“be a freak like me, too” - whc x reader NSFW (scenarios)
synopsis + warnings: short scenarios of whc boys and their kinks. ADULT characters, MDNI, fem reader, brat taming, asphyxiation, p in v, praising, degradation, breeding kink, begging, edgeplay, dacryphilia, size kink, dumbification, missionary, mating press, cowgirl, acarophilia, discipline, cunnilingus, clit stim, overstimulation, sadism, masochism, pet names
a/n: i think i’ve reached the end of the whc scenarios series. rlly hope you all enjoyed it! characters: sieun, suho, baku, gotak, juntae, seongje, baekjin
SIEUN - brat taming & asphyxiation
with gentle, calculated movements, sieun’s fingers crawled up your throat. so agonizingly slow, every second felt like an eternity. then, his fingers wrapped around your neck, a light squeeze. watching with observant eyes, sieun noted every reaction and movement.
the slight twitch on your lips and the furrow of your brows as he tightened his hold with the perfect amount of pressure that made you let out a gasp. he settled on top of you, putting all his weight down. keeping your body immobile and in place where he could control your every movement.
“do you like that?” he asked, grip firm on your throat. he was merciless, unfaltering. taming you like the brat you were just minutes ago giving him attitude.
you clawed at his forearms, choking slightly while he held you down. you nodded pathetically. needing him to touch you elsewhere.
he controlled his fingers. he wouldn’t let go. and you didn’t want him to stop. it all felt too much and way too good. heat and desire trickled between your thighs, needing him and his hands.
he was so good with his hands.
“s-sieun—“ you choked out, grinding up into his hips, “it feels good.”
he hissed, cock straining in his sweatpants as you grinded up on him. clothed panties rubbing up on him like a needy bitch in heat. sieun choked you harder, not giving into your antics yet. his plan was to force you to wait and beg until you cried. considering your condition right now? he was close to getting what he wanted.
you gasped, eyes fluttering everywhere. tears filled up your eyes, tipping over the corners.
a whine escaped your throat, “need you s’bad!”
“now you’re all needy, huh?” he moved his hands away from your throat which was decorated with his handprints like a branding that you were his to tame. his to ruin.
sieun slithered down to look at the damp spot on your panties, licking his lips greedily, “you’re all wet, too. but i get to do whatever i want and you’re gonna lay there and take it. understand?”
you had no choice but to nod— eyes desperate and hungry.
SUHO - praise kink (giving & receiving)
he was stationed between your thighs, mouth smushed against you crying cunt. drool drizzled down suho’s chin, glazing the bottom half of his face over with your slick. the tips of your fingers tugged at his hair, pulling him closer. nose budging into your sensitive little clit. it made you squirm and arch, twitching up and all as if you were getting tasered with pleasure.
pleased, suho’s hum vibrated through your core. jolting, you pulled at his hair with a low moan. suho knew that was code for more. his skillful tongue slid up and down in all the right places, zigzagging around your clit until you cried out for him to stop. but he didn’t. his big arms forced you down, stilling you so that you could just take it.
“s-suho it feel s’good,” you whimpered, voice honeyed and sweet like your slick.
with a loud smack, suho licked up, moaning approvals. dick twitching in his briefs as he hungrily devoured you. he loved when you praised him— it motivated him to keep going. keep pushing you to the very edge until you were nothing but a limp body.
“ya like that, pretty?” he glanced up from underneath, watchful eyes admiring the beauty in front of him, “you like when i do this?”
he sucked on your clit like one would suck on a sweet, juicy fruit. thirsty like a mad caveman, slurping up your juices. his throat bobbed as he swallowed breaths, nose buried in your cunt. your scent shot tingles all over his body— especially his cock. it strained, painfully hard, he could come just from the sweet poison dripping from your mouth.
“yeahyeahyeah.” you breathed out like a mantra, jerking your hips up into him, “so good, so good.”
“fuck—“ he mumbled into you, shaking your body with his deep voice, “keep talking baby.”
“you’re doing so good, handsome.” you moaned, sweeting your voice, “i’m so close, baby.”
that was enough for suho. it was exactly what he wanted to hear; you were so close. he buried his tongue deeper, flattening it on your clit. in an instant, he flicked it around in speedy motions until you screamed out, orgasming. a painful grip on his head, shouting his name like it was the only word you knew. your orgasm tased every muscle, shaking up your body until you fell limp. gasping and panting, you moved your hand away from his messed-up hair.
“you’re insane.” you said shakily, motioning for suho to come closer.
“just say i’m amazing.” he winked, kissing your forehead.
BAKU - breeding kink & size kink
a long, shaky drawl fell through humin’s mouth, watching you squirm underneath him. you struggled to take his length. it was just too big. his girth was hard to handle.
your eyes glazed over with tears that were about to spill from the intense stretch. humin loved how big he was, big hands, broad shoulders, taut muscles from working out. he used it all for your pleasure. coaxing you with soft, gentle touches— so different from his intimidating and beefy figure.
“you’re taking me so good, princess.” he spoke through gritted teeth. brows knitted together in concentration as he started to move in and out of your gushing cunt.
you stifled a moan, grabbing onto his biceps as if they were handles. he took it as an opening to start moving faster, thrusting himself inside of your warm, gooey walls.
“humin, you’re too big!” you stated, voice growing louder with the sound of his hips slapping against yours.
“i know, baby, i know.” he drawled, hands slithering up to cup your cheeks, “let me take care of you, hmm?”
you nodded helplessly, letting his tip prod at your cervix. pleasure overcame your senses, drowning you out like a tsunami. eyes closing shut, you let him pound into you. orgasm nearing with each livid stroke. he fucked you so good your eyes almost rolled back.
“m’ close—“ you choked out, smacking his shoulders to get him to look straight into you, his eyes warming with admiration. his girl looked so stunning about to combust.
“cum for me,” he encouraged, large hands locking with your smaller ones, his big size engulfing you like a shadow.
you shuddered, orgasm rushing through your body. toes curling with delight as you came. creaming his cock.
humin did not still, he kept the same pace, rutting into you until his cock twitched inside your plush walls.
“c-can i come inside? please?” his voice cracked, a pitch higher, eyes pleading with the need to fill you up.
“y-yeah.” you nodded, frantically, needing him to stuff you.
satisfaction tickled your insides. humin came, filling you right up with his warm cum. breeding you full enough for some of it to leak out through your stretched-out hole.
you mewled when his fingers swiped up the spillage, shoving it back in to pump you full. not wasting a single drop.
“thank you.” he thanked, pecking you on the lips, cock still hard for another round.
GOTAK - edgeplay & overstimulation
you’ve ran out of count for the times you came. overstimulated and used up, you shuddered underneath gotak who had his knuckles slamming into your pussy. middle and ring finger stretching your hole.
“gotak, i can’t take it anymore!” you complained, thighs sore from being spread for over an hour.
