second home.Â
You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly.Â
Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. Itâs strange, youâve never seen it wide open before.Â
Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professorâs desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward.Â
Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. Itâs warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather.Â
The desk up front is occupied, as it always is.Â
Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend.Â
It wasnât that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, youâd done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.
 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.
If that was the case, you wouldâve been right. Thereâs a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed.Â
Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. Thereâs the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, ââMorning.â
You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. ââMorning.â
You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both.Â
Itâs so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do.Â
âI, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.â Thereâs an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now.Â
He clears his throat when you donât respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you.Â
âThanks,â you hoarse. Itâs the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course youâd recognise his handwriting.Â
âI didnât have time to print one out right now. Iâll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,â he explains.Â
âThatâs alright.â You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. âThanks again. IâllâŠget going.âÂ
Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. Youâre already halfway to the door though, and your prideâs already deemed it too late.Â
Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop meâ
There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice.Â
Turning back around is the easiest thing youâve ever done.Â
Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasnât expecting you to turn back. âCan we talk?âÂ
And then heâs pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you couldâve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, âPlease?â
So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man thatâs haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in.Â
âI guess I should start with an apology,â heâs fidgeting with his own fingers. âI donât need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion becauseâŠâ
He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. âI didnât mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. Iâm sorry I spoke to you like that when you didnât deserve it.âÂ
For about the millionth time, you realise youâre tearing up again. He continues. âAnd thenâŠright before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didnât touch those numbers.â
He really didnât, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.
âI thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldnât find you, and then you were gone right after. I didnât text or call because I was sure Iâd fucked it all up.âÂ
âIâm sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasnât thinking straight.â You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. âI really hope you didnât get into any trouble.âÂ
âIâno, I didnât.â
âAre you sure? Becauseââ
âI promise I didnât.â He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping youâd believe him. You nod slowly.Â
âIt wasnât even that bad, what you said,â you sniffled.Â
He scoffs at that, âIâd beg to differ.â
âI wouldâve gotten over it,â you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something youâve had trouble admitting to yourself. âI shouldâve gotten over it. I donât know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I havenât been acting like normal ever since, and Iâm sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didnât need to turn intoâŠthis!â
âYou were hurt because I hurt you.â
âPeople have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I shouldâve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. ButâŠyeah.â
Thereâs a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. âI just want us to go back to normal. Iâve missed you. Alot.â
âMe too. The go back to normal bit. And theâŠmissed you bit.â
Mingyuâs half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. âIâd thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, thatâd be admitting defeat. That youâd think IâŠcouldnât do it.âÂ
Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears.Â
You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasnât what he meant.âSince when are we on caring terms?âÂ
Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."
Itâs hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words.Â
âOh well Iâd hope youâd care, since youâre my TA and all.â
âNot in a TA way.â
âTutor way.â
âUm.â
âFriend way? A human way?âÂ
âNo.â
You both know youâre being obtuse on purpose, and you arenât sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm.Â
âYou know what?â he rasps.Â
âWhat?â
Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. Youâre not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyuâs lap.Â
And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own.Â
Youâre stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom.Â
Itâs short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. âDoes that clear things up?â
Thereâs nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. âHm.â
He laughs at your half dazed state. Itâs a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. âMaybe one more time. To make sure.â
Mingyu doesnât even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. Thereâs more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close.Â
The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good youâre already half faint.Â
His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you canât believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasnât some too vivid fever dream.Â
He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours.Â
âFor the record,â he pants. âI love that you care. And I hope youâll keep caring. Because I donât think I can handle it if you walk away after this.â
Mouth back on his own, you decide thereâs only one way to convince him you werenât going anywhere without dragging him with you.Â
MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You arenât sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected.Â
Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch.Â
Like you would run away if he didnât, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head. Â
You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks youâve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself.Â
âI went to a frat party,â Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. âFor Halloween.â
The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, âYou went to a frat party?â
He snorts, âDressed up for it too.â
âOh my god,â you voice in mild horror. âDo I wanna know?âÂ
âWonwoo and I matched,â he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. âI was Mario, he was Luigi.â
âHow adorable.â
He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they arenât wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition.Â
âThing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,â he informs.Â
âThat mightâve been a little better.â
âWhatâs wrong with Mario?â he asks sharply.
