There is an account that is posting underage smut. This person is 18 but is arguing to keep it up, even though they acknowledge that it is underage sex. Please do not send hate just report the post.
It’s so much more concerning to me that people are liking and supporting the post.
And some people in these comments are 18 so I will give them the benefit of the doubt. But there are 20 year olds liking this post which is unacceptable.
I’m posting this now because it is gaining more traction for some reason and I do not want anymore pdfiles interacting with this.
🍴♡ thinking about fem!fuma teaching you how to eat her out for the first time
the apartment was quiet except for the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional shift of fabric as fuma settled back against the headboard.
you knelt between her open thighs, her robe pushed aside, the warm, flushed skin of her cunt already glistening under the low light. your hands rested on her thighs, fingers slightly trembling. fuma’s hand slid into your hair, gathering it gently at the back of your head. not pulling yet—just holding, steady and sure.
“look at me,” she said quietly.
you lifted your eyes. hers were dark and soft and hungry all at once.
“there’s no rush. you’re going to take your time with me, and i’m going to walk you through every second. all you have to do is listen, okay?”
you nodded.
she guided your face closer until your lips brushed against her. the heat of her skin and the intimate scent of her made your stomach tighten.
“open for me,” she murmured. “soft kisses first.”
you pressed your mouth to her, shy. leaving small wet kisses along her heat. fuma exhaled through her nose, a quiet, pleased sound.
“that’s it. now give it a little kitten lick, taste it.”
your tongue slipped out and dragged a small slow, tentative line up the seam of her folds. the taste was warm and slightly sweet. her fingers tightened just a little in your hair, keeping you right there.
“gooood… keep going. long, slow strokes. flatten your tongue, cover all of me. can you do that for me, bunny?”
you nodded against her, a small, shaky sound catching in your throat. your tongue flattened and dragged another long line up the length of her folds, slower this time, more deliberate. the taste of her bloomed warmer on your tongue. fuma’s fingers flexed gently in your hair, not forcing, just keeping you exactly where she wanted.
“that’s it,” she praised, voice low and steady. “just like that. nice and thorough. you’re doing so good already. my sweet girl.”
you licked again, broader, covering more of her. her thighs shifted under your hands, a quiet exhale leaving her as you dragged over her clit by accident.
“mhmm… right there. stay higher for a second. soft circles around my clit, bunny. no rushing.”
she guided your head with that careful hand, tilting you until your tongue was right where she wanted it. you circled the swollen bud carefully, the tip of your tongue tracing slow, shy loops. fuma’s breathing deepened.
“perfect. look at you learning so fast. keep those soft little circles going… yes. just like that.”
your confidence grew with every quiet sound she made. you pressed a little firmer, then flattened your tongue and dragged over her clit in a slow, wet stroke. her fingers tightened in your hair for a second—just enough to sting sweetly at the roots—before relaxing again.
“mm—fuck… good girl. you’re making mommy feel so good. such a quick learner.”
she started guiding you more actively now, the hand in your hair setting a slow, rolling rhythm. slight, controlled movements of her hips pressed her cunt more fully against your mouth. not rough, just steady, teaching you the pace she liked.
“suck a little,” she murmured. “gentle. close your lips around it and pull. soft. i’m sensitive there, bunny.”
you obeyed, sealing your mouth around her clit and giving a careful, tentative suck. fuma’s head tipped back against the headboard, a low, pleased hum rolling out of her.
“yes… just like that. alternate between sucking and licking. you’re doing so good, pretty girl. making me throb.”
the praise sank deep into you. you stayed right there, licking and sucking in the rhythm she set, letting her use the hand in your hair to keep your mouth exactly where she needed it. soft, wet sounds filled the quiet room. her free hand stroked your cheek, then slid down to rest against the side of your neck, grounding you.
“ah—mm—lets try a little deeper now, bun” she said after a moment, voice a little breathier. “use that pretty tongue, taste how wet you made me.”
she guided your face lower, holding you steady as you pushed your tongue between her folds. the heat of her was overwhelming. you licked into her carefully, and her thighs tightened around your ears for a second.
“that’s it… fuck. stay right there. good girl. look so pretty between mommy's thighs—mmh—should just keep you here."
she held you in place, hips rolling in tiny, controlled circles against your mouth while the praise kept coming, soft and constant.
“you’re doing so good. look at this pretty mouth working so hard. my sweet, inexperienced girl learning how to eat cunt like she was made for it.”
your own thighs pressed tightly together, aching, but you stayed focused on her—the taste, the heat, the steady guidance of her hand in your hair. her breathing grew heavier. the grip tightened just enough to keep you locked against her clit.
“don’t stop, baby. i’m getting close. keep that tongue moving exactly like i showed you.”
you licked and sucked in the rhythm she had taught you, letting her use your mouth with those small, controlled rolls of her hips. soft, wet sounds filled the space between you. her free hand stroked your hair between the gentle pulls, petting and guiding at the same time.
“you’re doing so good… so good for me. pretty girl. keep going. don’t stop—”
her thighs tensed hard around your head. a broken, low moan spilled out of her as she came, pulsing against your tongue in warm, rhythmic waves. she held your face gently but firmly in place through it, letting you feel every flutter while she whispered.
“good girl… good girl…mmph—taking it so well. perfect. god—you’re so perfect.”
when the tremors finally eased, fuma loosened her grip and carefully guided your head up. your lips were shiny, chin wet, pupils dilated. she looked at you with a proud, gentle smile, dark eyes soft and full of heat as she studied your flushed face.
“come here,” she murmured, voice still a little rough.
she pulled you up into her lap without any rush, settling you against her chest so your thighs straddled one of hers. one hand came up to cup the back of your neck, the other stroking your cheek with her thumb, wiping away a little of the wetness she had left on your skin.
“my perfect girl,” she murmured against your lips. “you did so well. first time and you already made me come like that.”
her hand stroked down your back, as her other hand reached lower, slipping between your thighs where you were soaked and aching.
“now let me take care of this pretty cunt,” she whispered. “you’ve been so good. you deserve it.”
for someone like taki where being touchy is natural for him. half the time, he doesn't even realize how much he's touching you. your hands are almost always in his as he's rubbing slow circles over your knuckles, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, completely lost in whatever he's doing.
he loves trailing behind you, endlessly curious about everything you do. being close to you is his favorite place to be. and in his mind, your personal space belongs to both of you.
when taki finds you lazing around on your phone, he'll settle in the same way. his head ends up resting on your stomach as he looks up at you with those big, soft puppy eyes, silently asking for head scratches. he melts when you cuddle him, fingers running through his hair until his eyes flutter shut, completely at peace.
taki is so eager to be around you, practically bouncing off walls. you can't help yourself but visualize him as an overgrown puppy. you giggle to yourself earning a head tilt from him, proving your theory. when you tell him of your thoughts, he leans closer with a cheeky grin and puts your hand to the top of his head, telling you to treat him like one instead.
he craves your touch. always waiting for it, always hoping for a hug or a kiss. if you ever forget his morning kiss, he'll linger around you with his lips already pursed, ready and waiting to be kissed twice: one for the morning kiss and another for the almost-missed kiss.
what he hates most is when he's off work and you're stuck doing your own. all he wants is to curl up with you and tell you about his day. he'd pull you away from your desk and onto his lap on the couch. doesn't matter how busy you are.
taki wraps his arms around your waist, tucking his face into your shoulder, and starts telling you everything about his day, peppering your shoulder with soft, absent kisses the whole time. it doesn't matter if you only reply with hums. as long as you're close to him, he's pleased. 𖹭
summary: completely drunk, fed up and bored with the dramatics of casual relationships and the continuous disappointment of hookups—you and your best friend decide the best way to solve this dilemma is being fuck buddies. But that was just a joke…right?
genre: smut. college. best friends.
word count: 16.3k
warnings (+18): adult content. swearing. party themes. pet names (angel, baby). playful banter. alcohol. kissing. lots of humor. heavy petting. nipply play. dom!jake. fingering (f. recieving). rough sex (?). unprotected sex. vocal!reader and jake. light teasing. (very) minor brat taming. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. icehockeyplayer!jake and academicoverachiever!reader have slightly odd views on relationships. jake is a (nice?) fuckboy. reader and jake are very horny people. mentions of icehockeyplayer!maki, jay, heeseung and sunghoon. other brief mentions of intak, yuna, jungwon, sohee, chaewon, sunoo and isa. jay is also in a band, very ‘green day’ - ‘nirvana’ adjacent.
MINORS DNI!!
A/N: and she lives! been gone for a while (my sincerest apologies) but we’re back!! this one is pretty lengthy, the hiatus may have given me a running mouth (and a long list of future ideas too!) just hoping it hasn’t made me rusty.
It started as a joke.
Nestled into the corner of a worn leather couch that had definitely seen better days, nursing a mixture of whatever you could find on the messy drinks table—over the rowdy music that you could practically feel humming in your chest and bouncing off the walls in a way too crowded frat house.
Your teeth worried at the rim of your cup, shoes kicking at the array of streamers and confetti on the floor.
You were floating in that perfect sweet spot between tipsy and drunk, where everything felt softer around the edges—your limbs all loose and warm like honey.
Jake was mid-rant beside you, his long legs stretched out, one arm draped across the back of the couch behind your shoulders.
He looked frustratingly put together for someone five drinks deep—dark hair slightly mussed in that effortless way that probably took him zero effort, his Dicelis Hockey hoodie pushed up to his elbows, revealing forearms that had no business being a bit distracting.
The party sign on the wall now hung haphazardly close to floating to the floor, now just reading ‘HBD SUNGCH…’. The abandoned Cards Against Humanity game sat on the coffee table, half the white cards now decorated with pretzel crumbs and beer rings–
“(Y/N)!” Jake snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Are you even listening to me?”
Rude.
“I’m listening!” you protested, batting his hand away with a defensive shrug.
You were listening–mostly. You were also wondering when Sunghoon would storm in and lose his mind over whoever massacred his card game with snacks and cheap beer.
Jake’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “Oh yeah? Then what I was just talking about?”
“Umm…” You took a tactical sip of your drink, buying a bit of time, “your latest conquests?”
He groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. “Not just any conquest, angel. I was talking about thee Yuna Shin.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait, pause–” You shifted to face him better, nearly sloshing your drink. “All-Star cheer captain Yuna Shin?”
A slow, devastating smirk spread across Jake’s face, “so you weren’t listening.”
“…sorry?” You flashed him that sheepish smile that usually got you out of things and Jake rolled his eyes, though there was no real heat behind it.
“As I was saying, before I lost you to whatever was going on in that pretty head of yours—I thought Yuna and I were on the same page.” He gestured with his free hand, frustrated.
“Nothing serious, y’know? Just hooking up, blowing off some steam.”
“Something fun and casual.” You added, and your best friend pointed at you like you just solved a world problem.
“Exactly. I mean, you get it. You know how insane my schedule is: practice, games, film sessions. Sometimes you just need to–”
“Decompress?” You supplied, fighting a giggle.
“Right!” The man’s face lit up with vindication. “But then,” he paused, leaning in conspirationally, “two weeks in, she hits me with it.”
“...What are we.” You both chorused, dissolving into laughter.
Jake groaned like he was in physical pain, raking a hand through his hair. “I mean, we talked about this. Day one, cards on the table, and now she wants to put a label on it and make it into this whole...thing.”
“Why can't we just have…fun?” He asked basically no one but himself after a few beats of silence.
Fun.
One word. Three letters. Embossed in bold, shiny gold letters across the hardcover of Jake Sim’s ‘Relationship 101 Handbook’ that was his trusted guide to every romantic interaction he’d had since sophomore year of high school.
Jake had never been one to take relationships seriously–if you would call what he had ‘relationships’.
You’d been watching this routine repeat itself in different variants for years now.
Jake didn’t do relationships—not real ones at least.
Labels made him twitchy, commitment gave him hives and the word ‘girlfriend’ might as well have been in an ancient lost language for all the meaning it held for him.
At least he wasn’t cruel about it though. He at least had the courtesy of always being upfront and honest about what he could and couldn’t offer.
But that didn’t stop girls from hoping that their particular combo of pretty face and personality would be the exception to finally make Jake Sim want to ‘settle down’.
Spoiler alert: it never was.
The pattern repeated itself like clockwork, from the conundrum of summer flings before senior year of high school—when Jake scored the alluring job of a beach lifeguard—to senior year’s abundance of girls who wanted to wear his varsity jacket—each one lasting a few weeks before the inevitable ‘what are we’ conversation sent Jake running for the hills.
Now here you were, junior year of college and Jake was still the same: Dicelis’ Division I ice hockey star defenseman—and of course, the list of girls struck by Eros himself were an endless, constantly replenishing supply.
Most of them wanted something more: wearing his extra team shirt, going on dates—even something as simple as cuddling after sex—wrapped up in a bow of commitment, affection and the pretty title of ‘girlfriend’—all of which were things that lived on Jake’s hard ‘no no’ list, scribbled in red marker and underlined twice.
This was the third rant this month alone.
Jake sighed dramatically, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. “I’m at my wit’s end here, (Y/N), I really am.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, because the theatrics of his chagrin were quite comical.
“Oh you poor thing,” you said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “So many beautiful women wanna date you. How do you survive?”
He shot you a look. “Don’t be a dick.”
You tilted your head, pouting your lips with insincere disappointment, “aw, but you make it so easy.”
He kicked your foot lightly. “I’m being serious. I mean, you get it right? You do the whole ‘no-strings’ thing sometimes.”
You made a noncommittal sound, swirling the contents of your cup. “Well , if you consider drowning in yearbook club projects and philosophy readings ‘fun’, then sure. I’m having a time.”
Jake’s brows furrowed in confusion, “wait, hold up. I thought you were seeing someone?”
He snapped his fingers, trying to summon the memory through his alcohol-clouded brain. “That guy—Intak! From the men’s basketball team right?”
You deadpanned. “Jake, we broke up a month ago. You're late to the party as usual.”
“A month?” He raised a brow. “Shit, really? I thought you guys were doing good.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh you know. It was the usual bullshit—spending too much time with my best friend.” You grumbled, already anticipating his reaction.
“Apparently you ‘clearly want to jump my bones’ and he couldn’t handle the competition.”
Right on cue, that insufferable smirk spread across Jake’s face, slow, inevitable and way too bright.
“Don’t,” you warned, pointing at him threateningly. “Do not start—”
“I mean, geez.” Jake leaned back, radiating false modesty as he stroked his jaw in efforts to conceal his growing smile. “Are they really that intimidated by me?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now.”
“I can’t help it!” His grin was shit-eating and unrepentant. “This is like the third time this has happened. Maybe fourth? I’m losing count.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware.” You sank back into the cushions in defeat, letting your head tip back. “My exes are a bunch of guys who couldn’t handle my best friend being a guy. It’s exhausting.”
And it really was.
Boyfriends, for you, were complicated in a way they never seemed to be for other people.
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kept one around for longer than two months.
It always started the same: fun, sweet, easy, great sex—and then they’d notice the Jake shaped figure looming in your orbit.
The way he’d text you at random hours. The way you had inside jokes and a language that no one else could decode. How he’d show up at your apartment unannounced, or the way you’d disappear to meet him without explanation.
Somehow—every single time, “I don’t care if you have a guy best friend” would morph into “but does he really need to be around this much?” which would spiral into “I’m not comfortable with how close you two are” and eventually land on a messy breakup with the claims that either the both of you were blind, stupid—or both.
Intak had been the final straw.
The breaking point that made you throw your hands up and say fuck it to the whole institution of dating.
After two months of increasingly passive-aggressive comments about Jake, Intak had finally snapped during what was supposed to be a cozy movie night at your apartment.
You’d briefly checked your phone to see what Jake texted you and Intak had paused the movie with an irate, bitter smile.
“You know what? I’m done. I’m not going to keep playing third wheel in my own relationship while you’re clearly in love with someone else.”
“I’m not in love with Jake—”
“Oh, please.” Intak rolled his eyes with a sharp, mean laugh. “You light up when he texts. You prioritize his schedule over mine. Half the stories you tell start with ‘Jake and I.’ I’ve been competing with him since day one and I’m tired of losing to someone who’s supposedly ‘just a friend.’”
He’d stood up, furiously grabbing his things. “Here’s some free advice (Y/N): either fuck him and get it out of your system, or admit that you’re emotionally unavailable and stop wasting people’s time. But don’t pretend you’re capable of actually being in a relationship when you’re clearly already in one.”
And then he’d left.
You’d sat there, stunned and furious, his words ringing in your ears, unable to shake his absurd accusation.
After that ended, (with you telling him exactly where he could shove his pseudo-psychological analysis) you'd tried the casual hookup thing.
Just sex, no expectations, no jealous boyfriends getting territorial over your best friend.
But that had its own problems too.
The hookups themselves were usually fine, all tension and excitement and the thrill of something new.
But the aftermath? The awkward morning-afters, the forced small talk over bad coffee, the weird dance of pretending last night meant more or less than it actually did.
Then there were guys who’d say they wanted casual but then got weird when you didn’t text back immediately, those who treated it like a transaction and made you feel hollow—and others who couldn’t find the goddamn clit with a map and a flashlight.
It was exhausting in a completely different way than dating had been, and after a few particularly disappointing encounters, you’d just…stopped.
So here you were: very single, very sexually frustrated, listening to your equally single and frustrated best friend complain about the exact same problems from the opposite side.
The universe had a twisted sense of humor, you’d give it that.
You stared at the ceiling above in pensive thought, scrutinizing the crowded half-deflated helium balloons, bobbing lazily like they’d given up on floating.
“I’m just so tired of all the drama,” you said finally. “Why can’t people just…enjoy each other without all the complications? Like it’s not that serious.”
Jake let out a low hum of agreement, stretching his legs out beside yours until your knees almost touched, “right?”
You snorted. “Maybe you’re the problem.”
He turned his head toward you, grinning. “Don’t say that. I'm trying to be deep here.”
“You? Deep? That’s generous.”
“Wow, rude.” Jake grabbed a pretzel from the decimated snack pile on the table and threw it at you. “Here I am having an existential crisis about the lost art of hookups, and you’re attacking my character.”
You caught the pretzel, popping it into your mouth. “Someone has to keep your ego in check.”
“My ego is perfectly sized, thank you.”
“Is that before…or after inflation?” You pouted with artificial curiosity, and Jake laughed—that full bodied sound that always made you smile despite yourself.
Silence settled between the two of you for a moment, focused on your respective drinks as you lazily people-watched.
Then Jake slowly sat up straighter, his eyes lighting up with a sudden realization. “Okay but seriously though…”
You gave him a skeptical side glance.
“What if–and hear me out–”
“Literally nothing good ever starts with ‘hear me out’.” You turned to him, suspicious. “What are you about to say?”
Jake’s eyes had that chaotic gleam they got when he was about to suggest something either brilliant or completely idiotic.
“What if the solution to our problem is kind of obvious?”
You blinked at him. “What solution? What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying,” Jake gestured vaguely between you both, his movements loose and animated from the alcohol. “What if we just…did it?”
Your brain took a moment to process. “Did what?”
“The whole no-strings thing!” Jake was warming to the idea.
“Think about it. We both want the same thing–something fun, uncomplicated, with someone who actually understands. And we’re both sitting here complaining about it when–”
“When what?” You were starting to catch on, a laugh building in your chest.
“When we could just…y’know.” He waves his hand between you again like saying the actual thing was illegal, “…with each other.”
A shocked laugh burst out of you as you slowly sat up. “Oh my god, are you serious right now?”
Jake was grinning now, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Why not? We already now each other. There’d be no games, no messy let downs–”
“No jealous boyfriends,” you added, getting into it now despite yourself. “Exactly.” Jake pointed at you enthusiastically.
You felt yourself getting pulled into the conspiracy, despite how ridiculous it sounded—listing benefits with Jake like it was a pitch idea.
There wouldn’t be any jealousy, awkward morning-afters, no wondering if they’d text back and ‘what are we’ conversations because you already knew what you were—
“Best friends who are just having fun.” you’d finished, and you found yourself mulling over it with in entertained curiosity.
There was a beat of silence.
Jake’s eyes twinkled with amusement and something else—something that made your stomach flip in a way you were too inebriated to examine.
“I mean…” Jake said slowly, “it kind of makes sense?”
“It really does actually,” you heard yourself agree, your voice almost wondering. “Like weirdly perfect sense.”
You both stared at each other for a long moment, squinting through matching mischievous smirks, the idea suspended in the air between you like something tangible.
Then, simultaneously, you both shook your heads and said: “Nah” before breaking into fits of laughter.
“Oh my god, can you imagine?” Jake wheezed, nearly spilling his drink.
“We’d be terrible at it.” You agreed, laughing so hard your sides hurt.
“We’d probably get into a fight about who’s doing it wrong–”
“Uhh, you’d definitely be doing it wrong.” You nodded up at him, and Jake threw you a challenging look,“I’ll have you know I’ve never had complaints in that department.”
“That you know of, for all we know Yuna could be speaking bad on your skills right now.” You shot back, and Jake threw another pretzel at you.
“See? This is exactly why it wouldn’t work. You can’t even compliment my skills.”
“I’m not going to stroke your ego about your sex life, Sim.”
Jake fought a snicker, “the word ‘stroke' in that sentence is very unfortunate timing.”
Your mouth fell agape in comic shock, smacking his arm, “you’re disgusting.”
“I thought this was a safe space!” He shrugged with mock innocence.
“It’s never a safe space for your dirty jokes.” You chided, still laughing.
“And yet, you still gracefully endure.” Jake settled back into the couch, still grinning like an idiot.
“…But seriously though, for a second there, it almost made sense, right?”
“For a very brief second.” you admitted with a warning lift of your finger.
It was ridiculous. Funny. You even swiftly moved on to a different topic of conversation before you threw back a few more drinks and joined the dancing crowd—forgetting the entire thing completely as the night peeled away.
But now—weeks later, the bold declaration of your official dry spell started to sound extremely over ambitious and the stupid (very stupid) idea had begun to look more like a good suggestion than just an alcohol-fueled joke.
You were aggressively multitasking right now: murdering a bowl of cereal at your kitchen counter, tapping away at your computer—all while glaring daggers at your roommate while she hummed in the kitchen like the birds sung her awake this morning.
The smile on Chaewon’s face was so radiant you probably didn’t need to worry about your electric bill for the next few months. It was the kind of smile no insult could wipe away.
Last night had been peaceful, just catching up on coursework after Sunoo dragged you clubbing three nights in a row.
You’d finally made a dent in your art history essay, wrapped up on your yearbook duties for the week, and even gotten ahead on your philosophy readings.
Then you’d heard the front door click shut around midnight, and more than one pair of footsteps in the hallway—along with Chaewon’s distinctive giggles, followed by the low rumble of a decidedly male voice.
You’d smirked to yourself, amused. She’d definitely overshare at breakfast—she always did, in excruciating detail you never asked for.
It was funny, right up until her bedroom door clicked shut and you’d been reminded, once again, that your apartment had walls made of paper.
What followed was a very thorough, very enthusiastically salacious reminder of everything you were definitely, frustratingly not having.
Now she was making coffee like she hadn’t just disrupted your entire night, and you were taking out your sexual frustration on your innocent breakfast.
“So,” Chaewon started.
“No.” You shoved another spoonful into your mouth, and her shoulders dropped, “I didn't even say anything yet!”
“Well, whatever you're about to say,” you pointed your spoon at her, “the answer is no.”
She laughed pouring her coffee with an infuriating amount of grace. “I was just going to say that you seem a little tense this morning. Trouble sleeping?”
You fixed her with your flattest stare. “The walls are thin and your headboard is loud. Go figure.”
“Oh,” Chaewon had the audacity to look pleased, “yeah, Eric is pretty good with–”
“If you finish that sentence, I will move out.”
“Just saying,” The girl continued, completely undeterred by your threat, “it was mindblowing.” she supplied, staring off into the distance with a reminiscent smile, then she sighed. “I miss his dick, already.”
“Oh trust me, the entire apartment complex knows you do.” You muttered, and Chaewon turned to you with a bemused smirk, “careful babe, your green is showing.”
“I’m not jealous.” You glanced at her with a grimace. “I’d just rather prefer the noise of downtown nightlife over the sounds of a porn rendition next door.”
Your roommate laughed earnestly, “you could have that too you know? You’re hot.”
“Chae, it’s not that I can't, it's that I won't. I’m just swamped with work right now.”
Chaewon paused, eyeing you with the kind of suspicious scrutiny that made you look away too quickly, “…when’s the last time you actually got laid? Like properly laid?”
“It is way too early for an interrogation right now.” You stabbed your cereal with unnecessary force, each spoonful more violent than the last.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Well, it's the only one you’re getting.” You returned to your laptop, trying to ignore the nosy figure hovering over you.
Maybe she’d eventually relent if you feigned interest in the laptop you were barely paying attention to—but Chaewon knew you far too well to ignore your badly structured facade of content.
She leaned against the counter, cradling her coffee mug, shifting her expression to something gentler. “I’m serious though, (Y/N). When was the last time you did something for yourself?”
“You’ve been on the Dean’s List for two years, your streak isn’t going anywhere any time soon, you should have some fun!”
Fun. There was that word again.
“I…have fun.” You protested weakly.
“Editing the yearbook forum at 2AM doesn't count as fun.” She elaborated.
“It does if you’re passionate about what you do.” You pointed, with a cheeky grin and an almost-questioning lift of your brows—as if daring your best friend’s disagreement.
“…Girl.” She set down her mug, fixing you with an unimpressed look.
“You’re like a soda can ready to explode. You need to blow off some steam.” She sighed insistently, like your voluntary abstinence was her problem.
“Go out. Meet someone. Have a meaningless hookup that rocks your world and leaves you useless for days.”
The worst part was that she wasn’t wrong.
You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt that kind of rush—the anticipation, the foreplay, the earth shattering feeling of an orgasm that wasn’t from your fingers.
Your vibrator was getting more action that you’d had in months, and even that was starting to feel depressing.
“Hm, I’ll think about it.” You muttered.
Chaewon smiled and turned knowing. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Philosophy 302 felt like the universe was personally mocking you.
You slumped in your usual seat near the back—close enough to hear Professor Sorenson but far enough to avoid being called on unless absolutely necessary.
Your laptop was open to a fresh document, cursor blinking expectantly, but your brain felt like static.
“Today,” Sorenson announced, pacing at the front of the lecture hall with the kind of energy that suggested she had far too much coffee, “we’re driving into Socratic philosophy. Specifically his views on desire and jealousy.”
Of course. Of course this was the topic today.
You resisted the urge to drop your head onto your desk or peel away from class and risk your perfect attendance.
“Socrates believed that jealousy is, at its core, simply desire unmet,” she continued, gesturing expansively.
“Its the gap between what we have and what we want. The tension between reality and longing.”
Someone in the front row raised their hand—probably to ask something pretentious about the Symposium—but you’d already tuned out.
Jealousy is desire unmet.
Okay but really, who needed ancient philosophy to define something you could already feel gnawing at your insides?
It had been over a month. Over a month since you’d had any action that didn’t involve machinery and your own imagination.
The closest you’d come was three weeks ago—some cute guy at a club who’d bought you a drink and kissed you against the bar.
It was nice against your own judgment. Flattering even.
But Sunoo had been your ride that night and he’d been ready to leave the second Jungwon drunkenly suggested the idea of getting everyone in the place a round of shots—so you got his number and told yourself you’d text him.
You never did.
Now here you were listening to a poetic lecture about some guy that lived eons before you, while your body reminded you in increasingly aching ways that you were a living breathing human with needs that were currently being spectacularly ignored.
You’d tried to drown it out. Buried yourself in assignments, spent hours in the editing lab and even deep cleaned your apartment at 1AM last Tuesday.
You had spent plenty of ‘quality time’ with yourself, but it wasn’t enough. It was like trying to satisfy a craving with wrong food—it filled the space but it didn’t quite hit the spot.
What you wanted was the earth-shattering, knees-weak sex Chaewon was apparently having.
You’d made an attempt to settle in the blissful comfort of envied denial, chalking her dramatic retellings as mass hysteria—but who the hell were you kidding?
You too, wanted to be fucked six ways to Sunday. You needed to feel both wrecked and alive in a way that a class ten in the morning on a Wednesday definitely wasn’t providing.
“The question then becomes,” Sorenson said, pulling you momentarily back to reality, “how do we reconcile our desires with our reality? How do we bridge that gap without losing ourselves to jealousy or desperation?”
Your laptop screen blurred slightly as you stared at it.
How do you bridge that gap?
Jake’s face flickered through your mind, unbidden–that stupid smile, those dark eyes, the way he’d looked at you on that couch two and a half weeks ago.
“What if we just did it?”
You had laughed it off. Dismissed it as drunk stupid rambling.
But the idea had slowly burrowed into your brain like a splinter, small and persistent. You’d catch yourself thinking about it at random moments—in the shower, before bed, during particularly boring lectures like this one.
It was insane. Completely insane.
But…was it really?
You shook your head, trying to psychically dislodge the thought. This was stupid and wrong. You were friends. Best friends. You didn’t cross that line because some lines existed for a reason.
Even if you were currently so horny you could barely think straight.
Even if Jake was objectively gorgeous and made zero effort to hide it.
And even if the idea of uncomplicated fun with someone you actually knew wouldn’t fuck it up sounded exactly like what you needed right now.
Stop it, you told yourself firmly.
Class continued in the background, but you were too busy trying to convince yourself that Jake’s drunken suggestion hadn’t been slowly, insidiously making more and more sense over the past weeks.
Your phone buzzed in your lap.
jake from state charm: bro practice is killing meee
jake from state charm: coach has us running drills like we’re training for the olympics
jake from state charm: im dying
jake from state charm: pls send food
jake from state charm: or a medic
Despite everything, you smiled.
you: u are SO dramatic 💀
jake from state charm: im SUFFERING
jake from state charm: this is a cry for help
jake from state charm: also im rlly bored, entertain meeee
you: you’ll live
jake from state charm: ur breaking my heart
you: 🎻
jake from state charm: bros wining the idgaf war
You snorted softly.
jake from state charm: are you free friday?
jake from state charm: jays having one of his gigs again
you: what’s your gpa and answer quick 🤔
jake from state charm: chill, i study hard and party hard ✋🏻🙂↕️🤚🏻
jake from state charm: balance is key smarty pants
you: right right…
jake from state charm: i’ll take that as a yes, see you friday ;)
You shook your head, slipping your phone back into your bag, still smiling despite yourself.
This was fine. Everything was fine—you were fine. You absolutely were not thinking about what Jake looked like under that hockey uniform.
Nope.
Jake was going to lose his fucking mind.
He slammed his locker shut with more force than necessary, the metallic clang echoing through the half empty locker room.
Practice had been brutal all week—three hours of drills on ice, conditioning, and Coach riding their asses about the upcoming season.
But that wasn’t what was making him want to punch something.
“Yo, Jake!” Jay’s voice carried from the showers. “You coming to Giselle’s tonight or what? S’posed to be a rager.”
“Maybe,” Jake called back half-heartedly, yanking his t-shirt over his head.
He probably wouldn’t go.
Jake had been to three parties in the last two weeks and they’d all ended the same way: some girl would approach him, they’d flirt, she’d make it clear she was interested, and Jake would…
Nothing.
He’d do absolutely nothing.
Which was weird because Jake never did nothing.
Jake was the guy who hooked up at parties, who had girls’ numbers saved in his phone, who never spent a weekend alone unless he chose to.
But lately? Nothing. Three weeks of absolutely nothing, and it was starting to make him feel like he was losing his edge.
“Dude…you good?” Maki appeared from around the corner, towel around his waist, eyeing Jake suspiciously. “You’ve been weird lately.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what your face says. You look constipated.”
“Thanks, asshole.”
Maki laughed, grabbing his bag. “Seriously though, what’s up? You turned down Yujin last weekend. Yujin Ahn. The girl you’ve been trying to hook up with in physics class.”
Jake had turned her down. Yujin had been perfectly willing, perfectly attractive, perfectly available. She’d been wearing a dress that should have been downright illegal and she’d made her intentions very clear.
And Jake had made an excuse and left.
Not because he wasn’t attracted to her. Not because he didn’t want to have fun. But because he’d been down this road too many times now, and he knew exactly how it would end.
“Just not feeling it lately,” Jake muttered, shoving his practice gear into his bag with unnecessary aggression.
“Not feeling it? Bro, you’re like—” Maki stopped himself, a knowing look crossing his face. “Oh. Oh. This is about the crying thing, isn’t it?”
Jake’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. This is totally about the crying thing.” The blonde sat down on the bench, looking far too entertained. “Dude, that wasn’t your fault. You were upfront with her from the start.”
“Doesn’t matter. She still cried. In the middle of the cafeteria.” He deadpanned.
“Okay, yeah, that was rough,” Maki admitted with a chuckle. “But again—not your fault. You told her it was casual.”
Jake had told her.
He’d been crystal clear about it, just like he always was—no expectations, no promises, just fun.
Yuna nodded as fast as she could manage, said she completely understood and was on the same page before crashing into his lips and pushing him into the sheets.
Three weeks later, she’d asked where they were going and Jake had gently reminded her of their initial conversation, and had tried–tried–to let her down as softly as possible.
He’d even told her she was amazing, that any guy would be lucky to date her, but he just wasn’t that guy.
Yuna gave him that doleful look, managing a weak smile even through watery eyes. She had constantly repeated that she was okay when Jake had asked—begging her not to cry–and she did anyway.
Right there in the cafeteria, mascara running, while half the room paused their lunch break to stare.
Evil incarnate was what he was apparently.
And before Yuna? There was Amber, who’d teared up when he’d ended things. And before her—Macy, who’d actually cried in his chest and told him she thought they had really had something.
By the time he’d made the fifth girl cry, the team would've coined some mortifying nickname, one that would definitely leave the locker room and follow him everywhere, stamped across his forehead for the rest of his days.
Jake felt like he wasn’t even doing anything wrong.
He didn’t ghost them or act like a dick and pretend they meant nothing. He sat them down, explained gently but firmly that this wasn’t going to turn into something more, and appreciated the time they’d spent together.
According to the rest of the team, that made him ‘the sweet one’. The fuckboy with a conscience. At least he wasn’t getting slapped like Heeseung, or screamed at in the quad like Sunghoon last month.
But ‘sweet’ didn’t stop the tears and ‘nice’ didn’t make the breakups hurt less—and Jake was getting really fucking tired of being the guy who made girls cry, even when he’d done everything inherently ‘right’.
“You’re too good at letting them down easy,” Sunghoon said, reading his mind.
“That’s your problem. You’re so nice about it that they think there’s hope.” He fished a water bottle out of his locker. “Like maybe if they just try harder, you’ll change your mind.”
“I tell them from the start—”
“Yeah, but you’re also charming as fuck, bro. Remembering their coffee orders and asking about their classes and actually listening when they talk: that’s boyfriend behavior.”
“That’s literally just being a decent human being.”
“Right, but most guys hooking up casually aren’t decent human beings. So when you are, they think it means something.” Sunghoon pointed out, shaking his hair dry.
Jake scrubbed a hand over his face with an exasperated groan. “So what, I’m supposed to be an asshole? Treat them like shit so they don’t catch feelings?”
“No,” Maki said grinning, clearly enjoying this, “he’s saying maybe you need to be more selective. Or—” he snapped his fingers.
“Or find someone who actually gets it. Someone who won’t fall for your whole ‘sweet guy’ routine because they already know all your bullshit.”
Someone who already knew his bullshit…and his mind immediately (and traitorously) went to you.
Right.
“I’m not talking about this anymore,” Jake said, standing abruptly and yanking his bag onto his shoulder.
“I’m just saying,” Maki continued, following him out, “you’ve been in a weird mood for like three weeks now. Ever since Sungchan’s party at our place—what happened that night anyway?”
Brief fragments of that night came to mind, but one stood out like a sore insistent thumb: that stupid joke about you two being the perfect fuck buddies.
You’d both laughed it off and went back to normal.
Nothing technically happened.
Except everything had shifted anyway, tilted slightly off-axis in a way Jake couldn’t quite correct.
Because that suggestion—made half-drunk and mostly joking—had been rattling around in his head ever since, getting louder and making more sense as the weeks flew by.
You did get it.
You understood the appeal of something casual and uncomplicated because you wanted the same thing.
You wouldn’t develop expectations he couldn’t meet because your friendship had already established what you were to each other.
There would be no crying. No uncomfortable conversations where he had to explain that he liked you but not like that. No wondering if he was leading someone on or breaking someone’s heart.
It would just be…easy. Fun. The way it was supposed to be.
