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justanothergirlfromeurope · 15 hours

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DON'T SWEAT IT. - l.jh

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.

pairing; lee jihoon x fem!reader. content; fluff / gym crush au / strangers to lovers / kinda idiots to lovers / smut towards the end (MINORS DNI). w/c; just a breezy 18k- and some change? warnings; swearing, this is only proof read once because if i read it again i was going to lose my mind. please let me know if i've forgotten any. smut tags under the cut ( not sure that this counts as a warning but a heads up: the gym weight units, whenever mentioned, are in kilograms not lbs because i’m british and the metric system, am i right? sorry if there are any other british-isms, i try really hard to avoid them/catch them on a proofread but there are inevitably some that have slipped through the net. )

note; gym-selfie jihoon, you will never not own my ass. ( screaming internally this is the first fic i've written since my dan + phil youtube era. i don't know what i'm doing. this has been in my wips for about two months. it's a bit all over the place. that's. literally just me. bon appetite. <3 )

smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), blowjob started/implied (at the end), protected sex (be safe out there gang), little bit of biting, no huge power dynamics? reader & jihoon are both switches (and simps), some use of pet-names (good girl/baby).

—————

He first sees you around lunchtime on an otherwise unassuming Sunday.

As you walk in, the gym is wonderfully quiet. A handful of regulars mill about, making full use of the rare freedom of the machinery. One of the club’s personal trainers is marching an impossibly steep incline on a treadmill. It could just be any other weekend session in this criminally over-equipped and under-used gym: the town’s worst kept secret. But when the door slams shut behind you, his head jerks up; it, in this moment, is the loudest sound in the room. It’s sort of the only one he hears at all.

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you as he sits with dumbbells rested against his thighs. He catches his breath as he wonders who you are, if you’ve ever been to this gym before, why he doesn’t recognise you. Are you a new potential regular, maybe? Or just visiting the area and making good use of the cheap pay-as-you-go rates? Maybe, he considers, lips turning downwards in thought… maybe you’ve been coming here for a long time and he’s somehow just always been so in his own head that he’s never noticed.

The last, he thinks, is sort of unlikely. No. He would definitely remember a face like yours.

His heart rate slows more than he usually lets it as he finds himself watching you fill up your water bottle at the fountain, taking a long sip on your way over to one of the stairmasters. His brain blanks out when he realises that he’s not just looking anymore, he’s sort of staring, and swallows the saliva on his tongue hard, looking back at the mirror. He doesn’t want to be that guy. He isn’t that guy – he just got distracted by the loud noise, and this is exactly why he checks the damn battery on his headphones before he leaves the house.

The only problem is that now, he can’t remember how many sets he’s done. He lies back and stares straight into a slightly sketchy light-fixture, neglecting to pick up the dumbbells that he put aside for his next set of pushes. Jihoon adjusts the position of his shoulders against the bench, arches his back off it slightly, digs his heels into the spongy floor beneath them and pushes the ones still in his hands until failure.

Today, he finishes his routine and leaves the gym without allowing himself so much as another glance your way.

He neglects to notice that your eyes are avoiding him right back.

—————

You smile at him for the first time on a Tuesday. Not the following one – a week and a bit later.

Seungcheol is with him tonight. Jihoon prefers to train alone nine times out of ten: this is a truth widely acknowledged, accepted and respected among his friends. Gym time is his down time, his equivalent of movie marathons and comfort food, of face masks and glasses of wine. But it’s not a hard rule: occasionally, someone will ask to tag along and use one of his guest passes, and Jihoon very rarely says no. There are two reasons. One, he isn’t actually rude, contrary to approximately eighteen running jokes in the group-chat. But also, it adds a little bit of variety to his otherwise very set-in-stone regimen, and mixing it up doesn’t hurt. Like tonight, for example. Seungcheol is pulling him into the studio off the main gym floor, his own gym bag packed with boxing pads and gloves for them to play with.

Variety.

Jihoon grumbles a little at the idea, at first. He has a very love-hate relationship with cardio, favouring a simple steady-state run over everything else, and it just feels a bit against his moral code to use gym time for something like this. However, he comes to discover very quickly that smacking Seungcheol’s hands is very therapeutic; Jihoon knows he’s maybe getting a little too into it when his friend asks if they can switch around, grimacing and shaking out his wrist after a particularly beefy punch.

He agrees, albeit reluctantly, tugging off the gloves he’s wearing and pulling on the pads instead.

This half of the activity is considerably less enjoyable for Jihoon; he starts to cool down and loses his flow almost straight away and after about thirty seconds, his breathing is back to normal and he feels ready to go again. Even so, he does what he needs to do to be a good workout partner, and goes one step further into ‘good friend’ territory as he allows Seungcheol to vent about the bad day he had at work in-between hits, offering murmurs and looks of disgust when it feels appropriate. Suddenly, the impromptu request to come to the gym tonight makes much more sense, as does the slightly bizarre choice of activity, but Jihoon tries not to ask about it in too much detail.

They swing at each other for a few more rounds apiece, working up a healthy sweat and getting out a few frustrations as the hour wears on. On the last set, Jihoon switches out Seungcheol’s hands for a punching bag, putting a lot more of his weight behind every hit and really tiring himself out. By the end, his hair sticks to his forehead and his cheeks have flushed bright red; he only stops when he gets that weird, metallic taste in the back of his mouth that says he’s probably overdone it. Again.

“Hit the shower?” Seungcheol asks breathlessly as he finishes his last set of Russian twists and lies down flat on the floor, equally sticky and flushed all over.

Jihoon pats his face dry with his towel, shaking his head. “You go ahead. I’ll have one at home.”

He doesn’t give Seungcheol much of a chance to respond, already cleaning down anything he’s touched or managed to sweat on and riding out the high of the endorphins flooding his veins. Secretly, he hasn’t had a cardio session this high energy or this satisfying in a long time. He isn’t going to readily admit to that though.

“Nah, I’ll do the same,” Seungcheol agrees. He starts packing the gear he brought with him into his bag and they leave together after, heading towards the exit.

That’s when he sees you again.

He doesn’t notice at first; you’re stowing your things into one of the higher lockers, and you have your headphones slung around your neck as he walks past. It’s the sound of a song he vaguely recognises through your speakers that makes his head snap over from the conversation he’s in the middle of. They walk past at the moment you drop down from your tiptoes, and you flash a small (but insanely pretty) smile at Jihoon.

By the time he manages to process this fact, he’s already walked past you and you’re headed over into the main gym area, so even though he turns around to try and catch your eye, all he sees is your retreating figure. He stumbles over his own feet, not looking where he’s going, and just barely catches himself on Seungcheol’s upper arm before he actually does fall over. His older friend glances down at his bicep before he adopts a look that Jihoon has seen many, many times before: just never directed at him. His cheeks heat up further and he looks away.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, one eyebrow so far up his forehead that it’s disappeared almost entirely under his soggy hair. He looks so smug, so incredibly entertained. Jihoon wants to smack that expression off his face, immediately.

“Nothing,” Jihoon rushes, managing not to act on the violent thought even though he wants to. He clears his throat. “No-one. I-... they’re new, I think. I don’t know.”

Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, pushing the door open for them both to leave through. “Yeah,” he scoffs, eyes glimmering with something Jihoon doesn’t think he likes the look of. “Nothing, my ass.”

—————

Three days later, he hears you speak for the first time.

Granted, you aren’t speaking to him – at least, not at first. But that’s not really what matters.

It’s late, and it’s a Friday night. Fridays are usually Jihoon’s days rest days, but sitting around his apartment had him feeling impossibly twitchy, with far too much energy to burn and no way to do so without leaving the house. And he knows that he needs to take days off, now and again. He knows that they’re good for recovery and that it’s healthy to take time to himself that involves not lifting weights. But what he also knows is that if he doesn’t manage to shake the weird buzzing feeling in his muscles, in his joints, in his veins, he’s never going to get to sleep. So, here he finds himself at almost 10PM, walking down the street to get to the gym.

To begin with, he doesn’t know (or really care) who it is that’s coming up behind him. He can hear quite clearly that the mystery person is on the phone, and that they’re in the middle of what seems to be a rather heated argument: his brain latches onto occasional words, phrases, curses. Every now and again, their voice drops to a deep, frustrated mutter and he cringes slightly, making a point to keep his eyes forward and down so as not to draw attention to the fact that this presumably private conversation has become everything but.

He touches his entry fob to the sensor on the door as he arrives and pushes it open. Jihoon uses the opportunity to stand still, to glance back at whoever it is that’s walked behind him for the past four and a half minutes, and his eyes come to land on you. He falters, noting how your eyes are a bit glassy and your cheeks are stained with what he can safely assume are tear-tracks. In this moment, he wants to run; he doesn’t want anything to do with that, and he certainly doesn’t want to hear any more of your call. It’s none of his business, and he feels plenty weird enough already with what he has overheard. But, for some unknown reason, he stays in place.

“No – no, you don’t get to-...” you hiss into your phone. “It was our fucking anniversary, you asshole.” Jihoon’s face tightens at that, lips drawn between his teeth and his eyes blowing slightly wide. You pass through the door in front of him, flashing a small smile as you go. Another smile, he thinks to himself, but he’d be an idiot to compare them in any way; this one is so dramatically dissimilar to the first, he thinks it could almost have come from a totally different person.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing ‘insanely pretty’ about it this time. Your smile is tight-lipped and exhausted, slightly apologetic. Maybe even forced. He does try to return a warmer one to you, but he doesn’t know if you notice.

“Look, I’m at the gym – we’re not doing this right now. I’ll call you later.” You hang up the phone with the kind of sigh that groans in the back of your throat.

A small part of him wants to take this moment and use it to ask if you’re all right, but an even larger part of him doesn’t. It isn’t because he doesn’t care. In a weird way, considering this is only the first time he’s clearly heard your voice and he knows absolutely nothing about you, he does care. But there are a few things that stop him. Not only are you a near-complete stranger, not only would he have no idea what to say to you if the answer happened to come out as a ‘no’, not only is he already coming over a little bit clammy at the thought of having a conversation with you… Jihoon isn’t stupid. He knows from the sound of your voice and the way you’re rather aggressively typing a message into your phone that it’s a ridiculous question.

You’re walking into the gym at 10 o’clock on a Friday night, your eyes literally brimming with tears. Of course you’re not all right.

He’s still standing in the open doorway mulling all this over, but Jihoon only realises when a gust of wind slaps over his calves and sends a draught not only through the reception area, but up the length of his spine. He comes inside fully as you close the locker you’re using – he notices, but he isn’t sure why, that it’s the same one as last time – and throws his things into the one he always uses. Two below and one to the left of yours.

It’s quiet tonight: just the pair of you and one middle-aged guy. Jihoon recognises him as the friendly man who seemingly knows everyone who comes in here – including you, apparently, judging by the way he strikes up a short but energetic conversation. When the other guy walks away, you clamp your headphones back over your ears and return to what you were doing before, occasionally bobbing your head or moving your lips in time with whatever it is that you’re listening to. Jihoon steals little glances at you now and again when you’re in-between sets, watching how you breathe deeper, how your skin glows with sweat as you tap your fingertips against your thighs.

He almost drops the bar he’s holding when you catch his eyes in the long line of mirrors. He turns away, swallowing hard, completely missing how your own gaze lingers.

Jihoon becomes so obsessed with not being caught looking at you again that he doesn’t even notice when you disappear off the gym floor completely. It’s only when he pulls his headphones off at the end of his session and glances around that he registers your absence: your third companion is long gone, and he assumes you must have snuck out without him noticing too. He settles the speakers back over his ears before pulling on an old zip-up, flicking the hood over his head to shelter him a little better once he gets outside. But he’s in no rush to get home so he takes his time, resting his bag between his abdomen and the lockers, replying to a few messages and clicking his tongue at some of the nonsense being spewed into the group-chat.

He isn’t sure exactly how long he’s standing there for, but he does know precisely what pulls him back to the world outside of the device in his hands.

To begin with, he doesn’t notice you approach, lost completely in his screen. He doesn’t hear your footsteps, or the way you politely clear your throat to announce your presence so he can move out of the way. He misses your moment of realisation that he’s listening to music and has no idea that you’re standing three feet behind him. He doesn’t even see you walk up next to him, your hair still damp from your shower and sitting loose over your shoulders.

It’s only when you try to reach over him to grab the last of your things that he snaps out of his trance. The fragrance of your body wash hits him first, and oh boy, does it hit him. Sweet, and delicate. Then, he gets something beautifully fruity: it’s not a perfume (it doesn’t smell like a perfume), but it’s you. Your shampoo, maybe? A conditioner? He can’t tell. Whatever it is, the combination of fragrances has him feeling like he’s been slammed into by a damn freight train. He drops his bag to the floor, freezing for a second, and then finally moves away just as the little door swings open.

“I’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly, tugging his hood down and pulling his headphones off completely. “I didn’t even think you were still here.” He can’t shake the smell of you, nor the feeling of your warm frame leaning so close to his own. God, why is his heart pounding like he’s just finished a round of sprints? Why can’t he breathe?

“No – hey, no, don’t be,” you rush, shaking your head. You finally succeed in pulling your coat free and start trying to get it on; Jihoon wonders if you often struggle to find your sleeves like this, if you’re always chasing them around like a puppy after its own tail. He does it too, sometimes. He gets it. It’s cute. “It’s okay. I was trying not to disturb-... I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he tells you. For the first time, he’s able to smile back at you properly.

Why is it so hot in here, all of a sudden? Do they shut off the air conditioning after hours or something? He’s breaking out in a sweat.

“Call it even?” you suggest shyly, extending out a hand now you’ve managed to get both arms through your sleeves. He looks down at your fingers for a second before reaching to shake your hand once, a semi-firm grip securing the ‘deal’. (He feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted after, but he tries not to make that too obvious).

It goes awkwardly quiet for a moment then, and Jihoon wishes deeply that he had it in him to say something. Anything. But his brain has gone completely empty and apparently, all he knows how to do is stand completely still like a fucking statue. He shifts his gaze from you, to the wall behind you, to the carpet beneath his shoes, all the while tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt as if it might bring him a tiny breath of fresh air. The gentle sound of you clearing your throat has him looking back at your face again though; he assumes for a second that this is maybe you about to announce taking your leave. All the while, he’s cursing himself out in his own head for being totally inept, and he’s not entirely sure that it isn’t written all over his face.

“Alone, today?” you ask, idly fiddling with your zipper and succeeding in taking him by surprise. He really didn’t think you were going to continue this. And yet…

“Hm?” he questions.

You swallow before answering. “You… the last time, you were with a friend?” you explain, and now it’s your turn to look away. He wonders if you’re a little warm too, if he’s right in what he was thinking about the air-conditioning.

“Oh. Right.”

He nods. An annoying train of doubt in his mind wants to know why you’re asking about Seungcheol; if maybe it was him that you smiled at the other night, even though he knows your eyes weren’t looking up at the man he brought with him. He thinks maybe he should be used to these turns in conversation by now – you certainly wouldn’t be the first person to ask if one of his friends is available, after all – but somehow, he isn’t, and he has a slightly bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he goes on.

He really didn’t have ‘you being interested in one of his best friends’ on his bingo card for tonight, that’s for sure.

“Yeah. I think he’s with his partner, or… I don’t know. I don’t really bring other people, often. That was a one-off.”

You nod silently and Jihoon can’t quite get a read on what that means. He wonders if you’re upset at the revelation of Seungcheol’s partner, or maybe that he doesn’t tag along to every session. Or maybe, maybe, you were just being polite, and you don’t really care what his friend is up to that means he isn’t here. But whatever it is that you’re feeling, you do far too good a job at hiding it; he’s suddenly very overcome with the desire to run, again, except this time he might just bury his head in the sand too for good measure.

“How much were you deadlifting, just then?” you ask in the lull, just as he thinks he might have perfected the best way to say goodbye that doesn’t make him come across as even more of a tool than he probably already has. It throws him off kilter, but somehow, he manages to answer you in reasonable time.

“Oh, God… uh, one… 160?” He says uncertainly. “That’s not… I can do heavier-...” In his mind, he slaps his forehead. “Wait, no, that’s-... I mean, it’s true, but I didn’t mean-...”

You bite back your smile as he talks himself in a circle but Jihoon is too flustered to notice, convinced that he now sounds like every arrogant gym rat on the planet. God, he’s given himself the ick.

“I guessed you could,” you say.

Oh boy, this freezes him. Mid-thought, mid blink, mid-breath: he’s completely stuck. What does that mean? What does that mean? He only just manages to unstick his now suddenly dry tongue from the roof of his mouth, looking at you with surprised, confused eyes and parted lips. There aren’t any words on them, though. Like a deer in headlights, he just… stares.

“I mean, okay. Come on.” Your eyes visibly drop as you look him over, gaze lingering at his shoulders, his biceps, his waist. “You can get another twenty on that at least, right?”

He doesn’t know how to explain what’s happening to him, but if he thought he was burning up before? It was nothing compared to this, now. And there’s no way you haven’t noticed how everything from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears has suddenly started staining scarlet. He bows his head and pinches his lips tight, wrestling away the train of thought that appears as you drag your bottom lip between your teeth momentarily, still eyeing his arms. God, he’s never felt so overwhelmed in his life.

“Something like that, yeah,” he strains. He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, even though he knows all of his personal bests by heart. Deadlift, 195kg. He hit it a few weeks ago: a couple of days before he first saw you.

“Mm. You can tell.”

Jihoon tries to shake off the compliment, but he fails. In equal measure he wishes you’d stop (he doesn’t know how much more blood can rush to his cheeks before he keels over) and never wants you to stop talking. It’s all going straight to his stomach, though, and he doesn’t remember having felt this specific brand of nervous and excited and stupidly shy since he was in high school.

He can hardly keep up. This is the danger zone.

Maybe it’s a bad idea that he says the next thing that comes into his head in a desperate attempt to change the conversation away from how much he can pull. But somehow, his voice doesn’t break when he asks, “are you parked far away?”

What? It’s dark outside, and this part of town isn’t exactly known for its upstanding citizens and pretty flowerbeds.

“Oh,” you say, eyes a little wide. “I’m-... just staying close-by. I walked here.” The space between his eyebrows must crease a little too quickly because you immediately hurry to speak again. “Really. It’s like… not even ten minutes. All main streets. It’s nothing.”

“Ten minutes longer than I’d walk around here at night on my own,” he says lightheartedly. In tone, at least. He’s actually completely serious.

You laugh at that; he lets out a chuckle, too. Now, Jihoon doesn’t believe in fairies but he thinks that if they were real, they’d giggle just like you do.

With a smile still on your face, you say, “what? A strong guy like you? Come on, now.”

Do you have to keep doing that? Fuck, he’s absolutely done for.

He tilts his head forwards, eyes closed, trying so hard to stop the muscles in his cheeks from lifting in a grin that it becomes a workout in and of itself.

“I mean it,” he says, taking what he hopes is a subtle breath to settle the fluttering in his chest. The next thing he knows, he’s leaning one shoulder against the lockers, a little reminiscent of every douchebag in every teen movie ever made. If he doesn’t think about it too much, he won’t cringe into oblivion until he gets home and replays this interaction over and over in his head instead of going to sleep. “Maybe I’ve just lived here too long. I might be jaded, but it’s still true.”

“How long is too long?” you ask.

“All my life,” he tells you.

“No way?”

“Mm.” A beat. “What about you?”

“I’m just staying with a friend, right now.”

“Oh, right.” He falls quiet again as he remembers the first time he saw you, remembers making the list in his head of all the possible reasons he hadn’t seen you before. The second was true, then.

Why does that feel like the worst possible scenario? He decides not to unpack that here.

“Maybe-...” you start, glancing down at your hands, which have been twisting in front of you for a few seconds now. Your chest inflates, filled with the words you’re about to speak, but only a breath comes out when you shake your head instead of saying them. “No, don’t worry. Scratch that.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, because he thinks that whatever you were about to suggest, there’s not much he would have said no to. He feels like it’s only fair to give you another chance to say it.

But you don’t.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” You pause. “I… should probably get going.” He glances over your shoulder at the clock mounted on the far wall, squinting to see the time. 11:45.

“Shit. Yeah, me too,” Jihoon agrees. He didn’t realise it had gotten so late, so fast: he’s hardly ever out at this time. Lord, he already knows it’s going to be an open inquisition when he gets back to his apartment. His neighbours, Soonyoung and Seokmin, are about to have a fucking field day.

But it’s already long past the time he usually goes to bed, so he asks his next question anyway. He still can’t shake the thought of you walking back on your own at this hour. “Do-… you need a ride?”

He’s not sure if you actually consider it, or just wait a moment before you answer just to be polite. Either way, you end up shaking your head.

“It’s okay. I’ve-… got a call to make, so.” Your voice is a little quieter, lips tweaking up into a regretful half-smile, and Jihoon curses in his own head. How had he forgotten about that? “Thank you, though. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Just… get back safe.”

You smile and nod, taking a step towards the door and Jihoon does the same. He reaches the exit first and holds it open for you; when you’re both out in the street, he suppresses a shiver and looks in the direction of where he left his car earlier. Feeling the full force of the cold, it crosses his mind to ask again if you’re sure about walking home, but you’re already pulling a beanie down over your still damp hair and tapping something into your phone, so he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you around, uh-…” you start to say, only looking back up when you falter, realising that this is the first time you’re about to use his name and it occurs to you both, at the same time, that you haven’t done this part, yet.

“Jihoon,” he introduces himself, lips quirking into a side-smile. His gaze is expectant and you respond to it perfectly.

“Y/n,” you introduce yourself.

“See you around, y/n.”

You split off in the opposite direction to where he’s heading. Before he clamps his headphones over his ears for the short walk up to his car, the last thing he hears is the retreating sound of a dial-tone.

—————

He doesn’t see you then for two whole weeks.

For the first couple of days, he only idly notices; it’s not a big deal — it’s not like you’re always there when he is, and he’s sure it’s the same vice versa. But he notices your absence, nonetheless. By the end of the first week, he casually wonders if you’ve had a change in schedule. Maybe you’re on a different working pattern, something that means you can’t be there on Monday and Thursday evenings and at 11:45am on Sundays.

It’s not weird. He only knows this because prior to that first conversation, acknowledging you as you crossed paths by the free-weights became part of his routine. It’s fine that he sort of misses those little interactions, isn’t it?

Maybe you’ve decided to start training ridiculously early in the morning instead? He tried that once. Never again. It then occurs to him, in the middle of a self-enforced rest day as he sits in the dark nursing a headache, that perhaps you’re not well. He sort of wishes he’d had the guts to ask for your number the last time he saw you, now: he thinks he’d check in, see if you were okay, ask how work was going or something.

Deep down he knows he’d probably actually just be staring at a blank text thread with a ‘casual’ message typed, tweaked a few hundred times, and ultimately unsent. But that’s fine. It’s the thought that counts.

The next time he sees you isn’t even in the gym, at all. It’s a Sunday afternoon — he finished his morning session, went home, showered, and headed back out into town after some lunch with a few errands to run. He finds himself spoiled with the luxury of a spare few hours to kill and dips into his favourite coffee place, thrilled beyond belief to find that it’s not obnoxiously busy and that there’s only one other person in the queue waiting to be served.

Oh, he thinks when he looks up from his phone and sees a vaguely familiar set of headphones sitting on top of a definitely familiar mane of hair, standing right in front of him. Oh, shit. It’s you.

Jihoon goes back and forth with himself over it but ultimately decides he probably doesn’t know you well enough to just say hello out in the wild like this, so even though the urge to do so strikes, he holds himself back. It’s agonising, though. He really wants to.

You step forward to order and he’s typing out a reply to a message in his, Seokmin and Soonyoung’s three-way group chat, in which he’s literally been fighting for his life as of late. He made the mistake of mentioning you in passing a few days ago and ever since, he’s had to vehemently deny that he has developed his first gym crush, insisting that actually, he’s just made a friend. They don’t believe him, because of course they don’t. That would be far too reasonable. Seokmin says that Jihoon wouldn’t be blushing just from saying your name if you were really ‘just a friend’. Soonyoung argues Jihoon wouldn’t have mentioned you at all.

“I’m so sorry — bear with me, just-…” your voice is quiet but Jihoon hears you apologising to the cashier in front of you, and it snaps him clean away from the tiff he’s having with the men who live in his building. He glances up and you’re elbow-deep in the bag over your shoulder, red in the face with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He turns his head slightly and sees the small hand-written sign that says the card machine isn’t working, and they’re cash only, today.

He can hazard a guess at your predicament.

After another few seconds of you trying to find whatever it is you’re looking for in your bag, he starts feeling bad for you. This, right here, is his own worst nightmare. Should the roles be reversed, he thinks he would’ve just turned around and walked out. It’s exactly why he doesn’t bother with backpacks and satchels day-to-day: if it doesn’t fit in his pockets, he doesn’t take it out with him. The system isn’t perfect but it has saved Jihoon a decent amount of public distress.

But the roles aren’t reversed, and he has his wallet already in his hand, so… he only gives himself a few seconds to wonder if it’s appropriate before he does the stupid thing anyway.

“Don’t worry — I’ve got it,” he says, stepping around you, pulling out the cash to pay for your order. You’re dumbstruck when you look at him, head tilted to the side. The person stood behind the counter glances at you, then at him, and back at you; you don’t see this, however, because your eyes haven’t left Jihoon’s face since he appeared — as far as you’re concerned — out of thin air.

“I can’t ask you to…” you start to protest, but your hands have stopped fishing around and he’s moving the cash further towards the barista, who hesitates just a second longer.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ve got you.” He says this with such finality that you quite literally can’t argue with him. The lady behind the counter accepts the cash and you nod, shyly, mouthing a thank you. He orders his own drink — an Americano, nothing exciting — and you both go to stand at the other end of the counter while you wait.

“Hi,” you finally say, and Jihoon can’t help but give a small chuckle.

He doesn’t have anything hugely witty or creative in his arsenal, though, so he comes back with a matching, “hey.”

“How… have you been?” you ask.

“Can’t complain, really,” he says. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you around for a few weeks.” Oh, God — the second the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Why did he have to add that last part? Why didn’t he just leave it at the question?

“Yeah — about that,” you breathe, ducking your head to conceal the heat that’s spreading over your cheeks. “You know how I said I was staying with that friend?” He nods, and you continue. “I was waiting for some stuff to get sorted out with an apartment and it all finally got resolved, so… I’ve been moving my stuff over to a new place.”

Jihoon feels his heart sink for a moment, but he keeps his expression pleasant and engaged. His fingers threaten to give him away as they fiddle with the aglet on the drawstring of his sweatpants.

“Sounds tiring,” he says lightly, and you laugh again, nodding. It’s odd, having his heart taking residence low in his stomach and somehow also in his throat, all while hammering away at a mile a minute. All the caffeine in the world couldn’t have this effect on him. “Is it going okay so far?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “It’s a process, but… it’ll be worth it.”

The barista behind the counter announces herself by clearing her throat and slides your drinks across the marble surface with a little glimmer in her eye. Jihoon picks them both up, extending yours out to you. There’s a pause (in which he swallows a large helping of self-doubt) as he glances to the door, working through several combinations of his next words in his mind before he looks back at you.