âNothing. But I do hope you werenât sporting an Italian accent throughout that.âÂ
âI was,â he pushes. âA horrible one too.â
You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll.Â
âYou couldâve gone as Peach. We couldâve matched.âÂ
âI donât know if Iâd wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.â You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October.Â
âMaybe in private,â he says with an insufferable smile on his face.Â
Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. âIâm not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.âÂ
âWho?â
âYou and Wonwoo, youâre practically married.â
Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own thatâs stuck to him. âNot with whatever he has going on with his girl.â
âOh right,â you frown in remembrance. âWhat happened to not understanding how he does it?âÂ
âHm?â
âHeâs a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didnât know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.â
His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. âI may owe him an apology.â
âDo you?â
Mingyu frowns, âActually no I donât. I donât think he and his lady are doing too well right now. Heâs been insufferable lately.â
âIs it because of the TA-ing?â
âI never know with those two,â he sighs.
Thereâs silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like heâs trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you.Â
âDo youâŠknow about us?â Thereâs hesitancy in the way you ask. But you canât help but ask anyway.
Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. âI know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know Iâm in it for the long run.â
âIâm glad youâre smarter than your husband,â you smile.
He only rolls his eyes, âHeâs only good at one kind of chemistry.âÂ
âDâyou think theyâll be okay?â
âOh yeah,â he assures. âTheyâre just going through aâŠrough patch.â
âLike we did?â
âIf youâre asking me, Iâd say theyâre being a little more stupid about it.â
The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, âTheyâll be okay though.â
âI hope so. Iâd like to go on double dates with my boyfriendâs husbandâs girlfriend.â You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice.Â
âThis is getting weird,â Mingyu breathes.Â
You only hum against his mouth, âDo I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?â
âFor fuckâs sake.âÂ
Youâre both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you canât help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you.Â
âI did the sticky note thing again too,â Mingyu says into the silence, and thereâs nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again.Â
âSaid something worse this time,â he continues as you laugh into his chest. âAccept that youâll die alone or some other shit like that.âÂ
Thereâs comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary youâve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click.Â
Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend.Â
MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling youâve grown dangerously accustomed to.Â
It isnât that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply arenât on you enough.Â
The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You werenât avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both.Â
You donât even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students.Â
The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place.Â
Youâre barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as youâre catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you.Â
Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyuâs slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you arenât escaping the iron grip heâs got on your face.Â
Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way.Â
âYou arenât actually paying attention in class anyway,â he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. âSo why donât you sit in the back where you donât distract me.â
âWho says Iâm not paying attention.â You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead.Â
âYouâre paying attention to me.â
âIt was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.â
Heâs all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, âWas letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.â
If you didnât know any better you wouldâve assumed heâd been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man youâve been accustomed to. The fact that heâs whispering directly into your ears isnât helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine.Â
It lands with precision, right at your core. Youâre too hot to tell, but there isnât a doubt youâve begun to pool.Â
Thereâs a ding in the background.Â
Heâs suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether.Â
Another ding.Â
Heâs reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like heâs testing the waters.