And he couldn’t deny—had never been able to deny, if he was being honest with himself—that you were beautiful. Objectively, empirically gorgeous in a way that had nothing to do with your friendship and everything to do with the fact that Jake had working eyes.
He’d just never let himself think about it too much because you were you, the one person in his life who was uncomplicated and easy and safe from all his usual bullshit.
But lately, he’d been thinking about it. A lot.
About the way you looked when you laughed, head thrown back and completely unselfconscious. How you’d lean against him during movie nights, warm and comfortable in his space.
About that night on the couch when you’d been wearing that silly slogan tank top and the chilly September night made him realize that you weren’t wearing a bra.
Jake had very carefully kept his eyes on your face because anything else teetered the edge of dangerous.
But he briefly let himself think about how you’d probably kiss—rough and defiant, the same way you argued with him about.
And what you’d sound like if he got his hands on you. What you’d look like underneath him, that bratty tongue of yours finally lost for words while he—
An idiot.
He felt like an idiot letting himself think of such things. Getting a hard on from the thought of your best friend was wrong—he could practically feel the shame burning the hairs on the back of his neck.
You were his best friend. Off-limits. The one person he couldn’t mess things up with.
Even if the idea of fucking you had become impossible to ignore.
Sunghoon slapped him on the shoulder with an irritating pitying smile. “You’re a good dude, Jake. Even if you are currently going through some kind of weird celibate phase.”
“It’s been three weeks, not three years.”
He scoffed. “For you? That’s basically a lifetime.”
Jake’s eyes went skyward, though a small grin betrayed him.
Yeah. A lifetime.
If you mashed together an older brother's basement rehearsals with the scratchy, emotionally manic soundtrack of a ‘turn of the millennium’ teen movie, you’d get Jay’s band: The Fallout.
Collective was practically packed wall-to-wall with people, the atmosphere slightly thick with neon lights slicing through the gloom of fog and the overwhelming cigarette smoke—which was a headache waiting to happen if you stayed long enough.
Peeling posters of long forgotten rock bands and stars graced the brick walls, alongside a pristine collection of old Rolling Stone magazines and passionate slogans about how ‘rock ruled’ or whatever.
The people who came to these shindigs were a harmonious blend of heavily opinionated music nerds, students at their third location, and anyone who thought loud music excused questionable hygiene.
You attended one of Jay’s gigs back in freshman year, if that was what you’d call it then.
Back then, he only performed at frat parties, which somehow made the obnoxious traditions of those gatherings slightly cooler.
Now, he was performing small bar gigs and open mics, pouring himself into each note with the same passion he’d had since he was in high school, performing to no one but the entire neighbourhood from his garage—or his parents (who were clearly held hostage).
He’d once joked to you that you could still get with him before he was untouchable—be his cool girlfriend to bring on tour to make every body else jealous and you’d scoffed: “Yeah sure, because rockstars are so known for their monogamy.”
The Fallout was mid-set, and the crowd was eating it up.
You stood near the back with Chaewon and Sunoo, nursing a second vodka cranberry that was more vodka than cranberry, watching Jay dominate the small stage like he was born with a Les Paul in his hands.
Jay was good—really good. His fingers flew across the guitar strings with practiced ease, his voice rough and melodic as he leaned into the mic.
He also looked unfairly hot doing it, damp hair casted over his eyes and concentrated intensity, his t-shirt clinging to him in a way that suggested the stage lights were doing their job.
“Okay, I need to know if he’s single immediately,” Chaewon announced over the music. “Because I am already planning our future together.”
“You don’t even know his last name.” You pointed out, raising a brow.
“Park,” Sunoo supplied helpfully. “Jay Park. Hockey player, lead guitarist, and according to a few of his exes…a lot of trouble.’”
Chaewon’s eyes practically sparkled. “Perfect. I’m dressed like a rockstar’s girlfriend already.” She gestured to her outfit—an off-shoulder band tee she’d artfully cut herself, paired with leather shorts and doc martens. “This was clearly fate.”
You had to admit, Chaewon wasn’t wrong. The girl looked about ready to be splashed across a tabloid magazine, hanging off a rockstar with effortless cool.
You had gone a different direction—a patterned halter top showing more cleavage than you usually went for, paired with a mini skirt and your favorite boots, with eyeliner sharp enough to kill.
You looked good. You felt good.
The music was great, bouncing off the walls with just the perfect amount of volume and reverb.
The energy was really infectious and lively, but you were still somehow…restless.
“So,” Sunoo said, leaning in conspiratorially, “when are you going to put yourself out there tonight?”
“Not you too.” You dramatically groaned.
“I’m just saying!” The pretty man said, hands miming passionately.
“You look hot, the music is good, everyone’s got liquid courage—this is literally prime hookup territory.”
“I’m not hooking up with a random stranger at a bar.”
“Why not?” Chaewon joined in with a whine, fussily shaking her shoulders, “You need to unclench babe.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re repressed.”
“I’m…selective.” You supplied with a shrug.
“You’re pent up,” Chaewon corrected. “There’s a difference. And honestly, babe? It’s starting to show.”
You shot her a look. “Excuse me?”
“You stress-cleaned the apartment in the dead of night last week, then you reorganized the entire living room.” She quipped with an accusatory look.
“Finding my scented candles was like finding Waldo–you totally messed with my entire system.”
You glanced at her like she just asked if it was night, “I was trying to be organized? And I told you to pack away your candles after using them to ‘cleanse the vibes’.”
“Okay mom.” Chaewon drawled with an amused smirk, ignoring your simmering glare.
Sunoo rolled his eyes, ignoring your lover's spat, “you’re just channeling your sexual frustration into other activities,” he said sagely. “That’s classic displacement behavior.”
“You crash one of Jungwon’s classes and suddenly you're a psychologist.”
Sunoo shrugged, flashing you an expectant look, theatrically sipping his drink, “but I am wrong though?”
Well…no. Irritatingly so.
“We’re just trying to help!” Chaewon protested.
“Look, I know what happened with that guy Sunoo tried to set you up with last time—”
“Do not bring up Sohee.”
“—but that was one bad experience! Not every hook up ends with the guy crying mid-coitus because he misses his ex.”
“He came in about two minutes, then immediately started crying about his ex-girlfriend while literally using my tits as a pillow.” You grimaced at the memory.
“I didn’t even get to come and I had to play therapist. The worst trade deal in history.”
Sunoo winced with an apologetic smile. “Yeah sorry, that was…rough. My bad. But this time—”
“Nope.” You cut him off with a half playful warning. “No setups. No ‘I have a friend who would be perfect for you.’ Just…no.”
“Fine, fine.” Sunoo held up his hands in surrender. “But you could just, I don’t know, find someone yourself? Take initiative?”
“I don’t need to take initiative. I’m perfectly content with my current situation.”
“Your current situation is you and your vibrator,” Chaewon deadpanned.
“Oh my god, Chaewon!”
“What? It’s true! And while I do support your solo activities, they’re clearly not cutting it anymore. You need the real thing.” She insisted.
“Preferrably someone hot, very charming and yes, capable of leading a band while looking like angels sculpted him themselves.”
That was directed more so towards herself than you, catching her shifting glance to Jay with that particular look on her face.
You guaranteed somewhere in the week you’d be victim to another sleepless night and a TMI recap over your morning breakfast.
You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at the way she dreamily stared at the lead guitarist like he hung the moon.
Thankfully, the end of the song saved you from another failed defense against your tag teaming jury, the crowd erupting into applause and cheers as Jay grinned, adjusting the mic.
“Thank you, thank you!” His voice carried over the sound system, warm and genuine. “You guys are fucking amazing. This next one’s a new song we’ve been working on—it’s called ‘Bad Decisions’ which feels appropriate for a Friday night, right?”
The crowd cheered in agreement.
The band launched into the song and you found yourself swaying despite your mood, the bass thrumming through your chest.
“Okay, but Jay is legitimately hot,” You admitted, watching him absolutely shred on guitar. “Like, objectively speaking.”
“Right?” Chaewon was practically drooling. “The way his arms look when he plays? Criminal. Absolutely criminal.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t crawled over to the stage and tackled him.” Sunoo observed with a humored smile.
Chaewon flashed him a chaotic grin, “oh I’m considering it.”
“Give me a few more drinks and you’ll have to hold me back.” She sang with a warning, and you both told her to behave herself amidst laughter.
This was a good way to unwind from the harrowing week you spent with your nose in your books. The Fallout was good, the company was good…but that relentless thought hadn’t gone away.
If anything, it was getting worse.
“I need another drink,” You announced.
“I’ll come with—” Chaewon started, and you waved dismissively with a warm scoff, “no, it’s fine. You stay and appreciate Jay’s arms. I’ll be right back.”
You pushed through the crowd toward the bar, weaving between bodies and dodging elbows.
The music was loud enough to rattle your ribcage—and you were grateful for the excuse that it was just the bass that was making your chest do complicated things.
Definitely just the music.
Jake spotted Isa Lee the moment he walked into the bar with Heeseung and Sunghoon.
She was standing near the stage with a group of her cheer friends, looking effortlessly beautiful in a casual dress that somehow looked both comfortable and perfectly put together.
Her dark hair was down in loose waves, and when she laughed at something her friend said, Jake felt…nothing.
Well, not nothing. She was gorgeous, and he’d been trying to catch her at the right time since September.
But that usual spark of interest, the rousing anticipation of a potential hookup—just wasn’t there.
“Dude, Isa Lee is totally checking you out,” Heeseung said, nudging Jake’s shoulder.
“What?”
“Three o’clock. Don’t make it obvious.” Sunghoon grinned. “She’s been looking over here since we walked in.”
Jake glanced over casually, and Isa caught his eye with a slow smile, a clear invitation.
“Go talk to her, man,” Heeseung encouraged. “You’ve been wanting to hook up with her for months.”
He had been.
Isa was smart—chem major, very talented cheerleader, genuinely nice from everything he’d heard. She was exactly the kind of girl who should interest him.
Should being the operative word.
“Yeah,” Jake said, not moving. “I will. In a minute.”
“…What are you waiting for?”
Jake didn’t have a good answer for that. Or rather, he had an answer, but it was one that would make his friends theatrically concerned and ask a conundrum of questions he didn’t want to answer.
He had to break this cycle, somehow.
But his two teammates were looking at him expectantly and mildly confused, while Isa was still smiling in his direction.
“Fine,” Jake said. “I’m going.”
He crossed the room, smoothly weaving through the crowd until he reached Isa’s group of friends who’d nudged her persistently with barely concealed grins and giggles.
“Hey,” he said, leaning in so she could hear him over the music.
“Hey!” Isa’s face lit up. “Jake, right? You’re on the hockey team with the lead guitarist.”
“Guilty. You’re Isa?”
“That’s me.” She touched his arm lightly, as she eyed him down. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
“Wouldn’t miss one of Jay’s shows. He’s been practicing that new song for weeks.” Jake gestured toward the stage where Jay was currently in the middle of a guitar solo.
“He’s pretty good, right?”
“He’s amazing! I love live music.” Isa moved closer, her shoulder brushing his. “Do you play any instruments?”
“Yeah, but Jay and I have different musical directions. A band breakup would be waiting to happen if I joined.”
Isa laughed, and Jake found himself going through the motions—smirking, leaning in, saying the right things.
It was all easy and familiar. He’d done this dance a hundred times.
But his heart wasn’t really in it.
You lingered at the bar, idly people-watching while you patiently waited for the bartender to remember that pouring drinks was, in fact, his primary job—not shamelessly flirting with a gaggle of far too inebriated girls clearly trying to snag free drinks.
Your fingers drummed against the sticky wood counter, letting your gaze drift over the crowd before your eyes landed on an awfully familiar tall figure.
Jake.
Had he been here the whole time?
He stood slightly off to the side, leaning down to hear a girl speaking into his ear.
Jake looked unfairly good under the haze of the colored lighting, shoulders stretched broad beneath a fitted tee layered over a long sleeve, the bottom cuffs shoved carelessly up his forearms.
Show off. You scoffed with a slight smile.
And of course he was talking to someone.
Jake could strike up a conversation with a brick wall and have it blushing in under five minutes.
The girl—you realized—was Isa Lee.
That tracked.
Isa was one of Jungwon’s all-star cheer teammates.
She was the kind of girl professors adored and campus baristas remembered, all honey warm laughs and the uncanny ability to make you feel like the most interesting person in the room.
She was a real sweetheart, almost offensively so.
You watched, faintly amused, as Isa’s hand slowly brushed Jake’s chest like she was checking its structural integrity.
She then leaned in closer, whispering something…and there it was: the beam of that smile.
Not enough to look sweet, and just enough to look dangerous—and Jake definitely knew what he was doing.
You suppressed a disbelieving laugh.
Jake always had that stupidly charming half-smile, but somewhere between sophomore year and that hockey camp before junior year it transformed along with everything.
From the adorable boy next door to what you could only perfectly describe as one of those absurdly pretty guys you noticed at the airport and felt mildly disappointed when your boarding group got called.
Back then you found it deeply annoying.
Now you just found it entertaining.
Isa laughed again, tracing absent patterns on his chest, and you lifted a brow.
Bold.
Jake’s hand hovered briefly at Isa’s waist, polite but noncommittal. He was looking down at her, nodding and listening intently.
And then his eyes shifted, finding yours.
You didn’t look away, simply curving your lips in a mild, impressed half-smile, communicating with your countenance: Busy night?
Recognition flashed across his face, followed by a slow grin that made something in your stomach flip against its will.
Jake briefly turned back to Isa, saying something that was clearly unreadable. She blinked up at him, mid suggestion before Jake began to step back, to your surprise.
He murmured something that made Isa’s face flicker—confusion? disappointment?—before he offered an apologetic smile.
And then he turned, making a direct beeline for the bar.
You found yourself straightening slightly, ignoring the flicker of something that suspiciously felt like anticipation.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Jake greeted, sliding in next to you with a growing smile.
You tilted your head. “Stalking me, Sim?”
“Always. It’s my favorite hobby.” Jake leaned against the bar, throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way he always annoyingly did.
He leaned back to take your outfit in properly for the first time. “Damn, (Y/N). Do you always dress like that or did I get lucky tonight?”
You smirked, striking a deliberately exaggerated gesture of throwing your hair back. “You like? I figured if Chaewon gets to dress like a rockstar’s girlfriend, I might as well make an effort.”
“An effort,” Jake repeated, his eyes trailing over the strappy top that showed off your shoulders, the mini skirt that made your legs look about a mile long.
“That’s one way to put it. You look unfair.”
“I know.” Your smile was purely unabashed.
That was your usual reaction whenever Jake harmlessly flirted with you—completely unaffected by his usual behavior in that way that was so quintessentially you.
But right now it strangely felt like you were reading lines off a script, irked by that annoying little buzz in your gut that refused to mind its own business.
“Well, I didn’t spend two hours getting ready for nothing.”
“Two hours?!” Jake raised his eyebrows with a grin that was equally amused and shocked.
“Perfection takes time, Sim. You wouldn’t understand with your three-second hair routine and your basic graphic tee and boring jeans.” You judgmentally eyed his frame.
Your feigned scrutiny faltered as your eyes betrayed you, lingering on his perfectly toned arms and the waistband of his jeans teasingly low—Calvin Klein's mocking you.
Why did it take hours for girls to get ready while guys practically slapped on whatever they could find and looked like…that.
Jake laughed with a bashful shrug, and without breaking eye contact—he casually flicked a subtle hand toward one of the bartenders. “What can I say angel? I’m just naturally blessed like that.”
“Naturally something,” You muttered with a grumble.
The man briefly shifted his attention to the bartender, ordering drinks for the two in a way that you shouldn’t have found hot, but did.
You’d been standing there for seven minutes flagging the bartender like an overzealous fangirl—your voice cycling through desperate octaves to try and get their attention and he’d just…done it.
The drinks you had so far were definitely to blame. It had to be that.
Alcohol lowered standards, it was basic peer reviewed science—and you could pull a journal article about that right now.
Sober you would never feel a flutter in her chest over a man simply summoning a bartender over with his index finger all while keeping his undivided attention on her.
Ridiculous.
Jake turned back to you, “and FYI, The Smiths?” he pointed at his shirt, “isn’t basic, you’re just uncultured like that.”
“Says you and every other performative male yearning for substance,” You said once you had your drinks. “All you’re missing are some glasses, vintage headphones and a Jane Austen book.”
Your best friend clutched his chest with mock hurt, “you wound me (Y/N), I keep you company, I buy you a drink and yet you still judge me.”
You threw him a well meaning smile and he couldn’t conceal his own any further, shaking his head with a chuckle.
You paused, searching the crowd in confusion. “Wait what happened to Isa? I saw you two looking cozy.”
The question came out before you’d really thought about it. Not that you cared exactly—Jake could talk to whoever he wanted. He always did.
But you’d noticed the way she was with him earlier, with the kind of body language that usually meant Jake would disappear in an hour or less.
And yet here he was at the bar. With you.
It was weird and out of pattern. That's all.
“She’s nice.”
“Incorrect answer.”
“That’s all I can say.” Jake took a sip of his beer, deflecting. “What about you? Having fun?”
“Define fun.”
“That bad, huh?”
You shrugged, taking a long sip.
Everything about the night should’ve been perfect, but there was this restless irritation fizzling in your veins that wouldn’t quit, and admitting your night was subpar at best, would require admitting why.
You ultimately concluded that you’d rather spare yourself more external efforts from friends to squander your sexual embargo.
It also just weirdly felt more mortifying than irritating to hear Jake have an opinion on your nonexistent sex life.
“It’s fine. Music’s good.”
Jake studied you for a moment, and you could feel him reading between the lines in that way he always did—but thankfully, he didn’t push, simply replying with an understanding nod.
You both fell into a comfortable silence, Jay’s band comfortably filling the space.
The place was still busy, with the frenzied humdrum only a Friday night could bring out, but somehow both of you felt more relaxed standing here at the bar with each other than you had all night.
“Jay looks good up there,” You observed, watching the stage. “Like, really good. The whole angsty hot musician thing really works for him.”
Jake glanced at you skeptically. “Are you thirsting over my teammate right now?”
“I’m making a simple observation about his attractiveness.” Your eyes gleamed with mischief. “Chaewon’s already decided they’re soulmates based entirely on the way he plays guitar.”
“That tracks. Jay has that effect on people.” Jake paused. “Please tell me you’re not under his spell too.”
“Relax, Chaewon called dibs. Besides, musicians are too high-maintenance for me.” You turned to face him fully, leaning your hip against the bar.
The question bubbled in your chest again—the nagging curiosity about why Jake was here instead of leaving with Isa.
It wasn’t jealousy, you just knew Jake.
You knew his patterns and knew that when a girl like Isa showed interest, he usually took the opportunity without much hesitation.
So why hadn’t he?
“How’s your night actually going? You looked like you were about to leave with Isa.”
Jake shrugged, suddenly seeming very interested in the typography of his beer label. “Just wasn’t feeling it, I guess.”
“Really?” You couldn’t keep the surprise out of your tone, “you’ve been trying to hook up with her since September.”
Jake made an amusing noise of frustration, “how does everyone know that?” He threw his hand up, “have I been that obvious?”
You pursed your lips with intentional silence, darting your eyes back to the stage.
“Wow, coming for my throat tonight.”
“You’re always obvious.” You tilted your head, studying him. “But seriously, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”
Jake considered lying—you could see it cross his face, the automatic playful smile he used with everyone else—but instead, his shoulders dropped slightly with a sigh.
“Honestly? I’m just spent,” he admitted. “Rather drown myself in hockey practice and physics homework than do that whole dance again.”
Jake took a long swig from his drink. “I don’t know. Maybe I need a break from all of it.”
“A break? You?” You looked genuinely surprised. “Jake Sim, taking a break from hooking up? Did I slip into an alternate dimension?”
“Ha ha. But yeah, maybe. The whole thing is…exhausting.”
You were quiet for a moment, and when you spoke again, your voice was softer. “Yeah. I get that.”
Something in your tone made Jake look at you more closely. You were staring at your drink, the crease in your eyes an adorable yet clear indication that you too, looked like you wished you could be anywhere else.
“...You want to get out of here?” The words came out before Jake could think about them.
You looked up. “What?”
“This place. The gig. Everything.” Jake gestured vaguely. “You wanna just leave? Go somewhere quieter?”
“What about Chaewon and Sunoo?”
“What about Heeseung and Sunghoon? They’ll survive without us.” Jake bumped your shoulder with his. “Come on. Let’s bail. But only if there’s alcohol at your place.”
Your smile was slow and considering. “Sunoo did leave a few bottles of something.”
“Sold.” Jake downed the rest of his beer, setting the bottle on the bar. “Let’s go.”
“You sure? You’re not going to regret leaving Isa behind?”
Jake looked at you in a way that made your face unusually warm, “I’m pretty sure.”
“Come on.” Jake laced his fingers through yours, tugging you away from the bar.
You tried desperately to down the rest of your drink as he pulled you toward the exit, nearly spilling it on yourself in the process.
“Jake wait—I’m still—” you protested between gulps, giggling.
“Chug faster!” He laughed, “I didn’t drag you to all those parties for nothing.”
You managed one final heroic swig before he dragged you through the door, both of you laughing like idiots as the cool night air hit your faces.
When you reached your apartment, Jake immediately gravitated to your speaker with the familiarity of someone who’d done it a thousand times before, immediately fiddling with the device.
“Oh, make yourself comfortable,” you called from the kitchen, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Already am!” Jake crashed on the couch, kicking off his shoes and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “What’ve you got?”
“Let’s see…” You stared at the haphazard arrangement of bottles left on the counter in a rush to catch an uber. “Vodka, rum, some tequila that Sunoo left here, and—oh, he got amaretto.”
“Fancy.”
“He does contain multitudes.” You started grabbing at bottles. “Want me to make something, or are we just doing shots?”
“Make something. Show off your bartending skills.”
“I don’t have bartending skills.”
“Then improvise. I believe in you.”
You laughed, pulling out glasses and starting to mix something that looked more complicated than it probably needed to be.
“So,” You said, briefly looking up from your mixing, “how’s hockey going?”
Jake looked away a bit too quickly as he cleared his throat, shrugging. “Hockey’s been the same. We’ve got a game in a few weeks, so everyone’s pretending they’re in the NHL.”
You hummed intently, dangerously pouring something amber into something clear.
Jake watched you for a second, “You should come to the game.”
You made a face, “I’ve been to games.”
“Not in months.” He pointed at you accusingly. “Fake fan behavior.” Jake clicked his tongue in disappointment.
“I’ve just been…busy.” You shrugged, crashing beside him and handing him a drink.
The speaker finally came to life after he did enough damage—the harmony of East High students filling the room with way too much glee and optimism for a mellow evening.
“Shit, my phone’s still connected.” You lunged for your phone, frantically disconnecting the music amidst Jake’s unshakable laughter.
“High School Musical 3?!” He managed between laughs, shoulders shaking while you rolled your eyes with a flustered groan.
“Whatever! It’s a good movie and a good playlist, I’m not backing down on that.” You insisted, trying to fight the burn that settled in your cheeks.
“Aww.” Jake cooed, reaching over to pat your head, “you are such a dork (Y/N).” Still grinning.
“Uhh…says the guy who just ditched a sure thing to hang out with me.”
“Who says you’re not a sure thing?”
The words came out more flirtatious than Jake intended, and your eyebrows shot up nimbly. “Careful, Sim. Keep talking like that and I might actually think you actually like spending time with me.”
“I tolerate you.” Jake corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Right, that’s why you drove forty minutes to watch me tank soccer try outs in junior year.”
“That was moral support.” He defended.
“You laughed the entire time.” You said dryly, though you were still smiling.
“I’m sorry (Y/N), but you were absolutely hilarious, you were playing an entirely different sport.”
“I only grabbed the ball because the midfielder hurled it right at my face!”
The rest of the night melted into something comfortable and way better than where your night had been going a few hours ago.
You had reached the point where you could feel the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in your veins, just the right amount of tipsy that made everything entertaining.
You two talked about anything and basically everything—ranging from entertaining moments in your yearbook club and hockey, to harmless gripes about your respective roommates.
Jake grumbled about how Sunghoon ran the apartment like being captain didn't leave the threshold of the ice rink, while you mentioned Chaewon’s inability to do basically anything without the TV playing ‘That 70s Show’ reruns—even if she was fast asleep.
But being slightly plastered also invited unwarranted impulsivity and honesty in you that only liquid courage could reinforce—slightly unfettered by your sober self to filter your pensive thoughts.
For the most of the conversation your mind had been embarrassingly elsewhere.
Whenever Jake had a few drinks in him, he always talked animatedly—hands waving, fingers gesturing wildly at something he was talking about.
It was adorable.
Though now, you weren’t hyper fixated on his fingers due to dramatics—but because they were nice, and pretty, and long. Your mind couldn’t help itself with the thought of his fingers at a place you ached for them be.
It was shameful, you’d admit.
Here he was talking your ear of about something you’d tuned out ten minutes ago, and your cunt practically had its own maddening pulse at though your best friend finger fucking you.
You were so horny it was driving you crazy.
“Okay, I’m calling it,” Jake announced suddenly, drawing you out of your thoughts. “You’ve been in another world for like the past ten minutes.”
“I was here!"
“Really? Care to repeat what I said?”
You opened your mouth, scrambling for an excuse, and closed it. “Sunghoon…did another annoying thing?”
“Wow. Riveting summary.” Jake shifted to face you, grinning. “What’s going on? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because you’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m an excellent liar, actually.”
“You’re really not. Remember poker night at mine?”
You groaned with a roll of your eyes. “That doesn’t count.”
“Oh, it counts.” He was already grinning at the memory. “You had a garbage hand and kept licking your lips.”
“My lips were dry!”
“Your lips are never dry, (Y/N).” He stated with light humor in his tone, and you tried to maintain a neutral expression at that clearly harmless observation.
“You were panicking.” Jake poked your side, making you squirm. “Come on, spill. What’s the deal?”
Diversion was the obvious way out.
You could change the subject, and insist on moving on—but honestly? You were way too tired and tipsy to thinking about your sexual frustrations alone. And if you couldn’t talk to Jake about this stuff, who could you talk to?
“Okay, fine.” You sighed, sitting up a bit straighter, “but you have to promise not to be weird about it.”
“Okay, okay. I promise to be minimally weird. That’s the best you’re getting.”
You rolled your eyes but continued. “Remember at the party when we were complaining about hookups and relationships?”
“You mean two weeks ago when I was having my Yuna crisis?”
“Yes, that. Well, I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you shifted in your spot, suddenly hyperaware of his unwavering gaze,“…about wanting something fun without all the complications.”
Jake’s lips quirked up into something mischievous. “Oh? Do tell.”
“Don’t make this weird.”
“Too late, already weird. Continue.”
You grabbed a throw pillow, hugging it to your chest. “I’m just saying, you had a point. Everyone’s either looking for their future partner or treating hookups like sports tryouts. And both options sound exhausting.”
“You’re not wrong. So what, you’ve been sitting here thinking about that?”
“Maybe. Is that so weird?”
“Not at all. I’ve been having the same crisis for three weeks.” Jake’s tone was light but his eyes still focused on you with unusual intensity.
“What brought this on? Finally tired of guys getting jealous of your devastatingly handsome best friend?”
You sighed with theatrical awe, “your humility is truly inspiring.”
“I’m just stating facts.” He grinned. “But seriously, what’s up?”
Your fingers picked at the loose threads on the pillow. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been…frustrated lately. And not in a ‘my assignment is due’ way.”
“Oh?” Jake’s grin widened. “What kind of frustrated are we talking about here?”
“You’re such a child.”
“You brought it up!”
“I’m trying to have a serious conversation!”
“About being sexually frustrated?” Jake was fully grinning now, clearly enjoying himself. “By all means, continue. This is fascinating.”
“I hate you.” You threw the pillow at his face, and he caught it, laughing.
“No you don’t.” Jake tossed the pillow back.
“But okay, seriously—I get it. The whole ‘too stressed to date but too stressed not to’ thing. It’s an annoying cycle.”
“Exactly!” You gestured emphatically. “Like, I don’t have the energy to deal with someone getting clingy or possessive, but I also—” You cut yourself off, feeling the warmth blossom in your cheeks.
“But you also want to get laid?” Jake supplied helpfully.
“Oh my god.”
“What? I’m just finishing your sentence!”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Can you blame me? You’re usually so put together and now you’re over here blushing about wanting to have sex. It’s adorable.”
You glared at him. “I will kick you out.”
“No you won’t. You need me for emotional support during your dilemma.” Jake’s grin softened into something more genuine. “But for real though, I get it. It’s like… you want the fun parts without any of the dramatic parts.”
“Right! Is that too much to ask? Just something simple and uncomplicated?”
“Apparently, yes. Because people are terrible at keeping things simple.”
“The worst.”
You fell quiet, both contemplating the unfairness of modern dating.
Then Jake spoke up, voice casual but carrying an undercurrent of something else, “we could solve both our problems pretty easily.”
“Remember when I also suggested that we…” He trailed off, letting the allusion of what you two playfully conspired that night—and your heart skipped.
“Yeah. I remember.”
“I’m just saying.” Jake turned to face you fully, one arm draped over the couch back.
“It makes sense. We both want the same thing and we’re both sitting here whining about it when the solution is right in front of our faces.”
Your mouth went dry. “Jake—”
Jake’s eyes were dark with the kind of mischief that meant the gears were already turning. “We already know each other. There’s no feelings, no games, no jealousy, no crying in cafeteria halls—”
You broke into a chuckle at the memory. “Oh yeah, that was hilarious.”
“Not my point—but see? With you, there’s none of that. Just…fun. Simple. Easy.” He shifted closer, his knee bumping yours.
“We’re both adults. We’re both frustrated. We trust each other. Where’s the harm in having a little fun?”
“The harm is that it could make things weird.” You supplied, with a lift of an eyebrow.
You were mostly convincing yourself more than anything, because this was a bad idea.
But the traitorous part of your mind, honest enough to admit that you wanted to be thoroughly, enthusiastically fucked senseless seemed to scrap your sensible thought.
“Or it could make things better.” Jake’s voice dropped lower. “No messy baggage, just…two friends helping each other out.”
You chewed on your lip, and Jake couldn’t help but track the movement, his gaze sending a shock straight to your core.
“So what, we just…do it? Hook up?”
“Why not?” Jake was warming to the idea all over again.
Your eyes briefly flickered to his slender fingers, absentmindedly brushing against his lips and you wondered what it would feel like to kiss them—all soft, plump and pretty.
“Okay.”
Jake blinked, eyes going wide for a brief second.
“But—but—if we actually did this, there would have to be rules.”
Jake’s face lit up, and he had to physically school into something nonchalant. “Rules. Yes. I’m great with rules.”
“You break rules constantly.” You stated, with an unimpressed squint.
“Hockey rules. These would be different. Important rules.” He sat up straighter, all business now, “rule one: this would just be for fun. No expectations.”
“Obviously.”
“Rule two: nothing changes. We’re still best friends first.”
“Agreed.”
“Rule three: if it gets weird, we stop. No questions asked.”
“That’s actually reasonable,” you admitted.
“I have my moments.” Jake was grinning now, clearly pleased with himself.
“And rule four,” you added, “we don’t tell anyone. Not because it’s shameful, but because everyone would make it into this huge dramatic thing.”
“Makes sense.”
“And rule five—” Jake’s expression turned more sincere. “This doesn’t fuck up what we have. Because you’re too important to lose over something that’s supposed to be fun.”
Your chest felt tight, shifting to manual breathing. “Do you really think we can pull this off?”
“I think we can.” Jake reached over, softly brushing a thumb over your knuckles. “But only if you actually want to.”
Did you want to?
God, yes. Jake was right. This could work. You could make this work.
“Okay,” you said, the word coming out more confident than you felt.
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay?”
“Okay. Let’s try it.” You nodded, feeling slightly terrified and exhilarated in concert. “But this would just be a one time thing.”
“Yeah, just a one time thing,” Jake rehashed with a dutiful nod.
You held his gaze for a second, the space between you abruptly feeling tighter, charged with something chancy—something you’d never imagined would exist with Jake.
“So…” you started, suddenly feeling awkward. “Do we just like…now?”
“I mean, we could?” Jake laughed, hand pushing through his hair. “Unless you want to schedule it? Put it in our calendars? ‘Hook up with best friend, Friday 9PM’?”
“Oh my god, shut up.” You dragged your hands over your face, groaning between giggles.
“I’m just saying, we could be organized about this—”
Before Jake could get another word out, you fisted your hands in his shirt and dragged his lips to yours.
It was impulsive, born from equal parts frustration and avidity and the need to just do something before you overthought yourself out of this entirely.
Jake made a small sound of surprise before kissing you back, his hand sliding into your hair while his other arm wrapped around your waist.
And oh. Oh.
Jake’s lips were just as soft as you’d expected, moving against yours with a certainty that made your stomach flip.
He tasted like the drinks you’d been sharing and that cologne that was so distinctly him, and it was intoxicating in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.
Your hands found his shoulders, gripping tight as the kiss turned hungrier and urgent. Jake pulled you closer, eliminating any space between you, and you went willingly, your brain finally, blessedly shutting off.
This was happening. This was really happening.
And it felt right in a way that should probably concern you but currently didn’t.
When you finally broke apart for air, both breathing heavily, Jake’s gaze carried something indecipherable that had never been aimed at you before.
“So,” he said, voice rough. “Your room?”
You laughed, slightly breathless. “Well, we’re literally at my place. Seems efficient.”
“Right.” Jake blinked himself out of a haze. “Efficient.” He stood, pulling you up with him. “Lead the way?”
You grabbed his hand, leading him down the short hallway to your room. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, anticipation and nervousness and want all tangled together in your chest.
This was probably a mistake.
But god, you wanted it anyway.
The door closed with a defining click behind Jake as he leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath and his bearings.
“Okay, so how do you want to—”
His voice died completely when you grabbed the hem of your top and pulled it over your head in one swift, confident motion.
Jake’s brain short-circuited.
Whatever he’d been about to say evaporated the second your bare skin hit the air.
You adorned a black lace bra that was definitely not your usual practical style, and Jake’s eyes dropped before he could stop them.
Holy shit.
“If we do this,” you said, seemingly unbothered by his staring, “we both have to swear it’s just one time and nothing changes. I’m still the annoying girl who steals your music taste, and you’re still—”
You cut yourself off when you realized Jake wasn’t even listening to a single word. His eyes were locked shamelessly on your chest, his expression somewhere between awe and hunger.
You clapped your hands sharply. “Hey! Can you pay attention?”
Jake’s gaze jerked upward, heat flooding his cheeks. “Sorry,” he laughed, the sound stupefied and breathless. “It’s just—you’re kind of—I mean—Wow.” He signaled vaguely at you, swallowing hard, “man, do I love Victoria’s Secret.”
Despite yourself, you felt a smile tug at your lips, “god, you men are so easy.”
“No, no—that’s unfair.” Jake leaned closer, defensive but grinning. “I’m still fully dressed while you’ve already started stripping. That’s cheating.”
“Well?” You crossed your arms beneath your chest, deliberately emphasizing your cleavage as you tilted your chin up. “What are you waiting for?”
Jake huffed out a laugh, already reaching for his shirt. “You’re bossy. Are you always this bossy when you do this?”
In one quick move, he tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside. The fabric hit the floor, and suddenly his body was right there in front of you—all lean muscle and defined lines that you had definitely not been noticing for weeks now.
You’d seen Jake shirtless more times than you could count, but somehow, here in your small bedroom with the air different between you, it felt like the first time.
“Depends,” you said, reaching out to run your fingers through his messy hair, and his eyes softened, closing briefly with a soft groan.
“If my time’s being wasted, I take charge.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Jake’s voice dropped low, conspiratorial, as his hands found your waist. “I’ll make it worthwhile.”
You scoffed, arching a brow even as your stomach flipped at the promise in his tone.
“Sure.”
“Still doubting me?” His hands were a satisfying contrast to your skin, thumbs tracing idle circles just above your hips—pulling you closer until you could feel the warmth radiating off him.
“I’ve been let down before,” you muttered, though your heart was hammering at the gentle pressure of his touch.
“Okay, fair.” Jake reached over to brush the edge of your jaw before his palm settled warm against your cheek. He leaned in slowly, his lips hovering just above yours teasingly, “but you just haven’t done it with me.”
The cocky murmur had your pulse tripping.
Just as Jake tilted forward to close the distance, you darted back, laughing when he immediately followed, chasing your mouth.
“Woah, ease up there, big boy. The rules—”
“One time only, nothing changes, yeah, yeah.” His words tumbled out in a rush, impatient and wanting—and before you could object again, Jake’s mouth crashed into yours.
