#wayv fluff

[withlovemark]

“CALL ME”

pairing: frat leader! hendery x sorority leader! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 32k+

synopsis -> a dirty little secret. that’s what you and hendery have always been. your houses are bound by years of rivalry and resentment, an unwritten rule that makes what you do even more intoxicating. because behind closed doors — no one can fuck you the way hendery does. but with graduation looming and secrecy becoming harder to maintain, the question becomes impossible to ignore: will you finally defy the rivalry and admit what’s been burning between you all along, or will you keep pretending this forbidden situationship was never anything more than just fun?

warnings: guaranteeing a love story that will make you want to throw your phone across the room >.< pet name unlocked: baobei, slightly toxic! we got a fearful-avoidant in our hands, lots of kissing for two people who aren’t supposed to be kissing, definition of push-pull, hendery’s being lead on a string but it’s exactly where he wants to be!, more than one y/n in one room, a double confession!, +18, crude humor, language, parties, drinking, smut! lots of unprotected sex, rough sex! slight! choking, slight! biting, ass-slapping, fucking with a ghostface mask on, glove play?, riding, doggy-style, car sex, bathroom sex, bathtub sex, drunk sex, oral (both m+f), fingering!!!, handjob (simultaneously), nipple-play, slight exhibitionism, in the movie theater and in a classroom, hendery is a dom!!!!, a posted sex tape kinda, crying mid hookup, mentions of: porn, silly sex stories

an: happy valentine’s day! i always intended for the first loverboy story to come out on valentine’s day but never got around to do that cause of my own writing insecurities. so…releasing this today feels like a full circle for me. anyway, the third installment of loverboy wayv is finally yours! i hope you like it! this came out angstier than i planned but i also think they’re one of the sweetest couples in the series. i had a lot of fun writing them <3 alexa play mastermind by taylor swift for hendery! btw, hendery has dark hair for like 90% of this story but the blonde will make an appearance! have fun reading! as always, i will be patiently waiting for your reactions! - with love, c.

🥟 OCTOBER 31 - BARBIE AND GHOSTFACE 🥟

the thumping bass from the dream fraternity’s house party still pounds in your veins like a second heartbeat as you drag hendery through the shadowed alleys, his grip on your hand ironclad and familiar. this isn’t the first time you’ve sneaked him into your sorority house — far from it.

over the past years, these midnight invasions have become your ritual, a dangerous dance of rivalry and raw need that started with a drunken hookup and escalated into something neither of you can quit. your barbie dress, pink and scandalously short, clings to your curves, crumpled from all the grinding on the dance floor while his ghostface mask stays locked in place like a forbidden promise. tequila burns warm in your belly, loosening inhibitions, making this crime feel inevitable. graduation whispers in the distance, a ticking clock on this secret situationship. but tonight, with the halloween chaos as cover, you can’t resist pulling him closer to the fire. you know the layout by heart now — the side door that creaks just so to the hallway shadows where he’s pressed you against the wall some time before. your sisters are out cold or still partying elsewhere, oblivious to the enemy crossing the threshold once again. you fumble the doorknob, heart slamming as you both slip inside, the door shutting behind you. up the stairs, two at a time, his hand already trailing up your thigh, gloved fingers brushing the edge of your panties like he owns the path.

“baobei, you’re gonna get us caught one of these nights,” he mutters through his mask, voice husky and low, but there’s no real warning in it — just that possessive thrill that mirrors your own. you’ve heard it before, in this same dim corridor, right before he pinned you last time and left you limping to class. you could almost see his smirk under the mask.

you lock your bedroom door before shoving him back against it, the wood rattling under the force, “not if you keep quiet,” you shoot back, breathless. the mask’s blank eyes stare down, anonymous yet intimately known, heightening the rush of it all. your stilettos dig into the carpet as you press in, yanking at his shirt, but he reverses it in a blur — spinning you so your back hits the door with a thud that echoes your pulse. the sting radiates, sharp and exhilarating, a spark to the ache building between your legs, body arching towards his touch.

hendery doesn’t waste time — his gloved hands hike your dress roughly, bunching it at your waist. with a swift tug, he shreds your panties, the fabric giving way like it has on previous visits, leaving you exposed and dripping, “so wet already,” he growls, thrusting two leather-clad fingers straight into your core, a deep penetration that stretches you wide. you keen, the intrusion rough, his palm slapping against you as he pumps fast, curling to hit that spot he’s mapped out. the glove’s texture drags inside, amplifying every twist, your wall fluttering around his digits, your cries bouncing off the walls, too loud for the thin barriers, so he firmly slaps his free hand over your mouth, muffling but not cruel, his thumb stroking your cheek in a subtle soothe .

“shhh—someone might hear us,” he whispers, thumb flicking your clit in tight circles that makes your hips jerk. you’ve relived that close call in fantasises since, the fear twisting into fuel. now, you bite the glove, moaning into it, eyes rolling back, nails raking down his arms as he adds a third finger, scissoring to open you further, the burn blending with slick heat — but he knows your limits, honed from these stolen nights. when your legs tremble, he shifts, withdrawing his fingers and wedging a thigh between yours to hold you up, that quiet care slipping though his dominance. in one fluid motion, he hauls you from the door, flinging you onto the bed face-down, the impact jarring your breasts against the sheets, you scramble to your knees and elbows, ass up instinctively, already knowing what’s coming. you hear the sound of his zipper, cock lining up to your entrance — then he slams in, thrusting in one brutal drive that punches the air from your lungs, biting your lip down so hard you could almost taste blood, your pussy clenching greedily around the girth.

“fuck, baobei, still so goddamn tight every time,” he rasps, mask tilting as he grips your hips, bruises forming under his hold. he starts thrusting, hips crashing forward, each one rocking you deeper into the mattress, the bedframe creaking in protest — a sound you’ve learned to muffle with pillows on quieter nights.

you push back, meeting the force, the slap of skin on skin filling the room like a dirty symphony, “harder—fuck me like you mean it,” you gasp, voice, raw, the words spilling from the edge of too many suppressed secrets. he gives you what you want, leaning over your back, one arm banding your waist to anchor you as he pounds relentlessly, cock dragging out to the tip before spearing back in, hitting deep enough to spark stars. his gloved hand snakes down, pinching your clit between his fingers, rolling it with precision that builds the coil tight, attuned to your every quiver. sweat beads on your skin, his free hand tangling in your hair, pulling to arch your spine.

“feel so fucking good, baobei—,” he groans, thrusts turning wilder, erratic, faster and faster and before you know it, the pressure mounts over and you come undone, eyes rolled back, gasping, pussy convulsing in fierce pulses, squeezing his length like a vice, a choked sob escaping as waves crash through you. he follows seconds later, not bothering to pull out, just a guttural groan as he thrusts deep and erupts thick ropes of cum jetting into you, coating your insides hot and full. he grinds through the pulses, ensuring every drop stays buried, his cum overflowing out to slick your thighs as he collapses over you, both of you panting.

only then does the mask come off, flung to the floor with a clatter, as he tries to catch his breath, face flushed and open, pressing soft, wet kisses to your shoulder blade. the aftershock ripple through your body, his cock softening but not slipping free, a warm anchor in the haze of spent pleasure. you shift slightly, feeling the sticky evidence of his release trickle between your thighs but neither of you moves to separate. hendery’s breath fans your ear, steadying, his fingers drawing absentminded circles on your skin.

the house beyond your doors hum faintly — distant laughter, the occasional door slam, but it’s all white nose, a reminder that this night stretches on. everyone’s too wrapped up in their own chaos, partying hard, stumbling home drunk, or tangled in sheets with hookups of their own. no one’s listening. no one’s watching. with a low hum of determination, you roll your hips experimentally, drawing a sharp inhale from him as you push up on your elbows.

“not done yet, huh?” he murmurs, voice roughened by exertion but his eyes spark with that familiar hunger when you meet his gaze over your shoulder. you don’t answer with words, instead you turn your head, pressing your lips to his in a brief makeout session before you pull his semi-hard length out of you with a wet slide that makes you both shiver. the loss aches but it’s temporary as you push him onto the other side of your bed. he lands on his back with a soft grunt as you straddle his hips, his cock twitching back to life already. your hands find the hem of his black shirt first, bunching the fabric up his torso, exposing the lean planes of his abdomen, the faint sheen of sweat catching the dim light from your bedside lamp. he lifts his arms without protest, letting you yank it over his head and toss it aside, your fingers immediately tracing the ridges of his chest, nails scraping lightly over his nipples until they harden under your touch.

“eager tonight,” he teases but there’s no mockery, just that heated appreciation as you work lower, completely tugging his jeans and boxers off in one pull. his cock lies heavy against his thigh, glistening from your combined mess, already thickening as blood rushes back.

“we can’t waste the night,” you smirk, earning a quiet chuckle from him. you kick off your heels, the carpet muffling the thud, then you positioned yourself over him, knees bracketing his hips as you grip his shaft at the base, guiding the swollen head back to your entrance. he’s slick with your arousal and his own cum, easing the way as you sink down slowly, inch by inch, both of you groaning at the renewed stretch. your pussy, still tender and swollen from before, clenches around him immediately, the sensitivity making every vein and ridge feel amplified, a delicious burn that borders on too much.

squat style, you rise up on the balls of your feet, hands braced on his thighs for balance and you start to move. it’s deliberate, unhurried, lifting until just the tip remains inside then dropping back with a controlled roll of your hips. the pace is slower now, savoring the friction, each descent pulling a quiet hiss from his lips. hendery watches you through half-lidded eyes, a smirk curling his mouth as he folds his arms, hands lacing behind his head — the picture of relaxed indulgence. his gaze roams your body unabashedly, from the way your thighs flex with each bounce to the flushed curve of your breasts straining against the low neckline or your dress. reaching up lazily, he hooks two fingers into the stretchy fabric and tugs it down, your tits spilling free, bouncing with your rhythm, nipples hardening as the cool air hits. he doesn't grab or maul — just admires, eyes darkening as they fix on the jiggle, loving the way they sway with every squat.

“god, you’re beautiful,” he says, voice low and gravelly, eyes fixed on you as if committing the sight to memory. the words send a fresh gush of heat through you, your walls squeezing around his cock in response and you pick up the tempo just a fraction. sensitivity lingers like an echo, your clit throbbing with each grind, overstimulated but craving more while he shifts beneath you, hips bucking up shallowly to meet your drops, careful not to overwhelm. it’s intimate this way — face to face, his smirk softening into something almost reverent when your eyes lock.

you lean forward, palms sliding up to his shoulders, changing the angle so he hits deeper, a spark of that earlier roughness flickering as you clench deliberately around him, “you fuck me so well,” you whisper, breath hitching, “i can never get enough.” your admission makes him growl in response, finally pulling off his gloves and cupping your breasts, wanting to feel you skin to skin as his thumb circles your nipple in slow drags that match your pace.

the room feels smaller, the world outside irrelevant as you build toward another peak, bodies syncing in this unhurried dance, “take what you need — i’ve got all night for you,” he breathes, the hidden sweetness threading through the lust. the coil in your core winds tighter with each drop, the slick slide of him filling you over and over sending sparks up your spine. hendery’s thumb flicks your nipple harder now, rolling it between his fingers until you arch into the touch, a whimper escaping your lips. but the distance between your faces feels like too much barrier, the air charged with unspoken need. you lean forward, hair cascading over one shoulder as your lips hover inches from his.

“kiss me,” you demand breathlessly, voice husky from the exertion, and he doesn’t hesitate — his hand slides from your breasts to the nape of your neck, pulling you down until your mouths crash together in a searing, open-mouthed kiss. it’s messy and desperate from the start, tongues tangling immediately as you taste the salt of his skin mixed with the faint remnants of tequila from the party. you keep riding him through it, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone, his cock dragging along your inner walls, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. saliva slicks your chins, breaths mingling in hot pants between clashes of teeth and lips.

“fuck, baobei—i could do this all night,” he murmurs against your lips, the words punctuated by a sharp suck on your tongue that has you moaning into him. his fingers tangle in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss, tongues dueling in a rhythm that matches your hips, slow and teasing. the burn in your thighs intensifies with every rise and fall, muscles quivering from the effort of riding him, your rhythm faltering.

hendery senses it immediately — his hands slide from your hair to your ass, thumbs pressing into the flesh as he breaks the kiss, breath hot against your swollen lips. his eyes lock onto yours, dark and knowing, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth beneath the intensity, “want me to take over?” he asks, voice low and gravelly, laced with the possessive edge that makes your core clench around him.

“yes please, hendery—please—fuck me,” you beg without hesitation, the words tumbling out in a desperate whine, body already surrendering control as you slow your movements, hovering above him with his shaft buried deep. you don’t have to tell him twice — his grip tightens on your ass, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise and flips the dynamic with a powerful upward thrust, bottoming out and making you cry out. his hips snap up relentlessly, each drive pounding into your soaked pussy. you collapse forward, head dropping to his shoulder, forehead pressing against the sweat-slick of his neck as waves of sensation crash over you. your moans spill freely into his ear, raw and unrestrained, high-pitched gasps and whimpers that echo the slap of his balls against your ass with every thrust.

hendery grunts in response, the sounds rumbling deep from his chest right against your cheek, guttural and primal as he fucks up into you, “that’s it baobei — take my cock like it’s all yours,” he growls between thrusts, his voice strained. the room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding, hitting that deep spot over and over. your nails rake down his back, clinging to him, your moans turning into sobs of pleasure that vibrate against his skin, “fuck, so wet for me —squeezing my dick so tight—” his words spurring you both toward the edge. you feel him swell even thicker inside you, his rhythm faltering just a fraction as he chases his release.

“fuck—hendery, i’m gonna come—” it hits you first, the coil snapping with a force that rips a scream from your throat, muffled as you bite down on his shoulder, your orgasm crashing over you, walls clamping down hard on his cock, juices gushing around him. hendery fights the urge to groan, hissing at the pain. he follows seconds later, his grunts turning into a grunt of your name as he buries himself to the root again, hips bucking erratically, cum flooding your pussy, the warmth spreading deep inside as you both ride out the waves, bodies locked together in shuddering bliss.

🥟 NOVEMBER 1 - I WAS WATCHING PORN! 🥟

the first rays of morning light filter through the curtains of your sorority bedroom. you’re still wrapped in the remnants of last night’s passion — your pink barbie dress hiked up around your waist, the fabric rumpled but intact since neither of you had the energy to strip it off completely. hendery’s body presses warm and solid against your back, his arms looped securely around your middle, holding you close in sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, breath tickling the nape of your neck, both of you utterly spent from the hours of relentless fucking that left your muscles sore and your mind blissfully blank. the two of you obviously didn’t stop at two rounds.

a sharp knock at the door shatters the quiet, jolting you from the depths of slumber, “y/n! are you up?” the voice bright and insistent — yuna, one of the pinks, your sorority sister, with her endless bubbly energy even after a wild halloween party. you groan low in your throat, eyelids fluttering open as reality crashes in. hendery’s still here, naked in your bed, the ghostface mask discarded on the floor amidst his scattered clothes. panic surges through you like ice water. if anyone finds out about your secret with the rival frat, it’ll blow everything wide open.

you twist slightly, nudging his arm, “hendery,” you whisper urgently, shaking his shoulder. he stirs with a deep, rumbling groan, his grip tightening instinctively before his eyes crack open, bleary and confused. “shhh—keep quiet,” you hiss, glancing toward the door as another knock echoes, “yuna’s right outside. you have to hide–now!” his brows furrow in sleepy protest but he nods, rolling away as you scramble out of bed, snatching up his clothes and that damn mask. you shove them into his arms, then push him toward the closet with frantic hands on his bare back. he stumbles in, shooting you a half-amused, half-annoyed glare over his shoulder before you slide the door shut just as yuna calls out again.

“y/n, i can hear you moving around in there.”

“just give me a second!” you yell back, voice pitched higher than usual as you yank your dress down over your thighs, smoothing it out with trembling fingers. thank fuck you hadn’t bothered undressing fully last night. heart pounding, you crack the door open.

yuna stands there in her matching pink pajamas, hair tousled from the night before yet still looking so effortlessly pretty, eyeing you with a curious tilt of her head, “you look…wrecked. were you talking to someone?”

“no?” the word comes out too defensive, your cheeks flushing as you step aside to let her in, praying hendery stays silent. she brushes past you, her gaze sweeping the room like a detective on a mission, a teasing sparkle in her eyes, “i swear, i heard another voice. come on, spill — who’d you hook up with last night? tell me all the deets!”

“no one,” you blurt, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue as you cross your arms, trying to look casual. yuna spins around, confusion creasing her brow, “no one?! what do you mean, no one?! halloween’s always the hookup capital!”

you shrug, forcing nonchalance while your pulse races, “i was too drunk…passed out early — who’d you hook up with?” her face lights up, clearly excited now that the attention has been directed at her, the interrogation forgotten for a moment.

“yunho.”

“the one who always has that cowboy hat on?” you ask, latching onto the topic like a lifeline.

“yep. and let me tell you…i rode that cowboy all night long,” she wiggles her eyebrows, a proud smirk on her face and you both dissolve into laughter, the sound a brief release of tension until — a muffled thump echoes from your closet.

“what was that?” yuna freezes, head snapping toward the sound. your stomach drops, “probably just one of my heels tumbling around, you know how it is in there — closet’s a disaster.”

she raises a brow, skepticism written all over her face as she takes a step closer, “hmmm, you sure you were alone last night?”

“so sure, why?”

“i could’ve sworn i heard talking…like, voices,” she’s inching toward the closet now, hand reaching for the handle, and desperation claws at you. you burst out with the first excuse that pops into your head —

“I WAS WATCHING PORN!”

yuna halts mid-step, turning back with wide eyes that quickly crinkle in amusement, “porn?”

“yeah,” you ramble, cheeks burning hotter, “this is what i get for not hooking up with anyone last night — woke up way too horny and had to take matters into my own hands.”

yuna bursts out laughing, shaking her head as she backs toward the door, “understandable. anyways, girl, i just wanted to say it’s time to clean up the house, it’s a mess downstairs. sorry for interrupting your…session,” she winks, clearly buying your excuse. you force out a laugh, waving her off, “i’ll be there in a few minutes, let me just change.”

“okie, take your time,” she says with a grin, finally slipping out into the hallway. you lock the door behind her with a soft click, leaning against it as a relieved sigh escapes your lips, the tension draining from your body like air from a balloon. from the closet, comes a faint rustle and you can almost hear hendery’s muffled chuckle. you slide your closet door open with a soft creak, hendery tumbling out in a heap of limbs and rumpled clothes, dark hair tousled and a wide, amused grin displayed on his face. his eyes lock onto yours with that signature spark of mischief and before you can say a word, he reaches up, snagging your wrist and yanking you down onto his lap as he settles back against the closet wall. his bare thighs are warm under you, his half-hard cock twitching against your ass through the thin barrier of your dress.

“watching porn, huh?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear, voice low and teasing to avoid carrying through the thin walls.

“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks heating as you swat his chest, “i panicked…she almost found you.” he chuckles softly the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, before his arms band around your thighs. in one smooth motion, he stands, lifting you effortlessly with him. your legs wrap around his hips on instinct as he carries you the few steps to the bed and eases you down onto the mattress, the sheets still warm from your bodies. he drops to his knees at the edge, strong hands parting your legs as he settles between them, pushing your dress up to expose you. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as the mix of nerves and renewed heat floods you, “what are you doing?”

“finishing your session,” he murmurs, sending you a wink as his thumb traced the edge of your folds, “can’t leave my girl when she’s too horny.”

“i’m not your girl, hendery,” you protest, though your voice wavers, hips already shifting towards his touch.

“shhh,” he husks, nipping at your inner thigh, “i’m busy.”

“you need to go,” you protest, the words lacking conviction as your body betrays you, legs spreading wider.

“after this,” he promises, breath hot against your skin. he hooks one arm under your knee, lifting it to spread you wider, then dives in without warning — tongue flat and firm as it drags up your slit, lapping at the mix of your arousal and his dried cum, a high-pitched whine slipping from your lips, “keep quiet for me, baobei.” the command sends a jolt straight to you and you bite your lip hard to stifle the gasp. he knows your body like a code he’s memorized — starting with broad, hungry licks that cover every inch, sucking your folds into his mouth before zeroing in on that spot just below your clit that makes your toes curl. his free hand grips your hip, holding you steady as you buck, while his tongue flicks rapid and precise, circling the swollen nub before plunging inside you, fucking you with his tongue in short, insistent thrusts.

“fuck—” you whimper, voice muffled against your palm as you clamp a hand over your mouth. the pleasure builds fast — too fast. his mouth relentless, sucking hard on your clit now, teeth grazing just enough to sting, then soothing with wet, open-mouthed kisses. your thighs quake around his head, trying to close but he pins them with his shoulder, humming against you. the vibration shoots sparks up your spine, the coil ready to snap, your pussy clenching around nothing when he adds two fingers, curling them deep to hit that ridge inside you over and over. faster and faster. quiet. god. you have to stay quiet. yuna’s probably just down the hall and the house is stirring with sisters cleaning up. but his pace is brutal, expert, tongue sucking on your clit in a rhythm that has you gasping, fingers pumping slick and fast. the wet sounds of his mouth devouring you fill the room, obscene and loud in the morning hush and you fight the urge to moan his name, hips bucking as the orgasm crashes over you, body seizing, pussy spasming around his fingers as you cum hard. he licks you through it, swallowing every drop until you’re trembling, oversensitive and panting into your hand.

he pulls back, lips shiny and swollen, wiping his chin with the back of his hand as he looks up at you with a satisfied smirk, “that’s my girl,” he whispers, voice dark and teasing, “now…about getting me out of here…”

you catch your breath, legs still jelly from the aftershocks as you push up your elbows to glare down at him, “go through my window,” you say, nodding toward the one across the room, curtains half-drawn against the morning light.

hendery laughs, low and rumbling as he rises from between your thighs, “yeah, yeah, i know my way around,” he straightens, grabbing his discarded pants from your closet and stepping into them with quick efficiency. his shirt follows, tugged over his head in one smooth pull, muscles flexing under the thin material. you watch from the bed, pulling your dress down over your sticky thighs, heart still racing from the risk and the rush. he crosses back to you, leaning down to capture your lips in one last, lingering kiss, hands cupping your face with that unexpected gentleness. it’s soft, almost sweet, a stark contrast to the frenzy of last night’s activities. he pulls back, grabbing the ghostface mask and slipping it over his head, the eyes staring back at you with playful intent.

“call me,” he murmurs, voice muffled but clearly teasing. with that, he moves to the window, shoving it open wider. the drop to the ground below is a solid 15 feet, your room being on the second floor, a height enough to make anyone else hesitate, but not him — he swings one leg over the sill, testing the drainpipe snaking down the house wall like it’s an old friend. a final glance your way, that masked face tilting in amusement and then he’s gone. dropping down with the grace of someone who’s done this more than a dozen times, landing soft on the grass below. he straightens, brushes off his knees and vanishes around the corner of the house, leaving you alone, the secret humming in your veins like a promise of more trouble to come.

you linger in the bed for a moment longer, the sheets cool against your skin now, the echo of hendery’s departure still buzzing in your chest. with a deep breath, you get up, stepping into your private bathroom and changing into a cute pink crop top with its matching pajama shorts, fingers running through your tangled hair. a quick glance in the mirror shows your cheeks still flushed, lips swollen from kisses and more. but you force a casual smile — nothing a splash of water and some lip gloss can’t fix. composed, or at least close enough, you slip on your slippers and head downstairs, the house already alive with the clatter of cleanup and gossip.

the living room is a whirlwind of mess, confetti and cups scattered like battlefield remnants. your sorority sisters, better known as, the pinks, are all scattered around, each tackling a corner with varying degrees of enthusiasm. yuna’s on vacuum duty, her ponytail swinging as she sucks up stray glitter from the carpet, humming some pop tune under her breath. natty’s in the kitchen, stacking red solo cups by the sink, sophia wipes down the coffee table. winter’s folding discarded jackets by the couch. yeji’s on trash patrol and ryujin blasts a playlist from her phone, the bass thumping low enough to keep the energy up without waking the neighbors. you grab a broom from the corner and start sweeping, blending right in like you weren’t just tangled up in the sheets upstairs with the enemy, “morning, girls,” you call out lightly, earning a chorus of good morning’s back. no one bats an eye at your late arrival, everyone dealing with their own halloween hangovers.

the girl talk ignites almost immediately, as natural as breathing. yuna straightens from the vacuum, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, directing her attention to natty, “okay–who was that guy you vanished with last night? the one dressed like timmy turner? i bet you granted all his wishes.”

natty bursted out in soft giggles, “he definitely went poof!” earning a chorus of giggles from the room.

sophia chimes in, tossing a rag over shoulder like a bartender, “mine was a disaster, he was dressed like mask, that whole green guy, and was really into character…it was terrifying how much teeth he used,” the room erupts into quiet giggles, ryujin doubling over, “i told you not to hook up with kevin on halloween night.” the stories continue to bounce around, laughter turning into shocked gasps and high-fives, the air thick with that post-party camaraderie. you listen, chiming in with a vague, “nothing too crazy for me — just some flirting that died off before it can even start,” your heart pounding a little at the lie, the thrill of your own hidden night burning under your skin.

🥟 NOVEMBER 2 - WAYV VS. THE PINKS 🥟

the next morning hits hendery like a freight train, his body heavy from the marathon of yesterday. he shuffles into the wayv kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck, the scent of stale coffee and burnt toast already thick in the air. sunlight slices through the windows, empty beer cans and half-eaten pizza slices still littered the countertops and there, in one of the chairs by the kitchen table, yangyang’s got his girlfriend, teddy, on his lap, lips locked in that sloppy, unapologetic way that screams they’ve been at it for minutes. hendery’s stomach turn — not from jealousy, exactly, but from the blatant PDA in their grimy domain.

“gross,” he mutters, loud enough to shatter their bubble. they spring apart like guilty teens, yangyang’s cheeks flushed under his messy bangs, teddy smoothing her shirt with a grin as she takes the seat next to her boyfriend instead. the younger boy shoots him an amused look, leaning back in the chair with his arm draped over teddy’s shoulder, “you’re just bitter you can’t make out with your girl whenever and wherever you want.”

hendery scoffs, yanking open the fridge door for a cold energy drink, “please, i don’t have a girl.” the words come out sharper than intended but he plays it cool, popping the drink open with a hiss.

teddy arches a brow, crossing her arms as she hops on the counter’s edge, swinging her legs, “mhm, you’re still denying having a thing with the pinks sorority leader, huh?”

he ignores her, taking a long swig to buy time, the fizzy burn grounding him, “where’s dejun?” he asks, steering the conversation like a pro, eyes scanning the room as if the guy might pop out from behind the toaster. yangyang shrugs, snagging a piece of cold pizza from one of the boxes, “i don’t know, probably still with the girl he left halloween with. saw him sneak off with that teacher costume chick—looked pretty intense.”

teddy isn’t done though, her voice cutting through like a knife, “why don’t you just break that stupid unwritten rule and go for it? it’s our last year. you’re the frat leader. no one’s gonna kick you out over a crush.”

hendery rolls his eyes, slamming the fridge shut a bit too hard, “god, you’re annoying today.”

“hey, don’t talk to my girlfriend like that,” yangyang fires back but there’s a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as he grabs the nearest thing, a slightly bruised banana from the counter, and chucks it at hendery’s head. his reflexes kick in, snatching it mid-air and peeling it open with a mock salute. the kitchen falls into easy laughter, the tension dissolving into their usual rhythm but hendery’s mind drifts, the banana forgotten in his hand — he’s asked himself the same thing over and over again. he’s asked you the same questions over and over again. the two of you never coming to an agreement. that rule — it’s like a ghost that won’t die, clinging to the walls of both houses long after the architects left.

🥢 three years ago. freshman year. august 26th's initiation.

the air on campus crackled with fresh energy and unspoken hierarchies. hendery remembers it vividly – the wayv frat house buzzing with new pledges, jackson wang, front and center, like some untouchable frat god with that effortless charisma that made underclassmen hang on his every word. he ruled with a mix of charm and iron fist, his parties legendary, his glare enough to shut down any bullshit.

and right across the street, in the sorority row was jennie kim, the pinks leader — fierce, unyielding, her dark eyes slicing through crowds like she owned the night. she was a legend in her own right, the kind of leader who turned whispers into roars.

their rivalry started long before you both have even stepped into nctu. stories has it that it started small — a spilled drink at a mixer, a stolen sign from their yard which eventually escalated into a full blown sabotage. jackson’s crew tp’d jennie’s house, she retaliated by spiking their punch with laxatives. pranks turned personal. they couldn’t stand each other. jackson calling her a “control freak with a vendetta,” jennie firing back that he was a “cocky prick hiding behind his bros.” the rivalry poisoned everything, turning neutral ground into no-man’s-land.

“stay away” – the only rule you’d hear during freshman initiation night and that warning worked like a charm. for years, everyone stayed away. the houses operated in parallel universes, eyes averted, tensions simmering but never boiling over into personal entanglements. jackson and jennie kept their distance, even going as far as moving houses just so they wouldn’t see each other — until they graduated that same year, off to bigger worlds leaving the rule lingering behind like bad graffiti. no one enforced it anymore, not really, but the fear struck, a shadow over every stolen glance.

both houses coexisted now, parties blending without incident, yet that unspoken barrier held firm, a relic haunting hookups and what-ifs. until….

🥢 two years ago. sophomore year. september 24th’s drunken mistake.

by sophomore year, hendery had risen to lead wayv as a sophomore while you were commanding the pinks with the same unshakeable poise jennie once had. and then that night came — at a massive off-campus rager where the booze flowed like water and the music pounded through the walls — that’s when everything cracked. the year’s wildest rager yet. red cups overflowed, the air thick with the haze of smoke, sweat, and the sharp tang of spilled liquor. as the newly inducted leader of the pinks, you carried jennie’s legacy like a crown of thorns. across the room, hendery owned the space with that cocky swagger, his crew hyping him up as he poured shots. it started innocently enough, a taunt tossed across the crowded kitchen like a grenade. you were rallying the pinks, laughing off the chaos when hendery approached, two shots in hand, his eyes locking on yours with that infuriating smirk, “heard you’re holding down jennie’s front now. cute. but let’s be real — jackson ran circles around her. wayv’s always been the real power here.”

you cock a brow, snatching one of the shots from him, downing it in a single burn that lit your throat on fire, “jackson? please. he was all flash, no substance. jennie built something solid…unlike your frat’s parade of egos.” the words hung sharp, the old rivalry flaring despite it not being yours to inherit. but as new leaders, the stay away rule pressed down hard, demanding you defend your ground.

hendery’s laugh was low, challenging, as he poured another round, “big talk from the pink princess. prove it. shots — loser admits their house sucks,” his gaze dared you, the crowd around you starting to notice, cheers rippling out. you grabbed the glass, clinking it against his, “you’re an asshole,” matching the smirk on his lips.

the first few went down easy, tequila burning smooth, banter flying fast. “jackson would've crushed this,” he shot back after the third, wiping his mouth, “he knew how to lead without the drama.”