“Do you… maybe have ten minutes to sit with these?” He asks. You light up immediately, not even checking the time on any of your devices, nor the wall clock behind your head. He doesn’t let himself think about why it makes him giddy that you’re accepting the offer, just like that.

“Yeah — yeah, sure.” You smile, walking through the lines of tables and sliding into one of the big, comfy chairs by the window. He unzips his jacket and slings it over the arm of the other chair before settling in himself, his long fingers wrapping around the to-go cup. The drink warms his perpetually cold palms and he sighs sweetly.

“You must be excited to get into the new place, then?” he asks after taking a sip, letting it heat him up from the inside. It could be argued that this job is already being taken care of, but Jihoon is not about to go there.

“Oh, God yes.” You nod, relaxing back in the seat with your own cup. Jihoon subconsciously leans a little forward in tandem. “It’s been fun staying with my friend, but…” You pause, lips slightly parted, before going on. “Okay, a warning: I’m a terrible person for this, I know. She’s done me a huge favour, letting me stay there — but I can’t deal with how untidy she is. It’s driving me nuts.”

A chuckle bubbles in Jihoon’s chest, cheeks starting to ache as his smile grows and grows. It hasn’t fallen since he sat down opposite you, and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, any time soon. “That bad?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” you groan, covering your face with one hand. He wishes you hadn’t — he thinks you look quite lovely when you’re all lit up like this. “She doesn’t clean her dishes after she eats — she piles them up in the sink for like, three days. I don’t think she’s used the vacuum the entire time I’ve been there. I keep finding wrappers and packets and mismatched socks everywhere —”

His snort of laughter rolls off the back of his throat rather ungraciously and he settles back into his chair. You gently bump his ankle under the table with your foot, beaming at him. “I’m serious! I can’t live like this, Jihoon. I can’t!”

The more you speak, the less he can control the fits he’s descended into, and his abs start to ache after a while; there’s desperation in your voice but it’s just wrapped up so cutely in your lighthearted frustration and decoratively tied together with your sunshine smile… he can’t help it — he’s in pieces. It’s okay though, because you’re laughing too: it makes him think of fairies again, and he can picture you with dainty, intricately patterned wings under the soft lighting in the café. He wipes the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand as he starts to calm down, taking a few deep breaths all the way into his stomach.

“You’re so much stronger than I am,” he says.. “I couldn’t deal with that.”

“You know, I had a feeling you’d be a clean person, too,” you say, sipping at your coffee again. “I mean… I’ve never seen you use the gym showers, so I wasn’t sure, but…”

“Hey,” he says, mock-defensively. “I don’t trust the locks, okay? I shower at home!”

Your cup is lifted to your mouth and he can only see you from the nose upwards, but by the creases at the corners of your eyes, he knows you’re concealing a smile behind it as you nod back at him.

Ten minutes turns to twenty and then somehow becomes thirty — Jihoon starts feeling like you’re someone he’s known for years, and not just the person he accidentally ended up paying attention to in the gym just a couple of weeks ago. He bounces off you and you bounce off him. Both of you have long-since finished your drinks, too: there’s no real reason for either of you to still be here.

Except the obvious.

“So, the apartment,” Jihoon says, leaning forwards again with his elbows resting on his knees. “Is it…?” He makes a few circular gestures with his hands with which he tries to imply something to the effect of ‘local’, or ‘nearby’, but he can’t quite bring himself to say that out loud. You seem to catch on though. Somehow.

Then again, you did say — a few subject changes ago — that Jihoon is on your wavelength. Maybe that’s it.

“About… a fifteen minute walk from here? Give or take,” you say, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead so fast it’s like they’re on strings, being controlled by someone else. He doesn’t realise for a few seconds, by which point he isn’t even sure how to relax them.

“No way?” he says, trying to feign nothing more than an idle interest. Obviously, he’s soaring.

“Yeah. I’ll want to get back training soon, too, so there’s some incentive to get this done quickly. I miss it,” you tell him.

Jihoon comes out with what he says next without thinking. His mouth is moving before fully engaging his brain. It’s the coffee jitters. Apparently.

“Well, if you need any help with anything, I’ve got a car.”

“You’re too sweet,” you say. “I really couldn’t put you out like that, but…”

“You wouldn’t be,” he assures you with a shrug. “If I’m not working or in the gym… I’m never really that busy. It’s up to you, but-… I’d be happy to.”

You bite the inside of your lip for a moment, apparently mulling this over, before wiggling in your seat to pull your phone out of the front pocket of your jeans. You unlock the device and hand it over on a ‘new contact’ screen.

Jihoon goes completely stupid: he thinks his brain stops functioning as he takes it to put his number in — for a moment, he’s staring dumbstruck, struggling to even remember the order of the digits now he’s under pressure, but it comes back to him eventually. His thumbs dart across the screen and he checks, double checks and triple checks that he’s typed it right before placing it back in your waiting palm.

His fingertips brush against yours and it tickles, sending small shockwaves up his arms and straight into his chest. You smile down at your phone before glancing up at him.

“You need an emoji,” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Huh?”

“Everyone in my contacts has one — I’ve been doing this since I was in high-school. You need to pick one, too.”

“Oh, uh-…” Jihoon swallows, and for some reason he’s completely forgotten every single little emoticon option there is. He draws a blank. “I can’t — you pick one for me. I don’t know.”

You narrow your eyes at him for a second, pouting your lips as you seem to scroll through the endless options. Now and again, you look up at him, as if trying to see what best fits him before you continue your search. He waits. And waits. And waits. He’s about to throw in an admittedly useless suggestion of some sort of boring animal when you turn your phone around to show him what you’ve chosen.

Jihoon, the contact name reads. And there’s the little angel face next to it.

“Oh, come on,” he says, blushing deeply. “You can’t be serious.”

“I totally am,” you say proudly, turning it back and pressing to save it. He hides his face in his hands. “If you won’t pick your own, you get what you’re given. You did this to yourself.”

“Wow,” he chuckles weakly, sliding his hands up into his hair and raking it back off his face. Your eyes move quickly across every inch and boy, does he notice. You shrug in response and test it, sending the same little emoticon to him. He blushes harder when it comes through and he saves your number into his own phone before placing it face-down on the table.

More than an hour after buying your coffee, Jihoon stretches his arms above his head and checks the time on his watch. He frowns slightly, not sure how the afternoon got away from him so fast, and lets out a sigh.

“I think I need to get going,” he says reluctantly. Leaving you is absolutely the opposite of what he wants to do, actually. Alas, “I have some friends coming over tonight.”

“Yeah — yeah, of course,” you smile, leaning to one side to pick your bag up off the floor. “No worries.”

You both move to stand up and he throws his coat over his arm, leading the way out. He holds open the door for you to leave first, then follows you outside into the afternoon sun.

“It was really nice to see you,” you say, turning to face him.

“You too,” he agrees. “Text me if you need anything, okay? But actually do. Don’t just say you will?”

You laugh sweetly. Fairies. His ears might have actually caught fire this time. “Okay, okay. I promise. I’ll text you — thank you.” There’s a pause, but only a tiny one. “And for the coffee, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, waving it off. You shake your head. He thinks your hands are twitching when you stuff them into your pockets but he can’t be sure. Your breath definitely stutters, though.

“No, really. Um… next one’s on me?”

He blinks, and blinks again. Next one? The next one? He feels like he’s malfunctioned and been forcibly rebooted. The next one?

“I-…” he starts, his throat dry. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” You nod, smiling with — what he doesn’t realise is — relief. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah — I’ll see you, y/n.”

—————

Jihoon has no choice but to admit defeat to the group chat that night when Seungcheol and Jeonghan come over for a takeout.

Within minutes, his oldest friend is asking about the girl from the gym — he’s been just as relentless as Seokmin and Soonyoung in quizzing Jihoon, except it’s slightly harder to deny to Seungcheol because he did witness, first-hand, the way you had his friend tripping over his own feet with a single smile. At first, Jihoon tries to shrug it off. Play it down. Change the subject. He doesn’t mention that he’s actually spoken to you since he and Cheol trained together, or that he accidentally bumped into you and paid for your coffee, or that you stayed talking with him for as long as you did. He definitely doesn’t say that you exchanged phone numbers.

He absolutely won’t confess to being smitten.

All Jihoon willingly admits to is that from what he’s seen of you around, you seem nice, and with a roll of his eyes he does agree that he thinks you’re attractive. He gets a bit of a glare later in the evening when Jeonghan asks if he’s thought about where he wants to take you on your first date, and Jihoon tells him to stop asking stupid questions and eat his chicken before he eats it for him. But all in all he thinks he evades the worst of it pretty well. For now, anyway — he knows their pestering isn’t going away any time soon.

Especially not when, on their way out, Seungcheol leans close and whispers that whatever is going on with his gym crush, it suits him. Jihoon jabs him on the arm and the two men leave, laughing brightly.

It’s about an hour after his friends have gone home, having washed the dishes and cleaned up his apartment that Jihoon is sitting on his living room floor doing a few lower body stretches before he turns in for the night. He finds himself tapping into your text thread — not for the first time this evening — and skimming over the short conversation you had earlier. You messaged him when you got back to your friend’s place to thank him for the third time, and Jihoon replied back telling you that if you didn’t stop being silly, he was never going to respond to you again. Your reply came in the form of a “:(“ and his was a simple “:)”. That was it, but he’s been thinking about the exchange ever since.

He’s not sure why. Nor is he certain what about that has him looking down at the messages and grinning like a fool in his apartment, alone, at 10:30pm on a Sunday night. He could probably take a stab in the dark at what it means, though. He rubs at the back of his neck with one hand as he changes conversations and types out a short message with the other.

jihoon: fine. you’re right.

seokmin: ?

soonyoung: probs true, does need context

jihoon: about the gym girl. you’re right.

soonyoung: OH

seokmin: Hahahahahaha

seokmin: Yeah, you’re definitely the last to know, dude

soonyoung: fr even chan and hansol know atp lmao

jihoon: they what?

jihoon: how do they know?

jihoon: they don’t go to my gym! i haven’t seen them in weeks!

soonyoung: because we told them?????

seokmin: So, we might have told everyone

jihoon: blocking both of your numbers immediately.

seokmin: Hey! We’re just glad you’ve accepted it

seokmin: When do we get to meet her?

jihoon: blocked.

Well, great, Jihoon thinks as he fights the urge to lay face down on the floor and let the laminate cool his searingly hot cheeks.

At least he’s admitted it now.

He’s vaguely confirmed in writing that maybe he has a bit of a thing for you — it’s out in the open and at minimum, two of his friends know that it’s real. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Fingers. Whatever. No doubt by morning, all of his friends will have found out. The point stands that he hasn’t confessed to something like this since he was approximately sixteen years old, so whatever you’re doing to him, whatever this… is, it matters.

So, he asks himself, standing up off the hardwood floor and stretching his spine, arms locked behind him and pushed back as far as they can go. He turns off all the lights, checks the front door, goes through the motions to get himself ready for bed. So… what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

—————

Come Monday evening, he’s about ready to hit the roof.

As far as bad days go, Jihoon thinks he’s in the running for one of the worst ever. He slept awfully, tossing and turning through the night despite the usual winning combination of freshly washed bed sheets and his white noise machine drowning out the occasional disturbance from the street below. He wakes up two minutes before his alarm is due to go off, only to discover he fell asleep before plugging his phone in to charge overnight, and it’s sitting at a very risky 13%. The gel he uses to keep his hair off his face at work has gone weird and only does half a job, strands tumbling back in front of his eyes the second he goes to leave his apartment, very nearly forgetting his keys. Then, to really put the cherry on top, he sees that — at some point between getting home yesterday and now — someone has scraped his car while parking up next to him. There’s a large scratch right down the passenger side, with no note nor reliable CCTV in his apartment’s parking lot to confirm who it was, and of course, the space is currently empty.

All this before he even gets to work.

He fundamentally knows that starting the week off with a bad attitude will only lead to a really shitty remainder, but when Vernon sends his routine ‘Monday Motivation’ booster message — “you’re going to have a great day, today!” — into the group chat, Jihoon responds with a crude photo of his middle finger, right in front of the massive scuff on the bodywork of his Hyundai. Jeonghan replies with an ‘oof’, Wonwoo with a ‘yikes’, and Joshua, ever the comedian, sends a picture of Garfield lying face-down captioned ‘Mondays’ that nobody replies to. All responses feel kind of appropriate. But he pockets his phone without sending anything else, sighing again; he locks the car and checks the handle just in case before he finally heads into the building.

It’s going to be a long day. He just has to get through it.

Things don’t necessarily improve. He ends up in and out of meetings all day, so when 5 o’clock rolls around and he’s on his way out the door, he’s feeling a bit like he’s done nothing of actual value. Just, for some reason, thinking about you and tapping out a catchy beat on the top of his desk as he pretends to pay attention to useless presentation after useless presentation. But it’s still somehow been exhausting on his brain and on the drive back to his apartment, Jihoon feels so drained that he contemplates skipping the gym altogether and going straight to bed. This internal argument takes up most of his journey, but it does keep him occupied during the rush-hour traffic if it does nothing else.

Nothing has ever been fixed by ruining a perfectly good routine, however — so no sooner than he’s back in his apartment, he changes out of his button-down and trousers and into his regular gym gear. His protein shaker is ready on the counter for when he’s home again, the lights are off, his bag is on his shoulder and the door is locked. He pushes against it a few times, checking out of habit, despite the fact that his only neighbours on this floor are Soonyoung, Seokmin and an elderly couple with a cat they’re not technically supposed to have. Nobody tells, though, because Boots has become everyone’s emotional support animal. The only actual security threat is Seokmin maybe stealing something from his fridge, but he’s only ever satisfied after the third test anyway.

A quick warmup and a few easy stretches later, Jihoon sets about his business. Mondays are for training legs (and often, as a result, incapacitating himself for the rest of the week), and these workouts are always some of his most intense.

So intense, in fact, that he’s sweating buckets and cherry red when he steps away from the squat rack, tugging up the hem of his t-shirt to dry his face, a brief flash of his toned abdomen on full view. He’s just about catching his breath when he glances in the mirror, and his knees nearly give out when he sees you walking in. You lock eyes and smile at him in the reflection as you start to walk towards him.

It’s not just any smile, but he’s way too flustered to notice.

He spins around to face you, mortally embarrassed that you definitely just saw that, but in a weird way… kind of elated? You drop your headphones to sit around the back of your neck to greet him as you get closer. He pushes his hair back off his forehead and tries to act as cool as he can, but Jihoon suddenly becomes incredibly aware of everything about himself in this moment: his posture, how his arms hang by his sides, the exact positioning of his feet. The fact that he’s breathing pretty deeply, that his pulse is so loud in his ears that he can see your lips moving but can’t quite hear what you’re saying.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit — you’re talking. Focus. He needs to focus.

“Sorry — what was that?” he asks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

“I like your shirt,” you repeat, a fraction clearer. Jihoon glances down at himself, at the same sweatpants and tight black workout top he wears in here several times a week, and looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. God, he lets himself think for half a second, entertaining his own stupidity with the idea that you’re finding this as hard as he is, too. Maybe I’m not alone in this.

“Oh?” he says. “Um — thank you?”

“How’d it go with your friends last night?” you ask, hardly skipping a beat, and he’s a little thankful that you skim over his poor attempt at gratitude for a compliment he isn’t sure he deserves. Instead, his confusion wraps itself around the fact that you actually remembered what he was doing last night. Hell, even he’d forgotten in the heat of the day he’d had, but you remembered. He’s sweating over it a little and briefly wonders what the chances are of the gym floor opening up and swallowing him whole.

Slim, he decides. But not zero.

There’s hope.

“Yeah — yeah, it was nice,” he says, internally kicking himself for overthinking this so much that he’s apparently lost his ability to speak. In the space of 24 hours, he’s gone from giggling over coffee with you to completely weak just at the sound of your voice. It should be easier here, if anything — this is home turf for him. His comfort space. He supposes the tight fit of your gym clothes accentuating your hips and thighs isn’t helping matters, and neither is the wide neckline of your own t-shirt exposing your throat and a collarbone. But still. He’s not a teenager. He should be able to handle a little bit of skin.

He clears his throat, rolling his head side-to-side. Focus. “Sorry — I’m-… I just didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I-… couldn’t stay away. Missed it a little too much.”

“I get that,” he concurs, willing his eyes not to drop down your frame to a newly exposed area of skin just around your waist, your t-shirt riding up as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. “It’s good to-… have you back, anyway.”

“Good to be back,” you agree. “Hey — can you leave that set up for me, when you’re done? I’m on legs today, too.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to say that he knows Mondays are your leg days, as well, so he doesn’t. Even if it is true. He wonders if you would find it odd that he’s remembered. “Sure,” he says with a small smile, which you return. Just as you’re about to walk off to drop your things into a locker, he pipes up again. “I mean — hey, if you wanted a spot, or to-… do, you know… anything…”

“Are you asking me to train with you?” you ask, eyes bright and smile wider than he thinks he’s ever seen it. This is torture. He’s not even lifting anything and his heart is about to burst out of his fucking chest — God, maybe this was a bad suggestion.

“I-…” he starts, but he lets the breath out of his lungs and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah. I am.”

“Give me two minutes,” you agree, hurrying off to put your stuff away and fill up your bottle.

He manages to squeeze another set of squats in before you get back, which is sort of a miracle seeing as how his knees have gone completely weak ever since you arrived. He’s scrolling through his playlist as you cross the gym floor on your way back to him, but he looks up and smiles as you approach.

“You go ahead — I’ve just finished.”

He knows he’s really fucking done for when, after the first round, you add plates onto the bar to out-lift him. All before he’s even positioned himself behind you to be a good spotter.

Jihoon doesn’t go down without a fight though, and things get a little competitive from there. Both of you throw some of your favourite (see: most agonising) exercises into the mix over the course of the hour, taking it in turns on the equipment and creating a session that just about has him able to move by the time you’re finished. You talk to each other when you’ve got the breath to do so, otherwise focussing on your workout with more intensity than either of you remember training with for a long time.

And so what if he has to turn away from you once or twice to compose himself when breathless whines spill from between your lips on your last few reps, the sheer effort of the movements pushing your muscles to their absolute limit? So what if he feels his entire body run a thousand degrees every time you sweetly encourage him to manage just one more? So what if his palm stays tingling for fifteen seconds every time you high-five him for a set well done?

You slide out of the hamstring curl machine with a deep breath and legs like two sticks of jelly at the end of the session, and he holds a hand out to steady you as you regain your ability to weight-bear.

“You okay?” he asks, and you nod, patting what’s exposed of your chest and neck with your towel.

“Yeah. Yeah — just… fuck.” You laugh, laying your hand over the top of his and squeezing. Only for a second — not even, only for a breath — and really just to let him know that you’re okay to stand on your own, but Jihoon feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted straight up his arm all the same. “You don’t come to play, do you?”

“Says you,” he scoffs, only now moving his hand from your upper arm. “I was wrong about you — you’re insane. Clinically insane.”

Using the paper towels he went to gather while you were finishing up, he wipes the machine clean as you stretch out your now slightly exercise-swollen thighs.

“I was just gonna finish up on one of the stairmasters,” you tell him, taking a long sip of your water. His eyes widen to the point of comedy, eyebrows high on his forehead. You snicker at his horror, the rim of your bottle hovering tantalisingly over your bottom lip. “What?”

“That’s-… got to be a form of masochism,” he says, exhausted just at the idea of marching up the never ending staircase even for a minute. You almost choke on your mouthful of water, only just swallowing it in time before a sudden, uncontrollable laugh erupts from your chest.

“How?!” you ask, covering your mouth with your hand. Just like yesterday, the urge to pull your arm away, to reveal your hidden smile strikes him. He doesn’t act on it, but he wants to.

“What do you mean, how? Why would you put yourself through that after what you’ve just done?” It’s completely lighthearted, and the rush of heat on your cheeks intensifies at the cocktail of shock and awe in his gaze.

You shrug your shoulders once. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just better than you.” The way the tip of your tongue teasingly sits between your teeth as you grin at him sends bullets of adrenaline through his veins and Jihoon runs his hand over his face.

For about three seconds, he tells himself he isn’t going to take the bait. He’ll lose, he’ll admit it — he’ll put his hands up and say you’re absolutely, definitely better than he is, if it means he doesn’t have to push through a round of cardio after surpassing every single one of his physical limits. But God, he thinks you look completely irresistible standing there challenging him like this, your hands on your hips. His eyes don’t leave yours and yours don’t leave his; both of your chests stutter, just a little bit, and he can see your smile grow in his periphery.

How the fuck is he supposed to walk away?

“Ten minutes,” he concedes, matching your footsteps as you start to walk backwards towards his least favourite line of equipment in any gym, ever. “And you’re definitely getting the next coffee, now.”

——————

That Friday, you finally text him again.

His muscles have just about returned to a working state and Jihoon is quite proud to say that he has regained the ability to sit down without needing something to hold onto. He got home from work, showered the day away and has just settled down into the sofa to start on the book Wonwoo has been on his ass about reading when his phone vibrates on the side table. He reaches over for it, trying to figure out which of his friends might be trying to get hold of him early evening on a Friday, and already going over excuses in his head as to why he can’t go out to do whatever they’re inviting him to. But when your contact name flashes up on the screen, every single thought disappears from his brain.

y/n: hey :)

y/n: just out of interest, how good are you at assembling furniture?

He furrows his brows at this. There’s a very obvious answer, which is that he’s not. He doesn’t want to reply saying so, though, so he goes for what he thinks is the next best thing.

jh: well…

jh: what are you trying to put together?

y/n: a bed :(

y/n: today’s your rest day, right?

y/n: can i bribe you with dinner after? :)

Oh? His brain stalls, fingers hovering over the keypad. He can literally see your face forming a little pout before growing into a hopeful grin in his mind’s eye. He doesn’t see how he could ever say no.

jh: apparently yes, you can.

jh: text me the address? i’ll leave in 5.

He changes out of his basketball shorts and hoodie in record time, abandoning Wonwoo’s book on his couch in favour of attempting to look at least somewhat presentable for you. He tugs on a pair of jeans that he hasn’t touched in about 6 months and one of his nicer t-shirts instead, even going as far as to spritz aftershave on the column of his throat. You’ve sent him your address and he makes to leave, doing his regular essential item pat-down on his way out the door. He puts your new apartment into his phone as he crosses the parking lot, stupidly delighted to discover it’s only 7 and a half minutes away from where he lives, and settles into his car with a series of deep exhales.

The breathing exercises don’t achieve much. His head is still spinning when he parks up in the street by your new place and lingers just outside the building. He sends you a text to say he’s arrived and you reply saying you’re on your way down. You appear in the lobby just a few minutes later.

“Hey,” you greet him warmly, crossing the space and putting your arms around him in a hug. He goes limp for a fraction of a second before his arms slide around you, too. God, he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat right now. He thinks that the effect you have on him should be considered dangerous. But whether you can or not, you tighten your arms to squeeze him once before you unwind them from around his neck and step away.

“Hi,” he says, feverish from the tops of his ears all the way down to his toes. His hands find his pockets as you take a few more polite steps back.

“Thank you so much for this.” Your bottom lip finds temporary home between your teeth before you’re nodding back towards the stairwell. “I’m on the third floor. Follow me.”

He does. He walks up the stairs behind you as you ask about his day at work, and he tells you that he thinks today has probably been one of the best he’s had in about 2 months. When he asks how your day went, you turn your head back to look at him and stumble on the next step, gently laughing and saying that you think you’re at your tether’s end with D.I.Y, but it’s been pretty good otherwise. By the time you reach your floor, his thighs are aching, a bit of residual fatigue from your session earlier in the week making it a little harder than it ought to be. He can’t imagine how you’ve coped every day since then; if his own building didn’t have an elevator, Jihoon thinks he’d have been sleeping in his car.

You give him a little tour of the apartment, and he stands next to you at the window as you point out where you were staying with your friend a few blocks away. He thinks the view is seriously pretty in the evening light, enchanted by how he can see the tops of the slightly lower buildings and the street below, lined with neon storefronts and currently alive with shoppers and bar-goers, but… He cringes at himself for thinking it, but the view through the glass is nothing compared to the one he has inside.

You’ve started to put up a few decorations and knick-knacks around the place too. He doesn’t know you very well, but he still thinks it’s very you — all of it, and he likes them. Even with the room full of boxes and half-unpacked cases, there’s so much personality in it already. Charm. He brushes off your attempts to apologise for the ‘mess’, as you called it, despite everything being neatly pushed out of the way of the main space. It’s easily tidier than any other mid-move apartment he’s ever been in.

“Did you want a drink?” you ask him, walking over to the refrigerator and resting a hand on the door. “I’ve got wine, or-… anything, really.”

“Just some water would be great,” he says appreciatively, and a few seconds later you’re handing him a bottle, turning another one over in your hand. “I really wouldn’t be much help after a couple of glasses, trust me.”

“Does this mean you are good at it, then? Before a drink?” you ask him. Is it hope in your voice? Or do you somehow know how hopeless he is, and are you teasing? He can’t tell. Regardless, clearly his evasion earlier wasn’t quite as successful as he hoped it would be.

“About that…” He chuckles, taking a sip from the bottle and glancing sideways at you. “I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you say with a laugh, closing your fingers around his wrist and leading him through the door to your bedroom. You’ve managed to separate all of the individual pieces, but you haven’t made any real progress otherwise. He settles himself down on the floor and reaches for the assembly manual, pursing his lips as he looks at the little baggies of screws and bolts and various other things he doesn’t know the names of.

“Okay.” He frowns, looking back up at you where you’ve kneeled down a couple of feet away. You’re grinning innocently back at him, but Jihoon’s lips are more aligned with a pout. “You maybe should have mentioned that the instructions are in Swedish.”

——-

Ignoring the fact that you can’t understand the directions printed on the flimsy little pieces of paper, you get to work. It’s… an interesting process, but somehow between the pair of you, you successfully manage to assemble the bed in just under two hours by mostly following the diagrams (and having to backtrack several times because Jihoon managed to miss a few steps). At three minutes to nine, you’re both finally standing up off the floor, stretching out stiff joints and tight muscles; the bed is fully assembled and made up with your sheets in the centre of the room, headboard against the back wall, the lamp you set on the dresser casting a pleasant orangey glow on every surface.

“We did it,” you say, a little in shock, a lot exhausted, and absolutely starving. At least, that’s what he assumes you’re feeling, because it’s what he is. “We actually did it.”

“I mean, you did most of it,” Jihoon says. It’s true; at a point, he was just handing you the pieces you asked him for and holding parts steady so that you could fit them together. But if you want to call it a joint effort, he isn’t going to stop you, and the roll of your eyes tells him that you do want to call it that.

“Shh. You helped,” you scold him, bumping his upper arm with your elbow. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“If you say so,” he chuckles, taking another sip of his water. Jihoon isn’t sure he believes you, but the way you’re challenging him to argue further with your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek scrambles his brain. Any remaining argument dies on his lips. “We make a good team.”