You practically melted, all your carefully constructed defenses dissolving like sugar in water. Your arms snaked around his neck as he leaned into you with a muffled sound of satisfaction.
You were both conjectural at first. Maybe you’d both eventually change your minds and call it quits, probably laugh at this absurd night a few weeks later over watered-down liquor in some crowded house.
But his lips were so soft…so inviting—and every time you tried to briefly pull away to catch your breath, he was seeking your lips like he’d been starved for way too long, and the only thing satiating him was this.
Jake’s hand slid from your cheek into your hair, tilting your head just so, while the other pressed firm against the small of your back, bridging any remaining distance.
Heat curled low in your stomach as his tongue brushed yours, teasing, pulling a tiny, involuntary sound from your throat.
The sound made him groan into your mouth, kissing you harder, needier, until the room seemed to shrink around just the two of you.
You barely had time to catch your breath before his grip shifted—one strong arm hooking under your thighs, the other steady at your back.
In a swift, dizzying motion, he lifted you clean off the ground, your legs instinctively locking around his waist.
Jake barely pulled away from your mouth, even as he carried you, the kisses now messy, consuming, teeth grazing your lower lip before he tugged it gently between his.
You gasped, a sharp inhale against him, and he swallowed the sound like he’d been waiting for it.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in his chest—the vibration thrumming against your lips, down your throat, charging through you like static.
Jake’s hand slid higher along your back, palm splayed broad and possessive, holding you flush against him as if the closeness still wasn’t close enough.
The bed eventually sank under your weight as he leaned over you, the chill of the cotton sheets against your spine a quiet counterpoint to his solid frame.
He kissed you harder, tilting his head to deepen it, his tongue sweeping against yours with a deliberate fervor that made your legs tighten around him.
Your breath hitched when his teeth grazed your jaw, trailing marks along the skin as he dragged his mouth along your neck—every brush of his lips, every nip, sending shivers racing down your spine.
Jake murmured something against your skin, too low and ruined by a groan to catch, but the sound alone had your chest heaving.
Jake felt solid beneath your grip, steady even while you were falling apart, dizzy from the heady mix of stolen breath, and the throbbing ache between your legs.
When his lips returned to yours, it was reckless—your breathless sighs lost in it, swallowed whole as his hand snuck beneath your back and searched for the clasp of your bra.
Jake only pulled away to gauge your reaction, cautious enough to ask, “are you sure want me to—“
“Now’s not the time to be considerate,” You interrupted, voice breathless and edged with frustration.
“Geez,” he laughed against your mouth, “you’re kinda hot when you’re demanding.”
“I’m hot all the time,” you rolled your eyes, “now take the damn thing off.” That came out whinier than you intended it to be, but he obliged—pulling back just enough to slide the straps down your shoulders, the lace falling away completely.
For a moment, he just stared, and you watched his expression shift from playful to something darker—hungrier.
His throat worked as he swallowed hard.
“Fuck,” Jake said, voice rough. “Your tits are perfect.”
You felt a flush of pride and satisfaction despite yourself, “tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m serious.” His hands came up to cup your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp.
“Like, I knew you were attractive, obviously, but this is—” He shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words. “This is unfair. You’re unfair.”
“Are you done admiring, or are we actually doing this?” Your voice came out as a breathless moan, your body already arching into his touch for more.
“Oh, we’re doing this.” Jake’s grin turned wicked as he lowered his head, his mouth trailing down your neck. “But I have to take my time enjoying this.”
“Jake—”
“Relax.” His lips brushed against your collarbone, trailing lower. “I said I’d make it worthwhile, remember? Trust me.”
You wanted to argue, and then Jake’s mouth closed over your nipple and your brain short-circuited completely.
“Oh fuck,” you breathed, hands flying to his hair, gripping the soft strands between your fingers.
Jake hummed against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body.
His tongue circled slowly, deliberately, while his hand worked your other breast with the same focused attention.
Your head fell back into the pillow with a soft broken moan, eyes falling shut as your lips went agape.
Okay, maybe him taking his time wasn’t the worst idea.
“Still want me to rush?” Jake asked, his voice smug as he switched sides, swirling and sucking on the sensitive bud with satisfied groans.
“Shut up,” you managed, between gasps.
“That’s what I thought.”
His hands slid down to your hips, fingers slipping into the waistband of your skirt. He pulled back to throw you a demanding look, “these need to come off,” he rasped.
You lifted your hips helpfully and without complaint, eager to eliminate any remaining barriers between you.
Jake made quick work of your small bottoms and underwear, stripping them away in one smooth motion, groaning at the sight of your arousal practically sticking to the lacy fabric.
Then he sat back on his heels, just looking at you laid out on your bed, completely bare before him.
“You’re staring.” You pointed out, trying to sound unaffected even as your skin prickled under his gaze.
You moved to close your legs, suddenly too aware of how exposed you were.
Jake’s hands caught your knees before they could come together, gently but firmly pushing them back apart. “I can’t help it.” His hands ran up your thighs, spreading them wider. “Such a pretty pussy.”
“Being a kiss ass isn’t necessary—”
“It’s not being a kiss ass if it’s true.” His fingers traced idle patterns on your inner thighs, maddeningly close to where you wanted him but not quite there.
“Jake, I swear to god, if you don’t—”
Your complaint died in a moan as his fingers finally, finally touched you where you needed him most, practically slipping between your slick folds with ease.
"You’re so—“ his voice died in his throat, eyes fluttering shut for a second as his cock painfully throbbed in the constraint of his jeans, a shuddery breath escaping his lips.
“So fucking wet." Jake groaned, his fingers sliding through her slickness. “Is this all for me?”
A ragged moan tore from your lips as he began to pump them inside you, barely giving you the chance to respond—grabbing at his shoulders as you tried to anchor yourself.
You struggled to form a proper sentence, your hips rocking in time with his fingers—too lost on the incredible sensation.
His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in erratic circles and your hand practically flew to his wrist, with a sharp cry.
"Fuck, right there." You moaned, “don’t stop.”
"Are you begging?" He smirked, his eyes gleaming as he watched your expression contort, pleasure rippling through your body. “I wish this could last forever.”
"Don’t—don’t look so smug about—oh fuck—”
Jake’s expression shifted entirely, eyes going dark and predatory in a way that made you clench around his fingers helplessly.
Then his pace slowed.
The focused attention that had been driving you toward the edge became something torturously gentle and maddeningly unhurried.
“Last warning (Y/N).” His tone irritatingly calm, “Be good for me or I stop and leave you like this.”
One slow, intentional curl of his fingers made you whimper, “and we both know you won’t come nearly as hard with your fingers.”
“Okay, I’ll behave—I’ll be good I swear,” you gasped out, any pretense of your control dissolving as your hips chased the rhythm he was denying you.
“Good.” His smirk was brief but devastating before he returned to a different pace, this time with no intent of stopping—plunging into until you were a moaning mess.
“That’s it. Just like that.” He growled, his thumb finding your clit again and rubbing it in torturous circles, sending sparks of pleasure through you. “Look at you.”
Your walls clenched around his fingers, helplessly bucking into his hand, the sound of your whimpers music to Jake’s ears as he pumped his fingers at a jaw dropping speed.
Your back arched, the coil inside you snapping, and waves of pleasure rolled over you as you came, a strangled cry tearing from your throat.
Jake eventually pulled his fingers out of you when your loud mewls reduced to whimpers—licking them clean, and the sight alone had you nearly begging him to finger fuck you again.
But he had better plans as the satisfying sight of him stripping met your hazy sight.
Your breath caught when Jake finally stripped off his jeans and boxers, your eyes widening slightly despite yourself.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
You’d known, theoretically, that Jake was…proportionate. Tall guy, athlete, the math checked out.
But theory and reality were two very different things, and reality was currently standing in front of you.
You clenched around nothing as you stared at his hard cock, the head glistening with pre-cum and wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you, stretching and filling you to the hilt—at least that’s what you’d hoped.
The last thing you needed was for a pretty cock to be rendered useless.
You were impressed and maybe slightly intimidated, swallowed thickly, a flutter of nervousness mixing with the sheer need for to be in you now.
Jake caught your expression, his expression softening into something gentler. “Hey. We don’t have to—”
“No,” you said way too quickly, meeting his eyes. “No, I want to. I just…give me a second.”
“Take all the time you need.” Jake moved over you, settling himself between your soaked folds, brushing it against your slick making your head spin.
“We’ll go slow.”
Slow, Jake thought, every muscle in his body tense with restraint. Right. Slow. He could do slow.
Except he wasn’t sure he could. Not when you were spread out beneath him looking like every fantasy he’d been trying not to have for three weeks.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
You nodded, before he grabbed this side of your face capturing your lips with his, stealing your air in a consuming, needy manner. Your arms looped around his neck, clinging as his mouth slanted deeper against yours.
You could feel him prodding at your center, aligning himself at your dripping entrance before he slowly slid in and both your mouths fell slack against each other as you both gasped at the sensation.
The stretch was intense, almost overwhelming, your body struggling to accommodate him. Jake moved incrementally, giving you time to adjust, and you could feel him shaking slightly with the effort of holding back.
“You okay?” Jake’s voice was strained and rough.
“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, keep going.”
Jake pushed in further, still maddeningly slow, and your nails dug into his shoulders with a small cry. It was almost too much, riding that edge between pleasure and pain but then it shifted—and you thought you were losing your mind.
“Holy shit,” Jake breathed, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You feel—fuck, (Y/N), you feel amazing.”
Your hips rolled experimentally, and Jake’s control nearly snapped. “Shit,” he hissed. “(Y/N), if you do that again—”
You did it again purely uncontrolled, drawing a broken moan from the both of you. “Fuck.” Jake’s hips jerked involuntarily, pulling out slightly before sliding back in, and you gasped.
He started to move then, slowly, setting a gentle rhythm that was meant to ease you into it. Long, measured strokes that had your breath hitching but weren’t quite enough.
You wanted more.
But you were also acutely aware that you would regret that tomorrow.
Hell, you’d probably regret it in an hour. Walking was going to be interesting. Sitting in class on Monday was going to be a nightmare.
But if you were only doing this once, then you wanted all of it.
“Jake,” you gasped out.
“Yeah?” His voice was breathless, his rhythm steady but clearly controlled.
“Stop—” you gripped his shoulders harder. “Stop being so gentle.”
Jake stilled, pulling back to look at you. “What?”
“I’m not—” your face flushed, but you held his gaze. “I’m not going to break.” You pulled him down, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Stop playing nice and fuck me properly.”
Jake went completely still for a heartbeat, his pupils blowing wide until his eyes looked almost black, “You sure?” His voice was rough, dangerous.
“Please,” you breathed, and that was all the green light he needed.
Jake slipped out of you before snapping into you, and your head tipped back with a broken moan.
He set a new pace—still controlled but no longer careful, his cock dragging along your walls with deliberate and powerful strokes—hitting spots inside you that made you see stars behind your eyelids.
Holy fucking shit.
You could feel him everywhere—deep, so deep you could barely breathe. Your body was stretched impossibly full, pleasure radiating out from your core in waves that made you shake.
It was good—so good—but that careful pace was driving you crazy.
“Jake,” you panted, your nails raking down his back. “Please” you struggled to form words, your brain short-circuiting with pleasure. “I want—I need—”
“Tell me.” Jake’s voice was rough, shockingly controlled despite everything. “Tell me what you need.”
Everything, you thought desperately. You needed everything.
“Faster,” you gasped out. “Please, Jake. Stop treating me like I’m fragile and just—fuck me.”
He shifted his grip, one hand sliding under your knee as he hooked your leg over his shoulder, opening you further as he slammed into you—over and over again.
“Like that?” Jake’s voice was rough, commanding.
“That what you wanted?”
“Yes—oh god—yes—” the cries practically tumbled out your lips at its own accord, dumbstruck by the punishing pace, all his careful restraint abandoned.
Your nails clawed at Jake’s back, his shoulders, anything you could reach marking his skin as he pounded into your relentlessly, reducing any coherent thoughts to pure overwhelming sensation
“Nobody’s ever made you feel like this, have they? Be honest.”
You shook your head. “So good, so good, so fucking good.”
The room echoed with desperate sounds of your voice, breathless moans and the obscene sounds of him pistoning into you.
You didn’t even notice you’d caught your lip between your teeth, trying to stifle the pathetic sounds, until Jake made a sound of disapproval, thumb dragging your lower lip, freeing it from your bite.
“Uh-uh, I want to hear you.” He demanded, watching you squirm beneath him with pathetic cries as he pounded into you, clenching around him like a vice.
“That’s it,” Jake growled. “Let me hear you. Want to hear you say my name.”
“Jake—Jake—oh my god, Jake—” your sounds pitched higher and higher, breaking into breathless pleas.
So much for one time, you thought.
“Fuck, (Y/N)—” Jake’s words dissolved into a groan. “So, so fucking perfect—”
You shattered, vision going blurry as your second orgasm crashed through you in waves so intense you couldn’t breathe or think.
You were wrecked, helplessly fluttering around him, distantly aware of screaming his name—probably loud enough for the entire floor to hear, but you were beyond caring.
The aftershocks rolled through your body, your mind completely white-static as your legs shaked uncontrollably—barely able to remember your own name, let alone form a sober thought.
But Jake—Jake was still moving, still buried inside you with no intent of stopping.
How the hell was he still going?
“Too much,” you whimpered, trying to push him away even though some deeper part of you absolutely did not want him to stop.
“I can’t—”
Jake caught your wrists gently but firmly, pinning them gently above your head with one hand.
His other hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he slowed his rhythm just slightly.
“Yes you can,” he said, his voice raspy and strained but somehow still demanding. “You can give me one more.”
Fuck. So close. Jake was so fucking close, and you felt incredible.
“I can’t,” you gasped, even as your body betrayed you, already building toward something else despite your protests.
The assailing sensation was intense—almost too much but not quite, toeing that perfect line between pleasure and overwhelm.
“You can,” Jake insisted, his free hand sliding down to grip your hip, holding you steady as he maintained that stupefying pace. “You’re doing so good, (Y/N). So fucking perfect. Just a little more, baby.”
Jake adjusted his angle slightly, hitting that heavenly spot inside you that made you feel dizzy all over again.
“That’s it,” Jake groaned, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly. “Feel so fucking good. You’re taking me so well.”
Your eyes fluttered close, your mouth open in a silent cry as the oversensitivity morphed into something else entirely, your body responding despite your exhausted protests, that familiar coil building again impossibly fast.
“Jake,” you gasped out, his name broken and desperate.
“I know. I know, baby.” His voice was wrecked now, losing that controlled edge. “Come with me. Need you to—fuck—need you to come with me.” His eyebrows drew together, his mouth falling open as his rhythm stuttered.
The steady, controlled movements were becoming erratic, punctuated by the gorgeous sounds of his deep groans, catching and transform into higher, breathier whimpers when you clenched around him.
The hand on your hip slid between you again, thumb finding you oversensitive clit, and you nearly screamed.
“Every sound you make—god, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” He whimpered breathlessly chasing his own release.
“Please,” Jake groaned, and you'd never heard him sound so desperate, so undone. “Please, (Y/N). One more. Give me one more.”
So pretty, your mind supplied hazily. He sounded so fucking pretty when he was losing control.
The combination of his fingers, his words, the way he was looking at you like you—it was too much.
You came apart again, harder this time, your vision whiting out as your whole body arched up into his as pleasure crashed over you in a surge that felt endless.
You felt Jake’s rhythm stutter, burying himself into you as he finally, finally found his own hit with a groan that sounded like it was torn from his chest.
You felt him pulse inside you, his whole body going rigid before collapsing against you, his face buried in your neck as he came with a sound that was absolutely the prettiest thing ever.
“Fuck.” His head dropped to your shoulder, his whole body shuddering, still holding your wrists above your head like he’d forgotten to let go.
Consciousness you lost for a brief second, the dark spots clouding your visions before they gradually faded away.
Both of you were trembling and gasping for air, your hearts pounding against each other.
Jake lifted his head slightly, his hair a complete disaster and his eyes still unfocused.
“You okay?”
You let out a breathless hazy laugh. “Ask me that question in five minutes.”
Jake’s laugh was weak but genuine, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he carefully pulled out, both of you wincing slightly at the sensitivity, before collapsing beside you.
You laid there in silence for a moment, both trying to catch your breath.
“That—” you couldn’t even find words. “Jake, that was—”
“Yeah.” Jake echoed breathlessly.
Fucked.
Absolutely fucked. In every sense of the word, was what you were.
LMAOOOO😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭I WANT JAKE SO BAD😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I MEAN I WANNA BE ATE SO BAD😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭I MEAN I WANT A PLATE SO BAD😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭IM SO HORNY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭I MEAN HUNGRY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭GIVE ME THAT DIHHHHHHH😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
notes: hii its my first time writing hcs like this and i feel kinda weird lmao. so this is for @kit-bunny for commenting yayy i hope yall would enjoyyy!!!
bf!maki who gets all shy introducing you to his friend group because he already knows they're going to tease him nonstop the second they see how soft he is for you.
bf!maki who would sit there quietly watching you talk with his friends, eyes full of nothing but pure lovestruck admiration.
bf!maki who pretends to listen to the conversation but is actually too busy staring at you, smiling to himself everytime you laugh.
bf!maki who secretly loves when you naturally get along with his friends, sitting all quiet while his heart melts watching you fit perfectly into his life.
bf!maki who goes quiet after you compliment him because he doesnt know how to handle how soft you make him feel.
bf!maki who instinctively reaches for your hand under the table during hangouts, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin without even realizing.
bf!maki who always looks for your reaction first whenever something funny happens, like your smile matters to him more than anything.
bf!maki who gently moves your hair away from your face you rest beside him, asking in the softest voice whether you're okay.
bf!maki who refuses to let you walk home alone no matter how late it is, hands tucked in his pockets while he quietly matches his steps with yours the entire way.
bf!maki who keeps glancing down at you during the walk home, smiling softly every time you ramble about random things just because he loves hearing your voice.
bf!maki who secretly wishes the walk home would last longer, dragging out coversations because he doesn't wanna say goodbye to you yet.
bf!maki who stands outside your house for a few extra minutes after walking you home, both of you lingering there shyly because neither of you wants to be the first to leave.
bf!maki who leans in for a soft goodbye kiss at your doorstep, smiling against your lips when you shyly kiss him back.
bf!maki who steals one last tiny kiss right when you're about to walk away, unable to help himself because one never feels enough with you.
bf!maki who watched until you safely get inside before finally turning around to head home, smiling to himself the entire walk back.
bf!maki who can still feel your lips on his long after leaving, replaying the moment in his head the entire way home.
i feel the “a minor might see this” argument is used too often, especially when people create darker or more intense content. while i understand the concern, i gently ask that we stop using it as a reason to limit what consenting adults choose to create and share in clearly marked adult spaces.
im sorry if this sounds harsh but i, and other 18+ writers are not responsible for anyones children reading smut.
i am a grown adult creating fiction for other grown adults. i am not a babysitter. i and others are not obligated to censor themselves or water down their work just because someone else’s child might stumble across it.
i always do my best to tag everything properly and clearly mark it as 18+ or explicit. tumblr has built-in age restrictions and warnings to help keep minors away from adult material. if a minor still sees it, it usually means those safeguards were bypassed—and that’s something i simply can’t control.
i write for other adults who are seeking this kind of content. my hope is that we can all respect one another’s spaces—i’ll continue being responsible with my labels and warnings, and i’d be so grateful if others could respect that adult creators are allowed to make mature work for mature audiences.
( 18+ ) hybrid!taki . . ft tw dead dove do not eat manipulation, non-con, dub-con, biting, knotting, breeding, feral rut, needy taki, size difference, unprotected p in v, guilt-tripping, excessive cum, whimpering, scenting, marking/claiming, overstimulation ( f. & m. ) don't copy/translate my work. i only write on my tumblr
your friends and family warned you.
“adopting a hybrid is nothing like adopting a regular pet.”
but their worries fell on deaf ears the moment you stepped out of the store, leash in hand. at the other end stood a fluffy-haired boy with a golden smile, warm and bright enough to melt every caution they’d tried to give you.
taki.
that’s what you decided to named him.
it was soft and gentle on your tongue each time you summoned him. to eat, to follow you through the city whilst you ran errands and to kneel by your side when it was time to wash him clean. his fluffy tail would wag so happily back then, those big brown eyes looking up at you like you hung the moon.
but his name no longer sounded gentle nor soft when it ripped through you, raw and desperate, nothing like the way it once rested on your tongue.
“ta-taki—! get off! i’m serious—!”
your voice laced in pure panic broke into a terrified gasp as the tall puppy hybrid slammed his full weight down onto you, crushing you into the mattress. your panties ripped to shreds by paws you once stroked absentmindedly, paws you once stroked absentmindedly, never thinking they could learn how to hurt. but he’s an animal after all. and animals didn’t ask. they took what they wanted.
“please… don’t scream like that,” taki whined pitifully, voice cracking even as his sharp claws frantically shredded what had remained of your panties. the delicate fabric tore apart with a loud rip, leaving you bare and trembling beneath him.
“it hurts, y/n— need to make it stop..please..” you could hear the pout in his voice as he gently lapped at your neck, voice cracking like a scolded puppy even as his hips kept grinding on your ass with pitiful desperation and need. “nghh… but you smell so good… mm— i’m sorry…”
his fluffy ears brushed your hair as he inhaled deeply, nose pressed to your pulse point, breathing you in like he was addicted. maybe he truly was. maybe you just hadn’t noticed how deeply it had already taken root.
you thought back to the quiet nights over the past two weeks, when you still believed taki was nothing more than his usual sweet, clingy self.
you didn’t think much of how he would crawl into your bed after you fell asleep, pressing his warm body against your back under the excuse that he just didn’t feel well. you’d stir half-awake and hear his fluffy tail gently thumping against the bed, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist. “don’t feel well…you don’t want me to suffer, do you? i’ve been such a good boy. i always listen. just let me hold you. i promise i won’t do anything bad…” his voice low and gentle, rumbling against the shell of your ear, warm breath ghosting over your skin like a promise he already knew he’d break.
his fluffy tail curled around your waist, while his burning body leaned into yours. you felt the hard, throbbing outline of his cock against your stomach, already leaking through his pants.
“just a little grinding… it helps the pain,” he whispered against your ear, hips already moving in slow, needy rolls against your ass. “see? i’m being gentle. you make it better. you always make it better.” one of his hands sliding up, palm flattening over your chest, right above your heart—like he was claiming the rhythm there too.
every time you tried to pull away he’d tighten his hold, nipping lightly at your shoulder with a soft, hurt whimper. “why are you being mean to me? i love you so much… don’t you love me too? don’t make me beg. i just feel sick. you are supposed to take care of me…”
by morning his scent had soaked into your sheets, your skin, your clothes.
and now that same scent was everywhere—thick, heavy, and suffocating as it poured off his fevered body in waves. that same clinginess had warped into something much dark and much more primal—giving into the instincts that had always lived beneath his soft puppy exterior.
in the place of the sweet puppy you once coddled was someone now purely driven by instinct—feral, possessive, and dangerously hungry.
a low, needy groan rumbled in his chest, as his fever-hot body pinned you beneath him. his thick cock twitching hard against your bare folds, leaking hot precum all over your skin.
“mmph—it hurts, y/n—need to make it stop…please..” he says, hands tugging at the remaining fabric covering your cunt. nipping at your neck and leaving long, slobbery kisses along your skin as if he's trying to convince you this is out of love and not out of pure instinct. the instinct to breed
“you love me, right? you brought me home.”
taki’s warm breath ghosted hot against your ear, his voice a trembling, needy whine that sounded far too sweet for what he was doing. his large hands groped greedily at your bare skin, claws lightly pricking as they squeezed your waist, your hips, your thighs—touching everywhere like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.
you could feel how much he wanted more.
and how he wouldn’t stop until he got it
“i need you… it hurts…please, please, please let me in—just this once… promise—nngh…i’ll be so good afterward…” the thick smell of musk, cedar wood, dark chocolate, shed fur, and desperate arousal filled the room.
the rustle of fabric, the clink of a belt, the feeling of his hot and throbbing cock pressed up against your now bare ass makes you whimper—how it grinds against you. the mushroom tip catching against your folds as he lets out small whines and pants whilst he bucks into you.
"please dont do this.." you try to turn your head, and when your gaze finally collides with his, the taki you once adopted is gone. in his place was something colder. something you no longer recognized. something feral. his usually warm brown eyes had turned almost black, pupils blown wide with raw, animalistic need. the bright, sunshine smile you used to love was twisted into a hungry, predatory grin that showed too many sharp teeth. his light brown hair, damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, while his ears stood stiff and alert, twitching at every shaky breath you took.
it was almost comical how his fluffy tail kept wagging—fast, erratic thumps against the mattress behind him, like an excited puppy who had just been promised his favorite treat. the innocent
wag clashed violently with the feral intensity in his eyes and the way his claws dug possessively into your hips, holding you down like prey.
taki let out a soft, pitiful whimper—almost like he felt bad—but his hips never stopped moving and that was proof that his guilt was nothing more than a pretty mask. a clever ruse, one thin and fragile, already burning away under the heat of his rut.
one clawed hand came up to cup your cheek, forcing you to keep looking at him while his other paw spread your thighs wider. he continued to hump against your ass, cock dipping dangerously low. the thick, leaking head catching against your slick entrance with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips.
with one particularly rough thrust, you felt the tip of his cock breach your hole, and a strangled cry escaped you. in contrast, a broken, needy whimper tore from taki’s throat the moment the head of his cock pushed inside—half apology, half pure relief. his golden eyes fluttered, pupils blown wide as the heat of your pussy enveloped just the fat, leaking tip of his cock. sweat rolled down his temples, dripping onto your shoulder while his body trembled violently above you.
you were no virgin, but you knew he wasn’t exactly small—simply from daily life. when he walked around in just his boxers or slept in your bed, only for you to wake up with his thick morning wood pressed against your ass.
“nngh—! fuck… so tight… so perfect…” he whines, wrecked, and cracking between low, aggressive snarls as his hips jerk forward.
“mm sorry… mmph…ah it. take all of me. you can do it for me, baby. you have to.” you know theres no way you can take all of him. he was built for breeding, not for comfort.
but as your hole tightens, pushing the head of his cock out, the tiny bit of self control taki had, finally dissipated into nothingness. he thrusted forward, forcing the thick head of his cock past your entrance in one brutal push. the stretch burned viciously—his size far too much, too sudden. a sharp cry tearing from your throat, but he only moaned louder, eyes rolling back in pure bliss. the pain causing your vision to blur and head to pound, only the sound of taki’s soft declarations of love and false apologies spilling against your ear.
every inch he forces into you causes tears to flow faster and sharp sobs to fall from your throat. his hips piston without regard for your cries, his claws sinking into your hips almost hard enough
to draw blood. his teeth graze against your jaw, breath hot and ragged against your ear as he drives deeper.
“i’m sorry… i’m so sorry…” he whimpered pitifully, voice cracking just as used to when you scolded him. the sound soft even as his hips snapped forward again, driving another thick inch deeper into your resisting body. “… nghh… but you feel so good… so tight… mm— i’m sorry, y/n, i can’t stop…”, hips pressed flush against your ass causing you both gasp.
“taki please..” you tremble, not just from fear but from how good it feels. hating your body for responding so much to what you did not consent to.
ignoring your plees, he starts thrusting, each snap of his hips deliberate, while those stupid ears bounce with his movements. he leans down, nose pressing into the crook of your neck as he picks up speed, tail thumping against the mattress rhythmically. "nngh, s'good... so fucking good..." he pants. you can feel his thick pulsing knot hit at your entrance with each thrust.
threatening to lock him inside as he fucks you with desperate, uneven strokes.
one hand abandoning your body to grip at your hair. you can hear the obscene squelching of his cock moving in your wetness, the bed creaking beneath you both. his stomach pressing against your back as he fucks into you sloppily. hips losing their rhythm.
his knot suddenly catches at your entrance, making both of you moan loudly. the swollen bulb pushes against your stretched hole, refusing to slide back out. your body clenches around the thick intrusion on instinct, only making the pressure worse— he fat knot bulging harder against your entrance, demanding to be let in.
taki’s breath hitches, a broken whimper escaping him as he starts moving faster and rougher, chasing the inevitable lock. one hand stayed buried in your hair, gripping possessively, while the other moves up to grope at your breasts, squeezing and kneading with desperate need.
"fuck, fuck, f-fuck...mm gonna knot you—”
“no, bad dog! taki! not inside! please!” your desperate cry shatters through the room, voice trembling with panic and unwanted pleasure. but the words only seemed to make him whimper louder, a pitiful, wounded sound even as his body betrayed how little it cared.
taki’s fluffy ears flattened completely against his head, eyes full of wet tears. with one big thrust and his knot fully locks inside you with a wet pop sound, swollen and pulsing, refusing to budge even an inch. he moaned deeply— knot and throbbing cock stuck deep within your soaked cunt, hips jerking uncontrollably now; fucking into you as he reaches his peak.
"mmmhnghh..."
warm seed floods into your womb, thick streams pumping directly into you. you whimper at the feeling. he buries his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin before they sink into your flesh, his knot ruts further into you, sealing himself inside you—hips continuing to buck involuntarily, milking more seed into your cunt.
“i’m sorry… i’m so sorry…” he whined softly against your neck, voice breaking beautifully while his hips kept grinding in tiny, helpless circles, forcing the knot even deeper—thrusting keep almost like he was trying to push into your womb itself, “please dont call me bad dog… it hurts when you say that… nghh… i can’t stop. i need this to feel better—my knot won’t come out… mmmh…it’s stuck..”
you let out another broken cry as his hips gave another helpless little grind that made the knot tug deliciously against your walls.
“don’t be mad at me… please? it really hurts when you call me bad dog… i’m still your good boy. i promise i’ll be gentle after this… just let me keep cumming inside you a little longer. my knot feels so good when it’s stuck in you like this… mmmhnghh… warm and tight… i can’t stop filling you…gonna fill you up every day..." he mumbles drowsily against your shoulder, his thrusting slowing to lazy humps. silent tears still streaming down your face.
and deep down, you knew he was telling the truth. his needy thrusts hadn’t stopped even while he was still filling you up, hips jerking in tiny, helpless circles as his knot pulsed and throbbed. he was going to stay locked inside you for a long time, his fevered mind already fixed on breeding you again the second the knot started to soften.
authors note: it my bday! this was literally for me LOL .. its a revamped ver of a fic i uploaded on my old blog (babynodoubt) ~~ i hope u guys enjoy it as much as i did. i loveeeeeeee puppy taki ughghhhhg
⌗SOUNDGASM — who would’ve thought that the EXTREMELY dom voice actor that you listen too was also the nerdy camera geek you’re working on a project
⧼ 🍰 ⧽ 一 pairing。 ⸝⸝ nsfwvoiceactor!anton x femcamgirl!reader 𓄵 genre smau contains! language, crack , heavy sexual content , jokes amongst friends { back to library } { part one. part two. part. three }
( yeni’s note ). broke this down into three parts 😊
where mingyu has a pornstar cock, but the only action he’s getting is with his own hand.
★ pairing: f!reader x mingyu
★ words: 7.5k
★ warnings: comedy, smau bits, homoerotic friendships bc i am free, smut with sexting, big puppy gyu, handjob, both oral, multiple orgasms, protected sex, 18+ mdni
★ notes: it’s finally here and it’s filthy and i did not read it twice!!! going to an ateez concert now brb
GOD HAS FAVOURITES, AND MINGYU’S ONE OF THEM.
in this day and age of hook-up culture, of getting lucky with nothing but a few swipes on your phone, it’s far too easy to just deceive your way into scoring some.
men are liars, and they all claim the same thing these days: they’re a munch, they can go until the sunrise, you’ll feel it in your kidney, they’re a feminist, etc… of course, it’s not until those men slide in dry after rubbing straight flap then cumming in three strokes before those poor women realise: a man will claim anything under the sun if it means you’ll fuck him.
although mingyu can relate to the desperation to get laid, he’s not so shameless that he’d just bullshit his way into someone’s pants. at that point you don’t even deserve it. he’ll stick by his true character even if he’s on the brink of insanity from lack of action. in saying that, what makes mingyu superior to thy neighbour is not just the fact that he only ever speaks the truth — but also in regards to the absurd cock size he’s been blessed with.
through google searches of the average length not just in his country but the whole globe, triple takes from other men in public bathhouses, dick pics sent to talking stages and unsolicited dick pics sent to him — mingyu’s come to the conclusion that he’s bigger than average. to put it humbly, really.
at soft, he can make a few head turns at the least. at half-hard he’s got the size that most men lie about having. and when he’s fully erect, he should probably register his cock as a weapon.
mingyu’s been told that his body’s sculpted like a greek god, complete with zeus’ lightning rod in his pants. he’s got the cock that the top gets in yaoi with ridiculously drawn proportions, the cock that gets spray-painted as graffiti on a cheating ex’s car. mingyu’s big to the point where it’s like okay, can we be serious, like this is doing too much.
he’s been told by men and women alike that he could make a living off of his size. ah, what a dream that’d be. taking dick pics (maybe some feet in there too) to pay the bills. having fame and money and pussy for doing nothing but exist with a completely natural, albeit monstrously sized cock.
he can forget about that ever happening though. it sounds like a dream because it is. nevermind being god’s favourite — mingyu’s starting to believe he must’ve signed a contract with the devil in his past life, because what good is a big dick if you’ve only got yourself to fuck?
it’s a bad joke, really. all these inches and a pretty face but nowhere to use it. he’s only gotten laid enough times to count on one hand without lifting a thumb, and all instances had punctuated years worth of drought.
size doesn’t matter, and he knows that firsthand. when he lost his virginity, he came the instant he slid into his girlfriend, who just said “that’s it?” then broke up with him. he’s had next to no luck landing any girls since that pitiful first, let alone getting one to stay.
he knows he’s not exactly fucking like a pornstar, but his same absurd size is actually what’s holding him back. there’s been times when his cock getting hard for a girl has him on verge of fainting, just from all the fucking blood the monster in his pants needs to get up. then after some mediocre stroke game, the force of orgasming has him seeing literal glimpses of heaven.
despite the physical toll, in some pitiful moments of doubt he even began to question if he’s been lied to his entire life about his size — if it’s not earning him a text back because it’s actually pretty average. that is, until his best friend literally readjusted his glasses in shock the first time he saw mingyu naked.
mingyu might be getting less action than an actual virgin. he’s since long forgotten how a pussy feels since becoming besties with his imagination and left hand — and it’s gotten to the point that the feel of his same old, boring palm can barely spark any pleasure. he may as well be rubbing off his ankle.
the porn on page 1 to page 847 has no difference in how utterly useless it is when he needs help getting off. switching to his non-dominant hand, humping the mattress, buying a pocket pussy, watching fetish content on places he wouldn’t even go with a gun — all of it, useless. futile.
he needs the real thing, warm and tight and living. he needs to get laid before he does something drastic and his face is plastered on every news channel … okay maybe not that far but he fears it really is that serious. all these extra inches means he’s got an extra intense libido to match, and nothing but extra extra bad luck when it comes to finding means of relieving it.
one sunny day he rants about all of this to his roommate and best friend wonwoo, who nods over a steaming bowl of shin ramyun.
“i see.” wonwoo hums. “you’re not asking to fuck me, are you?”
“bro. fuck off.” mingyu groans, dropping his head to the table with a thunk. “you know what? yeah, i might if i don’t get laid soon.”
“well, i’m not a bottom, so unless you want to take it up the ass.” wonwoo shrugs, slurping down a mouthful of noodles without even chewing. (seriously, why does he do that?)
“don’t you have single friends? discord kittens? can’t you hook up a brother in desperate need? i’m losing vision in one eye with how pussy-deprived i am.”
wonwoo readjusts his glasses. “i do know some girls but.. you’d be okay with having my sloppy seconds?”
“forget i even asked man.” mingyu rolls his eyes, kicking his chair out from the table with a loud scrape on the floorboards. “i’m having a shower. need to jerk off before i hit something. or you.”
after a pitiful, rage-induced wank sesh under the hot stream of water (also a few stray tears shed), mingyu was pulling his boxers on when the door swung open.
“are you still on any dating sites?” wonwoo asked casually, ignoring how half of his best friend’s ass was still hanging out as he barged in.
“no, i deleted my tinder after that one girl who set my nudes as her profile picture.”
“okay cool. try this one out.” wonwoo handed his phone over, open on the browser.
www.dtf.com
mingyu scrunched his face. “down to fuck dot com?”
ah, so a matchmaking site that doesn’t pretend to be about any ‘finding your soulmate’ bullshit and is unapologetically straight to the point: we’re all single and here to fuck.