“you’re talking too much.” he seethed, adding a third finger to shut you fire you up.
the tips of his fingers curled into an angle that perfectly reached your sweet spot. you let out a pornographic moan, arching into him so pathetically, your complaints seemed to just be an act. you wanted him to keep going. even when your body felt like it would give out in mere seconds.
“tak, please just let me cum again!” you pleaded as his fingers motioned for your to come.
just when you were about to release, he pulled his fingers away, watching you with a grin on his face. he was edging you. greedily playing with your body as if it were a pleasure toy. his fingers pumped in and out of you. embarrassing wet sounds filling up the thick air that smelled of him and you.
“i’ll let you come…” he spoke, focused more on your pussy than on you, “in a bit.”
you groaned in frustration. impatience gnawed at your core, twirling and tightening with the closeness of an orgasm— only for it to diminish each time he pulled away. watching and teasing. the weight of exhaustion settled into your bones. you shivered, purring desperately for him to just let you cum.
you had a weapon up your sleeve to get what you wanted. it was your doe-eyed look of desperation. it always weakens him. so you did your best to look at him deer-like all innocent and needy, lips pouted downwards as you whimpered.
“pretty please?” you begged, fluttering your lashes at him.
how could he say no to that?
in an instant, his fingers were back into the place you wanted them to be. tapping and touching your cervix until finally— finally you came, releasing all over his palm and wrists with your essence. you whimpered, a beautiful sound.
“took you long enough.” you breathily stated, unmoving.
“i just wanted to see you make that face.” he chuckled, “so cute.”
“you freak.” you rolled your eyes.
JUNTAE - begging & degradation
you were on top of juntae. legs straddled around his waist as you bounced on his sensitive cock. juntae was all flushed and pink, watching the way your tits bounced with each, impactful bounce. your hands snaked around his neck.
you nibbled on one ear, whispering, “you’re so pathetic, i can feel how hard you are.”
he swallowed the shame down his throat yet this unknown feeling of arousal pooled in his chest. he liked it. the degrading words burning his ears. each insult, each threat made him shake with anticipation.
“i’m going to keep riding you until you pass out, stupid whore.” you threatened, gripping his shoulders.
he whimpered, fear and desire for more snapping and twisting his chain of thoughts. the sound of skin against skin clashed in the hot atmosphere— making it hard for juntae to breathe. in order to be stable, he clutched your waist, holding on tightly.
“is this pussy making you feel good? huh?” you tilted your head, biting his earlobe.
a guttural groan erupted from his chest. throwing his head back, juntae snapped his hips up, chasing his release. you smacked him on the chest, tutting in disapproval.
“tsk, tsk. you don’t get to do that.” you shook your head, “you have to keep taking it. understand?”
“y-yeah—“ he moaned, feeling your insides clam around his cock. squeezing the life out of him.
“say it louder, juntae. i can’t hear your whiny little voice” you ordered, quickening your pace as you rode him to the brink of tears.
“yes ma’am!” he cried out, hands wrapped around you as you milked his cock until he came with an embarrassingly loud whimper.
you giggled, amused by his reaction. feeling so full with his seed and cock still settled within you. you kissed him on the lips, devouring his gasps.
“good.” you hummed between kisses, “you’re so well behaved.”
SEONGJE - dacryphilia & dumbification
your words slurred as your head lolled back, mouth dripping with drool. the bed frame rattled with each forceful thrust from seongje who was relentless. a total menace in bed as he fucked you in a mating press.
folded in half, you were helpless in the hands of seongje who found a sort of sadistic pleasure in seeing you look up at him. wide eyes pleading for him to use you. he was fucking you dumb— your eyes rolling to the back of your head, slobber every where as your mouth fell open, and the sounds— music to his ears. your loud cries and moans like a beautiful symphony.
he knew it was wrong to feel this way. to get off of this. but he couldn’t help the way it made him excited. the way it filled him up with lust so dangerous, it possessed his entire body. he was utterly aroused by your tears as you cried from pleasure and stimulation.
seongje pinned your wrists over your head, taking away your ability to move freely beneath him for support. he had full control, manhandling you as if you were a mere ragdoll. hip pistoning into you with loud slaps, you sobbed, nails digging into seongje’s big hands— the one that locked your wrists together. you felt helpless but the pleasure overwhelmed you, making you lose yourself completely.
your mind was elsewhere. only thinking about the way his cock filled you up, ravaging your guts. he railed into you, weight heavy in the mattress that dipped. a springy noise adding bass to the song of your cries.
seongje smirked, devilishly, “you can’t even think straight can you? little cock slut.”
“s-seongje!” you called out, breathing unsteady and broken.
“you’re drooling, babe.” he licked the side of your face, slippery tongue leaving a trail of his saliva on your cheek, “so fuckin’ dumb. how many fingers am i holding?” he asked, putting up three fingers.
he teased you but really, you couldn’t see straight. eyes crossing from the way his tip crashed into your cervix. it all felt so breathtaking, staggering your movements.
you blinked, one, twice, trying to make sense of what he was asking but you couldn’t form a coherent sentence. your brain was total mush— imprinted with the imagery of his muscles flexing and that evil grin while he ruined your insides. taking away your ability to walk.
“t-two?” it came out as a question.
seongje threw his back laughing. you should have felt humiliated but you simply weren’t in the state of mind to even think about that. you sniffled, legs loosely hanging over his shoulders as he pounded at a new angle. your moans turned into silent, choked-out gasps as if you were drowning.
“i fucked you so dumb, princess!” he laughed, “can’t even tell how many fingers i put up. hilarious.”
“n-not fair…” you slurred, so drunk on the heat of his body on you. it was so intimate and yet so mean.
more sobs broke from you. the demon of a man, seongje, relished in the damage he had done on your body.
“you’re such a pretty little cumslut.” he stated, slowing down his pace once he felt that you were close, walls squeezing his shaft, “my pretty girl. so fuckin’ gorgeous”
he spoke possessively, claiming you with his hands roaming around your body, squeezing your breasts and pushing down on your hardened nipples, “this pussy is mine to ruin.”
“and…” he tapped your cheek with a smirk, “we have all night. let’s see if i can make you forget your name!”
(you had to call off work for the next three days afterwards.)
BAEKJIN - discipline & acarophilia
“you had quite an attitude earlier…” baekjin rested his tip right at your entrance, not yet inserting it, “why’re you so quiet, now?”
“b-baekjin, i’m sorry— please just fuck me!” you pressed, hoping he’d show mercy but he didn’t move.
not one single movement as he looked at you unimpressed. like you were something so small and insignificant. it made you shrink under his gaze in embarrassment, turning your head away from his cold eyes.
“did i give you permission to look away?” he asked, voice so stern, you swallowed a knot in your throat.
“n-no, sir.” you stuttered, turning back to look straight at him.
“hmm,” he effortlessly pulled you to the edge of the bed, where he could stand and fuck you but he didn’t.
he didnt.
he just stood there, watching. his gaze almost felt insulting. the lack of movement was his way of disciplining you because he didn’t give you what you wanted. he made you earn it. like a reward.