Ding.Â
Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt.Â
His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached witâs end.Â
âGyuâŠâ you whisper.Â
âIgnore it,â he growls. The ringing has stopped.Â
He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso.Â
His phone begins to ring again.Â
Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you werenât sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now.Â
He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily.Â
The ringing stops.Â
Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you canât quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage.Â
Thereâs a ding.Â
âMingyu, I really thinkââ
His phone begins to ring again.Â
âOh for fuckâs sake,â he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest.Â
âYou should answer.âÂ
He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Choâs name on the screen. âItâs eleven Oâclock.âÂ
âIt might be important.â
âThe last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,â he grunts as he silences his phone.Â
You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyuâs hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up.Â
Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, âNooooo, Iâm gonna ignore him.â
âHeâs not going to leave you alone,â you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear.Â
As if to prove your point, Mingyuâs phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect.Â
âGo on.â
He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, âHello?â
His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out whatâs being said on the other line. âWhere have you been?â
âItâs nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.â
âMy flash drive wonât open up on my computer.â
You have to stifle a snort.Â
âIs itâŠplugged in?â
âOf course it is, Iâm not an idiot.â
âIs it showing up on your files?â
âDiskâŠis notâŠformatted.â
âErm, it might be corrupted.â
âHow did that happen?â
âDid you download something off the internet onto it?â
âHardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!â
Your fingers are massaging Mingyuâs temples as you feel him tense on top of you.Â
âYour attendance sheet is on the teacherâs portal,â Mingyu grits before adding, âsir.â
â...I have other things on there too.â
Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. âThis sounds like something tech support could help with.â
âWhy canât you help?â he asks sharply.Â
âIâŠI donât know how, sir.â
Thereâs a noise of indignation from the other end, and you canât help but keep from laughing.Â
Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. âIâll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And Iâll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesdayâs classes.â
The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professorâs hung up as soon as the words left Mingyuâs mouth.Â
âWow,â you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyuâs head heavier on your chest. âNot even a thank you.â
âAbsent father behaviour,â Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt.Â
Itâs a bad joke, but you laugh anyway.Â
âWill I be an asshole if I say Iâm not in the mood anymore?â he murmurs.Â
âAbsolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.â
âGross,â he comments, but heâs laughing too.Â
âShould we call it a night?â he asks, rearing his head.Â
Nodding, you rise with him. By the time youâve reached the bedroom, youâve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice.Â
âI need a shower.â
Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt.Â
âDo you wanna come in too?âÂ
Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. Youâve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment.Â
THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season.Â
Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed.Â
You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he âdoesnât move to insanityâ. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.
Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyuâs chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer.Â
It was a Friday night, youâre alone at Mingyuâs place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this weekâs tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head.Â
Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldnât ask him for a thing.Â
Tired was a look on Mingyu youâd gotten quite used to, so youâve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight.Â
His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.Â
Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. âDid you finish the tutorial paper?â
You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. âNot yet. One last question and Iâm done.â
He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan heâs pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. âAlright, letâs get this over with.â
âI can figure it out myself, Gyu.â
âYou wouldâve been done by now if you could,â he answers. Itâs annoying that he says it but heâs also right.Â
Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didnât look an inch from passing out.Â
He mumbles the question as he reads, âItâs nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and youâre done.â
The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table.Â
âDid you get everything else?â he asks in earnest.Â
âHm? I think so.âÂ
âGood.â And then heâs throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly.Â
Heâs in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throatâclean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but itâs only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea.Â
Besides, itâs a Friday night. No reason to not.Â
âGyu,â you shuffle closer.Â
Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, âYeah?âÂ
You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. âDâyou thinkâŠdâyou think you can go over post hoc tests again?â
âPost hoc?â He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. Itâs an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in.Â
Not that you care what he thinks right now, heâd figure out why you were asking anyway.Â
âPost hoc, um,â he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory.Â
Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it.Â
âAnalysis tool after youâve already run the data,â he begins.Â
Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear.Â
âResults have to beâŠthey have to beâŠâ He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach.Â
âHm? Has to be what?â
âStatistically significant,â he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. âTo run a post hoc test.â
His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something youâre both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. âResults of what, baby?â
âFor the love ofââ
âGo on,â you whisper in his ear. âPlease.â
One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. âANOVA.âÂ
âWhatâs that again?â
âYou little shit.â
You move your mouth forward to kiss him.