“can’t imagine you look for anything serious on here.” he snickers.
“well no, it’s in the name. are you?”
mingyu scratched his neck. truthfully, a girlfriend would be ideal but… beggars can’t be choosers.
he shrugged. “whatever happens.”
inspecting the rest of the site, he clicked to view wonwoo’s profile — then whistled at the suggestive set of photos displayed on his best friend’s page.
Wonwoo
A giver, most of the time.
AGE: 25
HEIGHT: 6 ft
SIZE: 8 in.
LOOKING FOR: Female, Submissive
INTERESTED IN: BDSM, Brat Taming, Humiliation, Degradation, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Impact Play, Daddy Kink, Sir Kink, Pet Play, Toys, Anal… [Show More]
“you like being called ‘daddy’?” mingyu snickered.
“yeah bro. e-girls flock to me like birds, that’s how i get so many over.” wonwoo replies with a smart-ass smirk. “they grip your dick like you’re gonna leave them.”
“….that’s just not what i asked, man.”
safe to say, mingyu was sold. he promptly had his own account set up, then took close to an hour meticulously choosing the thirst trap images for his profile.
Mingyu
Hey (with the intention of begging on my knees)
AGE: 24
HEIGHT: 6’2
SIZE: 12 in.
LOOKING FOR: Female
INTERESTED IN: Vanilla, Missionary
when mingyu showed wonwoo the final product with a satisfied smile, his best friend burst out laughing.
“are these the default options or something?” wonwoo asked, pointing to mingyu’s barren interests section.
“bro, i’m just looking to get laid. doesn’t need to be any more complex than that.” mingyu pouted. “unlike you, i don’t need a girl to wear a cat tail butt plug and meow for me to get off.”
“that sounds hot.”
it does. “freak ass..”
after leaving his best friend with the middle finger and then setting his profile to public for matchmaking, within mere minutes women were indeed flocking to him, much like birds.
mingyu spent all night marvelling at his phone like a kid in a candy store — giggling as he sifted through profiles, kicking his feet as he chatted with women basically throwing themselves at him.
despite wonwoo making fun of him, it seemed that his only interests being ‘vanilla’ had actually worked in his favour, since he had countless women from all different shades of kinks asking if he was open-minded. the one thing they all had in common though, from the bratty subs to the dominatrixes, was one burning question: is it really that big?
and oh, he’s been more than happy to prove it; snapping a quick, shaky photo of the visible bulge in his calvin kleins and watching as all the phone numbers and addresses and nudes roll in like waves.
he hasn’t taken anyone up on their offers to meet up, not just yet. call him an attention whore, but he’s had years worth of yearning for this, dreaming about this, even crying in the shower after jerking off over this. these days it’s hard enough trying to reach an orgasm even with every tool in his arsenal — and yet he’s been laying here, chatting away with a lifetime’s supply worth of women, while being so turned on he’s basically blue-ballsing himself.
ah, he could get used to this. this could even prove to be a little too dangerous. maybe he really was destined to be a pornstar, and him having no luck climbing out of bitchless purgatory was just the universe’s way of restoring natural balance. no one man should have all this power.
the attention goes straight to his head, leaves him feeling high off of it. leaves him on cloud nine with a painfully hard cock.
ding.
leaves him with a harsh comedown that hits like a kick in the balls.
when he clicks to open the uncalled-for dm, mingyu can feel his boner go a quarter of the way back down just from the shock. what the hell does that mean? do you think he’s a bot, clickbaiting? but he put so much effort and care into choosing the right photos for his profile…
….is it really so unbelievable that he’s only looking for vanilla sex?
oh. okay. so everyone he’s chatted with so far may as well have been shy, considering how forward you are straight off the bat. not even a hello, how are you, my name is… just “i call bullshit, show me that dick.”
alright then. he can play ball.
mingyu tugs his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach, even at only somewhat hard. he’ll need to get it all the way back it up if he’s going to prove it to you.
he has a full-body shiver when his hand grazes the tip, just from how on edge he’s been; smearing precum across his palm before his fingers curl around in a loose grip.
he’ll need something to jerk off to, and well, since your profile is there….
shit. it’s more than enough. you’re like, really fucking pretty. hot, gorgeous, panty-dropping and cock-raising. so pretty he actually feels a little guilty as his hand starts to stroke his cock, but hey, you’ll get him fully hard in no time.
mingyu swipes through the array of photos on your page, each one more revealing than the last, fist steadily pumping his length. it jumps between his fingers when he settles on a photo of you in white lingerie: the lace hugging your curves perfectly, plush lip bitten between your teeth, hands cupping the underside of your breasts and lifting them on full display.
it’s not until a fresh spurt of precum leaks over his knuckles that mingyu remembers he’s supposed to be taking a picture of his boner as proof, and not just… jerking off for the sake of it.
he has to literally rip his hand away, lower belly already coiled dangerously tight. he can’t remember the last time a girl in real life got him this hard and this fast.
shuffling closer to the mirror, he sits on the edge of the bed and holds his cock upright with one hand, the other holding his phone right next to it — as comparison, of course.
he holds his breath as he sends it through.
well, his stomach sank for a moment there, but he quickly recovers. mingyu lays back on the bed, running his palm up and over his length, just absentmindedly playing with himself as his jelly fingers type out a reply.
he’s quick to navigate back to your profile, cock reacting with a pulse as his eyes land on your face again like it missed you already.
he doesn’t even think about it this time: just gets completely lost in the sight before him, in the feel of his fist fucking him. until a ding cuts through the tunnel vision, your chat notification lighting up the top of his screen. the only thing that could tear his attention away from the softcore porn on your profile.
damn. guilty.
he feels his cheeks heating up a little. the fuck? you’ve got his grown ass blushing through the phone. either you’re a seasoned pro at turning men to putty, or mingyu’s just that out of the element.
his mind’s turning to complete mush at this point; tuned in solely to your pretty face and body, to your vulgar mouth. imagination drifting to the feel of your skin under the pads of his fingers, of your lips stretched over the head of his—
shit, he almost came.
mingyu nearly drops his phone as he fumbles to the camera app, shakily filming himself in the mirror as his hand goes to fucking town on his cock. his mouth’s even fouler than yours with all the whiney huffs and puffs pouring from his throat.
he’s not sure if the footage is long enough or even good enough but he also doesn’t care; sending it straight through to you while not missing a beat in jerking himself off.
he throws his head back on the bed with a tortured groan, back arching off the bed as his hips chase the circle of his fist with a mind of their own. he can’t recall the last time masturbating felt this fucking good, the last time it took such a short span of time for him to reach an orgasm.
the last time he was able to forget that the hand around his cock is his own — nothing but your face, that body, those curves behind his lids when he screws his eyes shut.
and just the mere thought that you could be touching yourself too? to the videos of mingyu touching himself, oh fuck…
mingyu winces as his grip tightens until it hurts, fist strangling the fucking life out of his cock. he squeezes until he literally feels the tidal wave of his orgasm receding, the hot pressure under his abs fading into sharp, demanding pulses of his cock.
why did he even say that shit? man, talk about being pussy drunk. he can just manage to feel the weight of shame pressing into his chest over the ache throbbing between his thighs.
if he really did fumble a chance as good as this, a girl as hot as you, he doesn’t even deserve to cum. maybe he should just start embracing the involuntarily celibate life..
to his surprise, another ding from you interrupts his pitiful — while still fully erect — wallowing.
much like a well-trained dog, you don’t have to tell him twice.
mingyu puts on a whole ass show for you. sits upright in bed, films his entire upper body to ensure no twitch or contraction of his sweat-slick abs was left out of frame.
he’s sure the speed of his hand gives away just how long he’s gone without getting laid, but mingyu can’t find it in himself to feel much shame at all now that you’ve offered a chance to remedy that up on a silver platter.
he cums obnoxiously: throwing his head back, adam’s apple bobbing with each shameless moan falling from his mouth; grinding his hips up into his ruthless fist like he’s fucking into someone; a hefty load spurting all over his pretty toned torso, your name slipping from his lips.
before the post-nut clarity can settle in, he sends the raw footage straight through to his patiently waiting audience.
mingyu was so ecstatic that he didn’t even bother to clean up properly, just quickly wiped himself with a tissue before skipping into wonwoo’s room and dapping his best friend up in celebration.
(his reaction being “bro you smell like cum.”)
after leaving dtf.com behind in a matter of hours and moving over to messages, a date was promptly established. being, a date as in the day, because there wasn’t going to be any conversing over dinner or fondling during a movie.
it’s becoming increasingly clear to mingyu that he really struck a pot of gold in you, since you were both on the same page about this: fuck first, talk later.
if you were to go on a date prior, mingyu knows good and damn well that he’d just be sporting a massive pitch in his pants throughout the entire thing; way too excited for his own good over the knowledge that he’s finally getting laid after.
the stars aligned to both of your schedules being open just two days from now. while the anticipation is sure to strangle him alive, he’s able to give wonwoo notice that he’s kicking him out for the day, and to prepare.
in the limited sexual encounters under his belt, mingyu can’t say for certain that he’s actually made a girl cum. unlike men, there isn’t exactly a visual indicator. his size alone could’ve been enough to get them off, sure. but when it comes to you, he doesn’t want to repeat that flustered fumbling; rubbing what he assumes is the clit based off of what he also assumes is genuine moans. his mouth hasn’t even graced a pussy before, isn’t that crazy?
those girls didn’t want anything other than to feel his cock in them, though — letting him touch for a few seconds before insisting that was enough foreplay. hence why he’s never learned.
you, however, like to play with your food. over texts you’ve been teasing the hell out of him, intent on finding out the limits of his desperation — and pleased to find there is none. he will genuinely do anything just to get a sliver of that pussy, and you only want him more because of it.
mingyu knows your expectations aren’t exactly high, but he doesn’t want to risk disappointing you so badly that you won’t sleep with him again. and if he can exceed your expectations, maybe you’d be open to being something more exclusive….
he’s a romantic at heart, okay?
of course, he had to seek out his most trusted elders for advice.
two torturously long days later, mingyu receives your “on the way” text and is pushing wonwoo out the door within the next second.
“don’t be back until tonight, just in case.”
“eh, you won’t last that long.” wonwoo shrugged. mingyu rolls his eyes, and wonwoo just slaps him on the back, pulling him into one of those side-hugs men do. “condoms are in my bedside table.”
with that, wonwoo takes his leave; off to a girl’s place, no doubt. mingyu doesn’t really care to know. his mind’s pretty occupied with a girl of his own.
mingyu rushes into his best friend’s bedroom, kicking his bulky ass gamer chair out of the way and pulling out the top drawer of his bedside table. mingyu physically recoils at the pile of dildos and vibrators he finds instead, which wonwoo so graciously neglected to mention. slamming that one shut, he finds what he’s looking for in the second drawer. condoms.
….why are there so many? textured, warming, cooling, flavoured; how is he supposed to know which one you’d prefer?
after tossing the options over in his head (frantically panicking), mingyu settles on the box of strawberry flavoured condoms, grabbing out more than enough and stuffing them in his pocket.
he then stops by wonwoo’s mirror, giving himself a once over. he went commando for obvious reasons, and his grey sweats already have a visible tent from how he’s half-hard just thinking about you. he already shaved everything in the shower, but he turns his head this way and that to make sure he didn’t miss any spots. pulls his pants down to check the same for his crotch. he smells his breath, his armpits. decides to spritz on more cologne and chew on some gum.
then the doorbell rings.
like some dog waiting for its owner, mingyu bounds over and hastily unlocks the door.
there you are, in all your beauty — smiling sweetly in a little sundress (they always make men go crazy, for whatever reason).
mingyu stammers like an idiot as he attempts to greet you, blocking the doorway as his eyes flick up and down and all around your body, damn nearly drooling until you clear your throat.
“hey mingyu.” you coo, saccharine voice like honey and melting over his thoughts. “it’s nice to finally meet.”
“yes, yes, of course.” he bumbles, finally stepping out of the way and letting you walk inside. he locks the door, gulping as he watches you inspect the place. how is he supposed to begin this? “did you, uh.. want any water or—”
that sentence is lost on the tip of his tongue when your lips smother it. you catch mingyu completely off guard when you step into a kiss with him, leaving no room for questions when your tongue slips into his mouth. you back him into the closest surface, being his kitchen counter, without breaking your mouth from his.
mingyu’s quite good at kissing, since he’s got a lot of experience with that alone, but then not much for the after.
mingyu knows how to lick his tongue against yours and tilt his head for deeper access. knows where to put his hands, how to hold just tight enough to leave your skin buzzing. he knows to pull you in and press your chest flush against his, and he’s mindful enough to keep his pelvis angled away from you. how cute and polite of him. it’s almost like you’re not here for the sole reason of getting in those pants.
despite his best attempts, you rock your hips forward to meet his crotch, delighting at the solid rock you find there. mingyu muffles a noise into your mouth that you’re determined to hear out loud later. you roll your body into his again, brushing your front right up and gauging the outline of his cock.
he’s already proven that he’s not lying about his size but man, fuck… feeling it in real life just brings the shock right back. to think, he’s somehow also desperate as if this thing couldn’t get him laid with ease?
it’s flattering, really — that he chose you amongst all the girls throwing themselves at him, when all you did was doubt and make fun of him.
mingyu finally succumbs to your ministrations and starts rocking his hips right back — tongue tasting every inch of your mouth as he grinds his length forward, nothing but the fabric of his pants and your dress to offer him friction. he’s so worked up that honestly, it could be enough to get him off. he can already feel his dick leaking into his sweats like he’s some virgin experiencing his first kiss.
before he can actually just cum his pants, you part with him — a line of spit connecting your mouths that you wipe off. mingyu’s already huffing, waiting for your next move. you smirk, turning on your heel and walking further into the place.
“which one’s your room?” you call after him. he takes that as a hint to run up and show you to it.
mingyu can just barely hear your oohs and ahhs over the blood pumping like bass in his ears as he pushes his bedroom door open.
your fingers run along his shelves, eyes scanning his posters and the gym equipment scattered around the place. the picture of a dude’s room.
“where’s your roommate?” you ask, perching on his bed.
mingyu swallows, willing his voice to come, a little speechless just at the sight of you sitting where he sleeps. “wonwoo? uh, he’s out.”
you hum, nodding. “so we don’t have to worry about your volume, then.”
oh. you offer mingyu a grin and he just blanches. not yours, his volume. you’re not wrong though.. you’ll probably have him hooting and hollering from just thumbing his tip.
you clear your throat, commanding his attention.
“are you gonna fuck me from there or..?”
mingyu can feel his knees bending a little, on instinct from being flustered and wanting to shrink. you pat on the bed, just to gently guide him, and mingyu follows like a dog.
he chooses to sit beside you which makes you giggle. with a hand on the neck, thumb sitting above his thrumming pulse, you pull him in for a kiss. it’s startlingly tender, at least it begins so.
it’s not long at all until your impatience wins over and you’re licking into his mouth again, enticing little hums from mingyu’s throat. you swings your thighs over his as you climb into his lap, feeling his whole body tense as you sit right on the massive tent in his pants.
mingyu knows he’s fully hard, has been since you put your tongue in his mouth — but now you know it too. there’s a bit of an astonished look in your eye, as if finally confirming some theory. yes, it really is that big. boners give him headaches and he wouldn’t doubt that some of his back pain comes from lugging this big thing around all day.
even now, he can feel his head swimming from all the blood leaving to his lower half. you may leave him with a killer migraine from how hard he’s sure to cum, but it’ll be more than worth it. and you can always make it up to him, maybe….
you grind down on him a few times, the wet patch on his sweats growing even worse; mingyu throwing his head back and just letting you.
a rough hand gripping the scruff of his hair gets his eyes to fly open, staring at you with wide eyes like he’s in trouble. under his watch, you roll your hips deliberately slow, letting mingyu feel every ridge down there, all the wetness dripping from your—
shit, you’re not wearing underwear. you giggle at his recognition, and mingyu’s hands fly out to grip your thighs. to slow you down or get you to speed up, he doesn’t know. as long as you don’t stop.
you make a show with your hand: cupping a breast through your dress, trailing your fingers down your torso before they find the hem of your skirt. you snicker at mingyu’s eyes following every little move, then raise the dress to reveal your bare pussy rutting against his cock — nothing but the thin fabric of his sweats separating you, soiled sticky with your shared arousal.
mingyu whines at the sight, his cock pulsing under you in tandem. you even look a bit startled at how much of it moved, practically halfway in you at this point.
to his dismay you shift back, sitting on his thighs and leaving his poor crotch empty. he doesn’t get to pout for long though, since your hand leaves the dress to brush your knuckles against his length. mingyu shivers, a desperate noise leaving his mouth as your fingers dance over his cock. it throbs and jumps in response, and you giggle, continuing to just play with it. he can barely feel the warmth of your fingers through the fabric, and his hips cant upwards in chase of it.
“you’re real pretty like this, mingyu.” you murmur, fingers softly making a plucking motion over his tip and watching him try to thrust up into it.
as a big ass dude, he’s never heard himself be called ‘pretty’ before, even by his mother but… the way his body reacts to that speaks for itself.
he can’t even get out a ‘thanks’, nothing but embarrassing whines leaving his mouth, even over the faintest stimulation you’re offering him.
“you’ll need to work to fit inside.” you tell him, and he nods, even though he doesn’t even fully register what that means. “mingyu?”
“yeah?” he huffs out, glossy eyes finding yours. you swoon over how much he looks like a puppy, especially with his open-mouth panting, and the fact that he won’t move unless you tell him to.
softness swells inside you and your fingers splay through his hair, combing through it gently. a contrast to your blunt words: “eat me out.”
“oh,” he just says, mind lagging behind as the words sink in. “oh. yes, yeah. i can do that.”
you huff in amusement, pushing off his lap and positioning yourself at the edge of the bed. “i would hope so..”
mingyu follows your lead, sliding off the edge himself and sitting on the floor in front of you. you giggle at his commitment, spreading your legs and pulling the skirt up so your pussy is on full display for him.
saliva gathers in his mouth just looking at it, and he mentally runs through all of the advice jeonghan and joshua gave him.
leaning forward, mingyu starts out slow; leaving soft pecks on the skin of your thigh, listening to your breathing as he inches closer. he works up the courage to look up, holding your gaze as he gives a tentative lick.
you hum appreciatively, fingers finding his hair again, his lashes fluttering over how much he likes the feel of your hand there. mingyu dives in again, just licking for the sake of it — running his tongue through your folds and familiarising himself with your taste. he pulls a steady stream of hums from you, punctuated with a gasp when his tongue presses just right in a particular spot.
the clit, mingyu realises. he latches on so he doesn’t lose it — lips closing around the bud and sucking. your back arches, fingers twisting in mingyu’s hair and causing a groan to rumble on your pussy.
while mingyu kinda knows what to do, he also kinda doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, so he follows the noises above him as direction. he builds a rhythm, switching between quick flicks of his tongue and sucking your clit into his mouth. then, he gets curious: licking down to your hole, juices gushing onto his tongue as he buries it into you. you squeak, thighs clamping around his head, and mingyu uses both of his hands to pry them back open.
he fucks you on his tongue, trying his best to keep his eyes on you through how much they’re rolling back into his head. he thinks he’s got the hang of this now — and so he drags his mouth back to your clit, replacing his tongue with two fingers. mingyu pistons them in and out, curls them up, and goes light-headed at all the gorgeous noises he’s pulling from your mouth.
you’re tight, such a tight fit it might hurt him when he goes in — so he can only imagine how much it’ll hurt you.
on that thought, mingyu scissors his fingers, spreading you open and brushing against your g-spot as he does. his cock jumps in his sweats as you drag out a moan, fist close to ripping out his hair. mingyu adds a third finger, fucks you on them for a bit and listens to your moans in response before easing in a fourth. even all his fingers won’t compare to his entire size, but it’s all he has to prepare you enough.
for the first time maybe ever, mingyu’s certain that you’re close. your body’s practically vibrating: thighs tensing around his ears, pussy throbbing in his mouth and around his fingers.
mingyu locks in, keeping his hand and tongue steady to fuck and lick you through it — that is, until you just tear his face away.
he blinks, registering what just happened as you pull his hand out yourself. he blinks again, and suddenly you’re pulling him up by the shirt collar until he’s sat back on the bed.
you shove him, and mingyu falls on his back. one more blink and mingyu’s met with the image of you lowering your pussy onto his mouth.
you straddle mingyu’s face, grabbing hold of his hair as an anchor before you start to rocklike crazy. your dress covers his eyes, but he’s undeterred as his hands find your ass and push you further down, gladly presenting his tongue for you to use.
mingyu can hardly breathe, but he’d die happily if the last thing he hears is your moans as you ride your orgasm out on his face.
his scalp burns when your fingers twist impossibly tight, hips grinding onto him so hard that even his teeth ache — but then a fresh wave of slick is gushing onto his tongue, and mingyu knows that you’re cumming.
it’s all too much for him and his painfully erect cock, and before he can even register what’s happening — mingyu’s stomach is lurching, cock spilling a hot load into his sweats.
you climb off him, looking unkempt and yet every bit still gorgeous. you tug mingyu by his neck into a kiss, feral and sloppy. teeth gnashing and tongues twisting. your chin sliding against his chin, covered in your cum and his own spit.
mingyu’s the one who breaks it off this time — as much as it pains him, he probably would’ve suffocated on your tongue there with just how breathless he’s been since you unsaddled from him.
you notice, allowing him a moment to actually get some air back into his lungs as you kiss along his jaw and above his adam’s apple. it bobs as you leave a peck there.
turning your attention to the rest of his body, you tug on his shirt, and mingyu lifts his arms to let you pull it off. chest bare, you begin to ravage him, leaving your mark as you suck hickeys and nip bites at his honey skin. your tongue runs through the valley of his pecs and the ridges of his abs, stopped only by the band of his sweats. you pull back, eyes landing on the large stain in his pants, and your lips curl into a smirk.
“aw,” you pout. “i’m flattered.”
you peel his waistband back, and mingyu takes the hint to raise his hips and let you pull these godforsaken sweats all the way down. he winces when his cock slaps against his stomach, sensitive and yet still fully hard.
you take a moment to just admire it, and mingyu gets progressively shy, pre beading at his tip like there isn’t actual cum still covering his length.
you wrap gentle fingers around the base, smiling at how it jumps in your hand. what mingyu doesn’t expect is for you to lean down, and press your lips against the head of his cock.
mingyu groans, so sensitive and yet so fucking good. you don’t go too hard as you mouth at his tip, then darting your tongue out and running it down his length — licking up all the cum dripping down to his balls. you even leave a kiss on his sack, and he shivers, almost shutting his legs on instinct.
he giggles. “sorry, no one’s ever—”
“i could spend all day down here,” you tell him, eyes alight and smile beaming. you really do mean that and you want him to know it. “you’ve got more than enough for a girl to be grateful for.”
mingyu shivers again as you leave an open-mouthed kiss on his cock, running your lips over his length, though he’s not sure if it’s because of that or because of your words.
“almost didn’t believe a man that looks like you could be so desperate, but now..” you press your thumb to his frenulum, revelling in the moan that rips from his chest. “what a lucky girl i am, huh?”
“ffu—shit, you mean i’m the lucky one,” mingyu manages to grit out. “haven’t been laid in forever.”
“see now, i just can’t believe that. well, i do, now that i’m actually touching you—” you squeeze his tip as if to make a point, and mingyu nearly thrashes from how much that just built his next orgasm. “guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time, hm?”
mingyu nods feverishly. you smile, so entirely endeared with him.
with how much of a package mingyu is (in more ways than one), you probably would’ve still fucked him even if you found out he was lying about being pathetically bitchless. now, his good looks are just a bonus. you’re going to fuck him because you’re starting to feel quite fond of him.
“where’s your condoms?” you ask him, granting his poor cock some mercy and instead choosing to run your hands over his sweat-slick abs.
“er..” his mind blanks for a moment, too caught up on the fact that you’re really about to fuck him. “pants pocket.”
you stand from the bed, kneeling down to reach into where you threw his pants on the floor. you arch a brow at mingyu, no doubt realising how he’s got an entire stash of condoms in there, but you don’t mention it.
back on your feet, you shrug your dress off, revealing nothing but a bare, beautifully sculpted body beneath.
“wah..” mingyu unintentionally says out loud, just admiring you.
you roll your eyes, ripping the condom packet open with your teeth. “don’t cum before i even put it in.”
“better hurry then..” he smiles, flashing his sharp canines.
it’s all fast movement from there: you slip the condom on mingyu, snickering a comment about how it took forever until it reached the base, and then you position yourself right above him.
mingyu holds his breath, expecting you to ease onto him — totally unprepared for you to just drop down.
mingyu body curls upwards like you’ve just winded him, cursing like a sailor over your heat wrapped around him. he already knew it’d be like this, even with all the prep, but you’re so fucking tight. you’re just sitting there, not even moving, and yet your pussy is strangling the fucking life out of his cock.
he’s so caught up in trying not to cum prematurely that he forgets about your own discomfort. mingyu recollects himself, pressing a gentle palm to your back as he schools his shaky breathing.
“you okay?” he wheezes out, eyes screwing shut at the pulse your pussy gives.
“mm.” you hum, offering no sign to fuss over, but that doesn’t stop mingyu. holding your waist, he attempts to lift you off of him, but you cut that shit out immediately when you grind yourself forward on his cock. he keels over, head buried into your shoulder.
“‘s a lot to take, but i’m fine, mingyu.” you reassure him, fingers playing with his hair since you’ve realised how much he seems to like it. “are you okay?”
he groans out, intending for that to be a yes. you giggle. “i’m going to move now, alright?” he repeats the groan noise in reply.
you plant both feet on either side of mingyu, balancing yourself with your hands holding his hair, and then you start to bounce. just slowly to start off, letting your pussy adjust to the massive ass cock spearing you open. you know that if you were to have inched down, your pussy would’ve tried to push it out, so making mingyu fit meant just taking it all at once.
he currently looks like he’s the one that has to adjust to you, though.
mingyu lets out a stream of whimpers into your ear where his head is lolled onto your shoulder, just pliantly taking what you’re giving him. all of his brainpower is channelled into holding his cum back right now.
his effort is almost in vain when you speed up, bouncing so hard that his balls smack into your ass with each thrust onto him.
he’s moaning so loud he didn’t even realise the desperate cries coming from your mouth too — dick twitching so violently he didn’t even realise how much you’re pulsing around him.
mingyu pulls back, knowing he’ll regret it if he spent the entire duration of sex with his face stuffed in your shoulder — his eyes captivated on where your bodies connect.
he can’t find the strength in him to offer anything more than his hips stuttering up, attempting to meet each of your bounces on him. in and out, in and out, in and—
“fuuuuucck,” mingyu drawls, eyes rolling so far back he catches a glimpse of his own brain.
you don’t mention it as you quickly wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth, then gasp as you feel his cock spasm like a snapped rubber band. “shit, mingyu, are you—”
you don’t get to ask and he doesn’t get to answer before his orgasm slams into him like a bag of bricks. mingyu’s head lolls back, knuckles turning white where they’re holding onto your waist for dear life, sure to leave bruises in their wake.
you fuck mingyu until you’re certain the condom must be flooded, and then you fuck yourself on him some more.
mingyu’s unintelligible at this point, hoarse voice almost unrecognisable as he can do nothing but moan through the sensitivity. it’s raw and god it hurts but you don’t stop fucking him. he doesn’t want you to either.
your bounces shift into rocking your hips on him, his spent cock rubbing deep and perfectly into your g-spot. your clit grinds on the skin of his groin with each movement, and before long you’re riding out a second orgasm on him.
mingyu takes it, long past his limit but loving every second of you just using him like a toy. he even tries his best to fuck up as you’re cumming, the sweet thing.
after the last wave of your orgasm gushes around his cock, you just lay boneless on mingyu — his body keeping you both propped upright as you catch your breaths and your trains of thought.
his large hand comes to caress your back. he winces when you pulse around him once more, his cock softening inside the spent condom.
“you should probably take the condom off.” you mumble into his collarbone.
he hums, finger mindlessly drawing shapes onto your back.
“and put a new one on.” you add, leaving a peck on his jaw like what you said was nothing out of the ordinary.
“wait, what?”
“what?” you eye him like he’s the one who said something crazy. “did you think that’s all i came for?” you continue, smile stretching across your face.
“uh…” well, yeah. every other girl he’s been with was halfway out the door before he could even tie the condom up.
you kiss him, sweetly this time. a stark contrast to the sloppy, tongue filled make-outs you were having just minutes ago.
“unless you don’t want this as much as you’ve led me to believe..” you tease.
“fuck, i do, i do.” he confirms quickly. “just… give me five minutes.” as if on command, his temple throbs with pain. “and some ibuprofen.”
you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.
god, you’re going to wring all 12 inches of him dry.
...is this enough to ask if you’d like to go out sometime?
you may not know what you and yuma are, but you do know one thing: he gives fantastic head.
info. yuma x reader, smut, porn with literally 0.2 seconds of plot, cunnilingus, fingering, spit, nipple sucking, swearing, brief dry humping, sex under the influence (slightly), unestablished relationship, yuma is a freak disguised as a hot man.
length. 3k words.
reblogs appreciated! <3
You like Yuma.
Truly, you do. He’s funny, he’s stylish, and he’s very kind to you. And most importantly, he gives you the most insane orgasms.
It’s not like you’ve been doing this thing, whatever it is, with Yuma for too long. It’s been maybe two or three weeks maximum, still, you’re certain this is the most you’ve orgasmed in—probably—your whole life. It’s not even that you’re begging him for it. He’s on you before you can lift a finger. No matter what, it’s like you’re on a time limit and you need to fulfill your quota of orgasms by the time the clock hits zero. You’d honestly be fine with not having an orgasm every time you’re near him. The idea of just watching a movie and cuddling with the bright smiled man actually sounds nice. But Yuma always has other plans. Even when he’s not sure that that’s where the night is headed, it always does. Whether it’s because you send him a seductive look or he whispers something provocative in your ear, you end up touching each other in some sort of way.
You both went to some party—separately, of course—but like always, the night ends with the two of you together, tangled up in either your apartment or in his dorm. Yuma practically shoves you through your door the second the key clicks in place, pushing you into the closest wall. He cups your face in your palms, the coolness of his rings contrasting the sheer heat of his hands as he kisses you with the fervor that only a tipsy and horny man could muster.
“Fuck, Yuma,” you whisper, trying your best to kiss him back. The force of his hands holding your face smushes your cheeks together and muffles your words. In any other circumstance, Yuma would laugh, but now, he’s dead set on something else. “My roommate is home. Calm down.”
Yuma groans, grabbing your hips and crowding against them. One hand creeps towards your thigh, lifting your leg so he can press himself against where he knows you want him. Like always, he knows best when it comes to your body and your pleasure. You huff out a small moan, your head hitting the wall behind you as you turn to the ceiling.
The small thunk of your head finally gets him to giggle against your lips, mouthing his way along your jaw. The sharpness of his canines graze the underside of your chin, tongue quelling the slight burn. You roll your hips slightly, your clit catching on the swell of his cock and providing a delicious taste of what you hope he’ll give you in just a matter of minutes. Yuma moans loudly against your throat, the heat of his mouth fueling the heat pooling in your stomach.
“Yuma,” you warn once more, grip tightening along his shoulder. “My roommate.”
“I don’t care,” he huffs, ripping himself away from your skin. The dark shag of his hair falls into his eyes, protecting you from his desperate gaze. He licks the plush of his lips, pink and kiss swollen in a way that almost makes you swear you love him when you’re not even sure if that’s true. “Need you. So bad,” he confesses, diving back into the bruise he was sucking along your neck.
You grab his face, pulling him away from where he seems determined to practically eat you. He sends you a glare, one that quickly melts into a grin once he realizes that you’re trying to guide him to your bedroom, a place he’s become very well acquainted with over the past few weeks.
Making himself at home, he throws himself onto your bed as you busy yourself with locking the door. Yuma has realized that you have this silly habit of trying to clean your room under the low light of your bedside lamp as if he’s not there and hasn’t already seen the copious amounts of discarded outfits thrown across the floor. He watches as you diligently kick things into your closet, laughing when a pair of your underwear gets caught on your toe and won’t fly into your hamper.
“Leave me alone,” you groan, trying your best not to let a giggle slip. You yank the lacy pair off your foot, chucking it into the hamper that sits in the corner of your room.
“Mm, I don’t want to,” he purrs, beckoning you towards him with a wave of his hand. You stalk toward him slowly as he rushes to move towards the end of your bed, eager to touch you once more. Once you’re before him, Yuma grabs the back of your thighs, yanking you forward so you stand between his spread legs. “I like bothering you.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” you chuckle, carding your hands through his once-styled hair. With a quick glance downwards, you’re able to spot the hard-on he sports proudly. Yuma grins up at you innocently until you feel his hands creep up towards your ass, squeezing harshly. You gasp, tugging at the hair that tickles the back of his neck. He whimpers softly, using his other hand to push the edge of your shirt up towards your tits. Leaning forward, Yuma makes his way up your stomach, doing his best to lick the underside of your tits despite your bra blocking his precious view .
The liquor, despite only having a few drinks, must be clouding his mind as he’s usually much smoother than this. It’s not that Yuma hasn’t been desperate before, but it’s usually much more controlled. Deciding to help the poor boy out, you tug your shirt over your head and unclasp your bra, straps sliding down your shoulders. Yuma finally comes to, helping you by throwing the piece of clothing across the room. All questions of where it’s landed leave your mind the second his lips wrap around your nipple, sucking it into your mouth in a way that makes you keen forward.
He catches you before you fall, encouraging you to plant your knees on either side of his hips, eventually sitting down in his lap. Hugging your chest to his mouth, Yuma bucks his hips upward, moaning against your chest as his hand snakes its way in between the two of you in search of the button of your jeans.
“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles, flicking your nipple with his tongue. “‘Want you all to myself.”
“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, grinding down into his lap. The roughness of his bottoms press deliciously on your clit, providing the friction you’ve been craving. You both moan loudly, having to slap a hand over your mouth before you even acknowledge the echo of Yuma in your ears. Selfishly, you’d much rather silence yourself than the gorgeous man in front of you. If you could have his moans recorded and added to your playlist, you would listen to that soundtrack day in and out.
After three tries, Yuma successfully unbuttons your jeans, shoving his hand awkwardly down your pants as he fumbles to find what he’s been wanting to feel since the second he laid eyes on you. Gliding his fingers over your slick, he sighs in relief once he feels your warmth. Selfishly, he can’t wait to be inside of you. Even more selfishly, he can’t wait to see you cum all over his fingers and tongue and—if you’ll let him—his cock.
Yuma flips you over and onto your back with ease, smiling down at you as he watches your hair splay around you in a gorgeous, haphazard halo. You wiggle your jeans down your legs, one leg getting caught on the same foot that your underwear got caught on earlier. He yanks it off gently, eyeing the delicate, pink underwear that covers your pussy from him. However, seeing the bulge of his fingers tenting the fabric and the wet spot on the seat of your panties turns him on more than he expected.
“This is all mine, right?” he whispers, licking your ear in a way that you would hate if it were anyone other than him.
You press your cheek to his, humming desperately. He can feel how eager you’re becoming, your hips rolling into his palm. The corner of your lip quirks upward, a tendency of yours whenever you realize that things are going exactly the way you want. He’s not too sure if you’re aware of that small habit, but he’d be happy to be the first to recognize it.
“Yuma,” you breathe, planting an open-mouthed kiss against his cheek. He pulls away from your neck, slender eyes peering down at yours. Maybe this is corny, but he’s beginning to love the curve of your cupid's bow, leaning down to kiss it softly as if he didn’t nearly shove you through the wall five minutes prior. He’s so fucking hard right now. “Please touch me.”
“I am touching you,” he grins, the point of his canines digging into the plush of his bottom lip. You’d never admit it aloud, but you kinda miss his crooked teeth. This smile is still very sexy, too.
“Yuma,” you warn, bucking up into his hand once again. Maybe it’s your slick spread across his fingers or the huffy whine you release or the pretty sparkle in your eyes, but Yuma suddenly doesn’t mind being scolded as long as it’s by you. Because at the end of the day, he’ll always give you what you want. In all honesty, he might want it even more than you.
He chuckles, airy and bright, as he presses a series of quick kisses across your lips and face. “Alright,” he agrees, dragging your soaked panties down your legs and tossing them onto the floor unceremoniously. “I got you.”
One thing you’ve noticed since this thing with Yuma began is that he has this freakish tendency to love to look at your pussy once he starts properly touching you. You agree, the sight is quite attractive. But to Yuma, it might as well be like watching a god appear right in front of him.