“where were we,” he trailed off, using his hands to find your clit, making you gasp at the sensation coursing through your body, “ah, right. you want me to fuck you, yeah?”
“mhm, yes!” you nodded, humping and rutting into his two fingers that rubbed on the sensitive spot between your flaps.
“okay, then. if you’re so desperate.” he grumbled, positioning himself to your entrance.
he pushed into you without warning, moving his hips with a steady pace. it was fast and calculated, forcing you to take every inch of his veiny, thick cock— girthy too. a scream escaped your lips at the sudden intrusion. it hurt so good, you clawed at his back, scratching like a cat in heat.
“o-oh— that feels good!” you keened, lips wobbling as you got fucked into the mattress with no air to breathe.
“hold onto me tighter, y/n.” he demanded, voice threatening, “be a good girl and hold me.”
“yes s-sir—“
you obliged, digging your nails into his back so hard it would surely leave scratch marks. what you didn’t know was that baekjin loved it. he loved the aftermath of fucking you because of the evidence you left behind. long red lines drawn all over his back like a piece of art.
baekjin often looked in the mirror after, to admire the scratches you left on him. pride blooming in his chest. it was like a badge of victory, knowing how good he made you feel.
“i’m gonna c—“ you wailed as he picked up his pace, lifting your legs over his hips so that you could wrap them tightly around him, “too fast!”
“this is what you get for giving me attitude. this is the treatment you deserve.” baekjin hissed, ramming into your insides, wrecking your poor cervix.
your body curled up, arching impossibly closer to his larger frame. a pleasure-filled expression written across your face.
“i’m going to put you in your place,” he continued, fingers finding your clit again to drive you mad, “you’ll get disciplined.”
“ahh!” you glued your eyes shut when baekjin shifted his weight, slamming into you harshly until you came.
eyes gone white as if you were possessed, your body shaking and shuddering. baekjin continued until he pulled out to cum all over your stomach, painting it white with his seed. still trembling, you placed your hand on the spot on your stomach where he came, massaging it around that area and then slowly moving your sticky fingers up the valley between your breasts. fondling your own tits.
baekjin chuckled, watching you with affectionate eyes. you looked so plush and vulnerable, exhausted from getting pummeled by his dick. yet, you always took it so well, complying.
he ignored the sting and burn of your scratch marks down his back. once again, he got what he wanted.
It started out simple. Just a study session. She was helping him prep for an exam. That was all. But Ahn Suho had a way of pulling people in with his silence. He wasn’t the type to flirt or tease—he didn’t need to. He looked at you once and your stomach flipped like you'd been caught doing something wrong.
And maybe she was.
Because at some point, she stopped reading from the book. Her words slowed. She leaned forward. Their knees brushed.
And he didn’t move away.
“Suho,” she said softly, “you’re not paying attention.”
His eyes met hers. Dark. Focused.
“I am now.”
Her heart skipped.
The classroom was dead silent. Outside, the sun had dipped past the windows, casting long shadows over the floor. She shifted her weight, legs swinging slightly under the desk.
Suho didn’t blink.
“You keep looking at my mouth,” she whispered.
“You keep licking your lips.”
His voice was low. Controlled. But his fingers clenched faintly at the edge of the desk.
Something inside her snapped.
“Then stop looking,” she said, standing.
He tilted his head, challenging.
She didn’t back down.
She stepped between his legs.
“Y/N,” he said, voice hoarse. “That’s not a good idea.”
“You haven’t told me to stop.”
He didn’t.
She slid onto his lap slowly. Testing.
His hands didn’t move. Not at first. But his thighs tensed beneath her. His breath caught.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he muttered.
“Then play with me.”
Their mouths met in a crash of heat.
He kissed her like he’d been waiting all year for it. Rough. Controlled. Like he knew if he let go, he'd ruin her.
She didn’t care.
Her hands tangled in his hair, lips parting with a gasp when he sucked on her bottom lip. His grip finally broke—hands sliding up her waist, palms flat against her ribs. Steady. Warm.
And then she moved.
She didn’t even mean to. Just a shift of her hips, instinctive. But the friction made them both freeze.
Her thin skirt had ridden up. His uniform pants were straining. There was barely any fabric between them.
Suho swore under his breath.
“Y/N…”
She looked at him, pupils blown wide.
“You like that?” she asked, breathless.
He didn’t answer. His hand gripped her waist tight. Not pulling her away—just holding. Like he was trying to breathe through it.
She rolled her hips again.
His head tipped back.
“Fuck… don’t—”
But she was already doing it again.
Slow, lazy grinds. Back and forth. Her panties were soaked. She could feel the heat of him through his pants, and the pressure was… addictive.
She whimpered, trying to keep quiet.
His hands slid to her hips, guiding. Not stopping.
He was breathing hard now. Eyes clenched shut. Jaw locked.
“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna—”
She kissed him hard.
And kept going.
She didn’t mean to.
But the rhythm, the friction, the heat of him underneath her, how his hands gripped her tighter each time she moved—it built too fast.
Her thighs trembled. She gasped his name, forehead against his.
“Y/N…?”
Then it hit her.
A wave of heat. Her whole body tightened.
She came.
Right there.
On his lap.
Her hands flew to her mouth, muffling the sound. Her body shook, grinding once more through the aftershocks before she collapsed against him, panting.
Silence.
Then:
“Holy shit,” Suho said, voice stunned.
She hid her face in his neck.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize.” His arms wrapped around her. “You have no idea how fucking hard it was not to flip the desk.”
They sat there for a moment.
Her legs still shaking. His breathing still heavy.
Then she felt something.
A hot, sticky wetness between them.
She blinked. Pulled back.
“Suho?”
He cleared his throat.
“Yeah. I came too.”
She stared at him.
“From that?”
His eyes met hers, dead serious.
“You grind on my lap and moan my name like that, what the fuck do you expect?”
ㅤsypnosis ⁝ㅤㅤa curious question turns into something much more intimate — with su-ho being surprisingly good at teaching.ㅤㅤ〝 cw.ㅤㅤprotected sex, oral sex ( f & m rec. ), light praise kink, best friends to ??ㅤㅤ﹪ㅤㅤ𝖺𝗁𝗇 𝗌𝗎-𝗁𝗈 × 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
you met su-ho during orientation week — he was late, loud, and still somehow the most magnetic person in the room. you were the opposite. quieter, awkward, unsure where to stand, too anxious to even hold your own schedule right-side-up.
you remember it clearly: him crashing into a folding chair, laughing too hard, calling your name like he already knew it. he made you feel like you belonged in a room you had just started shrinking away from. and that’s all it really took.
from then on, it was you and su-ho. always in the same frame. your classmates joked about it constantly — if they saw one, they expected the other. he became your person, the one who waited outside your labs, the one who shared earphones on the train back, the one who’d text ‘yo dummy u eat yet’ at ungodly hours like it was part of your daily survival.