âAnalysis of variance.âÂ
You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, thatâs all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length.Â
âWhatâs it for though? We already got our results.â Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where heâs most sensitive.Â
âUgh, fuck, for um,â he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks.Â
âForâŠforâŠâ His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach.Â
Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. âFor? Keep talking, baby.â
âForâŠTo identify groups,â he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. âIdentifyâŠthe differences, shit, hmph.â
He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, âIdentify which groups actually differ, oh my god.â
The bit of him that you canât fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.
âHow many groups?â you ask, before diving back in.Â
âThree,â he chokes out. âThree or more, oh Iâm gonna cum, fuck donât stop, holy shit.â
Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure itâs coarse enough to get the reaction you want.Â
You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan youâve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place.Â
You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue.Â
When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room.Â
Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where heâs most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth.Â
You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyuâs hoarse protests. Heâs almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time youâve hauled his tired ass into bed, youâre just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you.Â
Mingyuâs face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him.Â
âI might love you,â he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear.Â
You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch.Â
I might love you too.Â
You hide that as well. For now.Â
Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.
âFeel free.â
[Mingyu]: class ended earlyÂ
[Mingyu]: be there in 5Â
[You]: ???
[You]: wdym ended early
[You]: kim did u end class early to come home
Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. Youâd stayed the night at his place, knowing you didnât have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics.Â
Heâd left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyuâs already overflowing plate now, you couldnât deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not.Â
A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyuâs pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.
As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost.Â
He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. âYouâre getting too comfortable with this job.â
âAm I?â
âYes.â
âCanât possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.â
You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. âHowâs the congestion?â
âBad,â you respond nasally. âI canât find my Afrin.â
âItâs on the bedside table, baby.â
âNo, itâs not.â
Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.
âIâm not awake enough to navigate,â you sniff.
âIâve got you,â he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly.Â
The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray.Â
You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. âTold you.â
Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it.Â
âGood thing I came back early, hm?âÂ
âShut up.â
He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.
Thereâs nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriendâs eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that.Â
âAre you gonna keep doing this till finals?â you ask throatily, shifting under the covers.Â
âTeaching during class time is just extended office hours, Iâm gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. OrâŠonce more if I feel it.â
âDidnât you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?âÂ
Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets.Â
It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, youâve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.
âUgh, not this week. Do not have the patience.â
âIâm proud of you,â you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland.Â
âThank you, I do think Iâve been very brave.â
Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest.Â
âWhatâs that for?!â
You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. âYouâve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. Iâm proud of you.â
Youâre too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you.Â
MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round heâs smart enough to not tell you.Â
Itâs the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend.Â
Thereâs a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification.Â
Itâs Wonwooâs (actual) girlfriend, and sheâs sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwooâs living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions.Â
Itâs a pillow fort.
Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husbandâs living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while heâs actively meant to be available for office hours.
You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isnât that youâre upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer heâd time them a little better.Â
Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself.Â
[You]: where are you
[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?
[You]: office hours?
[Mingyu]: mhm
[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house
You imagine him sending Wonwooâs girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction.Â
[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME
You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you wonât be tempted to look.Â
Besides, it wasnât long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space.Â
âIâm sorry,â he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling.Â
âWhatever for?â
âFor lying.âÂ
You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, âMight wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.â
Mingyuâs head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. âGod.â
âHim too.â
In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where youâre sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown.Â
âRumour has it,â he starts.Â
You make a face. âNow youâve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.â
He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good.Â
âThat a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.â
Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming.Â
âTake a hike, Kim.â
â...Sorry.â
NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone.Â
Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest itâs been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you.Â
The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes.Â
âWell?â he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth.Â
You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns.Â
âFor the record I didnât want some of the questions on there,â he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. âHard ones werenât mine. I promise Iâm not a sadist.â
Then, in an un-CCTVâd corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds youâve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss.Â
In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge youâd gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you.Â
Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. Thereâs a smile on your face. âIt went great.â
A strong tug against your waist and youâre suddenly pressed into Mingyuâs all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach.Â
There wasnât much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors.Â
In true Mingyu fashion, heâs begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You havenât been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time.Â
It isnât remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyuâs hands havenât been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed.Â
He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.