“We do,” you agree, expression shifting into a shy smile, bumping his arm again, your elbow lingering against him for a second longer. “Come on, I think I promised to feed you, too. What are you in the mood for?”

A movie has been playing in the background for about an hour by the time your food arrives and you’ve eaten everything. Jihoon relaxes back against the cushions of the couch and you’re settled comfortably next to him: there’s plenty of space on either side of you both, so there isn’t really any need for you to have your upper arm basically pressing against his, but Jihoon is too comfortable to say anything and you certainly aren’t making any attempts to move away. You shift your legs after about ninety minutes, bringing them up underneath you so your thigh is pressed against his now, as well, and you’re twisted slightly so you’re physically facing him but your head is still turned towards the TV.

Everywhere your clothed body touches him is scorching, and he wonders if maybe he should’ve worn a thinner t-shirt, or at the very least something a little less heavy on his legs. His jeans, slightly tighter around the thighs than perhaps would be their peak level of comfort, are clinging to him everywhere and he’s so aware of himself, so aware of you, of your sweet body wash, your fruity shampoo, every single one of your breaths… He’s cursed people out for breathing too loudly around him before, but he thinks he could replace his white noise machine with an eight hour track of just this and he would sleep like a fucking baby.

One of your elbows is propped against the top of the cushions behind you and you’re resting your head in your palm, and (not for the first time this evening) he glances sideways to look at you. They’ve been fleeting glances thus far, only stealing fractions of a moment before he turns his attention back to the TV. But this? This is the wrong moment. Entirely the wrong fucking moment because as his head turns, so does yours, and you catch him in the act. Fuck, if he thought he was burning up, before? He’s pretty sure he’s somehow just descended straight to the second circle of hell, greeting all the other lusty sinners like old friends. Several of his thoughts tonight have been considerably impure, and in this half second of blistering eye contact, they all come rushing back.

The universe is really testing him this evening, and Jihoon is stumbling. It feels like any minute now, he’s going to explode.

He straightens his spine and looks back at the TV, trying to force his eyes to focus even though he’s completely swallowed by the feeling of your arm straightening across the back of the couch, your fingertips grazing over the skin at the bottom of his hairline. He can feel your eyes still on him, your gaze burning into his cheek, no doubt following as his tongue darts out subconsciously over his lips. But he can’t quite help himself, can’t get the image of how sweet you looked out of his head; he clears his throat quietly and looks over at you again, coming over almost completely blank the second he notices the glimmer your eyes hold when they’re trained on him.

Any. Fucking. Minute.

“Jihoon, I-…” you start to say, and he turns himself a little bit so that he’s facing you better, completely forgetting about the movie now. That’s not a great loss: he couldn’t explain the plot even if he tried. “I don’t know if-… you can tell me if I’ve read you wrong…”

“You haven’t,” he hurries. Relief starts to ease the tension between your brows, before you scrunch them again and cock your head to the side. “I’m sure you haven’t, I mean.”

In this new position, one of his legs is bent and sitting up on the couch beneath him and you’ve adjusted your own posture to accommodate. Your knee sits just over the top of his, more of your impossible body heat radiating through his clothes, and he glances down at the site of contact before he looks back at you.

“I just-... I don’t know, I think I knew I was interested in you from the first time I saw you, but the last few weeks especially…” You’ve been rehearsing this. He can feel it. It’s written in your eyes, holding the weight of the words you’re struggling to say, and behind them he can see cogs turning as you try to get the words in the right order. (He knows how that goes, because he’s been trying to figure out how to tell you, too.) He nods, urging you to keep going.

“I can’t get you out of my head. I really like you.”

He short-circuits, then. Even though part of him knew what you were going to say, hearing it out loud flips a switch inside him and he stops functioning. Blinking at you slowly, lips parted, heart racing – he feels as if his brain has been sucked clean out of his ears and is floating somewhere way above his head. Way outside of a contactable range, way beyond any level of rational decision-making. Jihoon knows what he wants to say, of course – he knows that he wants to say that he likes you, and that he has for a while, and that maybe you should let him take you out on a date or something, but all of that sits just behind the barrier of his teeth, so…

He leans forward and kisses you, instead.

He almost can’t believe that he’s only wanted this for as short of a time as he has; it feels like it’s been building inside him for so much longer. Relief floods through his veins, the emotional dam finally breaching. It only lasts a few seconds, but with his lips pressed to yours and yours pressing back, the static in his brain goes quiet, the movie falls silent: everything stops, except you. He thinks you could’ve been carved from stone around each other — he thinks something just feels so inexplicably right. Your hand tightens in his hair and he gasps softly as he pulls an inch back, eyes heavily lidded and looking straight at you through his lashes. You move forward, leaning your forehead against his, and the feather-light hold he has on your chin slides up to your cheek instead.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to-…” he says after a long, long moment of remembering how to breathe, how to blink, how to exist in your space without combusting on the spot. He still isn’t sure he knows how to do any of those things, especially not now he can see every single line of your face this close. He’s trying, though. “But — shit, I’m crazy about you.”

You kiss him, then, harder than before, colliding in a mess of half-finished breaths and bumped, stinging noses. His other hand comes up to sit against your rib cage, yours pressing into the material of his t-shirt over his chest. He smiles and parts his lips as yours move against them, your tongue gently sweeping into his mouth, finding his own; a soft, low moan tickles the back of his throat, his fingertips curling slightly to tighten his hold.

Jihoon isn’t sure how you end up on your knees, straddled astride his legs with one of his hands tucked between your thigh and calf, the other on the curve of your ass — he just knows that he doesn’t mind one bit. You’re warm and comfortable, the arch of your back pressing you into him deliciously. He’s kissing you like his life depends on it (he really fears that it might), and you’re doing the same back, licking against his tongue and rocking slightly with every separation and reconnection of your lips. He feels your fingers brush at the hem of his t-shirt and slip just underneath at the same moment as you pull away from him, and he’s so dazed, so fuzzy, so lost in you that he can only tilt his head back to stare up at your face. In your current position, you’re towering over him. It’s easily the best view he’s ever had.

“Can I-…?” you ask breathlessly. The new roughness to your voice goes straight to his cock and he has to restrain himself from bucking his hips upwards.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward slightly to try and aid you. Your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt and peel it up over his chest: he raises his arms slightly and soon, you can toss it to the unoccupied side of the couch. He shivers slightly as he relaxes back, both at the chill in your unheated apartment and upon noticing the way you’re staring down at him. It’s addictive.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, jaw a little slack, smoothing your hands over his shoulders to feel every ridge of hard-earned muscle. You travel down his arms, over to his chest, down his stomach… Jihoon sucks in a breath, your warm hands absolutely searing against his skin, and his abdominals tighten beneath them. Tilting your head, you press a line of kisses down the side of his neck, your lips brushing against one almost unbearably sensitive spot when you continue. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He smiles bashfully, rolling his head to the side and giving you all the access you want. Your lips tickle euphorically against him as he tugs you flush against his chest, both his hands now tightly pressing against your ass, fingers kneading the muscle concealed by your pants. You’re sitting right over his clothed cock and he’s reasonably sure he can feel your pulse between your thighs, letting out a soft grunt when you roll your hips deliberately down into his own. Your kisses travel to the swell at the curve of his shoulder before moving back up to his lips, where he meets you with a fire that he’s never kissed anyone with, before.

“Says you,” he murmurs into your mouth, your teeth clashing, his hips pushing slightly up off the couch. Just enough to make you sit back from him, just enough for Jihoon to open his eyes and look at you. His hair, thoroughly scrunched up and pulled around by your desperately gripping fingers, fans out at all sorts of angles and his chest has taken on a rosy hue since you last looked at it. With swollen, shiny lips, glossy eyes, breathing deep, he looks completely blissed out, like a man who could unravel beneath you if you moved just right. All from a little tongue action. He’d usually feel embarrassed, but it’s hard to when you’re the person on top of him; to be honest, neither of you would mind much if he did.

You’re pushing yourself up and off him before he can really get his bearings and an audible whine of despair parts his lips at the loss of your weight against his cock. Fuck, these jeans were a bad idea: he’s straining against the denim so much that it hurts, and there’s a near perfect outline of his hard-on. He stops pouting the second you take hold of his hand and tug him upright, though, your eyes dark and determined and intense. He thinks he might faint, actually: from standing too fast and feeling as though all the blood in his body is pulsing through his aching dick, he has to take a moment to stop the edges of his vision going dark before you’re pulling him through to your bedroom.

Something flips inside him the second you have him there. Jihoon, who was more than happy to sit beneath you and let you take all the control in the living room, is pushing you back onto the mattress by your shoulder and slotting himself between your parted thighs the moment the door is closed behind him. He’s past the point of wanting you, now: he needs you, and he needs you to need him, too.

And God, do you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, staring at where he’s now leaning over you with wide eyes and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. He bends down and kisses along your jawline in response, nipping gently just below your ear. Your back arches up and in a flash, one of his hands is beneath you, snapping open the clasp on your bra with a few slides of his fingers.

“Wh-…” you start, giggling and panting at the same time. He smirks against your pulse point.

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a salty bead of sweat off your skin. “What?”

“Had no idea you could-…” You’re cut off by a gasp as one of his hands slides under your sweater, slipping beneath the garment he just unfastened. His fingertips graze over your breast and a pleading sob escapes you. His smile grows even wider. “You were so…”

“So what?” he prompts, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Another one of those beautiful sounds breaks the air above you. He does it again, massaging your breast with the palm of his hand. “Come on… talk to me.”

“So good,” you gasp, lying down flat and tilting your head back against the pillows. He rocks forwards to press his cock against you again and your thighs tighten around his hips, one leg hooking around his to keep him there. “So-… fucking good.”

You’re so impossibly irresistible to him, especially like this, and he sits up, settling on his knees to look down at you. Jihoon doesn’t even get the chance to move his hands towards the hem of your sweater to tug it off you though: you’re already grabbing it yourself, crossing your arms to pull it over the top of your head. He can see your bra now, and hell, it’s pretty even if it is just hanging off you. Baby pink and lacy. He thumbs over the material as he helps you pull it down your arms, briefly letting himself wonder if-…

“If only you’d been patient enough to see the set together.”

Oh, so you can read his mind now, too?

You glance down to the small space between your bodies and his eyes follow, lips slightly parted, a heavy sigh on his breath. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck — he wishes he had. Even imagining it, he’s throbbing.

“You wear all this for me?” he asks, hands creeping up the insides of your thighs. You nod up at him and he smiles down at you. “Fuck. I bet you didn’t even need my help tonight at all, did you?”

You’re bucking your hips now as his thumb brushes, agonisingly slowly, over your clothed cunt. One arm has come up to cover your face: for the first time, he acts on his impulsive need to see you shy, see you needy, and leans over you to gently pull it away and pins your wrist down against the mattress. He kisses you, his fingers on the other hand pressing slightly more firmly to where he’s pretty sure your clit is.

“Y/n, you’re so pretty. Let me see you.”

“I didn’t,” you admit, voice wobbling as he works you up so much you’re actually soaking through not just your pretty underwear, but the leggings you’ve had on all night, too. He can feel it against the pad of his thumb and he raises his eyebrows for you to continue. “Just… really wanted you to come over…”

“Mhm. I know,” he soothes, bending low again and kissing down towards your chest. His lips purse over one of your nipples and he sucks it up into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud. He releases your wrist with the hand currently taking most of his weight and leans on his elbow, teasing your other tit with his fingers. The weight of it in his palm has him murmuring soft praises against your skin, telling you over and over how good you feel. You push up onto your elbows to try and press him closer — when his teeth tug just slightly, you’re about ready to beg.

“Jihoon, please,” you murmur. He short-circuits, again. Goes blank. His name has always sounded so much sweeter on your tongue, but this? This? Oh, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to recover. That sound is going to stick in his head for days, months, forever, if he has anything to say about it. But even if his brain isn’t working, his body moves on autopilot: he sits up and hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your pants down your legs and discarding them onto the floor.

He’s staring between your thighs with zero functioning brain cells and literal galaxies in his eyes, trying to figure out what cosmic miracle brought someone like you into his life, how on Earth he’s ended up between your thighs. The question is so overwhelming in his mind that he barely notices that you’re moving, at first. Jihoon doesn’t know what causes you to try and bring your thighs together — if it’s shyness or arousal, desperation, a search for friction? — but he stops you as soon as he realises, laying a hand on each of your legs, pinning your knees down now, instead.

“Keep your legs wide for me?” he asks, to which you punctuate a nod with an assenting hum. “Good girl.”

You’re so wet that when he strokes two fingers over your covered pussy, pressing the fabric of your panties into your heat, they come away thinly coated in the arousal that’s seeped through them. He brings his fingers to his lips then, eyes fluttering as he licks your slick off them. You taste otherworldly and he doesn’t hesitate to tell you so with a groan.

“God,” he murmurs, tugging at the waistband of your panties with his other hand. His eyes ask if you’re ready — if you’re sure, and when you nod down at him, he pulls them off completely too. His middle finger slips between your folds, collecting the wetness dribbling out of you, and he drags it slowly upwards towards your clit. He repositions himself again, leaning down over you with his head at your neck, the heel of his hand resting against your lower abdomen. He draws small circles over the bud, laying open-mouthed kisses at your collarbone and listening to the gorgeous sounds you make, learning what you like, following each gasp and moan and chasing as many of them as he can draw out of you.

At the same time as you start rocking your hips up to meet his hand, your nails scratching gently against his scalp again, Jihoon slips his finger down from your swollen clit to press it inside you. You gasp, high-pitched and needy, your cunt spasming around his finger and pulling it in deeper. He’s only in up to his second knuckle but the way you keen for him has him pushing further until it’s buried inside your pussy completely.

“S’this okay?” he asks, but he knows your answer thanks to your vocal responses to him already slowly easing his finger in and out, in and out. You nod your head almost aggressively as he glances up at your face, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, jaw tense, throat bobbing as you swallow hard.

“More — please,” you say not long after. A breath hitches in your throat when he does exactly what you ask, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit and positioning another finger at your entrance. He flexes his wrist slightly to get comfortable, pumping both fingers into you now, and he curls them upwards at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed. “Fuck — mhm, just like that—…”

He moves down your body slightly, reattaching his lips to one of your nipples as he fingers you deep and slow. He’s in no rush: Jihoon thinks he could do this all day and just deal with the RSI later on. You look so unbelievably hot with your face scrunched in pleasure, your thighs quivering as you fight to keep them apart like he asked you to, with your hips twisting down against his hand to try and get his fingers deeper and faster. When he lowers himself all the way down, settling completely between your thighs, he flicks his tongue out over your clit and your back arches up off the bed with a gasp.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, all high-pitched and rushed, both syllables merging into one hurried sound. “Fuck, fuck — please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to,” he murmurs, keeping pace and rhythm as he works you towards your high. God, he thinks there couldn’t possibly be anything in the world more sexy than watching you come undone from this angle. Your chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths, your hips rocking down against his hand, your pussy right on his mouth. Just the thought of it has his cock jumping in his boxers. “You gonna come for me, huh?”

“I-…” you start, releasing your death-grip on the bedsheets to bring a hand to cover your face. He clears his throat deliberately — perhaps it’s sort of closer to a growl than a cough — and he thinks maybe you really can read his mind, or maybe you’re learning that he wants to see every inch of you (especially like this), because a second later, it’s tangled up in his hair and holding him in place. “Y-yeah, fuck, I…”

“Good girl,” he coos again, and that breaks you. Your pussy tightens around his fingers and you feel yourself convulse, muscles clenching and releasing as you go over the edge with a cry. He eases you through your climax, tongue laving over your clit, fingers slowing but not stopping inside your cunt until your thighs close around his head in your oversensitivity. He takes the hint, then, and he slowly pulls away, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal while you take a few breaths to recover.

“Oh, my God,” you sigh as he moves back up and starts pressing small pecks over your chest and collarbones, your fingers lacing through his hair again to pull him up to kiss you. You groan softly at the taste of yourself on his lips, and can’t blame you. He still isn’t over it, either.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you in-between kisses, one hand supporting the back of your neck to keep you close. “So pretty. So sweet. So good.”

“Shh,” you giggle, but he doesn’t. Just about every adoring adjective Jihoon has in his arsenal is murmured against your lips until you’ve gathered enough strength to get up on your knees and push him back onto the mattress, fumbling with the button of his jeans.

He groans at the relief as you tug them down over his hips and thighs. “We don’t have to do anything else if you’re—”

“Shh.” This one’s a little more insistent, and he makes a show of clamping his lips back together. “You wore the tightest jeans on the planet, had your cock on-fucking-display for me all evening, and you think I wanna stop now?”

His jaw falls slack at the words that come out of your mouth. The incredulous way with which you say them has him involuntarily bucking up into nothing. Your expression matches his when you finally get his jeans all the way off and his thin, black boxer-briefs are the only barrier between you. The outline of his cock strains against them, tenting the fabric: Jihoon doesn’t miss the way you lick over your lips before glancing up at him through your eyelashes. It’s your turn to give him the look, now, asking that this last part is okay, with your fingertips hooked underneath the elastic waistband. He nods feverishly up at your heavy gaze.

“Please,” he groans, lifting his hips so you can pull them off. His length springs free the moment they’re pulled low enough, slapping back against his abdomen, sitting pretty against his toned muscles, thick and veiny and red-tipped. Desperate. His underwear joins the pile of clothes down the side of the bed as you throw one leg over him; sitting across his thighs, you take his cock into your hand, giving it a few gentle strokes. He fucks up into your palm when you squeeze your fingers around it.

“I need you so fucking bad,” you murmur, head spinning, and Jihoon isn’t in much of a better state himself; he’s fighting to keep his eyes open, fighting to keep his breaths coming. He sits upright, one arm behind him for support, and kisses you hard as you continue to tug at his length.

“Need you, too,” he breathes, shifting so he has both arms around you. In a swift movement, muscles rippling, he lifts you off him and turns you over so he has you sitting on your now impossibly scrunched comforter.

He finds home back between your legs as you reach over into the drawer at your bedside and fumble around for a few seconds. He hears a little clatter and a rustling and when your hand resurfaces, you’ve pulled free a small foil square. You don’t even give him a chance to lean forward and take it; you’re ripping it open and looking up at him with the biggest doe-eyed stare he thinks he’s ever seen. He nods at the silent question, a grunt tumbling free as you roll the condom down his length. This is the most pathetic little bit of contact and he’s fighting demons.

“Okay?” he asks, shuffling back a little and giving you space to lie down flat on your back. You nod up at him, already wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Mhm, just-... take it slow?” you ask him, anticipation rendering you already a little breathless. “S’been a while.”

A grin blooms all the way from his lips to his eyes and he leans down to kiss you again, positioning his tip at your hole and pressing forward just enough to tease.

Your thighs tighten around his hips and he pushes himself further inside you with a stuttered groan, agonisingly slowly, inch by inch. He stills every few seconds, both to give you the time to adjust and so that he can take a steadying few breaths and not collapse at how good you feel wrapped around him; he stops pressing his hips forward before he’s fully sheathed inside your pussy and you let a whine slip, the stretch slowly easing.

“You can move,” you tell him, laying a kiss to his chest. “I’m okay.”

Jihoon gives a soft laugh. Oh, he wishes this was just to be polite, but no. He’s in real danger of losing control any second. “Yeah, this isn’t for you, baby.”

“Oh?” you ask. You clamp around him and he gasps at the tightness, hips jerking forward until he’s buried up to the hilt. Fuck, there’s a bruised cervix if you’ve ever had one; a high-pitched whine erupts out of your lips and he ducks his head down to your ear.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You just-... fuck, you feel so good.”

“Mm, says you.”

It’s another moment before he thrusts with intent, though. But when he does? When he pulls out halfway before sliding all the way back inside you, losing and regaining the feeling of your heat enveloping him entirely, hearing your gasps against his collarbone? The invisible reigns holding him back unravel and he settles into a slow but intensely deep rhythm, guiding your legs around his waist. You hook your ankles behind his back and somehow, you suck him in deeper still, your bodies touching everywhere they possibly can, so impossibly close.

The arm not holding his weight slides beneath your hips and raises them just a little. Now, at this angle, every time he rolls into you he grazes against your sweet-spot and you’re reduced to an incoherent mess within a few minutes. Good, he thinks, because he’s not doing much better, himself.

You hug him tighter after one particularly well-angled thrust, sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. He hisses at the sting, and your lips part as if you’re about to apologise but he doesn’t give you the chance to; he bumps your nose with his own to ask you to lift your head slightly, before he bends down and kisses you hard.

“Do that again,” he gasps, almost all of his weight against you as the hand not around your hips comes up to rest on your cheek. When your brows tighten, he swipes his thumb over your spit-covered, swollen lips. “Please. ”

So, you do.

Maybe not as harshly as the first time, but your teeth find his collarbone and you suck a bruise into his skin, drawing from him the highest pitched sound you think he could possibly make. He squares his jaw, ducking his head back down, biting on his bottom lip before he has no choice but to speak.

“I’m close, y/n,” he confesses, fucking into you slower, trying to stave it off for a few more seconds, his hips stuttering. “Can-... can you give me one more…?”

You nod, the knot in your stomach already growing tighter and tighter with every movement he makes, and when one of your hands unwinds from around his back to slide between your sweat-slicked bodies, he moves slightly away, letting you reach down.

It’s the sight of two of your fingers finding your clit and rubbing your favourite movements out on yourself that takes him past the point of no return, his cock sliding in and out of you messily, desperately, chasing the high that he’s right on the brink of. He kisses and nips just below your ear, breathy groans tickling your neck, and your high-pitched whine tells him you’ve hit your orgasm just as he starts to spill his into the condom, gushing around him, your walls fluttering and milking him for all he’s worth.

—

You offer for him to shower first – an offer he gratefully accepts. While you’re taking your turn afterwards, Jihoon hunts down a fresh duvet cover in your room; he changes it, grabs you a glass of water for when you’re done, and sits on the edge of his bed with just the towel wrapped around his waist, scrolling through his phone. He looks up with a bright grin as the door opens and you emerge through it in your pyjamas, glowing from the light behind you, stray droplets of water clinging to your arms.

You pause gently rubbing your hair dry with the towel, eyes brightening when you see him. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, and he pushes a hand through his own still damp hair with a laugh.

“It was the least I could do,” he counters. You raise your eyebrows at him, crossing the room to sit opposite him. He drops his phone down onto the mattress. “I couldn’t leave and make you change them yourself.”

“Leave?” you ask, picking up one of his hands and playing idly with his fingers.

“I mean, it’s getting pretty late, so…” he says. “I probably need to get going at some point.”

“Or…” you say, tongue darting out over your lips. “Maybe you don’t.”

Jihoon looks down at your hands, then back up at you. Are you suggesting what he thinks you are, or has he still not quite come back to himself from earlier? It’s hard to say if the look on your face is hope, or something else.

“Are you… asking me to stay?” he asks.

“Only if you want to,” you tell him. He lifts your hands up, pressing a kiss to one of your knuckles, then using it to tug you closer to him until he can plant one on your own lips. “I’ve probably got an old t-shirt you could sleep in.”

“Of course I want to.”

So you slip away from him to go rummaging through your drawers, trying to find the promised article of clothing. The whole time, he’s awestruck. Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you.

——————

He wakes up next to you for the first time on a Saturday morning. His sleep-fogged brain registers lying on an unfamiliar mattress, tucked beneath new bedsheets, eyes fluttering open to take in a room he doesn’t quite recognise at first. Part of him wonders if he’s still dreaming. When he rolls over onto his side, and his eyes land on the curve of your shoulders, the fall of your hair down your back, he has to ask himself the same thing again.

All of last night must’ve been a dream, he muses, smiling shyly to himself and watching your frame rise and fall with every slow breath you take. There’s no way you really told him you liked him, too. There’s no way any of it could have really happened.

“Y/n?” He asks in the gentlest of whispers, only wanting to stir you if you’re awake already. When there’s no response, he moves a tiny bit closer to you, hesitating before he slips his arm around your waist and settles with his chest pressed against your back. A wildly insecure part of his brain tries to argue that just because you wanted what happened last night, that doesn’t mean you want all of this now. Maybe you only wanted to sleep with him, or maybe you’ll have changed your mind somehow now the sun’s come up. He considers moving away again, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling until you wake up and he can have a real conversation about where both of your heads are at with everything, but he barely gets a chance.

Those thoughts are silenced almost immediately, his brain falling quiet the second you roll over in his arms. You bury your head in the valley between his pectorals, tucked away from the world beneath his chin. His arms tighten around your sleep-warmed body.

“What time is it?” You ask. He contains a shiver at the softness of your voice, bliss running the length of his spine. Jihoon thinks that he could get used to this.

“I don’t know. Early, I think,” he murmurs, and you whine softly, burrowing deeper against his chest. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not if you’re awake,” you say. He’s not entirely convinced you can stick to that promise, though, with the way you yawn and he feels your eyelashes fluttering.

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, the tips of his fingers ticking against your side. He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your hair. A soft hum rumbles in your throat and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads over his lips. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

True enough, you fall back asleep curled up against him and Jihoon, to the sounds of your slowing breaths, drifts off too. A few hours later, at a far more reasonable time, you wake him up with a press of your lips to the tip of his nose.

Innocent, exploratory kisses grow heated in the warmth of the sun that streams through your blinds. Hands start to travel, sleep clothes get discarded, and you have him lying on his back, pressing kisses down his chiselled stomach when his phone starts to vibrate on the floor next to the bed.

He groans at the distraction, again as you shuffle up to sit on your knees and look at him expectantly.

“Are you gonna answer that?” you ask, the tips of your fingers grazing his thighs. He shakes his head, no. “Come on, Jihoon. It might be important.”

“Not important enough,” he sighs.

“At least see who it is,” you laugh. Despite a huffed protest, he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over the side of the bed and glancing down at his phone screen.

Seungcheol.

The arrangement to go for a run this morning comes rushing back to Jihoon, who slaps a hand to his forehead and reaches down to grab his phone off the floor, looking at you apologetically.

“Give me two seconds,” he says, and you grin wickedly up at him, ducking low to press a kiss to one of the lines that disappears down into his boxers.

“Take all the time you need.”

He answers the call frowning, flopping his head back against the pillows.

“Hey, look – I’m really sorry,” he starts to say, but Seungcheol’s voice cuts him off almost straight away.

“Jihoon, where the hell are you? I got to your apartment and your car wasn’t here, and Seokmin said he didn’t hear you come home last night. We all thought you’d died,” he hurries. Jihoon can picture the expression on the other man’s face perfectly, which is pretty unfortunate seeing as how you’ve moved to start palming his hardening cock through his briefs.

“I stayed out,” Jihoon says, a little wobbly. “I can’t make the run, someth-... shit.” You press an open-mouthed kiss to the outline of his length, the heat of your breath through the fabric sending him into overdrive. “Something came up-...”

The line goes silent for a second, and his breath stutters as you do the same thing again. Each press of your lips is euphoric agony, and he’s really not hiding this as well as he wishes he could. One look down at you tells him that you’re very proud of that.

“Dude,” Seungcheol gasps, snickering suddenly. “Tell me you’re not with a girl right now.”