“Fuck,” he whines, a fog glossing over his eyes the second he finds your clit. “You’re so wet.”
You nod helplessly, tugging his focus back to your face. He almost looks surprised to see you, his lips pursing under your grip. You tug him forward, the plush of his lips meeting yours. Biting on his lip, he opens his mouth and moans quietly, a sound that makes you clench around nothing. Yuma feels the twitch under his fingers and can’t help but press his hips against your bare thigh. Always the kindest, most beautiful girl he knows you to be, you aid his aching cock by pushing back. He licks into your mouth, sucking on your tongue in a way that makes you think he would willingly let you spit in his mouth if you asked. Honestly, he would probably still do it even if you didn’t. He’s good to you like that. He’s also, consequently, a freak.
“I was thinking of you all night,” you admit, half of the syllables swallowed by Yuma’s eager mouth. He sucks a pretty flower onto your jaw as a response. “‘Wanted you to touch me so bad.”
“Really? What else did you want, baby?” he murmurs, kissing his way down your neck, his spit cooling on your skin despite the heat accumulating between the two of you. “Want me to lick your pretty cunt? Is that what you want?”
You moan again, desperate for his touch as his fingers begin to wander further downward. He traces the outline of your hole, his lips trailing between your breasts and down your stomach once more. Disgustingly or not, you haven’t quite made up your mind, Yuma licks your belly button between kissing it, practically making out with it for a split second. But before you can scold him for it, he plants his lips on your clit and sucks like a starved man.
Hands flying to his hair, you twist and tug to communicate where words fail you. Yuma groans against you, tongue licking a wide stripe from the bottom of your hole to your clit. He fucks his tongue into you, feeling the way you clench around him. “You taste so good, baby,” he pants, using his index and middle finger to spread your folds apart.
“Shit,” you moan, tossing your head back. “Yuma.”
He hums against your clit, kitten licking the swollen bud. “Need more?”
You nod against the covers of your bed, back arching helplessly into his mouth. He chuckles against your folds, the puff of air only making you ache for him more. Damn his good looks and his dashing charm, because—wow!—he really does give the best head. You better keep him around, because you’re certain you’ll only come across an eater this good once in your lifetime.
“Need your fingers,” you plead, using all your strength to lift your head and look at him. Yuma looks at you, eyes dark and the hair that has slipped from your fingers brushing against the edge of his cheek just like earlier. You scoop the remaining hair into your hands, his eyes shining like you hung the stars and the moon just for him. “Please.”
“Fuck,” he huffs, his lips releasing a soft pop as he pulls away from your clit. “Okay.”
Without much warning, he plunges two fingers into your heat, causing a broken moan to force its way from your mouth. Your back arches fiercely, an angle he’s never seen you achieve until now. You didn’t expect the sudden stretch, and before you can grow accustomed to it, Yuma continues to kitten lick your clit as he scissors you open.
“Mmph,” you whine, thighs closing around his ears. Yuma uses his free hand to push one leg away from his head, yearning to be able to hear your moans and whimpers, even if it is with only one ear.
“Feel good?” he asks, lips rubbing against your pussy and covering his mouth in a translucent shine that you almost want to kiss off. “I bet it does.”
You give him some breathless reply, a string of words that are incoherent and don’t really make much sense. However, Yuma doesn’t mind. Your body is doing all the talking anyways.
Grinding against the bed, Yuma is growing greedy, yearning to feel you release against his mouth and fingers. He truly believes you’re the prettiest ever, especially when you toss your head to the side, a hand sneaking upwards to squeeze your tit. He can tell you’re growing impatient with the way you’re squirming and the sharp tug at his scalp. Who is he to deny you?
He pulls away quickly, ripping his shirt over his head and tossing it behind him. “You’re dripping down my face, baby. Didn’t want to ruin my shirt,” he smiles, a faint sheen of your slick covering his chin and, sure enough, his neck. How the fuck it got there, you’re not sure. However, he doesn’t let the embarrassment seep in before he’s all over you once more.
One thing you particularly like about Yuma is how he practically makes out with your cunt, tongue exploring every inch of you. His tongue joins his fingers in your hole for a second, returning to your clit once he realizes how neglected he’s left her. He’d be damned if he left his poor baby unsatisfied.
Your legs twitch beneath him, growing more restless by the second. Head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut, Yuma turns his gaze from your cunt to your face. His favorite view.
“Wanna cum,” you groan, nails digging into his hair and scalp, the heat in your stomach becoming nearly unbearable. One hand searches for him, a petulance creeping into your voice that he finds all too amusing. Deciding to help you out, Yuma grabs your hand with his, lacing your fingers across your stomach so he can feel every twitch and squirm. “Please, Yuma. I wanna cum.”
“I’m working on it,” he hums, no annoyance in his voice whatsoever.
He sucks on your clit harder, his fingers curling up towards your belly button. You moan loudly, and if you were in the right mind, you’d be certain that you woke up your roommate. But you’re not in the right state of mind, and you can blame that all on the man between your legs. With one more flick of his tongue and twitch of his finger, the coil within you snaps, releasing the prettiest moans Yuma has ever had the pleasure of hearing. Your warmth coats his face, his favorite taste, as you eventually relax back against your sheets with a content sigh. You’re glowing and Yuma firmly believes he’s never seen something so beautiful.
Carefully, Yuma removes his fingers from your cunt, amazed by the weak pulse it makes as his fingers slide out begrudgingly. He kisses his way up your body for the umpteenth time that night, stopping to suck on one nipple briefly, releasing it before you can begin to complain of sensitivity.
You pull him toward you and realize how much you missed having his pretty face close to you. You kiss him sweetly, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as he melts against you. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh, but before you can think of picking up the pace once more, he snuggles into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.
You freeze. Not sure of what to do, you comb your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Yuma purrs, pressing gentle kisses against you neck, the ones he usually only gives you when he’s on the brink of passing out after a long night of fucking. “You don’t want any help with that?” you ask, nails raking down his back and to the waistband of his trousers.
He flinches slightly, relaxing into your touch just as quickly. “Give me a second,” he replies, sounding strained. “If you touch me right now, I think I might cum in five seconds.”
You snort, and he almost regrets all he does for you. (No he doesn’t. Not even close.)
Zayne, who had to stop wearing a smartwatch because it would alert him about his heart rate that spiked dangerously everytime he found himself around you.
Rafayel, who's ears turn red from the intensity of his blush whenever you get perhaps a little too close to him, brushing a hand over his arm, your knee knocking his underneath the table, all innocent touches that makes him go red.
Xavier, who's opted to start stuffing his hands into his pockets or hoodies so you wouldn't see how they trembled, or how they ached to hold your own. He can at least keep the fidgeting to himself that way.
the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.
★ FEATURING; wonwoo x reader
★ WORD COUNT; 25.4k words
★ TAGS; meet cute, strangers to lovers, pining, discourse abt being an idol as a career, mild angst, smut
★ NOTES; it's finally done!! and it turned out to be the longest oneshot i've written ever T T i reaaally didn't mean it to become this long but i got overly self-indulgent so here we are :3c also psa that this story features a handful of other characters from the series, so if you find them familiar that's totally on purpose HEH
this is part of the doting on you! series.
★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, service top wonwoo, praise kink, voice kink, first time together, fingering, creampie, ofc they're grossly in love
P.S. i reserve the right to refuse to add you to my taglist if you don't have any age indicators in your profile :^)
There are a handful of things that a college student can do with their free time. Studying, hanging out with friends, and maybe even picking up a hobby of sorts. You, on the other hand, use up all the hours you’re not spending on your undergrad thesis or sleeping the day away at an animal shelter just a few minutes away from your apartment.
Your friends constantly wonder how you’re still able to maintain a remarkable GPA with a part-time job that’s starting to look full-time, but you just laugh their questions off for the most part—saying that other people have got it worse than you, but can still perform leagues better academically.
You also tell them that most of your motivation comes from all the unadopted animals from the shelter. You started as a volunteer just to kill time on weekends when you’re free, but even if you knew better than to get attached to all those adorable faces, you eventually found yourself on the employee roster anyways.
Now you’re rushing to finish your degree so you can get a neat sugar mommy job that’ll let you afford to adopt everyone that’s been stuck in the shelter for nearly a year or more.
Okay, maybe not everyone because you’re no fool with a savior complex. But just enough to give a few furry friends a new home, right?
“Don’t look now,” your coworker, Mina whispers conspiratorially while you’re in the middle of snacking in the break room, “but that cutie you’ve been crushing on just walked inside. He’s checking out the cats out in the playroom as usual.”
Right. Apart from your altruistic dream of adopting as many animals as your financial capabilities can allow, there’s another reason you’re always looking forward to your shifts at the shelter. A reason that you’re a bit too embarrassed to let your friends know about.
You nearly choke on a potato chip when Mina informs you of the news and she immediately breaks into a fit of laughter. Glaring at her, you compose yourself with a long gulp of water before saying, “I do not have a crush on him.”
“Sure,” she plays along. “If you consider making googly eyes at the guy every time he drops by as ‘not having a crush on him’, then I’ll concur.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t, sweetheart. Now get out there and sweet talk him into taking one of the kittens home! Pretty sure he wants one if he’s been showing up as much as he did for the last two months.”
While you would’ve argued that the so-called cutie you’ve been crushing on could just like seeing the cats play around in his free time, you don’t really have much energy to play mental gymnastics with Mina. You’ve had a long day of revisions and other nonsense materials you have to submit for your majors, so you’ll let this one slide.
Your workplace is as bleak as every other shelter you’ve seen a few times in your life. Gray walls, concrete floors, and steel cages stacked on top of each other. It looks more like a prison than anything, really, but it’s the staff and those kind-hearted souls who rehome animals that have long been abandoned that give the entire place some life.
While Mister Cutie That You’ve Been Quote-Unquote Crushing On doesn’t exactly fall into either of those categories, you like to think he still leaves the building just a touch more colorful once he walks out of the front door.
Speaking of color, he’s wearing a loose, dark green shirt that falls just below his elbows. Cutie—as you’ve deigned to call him not because you think he’s cute but because you’re yet to get his name—has one palm flattened across the viewing glass of the playroom. He’s wearing his usual black face mask today, but from the way his eyes glint behind his glasses, you’re just going to assume he’s having a good time just by watching the cats frolic inside.
“You’re here pretty late,” you state nonchalantly before standing a few feet away from him.
“Is that so strange?” he murmurs with a chuckle, surprisingly not startled with your sudden entrance before glancing your way. “I always show up here at this hour, don’t I?”
God. No matter how many times you hear his voice, you just can’t get over how deep it is. But before any of your thoughts could show on your face, you get talking.
“True. You’ve sparked a debate among the volunteers about your line of work, actually.” Not exactly. You’re not sure if any of the volunteers have even seen this guy, since they mostly work day shifts. “Anyway, are you just here to check ‘em out or am I finally going to hand you the adoption papers?”
His eyes crinkle a bit before he shifts his gaze towards the playroom again. Most of the older cats have already been put back in their respective cages. All that’s left inside are the kittens with way too much energy to spare. The director, A.K.A., your boss, believes that it’s best to tire them out first before settling them into individual enclosures for the night. Keeps the place nice and quiet for the evening shift fellows like yourself.
“Not yet, sadly,” Cutie says with a sigh before pointing at a small black kitten huddled up in a corner. “That one’s new, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve seen him around before.”
“Her,” you correct. “Her name’s Hani. She’s a stray that someone from the university I’m attending brought in last week. It was pretty ugly, actually. Poor thing got into an accident and was bleeding everywhere. Good thing our usual vet was paying a visit when they came here.”
“Oh? That’s a relief then. No wonder she’s got a little limp every time she walks around,” he observes with a saddened tone. “But I digress. You mentioned you were attending university?”
…Okay, why’d the topic of interest suddenly shift to you?
But since it’s a harmless enough question, you reply with, “Yeah. The one that’s just a few blocks away. It’s kinda why the person who found Hani brought her here instead of a vet clinic. The nearest one’s like half an hour away.”
“Good call, good call.” He nods with a look of understanding. “I hope someone comes and adopts her. She deserves all the love she can get. Well, everyone here does of course.”
You flash him a conniving smile, raising your brows a few times. “You could give that to her.”
Cutie shakes his head with another low-pitched laugh. “As much as I’d love to, my…living conditions won’t be suitable for her at all. Or any of the other animals for the matter.”
“Hm?” You stare at him curiously. “Your landlord doesn’t allow pets or something?”
“Mmm… Not exactly.”
The conversation pretty much ends there. Cutie excuses himself—saying that someone is waiting for him at home. You don’t know why your heart deflates a little at the very real possibility that he has a significant other. Then again, if you’re this whipped when you haven’t even seen his face, you could only imagine how easy it would be for him to settle down with someone who has.
Either way, it’s none of your business. And correction: you’re not whipped. Just…hyper aware of his presence every time he stops by.
Despite the fact that you’re dead-set on filing this strange fascination you have for the guy, however…
“Wait!”
Cutie turns around to face you with an inquisitive look. “Yes?”
You swallow thickly, deciding to just bite the bullet before your nerves get the best of you. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Cu—I mean, Glasses Guy in my head whenever you pay us a visit.”
He blinks for a few seconds, obviously nonplussed by your forwardness but you don’t think your pride can take it anymore if you had to refer to him as—
“You can call me Woo,” he says warmly and you can almost see the smile that stretches behind that black face mask.
Shit. Did your heart just stutter?
“Mister Woo—”
“Just Woo is fine.”
“Okay, Woo,” you start, kind of liking the way that something that’s obviously a nickname rolls off the tongue, “just let me know if you ever want to take Hani home. We’re open twenty four-seven, as you already know.”
He nods. “Sure thing. Is it okay if I can get your number for that?”
Now you have to fight the urge to scowl at him after he’s been so nice to you all night—and every other night he’s dropped by.
This guy isn’t flirting with you. He said it himself—someone’s waiting for him at home. Plus, he’s expressed consistent interest in adopting a kitten for himself a handful of times before. Maybe he just connected with Hani on a level that’s above the others. Enough to ask for your number since the possibility of him bringing one of these angels home is becoming more and more real.
Yeah, that’s definitely the reason!
So you give it to him—hastily scrawled behind an old flier gathering dust in one of the drawers on the front desk. It’s way too big to write just yours and the shelter’s contact details on, but the other calling cards are nowhere in sight. You’ll have to ask Mina if she’s seen them once—
“Thanks. I’ll keep in touch,” Woo tells you while folding the sheet of paper into a sleek black Louis Vuitton wallet.
Wait a minute.
Before you can even seriously ponder about what job he’s got to be able to afford that, Woo is already out of the door—heading into the evening streets without once looking back.
“Gosh, I swear that guy’s an idol in disguise or something.”
That’s the first thing that Mina tells you when you find her doing a few rounds among the sleeping dogs in the far back. You haven’t even spoken a single word about your most recent exchange.
“What makes you think that?”
“He just exudes idol vibes, y’know? Shows up here when the place is deserted. Always acts subtle and inconspicuous. Oh and not to mention how hot he looks even with a face mask on! He could be that one idol your little sister is crazy about.”
You roll your eyes at her odd ways of deduction. “Mina, I’ve seen enough of Haewon’s Mingyu merch to last a lifetime and Woo definitely does not look like him.”
“Oh?” Your coworker perks up with a mischievous smile. “You finally got his name, huh?”
God. This is going to be a long shift.
The next time you see Woo is, surprisingly, not at an ungodly hour in the shelter.
Well, it’s still at an ungodly hour, but the change in venue is a little baffling. You were up all night studying (read: cramming) for a major exam that you’ll take at eight in the morning the next day. When you were finally at your wit’s end, you decidedly hauled yourself away from your laptop and fluttered off to the only twenty four-hour coffee shop in the neighborhood.
You don’t usually frequent this place because you’ve tasted their shitty americanos firsthand, but you’re not in the mood to grind some beans yourself and you’re much too stubborn to drink anything instant—convinced the powdered concoction would only make you sleepier.
So here you are, in line for an espresso because you’ve decided to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe not everything on the menu tastes less than it’s worth. With how many other students are pulling all-nighters here, that should be testament enough that they tolerate the place’s drinks enough to linger.
But, to your horror, when you’re right in front of the graveyard shift barista, he informs you that wireless payments have been temporarily disabled and that they’re only accepting cash up front. You make a show of patting down the pockets of your hoodie to check for your wallet even if you know damn well that you left it back at your apartment on purpose. Just when you’re about to resign yourself to buying shitty instant coffee at a Seven Eleven instead, the person behind you in line clears his throat.
“Uh, I can pay for her drink.”
You don’t think you’ve ever whipped your head around to check for a person’s identity faster than you did at that moment. It’s not that you’re particularly obsessed with the low timber of his voice or anything, but you’d recognize the way the shelter’s late night regular speaks in a goddamn heartbeat.
“Woo?” you scowl as he maneuvers himself to the front of the line, bringing out that same Louis Vuitton wallet you were ogling the last time you saw him.
He pulls out a few banknotes and places them on top of the counter with what you think is a smile behind his mask. “Couple that with four iced americanos please.”
You purposely hold your tongue about your personal vendetta against that particular drink as the barista nods, punching in Woo’s order and asking for a name. Just when you thought he’d say the same one he’d given when you’d asked, however—
“Soonyoung. Oh, and I’ll get those drinks to go, please.”
Your gaze is on him the entire time as the two of you shuffle to the end of the counter to wait for your drinks. Woo is doing a pretty okay job at playing it cool despite the fact that he lied about the names on his orders. Or maybe he lied when he told you his name was Woo.
Either way, does it matter? It’s not strange for people to make up fake names for baristas to write on their coffees—Mina does it all the time. But something about the idea that the man standing in front of you doesn’t look like a Soonyoung bothers you more than it should. It makes you wonder what his actual name is and if it’s weird to ask when he already gave you one to address him with—
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he suddenly says and you nearly have a heart attack.
“Uh,” you start somewhat dumbly, before finally getting a hold of your brain. “I live around the area. Thought I could use a drink if I didn’t want to sleep through my lecture notes.”
He lets out a low chuckle and at that moment, you let yourself observe him a little more closely. His hair is hidden behind a black beanie which he expertly paired with an equally black parka that’s zipped up all the way. He’s wearing a different pair of glasses today—one with thick, black frames—and you’re starting to get an idea of what his favorite color might be.
“Is that why I haven’t seen you at the shelter these days?” he wonders. “Every time I dropped by last week, you weren’t on shift.”
Oh. Shit, he’s been visiting still? And he was looking for you?
“Yup, I needed to take a few days off because if I wanna graduate, I’ve got to keep myself from failing any of my majors,” you explain as briefly as you can—not wanting to go into detail about GPA requirements and your thesis. “How about you? Why’re you out and about at this hour, Soonyoung?”
It’s kind of adorable, how the tips of his ears flush pink at your words. “Soonyoung’s one of my friends. I actually went out tonight because I lost a bet and had to buy four of us coffee.”
You’re not sure how and why you feel a wave of relief wash over you, so instead, you brush the feeling aside before leaning against the counter. “Lost a bet about what, pray tell?”
Woo is quiet for a while, as if contemplating if he should unveil his losses to someone who’s virtually still a stranger before letting out a defeated sigh.
“Mario Kart.”
The snort you let out draws a few curious stares from other customers sitting near the counter and you force out an apology that’s underscored with a hiccup of laughter. Woo doesn’t seem at all offended by your reaction though. In fact, he seems even amused by it.
Not ten seconds later, the barista calls out his—rather, Soonyoung’s name and he hands you your drink while he carries a takeout package in his other hand. You try not to think too much about the way his fingers brush against yours when he gives it to you, thanking him despite the obvious redness settling across your cheeks.
“I actually meant to text you last week but I didn’t know if you were comfortable with it,” Woo admits as he opens the door to the coffee shop for you—thanking him as you step out of the air conditioned space and into the humid evening air. “I wanted to ask about the adoption requirements at the shelter.”
Part of you is a little skeptical about his explanation because… If he’s been dropping by your workplace as often as he claimed last week, then he could’ve just asked the other staff about the details. Why wait until he meets you again to bring it up?
But of course, you’re way too polite to ask that to his face.
“I don’t mind you texting me about that or…anything, really,” you say, turning up the flap on the lid of your espresso before taking a small sip. Bearable. “It’s not like I’m too busy to respond to you. Well, I kinda am, but I can spare a few minutes.”
Woo nods with a soft laugh. “Okay. I’ll just get into detail via text later. I gotta bring these coffees back or they’ll chew me out for the rest of the night for being late. Oh, but do you need someone to walk home with you?”
The idea of having your not-work crush escorting you home flusters you more than it should and when you take another sip of your drink, it nearly goes down the wrong hole. Woo pats your back in comforting fashion when you sputter from your coffee, tears stinging your eyes as you attempt to breathe like a normal person. Fuck, you must look so fucking weird right now.
“I-I, um, sorry about that.” You cough into your fist, laughing uneasily as you grip your drink a little too tightly. “No, it’s fine. I only live a few blocks away.”
Now that you mention it, does that mean Woo is the same? If he’s out here in this specific neighborhood at this specific hour, that would only mean he lives in the area, or is at least staying for the meantime, right? But before you could get swept up by your own curiosity, you immediately sweep any and all ideas under the rug.
“Oh, that’s—that’s good to know.”
He sounds disappointed. Why does he sound disappointed?
“So I guess this is goodbye? ” you start.
Woo nods briskly. “Yup. I’ll keep in touch.”
You chuckle. “That’s what you said last time.”
Whoa. Were you propositioning him or something? Sometimes, it baffles you how one minute, you’re choking on a cup of coffee—several shades embarrassed—and the next, you’re practically daring him to text you like he said he would.
“And I’ll make good on that as soon as time permits.” Woo shakes his head with a laugh. “It was nice seeing you again, though. Good luck with your exams.”
You can’t help the way your cheeks heat up yet again at the thought of him having remembered that you mentioned your exams. “Thanks. I think I need all the luck I can get.”
When Woo turns to look at you through those thick-rimmed glasses, you almost wish you could see the smile that’s undoubtedly spreading behind that pesky mask of his.
“I’ll be happy to give it to you every time then.”
Today was probably the shittiest day of the week.
Not only did you spectacularly flunk the exam you took this morning whilst running on less than two hours of sleep, but your thesis adviser emailed you about several concerns regarding the latest version of your manuscript. Needless to say, you spent a good chunk of your day holed up in the university library, consulting new reference materials to back up your data since the ones you used were much too outdated for your adviser’s liking.
It should’ve been something you’d consider a walk in the park, given the many revisions that have preceded this one, but it just so happens that you’ve got three more exams to worry about for the remainder of the week. Meaning, you had to squeeze in a few minutes of studying in between editing your newest draft and telling yourself that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if you got held back for one semester before graduating.
You’ve been so caught up with your piling academic responsibilities that you’ve barely looked at your phone. You only deigned to dig it out of the deepest pit of your backpack when you got a little hungry and wondered if they still let food delivery guys past the school gates. To your surprise, you’re greeted with a few text messages that you immediately feel horrible for not replying to the moment they were delivered.
Unknown Number [10:45]: So about those adoption requirements…
Unknown Number [11:33]: Oh. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. It’s Woo.
Ignoring the fact that you’re obviously famished, you hastily type in a response after marking down Woo’s number with a black cat emoji right next to his name. It takes a moment because you’re so shaky, you end up suffering from a few typos here and there.
Me [13:10]: hey! sorry i was a bit busy and i just saw these…
Me [13:10]: what do you wanna know? i’m on a self-imposed lunch break rn
Woo 🐈⬛ [13:15]: No worries, I figured you got a long day ahead. Hope lunch is good at least.
Me [13:16]: actually, i haven’t ordered anything yet ‘cause time got away from me but Anyways
Me [13:16]: you wanted details abt the adoption process?
Woo 🐈⬛ [13:18]: What? You haven't eaten yet?
Me [13:18]: yeah, but it’s no big deal. i could just have some food delivered.
Woo 🐈⬛ [13:19]: Well, I’m out right now. I could just buy some food for you and drop it off.
Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when you read each word of Woo’s text message. Is he being serious right now? The guy just paid for your coffee last night—a coffee that you forgot to pay back because of how surprising the circumstances were. Now he’s offering to buy you lunch?
Me [13:20]: you really don’t have to, i swear!! i’ve still got a few discount vouchers in baenim
Woo 🐈⬛ [13:22]: I insist. I’ve got my bike with me anyway.
Me [13:22]: bike? like, a bicycle?
Woo 🐈⬛ [13:23]: Mmm. Close. Anyway, what food do you want?
Now what the hell does that mean?
Part of you feels like you should be freaked out with how…kind he’s being to you. The world is full of weirdos who play the nice guy just to do something despicable to you in the end. Yet another part of you—a less reasonable one, admittedly—insists that Woo is nothing like that, despite the fact that you barely know the guy.
Then again, you’re tired, stressed out, and barely slept a wink last night. If the hot guy you’ve been quote-unquote crushing on is offering to buy you food, where’s the harm in accepting?
Me [13:25]: fine. i could use some yangnyeom chicken and tteokbokki.
Woo 🐈⬛ [13:26]: Nice. I know a good place.
Woo 🐈⬛ [13:27]: I’ll head out in a few, so just text me the address.
Right after sending your university’s pin location to Woo, you start to consider the chance of him being some sort of serial stalker. Could he be biding his time, trying to let your guard down and easing personal information out of you so he could do something nefarious when he gets you alone? Fuck. Maybe it’s a good idea you didn’t let him walk you home yesterday…
But despite the very real possibility of Woo being someone with bad intentions regardless of how nice he is, you see no problem in meeting him at the school gates when he arrives with your food. In fact, you don’t even feel apprehensive of him in spite of all the ideas you conjured in your head over the past hour.
Me [14:15]: where are you?
Woo 🐈⬛ [14:16]: Parked by the curb in front of a bookstore. You can’t miss me.
Me [14:16]: i don’t even know what you Look like today, genius
Woo 🐈⬛ [14:17]: I told you, I’ve got my bike with me. I don’t see anyone else looking the same way within a twenty meter radius.
You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. For someone you deemed as ‘nice’, he can get pretty mouthy if he wants to.
You head to the general direction of the bookstore that Woo was talking about as you try to ignore your growling stomach. Given that the lunch rush is more or less over, the usual crowd of pedestrians has considerably thinned out and it makes it easier for you to scan the vicinity for any bike-wielding impromptu delivery guys.
However, the only person that does stand out to you is some dude wearing a black leather jacket, chilling next to an expensive looking motorcycle as he taps away on his phone with a matching pair of leather gloves and everything. His face is obscured by a black helmet and you would’ve let your gaze go past him had it not been for a sudden realization that hits you right there.
Bike? Like, a bicycle?
Mmm. Close.
“Woo!”
Of course the leather jacket-clad, expensive motorcycle-wielding man looks up at the sound of his name being called from across the street. The visor of his helmet is drawn all the way up and you could see that he isn’t wearing his glasses for good reason. He seems to perk up at the sight of you before grabbing something from the trunk of his motorcycle and jogging to meet you where you stood.
You’ve seen him sporting a spectrum of comfortable outfits during his late night visits, but this is the first time you’ve witnessed Woo looking as dapper as he is now.
“Late lunch delivery?”
You don’t even try to hide the way you roll your eyes as you accept the paper bag he hands to you. “Thanks. How much do I owe you now? You already got me coffee and now lunch.”
He shakes his head and you find it a little ridiculous, considering he’s still wearing that huge helmet of his. “It’s on me. It’s the least I could do to repay you for being so accommodating.”
“Woo, I haven’t done shit for you ‘cause you’re yet to properly talk to me about the adoption process. What on earth are you talking about?”
“But you will do shit for me when we do talk about it. I’m just repaying the favor in advance,” he rebuts cheekily before pulling back the sleeve of his jacket to check for the time. “Though as much as I want to do that now, I need to catch a flight in a few hours.”
That makes your expression morph into disbelief. “You need to catch a what?”
“A flight. Gotta head to Japan for a few days,” Woo tells you nonchalantly, as if heading to Japan for a few days is something people do on a regular basis. “Can you make sure no one else takes Hani home before I can settle everything on my end?”
You tell yourself that you’ve got time to mull over what this guy does for a living some other time. Clearing your throat, you manage an awkward smile. “Um, yeah, sure thing. You’re really attached to her, aren’t you?”
“You can say that again,” he laughs softly. “She kinda reminds me of myself from a long time ago… But anyway, I’ve gotta go. Tell me what you think about the chicken when you’re done with it?”
You nod. “I’ll be as brutally honest with my review as possible.”
“Just the way I like it,” Woo replies, eyes crinkling with amusement.
When you head back to the library, the person you were sharing a table with looked after your stuff for you while you were gone. You thank her profusely before settling back into your seat, grabbing the takeout packages from the paper bag that Woo personally delivered to you.
Before you can start wolfing down the delectable-smelling chicken he brought, however, you notice a cute sticky note plastered on the lid—a doodle of a cat with glasses and a speech bubble that says you can do it~ scribbled on the corner.
Don’t overwork yourself. It’s been ages since my last exam, but I know how hard it can be. Make sure to eat properly so you can absorb all the info you need.
When your head bangs against one of the many wooden tables in the library, the person seated at the far end stares at you with a concerned look. You can’t muster the energy to assure her that everything’s alright, though because…
That quote-unquote crush of yours?
It’s starting to become a little too real.
You’re in the middle of throwing out old files from the back room archive when Mina peeks her head into the doorway and says, “You’ve got a visitor again.”
One glance at the old wall clock hung above the steel cabinets tells you that it’s midnight, but you know for one that this mystery visitor isn’t Woo this time around.
You’ve been keeping in touch with him through Kakao, since you can’t exactly afford to send international text messages to Japan and your new friend(?) has been keeping you posted about his shenanigans for the past week. He hasn’t replied to your last message from over three hours ago and you’re not so delusional to think he got on a plane back to Korea and is suddenly here to surprise you.
When you see who it is, though, your heart warms just a little.
“Why haven’t you been texting me back?” Haewon, your sister who’s two years younger, gets up from the seats lined up across the walls of the lobby. “I missed you!”
You shake your head before pulling her into a hug. “I missed you, she says. But you’re really just looking for someone to show you around the city again, aren’t you?”
“Hey, missing you and needing a chaperone aren’t mutually exclusive,” she huffs and you notice that she’s in full fangirl gear again—a lightstick hanging off a strap slung across her shoulder, a windbreaker with her favorite boyband’s logo sewn on the front pocket, and of course, a photocard of Mingyu dangling from her little handbag.
Despite the fact that she’s also in college, Haewon chose to stay in your hometown in Jeju to pursue her studies there instead. The first few months since you left were the hardest—so unused to not having your little sister go on and on and on about how much she loves SEVENTEEN. But you’ve also come to appreciate the peace and quiet that living alone in Seoul affords you.
Besides, with how much money she’s raised for being one of the more well-known event organizers in her fandom, Haewon can pretty much come visit you in Seoul whenever she feels like it.
“I’m guessing your thirteen boyfriends have a thing going on?” you ask before glancing over at the playroom to make sure there aren’t any kittens left inside.
Haewon nods enthusiastically. “Yup, they’re having a mini fanmeet outside their company building in a few days—”
“In a few days?” you parrot before gesturing for her to follow you in the break room so you can get changed. “What’re you doing out here all dressed up then?”
Your little sister rolls her eyes. “Unnie, I’m not some weirdo who wears their merch on a regular night for no reason. I came from this little cupsleeve event for Wonwoo’s birthday. Things ran a little late because we had to help clean up at the café.”
While you’re not well-versed in fandom jargon, you have learned a few terms from Haewon here and there. Plus, she already took you to a cupsleeve event for another member’s birthday once. You’re not really sure who it was because the only one you do consistently remember is Mingyu—your sister’s ultimate bias, apparently.
“What made you stop by then?” you wonder as you exchanged your work uniform for a loose shirt. “You didn’t tell me you were coming in advance. I could’ve fetched you from the airport.”
“I did tell you in advance.” She pouts. “But you said you were busy working on your manuscript when I did, so it must’ve slipped your mind.”
Oh. Okay, now you feel bad. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you this weekend with dinner?”
Haewon whines. “Unnie, their fanmeet is on Saturday and I leave on Sunday.”
“So? How long is that going to be anyway?”
“Uh, all day?”
You sigh. “Fine. How about you crash in my place tonight and we can rewatch Hometown Cha Cha Cha while stuffing our faces with ramen?”
“Deal.”
After timing out for the evening, you say goodbye to Mina, who’s just waiting up for your other coworkers who’ll cover the next shift. Haewon talks your ear off about what happened in the event she attended as you both walked back to your apartment and, while only some of the things she’s saying makes sense to you, it’s nice to be in your little sister’s company again.
“Oh, by the way, here.”
You stare at her curiously as she rummages through her bag, handing you a photocard enclosed in a dainty-looking toploader.
“What’s this for?” you ask.
“You told me back then that Wonwoo was your type,” Haewon explains with a grin. “So I did my best in one of the parlor games and won that extremely in-demand photocard just for you.”
You scan the piece of idol merchandise in your hands for a few minutes more—staring at Wonwoo’s face as if waiting for him to speak. You never really understood the appeal of collecting photocards. As long as it makes Haewon happy, you won’t bat an eyelash.
But now she’s giving you one to keep for yourself and the more you stare at the idol printed on the sturdy paper, the more you think that you’ve seen him somewhere.
Then again, Haewon has been talking about these boys since they debuted years ago. The familiarity must’ve stemmed from those numerous fancams and music show performances that she forced you to sit down and watch with her.
“You better take care of him, okay?” Haewon pouts. “If I see him suddenly being sold for a high price, I’m never going to let you live it down.”
“I barely know how the market for this works, so you don’t have to worry about that,” you chuckle before carefully sliding the toploader inside your own bag. “So what ramen are we eating? Shin Ramyun or something else?”
Me [21:17]: btw, when are you coming back again?
Me [21:20]: someone was asking about hani earlier and i feel like you’ve gotta come back here to assert your dominance.
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:35]: Shit, sorry. I forgot about the time.
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:35]: My friends and I had a birthday celebration at the izakaya near our hotel. It’s been a while since we got to unwind like this.
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:36]: Anyway, who’s the funny guy who thought he could have my cat?
Me [02:38]: wow. YOUR cat? 🤨🤨🤨
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:40]: You’re still awake?
Me [02:40]: yeah, my little sister is in seoul and we’re binging our favorite drama
Me [02:41]: how about you? why are You still awake?
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:45]: Taking care of drunk friends. Remember Soonyoung?
Me [02:45]: what about him?
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:47]: Pleading for forgiveness in the toilet while he retches his guts out.
Me [02:47]: huh. some birthday party. who’s the celebrant anyway?
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:47]: Me.
“Whoa. You okay?” Haewon asks when you suddenly lurch forward on the couch, choking on the ramen you were in the middle of slurping.
You thank your sister when she offers you a glass of water and you gulp it down to soothe the burning sensation in your throat. “It’s fine. I just received a surprising text is all.”
“From a boyfriend?” she teases.
You scowl. “No. From a friend. Just a friend.”
“Boo. But you’ll tell me once you land yourself your very own Hong Dusik, right?”
The look on your face only worsens at the reference she’s made to the drama that’s still playing on screen. “I’d actually rather die than have someone like Dusik as a boyfriend. If the whole enemies to lovers thing works with Hyejin, it really won't with me.”
“True, you’ve always been a mellow lover,” Haewon agrees and you roll your eyes. “That’s why Wonwoo would be perfect for you~”
“I think me landing a Hong Dusik-esque boyfriend is more likely than me getting together with a world famous idol but okay.”
You’re momentarily distracted from your conversation when your phone vibrates in your lap again, and— Fuck.
You forgot to reply to Woo.
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:55]: Fell asleep on me already?
Me [02:56]: no, no. sorry. my sister was just talking to me.
Me [02:56]: anyway, it’s your BIRTHDAY?
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:57]: Hahaha, yes. It’s been a while since I could sit down and actually celebrate it with my friends.
Me [02:58]: is that why you went all the way to japan? for a little birthday getaway?
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:58]: Hm… something like that
Me [03:00]: i’ll give you hani’s adoption papers as a gift
Me [03:01]: that or you let ME treat YOU to something nice for a change
Woo 🐈⬛ [03:05]: Well, I’ll be back in Korea this Saturday, but won’t be free until late at night.
Me [03:05]: back to regular programming, huh?
Me [03:06]: we can celebrate later if you’re busy, you know.
Woo 🐈⬛ [03:07]: It’s okay. I wanted to spend time with you anyways.
“You sure that’s just a friend you’re talking to?” Haewon asks with an unimpressed stare as you choke on your instant noodles for the second time. “The only way I’d react like that to a text is if my friend told me one of our professors is fucking his TA despite being married. If that’s the case, you gotta let me in on the juicy details.”