His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. Itâs marvellous, even more so as you realise he wonât stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop.Â
Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. Youâre sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him.Â
By the time heâs relented, youâre sure you wonât feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long.Â
But as youâre finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasnât exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man.Â
Mingyu was beautiful either way.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks you, his fingers tracing your features.Â
The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there.Â
âMore than okay,â you mumble.Â
âGood. Thought I lost you there.â
Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. âYouâre not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devilâs module.â
âIs that all it takes? Make sure you donât fail?â
âAnd give head like that.â Itâs a half joke. âBut also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.â
He mimics you between a breathy laugh, âComma TA. Not anymore, I guess.â
âHow happy are you?â
âStill have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.â
âThe recommendation? You deserve it.â
âThat, and not having to be in Dr. Choâs presence every other day. And you.â
You kiss his shoulder. âLook at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.â
âNot just yet.â
âYouâll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.â
Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and thereâs comfort in the air it penetrates.
âI only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.â Heâs smiling.Â
âGirlfriend duties,â you quote solemnly.Â
âI mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didnât wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.â
You cup his face and pout, âOh, my damsel in distress.â
âHm, my knight in shining armour,â he giggles. âGalloped in and saved me from myself.â
âYou saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.âÂ
âIâll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.âÂ
You can only grumble in mild annoyance.Â
âIâm glad I asked you to come in early that day,â he says.
âIâm glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.â You grin.
Mingyu leans in and kisses you. Itâs soft, slow, and drips of the romance heâs trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss.Â
Itâs almost scary how easily youâve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly heâs placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. Itâs terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting.Â
But itâs true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyuâs limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know.Â
missing wonwoo rn :( still thinking about pervybestfriend!wonwoo </3 youâd sit with wonwoo and finish the movie you both started earlier, glancing at him in between scenes and enjoying how tense and embarrassed he looked. you knew he wouldnât be able to focus on the movie after you sat on his lap and teased him for being a pervert. so you decided to make it worse! :)
âwonwoo,â youâd coo, his head turning slightly to look at you. his face was still flushed as he made eye contact with you. he still couldnât shake the image of you on his lap. âyeah?â he muttered shyly. he watched as you toyed with his glasses that you never gave back to him, tracing the frame and temples with your middle finger. âletâs sleep in your bed tonight,â youâd smile innocently, studying the way his breath seems to catch in his throat. his eyes dart away from yours, a hand traveling up to anxiously play with the neckline of his t-shirt. âweâwe usually sleep in here,â heâd gulp, eyes scanning the living room halfheartedly. when you slept over at wonwooâs youâd usually take the couch, while wonwoo would take the the smaller love seat on the right side next to it. even though his legs are longer than yours he refused to let you sleep on the smaller couch every time you offered. typical chivalrous wonwoo behavior. âmy neckâs all fucked up,â youâd lie seamlessly. âitâs not a big deal. weâve been friends for ages, dummy.â you could tell wonwoo felt apprehensive, his eyes practically glued to his lap to avoid your gaze. âokay,â heâd mumble, reluctantly agreeing. he knew this was a bad idea, but he couldnât help wanting to be closer to you. his longtime best friend/crush wanting to sleep in his bed with him? how could he refuse?