you were different, but you got each other. he’d distract you during exams, you’d calm him down before presentations. it just.. worked. and maybe that’s why no one ever suspected anything deeper. not even you.
you were used to being mistaken for the girl who liked si-eun — he was the calm one, the smart one, the one people admired from a distance. and truthfully? you did admire him.
it was hard not to. but it never made your stomach flip. not like the way su-ho looked at you sometimes. not like the way he’d lean back on his arms, grin at you sideways, and say things like “what, you thinking dirty thoughts or something?” just because you zoned out for two seconds.
you laughed it off like always. he joked about everything. teased like it was his default language. but lately — lately, it’s been harder to ignore how warm your face gets. how your chest does that annoying twisty thing when he slings an arm over your shoulder. how you catch yourself wondering if he actually knows more than he lets on.
because the thing is — you don’t know anything. not really. not when it comes to sex. not beyond vague textbook definitions and secondhand stories from friends. you never bothered asking before. it always felt far away, not something meant for you.
until you realized you didn’t want to be left behind.
until you realized you wanted to understand.
and more than that — more than anything — you wanted to ask him.
you weren’t sure why at first. maybe it was because su-ho always made you feel safe, even when you were dumb or confused or too flustered to speak. maybe it was because he never made you feel stupid for not knowing.
maybe it was because part of you, deep down, knew he’d be honest. or maybe it was just the way he said your name sometimes. like he was waiting for you to ask something — anything.
you don’t know when exactly it started. the way your eyes would linger on his lips when he laughed. the way your heart did that unexplainable flutter when he licked honey off his thumb one morning during breakfast. it wasn’t about romance. it wasn’t about being in love. it was about wanting to know. about needing to understand.
and su-ho.. su-ho was the first person that came to mind.
it’s little things, really. the things you used to ignore. like how su-ho always sprawls himself out across your bed when he visits, like it’s his own. he’ll toss his phone aside, prop himself up on one elbow, shirt riding a little too high, and say, “you’re not gonna fail your midterms if you lie down for five minutes. c’mon.” and you’ll cave. you always do. you’ll end up beside him, shoulder to shoulder, his knee brushing yours.
he never moves away. there’s no reason to panic, you tell yourself. you’re friends. he’s like this with everyone. maybe he just doesn’t care about personal space.
maybe the way his voice dips a little when he calls you “baby” is just a joke. he says that to strangers too, doesn’t he?
but then there are the nights he talks quieter. like when you’re both half-asleep after cramming for exams, the light from your desk still casting a soft gold against the room.
he’ll mutter something like, “you’re too cute when you’re sleepy, y’know that?” and you’ll freeze. because it doesn’t feel like a joke. not then.
and maybe he doesn’t realize the effect he has on you. maybe he doesn’t see the way your breath catches when he leans over your shoulder to check your notes, the warmth of his chest ghosting your back.
maybe he doesn’t notice the way your thighs press together when he lounges back and pats the space between his legs with a casual, “you can sit here, dummy. I don’t bite.”
but you notice.
you notice everything now.
you notice how he smells — like warm fabric softener and that faint trace of cologne he probably thinks you don’t recognize. you notice the way his hands look when he’s typing or fiddling with his rings.
you notice how low his voice can drop when he’s serious — or when he’s annoyed, like that time someone tried to flirt with you at a party. he got quiet. didn’t say anything for ten minutes after.
just passed you your drink and stared across the room like he was trying to set something on fire. and yet, even with all of that — with how aware you’ve become of him — you still don’t know how to bring it up. not the way you want to.
not the way it’s started echoing in your head at night, in the quiet moments between being awake and asleep.
you’ve had dreams. not always clear, not always intense — but enough. enough to wake up and feel heat between your thighs, confusion in your chest. enough to leave you sitting there, alone in your sheets, wondering what it would feel like.
to be touched.
to be wanted.
to be taught.
and for some reason, you can’t imagine anyone else doing it but su-ho.
not si-eun, not a stranger, not someone from a checklist. just him. the boy who knows your favorite drink and the password to your phone. the one who holds your wrist when you’re walking through crowded streets. the one who grins like he’s never met someone funnier than you, even when you’re not trying.
you’re not in love, you don’t think. but you do think about how it would feel to be touched by someone who already knows all your soft parts.
who’s already seen you at your most unguarded. who calls you “trouble” in the same breath he offers you his last bite of food.
you wonder — if he touched you, would it still feel like friendship? or would it finally feel like the answer to everything you’ve been too scared to ask?
it happens on a thursday. nothing particularly special about it — your classes ended early, your hair’s still a little damp from a rushed shower, and su-ho’s on your bed again, hoodie sleeves pushed up, legs stretched long like always.
he’s scrolling through something aimlessly on your phone, and you’re sitting at your desk, pretending to be preoccupied with your laptop, but mostly just staring at nothing.
there’s something different in the air today. maybe it’s just you. maybe you’ve been holding it in too long. you’ve gone through every possible version of this in your head: how to say it, how he might react, what it would mean.
maybe he’d laugh. maybe he’d tease you for the rest of your life. or maybe — just maybe — he’d say yes. and it’s that maybe that makes your stomach twist.
that makes your fingers tighten around your mug and your tongue feel too big for your mouth. you don’t look at him when you finally say it.
“can I ask you something?”
your voice comes out smaller than expected. like you’re already regretting the thought. he hums lazily, doesn’t look up. “you just did.”
“no, like—seriously.”
that gets his attention. he shifts, sits up a bit straighter, and turns to you, brows raised. “you good?”
you nod, too fast. “yeah. yeah, just—”
the words feel heavier in your mouth than they did in your head. this felt easier when it was 1am and you were half-asleep and desperate. now, with him actually looking at you, it feels like you’re about to step off a cliff with your eyes wide open.
“can you teach me?”
he blinks. “teach you what?”
you don’t really know how long you sit there, legs tucked under you on the edge of your chair, while su-ho stays crouched in front of you like he’s not even thinking about how awkward that must feel for his knees.
there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen before — not even when he’s being overly gentle, not even when he’s drunk and slurring jokes and leaning his weight on you like he trusts you to carry it..
“so,” he starts again, voice low, a little careful. “when you say ‘teach,’ what exactly do you mean?”
you hesitate, then — in the quietest voice you’ve ever used — you say, “about sex.”
the silence that follows is unreal. like the air thins, like time stalls for a second too long. you want to hide. maybe crawl under your desk. maybe vanish entirely. but then you hear him shift again, a soft rustle of fabric, and when you finally glance at him —
his expression isn’t mocking, it isn’t judgmental, it’s just still. quiet, a little wide-eyed, like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.
“wait,” he says, voice low. “you’re serious?”
you nodded, your throat is dry. his brows furrow slightly, but there’s no laughter, no teasing. just something unreadable flickering across his face. he leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes searching yours.
you swallow. “I mean—like, I know what sex is, obviously. I just…” you trail off, scrunching your face. “I don’t know what it’s actually like. or how to do it. or what’s supposed to feel good. i’ve never done anything. not even with myself.”
his brows lift, surprised — but not in a mocking way. if anything, he looks more thoughtful. his voice stays quiet, almost too gentle.