“Shut up. Go away,” Jihoon grunts. “I’ll call you later.”

“Oh my God, is it gym girl? Did you finally-...”

“Bye, Cheol,” he hurries, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He drops his phone onto the mattress, fake-glaring down at you and shaking his head. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pulling at the waistband of his briefs to tug them down his legs. “Let me make it up to you, huh?”

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 1 day

Note

Hello! I really love your stories. Could I be the 🥐 anon? A little reference to my country 😆. Anyway, I wanted to ask for a story for the milestone event, with Han jisung and the prompt : "so...can we go eat".

Thank you so much and have an amazing day!

of sleepy promises and indigo skies.

note: welcome to the household 🥐 <3 i hope you enjoy your stay here and this drabble as well. hehehee. this is a short one but i enjoyed writing it ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

jisung is in the middle of counting your eyelashes when his stomach growls, sounding like a nightmare monster against the backdrop of peaceful silence in your shared bedroom.

he winces internally because it's loud enough that you stir awake, making your eyes blink confusedly at your surroundings. it was still light out when you fell asleep earlier, but now the sun is almost gone, leaving behind an indigo sky in its wake that you can see from your window.

your voice is groggy when you ask, "what time is it?"

"seven fifteen? seven thirty?" he tells you uncertainly, before reaching for his phone on the bedside table to confirm his answer. "yeah, seven thirty."

"why didn't you wake me?"

in all honesty, jisung did want to wake you. you had plans to go to dinner together - try out the new fried chicken place that opened two weeks ago, that's what you'd promised him. what was supposed to be a half an hour nap turned into two hours because he didn't have the heart to disturb you, despite the way his stomach was protesting for some food to satiate its hunger.

ultimately, he settled on watching you sleep, smiling to himself every time your lips parted as you lightly snored.

"you looked too cute while you were sleeping." jisung brushes his fingers over your hair while you clasp a hand over your mouth to cover a yawn, before stretching your limbs to wring out the day's fatigue.

"corny," you comment, though you do try to shuffle closer to him, a smile tugging at your lips when he takes you into his arms and presses a kiss to your forehead.

"you love it when i'm corny."

"unfortunately, i do."

"unfortunately?" he repeats, an edge of playful disbelief coloring his voice. "what is that supposed to mean?"

"it means you can be such a cheeseball sometimes, but you're my cheeseball and i kinda love you. i guess."

jisung gasps, like he's so offended by your words. the sound is quickly followed by a lighthearted laugh, the vibration of which you can feel where your chests are pressed together. he's endeared by you, incredibly so. maybe it's the way you said it with a sleepy look in your eyes that almost make them seem dreamy. maybe it's the way you relax completely in his arms like he's the safest place you know. or maybe, it's just the simple that you called him yours and that you (kinda) love him.

his warm lips find their way to theirs, meeting you in a soft kiss that has you both smiling like idiots afterward.

though, of course, the nightmare monster in his stomach just has to make another appearance and ruin the moment.

he locks onto your teasing gaze with a sheepish look of his own.

"so... can we go eat?"

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 2 days

Text

thinking abt changbin undoing his belt like this after he eats good 😵‍💫😵‍💫 this is one of the sexiest things he’s ever done idk it’s giving devoted, loving hubby who eats everything u make so proudly and always loosens his belt afterwards because ur food made him so full 🩷 leans back in his chair with a dramatic groan like “wahhhh, yeobo, that was too good. the flavor was perfect. it was just how i like it!” he’s so sated and happy sitting there with you chitchatting at the table with his belt undone and his glasses n slippers on. so domestic and comfy <3

238 notes · View notes

justanothergirlfromeurope · 2 days

Text

Cats&Coffee - C.SC

😻Who; Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) with fem!reader 😺What; A lot of my brand of humour, perhaps borderline crack? Firefighter!Seungcheol. Business owner!Reader. Sort of a coffee shop au. Brother's best friend au. Reader is Shua's twin. [Simp!Chan as a background character but Simp!Chan is very important to me okay.] 😸Wordcount; 5.8k 🐱Warnings; Fire/arson mentions- nobody is hurt though and its not the main characters. Profanity. A lot of suggestive comments but no smut. More like sexual conversations. Reader is thirsty. Reader is kind of a brat but playfully. Mentions of bruises. Seungcheol calls reader princess&baby once. Implied Dom!Seungcheol but not actually shown. Let me know if I've missed any warnings, I'm terrible at knowing what to mention!

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; Okay, so here's the situation; you're just amusedly watching your best friend where he's perched up on a branch trying to convince the little cute fluff ball you are supposedly rescuing to get down, when some very attractive firefighters arrive to save the day. Low and behold, the leader of the bunch is the manifestation of your wettest wildest dreams; all buff and a little cocky and you're pretty certain he's showing off in that tight t-shirt for you. Do you; A- approach and flirt until he throws you over his shoulder or B- approach and flirt, and then completely forget to exchange numbers and only realise when he was long gone and then regret your very existence for the foreseeable future?

Ao3 link

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; This all came from one of @sluttywoozi 's anon asks I saw that I then got caught on because they mentioned firefighter!Cheol. I don't have the link to the original ask but it's on her account! So inspiration credit goes to that anon!

🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕

Lee Seokmin is probably the single sweetest person in the entire universe and everyone who meets the man will wholeheartedly agree. It is a unanimous decision that the man can do no wrong. So it's not his fault that the newest member of your cat sanctuary made a run for it out of the front door that Seokmin hadn't closed behind him quickly enough, even though it kind of is. But nobody will ever say that, least of all to the Angel-On-Earth.

"I'm so sorry," Seokmin apologises for perhaps the tenth time when he shuffles over to your side, his phone clutched in his hands and big beautiful eyes staring up in a mix of worry and guilt at where Junhui is half wrapped around the branch under him with one hand outstretched trying to coax the brown ball of matted fluff to him.

"It's not your fault." You assure, blindly reaching out to put a reassuring hand on Seokmin's left shoulder; you are too visually engrossed in what your best friend is doing to look over. It isn't the first time that Junhui has climbed a tree to save a cat, or some other kind of dramatic action for the sake of a cat, but it never fails to amuse you highly.

"I should've closed the door," Seokmin continues, lips pursed in a little pout.

"It's fine, Seokie, Jun's part cat, he's made to climb trees."

"Aren't cats really bad at getting down from trees?"

"No, they're actually good at climbing down."

"Then why did Jun climb up after that one?"

"Because he's an idiot." You snigger, your grin growing wider when your best friend yelps a little as he stretches too far and almost falls. Well, almost is quite a stretch as his long legs are wrapped entirely securely around the branch and so is half of his left arm, but you're sure that it felt like he was about to fall at least.

"Hey!" Hansol calls, sticking his head out of the entrance door to the coffee shop you owned with Junui; though the main focus of Cats&Coffee is actually the sanctuary at the back. Well, for you two and the staff, it is the main focus. You all are more than aware that the majority of the customers only visit the coffee shop with the intention of eyeing up the barista and well, you don't entirely blame them, Jeon Wonwoo is an unfairly attractive man. "I'm going to go into your bag to get your notes, hyung!"

"Okay!" Seokmin calls back, giving Hansol a thumbs up in approval. Hansol returns the hand gesture and then goes back into the store, entirely oblivious to the customers ogling him. Okay, so the customers don't just turn up for Wonwoo; they turn up for all of the men who are regularly in the building, but as Wonwoo is the sole barista and always in the shop out front and not the sanctuary out back mostly out of sight, you're pretty valid in saying the customers come for him.

"Y/N! Do something!" Junhui calls after a few more attempts to reach the cat. You take your phone out and take a few pictures of your best friend. "Not what I meant!"

"I'm sending them to Kwannie, he'll be so pissed he missed this." You mused, already tapping away on your phone to send the photos to Seungkwan, who you know will post them on the Instagram account he runs for Cats&Coffee. Not because he is an employee or volunteer and technically it's not really an official account because the man made it himself one day after his own followers kept bugging him for more photos of the drinks and hot staff from the coffee shop. But because he enjoys posting embarrassing photos of the staff. So Seungkwan runs what you and the other staff refer to as a fan account for the coffee shop and sanctuary, and he takes advantage of that joke to essentially thirst post about the men in a semi-serious way. Nobody knows if he does it for the sake of the customers, or if Seungkwan genuinely wants Wonwoo to 'grind me like those highest quality beans'.

"It's okay, Jun-hyung! I've called for reinforcements!" Seokmin assures. "Just stay right there!"

"Just get the ladder and help me yourself!" Junhui whines in response.

"I'm scared of heights though!"

Junhui sighs and thunks his head on the branch a little before he gets back to trying to inch along the branch carefully and grab the cat.

It isn't until you've put your phone back away a minute later that you register what Seokmin earlier said. "Hang on, reinforcements?" You question, turning to look inquisitively at the man still on your right and watching Junhui carefully in concern.

"Yes, my best friend knows how to handle situations like this. He's done it a lot." Seokmin answers confidently so you accept his words and go back to grinning at the sight of your best friend failing to win over a cat for the first time in his life.

Maybe you should've asked more questions though because when you hear Seokmin's name being called happily, you certainly do not expect to see a six-foot hunk of handsome fireman bouncing over with a wave and heart-shatteringly beautiful smile.

"Mingyu!" Seokmin calls back, smiling equally as bright and beautiful and then the best friend is right with you and you're trying not to gawp up at him. "Thanks for coming. Jun-hyung went up to bring the cat down and now he's stuck and the cat won't listen." Seokmin pouts over at the tree. Mingyu turns to look at the tree and pouts too. How can a man be so cute and hot at the same time? You really have no idea but Mingyu pulls it off impeccably.

"Aw, poor Jun-hyung." Mingyu coos sympathetically. "But no worries!" He perks up and turns back around to look at the pair of you. "We'll save them both! And by we I mean Soonyoung-hyung will save them; he's good at this. Animals love him!"

You notice two other men donning the same big jacket and trousers combination of a classic firefighter outfit approaching the tree and setting up the ladder. And hot damn if you weren't suddenly tempted to take up a new hobby of arson just to see them because holy shit all three of these men are ridiculously attractive. You have to swallow thickly to keep the drool in your mouth.

The shorter of the pair by the tree holds onto the bottom of the ladder securely while the other climbs it smoothly. To your genuine delight, the man simply makes an encouraging noise while extending his hand out and the little furry demon of a cat trots straight over. You can't help but burst into cackling laughter as the feline climbs over Junhui as if he is nothing more than part of the tree while your best friend gawps in disbelief.

"Told you animals love him." Mingyu grins proudly as you all watch Soonyoung traverse down the steps of the ladder, still as smoothly as he went up them even with one arm supporting the cat against his chest- its furry little head nuzzling into the man's jaw while Soonyoung giggles happily at the cute actions.

"A regular Snow White." You grin.

"I'll be right back!" Soonyoung calls to Junhui, already walking over to the three of you. "Hi! I'm Soonyoung!" He greets brightly. "Your friend says to give the cat to you?" He tries to offer you the cat but it yowls and latches onto his jacket. Luckily, the material is thick and sturdy enough that the cat's claws don't actually reach the man's body.

"I think he likes you."

"Aww," Soonyoung coos and nuzzles the cat who loudly starts to purr. "He's so lovely, what's his name?"

"He hasn't got one yet. We run a sanctuary and he's our newest rescue."

"A rescue?" Soonyoung turns round, sad eyes on you. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, the vets gave him the go-ahead, he's just a little shit who wouldn't let them groom him at all. I think we might have to shave him if he doesn't let us."

"But his hair is so beautiful." He pouts. "It'll grow back well, right?"

"Of course."

"Uhm, hello?!" Junhui yells from the branch, gaining your attention back. Even the man at the bottom of the ladder hasn't been paying him any attention.

"Oh, right." Soonyoung once again tries to hand the cat to you but the feline really doesn't want to let him go. "Mingyu, can you go up and-"

"No way." Mingyu shakes his head adamantly with wide eyes. "You know I'm scared of heights, hyung."

"You're a firefighter who's scared of heights?" You deadpan. He pouts at you. "You're right, why do firefighters even need to climb ladders anyway? Just leave him in the tree, he'll get down when he falls." Mingyu giggles a little.

"I got it," A new voice calls, one you initially assume belongs to the man by the ladder but oh are you so wrong. A fourth firefighter appears, clad in the same uniform but something about the way he wears it seems more like it was made for him. He's already approaching the tree from the road where the fire engine is parked and he had been sat inside in wait. And you are unaware of this but he had definitely been checking you out the entire time and only got out now with every intention of showing off. He stops once there and glances over his shoulder at the four of you before shucking off his jacket. Your throat dries at the sight of his broad, muscular torso filling out the fitted black t-shirt strapped over with the suspenders of his uniform trousers. And talking of those trousers, holy shit does he fill them out well. You could've never imagined yourself wanting to bite someone's ass before but here you are, practically salivating at the curve of his backside in the ugly trousers. Which is only made more obvious when he starts to climb the ladder.

You don't even notice that the three men you are standing with start to converse around you; your entire focus is on the epitome of your wet dreams manhandling your best friend down from the tree. It probably says a lot that even though you have never and will never want to bone your best friend, the sight of the attractive stranger throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him down the ladder like he's nothing really does something to you. And by that, you mean you'd really like it if the man would throw you over his shoulder, then promptly down onto his bed and climb on top. Or any surface so long as he puts himself between your thighs immediately afterwards.

And to top it off, the man doesn't even put Junhui down once both of his feet are back on the grass; he just turns and starts to approach. The man at the bottom of the ladder rolls his eyes and takes the ladder away knowing exactly what is happening here.

"I believe this belongs to you." The man states once close enough, abruptly ending the conversation the other three men are having as they look at him. Though he's just staring you down with dark eyes and you're really not going to look away either.

"I wouldn't say he belongs to me," You return, hoping he gets the hint that you are very single and very willing to mingle with him specifically.

"No? He told me you're his partner." The fireman tilts his head a little, his left eyebrow raising in question.

"Work partners!" Junhui exclaims, still flopped over the man's shoulder and seeming to be rather willing to remain there for the foreseeable future. "Not romantic or sexual, gross! Not that she's gross, she's really hot and I've heard good things from her ex-partners!" Bless Junhui for always trying to hype you up and get you a man.

"Good to know." The firefighter murmurs, gaze blatantly checking you over. You take the chance to return the favour and the three men with you quickly back up not wanting to be caught up in this very obvious and shameless flirtation. Your phone suddenly starts to audibly vibrate in your pocket and you ignore it, more interested in the man in front of you. "I think you're vibrating." He points out amusedly.

"Mm, yeah, it's just my phone." You confirm, half tempted to make a remark about how he could make something else vibrate on you if he wants, but pretty sure that's a little out of social protocol where first meetings with attractive strangers are concerned. Next time though. "Isn't he killing your shoulder?" You ask, nodding to Junhui's limp body.

"No," Though the man still puts Junhui down carefully all the same as if reminded that he really should not stand there with a stranger draped over him any longer or it'd get really weird. "I can carry more weight than him for longer."

"On your shoulder?"

"However I need to."

"Good to know." You return his earlier statement, gaze lingering on the way his chest is all but straining the material of his t-shirt. You don't notice his cocky smirk, far too invested in imagining the material tearing open and freeing his beefy body for your viewing pleasure. Physical too but those thoughts mostly come later when you're alone in bed.

Junhui stares between the two of you for a moment, wondering if either of you is going to say anything more or just continue to strip each other with your eyes. He figures it's the latter so walks off to try and claim the cat back from Soonyoung.

Neither you nor the hot fireman notice the world continuing to spin around you, up until Mingyu bounces over and pats the slightly shorter man on the shoulder with a; "Chief, we got a call, we need to go. Jihoon-hyung is already waiting to go."

"Oh, right, work." Chief replies, face twisting momentarily with displeasure before he gets back into work mode and nods. "Alright, let's go," He nods at you in farewell and Mingyu waves brightly before the tallest rushes right back to the vehicle. The other detours to pick his jacket up from the grass then jogs to climb up into the vehicle too before it pulls away, lights already flashing and siren kicking in when they're on the main road.

Kind of dazed, you toddle into the store and around the counter to lean dramatically against Wonwoo. There's a mystery stain on the sleeve of his hoodie near your face but you don't have the mental capacity to question it.

Wonwoo doesn't give you any attention until he's done with the customer in front of him. "What's with you now?" He asks, pulling his arm around from where it's pressed against your chest to sling it around your shoulders instead and tug you more against his chest. There's another mystery stain here and you vaguely recall that today is clearly a 'Wonwoo is trying to discourage is legions of fangirls' day. The man is dressed in an old, scruffy and stained hoodie and sweatpants combination; the hems barely even meet his ankles and wrists they are so old, and he has to tie the waistband of the sweatpants up with multiple shoelaces strung together because the original tie was lost years ago. But his fangirls still stare at him as if he is Adonis reincarnated. You have to admit, he still looks unfairly beautiful like this.

"I'm in lust, Wonie," You whine, squeezing around his waist as if you can get some of the frustration out that way.

The tall man makes a noise of understanding and pats your head as if you're one of the animals from out back. It actually feels pretty nice so you allow it. "Ah, the firefighter who carried Jun down. They told me you two were eye-fucking."

"I don't want to eye-fuck him, I want to fuck-fuck him." You complain, squeezing again. Wonwoo wheezes a little and forces you to loosen your hold yet doesn't remove you from his body otherwise.

"Then text him and arrange a date."

You tense then jerk back to look up at him with a gaze so devastatingly heartbroken that Wonwoo immediately cups your face and starts to coo consolingly, even if he isn't sure why you look like your entire world is crumbling down around you. "I forgot to get his number," You wail.

Wonwoo's touch stills and his face falls flat, before turning unimpressed. "You're a fucking idiot."

"I know,"

You know that if it wasn't for the new customer approaching the counter, Wonwoo would go on to tell you all the ways in which you are an idiot, but luckily for your currently very fragile ego, there is a customer so he turns to take her order and goes back to ignoring you even as you attach to his back like some kind of sad-horny parasite.

🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕🐈☕

For days you mourn the loss of what you have convinced yourself would be the best dick you will never be blessed with. In this mourning, it does not at all cross your mind to simply ask Seokmin to ask his bestie to hook you up with his co-worker, nor does it cross Seokmin's mind either. It does, however, cross Wonwoo's mind but the barista is kind of cruel at times and finds other's suffering amusing. Only when it's not serious though because Wonwoo can be a bit of a sadist but he's not an asshole. Regardless of who does or does not think up the logical solution to your suffering, you continue to suffer for days.

Until you are pretty much handed the perfect opportunity to reunite with your lost-lover by the genuine last person you'd expect.

"Wait, what the fuck did you just say?" You demand, interrupting your brother's words as he talks away to Chan by the counter in an attempt to stop the youngest man from waxing poetics over your eyes, or ass, or maybe even your philtrum, you can never tell with your simp of a neighbour.

"I was telling Chan about the fundraiser I'm helping out with for my friends," Joshua answers, giving you a suffering look- the same look he always wears around Chan because, well, who wants to hear someone blathering on about how hot their sibling is?

"You don't have friends." You retort without thought.

"More than you." Your twin scoffs and picks up his mug from the counter to sip at happily. Cats&Coffee doesn't actually offer a drink-in option purely because of how small the space is, so the mugs on hand are purely for the staff or your friends when they stop by. And Joshua, of course, has his own special mug because he's a pain in your ass but you love him more than anyone else and let him pretty much do want he wants, include supply a handpainted mug for himself to drink his drinks from at the store. Even if you think it's ugly.

"I'm noona's friend." Chan points out.

"You're her simp, you don't count." Joshua corrects.

Chan immediately turns to pout all sad and cute at you. "I'm your simp and friend, right, noona?"

"Of course, Channie," You coo, reaching over the counter to tap the tip of his nose. The younger beams happily and then sends your twin a smug look. Joshua just rolls his eyes. "What's the fundraiser for?" You ask, wanting to get back to the vital conversation.

"The firehouse-"

"When?" You gawp, leaning over the counter towards your brother with eyes wide.

"Tomorrow. Why the fuck are you looking at me like that? It's terrifying."

"Ly beautiful. You mean terrifyingly beautiful." Chan retorts simply without missing a beat before noisily sucking through his straw. Joshua chooses to entirely ignore Chan.

"I'm going." You declare. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the fundraiser."

"What? Why?" Joshua gives you a suspicious look.

"There will be a wet t-shirt contest, right?" You ask.

"What the fuck? No! This is a community event to raise funds for the family whose house burned down last week, Y/N. Not a fetish movie."

"They're called porn, Shua." You point out, pouting a little at your horny dreams being broken so ruthlessly.

"So noona won't be in a wet t-shirt contest?" Chan asks, eyes sparkling with the thought.

"I'm leaving." Joshua decides, picking up his mug to take with him and goes through to the sanctuary looking for a safe haven of his own away from you and Chan.

"Sometimes I think you two should just fuck and get it over with." Wonwoo declares from where he's perched on the stool a little further down the counter munching away on the doughnuts Chan brought with him in a way to sweeten you all up and allow him to stay longer. None of you will ever tell him that he doesn't need to bring treats every time he wants to hang around because truthfully, you are all useless at remembering to bring food to work or restocking the staff room so Chan is often the only reason any of you eat in the middle of the week.

"I think so too," Chan agrees wholeheartedly while nodding enthusiastically along.

Wonwoo grins in amusement. He always sticks around when Chan visits because he thinks it's the most entertaining thing ever how obviously obsessed with you the young man is. And, of course, Wonwoo thrives on goading the younger on and often making comments in regard to the one time you and Wonwoo fell into bed together. Well, not bed exactly, more like over that very counter late enough one night that it was really early the next morning. Regardless, Wonwoo likes to theatrically retell certain aspects of your tryst that you know are exaggerated or entirely fake just to watch Chan drool at the mental images.

"Ah, but once you've had a taste, you'll be begging for more," Wonwoo replies dramatically.

"I already beg." Chan is utterly shameless and it only makes Wonwoo's grin grow. "But I can beg more." The younger looks at you then but you're too busy texting Seungkwan to task him with getting all the information possible about the fundraiser the next day. Chan wants to interrupt and ask you if him begging more is what you want him to do, but you look too focused and he /loves/ it when you've got that serious face on so he just sighs dreamily and leans down on his elbows to stare adoringly at you.

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Thanks to Seungkwan working his magic, Cats&Coffee snag a last-minute stall at the fundraiser where you, Junhui and Hansol set up all the merchandise left over from previous fundraisers. Hansol always finds these fundraisers awkward purely because the Cats&Coffee special limited edition fundraiser merchandise always consists of various items with photos of the men on them; the calendars of the men posing with cats are always a hit and a yearly preorder in November. Junhui, however, doesn't even blink twice at seeing his own face staring back at him on the reusable travel mugs and keychains. And Wonwoo happily avoids the stall to run the mini coffee truck a little to the right while pointedly ignoring the sign above him that boasts an old, edited picture of him. You and Seungkwan think Wonwoo looks absolutely precious with cat ears, whiskers and a little bell around his throat as he naps curled up with various cats. And you know the fans customers agree so the sign has remained for the past two years.

Usually, you love doing these fundraisers and get lost in convincing people to buy the merchandise, not that most of them need much convincing, to be honest. But you are rather adept at upselling with a way with words that would have the most skilled of grifters taking note and you take great pride in it. Yet today, you can't even enjoy watching Hansol awkwardly accepting payment for a photocard lucky dip that may or not be a little photo of his face, or Wonwoo trying to come up with new ways to discourage yet another of his fangirls from being a fangirl. You're much more focused on watching the man of your wet dreams where he is giving tours of the fire engine and teaching people the importance of fire safety. You'd say 'teaching kids' if you weren't positive that most of the kids were only standing and listening to him because their parents were there; and it was very obvious which of the parents were there just to ogle the attractive man and didn't give a single flying fuck about the words spilling from his mouth.

"Ohmygod, no, don't." The familiar voice of your brother breaks you from your thirsting. You turn to look at him where he is then standing between the coffee-cart and the gazebo you are seated under. "Don't tell me you only came today because you've got the hots for Seungcheol."

"Seungcheol?" You're up on your feet in seconds, grabbing a hold of your brother's weirdly sweaty face. You can't even focus on it; you have much more important matters to attend to. "His name is Seungcheol?"

"No," Joshua mutters, trying to push your hands away from where you are squishing his cheeks together into an unattractive pout. But he only has one hand free, the other holding an iced americano in a reusable cup with Seokmin's face on, so he can't really fight you off effectively or back up unless he wants to take a tumble to the gravel with Wonwoo.

"It is! Seungcheol. Man, that's a good name, sounds great. Feels great."

"Stop it, ew," He complains, looking genuinely pained at your words.

"Only when you tell me everything about him but most importantly, is he single?"

"He's my friend, don't."

"You've fucked my friends, I'm going to fuck yours whether you like it or not." Your brother whines wordlessly knowing that you have him beat there. He has definitely had various relations with various friends of yours in the past, and most certainly will in the future too.

"Ugh, fine," He concedes, slumping so you make a happy noise and let him go. Only then do you pay attention to the sweat on your palms and pull a disgusted face before wiping them on his t-shirt, though that's not exactly in a much better condition.

"Why the fuck are you so sweaty?" You eye him in pure disgust.

"Because Jihoon and I are doing demonstrations," You give him a questioning look. "Exercise, you know the thing people do to be healthy?" He rolls his eyes. "The guys asked him to lead a basic exercise demonstration to help encourage healthy habits and he asked me to help, you know, seeing as I'm a personal trainer with him."

"Oh!" You make a noise of understanding. "Jihoon is your hot colleague." Then another revelation comes to you and you gasp while hitting his arm a few times. He bats you in return then pouts as he rubs at the impact spot on his bicep. "He was holding the ladder!"

"What?" Joshua looks at you as if you're crazy. Which, honestly, is a pretty common expression he wears around you or anyone who works at Cats&Coffee or regularly spends time there. You really do associate with a top-notch bunch of weirdos.

"The other day, Junnie got stuck up a tree so Seokie called his hot bestie who turns out to be a hot fireman with hot coworkers and the only one who I didn't talk to was Jihoon! I didn't recognise him in his uniform, and he's blond now and grew his hair out?"

"Mm, yeah, looks good right?" He enthuses and you nod. "I'll tell him you said that."

"Mm sure," You agree without care. "But back to the important matter here; Chief Seungcheol." Your eyes are practically burning with how much they glisten at the thought of the buff man currently showing the hose attached to the fire engine. Man, you wish he'd show you his hose; innuendo emphatically intended.

"I'm so going to regret this but yes, he's single." Your brother sighs. "And now I know how you two met, I'm guessing you're the woman whose number he forgot to get after eyefucking her with her friend on his shoulder."

"Man, that was hot, he could throw me around so-"

"Okay, no, shut up. You're my baby sister, I don't need to hear that." He complains, backing up with a shake of his head out of the gazebo.

"You're less than an hour older!"

"Can't hear you!" He calls back over his shoulder, already jogging back to his own station across the lot.