after doing his nightly routine heâd shuffle under his covers, sitting upright and leaning against the headboard as he tries to wind down for the night. heâd click on his bedside lamp, pulling a book from his drawer and reading where he left off the night before. heâd listen to the faint sounds of the water running in the bathroom while his eyes scan the pages, the gentle light of the lamp helping him settle down for a bit. he finally has a second to just breathe while youâre in the bathroom, but when you exit heâs right back to feeling breathless and needy. you had thrown on one of his white t-shirts, the bottom reaching down to your mid-thigh. your face was soft and glowy from your skincare routine, and the cold air in wonwooâs room caused your nipples to poke through his shirt. butterflies swarm his stomach as he scans your form, only allowing himself one look before he buries his head into the pages of his book again. you leap onto his bed obnoxiously, the both of you bouncing twice from the force before you cling to his arm and lean your head on his shoulder. ânot tired yet?â youâd ask, curiously scanning the pages. he shook his head slightly. âi just wanted toââ he peered down at you through his glasses. your (his) shirt had ridden up as you laid next to him, giving him a perfect view of your thighs and a glimpse of your black panties. oh. âuhmâjust wanted to read a bit before bed,â he choked out. his face was beet red, trying his damnedest to keep his eyes stuck to the words on the page as you wiggle beneath the blankets next to him. âahh,â you replied, scooting closer to him to keep yourself warm. âyouâre so pretty with your glasses on, wonwoo.â youâd comment shamelessly, reaching up to adjust them. you couldnât help but smirk at his embarrassed expression. you threw your leg over his body, sliding yourself to straddle him for the second time tonight. you eased yourself between his arms still gripping his book, resting a hand on his chest and brushing his cheek with your knuckles. you you were practically splayed over him, your heat pressing to his clothed erection. âthey look nice on you.â wonwoo canât seem to meet your eyes, swallowing dryly and clearing his throat. âth-thank you,â he quavered, closing his book gently and completely disregarding what page he was on. he dropped the book absently onto his nightstand. he couldnât bring himself to care about it when he had your warmth grinding against his length and your soft chest pushing against his.
âyouâve thought about this before, huh?â youâd smirk. he wouldnât have the words to respond, would just stare in awe at your form above him as his pupils trail down to your lips. you removed your hand from his cheek, grabbing his chin roughly. the sudden action caused a sound of surprise to escape him. âanswer me,â you demanded firmly. heâd nod shamefully after a few seconds, not trusting his voice to carry out without cracking. you gave him a devilish grin, loosening your grip on his chin and leaning in to press fleeting kisses onto his jawline. âsee,â youâd smile, taking pleasure in his soft sighs and feeling him grow harder underneath you. âi told you you were a pervert.â youâd snake one hand under his shirt, lightly grazing over his torso and chest. ân-no,â heâd whisper, hands grasping the sheets beneath him to keep his hands busy. ââm not a pervert. i swear.â youâd chuckle at his flushed cheeks, pulling your hand from under his shirt to pry his fingers from the sheets. youâd guide his hands under your shirt, settling them on your waist. you grind down harder onto him, a choked sound leaving him as he grips your waist eagerly. âwhat else do you think about, wonwoo?â you tease, sucking and biting marks onto his exposed neck. ânothing!â he blurted too quickly to ever be believable. âi wouldnât think of you like that. itâs wrong. itâs not polite.â you pull away from his neck to admire his pretty features, leaning close and almost brushing your lips against his. youâd feel the rise and fall of his chest as he stares at your lips, moving closer to you so slightly that you mightâve missed the movement entirely. you didnât answer, just let out an amused exhale and pressed your lips to his in a heated kiss. after a short pause he kissed back timidly, his hands unconsciously sliding further down to your hips. you kissed him harder, sliding your tongue between his lips as he whimpered pitifully. the heated make out session threw both of you in for a loop, finding yourselves even needier than before. âcan i take this off?â you urged, fisting at his shirt roughly. his glasses were slightly fogged from the heat and his lips were swollen from you tugging them between your teeth. âtake it all off,â he pleaded, his nails digging into your flesh. âdonât care what you do to me. iâm yours.â youâd scoff at his begging, ripping his shirt over his head and tugging down his boxers. his cock sprung out and smacked against his stomach, a pathetic yelp leaving him at the feeling. you laid next to him and wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking at a maddeningly slow pace. âwhat do you think about, wonwoo?â youâd press again, refusing to give any more pleasure until he spills his secrets to you. he squirms slightly underneath you, hesitating at first. but as you circle your thumb around his slit he stumbles, âyou.â you twist your fist once around him as a reward and he continues begrudgingly. âwannaâŠf-fuck your thighs. and f-fuck you while you wear my clothes.â his eyes slightly roll back when you pull your panties to the side and grab his hand to guide it to your core. his fingers graze your slick, feeling how wet you are for him. you slide his middle finger inside, sighing quietly as you feel him gently fuck into you. you rubbed your palm against his head, feeling him jerk in sensitivity. âyou are a pervert, huh wonwoo?â youâd breathe, clenching around his finger and gripping his cock with more pressure. his eyes would burn into yours with a glazed over look, panting as he nods. âiâm a pervert,â heâd huff, the warm light of the lamp dancing on his face and illuminating the small droplets of sweat beading at his forehead. he slid a second finger in, whimpering at the feeling of your warmth. âiâve thought some really impolite things about you. i-iâm sorry,â he spilled, his face burning hot with arousal and shame. âwanna mark you, a-anâ feel you around meâŠâ youâd twist around him faster, pulling erotic moans from him. heâd plunge his fingers into you quicker, the squelching sounds from your heat and from his cock arousing him even more.