You make a face at her. “Isn’t that way too specific?”
“Isn’t that way too specific?” Haewon mocks. “Whatever you’ve got going on with this friend of yours, promise I’ll be the first to know once you make it official?”
“Haewon!”
For the sake of your own sanity, you only reply to Woo’s message once you’re tucked in bed and Haewon is comfortably dozing on the couch in the living room. She’s a heavy sleeper that passes out quickly after a long day, so you don’t feel particularly worried about your little sister barging into your room when you type out a response.
Me [03:43]: gotcha. just meet me at the shelter after your thing.
Me [03:45]: happy birthday, woo.
You don’t wait for him to type out a reply anymore—eyes drooping into slumber as you let the screen of your phone fade into sleep mode.
Unbeknownst to you, a man who just finished putting his intoxicated friends to bed an ocean away stares at your chat history with a fond smile, heart racing just a few beats faster at the prospect of what awaits him at home.
You’re just about done cleaning up the big dog kennels when Woo drops by on a bright Saturday morning.
The sound of his deep ‘hello’ nearly made you drop all the cleaning utensils you were about to put away. When you turn around to confirm that the shelter’s nighttime regular has indeed switched things up and decided to visit during daylight hours, you’re too busy scowling at him to mind the fact that you’re all gross and sweaty from all the hard labor.
Sure, you texted him about taking up a day shift today, but you definitely didn’t expect him to visit when he just got back to Korea a few hours ago.
Surprisingly, Woo isn’t donned in all black this time around. He’s wearing a gray pullover with some muddled text you can’t quite read with the hood pulled all the way up, concealing the white cap resting on top of his head. Of course, his signature face mask is still in between you and his no doubt handsome countenance, but you’ll take what you can get.
“What’re you doing here?” you ask, a bit breathless before you notice that takeout bag he’s setting down on one of the empty tables. “I thought you’re not gonna be free until tonight.”
“Thought you could use another lunch fix,” he says nonchalantly. “Well that and I wanted to personally give you some cool trinkets from Japan.”
The sentiment makes your heart stir a little, but you end up voicing out a dry laugh before stuffing the shelter’s cleaning paraphernalia inside the broom closet. “Keep doing all these nice things and I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”
Woo laughs but does absolutely nothing to deny the allegations.
“Here.” Your brows arch a little when he fishes something from the pocket of his hoodie, handing it to you. “I wasn’t sure which one you’d like so I just got all of them.”
You’re a bit reluctant to receive his gift in your current state—dirty hands, dirty clothes, dirty everything—but Woo doesn’t seem to mind when he drops a small plastic package full of…
“Kitties!” You coo out loud at the assortment of colorful enamel pins inside before gawking at him. “Seriously, Woo, you’re way too nice to me. I’m starting to feel indebted.”
He shakes his head with an adorable laugh. “It’s nothing. I swear. They just reminded me of you when my friends and I passed this one booth at a festival.”
Shit. They reminded him of you?
“So are you finally going to sit down and talk to me about adopting Hani or are you gonna keep skirting around again, mister?” You place a hand on your hip, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction as you tuck his gift safely in the back pocket of your jeans.
“Surprise, I actually came here to do just that. I still have an hour free before I have to go to work,” Woo admits and him mentioning work taps in on your innate curiosity about what he does for a living. “But your coworker said something about rounding up the dogs and putting them back in the kennel?”
Oh. Shit.
As if on cue, Mina—along with a few on shift volunteers—emerge down the hall, all of their hands gripping several leashes as an army of dogs fills the hallway with excited and agitated barking alike.
“Are we good to go?” Mina yells over the noise.
Trying not to look too disappointed that your time with Woo has been cut short, you give Mina a thumbs up before striding off to meet them halfway. You take it upon yourself to take a few of the dogs off one of the volunteers’ hands and he looks at you with withering relief when you do.
“Yep. Everything’s as fresh as a daisy now,” you inform them. “Hope these guys didn’t make too big of a mess up in the front though. That would mean Kino’s turn for cleaning duty came a little early.”
“Hey!” The volunteer in question complains. “I’ve got a date later, noona. Don’t go saying weird stuff like that.”
You’re just about to tease him a little more but you suddenly feel the force of a couple of former strays tugging you forward disappear. That’s when you notice that Woo made his way to your side, guiding the dogs silently as he helps lead the first of them to the kennel.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insist but your friend(?) merely shakes his head.
“It’s no big deal,” Woo reassures.
It doesn’t help that this particular hallway is a little cramped. You’re practically standing arm to arm as you all make it to the end. You can practically smell the expensive cologne wafting from his clothes amidst the scent of dog fur that’s starting to permeate the air. When Woo lets out another soft laugh when one of the dogs he has on a leash licks his hand, you know it’s over for you.
It takes about half an hour to settle all fifteen big dogs into their respective cages and by the time it’s over, you’re convinced that you need a shower now more than ever. As Mina and the rest of the volunteers head back to the reception room, you decide to take a break and help yourself to the takeout that Woo personally delivered yet again.
“Thanks for your help. Cleaning day is really one of the toughest days of the month. Especially when we have to clean up the big dog kennels,” you sigh before plopping into an empty seat in the break room.
“Don’t mention it,” he says and you find yourself imagining a smile behind his mask yet again. “I actually have a dog at home, too, so I would now. But she’s definitely more tame than these guys.”
That makes you pause. “Is that why you’re beating around the bush so much about adopting Hani? You think she won’t get along with your dog?”
He hums a little before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “That’s one of the reasons, yes.”
“Well, you won’t know unless you try,” you huff as you unseal the takeout package—the delectable scent of yangnyeom chicken pervading your senses. “Anyway, you’re going to sign the papers this time, right? Right?”
You have a feeling that you’ve finally got him cornered, but before Woo can even formulate a response, a ringtone that definitely isn’t yours starts going off inside the break room.
Your friend(????) answers it with a wistful sigh.
It’s so quiet that you can vaguely make out the voice at the other end of the line saying, “Hyung. Everyone’s looking for you. Where are you?”
You try not to stare at Woo as he takes the call out of pure decency—distracting yourself with your food. But you can’t help but listen in when their conversation is the only thing you can hear at the moment.
“Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Tell everyone I’m sorry for the hold up, Mingyu.”
The moment that name leaves Woo’s mouth, you freeze mid-chew. Did he say Mingyu? Like…the idol that Haewon is downright obsessed with? No… It was probably just someone with the same name. It is pretty common, after all.
When he ends the call, you flash him a tight-lipped smile that manages to conceal your momentary surprise. “Rain check?”
“Rain check,” Woo sighs in agreement.
You nod. “It’s okay. The more you keep delaying Hani’s adoption, the more presents I get from you.”
“And you’re absolutely right about that,” he humors you before reaching out to ruffle your hair. You haven’t even recovered from that little gesture he just did when he asks, “Hope our plans for later are still up though?”
Woo must’ve caught the look on your face with the way he retracts the hand that was just on top of your head to snicker into his palm. “Don’t tell me you forgot. We were supposed to celebrate my birthday, remember?”
Curse you and your habit of making plans at ass o’clock in the morning. You always forget them!
“Uh, it kinda slipped my mind?” you admit sheepishly as you pick at your food. “I ended up going for a day shift ‘cause I have to see my sister off at the airport tomorrow.”
He nods in earnest and it kind of makes you feel bad about your short term memory. “It’s alright. I’ll just drop by some other time to get the paperwork over with. I’ve disturbed you enough as it is.”
“No, it’s fine!”
Your sudden outburst makes Woo look up at you with a confused stare. “Hm?”
“I-I can still meet up with you later,” you stammer and you have to force yourself not to bury your face in your hands out of sheer embarrassment. Pull yourself together, damn. “If you’re not too tired from your plans for the day, of course.”
He mentioned something about having to go to work, and while you can’t imagine what sort of work has to be urgently done on a Saturday, you’ll still respect his time.
Woo blinks for a few seconds, as if still digesting what you just said before his eyes disappear behind his glasses with a soft chuckle. Your brows cinch together, not getting what’s so funny.
“Noted. I’ll come pick you up here later, still? If you’re not comfortable with sharing your address with me yet.”
He’s so thoughtful, you might actually give him all your personal details at this point. But at the end of the day you’re actually a person with a head full of common sense, so you answer him with, “Sure thing. Thanks for going out of your way to come hang out despite how busy you are.”
“No, thank you for always putting up with me,” Woo insists with a shake of his head. “I swear I’m not hassling you with this whole adoption thing on purpose. There’s just…a lot of things to consider on my end. I hope you understand.”
You wave away his concerns with a laugh. “Just keep getting me more of this chicken and we’ll call it quits.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
When Woo sees himself out of the break room, you fumble for the plastic package in the back of your jeans—taking one of the adorable black cat enamels before pinning it in the front pocket of your uniform. You can’t help the smile that creeps up your face when you see your reflection on the small mirror sitting on the table.
How could you be this down bad for someone whose entire face you’ve never even seen before?
Haewon 🪷 [17:20]: Are you suuure you don’t wanna come to the fan meet?
Haewon 🪷 [17:21]: I’ve still got a few extra passes :3c you’d get to see wonwoo in the flesh!
Me [17:30]: why do you want to set me up with wonwoo so badly
Haewon 🪷 [17:31]: Bc we’re sisters? And it’d be cool if we stanned MinWon together?
Me [17:32]: …not even gonna ask you to elaborate on that
Haewon 🪷 [18:00]: Unnie ㅠㅠ
Me [18:00]: why? what’s wrong, hae?
Haewon 🪷[ 18:05]: Mingyu looks sooooo much better than I remember
Haewon 🪷[18:06]: The girlfriend allegations must be true
Haewon 🪷 [18:06]: Only a man in love can smile like that!
Me [18:07]: or: a man who relies on fanservice to get paid?
Haewon 🪷[ 18:08]: RUDE!!!!
Haewon 🪷 [18:08]: Here’s a pic of Wonwoo to shut you up
Haewon 🪷 [18:09]: [Sent an attachment]
Me [18:10]: idk if i should find the fact that you think some kpop guy affects me in any capacity amusing or concerning
Haewon 🪷 [18:11]: !!!! Take that back wtf?? Wonwoo isn’t just ‘some kpop guy’?????
Me [18:10]: sure he isn’t.
Haewon 🪷 [19:45]: Good news!!
Me [19:45]: you’re finally going to get off my back about the whole wonwoo thing?
Haewon 🪷 [19:46]: No ^_^ My Monday final got canceled so I can stay in Seoul for a day more!
Haewon 🪷 [19:46]: Aka you don’t have to wake up early to drag your ass to the airport w me
Me [19:47]: oh. that’s cool. what’re your plans for tomorrow then?
Haewon 🪷 [19:48]: Gonna attend the pre-recording for a music show :3
Me [19:50]: …Haewon i swear to god if you ask me to do what you’re about to ask me to do
Haewon 🪷 [19:50]: Come with me pretty pleaaaase?
Haewon 🪷 [19:51]: I’m using my adorable dongsaeng powers to get you to agree
Me [19:55]: there’s no talking my way out of this, is there?
Haewon 🪷 [19:55]: Nope <3
Me [19:56]: fine. just text me the details. i need to go out soon.
Haewon 🪷 [19:56]: HEHE have fun !!
You weren’t lying when you texted Haewon that you had to go out soon. You agreed that you’d meet up with Woo for his post-birthday celebration at 9 P.M. Hell, you even called a local bakery to have a personalized cake made for pick-up before you head over to the rendezvous point. Everything was already set right from the start.
But then you ended up falling asleep while scrolling through Twitter and now the clock reads 10:45 P.M., and you’re rushing to pull on a ratty sweater instead of the cute outfit you planned for the night as you rush out of your apartment.
Me [10:47]: FUCK IM SORRY
Me [10:47]: i was SUPPOSED to take a five minute nap but i didn’t realize how tired i was
Me [10:48]: are you still up to hang out? i totally get it if not though.
You immediately stuff your phone in the pocket of your jeans—not even bothering to glance at Woo’s reply when it vibrates with a text notification. Your conscience is much too guild-ridden to read any sort of reassurance he’d undoubtedly give to you despite how long you’ve made him wait.
Two hours, jeez. You’d be furious if someone was that late on you.
When you arrive at the shelter after doing a couple of quick detours, you’re panting like you just won first place in a marathon. Needless to say, it’s a pitiful sight to behold when Woo is leaning across his motorcycle—looking much too attractive in that stupid leather jacket of his.
“Is this what the kids call fashionably late these days?” he chuckles.
If you weren’t so apologetic, you would’ve rolled your eyes so instead, you give him a crumpled paper bag with a smile that borders on overcompensating.
“Happy birthday?”
Woo looks like he was just about to say something until a quiet mewl interrupts him midway. You gaze at him with a puzzled look until he stifles a soft laugh, pulling the lapel of his jacket open to reveal—
“Hani?” You scowl.
The black kitten is tucked away snugly in the inner pocket of Woo’s jacket—nearly blending in with the leather. It’s almost as if two pairs of big yellow eyes are staring at you from a void.
“Finally got the papers over with when you fell asleep on me,” Woo chuckles before scratching behind her ears. “So I guess it wasn’t so bad that you made me wait for two hours.”
“Hey, I said I was sorry!”
“Yes, and I heard you,” he insists before peering inside the paper bag you gave him. “What’s this?”
“No peeking until we get to your good old thinking spot,” you scold, smacking his hand away.
A hand that you just noticed is also clad in a leather glove.
He shakes his head playfully before putting his arms up in surrender. “For someone who’s two hours late, you’re pretty demanding.”
“Woo!”
During his last few days in Japan, Woo told you about his favorite thinking spot that’s specifically located beneath Hannam Bridge. There’s an old watchtower that was built before the bridge even existed. I go there when I want to clear my head.
When he said he wanted to bring you there for his belated birthday bash, the ghastly possibility of him turning out to be a serial killer luring you to your doom crossed your mind for half a second before you ended up agreeing anyway.
Now here you are, drowning in the musk of his cologne as you press your cheek against the fabric of his jacket. He’s definitely going past the speed limit with how sharply the wind sings in your ears, but instead of complaining about it, you tighten your arms around his torso—letting the warmth of his body seep into yours.
“It’s not so scary if you don’t think about it too much,” you hear him shout from the front. “Look to your right! This is why I’ve always liked doing late night rides!”
Easy for him to say. He’s brave enough to harbor a kitten inside his jacket and a person who’s never ridden a motorcycle before at a hundred kilometers per hour! But despite how terrified you are of falling off his bike, you do as he says anyways.
When you tilt your gaze in the direction of the Han River, you’re immediately greeted by the dazzling lights that glimmer across the water. You haven’t been to the districts on the other side of the river, but you think you’re content with getting to see them from afar.
With the roar of an engine ringing in your ears. With the summer evening breeze whipping past your face.
With your arms around someone who’s slowly but surely leaving his mark in your life.
“Are you sure this is legal?”
Your companion glances behind him as he makes his way to the aforementioned watch tower—a knapsack full of god-knows-what slung around his shoulder while he carries the paper bag with your “gift” in his free hand. “I’ve never seen a single ‘No Trespassing' sign since I’ve started going here ages ago, so probably.”
“Probably?” you parrot and Hani, who you’ve deigned to carry in your arms after that grueling motorcycle ride, meows as if she’s just as incredulous as you are. “So it’s still possible for us to get arrested?”
“Yeah, but what’s life without a little risk?”
Unbelievable.
Yet, despite the common sense you were oh-so proud of this morning, you still follow him up the winding steps of the watchtower, which is hardly even a watchtower given that it’s a few meters beneath the widest bridge in the city. Woo wasn’t lying about his strange description of it after all.
“Well, here we are,” he announces when the two of you reach the platform on the very top. The edges are lined with metal rails that are beginning to rust with age, but seem sturdy enough to grant you some sense of security—no matter how sparse. “I’ll just set this up. You can go enjoy the view if you want.”
Woo doesn’t even let you get a word in before he unzips his bag and brings out a checkered picnic blanket. He gently lays it across the dusty concrete, smoothing out the fabric before fishing some more stuff inside his gym-bag-turned-picnic-basket. You keep yourself from making any snide comments about his choice of venue because despite the unorthodox location, you actually get why he’d find it peaceful here.
It’s far enough from the freeway that the sound of vehicles rushing through the night can barely reach your ears. If you listen closely enough, you can even hear the water flowing below much more clearly. You close your eyes to get a better feel of the place—imagining a six-foot something guy leaning across the rusty railings as he watches the city lights sparkle across the Han River.
“There we go.”
You startle when you feel Woo’s warm, leather-clad hand on your shoulder—prompting you to turn around and see his handiwork. In the middle of the picnic blanket is something that looks suspiciously like a portable emergency light. How he got his hands on something like that, you’re not entirely sure, so you decide to focus on the other details instead.
Like the two unopened bottles of soju right next to a take-out package of your favorite yangnyeom chicken.
“Didn’t we agree that I was treating you to something this time around?” you grumble as you absentmindedly stroke Hani’s fur.
“We did, but then you overslept and—”
“Okay, fine! Point taken!”
Woo snickers as he hands you the paper bag you brought for the trip. It looks even worse than it was when you ran all the way to the shelter and you can only hope the package inside isn’t completely ruined.
You decide to let Hani down inside the gym bag that Woo left unzipped. Surprisingly, the newly adopted kitten makes a home out of it quickly—curling up into a ball as her tail swishes every now and again. Cute.
“Don’t judge, okay?” You breathe out nervously as you take the plastic container out of the bag. “I had a legit cake custom-made and everything but…yeah. Overslept.”
When Woo doesn’t respond a second too long, your gaze nervously rivets to his face to parse for a reaction. Was he disappointed? Should you have gotten a different design?
The moment you see the dazzled look in his eyes, however, you realize that isn’t the case.
He receives the little cupcake with open arms when you give it to him. It’s chocolate topped with bad fondant icing art, but you didn’t really have a choice. When you spotted it in the convenience store earlier, you grabbed the one that looked most like a kitten and dipped. It’s nice to know that he might actually like it after all.
“Oh and uh, sorry, but I couldn’t bring any candles for you to blow,” you add sheepishly. “You can just make a wish and pretend.”
Woo’s gaze drifts to you for a moment before his eyes crinkle with laughter. “I don’t really have to do that though. My wish has already come true.”
Huh?
To your chagrin, he doesn’t elaborate. Instead, Woo invites you to sit on the picnic blanket—carefully removing his boots so he wouldn’t track dirt all over the food and you follow suit.
You fill the silence with your goings-on for the rest of the day and how exactly you ended up dozing off and he’s kind enough to listen to every word. However, when you ask if he wants to do a toast, he shakes his head.
“I need to drive you back, remember?”
You shoot him a dirty look. “So you took me all the way out here just so I can have two bottles of soju all to myself while you sit there and listen to me talk about my day?”
“...Yes?”
Men are so fucking infuriating sometimes, you can hardly believe it.
“Nope.” You firmly shake your head—plucking the bottle opener he set down on the blanket to pop the caps off. “You’re drinking with me. Just quit driving past the speed limit so we won’t die in a freak accident.”
You immediately notice the stiffness in his shoulders as you shove the bottle of soju in his hands and part of you feels kind of bad for being pushy. For a moment, you allow yourself to scrutinize him for a bit longer. What could possibly be deterring him from drinking after going out of his way to do all this?
That’s when you realize he still has his mask on.
Does he…have issues about people seeing his face?
That would definitely explain why he hasn’t once taken it off in all the times you’ve met him so far. With that in mind, you promptly decide to tell him that okay, he doesn’t have to if he really doesn’t want to, but then Woo is already reaching up to peel the blasted face mask off.
Your chest seizes with panic, hands flying in front of you to keep him from doing something against his will. But the effort is futile because it only takes a second for him to remove and…
Fuck.
Cue the choir of angels because goddamn does this man look like heaven.
Woo shifts somewhat uncomfortably under your stare, as if he’s waiting for you to blow up all over his face or something. But you’re much too mesmerized by too many things to form any sort of response right away.
The sharp cut of his jaw. The gentle curve of his Cupid’s bow. The tinge of red spreading across his cheeks.
“I can’t believe you’ve been gatekeeping yourself from me all this time,” you whisper with a strained laugh—purposely peeling your gaze away for the sake of your own sanity. “I knew you were hot, but…God. I hate you.”
“You…don’t recognize me?”
The question brings you out of your feelings for a moment, making you glance at him with a questioning stare. “Am I supposed to?”
Woo gapes at the question like he didn’t expect that to be your response before shaking his head vigorously.
“N-No. Anyway, you said I was hot but you hate me?”
You narrow your eyes at him before taking your first swig of soju. “Don’t start getting all cocky with me, mister! I’ve got eyes and I can’t help that you’re objectively attractive. Just stating facts here.”
When Woo smiles for the first time without the figurative cockblock that is his signature black face mask and honestly? If you died right now, you’d die happily.
The night presses on in a haze of soju, spicy chicken, and the occasional visit from Hani who uses either of your laps as her personal bed for about five minutes before switching to the other person.
This is the longest you’ve been with Woo and you’re starting to realize that he isn’t much of a talker, which you completely understand. You can’t imagine someone who’s hell-bent on keeping what he looks like a secret for so long being a chatterbox.
“Oh, but you mentioned something to me at the shelter one time,” you pipe up before scooping a forkful of chicken into your mouth.
“Yeah? What is it?” Woo asks softly as he pets Hani’s back.
Feeling just a little bit tipsy from the alcohol, you try not to stare too hard at his handsome face or the way his lip curls at the edges with a tiny smile when Hani purrs from his touch.
“You said Hani reminded you of yourself from before,” you whisper as your gaze drifts to his leather-gloved hands. “Is it okay to ask what you meant by that?”
The sound of the river flowing beneath the watchtower fills your ears as you bask in the silence. It’s a pretty personal question. You’d totally get it if he decides not to answer, but you’re much too curious to keep yourself from asking.
“Well, I wasn’t a stray or anything, but there was a time in my life that I felt so…aimless. I lost someone near and dear to me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it for a very long time.”
Hearing the earnest ring of Woo’s voice, you force yourself to snap out of your subtle inebriation—scooting a little bit closer to him on the blanket to make sure you catch every word.
“I didn’t get into a life-threatening accident like this one did either, but…” He trails off for a moment, stroking the scar that you know runs along Hani’s sternum but has long healed with his fingers.
“I managed to get back on track when the people around me showed me their support. They didn’t leave even if all I wanted was to be left alone. If it weren’t for them, it might’ve taken me even longer to move past what happened. Worse, I might not have moved past it at all.
“When I saw Hani that day, she looked scared of all the other cats. Like she wasn’t ready to let anyone get close to her just yet.” Woo breathes deeply before taking a small sip from his bottle. “I guess I was the same way, too. Healing isn’t linear. Sometimes, when I think I’m all better, one day, I just spiral back to where I started in the next one. That’s…kind of where you fit into the picture, actually.”
The brief pause in his story makes you blink at him, surprised. “Me?”
He nods. “You used to feed the strays in your neighborhood, right? You even had a schedule and everything.”
“That was months ago,” you mutter. “You mean you already knew me back then? Because of that?”
“I…actually live in that area, too.” He clears his throat, that familiar blush settling across his cheeks once again. “I often saw you feeding the strays because that’s usually the time I got back from the cemetery. One day, things got a bit too much and I kind of…broke down in the park instead of just doing that at home.”
He says it like he’s embarrassed and now that he mentioned it, you vaguely remember consoling a stranger during your days before volunteering at the shelter. You don’t recall much of it though—just the memory of awkwardly patting his back before sending him off feeling just a bit better because you saw him smile a little.
Other than that, you’re drawing blanks.
“How exactly did I help you, though? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I wouldn’t say you helped me or anything, but…” Woo pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose while slyly avoiding your eyes. “I distinctly remember you saying something like—”
Hey, it’s just a bad day. Or a bad week. Or a bad month. I don’t know. But it’s not a bad life. It’ll get better soon. I promise.
Fuck. Maybe you do remember.
“It didn’t really mean much to me at the time. Honestly, it kind of pissed me off at first,” Woo admits with a guilty chuckle before taking another sip. “But you were right. Sometimes, things got worse. Other times, it got better. But one day, I realized that I got to a point where it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.
“I’m not usually this open about my problems, but I learned overtime that talking about them makes them less taxing to deal with. Almost like I’m just talking about the weather, you know?” He smiles softly and you swear your heart melts at the sight of it. “And…I also don’t want to be closed off from others anymore. Back then, I mostly just kept everything to myself—bottling it all up until it was just unbearable.”
“Now you’re here spilling your guts out to some random college senior,” you snicker before taking another swig of your soju. You pout when you realize the bottle’s all empty before placing it back on the picnic blanket. “That’s some character development.”
“It really is.”
The silence sets once more and your eyes wander off to the city so close yet so far away. The lights from the skyscrapers glimmer like stars across the calm waters of the Han River and you like to think it compensates for the fact that the sky is blocked out by the bridge stretched far and wide above you.
This isn’t how you imagined your first stargazing date would be like, but it’s a good start.
Although, the moment the idea crosses your mind, you’re quick to jolt at your own thoughts.
This isn’t a date. You’re just celebrating his birthday together. Alone. On a picnic blanket. With one of the loveliest sceneries you’ve laid your eyes on. In a place where he claims that he never once showed to anyone else.
“Hey, is this—”
Your breath hitches in your throat when you turn to look at Woo—only to find his face mere inches from yours.
“What?” he whispers and despite the fact that you’re wearing a sweater, you feel goosebumps rise across the skin of your shoulders.
“Uh.” Fuck. “Is this a date?”
His mouth curves into a smile that you can’t quite get a read on. “It can be what you want it to be.”
“Okay,” you breathe out, suddenly feeling hot all over as his eyes flicker to your lips. “Just so you know, I don’t kiss on the first date.”
When Woo laughs again, it’s a deep-seated noise that makes your insides tingle with an indescribable feeling. You don’t really want to give it a name.
“Okay,” he repeats before pressing his forehead against yours. “We can have our first date next time then.”
Of course the sly fucker dives in for a kiss anyway.
“H-Hey,” you whisper in between, trying not to get too distracted with how plump his lips are as you keep holding him still by his broad shoulders. “You’re going to end up crushing Hani if you d-don’t cut it out!”
Woo sighs against your lips before pulling away regretfully. For a moment, he stares at the sleepy kitten on his lap, gazing around cluelessly after being roused from slumber. His expression softens for a moment as he scoops her up with both hands, settling her down in the comfort of his gym bag. She lets out a satisfied mewl before curling into a ball once more.
“Better?”
You’re not sure if he’s asking you or the cat, but…
“Better,” you whisper before fisting the lapels of his jacket and crushing your lips with his.
You don’t know where you’re pulling all this pent-up frustration from. During the very brief period that you’ve gotten closer to Woo, your general opinion about him never really deviated from he’s cute and he’s hot. Nothing more, nothing less.
Yet here you are, gasping into his mouth as he flattens his tongue against yours. A strong arm hooks around your waist, pressing your bodies infinitesimally closer and your skin is slowly hitting a fever pitch beneath your clothes. Something wild and all-consuming burns in your veins and you channel it into a moan that makes his grip on you grow tighter.
You don’t know how exactly you wound up on top of his lap—knees planted on either side of his hips as he continues devouring you with no intention of leaving anything behind. You can feel the expensive material of his leather gloves when his fingers graze along the hem of your sweater. Your skin tingles like every nerve ending has been set alight and if you weren’t already rendered dizzy by his intoxicating cologne, you’re in for a ride with each second his touch hikes further up your torso.
Woo sighs against your lips before pulling away momentarily—eyes aflame before he removes his fogged up glasses with one hand, tossing them somewhat carelessly on the picnic blanket.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Why was that so hot?
You’re too stunned to even draw a breath as he stares you down without the constant partition of his glasses. Has his gaze always been this sharp? Have those eyes always been transfixed on you?
“This…This wasn’t part of the plan, if you’re wondering.” Woo croons out the words huskily. Like an afterthought he only considered out of concern for you. Cute. “I swear I didn’t have any ulterior motives when—”
You giggle, before pressing a kiss on his nose. Woo’s eyes widen just a fraction.
“What made you cave then?”
The way his Adam’s apple bobs has no right to be that alluring, but it pulls you in anyway. “You looked really cute tonight.”
“Is that all?”
“Um, I thought it was sweet that you still got me a cupcake after you overslept?”
You groan, forehead bumping into the crook of his neck. Jesus Christ, he smells so fucking good. “How long are you going to hold that over my head for?”
You feel the vibrations of his laughter humming against your connected chests and your heart swells as Woo wraps his arms around your frame—pulling you into a firm embrace as the heat that engulfed the both of you slowly simmered into the cool evening air. You can feel him tracing idle shapes along your shoulder blades and the small of your back, and it does nothing to keep you from melting into his touch.
It’s so strange how easily you gave into him. You’ve formally known Woo for about three months and became legitimate friends(?) for less than three weeks. If you told Haewon about this whirlwind romance of yours, she’d hit you upside the head and tell you you’re being way too hasty for a man.
But if it’s a man with a black kitten taking a nap in his gym bag while he kisses you senseless underneath one of Seoul’s busiest freeways, you suppose you can make an exception.
“We should go,” Woo murmurs softly. “You’ve still got to accompany your sister to the airport right?”
“Mmm. Nope. She’s staying a day longer,” you inform him with the same quiet tone, letting your fingers trail up to his hair so you can toy with the strands in your fingertips. “But I do have some more edits to get over with in my final manuscript, so…yeah. We should go.”
Despite wanting nothing but to stay there in Woo’s little safe haven, the two of you manage to miraculously peel yourselves away from each other. Your face is hot the entire time you helped clean up his little picnic setup. When he shuts off the portable emergency light, you squint as you parse your way through the darkness.
You kind of end up tripping on air like a complete idiot, but before you can tumble off the rails and into the river, Woo catches you by the waist—not so different from how he held you ten minutes prior.
“Careful,” he mutters as he lets you go and you can’t help but silently mourn the loss of his touch again. “I don’t want to be accused of being a murderer.”
You snicker as he gently scoops Hani out of the gym bag and back into the spacious compartment in the lapel of his leather jacket. For a sleepy kitten, she’s surprisingly compliant. “I actually thought all this time you were some sort of serial killer trying to lure me to my doom.”
“You thought that but you came with me anyway?”
“Why not? You’re hot.”
That night, you let Woo drive you back home now that he’s more or less beaten the serial killer allegations. You tell him that he doesn’t have to walk you to your apartment, but he insists—saying that he can afford to leave Hani on his bike for a few minutes.
Of course, it ends up with another heated makeout session against your front door. This time, those stupid leather-clad fingers hike high enough on your back to toy with the clasp of your bra while his other hand remains tangled in your hair to pull you impossibly closer.
“I have to go,” he rasps before swiping his tongue along his bottom lip—giving you a sudden itch to sink your teeth into it. “But you’re making it really hard to leave.”
He’s making it really hard to tell him to go home, too, but as much as you want to kiss the night away, you still have some of your wits about you.
You chuckle as you reluctantly extract his wandering hands away from your body. Woo sighs in surrender with a nearly inaudible laugh.
“You already bent my I don’t kiss on the first date rule, genius,” you remind him breathlessly. “Don’t push your luck just yet until we’ve had that so-called first date next time.”
He grins. “So there’s going to be a next time?”
Deciding to keep him on his toes, you bat your eyelashes coquettishly at him. “Only if you want to.”
Woo leans in to press his lips against the corner of your mouth—trying his best to suppress the grin on his face.
“I’ll hold you to it then.”
Despite having lived in Seoul for four years and having a hardcore fangirl for a sister, today’s the first time you’ll be attending the pre-recording session for a music show.
Needless to say, you feel like an outsider amongst the fans armed with all sorts of idol merchandise and dressed in the prettiest outfits. Haewon managed to mooch a lightstick off one of her friends for you to use, but despite the fact that you know not a single soul would give two shits about you here, the alienating sensation remains.
“Hey, don’t be too nervous,” your little sister chortles as the marshals usher the crowd into the studio. “All you gotta do is wave that lightstick to the beat. You’ll blend right in, I promise.”
You crack her a nervous smile. Oh, the things you do to make Haewon happy.
It’s a little bit of a blur from there. You squeeze past the throng of fans while simultaneously trying not to lose your sister in the crowd. Some of the staff are handing out photocards that you hear are exclusively given away at this specific broadcast and were worth hundreds of thousands of won. You’re not sure which member Haewon got for you, but knowing your little sister, she must’ve snagged one of Wonwoo’s.
When the two of you are settled in your seats, you take the time to admire the set. You never imagined idol music show stages being this massive in person. In fact, you never really spared an active thought about them. Most of the info you do know about these kinds of things are secondhand accounts from Haewon from all the times she’s been to several broadcasting studios across the city.
“Did you bring the PC I got you last time?” she asks before taking out the broadcast ones out of their plastic package.
You shake your head. “Sorry. That Wonwoo’s sitting in a different bag.”
“Well, at least you haven’t sold him,” your little sister laughs before handing you one of the cards in her hands. “I told the staff to give us Mingyu and Wonwoo, but they gave me Hoshi and Wonwoo. It’s okay though, ‘cause Hoshi’s my bias wrecker anyway.”
Ah. More fandom jargon that you’re just now hearing about.
Just as the staff is starting to do the final preparations on stage, you decide to check out the broadcast PC that Haewon just gave to you. When your eyes land on Wonwoo’s face, however, you suddenly feel your blood freeze in your veins.
You…don’t recognize me?
One of the staff members announces that the boys will be out shortly to begin the pre-recording session but the words are all but muted in your ears.
Because how the hell can you focus on anything else when the face of the man who drove you back home last night—the man who kissed you until you were lightheaded—is plastered on a photocard that could be exchanged for an entire fortune?
This can’t be right, you muse with a scowl—fishing your phone out of your bag as your trembling fingers make haste to open your messaging app. He can’t be the same guy.
Woo 🐈⬛ [09:35]: Good morning, I hope you got enough rest!
Woo 🐈⬛ [09:36]: I have a schedule later this morning so I might be MIA
Me [09:40]: it’s cool. i just woke up actually hahaha
Me [09:40]: i also don’t mind! i’m heading out with my sister in a while too
Me [09:41]: have fun at work(?)
Woo 🐈⬛ [09:45]: Haha I will :) Have fun with your sister!
With a deep breath, you lock your phone just as the lights start to dim and the crowd cheers their hearts out. Haewon urges you to turn on your lightstick and the part of the studio that’s filled to the brim with an audience is lit up with hundreds of dazzling lights.
You would’ve appreciated the sight if only a certain someone didn’t play you for a fucking fool.
Just as promised, the boys that your little sister has been crazy about since their debut all fill the stage gradually. Some of them greet the fans with wide grins and silly little gestures. The others are a little more reserved with their greetings—all shy smiles and reserved movements.
Like Wonwoo, for example.
After several years of only knowing Mingyu thanks to Haewon, this is the first time you were able to pick out another one of them on stage with ease. Why wouldn’t you be able to recognize him?
He had you pressed up against your front door only a few hours ago.
It all made sense now. The affinity for keeping a face mask on. The late night visits. The fact that he seems to make an exorbitant amount of money from a job he doesn’t want to disclose.
Woo is Wonwoo from SEVENTEEN.
And he somehow forgot to let you know over the course of your time together.
You try to keep down the frustration that burns in your throat, making you feel like the roof of your mouth is stuffed with cotton. It’s much easier to mask your feelings once the performers all get into position and the music starts. The loud beat blaring from the speakers coupled with the well-practiced fanchants from the audience easily overpower the sound of your hitched breathing. Even Haewon was too engrossed with the performance to notice your distress.
Still, there’s not much you can do about it now. Especially when Wonwoo’s the one who starts up the first verse of their newest song.
He looks so…different from the gentle giant you’ve come to know over the past few weeks. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes that you know is all for show, but it makes your spine tingle at the sight of it nonetheless. The words to the song are raspily sung into the mic and if you weren’t convinced that he and Woo aren’t the same person, you most certainly are now.
After all, it’s his fucking voice that got you so down bad in the first place.
Once his part is done, Wonwoo quickly heads over to the next formation—a complete professional by heart. He belts out each dance move with such perfect precision and you wouldn’t expect any less from an idol who’s spent years honing his talents. But despite how awe-struck you are to see this side of him in person, it just wasn’t enough to completely erase the feeling that you’ve been betrayed.
It stings even more when the song ends and the studio is filled with deafening screams from the audience yet again. For once, Wonwoo’s stoic expression cracks with a handsome grin as he and the rest of his bandmates huddle together and exchange high fives.