You turn to sit back down and happen to notice the man himself standing in front of the fire engine no longer surrounded and staring in your direction, big arms crossed over his big chest and a dark look in his eyes. You expect him to turn and get back to work but he tilts his head when your eyes meet, a silent demand before he turns and walks past the huge vehicle and through the staff-only door to enter the firehouse.

"Fellas, I'm going to go get me some dick." You declare, patting Junhui on the shoulder as you pass him to edge around the table.

"Ask him how to handle his big hose!" Junhui calls without looking up from the keyrings he is rearranging. Hansol wonders how you two ever manage to run a business when you say such things so blatantly in front of customers, but then he notices the young women at the table all fawning over the merchandise obliviously and wonders no longer.

The interior of the firehouse is blessedly cool in comparison to the hot weather outside; even under the gazebo out of the sun's direct glare, you were starting to get a little sweat dappled.

"Hey," The voice makes you jump a little and you turn to find Seungcheol leaning back against a dinner table. You take a quick glance around behind him and realise it's the kitchen area. You're standing in the mostly open area of the ground floor, though there's a couch further to your right and you briefly imagine him pinning you down on it.

"Hi, Chief," You reply, sauntering closer.

"You know Shua?" He asks bluntly, not wanting to beat around the bush. He's pretty certain you both have one thing on your mind based on the way he has noticed you staring him down hungrily for the past two hours.

"He's my brother." You inform, stopping close enough in front of him that the tips of your sandals are almost touching the toes of his clunky uniform boots. You dread to think how hot his feet must be in those. For a second, you're genuinely disgusted at the thought but then you notice how his crossed arms bulge and threaten to rip the hems of his sleeves around his biceps and suddenly you don't even know what feet are.

"You're Y/N?" He gawps, arms dropping to his sides in disbelief and crushing disappointment. You hum, nodding and pouting a little at the lack of bulging biceps in your vision. But then you realise you can now see his pecs stretching out the black material and you're happy again. "Stop," He mutters and reaches up to physically tilt your head up so that you're no longer blatantly checking him out with heavy eyes. "You know your brother is pretty much my best friend, right?" He genuinely looks pained. "I can't fuck you,"

"Yes, you can." You smirk and step closer, pressing your palms to his chest. You can feel him inhale deeply when you make a home for yourself against him, your thighs locked between each other's and so close to applying pressure exactly where you both want it. "He's essentially given his blessing."

"He has?" He doesn't fully believe you; that doesn't sound like the Joshua he knows, but he's a weak-ass man when it comes to you. Literally, he already decided he'd do some insane things from the moment he first saw your backside while he was checking you out in the fire engine the other day. So he lifts his hands to initially settle on your hips but they very quickly, almost immediately, slide down to settle in your back pockets. Not quite touching you up but pretty fucking close.

"Mm, well, blessing isn't the right word. I told him that he's fucked enough of my friends that he has no say in which of his friends I fuck."

"Do you plan to fuck any of his other friends?" He raises an eyebrow and tugs you a little closer.

"He doesn't have any friends." You retort and he huffs a short laugh. "Just Jihoon, right? I mean, he does look really fucking good blond so-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, princess." Seungcheol mutters darkly, almost glaring at you in warning. You bite back a grin. "So I'll ask again; do you plan to fuck any of Shua's other friends?"

"Depends if you disappoint me or not, doesn't it, Chief?" You tease, winding your arms around his neck with a playful smile.

"You're never going to want to fuck anyone else when I'm done with you,"

"That bad, huh?" His face drops. It takes everything in you to not crack up laughing. "Going to put me off sex in general?"

"Shua's right, you're a fucking brat."

"Mm, yeah." You confirm shamelessly and press against him entirely. "Kinda think you're into it though, Chief."

"Is that going to be a thing? Calling me Chief? Or do you just not know my name?" He wonders, head tilting a little and one arm wrapping tight around your waist, while his thigh between yours pushes up between your legs making your eyes light up with joy. Finally you have him.

"I know your name, but shouldn't I call the boss by his title?" You coo faux-innocently.

"I'm the boss, huh?" You nod and he smirks. "Damn fucking right, baby."

Seungcheol doesn't wind up pinning you to the couch, not right then at least. He does however take you upstairs to the office and bend you over the desk until you have bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips and nothing but his name on your tongue. And as it turns out, he was right. You never want to fuck anyone but him again.

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A/N- I know this reads like it should end in smut and I did intend to write it but I'm very certain I would not do the vibes justice, I'm so out of practice with smut. But maybe in the future? But if you want some good smut, go read sluttywoozi's stuff fr, you will not be disappointed

Anyway, I hope you liked, please let me know what you think& reblog!

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 3 days

Text

X Marks the Spot - K.SY

🏴‍☠️Who; Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader 🏴‍☠️What; Humour. Bestfriends to lovers. I guess some tiny fluff? Adult themes. 🏴‍☠️Wordcount; 5.8k 🏴‍☠️Warnings; Profanity. Party typical alcohol mentions but neither SY nor reader are drinking. Kind of jealous/possessive Soonyoung. Making out in public places. The whole point of this story is Soonyoung in a costume marketed for women, so if that's not your vibe then this story is not for you, friend.

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; You stupidly left the job of buying your costumes for the party down to Soonyoung, and now you're paying for it and have to spend the night watching him dancing in those little shorts initially intended for you.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this is all because I can't get the thought of Soonyoung in the pirate outfit from my "Sexy costumes for Seventeen to wear" post out of my head. made myself feral with that one.

Completely out of the blue last week, Seungkwan decided to send a message in the group chat that he's throwing a costume party. No reason for it, nothing had happened to warrant a party, he had simply decided he wanted to do it and demanded the entire group be there and in costume.

Soonyoung had, unsurprisingly, already been by your side on our couch watching the latest episode of the drama you two were obsessed with, when the message came through. After the episode you both looked at your phones and Soonyoung immediately started to look for costume ideas excitedly. He soon found and fell in love with a pirate outfit and after showing you it, he said it's part of a couple costume and as besties, you have to match because 'that's what besties do'. In the year you have known Soonyoung, you have never truly said no to him and this was no different.

Though perhaps you should've at least looked at the female half of the matching costume before agreeing instead of blindly trusting your best friend.

Which leads us to here. It's an hour before the party is due to start and Soonyoung has just turned up at your apartment to get ready together just like always. He has the parcel of costumes in his arms and a bright excited grin on his face when he hands it over to you to allow him to remove his shoes.

"I haven't opened it yet," He informs, watching you walk over to the couch to lean the parcel against the arm and open it like you knew he wanted you to. Soonyoung knows you get an odd sense of joy from opening parcels whether or not they're for you so he often brings his orders over or invites you to his apartment to allow you to open them for him.

"So I see," You muse with a little giggle.

Soonyoung appears at your back a moment later, leaning his chin on your shoulder to peer into the bag as you open it. The first costume out is his, packaged in another bag though this is clear revealing the cardboard insert with a picture of a man in the costume on the front. He takes it happily when you offer it and bounces aside to start to open it excitedly.

There's only one more item in the bag, your costume so you take it out, excited about your matching pirate outfits too. Up until you turn the packet over to look at the picture and realise that this truly is not what you expected, especially not from your best friend.

"What the actual fuck, Kwon Soonyoung?!" You demand flabbergasted.

"Uh-oh, the full name," Soonyoung looks up at you in alarm, all sign of joy gone. "Did they send the wrong thing?"

"I hope so because if you saw this on the site and still ordered it, you and I are going to have some issues." You turn the packet to show him the picture on the cardboard insert. A picture of a woman in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts, if they could even be considered that with fishnet tights underneath. There's an attempt at a white top that honestly could be a lot worse, it's off the shoulder and cropped but it's honestly not as bad as it could be for a female-focused costume, but still far too revealing for your liking. To finish it off, she's wearing a striped bandana on her head with a plastic sword in her hands and you're very certain that the sword alone is the only reason the packet is that big because there's certainly not enough material creating the costume to require such a size bag.

Soonyoung stares at the picture for a second then looks up at you with a confused little pout. "It's a pirate outfit."

"Show me yours," You demand with a sigh. He doesn't hesitate to move over and hand you his costume, still in the packet just about.

There's a clear difference in costumes. The picture on his packet depicts a man in three-quarter length vertically striped trousers and a simple white shirt with an open neckline revealing a thin triangular strip of skin down to his sternum, finished with the same bandana as your costume and a plastic sword. Though, of course, the man's sword is bigger than the woman's sword. Of course, the men get the big boy sword and the women get the toothpick.

"You seriously don't see a problem with this?" You ask, holding the two packets up side by side so that he can see the photos together. Poor, naive Soonyoung looks between the pictures rapidly in a desperate attempt to understand. Yet he winds up just shaking his head as he looks at you with such an innocent expression that you know that he seriously doesn't understand the problem here at all. "Then you can wear this one." You declare, handing him the woman's outfit before turning to stalk off to your bedroom.

"What?!" He sputters, scrambling to follow you down the short corridor. "This is for women!"

"You've said before, clothes have no gender!" You remind, turning at the threshold with a hand on your open door ready to close it and a sweet smile on your face. "If you want to match with me, Soonyoungie, you wear that and I'll wear this."

He stares between you and the packet in his hand for a moment before agreeing with a nod and a simple "okay".

And that right there, is your second mistake.

When you had told Soonyoung to wear that outfit, you really had not been prepared for how fucking good he'd look in the skimpy little outfit. So now you have to spend the next hours at Seungkwan's bustling apartment pretending that your gaze isn't constantly locating Soonyoung in the dim lighting as he happily dances amongst other costumed bodies.

Sure, you've seen Soonyoung topless before so you know the man has a frankly incredible body usually hidden under the baggy clothes he usually prefers to wear, but the sexy little pirate outfit highlights his strong torso and biceps so well. The cropped top stops at his sternum giving full view of the top half of his defined abs, the bottom half hidden by the high waist of the shorts. And those shorts? They really do not leave a lot to the imagination at all so Soonyoung has spent the entire night so far carefully doing his best to keep the sword strapped around his hips dangling in front of his crotch. You had obligingly given him the bigger sword when you had realised that the 'woman's' sword wasn't exactly wide enough to cover him. Neither of you had made eye contact when you had handed it over without a word because you both knew what it meant and the fact you had obviously seen the bulge of his flaccid dick in the tight shorts.

Which honestly, had only made you wonder how big he was hard, and that was a thought that you usually try to avoid; thinking of your best friend in a sexual situation. Though his pure existence alone makes it very hard.

Kwon Soonyoung doesn't realise how attractive he is and you're kind of grateful about it. Because if that unfairly effortlessly attractive man knows how hot he is, then you know he'll be cocky and dress to show off more often than just for nights out or special occasions, and you would not mentally survive that.

As it is, you're not sure you'll survive the night.

"One day, you two are going to stop being stupid and just fuck it out," Chan comments from your right where he stands in his doctor's outfit; Seungkwan's wearing a matching one somewhere else in the apartment and you really can't tell if it's intentional or not with those two. They're always bickering and acting like they hate each other but they're always the first the other goes to for any reason whatsoever.

"Please make it before the end of summer so I don't lose money," Seungcheol requests from your left, leaning against the wall with you and dressed in a suit just like his own best friend and roommate, wherever she has disappeared to. She's likely with Junhui based on the way the pair have been eyeing each other for the past hour -and since they met really but that's another story entirely.

"You assholes have bets on us fucking?" You gawp in betrayed disbelief at the suited man.

"Yup," Seungcheol confirms shamelessly while Chan tries to sputter out a denial that makes you level the youngest with an unimpressed look. However, it doesn't last because you hear Soonyoung's loud voice even over the music and automatically look over to where your best friend is trying to stop Seokmin from grabbing at his sword. No euphemism even if the plastic is in the right place. "Looks like Seok's going to get further with your boy than you ever have." Seungcheol sniggers. You shove his arm making him laugh harder.

"Swordplay," Chan giggles then wanders off without another word to refill his cup after swallowing the last of its contents.

"Seriously though, you should like, go fuck him," Seungcheol speaks a moment later when Soonyoung has successfully distracted Seokmin by grabbing the younger's hands to make him dance with him. Soonyoung shoots you a world-weary, wide-eyed look that makes you snicker and wave innocently at him.

"You really don't want to lose money, huh."

"It's not even about that, just you two. This has been going on for over a year now; this gross pining shit. Just sit on his dick and ask him on a date, it's not that hard."

"You can't say shit, Cheol."

"Hey, I've fucked her, regularly," he defends with a pout before sipping at his drink.

"Oh yeah, because fucking your best friend who you've been in love with since childhood while encouraging her to go after your friend who she's been mutually eyefucking for the past three months is so much better." You retort sarcastically and give him a look. He can't refute it at all, it's entirely true and he's confided in you enough for you both to know that he's constantly making his own heartbreak worse by continuing to indulge his best friend both in bed and when she comes home and whines over how good Junhui looks.

"We're as bad as each other," he decides after a second.

"Don't lump me with you, I've never fucked him." You scoff and turn back around to naturally locate Soonyoung where he's back to smiling away as he dances with Seokmin and some others.

"You want to,"

"Yeah, I really fucking do," you exhale and swallow down the last of your drink only to frown down into the empty disposable cup. "I need a real drink."

"You know you can't drink around him like this or you will ask to suck his dick." Seungcheol reminds you of the very reason why you're always the designated driver when Soonyoung dresses up.

Because yes, you have come close to getting on your knees in the middle of a club for him. Luckily, Seungcheol had noticed and took you home before you actually acted on the urge to publicly defile your best friend. Unluckily, Seungcheol had noticed and has not failed to mention it at every chance. But at least it's stayed between the two of you.

"At this rate, I'll do it regardless," you mutter, still frowning into your empty cup. "Back in a bit." Seungcheol just grunts to show he heard before you slump off to the kitchen to refill your cup with one of the non-alcoholic beverages lining the counter.

You've barely finished filling your cup when a familiar hand reaches around you and picks it up to start gulping down. Even though you know it's Soonyoung, you still look over your right shoulder where he's chugging down the drink entirely unaware of your thirsty gaze watching the drop of liquid that escapes from the corner of his mouth trail down over his chin and jaw and down his neck to catch on his collar bone. You refrain from leaning in to slurp it up and lick your way up the trail it left all the way to Soonyoung's mouth.

Instead of staring at the way his throat bobs as he swallows down the last drops, you turn back around and wait for him to place the cup down so that you can refill it. And then he grabs it again before you can, making you groan. "Seriously?"

"M'thirsty," he defends barely pulling the cup away and accidentally dribbling some of the liquid from his mouth onto your shoulder. You look at him in disgust. He just grins sweetly and kisses your cheek in a sticky apologetic way before leaning back up to get back to his task of once again, stealing your drink.

At least this time when you've refilled the cup, he doesn't steal it away and lets you actually lift it to your own mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you drink so you side-eye him questioningly without moving the cup away.

"Are you taking Seungcheol home again?" He asks, stepping closer to you as someone passes too close behind him, his left hand falling to your hip and his right on the counter, sort of caging you in though you know it's unintentional even if you wish it wasn't.

"He can take himself home, he's not drinking tonight," you reply, distracted by the feeling of plastic pressing against you. "Your sword is digging into my ass."

Soonyoung lets go of the counter to tug his sword belt around and lays the toy on the outside of his left thigh leaving him pressed directly against you. You genuinely can't tell if he's even noticed that as he seems to be focused on the conversation judging by the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows. "That's not what I mean and you know it."

"If I know it, wouldn't I respond to what you mean?" You give him a look, puzzled by his own words and hoping he understands that you seem to very much not be having the same conversation here and you are completely unaware of the conversation he's having with you.

"Not when you're both pretending nothing's happening,"

"What?" You nudge him back enough so that you can turn and face him, which admittedly, is not your smartest move when he moves straight back in. He doesn't press against you again but his left foot is between yours as you lean your ass back against the counter. Any closer and his thigh will be very close to pressing to your crotch.

"Come on, I'm your best friend, I think you should at least be honest with me, even if you play ignorant with the others," he frowns and leans heavier onto his right hand on the counter beside your hip, bringing him in closer so that he doesn't have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music. "You two often leave together when we go out. And even though his place is closer than mine, you drop me off first so it's just you two left. I'm not stupid."

"Wait, you think that's so we can go fuck?" You realise with wide eyes.

"It's obvious, you always find each other when we're all together like this and spend the whole fucking night hiding off to the side whispering to each other,"

You can't help but laugh. "Do you all think we're fucking?" He nods. You laugh again. "Oh man, I gotta tell Cheolie this," you start to push off of the counter with every intention of going to find the man knowing he will find it as hilarious as you do, but Soonyoung puts his left hand on your lower stomach to push you back and then he pushes himself against you to pin you there. "Soonyoung,"

"No."

"What? No? No what?"

"I'm not letting you go back to him. You came with me, you're staying with me and leaving with me, no one else." He declares firmly.

You stare up at him trying to decipher what the fuck is actually going on right now, what prompted this sudden conversation and behaviour. Not that Soonyoung has never pinned you before but it's usually playfully as he whines and pouts cutely to get his way, or to just joke around. But he's entirely serious now and looking at you with something kind of dark in his eyes. Admittedly, it's pretty fucking hot. "Are you drunk?" You ask, even if you know he's not; you can't smell any alcohol on him and drunk Soonyoung gets cuddly and clingy, not whatever this is.

"You know I'm not," he places his left hand on the counter on your other side, well and truly caging you in and causing him to lean down a little closer to reach comfortably.

"Then why are you suddenly acting like this?"

"It's not sudden." You give him a look. "Okay, fine, acting on it is but wanting to, that's not sudden. I've wanted to do this for a long time,"

"Then why haven't you?"

"Because I care about you too much," he frowns a little as he takes in your features from up close, gaze catching on your lips for a few seconds before lifting back up to meet your eyes. "There's a bet you know, about us fucking?"

"I just found out." You pull a displeased expression. "Cheol's in on that, you know? He wouldn't bet on us fucking before the end of summer if he's fucking me."

"He is?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "They made it sound like he's against the bet, said he's been trying to stop them from always talking me into it,"

"Yeah, no, he just told me to fuck you. He's always telling me to fuck you."

"Oh," He licks his lips as his eyes divert thoughtfully. "Guess I should stop being a dick to him then,"

"You've been a dick to him?" You ask, genuinely surprised. You really haven't noticed Soonyoung acting badly towards Seungcheol at all.

"Mm, I always take his favourite snacks at movie night." You can't help but burst into giggling laughter at his confession.

Of course, the man doesn't have a single genuinely mean bone in his body and would think purposely taking someone's favourite snacks would be a big dick move. You bet he's been feeling kind of guilty about it while no doubt Seungcheol hasn't even noticed.

"What? Why're you laughing?" He pouts at you.

"Oh, Soonie, you're so fucking cute," you coo and cup his cheeks fondly. He smiles a little dopily at the compliment, the same smile he reserves for you and your doting attention on him even if neither of you has noticed that. The rest of your friends have though.

"Nice ass," You hear before Soonyoung's hips jerk into you when he yelps and tries to escape the slap that landed on his ass.

"Hyung!" He complains, looking over his shoulder to pout at Jeonghan as the man appears from behind your best friend.

You really can't tell exactly what Jeonghan is supposed to be, you think it's some kind of anime character, or something kinky. Maybe both. Either way, his costume is a strange mix of faux black leather and shimmery red lacey wings. And he pulls it off unfairly well considering that you know he hadn't been prepared for the party that morning at all.

"What? Don't look at me like I'm disturbing something," Jeonghan scoffs, reaching around you to grab the same big plastic bottle you had been filling your cup from. Though he stops and looks at the way Soonyoung is very much pressed against you. Jeonghan grins after noticing that Soonyoung's crotch is definitely smushed against your upper thigh; something you have been doing your best to ignore yourself because yes you can feel everything through the thin material covering you both. "Or maybe I am." He smirks at you both.

"What are you supposed to be exactly?" You ask in an attempt to change the topic to one that won't kill your last remaining dregs of sanity. Then again, with the things that come out of Yoon Jeonghan's mouth, you could still be rendered insane but for a reason other than feeling your best friend's dick pressed against you.

"No idea just grabbed some shit from Hao's costume closet." Jeonghan shrugs as he looks down at himself. "Kind of think this might be less about his costume designing and more about sex though."

"He's definitely worn that harness while fucking someone." You agree and reach out to hook your finger over the thick horizontal strap over Jeonghan's chest. You're pretty sure it's directly over his nipples, but the slightly sheer tank top he's wearing underneath the harness kind of obscures your view enough that you don't have confirmation.

"Mm, definitely." Jeonghan agrees and smirks at you. "Want to take it home yourself?"

"And take it from you? I wouldn't dare, you look so handsome, Hannie," You coo, playing along with the flirty banter you two have always partaken in. Not because anything has ever happened between you nor will it, you've discussed it plenty of times to make sure you're both on the same page still. But it's just fun to harmlessly flirt.

"Never said I won't be wearing it," he licks his lips and gives you a suggestive look.

"You're not going home with her," Soonyoung argues firmly, crowding up against you further though his gaze is on Jeonghan in warning, so he misses the way your eyes widen and dart down to where Soonyoung is now pressing his crotch against your hip, his own thigh pressing up between your thighs. Jeonghan doesn't miss it though and cackles, taking the bottle and his cup away entirely without another word.

"S-soonyoung," You stammer, hands fluttering at his sides, wanting to push him back for your sanity but you think putting your hands on his exposed skin will just make you pull him closer.

"Do you have to flirt with him all the time?" He frowns at you, entirely unaware of the screaming in your mind, mostly just sounds with the odd yell of the word penis. He'd probably laugh if he heard it, to be honest, just because of the word penis. He wouldn't even realise it's his penis you're mentally screaming about. "And when I'm right here too. Did you forget I'm here or something?"

"No," You choke out.

"Then why- are you okay?" He suddenly realises how wide your eyes are.

"I can feel your dick," You blurt, unable to think of anything else.

He blinks at you for a moment then looks down at where he's pressed against you as if he hasn't even noticed until now. "Oh," he pulls his hips back and his thigh from between yours making you let out a heavy shaky exhale as your body relaxes a little. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Ha, not the word I'd use."

"What word would you use?" If he was any other man, you'd say the little quirk of his head and innocent eyes locked onto you is fake, just some kind of game, a way to flirt. But it's Soonyoung and you've seen this man miss the most obvious of flirtations since you've known him; the amount of times you or the guys have had to bluntly tell him that someone had been trying to take him home to fuck is frankly absurd. "Stop touching my ass!" His sudden exclamation makes you jump a little while he looks over his shoulder in annoyance, glaring at Seungkwan who's giving him an innocent look.

"I'm very happy that you two are finally doing something about your consistent sexual tension and mutual pining but take it out of my kitchen, please. I don't want to have to burn my home down if you defile my counters." The younger man speaks bluntly with a slightly sweet edge to his words. You can't even see him but you just know that he's got that too sweet smile on his face that always feels more threatening than anything.

"What?" Soonyoung blinks at him, the annoyance of his ass being grabbed melting away. "We're not doing anything."

"Hannie told me you're being possessive and we all know that she likes that so-"

"Hey!" You exclaim offendedly, not because you can argue it, but just more that you're being talked about like you're not there. "She has a name!"

"Well take hyung home and he can moan it for the neighbours to hear." Seungkwan gives you that sweet-threatening smile as he leans around Soonyoung to meet your gaze. "My neighbours don't want to hear it."

"My neighbours won't hear that," you scoff. Soonyoung can't help but frown, he feels like he's just been rejected even though he hadn't even gotten to the point of actually asking to take you home and fuck you like he wants to, like your mutual friends had convinced him you want him to. But your firm dismissal of Seungkwan's words sounds like you putting that boundary securely in place before he can even ask to tumble over it into your arms.

"He's loud-" Seungkwan starts to point out but you're not done talking even if you had taken a quick scoff break.

"I don't live in a cheap-ass building with paper for walls like you do, Kwannie." You finish.

Both men stare at you for a second, Seungkwan at first just blinks in surprise at the fact you're not even disputing the Soonyoung moaning your name part, just whether or not your neighbours will hear. And Soonyoung is full-on gawping at you, mouth open and eyes wide, wondering if this means that boundary even exists between you.

"Does that mean you won't get a noise complaint? Hyung is pretty loud, you know? There's a reason we don't live together anymore."

"I don't know." You reply with a shrug.

"Then go fucking home already and stop humping against my kitchen counter!" Seungkwan grabs Soonyoung by his hips to yank him backwards away from you while the scantily dressed pirate yelps and flails a little at the unexpected action. Then he's shoved towards the kitchen exit while Seungkwan grabs your wrist to tug you along.

You're both too genuinely dumbstruck by Seungkwan's sudden forceful actions to do anything but stumble along until you're both outside of the apartment, shoes in hands and staring in shock at the door that's just been shut in your faces.

"Did we just get kicked out?" You mutter.

Soonyoung nods slowly and then looks at you. "I think we got kicked out for sex."

"Is it still sexile if you're the ones getting kicked out and told to go elsewhere to fuck?" You muse, attention down as you focus on shoving your feet into your shoes, one hand on the wall behind you and the other out in the air pointlessly.

"Uh, reverse sexile?" He offers, dropping his shoes to shove his feet into.

"Sounds like a sex position."

He laughs. "What would that even look like?"

"No idea." You grin at him then figure that well, it seems like you've both been outed enough already seeing as all of your friends have stopped hiding the fact that they expect you to finally have sex, which really implies a mutual attraction. So you suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a second as he frowns down at his shoe that just will not accept his right foot for some reason. "Shall we go find out?"

Immediately, Soonyoung looks up at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"Shall we go find out what reverse sexile looks like?"

"Like…us?"

"Yeah, Soonyoung, us," You confirm with an amused twitch of your lips. "You said you're the only one to go home with me, right?" He nods. "Then let's go home and find out, Young-ah."

"Ye-no, wait." He steps closer and takes your hand gently before you can start walking down the hall to the staircase. His fingers are barely holding onto your own. It's perhaps the most cautious he's ever taken your hand into his. Even the very first time he had boldly laced your fingers together and you had only met ten minutes previously.

"No?" You ask, feeling really kind of stupid all of a sudden. You had been so unusually confident in asking him to go home and fuck you.

"Not because I don't want to because I do seriously, I really want to fuck you." He breathes out, sounding rather affected by the thought alone as he stares at you longingly and holds your hand a little more securely. "I just…I don't want it to wind up like Seungcheol."

"Uh, what about Seungcheol?" You shuffle a little closer while giving him a questioning look.

"Regularly fucking his best friend who has a crush on someone else, while he…while he wants her as more than just company in his bed." The way his expression turns serious and yearning makes your heart start to race a little with hope.

"While he…Are you saying you want more?" You ask quietly.

"Earlier when I said I care about you too much, I meant I care too much to be able to have sex with you if it means nothing. I really fucking like you and I don't want to go home with you like this if you don't feel the same. I can't do that." He shakes his head a little. "As much as I've thought about this, about you and me doing all kinds of kinky shit all over your apartment, and mine when Jihoon isn't there. Or when he is if you're into exhibitionism, I don't know your kinks and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even notice anyway because he never leaves his fucking room an-" He's rambling at this point, frowning down at your connected hands as he talks.