“you’ve never?”
you shake your head. “no.”
“not even kissing?”
“not really. maybe like… dumb little pecks in high school. never something serious.”
su-ho exhales slowly through his nose and leans back a little, settling cross-legged on your rug now, chin tilted up to still meet your gaze. “okay. wow. okay.”
“is that bad?”
“no,” he says quickly, firmly. “not bad. not at all. it’s just—” he runs a hand through his hair, a little stunned. “i didn’t know. you never seemed like someone who’d be shy about stuff like this.”
you shrug, suddenly very interested in your desk lamp. “I guess I just never trusted anyone enough. or cared enough. until…”
you don’t finish the sentence. you don’t have to. he looks at you for a long moment. and then his expression softens.
“okay,” he says again, slower this time. “so you’re not asking me for a hookup. you’re asking me to… guide you?”
you nod.
“and this is what you want?”
you glance at him, then down at your hands. “I think so. but I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want it to feel like… just a lesson. like you’re doing me a favor or something.”
he shakes his head, almost laughing under his breath. “believe me,” he mutters, “if I didn’t want it, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
you look up. “you’d want to? with me?”
he rolls his eyes a little, teasing now. “you’re cute, you know that?”
your heart jumps stupidly.
but he’s already reaching for your hand, holding it between both of his like it’s nothing — like it’s something he’s always wanted to do but never got around to.
“look,” he says, thumbs brushing slow circles into your skin. “if we do anything, I want it to be because you feel safe. because you’re curious and I get to help you understand your body. not because you think you’re behind or missing out.”
you nod again, slower this time. “I just want to feel close to someone. and I… I guess I trust you the most.”
his smile turns soft, so soft it feels like a hug.
“then we’ll take it slow,” he murmurs. “you set the pace. we talk through everything. and we stop whenever you feel weird, no questions asked.”
your chest tightens in the best kind of way. not scared. not shy. just warm. like you’re really being held, even without his arms around you.
“can I ask things?” you say. “like, stupid things?”
“you can ask me anything,” he says. “even if it’s what that little flap on condoms is for.”
you laugh, a little too loud. “you know I almost asked you that once.”
“I know. I saw you hovering over the search bar in incognito mode.”
you groan, tossing your head back, but su-ho’s grinning now, bright and proud like he lives to make you flustered.
“so, okay,” he says. “i’ll answer stuff. we’ll go slow. and we’ll make it, y’know… a learning experience. a good one. no pressure. no tests at the end. just…” he pauses. “just me and you. figuring it out together.”
you squeeze his hand back, and when you finally look up again — his eyes are still soft. still watching you like you’re something rare and good. and for once, you believe it.
the first time his mouth finds its way between your legs, it’s nothing like what your imagination tried to prepare you for.
there’s no rush, no hunger, no mess of fingers fumbling to strip you bare all at once. just su-ho, kneeling at the edge of your bed, coaxing you to lie back while his hands trail slow up your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.
“i’m gonna teach you how to enjoy this,” he murmurs, thumbs pressing softly at the inside of your knees to spread them apart. “and how to tell me what feels good. okay?”
your voice comes out small. “okay.”
he leans down, kisses your knee. then a little higher. then a little higher than that.
you’re already wet — he makes some low, surprised noise when he slides your underwear down and sees it for himself — but he doesn’t tease. doesn’t smirk or comment or make you feel like this is some joke.
instead, his hands keep you open, warm and steady, while his mouth lowers between your legs like it belongs there. the first press of his tongue to your slit makes you twitch.
“oh—”
“it’s okay,” he says, voice muffled but soothing. “just relax. tell me if anything feels too much.”
and then he starts again.
soft, slow licks at first, more about getting you used to the feeling than chasing anything. you feel like you’re floating — like your whole body’s pulling taut, breath catching every time he flattens his tongue against your cunt and draws a long stripe up through your folds. when he finds your clit, you nearly jolt again, gasping.
“there?” he murmurs. “that sensitive?”
you nod quickly. “yeah—y-yeah.” he hums, and the vibration makes you arch slightly.
“good,” he says. “it’ll get more sensitive the more turned on you are. it’s not about pressure—it’s about rhythm. like this.”
he circles it gently with the tip of his tongue, again and again, unhurried, careful not to overwhelm you too quickly. his hands stroke over your thighs, calming you as your body stutters and writhes. the sounds coming from you are soft, unsure, breathy little moans that escape before you can stop them.
he lifts his head only briefly. “you’re doing so good, baby. i’m proud of you.”
that single sentence makes your heart squeeze, makes your hips lift up for more. he smiles, then goes back in — and this time he’s firmer, more purposeful. you can tell he’s been holding back, and now that he knows you’re okay, he gives in a little more.
suckling your clit between his lips, tracing his tongue in slick circles, pausing every few seconds to hear how your breath catches, to listen to what makes you moan.
you’re not even thinking when you whisper, “I feel something—i think—”
“let it happen,” he whispers against you. “don’t be scared. let it build.”
and when it does — when the knot inside you snaps and everything floods hot and sharp and overwhelming — you feel his hands hold you down, grounding you, his mouth never leaving you until it all ebbs and your legs are shaking.
you don’t even realize there are tears in your eyes until he’s crawling up your body, wiping them away gently.
“too much?”
you shake your head. “no. that was… that was so good.”
he kisses your forehead. then your lips. “told you.”
you laugh breathlessly. “you’re actually a really good teacher.” he smirks at that, but it fades into something softer. more thoughtful.
“wanna try something now?” he asks, settling beside you. “you don’t have to, but if you want, I can show you what I like too.”
you nod. “yeah.. I want to. teach me, I asked for this, remember?”
he breathes out slowly, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly.
“okay,” he says. “c’mere.”
he guides your hand down first — shows you how to unbutton his jeans, how to ease them down. his cock is already hard, flushed, leaking at the tip, and when your eyes widen, he grins.
“it looks big,” you mumble.
“it won’t hurt,” he promises. “not if we go slow. and besides, i’m not asking you to take it all. not yet.”
you swallow. “so… what do I do?”
he leans back slightly against the pillows, voice a low rumble now.
“start with your hand,” he says. “wrap your fingers around it, gentle. just like that—yeah. perfect.”
you’re fascinated. it’s hot and heavy in your grip, pulsing a little when you stroke up. su-ho groans, a quiet sound that sends a jolt straight between your legs again.
“use your thumb,” he pants. “over the tip. fuck—that’s it. damn, you’re a fast learner.”
you watch his face as he reacts to every little thing you try, how his jaw clenches when you squeeze a little, how his chest rises when you lick a tentative stripe up the length of his cock.
he guides you without pressure, encouraging you softly, telling you what feels good, what he likes.