“jennie taught us loyalty, not your frat’s cheap tricks,” you fired back, slamming the fourth, the room tilting just a bit. the competition heated up — fifth, sixth, seventh shot — neither backing down, the alcohol fueling the spat.

laughter turned to jabs, voices rising over the music, “admit it, pinks are just jennie’s leftovers,” he mocked, eight shot in hand, his cheeks flushed.

“ninth says wayv’s a bunch of dick riders for jackson,” you countered, the liquor buzzing hot in your veins, making his proximity feel hot. by the tenth, the world blurred at the edges, shots lined up like soldiers, the crowds chanting, “shots! shots! shots!” as you both refused to yield. his hand brushed yours while pouring the next, a spark jumping, but you shoved it down, focusing on the burn — eleventh, twelfth — the room spun, laughter slurring into something heavier.

“you’re tough, i’ll give you that,” he admitted, voice rough, a little slurred, leaning closer as you both steadied against the counter. by this time everyone else was too drunk to pay any attention to your competition, opting to go dancing instead, “—but jackson–”

“fuck jackson,” you snapped, grabbing his collar, the words tumbling out too loud, “and fuck you for thinking i’m a leftover when you’re just a jackson wannabe.”

and there it is — that fire in your voice, that blaze in your eyes, pulling him in like a magnet. he’d always harbored a tiny crush on you, watching from afar during freshman year, drawn to that sharp edge you wielded like a weapon. now, with the alcohol loosening everything, you were so close, your breath mingling with his, warm and tequila-scented against his lips. his hand came up, fingers brushing your wrist where you gripped his shirt, not pulling away but holding you there, the air between you thickening like smoke.

“is that how you see it?” he murmured, his free hand sliding to the small of your back, thumb pressing just enough to make your pulse jump, “or is this just an excuse to get in my face?”

you didn’t back down, your grip tightening, bodies inches apart, the heat from his chest seeping through your top, “maybe i just want you to shut up for once. prove you’re all talk,” you’re voice dropped, challenging, eyes flicking to his mouth before snapping back up, the proximity making your skin prickle.

his smirk deepened, eyes darkening as he leaned in, noses almost brushing, “careful what you wish for, i might just take that as an invitation.” the words hung heavy, his breath ghosting your lips, the tension coiling tighter, simmering and unspoken, until it snapped — he yanked you forward by the waist, crashing his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss that tasted of tequila and defiance. the world blurred to the crush of his lips, rough and demanding, his tongue pushing past your teeth without asking. you froze for a split second before you let the alcohol in your system make you match him beat for beat, hand fisting his shirt as you kissed back fiercely. his fingers dug into your hips, pulling you so tight your bodies molded.

he broke it first, pulling back just enough to grin, lips swollen and slick, his eyes locked on yours with that unyielding mischief. without a word, you let him drag you into the bathroom, stumbling after him, pulse racing, head spinning from the shots and the sudden heat, trying to process the reckless spark that had just ignited in front of half the party — thankfully they were all just as drunk as you to give a damn. he shoved open the bathroom door, pulling you inside and slamming it shut. the lock clicked, sealing you both away from prying stares, the cramped space instantly feeling smaller.

“what the hell was that?!” you demanded, trying to process what just happened, voice breathless as you spun around shoving at his chest while your heart hammered in yours. he just smirked wider, leaning on the bathroom door, amused, “don’t act like you weren’t giving me the eyes all night.” you stared at him then, the door at his back, his smirk still curling his lips, that dark glint in his eyes pulling you under. the rivalry, the shots, the public dare — it all twisted into something hotter, undeniable….

“fuck it.”

you whispered, more to yourself than him, before lunging forward, grabbing his collar and yanking him down to your lips, erasing the world outside, tongues tangling in a wet, frantic clash, his hands immediately roaming — gripping your waist, squeezing your ass, pulling you impossibly close until you moaned into him. you pushed him back against sink, nail raking his shoulders, biting his lower lip hard enough to make him hiss and thrust his hips forward, his erection grinding against your core. the kiss turned sloppy, breaths ragged, saliva mixing, tasting the lingering bite of tequila and pure desire. he spun you suddenly, pinning you to cool tile wall, his knee wedging between your legs to press against your aching pussy, the friction sending sparks up your spine.

“knew you’d cave in eventually—pinks can’t resist a real challenge like this,” he growled against your neck, teeth scraping skin before latching onto your collarbone, sucking a mark that would bruise by morning. you arched into him, hands diving into his hair, tugging until he groaned, the sound vibrating through you.

“less gloating, more touching,” you panted, yanking his shirt up to rake your nails down his abs, feeling them flex under your fingers. he shoved your skirt higher, fingers hooking into your panties, ripping them down your thighs in one rough pull. the air hit your slick folds and you gasped as he suddenly dropped to his knees, mouth diving in without warning, tongue flattening against your clit, as he ate sloppily, lapping broad and hungry licks, before plunging inside you, fucking you with it in deep, insistent strokes.

your head thunked back against the wall, legs spreading wider as pleasure coiled tight, his hands gripping your ass to hold you open, nose bumping your clit with each thrust, “you’re so pretty like this,” he muttered, voice muffled, sucking your folds into his mouth and grazing with teeth, the edge of pain making you buck. you ground down, riding his face, fingers twisting in his hair as the pressure built, fast and merciless, your thighs quivering around his ears — but he pulled back too soon, standing with a wicked grin, wiping his mouth as he freed his cock, hard and throbbing, veins pulsing under your gaze, pre-cum beading at the tip. the sight made your mouth water but he didn’t give you time to drop. instead, he lifted one of your legs to hook over his hip, lining up the bare head against your dripping your entrance.

“gonna fuck that attitude out of you,” he rasped, too drunk to think about grabbing a condom from his wallet, the haze of alcohol making protection the last thing on his mind as he entered in one brutal thrusts, stretching you wide, filling every inch with his hot, bare length. you cried out, the sound echoing off the tiles, nails digging into his back as he started pounding, hips snapping with raw force. no barrier between you, just skin on skin, the slick drag of his cock pulling at your walls with each withdrawal then slamming back in to hit that deep spot that made your vision blur.

“harder hendery—prove to me why jackson chose you,” you snarled, clenching around him deliberately and he laughed, dark and breathless, one hand bracing the wall as he railed you faster, the other coming up to wrap around your neck, choking you just enough to make your head spin. sweat slicked your skin, breaths mingling in hot pants, the room filling with the wet sounds of skin meeting skin, the tequila buzzing in your veins, loosening every inhibition, making you push back against him greedily, chasing the burn. he captured your mouth again, swallowing your moans as his tongue mimicked the thrust of his hips, teeth nipping your lips until they swelled.

then, with no warning, he dropped your leg to spin you around, bending you over the counter so you faced the foggy mirror — your reflection flushed and wild, lips parted on gasps, his eyes locked on you with that feral intensity as he thrust back in from behind. the new angle drove him deeper, his tip nudging your cervix with every plunge, making you keen and scrabble for purchase on the edge of the sink, anything to help keep you grounded.

“you love this—fucking me when you know you’re not supposed to,” he grunted, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other sliding between your legs to rub your clit in tight, furious circles, fingers slick with your juices, “you want to scream my name, don’t you? want everyone in this party to know you’re fucking the enemy.”

the pleasure spiked sharp and unrelenting you couldn’t even manage a snarky remark, your pussy fluttering wildly around him as the orgasm ripped through you hard and fast, eyes rolled back, lips parted, walls spasming in rhythmic pulses that dragged a guttural curse from his throat. you bit down on your lip to muffle the scream, body shaking, but he didn’t stop — he kept fucking you through it with relentless snaps, prolonging the waves until you were a trembling mess. his rhythm started faltering, breaths turning to ragged pants as his own release built, cock swelling impossibly thicker inside you, “fuck—gonna cum,” he warned through gritted teeth, the alcohol-fueled haze making him pull out at the last second, fisting his slick length as hot ropes of cum erupted across your ass, sliding down to your thighs, marking your skin in sticky white streaks, hips jerking with each spurt until he was spent, chest heaving as he smeared the last drops over your swelling hole.

you sagged against the counter, catching your breaths, the air thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat, aftershocks tingling through your limbs. he grabbed a wad of paper towels, wiping you down roughly but almost tenderly, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror — defiance and satisfaction warring in the charged silence. and in this moment you both realized — this was the best fuck either of you had ever had — raw, electric, shattering every tension this rivalry had built and yet, also fueling the fire, the addictive pull now impossible to deny.

you both cleaned up quickly, clothes askew, the evidence of your recklessness vanishing under hurried swiped, “this never happens again — no more crossing lines like this,” you said, firmly, voice edged with the lie you both knew it was.

“yeah, one time mistake to settle the score — won’t touch a pink again,” he agreed, though his eyes said otherwise, that smirk flickering back as he adjusted his shirt, the words tying back to the feud even in denial. you stormed out separately. him first, slipping in the crowd like nothing happened, then you, minutes later, heart still pounding, the sticky remnants a secret reminder between your thighs. but deep down, you knew promises like that were made to be shattered, the spark between you now a full-blown inferno waiting to rage.

🥢 back to present day.

“earth to hendery! you good, man?” yangyang claps him on the shoulder, the echo of that bathroom door slamming shut two years ago fading into the hum of the fridge, the weight of it all pressing in.

hendery leans against the sink, crossing his arms, the cool edge of porcelain biting into his back, “look, i’ve tried reasoning with her,” he admits, voice low but steady like he’s confessing to a crime he can’t quit, “she’s got this wall up — says the rule’s there for a reason. she doesn’t want to cross it, not openly. that it will only make things….complicated.”

teddy tilts her head, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing, “i guess that makes sense…unlike you guys, she’s actually lived the sorority up to its name — the pinks aren’t just pretty faces, y/n’s turned them into a force. no wonder she’s playing it safe.”

yangyang whips around to face her, brows furrowed in mock outrage, a little offended for his brother, “hey, that’s not nice.”

“what?” teddy shoots back, unfazed, her eyes sparkling with that playful mischief as she swings her legs again, “it’s true. you guys have what, a couple unknown losers in your frat? everyone knows the dream parties are where it’s at while wayv has turned into some kind of nerd convention.”

yangyang’s eyes narrow at his girlfriend, a grin splitting his face as he lunges forward, fingers digging into her sides with relentless precision. she squeals, twisting away on the counter, her laughter echoing off the tiled walls, “oh, you think you’re so funny?” he taunts playfully, hands relentless as he poke at her ribs, making her double over and kick her legs in protest. “yang! stop–get off!!” she gasps between giggles, swatting at his arms but her protests only fuel him. in one swift move, yangyang scoops her up off the counter, hoisting her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. “time to teach you some respect for the nerds,” he declares, marching towards the stairs with her dangling and still laughing, her fists pounding lightly against his spine. the kitchen door swings shut behind them with a creak, their footsteps thumping up the steps, fading into muffled banter and the occasional squeal.

hendery watches them go, the sudden silence settling over the room like a heavy blanket. maybe it was jealousy. who knows. he sinks into the nearest chair and stares at the half eaten banana on the table, mocking him. his mind drifts back to you — your fierce eyes, the way your body arched under him, all heat and hidden pleas. the rule lands between you like a chain, unbreakable in your mind even as it chokes him. graduation is coming up and what then? does it all end with you, too? do you both pretend none of the sneaking around happened and just go on your separate ways? like you two have never crossed paths? like he doesn’t have your body mapped out? or your moans memorized like a song he’d choose to play over and over again? he runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, the kitchen’s fluorescent hum the only company left in the quiet morning light.

🥟 NOVEMBER 15 - DO YOU LIKE MY NAILS? 🥟

almost two weeks later — you finally called. and like a lovesick puppy, hendery was at your side in seconds. now, you’re on your knees, between his legs, in the driver’s seat of his car, parked somewhere between the nail salon and the university, hand stroking his cock while your lips hover teasingly close.

“do you like my nails?,” you asked with that tiny pout on your lips, barely visible, but something he’s noticed throughout the years. he inspects the fresh white tips that’s currently wrapped around his member, his hand tangling through your hair, pulling lightly. he sucks in a breath, “they’re nice…but i do like the pink ones you had last week more.”

you smile up at him, always loving his attention to detail, “yeah?,” you say pressing kisses to his tip between breaths, “i like the way the white looks around your dick though,” you throw back playfully, starting to suck soft kisses on the side of his shaft, eyes looking up at him innocently. your tongue flicks out, tracing the vein along the underside, tasting the salt of his skin as you take the head into your mouth, sucking gently at first.

he chuckles, “well, i can’t argue with that,” his fingers tightening in your hair, guiding you without force, hips twitching upward as you hollow your cheeks and slide down further, enveloping more of his length. the car’s confined space makes it more intimate, your knees pressing into the floor mat, body angled between his spread thighs, barely any room to move. you bob your head slowly, savoring the moment, lips stretching around him, saliva pooling and dripping down to coat your fingers where they pump the base in rhythm. your french tipped nails gleam in the low light as they twist lightly, adding friction while your mouth works the upper half, sucking, licking, swirling your tongue over the sensitive slit to lap up the pre-cum that leaks steadily. he groans low, the sound rumbling from his chest, eyes locked on your face, watching your lips glide up and down his cock, your eyes closed like you were in a state of bliss. he’s obsessed.

“baobei, fuck,” he mutters, voice rough, thumb brushing your cheek as you take him deeper, “you’re killing me here…feels so damn good.”

you pull off just enough to murmur against his skin, “yeah? tell me how much you like it when i’m in charge,” your hand keeps stroking, firm and teasing, thumb circling the head.

he chuckles breathlessly, head falling back against the seat for a second before his gaze snaps back to you, dark and needy, “love it. you know i do.” you smirk, taking him in again, relaxing your throat to swallow around him. the sounds of his ragged breaths mixing with your muffled hums of pleasure fill the car. you’re faster now, head bobbing with purpose, cheeks hollowing as you suck harder, loving how he melts under your control, his usual dominance flipped on its head.

“fuck,” he pants, fingers flexing in your hair, “don’t stop.” you hum around him in response, the vibration making his thighs quake. you glance up through your lashes, seeing the way his chest heaves, completely at your mercy. it turns you on even more, knowing he’s putty in your hands — these rare moments where he lets you wreck him for once instead of the other way around. your free hand slides up to cup his balls, rolling them gently while your mouth takes him deep, gagging slightly when he hits the back of your throat, but you push through, eyes watering as you deepthroat him, nose brushing his pelvis.

“baobei, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he groans, voice cracking, hips rolling up instinctively but slowing when you squeeze his thigh in warning — your show, your rules. grinning at how wrecked he sounds, you suck with fervor now, hand pumping the base in quick twists. his abs tense under you, body arching as the pleasure coil tight. “shit—just like that— please,” he pants, voice breaking on a moan when you hum around him again, the vibration shooting straight through him. you speed up, mouth and hand working in tandem, drool trailing down your chin, messy and hot. “fuck–i’m—” his grip tightens in your hair, hips bucking as he cums, hot spurts flooding your mouth, coating your tongue. you swallow around him, milking every drop with slow, deliberate sucks, watching the way his eyelids flutter close, mouth parted in bliss as you prolong his orgasm until he’s shuddering.

pulling off with a pop, you lick your lips clean, then lean up to kiss him softly, sharing the lingering taste. hendery cups your face, leading you up into his lap for a deeper embrace, his arms wrapping around you in the afterglow, “you’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers against your hair, that hidden sweetness surfacing as he holds you close, still catching his breath from how thoroughly you’d unraveled him.

“i know,” you reply playfully. hendery rolls his eyes, a grin on his lips, before he kisses you again, tongue slipping past to tangle with yours. you moan softly into his mouth, fingers threading through his hair to tug him nearer. his lips move hungrily against yours, the makeout heating up fast. one hand cups the back of your neck, holding you steady, the other roaming down to squeeze your hip, grinding you lightly against his sensitive cock. you melt into it for a moment, lost in his kisses, but reality nags at the edge of your mind. with a gasp, you pull back, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening, “hendery, i can’t today…need to get back…i have a meeting with the girls,” you murmur between breathy moans, his mouth already trailing hot kisses along your jaw, down to your neck where he sucks a mark just below your ear, easy enough to hide with your hair.

he hums against your skin, vibrations sending shivers down your spine, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he nips lightly, “i’ll make it quick, you know i can,” he whispers, voice low and rough, lips brushing everywhere — your pulse point, the hollow of your throat, the swell of your breast peeking from your top. you smirk playfully, heat already pooling low in your belly because damn, he really can wreck you in record time. the temptation wins out, your resolve crumbling under his touch. “all fours, in the back, come on,” he says with a grin, eyes dark with promise and mischief. you both share a laugh, the sound light in the steamy confines, breaking the tension just enough to make it fun. you don’t waste another second, hopping over the console into the backseat, hendery chuckling and giving your ass a playful slap before your knees sinks into the leather as you position yourself on all fours, ass up, skirt hiked around your waist. he tugs his pants back up just enough to cover himself before stepping out of the car and circling around to the back door. the cool air rushes in briefly as he climbs in behind you, door slamming shut, sealing you both in privacy again. thank god for his tinted windows. his hands are on you immediately, yanking your panties down to your thighs, exposing your soaked pussy to the air.

“look at you — already dripping for me,” he growls, thumb parting your folds to tease your clit, circling it roughly before dipping inside to feel your wetness.

you arch your back, pushing against his hand with a whine, “hurry the fuck up,” you tease, glancing over your shoulder to see him shoving his jeans down again, his cock springing free, hard and ready despite just cumming.

“watch that mouth,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back sharply, forcing you to meet his intense gaze, “or i’ll drag this on longer than it needs to be.” his voice is low and rough, dripping with authority as he lines up his bare cock against your entrance. you’ve ditched condoms months ago. he’d made it clear — no more barriers between you. nothing beats the raw feel of skin on skin, his thick shaft sliding directly into your heat without anything dulling the sensation.

he grips your hips with bruising force, nails digging in as he thrusts in with one brutal snap of his hips, burying himself balls deep, “fuck you’re tight,” he growled, arching your spine as he drove deeper, his other palm cracking against your ass in sharp, possessive slaps that left red marks blooming on your skin. he knows you like it like this — rough, fast, hard. the pleasure showed as you moaned loudly, your body trembling under his relentless movements. he leaned over you, chest pressing to your back, teeth grazing your shoulder before biting down, not gentle, marking you as his in a way that thrilled and claimed, “take it all,” he demanded, voice husky against your ear, his free hand snaking around to rub rough circles on your clit, forcing your pleasure to come quicker and quicker.

your fingers claw at the seat, body jolting with ever thrusts, breasts bouncing under your top, “hendery—fuck, yes, harder,” you gasp, clenching around him, the pressure building fast in your core. he obliges, driving deeper, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over, sparks exploding behind your eyes. sweat beads on your skin, the scent of sex thick in the air, his free hand smacks your ass again, harder this time, the jolt making you tighten around him, “gonna cum inside you, fill this pussy up,” he groans, voice strained, thrusts turning erratic yet still controlled.

“oh my god—hendery–,” you clenched around him, walls fluttering, your moans a babbling mess, but he didn’t let up, fucking you harder, faster, the car rocking to his brutal rhythm. your arms buckled, face pressing into the seat as waves of ecstasy built incredibly quick. he hauled you up by your waist, making you feel every inch as he bottomed out, “cum for me, be my good girl and cum.”

the dominance in his tone, the way he controlled your body like it was made for him — it all pushed you over the edge. you came with a cry, screaming his name, body trembling, pussy spasming around his bare cock as he groaned deep, thrusts turning erratic, “that’s it—fuck, yes,” he snarled, burying himself to the hilt and flooding you with hot spurts, creaming your insides as his own hips stutter. he collapses over you briefly, chest heaving against your back, cock twitching as he pumps the last of his load into you. then he pulls out slow, watching his cum leak from your fucked-out hole, a satisfied smirk on his face, "quick enough?" he teases, helping you sit up, both of you laughing breathlessly in the afterglow before he reached for the tissues he kept in his console, cleaning you up in that hidden sweetness he saved for you.

🥢

hendery pulls up around the corner from the sorority house, far enough away that no prying eyes will spot the wayv frat leader’s car. the engine hums as you unbuckle, turning to face him. leaning in, you press a quick peck to his lips, soft and lingering just a second longer than necessary, “thanks for picking me up from the salon,” you murmur, your voice light, nails, those fresh white tips, trailing lightly down his arm. he kisses you back, cupping your cheek with his palm, thumb stroking your jaw, “anytime,” he replies, eyes holding yours with that intense gaze that always makes your stomach flip, a feeling you push away every time.

“i’ll call you,” you whisper against his lips, stealing one last kiss, deeper this time, tongues brushing briefly before you pull away, heart racing. with a final wink, you hop out of the car, shutting the door softly behind you. your hips sway as you walk the rest of the way, skirt swishing against your legs, the faint ache between your thighs a delicious reminder of him.

hendery watches from the driver’s seat, fingers tightening on the wheel as your figure retreats into the shadows of the street, disappearing around the bend toward the house. he exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair, the emptiness hitting him like it always does — how much longer can he do this? hide you? hide whatever the hell this situationship is? the thought gnaws at him, sharp and unrelenting, as he shifts into drive and pulls away.

🥟 NOVEMBER 22 - FUN. 🥟

it takes another week for you to reach out to him. classes dragged on, meetings blurred into one another and by the time sunday rolled around, campus was a ghost town, most students nursing hangovers or escaping the stress.

baobei: meet me at the usual classroom.

baobei: need you…

and just like that, hendery shows up without a word, locking the door behind him before pinning you against the desk, his fingers plunged into your soaked pussy, curling just right to hit that spot that emptied your mind. you gripped the edge of the wooden desk, your skirt hiked up around your waist, panties shoved aside as he worked you over with ruthless precision, “fuck, hendery,” you moaned, watching the way his digits disappeared into your heat, in and out, “just like that—god, that feel’s so good–” you chased the heat, hips bucking up to meet his fingers while his thumb circled your clit, fast and unrelenting, the wet sounds echoing in the empty room.

hendery didn’t know why he kept doing this — running to you in a heartbeat as soon as you call out his name like he was some sort of dog waiting for his owner, especially when you’ve been leading him on a string, refusing to label whatever this is. he could argue the sex was just too good, the way your tight heat gripped him until he couldn’t hold back, flooding you with his cum in raw, skin on skin bliss. but that was bullshit. he was too far gone, had been ever since that night in august.

🥢 three months ago. august 31. the broken air conditioner, shrek 2, and dumplings.

the two of you had just finished fucking, your bodies slick with sweat on his rumpled sheets. the wayv house was quiet, the air conditioner humming faintly, a mercy compared to the oven back at yours. it was just the start of the final year, and somehow the maintenance department completely overlooked your sorority house.

“god, it’s still so fucking hot over there,” you complained. the pinks house felt like a steam room, the broken unit leaving everyone irritable and sticky. you dreaded going back, even for a shower.

hendery rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand, his gaze lingering on the curve of your ass, a hand settling on your waist, pulling you closer, “just sleep over. no one has to know. stay here with me,” and when he sees the hesitation in your face, he continues, “it’s better than roasting alive.”

the thought of sleeping in the humid night was enough to make you lose your bearings, “fine. but if anyone finds out, you’re the one explaining.” you grabbed the remote from his nightstand, flopping onto the bed and scrolling through netflix as he watched you contently scroll through his home page, “what do you want to watch?”

he shrugged, joining you and pulling you against his chest, “pick whatever, i’m good.”

you settled on shrek 2 — the perfect unwind. as the movie kicked off, you couldn’t help it, quoting lines under your breath at first, then full-on reciting with exaggerated voices. by the time the drive thru scene came along, you were in full swing, changing your voice to fit each character “you force me to do something i really don’t want to do” *gasps* “where are we?” “well, hi there welcome to friar’s fat boy, may i take your order?” “my diet is ruined! i hope you’re happy…er…okay. two renaissance wraps, no mayo…chili ring,” “i’ll have the medieval meal.” “yeah, one medieval meal and harold…curly fries?”...

hendery’s laughter rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your back, “you know, when you’re not in full girlboss, lawyer mode, i’m-that-bitch energy, you’re just…adorable,” he whispered by your ear.

you squinted up at him from where you lay nestled in his arms, “don’t make me regret this.”

he laughed harder, the sound rich and unfiltered, “i’m just saying, you’re like really precious and…cute. a tiny little darling.”

your glare sharpened, though your lips twitched, shrek 2 forgotten in the background, “hendery.”

still chuckling, he persisted, his thumb brushing your jaw, “there’s a word for it in chinese,” you raised a brow, curiosity piqued, “baobei.”

you blinked, tilting your head, “that sounds like a type of dumpling.”

his laughter erupted again, full and genuine as he reached over and squeezed your cheek — annoyingly, lovingly, pinching just enough to make you swat at his hand, “it kinda fits, don’t you think? my little precious dumpling. soft, sweet…and stuffed full tonight,” he winks playfully.

“you’re ridiculous,” you rolled your eyes then. but you couldn’t hide the smile as you snuggled closer, the movie playing on.

🥢 back to present day.

that nickname lingered, weaving into your secrets, turning stolen nights into something you both craved beyond the physical. and now, three months later, it was why he couldn’t stop.

he shoved your skirt higher and yanked your panties down your thighs, leaving them tangled in your ankles, you kicked them off impatiently, spreading your legs wide in invitation, your core still throbbing from the aftershocks of your first orgasm. hendery stepped between your thighs, his jeans already undone, cock springing free. he’d been hard since he walked in, the outline straining against his zipper the whole time he fingered you. he gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge, the head of his cock nudging your slick entrance, “you ready?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question, more a growl of anticipation. you nodded, biting your lip, hands fisting his shirt as he thrust in with one sharp snap of his hips.

“fuck,” you gasped, the stretch burning sweet as he filled you completely. your walls fluttered around his length, still sensitive from your climax, every inch of him dragging against your nerves. he pulled back almost all the way before slamming back in, the desk creaking under the force, your ass sliding against the surface with each pounding thrust. his hands dug into your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open as he fucked you deep.

“god, i fucking love this,” he grunted, leaning down to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangled, teeth nipping, his breath hot against your lips as he drove into you over and over again. one hand slid up to cup your breast through your top, thumb flicking your hardened nipple, sending tingles straight to your core. you arched into him, pulling him closer, urging him on, the risk of it all only heightening the thrill. he broke the kiss to trail bites down your neck, sucking marks that you’d learn how to hide, his pace never slowing, “tell me you need this,” he demanded between thrusts, voiced edged with that vulnerability he only let slip in these stolen moments, “need me inside you like this.”

“i do,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper, “need you so much—fuck, hendery–need you all the time–” his hips snapped faster, cock hitting just the way you like it. sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto your collarbone as he chased his own release, the tension in his body winding like a spring.

“baobei,” he groaned, burning his face in your neck, thrusts turning erratic and with a final, deep shove, he came, marking you from the inside out. the sensation tipped you over again, your second orgasm ripping through you as you clenched around his throbbing length. he stayed inside, both of you panting in the aftermath, his weight a grounding press against you.

you both lingered for a moment longer, his cock softening inside you, the warmth of his cum leaking out as he finally pulled away with a reluctant groan. hendery helped you down from the desk, his touch gentle now, fingers brushing your thighs as you steadied yourself on wobbly legs. you straightened your skirt, smoothing it over your hips while he tucked himself back into his jeans. you grabbed the wipes you kept in your purse, cleaning up the mess between your thighs, ran your finger through your hair to tame the wild strands and wiped at the smudged remnants of your lip gloss. he adjusted his shirt, buttoning it properly, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds.

“that was…intense,” you said, forcing a light laugh, “think the desk is okay? we might need to warn it next time,” you shot him a playful wink, easing into your usual banter, the one that kept things fun and uncomplicated. but hendery didn’t laugh. he leaned against one of the nearby tables, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor with a distant expression. his jaw was set, that post-orgasm glow fading into something heavier, more introspective. you paused, sensing the shift.

“is everything okay?” you asked, stepping closer.

“yeah, why?” he replied quickly, his voice clipped, eyes lifting to meet yours but not quite holding the gaze.

“you’re quieter than usual,” you pointed out, tilting your head. the hendery you knew would be cracking a joke by now, maybe pulling you in for one more kiss before you both snuck out.

“it’s nothing,” he waved off, pushing away from the table slightly, but his shoulders remained tense.

“i don’t believe you. tell me what’s wrong,” you said, standing in front of him now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. your hand hovered near his arm, wanting to touch but holding back.

he let out a breath, long and heavy, his hands finding your waist almost instinctively. his fingers splayed across the fabric of your skirt, rubbing up and down in slow, soothing strokes that sent a different kind of warmth through you, “it’s just…what are we doing?”

you looked at him, blinking up at his serious expression, “well, we just had mindblowing sex,” you replied, still trying to keep it playful, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“y/n — i’m serious,” he cut you off, his tone sharpening just enough to wipe the humor away, “we’re not sleeping with other people and we’re not officially seeing each other too, so…what are we?”

you lost your smile, the words hitting like a splash of cold water. you couldn’t exactly call him your friend — he was your rival, or at least he had been, back when the lines between wayv and the pinks were drawn in stone. but he wasn’t really that anymore either, not after all the stolen nights and whispered secrets.

“hendery, come on, i’m not having this conversation again.” this isn't the first time he’s brought this up. “we already agreed that we’re just having fun.”

“is it still that though? just fun?,” he looked at you, waiting, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“yes.” you said finally, the words feeling flimsy even as they left your mouth. he stopped rubbing at your waist and you immediately missed the comfort it provided as he pulled his hands away, stepping back just an inch.

“right…just fun,” he muttered, the word laced with a bitterness that stung.

“oh come on, what do you want me to say?” you said suddenly defensive, crossing your arms.

“i just want you to be honest,” hendery replied, his voice steady but edged with frustration.

“well, that’s my truth,” you said stubbornly, holding his gaze even as doubt flickered in your own mind. the silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, the playfulness you’d clung to crumbling under the weight of his gaze. hendery’s eyes, usually so sharp with mischief or desire, softened with something raw — hurt, maybe, or resignation. it twisted something deep in your chest, a pang you weren’t ready to name.

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, his posture slumping against the table as if the fight had drained out of him, “well…i don’t think i want to have just fun anymore,” he said, his voice low, laced with a vulnerability that made your breath catch.

“what are you saying?” you asked, your heart pounding erratically, the classroom suddenly feeling too small, the walls closing in on the fragile bubble you’d built around this — whatever this was.

“you’ve made it pretty clear this isn’t going anywhere,” he replied, his tone steady but edged with pain, “so let’s just stop wasting each other’s time—”

“hendery—” you tried to butt in, your voice cracking slightly, desperation creeping in as the ground shifted beneath you.