"Soonyoung." He makes a soft hum of a noise as he looks back up at you with rounded eyes. "We can talk kinks later, I'd really like to get back to the matter of it sounds like you're confessing to me?"

"Oh, right yeah, I guess I am." He chuckles a little and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. "So uh, yeah, I really like you and uhm, I guess now comes the part where hopefully, you say you like me back but I really don't know if you do because the guys just really said you want to fuck me and-" You cover his mouth with your hand that time to shut up his second bout of nervous rambling.

"I really like you too, Soonie," You confirm softly and giggle at the way his features light up adorably behind your palm. "Can we skip the trial dating bullshit and go straight to being together? I'd like to show you off as my boyfriend," His eyes widen dramatically and then he's nodding rapidly in agreement without dislodging your hand. "You're so cute." You coo and lean in just to press a kiss to the back of your hand over his mouth. He looks utterly betrayed and heartbroken when you lean back. "What?" You play innocent and lower your hand while backing up, lacing your fingers behind your back.

"You can't tease me like that, baby!" He whines, toddling after you and dragging his feet in a sulk as he moves along the carpeted flooring of the hall.

"Tease? Me? Never," You grin at him then stop as your back hits the door to the staircase.

"You are, teased me for the past year. Teasing me now." He continues to mumble away as he nears, though cuts off when you reach out to grab the sword and yank on the plastic to pull him in right up against you. His hands automatically fly up to catch himself on the door above your head while his breath catches in his throat.

"If you're so worried I'm going to keep teasing you, Soonie, you better hurry up and take what you want." You warn in a low voice, chin tilted up so your faces are only inches apart.

Soonyoung groans in the back of his throat before he leans down and seals his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He presses his left forearm flat against the door beside your head so that he can firmly hold your jaw with his right hand and tilt you further into him with his thumb pushing on your chin to urge your mouth open wider and deepen the kiss in a manner much too filthy for a public hallway of your friend's apartment building.

"Oh for fucks sake!" The loud voice of the friend in question forces you both apart to peer over Soonyoung's shoulder to where Seungkwan is in the hallway with the cute neighbour he's recently started to date, their hands together and clearly with one intention in mind while sneaking away from his own party. They're standing outside of the neighbour's slightly open door but Seungkwan is staring at you and Soonyoung in disbelief. "I told you to go home! Not get your booty here!"

"Ha, booty, pirate joke." You snigger and Soonyoung giggles, both at your amusement and the pun he honestly hadn't even noticed.

"You two are fucking useless." Seungkwan decides and lets his neighbour tug him into the apartment. "You better be gone before I'm back!"

"90 seconds, right?!" Soonyoung calls as Seungkwan disappears. The younger's head pops back out to glare at the other and flip him a very heartfelt middle finger before the door actually shuts behind him that time. Soonyoung turns to look at you with a mischievous smirk. "Should we go fuck on his bed just to piss him off?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather only I hear you like that, Soonie," You pout at him cutely. "I'm not very good at sharing my toys, you know."

"Oh, I'm your toy now?" He muses, reaching down to open the door carefully to back you through it with his other arm wrapping around your waist.

"Mm, mine and only mine to play with when I want, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yours and yours only, baby." He agrees lowly. "And you're mine."

"I am." You confirm and tilt up to kiss him teasingly. "Let's hurry and get home so I can show you everything that now belongs to you."

A/N; There is more to this but I had to cut it all because it really was me mostly rambling with a sort of hand job thrown in there. The title comes from a conversation in the part I haven't included, by the way. Working title was "Yo ho hoe". But if I continue that part I removed from this, I guess there will be a part 2 as a direct continuation from this and it'll include smut.

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 3 days

Note

hi bambi this is zeta <3

is it okay to write smth about wonwoo taking care of his gf bcs their holiday plans were thrown out of the window due to her catching a cold? just overall fluff and comfort :((

okay that's all bye ilysm💖

▸ Pairing: Wonwoo x F!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 13+ / fluff / established relationship

If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: none

▸ Word Count: 605

▸ A/N: Zeta darling I'm SO sorry I couldn't get this done before the end of the year. You were sick and then so was I 😭 Just pretend this was published like 2 weeks ago pls. @shuadotcom - beta for life, etc etc ♥️

Wonwoo stops in your bedroom doorway, bowl in hand, to survey you. Or rather, to survey the lump in the center of the bed that’s covered by your duvet. “Sweetheart, lunch.” He sighs when the only response is the quiet noise of the television. “Come on, you have to eat something.”

Something between a muffled groan and growl fills the room and then the lump moves. The top of your head slowly peeks out from under the duvet and rests on the pillow at the top of the bed. Wonwoo smiles to himself as he watches your exposed eyebrows furrow before you drag the fabric back up to envelop yourself once more.

You hear Wonwoo sigh, then the gentle clink of earthenware being set on your nightstand before long fingers reach into your comforter and peel it back to reveal your face. Your hair is disheveled and you’re a bit pale, but the pout that’s settled onto your features as you return his bemused stare makes his heart flip.

“Wonwoo,” you finally rasp after being exposed, “I’m dying.”

He sits gingerly on the bed next to you, planting a kiss on your forehead before replying. “You’re not dying, sweetheart. But you will if you don’t eat.”

The press of his warm lips on your forehead is soothing, but does little to assuage your disappointment about all the plans you’ve had to cancel this week. “What’s the point in eating if I can’t have the seasonal stuff I’ve been waiting all year for?”

“What do you mean? Chicken noodle soup is seasonal.”

“Is not,” you whine, ignoring the way he smirks down at you playfully. A little teasing and faux ignorance have always been his way of making you giggle even when you don’t want to. And now you actually do want to, but the pang of missed opportunity is still at the forefront of your mind. “We were supposed to go look at Christmas lights and go caroling and ice skating and make gingerbread houses and just… There’s so much stuff I wanted to do, but I’m stuck here.”

Wonwoo pushes his glasses up his nose and sniffles, hurt. “‘Stuck’? You hate being with me that much?”

You sigh, sitting up to look at him better. Behind the warmth in his eyes is a hint of worry. Even though you know Wonwoo’s joking, you feel a pang of guilt for making him concerned in the first place. Suddenly not-seasonal soup is more appealing. “You know that’s not it, babe. There’s just…so much that we’re missing, you know? There’s so much that I wanted to do.”

Wonwoo doesn’t miss the way you tilt your head toward the nightstand, attempting to take more whiffs of the lunch he’s prepared for you through your stuffy nose. He moves to fluff the pillows behind your back before taking the spoon in his hand to feed you. Raised eyebrows above his lenses is all it takes for your weak glower to transform into an open, waiting mouth. Even on your worst days, he’s always there to comfort you. When you accept a few spoonfuls, Wonwoo is satisfied enough to answer. “We can do plenty of stuff here, you know. Movies, hot chocolate…some more soup, maybe.”

“That’s nice in theory, but you’ll get sick too.”

“Well–” he says thoughtfully, stirring your lunch again before taking some for himself, “– now it’s guaranteed. We can be sick together. So, how about that movie date?”

For the first time in days, your smile reaches your eyes as you return the warmth that Wonwoo continues to show you again and again. “It’s a date, then.”

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 3 days

Text

Who Wants to be a Dumbass?

Summary: Seungkwan wins the olympic gold medal in overthinking in under an hour and Jeonghan wins some money on the side.

▸ Pairing: Seungkwan x AFAB!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+, humor, f2? Minors / Ageless accounts DO NOT INTERACT. You will be blocked.

▸ Warnings: suggestive dialogue

▸ Word Count: 961

▸ A/N: More for KBCS’s Bon Voyage Bingo event! Prompt: Sunscreen (yes again but different lol) Kisses for @shuadotcom my forever-beta!

Seungkwan has been pacing for the last 20 minutes trying to make sense of this, but the longer he thinks the more he works himself up. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He spies his phone light up on the coffee table in his periphery, reminding him of the unread message waiting for him. Really deep breath in, ok?

Finally, he grabs the device, bracing himself as he reads over the preview of your texts.

Y/N💐: i wanna go to the pool tomorrow, but… 11:23pm Y/N💐: Attachment: 1 Image 11:25pm Y/N💐: Kwannie :( 11:35pm

The attachment is dangerous. When he saw the preview come in 20 minutes ago, he glimpsed your bottom lip, quirked up just slightly. And from what else he could see in the minimized image, it also included your chin, neck, and the suspiciously bare expanse of the top of your chest. You’ve sent Seungkwan plenty of selfies, but something was different about this - he just knew it. But different how? What would he see when he actually opened his messages and saw the photo in its entirety? What if you sent something by accident? What if…what if you sent something on purpose? Seungkwan lives a moderately stressful life, but this is definitely the most stressed he’s ever been. The thought of seeing his crush - seeing what he’s pretty sure could be the love of his life, actually - indecently shoots equal parts excitement and terror through his veins. It’s that excitement that pushes him to unlock pandora’s box.

He enters his password and holds his breath. Y/N💐: i wanna go to the pool tomorrow, but there’s no one to help me put my sunscreen on! will you help me? 11:23pm The image beneath the message is better than anything Seungkwan’s imagination could have conjured up. You’re smirking, chin up and confident. His eyes stroll down your neck, past your collarbones to your exposed upper chest, image cut off just at the top of your cleavage. White sunscreen is smeared everywhere - oh. Oh. It looks a lot like cum. Like Seungkwan's wettest dream that he has on a regular basis at this point. As if you’ve never applied anything to your skin in your life. As if your hands suddenly stopped working. As if you specifically wanted Seungkwan’s hands to do the work instead.

When he eventually does remember how to breathe, he reaches out to a lifeline. In times such as these, it’s helpful to phone a friend. “It’s midnight, loser, what do you want?”

“Y/N sent me a bunch of stuff and I’m freaking out,” Seungkwan cries, numb to Jeonghan’s (typical) greeting.

Jeonghan sighs dramatically on the other line. “You’re always freaking out. What’d she say?” “She sent me a photo.”

There’s rustling and suddenly Jeonghan’s voice is so much clearer in the receiver. “What kind of photo?”

“Y-You know. Like, a photo.”

“Like, a photo-photo?”

Seungkwan is still reeling from the image of you in such a suggestive pose. “I guess? Maybe? I don’t know.” Shit, what if he’s blowing this out of proportion? What if he just saw what he wanted to see?

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? Did she send nudes or what?”

“No!” Even though he was literally just imagining you naked, hearing anyone else talk about you like that makes Seungkwan almost offended on your behalf. “It’s just her chest and–”

“Tits count as nudes.”

“It’s not her-” why is he whispering? - “boobs, it’s just, like, the top of them, you know?”

“I don’t know because I can’t see the pic and you’re being a bitch.”

Y/N💐: hey Seungkwan the read receipts are on i’m sorry can… 12:03am

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Jeonghan tries again, “Just try to describe it.”

“There’s, um, sunscreen? I think? All over the top of her chest. It looks kind of like… Her face isn’t even in it. But she said she’s going to the pool tomorrow and needs–”

“Yyyes!” Jeonghan claps. “I called it!”

“Pardon?”

“Shua and I were betting on who’d confess first. I was right, naturally.”

This guy.

Wait, is this a confession though? Seungkwan really needs to check his messages. What if he wasn’t supposed to look? No, that text was for someone else. Oh no. He shouldn’t have looked. He’s such a fucking creep. You’re never going to talk to him again. “Seungkwan!”

“Yeah? Sorry, man. What if she’s not into me like that?”

“Are you dumb?”

“Jeonghan, shut up. It’s just that - what if it was a butt dial?”

“Oh my god, you are dumb!”

“Look, I’m just–”

Y/N💐: Facetime Video

“Fuck, Han, she’s facetimeing me!”

Another clap from Jeonghan. A condescending sendoff wrapped with love. “Break a leg! Just tell her the truth!” The line clicks dead and Seungkwan is left staring at your incoming call with seconds left to pick up. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no rrreally deep breath in no no no no no exhale through the mouth no no no no no. “Y/N?”

“Seungkwan, listen, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just misinterpreted–”

“I-I’d love to rub sunscreen on your tits!” Seungkwan gasps loudly and covers his own mouth, mortified. What was that? Now he’s definitely a creep and this will be the fumble that haunts him to his grave.

You’re not saying anything. Did you hang up? No, you’re still on, but you’re not saying anything. Phoning a friend right in such a critical moment was the absolute stupidest–

“Actually, there’s something else you could rub all over my tits if you want?”

“...Pardon?”

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 3 days

Text

— Lover | c.sc (M)

pairing ➳ dom!Seungcheol x sub!inexperienced!female reader

genre ➳ sugar daddy au, fake dating, strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, angst and some fluff. part of the Sugar Spice and Everything Nice project.

warnings ➳ okayy let's see, profanities, reader is shy and timid, she is also a simp, age gap tho it isn't mentioned, lying, insecurities, mention of terminal illness, dom/sub dynamics, explicit sexual content: multiple sex scenes, daddy kink obviously, kissing, a little degradation (slut), marking, big dicc! cheol, one tit slap, one spank, a little fingering, a lil clit biting? tit worshipping, male oral, choking, virgin sex, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it guys, this is just fiction!), forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, crying, creampie, seggs so gud she passes out, lots of emotions that needs to be addressed, Cheol is kind of an asshole at times?

word count ➳ 15.7k (grab your popcorn besties)

synopsis ➳ the worst first meeting and then an uncanny proposition is enough to cause trouble for you. you fall for a man who doesn't seem all that keen on returning your feelings.

playlist ➨ sugar daddy- queen herby // lover- taylor swift // power- ellie goulding // sugar- maroom 5 // tell it to my heart- meduza // guys my age- hey violet // tie a cherry- cl // only- lee hi // king of my heart- taylor swift // one last night- vaults // i fell in love with the devil- avril lavinge // i like it when you love me- oh wonder.

a/n: First of all happy new year guysss(even tho I'm late) and secondly, it's hereee!!! The first installment of Sugar Spice and Everything Nice is here!! I'm so excited, goshh. This is my first time writing explicit smut so idk how good it was (lemme know, wink wonk). For me it was hard af like I had no idea it was so draining to write smut??💀 Lmao anyways. Tbh when I thought of doing a sugar daddy fic, the first member I could think of was Cheol. I mean- HES A LITERAL DILF OKAY, he has the looks, the money, everything so ofc I had to do my first ever sg fic centering him. I hope y'all have a great time reading this and anticipate Joshua and Jeonghan's story which will probably take another couple months to be posted, sorry! Happy reading and I'll see y'all in hell( I can't believe I wrote this WTF 😀)

Your ass hurts.

It hurts so bad that you feel like the skin has come off and it has been set on fire. But that pain doesn't even come close to the fear and anxiety you feel right now as you watch the godly handsome man glare at you, his eyes shooting fire towards you like laser beams. His secretary or assistant or something dabs away at the stain on his pristine dark blue suit jacket with extreme caution; careful not to spread the stain further. The stain you just gave him.

In your defense, it was accidental but you aren't totally guilt free. You were too busy daydreaming about the man; the one currently sending daggers your way, to notice he was getting up from his seat to take his leave. Somehow your clumsy, pathetic self lost her balance and ended up tossing all the hot coffee that you were about to serve another table on him- mainly his suit while you land ass first on the floor. You are truly thankful that the man was wearing his suit otherwise he would have been burned pretty bad and by now you would probably be on your way to jail for burning somebody.

"Fuck! Stop it!" The man, also known as Mr. Choi bats the other man's hand away from his jacket as he takes it off, still glaring at you, probably cursing you too in his mind while you sit unmoving on the floor, stupidly gaping at him.

"Oh my god! We're so so sorry, sir!" From somewhere Tanz rushes towards the crime scene and helps you get up, while continuously bowing to the man in apology. "That was an accident. Please forgive us, sir. We'll pay for the dry cleaning."

"Forget it!" His voice booms, clearly annoyed as he mutters something to the other man who rushes out of the restaurant. "Do you know what you have done? How I could have been burned? I have a business meeting for fucks sake." He hisses at you while dabbing at the light patch of brown that has seeped on his crisp white shirt from the jacket.

"I'm sorry," you whisper meekly, head hanging low in shame, cringing at yourself. Way to make an impression. Tanz is about to say something but the man speaks again, this time directed at her, "If this is how your employees treat their customers then you should probably think about hiring new ones." He snaps before turning on his heel and marching out of the place.

The hushed chatter returns as obnoxiously rich people stare at you and gossip while Tanz pushes you towards the kitchen. "Wow. So you like spilling coffee on men that you like? Is that your way of telling them that you are interested?" She raises a brow at you making you flustered. "I swear, it was an accident! I just- slipped somehow...I'm so sorry."

She sighs, rubbing her forehead. "It's okay. As long as he doesn't file a complaint about us. And if he doesn't do that, be sure he's never coming back. He doesn't wanna get his pretty face burned next time." Tanz jokes but you don't really find it amusing.

Mr. Choi has been your harmless crush for a while now, well he definitely was harmless until now. He's one of the regular customers here, showing up almost everyday whether to have breakfast or to grab a cup of coffee. He always leaves the most generous tips which are a given for a billionaire like him. You have seen his face on magazines and the internet before as he is a hot topic of discussion because of his extreme success at a young age. Not only is he blessed with extremely good looks but he also doesn't lack intelligence and pairing it up with his communication skills and straightforwardness, he has managed to build an entire empire fairly young. And you just spilled hot coffee on someone like him.

Tanz takes pity on your traumatized state and lets you go home early, where you crawl under your blankets and try to wipe the cringy memory off your mind. You can only hope he does the same.

Sitting here, waiting for the stranger to appear is nerve wracking. Well, he isn't a complete stranger if you consider the messages you exchanged with him over the past week.

You still can't believe you signed up on a freaking sugar daddy website and then started chatting with some dude who you have no idea is real or not and now you are here, waiting for the said dude at a cafe. This all truly feels surreal now. Sure, the man seemed fun and nice over texts but you have no idea what he looks like and if he truly has the capability to be a sugar daddy. In his profile, it said his name is Scoups and his age is 32. That's all you know about the man you are going to meet. You don't have any idea what he looks like because his profile picture was rather vague, a capture of his silhouette rather than his profile.

He had asked if he could meet you in this cafe last night and thinking about all your accumulating bills, you said yes. He even specifically told you where to sit, the third table from the entrance by the window. Now you sit here tapping your foot nervously, contemplating your decision and waiting for the man to show up. You can't even look for him and only hope that he manages to recognize you from your profile picture.

You're so engrossed in your thoughts that it takes you a while to realize a man is standing in front of you. Peeking up to look at him, your heart almost lurches out of your chest at the sight. Mr. Choi stands in front of you in all his glory, a confused look on his face as he judges you with a raised brow. Your throat tightens.

"Wha- what are you doing here?" He's incredulous. You get nervous for no reason. You fiddle with your hands as they flail wildly and blurt out, "I- you told me to c-come here. We- we have been talking through that website-"

"What the fuck are you saying? I was supposed to meet some investors he- wait a second!" Some sort of revelation flashes across his eyes as he clenches his jaw and tightens his fist. You half expect him to start throwing punches but instead, he yells, "Fuck! Yoon Jeonghan!" He grits his teeth as he produces his phone from his breast pocket and quickly dials a number before walking away, leaving you completely bewildered.

You sit there as minutes pass by, baffled at the situation. Out of all people, he had to be your match? Or maybe it wasn't him. God, you're confused. When you are sure he has left for good and you should too, he reappears at your table, an annoyed look resting on his face.

He sits down on the chair across you with a disturbed grunt, before undoing the button of his jacket and releasing a deep breath. You sit there frozen, too nervous to speak or move, only watching the beautiful man in front of you rubbing his temples. He begins, "I have to clear things up. This is a setup, done by my dear friend. He was the one who you have been talking to on that website. He set me up to this, saying that we were meeting some investors. I had no idea I was gonna meet a...sugar baby." He mutters dryly, undoubtedly displeased with everything. Dumbly, you whisper, "I'm sorry."

What are you even sorry for? Oh yeah, spilling coffee on his jacket.

He lets out a mirthless chuckle, "It's really ironic meeting you. God the confusion I felt when I saw you sitting here." He shakes his head at the memory as you grow more embarrassed. "Anyway, I think we're done here. Sorry to let you down but if you want to meet my friend I can give you his number." His tone is dismissive as he prepares to leave but stops in his tracks when a ping comes from his phone. He opens the device to check the text and a frown settles on his face upon reading it. He sits still for a while, staring at the screen while you do the same, waiting for his next move.

And it surprises you.

"On a second thought, I don't mind being a sugar daddy." He announces as he gets comfortable in the chair again and you gulp, wondering what that text said that made him change his mind so quickly. Silently, you wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't, instead starts scanning you top to bottom. You grow flustered under his scrutinizing gaze, shuffling in your seat as you wonder if he likes what he sees or feels repelled. It's probably the latter.

"I have some specific demands that need to be met. One, if I'm being precise. You do that and I pay you generously."

You swallow. "What is it?"

"I need someone to show up with me on family functions and other events. You see, my family has been pressuring me to find a significant other and me showing up with a girl will really keep them off my ass." He states, getting to the point immediately as you sit there, processing his words. His proposition sounds almost unreal, too easy. He continues, "I'm willing to pay whatever your requirement is. If you agree, then I'm gonna prepare a contract which will carry all the details of this arrangement." He sounds so formal like he's doing business which in a way, he is and his authoritativeness makes you stumble over your words as you gather your thoughts.

"I...I don't mind I guess. I have loans to pay off so...I'm willing." You whisper. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this means you have to get physical with him, which you definitely don't mind but the thought makes your throat dry. As if he can read your mind, he speaks, "Don't worry about sex. I'm not looking for anything physical. But if you are willing then we can. However, that is not a priority. We can take it one at a time." His bluntness makes your face burn as you nod timidly, looking away. When you offer nothing more he sits up straight. " Well, then, Miss ____, I take it you're willing?"

"Yes." You nod. "Good. My secretary will contact you soon. We can meet up and discuss the contract." He throws a professional smile at you, a pleasure-doing-business-with-you-with-you smile as he fishes out his wallet and pulls out a couple of hundred dollar bills. To your utter surprise, he pushes them towards you. "Thank you for your time." Is all he says before he stands up and marches away, leaving you to sit there shocked, horrified even as you stare at the bills sitting on the table.

Two hundred dollars?

For what? Like twenty minutes? Is this what it feels like to be a sugar baby? Half of you feel ashamed while the other half feels giddy as you reach for the notes. You have to put your pride aside if you want to pay off your loans and accomplish your dreams. Also, it's not like this is illegal or you begged him for this. He willingly gave you two hundred dollars! With a soft smile on your lips, you put the notes in your purse and head home.

A couple of days later, true to his words, Seungcheol's secretary calls you, letting you know that his boss wants to have dinner with you and go over the contract. Due to the occasion, you take out the best piece of clothing you own; a mid-length black evening dress with a sweetheart neckline that hugs your body nicely and pray that it makes you look decent and presentable. Seungcheol is kind enough to send his car to pick you up and take you to the restaurant.

When you arrive, Seungcheol is already there, waiting for you in one of the private dining areas. Dressed in a grey suit and pants which are a little crinkled right now, it is evident that he had a long day. But somehow, he manages to look perfectly put together and attractive, his intimidating aura ever present. "Good evening, Miss ____."

He greets as he sees you enter and with a shy greeting, you quickly sit down opposite to him. The room is spacious, designed with wood and minimalistic decorations as a table sits at the center, surrounded by a couple of chairs. Seungcheol pushes the menu resting on the table towards you. "Order whatever you please. Then we can start discussing the contract."

So you do that quickly as the waiter arrives and pours some champagne on your glasses. As a means of easing your nerves, you quickly gulp it down.

"Now, since this is a contract, I expect you to be completely honest and tell me if you aren't satisfied with anything. This won't work if you don't tell me your worries," Seungcheol begins, pushing the written contract towards you. Tentatively, you pick up the piece of paper. "I've listed my requirements here. You can add yours if you have any. And if you disagree with any of these then we can discuss it." He states, leaning back on his chair and taking a sip of the bubbling drink. You can feel his eyes burning into you as you read over the contract and you are pretty surprised over its simplicity.

They don't contain many clauses, just a few; none of the parties are allowed to have any other relationships while in this contract, prices are negotiable if they do not satisfy the sugar baby, sexual relationship is not a must but it can be initiated with the consent of both parties and lastly, if any of the parties want to break off this arrangement, they can do so without any questions asked. You set down the paper with a hum and Seungcheol asks, "Okay? Would you like to add anything?"

"No, I think this is fine." You say, making him nod and fetch a pen from his pocket. "You can always add something later if you feel like it. I want this to be beneficial for both of us. This way, we both get what we want, don't we?" Nodding, you scribble your sign at the bottom of the paper, next to his. You feel like you have done something huge, something that will change your life and it will. He is literally your sugar daddy now. Which reminds you.

"Oh, thank you for that money...that day. You... didn't have to do it, really." You whisper. Seungcheol shrugs, his tone bored, "I'm your sugar daddy, aren't I? Besides, you were scammed in a way. Only felt right to compensate you. Jeonghan says he's sorry, by the way." Biting your lip, you nod, unable to come up with a reply.

"Okay, now." Seungcheol puts his hands on the table, his serious gaze making you squirm in your seat. "My parents are hosting a charity event this weekend. And you will be accompanying me."

"This weekend?" You let out an unceremonious gasp. He raises a brow, "Yes. Do you have plans? I will pay you handsomely." The mention of money makes you flush as you quickly shake your head, "No no! I just- I wasn't expecting it. I mean it's in two days and I don't have any time to prepare my dr-"

"Everything will be taken care of, ___." He pins you down with his gaze. "You just need to show up. I will have a pair of stylists and make-up artists at my place this Saturday. You can get ready there."

"O-okay. Thank you." You mutter, feeling a little intimated.

"Good." Seungcheol smirks. "Pleasure doing business with you, Miss ____."

After that, there's a pause in the air as dinner is served and you both start eating in relative silence. "I did some background check on you. You're a business major, I see." Seungcheol states somewhere between the dinner. "Yes, I am." You speak.

"You have quite an excellent score. Why don't you come to my company for an internship." The idea is enticing but you are already in a rather special relationship with this man so the idea of him being your boss too isn't really the most pleasing. It is true that you are preparing your résumé for some internships as you need money to pay off your loans as the diner's pay isn't helping with too much. "T-thank you for your offer, Mr. Choi. But I don't think I will." He raises a brow at you but doesn't speak further, instead sips the champagne. "You are not interested in an internship?"

"I- I was but not anymore. I mean, with our new arrangement," heat flares all through your face "I-I think I'll keep working at the diner and save up. I actually want to open my own shop." You whisper, confessing your dream to him suddenly making you shy.

What does he think of you? Is he judging you? Laughing at you?

"What shop?"

"A flower shop," you breathe, looking at your lap. He's silent for a while before nodding, "A flower shop, huh? Interesting." He muses and you cringe inwardly thinking he's probably laughing at you. Before you can stop yourself you explain, "You see my mother used to have a garden when I was young. I really liked watching her tending to the garden with so much love and before I knew it I started to do the same too. She loved roses, half of our garden was full of them. I just...I don't know, I want to work with flowers." You don't know why you are blabbering about this to pretty much a stranger and you half expect him to roll his eyes and say whatever but you watch him nod, almost understandingly.