“use your mouth,” he breathes. “just the tip. go slow, baby. just like that—fuck.”
his hand settles lightly at the back of your head but doesn’t push, just rests there, as you wrap your lips around him. it’s warm, salty, a little overwhelming — but the way he moans your name makes you want to keep going.
he’s so vocal, breathy and praising between gasps. “you’re doing so good,” he whispers. “so pretty like this. your mouth feels so fucking nice—shit.”
you hollow your cheeks, experiment with your tongue, and when you glance up at him, when your eyes meet his while you suck slowly, he curses under his breath and pulls you off with a shaky hand.
“if you keep going,” he says, voice wrecked, “i’ll come. and I don’t wanna come yet.”
you smile, dazed, lips slick with spit. “was i good?” he laughs, short, breathless, affectionate.
“you’re perfect.” and then he leans in to kiss you again, deeper this time.
“you okay?” su-ho asks again, quieter now, brushing your hair away from your face. his thumb strokes your cheek while his other hand rests over your waist, the heat of his palm grounding you, still holding onto the last of your breathless high from before.
you nod. “mm-hmm.” then softer, “more than okay.”
he smiles, then leans in and kisses you gently — slow, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, even now.
but when you kiss him back with that same neediness you’ve been carrying since you first asked him to teach you, his hand slides lower, resting on your hip.
“you wanna keep going?”
you nod again. “yeah. I… I think I want to try.”
his gaze scans your face. you know he’s checking for nerves, doubt, fear — but all he finds is a quiet kind of trust. something that makes his voice go softer when he speaks again.
“okay,” he says, “but we talk first. that’s part of it too.”
you blink. “talk?”
he nods. “before sex. especially your first time. communication makes everything better. safer. and honestly?” he grins a little, “hotter too.”
you bite your lip. “what do we talk about?”
“a few things,” he murmurs, kissing down your jaw. “protection first.”
he shifts away for a moment, reaching for his backpack on the floor. he pulls something out — silver foil, crinkly — and raises his brows at you like he’s been waiting to use it for this exact moment.
“su-ho,” you say slowly, “why do you have a condom in your backpack.”
he snorts. “remember the frat party? si-eun and I saw it in the cr, he didn't want it so I picked it up.”
you roll your eyes. “you guys are idiots.”
“probably,” he shrugs. “but at least i’m a responsible idiot.” you watch as he sets the condom gently on the nightstand, not rushing to open it.
“we use this,” he says, “every time. unless we both get tested and talk about it first. cool?” you nod. “cool.”
he smiles. “good. next topic: positions.” you blinked, “there’s more than one?”
his laugh is soft, affectionate. “there are a lot. but for your first time, we should pick one that feels safest and lets me see your face. missionary’s the classic. I can also be on my knees with your legs over my thighs. or we can spoon. slow and close.”
you flush, trying to picture any of them. “you choose. I trust you.”
his gaze warms at that, softening again in that way you’ve only ever seen in rare moments.
“then we’ll go slow. missionary. but we can adjust anything if it gets uncomfortable. just tell me, alright?”
you hum a quiet okay, and then he leans in closer. “next,” he says, voice lower now, “I wanna know what turns you on.”
your eyes widen. “I—I don’t know yet?” he nods, unbothered. “that’s fine. that’s what this is for. we’ll find out together.”
his fingers trail up your bare thigh again, light and thoughtful. “some people like rough. some like being praised. some like being told what to do. or doing the touching. or slow teasing. you reacted to my voice earlier, when I praised you.”
you flush, remembering.
“I think you like being talked to,” he murmurs, his voice dipping, lips brushing your ear. “you like feeling good and hearing how good you’re doing. am I right?”
you breathe out shakily. “yeah…”
he smiles, kisses your neck. “good. that’s a start. anything you don’t want to try?”
you think. then shake your head. “i’ll tell you if something feels off.”
“perfect,” he says, then kisses you again. this time, his body presses more firmly into yours, and you can feel him — his cock heavy against your thigh through his boxers, thick and pulsing with restraint.
“last question,” he murmurs. “do you want me now?”
you meet his eyes. “yes.”
he nods once, slowly, and then everything moves like a softened blur: his fingers easing between your legs, gently checking, making sure you’re still wet, still relaxed. then him rolling the condom on with practiced care, breath hitching when your hand lingers on his hip.
when he kneels between your legs, you shift beneath him, legs opening, heart thudding in your chest.
“you sure?”
“yes,” you whisper again, this time steadier. “please.”
he exhales slowly — then reaches to guide himself to your entrance. “deep breath,” he says softly. “just relax.”
you did, and the first push is slow, barely there, until your body stretches around him. it’s strange, at first — tight, full, unfamiliar — but he holds still, whispering praise, letting you adjust.
“you feel amazing,” he breathes. “so warm, so tight. doing so good, baby.”
he kisses you through the sting, rubs your clit gently to distract you, and only when you nod again — wordless, aching — does he move. slow. so slow.
you feel him first, hovering over you, his body heat settling around you like a blanket, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently it almost makes you shiver.
the moment feels quiet, almost suspended in time, as if the air around you recognizes the shift — how the weight of what you’re doing finally lands between your ribs and expands there, soft and all-consuming.
su-ho’s gaze, as always, is steady and sure, but there’s a kind of reverence in his expression now, something new that makes your heart skip.
his hands are careful, so careful, as he rolls the condom down the length of his cock, fingers trembling slightly despite how composed he always seems. he aligns himself to your entrance, his eyes not leaving yours even once.
“tell me the second you feel uncomfortable,” he whispers, voice already low and thick. “and if you want to stop—”
“I won’t,” you murmur, fingers curling around his wrist where he steadies himself beside your head. “I just… want to know what it feels like. with you.”
he breathes out through his nose. closes his eyes for a second. and when they open again, they’ve darkened, not with lust alone, but something deeper. a kind of hunger laced with restraint. a kind of want that you know he’s held back for a while.
his hips move slowly, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance, where you’re already soaked for him, eager and warm and open. he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you gently, pausing when he feels your breath hitch.
“okay?” he asks again, jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his forearm straining as he holds himself still.
you nod, voice barely a whisper. “keep going.”
so he does. gradually. so slow that every bit of him feels distinct as he slides into you — the stretch, the burn, the fullness of it. you gasp softly, head tipping back into the pillow, one hand flying to grip the sheets while the other stays pressed against his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart.
he doesn’t move for a long second once he’s fully inside, buried in you to the hilt. you can feel him shaking slightly, his breath warm against your shoulder, a soft groan vibrating in his throat as he tries to stay still.
“you’re so tight,” he finally breathes, and it sounds like a confession. “feels like you’re made for me.”
you feel yourself clench at his words, and he groans again, deeper this time. you nod, giving him permission, and that’s all it takes — he starts to move, slow and steady, each thrust a gentle press of his hips against yours, a roll rather than a sharp snap. the drag of him inside you is like nothing you’ve ever felt, so overwhelming and yet addictively good, like it lights something up inside you you didn’t know was there.
your legs wrap around him without thinking, pulling him closer, and the new angle has him hitting a spot that makes your mouth fall open. he notices immediately, adjusting again to make sure every thrust brushes right there.