“i’d like to see other people,” he continued, not letting you interrupt, his words slicing through the air like a knife, “we’re graduating soon. i need to start thinking about my future and let’s face it, y/n. we don’t have one.”

the words landed like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from your lungs. you could feel your heart break, a sharp, aching fracture you didn’t want to acknowledge — not after you’d spent months convincing yourself this meant nothing, that it was just stolen moments and nothing more. but the lie tasted bitter now, the denial crumbling as tears pricked at the back of your eyes. your throat tightened, emotions warring inside you — anger, fear, a desperate longing you’d buried deep all falling into one word…

“fine,” you said firmly, forcing your stoic face back on, the mask you wore so well. unreadable, unflinching, even as your insides twisted in agony.

“okay…” hendery nods slowly, “…after three years, we just…end like this,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the rivalry — the taunts, the tension, the slow burn that led to this — crushing him visibly. his eyes searched yours, pleading for something, anything, to salvage the wreckage. you wanted to stop it, to take back every word, every deflection. to grab his shirt and pull him close, to admit that fun had become so much more. but fear, that stubborn shield, held you back. instead, you delivered the final blow, like an arrow shooting through both of your hearts.

“there’s nothing to end when it never even began.”

he sighed, a deep, weary sound that echoed through your own hidden turmoil, his shoulders sagging, “don’t be that cruel.”

you just stepped away, the distance between you feeling vast and irreversible, your legs heavy as you turned toward the door, “i hope you find whatever future it is you want,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside, before finally walking away, the click of the door behind you sealing the fracture.

🥟 NOVEMBER 23 - NOTHING. 🥟

the morning light filters through the thin curtains of your room as you lie there, staring at the ceiling, the events of yesterday replaying in an endless loop that twists your gut tighter with each pass. hendery’s words echo relentlessly, the echo of his voice cracking just enough to betray the pain he was trying to hide replaying in your head like a curse. and you, with your sharp retort, there’s nothing to end when it never even began – god, why did you say that? it felt like armor at the time but now it just aches, a self-inflicted wound festering in the quiet.

your phone sits silent on the nightstand, no texts, no calls. part of you waits for one anyway, some sign that he didn’t mean it, that the three years of stolen glances, heated arguments and even hotter nights weren’t as disposable as you both pretended. but the screen stays dark, mocking your turmoil.

two months ago, everything seemed so contained. you both laid it out the second it felt like this was starting to get serious — just fun, nothing more. no strings, no futures, no breaking the rivalry’s invisible chains. how did it unravel so fast? now this, whatever “this” was, feels like it’s bleeding out on the floor.

you roll over, burying your face in the pillow. tears prick at your eyes, hot and unwelcomed but you blink them back. no, you won’t cry over this. you insisted it meant nothing, built walls around your heart with every deflection, grew your pride as high as a tower. yet here you are, heart splintered, replaying not just yesterday but the moment you thought you both had an agreement.

🥢 two months ago. september 27. birthday-eve.

the cinema is dimly lit, the forgotten indie flick droning on about lost love or whatever — background noise to the real show unfolding in the back row. you’d orchestrated this perfectly — empty seats, no prying eyes. it was the day before hendery’s birthday and you’d told yourself it was just another “session.” a way to unwind without the labels that could shatter everything. no date, no romance. just the two of you, tangled in the plush seats, his hands roaming your sides as your lips met in a slow, heated kiss. he pulls back first, his breath warm against your skin, trailing soft kisses down your neck that send shivers through you.

“baobei,” he murmurs, voice husky with that teasing lilt he knows drives you wild, “are you sure this isn’t a date?” his words hang playful but there’s a fracture of truth beneath them, a quiet hope flickering in his dark eyes as he nips at your collarbone. you can feel the weight of it, the way he’s been teasing boundaries lately — lingering touches after sex, questions about your day that veer too close to caring, the nickname that you let slide every time because you secretly adored it.

“of course not,” you reply, forcing a laugh to keep things light, your fingers threading through his hair to pull him back in for another kiss but he resists just enough, hovering there, his lips brushing yours in a ghost of contact.

“come on,” he presses, his hand sliding up your thigh under the hem of your skirt, thumb tracing lazy circles that make your pulse quicken, “movie theater, just us, tomorrow’s my birthday…smells like a date to me,” his grin is cocky, but his gaze searches yours, probing for more than the usual banter.

you shift in the seat, the leather creaking softly and capture his lower lip between your teeth, nipping to distract him, “it’s a hookup with perks,” you say when you release him, voice breathy but firm, “birthday eve fun. don’t overthink it, hendery.”

he chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your chest as he leans in again, but theres a pause, a moment where his hand stills on your leg, “what if i want to overthink it? we’ve been doing this for years now — sneaking around, breaking every rule in the book. the rivalry’s bullshit, baobei. why not make it real?”

your heart stutters at that, the vulnerability in his tone cracking your resolve. it’s tempting, so damn tempting, to let it be more. but the warnings echo — jackson and jennie’s fallout, the unwritten code that could destroy your house if you’re caught. and deeper still, something you refuse to acknowledge…your own fear. what if it crashes and burns, leaving nothing but ashes?

“no,” you say softly, cupping his face to hold his gaze, “we can’t. you know why. the frats, the sorority — it’ll be a mess. and us? we’re good like this. fun. no drama, no expectations.”

he searches your eyes, jaw tightening slightly, but then he nods, because at the end of the day — he’ll take whatever you can give.

“fun, huh? alright, just fun it is,” his hand resumes its path, slipping higher, fingers brushing the edge of your panties in a way that reignites the heat between you, “but if that’s the deal, we stick to it. no almost-dates, no getting soft on me.”

“agreed,” you whisper against his lips, even as a tiny voice inside whispers doubts, “just for fun. nothing more.” sealing it with a kiss, your lips crashing into his with renewed hunger, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate rhythm that drowns out the movie’s murmur. hendery’s hand sliding fully under your skirt now, fingers hooking the edge of your panties and yanking them aside. you gasp into his mouth as he presses two fingers against your slick folds, parting them with a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your leg part wider involuntarily.

“you’re already so wet for me,” he groans against your lips, voice rough and low, eyes half lidded with lust, “this what you planned for my birthday eve?”

you nod, breathless, your hand fumbling with his belt buckle in retaliation. the metal clinks softly in the quiet theater and you pop the button on his jeans, zipping it down as you reach inside, his cock already hard and throbbing against your palm. you wrap your fingers around the thick shaft, stroking from base to tip with a firm grip that draws a hiss from him.

“yeah,” you murmur, nipping at his jawline, your thumb circling the bead of pre-cum at his head, “planned to make you come so hard you forget all that date bullshit.”

he chuckles darkly, thrusting his fingers deeper into your pussy, curling them just right to hit that spot he knows you like. you clench around him, walls tightening as he pumps in and out, his palm grinding against your clit with every curl.

you match his pace, stroking him up and down, “shit, your hand feels too good,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, his free hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider, “faster,” he pleads just as he changed the rhythm of his fingers. you moan in response, obeying, twisting your wrist to make him groan louder, wanting him to cum before you do. he seems to have the same idea, retaliating by scissoring his fingers inside you, stretching your pussy with a burn that borders on pain, but you love it, grinding down to take more.

your makeout turns frantic, lips bruising as you continue kissing and sucking on his tongue. saliva slicks your chins, breaths coming in hot bursts between kisses, “hendery,” you whine, pumping him harder, your nails digging into his shoulder, “you—fuck—right there, don’t stop.”

“not stopping until you cum first,” he growls, curling his fingers deeper, making you cry out into his mouth. he silences you with another kiss, tongue mimicking the thrust of his fingers, while you jerk him off with relentless speed, feeling him swell even thicker in your grip.

but he was always going to win this — he always does.

you reached the edge first, your walls clamping down, slick and greedy, as his thumb flicks over your clit in rapid, insistent swiped that make your thighs tremble against his hand, “come on, baobei,” he rasps into your mouth, tongue sweeping in to claim yours again, “let go for me, want to feel you squeeze my fingers when you cum,” his voice is a gravelly command, breath hot against your lips, and sends a fresh wave of heat flooding through you.

you whimper, the sound muffled by his mouth as your hand go slack in his boxers for a bit, your release completely taking over, “fuck—hendery—” you gasp, the soul snapping pleasure exploding outward in sharp, shuddering waves. your pussy convulses around him, gushing over his knuckles as you cum hard, body seizing with the intensity of it. your hand squeezing his cock tighter to keep you grounded.

he groans, watching your face twist in ecstasy, “that’s it—so fucking beautiful when you fall apart,” he captures your lips again, softer this time but no less hungry as your breaths mingle in the dim light. your orgasm leaves you boneless, but you don’t let up on him, resuming the firm pumps along his shaft, thumb teasing the sensitive underside of his head. he’s rock hard in your grip, hips snapping into your touch.

he breaks the kiss with a sharp gasp, nipping at your shoulder, “gonna cum—shit, you’re gonna make me cum so hard,” his body tenses, muscles coiling like a spring and with a guttural curse, hendery shudders, cock jerking wildly as he erupts in his boxers, his sticky cum coating your fingers.

“fuck,” he pants, slumping against you, his chest heaving as the last pulses fade. he kisses you lazily now, all heat and satisfaction. your hand slows, squeezing out the final drops and he shivers at the overstimulation, a soft laugh escaping him. slowly, you pull your hand out of his boxers, cum coats your fingers and palm, thick and warm and without breaking eye contact, you bring it to your lips. your tongue darts out, licking a broad stripe across your palm, tasting the salty bitterness of him as you suck each finger clean one by one. your eyes tease him the whole time, half-lidded and playful, watching his gaze darken with fresh hunger.

hendery’s breath catches, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes dark but tender, “can’t get enough of you.”

and just to bring two of you back into this crashing reality, you smirk playfully, “that was fun… wasn't it?”

🥢 back to present day.

your bedroom bursts open without a knock, slamming against the wall with enough force to rattle your desk lamp and shatter your daydream. in tumble yuna, natty, sophia, ryujin, winter and yeji — a whirlwind of wide eyes, tangled hair and barely contained chaos, their energy sucking the air from the room like a vacuum.

“YOU!” they shout in unison, voices overlapping in a screech that pierces the air and sends your heart into overdrive.

you bolt upright, heart slamming into your ribs, sheets pooling around your waist, “what? did i leave the curler on again?” your voice comes out sharper than intended, laced with tremors you can’t hide, pulse racing as you scan their faces, trying to read where this situation is heading. natty’s mouth agape in shock, sophia’s hands planted firmly on her hips, yuna already yanking out her phone like it’s a loaded gun pointed right at you. your mind spins. did someone die? is the house on fire? what the hell could warrant this invasion?

“YOU HOOKED UP WITH WAYV’S LEADER?!” winter blurts it first, her cheeks flushed pink, with a mix of disbelief and thrill, while yeji nods quickly beside her, eyes wide as saucers.

the air around you crashes, heavy and suffocating, like the walls are closing in, compressing your chest until you can barely breath. your stomach plummets, cold sweat prickling your skin, nausea rising in your throat. “what?” it’s barely a whisper, denial bubbling up even as pure dread coils tight in your gut, twisting like a knife. this can’t be happening. not now.

not when it was already over.

yuna doesn’t hesitate — she shoves her phone right in your face, the screen inches from your nose, bright and unforgiving. there it is — a blurry photo, snapped through the classroom door’s narrow window. you could barely tell who it was but you knew — it was you, skirt bunched at your waist, legs spread wide on the desk, hendery’s body pressed between them, his hand vanished under the fabric, your lips connected. the angle catches the raw intensity — his shoulders tense and flexed, your fingers digging into his shirt, the unmistakable grind of hips that screams everything forbidden and reckless. and if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation crashing over you like a tidal wave, you might've paused to appreciate how utterly hot the two of you looked in that frozen moment. but right now, all you can think is….

shit. shit, shit, shit.

your blood runs cold, vision tunneling on that damning image until the edges blur. how? who? the campus was practically empty that afternoon, the door locked tight — it was supposed to be safe, a stolen hour away from the world, from the eyes that could destroy everything you’ve built. but now…it’s viral isn’t? bouncing through group chats, igniting the powder keg of campus gossip like a match to gasoline. the pinks and wayv rivalry slams into your mind like a freight train — the unwritten rules carved into the stone of tradition, years of bad blood from jackson and jennie’s era, the feud that haunted every mixer, every glance like a malevolent shadow. your presidency, your reputation, the sorority’s spotless image — it's all crumbling in that single snapshot. expulsion? humiliation? the girls turning on you? your breath hitches, hands trembling as you clutch the sheets, the room spinning in a haze of panic.

“th-that’s ai? deepfake or something?” you stammer, your voice cracking like fragile glass, leaning back as if distance could erase the evidence.

yuna snatches the phone back with a scoff, “girl, that’s hendery—full on railing you against the desk!” ryujin elbows her, but her eyes gleam with that gossip-fueled thrill, “we saw it pop up in the campus confessions anon account, ‘pinks leader gets fucked by wayv prez—rivalry over?’ has like fifty reactions already, fire and shock emojis everywhere.”

natty finally snaps out of her wide-eyed stupor, flopping onto the foot of your bed with a dramatic sigh that does nothing to ease the vise around your lungs, “okay, but spill—how long has this been going on? you’ve been ice queen to those frat boys since day one.” her tone isn’t sharp, it’s probing, eager, like she’s starving for the plot twists that got you here.

sophia slides in next to her, crossing her legs and leaning forward with a grin that’s starting to form, “yeah, we need details! was it as hot and as intense as it looks?,” she’s excited now, the initial shock melting into curiosity, her laughter bubbling up like this is just another tea time.

your mind is a storm — visions of the sorority board calling an emergency meeting, whispers in the halls labeling you a traitor, hendery’s face twisted in regret as the fallout hits him too. but as you force yourself to look around, really look, their faces aren’t masks of betrayal or anger. winter’s biting her lip to stifle a smile, not a scowl. yeji’s scrolling through her own phone with a soft chuckle. even yuna’s pacing has slowed to an excited little bounce on her toes, her eyes sparkling with mischief rather than malice. they’re not storming on you. they’re…thrilled? your chest tightens further, confusion warring with the terror but the edges of the panic start to fray, just a little, as the reality seeps in.

ryujin catches your eye, her smirk softening into something almost supportive, “come on, we’re not gonna bite. this is prime drama. but hendery? total iconic move. start from the beginning—when did it start?”

yuna’s leaning in now, phone still clutched like a trophy, her voice pitching up with hunger for more, realization dawning upon her, “oh my god! it was his voice i heard after halloween! holy shit! give us the tea—”

“wait,” you cut her off, your voice still shaking but gaining a thread of steel, the words tumbling out as the panic crests and begins to recede, like a wave pulling back from the shore, “—you guys aren’t upset?” your eyes dart between them, searching for the crack, the hidden judgment, but finding none — just expectant faces and shared glances.

“why would we be?” winter says simply, tilting her head with a raised brow, as if the question itself is absurd. she reaches over to squeeze your knee reassuringly, her touch grounding you further.

“they’re the enemy,” you blurt, the old mantra rising like reflex, your heart still thudding but slower now, the cold sweat cooling on your skin, “i mean, jennie practically cemented it in our heads — wayv is nothing but bad news, we need to stay on top. this could tank everything.”

yuna just giggles, a light, bubbly sound that cuts through the remnants of your dread like sunlight through fog, “yeah, three years ago…when we were freshies scrambling to fit in.”

you nod slowly, the motion mechanical, your mind catching up, “yeah….why are you giggling?” you say cautiously, voice softening as you sit up straighter.

“because that was three years ago, y/n,” yuna replies, plopping down beside sophia with a grin that lights up the room, “you’ve been the leader since sophomore year. you’ve managed to turn our house into the number one sorority on campus — parties that pack, philanthropy that gets us in the papers, sisters who’d die for each other. you mean to tell me you can’t change a few rules? unofficial rules, by the way. jennie’s ghost isn’t running this show anymore — you are and you have been.”

the words hit like a gentle slap, rippling through your panic until dissolves entirely, leaving clarity in its wake. that’s when it sinks in, deep and undeniable — this feud, it’s all been in your head. a self-imposed cage you built brick by brick, chasing perfection, desperate to be the next jennie but better, untouchable, flawless. you didn’t even realize you’d already surpassed her, topped the rankings, forged a legacy that stands on its own.

the girls are watching you, their expressions a mix of patience and pride, no trace of the anger you’d braced for. relief floods you, warm and expansive, easing the knot in your chest until you can finally breathe.

but then something else gnaws at you. something deeper. this whole rivalry. it’s been your mask, hasn’t? because admitting how useless, how outdated it all is, forces you to confront the rest — the thing you’ve buried under checklists and goals. and even now, as quiet resolve settles in, you still can’t find it in yourself to admit the truth. so you don’t.

the words tumble out of you like a dream breaking, fragile and unbidden, carrying the weight of almost three years’ worth of buried secrets, “okay–okay, uhm, it started sophomore year…” your voice wavers at first, a hesitant thread in the charged silence of the room, but as the confession gains momentum, it pulls you under, forcing you to relive every stolen glance, every heated clash that blurred the line between hate and hunger. you start from the very beginning, the night of that infamous rager where you first hooked up, gasps rippling through the room as you recount it, “no way—that long ago?” natty comments, hanging on every detail, while ryujin whispers a shocked, “holy shit,” under her breath. but you keep going, the floodgates open now, each memory spilling out. every secret hookup reveal draws them closer, eyes wide and sparkling with vicarious thrill. the room alive with oohs and aahs, the initial shock long dissolved into pure, unfiltered glee.

finally, you trail off, the weight of it all settling back in, the air humming with anticipation. “damn, i need a cold shower after all that. hendery’s got game, huh? no wonder you kept going back,” sophia comments with a smirk, making the room burst out in harmonized giggles.

yuna, ever the instigator, tilts her head, eyes with and gleaming with that insatiable curiosity, “and now? what are you guys now?”

the question lands like a punch, stealing your breath. your chest tightens, heart squeezing in your chest as the truth surges up — unwanted, insistent, a warmth that terrifies you with its depth. hendery isn’t just a hookup or a rival you fuck to spite the rules. he’s the one you call when you need someone there, who traces lazy patterns on your back after sex, who looks at you like you’re the only thing grounding him in the chaos. you’ve fallen, hard and irrevocably but admitting it? that would crack the facade you’ve clung to. the ironclad control of a leader who plans every move, who doesn’t let messy emotions derail the path to perfection. love is a wildcard. a disruption to the sorority’s rise, your future, everything you’ve armored yourself against. it’s vulnerability wrapped in ecstasy, and you can’t — won’t — let it in. not out loud. not when saying it makes it real, strips away the denial that’s kept you safe.

you suck in a breath, the lie forming on your tongue like ash, bitter and choking. it burns as it escapes, a shield you raise even as your heart rebels, the reluctance a heavy anchor, refusing to voice the more that pulses beneath the surface, keeping hendery boxed as a fling, a secret thrill, anything but the love that’s rewriting your rules.

“nothing.”

🥟 NOVEMBER 24 - THE I.T. MAJOR 🥟

hendery gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, the city lights blurring into streaks as he looped through empty streets for the umpteenth time. yesterday had stretched into an endless haze of asphalt and exhaust, driving around the city, his mind replaying every jagged word from your “breakup” like a scratched record. you’d drawn the line — sharp, final, no room for negotiation. things were over. and he had to swallow that bitter pill, convince himself it was all just a fleeting high. that the nights he’d spent tracing the curve of your shoulder blades, committing to memory the way your lashes fluttered in sleep, the soft hum of your breathing syncing with his — none of it was real. couldn’t be. just a dream he needs to wake up from.

by the time he pulled into the wayv frat house driveway, dawn was cracking the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples. his muscles screamed for a hot shower, his eyelids heavy with a kind of exhaustion that sank into bones. he just wanted to crash, let sleep erase the mess in his head. the front door creaked open to the low murmur of voices from the living room, and he paused, debating a stealthy detour upstairs.

too late.

“dude, where have you been?” dejun’s voice cut through first, casual but laced with that nosy edge. he was sprawled on the worn couch, his new girlfriend, honey, tucked against his side. yangyang and teddy occupied the armchair opposite, her legs draped over his lap like it was the most natural throne in the world. hendery almost rolled his eyes at the sight of the couples around him.

“out,” he muttered, kicking the door shut behind him. he didn’t stop, aiming for the stairs, but dejun’s voice stops him.

“out where?” dejun pressed, sitting up a fraction.

hendery’s brows furrowed, irritation flaring hot in his chest. he was already on edge, the day’s ghost clawing at him and this interrogation was the last straw. “since when do i have to report to you?” he snapped, voice low and edged with frustration. his temples throbbed. pissy didn’t even begin to cover it. he was a live wire, frayed and sparking.

dejun waved off the attitude like it was smoke, unfazed, “since this,” he said, snatching his phone from the coffee table and tossing it across the room. it arched through, landing with a soft thud in hendery’s palm. he glanced down and the image hit him like a freight train — the blurry but unmistakable shot of him and you in that goddamn classroom. the angle screamed voyeur, captured through the door’s tiny window like some pervert’s trophy. his head nearly exploded, blood roaring in his ears as rage boiled up, white-hot and blinding. but beneath the fury, a sharper pang twisted — not his pride stinging, but the violation of you. a woman navigating this cutthroat campus jungle already stacked against her, posted like this for every creep to devour? the thought ignited a fresh inferno in his gut, his fists clenching until his knuckles whitened. because no one — no fucking one — gets to strip away dignity like that, especially not from someone he cared about. the anger surged, a tidal wave crashing over the breakup’s ache, turning his vision red.

“what the fuck?!” hendery’s roar echoed off the walls, phone trembling in his fist, “where did you get this?!”

teddy leaned forward, her eyes sharp with sympathy, “i saw it in campus confessions. it’s blowing up—everyone's talking.”

seething didn’t begin to describe the storm churning inside him. his vision tunnels, jaw clenched so tight it ached, “who the fuck posted this?!” he demanded, voice cracking like thunder, though even as the words left his mouth, he knew it didn’t matter. the culprit? some faceless coward hiding behind anonymity. what mattered was getting the image off the internet, shielding you from the fallout, the whispers, the judgments, the way it’d cling to your reputation like tar.

“anonymous account,” yangyang said, tone even but watchful, one arm looped protectively around teddy’s waist, “no trace yet, but it’s got comments for days. people are speculating it's you and the pinks leader — wild guesses about the rivalry and all that drama.”

hendery wasn’t hearing it. the words blurred into static, his pulse hammering a war drum. he couldn’t process the exposure, the violation. not now, not with the fresh wound of losing you still bleeding — but he could act. snatching the phone tighter, he bolted for the stairs, ignoring dejun’s half-hearted, “hey, wait, my phone–”

his bedroom door slammed shut behind him, the lock clicking with finality. he paced the cluttered space before dropping into his desk chair, the phone’s glow casting harsh shadows on his face. IT major perks – he’d navigated digital minefields before, scrubbed traces for the frat’s less than legal escapades. this wasn’t about revenge. it was protection. yours. he didn’t give a damn about the poster, their identity could rot in obscurity. but you? he wouldn’t let the stain follow you.

fingers flying across the screen, he pulled up a vpn, layered in proxies for good measure and dove into the app’s backend through a backdoor he’d bookmarked ages ago. he bypassed the anonymity, zeroing in on the post’s root, but the upload path was sloppy, routed through campus wi-fi with a timestamp that screamed yesterday afternoon. no need to chase the ghost, he targeted the source. a few commands later, he scripted a quiet deletion — pull the image, wipe out the comments, flag it as spam to bury. within minutes, the thread vanished from public view. screenshots might linger in private chats but the main post was gone. like it never even existed at all.

🥟 NOVEMBER 25 - I CARE. 🥟

it’s midnight when a sharp tap rattles your window, jolting you from the rumpled sheets – you could recognize those taps anywhere, the rhythm he’d perfected over stolen nights like some secret code. you slide out of bed, making your way to your window sill, peering through the sheer curtains, and there he is — hendery, crouched on the roof like some midnight phantom, his hoodie pulled low, eyes locked on yours with that piercing intensity that always unravels your defenses. you hesitate, fingers hovering over the latch, pulse quickening. the girls know now, sure, and half the university’s probably buzzing with blurry speculation from that damn photo. but without confirmation, the secret stays yours.

you flip the lock and slide the window up, the night air rushing in cool and crisp, “what are you doing here?” you whisper, voice barely threading the silence, glancing over your shoulder at the closed door. he doesn’t answer right away, just hauls himself though the opening with practiced grace, his shoulders brushing the frame as he straightens in your space. the scent of him hits you — stirring a warmth you’d shoved deep down. he scans your face, concern etching lines around his eyes, the same eyes that had burned into yours just two days ago during that gut-wrenching talk in that god damn cursed classroom, when he’d pushed for an end to this undefined mess, for both of you to see other people, like the future wasn’t a tangled knot of what-ifs.

“are you okay?” he murmurs, keeping his voice low, stepping closer until the heat of him crowds the cool air between you, “you didn’t call and it’s been two days since–,”

“why would i call?” you cut him off, sharper than intended, crossing your arms like a barrier. your tone’s ice, the stone-cold facade you’ve perfected over years, of hiding this pull toward him behind rivalry barbs and perfect smiles.

he stares, brows knitting in that perplexed furrow you know too well, like you’re a puzzle he’s mapped a hundred times but still can’t quite solve, “what do you mean?” he says, voice dropping even lower, laced with frustration, “we got posted, y/n, i thought you would be freaking out.”

you shrug, turning away to perch on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under your weight. the room feels smaller with him in it, posters of campus events and sorority pins on the walls closing in, “i was,” you admit, keeping it clipped, “but i had my girls for that. and the post got taken down anyway, so whatever. lucky me.”

his jaw clenches, a muscle ticking there, but he doesn't spill that it was him. you knew, though. right in the middle of you and the girls huddled over laptops earlier today, plotting damage control with frantic whispers and half-baked ideas, it vanished — poof, scrubbed like it never existed. only one person had the skills and the drive to pull that off without a trace. only one person cared enough. the one who'd always guarded your secrets fiercer than his own.

“yeah, lucky,” he echoes, but his eyes search yours, probing the walls you’ve rebuilt in 48 hours. the weight of the past two days crashes over him like a wave he can’t outrun — no sleep since you stormed out of that classroom, his words about endings things echoing in his skull, twisting into regrets that kept him up and now he’s just…tired, bone-deep sad, the world tilting at the edges, dizziness pulling at him like gravity’s gone rogue. he closes his eyes, trying to steady himself against the windowframe, breath shallow.

you watch him, the silence stretching too long, a full minute ticking by in the dim lamplight. his face is pale, almost ghostly under the hoodie’s shadow, and he’s swaying just enough to make your stomach knot. worry flickers through your guarded walls, “hendery…are you okay?” you murmur, stepping closer, voice softer than the ice you’d wielded moments ago.

“yeah–i just–uhm—” his words slur, legs buckling as he stumbles forward, nearly crumbling to the floor. you’re faster. instincts kicking in — your arms wrap around his waist, catching his solid frame before he hits the ground, his weight leaning into you heavy and warm.

“okay–uhm–let’s sit down,” you guide him toward the bed, one arm firm around his back, the other steadying him. he nods weakly, letting you lead, collapsing onto the mattress with a soft exhale. your hands lifts to his forehead, palm pressing against fever hot skin, “hendery, you’re burning up.”

“i just need—i just need to sleep it off,” he sighs, the words heavy, like they’re dragged from somewhere deep, his eyelids dropping as exhaustion pulls at him.

“okay, but…let’s take this off first,” you tug at the hem of his hoodie and he shifts, lifting his arms without protest, letting you peel the fabric away. underneath, his t-shirt clings slightly to his skin from the night’s chill, revealing the tense lines of his shoulders, the subtle sheen of sweat. he already seems a fraction looser, tension easing as the cool air hits him. you ease him back, propping pillows behind his head, but as you turn toward the door — his hand shoots out, fingers closing gently around your wrist. his grip is loose, weak, but insistent.

“where are you going?” he asks, voice soft and raw, eyes cracking open just enough to meet yours, vulnerable in a way that cracks something in your chest — your fierce rival, reduced to this quiet plea.

“i’m just gonna get you some medicine,” you say, hovering, caught between practicality and the pull of his touch.

“i-i don’t need that…just stay here…please,” his thumb brushes your skin, a small, unconscious stroke that narrows the world to just the two of you.

you hesitated, his plea hanging in the air like a fragile thread but practicality wins out over the ache in your chest, “don’t be stubborn, i’ll be quick,” you say firmly, gently prying your wrist from his grasp before he can protest further. he murmurs something incoherent, eyes already fluttering shut, but you don’t linger, slipping out of the room and down the kitchen. your hands move swiftly — grabbing the bottle of painkillers, the digital thermometer from the drawer and a clean washcloth. you run the cloth under cool water, wringing it out just enough to dampen it. the house is quiet, your sorority sisters likely out or asleep, the late hour muffling everything beyond the soft patter of water. back in your room in under three minutes, you find him the same as you left — propped against the pillows, chest rising and falling in shallow rhythms, his face still flushed with fever. he stirs slightly at your return, cracking one eye open, “told you…quick,” you murmur with a faint smile, setting the items on the nightstand before perching on the bed’s edge.

first, the thermometer — you slip it under his armpit with careful instruction, holding him steady — his temperature isn’t dangerously high, but enough to confirm he's pushed himself too far. “here, take these,” you say, shaking out two pills into your palm and offering them with a glass of water. he complies without argument this time, swallowing them down with a grimace, the cool liquid seeming to ease him a fraction. the wet cloth comes next. you fold it neatly and press it to his forehead, the chill drawing a soft sigh from his lips as it soaks up the heat radiating from his skin. his eyes meet yours briefly, gratitude flickering in their depths amid the exhaustion, before you trail the cloth down to his neck, dabbing gently at the damp collar of his shirt, “better?” you ask quietly, your free hand resting on his arm, thumb mirroring his earlier stroke in a subconscious echo. he nods, the tension in his shoulders melting as the coolness spreads, his breathing deepening into something steadier. the silence between you isn't the charged standoff from before, it's softer now, laced with an intimacy you've both danced around for months — the sharp edges dulled by this simple act of care. minutes stretch into a quiet rhythm, his eyelids growing heavier with each pass of the cloth, the painkillers kicking in to blunt the fever's edge. finally, his hand finds yours again, fingers intertwining loosely as sleep claims him fully, breathing evening out, body going lax against the mattress. you watch for a moment longer, the weight of the past two days settling over you both like a shared blanket, before tucking the covers around him and settling back, unwilling to leave him alone.