"That's great. We'll drink to that. I hope you can open your shop soon." He raises his glass and you quickly grab yours, clinking it with him, whispering a 'cheers'.

It has been two months since that night and God, your life has turned completely upside down. If someone said this was gonna be your life a few months back, you would have flipped them off but lord, it is. You have attended quite a few events with Seungcheol in the span of the last couple of months and after each event, the amount that was dropped in your bank account was mind boggling, almost filthy. You have once tried talking to Seungcheol about it, saying he did not have to pay that much every time but he just shrugged and said that's what you deserve for giving him your time. And you certainly can't complain.

With the current flow of cash, in just a few weeks you can finish paying all your debts and actually start working on setting up your shop.

Other than the obscene about of money, there are gifts. So much of it that bags of Channel and Dior and Gucci and Louis Vuitton and Prada lie around your apartment now because after every party you attend with Seungcheol, he lets you take home the expensive dresses and shoes as gifts. You have tasted the most luxurious wines and champagnes, tried a variety of delicacies, rode cars worth a million dollars and whatnot. It has been an overwhelming but also a learning experience as you got to experience how the filthy rich people lived. And it is easy to get used to because coming from a struggling family, when you have diamonds and rubies on your neck and fingers, you truly can't complain too much. But every now and then you tell Seungcheol to take it easy and tone it down just a little.

Seungcheol, right. The man who is now at the center of your universe. He's an enigma, just like gravity as he keeps pulling you closer and closer yet leaving you unsatisfied. You don't really know what you expected Seungcheol to be but it's definitely not this. He's attentive and respectful but also very professional. While this sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship may sound really intimate to others, it's nowhere near that for the two of you. It's fair to say you are extremely surprised at how Seungcheol keeps his distance and never tries to initiate anything with you.

You have been playing the role of Seungcheol's arm candy slash companion, nothing more or less. So far you have attended four events with him, the first one being his family charity. His parents surprised you, in the best way. While you expected them to make rude comments and judge you down to your pores, they were welcoming and chatty and easy to get along with, like the rest of his family. His mother was the life of the party, talking and laughing and drinking nonstop, her vibe a lot younger than her age.

After that event, you attended two more office parties, followed by an evening party taken place after Seungcheol launched another new business. That night is the most unforgettable as you were flocked with paparazzi coming at you from all directions and throwing questions left and right. However, Seungcheol handed them efficiently, shielding you from the blinding flashes with his large frame as he answered the questions for you. He has always made sure that you felt comfortable and always made you feel included in conversations. And for someone with a soft heart like yours, his attention and politeness towards you have increased the teeny tiny crush you had on him to tenfold.

How can you not like someone as charming as him? Sure, he has kept you at an arm's length, never sharing anything too personal with you nor asking anything personal about you but the sight of him in a suit, engrossed in his work, his ring clad fingers massaging his temples is enough to make you forget everything and fall for him harder. Seungcheol pays you to show up with him at events and while you were first interested in luxurious parties and fine dining events, you've soon lost interest in them; now too busy gawking at Seungcheol. The events now bore you but you certainly aren't complaining when you get to be by the side of a man like Seungcheol.

The way he shows up in expensive suits, tailored just perfectly and free of a single crease and the way he brushes his slicked hair back while talking or the way his adam's apple bobs when he sips champagne or the way his biceps flex when he buttons his suit is good enough to drive you insane. Simply speaking, it looks like you've got it down bad for someone who is clearly not interested in a relationship. You remember asking him about this on the way home after one of his parties.

"Why don't you just...date?"

Your question catches him off guard by the look on his face as he raises a rather judgemental brow at you. Flustered, you're about to apologize for being nosy when he sighs. "Too much work."

"Huh?" You blink at him. "Dating. It's too much for me. I've seen people around me fall in love and then fall apart in the worst ways and I don't want to be like them. I'm not ready for commitment or the effort and responsibilities that come with a relationship only for it to end and cause me headaches. It feels like a burden to me."

"Oh." You murmur. "But it could be fun too. If you find the right person, I mean." Your voice fades into a whisper. A small unamused smile rests on his face. "That's the thing. Finding the right person. I don't think there is someone like that. At least for me."

"Well, you never know until you search." You speak wondering why the hell you are pushing him to find love. Maybe because deep down that's what you wish from him, to love you. Seungcheol stares at you for a while, your eyes not leaving his as you watch the city lights reflect in them. The moment is broken when a frown mars his beautiful face as he snaps, "Well. As I said, I'm not interested."

His rejection definitely hurt you but you didn't have time to dwell on it because the next day Seungcheol announced that you would be accompanying him to Paris this weekend for a two-day business trip. The news came out of nowhere and smacked you on the face but you were too excited to complain how short of a time he gave you to prepare. Seungcheol dealt with all the paperwork work and a few days later you were accompanying him to Paris in his private jet.

It has been a couple of hours since you have landed and checked into the hotel suite. Seungcheol is currently taking a shower as you stand on the balcony, watching the Eiffel tower in the distance as the dusk fell.

You are still in the process of processing that all this is real and you are truly in Paris, staying in a fucking penthouse suite which unfortunately or fortunately has two bedrooms because Seungcheol claimed he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, sipping a wine whose name you can't even pronounce. All thanks to your dear sugar daddy. The word still feels foreign on your tongue and you haven't called him that out loud but oftentimes, your mind wonders if he'd like to be called that in bed. You are yet to find out if you have a daddy kink which seems like it won't happen soon given how professional Seungcheol has been with you.

Your wandering thoughts come to a halt as Seungcheol appears from the bathroom, half naked, just grey pajama pants hanging low on his hips and you almost choke on your wine. Making a quick excuse you dash to the bathroom, seeking shelter from the defined, absolutely perfect muscles all over his chest and abdomen. This sugar baby thing is proving to be a lot harder than you thought but hey, at least you are getting paid enough.

The next day Seungcheol meets his business partners in an early breakfast meeting as you get your beauty sleep in the fluffy white pillows and blankets. Later that evening you prepare for the after party as you put on a champagne colored silk evening dress, another luxurious purchase by Seungcheol. With your makeup done, you are putting on your earrings when Seungcheol pads into your room, dressed in the finest white suit you've ever seen. There's a white turtleneck underneath it and a Chanel brooch pin rests on one of the lapels of his collar. His hair is styled back in a rather messy way as the smaller strands lay scattered on the sides of his forehead and you have this terrible urge to run your fingers through them. He simply looks delectable.

You watch him with bated breath for a while before his voice brings you back to reality. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah, um, I just need to put my shoes on," you reply fumbling for your pumps. Seungcheol watches you for a second, his eyes scanning you top to bottom before he gives you a soft smile and steps out of the room, leaving you to finish getting ready.

This party is like every other, men talking about capitalist things and women showing off their jewels to each other. You sit on a chair by the long table full of sweets and fruits, helping yourself with a piece of strawberry as you sip on the rose champagne and watch Seungcheol converse with his business partners. Well, he stays silent mostly while the men surrounding him talk and this is the first time you have seen Seungcheol look so disinterested. His eyes keep wandering around and often landing on you and when they do, he holds his gaze, eyes boring into yours even though he's on the other side of the room. As you finish your strawberry Seungcheol excuses himself from his friends and stalks over to you. "Boring, isn't it?" He raises a brow at you.

"I'm surprised to hear that from you." You send a teasing smile on his way. He laughs softly, "I know. I'm kind of regretting making them partners. They just don't know when to shut their traps." He sighs, grabbing a champagne flute and finishing it in one go. "Well, would you like to leave then?" You ask. "Now?" He frowns. "We haven't had dinner yet."

You shrug. "We can just have it back in the hotel if that's okay with you." Seungcheol seems to ponder that idea for a second before he reaches out for your hand, surprising you. "Let's do that. I've had a long day." Nodding you follow him, your hands linked with his as you excuse yourselves from the party and head towards Seungcheol's limo.

Tonight the air between the two of you feels different, charged with palpable tension. Seungcheol, who only have ever touched the small of your back or pressed the slightest kisses on your temple as a public display of affection has been keeping his hands a lot more on you today. Like right now.

His hand rests on your thigh casually as you sit next to him on the limo, your heart thudding loudly when he absentmindedly starts stroking the flesh. You take a tentative look at him, his eyes focused outside, his brows furrowed a little. His face is so close to you, just mere inches apart and you can even count his beautiful, long lashes. And you have this insane urge to kiss every inch of his face, press your lips against him and feel the softness.

Your body seems to take matters into its hand as you feel yourself move and press your lips softly against like sharp jawline. Seungcheol is pleasantly shocked as he turns to face you, the hand on your thigh tightening. Holding your breath you watch him, waiting for him to react. He does by cupping your cheek, dark eyes watching you closely. And then he leans closer, pressing his lips on your cheek before trailing down towards your lips. He then stops and observes you for a while, his warm breath kissing your face, the heated desire in his eyes making your heart race.

And then he presses his lips on the corner of yours gently, as if testing the waters. Your soft gasp and tightening hold on his jacket ease his worries as he attaches his lips to yours softly. He takes his sweet time kissing your lips as you sit there frozen, the fact that this is happening stunning you. When he gently prods his tongue into your mouth you grab his jacket, breath hitching as fireworks spread through your body.

Perilously you kiss him back, hands snaking around his neck as he somehow shifts you onto his lap. Your heart rings in your ears loudly, thrilled to finally, finally taste the man you have been utterly besotted to.

He tastes like pure luxury, fine and deep and obsessive leaving you moaning for more. He removes his lips from yours to trail them down your neck, starting from your jaw as soft gasps leave your mouth. You throw your head back once his lips meet your sensitive spots and half unconsciously you start grinding yourself against his thigh. You seem to have lost your mind, your brain overflowing with some sort of horny hormones probably because your period is coming or because of the unfairly sexy man underneath you. However, your passionate moment is hindered as the car comes to a halt making you snap out of your reverie.

Face heated, you scramble to get off his lap while he lets you, an unaffected look resting on his face as if he didn't just eat your face. Getting off the car as fast as possible you march inside the hotel and go straight for the elevator. Seungcheol follows you close by and after one awkward, full of tension elevator ride later you reach the suite and as soon as Seungcheol unlocks it, you almost make a beeline for your room, too ashamed to face him after your little make out session. But his voice stops you in your tracks.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" He asks suddenly, his face solemn. The sincerity in his tone makes you feel a little guilty. "No!" You signify. "I just- um, I really liked it but I'm afraid you didn't and I crossed a line or something..." You trail off nervously, eyes low in embarrassment. He watches you amusedly for a while before stepping towards you and tilting your head up with a finger.

The proximity of his body next to yours paired with his scalding gaze have your knees shaking but you swallow and meet his eyes. "Trust me, you didn't cross any line." His deep voice reverberates as he leans closer, his lips a breath away from your ear. "I liked that a lot, in fact." He whispers, trailing his lips from your cheek to your earlobe as he softly bites the flesh. Your hands clutch on his jacket tightly as you mewl, legs shaking. You can't believe how embarrassingly wet you are from one makeout session.

"Wait!" You speak, making him step back immediately with a frown and you hate how you miss his warmth. You don't want him to get the wrong idea so you keep your hands on his jacket as you look down and whisper your embarrassing truth. "I- you should know...that...I've never done this before. I'm- I'm-" you can't bring yourself to finish that sentence so keep your head down in shame, scared that he's gonna back out now. For a moment nothing happens and you feel like disappearing into thin air, before he cups your cheek and guides your face up.

"That's okay. What I need to know is," His eyes darken visibly, turning into pools of lava, "Do you really want this? Do you want me?" He utters, his lips a breath away from yours. "Y-yes, I do." He didn't even touch you but you are already gasping for air, the thoughts of him corrupting you sending shivers down your spine.

Watching you for a beat he leans closer and attaches his lips to yours, gently at first. When a soft, pleasured gasp leaves your mouth he grows bolder, pushing his tongue inside and claiming your mouth once again and biting your lips to the point it's swollen. The kiss is raw, filled with molten lust as he somehow manages to guide you both towards the master bedroom your lips always connected to his plump ones.

When you both stand in front of the huge bed, you almost lose your balance due to your lust-riddled brain but he is quick to grab your waist rather roughly and pulls you close while his other hand ventures downwards, groping your ass. He kisses you until you are breathless and then pulls back to look at your already fucked out state, your doe eyes watching him with so much eagerness.

"Beautiful." He whispers, eyes on your swollen lips that are parted just a little.

With a gentle hand, he reaches for the straps of your gown and lets them fall off your shoulders before his hands dance on your back, tugging down the zipper in a smooth motion. He steps back just a little bit, waiting for you to step out of your dress and shyly you do so. The dress doesn't let you wear a bra so your bare breasts are exposed to the chilly air, making your nipples harden immediately. You're about to cover yourself out of shame when he grabs your wrists. "Don't." Is all he says, his voice gentle yet commanding and you nod vigorously like a puppet.

He begins by pressing kisses on your shoulders and then your breasts as his hands work on massaging them simultaneously. He takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting and torturing it with his tongue until you are arching towards him with a moan and bunching the sheets in your fists. "You are so beautiful when you moan for me darling, don't stop." He mouths with a cheeky smile before doing the same to your other breast, all the while watching your reaction and you are so lost in sensations that you don't realize he has taken off his suit jacket sometime while pleasing you.

Then he stops for a moment, pushing you back into the pillows behind you and sitting on his knees as he takes off his turtleneck. His body is truly a sight for sore eyes, chiseled abs all over and you have this urge to kiss every inch of his porcelain skin. Smirking at how you ogle him he then reaches for his pants, tugging them off too. Left in his boxers only which shows a clear outline of his hard length, you can't help but mewl out a please. Your desperation makes him cockier and he decides to tease you a little further.

Leaning down, he presses sweet kisses on your belly before going down, eyes connecting with yours every so often. He kisses your covered core once before tugging off your panties and tossing them aside, making you gasp and without a delay he spreads your legs open, staring at your core. You feel your whole body heat up with embarrassment and you want to close your legs but you can't because of his strong grip. It frustrates you how slow he is, too busy eye fucking you and enjoying your neediness. Throwing the sexiest smirk at you that has your pussy leaking, he leans down and attaches his lips against your core.

You almost scream bloody murder.

His mouth moves expertly against your most sensitive spot as he messily sucks and laps at your core. Your hands fist on his hair as you almost arch off the bed when you feel his warm tongue prodding at your entrance. "Fuck! Daddy!" And the word leaves your lips somehow which makes Seungcheol stop his ministrations on you. He leans back to look at you and you are so embarrassed you hope that the bed would swallow you up.

You're about to open your mouth to apologize but he says, "What did you call me?" His deep baritone has you gushing again as his smoldering eyes pin you down. "D-daddy." You whisper. "Good. Scream that when I make you come." The confidence and authority in his voice are enough to almost make you come as he dives back in with renewed vigor.

He's merciless, prodding your hole relentlessly with his tongue, alternating sucks and nips on your clit. It sets fireworks all through you and you feel the coil in your belly starting to tighten in pleasure. "So fucking good baby. You taste so sweet." He grunts, face pressed against your mound and his words paired with the lewd sight between your legs has your cunt throbbing.

Soon enough you find yourself on the precipice of an orgasm which washes over you when he gently nips your clit before giving it a harsh suck. You scream as you hurl down an orgasm, your first, real orgasm as Seungcheol holds your shaking body down.

Before you can even come back from your high, he continues, kissing your pussy aggressively while adding a finger and then two and the sudden stretch in your tight hole has you coming again in mere seconds, this time your orgasm stronger, setting your nerve endings on fire as you scream his name.

He sits back once done, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you twitch underneath him, vision q little blurry. He makes a show of licking his lips which glisten with your arousal before leaning down by supporting himself on his elbows and capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss. You moan, tasting yourself on his tongue and the filthiness of his act sends a new rush of arousal through your body.

"Do you want me to continue?" He asks and though his concern warms your heart you can't help the groan. "Yes, yes! Of course." You almost yell. Chuckling at your enthusiasm, he moves back and rakes a hand through his hair. "Well, then, if we're gonna do it, we have to do it bare because I don't have a condom with me. But I assure you, I'm clean and I'll pull out." He says, his eyes focused on your face to catch any hint of hesitation and honestly, you don't give a fuck. You'll do just about anything to have his dick inside you right now.

"I'm on the pill so I'm fine." You pant, reaching for him to pull him close. Smirking, he grabs your wrists midway and pins them above your head. Lazily he whispers in your ear, "If you want me to fuck you, you're gonna be a good girl and keep your hands to yourself. Understand?" You answer him with an enthusiastic nod but he isn't satisfied as he lands a sudden slap on your tit making you squeal. "Yes, daddy! Yes!" You heave for breaths, pussy throbbing as his rough treatment.

Once happy he works on removing his boxers and when they come off you almost drool, mouth hanging open at the sight. His cock is utterly beautiful, long and thick and heavy as it bobs in the air. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you swallow, thinking about how deliciously it's gonna stretch you, if you can even take it in the first place.

"Like what you see?" His tone is smug and you can only nod. He gives your pussy a few rubs, spreading your arousal before lining his cock up to your entrance, intense eyes watching you as he whispers, "Deep breaths baby. Tell me if it gets uncomfortable, alright? I'll stop immediately." You can only nod, grabbing his biceps for support as you feel his tip entering followed by some inches and just that feeling has you on the brink of exploding. Sharp pain and pleasure surge through you but what steals most of your focus is how incredibly full you feel. Your breath hitches and you tense up as he gradually pushes in, mewling, "Ah- s-so b-big."

Above you Seungcheol grits his teeth as he keeps pushing inside steadily and you wonder just how big his cock is when it finally stops and you let out the breath you were holding. "Alright?" Seungcheol asks. You nod your head taking in a couple deep breaths, pulling him closer as an indication to continue. And he does. Lazily he pulls back until the tip of his dick rests inside you and then he thrusts, so hard that you scream out loud as he hits that spot inside you. "Fuck, you're so tight." He sounds choked.

"Oh god!" you're wail, head full of bliss as your mouth hangs open in pleasure. The ethereal sight of him on top of you, sweaty, full of lust has you moaning and clenching. You wrap your arms tightly around his strong back, nails digging onto his skin as he increases his pace. "Feel good? You want more, little girl?"

His words make you gush around him. "Yes! Yes, daddy! I want more. Give it to me!" You whine deliriously, clinging onto him. He grunts, doubling his pace if that's even possible. You feel like you are gonna break into two, in the best possible way as he keeps hitting your sweet spot that has you moaning like a whore and you feel your orgasm approaching.

"Keep screaming my name. Who's making you feel this good?" He hisses in your ear, thrusting erratically. "You daddy! You! Seungcheol! Please, I'm gonna cum!" You mewl.

"Oh yeah? So easily? Cum then. Milk my cock dry." He bites your earlobe as one of his hands reaches down to circle your clit in tight motions making you shudder violently. You feel like you are gonna burst and you do actually. The coil in your belly snaps and with a raw scream of his name you come, pussy spasming erratically. Seungcheol hisses on top of you as he feels your arousal coat him but continues his ruthless pace, his thrusts so deep the bed shakes.

He's merciless, continuing his torture on your clit even after you come and oversensitivity settles. "Seungcheol, please..." You gasp, unsure what you are even begging for. "One more. You can do one more," he huffs before whispering, "Where do you want me to come baby?" He pants, hands rubbing your clit tirelessly.

"Inside! C-come in me, daddy!" You're delirious, the thought of him filling you up sends your body into overdrive as he pinches your clit, making you come once more with a scream of his name. The orgasm ripples through you like tsunami waves, shaking your whole body and making your toes curl as your fingernails dig into his back. He comes with you, warm spurts of his seed filling you up continuously, so much that some of it leak out. The warm feeling of his release inside your pussy and his sweet sucking on your neck is the last thing you remember before passing out.

When you return to earth it's morning and your whole body hurts. The sun filters through the silk curtains, making you squint as you struggle to sit up. The ache between your legs is ever present, making the memories of last night flood back in. At that thought, you look around the room only to see no signs of Seungcheol. Is he gone for a meeting? The bedside clock reads 9:05 am.

Damn, how long have you been passed out for? You didn't even have dinner last night. At the thought of food, your stomach growls and you scramble to get out of bed, awkwardly moving your legs after the treatment Seungcheol gave to your pussy last night. The thought has you feeling flustered as you pad outside of the bedroom and find Seungcheol sitting on one of the dining chairs, a newspaper in his hands.

A soft gasp leaves you as you didn't expect to see him. He looks up and the corners of his lips turn upward just slightly, "Hello there. Good morning."

"G-good morning," you fumble with the hem of your (his) shirt as you stand there awkwardly, face and neck heating up with embarrassment. "Sleep well?" He asks, his tone almost teasing and you nod shyly. "Good." He folds the newspaper and stands up, fixing his t-shirt. "Take some medicine. I'm sure it hurts. Was I too rough last night? You literally passed out on me." Refusing to meet his eyes, you only shake your head no and mumble out an apology. He steps towards you and lifts your face up with a finger. "Don't be. Did you have a good time?" The sincerity and integrity on his face steal your breath away. "Y-yes, thank you." You breathe, hypnotized by his eyes. He nods and steps back, announcing. "Have breakfast and get ready. We're gonna go for sightseeing today."

"Oh? You don't have any meetings?" You can't hide the astonishment in your tone.

"No. We're in Paris baby. And it's your first time. It's a shame if we leave just like this." He says as he puts on his watch. "I'll be downstairs. Take your time." He sends a smile your way before stepping out of the suite and despite the ache all over your body you move around quickly, excitement bubbling over.

The day is spent driving around in Seungcheol's Porsche as he takes you to visit museums, cafes, stores and whatnot. You return home in the evening with hands full of bags from luxury brands and tonight you two crash into bed early, both of you exhausted from running around all day. Tonight you sleep next to him and he doesn't comment on it, probably because he passes out the second he lies down and soon you do too.

After an early flight the next day, you return home with too many gifts and unforgettable memories and a fat wad of cash in your bank account. Then you fall back into your daily routine, morning at the diner then attending the flower decoration class and then back to home. Seungcheol seems to have fallen into his busy routine too as he hasn't asked you to come over for the past week and the texts from him have been short and simple. Though his lack of attention hurts you a little bit, you push that feeling down and go on with your life. Seungcheol had suggested to you some plots for your shop and you start looking into them, deciding on which would be the best for you.

One Thursday after your flower decoration classes, you text Seungcheol, asking if you can meet him. It has been a while since you saw him physically and can't stop yourself from reaching out to him first. When his text says he's free in the evening, you bounce up and down with giddiness.

You arrive at his penthouse a little after 8. Seungcheol opens the door soon after you ring the bell, his hair damp and you can tell he's fresh out of the shower. He smells so good, fresh and minty and you have to stop yourself from hugging him. In the back of your mind, you wonder how great it'd be if he was your boyfriend.

Get it together.

Smiling from ear to ear you greet him. "Hi! I hope I'm not disturbing."

"No, it's fine. Come in." He steps away as you walk inside and get rid of your coat.

"Would you like some wine? I've asked the chef to prepare dinner for us."

"Oh, sure. And you didn't have to do that," you say bashfully as you sit on one of the breakfast stools and rest your hands on the marble countertop. You watch as Seungcheol moves around the kitchen, the thin t-shirt not really hiding his buff figure. His biceps flex as he unscrews the wine bottle and you swallow. He looks more muscular than the last time you saw him and you wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you.

Sliding a glass of wine towards you he sits on the opposite stool, brushing a hand through his hair and fluffing it. "How have you been? I've been really busy the past week."

"Yeah, I'm doing good. My flower decorating lessons are almost over." You take a sip of the cool drink.

"Good. Have you looked into the plots I suggested?" He takes a sip of his wine. For a distracted moment, you gape at his jawline and how his adam's apple bobs when he swallows. "Uhm, y-yeah. They're all really nice." You whisper, looking away. He nods, finishing his wine. "Take your time. When you decide on one let me know. I'll take care of your paperwork."

"Thank you," you smile before reaching for your bag that sits beside you. From inside you pull out your gift for him, which is the main reason you wanted to see him today. "This is for you. I made this today," you whisper shyly as you push the bouquet of dried flowers towards him. They are a combination of dried pink and red camellias, white clovers and red roses, all tied together with a white satin ribbon. Seungcheol raises a surprised brow at the present as he takes it in his hand and examines it.

"They are dried flowers. They'll last forever, you know. You don't have to take care of them." You explain nervously.

You shouldn't really be giving this gift to him. Last forever? Why would he want to keep something from you forever? You have let your emotions get the best of you. You want him to have something that'll remind you of him after all this is over; that is if he actually keeps this stupid gift. Chewing on your lower lip, you watch him anxiously, hoping he'll be blind enough and just accept it as a simple gift.

"Thanks. They are beautiful," he comments, setting the flowers down on the counter and you let out a breath of relief.

That night after dinner and too many glasses of wine you end up in Seungcheol's bed where he claims you as his own, all over again. You scream his name on the top of your lungs and by the time dawn rolls around, you're passed out completely. When you wake up in the morning, you find yourself alone in his large bed and a note resting on the bedside table, telling you that there is breakfast if you want and to check your bank account.

Sure enough, there is another new load of cash when you open your banking app, the amount staring back at you almost tauntingly. Accepting money from him has started to become harder and harder and you know very well you won't be able to continue this for long. You also know very well that Seungcheol will let you go without any questions asked but that's the problem. You want to stay. With him. Even if this is the way you can. You always end up feeling cheap and filthy at the end but you don't have anyone to blame but yourself.

A couple of days later you accompany Seungcheol to yet another evening party, dressed in a teal gown and pearls in your neck and ears. It is boring like every other party and Seungcheol seems to feel it too. He sticks by your side mostly instead of entertaining his business partners who, you have noticed, does a poor job of keeping their lusty eyes off of you. You have overheard one particular Mr. Wang asking Seungcheol about you and if he's willing to share. The look Seungcheol sent his way made him look like he was about to piss his pants and after threatening to cut off all business ties with him, Seungcheol stuck by your side and hasn't left since.

"Should we just leave? Let's eat at my place. We can order whatever you like." Seungcheol offers and you are quick to agree. Getting to be with Seungcheol alone is something you can never refuse. Especially if that means you can leave this dull party.

And so you head home with him, picking up dinner on the way which you share over a nice bottle of Dom Perignon. He talks about his upcoming plans and you talk about your schedules regarding your shop as you finish dinner. Then the conversation dulls down as you both enjoy the wine in comfortable silence.

You sip on the drink and take your sweet time watching his beautiful profile, burning the image deep into your memory. From his thick brows to his long lashes, his structured nose and his plump pink lips and his adam's apple, you ingrain every detail into your mind.

Maybe it's the overflowing amount of alcohol in your blood or the fact that you are deeply, madly in love with him which you once again realized, that you speak the words. "You're such a great person, Seungcheol. Whoever you marry is gonna be so lucky." Half of you can't believe you said that out loud and how utterly smitten you sounded.