âi know you have,â youâd purr, pressing a peck to the corner of his mouth and watching him chase your lips for more. âknew you were secretly a filthy perv.â his hips slightly fucked into your hand, feeling his climax approaching at your degrading words. âi am,â he cried timidly. ââm sorry. iâve felt this way about you for s-so long. itâs so wrong of me, iâm disgustingânghââm s-sorry, sorryâŠâ heâd gasp wantonly, feeling your walls spasming around his fingers. âdonât ever apologize, wonwoo,â youâd soothe, your orgasm bubbling up and causing your body to twitch. youâd fist his cock hard, twisting your hand around him at an inhuman pace. âi like this side of you. even sweet boys like you think about dirty shit.â youâd smirk evilly, letting out soft moans next to his ear. his cock throbbed in your hand as your climax washed over you, your hole clenching around his fingers as theyâre coated in your release. your sweet moans and crude words sent him over the edge. âcum, wonwoo. good boys like you deserve to feel good,â youâd whisper, feeling his fingers still inside you and a loud moan leave his lips as he shoots white ropes all over your hand. youâd stroke him slowly through his climax, only stopping after heâs twitching from overstimulation. his head rests against the headboard, his glasses still slightly foggy. heâd wear a look of post-orgasm bliss, but his eyes would reflect uneasiness. âiâm not good,â heâd blurt between labored breaths. âiâm a pervert. i shouldnât think about you that way. it isnât respectful to youââ youâd cut him off with a big smooch, pulling away and snatching his glasses to wipe them clean on your (his) shirt. âwonwoo, youâre literally the most respectful person iâve ever met. that wonât change no matter what kinds of fantasies you have about me,â youâd reassure him, peppering a few more kisses onto his jaw. âbesides,â youâd slide his glasses onto your face playfully. âiâm a pervert too.â <333
idk if someone asked you this but iâm a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!
can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but heâs the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HEâS A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..
i donât know if i make sense but please pretty please đâïž
Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to.
WC: 2.8k
WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.
youâve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. itâs no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lensâyour favorite nsfw asmr creatorâdrag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.
it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was aboutâsomething about obedience or whateverâbut you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last nightâs poor choices catching up with you.
wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.
but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didnât say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighsâjust quiet observation.
when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwooâs voice cut through the noise.
âyou good?â
you froze. his voice wasnât the same as onyx_lensâs, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didnât help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasnât giving away how flustered you suddenly were. âuhâyeah,â you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. âjust tired.â
wonwoo raised an eyebrow. ânot sleeping well?â
your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldnât pry.
he didnât, but his next question wasnât much better.
âthink you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.â
you blinked at him. âme?â
he nodded, adjusting his glasses. âyou. unless youâre too busy with...whateverâs keeping you up.â
oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?
you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. ânah, i can help.â
and thatâs how you found yourself standing outside wonwooâs apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what youâd expect from himâminimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.