🥢

the clock ticked to 4am, the room hushed, broken only by the distant hum of the campus outside. hendery’s eyes flutter open, his body heavy but the fever’s grip loosened, the painkillers weaving a dull calm through his veins. the first thing he registers is the cloth on his forehead, cool and damp, as if you’ just wrung it out anew, the chill seeping into his skin. he blinks slowly, piecing together the fragments — your careful hands, the worry in your eyes, the softness in your tone that rarely comes out, the way you took care of him without a word of complaint. his gaze shifts to you beside him, curled on the edge of the bed, your breathing steady and even, lashes fanned against your cheeks, utterly spent from the day’s chaos. a soft pang twists in his chest. he shouldn’t be here right now. things were over.

careful not to wake you, he reaches up and peels the cloth away, setting it aside on the nightstand. the bed dips slightly under his movement, but you don’t stir. emboldened by the quiet, he turns fully toward you, his free hand hovering for a beat before descending, tucking your hair away. his fingers trace the curve of your cheek, feather-light, following the soft line down to the swell of your lower lip. he memorizes it all, the faint freckle, the way your mouth parts just a fraction in sleep. his touch lingers there, thumb brushing softly, a shiver running through him that’s got nothing to do with the fever. he sighs, the sound ragged in the silence, his voice barely above a breath, “what are you doing to me, baobei?”

the words hang there, his eyes tracing your face like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he looks away. the rivalry, the leaked photo, the wall you’ve both built — it all feels distant in the stolen hour, reduced to the simple ache of wanting more than stolen moments. he doesn’t pull back, his hand settling against your jaw instead, thumb stroking idly as if to anchor himself. the air thickens with unspoken things, the kind that could shatter the fragile peace if either of you dares to voice them fully.

you shift then, a subtle murmur escaping your lips as consciousness tugs at the edges, your eyes cracking open to meet his in the low light. surprise flickers across your features, followed by that guarded warmth you reserve just for him — the one that says you’re here, even if admitting it out loud terrifies you. “hendery,” you whisper, voice husky from sleep, your hand instinctively covering his on your cheek, “how are you feeling?”

he doesn’t answer right away, just holds your gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching into a tired half-smile, “better. because of you.” his fingers tighten slightly, drawing you closer without demand, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like the sheets tangled at your waist. the fever’s haze lingers in his eyes, but so does something deeper, rawer, a quiet confession in the way he leans in, as if testing whether you’ll pull away or let the walls crack just a little more.

“was it you?” you ask, voice a quiet hush, “the one who took down the photo?” the question hanging in the room.

hendery’s eyes hold yours, steady, unguarded. he nods once, the admission slipping out in a quiet murmur, “yeah.”

“why? you couldn’t even see your face in it,” the words come out softer than intended, laced with the confusion that’s been churning since the post vanished like smoke.

his palm stays warm against your cheek, thumb tracing a slow, absent circle along your skin. he exhales, the sound ragged but honest, “because i care about you.” no hesitation, just the raw truth, delivered like a secret he’s been carrying too long. you search his eyes then, tilting your head just enough to catch the flicker of light in them, hunting for any shadow of deception or doubt. but there’s nothing hidden there — only the soft glow of the clock reflecting back at you, your own wide-eyed surprise staring from his irises like a mirror. it disarms you, this vulnerability in the dead of the night and before you can overthink it, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s gentle, tentative, a brush of warmth against the uncertainty.

he responds right away, his hand snaking around your waist, drawing you nearer , until your bodies align under the covers. the kiss deepens unhurriedly, lips moving in a lazy rhythm. no rush, no demands, just the slow exploration of breaths mingling, tongues touching lightly — the familiarity of him.

you feel the heat building beneath the surface, a slow simmer that pulls you deeper into him, your body shifting to straddle his hips under the thin sheet. his arm tightens around your waist, guiding you closer without urgency, the press of his chest against yours steady and warm. your hands roam down his sides, tracing the lines of his ribs, feeling the faint tremor in his muscles from exhaustion or need, you can’t tell. he mirrors you, palms gliding up your back, bunching the fabric of your shirt at the hem.

the tension heats up, lips parting wider, tongues sliding together in languid strokes, each movement deliberate, savoring the taste and the closeness. a soft sigh escapes you as his fingers dip under your shirt, brushing the bare skin of your lower back, sending a shiver that makes you arch into him. the air thickens with unspoken want. you break the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor. his eyes darken as they take you in, bare from the waist up, but he doesn’t rush, his hand cup your breast instead, thumb circling your nipple, peaking under his touch, the sensation drawing a gasp from your lips. you lean into him again, capturing his mouth while your fingers work at the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down his hips. he lifts slightly to help, kicking them off along with his boxers, his cock springing free. the sheet slips away as you shed your own shorts and panties, skin meeting skin now, the contact electric yet restrained.

he rolls you beneath him in one fluid motion, settling between your legs, his weight a comforting press that makes your heart race. no words pass between you, afraid it could break the fragile silence, the room filling only with the sound of your shared breaths, ragged and syncing. his hand trails down your body, fingers parting your folds to find you already slick, circling your clit with light pressure that builds the ache steadily. you nod against his shoulder, urging him on silently, and he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock nudging against you. he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open with a deliberate slide that has you clenching around him, the fullness overwhelming in its gentleness.

this is nothing like the frantic, bruising pace you both crave usually — where he’d pin you down, chasing release with raw intensity. right now, he rocks into you unhurriedly, hips rolling in deep, measured strokes that grind against your clit with each pass. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him closer but he maintains the rhythm, savoring the drag of his cock along your walls, the way your pussy grips him like it never wants to let go. his forehead rests against yours, eyes locked in the dark, vulnerability raw in the way he watches you, unspoken emotions flickering — care, fear, longing all tangled in the hidden depths you’ve both guarded. you meet his thrusts, hips lifting to take him deeper, nails scraping lightly down his spine, the connection building layer by layer. the coil tightens in your core, pleasure unfurling slowly, intimately, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit in tandem with his movements. sweat beads on his skin, mixing with yours, bodies sliding together in this tender rhythm.

you feel it cresting, the wave different this time — not a crash, but a deep, enveloping release born from the emotions you’ve buried. he senses it too, his pace faltering just enough to deepen, cock pulsing inside you as you shatter together, fluttering around him as he spills hot and deep, filling you. the orgasm rolls through you both in waves, silent except for the muffled gasps against each other’s necks, the vulnerability building you tighter than any rough encounter ever could.

the aftershocks fade slowly, your bodies still joined in the quiet intimacy. you cling to him, breaths evening out in tandem, the vulnerability hanging heavy in the air like a shared secret finally unveiled. no rush to pull away, no teasing words to shatter the moment — just the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours in a rhythm that feels like home. you let yourself sink into it, this fragile world where fear doesn't claw at your edges, where the wall you’ve built around your heart crack just enough to let him in. your fingers trace lazy patterns along his back and he responds with a soft nuzzle into your neck, lips brushing your pulse point in silent gratitude. the weight of him on top of you is grounding, not confining. he rolls to the side eventually, taking you with him, his arm draping over your waist to keep you flush against his front. you curl into the curve of his body, leg hooking over his hip, your head tucking under his chin as if you’ve always fit this way.

the cool cloth from earlier lies forgotten on the nightstand, the room dim and hushed except for the faint rhythm of your breathing. exhaustion tugs at you both, the kind born from more than just physical release — it’s the unraveling of guarded emotions, the quiet surrender to what you’ve both felt but never named. sleep claims you first, your eyelids growing heavy as you pressed a light kiss to his collarbone, inhaling the familiar scent of him mingled with the musk of your shared passion. he murmurs something incoherent, too soft to catch, his hand stroking your hair in slow, soothing passes. the dreams pull you under together, peaceful and untroubled, wrapped in the safety of his arms — a rare truce in the storm of your complicated lives, where for tonight, at least, you can let yourself have this.

🥢

the sunlight filters through your curtains, it’s noon now, the world outside buzzing faintly with campus life, but in here, time has stretched lazy and indulgent. you’ve slept deeper than you have in days, the exhaustion of secrets and scandals pulling you under like a tide. but now, as awareness creeps back, so does the sharp edge of regret.

you’re turned away from him, facing the wall, your mind replaying the night in fragments. it shouldn’t have happened. sleeping with him again, letting the walls crumble just because he was vulnerable, because you were too. the photo’s gone, the fever’s broken and whatever fragile bridge you crossed in the dark can’t hold under the light of day. your chest tightens at the thought, pride and fear twisting into a knot you can’t untangle.

behind you, the mattress dips as hendery stirs, his breathing shifting from deep sleep to wakefulness. without a word, he scoots closer, his arm slipping around your waist with easy familiarity, pulling you back against his chest. his lips find the curve of your shoulder, pressing soft, lingering kisses there, warm and unhurried, “good morning,” he hums, voice rough with sleep but laced with contentment, his breath fanning across your skin. it’s so tempting to melt into it, to let his touch erase the doubts swirling in your head, to pretend this could be something simple and right. his hand rests flatly against your stomach, fingers splaying possessively, and for a heartbeat, you almost turn, almost let yourself get lost in him again.

but you don’t. the cold reality snaps back and you sit up abruptly, the sheets pooling around your hips. you swing your legs off the bed, reaching for your discarded shirt on the floor, pulling it over your head quickly, the fabric cool against your bare skin. the distance you create feels like armor, necessary and immediate. he senses the shift instantly, his arm falling away as he props himself up one one elbow, watching you with a furrow in his brow, “what’s wrong?” his tone is cautious, the post sleep haze clearing into concern, eyes searching your profile.

you refuse to meet his gaze, staring at the wall instead, your voice steady but clipped, “you took down the photo, i took care of you…we’re even…you know the way out.” the words hang in the air, final and cutting. before you can take a single step, his hand curls around your wrist, firm but not bruising, anchoring you in place.

“no. i’m not leaving until we talk about this.” his voice is low, edged with that quiet determination that always unravels you. you scoff, twisting your arm free with a sharp yank, “there’s nothing to talk about,” arms crossing over your chest like a shield.

“god damn it, why do you keep pulling away from me?” frustration cracks through his tone, volume rising just enough to fill the room, the sheets rustling as he sits up fully.

“because i can’t give you what you want!,” the words burst out annoyed, sharper than you intended, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“and what is it, that you think i want?” he challenges, his voice steadying but you can hear the undercurrent of hurt.

“a relationship,” you spit it like it’s poison, eyes sharp. he sighs, heavy and resigned, the sound pulling at something deep in your gut. you push on before he can interrupt, words tumbling faster, “i don’t know why you keep doing this, you and i both know you could get into a relationship tomorrow, there’s a ton of girls who would—”

“because i don’t want one if it isn’t with you!,” he roars, the volume startling you into silence, his chest heaving as he leans forward. his eyes lock onto yours now, wide and raw, no mask left, “waking up together, taking care of each other, the sex, the fights, all of it! — i only want all of that…if it’s with you.”

it takes you a moment, the confession hanging like smoke, thick and suffocating. your throat tightens, heart stuttering against your ribs, “well…we want very different things.”

“do we?” he’s not convinced, tilting his head, voice dropping softer, probing.

“yes. we do.” you say, firmer this time, forcing conviction into your tone, willing yourself to believe it too, “i’m not a relationship type of girl, hendery. i just want to have fun, see the world…i’m not ready to settle down or—”

“bullshit, y/n, we haven’t been sleeping with other people for almost a year now,” he cuts you off, not accepting the lame excuse. who’s to say you couldn’t have fun together? see the world together?

“why does labeling what this actually is scare you so badly?”

you freeze, the question slicing through your defenses like a knife. the room feels smaller, the air heavier, your mind races. a year of this push-pull, of pretending it’s casual when your body knows better, craves him in ways that terrify you.

“it doesn’t scare me,” you lie, voice quieter now, stepping back, “it’s just…reality. i like my life the way it is. controlled. fun. no strings.”

he doesn’t buy it, “controlled? is that what you call sneaking around, lying to everyone — including yourself? we’ve been exclusive without saying it, y/n. and now you’re running away because…what? you’re afraid it’ll change if we name it?”

your breath hitches, eyes stinging with the truth you won’t voice. afraid? yeah, terrified. of losing the high of the chase, of him seeing the mess under your armor, afraid of wanting this — him — so badly, it hurts. afraid you’ll lose yourself in him. and afraid that once he gets what he wants, he’ll get bored and walk away.

“you don’t get it,” you murmur, finally meeting his eyes, the vulnerability from last night echoing back at you, “if we do this, if we label it, what happens when it falls apart? i can’t…i won’t be that girl who gets her heart broken.”

hendery’s expression softens, frustration melting into something aching, “what if it doesn’t fall apart?”

“it will.” you say it like a verdict, arms tightening around yourself.

“how are you so sure?” he asks, voice gentle but insistent.

“because every relationship falls apart, hendery…eventually.” you reply, the words tasting bitter as they leave your lips. you’ve seen it happen all around you — with your friends who swore they were in love, only to end up crying on your shoulder, shattered. to your divorced parents, their once-whispered promises turning into slammed doors and custody battles that left scars you still feel. even in your own relationships in the past, the ones that started with fireworks and faded into indifference or betrayal. it never works out. not for people like you, wired for control.

he shakes his head slowly, eyes searching yours like he’s trying to unearth the roots of your doubt, “not every one. not ours, if we fight for it.”

“i don’t want to,” you reply, the words slipping out like a confession, heavy and final. your voice is barely above a whisper but they land like a blow, echoing in the quiet room. silence takes over, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you both. his eyes still searching yours, the warmth fading as realization dawns, hurt flickering there, raw and unguarded. you can’t look at him anymore, the weight of it all pressing down until your chest feels like it might cave in. it all feels like a cruel tease now, a glimpse of something you’re too scared to hold onto.

“find yourself a nice girl, hendery,” you say, the words tasting like ash on your tongue. you turn away before he can respond, before the plea in his eyes can break you completely. your feet carry you across the room, slipping into your bathroom and clicking the door shut behind you, twisting the lock with a sharp snap. the sound echoes, jolting through the stillness. this was it. the final goodbye. leaning against the sink, you stare at your reflection in the mirror, eyes red-rimmed and shadowed, the armor you’ve rebuilt already creaking at the edges. outside, hendery sits up, confusion turning to pain as the reality sinks in. no more stolen nights, no more heated arguments that end in tangled sheets. just the echo of what could have been, slipping away like smoke.

🥟 DECEMBER 5 - SUNGCHAN 🥟

it’s been ten days since you last saw him. and you’ve spent every single one busying yourself, pretending nothing heavy is weighing on your heart, focusing your energy on your classes and the girls instead. tonight though, you plan to forget. and so you’re here, at the riize fraternity, looking for some fun.

“well, if it isn’t the pink’s princess…i haven’t seen you around in a while,” you turn towards the voice — jung sungchan, the perfect distraction.

“sungchan! exactly who i was looking for,” you smirk, sipping your drink.

“hmm,” he chuckles, “you disappeared for a while there,” he clicks his tongue, stepping closer, “thought ms. pink finally found herself a boyfriend.”

you roll your eyes, closing the distance between you, “don’t be ridiculous, you know i’m not the relationship type,” you respond.

he raises a brow, “i dont know…everyone’s been falling in love lately, i’m starting to wonder what all the appeal is.”

“and what? miss out on all this fun?,” you tease, pointing towards the party.

he laughs then, “you’re right, this is too fun to let go.”

you smirk at his response, “you gonna fuck me or not, jung?”

sungchan’s laugh rumbles low in his chest, his eyes darkening with interest as he sets his own drink aside, the party pulsing around you, “bold as ever,” he says, his voice dropping to match yours, one hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers linger, tracing down your jawline with a touch thats’s firm yet unhurried. it’s nothing ike the magnetic pull you’ve been avoiding, just a straightforward heat that promises release without the mess of emotions, “lead the way, i’m game if you are.”

you smirk in response, grabbing his wrist and pulling him through the party. the stairs are crammed with people but you weave past them until you reached his room, the faint glow of a lava lamp casting orange hues across the unmade bed and scattered clothes. you push inside first, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that drowns out the party’s roar to a muffled hum.

sungchan doesn’t waste time, his lips crashing against yours the moment the door clicked shut, hungry and insistent, his hands roaming your sides with that familiar confidence. you kissed him back, desperate for distraction, your fingers tangling in his shirt as your back hits his door. it was supposed to be easy — flirt, forget, move on from the ache hendery had left gnawing at you for the past ten days.

but as sungchan’s tongue slipped into your mouth, deepening the kiss, something twisted wrong in your chest. his body pressed close, solid and warm, but it wasn’t the right kind of heat. you could taste the beer on his breath, feel the rough scrape of his calloused fingers, and it all felt…off. too aggressive, too impersonal, lacking the teasing spark that made your skin hum in a way only hendery could. you pushed the thought down, arching into him anyway, letting the makeout drag on, heavy and wet kisses that left your lips swollen and your breath ragged.

sungchan’s hands slid lower, gripping your hips before one dipped between your thighs, fingers brushing the edge of your skirt. he broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your neck, “fuck, you’re hot tonight,” his voice rough with want. you nodded, half hearted, as he tugged at the fabric, his palm pressing flat against your inner thigh. the room spun a little from the alcohol and the intensity but when his fingers finally grazed the cotton of your panties, rubbing slow circles over the thin barrier, the wrongness of it all hit you like ice water — this wasn’t him. this wasn’t what you needed. tears welled up unbidden, hot and sudden, spilling over as a sob caught in your throat.

“wait–stop,” you gasped, the words tumbling out as you broke the contact, hands flying up to push at his chest.

sungchan froze, eyes widening in confusion as he pulled back fully, spotting the tears right away, “uhm, are you okay?” his awkwardness hangs in the air like a fog, the usual confidence cracking as the makeout’s heat evaporated, his flirtatious smirk fading into uncertainty, “y/n? did i do something wrong?” he runs a hand through his hair, shifting uncomfortably, clearly out of his depth — this isn’t the easy, no-strings fun he signed up for.

you’re no better. you shook your head, walking around him to sit on the edge of his bed before letting the vulnerability crash over you like a wave. crying? you? it’s not your thing. not ever. especially not mid-hookup with some guy. the tears feel foreign, stinging as they track down your cheeks, and you swipe at them furiously with the back of your hand, smearing mascara into dark streaks. sungchan watched you crumble, staring like he’d stumbled into a minefield.

“sorry, i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you mutter, voice thick and wobbly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. the tears keep falling anyway, hot and relentless, and you scrub harder at your face, desperate to erase the evidence, “we can continue if you want.” it’s a stupid offer, born from embarrassment and the need to salvage something normal from this mess.

sungchan lets out a nervous laugh, the sound forced and too loud in the quiet room, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances away, then back at you like he’s debating bolting, “i’m not fucking you while you’re a mess, y/n… come on, what’s wrong?” his tone tries for casual, but it lands flat, laced with unease. he’s not used to this, peeling back layers when all he wanted was a quick release. the bed dips as he takes a seat next to you, not touching you, just hovering like he’s afraid you’ll shatter.

the question cracks the dam wide open. your breath hitches, and before you can clamp it down, the words spill out in a broken whisper, “i miss him…”

it’s the truth you’ve been running from, raw and aching. the admission hangs heavy, your shoulders slumping as fresh sobs bubble up. missing hendery wasn’t just an ache anymore — it was a void. and trying to fill it with this felt like betrayal. to yourself. to whatever messy thing you two had.

sungchan freezes for a beat, his awkward hovering turning into something almost thoughtful as he processes your confession. he pats your back, once, twice, like he’s trying to make this less of a sex-fueled disaster and more of a...comforting conversation? the idea feels ridiculous, but there he is, settling back beside you with a sigh, his broad shoulders slumping as he glances at you.

“so you did get yourself a boyfriend?” he tries to start lightly, his voice pitching up at the end like he’s testing the waters, not sure if he’s about to step on a landmine.

you shake your head, sniffling as you hug your knees tighter, “no — i don’t know, we never labeled it,” you admit, the words tasting bitter, like admitting defeat.

“why not?” he says, tilting his head, genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes behind the playboy facade.

you let out a watery laugh, wiping your nose on the back of your hand, “c’mon, jung, you’re really asking me that when you’re the school’s number one playboy?” it comes out sharper than intended, a deflection wrapped in truth — sungchan, with his endless parade of hookups and zero commitments, lecturing you on labels? the irony twists in your gut.

he winces but doesn’t back down, chuckling softly as he runs a hand over his face, “fair point. but hear me out…labels or no labels, if you’re crying over him when we’re about to fuck, that’s not casual. that’s real. so why keep pretending it’s not?”

“because you and i both know labels are no fun,” you sigh, the words tumbling out like a flimsy shield, your last-ditch effort to cling to whatever scraps of pride you have left. it’s a dumb excuse and you know it the second it leaves your lips. the air in the room feels heavier now, thick with the scent of regret and the distant thump of music downstairs mocking your unraveling composure.

sungchan arches a brow, his chuckle fading into a more serious tilt of his mouth, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that surprises you, none of the cocky persona from earlier, just straightforward scrutiny, “well, you definitely don’t look like you’re having fun right now either, so what’s it gonna be?” he says, his voice low and even, like he’s laying out a challenge rather than pushing for pity. you swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it tough to breathe steadily. part of you wants to bolt and flee back to the chaos of the party where emotions don’t have to be dissected like this. but another part — the one that’s been buried under layers of denial for months — feels cracked open, exposed under his gaze.

“i... i don’t know,” you murmur finally, your voice cracking as fresh tears prick at your eyes. you swipe them away angrily, hating how vulnerable it makes you look, “he wants more. labels, commitment, the whole thing. but what if it crashes and burns? i’ve built everything else in my life so carefully — the sorority, my grades, the image. falling into something i can’t control?... it’d wreck me.”

sungchan nods slowly, absorbing your words without interrupting, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee like he’s piecing together a puzzle, “look, i get the fear. hell, i avoid that shit like the plague. but if he’s worth the tears, maybe it’s time to stop running. or at least talk to him without the walls up.” he pauses, a small smirk tugging at his lips to lighten the mood, “and hey, if it goes south, you know where to find me for a rebound. no judgments.”

his offer hangs there, half-joking, but it eases the knot in your stomach just a fraction. you manage a weak laugh. this unexpected heart-to-heart feels like a turning point, raw and real in a way you didn’t expect…from sungchan of all people.

the room quiets for a moment. sungchan doesn’t push further, just giving you space without making it feel you’re a burden. it’s oddly considerate. you exhale shakily, the tears slowing to a trickly, “thanks,” you mutter, glancing sideways at him, “for not making this weirder than it already is.”

he shrugs, that smirk returning but softer now, “what are friends for? or whatever we are. besides, i’d rather you cry on my shoulder than leave my room crying, god knows i can’t take another negative hit to my reputation.”

a genuine chuckle escapes you this time, breaking the tension. but underneath it, the ache for hendery lingers, sharper now that it’s been named aloud. labels or not, the truth stares back at you — you’re in too deep to keep pretending this was nothing.

the silence stretches heavy but not uncomfortable, until you break it with a quiet resolve, “i have to go do something,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel, already shifting toward the edge of the bed.

sungchan looks at you, amusement flickering in his eyes, “ahhh, another one lost to love,” he jokes, his tone light but knowing.

you ignore him, a small smile tugging at your lips as you stand and smooth your skirt, “i’ll tell you all about the appeal later,” you tease, glancing back at him with a wink that feels more genuine than flirtatious now.

he laughs, a rumbling sound that fills the room, chasing away the last remnants of awkwardness, “get out of here…and for the love of god, stop breaking poor hendery’s heart.”

you stop in your tracks, turning sharply to face him, your heart skipping a beat, “wait, you knew?”

sunghcan shrugs, casual as ever, but there’s a glint of mischief in his expression, “the two of you weren’t very subtle.”

he stands then, unfolding his long frame with ease and moves to open his door for you, “and he might have gotten too drunk on a boys’ trip and spilled the beans….but you didn’t hear that from me,” he winks, giving you a gentle push out into the hallway. you laugh, the image of hendery slurring confessions over cheap beer hitting you like a warm wave, making the knot in your chest loosen just a fraction, “thanks, sungchan,” you say one last time, sincere and soft, before turning toward the stairs.

the party pulses around you as you weave through the crowd, the bass thumping like a heartbeat urging you onward. outside, the night air bites at your skin, crisp and clarifying, the campus paths lit by scattered streetlamps. your steps quicken, determination settling in your bones — no more hiding, no more excuses, no more halfways.

the wayv house isn’t far, just a couple of houses down, it’s windows glowing faintly against the dark. you’re done letting fear call the shots. it’s time to fix this, to claim what’s yours, to get your man back.

🥟 DECEMBER 6 - THE ONE YOU ALMOST LOVED 🥟

it’s past midnight when you raise your fist and knock — three sharps that echo louder than you expected. the door swings open almost immediately, revealing yangyang’s familiar face, his eyes narrowing in confusion before twisting into a teasing, menacing smirk, an amused glint in his eye like he’s caught you. the pink’s leader showing up at their doorstep unannounced. priceless.

“i need to talk to hendery,” you say, skipping pleasantries, your voice cutting through the cold.

the boy leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a lazy shrug, “he’s not here,” yangyang replies, his tone laced with that mischievous edge he loves to wield, stirring the pot, testing boundaries just for fun.

“where is he?” you press, ignoring the bite in his words.

“why should i tell you?” he shrugs again, broader this time, his grin sharpening like he’s enjoying the standoff a little too much.

from inside, a voice calls out, soft and curious, “yang, who is it—oh hey, y/n,” his girlfriend appears behind him, padding over from the living room in fuzzy socks, her eyes widening in surprise even though she matches yangyang’s amused smile, like she’s in on the same inside joke, though hers feels warmer, less barbed.

“hey,” you say, shifting your weight, the desperation creeping in despite your efforts to hold it back, “i need to know where hendery is.”

teddy’s expression softens, the amusement fading into something almost apologetic as she glances at yangyang, who still looks mildly entertained. she steps forward, gently nudging her boyfriend aside, “he just left for winter break,” she says, her voice carrying that apologetic note.

you open your mouth to ask more — winter break? already?? his finals just wrapped up yesterday. you didn’t think he’d bolt so fast. before you can say anything else, yangyang breaks the silence, glancing past you and toward the crowd of fellow students silently beginning to form.

“dude, you got a fanclub out there,” he points out, catching their stares and letting out a low chuckle, “careful, or this turns into tomorrow’s headline.” your eyes draw back to the porch across the street for a split second, a flicker of annoyance running through you at the shadows shifting there, phones glinting faintly under the streetlamp. whatever they're whispering about doesn't matter, it's white noise, irrelevant to the knot twisting in your gut. you brush it off, your focus laser-sharp on the one thing that does.

“when did he leave, exactly?” you ask, your voice steadier than you feel, the words coming out with urgency.

yangyang’s smirk hasn’t faded, if anything, it’s grown, like he finds this all so entertaining. teddy shoots him a warning look, then softens towards you again, “like, an hour ago? he packed up right after dinner, said he needed to clear his head. didn’t say much else.

“but if you text him i’m sure he’ll respond. he’s not the type to ghost anyone on purpose,” yangyang adds, showing a bit of mercy, knowing well enough how much hendery needed this too.

an hour ago. the words echo in your mind, pulling you under like a current you can't fight. winter break — three full weeks. days bleeding into nights without his voice, without the way his hand fits against the small of your back in stolen moments, without the sharp edge of his gaze cutting through your defenses.

texting him feels wrong. too impersonal for the weight of what you need to say. “i love you” typed out on a screen? it loses something vital, stripped of your voice cracking on the words, of the vulnerability in your eyes when you finally let it out. you've hidden behind screens before, late-night messages that led to heated meetups but never this. confessions like this deserve face-to-face, the risk of his rejection hitting like a punch you can brace for, not some digital echo that he can ignore or dismiss with a thumbs-up emoji or a glaring read receipt.

your fingers twitch toward your phone in your pocket, but you hold back, the reluctance twisting tighter. what if he reads it wrong? what if it pushes him further away, into whatever headspace he's fleeing to? what if he uses the time to really think, to decide the mess of you isn't worth it?

teddy watches you closely, her concern etching faint lines on her forehead, “you okay? you look like you're spiraling.”

yangyang leans against the porch railing, arms crossed, his teasing edge dulled by the moment, “yeah, spill it. what's got you chasing him down like this? not just finals stress, right?” you shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat until it burns all the way down. the air feels heavier now, thick enough that every breath scrapes against your lungs. somewhere down the street people are laughing, a door slams, music hums faintly from a passing car — but it all sounds impossibly far away, like you’re already separated from the world by a sheet of glass.

three weeks. the number echoes inside you, hollow and cruel. too long to wait. long enough for memories to soften, for habits to disappear, for someone to learn how to live without you. so many things can happen in three weeks. you can lose him in three weeks.

your vision blurs as tears gather, clinging stubbornly to your lashes. the ache has rooted itself too deep, spreading quietly through your chest like cracks through fragile porcelain. maybe this is how it was always supposed to end — not with a dramatic goodbye, not with anger loud enough to justify the pain, but with the slow, unbearable realization that you deserved this. you let the fear control you. every soft moment made you uneasy, every promise sounded too fragile to believe. you braced yourself for heartbreak long before it ever arrived, mistaking distance for protection. and somewhere along the way, that fear twisted into something uglier — the inevitable fear of losing him.

so you wrote this ending yourself.

you pushed him away when he tried to come closer. made jokes where confessions should have been. you watched the hurt flicker across his face and told yourself it was necessary, that it was better to wound him now than let him see how terrified you were of needing him. you made him feel small when all he ever did was make space for you. your chest tightens at the memory of his patience. the way he waited through your silences. the way he looked at you like you were something worth staying for. and still, you taught him how to leave. if love was a language, he spoke it fluently. you were the one who kept pretending you couldn’t understand.

now you wonder if three weeks is enough time for him to forget the sound of your laugh. if he’ll stop reaching for his phone when something reminds him of you. if one day he’ll meet someone who doesn’t flinch when he offers his heart — someone who takes it gently instead of questioning why it was given at all.

the thought hollows you out.

but then — cutting through the haze like a lifeline, the low rumble of a familiar engine growls to life down the block. your breath catches. for a moment you think you imagined it, that your grief has begun conjuring ghosts. but the sound grows louder, unmistakable — uneven in that tiny way you once teased him about, a rhythm you memorized from too many midnight drives where neither of you wanted to be the first to say goodnight. your head snaps up. your heart slams violently against your ribs, so hard it almost hurts. headlights pierce the dusk, sweeping across the porch and flooding everything in white gold. shadows scatter. time stutters — it’s him.

hendery’s car rolls forward slowly, almost cautiously, before pulling up to the curb right in front of the house. for a second, you can’t move. hope rises so suddenly it feels dangerous, tangling with the fear still coiled inside you. your fingers curl into your sleeves as if bracing for impact.

the engine idles. each second stretches thin, fragile enough to snap. you realize then, with startling clarity, that loving him was never the thing you were most afraid of. it was realizing — too late — that he was the one place your restless heart had ever felt like resting.

the driver’s door clicks open. and your heart, traitorous and trembling, dares to hope he hasn’t given up on you yet.

hendery steps out of the car slowly, the door shutting with a dull, final thud that seems to echo far louder than it should, keys dangling loosely from his fingers, shoulders rising and falling as he takes a breath of the cold night air. he looks tired. not the kind of tired sleep can fix — something quieter, heavier. like the last ten days have pressed themselves into the slope of his posture. the porch light spills across him, and that’s when you see it. his hair. blonde. not the soft brown you used to card your fingers through when he fell asleep beside you. this shade is brighter, colder — unfamiliar in a way that makes your chest ache..

he turns toward the house, shoving his keys into his pocket as he starts up the walkway that leads to the frat house. he doesn’t see you at first. he’s halfway to the steps when something — maybe the way you forgot how to breathe, maybe the fragile sound of your shoe shifting against the wood — makes him glance up. he freezes. completely.