“right there?” he asks, voice strained, lips brushing your ear.
“yeah,” you gasp, arms wrapping around his back now, clinging. “feels so—su-ho, please—”
“fuck,” he breathes, hips pushing deeper now, grinding down just enough to make your entire body tremble under him. “you’re so warm. you’re doing so well, baby.”
the endearment makes your stomach twist in the best way, and when his thumb drifts between your legs again, circling your clit in slow, practiced movements, it pushes you closer to the edge so fast your vision blurs.
he watches your face the entire time. every expression, every sound. he’s studying you with the same intensity he brings to everything else, but this time, it’s just for you.
“look at you,” he murmurs, watching the way your face twists with every grind of his hips. “taking all of me. like you were made for it.”
you moan, and he groans in return — like he’s feeling how much you want this. his pace picks up a little. not rushed, just deeper. more deliberate. your walls pulse around him and he curses again, biting back the urge to just let go.
“you don’t even know what you do to me,” he grits out, pressing his forehead to yours. “every sound you make—every little gasp—it’s fucking perfect.”
you can barely answer him, too focused on the slow roll of his hips and the weight of him inside you. but your hands move on their own, clutching his back, your nails dragging lightly across his skin.
he gasps. “shit—do that again.” you did, and he thrusts deeper. you whimper his name, and his rhythm stutters.
“you close?” he asks, thumb still moving, his cock grinding into that perfect spot over and over again.
“so close,” you manage, hips bucking up against his. “su-ho, i’m—”
“cum for me,” he whispers, his thrusts picking up, still deep but just a little faster now. “let me feel you.”
and you do. everything tightens, your legs locking around his waist, your walls clenching down on him so hard he groans your name like it’s a prayer, his forehead falling to your shoulder.
you tremble under him, your climax washing over you in waves, and it’s only a few thrusts later that he follows, hips jerking forward as he cums deep inside the condom with a low, desperate sound.
for a moment, the only sound in the room is your breathing, tangled and uneven, in sync. he stays there, bodies still connected, his weight resting gently over you, careful not to crush you but unwilling to pull away just yet.
he presses a kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks again, softer this time. almost reverent.
you nod slowly, arms still holding him close. “yeah. better than okay.”
he exhales, and you feel the tension drain from him all at once. “you were… incredible.”
“you too,” you murmur, smiling into his neck. “best lesson ever.”
he laughs softly, and you feel it echo in his chest. “we’ll have to review next week, then.” you roll your eyes but kiss his jaw anyway.
you’re both still wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled and breathing gradually slowing down, the quiet hum of the night pressing in around you like a gentle lullaby. you didn’t move for a while, just letting his body settle over yours, the weight of him heavy and warm and safe.
his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths right against your back, and you can’t help but feel a kind of calm you didn’t expect — like all the noise inside your head has finally quieted down. it’s strange how something so simple as just being held could feel like the most important thing in the world.
his fingers begin to roam gently, tracing soft, aimless patterns on your arm. the touch is featherlight, like a whisper, but it grounds you in a way nothing else can. you let your hand find his, fingers curling around his palm instinctively, and he squeezes back, the pressure steady and reassuring. no words are needed right now — the silence between you is comfortable, filled with understanding and something close to reverence.
“you did really well,” his voice is low, thick with a tenderness you haven’t heard from him before. “better than I expected.” there’s a pause, and you can hear him swallow the hint of vulnerability in his own admission. “i’m proud of you.”
you smile softly, your breath catching when he presses a gentle kiss just below your ear, the warmth of his lips lingering there like a promise. “you made it easy,” you say, voice barely more than a breath, but you mean it. it’s not just his skill — it’s how careful he is, how present, how much he respects you.
he shifts slightly, pressing another kiss against your temple, then your cheek, slow and deliberate like he’s memorizing every inch of your face. “we’ll go at whatever pace you want,” he murmurs, fingers weaving through your hair, the touch light and soothing. “there’s no rush here. this is your time. your experience.”
you close your eyes and lean into him, letting the softness of his words and the warmth of his skin wash over you. there’s no pressure, no expectations — just this quiet bubble of safety and trust you never knew you needed but always wanted.
your fingers trace lazy circles on his forearm, feeling the taut muscle beneath his skin and the steady beat of his pulse. “thank you,” you whisper, meaning more than just the moment. for the patience, for the care, for being the first person who made you feel like you could explore this without fear or shame.
he hums softly, lips brushing the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I want you to feel comfortable. to know that with me, it’s always okay to ask, to say no, to take a break—whatever you need.”
you nod against him, the trust between you deepening with every word. “i’m glad it’s you,” you say quietly. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”
he smiles against your skin, the movement gentle and full of warmth. “and i’m glad it’s you.”
time stretches around you both, slow and easy. you talk in hushed tones about everything and nothing —
about your favorite music, the dumb jokes he made that morning, su-ho’s surprising seriousness when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. your voices blend together like a quiet symphony, filling the room with something real and alive.
eventually, he shifts, pulling you closer into a warm embrace, your faces mere inches apart. “class tomorrow together, yeah?” he asks softly, thumb stroking along your collarbone. “i’ll walk you to every lecture. maybe we can grab something after.”
you smile, heart fluttering in a way that feels new but right. “i’d like that.”
it felt easy, honest. like something real could start from this, not because you were rushing into anything, but because there was trust here. because with him, it didn’t feel scary. it just felt right.
Summary: A kind and hardworking girl working in a women’s clothing department helps a sweet grandmother find a blouse in the right size, and when the grandmother’s handsome grandson comes to pick it up, he’s instantly captivated by her warmth and charm, sparking an unexpected connection.
Ahn Suho x reader
retail series
A/N: Fun fact: This is me in real life, but without the romance and Suho.
Navigation
You don’t know what’s more exhausting—the fact that your shift started at 10 a.m. and you’ve already restocked the clearance rack five times, or the way customers loudly complain about how “messy” the store is… while throwing cardigans on the floor like it’s a sport.
A woman in her 50s sighs dramatically as she steps over a crumpled blouse. “It’s like a war zone in here,” she says, voice deliberately loud enough for you to hear. “No pride in presentation anymore.”
You paste on your best retail smile and nod. “Yes, ma’am. Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
She ignores you, of course.
With a sigh of your own, you kneel down to start folding again. You’re a full-time student, juggling classes and this part-time job, and though your feet hurt and your smile is starting to twitch at the corners, you refuse to let this place break you. You have bills to pay and a dream to chase.
You’re halfway through sorting a pile of misplaced cardigans when a gentle voice draws your attention.
“Excuse me, dear?”
You look up and meet the warmest eyes you’ve seen all day. An elderly woman with perfect silver hair and a soft lavender sweater is holding up a blouse—pastel blue, floral, elegant.