That person on stage is both the man you caught feelings for and a stranger at the same time. He easily smiles at the fans the same way he would smile at you, but the difference between Woo and Wonwoo is that only one of them is willing to show this part of his life to the rest of the world.
Did he not trust you enough? Did he think you’d act like some crazy fan if he told you the truth?
You love Haewon. You love your little sister more than anything in the world, but you can’t pretend that things are okay when the man who kept you in the dark is standing right in front of you, clueless of the revelation that occurred to you just now.
“Where are you going?” Haewon calls out when you make your way out of the rows of seats—earning yourself a collection of glares from the other fans in the vicinity. “Unnie, hey!”
The last thing you want to do is ditch her for something you promised you’d see through until the end but you’re just so fucking done. You don’t want to see Wonwoo right now. Or hear him and his stupidly perfect voice through the studio’s sound system.
Right now, you just…want to be alone.
About two weeks after you stormed out of the first and last music show pre-recording you’ll ever attend in your life, things have more or less mellowed out. Sort of.
You’ve been taking fewer and fewer shifts at the shelter as graduation draws ever-so near. But aside from wanting to focus on getting your academic backlogs over with, you also wanted to stay away from the one place that Woo—or should you say Wonwoo—can easily find you and subsequently corner you to talk. Because you don’t want to talk to someone who’s basically been lying to your face the entire time you’ve been friends.
Well, you suppose if you really don’t want to hear even a peep out of him, you should’ve blocked his number altogether. But that’s not really the case.
Your phone buzzes while you’re in the middle of signing off adoption papers to a couple who wanted to adopt one of the shelter cats. You thought it was pretty adorable of them to make that decision since having a pet together is almost as good as having a kid together after all.
Thinking it was from your adviser, you snuck a glance towards the notifications in your homescreen. But when you see a familiar emoji plastered on the sender’s nickname, you’re quick to put it face down on the wooden desk.
Woo 🐈⬛ [09:35]: Good morning. Are you at the shelter today? Can I speak to you?
How he has it in him to keep texting you as if you haven’t given him nothing but radio silence for the past two weeks, you’re not sure. Wonwoo must’ve sensed that something was amiss the moment you stopped replying to him altogether, but he never tried to pester you about what was wrong. Instead, he simply continued sending all those messages to check in on you despite the fact that it’s almost as if he’s talking to a wall.
Well, it’s not like you have time to entertain him now anyways.
“Are you sure she doesn’t have a name yet?” One of your clients—the boyfriend—asks as he smooths down his newly adopted Maine Coon’s fur.
The girlfriend rolls her eyes. “You heard the nice shelter lady, Vern. This one just wouldn’t respond to any name they tried to give her.”
You agree with a half-hearted laugh, trying your best to ignore the guilt that’s perpetually swelling in your heart the longer you ignore Wonwoo’s pleas. “Yup. Our director said she’s got a bit of an attitude, but I think she just has high standards.”
Vern the Boyfriend makes a funny face at that. “So you’re saying that she doesn’t like the names she’s been given so far?”
“Mhmm. We tried Cupcake, Winter, Princess, and Lily, but she liked none of those. Try naming her something fancy. ”
“Chairman Meow?”
“Vern.”
“What? You gotta admit it’s funny, Sohee.”
Sohee the Girlfriend rolls her eyes. “Yes, but it’s an overused pun now! Think of something else.”
“Hmm. How about…Milana?”
“Is that because Seokmin wouldn’t shut up about his trip to Milan?”
“Ugh, yeah. Two months later and he still won’t stop talking about—”
“The gorgonzola he had for dinner the night before he flew back to Korea. I know. You won’t stop talking about it either.”
“Hey, Seokmin-hyung pays great attention to detail when it comes to food. You can’t help but want it, too.”
As you observe the friendly banter between the couple, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You don’t come across two people who complement each other as well as they do, and from the curious glint in their newly adopted cat’s eyes, you think she likes being in their company as well.
“Fine, let’s test it out first,” Sohee huffs before scratching behind the Maine Coon’s ears. “We’re going to call you Milana. Does that sound good to you?”
When the cat nuzzles her hand with a pleased meow, Sohee and Vern turn to glance at each other at the same time—two matching smiles plastered on their faces.
God. You can only wish to have what they do.
Once the rest of the documents have been finalized, you and Mina—who just got back from updating the vaccination records for all the animals in the shelter—see your most recent clients off. Vern the Boyfriend, Sohee the Girlfriend, and Milana the Child are off to the streets to start the next chapter of their lives or whatever.
When the door to the front entrance clicks shut, you let out the longest, deepest sigh known to mankind. Your coworker stifles a laugh.
“Looks like someone’s jealous,” Mina comments.
You whine. “How could I not be jealous of that? They’re so in love, it’s sickening. They even got a kid together!”
“You know, you could easily have that too if you just stopped avoiding—”
“Oh, look at the time!” You interrupt her a little too theatrically, stomping off to the direction of the break room. “Gotta go meet my thesis adviser. Kino and the other volunteers should show up in the next hour, though!”
You don’t catch the frustrated look on Mina’s face as you make a hasty retreat, but it doesn’t make you any less guilty about trying to skirt around the topic every chance you get. Mina’s always had your back during these past two weeks. Though you never told her why you’re avoiding your not-so-quote-unquote crush like the plague, she’d always come up with excuses and alibis to throw him off your trail.
Which, coincidentally, happens again just as you’re changing out of your uniform.
“I don’t suppose you’re looking for a sibling for Hani?” you hear Mina sigh from outside.
The person she’s talking to laughs softly. “No. I think you know why I’m here again.”
God. That fucking voice.
“Well, again, she’s not here,” your coworker bluffs. “And uh, word of advice, I get that you’re hot shit and all, but if you keep trying to bother my friend who, for some reason, doesn’t want anything to do with you, I might have to call the authorities.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second.
That’s a little too different from the typical ‘oh I’m sure she’ll come around one of these days’ spiel that Mina always feeds to Wonwoo every time he visits. Sure, you’re not yet ready to face him yet after everything that’s happened, but it’s not like you want him thrown in jail—
“Uh, right. I get it,” he says awkwardly, clearing his throat in the process. “It’s just that she hasn’t spoken to me in days and I’m a little worried—”
“That’s clearly a sign for you to back off, buddy.” You can almost see Mina with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been keeping myself from saying anything about it, but I’ve always found it strange how often you visit a goddamn animal shelter. And now that she’s clearly avoiding you, you’re still trying to corner her? Are you a stalker or something?”
Fuck. This isn’t how the conversation is supposed to go!
Mina’s job is to just politely drive Wonwoo away so you can slip out of the building without having to talk to him. But your coworker must’ve misinterpreted your persistent reluctance to meet him as genuine fear and…while you’re glad you have a friend who looks out for you like that, she’s going about all of this the wrong way!
Wonwoo doesn’t speak for a long time and your heart squeezes at the notion that he’s been called all those harsh words when all he wanted to do was talk to you. You didn’t even give him any reasons as to why you suddenly decided to cut him off. But instead of marching out there to face him and clear the air yourself…
You stay hidden in the break room like a fucking coward.
“I understand why you’d assume that, but I don’t have any ill intentions—”
“That's exactly what a guy with ill intentions would say,” Mina scoffs. “Do both of us a favor and just leave, yeah? And stop trying to contact her when she obviously wants nothing to do with you anymore.”
The silence hangs thick from outside and despite being in the break room, you swear you can almost choke on it yourself.
You’re not sure what expression Wonwoo is wearing. Actually, you don’t even know him well enough to know those kinds of things. The most you’ve seen of his face was during that quiet night you spent together two weeks ago and you’ve severed contact with him all because of something that he probably could have explained if only you gave him the chance to.
“Okay,” he whispers so softly, you almost don’t catch it. “Thanks for your time.”
Fortunately, Mina doesn’t try to add any more fuel to the fire. All you hear is the sound of retreating footsteps and the sound of the front door clicking shut.
It’s only when your coworker pokes her head inside the break room that you realize you’ve been holding your breath.
“He’s gone now,” she murmurs with a comforting smile. “And if he doesn’t stop bothering you even after that, I’ll raise the complaint to the director himself. I’m sure he can pull some legal strings to keep that guy out of the area for good.”
You find it kind of ironic that a few minutes ago, Mina was teasing you about him and now things have escalated into restraining order territory. But you can’t really blame her for it.
Especially when you’ve done nothing to clear up the misunderstanding.
“Right. Thanks, Mina.” You manage a thin smile, fingers absentmindedly drifting to the black cat enamel you still pinned to your uniform’s chest pocket.
“I really appreciate it.”
Haewon 🪷 [10:30]: Unnie hiii
Haewon 🪷 [10:33]: Can you call me as soon as you read this? Xoxo
You get to check Haewon’s message three hours late because finally, finally you’ve managed to defend your thesis after innumerable sleepless nights and neverending changes to your manuscript draft. Your panelists and advisers had nothing but praises to sing about your work—even going as far as to promise that your paper will definitely be published in the next volume of the academic journal you’d been secretly hoping it’ll get selected for.
It’s still surreal that the only thing you’ve got left on your university to-do list is to attend the commencement rites scheduled in three weeks’ time. Four grueling years have really just gone by in a flash.
After enjoying one of your last lunch breaks in the quad with some old classmates who’ve also conquered the figurative beast that is their undergrad thesis, you excuse yourself for a while to give your little sister a ring. Haewon picks up on the second ring.
“About time you called,” she huffs. “I thought you were sleeping in the day again.”
You shake your head with a laugh despite the fact that she can’t see the gesture. “No more sleeping in the day for me ‘cause I’m graduating.”
Haewon gasps—loud enough to create static across the line. “Really? Oh my god. That’s good news then! Mom and dad were actually getting worried about you, you know? You’ve been throwing yourself into that stupid thesis of yours for a month now.”
It takes a while for you to formulate a response, something akin to guilt creeping into your heart at the prospect of worrying your parents sick. But then again, what’s done is done. You can catch up on the several hours of sleep and countless brain cells you’ve lost trying to make your final manuscript actually make sense.
“It’s all good now,” you reassure. “All you guys have to do now is fly over to Seoul for my graduation and I can pack my bags and go back to the countryside as soon as I can.”
You half-expect Haewon to laugh off your haste to travel back to your hometown and say something about how you’re better off in the city than this old dump.
But you’re met with silence instead.
“Um,” she starts nervously after a few moments. “I know most of the stuff that’s been stressing you out is gone now, but… Are you sure you’re okay?”
The question makes you swallow thickly. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Unnie, I’m your sister,” Haewon says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture her scowling at you. “We both know you’ve been acting really weird ever since the pre-recording. I couldn’t pester you about it ‘cause I had to go back home the next day. And I didn’t want to bother you while you were finishing up your thesis.
“So now that all those obstacles are out of the way, do you mind telling me what’s wrong?”
The sound of the other students milling around the quad rings in your ears as you process Haewon’s words. When you take a deep breath, the exhale is accompanied by defeated laughter.
You’re an idiot to think you could ever escape your little sister’s scrutiny.
“I know you’re going to give me shit if I say it’s nothing you should worry about—”
“You’re right,” she interjects. “I will give you shit.”
“—but it really is nothing you should worry about,” you continue anyway, toying with the hem of your sweater with a wistful sigh. “Long story short, it’s…boy problems. Boy problems that I’ve ignored long enough that they just went away all on their own.”
At the other line, Haewon makes a strangled noise as if that’s not the answer she was expecting. “Come again?”
“Yeah, Hae. Your big sister actually has boy problems,” you chortle. “Weird, right?”
“Yes and you didn’t even bother telling me about it at all?!” She crows angrily. “You have to give me the gist or I’m hanging up and booking the next flight to Seoul.”
For a moment, you hesitate and give yourself a moment to think about what you can and can’t tell Haewon over a phone call when she’s a whole plane ride away from you.
She absolutely cannot know that the boy in question is Wonwoo. You’ll probably spend more time trying to convince her that what you’re saying is true than avoiding a pity party. So instead, you tell her:
“Well, this boy and I had…something good going for us, I think. I like him, you know—really, really like him. But then one day, I found out that he’s been keeping this important thing about himself from me.” A sigh. “Like, I know some stuff is none of my business, but it’s so easy for him to let others know about that…that thing, yet somehow he never bothered to tell me. I couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t trust me enough.”
Surprisingly, Haewon lets out a hum of understanding. “Yeah, that’s kind of a dick move on his part. Did you confront him about it?”
You find yourself tongue-tied for a moment—a bit embarrassed to admit to your little sister that you chose the coward’s way out of this.
“Um, that’s the thing. I kind of ghosted him when I found out,” you tell her sheepishly. “I don’t think he knows the reason why I suddenly just dipped to this day. Haven’t spoken to him in…two months.”
“Uh-huh. So all this time, you’ve been burying your guilt in schoolwork. Is that it?”
The straightforward tone catches you off guard for a second. “That’s not—”
“Unnie,” Haewon calls out firmly, making you close your mouth. “Again, I’m your sister. I know things about you that others don’t—things that you don’t either, probably. And trust me when I say this, but you are not the confrontational type. Don’t worry though because it’s perfectly fine to avoid the things you don’t want to deal with. Especially if you’re dealing with a person that’s more trouble than they’re worth.
“But…you said that you really, really like him. Present tense.” She pauses briefly, as if letting you digest what she’s saying a little better. “If the circumstances were even slightly different, I would’ve cheered you on for ghosting someone who hasn’t been one hundred percent honest with you because, duh? Deserved. But from the way you’ve been coping with what happened, I can’t help but think that avoiding him like this isn’t what you wanted to do at all.”
Haewon’s words flow from the speaker and lance straight through your heart, and you start to wonder when she started sounding so reliable. You’re used to looking out for her even with the distance separating you. But ironically, it’s in your last year of college that your sister effortlessly dissected the dilemma that’s been plaguing you for weeks.
“Look, I think you’ll feel much better about all this if you just talk to him,” she continues when you don’t utter a word in response. “Not that I’m siding with some semi-lying jerk, but maybe he had his reasons for hiding…whatever he was hiding from you? If he gives you a bullshit excuse, then at least the ghosting will finally be justified, right?”
Her frankness makes you snort. “I guess.”
“Good. Now hang up and call him now.”
“...What?”
“You heard me.”
“Haewon, I can’t just call him out of nowhere after ignoring him for so long.”
“Pfft. Of course you can! If he doesn’t answer, then that still justifies the ghosting because he obviously doesn’t want you enough. Men like that don’t deserve you, unnie.”
“...Fine. Point taken.”
You end the call after Haewon makes you swear to keep her posted about the situation and your love life in general from now on. Sighing, you reluctantly scroll through your messaging app—finding a conversation that’s long been buried by more recent texts from other people after he sent his final messages to you.
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:35]: It’s been three weeks since you last replied. Hope you’re doing okay.
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:36]: Mina told me that you wanted nothing to do with me anymore but I really don’t understand why because…aren’t we good? Didn’t we have something back there? Or was I just reading you wrong the whole time?
Woo 🐈⬛ [02:55]: Either way, she was right about one thing at least. I’ve probably made you uncomfortable with my texts. Kind of pathetic now that I think about it.
Woo 🐈⬛ [03:01]: I’m sorry for constantly bothering you like this. It’s just that…I want to know what went wrong.
Woo 🐈⬛ [03:05]: It’s getting harder for me to sleep at night knowing I fucked up something that could’ve been the start of something nice. I was already planning our first date, you know?
Woo 🐈⬛ [03:10]: Fuck. Now it just sounds like I’m gaslighting haha.
Woo 🐈⬛ [03:17]: Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I don’t even know anymore.
Woo 🐈⬛ [04:25]: What I do know is that I miss you. So much.
Woo 🐈⬛ [10:05]: Uh. Sorry about all of that. I had a few drinks and…you know how it goes.
Woo 🐈⬛ [10:12]: I’ll stop texting you for real now.
Woo 🐈⬛ [10:15]: I hope your studies go well. Thank you for being part of my life, no matter how short our time together was.
Fuck.
This is going to be much more difficult than you thought.
You don’t really blame yourself when it takes you a few days to decide whether or not you should call Wonwoo. The choice has been weighing on you like a cloud above your head and you had to decline several invites to go out from your friends because you simply cannot sit still, knowing that you have to do something about…whatever’s going on with the two of you.
Part of you insists on just leaving it as it is. Wonwoo is an idol that’s almost a decade into his career and you’re much too certain that he’s met enough people in his life to deem the loss of your company specifically a big deal. He has his members, his fans, and anything else a person could ever want.
So what if some college senior he doesn’t even know that well just ghosted him out of nowhere?
But even with that logic, you still end up holding your breath before pressing the call button one Tuesday afternoon.
There are a total of five attempts made and all five lead you straight to voicemail—each instance making your heart grow heavier and heavier once the prerecorded message comes to an end. You secretly fear that he must’ve blocked your number altogether. Why wouldn’t he after you’ve wasted his time as much as you did?
Others would’ve considered this as a sign to just give up. The universe is basically telling you that the brief time you shared together would yield nothing more. Wonwoo has his own career to worry about and as do you, now that you’re finally going to be ejected from university and into the life of an unemployed fresh grad. You’re better off not chasing after the things you’ve purposely run away from in the first place.
So why on earth are you looking up the exact address of his company building, making the long commute for the slim chance of running into him against all odds?
The security around the area might look lax but you can spot the assortment of security guards stationed both inside and outside of the company building pretty easily. Given the nature of the business they’re running, it would make sense that they’d put up all possible countermeasures against people who might try to inconvenience their artists in any way.
Not wanting to be branded as a crazed fan, you decide to keep your distance—purposely lingering outside the shopping center just across the street as you brainstorm how exactly you’re going to meet up with Wonwoo.
But as the minutes ticked past, your sense of reason is starting to overpower your desire to clear things up with him. For one, you don’t even know what his schedule looks like. How can you be so sure that he’ll even be there today? Worse, would Wonwoo even want to speak with you after everything? Despite having kept the fact that he’s an idol a secret to you all this time, he has all the right to refuse speaking with you when you never even gave him a chance to explain himself.
The noise of the busy district fades in the background as your eyes fall to Wonwoo’s final text message. You haven’t even thought of texting him since you considered reaching out. But with the fact that your earlier phone calls didn’t go through, you don’t think you can bear seeing your apologetic messages get denied in the very real chance that he’s blacklisted your number altogether.
God. You feel so pathetic.
“Hey, it’s you!”
You immediately blanche at the feeling of someone placing a hand on your shoulder—turning around to see who it is only to be met with the sight of two familiar faces.
“Oh,” you voice out somewhat dumbly. “Miss…Sohee? And Vern?”
The couple who adopted a cat from the shelter flashes you pretty smiles, the two of them carrying grocery bags in each arm. Sohee perks up when you recognize them. “Yup! I didn’t expect to see the nice shelter lady around these parts. What brings you here?”
“Just…stuff.” The laugh you spare them is a little too forced, but if they notice, they don’t comment on it. “How about you guys? How has Milana been?”
“Feels right at home in either of our apartments,” Vern chuckles. “You were right about her having high standards. We always end up doing our grocery shopping here instead of the supermarket near my place ‘cause Lana refuses to eat any of the cheap cat food being sold there.”
Sohee sighs in agreement. “Mhmm. You wouldn’t even think she was a rescue with how high maintenance she is, but we’re idiots that dote on her all the time. It’s just a good thing we work right across the street from here.”
Feeling endeared with how much they spoil their new child aside, the latter part of Sohee’s statement catches your attention for a moment. “Sorry? You work right across the street?”
The moment the words leave your lips, the charming smiles on their faces falter before the couple before you share a look. A brief moment of telepathic communication must’ve occurred between the both of them, as if wordlessly discussing whether they should respond, but in the end Sohee relents.
“Yeah. Vern and I work at HYBE,” she chuckles. “I’m actually surprised you don’t recognize him, since he’s—”
“A very loyal employee that the nice shelter lady can’t possibly recognize,” Vern interjects with a cough into his fist and the immediate reaction makes it easier to put two and two together.
He’s an idol. One hundred percent an idol.
Deciding to play along, you offer up a nod in understanding. “I see. Guess you guys are heading back for the day?”
“Yep. We had one of the other members—uh, I mean, one of our friends look after Milana while we had our grocery run,” Vern explains not-so-smoothly.
“As much as we’d like to stay and chat for a while longer, our baby kind of needs us,” Sohee tells you with an apologetic look. “I hope things at the shelter are running smoothly! We’ve seen how dedicated you guys are to taking care of those poor animals.”
You nod. “Of course. I’ll see you guys around?”
“Anytime!”
You and the beautiful couple exchange quaint bows in farewell before the two of them start walking away. But with each footstep that they take further and further away from you, the itch to run after them and ask what you’ve been dying to when they said they both worked at HYBE grows all the more unbearable.
Cut it out, you mentally hiss at yourself. You can’t bother other people about your issues with Wonwoo. That’s just a whole new low.
You should’ve just gone the opposite direction when the conversation ended. You should’ve just directed yourself to the nearest bus stop back to your apartment—buried all of this in the past where it belongs.
But it’s as if your body has a mind of its own. The next thing you know, you’re sprinting towards Sohee and Vern before they could cross the next intersection—surprising the couple with your sudden re-entry.
“Did you need something?” Sohee asks, accommodating and confused all at once.
Now or never.
“Yes, actually,” you dole out breathlessly, pursing your lips before adding:
“Do you guys know where Wonwoo is?”
Out of all the ways you thought this day could turn out, you never would’ve imagined being in the backseat of one of HYBE’s music producers—breezing through the city’s freeway as she interrogates you about just how exactly you know Jeon Wonwoo.
“So you’re the reason he’s being so off lately,” Sohee chuckles before switching lanes. “Wonwoo’s always been the quiet type, but sometimes you can just tell when there’s a lot on his mind. Isn’t that right, Vernon?”
Vernon, who you come to realize is part of the same group as Wonwoo, glances at you from the rearview mirror with a shake of his head. “I can vouch. Wonwoo-hyung’s been working on sharing stuff with us, but of course there’s still some things he’d like to keep to himself.”
I also don’t want to be closed off from others anymore. Back then, I mostly just kept everything to myself—bottling it all up until it was just unbearable.
Great. Now you feel twice as horrible.
“Honestly, I was kind of scared that you guys would think I’m a sasaeng,” you admit with a dry laugh before settling further into the car’s plush upholstery.
“While we have no reason not to think that with all the weirdos popping up these days,” Sohee starts before her lips curve into a smile, “it just so happens that Soonyoung also can’t keep his mouth shut about Wonwoo’s little crush.”
That makes your face heat up a little. “Soonyoung like…Wonwoo’s friend?”
“You might know him better as Hoshi,” Vernon explains.
Hoshi, Hoshi, Hoshi…
You snap your fingers once you figure it out. “Yeah. He’s my sister’s bias wrecker.”
“Now we learn that your sister is a fan, too? Huh. Small world.”
“Anyway,” Sohee interjects. “The reason why we believed your explanation was because Soonyoung described Wonwoo’s crush as an animal lover. He’s not so much of a blabbermouth that he gave us more details aside from that, but Vernon here told me about how Wonwoo always comes late to their unit meetings because he keeps making all these detours first.”
Vernon stifles a laugh. “I actually found out about the shelter because Coups-hyung insisted that we follow him around to figure out where he’s been going. It didn’t occur to me at the time that his animal lover crush and the nice shelter lady could be the same person.”
At this point, you can honestly get used to being called a nice shelter lady. But that aside, you can’t help but flush even further at all the things being revealed to you right now.
It’s…a lot to unpack.
First, Wonwoo has a crush on you? A complete nobody? Then again, from how often he’s been seeking you out before things went to shit, you could infer that he’s at least a little bit interested from how he kept going out of his way to see you. He’s even late to meetings because of his little visits. This so-called crush was quite obvious, you just don’t like how flustered hearing it out loud makes you feel.
“But then Wonwoo-hyung just started showing up on time to our meetings during our comeback promotions,” Vernon continues. “We were glad we didn’t have to keep waiting for him to start, but…we also noticed that he’s been kind of down lately. The first time it happened, I assumed it was just an off day for him, though now that we met you like this, that’s definitely not the case.”
Wonwoo’s been feeling down? Because of you?
If the roles were reversed, you can say that you’d feel the same if he just stopped talking to you when you thought you were already growing closer. It doesn’t help that the last time you were together, you shared far too many kisses that mere friends should indulge each other with.
You sigh, leaning your head against the headrest.
You’re such an idiot. A selfish, inconsiderate—
“Well, here we are.”
When the car pulls over, you don’t even realize that Sohee already left the freeway and drove into one of the roads overlooking the Han River. You can barely keep yourself from choking on your own breath when you spot a very familiar motorcycle parked in front of the vehicle. It doesn’t help that Sohee pulled over a certain spot underneath the elevated highway that you’re very much certain you’ve already been to once before.
“Hyung doesn’t know that we know about this place. He never brings anyone else here,” Vernon informs you with a small smile. “From the look on your face, we can assume that he’s already brought you here though, right?”
You can’t even deny it at this point. “Yeah…”
Sohee moves to unlock the doors before glancing behind the driver’s seat with an encouraging look. “Well, how about you clear things upso we can start going on double dates and stuff.”
“Sohee,” her boyfriend groans.
“What? I think it’d be a great idea.” She pouts. “We can even rope Nari and Mingyu into tagging along. Then it’ll be a triple date.”
“What she means to say is,” Vernon cuts in before Sohee can get another word out. “No pressure. You go sort out the stuff you need to with Wonwoo-hyung. I’m sure the two of you can make the best decision for each other once you get to talk properly.”
The best decision, huh…
Your new friends watch you with wordless encouragement as you open the door to your left, letting out a long-winded breath so you wouldn’t be too psyched out by the circumstances. You thank them both with a subtle nod as you gather enough courage to see the person you’ve been longing to meet again for a while now.
Now or never, you repeat to yourself before finally stepping out of the car.
Wonwoo’s thinking spot looks much different in the day than it does at night.
You had a pretty hard time navigating the short terrain from the road to the old, weathered steps of the watchtower because of the lack of proper illumination. If it weren’t for Wonwoo guiding you the entire time, you would’ve face planted into the pebbled pathway on the first few steps.
The sun is already setting when you make it to your destination—red orange rays splintering through the high rise buildings on the other side of the river bank. It’s not difficult to spot Wonwoo’s tall figure leaning across the rusty railing of the watchtower, a gentle smile gracing his handsome face as he plays with the growing kitten in his arms.
He doesn’t notice you at the foot of the concrete steps right away, too engrossed with playing with Hani to take in the rest of his surroundings. But the longer you watch them from afar, the more your chest twists with guilt.
All this time, you never really thought about how Wonwoo must’ve been faring since you ghosted him. You merely assumed that he’d still be living his best life despite what happened between the two of you. The thought that he’ll still be better off without you in his life spurred you on to solely focus on the things you’ve got going on your end. You didn’t consider just how your actions would affect him. Not even once.
But now, despite having such an adorable cat to keep him company, it isn’t hard to tell that he’s not in the most stellar of moods.
It’s not like you’ve seen Wonwoo smile a lot when you still knew him as Woo—no thanks to his silly little face masks. But you always liked how his eyes crinkled behind his glasses whenever you said something he finds funny or amusing. The easygoing body language he always seemed to have around you.
There’s none of that now.
“Wonwoo.”
He visibly stiffens at the sound of someone calling his name. Cautiously, Wonwoo tucks Hani closer to his chest—glancing around for anyone who could have infiltrated his safe haven.
When his eyes land on you, you can almost hear his breath hitch from where you’re standing.
Seeing no indication that he doesn’t want you here, you swallow the lump in your throat before climbing up the stairs. Each step you take is familiar yet foreign at the same time and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears the closer you get to him. The startled expression on Wonwoo’s face doesn’t falter even when you’re mere feet in front of him on top of the watchtower—like he’s having a hard time grasping your existence.
Hani, however, doesn’t seem all that fazed. The black kitten mewls in delight at the sight of you, squirming around in Wonwoo’s arms, which seems to snap her owner out of his stupor.
His throat bobs. “You know my name.”
You laugh softly. “It isn’t hard to figure it out when you’re as famous as you are.”
Silence permeates the air by the riverside as Wonwoo processes the words you just told him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, hands absentmindedly running across Hani’s fur.
“So that’s why,” he chuckles with a shake of his head. “I should’ve known…”
You mirror the gesture somewhat vigorously, your throat closing up from all the things you want to say. He doesn’t deserve to be left hanging all because of that stupid reason alone. He doesn’t deserve those hurtful words from Mina.
Most of all, he doesn’t deserve to feel this shitty all because you were too much of a coward to communicate with him.
“I’m sorry.”
He startles at your apology—obviously not expecting that to be the first thing you say to him after two months of radio silence. “W-Why are you sorry? I should be—”
“It was unfair of me to just ghost you like that when you haven’t explained yourself,” you murmur, tucking your hands behind your back as you stare down at your shoes in shame. “I’m sure you had your reasons for not telling me right away, but… I selfishly thought you didn’t trust me enough to let me know.”
“No,” he quickly clarifies. “It’s not like that at all. I trust you—so much.”
“I know,” you sigh. “It took me a while, but I realized that along the way. The last time we were here, you entrusted me with the story of how you coped with losing someone. You entrusted me with your thoughts, your feelings, your secrets. And I took all that for granted because you didn’t tell me you were an idol.”
Wonwoo falls silent for only a moment as if considering what words to say next. Hani seems to sense his distress, cuddling up to his chest in an attempt to soothe him. He notices what she’s doing right away and Wonwoo scratches behind her ears with a breathless chuckle.
“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t plan on hiding it forever. I knew you would find out eventually—just not as soon as you did,” he murmurs. “It was also unfair of me to take advantage of the fact that you didn’t know me as Wonwoo. But…I wanted to keep my career out of the equation first because it’s nice being treated like a normal person. You never put me on a pedestal or looked at me like I was some sort of god.
“You treated me like I was human.”
This time, you’re the one who’s at a loss for words.
Having Haewon as a sister, you have this preconceived notion about idols where they have the world in the palm of their hands. You thought for the longest time that all they had to do was go up the stage to sing and dance and look beautiful and the rest will follow.
Hearing Wonwoo tell you this easily subverted all those assumptions.
You’ve never been good at telling people the things they need to hear. That’s Haewon’s area of expertise, not yours. So instead of offering up any words of comfort, you quickly close the distance that’s been keeping you apart to throw your arms around his broad shoulders.
Wonwoo freezes up when you pull him into a hug and he loathes the fact that he can’t even reciprocate it given that he has his hands full. It’s kind of adorable how careful you’re being to make sure you don’t accidentally squish Hani between your bodies.
Suddenly, all that heaviness that’s been lingering in his heart for weeks dissipates in a flash. Wonwoo relishes in the feeling of your warmth seeping into his, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds back his emotions.
“Can we start over again?” you murmur. “We still haven’t had our first date, right?”
When you feel the sound of his laughter rumbling in his chest, you can’t help the goosebumps that rise across your skin. “Wow. I didn’t expect you to forgive me that fast.”
Pulling away for a moment, you shoot him a dirty look. “Jeon Wonwoo, are you saying I’m easy?”
“Not at all.” Wonwoo grins and you can barely look at him without recoiling at how good he looks.
His hair has grown much longer than you remember and seeing the smile that oh-so easily hooked you in deeper than you already were, you already know that you can’t ever hope to put up a fight.
Not when he’s so love-of-your-life-shaped.
“Since we’re at the point of catching up, I’m actually graduating in three weeks.”
Wonwoo sharply turns to look at you with a scowl as he puts Hani in a little cat backpack he got for her. “Three weeks? Shit… I think we’re going to have a concert at that time.”
You wave away his concern with a smile. “I didn’t mean I was expecting you to show up at the venue, doofus. Can’t have any weird rumors about you going around by attending my graduation.”
“Rumors about what?” he challenges.
“You know.”
“I actually don’t.”
“We just made up ten minutes ago, Do you really want me to bail on you again?”
“Hey, I just thought that if you ever want to spark some dating rumors, we can make it happen any time.”
“We’re not even dating!”
“Not yet.”
“What?”
“It’s just like you said—I still owe you that first date, don’t I?”
“...Have I told you that you’re insufferable?”
“I’m actually surprised you didn’t start calling me that when I kept visiting the shelter too often to be considered normal.”
“That reminds me, why were you visiting the shelter so much?”
When Wonwoo hands you Hani’s cat backpack, you take it as an invitation to hitch a ride on his motorcycle. After all, it would be uncomfortable to have it sitting between the two of you. However, he takes you completely by surprise by answering you with:
“I like you. That’s why.”
It takes you about five whole seconds to recover from what he just said but it’s five seconds too late because Wonwoo is already chuckling to himself as if he deserves to have the last laugh.
“You’re lucky that I like you too,” you mumble as you carefully hop on his ride—sitting comfortably behind him while making sure Hani is strapped securely behind you. “If I didn’t, Mina would’ve made our boss file a restraining order against you.”
Wonwoo hands you a spare helmet before putting on his own, laughing again as he clicks the lock in place. “Dating rumors and stalking rumors? Being with you sounds like such a big hassle now.”
“Are we going on that first date or not?!”
Two months after graduating and four weeks into officially dating Jeon Wonwoo, you find out the real reason he was taking so damn long to make up his mind about adopting Hani.
The landlord doesn’t prohibit pets—he loves them, actually.
His dog, Seol, is a little shy, but she gets along with Hani just fine.
But then his old roommate, Mingyu, dropped by to visit Wonwoo’s apartment one day, sneezing all over the place like it’s pollen season. Except the pollen in question is cat fur and it just so happens that he didn’t bring any of his allergy meds for the trip.
“As much as I want to cuddle on the couch catching up on the Marvel Cinematic Universe with you guys, I gotta go,” Mingyu explains while blowing his nose into a tissue. “I’ll die if I spend even a second longer here.”
Wonwoo throws a piece of popcorn at him. “Didn’t you say that you’re going on a date with Nari?”
“Oh. That, too.”
“If she finds out that you just remembered as an afterthought, she’s going to kill you,” you tease while shoving a handful of your movie snacks into your mouth. “At least, that’s what I’d do if Wonwoo did the same thing.”
“Oh, she will. That’s why neither of you are going to tattle on me,” the beefy idol huffs before tossing the soiled tissue in the trash bin. “Anyway, Wonwoo-hyung, you should totally keep in touch with this pet sitter that Seungcheol-hyung discovered recently. A bunch of other artists leave their pets with her whenever they have tight schedules.”
Your boyfriend merely looks at him with an unimpressed look. “Are you saying that just so I can leave Hani there when you come over to play video games with me?”
“Yes.”
Mingyu leaves shortly after receiving a phone call from his girlfriend, Nari, who sounded nothing short of furious when she asked where on earth he is and why he’s late for their date again. Wonwoo tells you that his best friend has a thing for pissing off Nari just so he has an excuse to do grand gestures for her without his girlfriend complaining about it. You tell him that he should start doing the same too.
“By the way, you’re flying back to Jeju for a while, right?” Wonwoo asks once the credits start rolling in the film playing on his TV—the loose grip he has around your waist tightening ever-so slightly.
You shift your weight on the couch to cuddle closer to him. “Yeah. I haven’t seen my parents and Haewon since I graduated. Plus, I don’t have to start working until next month, so I can afford a last-minute getaway.”
He nods. “I still think it’s funny you haven’t told your sister about me. Are you ashamed of me or something?”
“Quit saying weird stuff, Jeon Wonwoo,” you huff before hitting him in the chest. Damn those firm pecs. “I just want to see the look on her face when she finds out I’m dating the person she ships with Mingyu for fun.”
“And I still can’t believe my future sister-in-law is a Gyuldaengie.”
You try not to think about how he said Haewon is his future in-law. You really do.
Once the last of the end credits pans on-screen, the bonus scene at the end of every Marvel movie starts playing and you can’t help but snort when Eddy gets snapped back to his own universe before he can even pay off his tab to the bartender. Just when you’re about to ask Wonwoo if he wants to watch the next movie, you realize he’s had his eyes on you the entire time.
“What?” you laugh.
“Nothing,” he whispers. “I just thought you were really pretty.”
“Wonwoo, you tell me that every thirty minutes. Don’t you get tired of it?”
You yelp when he abruptly pulls you onto his lap, steadying you by the hips so you wouldn’t accidentally topple to the floor. He flashes you a lazy grin as he traces circles along the curve of your thighs and you can barely suppress a groan when you look down at him.
He might look like some otherworldly creature every time he kills it on stage, but you love this Wonwoo just the same—dressed down with his glasses sitting all crooked on the bridge of his nose, hair falling across his eyes.