“y/n?” your name leaves his mouth softer than you expected, threaded with disbelief, “what are you–” he starts, voice low, but he trails off when he sees your face, the unshed tears glistening, the way your hands twist together at your sides. his expression shifts, the hardness in his features cracking just a fraction, “you okay?”

you open your mouth. nothing comes out. your brain scrambles desperately for something — an explanation, a joke, anything that doesn’t expose the raw panic beating inside your ribs. instead, the first thing you notice slips past your lips.

“your hair is blonde,” you lift a shaky hand, pointing uselessly, as if he might not know.

he blinks, reaching up to touch the strands self-consciously, a faint, wry smile tugging at his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes, “uh… yeah,” he says, voice uneven. “figured i needed a change.”

of course he did. ten days is enough time for someone to start becoming a stranger.

you nod quickly, swallowing against the tightness in your throat, “change is good…” the words sound hollow even to you.

his brows pull together, confusion flickering across his face. he looks around once, almost like he’s checking if this is some kind of trick his exhausted mind is playing on him. you ended things ten days ago. ten days since you told him this couldn’t happen anymore. ten days since you forced your voice not to shake while you said he deserved a nice girl. ten days since you watched his expression close off, watched him nod like he understood. so why are you here now? before he can ask, before you can lose your nerve entirely, the words tear out of you.

“im sorry!”

they’re louder than you meant them to be, cracking in the middle. hendery’s eyebrow lifts slowly, surprise flashing across his features. that’s when he notices the crowd. shadows shifting. of course they’re watching. this university thrives on gossip, on half-heard drama and new to the list — unexpected porch confessions.

his expression tightens instantly, instinct kicking in. even now, even after everything, he’s worrying about you. about your name. about the whispers that could follow you tomorrow. he walks toward you, closing the distance in long, steady strides. the closer he gets, the harder it is to breathe. you forgot how tall he feels when he’s right in front of you, how his presence alone rearranges the air.

“let’s talk inside,” he murmurs, voice low. “you must be freezing.” you hadn’t even noticed the cold until he said it. now your fingers throb, numb and stiff. his hand finds your wrist. soft. careful. like you might still shatter if he holds too tight. it would be so easy to let him lead you inside — back into warmth, into privacy, into the dangerous familiarity of being close to him again. but panic spikes through you. if you step into that house, you’re afraid you’ll fall right back into the version of yourselves that never quite survived the daylight.

and so you pull back. “no.”

the word is quiet, but it stops him immediately. his hand loosens, though he doesn’t drop your wrist right away. he searches your face, eyes moving quickly like he’s trying to solve something impossible.

“no?” he repeats softly.

your throat burns, “if we go inside… i might lose the courage to say this.”

something shifts in his expression then — the confusion softening into something more cautious. almost guarded. you force yourself to meet his eyes. they’re still the same. that’s the worst part.

“i didn’t come here to hide,” you whisper, voice trembling, “i did enough hiding for both of us.”

“these ten days…” you inhale shakily. “i kept telling myself i did the right thing. that pushing you away was protecting us,” a tear slips down before you can stop it. hendery doesn’t move. doesn’t speak. he just watches you with an intensity that makes your chest ache, “— i thought if i ended it first, it wouldn’t hurt as much when you eventually left,” you admit, “so i left first” your laugh breaks halfway out, fragile and wet, “turns out it hurts anyway.”

his jaw tightens. you see it — the pain in his eyes.

“i told you to find a nice girl,” you continue, voice barely steady now, “but the truth is… the idea of you loving someone else makes it hard to breathe.” your chest rises sharply, and suddenly the words start coming faster — months of restraint cracking all at once, “i’m tired, hendery,” you whisper, shaking your head. “i’m tired of hiding behind walls. i’m tired of pretending i’m okay with all the secrets, with acting like you don’t matter when you matter more than anything.”

and then your voice breaks completely.

“i love you.”

the confession trembles in the cold air. you look straight into his brown eyes and for the first time, you don’t shrink. your next words come louder. steadier. fierce in a way that surprises even you.

“i don’t care who hears,” you say, tears streaming freely now, “i don’t care if we’re the face of campus confessions tomorrow — hendery, i’m in love with you.”

the night seems to split open around the words. a curtain shifts. someone inside audibly gasps. but you don’t look away from him. not this time.

“i was using the rivalry as an excuse but the truth is i was scared of how much you mattered,” you continue, voice trembling but unstoppable now, “scared that one day you’d wake up and realize i wasn’t worth it,” your chest shudders, the porch light humming faintly above you.

“i don’t want three weeks to pass for us to become strangers. i don’t want ten days to turn into forever,” your fingers curl into your palms, “i know i don’t deserve it… but if there’s even a small part of you that still cares—”

your voice collapses. you swallow hard. your walls stripped bare.

“please don’t let me be the one you almost loved.”

hendery goes completely still. even the night seems to hold its breath. the silence stretches so thin you’re afraid it might slice you open. his eyes search your face, not quickly, not carelessly, but like he’s memorizing it. like he’s checking for cracks, for hesitation, for any sign you might disappear again if he reaches for you.

“i forgot my phone,” he exhales. slow. shaky. “—and i would never forgive myself if you called and i missed it,” he steps closer. once. twice. until the space between you dissolves completely. your ears perk up at his words, your heart beating so loudly you swear this whole block could hear it.

“if we do this…” his voice is quieter now, rough around the edges, like it had to fight its way out of his chest, “then you have to promise you’ll call me.” your heart stutters, “—not just once a week,” he continues, a fragile smile tugging at his mouth, “or when you suddenly remember i exist.”

the ache behind the joke nearly undoes you. you nod immediately, tears spilling faster, “i promise.”

he studies you for another second, like he needs to see the vow settle into your bones. then he steps even closer — close enough that the tips of your shoes touch, “and you have to promise you’ll tell me when you’re scared,” he says softly, “that you won’t shut me out… that you won’t decide for both of us that it’s over before i even know something’s wrong.”

“i promise,” you whisper again, more certain this time, “no more running.”

something in his shoulders loosens at that — a tension he’s probably been carrying since the night you walked away. slowly, almost reverently, he lifts his hands. his palms are warm against your freezing cheeks. his thumbs brush beneath your eyes, wiping away tears you hadn’t realized were still falling. the touch is impossibly gentle, like he’s afraid too much pressure might break the moment. you lean into it without thinking. home. that’s what it feels like. he looks into your eyes then, really looks, and whatever he finds there makes his own soften.

“i’m going to do what i’ve been wanting to do since the first day i met you,” he murmurs. your breath catches. you don’t even get the chance to ask what he means — he kisses you. right there. no hesitation. no more hiding. just the sudden warmth of his lips against yours, firm and certain, like he’s been holding this back for far too long. for a split second your brain goes completely blank — shock, relief, love crashing into each other all at once — and then you’re kissing him back with everything you have. your fingers clutch the front of his jacket, pulling him closer as if he could vanish. he doesn’t. his arm slides around your waist instead, anchoring you against him. somewhere behind you, the front door flies open.

“FINALLY!” cheers erupt from behind you. whistles. someone actually claps. another voice yells, “ABOUT TIME, HENDERY!”

but the noise fades into nothing compared to the way his hand tightens slightly at your back. he’s the one who breaks it first, though he doesn’t go far. his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingles with yours. and then, softer than anything you’ve ever heard—

“i tried so hard not to,” he whispers, breath warm against your lips, “i told myself you didn’t want me the way i wanted you…that if i just gave you space, eventually my heart would get the hint.” his eyes search yours, glassy under the porch light, “but every morning i still reached for my phone wanting to hear your voice,” he admits quietly, his thumb pressing gently into your cheek, “i don’t think there’s ever been a version of me where i wasn’t already falling for you.” he leans closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours before he finally says it, slow, certain, like a promise he plans to keep for the rest of his life.

“i love you…not quietly, not secretly, not only when it’s fun,” he murmurs, “i love you in the loud, terrifying, ruin-me kind of way.”

a tear slips down your temple and he catches if before it falls, “i loved you when you pushed me away,” he continues softly, “i loved you when you told me to find someone else, even though there has never been anyone else for me,” his voice wavers then, just slightly, “—i think…i’ve been yours since the first day you looked at me like i mattered.” he exhales a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head, “so yeah,” he whispers, eyes melting into yours, “i love you. hopelessly. ridiculously. completely.”

the words settle into you slowly, like warmth thawing something that had been frozen for far too long. for a moment, you can only stare at him. because all this time you though loving him meant chaos, something overwhelming, something destined to slip through your fingers. but standing here now, held so gently in his hands, it feels like the safest thing you’ve ever known. and suddenly — you can breathe. really breathe. like your lungs are finally remembering what air is supposed to feel like.

a trembling laugh escapes you before it wavers into something dangerously close to a sob. hendery’s smile — that familiar, heart-aching smile you were terrified you might never see directed at you again. it was all that you needed.

“are you still going home early for winter break?” you ask quietly, the question slipping out before you can stop it, a small part of you still afraid something might pull him away now that you’ve finally found your way back to each other.

he lets out a small laugh, the sound warm against your skin, and pulls you impossibly closer, “nah,” he says easily, “i think i’d much rather spend time with my girl.”

my girl. your heart reacts instantly — one loud, embarrassing thud that makes you grip his jacket just a little tighter. he notices. of course he does. his smile deepens before he leans down again, kissing you once. twice. then again, softer this time — like he’s savoring it now that he finally can. and under the porch light, surrounded by noise and laughter and the messy witness of everyone you were once so afraid of…you realize something steady and certain. you didn’t just come here to confess. you came here to stop being afraid of a love that was never asking you to be anything — except brave enough to stay.

🥟 DECEMBER 6 - WHAT ARE WE? 🥟

morning arrives quietly, pale winter light spilling through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold, the kind that makes everything feel slower, gentler, untouched by the noise of the world outside. for a moment, you don’t remember where you are. then you feel it — warmth at your back, steady breathing against your neck, a hand loosely curled into the fabric of your (his) shirt like even in sleep, he refused to let you drift too far.

memory rushes in all at once — the porch, the confession, the way he kissed you with no care for the world. last night plays through your mind in quiet fragments. his arms around you, lips brushing in feather-light kisses, the low drone of some movie neither of you paid much attention to. you talked for hours — about the things you’d both been too scared to say before, about the ten miserable days apart, about what this meant now. somewhere between serious cofessions and laughing over the dumbest things, the exhaustion finally caught up. you fell asleep mid-conversation, cheek pressed to his chest, his lips in your hair.

your phone suddenly erupts against the quiet, notifications coming through ping after ping. you groan immediately, eyes squeezing shut. the last thing you want is to wake him — he looks so peaceful, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, blonde hair tousled from sleep. carefully, you reach over, grabbing the phone, squinting at the screen’s notifications, so many that your phone almost looks possessed. group chats exploding, missed calls, tags, voice notes. you open the messages from the girls first.

yuna: *video attachment*

yuna: WHAT KDRAMA IS THIS?!

winter: OH MY GOD 😱😱😱

natty: what are you guys saying omg the camera man had ONE job

sophia: can we send this to that girl on tiktok that does lip-readings!!!!!

yeji: i THINK THEY SAID I LOVE YOU??????

ryujin: Y/N CALL US RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW

the messages continued and you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at their silly antics. you tap the video and there it is — slightly grainy, clearly filmed from the house across. you, tearful and shaking, hendery stepping closer, then the kiss.

the news traveled fast. of course it did. you’re halfway through typing a reply when a strong arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back against his chest without even opening his eyes, instinct guiding the movement. his nose brushes lazily against your shoulder before he presses a soft, absentminded kiss there. your heart reacting with a traitorous little flip.

“baobei…” his voice is husky with sleep, barely formed, “it’s only…7 a.m.,” he squints toward the clock.

you twist slightly to glance at him, a smile tugging at your lips, “sorry,” you whisper, “my phone was going crazy, the girls are all freaking out,” you set the phone face down, not quite ready to dive into the frenzy.

he lets out a low, sleepy laugh, the sound vibrating gently against your back, “are they giving you a hard time?” there’s a protective edge to the question, even half-asleep, like he’s already gearing up to defend you from any stray negativity.

you shake your head, leaning into his touch, the tension from the notifications easing under the solid weight of him, “no,” you admit with a soft smile, “they never did,” you trace the arm wrapped securely around you, “it was all in my head.”

hendery goes quiet at that, just listening, enveloping your hand in his, “good,” he murmurs, “would’ve fought them if they did.”

you huff out a small laugh, the sound light and relieved, “you are not fighting my girls.”

he laughs behind you, a muffled chuckle as you turn carefully in his arms. the moment you face him, he immediately tucks you closer, forehead nearly bumping yours. his hair is a soft mess, blonde strands falling into eyes still heavy with sleep. he looks unfairly beautiful like this. his gaze drifts over your face slowly, like he’s confirming you’re real — that last night wasn’t something his lonely heart invented.

“good morning,” he whispers. the word feels strangely intimate, wrapping around the space like a promise. you smile, the expression easy and true, “good morning.”

for a moment, neither of you moves, suspended in the warmth of tangled sheets and lingering closeness. then his brows knit together slightly, a flicker of uncertainty shadowing his features, “...you’re still here.”

you blink, caught off guard by the quiet vulnerability threading through his tone, “where else would i be?” he studies you for another second, eyes searching yours with intensity, before something warm spreads across his expression — relief so quiet it almost hurts to witness.

“just checking,” he says lightly, “half expected to wake up and realize i dreamt the whole thing.”

your hand slides down his arm, warm, solid, very real and with no warning, you squeeze, harder than necessary, a playful pinch to ground him in the moment.

“ow–!,” hendery jerks slightly, eyes widening before he breaks into laughter, the sound bubbling up unrestrained and bright, “what was that for?!”

you grin, completely unapologetic, the mischief chasing away any remnants of last night’s heavier emotions, “see, you’re not dreaming.”

that only makes him laugh harder, the sound echoing softly off his bedroom walls, shoulders loosening as the laughter spills out of him, open and unguarded in a boyish way that makes your chest ache with fondness.

his laughter fages into a soft exhale as he looks at you again, something gentler settling in his eyes, “good,” he whispers. then, still adorably half-asleep, his voice dropping even lower with a shy edge, “because i really like waking up with you in my bed.”

the words wrap around you like a gentle embrace, his eyes holding yours with a softness that mkes the morning feel timeless. you lean in, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, tasting the remnants of sleep and sweetness on his lips. he hums contentedly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your jawline in lazy circles, drawing out the moment as if neither of you wants the world to intrude just yet.

but the day whispers reminders through the curtains, the light growing a touch brighter. reluctantly, you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, “as much as i would love to stay here all day, i still have my last final exam later,” your voice soft and laced with affection, lips pouting, “and i really need to start getting ready,” you yawn, the stretch pulling at your limbs as you sit up slowly, sheets pooling around your waist.

hendery sits up with you, his body syncing to yours without effort, the mattress dipping under his weight. his gaze sharpens, drifting to your shoulders where the muscles bunch tight. without a word, his hands settle there, fingers pressing in with gentle, knowing pressure, kneading the knots in slow, deliberate circles that unravel the tightness thread by thread. you hum in contentment, eyes fluttering shut as warmth spreads from your shoulders down your spine, his touch chasing away the morning's edges. it’s more than relief — it's him, reading you like always, making space for you to breathe.

“mind if i use your shower?” you ask, voice soft, reluctant to shatter the quiet.

he pauses, thumbs lingering on a stubborn spot, a spark lighting in his eyes as he leans in closer, breath warm against your neck, “i have a better idea,” he says, winking with that playful glint.

before you can ask, he's sliding out of bed, his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the fabric hugging his frame just right. he pads toward the bathroom, the door swinging open to the cool tile expanse and that deep, inviting tub you've noticed before. the faucet turns with a creak, water rushing in steady and soothing, steam rising as he adds a capful of his cedarwood bath oil, bubbles foaming lazily across the surface, the scent earthy and calming filling the air.

he dips a hand in to test the temperature, adjusting the tap until it's perfect — warm enough to melt away the chill, not scalding. a fresh towel is pulled from his closet, placed on the counter with care. satisfied, he turns to head back out, respecting the boundaries even now. but as he reaches the doorway, a quiet urge rises in you — the want to stretch this closeness, to keep him near in the haze of the morning, “wait,” you call, voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. you stand, “join me?”

he smiles in response as you slip into the tub first, the water enveloping you, bubbles parting around your skin as you settle in. the steam curls lazily in the air, carrying that cedarwood scent that clings to everything of his. hendery follows moments later, the water sloshing gently as he eases in behind you, his legs framing yours. you lean into him, back pressing flush against his chest, skin meeting skin in a seamless contact that feels like warmth. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you, just the steady rise and fall of his breathing syncing with yours. his chin rests lightly on your shoulder, light stubble grazing your skin in a faint, ticklish rasp, his breath warm against your ear. you tilt your head just enough to nuzzle into the side of his neck, inhaling the clean, soapy freshness of him, your fingers tracing idle loops along his forearm draped across your stomach. he holds you like that for what feels like forever, content in the silence, his thumbs stroking slow, soothing arcs over your thighs. the tension from earlier melts away completely, replaced by this effortless peace, as if the bath is washing away more than just the night's remnants.

“there’s still something we haven’t talked about,” hendery starts finally, his voice a low murmur that vibrates through his chest into yours, gentle but laced with that underlying seriousness he gets when he's been mulling something over.

you shift slightly in his hold, glancing sideways at his profile, the steam softening the edges of his features, “what is it?” you ask, keeping your tone light, though a flicker of curiosity stirs in your chest.

he pauses, lips brushing your shoulder in a feather-light kiss before he speaks, “what are we?”

your eyes widen a fraction, surprise rippling through you like the water disturbed by your subtle movement. after last night's confessions, it's almost comical that he'd need to voice it. but then understanding settles in, warm and empathetic. you've turned him down before, danced around labels like they were live wires, leaving him to wonder if this time is different. he needs the words, straight from you, to chase away the ghosts of those past hesitations.

a soft smile curves your lips as you turn in the tub, water swirling around you in gentle waves. you turn carefully until you're facing him, knees bracketing his hips, straddling his lap with your hands resting on his shoulders for balance. droplets cling to his lashes, his blonde hair darkened and slicked back from the damp, making his eyes seem even more intense, more yours.

“hendery,” you say, voice tender, laced with the affection that's been building for so long, “will you be my boyfriend?”

he lets out a deep, rumbling laugh that echoes off the tiled walls, his head tilting back against the tub's edge with pure delight, adam's apple bobbing as the sound spills out unrestrained.

“no,” he says, still chuckling, his hands sliding up to steady your waist, fingers splaying wide and warm.

“what do you mean no??” you exclaim, feigning outrage as you lean back a touch, brows furrowing in mock betrayal. your heart races with playful shock, but before you can fully pull away, his grip tightens just enough to keep you close.

“i wanted to be the one to ask you,” he explains, his laughter fading into a grin that's all boyish charm and sparkling eyes, the kind that crinkles the corners and makes your stomach flip. he ducks his head to press a quick, wet kiss to your collarbone, as if to punctuate the confession, earning a surprised giggle from you.

“okay… then ask me now,” you tease, arching a brow as you lean in closer, your noses nearly brushing, the steam wrapping around you both like a secret.

he shakes his head stubbornly, that mischievous glint in his eyes refusing to dim, even as his hands trace lazy patterns along your sides, sending little shivers through the warmth, “nah,” he drawls, voice dropping to a playful whisper, “where’s the fun in that? no surprise, no big romantic moment…not as cool as your porch confession,” he says, clearly teasing you.

you burst into laughter, the sound mingling with his, light and free as it fills the bathroom. “you’re annoying,” you murmur, but there's no heat in it, only fondness overflowing as you cup his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheeks.

“don’t worry, i won’t make you wait too long,” he whispers, leaning into your touch, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, eyes softening — the unspoken promise that this is real and worth every delayed surprise.

your laughter fades into a shared smile, the kind that lingers in the air, pulling you both closer without a word. you lean in first, pressing your lips to his in a soft, unhurried kiss, tasting the faint soap on his mouth. his hands slide up your back, fingers holding you steady as he kisses back, gentle at first — lips brushing, parting just enough for a quiet sigh to escape. it’s innocent, like rediscovering each other.

but the heat has been building since last night and now — its boiling over. his grip tightens on your hips, yanking you flush against him, the kiss turning rougher, teeth clashing, tongues tangling.

“god, i love you,” he rasps against your lips, voice already wrecked, his cock jerking hard against your thigh, swelling thick and insistent in the hot water. you whimper into him, nails scraping down his chest as you grind on his shaft, feeling every inch of him pulse with need.

“i love you too — fuck, hendery — need you inside me,” you breathe, the words spilling out raw and desperate, your pussy aching as you straddle him wider, sliding along his length with deliberate friction. he bucks up sharply, the tip of his dick catching your clit, sending sparks through you.

“then take it, baobei — i’m all yours,” he demands, hands clamping on your ass, helping you lift and sink down, sliding yourself on his cock in one brutal drop. the stretch burns so good, filling you completely, and you both gasp at the same time, savoring the moment for a second before you start bouncing, slowly at first, his cock pounding deep, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur.

“keep squeezing me — just like that,” he groans against your collarbone, before diving down to suck on your nipple, tongue drawing circles around the peak in slow strokes earning a moan from you. you thread your fingers through his wet hair, pulling him impossibly closer as you grind harder, circling your hips to drag his cock against your walls. he switches sides, sucking the other nipple into his mouth with patience, rolling it between his teeth.

“mine — all mine,” he murmurs hotly against your skin, the words fueling the frenzy, making you bounce harder and harder, faster and faster, waves crashing against the tub’s edges and spilling out in a growing flood across the tiled bathroom floor.

“wait..” pause for a bit, his cock still throbbing inside you as you glance down at the mess — the puddle spreading rapidly, soaking his mat and creeping toward the door, “we’re making a mess,” you say breathlessly, half-laughing, half-concerned, your body still humming from the rhythm you’d built.

hendery just chuckles low and rough, his hands firm on your hips as he pulls you back in for a deep, possessive kiss, swallowing your protest with his tongue, “i’ll clean it up, don’t worry about it,” he whispers against your lips, eyes gleaming with that playful fire you adore, before his grip tightens again, “now,” he says, littering kisses down your neck to your collarbone, “where were we?” he teases, looking up at you as he sucks another love mark on your breast.

you don't need more encouragement, the brief pause only heightening the urgency as you bounce with renewed ferocity, slamming down onto his cock as he thrusts up to meet you. the water churns wildly now, more of it sloshing over the sides with every brutal collision of your bodies, the wet slaps of skin echoing off the walls amidst your shared moans. his hands cup your tits roughly as he leans in, mouth descending on one nipple with a hungry growl. he sucks harder now, pulling the sensitive bud between his lips and flicking his tongue over it relentlessly.

“fuck — you’re perfect,” he pants. the intensity builds like a storm, water flooding the floor unchecked, but all you care about is the way you can feel him — everywhere. not just physically.

“i’m close,” you moan, grinding down to take him deeper, pleasure coiling tight as more water cascade out. neither of you slows, the mess only amps up the raw edge, your bodies slick and sliding together in the frenzy.

“come for me, baobei — say my name, let everyone know who’s making you feel this good,” he urges, voice thick with love and lust, his hips pistoning up to drive his cock relentlessly. the words tip you over, your orgasm crashing through you like the water around you, pussy spasming around him as you scream his name.

“that’s my girl — so fucking beautiful,” he growls, tucking your hair behing your ear as he pulls you in for an open mouthed kiss, his own release taking over as you gasp into each other’s mouths, breaths ragged. his bathroom is a complete disaster — but in this moment, wrapped in his arms with water lapping at your skin, it's the most perfect mess you've ever made together.

🥢

the weight of your final exam lifts as you step out into the campus quad, your purse slung over one shoulder, the late afternoon buzz of relieved students filling the air. laughter echoes from cluster of friends reuniting, some collapsing onto the grass in exhaustion, others already planning post-finals celebrations. but then a voice cuts through all the chatter — your name. loud and clear. ringing in the air.

heads turn like dominoes, conversations halting mid-sentence. you freeze, heart skipping, scanning the quad until your gaze locks on him — hendery stands a few yards away, effortlessly magnetic, a boquet of pink roses clutched in one hand. the soft petals’ color a perfect match of that offhand comment you made months ago. your favorite flower, mentioned in passing, never expecting it to stick. but there he is, holding them like he’s been planning this all day, his smile wide and unapologetic.

eyes meet yours from all sides — the dream boys scattered around with their flawless girlfriends, the riize crew clustered near the wall, sungchan mid-laugh with shotaro until he spots the scene, the wav guys with their girls lounging on benches, yangyang nudging xiaojun with a knowing grin, outright staring like they paid for front-row seats. random students pausing their walks to watch, whispers already starting. and your sorority sisters? already filming with bubbly smiles on their faces. the quad feels like a spotlight.

your gaze returns to him and he straightens when your eyes meet, a slow smile spreading across his face — the kind that always used to mean trouble for you. now it just makes your heart race. he strides over, closing the distance with that confident ease, completely unbothered by the audience. if anything, he looks faintly amused by it.

as he gets closer, his eyes sparkle with mischief, “told you i won’t make you wait too long,” he says, voice low but carrying just enough for the nearest onlookers to lean in, his wink sealing the tease.

“you’re insane,” you let out a breathless laugh as he slips the bouquet into your hands, his fingers brushing yours deliberately, lingering a beat longer than necessary.

“for you? yeah, probably,” then, with that signature cool tilt to his head, he steps even closer, voice dropping to a husky murmur meant just for you, “i’m afraid im going to outdo your porch confession.”

you chuckle smugly, leaning in until your lips nearly brush his ear, “i’d like to see you try.”

his smile shifts, that mischievous glint in his eyes deepening into something softer, more intense, pulling you in like gravity. the crowd’s murmurs fade into a distant hum, the world shrinking to the intimate bubble between you two. hendery takes one slow step back, just enough to hold your eyes fully, his expression a canvas of quiet intensity and then he starts —

“from the first time i saw you freshman year, all fire and unyielding grace, i was done for,” he confesses, your eyes widening slightly at the new information, “and when you grabbed me by that collar that sophomore night, i knew — you were always going to be mine.”

his hands find your waist then, pulling you closer, the roses nestling softly between your bodies, “junior year, i started waiting for your calls, that ringtone became my favorite sound,” he smirks, both of you knowing damn well what all those calls were for.

his eyes get’s serious again, “but it wasn’t until you started reciting the entirety of shrek 2 was when i realized — i would listen to you quote every single one of your favorite movies for the rest of my life, every quirky detail, every passionate rant.”

“you’ve been the most maddening person i’ve ever met,” he adds, arching a brow in that way that draws a smile form you, “you challenged me, argued with me, drove me to edge of sanity….and somehow, you became the safest place i know, the one place i feel like i can just be me.”

“you saw through every layer of me from day one,” he presses on, his voice steady but laced with emotion, “somewhere amid the rivalries, the stolen late nights and all the almosts… i fell in love with you.”

“so,” he says, a teasing lilt creeping back in to lighten the weight, “will you stop making me tell people i don’t have girl — and be my girlfriend?” the words carry now, clear and bold for everyone to hear. his eyes search yours, hopeful and steady, the bouquet warm in your grasp, petals soft as the promise in his gaze.

your heart swells in your chest, a rush of warmth flooding through ayou as his confessions hang in the air, raw and real, every guarded corner of your soul cracking open in sweet surrender.

“i’ll settle for a truce,” you say, your voice teasing despite the lump rising in your throat, a smile breaking across your face as you fight the sting in your eyes, “i’d love to be your girlfriend,” you add, reaching out for a handshake.

his hand slide into yours, firm and warm, but instead of shaking it, he tugs you forward with a girn that lights up his feautures, drawing you into his space. the bouqet presses beween you as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both playful and profound — soft at first, then deepening with the weight of everything unsaid. a tear slips down your cheek, warm against your skin as you melt into him.

around you, the quad explodes into cheers, the crowd’s energy hyped. your sorority sisters shriek with delight, phones held high to catch every second, the dream boys whoop and clap, their girlfriends joining in with wide smiles. sungchan’s booming laugh cuts through, shotaro yelling something encouraging and from the wayv group, yangyang puts a fist up as xiaojun flashes a thumbs-up. even the scattered onlookers get swept up, applause rippling out as whispers turn to full support. and in that moment, with his lips on yours, it’s all a distant echo — your focus locked on him, the start of something real and yours.

ᥫ᭡. the end.

ー

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

hendery x baobei coded links: #1. #2. #3. #4. #5. #6. #7. #8. #9. #10. #11. #12. #13. #14. #15. #16. #17. #18. #19. #20. #21. #22. #23.

—

an: anddddddd we’re done! *bows* i hope you enjoyed the last of the wayv trio! i loved writing these two! i also hope the flashbacks weren’t confusing!!!! i decided to write it this way because starting chronologically with this couple’s relationship would’ve been sooooo slowburn and probably so long so i decided to just focus on the now and give you guys insight to their relationship throughout the years :D! it’s a different style but i liked it lol. thank you for having so much fun on the loverboy roller coaster with me! i always have such a great time writing these (when im not deep in writer’s block). i hope you guys continue to reread these stories over and over again! and never stop letting me know it too <3333333 i have so much gratitude and love for all of you! thank you for your time! this is the last of the loverboys ♥️ (for now). and since it’s the last i packed on the links ;))) have fun with those, you freaks! (said with adoration). don’t forget to let me know what you’re thinking!

p.s. i couldn’t end this series without a jackson wang party could i? like are you truly a fanfic writer if he isn’t mentioned at least once? :3

ᥫ᭡. likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated.