It’s one of the newer arrivals, definitely more suited for her generation than the TikTok-hyped mini dresses you keep finding stuffed into the wrong sections.
“Would you happen to have this in a medium?” she asks sweetly.
Your smile turns genuine. “Let me check for you.”
You pull the scanner phone from your lanyard and beep the tag. The small screen loads slowly, spinning like it knows your patience is thin. Finally, the inventory appears.
“Good news,” you say. “We have two mediums left—one in the stockroom and one on this floor. I’ll go hunt them down for you.”
The woman beams, crinkles by her eyes deepening. “You’re a doll, thank you. I tried looking, but these racks make me feel like I’m in a maze.”
You laugh lightly. “You’re not wrong.”
You dash off to the far side of the floor first, and sure enough, you find the blouse tucked behind a dress on the wrong hanger. With practiced hands, you bring it back to her, holding it up triumphantly.
“Here you go! Medium and wrinkle-free.”
She claps her hands together. “Perfect. My grandson will be thrilled.”
You raise an eyebrow playfully. “Is it for him?”
She laughs, and it makes you giggle too. “No, dear. I’m too old to go upstairs and back down, and I still want to look nice when I see my friends. He’s going to pick it up for me a little later.”
“That’s sweet of him.”
She hesitates. “Would you mind terribly if I left this behind the counter? I know it’s not usually allowed, but I didn’t want to drag it through the entire store.”
You glance around. Technically, it is against policy, but she’s been kind and polite—rare commodities on this floor. You smile and lean in slightly.
“I’ll stash it for you behind the register. Just tell your grandson to ask for the floral blouse his grandmother left.”
She winks. “You’re an angel. I’ll tell him exactly that.”
She pats your hand gently before heading to the escalator. You watch her go, a warm feeling blooming in your chest.
Maybe today won’t be so bad.
About twenty minutes later, you’re helping a stressed-out customer look for a specific black blouse that’s apparently been discontinued.
“Are you sure you don’t have it?” the woman asks for the fifth time.
You keep your voice light. “It looks like we’re out in this store, but—” you tap your screen, “—our sister store down the street has it in your size.”
She lights up. “Really? That’s not far!”
You nod. “You can either go there or call ahead and ask them to put it on hold for you.”
“Oh my gosh, thank you. I thought I was going to have to settle for something else.”
You smile. “No settling on my watch.”
She laughs—a genuine, grateful sound—and waves as she heads for the exit.
You breathe out, proud of yourself for helping her without crumbling under retail pressure. You turn back to your task before… only to find a guy standing there waiting.
He’s leaning against the register counter with his arms crossed, wearing a simple black hoodie and jeans, his dark hair slightly messy but undeniably intentional. His gaze flicks up to meet yours the moment you notice him.
“Oh!” you say, stepping closer. “Sorry for the wait, I was helping someone with an item.”
He smiles slightly, eyes warm but curious. “No worries.”
There’s something… familiar about him. Not that you’ve met him before—but his face could belong on a poster. You ignore the flutter in your stomach and ask,
“Are you here for the floral blouse?”
He nods. “Yeah. My grandma said she left it with someone nice downstairs.”
You grin. “Then you must be the grandson.”
You duck behind the counter and pull out the carefully folded blouse, still on its hanger, the tag neatly pinned.
“She was lovely. Had the best manners I’ve seen all day.”
He laughs—a low, soft sound—and takes the blouse from your hands, brushing your fingers slightly. “That sounds like her.”
He pauses, glancing at the blouse, then back at you. “You folded this?”
You nod. “Guilty.”
He looks impressed. “You did a better job than most of the packaging I’ve ordered online.”
You snort. “You should see me on a good day.”
There’s a moment where neither of you speaks. He’s just… looking at you. Not in a creepy way—just surprised. Or struck, maybe. Like he expected someone else. Someone older, maybe grumpier. Not a pretty girl with tired eyes and a shy smile.
“I’m Suho, by the way,” he says, breaking the silence.
You blink, a little caught off guard. “Oh. Nice to meet you.”
He offers his hand, and you shake it lightly. “I’m… just y/n.”
“Just-y/n works.”
Your face warms. You glance away, suddenly very aware of your scuffed black flats and the wrinkle in your shirt from bending over racks all morning.
“Your grandma has great taste, by the way,” you add quickly, trying to change the subject.
“She does,” he agrees, still watching you. “But I think she also has matchmaking instincts.”
You laugh, surprised. “Excuse me?”
“She told me, ‘The girl downstairs is so sweet. She has kind eyes.’” He shrugs, trying to look casual, but his ears are pink.
You’re half flattered, half flustered. “Well, I try to keep my eyes from rolling at rude customers, so that’s nice to hear.”
That earns you a real laugh from him, deep and warm. “You’re funny.”
You shrug. “Survival tactic.”
He lifts the bag with the blouse inside. “Well… thanks for the rescue. She’ll be happy.”
“Anytime,” you say, tucking hair behind your ear.
Suho hesitates, like he wants to say more, but then gestures to the escalator. “I should head up before she buys more things just to make me carry them.”
You smile. “Have fun on the third floor. The kids section is wild.”
He points at you, backing away. “You do have kind eyes. She was right.”
You laugh, watching him disappear around the corner with your heart fluttering embarrassingly in your chest.
Two Days Later, you’re working another shift when you hear familiar laughter near the register. You glance up, and your breath catches.
Suho.
He’s holding a coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other, looking right at you like he expected you to be here.
“Hey,” he says, sliding up to the counter.
“Hi,” you say, surprised but smiling. “Back for more floral blouses?”
“Tempting, but no.” He places the coffee on the counter. “For you.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. “Me?”
“You looked like you could use one last time. And… I figured it was a good excuse to come back.”
You take the drink slowly, warmth creeping up your neck. “Thanks.”
He slides the paper bag over next. “Also, I grabbed one of those crazy chocolate croissants from the third floor café. Don’t tell the kids.”
You laugh. “I won’t if you won’t.”
There’s a beat of silence. You feel him watching you again.
“Look,” he says, suddenly shy. “I don’t usually do this. But… I wanted to know if you’d maybe want to grab lunch sometime? When you’re not saving grandmas and scolding messy customers.”
You blink. Then smile.
“Are you asking me out because I folded a blouse really well?”
“I mean,” he grins, “it was a pretty impressive fold.”
You tilt your head. “And if I say yes?”
“Then I’d say your kind eyes are just the start.”
Your cheeks burn, but you nod slowly. “Okay. Lunch sounds nice.”
Suho beams. Like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket.
“You have no idea how relieved I am right now,” he says.
You laugh. “Just promise not to complain about my department being messy.”
“I’d never,” he says solemnly. “I saw what the customers do firsthand. It’s basically a jungle down here.”
And for the first time in a long time, you feel seen.
Not just by a customer, not just by a cute guy—but by someone who watched you do your job with grace, who waited while you helped others, and who still thought you were pretty great.