“Never,” he says simply.
There’s something oddly sensual about the way he says it and at that moment, you catch on to the half-lidded look in his eyes. You gulp, gaze instinctively wandering around his apartment to look for Hani and Seol, who you spot dozing next to each other in the kitchen.
Now that you’re sure none of the kids are watching, you let out a defeated sigh before lacing your arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss him.
Wonwoo is a guy you caved and kissed before the first date, so it’s pretty natural for the two of you to fall into this degree of intimacy every now and again. His effect on you is especially lethal whenever you spend several days apart because of the nature of his career.
But even if you’re yet to cross that line with your boyfriend, the possibility of it finally coming into fruition becomes more and more real every time his hot tongue slides against yours.
“Won…woo—” you gasp when you feel his cold fingers sneak up your shirt, hands firmly grabbing your waist to keep you in place.
Your boyfriend chuckles and the low vibrations that come from his chest shoot straight to your core. “I know tonight was supposed to be movie night, but you’re making it really hard to keep my hands off of you.”
“That’s what you say all the time,” you groan as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. Fuck. “Always blaming me for your lack of self-control.”
“I can’t help it when you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips before tugging you back down for another heated kiss.
You’ve fooled around with Wonwoo a handful of times and during said times, you’ve gotten an idea of how…into it he gets when pleasuring you. It’s almost as if he delights in seeing you come undone for him even if it’s just with his mouth and fingers.
It’s during those moments that you can’t help but imagine how he would be once the two of you finally take things all the way. But for all your teasing about how he has questionable self-control, Wonwoo has done nothing but respect the boundaries you’ve clearly set when you started dating.
“Fuck,” he rasps when he pulls away briefly, resting his head against the cushions of the sofa as he closes his eyes. “Baby, we’ve gotta stop or else I might just cave and fuck you.”
You simper. “You’re the one who started this.”
“Yeah, and that’s why I’m putting a stop to it before I end up doing something you don’t like!”
You shift around on his lap for a moment and Wonwoo is convinced that you’ll give him some reprieve and get off of him before he loses his mind. But then he realizes you’re grinding your hips against the hard-on he’s sporting in his sweats.
Chuckling to yourself, you pull him by the front of his shirt—pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth before leaning into his ear to whisper:
“What if I want you to fuck me, Woo?”
The deep growl that resonates in his throat sounds so fucking hot, you can feel a gush of slick surge between your thighs. He doesn’t say a word—merely opting to keep his hard stare on yours as he wraps your legs around his waist. You immediately get the gist and hold on tight to him as he carries you out of the living room and into his bedroom.
“I’m giving you a chance to back out again, sweetheart,” he sighs as he kicks the door shut behind him. “Think you can handle it when I get serious about fucking you until you can’t walk?”
The mental image he conjures in your head has you mewling in his arms, prompting you to pepper his neck with sloppy kisses as he gropes your ass like it’s always belonged to him.
“Think you can actually make good on that though?” you challenge with a soft chuckle, grazing your teeth just below his collarbone. You won’t bite—knowing that his stylists will give him hell for it if he shows up to work with hickeys. “We both know you like to talk big sometimes.”
Wonwoo breathes out a condescending chuckle before gently easing you on top of the mattress. You didn’t think it was possible, but you swear you get even wetter when he takes off his glasses and licks his lips at the sight of you.
“Oh, baby, you’re in for a fucking ride.”
That’s how you find yourself with your back pressed against Wonwoo’s insanely sculpted chest—both your mouth and pussy stuffed with his thick fingers as he works you open enough to take his cock. He slides those thick digits in and out of your wet channel, making sure you get used to the stretch all while he muffles your noises at the same time.
Normally, he likes hearing you get whiney and desperate for him, but there’s a charm to seeing you slobber all over his fingers as you clench up around the ones buried in your pussy.
“Fuck, baby. So goddamn tight for me,” he whispers huskily in your ear and the sound of his rough voice layered with the lewd squelch of your cunt makes your insides tingle. “Been thinking about having this pretty pussy all to myself for a while now. You gonna let me have it now, baby? Let me wreck you on my cock?”
Wonwoo easily has the hottest voice you’ve ever heard in your entire life. While you often think about how you can fall asleep happily just listening to him talk about anything under the sun, it’s an entirely different story when he’s spouting all this filth into your ear as he prepares you for an overdue dicking down.
“Yes, please—” You sob pathetically when he takes his fingers out of your mouth, curling your arm behind you so you can blindly grab his hair and mend your lips into a messy kiss. “Wonwoo, I need you so bad.”
“Desperate little thing,” your boyfriend chuckles before withdrawing his fingers from your needy hole. The loss has you writhing in his lap, one hand shooting out to keep him where you want him but Wonwoo coos into your ear as if to pacify you. “Shhh, baby, I need you to come first before I fuck you. You’ll be good for me and let me make you come, right?”
Shit. Who are you to refuse when he propositions you like that?
“I need an answer, sweetheart.”
“I’ll be good,” you gasp almost immediately as your boyfriend starts parting your pussy lips with the hand that was muffling your cute noises. “I’ll be so good for you, please just—”
“Just what, baby?” Wonwoo teases and you nearly cry.
“M-Make me come on your fingers…”
He hums, slick fingers gliding along your slit. “Not if you don’t say—”
“Please,” you whimper before grinding your pussy against his hand. “Wonwoo, I wanna come. Wanna come so bad. Want you to stuff me full of your cock. Want you to—”
It’s almost like he tapped in on every single nerve ending in your body when his dexterous fingers find your clit—rubbing the puffy bud in fast, tight circles as you start twitching in his arms. Wonwoo lets out another evil laugh as he forcibly pries your legs apart. The firmness of his grip leaves you no choice but to thrash around as he builds your orgasm from the ground up, trailing wet kisses along the column of your throat as he teases an orgasm out of you with the sound of his voice coupled with his sinful ministrations.
“So wet and ready for me. Have you thought about taking me inside this sweet little pussy? Do you think you can even fit me when you’re this tight?” he breathes into your ear and you don’t even have the dignity to bite down your moans anymore. “You’re so close, sweetheart. Let yourself go and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll blow your pretty back out over and over until you’re sick of me.”
Never, you want to tell him. I’ll never get sick of you, stupid Wonwoo.
Funnily enough, that silent jab at him is quickly followed by a mind-numbing release. It washes over you like a storm surging into a calm shore—overloading every cell in your body with pleasure until the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken rendition of your lover’s name.
Wonwoo talks you through your high because he knows you’ve got a thing for his voice. Knows just how much tighter you get when he whispers filthy words with a sultry sweet tone.
And when he growls, “Good fucking girl,” into your ear, you’re convinced he just made you come again while still riding the waves of your first orgasm.
For all his vigor, Wonwoo is surprisingly patient with you as you recover from what he just put you through. He plants brief kisses all over your neck and face until your breathing finally evens out and you stop seeing stars in the seams of your vision. Your boyfriend offers up a gentle smile when you finally come to—leaning in to kiss your nose.
“You still want more?” he whispers, exercising enough restraint to be revered despite the fact that you can feel his hard, leaking cock pressed against the small of your back.
A soft, somewhat weak laugh makes its way past your lips as you turn around to peck his lips. Wonwoo smiles against your mouth and you can’t help but do the same.
Then, you issue another challenge.
“Do your worst.”
You’re grateful now more than ever that Wonwoo is the easiest person to talk to in the entire world. You can practically count the things that he wouldn’t want to discuss with you on one hand alone.
In other words, you’ve already had the necessary conversations about sex, should you ever have it with him in the future (A.K.A., right now). Wonwoo knows you’ve been on birth control ever since you moved to Seoul all those years ago. He knows that you get yourself tested at least once every month if you can and assures you that he does the same.
On the other hand, you’re well aware that your boyfriend has a thing for coming inside, and now that you’ve gone this far with him, you’ll gladly let Wonwoo make his fantasies a reality.
He only agreed to it once you promised to tell him whenever you feel like he’s going too far or if he’s doing something you don’t like. You swear you would’ve married him on the spot, if it weren’t for that tiny voice in your head that suspiciously sounds like Haewon telling you off for losing it over a man who’s doing the bare minimum.
With those measures in place, you feel safe enough to let Wonwoo press your face down onto the mattress as his free hand grips your ass—fucking into your tight cunt as he tries (and fails) to keep himself from being too rough with you.
He really, really wanted to be gentle, considering it’s your first time to lie together like this. But your unfiltered reactions do nothing but test both his patience and self-control in more ways than one. All his plans on making love to you in good old missionary have been tossed out of the window now that you’ve given him the green light to actually fuck you until you can’t walk.
“Wonwoo,” you moan, fists curling into the sheets as he cants his hips deeper and deeper—the head of his cock hitting spots your own fingers could never hope to reach. “S-So fucking good…”
“Yeah?” he breathes raspily before leaning down to press his chest against your back, wanting to engulf you in the heat of his body until it’s all you’ll ever know. “My pretty baby loves my cock that much? You want me to fuck you all the time now?”
“Uh huh.” You nod before letting out a high pitched keen when he amps up the speed of his thrusts—slamming his hips harder against your ass.
Wonwoo thinks he could really get used to the sight of your pretty pussy sucking him in like this. You’re so greedy—clamping down on him as tightly as you do as you moan his name like it’s the only word in your vocabulary. But how could you not when each vein that runs along the underside of his perfect cock drags so deliciously across your velvet walls? When his balls—hot and heavy and full of enough cum to fill you to the brim—keep clapping against your pussy with each powerful thrust?
It’s the first time that you got to get a taste of what your boyfriend is capable of in bed and you can only imagine every instance that will follow once all’s said and done.
When he feels your walls start to spasm around his length every now and again, Wonwoo presses a sloppy kiss across the cut of your jaw—a hand sliding between your thighs so he can find that little bundle of nerves that made you fall apart only several minutes ago. Your reaction is immediate—crying and squirming below him even when you’re helpless against his massive frame pressing you down into the bed.
“I’m so close, baby,” he groans into your ear, holding out for as long as he can just so he can feel the sensation of you coming around his cock. “You’re almost there, too, aren’t you? My good girl—taking my dick like it’s always been yours. Can you come with me? You can do that for me, right, sweetheart?”
The fondness in his voice strings you even further apart and you’re nothing but a mess of pleasure and delirium as Wonwoo continues his assault on your poor, abused clit. He knows just the right amount of pressure to use and manages to time his thrusts with each delicious pass on that oversensitive bud.
It’s all over before you know it.
You let out a long-winded moan that will definitely earn him a couple of noise complaints from the neighbors but Wonwoo doesn’t have it in him to fucking care at the moment. Not when your walls are clamping down so tightly around his cock—making each stroke all the more tantalizing as your pussy milks him for everything he’s got to give you.
You mindlessly babble a string of I love yous against the sheets, a trail of drool dripping onto the mattress as Wonwoo fucks into you with heightened ferocity. He catches every single word you say and he tilts your head to the side so he can kiss you. Your boyfriend forces your tongue into a dance with his own until his hips stutter and stop—white hot emission surging into your cunt in thick spurts that he hopes would stay inside you for days if he can help himself.
You’re a mess—face painted with a fucked out expression as your pussy leaks with a mixture of yours and Wonwoo’s cum. The mere sight of it is almost enough to make him hard again, but he tells himself that he can take you up on marathon sex next time.
For now, he just wants to clean you up and tuck you back into bed.
“Woo?”
He turns to face you with a questioning look. Your boyfriend just finished with your mandatory aftercare session and is in the middle of making the bed comfortable enough for some post-sex cuddles. “Hmm?”
“You’re still free next week right?” you ask, drawing silly shapes on his chest with your finger once he finally lays down next to you.
“Yeah. I don’t have any major schedules until…” He pauses before conjuring up an imaginary calendar in his mind. “Next month. Why?”
Despite all the debauchery you’ve subjected each other to in a single night, your face still flushes as you consider what you’re about to ask him. Wonwoo smiles at that. Cute.
“How do you feel about flying to Jeju with me so I can introduce you to my family?” you ask shyly, gulping with a nervous laugh. “I totally get it if your management won’t allow it though. It’s hard to keep the media off your back when you’re so famous and—”
He doesn’t do this often, but Wonwoo shuts you up with a firm kiss.
“What are you talking about?” he murmurs, caressing your face tenderly. “Of course I want to meet them.”
When your eyes light up at his confirmation, Wonwoo swears that he couldn’t be more in love.
Me [11:23]: hae, i’ve got good news~
Haewon 🪷 [11:24]: You’re bringing Mingyu with you to Jeju so we can get married?
Me [11:26]: very funny
Me [11:26]: not to spoil your delusions or anything but i’m bringing my boyfriend
Haewon 🪷 [11:30]: Omg…
Haewon 🪷 [11:30]: Rudeness aside, is it the same guy from before?
Me [11:31]: yep
Haewon 🪷 [11:32]: AAAAAAAAA
Haewon 🪷 [11:32]: I can’t wait to meet him!
Haewon 🪷 [11:34]: He better be treating you right or I’ll drop kick him off Jusangjeollidae
Me [11:40]: you’ve already met him though~
Haewon 🪷 [11:41]: ?
Haewon 🪷 [11:45]: Unnie, what do you mean…
Haewon 🪷 [12:32]: Hey!!!!
⟢ end notes: if you've made it til the end, congrats! this is the last of the doting on you! series (for now~) and i really hope you enjoyed reading through it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! special thanks to all the friends that read through this for me T T i wouldn't have done it without any of you ueueue
and to everyone that has been patiently waiting for me to put up the last installment for the series, thank you for waiting <3 i hope you guys continue to support me with my future work as well!
genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?
description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.
warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(
quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",
wordcount: 12.0k
a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye
It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you.
But that’s out there.
You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers.
“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.
Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.
“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.
You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment.
“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow.
“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.
Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.
“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.”
The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it.
You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.
“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.
You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth.
“Jihoon, wait-”
You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.
“Jihoon!”
Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd.
You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here.
It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.
And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.
Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?”
There’s a pause.
“Are you okay?”
Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket.
“I’m good,” he says.
“Okay.”
And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.
“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh.
Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that?
You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit.
“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.
Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.
“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!”
“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.”
“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.
“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little.
“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-
“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!”
“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.
There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:
“Girl Code Rule #1
Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”
There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students.
“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit.
“Girl Code Rule #2
Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.
Girl Code Rule #3
Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.
Girl Code Rule #4
It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”
They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.
“Girl Code Rule #5
The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”
“That’s-” you begin.
“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.
“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage.
“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!”
There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.
“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully: “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…”
“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.
“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-”
“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss.
“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.
“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.
“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly.
“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.
“Seul?”
“Yep.”
And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.”
“You’re not.”
“You’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.
“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?”
_____________________________
You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.
It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.
You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.”
“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.”
And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board.
Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows.
As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await.
Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.”
“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?”
Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you.
“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies.
“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”
“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.”
“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..”
You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair.
There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her?
Holy hell.
“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!”
There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips.
And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more.
“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.
“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!”
Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-”
“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.
“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.
“I’m not telling you.”
“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.”
“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.”
There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you.
Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”
This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.
“We deserve that.”
_____________________________
You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…
But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed.
You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you.
“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?”
And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!”
“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.”
And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.”
You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.
And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you?
“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?”
“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.
“Just tired,” you hum.
_____________________________
Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed.
“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”
You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.
Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?”
Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.”
“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.
“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”
“Son, no!”
“Never!”
“Absolutely not!”
It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.”
Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation.
You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.
You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?
“Are you okay, Y/n?”
You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.”
Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.”
“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you.
“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you.
“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.
“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims.
Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?”
Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.”
_____________________________
“Let me come with you to the spa!”
“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!”
“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points.
“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!”
Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.
The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.
Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!
And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker.
“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…”
The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too.
“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?”
“Pssh!”
“Absolutely not!”
“As if!”
Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.
“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.
Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”
Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?”
“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.”
“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!”
“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!”
Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.
Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.”
You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”
“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.”
You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.
“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes.
He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you.
_____________________________
“What is going on?!”
It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.
“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…”
“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!”
You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-
“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’.
“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”
You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”
You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”
“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich.
“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!”
Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.
“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily.
“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.
“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head.
“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.
“What?”
“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.
“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.
“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.
“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.”
“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:
“Unlovable.”
Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.
“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.
“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!”
“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.
“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.”
_____________________________
Indeed, it is happening.
The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.
You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on.
Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you?
Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.
“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..”
Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-”
“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”
“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this.
“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice-
You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!”
“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?”
“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-”
“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!”
“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.
“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.
“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”
Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?”
“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you.
“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.”
“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?”
Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.”
“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?”
You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.
“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word.
There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet.
“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.
“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.”
“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.
“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.”
You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh.
“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!”
You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile.
“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.
“So you asked for me?”
“Hm?”
“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?”
“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.”
“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?”
You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where-
Where Jihoon is storming out of the house.
You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have.
You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him.
“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?”
“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.
Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?”
_____________________________
“Jihoon?”
You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers.
He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.
“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.”
This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.
“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”
“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.”
Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.
“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.
“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?”
He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.”
“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Oh.”
You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street.
“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.
“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.
“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch.
“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor.
Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring.
You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.
“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other.
“Why?” you ask.
“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.
“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-”
“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-”
“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-”
“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him.
There are flowers in his hands.
It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code.
“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.
“I’m good.”
He nods.
“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”
It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers.
“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?”
“Yes,” is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.
“Yes?”
“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.
“But- you and Wonwoo-?”
“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.
“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?”
You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.
Jihoon needs to kiss you. He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest.
His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted, cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love.
You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.
“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.”
“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.”
He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy.
And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.
“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you.
As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again.
You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy.
“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it.
Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.
“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy.
Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him.
You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?”
You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-”
“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts.
“Sorry, it was just-”
“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.”
You pause, flustered out of your mind.
“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin.
“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?”
You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers.
He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously.
He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit.
“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.
And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.
He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.
“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.
You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?”
You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth.
Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side.
“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.”
“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.
His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling.
“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again.
His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.”
“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.
“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile.
“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.”
He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.”
You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.”
He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.”
You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan.
“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-”
“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.
You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy.
“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?”
The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?”
“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.”
“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly.
“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.”
And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.
The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you.
You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively.
There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious.
“... Are you still hard?”
He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.
“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?”
_____________________________
“So,” Yeri trails off.
You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised.
“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along.
“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.”
“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing.
There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.
You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.”
“Oh, no..”
“Don’t say..”
“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse.
“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”
Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior.
Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.”
“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins.
“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.
Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader
Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers
Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf
WC: 8.3k
A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬
"I'm worried my dick's too big."
Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.
He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.
And no one wants that.
"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."
Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow — but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression.
He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.
"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"
"You're drunk."
"So are you."
Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.
"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."
You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."
"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."
"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."
Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?"
"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…"
You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows?
He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."
"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."
"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."
"You know I'm not!"
"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."
Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"
"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."
Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.
Or maybe that's just the alcohol.
Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs.
"Are you flaccid right now?"
"What's it to you?"
"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."
He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."
"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression.
"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.
"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"
Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him.
"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"
"I dunno a single dick attached to a human body that can vibrate or has suctioning functions."
"Then you should try harder."
He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together.
Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you.
Like always.
Except it's not.
All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick!
You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.
"Am I boring you, baby?"
"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"
He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"
"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."
"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."
"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."
"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"
Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."
"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"
The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.
You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"
"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man.
That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.
"Ah, well, so do I!"
Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.
Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.
Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now.
While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips.
"I wanna go home."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just feel like leaving."
He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."
"Ooh… are you jealous?"
"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."
"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."
His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.
Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure.
Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.
"You want to go to my place?"
"Yeah."
He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"
"Sure. Maybe condoms too."
"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"
Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it.
There's no one there, of course.
"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."
"You do? Good."
"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"
Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"
"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"
"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."
His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"
"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"
One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."
"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."
He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"
"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."
"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"
"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?"
Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!"
"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."
Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier.
But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly?
He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.
"You've been thinking about me?"
"Uh-huh."
"Your pussy has too?"
"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."
"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"
And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.
Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.
He needs to get home fast. Now.
The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.
"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."
The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in.
"No. You have to wait."
"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."
"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"
You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood.
He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.
"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."
His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore.
"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.
"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."
"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."
Neither one of you care.
In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future.
Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth.
"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."
Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you.
Oh, you cannot wait.
He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!
Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.
Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall.
"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will."
Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.
"C'mon bestie, please."
"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."
"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"
Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face.
"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"
His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt.
"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.
And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.
The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight.
Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.
"You can't make me cum."
"What? Why? Need to stretch — "
"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"
"God, yes."
You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."
Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.
It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.
He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.
Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.
There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face.
It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.
And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it.
The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material.
Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.
You're on the brink of climaxing.
And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.
Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.
He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle.
"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.
"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."
"Can't believe you didn't rip them."
"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.
"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"
"Huh?"
It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."
With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.
"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."
"You love it."
"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."
You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.
"Someone's full of surprises."
"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."
Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "
"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy."
You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.
"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.
His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.
It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.
"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.
You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.
It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate.
Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.
He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.
It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.
"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."
"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"
"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"
You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips.
"Mhm… yeah."
"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"
"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"
"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"
"Mhmph! More… more!"
A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength.
Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.
He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.
Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.
"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"
Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.
"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."
"All… all for you!"
Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"
Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.
That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!"
His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.
"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."
You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."
"That's not how it works."
Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it.
You're honestly a little offended.
He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock.
Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot.
You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible.
"Good thing I'm flexible."
"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut."
"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — "
You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall.
"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."
What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue.
To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core.
Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal.
But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.
Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you.
It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"
And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.
White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays.
Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.
"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."
He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.
Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring.
Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.
It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.
"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.
He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion.
Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"
You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.
There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."
"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."
"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"
"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."
"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."
"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."
It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.
"So, you're mine now too?"
"If that's okay with you."
And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter. After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.
♡ pairing: fiance!junhui x female!reader
♡ w.c.: 3.3k
♡ genre: smut, fluff, a splash of comedy (18+ only minors DNI)
♡ this fic contains: use of sex toys (male and female), switch!junhui, switch!reader, multiple orgasms, mention of overstimulation, penetration without protection, jeonghan is always at the scene of the crime, reader goes to a sex store, teasing, pet names (baby, angel, love), dirty talk
♡ synopsis: when you can't work out what junhui wants for his birthday, you take jeonghan's advice.
♡ a/n: happy birthday to junnie ! thank you once again to @lovelyhan for once again hyping me up with this ily
When you celebrated birthdays, you tended to go all out, and your fiance was no exception. After being together for 3 years, it was easy to figure out what he wanted, considering he was an open book. Generally, he would say something offhandedly about an item he’d been wanting, and sure enough, when his birthday rolled around it would be handed to him in pretty packaging with a bow on top.
This year, however, you had yet to decide what to get him.
He hadn't dropped even a hint on what he was after, so you were left clueless as the days clocked over and his birthday drew closer. It had you in a slight panic, and despite messaging all your friends for ideas, no one could help you.
Until you received a message the day before Junhui’s birthday, from one of his bandmates, Jeonghan. It seemed like a saving grace at this point, and you were just hoping he would be able to point you in the right direction.
[2:04 pm] Jeonghan: are you still looking for birthday gift ideas?
[2:04 pm] You: YES im so stuck pls help me
[2:13 pm] Jeonghan: he’s been pretty stressed lately, he probably just needs a good fuck, maybe you could give him head
You stare at your phone screen, slack-jawed at how casually Jeonghan was bringing up this conversation. But then again, you could hardly be surprised considering how close the two were and most definitely shared the most intimate and filthy thoughts and desires.
[2:25 pm] You: what about a sex toy?
[2:27 pm] Jeonghan: oh yeah he mentioned maybe wanting to try a fleshlight with you… something to consider perhaps
Your heart flutters at the words on the screen, wondering what else Junhui had mentioned in conversations with his fellow band members. The thought of using a fleshlight on your fiance had definitely crossed your mind on more than one occasion, but you had never been ballsy enough to purchase one or bring it up to him out of fear he wouldn't like it.
[2:30 pm] You: thanks jeonghan, I owe you one
[2:34 pm] Jeonghan: just make sure he gets laid otherwise I'll never hear the end of it.
You make a mental note to thank him with a drink later, slide your shoes on and head out the door to make what might possibly be the most embarrassing purchase of your entire life, but you know, anything to make Junhui happy.
The sex store isn't far from your apartment, and the 20-minute walk gives you time to wade through all your thoughts and try and sort them out. Most of your thoughts consisted of this specific sex toy, wondering why he wanted it, how long he’s been wanting to try it if he would even tell you he wanted it.
Any thoughts or doubts you had were promptly squashed the moment you entered the dimly lit shop, your eyes widening at the sight of all the sex toys lining the walls and shelves. The sight of the different-sized dildos, whips, paddles, and other various toys has your heartbeat quickening, almost enough to break you out into a sweat. As you wandered the aisles in search of the fleshlights, you find a couple of other toys that pique your interest and might come in handy later. You store those thoughts for a later day.
When you finally stumble across the fleshlights near the back of the store and next to the bondage rope, you find yourself pushing your thighs together to prevent your arousal from soaking your panties (with little success). Just the sight of the devices, the flesh-coloured objects with an opening resembling a vagina, has your mind reeling.
You think about how his pretty whines would sound when you sink the fleshlight down on his girthy cock, how his thighs would tremble as you overstimulate him and milk his cock dry as the rubber device fucks him deliciously. The thoughts running through your mind have shivers cascading down your spine, and without a second thought you grab one of the devices sitting on the shelves without even looking at it.
“Just this one for today?” The cashier’s bright and bubbly voice smacks you out of your trance and you nod with a smile. They place the fleshlight in a discreet black bag and hand it over with a wink, which only makes your breath hitch and you hightail it out of the store, just wanting to get home and compartmentalize every thought you’d had in the space of an hour.
The walk home is cool and the wind is fresh against your skin and seems to drag out much longer than your walk to the store. You hold the bag tight against your body, mainly out of fear of the flimsy bag ripping and the toy falling onto the ground into plain sight of everyone enjoying their Friday afternoon.
You breathe a sigh of relief when you finally reach the steps of your apartment and unlock the door. After toeing off your shoes and placing the bag on the bed, you open your phone and your relaxed nature is yet again, replaced with one of panic when you read the messages on your phone.
[4:07 pm] Junnie: hey babe im coming home early!
[4:10 pm] Junnie: I’ll be home in 15! Love you!
You quickly check the time, now 4:24, and realize he will be home any second. The lock on the front door clicks open and you can hear Junhui’s signature humming coming down the hallway. You panic and quickly go to greet him, forgetting all about the plastic bag on the bed momentarily.
Junhui looks tired but still manages to pull a loopy grin onto his face at the sight of you bounding down the hallway. He opens his arms for you to enter and you don’t hesitate to envelope yourself into his body warmth, his musky scent filling your nostrils and making a sense of peace and calm wash over you. He really was your happy place.
“How was your day love?” He kisses the top of your head and places his keys into the bowl near the front door, kicking off his shoes and heading toward the bedroom. You follow him like a lost puppy and only stop in your tracks when you hear a noise of confusion leave Junhui’s lips.
You’d left the bag on the bed. The bag with the fleshlight in it.
“Hey babe, what’s this?”
Upon peeking into the bedroom, you can see him holding the bag with his index and middle fingers. You step into the bedroom and feel your cheeks begin to heat up. You don’t think he’s opened the bag yet, due to the quizzical look covering his features, but your heart rate still quickens anyway.
“Oh, that! I’ll take it, it’s just something I bought when I went shopping today,” you make an attempt to grab the bag, but junhui knew how to use his size to his advantage. He holds the bag high above your head, out of reach despite trying your best to try and grab the bag. He smirks when you try to jump repeatedly, his height becoming a great advantage.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Nothing!”
“Well, why won't you let me see what's in it?”
“Because it’s for your birthday!”
His mouth opens into an ‘o’ shape and he finally relents, bringing the bag back down to your height. Just as the bag is within your grasp again, you feel the flimsy plastic begin to rip, and before you can stop it, the toy is falling out of the bottom of the bag, and landing on the floor with a loud thud.
You both look at the fleshlight in silence, the box it came in now dinted from where it fell on the floor. After a moment, you can hear Junhui swallow and lean down to pick up the box, before handing it back to you with his cheeks and the tip of his ears bright pink.
“I-”
“Is that what I think it is?” Junhui cuts you off and takes a step closer to you. You stare at the box in your hands, feeling your hands get sweatier by the second. Your heartbeat is thumping in your ears, he feels a million miles away yet he’s standing two feet away.
“What do you think it is?”
“A fleshlight.”
Eye contact is avoided. You can’t even bear to look him in the eye because you aren't sure how he’s feeling. Your eyes are downcast to the floor, your sock-clad feet seemingly much more interesting than your fiance's reaction to a sex toy. You can see his own feet step into your vision and you gulp, hoping he won’t chew you out for buying him a sexual aid.
“I love it.”
As soon as the words fall from his lips, your head snaps up and you look him in the eye. You can see his gentle smile and when his hand comes up to caress your cheek, any ounce of common sense left in your body is thrown out the window.
“Good, because I plan to use it on you for hours.”
Your statement takes him aback, and even more so when you push him backwards onto the bed, and you walk over and get on the bed to straddle his hips. The box is tossed to the side temporarily, while you lean over and let your lips collide with Junhui’s plush ones. He lets out a surprised gasp which gives you the perfect opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth.
For a while, you lay and make out with him, letting your cool hands run under his shirt and feel the warm, toned skin underneath. He’s letting out the cutest whimpers and moans into your mouth, and it only makes the arousal flood your panties tenfold.
You can tell he’s getting impatient, with the way he begins groping at your ass and his fingers are teasingly tracing your panty line. You pull away from his lips, a thin trail of saliva still connecting the two of you until it snaps when you move to grab the box.
“Remove your clothes, Junnie, I want to see all of you.”
“O-okay.”
He’s quick to remove his shirt, exposing his beautifully sculpted abs and torso. You lick your lips at the sight, which is quickly moved downwards when he begins removing his slacks and exposing his lower half. As he removes his boxers, you can see just how worked up he’s gotten. His cock is already hard and leaking precum, the protruding vein on the left side throbbing and his balls twitching and ready to be emptied.
“Get on the bed.”
He complies quickly with your dominant aura surrounding him, his head landing on his pillow and his hands quickly grabbing at the blanket underneath his naked body. He feels as if his head is swimming when you quickly undress yourself to the same level of nakedness as him, your body igniting a fire within his belly that can only be quenched by you sitting on his cock.
But that would have to wait.
With a smirk on your lips, you pull the fleshlight out of the box and quickly wipe it down with an antibacterial wipe, before dousing it in a heap of lube. You glance over to look at your fiance and are met with doe eyes, hands fisting the sheets and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in anticipation.
“You’re so cute when you’re needy Junnie~” your soft voice has him whining and thrashing his head around on his pillow, which is the perfect opportunity to place the tip of his cock into the fleshlight and watch as his eyes widen and his hips buck up at the feelings.
“Oh f-fuck!” His voice cracks as you slide the fleshlight down his shaft slowly, letting the rubber envelope his throbbing cock. You can see tears welling up in his eyes as you test the waters and begin pumping the fleshlight up and down at a tantalizingly slow pace, his hands in the sheets gripping as hard as they possibly can.
You can see his body relax a little bit as you start a steady pace, his body contracting and relaxing every couple of seconds with each pump of the fleshlight. What he doesn't realize is that the toy you’d bought also came with a vibrating inner sleeve, and with just the push of a button, you could have him crying out your name.
“How’re you feeling baby? Feeling good?” You pump the fleshlight a little faster along his shaft and watch as he furiously nods and clings to the sheets like it’s his lifeline. You smirk and press a button on the side of the fleshlight, the gentle thrum sparking to life and sending junhui into a frenzy.
You can see how much this is affecting him, even on the lowest setting. He’s thrusting his hips up maniacally, head thrashing against his pillow and tears are streaming down his cheeks steadily. His moans have gradually gotten louder and by the time he’s close to cumming, his moans are laced with hiccups and sobs due to the sheer pleasure coursing through his body.
He can’t even warn you that he’s cumming because the wind is knocked out of his body but with the fleshlight feeling like a vice around his cock paired with the low vibrations, his cum spurts out quickly. It shoots deep into the fleshlight, and he cums so much that once you slow down your pumping, it’s like he’s creaming into an actual pussy and it makes your insides turn to jelly. His cum fills the inside of the fleshlight and coats his shaft, and even goes down as far as his upper thighs.
“How do you feel baby, are you okay?” Your voice is what brings him back to the Earth plane, and he stares at you with a goofy smile on his features. You place the fleshlight on the bedside table and lay next to him, stroking his messy bangs off his sweaty forehead. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed and his body curling into yours.
“‘M okay…but still want more,” he whines, adjusting his body so that he’s between your legs and is hovering above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks and leans down to kiss your clavicle, and works his way down until he’s right above where you want him the most.
“You want more? But I already made you cum baby, what more do you want?” Your voice comes out breathy as he lets his tongue glide over your breasts, paying close attention to your nipples. He hums against your skin, the vibrations making you feel warm and he knows it. Fucker.
“I want to be buried deep inside you and cum as hard as I did with the fleshlight you used on me.”
He doesn’t say another word as he strokes himself to full hardness again, soft whimpers escaping him at the slight overstimulation. You can’t help but moan at the sight of your fiance jacking off right above you, and a new wave of arousal floods your cunt which doesn't go unnoticed by him.
“Oh wait, I need to grab something,” he mentions, your curiosity piquing when he moves to his side of the bed and pulls open his drawer, grabbing at some long white device before shutting the drawer and crawling back to his previous position between your thighs.
“What did you grab?”
He grins playfully and holds the item up for you to inspect, and it doesn't even surprise you that he has a vibrator just hanging out in his drawer. You scoff but feel your cheeks burn, and wonder when he had actually bought it.
Junhui lets the head of his cock rest against your clit teasingly, the occasional twitch driving you insane. He plays with the settings of the vibrator for a few seconds, before finding a setting he thinks will work well, before lining himself up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation and let out a strangled sigh when he lets the fat head of his cock push inside of you.
You loved the way he stretched you out so deliciously, how he could hardly contain his own orgasm as he filled you to the hilt, your cunt feeling very similar to how the fleshlight felt and he has to take a few breaths to not cum on the spot. With one hand, he grabs the vibrator and lets it lay on your stomach, but doesn't turn it on quite yet. With his other hand, he takes one of your hands and interlaces your fingers, the softness of that one gesture having you melt into his touch.
He starts off at a slow pace, rocking his hips gently into yours. You can feel every inch of him against your walls, the way he knows exactly how to angle his hips to hit that spongy sensitive spot inside of you repeatedly has you on edge within minutes, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re so fucking t-tight, god,” Junhui chokes out, his breath stuttering when you absentmindedly clench around his cock and cause him to halt his movements. He quickly continues, speeding his pace up and grabbing the vibrator and turning it on. Your eyes widen as he teases you with the toy, keeping the toy on your nipples at first, running the vibrations down your body.
When he gets close to your cunt, you feel yourself beginning to clench even more around Junhui’s cock. He grunts and turns the vibrations up on the vibrator, before letting it rest against your clit. He speeds his thrusts up at the exact moment the vibrator lands on your cunt, and the intense feeling is one like no other and has you seeing stars within seconds.
You aren't even sure when you became incoherent, your mind was too busy building you up to what would most definitely be the most intense orgasm you’ve experienced to date. Junhui can feel you tightening up like you normally do right before you cum, and takes the vibrator away at the last moment, throwing it to the side of the bed.
“Cum for me, fucking cum for me, angel.”
And that was all it took, your vision covered with exploding stars as the rubber band inside you snapped violently, your orgasm being so intense that Junhui’s cock is pushed out of you. He doesn’t mind though, he just takes his cum covered shaft in his hand and pumps quickly until he’s painting your chest and stomach white, long streaks of his cum dripping down your skin.
He flops beside you, both your bodies trembling from pleasure. He takes one of your hands in his again and kisses your fingers gently, in an attempt to bring you back to earth. When you start coming back, he hums and starts tracing soft patterns on your back, the familiarity lulling you into a sense of warmth and security.
“We should shower, my love,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, to which you promptly reply with a strained whine. Junhui can only chuckle and effortlessly pull your tired body off the bed and carry you princess-style to the bathroom.
“Let’s shower and then we can nap, okay?” he cups your face with his hands and kisses your nose softly before getting the shower turned on and warmed up. He takes a quick glance at the time, noting it’s only 8:30 pm, but neither of you had eaten dinner yet.
“Did you like the gift?”
Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts about dinner, and he turns and gives you a huge boxy grin.
“I couldn’t have asked for anything better. What should we get for dinner?”