ᥫ᭡. if you enjoy this series and would like to show extra love and support. my ko-fi is open <3

ᥫ᭡. love tags: @mangoescrazy @bamjjwi @jungwooie @erireadsstuff @rjreins @poemzcheng @jungwooismysavior @alexameliamg @neo-moa @dkkyeom @leleszn @rex-ie @generalpuppycloud @mots/g @chenleverse @kjOne @ninety-nite-99 @xxxnrigi @idkwiexist @pankuya @amazinggraxia @jaeminiwrld @ni-ki-starnetwork @drunkhee @severeanxietyissues @peonyjoo @multifandom2515 @yeosayang @dongyoungknows @aegryo @malaysianctfan @booskies @ingridbirdman @vantxx95 @andluv @fancypeacepersona @heartsforsunwoo @222low @9yuldaengi @cowboyuyu @zarastrawberry @boxofinvisiblethoughts @jwikyo @horanghyuck @combinatoright-blog @emmy-l-r @karleereadssmut @asahisimpnation @httpsxnox @voucearse

TAGLIST: CLOSED

[viasdreams]

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

asking wayv “as a seahorse, could i get you pregnant?” !!

a/n: “via what is this???😱” WHAT DO YOU THINK IT IS??? GOD FORBID A GIRL GETS A LITTLE SILLY🙄

[cbeargyu]

hentai

summary: yangyang is a pervert, always looking for any chance to satisfy his dirtiest desires — but he didn’t expect you were on your way to catch him...

pairing: perv!yangyang x fem!reader

genre: smut, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving & m receiving), filming, light dom/sub dynamics, playful teasing.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), language, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, use of camera/recording during sexual act, dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, consent implied but not extensively discussed, semi-public implications (camera), soft dom!yangyang, submissive reader moments, mention of fluids, NSFW themes — minors do not interact.

wc: 4,23K

notes: i had this fic in my drafts for a while, but i hadn't finished it. however, i spent the weekend with my boyfriend and didn’t have a chance to continue it, but i’m back now, and here it is😁🫶🏻🔥🩷

hentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentaihentai

it was saturday night.

yangyang had stayed home that weekend while his friends were out—partying, on dates, or god knows where. he preferred the solitude, the silence of his dark room, the soft hum of his computer screen lighting up his face.

he felt hot. needy. it had been a while since he was this alone—and just the thought of it turned him on even more.

his fingers slowly traced the growing bulge between his thighs while his right hand worked the mouse with precision, scrolling through adult sites, searching for the video that would finally ease the burning tension in his gut.

he freed his erection with a simple pull—pants pushed down to his hips, shirt hiked up just enough.

he started slow, stroking his length up and down. small, breathy moans escaped his lips. he didn’t even bother muting the video; he wanted to hear the actress’ high-pitched whimpers fill the room. leaning back into his chair, he picked up the pace. all he could focus on was the girl’s bouncing breasts and the filthy wet sound of skin slapping against skin as she was pounded from behind.

it felt too good.

he did this almost every night, but tonight... tonight felt different. something about the loneliness, the silence—it made everything more intense.

the video ended, but yangyang wasn’t done. not even close. he clicked through the suggested videos, impatient, and chose another.

his head tipped back as he groaned, completely lost in the heat, the lust curling tight in his stomach, the climax building slowly—deliciously.

he was so close.

until a notification blinked on his screen.

it was a message from you.

“do you have the photos yet?”

ah. the photos.

yangyang had helped you with a photoshoot for your instagram feed a few days ago. nothing serious—just a few soft shots, sweet poses, and since he had a professional camera, it made sense to ask him. all he had to do was connect the camera, transfer the files, do a light edit, and send them over.

like the multitasker he was, he left the video playing, stood up, still hard and hanging, and rummaged through the desk drawer for the camera. with quick hands, he plugged it in. one hand editing your photos, the other wrapped tightly around his cock, pumping with more urgency now. wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through him, curses and moans slipping past his lips.

the filthy background noise filled the room—moans, wet smacks, filthy talk.

but his eyes?

his eyes were on you.

on the screen, your soft smile, the way you posed so innocently.

then—another message popped up.

“i’m like three minutes away from your house, lol. gonna stop by to see the pics.”

but yangyang didn’t read it.

lust had swallowed his mind whole. he kept editing. kept jerking. faster. harder. he was almost there, his release right on the edge of his tongue. breath shaky. fingers quick.

until the door burst open.

“hey, yang—!”

white lines shot across his stomach.

his body jerked, muscles tense, panting hard. he turned his head.

and there you were.

frozen.

a hand still on the doorknob, face lit up by the room light, smiling... for half a second.

then the smile vanished.

your eyes dropped. to his cock, still wrapped in his hand. then up—to the screen.

your photo.

from the shoot he took just days ago.

a sharp “SORRY!!” and the slam of the door brought him crashing back to reality.

he sat there, chest rising and falling, his face burning red. a deep crimson shadow spread across his cheeks.

but—fuck. instead of going soft, his cock throbbed even harder. shame only made it worse. the embarrassment turned him on.

he cursed under his breath, yanked his boxers and pants up, slammed a key to mute the sounds, grabbed a tissue, and wiped off the mess on his abdomen.

“y-y/n! w-wait!” he called, fumbling with his clothes, rushing out after you.

there you were—back turned, stiff, humiliated.

and fuck, seeing you like that? it only made him harder.

being caught jerking off?

embarrassing.

but being caught by you?

something else entirely.

you turned, face flushed red. he didn’t know what to say. how the hell was he supposed to explain he was editing your photos while jerking off—but not because of them?

“l-listen, what just happened—it's a misunderstanding. i mean, yeah, i was editing your photos. but i swear i wasn’t doing it because—”

“oh, really? you’re such a pervert! you were jerking off to my pictures!”

“n-no!! it’s not like that—” he stammered, the bulge in his pants making it hard to even think clearly. “i was doing... other stuff,” he emphasized awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

and of course—you had heard the filthy sounds echoing from his room.

“so you weren’t touching yourself because of me?” your voice—soft, tinged with disappointment—cut deeper than a slap.

“n-no... no, i wasn’t…”

“why not?” you said, voice quiet, hurt, maybe even angry.

his eyes widened. what the hell were you saying?

he stared, hoping he hadn’t just imagined it.

but no—you really had said it.

“c-can i… would it be wrong if i asked to see it?” your voice wavered, barely above a whisper. your face turned, avoiding his eyes, your own burning with embarrassment.

“w-what…?”

you crossed your arms with a pout, refusing to say it again. yangyang’s eyes slowly traveled down your body. you were wearing a black off-shoulder long sleeve top that subtly hinted at your cleavage, a short gray denim skirt, and soft white ankle socks. on your feet, kun’s indoor slippers looked comically out of place with the rest of your outfit—but somehow, they added to the charm.

"can you... show me how you do it?" your voice was soft, hesitant.

a curved, wicked smile spread across yangyang’s lips.

"oh no… you’re really perverted. you want to watch your friend touch himself, huh?"

"you did it first!" you snapped back, cheeks burning. "touching yourself to my pictures like it was nothing—"

yangyang chuckled and sat back down on his swivel chair, while you stayed frozen in the middle of the bed, sitting on your knees. he turned the chair to face you, spreading his legs a bit before slowly pulling his pants back down. he lifted his shirt and held the hem with his teeth to keep it from falling.

that move alone made your breath hitch. the way his toned stomach glistened—maybe from earlier—was almost too much to take in.

"i need to get in the mood first… you don’t mind, do you?" he asked with a teasing tone.

you blinked, not understanding what he meant at first—until he turned slightly and played a video on full screen. a blonde girl in seductive lingerie moved sensually on a bed, soon joined by a man whose hands roamed all over her.

"yeah... that’s better," he whispered, but his eyes never left you. even with the explicit video playing, it was clear the thing turning him on most was sitting right in front of him.

he freed himself again, his length thick and veiny, flushed a deep red. you swallowed hard, eyes glued to him.

"y/n, you really are a pervert..." he murmured in a deeper tone as his hand began to move slowly, deliberately. the moans from the video filled the room, mixing with the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"i-i’m not..." you whispered, thighs pressing together to ease the growing ache between your legs.

"do you like what you see? because i definitely like what i’m seeing," he said, his voice low and almost dangerous. something warm and wet was starting to pool beneath your panties, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

your skin broke out in goosebumps when you heard the soft grunts escaping his mouth. his head tilted back slightly, one hand holding up his shirt, the other working between his thighs, faster now.

your bra rubbed against your sensitive nipples, making everything worse. your body felt flushed, hot under your skin, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the room temperature or the way yangyang was looking at you—like he was losing himself in you.

"let me see you, y/n…" he murmured, voice full of need. "touch yourself for me too."

his words felt like a command you couldn’t disobey.

you pulled up your skirt, rolling it up to your waist, you discovered your panties, pastel pink ones, small, with lace and cute little bows.

"fuck..." he groaned the moment he saw you. his hand moved faster, his breathing heavier. "touch yourself. i want to watch you too."

he could see the darker spot forming in the center of your underwear—a clear sign of how turned on you were. your fingers moved gently over the fabric, and you gasped softly at the contact. even the lightest stroke was enough to make you feel weak.

your fingers caressed your sensitive area over the fabric. you gasped at the electric sensation — just the simple touch was enough to make your legs tremble and desire surge through your body.

you kept stroking yourself through the cloth, this time with more intention. spreading your legs a little, you caught a glimpse of yourself in that position — and just the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to yangyang’s length.

“take off your panties, sweetheart.”

you slid your panties aside just enough to reveal your swollen, glistening folds. “god...” yangyang whispered, completely mesmerized. this moment was more intense than any of his fantasies — and his fantasies were wild, as expected from someone so deliciously perverted.

with two fingers, you traced your core from top to bottom, drawing out soft moans of pleasure. when the fabric started to get in the way, you slipped the panties off in one swift motion — a motion yangyang watched breathlessly, swallowing hard as his eyes drank in every second.

now your legs were open, completely exposed before him. your fingers moved frenetically over your clit, already swollen and throbbing, pulsing under every stroke — desperate for your touch, aching for his. you slid lower, teasing your entrance before pushing a finger in, and a loud moan tore from your lips, raw and involuntary.

yangyang mirrored your pace, eyes narrowing with fierce desire. he was close, too close — but he wanted to wait for you. he wanted to fall with you, at the exact same moment.

“put another one in, love. i want to see you with two fingers inside,” he begged, voice cracking with lust.

and because his wishes were commands, you slid in a second finger. your body trembled from the stretch, the overwhelming sensation forcing out helpless moans, as if no one else existed in the world but you and him. it felt too good — the situation, the build-up, the way yangyang was right in front of you, stroking his cock with his jaw clenched, the very sight of it enough to make your mouth water. you needed more. more of him, more of this.

the knot in your stomach twisted tighter. you quickened your rhythm, fingers slick, desperate, chasing the high that had been building endlessly. you wanted to fall over the edge. to unravel. to feel something more.

“y-yanggie... a-ah!!! i'm gonna come—i'm gonna explode, god!” you moaned, body arching as the wet, obscene sounds filled the room. chop, chop. every squelch echoing your pleasure, feeding his hunger. beneath you, a slick pool of arousal formed — a sight that drove yangyang insane.

“let's finish together, baby—let's come together, fuck, yes,” he groaned, increasing his pace despite the ache in his wrist. the pleasure of cumming with you was stronger than the pain. everything around him blurred, adrenaline rushing wild through his veins. and as you clenched your lip between your teeth, trying to hold on just a second longer, he swore he saw the most erotic vision of his life.

your fingers reached as deep as they could go, and in that moment, it felt like you'd touched heaven. a wave of heat flooded your face, your mouth parted, a thin trail of saliva slipping from the corner of your lips. then, without warning, you released — a stream of wetness bursting out of you, your climax crashing through your body, marked by a loud, broken moan that sounded like music to his ears.

he came too, spraying his cum high into the air, staining his pants in the process. but he didn’t care. nothing else mattered. as you collapsed back, breathless and undone, your body trembled with aftershocks — tingling, overstimulated, electric. it had been... perfect. the sight of your best friend touching himself for you, eyes fixed on every movement. and you, touching yourself for him, all the while wishing it was yangyang's fingers inside you instead.

yangyang couldn’t look away. he watched as your juices continued to drip from your pussy, the sight making his mouth water. the hunger hit him hard.

he dove between your legs without a word, burying his face in your soaked heat. his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer as his tongue slid up your slit, slow and deliberate — hot and hungry. each stroke of his tongue made your body twitch, breath catching in your throat, and you could only gasp, still sensitive, still open for him.

“a-ah!!! y-yanggie—!!!” you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation. it felt so good — too good — but at the same time, incredibly embarrassing. “i-it's dirty there!” you moaned, face flushed deep red from the shame. you instinctively tried to pull away, but his strength was greater than yours. he held you down with ease, his low grunt sending chills down your spine as he leaned in again, so close that even his breath kissed your sensitive center.

“you taste and smell amazing, i still can’t believe you’ve been hiding this part of yourself, y/n…” he murmured against your skin.

his tongue moved deliberately now — gliding over your outer lips, circling your clit, teasing every inch of you. the touches were soft, wet, and slow… extracting the sweetest moans from your mouth. you tried to stifle them with your hands, but he noticed. he noticed everything.

“don’t hide your pretty voice, y/n. i want to hear you,” he growled, voice low and rough. “fuck, i want to hear you scream.”

he looked up at you then — eyes dark, mouth glistening, shamelessly buried between your thighs. the sight alone made your core clench, your heart pound harder. you were so turned on it was dizzying, yet too shy to say it aloud. when his nose grazed your clit, you let out a squeal you didn’t even recognize as your own.

he kept devouring you for minutes that felt like eternity, and somewhere in between your cries, your moans turned into whispers of how good it felt. any traces of embarrassment had melted away. your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, voice barely audible.

“yang…”

“yes, baby?” he murmured, looking up at you with glistening lips and hungry eyes, waiting.

“…i want to suck you,” you whispered, turning your face away in shyness.

he let out a low chuckle, the sound wicked and full of mischief. “you want what? say it clearly, love.”

yangyang was enjoying every second — savoring your flustered expression, your trembling voice. he knew how to ruin you, how to make you squirm with embarrassment… and you felt it, that creeping self-consciousness wrapping around you again, even as desire burned hotter inside.

“i want to suck your cock,” you said — no hesitation, no shame. your voice rang out firm, clear, hungry.

yangyang’s breath hitched, eyes widening at the sudden shift in you — bold, dominant, devastatingly seductive. he felt his cock twitch, throbbing painfully hard at the sight of your confidence, your desire no longer hidden behind flushed cheeks or shy glances.

you pushed him gently back onto the chair, guiding him with soft hands until he sat. then with your hands you leaned on his thighs to make space between them in a very sensual way, facing him, your movements slow and deliberate. your ass remained raised, skirt bunched around your waist, your pussy still glistening and dripping — an open invitation, even as your attention turned entirely to him now.

you slid down between his legs, nestling there like you belonged, hands gliding up his thighs with featherlight touches. his cock stood proud, flushed and wet at the tip, and your fingers traced along his shaft with reverence — worshipful, but teasing.

yangyang swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the chair. the way you looked up at him while stroking him gently… fuck. like he was something sacred, something you'd been dying to taste.

“i want to be good for you, yanggie…” you whispered, voice soaked in lust, in devotion, in something so tender it nearly undid him.

he groaned, one hand reaching to brush your hair back behind your ear, his fingers shaking slightly from anticipation. “you already are, baby… you are so good…”

your tongue flicked out, teasing his tip, collecting the precum before dragging a slow, wet line down the underside of his cock. he let out a low moan, hips bucking slightly, but you pinned him with a firm look — not yet.

you kissed along the base, lips soft and hot against his skin, taking your time, your fingers still stroking him in rhythm. then, with a sinful smile, you wrapped your lips around the head and began to take him in, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact.

“fuck, fuck— y/n…” he hissed, his voice breathless, wrecked. you hummed around him, pleased by the reaction, by the way his thighs tensed and how he gripped your hair just a little tighter.

you wanted to ruin him. you wanted to taste every drop, every sound, every trembling breath that left his mouth.

just as your lips wrapped around him, slow and warm, yangyang reached for the edge of the desk with one hand — the other moved to quietly disconnect the camera, his eyes never leaving you. then, with calm precision, he switched it to video mode, and pressed record.

he had to capture this — you, in all your beauty, in all your power. the way your eyes looked up at him, so hungry and soft at once. the way your lips moved with intention. it was art.

“god… you look so perfect like this,” he murmured, almost reverent, his voice hoarse and low, like the words were being pulled straight from his chest.

you felt your cheeks warm, a wicked little smile tugging at your lips even as you kept him deep in your mouth. you pulled back slowly, your tongue teasing his tip, your hand continuing the rhythm below. then, with a playful glance at the camera in his hand, you adjusted a loose strand of hair behind your ear, tilted your chin slightly — just enough to show your best angle — and asked, sweetly:

“do i look pretty, yanggie?”

your voice was soft, laced with mischief, and your eyes sparkled with the kind of confidence only you could carry mid-act.

he groaned like your words alone could finish him.

“you look... like sin,” he whispered. “like a dream. my dream.”

your lips curled in satisfaction, but you didn’t stop. you dove back in — lips, tongue, hands — working in harmony, now with the knowledge that he was watching you twice: in real time, and through the screen.

you made sure to keep the rhythm steady, purposeful, your movements fluid and mesmerizing. every now and then, you stole a glance at the camera, letting him see your pride, your power. you were putting on a show, but it was real — this was real.

and god, he was falling for you all over again with every second.

his breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling as your rhythm became more intense, more focused. you felt it — the way his hips twitched slightly, the soft curses spilling from his lips, his hand tightening around the phone.

“shit, baby— i’m close,” he groaned, voice cracking at the edge of control. “i'm gonna—”

but you pulled back just enough to speak, voice sultry and breathless.

“no… not yet,” you whispered, licking your lips. “i want you to finish inside me.”

his eyes widened, the rawness of your words shooting through him like lightning.

“you sure?” he asked, barely managing the question, his voice all gravel and want.

you nodded, already rising, turning around with a confidence that left him breathless — your skirt still bunched at your waist, your skin glowing in the dim light, your body moving like a dream. slowly, you guided him back inside you, straddling him in reverse cowgirl, your movements fluid and steady, your hands gripping the arms of the chair for balance.

yangyang’s jaw dropped open as you began to move, your back arched, hips rolling — a rhythm both powerful and sensual. he adjusted the camera in his hand, angling it to capture everything: the way you rode him with control, the curve of your spine, the wet sound of your bodies meeting again and again.

“fuck… you’re unreal,” he moaned, the camera shaking slightly in his hand from the way his body trembled. “you feel so good, baby—”

you looked over your shoulder, lips parted, breath heavy, hair a little wild.

“i want you to remember this. every time you watch that video…” you said in a voice barely audible over the rhythm of your bodies, “i want you to remember how i chose this. how i chose you.”

and then you moved faster, your moans turning into whimpers, your body clenching with pleasure. he gripped your waist with his free hand, losing himself in the feeling, the sight, the sound of you falling apart on top of him.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck—” he growled.

“do it,” you whispered. “inside me, yanggie… i want all of you.”

just when you thought you were both about to finish together, yangyang surprised you — his hands gripped your waist and with one fluid movement, he pulled you off him and lifted you effortlessly into his arms. you gasped, startled, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as he walked toward the bed.

“not like this,” he murmured against your ear, breath warm, voice hoarse. “i want to see all of you… when we finish.”

he laid you down gently at the edge of the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the fire between your bodies. without letting go of the moment, he tossed the camera aside — it landed somewhere out of sight, still recording, but forgotten. right now, all that existed was you and him.

his eyes never left yours as he aligned himself again, the tension between you snapping like a drawn bow. your hands reached for him, your body arched in invitation. the pace this time was deeper, slower, more intimate — like he was memorizing the way your bodies met, the way your breaths tangled in the space between kisses and gasps.

you whispered his name like a prayer, your nails digging gently into his back, and he answered with soft moans and words you could barely catch — praises, desires, promises tangled in the haze of pleasure.

your legs tightened around him, urging him closer, deeper.

“i’m right there,” he breathed, eyes searching your face. “with you. just hold on…”

you nodded, lost in him — in the feeling, in the heat, in the connection that pulsed stronger than anything else.

and then the moment hit — not just the physical rush, but something bigger, something that made your whole body shiver. your hands clutched at him, your voice trembled, and as he followed right after you, everything around you blurred, melted, disappeared.

for a few moments, there was nothing but silence, breathless and glowing.

he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms without a word. your heart still raced, but it was softer now, steady in his embrace.

as you both got dressed slowly, still catching your breath and feeling the lingering sensitivity, yangyang bent down to pick up the camera from the floor. when he lifted it, he noticed the small red light still blinking.

“it’s still recording,” he said with a soft laugh, shaking his head with a mischievous smile. “guess it caught more than i expected.”

you giggled too, hiding your face with your hands, caught somewhere between embarrassment and excitement. he glanced at the screen for a second before turning to you with that teasing look in his eyes.

“do you want a copy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “i can send it to you… along with your edited photos, of course.”

you bit your lip, amused, and nodded. “what if we upload it?” you teased, winking at him.

yangyang fell silent for a moment, clearly surprised. a light blush crept onto his cheeks, but his smile returned just as quickly.

“only if we keep recording more,” he whispered, stepping closer, his voice low and tempting. “so you can build a full collection… upload whatever you want.”

your laughter blended with his as he wrapped his arms around your waist, and in that moment, the world shrank to just the two of you—lost in soft jokes, dirty promises, and the thrill of all the hot moments yet to come.

[blue-jisungs]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ WELCOME TO THE NEO CULTURE TECHNOLOGY RANCH, PARTNER ! 🧸ྀི — featuring taeyong, johnny, yuta, kun, sicheng, mark, jeno, sion, sakuya

[ extras ] word count 4,55 (in total) but varies 459-639 per member. more specific warnings written b4 works, in general: petnames, guns, alochol, swearing, hunting in kun's but no blood or violence. this is set in a cowboy/ranch/wild west setting and includes slang and words inspired by those vibes <3 some are established relationship, some are not! its truly a mix n match :3

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! as i told u. its here. istg i just started w 4 members but look at me go. literally wrote 3/4 of this in one sitting (took me 4 hours lmao) i hope u enjoy!!! let me know whatchu think of this kinda,, nct u moment format :D also i still have more ideas... so lmk if youd be willing to read a pt2 w other members >_<

@kstrucknet ˙ . ꒷ 🐎 . 𖦹˙— @neocity-net

┆彡 TENNESSEE WHISKEY — taeyong. includes petnames (darlin', honey, wife), alcohol consumption. word count 459.

"long day?" your voice, like the sweetest melody, brought taeyong back to reality. he was sitting slumped over the table, plans and papers scattered over the counter. the ice in his glass melted long ago, only watering down his whiskey. "you seem tuckered out."

"as hell" he replied, voice raspy. leaning on his elbows, his bloodshot eyes trailed over the schemes once again. "i sent the boys to town. 'grab food, look around' i said. and what? poor riku got his eye all swollen, chenle too. well, chenle deserved it. they caused trouble again, especially when we need to stay low" he grunted, running his fingers through his hair.

the yellow light from his lamp flickered, the only source of light in the room.

"i'm tired" he mumbled.

the soft echo of your steps sounded through the room. taeyong felt your presence behind his back.

"i know, honey" you hummed, hands resting on his shoulders. you began to massage them gently, trying to get rid of knots.

"after the train heist… i need a goddamn break. we will get enough money to survive for some time" taeyong murmured, head dropping low. he let out a slow groan, your fingers working miracles on his sore muscles. "i love those bastards but i wish we could have some time alone for more than a week."

you hummed in response, slightly increasing pressure on his neck. another satisfied groan escaped him.

"right here, darlin'" he slurred, his eyes closing.

"enough planning for today. you had a rough day, you need to rest" you leaned over and your lips were next to his ear. the faint scent of whiskey tickled your nostrils. "i can scratch your back to sleep if you want?"

"mhm…" he suppressed a yawn and shivers ran down his spine as your lips ghosted the shell of his ear. then, you gently pushed his shoulder.

"c'mon, boss. i promise you, we can spend some time alone. why don't you ask mark or johnny to take over for a month? and we'll be back. after a well deserved break" you helped him stand up, his body heavy from exhaustion and alcohol. you grabbed the plans and lead your husband to your shared bedroom.

"sounds nice…" he agreed and threw himself on the bed. you hid the plans where he always kept them — and only you knew the spot. his tired eyes watched you carefully, filled with love.

"i need my husband for myself too, y'know?" you teased before joining him in bed. you turned the light off, only the gentle light from starry sky slipping through your window.

"anything my wife wants… i will… fulfill…" the scary gang leader slurred, slumber taking over his body as your soft scratches lulled him.

┆彡 SMOKED WOOD — johnny. includes petnames (sugar, darlin', misses), suggestive. word count 614.

days on the ranch were hectic lately. the boys left a couple days ago, with their return date remaining unknown. only the youngest stayed, along with renjun, yangyang, jisung, kunhang, mark, and johnny. surprisingly, taeyong's left hand insisted on staying on the ranch. "in case any thugs come looking for trouble" he reasoned.

the memory of his words made your body react reflexively, eyes rolling and tongue clicking. as if you didn't know how to handle your guns.

johnny irritated you in general and you weren't sure why. perhaps because he was unlike others. he treated you like a lady. and among those savages, you weren't sure if that's a mocking or flattering manner. he always insisted you stayed put, out of danger. that meant doing the most boring chores.

speaking of which.

you finished your black coffee and grabbed your hat off the table. just from looking outside the window you could tell the weather was scorching hot and you didn't want to risk a sun burn. rolling your sleeves up, you left your crib.

"let's get it over with" you grunted to yourself. wood chopping was never your favorite, but you came to terms with it. you'd rather do it alone than let ryo or sakuya get hurt.

among other girls on the ranch you were the strongest. so naturally, the daunting task fell on you shoulders. on the other hand, you preferred to sweat for a little while and get your arms sore than milking cows or disposing literal shit.

if johnny had never joined, you could have been hunting with the others right now.

a rhythmic sound reached your ears. your brows furrowed, and thanks to your hat that protected your sight from the blinding sun rays, you were able to spot the source right away.

speak of the devil.

johnny was chopping wood. it made your blood boil… but it was tempered by the sight in front of you.

his bare arms. flexed and nicely toned from all the hard work he did. sweat was glistening on his honey colored skin, dripping down his forearms. in his white tank top, that was almost drenched, and allowed you to see a glimpse of his formed torso. his hair was glued to his damp forehead, which he wiped with his hand after tossing away the chopped wood.

"you look like you're about to devour me, misses"

you didn't even realize your mouth went dry and gaze turned hungry. maybe johnny wasn't so bad after all?

"i am. mind telling me why you're here? you're barkin' at a knot, suh." you approached closer, the smell of wood mixing with the smell of his sweat and cologne. his ebony eyes turned into crescents, cat-alike smirk dancing on his stupid… stupidly kissable lips…

"i'm just helpin' you out, sugar" he fiddled with the axe in his hand. you crossed your arms, cocking an eyebrow.

"no need. i can handle my wood" you barked, trying to yank the axe from him. but he was faster, sneakier. one hand swiftly grabbed both of your wrists in a tight gasp, the other ramming the axe into the tree stump. he pulled you closer, now his smell filling all your senses.

"oh i'm sure you can, darlin'" johnny hummed, eye contact so intense you thought sparks would fall. "don't strain yourself, will ya? i'd have to give you a massage"

he let go and winked before walking away. leaving you speechless, you weren't sure if the wood smelled like him or the other way around.

you decided to pour out your emotions - whether anger cracking like fire or adoration that slowly bloomed in your heart - on those wood pieces.

┆彡 SALOON FLIRT — yuta. includes petnames (darlin', doll), alcohol consumption, weapons. word count 518

tying your horse securely to a fence post, all you could think about was a cold glass of whiskey. you could almost taste the bitter, rye flavor at the tip of your tongue. you just wanted to relax after a long, tiring day of chasing cattle that this mush-head haechan let escape.

with your cowboy shoes still stained in mud and dirt, you walked into the loud and buzzing saloon. the cheerful melody that someone was playing on the piano was almost falling deaf on your ears due to the loud chatter of men inside. here and there you saw familiar faces, also resting at the end of the day.

hands in your pockets, you walked to the bar. without needing to say a word, the barman already started preparing your usual. you leaned against the counter, head hung low, hat almost falling. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the smell of tobacco, alcohol, and sweat filling your lungs. every muscle in your body was itching with pain and strain. oh, you sure will be sore tomorrow.

ice in the glass clanked, and you opened your eyes to see your drink. just when you were placing money on the counter, someone put their tin. you shifted your gaze and saw a handsome man with a smirk adorning his lips.

"this one's on me, darlin'" he hummed, voice deep and husky. you tipped your hat and took a sip. you could feel life flowing back into you, liquor muting the strain in your muscles. the stranger didn't peel his eyes off you for one bit. "are you new here? i haven't seen you before."

"not new, just not from around here" you replied. "could say the same about you, partner"

"pretty much the same." he shrugged, tracking the rim of his glass with his finger. a colt was sitting nicely in his holster — he must've noticed you're eyeing his weapon. "you got sand, don't ya? ogling my darlin' like that"

"i got my lover with me too" you bit back, flexing your own weapon and tossing it on the counter top. the man just scoffed, and you took another sip. "what's your name?"

"yuta" his tone was playful, his dark eyes shining with mischief. you put your gun back to your holster. with a roll of your eyes, you moved closer. "and yours, doll?"

"listen here, yuta. how 'bout that: you treat me to one or two drinks more and i show you that i ain't a doll in the slightest" you glared at him. if he wanted a fragile lady to spend a night with, he was oh so far away from that.

"bet. whatcha like? i'll pay for everything your heart desires" yuta called the barman over.

and once you were content, with whiskey running in your system, you showed yuta what you really meant.

by making him chase you on your horse, deep into the night under starry sky. townspeople thought you were a pair of looneys, yelling and laughing but no; it was just a beginning of a story of two wild hearts.

┆彡 DEER HUNTER — kun. includes petnames (doe), hunting (no explicit descriptions tho). word count 639

"are you sure about that?" kun asked, worried. you remained silent stubbornly, zipping your shoes. the cheerful yells of your companions came from outside, as if there was not a single worry in the world.

"yes, kun. i need to get some fresh air, and i need— i have to do something useful for once!" you grunted, grabbing his hat.

"but you do, you take care of the gang, and- and everyone loves your meals" he started but just let out a sigh when he saw the determined look in your eye.

"just once, kun. i know how to shoot" you grunted and your features softened upon looking into his ebony eyes. "i learned from the best, ya know?"

he just scoffed and took his hat from you, only to messily shove it onto your head. pulling it down on purpose, so it fell over your eyes.

"hey!" you yelped.

"your sugar coatin' ain't gonna do anything here. let's go. but remember, if you puke on me… i'm gonna leave you in the woods" he warned but you know well those were empty threats. he loved you too dearly.

thanks to his horse's stamina, you were on the hunting ground sooner than you expected. you observed as he traced the trail, fingers shoving away fallen leaves.

"see here? a deer was nearby." kun pointed at the fresh tracks and bite marks on some plants. "stay low and follow me"

you fixed you bow on your back and crouched down. the breeze was pleasant and hopefully helped mask your scent. kun would stay focused on hunting down the deer, but occasionally looked back through his shoulder to check up on you. finally, he froze. hiding behind a bush, he grabbed your hand and pointed at something.

"look" his voice was barely a whisper.

there it was.

a cute, pretty doe. white spots on her fur made it easier to spot it. she peacefully gnawed on grass, unaware of what's about to happen. you reached for your bow and as silently as you could, you drew it. the feather fletching gently tickled your cheek as you aimed. kun was watching you closely, syncing his breathing with yours.

your blood was rushing, primal instincts suddenly awaking. you released the arrow.

the air was cut with a swish! but… the arrow landed in the ground, mere centimeters from your prey. it hopped away, startled.