âcome in,â he said, holding the door open for you. âmake yourself comfortable.â
easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.
âso,â he began, sitting across from you, âany ideas for the project?â
you cleared your throat, trying to focus. âuh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.â
wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. âgood idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.â
he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldnât help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.
âyou okay?â he asked again, glancing at you.
you blinked, realizing youâd been staring. âyeah, just...thinking.â
his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. âgood. let me know if you need a break or...anything.â
the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you werenât sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.
you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.
you were so close to winning the âmost pathetic college student of the yearâ award it wasnât even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like⊠thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.
it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lensâs weekly live is starting.
you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. todayâs theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"
sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.
you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.
by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voiceâthat stupidly deep, velvety voiceâflooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.
you couldnât even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were goneâjust a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.
fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last nightâs live replaying in your brain like a broken record.
by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.
wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you triedâand failedâto stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it mightâve been comfier than your chair at that point.
wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like youâd been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.
âyou okay?â he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.
âiâm fine,â you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. âjust need food. like, now.â
you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.
âyou couldnât wait?â he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.
âbro,â you said around a mouthful of rice, âif i didnât eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.â
he rolled his eyes but didnât argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.
your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadenceâhow did i not notice this earlier?!
âfuck it,â you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.
your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.
but then you saw it:
edit profile. analytics.
your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. itâs him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. âhow the fuck did i not notice?â you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.
you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didnât hear him returnâuntil his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.
âwhat. do. you. think. you. are. doing?â
you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.
âuhânothing?â you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.
âânothingâ doesnât look like you snooping through my computer,â he said, his voice dangerously calm.
your cheeks burned. âokay, fine, maybe i was curiousââ
âyou were curious?â his tone sharpened. âcurious enough to invade my privacy?â
âinvade yourâbro, youâre literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?â
âthatâs different!â his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldnât tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. âthatâs content. thisâthis is personal.â
you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. âoh, please. youâre mad i figured it out. admit it.â
he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. âwhat do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?â
you laughed, loud and incredulous. âtell everyone?! dude, relax. iâm not gonna expose your little side hustle. besidesâŠâ you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. âyou should be thanking me. clearly, iâm a fan.â
wonwooâs eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.Â
âyouâre a what?â he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.
âdid i stutter?â you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.
his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.
âyou want to act like a brat,â he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, âthen youâre gonna get treated like one.â
he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.
âso fucking wet,â he muttered, almost to himself. âyou get off on this, donât you? knowing itâs me.â
âshut your mouth,â you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.
âmake me,â he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.
the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hatedâhatedâhow easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.
âsorryâ he mocked you. âam i too much for you?â
you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. âyou talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,â you hissed.
âyeah, that's what's paying me at nightsâ wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.
the soundsâthe wet, obscene sounds of his tongueâmixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.
âstopââ
âstop?â he looked up, his chin glistening. ânot until you admit iâm your favorite.â
you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. âyouâre such an asshole.â
âand yetâŠâ he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.
it didnât take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didnât stop, didnât even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.
wonwoo doesnât waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so youâre bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.
âlook at that,â he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. âyouâre soaking me through.â
the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but youâre too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.
âyouâre still melting all over my desk,â he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. âcanât even wait for me, huh?â
before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesnât stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.
âyou look so pretty like this,â he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. âall messy and desperate for me.â
when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until youâre full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.
your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.
âtalk to me,â you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.
he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. âyou want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good youâre taking me?â
you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.
âyeah, you like that, donât you?â he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you mustâve listened toâthe whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.
he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. âfuck, babe, youâre gonna make me cumââ
the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly youâre sure theyâll leave marks, but you donât care.
âplease,â he moans, his voice high and strained. âlet me cum for you. let meâfuckââ
you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.
you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isnât far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.
he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, âguess iâm a little better live, hm?â
you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.
âkeep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.â well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.