"damn it" you grunted through your teeth, lowering your bow. then, you landed a punch on kun. "why didn't ya tell me i will miss?"

''what's the point of learning if you don't discover the mistakes yourself?" he laughed.

"i'm gonna hunt you! hunt you and chop, and serve for dinner tonight!" you threatened him through giggles, shoving yourself onto him. kun played along, flipping you onto the ground in no time.

"yeah? i'd like to see you try!" he snickered, tossing your bow aside. the ground was cold, leaves rustling underneath your back and dirt covering your clothes but you didn't care. wrapping your legs around his hips, you pulled him closer, small branches cracking nearby.

"take this, hunter!" you teased and in one swift move, nibbled at his ear. kun let you play and squirm, trying to release from his grip. but just when you thought you can flip him over again, he leaned in and started pressing hot kisses along your jawline, down to your neck and your collarbone. this left you speechless.

"i think i win this one, my pretty doe" he hummed, looking at you through his hooded eyes. you were breathing heavily whereas he didn't seem to break a sweat. a playful smirk danced on his lips as he stood up and reached out his hand to help you. "now, let's try again. we ain't comin' back until you hunt somethin' for real."

┆彡 GUNS'N'ROSES — sicheng. includes guns, shooting. word count 463.

the soft click of a gun reloading made sicheng's skin crawl, instantly making him freeze even before hearing the order:

"don't move one inch, rascal"

his heart was thumping in his chest like a stallion galloping through fields. it was not supposed to look like that.

"turn around, will ya?"

he did, painfully slowly. hands in the air, teeth clattering. when he did and saw you, his eyes widened.

"don't act surprised, partner. you thought could trespass freely? well, maybe if you were a sheep, i'd let you go" you grunted, let letting go your shotgun, still aimed at him. "you ain't a sheep but you sure do look like a scared deer!"

his eyes were wide, truly scared and limbs trembling like an animal caught in a trap. he was speechless, just staring.

admiring your beauty.

ever since he saw you in that saloon, he fell head over heels. he was not used to women like you, though. living in a small town, nowhere near open fields and mean cowgirls like you.

snarly, wild, dangerous… currently pointing a gun at him.

and he swore he just fell more.

"i'm talking to you!" you grunted, after your question fell deaf on his ears. you aimed at the sky and fired a warning shot, sicheng letting out a scared yelp. his body jerked, chest moving up and down maniacally.

you're crazy. actually lunatic!

"i'll ask one last time and you better listen up close: what are you doing on my ranch?" you snarled, the sound of reloading your gun making shivers run down his spine.

"i– well, um, i figured i… i pay you a visit! i've got you somethin'" sicheng wasn't even sure if you understood him through his clattering teeth.

you seemingly did, as you pointed with your gun at his hand.

"r-right, this! i got you this!" he grinned, finally remembering the rose he brought you. it was one hell of a ride to get it, he had to pay–

"drop it on the ground and leave unless you want a hole in your head" you said calmly, the corner of your lips twitching subtly.

he did and swallowed, wide eyes still glued to you.

"shoo! you got a death wish or somethin'?" you yelled out and sicheng ran off with a yelp.

he heard you laughing. he turned around to take a peek – you were now holding the rose in your hand… and laughing.

he took it as a good sign. maybe next time–

a loud bang, and pieces of ground and small rocks splattered next to him. a warning shot that landed mere millimeters next to his feet.

"yeah, yeah, i'm goin' now!" he yelled out and decided not to tempt the devil anymore.

he'll be back next week.

┆彡 FRESH FLANNEL — mark. includes (girl, ma'am, pretty girl). word count 508.

the buckets in your hands clanked softly against each other as you tried your best not to spill the milk in them. stepping out of the cool barn, you were met with sticky and humid air. you had a couple minute walk to your home, where you would begin bottling the milk.

sweat dribbled down your temples, the buckets getting heavier with each step.

a loud, long whistle cut through the air like an arrow. you looked up and noticed a maple colored horse approaching. you already knew who it was.

"damn girl, where are you going?" a deep, husky voice called you. with just a scoff, you shook your head.

"home"

the horse approached you, matching your step. you looked up to glance at the rider. beige hat sat on his raven hair, pleaded shirt almost falling off his shoulders. lips curled into a boyish smirk, he caught your gaze.

"you're lucky i'm a cowboy because i know how to ride into your heart" he grinned and you just rolled your eyes. "are you lost though, ma'am?"

"no, i certainly am not!" you bit back, fixing the hold on the buckets. the horse's steps were chanting a soft melody along your footsteps.

"because heaven's a long way from here!"

"mark."

you two just laughed, the facade falling off — but that didn't stop him from coming up with more pick up lines.

"you must be a tumbleweed, 'cause you just rolled into my heart" he hummed, hips swaying rhythmically along with his horse's tempo.

"mark" you warned again.

"'wait, one last chance. i promise this one is good!" he exclaimed excitedly and you just breathed heavily. "are you a horseshoe? because i feel lucky every time I see you."

you stopped in your tracks, sighing heavily. you started to get sore from the buckets.

"lee minhyung. those are lame and we are married. keep trying. and for now, would you mind helping me out?" you asked. mark stopped, eyes widening. he must've just realized you're carrying the milk buckets.

"oh damn, my bad. let's switch, pretty girl" he hummed and hopped off his horse. when you put down the buckets, your husband handed you the reins, his hoarse hand brushing against yours. you stood there, looking into his eyes. "what?"

"you're a total looney, y'know that? still trying to pick me up with those cheesy lines" you scoffed and his features broke into a wide smile.

"what can i say? i'm mesmerized every day by your godly beauty" he hummed and leaned closer, lips brushing against yours. the smell of freshly washed clothes and his cologne tickles your nose. you quickly pecked his pink lips and wasted no time hopping on the horse.

you leaned over and stole the hat from his head with a giggle.

"hey, misses!" your husband yelled out, swinging his fist in fake annoyance.

“are you sure you are a real cowboy? or do you just look that good in flannel?” you teased and rode off with a laugh, leaving the stunned man behind.

┆彡 BEEF JERKY — jeno. mention of alcohol, word count 471

"are you sure you wanna do this, sugar?" you teased, your hand resting above your eyes to block the sun. jeno nodded almost maniacally, more ready than ever.

finishing chewing up on your beef jerky, you just shrugged.

"why are we doing it, again?" you asked, finally reaching for your lasso

"so you could train your skills on a living target" jeno replied. right.

as if you're not the best at handling the herd. but jeno is pretty new around here, having joined just two months ago. he hasn't seen you in action yet — and who are you to turn down an opportunity to tie down and embarrass a man?

a big, beefed man at that.

the salty aftertaste of dried meat in your mouth made you lick the cavern of your lips, tsking your tongue at the end.

"fine by me" you hummed, gripping your lasso. you stretched it loose and held the end in your non dominant hand. the ending with the loop rested in your other one.

"what on earth are you doing? do you want to kill the guy?" haechan's voice was amused.

"good, we have a crowd. now watch and learn, everybody." you grinned at winked at jeno.

he started to regret his idea. what did haechan mean by that, exactly?

"are you just gonna stand there, fool?" you yelled out, starting to whip your lasso. drawing bigger and bigger circles in the air, jeno's throat began to go dry.

"i advise you to run while you still can!" haechan laughed.

jeno's legs jerked involuntarily, carrying him as far away as they could.

whiiiiiiiiiiiiish!

harsh restraint suddenly gripped him, bringing his arms together. like a tied piece of meat, he couldn't budge. but he could still run, as his legs remained free.

"you think… you can… run?" you breathed out, digging your heel in the sand. he had strength. but no balance.

so with a sudden, forceful tug, he fell in a heap with a thud. the lasso bruising his bare arms, he felt himself getting dragged closer. you struggled a bit, he was a muscular man after all.

"holy shit, he fell faster than mark after a sip of bourbon!" haechan called, and jeno could swear the ringing in his ears might not be his imagination.

you walked up closer to him, leaning over and checking up on him.

and this fool was smiling.

"oi, you need help? did y/n cause you trouble?" you heard johnny's voice.

"don't save him!" you replied, grabbing him by his shirt. his eyes were focused on you, that stupid grin asking to be teared off his face. "he's exactly where he wants to be!"

with a snort, you stood up and left him. mid-bite on your beef jerky, you heard him yell:

"wait, can we do it again?"

┆彡 WILD RIDE — sion. includes petnames (kinda? good girl lol), horse riding - bare in mind im no specialist so if any horse enjoyers sense some bullshit. no u didnt. word count 567

sion had an awful, gut wrenching crush on you. it didn't help that he was shy as hell, trying to occupy his mind with something else. every time he saw you, his eyes looked away. for the past few days, you were trying to approach him. key word: tried. he always kept running away, like a scared deer.

today was hot, sun prickling at his skin. he ditched his flannel somewhere on the fence, only pulling his hat lower. the sound of his horse's scoffs were a sign of protest but he had to train her.

"i know, baby, i know. you've been causin' me trouble lately, that's why we are doin' it" he patted the animal's neck, his hips swaying rhythmically to the horse's walk rhythm.

"oh sion!"

he froze in the saddle, grip loosening on the reins. you had him caged, as he was in the training field. he looked up and saw you leaning over the fence, waving your hand at him. guess he had to face it.

slowly, trying to seem casual, he approached you. your eyes watched his horse with adoration.

"howdy, y/n." he greeted you, tipping his hat. from his horse he had a nice view. you looked so pretty, sun kissed, with a twig between your teeth. you chewed on it, eyes not leaving his horse.

"you seem to be avoiding me, oh. and i have a question" you said and finally looked up, tossing the twig somewhere in the ground. sion gulped, trying to remain calm on his horse.

"my bad. i've been busy." he offered you an apologetic smile.

"it don't matter no more. sion, can you teach me how to ride a horse? i'm ashamed to admit but… i ain't got a clue and it's embarrassing. we live on a goddamn ranch!" you grunted, pout forming on your lips. flattering your lashes, you looked him in the eye. "please?"

his horse grunted.

"fine…" sion swallowed hard. maybe it will bring the two of you closer and he will finally get to confess? hell, the bare fact of spending time alone with you was a price. "but let's start with something mild. mind opening the gate for me?"

you did so. sion left the training ground, his horse huffing again.

"stay put now." he patted her neck gently and then reached his hand out to you. "hop on. i've got you"

sion helped you get on and you were now sat in front of him. he figured you should be in a more comfortable position as he was used to it anyway.

"good girl" he grunted and blood came rushing to your cheeks. you weren't sure if he meant the horse or you, so you tried to stay calm. it was hard, though. his bare, toned arms were wrapped around you, your back glued to his chest; him basically towering over you.

sion rushed the horse and you squealed, not used to such movement.

"try to stay calm. horses can sense your feelings, fear included. try to observe how i operate and lead her. my girl's moody lately but maybe a short trip to the woods will cheer her up. hold on tight" sion said casually.

you passed by jaehee and riku, who just sent you thumbs up.

sure, their plan worked and you got what you wanted. you just weren't aware of the upcoming ride yet.

┆彡 HORSE KICK — sakuya. word count 581.

"i ain't gonna lie, i'm afeared!" sakuya trembled, looking at you with eyes wider than two plates. you fixed his hat and then moved his bangs so they wouldn't cover his eyes.

"you've got this, saku. i'll be here, i've got you covered" you hummed and patted his back, kneeling on the ground. shaping your hands into a small platform. "hop on, boy"

"are you sure…" he mumbled but obeyed, stepping on your hands. you rose them up forcefully, helping him get on the horse. it scoffed, throwing its head.

"easy boy" you grunted, patting the animal's neck. sakuya grabbed the reins and fiddled with them nervously, heart thumping against his ribcage like a prey in a trap. "all comfortable in there, partner?"

"i think so!" he replied. he wasn't used to sitting in a saddle but it wasn't halfway bad as he imagined.

"okay, now listen up real close. remain calm. horses can sense your fear and you're trembling like a wet dog" you grunted and began to walk next to them. "you're a tenderfoot now but i''ll teach you how to ride a horse like a real cowboy— woah!"

the horse started huffing and snorting, wiggling its head lively.

"hey, calm down!" you yelled.

"me or the horse?" sakuya asked, panic in his voice. all his muscles were tensed, panic written all over his face.

"ya both!" you said, trying to calm the horse down. you predicted sakuya would be nervous and for a first ride you specifically chose the calmest horse on the ranch. but he was acing up, starting to kick his back legs. "hold on tight, partner!"

"i'm trying!" sakuya screeched, his hat bouncing on his head, mere seconds from falling off. the horse began kicking harder, clearly wanting to throw the newbie off. the boy was bouncing in the saddle, grunting painfully as the jumps almost sent him flying.

quite frankly, you were shocked he was still holding on.

"y/n make it stop, please!" he whined, squeezing his eyes shut.

"well, you got your first rodeo now!" you tried to ease his nerves. you remained at a safe position, and tried to calm the horse down, talking softly to the animal: "hey, please, calm down. you're scarin' him. easy, easy boy"

it seemed to work, the horse listening and calming down gradually. once it was calm, you glanced at sakuya, his face as pale as a wall. tying the horse to the fence, you helped sakuya get off.

on his wobble legs, he immediately glued himself to you, hugging you close. patting his back gently, you realized his hat eventually did fall off.

"i'm sorry, saku, i don't know what got him so moody" you whispered, calming the boy down. you could practically feel his heart thumping against his ribcage, heavy breathing against your neck.

sakuya slowly began to relax, breath becoming more stable. he just squeezed you closer.

"it's fine, i'm in one piece" he mumbled, deep voice shaky. you caressed his dark locks in a soothing motion, glaring at the horse.

"maybe it was a bad idea. we don't have to do it no more if you're scared" you hummed. you felt him smiling against your skin.

"y'know what? i kinda liked it"

with a scoff you leaned away and scanned his face. brushing his bangs out of his eyes, which glued to his forehead with sweat. despite his body still slightly trembling, he flashed you a boyish smile.

"let's try again!"

masterlist <3

taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @w3bqrl ,, @zeesturniolo ,, @mjupis ,, @jvkeslvr ,, @lvrhyuck ,, @lexeees ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @slytherinshua ,, @callisrecords ,, @yuyumaz3 ,, @ali1ya

[jjuhyeons]

WE NEVER DATED 𓄴 黃冠亨

靚靚 kunhang didn’t know how shitty men kept finding you. you were a healthy, strong-willed young woman—the exact type of woman every therapist and their mother claimed was the ultimate manchild repellent. and yet, here you were, still stuck with an insecure infant of a man. well… he supposes there’s no other option but to take matters into his own hands.

warnings swearing, mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption, reader has a boyfriend for the first 5 thousand or so words, unsexy namecalling (“bitch”), some really effing self-indulgent content, kissing, making out, a few sex jokes? reader isn’t toxic, but she’s very very clueless and contradictory, hendery hates men and calls reader “sweetness” also he’s down bad to a criminal level

genre fluffy angst, nonidol!au, childhood friends to lovers, suggestive(?)

word count 8.9k

notes the ending was a bit rushed, but i’m proud of myself for writing again!! another songfic, this timed based off a sombr song - we never dated

KUNHANG LIKED TO THINK he knew you.

I mean, it was an objective fact that he knew you, he told himself, watching you from across the table as you pretended to laugh at one of your boyfriend’s jokes; you didn’t overdo it like he’d seen some girls do, but he knew for fucking sure there was no way you actually found his sports-infused gag funny.

You’d known each other since high school, since grade nine, when you transferred from your home country to Macao for whatever reason he still couldn’t figure out. You’d been friends since you were fifteen; he’d seen you in vulnerable, exceedingly embarrassing circumstances, he’d been there for your highest highs and your lowest lows, he’d helped you through heartbreaks and failed tests, cuddled you when you needed comfort, kissed the apples of your cheeks when they were streaked with tears caused by some subnormal jerkoff who’d gotten confident after getting tired of you. He’d seen you in all circumstances, environments, situations—whatever the fuck you want to call it, Kunhang’s probably been through it with you. So, yeah, he liked to think he knew you.

But he could not, for the life of him, figure out why you kept dating the guys you did. Seriously!

When you introduced him to your first boyfriend in grade eleven—some socially-inept computer geek who was most definitely not what girls referred to when they said they liked “quiet, nerdy guys”—Kunhang had assumed it was a lapse in judgment. After all, no one’s first relationship is perfect. Hell, his first relationship was even worse. But he learnt his lesson, and he started dating nicer girls. That was just the thing with you; you always got stuck with the assholes.

It’s not like you didn’t try to find good guys, he reasoned, wrinkling his nose at the way you placed your hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, the friendship ring Kunhang had bought you years ago glittering where he was sure your engagement ring would take its place one day. You didn’t always go for the same guys the way men pining after their girl friends always claimed they did. You didn’t have a set type, went for anyone you found interesting. Geeks, jocks, stoners, art freaks, whores, coffee enthusiasts; they all won your affection after they’d won your attention. It wasn’t you continuously going for the same type of guy that was the problem—it was the fact that, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how long it took them to reveal that side of themselves, your boyfriends always turned out to be pieces of shit.

You were a strong woman. Not necessarily in the stereotypical sense, but you had a steady head on your shoulders, and you stood for what you believed was right; which, with your iron moral compass, weren’t beliefs easily swayed by anyone with two legs and a dick between them. You were the exact blueprint of the women insecure men feared and everyone else loved, yet somehow, the former always found ways to weasel themselves into your life. Yet somehow, despite having the gift of hindsight, you kept going for them, making yourself small to fit into their mould of what they wanted you to be, even if it meant cutting off your wings to shelter them from your own light.

Yet somehow, Kunhang couldn’t bring himself to harbour negative feelings towards you for your continuous romantic mistakes, because he knew each and every one was well-intentioned. Each and every awful man you dated was someone you thought was going to end up being much better to you than they really were.

But God, was he glad that grace did not extend to your partners.

He was snapped from his reverie by a shove to his shoulder, and turned to see Yangyang glancing at him from behind his frameless spectacles. “What?” he asked, subconsciously looking around the table. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Yangyang answered evenly, “but you were a million miles away, staring at Chieh like you wanted to kill him and it was starting to freak me out.”

Kunhang sighed a breath of subconscious relief. At least it was only that, and not something more important. At least it had just been him glaring daggers at the twenty seven year old jock from across the table and not him missing a question you asked him, or a smile you sent from across the table, a knowing glance at one of your inside jokes.

He can’t remember why you went out tonight. In the back of his mind he can recall some arbitrary achievement of one of his friends sitting around the table—maybe Dejun got a promotion, or something. All he knew was that you’d brought Chieh with you, despite him clearly not wanting to be there. God. He was filling up the entire space with negative energy because he’d rather be out drinking with his own friends; it made Kunhang sick. Not annoyed. Not upset. Not entertained. Sick.

Kunhang watched you for a few more moments, studied the way you moved, the way you responded to the man next to you. He was in the middle of some personal anecdote that was about sport; for context, Chieh was really into sport. Soccer, specifically. Your best friend watched as you glanced at your boyfriend, a gentle laugh passing through your soft lips. Your eyes were trained on his face, wide and unknowing as he turned to you to explain a rule midway through his story like it was some sort of arcane knowledge and not something you already knew because he always made a fucking point to educate you on it.

You simply smiled, nodding as if it was your first time hearing the information. Kunhang knew you were holding back on telling your boyfriend that you actually knew what he was talking about; he recognised that look of expert restraint in your eyes. You were clever. Knew when to deliver your lines and make it seem like you weren’t that bright.

Okay, he lied. After Kunhang broke up with his first girlfriend, he didn’t learn from his mistakes. He was just as bad at choosing partners as you were.

In a way, his affliction was just like yours. He picked people on a whim, assuming that his presumptions of a healthy, long term relationship would extend to those he dated simply because he himself was expecting it. And, like clockwork, things became sour the moment they were supposed to become serious. The only difference, however, was that he didn’t consider himself a victim of his failed relationships the same way he did you.

A few days after the meaningless celebratory dinner, Kunhang returned home to your shared flat from yet another failed date. It wasn’t anything major that earned it its failed status; they just couldn’t click. She was timid, adorably reserved, and a little bit dull; he was outspoken, annoyingly social, and he supposed a bit overwhelming.

He shut the door to your flat with a click, his shoulders dropping once he was behind closed doors again. He shucked off his denim jacket, chucking it somewhere where it would only be able to bother him in a few days, before looking into the living room.

It was small, cramped like the rest of your lovely Hong Kong flat, but that hadn’t stopped you or Kunhang from trying to decorate it as much as possible, and overstepping even those bounds. The television you’d gotten second-hand one hot summer afternoon was switched off, and you were seated on the polished wood floor, trying to build a coffee table and not succeeding. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to Kunhang. He wasn’t sure what exactly you were doing, so he couldn’t tell if you were doing it right or wrong.

Your head turned at the sound of the door closing, and you broke into a smile at the sight of your best friend. “Kunhang!” you greeted happily. Then, before he could even return your smile, “Help me build this table.”

He chuckled. “Sure, sweetness,” he nodded.

That was how he ended up sitting across from you on the cold floor, reading the instructions and handing you whichever tools or parts you needed. Kunhang’s finger twitched as he watched you, aching to smooth over the concentrated frown pinching your brows.

“Small screwdriver, please.” You simply opened up your palm, and Kunhang placed it into your hand before you went back to work. “So, how was your date?”

He shrugged, absently flipping through the instruction manual. “Another bust.”

“Aw, what happened?”

“Oh, nothing bad this time,” he assured. “We just didn’t click.”

You pouted thoughtfully, the cogs turning in your head as you formulated an appropriate response to Kunhang’s sentiment. You noticed that he, like you, had always been a bit unlucky in love, and you knew from your past experiences that comfort was desperately needed in times like these, even when a person acted like they didn’t need it. You thought of your own relationship with Chieh. Could you use it as an example to tell Kunhang that, after all the pain and difficulty, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel? Were you happy enough with your boyfriend to suggest that your relationship with him was an ideal to strive for? 

You didn’t know it then, but the very fact that you had to deliberate made it clear that you weren’t, that it wasn’t.

So, with an internal conflict raging in your mind, you offered the generic, “I’m sure you’ll find someone good one day. Who knows, you might even wake up tomorrow morning and meet your soulmate! Piece 10A, please?”

Kunhang snorted, dropping a tiny bolt into your palm. “Mm. Funny,” he remarked. “But it’s okay. It’s not like romance is the be all and end all of my life. I’m not you.”

You didn’t look up from your work. “And that’s supposed to mean…?”

He seemed to finally catch up to the possible insinuation of his last words, and quickly stumbled to save his ass. “I just— I’m not as much of a people person as you are, you know? You enjoy being around people, which is why you enjoy being in relationships, and, uh… that’s not me!” He smiled nervously. “Yeah. That’s what I mean when I say I’m not you.” 

You eyed him warily; he missed the hint of mirth glittering in your irises. “Mhm.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night similarly to that; building the coffee table until it was finished—or, until you gave up and Kunhang assured you that you only needed one table in the flat, and that your second-hand dinner table would do; ordering in while you stood in front of your DVD collection as if you were in a sci-fi film deciding which wire to cut to bring down an enemy ship; talking on the phone and wishing Chieh goodnight while Kunhang rolled his eyes at your boyfriend’s phoney bedroom voice.

Seriously, he didn’t want to hate the guy, but it was like he went out of his way to be an unbearable human being.

You sat on the couch eating Indian takeout and watching old Leslie Cheung films, the comfortable silence melding perfectly with the warm, aromatic spices and wonderful movie dialogue. At some point during the film you were busy with, though, after you’d finished your food and reclined on the couch with two free hands, your eyelids started to droop, heavy from a long day at work.

Kunhang glanced at you through the corner of his eye, taking notice of the way your head lolled to the side, as if it was too heavy for you to keep upright. He smiled gently, before pulling you closer to lay your head on his shoulder. 

You hummed in thanks, wrapping your arms around his middle and squishing your cheek against his sharp, sloped shoulder. 

Physical contact had never been out of the ordinary for you and Kunhang. After all, you’d been friends for going on a decade—cuddles sort of came with the ‘childhood friend’ package, regardless of gender.

He’d always enjoyed it, being able to hold you like this and not feel it was inappropriate just because he was a man, and you were a woman. He’d never felt as if it would change your friendship, taking it from something meaningful to something ruined, something less to something more. That’s what he liked about being friends with you; you saw each other as people, and not romantic prospects. Not obstacles for your respective partners to overcome, not unhealthy or inappropriate replacements for unmet needs.

Though he’d be lying if he said holding you in his arms didn’t bring him any joy, any warmth in his chest. He just knew that warmth came from friendly affection and fondness. Not love. Never love.

“How was work?” Kunhang asked at one point, eyes trained on the television screen.

You sighed. “Fine, I guess.”

“Mm. It doesn’t sound like it was fine.”

“…Okay, yeah, it wasn’t. It was awful. My boss gave me tons of extra paperwork, and I have to hand it in by Wednesday.” You lifted your head, your nose brushing the underside of his jaw. “Today is Monday.”

He snorted softly. “I’m well aware. Would you like me to help you with the paperwork? Two times the workers means we’re working at two times the speed.”

You didn’t grant him a straight yes or no answer, instead pressing your cheek further into his shoulder and muttering, “I love you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m just that good of a friend, huh?”

“Affirmative.”

“Thanks.”

Kunhang wasn’t necessarily a touchy person, hadn’t ever been, since he was a kid. He preferred to have ample space to move around and exist without worrying about someone else existing in that same space, preferred to sleep spread eagle and steal his own covers from himself.

But there had always been—since you were teenagers—something about your touchy nature that made him not mind it as much. Perhaps it was because, for the most part, you didn’t force your love on him, like a child forcing a begrudging pet to love them. Your skinship was born of natural circumstances, so it assumed a natural pattern of occurrence, though it had grown more frequent in recent years.

Some of his partners had been jealous of that.

Some of yours, too.

Well, it’s not like a partner’s jealousy mattered to him, now, be it his or yours. Your affection for one another had only ever been friendly—if one of your insecure boyfriends couldn’t see that, then good riddance was in order.

You were better in every way by design. You were too good for a man’s confine.

“Why do you let him do that?”

The pavement crunched under your feet as you walked arm in arm with Kunhang, down the street leading to your flat. You’d just come back from yet another night out with Chieh and your friends, though this one had ended less favourably than the rest.

Chieh had been going on and on about his coworkers, how they annoyed him and underestimated how much work he really put into the company. He was in the middle of complaining about working more than anyone else when you mentioned an inconsistency in his story, and he hadn’t handled it well.

“But, Chieh, you just said that there wasn’t a lot of work for you to do around the office,” you said. “Didn’t the boss give you time to kill because you finished most of the work earlier than expected?”

He sighed, chagrined, and looked at you like you were an idiot. There was something patronising about the way he spoke to you, in a way that had even Yangyang’s eyes widening. “Babe, that was that day. I’m talking about today. Not every day at the office is the same, you know? It’s not difficult to understand.”

Kunhang had half expected you to bite back with wit, to stand your guard and put him in his place. Instead, your eyes widened, flitting uneasily around the table, missing your friends’ sympathetic looks.

“Right,” you apologised, mumbling. “Sorry. I— yeah, no, you’re right. I was wrong. Please, keep telling your story. I was just getting invested.” You tried for a smile then, and Kunhang had never been more unsettled to see that quirk of your lips that he loved so much.

Chieh had simply scoffed, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re so silly sometimes.”

“Do what?” you asked.

Kunhang rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know. Chieh belittled you in front of all of us, and you just let him.”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” you replied. “I misunderstood something he was trying to say, and he corrected me. There’s nothing belittling about being proven wrong every once in a while.”

“Oh, please.” His voice came out harsher than he’d meant for it to. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. That man’s been taking advantage of the fact that you’re willing to bend over backwards to make him right, and he’s not even hiding it, because he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Everyone can see it.”

You stopped, and Kunhang didn’t notice that you hadn’t been following him until he was a good ten paces in front of you. He came to a halt, turning to see you already looking at him.

“I don’t appreciate your assumptions about my boyfriend,” you said. “How would you know that he belittles me all the time? You only ever see him when we’re out drinking together, because you’ve made it painfully clear that you wouldn’t want to see him in any other setting,” you added, snippy.

He shook his head, smiling. “See? This is what I mean. When I say something you think is wrong, you get all hotheaded and tear me a new one. When Chieh says something even the biggest dolt would know is wrong, you try to bend reality to make him right.”

“That’s not true,” you said. “I’m not right all the time, you know. It’d be egotistical of me to imply any differently.”

“I’m not saying you’re right all the time,” he pointed out. “I’m saying that you’re minimising the times you are right because your boyfriend’s ego is less structurally stable than properties in Taiwan built before 1998.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Name one time I did that.”

He raised a brow.

“Okay, don’t,” you decided. “I catch your drift.”

Kunhang noticed the way your shoulders slumped almost immediately, your face falling into an embarrassed appearance. He sighed softly, and closed the distance between you in less than nine steps. “I’m not judging you, you know,” he said. “If I was, you’d have known right away.”

You smiled weakly at the bad joke. It didn’t reach your eyes the way he wanted it to.

“Look—” he tucked his index finger and thumb under your chin, breaths escaping his mouth in wispy plumes in the cold air— “it’s what I keep telling you with every fuckwad that comes along. Stop making yourself small. You’re not stupid, sweetness. You’re not clueless. Your worth is not tied to some guy, especially one that’s supposed to love and adore you for who you are, not for what you become to accommodate his ego.”

You snorted. “Says the man.”

“I think of myself as more of an omniscient, somewhat sexually competent entity, but touché,” he conceded. “But that’s not my point. My point is that a relationship where one party gets to be themselves while the other party is constantly bent over backwards to make their partner happy is not a healthy one, and won’t grow to be one no matter how hard the second party tries to make it work.”

“I know you’re just looking out for me, Heng,” you started, taking his hand and removing it from your face, “but you can’t exactly talk. God knows you haven’t had the best track record with women.”

“Shouldn’t that make me more credible on giving advice about unhealthy relationships?” he asked, smiling.

It dropped when he noticed you clearly didn’t consider yourself to be in on the joke. “Yeah. Whatever. I’ll listen the moment you get a girlfriend who doesn’t treat you like shit.”

He watched as you marched past him, hugging his jacket tighter around your form, your hips swaying this way and that as you walked. He could practically picture your expression; an annoyed, pinch frown marring your brows, your lips caught in a pettish moue while you huffily made your way back home.

Kunhang knew you were supposed to be his best friend, but it was in moments like this—when you snapped at him, put him in his place, generally treated him like a flawed adult instead of some perfect man like he was sure you felt pressured to treat your boyfriends—that he wished you could be more. That he could be what you needed; someone you could scold, and vent to, and listen to, and actually love without having to live in fear of that love dying out because he decided on a whim that you didn’t deserve it anymore. God, why was he fantasising about you scolding him? How was that his ultimate romantic fantasy?

You were a pretty one, nice to romanticise. But you didn’t make yourself easy to like.

You were drunk.

It had been a long day—a long week, long month, long life—and you’d opened the cap of a cheap wine cooler just to take the edge off, to numb yourself and be able to go on with your life without having to face the growing exhaustion present in your body. You’d only planned on drinking one, but that one became two, then three, then the entire six pack Kunhang had bought the previous week; it wasn’t technically yours, because you didn’t consider yourself a drinker. No, it wasn’t just that you didn’t consider yourself a drinker. You weren’t one at all, and everyone who knew you was aware of the fact.

So, then, what had pushed you to the point of getting buzzed up by unnaturally sweet bitch pop?

Well, I suppose “to escape the unbearable weight of the fact that your romantically irresponsible and unlucky friend was right about your boyfriend” wouldn’t be too good of an answer, but it was the only one you had.

You’d known that Kunhang was right for quite some time now. Of course, you weren’t stupid. You knew Chieh didn’t take you seriously, just like how you knew your last boyfriend didn’t take you seriously, nor the one before that, or the one before that… 

You wondered what it was about you that was so attractive to shitty men. Your entire life long, you’d been told that the wrong sort of men would be turned off by how strong-willed you were, that you would never find a traditional man with your attitude, and yet, they seemed to be the only kind of men you could find.

Was it because of how you looked? How you spoke? How you composed yourself in public? What was it that had insecure, close-minded men flocking to you like moths to light? And how did you get rid of it?

You’d gone home after a date with Chieh.

It was a stay-at-home kind of date, wherein you’d binged movies and gotten takeaways, enjoying each other’s company in silence and occasional commentary on whatever you were watching at the time. Chieh was next to you, arms crossed over his chest, paying rapt attention to the action film he’d insisted you put on first. You’d been sitting next to him, legs crisscrossed under you, before you began inching your way closer to him.

He didn’t notice at first, concentration captured by the film. He didn’t notice at all, in fact, until your knee brushed his. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye then, and you could’ve sworn you saw displeasure flash across his face. He frowned, annoyed, leaning out of reach. “Not right now, okay? I don’t want to hold you. It’s been a long day.”

You’d taken the rejection in stride, smiling understandingly and backing up again. You didn’t mind being denied affection; after all, you knew the both of you had had long days at work, and you had different ways of winding down. You liked to be close to him, to someone you loved, while he liked to be given space. And, after all, a happy relationship required small sacrifices from time to time.

He didn’t pay you any attention until it was your turn to choose a film. You’d gone with a classic, a movie you’d watched rotten with Kunhang since it came out in your last year of high school, a movie you’d been meaning to rewatch for a while now. You’d switched it on, sunk back into the couch cushions, and settled happily. The title card flashed on the screen, and all seemed fine.

Then you hit the halfway mark.

Chieh made his way closer to you, his hand landing on your thigh. You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, noticing the change in his gaze.

You smiled softly, removing his hand. “Not now, okay, babe? I don’t want to right now, if that’s alright.”

He grinned. “Oh, come on, baby. It’s not like you’re going to miss anything.” He gestured vaguely to the television, adding, “This isn’t anything special.”

“I said, no, Chieh,” you said.

“Don’t be a—”

“I said, no!”

His eyes widened, though he didn’t say anything for a long while before he actually let go of you. “Fine,” he muttered, reluctantly turning back to the film. “You wanted to touch me half an hour ago, but the moment I want to, you don’t feel like it.”

“And is there something you want to say about that?” you challenged, turning to him with a raised brow. “What’s wrong with me not wanting to have sex with you at this very moment?”

He scoffed. “Nothing. I get that you don’t want to. I just didn’t expect you to be such a bitch about it.”

That was a few hours ago.

Kunhang found you upside down on the couch, peeling the label off a bright purple glass bottle—one of six, of which five had already had their labels messily scratched off. He set down his blazer on the kitchen counter, approaching the en suite living room with a bemused smile.

“And how did you get into my wine cooler stash?” he enquired.

“You’re very bad at hiding things,” you muttered. Your words were clear, though Kunhang could hear the slightest bit of a garble making its way into your speech. You turned to him, your head lolling in his general direction from where it rested on the edge of the sofa. “By the way, the underside of your bed is a hellscape.”

“I’m well aware,” he snarked, before plopping onto the couch next to you, the cushions dipping with his added weight. He was still in his work clothes, his black button up wrinkled from the day’s movement, his trousers straining around his plush, muscular upper thighs. “So… are you going to tell me why you’ve drunk yourself tipsy on a week night, or will you leave that for me to figure out?”

You sighed softly, eyes trained on the empty bottle in your hands. “…He called me a bitch,” you confessed, embarrassed.

Kunhang’s eyes widened, incredulous in his own growing anger. He didn’t even need to be told twice about who he was; it seemed perfectly on par with his previous behaviour. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

“So he called you a bitch?! What the fuck is his problem? I swear, if he shows up here in the next hour—”

“Well, he didn’t call me a bitch because I didn’t want to have sex with him,” you explained. “He was making moves on me, and I told him I wasn’t in the mood. He started pushing it, and I snapped. Then he got pissed, and said he understood that I didn’t want to, but he didn’t think I’d be such a bitch about it.”

Kunhang stared at you, brows pinched in a frown. “All I’m hearing is that he still called you a bitch.”

“Yeah, but the context—”

“Fuck the context!” he snapped. “Loving boyfriends don’t call their girlfriends bitches, end of story.”

You glanced at your friend, and only when he wiped away tears from your cheeks did you notice that you’d started crying.

“You can say ‘I told you so’ now,” you said, harshly wiping at your own eyes. “You were right, I was wrong. Chieh hates me.”

Kunhang’s eyes softened. “I didn’t say that he hated you.” Though, it seemed an awful lot like he did. “And now is so not the time to rub your face in the fact that you may or may not have been wrong about the guy. I mean, you’re crying, sweetness! Do you really think I’m so heartless that I’d be smug about being right when it comes at the cost of your happiness?” He shook his head. “You’re right to be sceptical, but for as much of an asshole as I am, I’m not amoral. I care.”

You sniffled. He cared. Cared so much that he didn’t behave how he usually would, how he had in the past when you got to that dreaded point of finding out your boyfriend turned out to be awful. Cared so much that, instead of revelling in the fact that he was right, and you were wrong, he was sitting next to you and wiping your tears.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You do.”

“Of course I do,” he smiled. “You’re my best friend.”

Then, “I wish Chieh cared the way you did.”

Kunhang sighed. “You know, sometimes… so do I.”

Both of you knew that your boyfriend was a flawed person—like any other human being on the planet, including Kunhang and yourself. But there was something about today that hurt you specifically, hurt you so much, because he’d become a perpetrator where he’d always been a cheerleader.

At the beginning of your relationship, your boyfriend had praised you for standing up for yourself and what you believed in; he told you endlessly how much he loved the fact that you didn’t back down from a fight in order to educate someone; he sighed dreamily when you took a snippy tone with a particularly disrespectful man. He sang endless praises for the strong, no-nonsense woman that you were, yet hated when that fierceness, that wit was turned on him.

You didn’t say anything as Kunhang reached over to squeeze your thigh; an action that, when done by someone else a few hours ago, made you stiffen up—but when done by him, in that moment, when you needed it most, comforted you more than anything else could’ve. 

You gazed at Kunhang with a quiet sort of reverence, stared at the face that had seen more sides of you than anyone else had. The man who had once been the boy to show you around Macao when you were new and scared and clueless, to teach you useful phrases of a language you sometimes still struggled to speak. The man who had once been the teen to follow you around like a lost puppy, to kiss you when you asked him to because you trusted him the most, and you wanted your first kiss to be with someone who’d be special to you forever, not just for a fleeting, hormone-fuelled moment.

“I wish I could meet a man like you one day,” you whispered, smiling sadly. “I want to be with someone who I know loves me the way you do.”

He smiled, with just as little happiness as you had. He didn’t bother to tell you that he was right there, that there was no way you were so clueless to not know that he’d been in love with you for eleven years. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss in the corner of your mouth—not close enough to be wrong, not far enough to only be friendly.

“Yeah,” he said, breath warm against your cheek. “Me, too.”

He wanted to shiver when he noticed how you were looking at him; not in a predatory fashion, but definitely not in a way that could be seen as friendly. Your eyes, glimmering under the low, warm light of the living room, lazily mapped his face, stopping at his lips, dipping down to his collarbones. At that point, it felt as if you actually getting up and kissing him where you were looking would seem less salacious..

But you’d always been that way. Always been flirty without flirting, always conveyed desire without acting on it. Kunhang had accepted it as your personality, had accepted the fact that you two looked at each other as if you wanted to be more than friends, and did nothing about it.

You liked to have your fun. You danced around the lines of what was wrong, and what was right.

Against everyone’s expectations, you broke up with Chieh the following week. It had been a surprise, even to you, that you’d finally mustered up the confidence to nicely tell him to go fuck himself, in the politest, most businesslike tone you could manage.

Your friends were, predictably, over the moon—so much so that they arranged a night out in celebration; Yangyang insisted that you commemorate the occasion and turn it into a personal holiday.

You gathered at your favourite bar, sitting around a crimson leather booth, bathed in the bright light situated above you. You sat between Yangyang and Shuhua, Kunhang sitting across from you, squeezed between Ten and Kun, the former of whom had gotten to the point of inebriation where he insisted on you all leaving and going out to karaoke instead, while the latter tried desperately to keep him in his seat.

“You know,” Yangyang spoke up, “I didn’t say it then, but I knew from the moment you brought him around that there was something wrong with him.”

Shuhua scoffed. “That’s only because he said he thought Schumacher was overrated.”

“Untrue!” he shot back. “I also cared intensely for our dear friend.” He turned to you with a smile. Then, “But, I mean, the fact that he didn’t like Schumacher was the cherry on top for me.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your own drink. “Totally,” you said. “You were totally thinking of me first.”

Yangyang rolled his eyes. “You think you’re being smart, but all I’m gonna do is agree with you.”

From across the table, Ten tilted his head. “There was also the issue with his lisp.”

“And his soccer obsession,” Kun added dryly.

Your eyes widened, flitting around the table as an astonished laugh left your lips. “I guess he was worse than I thought,” you murmured. “Why didn’t you guys ever tell me you had issues with him?”

Shuhua shrugged. “It wasn’t our place. Besides, he didn’t give us any reason to really hate him until he started calling you names. Every problem we had with him before that was just because he was incredibly annoying to us.”

“And we can’t crucify someone for being annoying,” Yangyang said. “God knows we have our fair share of quirks. I know racing isn’t for everyone,” he added.

“Nor is being incredibly attractive and multi-talented,” Ten acquiesced.

“Or quote-unquote, ‘behaving like an old man’,” Kun pointed out.

“Or reading doomed yaoi on company time,” Shuhua said.

“What we mean to say is— wait, what the fuck?” Yangyang sputtered, turning to the girl. She shrugged, frowning at his shocked expression. He shook his head as if to shake himself free of the words she’d just said, and continued, “What we mean to say is, we didn’t like the guy, but we didn’t actually hate him until he gave us a reason to.”

“Yeah, we’re judgy, but we’re not awful,” Ten said. “Or, well, I’m not.”

“Speaking of awful,” Shuhua started, nodding to Kunhang, “you’ve been awfully quiet since we got here. Don’t you have anything to say? As far as we know, you hated Chieh more than any of us.”

Kunhang merely glanced at his friend, then at you. His eyes were soft, impartial as he tried to compose himself with grace. “You’re right,” he told Shuhua, his eyes still on you. “I didn’t like him. But I’m still disappointed that he lived up to my expectations. Especially considering the fact that you had to get hurt in the process.” These last words, you knew, were directed at you.

There was something off about the way he spoke; a tightness to his voice that you weren’t familiar with, as if he were holding himself back from saying more. 

Neither of you said anything, and the topic of conversation easily shifted to something else—after all, with your friends, a celebratory dinner could only be about one person for so long.

The night continued in a pleasant manner, with you and your friends discussing your days at work, plans for the coming weeks, anything you could say to keep you at the bar for longer before you had to face the music and go home. The lights were turned low, casting a warm glow over your booth, reflecting on the red leather. Kunhang sat across from you, sandwiched between Ten and Kun, listening intently to whatever you were discussing in the moments that passed. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet all night long, and it was finally starting to bother you. 

Because Kunhang was generally a reserved person with his friends, with people he was comfortable with, but this wasn’t him being comfortable. Not when you saw his knuckles tighten and turn white from his hold on his glass, when you noticed his jaw click with unspoken words.

Your friends could only delay the inevitable for so long, and that inevitable came around midnight, when the bar was finally starting to empty out, and you had to admit that it was finally time to go home. You all easily slid out from the booth, some of you (read: Ten, who’d gone back to the bar for a second round of shots just as you were paying the bill) swaying more than others, and bid the bartender, Linhua, a friendly farewell. First to walk out was Yangyang, followed by Shuhua, you, Kunhang, and Kun, the latter of which had taken on the responsibility of helping Ten stay upright when the rest of you balked at the proposition.

Shuhua turned to you, cheeks warm and pink from the alcohol in her system as she pulled you in for a hug. “I’m going to miss you this week,” she muttered into your shoulder. “Make sure to call me as much as you can, okay?”

“Shuhua, we’re just going back to work for the week,” you reminded her. “I’m not immigrating.”

“All I’m hearing is you’re not going to call me, and you hate me, and want me to die.”

Yangyang came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his cheek on your unoccupied shoulder, effectively wrapping you in an inescapable friend sandwich. “Don’t make her die,” he groaned. “She may be a weirdo with a gay fetish, but she’s our only rich friend!”

Kunhang snickered. “Doesn’t your dad own a tech company?”

“Shh!” Yangyang scolded, not even turning back to look at his older friend. “No one needs to know that.”

“Okay,” Kunhang agreed, gently prying Yangyang off you like he was removing a cat from its scratching pole. “You should be getting home to Coco, shouldn’t you? He’s probably missed you today.”

Yangyang gasped, bleary eyes widening. “You’re right!” He marched to the edge of the pavement, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “TAXI! I NEED TO SEE MY SON!”

“Not so loud,” Shuhua scolded, finally letting go of you.

She went to stand next to Yangyang, and joined in on his calls for a taxi despite reprimanding him moments before.

As the two yelled for a taxi, Kunhang approached you, planting a gentle, imperceptible hand on the small of your back. “The old men have already gone home,” he informed you. “Seems like they’re too tired to say goodbye properly.”

You glanced up at him. “Not like we should’ve expected anything less.”

He grinned. It didn’t look right—tight, strained. “You ready to go?”

Before you answered, you directed your attention to Shuhua and Yangyang. “Will you guys be okay?” you asked, calling over the gust of wind that had picked up in the last few moments. Clouds dusted the night sky, though you doubted it would rain. It may have been monsoon season, but the past week had been dry as a desert.

Shuhua simply sent you a thumbs up. You chuckled.

“I guess that settles it,” you said, turning to Kunhang. “Sure, we can go home.”

The walk home was tense.

After you’d escaped the presence of your rowdy, drunk friends, Kunhang’s entire demeanour shifted. He kept a moderate distance between the two of you as you walked on the inside of the pavement, him exposed on the outside. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the concrete beneath and in front of him, only ever looking up to glance warily at the clouds, which had grown denser since you’d left the bar.

You wondered what you could say to alleviate the tension between you; wondered, specifically, because you had know idea what had caused it, or what part you’d played in causing it.

Ever since that night a week ago when you admitted to what Chieh had done and said to you, Kunhang had been acting peculiarly. He didn’t greet you with a bear hug in the mornings, didn’t spend his evenings after work bingeing movies or playing board games with you like he usually would, didn’t even speak to you unless it was undoubtedly necessary.

“Kunhang?”

Your voice sounded wrong speaking into the silence. Strangled, almost, out of place. Your best friend turned to you nonetheless, dark brows pinched in a concerned frown. 

“Yeah?”

You were usually a confident, assertive woman. You had no problem speaking up against your superiors at work, had never had a problem leaving problematic people in the face of conflict. And yet, glancing at Kunhang, your Heng, not knowing what it is you’d done wrong, not knowing what was causing him to act the way he was… that was infinitely more intimidating.

“I— uh… I was just wondering,” you started, fiddling with your fingers as you walked, “were you—? Are you, um… are you mad at me?”

He stopped in his tracks. “Why would I be mad at you?”

You glanced up at him, pointing loosely to his face. “That’s the thing. I don’t know, but it feels like you’re mad at me.”

He raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, yeah? How so?”

You scoffed. “Come on, Kunhang. You know.”

“No, really, I don’t! Enlighten me.”

“Don’t take that tone with me—”

“What tone, exactly?” he interrupted. “I’m fine. Look at me, listen to me: I am fine. Stop looking for reasons to blame me for the fact that you’re feeling bad. I never—” he bristled, cutting himself off. Then, he chuckled humourlessly. “I don’t need this.”

He turned his back to you, stomping his way up the street, disappearing further and further from your sight.

Now, it would’ve been an awfully cinematic, emotionally-charged moment for it to start raining at that moment, as you were staring at your best friend leave you behind—perhaps both literally and figuratively—and cycling through emotions that you weren’t supposed to be feeling at the sight of a mere childhood friend.

Except, of course, since you weren’t in a romantic drama, it didn’t start raining at that moment.

Instead, it started raining when you ran after him, pulling him closer by the tail of his coat.

“I don’t know what I did,” you said, surprised by the tremble in your own voice, “but I want you to forgive me for it.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then,

“I wish nothing but the best for you. But… I hope who’s next sees the rest of you.”

You recoiled. “What?”

Kunhang sighed, shaking his head. When he turned around to face you, large, shiny tears of frustration had gathered in his eyes, clumped his lashes together like bad mascara. “I said I wish nothing but the best for you. But I hope your next boyfriend is as exposed to you as I was.”

You scanned his face for any sign of malice, any indication that he’d said those words to mean that you’d broken him, screwed him up in ways you didn’t even realise.

The truth was, you had. He wouldn’t tell you until a few moments later, but you had. You’d shown him sides of you that you hadn’t even shown the men you’d been at your supposed most vulnerable with. Any other man would feel entitled to you, claim that the price of taking on that emotional labour would be paid by having you in return; Kunhang didn’t see it that way.

He didn’t think you owed him anything—your time, attention, love, sex. He didn’t expect anything of it. 

What he had expected, though, was better from himself.

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means,” he continued. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m making it out to be as if I deserve you, or have some sort of claim to your love just because I’ve been by your side for so long. We both know I don’t think like that. But, God… sometimes I wish I didn’t stick around you for so long.”

When you didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, eyes too wide with shock, with fear of the unknown, mouth gently parted in an astonished ‘o’, Kunhang continued.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen. Eleven years, and I know you’ve been in love with me for just as long. I know, because you’re a highly efficient, cynical woman who disposes of people if they don’t enrich her life in some way or other,” he added. You shifted uncomfortably, but he persisted. “I know you love me, because you never stop fucking talking about how you wish you could find someone like me. You never stop talking about it, yet you never stop to think that maybe you don’t need someone like me.”

Maybe you need me, his eyes said.

“Kunhang,” you whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

“Because you’re not stupid,” he said. “Because you knew I loved you, just like you knew you loved me.”

You stilled.

His words, though harsh, rang in your ears like a shrill whistle. You’d known, hadn’t you? You’d always known how your best friend had felt about you. You knew it when he offered to give you extra Cantonese lessons when you were struggling with your studies in high school, you knew it when he agreed to be your first kiss in your last year. You knew it when he moved in with you and didn’t move out even when you both started dating other people, you knew it when he transferred jobs to be closer to home. You knew it when he dried your tears after every bad breakup you had, you knew it when he kissed them away and held you until you fell asleep in his arms.

You’d always known how you felt about your best friend. You knew it when you brought him his favourite snacks in exchange for the extra language lessons, you knew it when you felt the butterflies raging in your stomach and chest at the feeling of his soft lips against yours. You knew it when he moved in and you spent the entire week kissing up to him despite him insisting he’d been meaning to move anyway, you knew when he transferred jobs and you adjusted your work schedule to fit his so that he didn’t have to get up alone in the mornings. You knew it when you sat through each and every one of his relationships with the wrong people, you knew it when you didn’t feel regret at the fact that they left the broken pieces of him for you to pick up every six months.

You’d always known how you felt about each other, and what did you do about it? You tortured yourself, and him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“I guess it’s my own fault, too,” he laughed, dragging a hand over his tear-streaked face to no avail; raindrops splattering on his cheeks and washing the tears away anyway. “I put you and myself through the same torture by not confessing my feelings, or making a move. I can’t be mad at you,” he shrugged. “I can’t make you love me, because you were never mine for the taking. You’re your own person, and you get to do what you want.”

“Even if it fucks over my perception of romance because I have some weird sexual tension thing going with my best friend?” you asked, smiling sadly.

He choked out a laugh, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, fuck. I guess so, yeah.” He straightened his back, posture once again stilted. “Sorry. That wasn’t funny. I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“I don’t mind that you did,” you murmured. “It was supposed to be a joke.”

Kunhang glanced down at you, hand subconsciously reaching for yours. His fingers were cold to the touch when you held them; he gasped softly at the contact, at the feeling of your lips brushing his knuckles as you brought his hand up to your mouth.

“I’m really sorry, Kunhang,” you apologised. You were starting to shiver from the raindrops rolling down your back, soaking your clothes and shoes, but you weren’t going to move until he knew how sorry you were, how far you were willing to go for forgiveness. “You deserved better than whatever I’ve been giving you for the past eleven years. I… you were right, when you said I know that we loved each other. It was stupid of me to try avoiding that by dating the biggest pieces of shit to keep you off my mind.”

“I didn’t know that was an avoidance thing,” he whispered.

“Neither did I,” you said, “until Chieh walked into my life.” You tilted your head thoughtfully. “In a way, he was the best and worst thing to happen to our relationship.”

“Worst, I can concur,” he grumbled. “But best? That’s highly debatable, sweetness.”

“Well, then, allow me to persuade you,” you smiled softly.

You’d only ever kissed Kunhang twice before in your life. Once, the first time, on the rooftop of a friend’s house, tucked away from the attention of everyone else at the party, right after you’d asked him to be your first kiss. Twice, the second time, on that same rooftop, as you realised how intoxicating it was, kissing him, and surged forward for another taste. Both times were as soft, as desperate, as reverent as the one you went for this time, eight years later, yet neither could compare.

His mouth melded perfectly with yours, the tip of his tongue brushing your own as he pressed himself impossibly closer to you. He sighed, deft fingers curling around the belt loops of your pants. He tasted faintly of beer and breath mints—the sweet, spearmint kind. 

He pulled away from you—reluctantly, with every fibre of his being screaming no—with a soft groan. His eyes were stern. “You know, you can’t just kiss me everytime I pour my heart out to you about how you ruined my fucking life.”

“No,” you agreed, pressing a fleeting peck to his swollen lips. “But I can certainly do other things to win your forgiveness, can’t I?”

His eyes widened. “Okay, relax. We haven’t even started dating yet, now you already wanna get in my pants? Talk about women in male—”

“Oh, shut up,” you scolded. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

He rolled his eyes, pulled you into his side and continued to march up the street. “Whatever,” he decided. “Now, come on. I can feel the hypothermia starting to set in, and I want to kiss you in a dry environment without having to worry about freezing to death.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced, tucking your head into his shoulder. “But, Kunhang?”

“Mm, sweetness?”

“Do you forgive me?”

He glanced down at you then, but didn’t dare stop walking. He’d already stopped once, and if he did again, he didn’t think he’d be able to keep going with the way you were looking at him. “Not completely,” he confessed. “But… forgiveness takes time. Just because I don’t forgive you now doesn’t mean I’m going to stay mad at you forever.”

He smiled softly, pressing a reverent kiss to the crown of your head. “Besides, I physically can’t stay mad at you forever. I think I’d just keel over and die.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d suffer the same fate if you were mad at me forever,” you admitted.

Wong Kunhang, your Heng, chuckled. Unshed tears still brimmed in his eyes; he allowed them to fall freely, to take the weight of his heart off his shoulders. “Well, then, I guess you better start kissing up to me so we don’t die in the next week.”

You hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. “Good idea, Heng.”

perm taglist @hyuneskkami @jwiloves @bluedbliss @ayukas @rubiiisyeon @vantxx95 @drunkhee

[zeroseuniverse]

Bother?

Word Count: 520 Summary: “You’re not sleeping out here by yourself. Either we both squeeze onto this tiny couch, or you come back to bed with me.” Pairing: Ten X reader

Taglist: @sh0dor1

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Ten groggily blinked awake, stretching his arm out to the side, only to find cold sheets where warmth should have been. His brows furrowed as he shifted, the faint hum of the heater filling the silence of their bedroom.

He rolled over and glanced at the clock—2:47 AM. Too late for you to still be up, yet too early for you to already be moving around. His sleepy confusion turned into mild concern as he sat up, rubbing his eyes before swinging his legs off the bed.

Padding out of the bedroom, he followed the dim glow of the living room lamp. His steps faltered when he saw you curled up on the couch, a thin throw blanket barely covering you. Your arm was tucked under your head, body curled in a way that looked anything but comfortable.

Ten sighed quietly, kneeling beside you. His fingers ghosted over your cheek before brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “What are you doing out here?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

You stirred but didn’t fully wake. He frowned, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of you—your brows slightly furrowed, the way your body seemed tense even in sleep.

Guilt pricked at him. Did something happen? Did he do something?

“Babe,” he whispered, shaking you gently. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused at first until recognition settled in.

“Ten?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Why are you sleeping here?” he asked again, softer this time.

You hesitated before mumbling, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Ten frowned. “Bother me? Love, you never bother me.” He reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, looking away. “You seemed really tired today, and I didn’t want to wake you up with my tossing and turning.”

Ten’s lips parted in realization. “baby… that’s—” he exhaled, shaking his head before shifting to sit on the couch beside you. “Come here,” he murmured, gently tugging at your arm.

You blinked up at him, confused. “Huh?”

“You’re not sleeping out here by yourself. Either we both squeeze onto this tiny couch, or you come back to bed with me.”

You chewed on your lip. “But—”

“No buts,” Ten cut in, wrapping his arms around you and effortlessly lifting you up. A startled squeak left your lips as he carried you bridal-style back to the bedroom. “See? No effort at all. You could never be a bother.”

Setting you down on the bed, he slid in beside you, pulling the covers over both of you before wrapping an arm securely around your waist. His warmth quickly enveloped you, making it impossible to protest.

“You don’t have to sleep somewhere else just because you think I need rest,” he mumbled against your hair. “I sleep better when you’re next to me.”

Your heart softened at his words. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, melting into his embrace.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again.”

You nodded, letting sleep finally take you, this time wrapped in Ten’s warmth where you belonged.

[h3nderyss]

you as wayv's 7th member (headcanons)

pairing: ot6 x fem!reader . . . masterlist . . . 127 ver dream ver genre: fluff a/n: romantic headcanons for each member if you were the 7th member and only girl in wayv! u can imagine if ur in a secret relationship or not!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

kun

checks on u 24/7

PRINCESS TREATMENTTTT

like always makes sure ur comfortable no matter where u go

long walks around the city omg

would absolutely love to take u to traditional locations in china

i swear his love is like a warm blanket

u guys would always go on livestreams tg

it'd actually be surprising to the fans if once u go live without him

sometimes at practice he'd show up with ur fav food

if ur sad expect him to hold ur hand thru anything.

he makes sure ur not going through anything alone

even like predebut, yall just had a CONNECTION.

it was practically like u guys were destined to be tg, like there was just that feeling that he was the one

i can only imagine how many cdramas u guys would watch tg

ten

right off the bat expect one of his songs to be about u

he'd def call u "my love" but in thai

that's how special u are to him

oh also expect him to teach u thai too

u guys r literally THE dance duo of nct

lowkey in one of his music videos he'd want u to be a backup dancer or maybe like.. the female lead

he'd send u all of those selfies with his cats bc he knows how much u love them

whenever ur over it's like who do u love more? ten or his cats?

to which he'd be playfully jealous then shower u with kisses

whenever ur overwhelmed by work he'd insist on taking u out somewhere

honestly before he posts any selfies he'd send them ALL to u beforehand

just so that u have special access to his photos before the official release LOL

if he takes u to an art museum he'd constantly say "but you're prettier."

his tattoos r sooo special to u, and he loves it when u admire them

winwin

he's kinda reserved but when it comes to u he is SO vulnerable

he's so nonchalant lol but u know him and whatever he's feeling

nobody is as close to him as u are

he'd make sure to text u everyday no matter how busy he is

bc of actor winwin, we get CRUMBS.

but ur the only thing on his mind if he's back in china while ur in korea promoting

his actions speak volumes

if the crowd is too big somewhere he will always pull u closer

WOULD tie ur hair back for u if he sees it's bothering u during practice or whenever

honestly he didn't expect to fall for u but.. look where he is

absolutely smitten

xiaojun

his love is so intense

he'd GAZE at u whenever u talk like he'd pay no attention to anything around him

he'd cuddle up to u just like a cat

he's so silly like u 2 r the chaotic duo of nct

both of u are chronically online and would never miss out on a tiktok trend

he'd peck ur lips every now and then just to be silly

and always surprise u hugging u behind ur waist with NO warning

if ur relationship is public i feel you'd do lots of couple trends on tiktok too

he'd sing for u ALWAYS

ask to sing him whatever song and he will

knows all ur fav things and would do anything

pls convince him to bring back the oreo hair. (he will upon ur request)

his favourite intimate thing with u is making out lol

hendery

always makes u laugh

surprises u with plushies, knows how much u love them

during content vids fans would suspect on why he's always around u

and when he's on livestreams, he talks abt u

maybe a littleeee too much...

omg whenever he sneaks looks at u it's enough to make u weak

would always find ways to cheer u up

honestly, his presence is enough!

ur relationship would be soft launched by ur matching posts on insta..

and matching clothes...

wouldd let u play with his hair, pls do it more

he's honestly like rlly touchy

i feel like sm would make a statement confirming the relationship like 2-3yrs after debut

yangyang

sooo charming

i feel like his first crush on u would develop after seeing u in the love talk mv

sends u the cutest pics of him ever

oh my god, such boyfriend material

all u want to do is just cuddle with him which is what happens 99% of the time when ur alone tg

u guys would nap often and the other members would secretly take pics

he remembers the little things abt u

ur just occupying his mind out of his own control

his confession would be bold but he's shaking and quaking inside

when he wants kiss u give kiss

bc trust me it's SO hard to resist this sweetie pie

he's so loving omg

he loves when ur hand mindlessly runs through his hair

give this boy ur attention pls

[suhnshinehaos]

fridge magnets | nct 96z roomies

synopsis: the one where ten goes on a vacation and you enjoy some peace and quiet

pairing : nct96z [ tn, kn, dy ] x gn!reader

genre/s : roommates au, fluff, one-shot smau

read more nct 96z roomies ! date gone wrong / hoodie thieves / exam week pickup / yikes! / we should get a cat

from reese, with love <3

i missed them, and i missed you guys too :) hope you’re all well