He stares at you for a moment, contemplating your words before responding, "Thank you, ____. But I don't think that'll happen anytime soon, if ever."

"Why not?" You whisper, tracing the rim of the wine glass with your fingertips. The fact that he once again is denying any thoughts of marriage or love hurting you. "You're such an amazing person. You're smart, talented, passionate, hard-working-"

"Yeah but that all gets dumped by the amount I make." Seungcheol frowns. "At the end of the day, money and power is everything, is it not? If there's a scope to get even more of that, they leave, no matter how passionate or smart you are." His tone sounds mocking, almost.

"Not everyone is like that," you remark, even though you feel like a hypocrite. The relationship you have with him is solely based on money. Sure you said yes to being his sugar baby because you were in need but also because you always found him attractive, not because of his money, just because of him. And he sure as hell wouldn't just date you in a normal way so to get a taste of him, to get a touch of a luxury like him, you said yes because that's the only way someone like you can have someone like him nearby. "There are people out there who will love you just because of you. Not because of your money or anything else."

He raises a brow at you, almost challengingly, probably indicating your relationship with him. You can't help but cringe in your seat.

"Hmm, I doubt that. Take my father for an example. He was whipped for my mother. At first, he thought she loved him equally, maybe she did but it'd all change after I was born. She'd be too busy for us, for me, always outside, shopping and splurging and meeting men half her age. But even after all that my father forgave her, didn't push her away. And that angers me more. Why would he do that to himself? It doesn't make any sense. My mother used him."

At the mention of his mother, your mind brings up the images of her at their charity event, her bubbly and outgoing persona dominating the crowd. She wasn't like how you expected someone her age to be but she didn't seem like a neglectful or a bad person either. But who can say how what happens behind closed doors.

"That doesn't mean you will end up like that too." Is all you can whisper, hoping to bring him some solace.

"You sound awfully sure and I'm not sure if I like that." His eyes narrow on you as his demeanor starts to change. His voice turns cold and you feel like there's suddenly a wall between the two of you. But your alcohol riddled brain keeps going on, "Maybe I am. Because it is true. Everyone's lives are different. You may not end up like your father. You just need to open your heart-"

"You should stop," he interrupts you, his icy stare boring into you. You watch him like a lost puppy as he abruptly stands up, to leave this conversation you assume. You do too but not for the same cause.

"Why are you so stubborn!" You can't stop yourself from accusing him. You sound desperate and pathetic and hopeless even to your own ears but you continue. "Don't you see what an amazing man you are? That there are many who'll kill to be by your side not because of the baggage that comes with you but simply because you are a wonderful person! Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Why do you deny yourself the happiness you deserve?" You're yelling at this point, tears brimming in your eyes as you two face each other. His eyes blaze with anger and you can literally see him fuming when he hollers, "Remind me since when my business became your concern!"

You scowl at him, clenching your fists, anger seeping into your veins. This is so stupid. You hate how desperate you are and you hate how right he is. This truly is none of your business. Seungcheol seethes, "If we are to continue this relationship then you need to know your place. Otherwise, it's better if we just part ways."

A tear streaks down your cheek as you feel this aching void starting to form in your heart. You find yourself whispering, "I am in love with you, Seungcheol. I just...love you."

His eyes widen, alarmingly. There's a look of disbelief on his face. He almost looks betrayed, like you did the worst possible thing to him. Considering how he despises love, that is probably true. In silence, you two stare at each other as you wait for him to say something, do something. He clenches his jaw and then rakes his hand through his hair frustratedly before blowing out a loud breath.

"I think you should leave ____." His voice is quiet, extremely so. It's barely audible but you hear it loud and clear. His eyes lack any emotion and you know he has once again put up his walls, like many times before. Still, you stand immobile in your spot for a while, soaking up his words, the realization that this is over for good washing over you.

He's done with you and now he's showing you out the door. And you can't do anything to protest. You've lost your voice. So with one last longing look at his beautiful face, you grab your purse and coat with a shaking hand and carry your slumping body towards his door. He doesn't say anything, do anything and you don't look back, channeling all your energy into getting out of here instead of collapsing in front of him

As soon as you step out of his building a gust of cold air hits you on the face. You stand there in silence, letting the cold wind numb your face, the same feeling blooming in your heart. You shiver slightly as you stand like a statue, staring hard at the ground. The past few months that you have spent with Seungcheol wash over you like huge tsunami waves and you feel overwhelmed and pathetic and broken. You are wrung out of your self pity when you feel droplets of water fall on your head. Looking up, you see the roaring dark sky and within seconds, it starts raining.

How perfect.

It definitely suits the mood, making you feel like you are the protagonist of some angsty romance drama. Oh how you wish you were that instead of a pathetic fool who yearns for a man who doesn't give two shits about her. With a sigh, you pull your coat around you tighter and start to take heavy steps, your beautiful gown dragging behind you. You feel out of place, all alone and pitiful in an area full of houses worth millions of dollars. The streets are empty maybe because of the rain or maybe because people don't walk in this neighborhood. Laughing humourlessly at your pathetic state you continue walking until you are out of that neighborhood, far, far away from him.

3 MONTHS LATER

Running a shop is harder than you predicted. Especially when you have customers coming in every now and then. This may have something to do with valentine's day which is in a few days.

Your last two days consisted of working till your back was about to break, greeting customers and preparing bouquets for them, shipping them and so on. Your business has been doing really good. It has been almost two months and you are surprised at the progress you have made. People seem to love your shop and you have made a fair amount of regular customers. At this rate, you need to hire a part-timer because it is becoming quite impossible to prepare hundreds of bouquets by yourself.

You have named this shop after your mom, who visited on the opening day with your dad. Tanz visited too and treated you to a meal later that day. Though you don't work at the diner anymore, you still hang out with her every often as she gossips about whatever the rich people are up to. It took you a while but you told her everything about Seungcheol, from start to finish. She had an outburst after hearing your story, calling him all sorts of names.

You agree with her but not completely. It isn't his fault if he doesn't feel the same way you feel about him. Sometimes you think you pushed him too hard and it was completely your fault but other times you believe you did the right thing. That stubborn man needed to address his issues and frustrations.

You haven't seen his face nor had any contact with him after that night, and you're partially glad. You don't know how you can handle seeing his face when you haven't gotten over him. A part of you probably never will. You still remember him, all the moments with him so vividly as if it happened yesterday. When you lie in your bed alone at night you can almost picture him right next to you, his arm wrapped around you, his scent surrounding you. You should probably get your head checked for that.

Other than the pretty constant thoughts of Seungcheol lurking in the back of your mind, life has been pretty good. Well, it certainly was until now, when dear life decided to smack you on the face and bring back your misery.

Seungcheol stands at the door of your shop, a confused look resting on his face once his eyes land on you.

It was a busy day, full of customers and now that the night had fallen you were preparing to close for the day when this man showed up out of nowhere. He stands there, watching you while you do the same, the pen in your hand about to break from how hard you are clenching it. Looking at his outfit, you assume he has come here straight from work, dressed in a dark blue vest and pants, his suit jacket resting on his arms. His hair is a little messy, in the sexiest way possible. Your simping brain almost wants to forget everything and run into his arms, as if you are seeing your boyfriend at the end of a long day.

How pathetic.

Seungcheol clears his throat, somewhat awkwardly and you snap back into the painful reality. He stalks towards you, eyes scanning around the shop as you stand frozen in your spot.

"Do you have red roses?" He asks, standing in front of your booth. You grit your teeth.

Why does he need red roses? Who is he saying I love you to? Shit, tomorrow is valentine's day. Looks like he's got a date. The thoughts float through your mind and you hate yourself for how jealous you feel.

"Yes." You reply looking towards the said flowers. Seungcheol speaks, "I'd like a fifty of them in a bouquet."

You have to stop yourself from frowning. Why the fuck is he buying fifty roses? More like, who the fuck is he buying them for? Putting on your best professional smile you nod, preparing a receipt. "That'll be 22 dollars." You move to prepare his bouquet quickly, half of you wanting to give him the withered roses.

Gosh, when did you become so childish?

Hastily wrapping it with a ribbon, you push it towards him. He grabs it and examines the bouquet for a while before saying. "Thanks. Nice shop, by the way."

Is he doing small talk now? You refrain from rolling your eyes. "Thanks." You mutter lamely, eyes on your desk. Seungcheol stands in his place for a few breaths, amplifying the tension in the room as you pray to God to just get him out of here. Him standing so near you, a faint whiff of his cologne tickling your nose is too much to bear and you are losing your sanity. It also doesn't help that he has bought roses for some stupid girl, from you.

The audacity of this man. Is he doing this on purpose? Maybe not if you consider the shocked look on his face when he first entered.

"Well, have a good night." He says in a form of goodbye and heads towards the door.

"I thought you didn't do love. Yet you are here, buying a bunch of roses for valentine's day, it seems, Mr. Choi." It takes the frown on his brows and his rather judgemental stare for you to realize you just said those words out loud.

Gosh, could you appear any more pathetic? You sound like a jealous ex, which you are kind of.

He regards you with a perplexed look as you pray for the ground below to open up and swallow you whole to save you from this embarrassment. Seungcheol lets out an amused noise, "Well, thank you for reminding me. These are, in fact not for any lover. But now, I would like something else too actually, for them." His eyes are taunting, watching you closely for your reaction as he steps back towards you. "Do you... perhaps have some salvias? In blue?"

You can't believe how this situation backfired on you. Now he's really buying blue salvias for his lover. Real nice. You just gave him the chance to rub it all over your face. With a loud sigh, you force a smile. "Yes, we do."

"A bouquet then, please," he smiles, sarcastically almost. Huffing you grab those poor flowers aggressively and hastily put them in a bouquet before accepting the money. "Thank you for your visit. Have a pleasant night." You motion him towards the door with the fakest smile, desperate to be left alone and he takes mercy on you. With a nod, he briskly walks out of your shop and you sink down on the floor as soon as he's out of sight, letting out a huge breath of relief.

You know very well that life comes with surprises. Still, some surprises are too hard to comprehend like the one happening to you right now. You stare at the bouquet of blue salvias sitting on your countertop which was just delivered, half wondering if you are dreaming or hallucinating. The note that came with it sits crumpled in your hand as a try to wrap your head around it.

Happy Valentines. I think you know what these flowers mean. If you do then could you do me the honor of joining me for dinner? At my place tonight, if that's okay. I feel like we should talk.

— Seungcheol.

I think of you. That's what blue salvias mean. He thinks of you? Is this some sort of joke? You have been trying so hard to get over that stupid man but now this puts you back to square one. You feel like ripping your hair out. Should you go? You and the whole world knows knows how obvious the answer is but you still try to think about it, knowing very well what the result will be.

Of course you'll go.

Seungcheol is fairly perplexed when he opens his door to see you that evening. "____-....I didn't really think you'd come."

He looks like he just got home, still dressed in his crisp white shirt underneath his unbuttoned vest and matching grey slacks. It doesn't help how he has rolled his sleeves up to give you the perfect view of the veins in his arms. One look at them and you almost forget what you're here for. Averting your gaze, you cough. "Yeah." He steps aside and you walk into his house, the memories immediately flooding your senses.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Silently you pad towards his living room as he speaks behind you. "You should have told me you were coming. I would have called the chef-"

"Seungcheol," you cut him off with a sigh. "I'm not really here to have dinner. You and I both know that." He watches you for a while, his face emotionless before nodding with a sigh. "Would you like some wine? Whiskey maybe?"

"I'd like to keep my head clear, thank you." You murmur, sitting down on his couch. The place is as pristine as you remember, nothing out of place. As if no one lives here. Seungcheol disappears from your view, probably pouring himself a drink as you hear noises from the kitchen. A minute later, he returns, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he sits on the sofa opposite to you.

You're glad that he keeps his distance.

"I have a lot of explaining to do, right?" He chuckles dryly, taking a sip of his drink. Mutely you watch him as you don't trust yourself to speak now. You actually don't trust yourself with anything right now as being remotely close to Seungcheol always tends to mess with your head. It's better if you just stay still and melt into the background.

With a loud sigh, Seungcheol sets the glass down on the center table and leans back into the sofa. "I don't know where to start. Maybe with the roses I bought yesterday. They were for my mom, actually. I visited my parents last night. My mom is sick. They are suspecting it's cancer."

All thoughts of staying silent fly out the window when you hear those words. "Oh my god," you whisper. "I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head dismissively. "Anyway," he starts. "The past few months have been hard but educative for me. Maybe because I'm finally dealing with my shit or whatever. I had a lot of time to think. About what you said. About me, my life. About everything. You see, it's like a habit to be an asshole and shut people out when you're scared and you hate yourself." His eyes are focused on the glass in front of him, no emotion whatsoever in them and you feel goosebumps.

"I don't know how I ended up like this but I've been hating myself for the longest of time. Maybe it was because of my mom's shitty habits and how she hurt dad when I was younger. Or maybe because she never had time for me. Or maybe because never in my life I've met a person who loved me unconditionally, who was ready to give everything up for me. Everyone surrounding me chases money and that scares me. So much. I'm scared that I'm nothing without that. Without my reputation or power. That if I open myself to someone they'll get what they need and then leave, like they always do." He blows out a long breath, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I'm scared of love because I've never experienced it and I've seen people do horrible things in the name of it. I'm scared the same will happen to me once I open my heart." His voice is quiet as he trails off and reaches for the whiskey to finish it.

The breath you have been holding until now finally comes out as you watch him, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. You want to hold him and tell him that it's okay, that you're here but you seem to have become a statue as you only sit and drink in the beautiful, pained man in front of you.

"That being said, I'm sorry for how I treated you," his voice seems foreign as he grits those words out and you realize this man probably has never apologized to someone in his lifetime. "You didn't deserve that. Everything you said hit too close to home so I pushed you away as a defense mechanism. But I missed you, still do. More than I'd like to admit. I keep thinking about you, about how my world seemed to be a little brighter with you. And I keep regretting what I did. I'm sorry and...if you are still interested in me, I'd like to have you back. I'd like to try again, really try this time because I-... I think I love you."

It's a wonder how he manages to keep his voice so stable and emotionless. Like he is briefing a new company strategy and not expressing his love for someone. But don't focus on that because you can see how he's still holding himself back, holding his emotions back. And it's something that needs to be worked on but that's for another time.

This man just said he loves you. This stubborn, egoistical, too handsome for his own good man just confessed to you.

You feel like you are on cloud nine. But you don't have the time to rejoice as Seungcheol stares at the ground blankly, probably overthinking once again while waiting for you to say something. So you get up from your seat and walk towards him, before kneeling right in front of him, your hands resting on his knees. "Oh Seungcheol," you softly call for him.

His eyes meet yours as you cup his cheek softly with a hand and for a brief second, you see his eyes shine before they get lost underneath his blank gaze.

You gently pull his face downwards while inching yours closer to him and press your lips against him faintly. You try to kiss him as gently as possible, as if you are kissing his broken soul. He remains still to your touch for a second before cupping both of your cheeks and kissing you back earnestly. This is the first time Seungcheol kisses you with so much need and passion, like this is the last time he'll ever kiss you. Your lips mold against each other perfectly but he doesn't go too hard, instead just kisses you, soft and slow. You pull back to see the desperation in his eyes and you realize that you still haven't given him an answer.

"I still love you, Seungcheol. Of course I'll try again with you." You croak, your voice choked up with all the emotions. This time you clearly see his eyes glisten and the faintest of smile kiss his lips. But he only breaths, "Thank you, ____."

You smile at him sweetly, "You're welcome, Seungcheol. But I need you to be honest with me if we want this to work. Don't hide from me, Cheol." You whisper, the nickname falling from your lips easily. He observes you in silence before closing his eyes and nodding. He leans closer once again and with a shy smile, you close the distance between the two of you. This time you don't hold back on kissing him as you wrap your arms around his neck while he pulls you up from your knees and sets you down on his lap, lips connected.

You pull back to look at the sinfully beautiful man underneath you, his eyes hazy with need, his plump lips parted slightly as he takes deep breaths. Your hand moves on its own as it reaches to touch the fluffy mess of his black hair. Gently you stroke through the locks, eyes set on his as he absentmindedly draws soft circles on your lower back. In this moment of tranquility you feel the surge of love and adoration you posses for this man flow through you all over again and you can't help but smile knowing he's yours now.

"What's so funny?" He asks, dark eyes peering at you. "Nothing. Just how much I love you. How beautiful you are," you reply bashfully as you press a kiss on his jawline. You continue kissing down his neck and nipping the skin gently, encouraged when you hear him release a blissful sigh. And then an idea pops into your mind as you lean backward and get off of his lap just to sink down onto the floor again.

Seungcheol's eyes widen, "____, what are you doing?"

You can't help but pout, "I'm taking care of you. Don't you want this?" Your hands dance over his crotch area mischievously. Blowing him has been on your to-do list for so long and today you are not backing down.

He grunts frustratedly, "I- fuck, yes I do. But- are you sure you can? I don't want to push you too hard, baby. You don't have to do it."

"But I want to. Let me try at least," your pout deepens. The thought of having Seungcheol in your throat makes you desperate. "Tell me if I do something wrong, please."

He lets out an amused snort as your fingers work on undoing his Gucci belt. "Trust me, there's nothing you can do wrong." With a coy smile at him, you undo the buttons of his slacks and then the zipper as Seungcheol shuffles a little to help you pull down his boxer briefs.

The sight of his thick, hard cock has your pussy clenching and your mouth drooling as you tentatively reach for the semi-hard member and give it a few experimental pumps. The tip leaks white pearls of precum and your mouth waters. Seungcheol's nails dig into the armrest as he lets out a grunt, the sight below him purely sinful. Wanting to hear more of his sounds, you quickly take the pinkish tip of his cock into your mouth and suck.

"Fuck-" Seungcheol hisses, hands coming to rest on the top of your head. The way your doe eyes look at him with your mouth full and your curious hands work on him has him losing his mind. His reaction pleases you and you swirl your tongue around his tip, moaning when he leaks salty precum into your mouth. Your hands work on the base of his cock as you inch down your mouth.

"Shit, ____-" You don't listen to his curses as you keep going down and then suddenly your gag reflex activates as you feel him kiss the back of your throat. You haven't even gotten half of him inside your mouth and your throat already hurts.

You pull back to take in a deep breath before delving back in without any delay as you take as much of him as possible in one go. Your throat burns and you feel like choking, tears in your eyes but it's somewhat manageable when you relax your throat so you keep sucking what's in your mouth and pump the rest using your hands.

"Shit, you're so good baby," Seungcheol breaths, looking down at you with dark eyes, a proud smirk on his face that makes your pussy leak. Loving his praises you pull back to lick a stripe down the underside of his cock before sucking him harder. His hands fist in your hair though he remains careful not to hurt you. It takes all of Seungcheol's willpower to not just grab your head and shove it down his length. When the pleasure begins to increase and he can feel his high approaching, Seungcheol pulls your mouth off of him with a grunt.

"That's enough, baby. I'm gonna cum," he hisses and you whine, voice croaky as a little bit of drool escapes from your mouth. "I want to make you come! Please, let me. Did I do something wrong?" Your concerned wide eyes make his heart soften as he strokes your cheek gently. "No sweetheart, you were perfect. It's just that I really need to come inside you right now. Is that okay?"

The thought of it makes you swallow as you nod your head mutely and with a smirk, Seungcheol quickly drags you towards his bedroom where he manhandles you onto his king sized bed. He crawls on top of you like a predator waiting to devour his prey and the intense fire in his eyes is enough to make you forget the human language. Roughly, he attaches his lips against yours, tongue prodding inside your mouth in no time as his hands work on undoing your blouse. You don't realize he has torn it open until you hear your buttons scattering over his floor.

"Seungcheol-"

"Shush. I'm too impatient." He whispers, leaning back and tugging your jeans down swiftly. Then his large hands reach for your bra as he unhooks it hastily and tosses it away before kneading your breasts softly. You mewl in pleasure. "Seungcheol- that feels so good."

"Oh yeah?" The cocky smile never leaves his face as bites your soft flesh, sucking your sensitive nipples before pushing your soft flesh inside his mouth, marking it in the process. Your mushy brain tugs at his shirt as you whine. "T-take this off please. Wanna see you." You hear him chuckle, "Why don't you do it for me?"

You don't need to be told twice as you immediately start fiddling with the buttons of his shirt and help him out of it. With that offending piece of cloth gone, his sculptured figure is once again revealed to your eyes and you almost drool. He's just as buff as you remember, if not more, taut muscles spread all over his torso. Subconsciously you trace your fingers over them as you drink him in.

"You can stare at me all you want later, baby." Seungcheol gives you a soft smile before pressing a kiss on your belly. "I need to be inside you now." He whispers lips ghosting over your core as his hands make a quick work of taking off your panties. He starts with kissing your clit before moving down and licking a long stripe across your cunt and then sucking. Your toes curl as you writhe underneath him, "Daddy!"

The name falls from your lips almost unknowingly as your delirious brain grinds against his mouth for more. He's relentless, determined to bring you to your orgasm as he pushes his tongue into your hole and continues his torture. Your hands grip his hair tightly as he continues his ministrations on your sensitive spot, your arousal leaking onto the bed. "Fuck, missed this sweet pussy so much." You hear him mumble and his words seem to make your orgasm come faster. "Seungcheol! I'm g-gonna come!" You wail.

"Come, baby. Come for me so I can fuck you open." His voice is muffled against your core as your mouth opens in a silent scream. He gives a particular harsh suck on your clit and your orgasm washes over you making you shake.

Seungcheol wastes no time, pushing a couple of his fingers inside your sensitive hole as he gives a few quick pumps before popping the fingers into his mouth, his eyes seductive as he makes a show of sucking them. Then he stands up and hastily takes off his pants and boxers. Your mind is fogged up as you recover from your orgasm and watch him stroke his cock, intense eyes set on you before lining his hard length with your pussy.

"Ready, sweetheart?" He asks. You can only nod, hands clutching the bed sheets for support. And then he pushes in. The stretch of his thick cock has you moaning loudly, the overwhelming sensation of fullness consuming. Above you, Seungcheol curses softly as you grab him tighter and try not to lose your mind. "Oh my god- Seungcheol-" You gasp for breaths.

"So fuckin tight. Just as I remember," he breathes.

He marvels at your reaction, eyes rolling back as your mouth hangs open, hands blindly clawing his body to ground yourself. He leans closer so that his naked chest presses against yours and starts peppering wet kisses on your neck, never faltering his thrusts. They are slow but deep and calculated, hitting your sensitive spot every single time as you whine and whimper, tears forming in your eyes. "Daddy, harder please!" You wail mindlessly.

"Oh yeah? You want it harder, baby?" He raises a full brow at you, expression cocky as he captures your lips in a bruising kiss before shuffling back and pulling out of you completely. You're about to cry for him when he grabs your hips and flips you over onto your front, your ass in the air for him. He gives it a sudden smack and you squeal, jolts of pleasure rippling through you before wasting no time to push himself back in. He doesn't go slow this time, immediately increasing his pace as his cock moves inside your tight walls brutally.

The new angle has him even deeper inside you as he holds your body still by grabbing your arched hips. You can feel every inch and ridge of his cock rearranging your guts as you scream into the pillow. "O-oh fuck, d-daddy-"

His grunts feel like music to your ears. "Is this what you were asking for little slut?" He hisses, snaking his arms around your body to reach for your breast. His degrading words make your pussy throb harder as you shake your head wildly, "Yes daddy! Yes! Please give me more."

He snickers, doubling his pace and you can hear the headboard of the bed hit the wall. "Such a polite baby girl, I have." He softly bites your shoulder as he takes a nipple between his index and thumb and twists it harshly before flicking it. You mewl loudly, the rough treatment bringing you closer to your high. "O-oh my god- fuck, I'm g-gonna come."

"So soon?" He teases, ramming his cock inside you tirelessly as you nod. "Go ahead then, come, little slut." He whispers in your ear, another hand trailing down to your pussy where he starts rubbing your clit in harsh movements and your mind goes blank. "Come, baby," he mouths, nipping your earlobe and the combination of his merciless thrusts and his fingers on your clit brings you over the edge with a pornographic scream.

"Seungcheol!"

Your whole body shakes violently as you come, toes curling in pleasure as meaningless sounds escape your mouth. You can't even fully process anything when Seungcheol flips you again to face him and holds both of your legs wide open, continuously railing your sensitive pussy. His hands keep doing their magic on your hypersensitive clit, making you shudder and whimper. "C-cheol." You call for him mindlessly.

The sight in front of you is God sent, Seungcheol's dark eyes watching you, his body coated in a thin sheen of sweat as he keeps fucking you hard. It makes your throat dry. "Give me one more, baby." He says, leaning closer to peck your lips before ramming himself inside you, pace so fast that tears actually leak from your eyes. "Oh fuck- o-oh fuck-"

Before you can even feel it, your orgasm washes over you with a force that has your ears ringing and white dots filling your vision. You twitch underneath Seungcheol's large frame as his pace falters and with a loud groan of your name, he comes. His warm release fills you up and some even leak out, but you're too gone to care. You feel nothing but pure bliss, as if you are floating in a cloud.

Seungcheol gently slips out of you before collapsing right next to you, his hands pulling your body close but you can't even comprehend anything until your brain starts working a little. His warm breath tickles your shoulder as he pants next to you and you feel this seed seep out of your beaten cunt.

Mustering up enough power to open your eyes, you lazily turn your head to look at Seungcheol. You have to blink a few times to properly see and the sight warms your heart. His beautiful face greets you, his hair disheveled, a look of content and a small smile sitting on his lips. "You didn't pass out this time," he teases once he catches his breath. You can only grin, eyes falling shut again.

You feel him move beside you but your hands stop him immediately by wrapping them around his torso. "I have to clean us up, baby." His voice is soft. You shake your head, lazily pulling him back and he lets you, before scooting closer to him and nuzzling his neck, his addictive scent overwhelming your senses. "Don't. Just stay." You croak, voice almost inaudible. You hear him sigh and pull you closer, your face squishing against his hard chest as his hands move in soft motions through your hair.

"I love you," His gentle whisper makes you open your eyes and peek at him. "I love you so much that it scares me." He sounds so vulnerable, a side of him you never thought you'd see and your heart aches for him. But your heart also feels full and warm and happy hearing those words, words that you've wanted to hear for so long.

Wrapping your arms around him as tightly as possible you shower gentle kisses on his chest. "I love you too, Seungcheol. I love you so much."

His eyes gaze down at yours, and the emotions swirling in his brown orbs make your heart skip a beat. "Thank you. For loving me. For giving me a chance. For everything." His lips meet your forehead for a kiss. You grin, "I should be the one thanking you Seungcheol, really. I'm so lucky to have you." He smiles, leaning into your touch as your index finger trails over his face.

After a beat of silence you ask, "Now, does that mean you're my boyfriend?" Your shy eyes wander to his as you nervously chew on your lip. Seungcheol seems to ponder for a while as hums, "Boyfriend? Doesn't that sound so limited? I'm more than that. I'll be your everything if you'll let me. I'll be your lover."

Warmth blooms on your face at his words as you almost melt. "That's... really romantic, Cheol. And very unlike you." You whisper.

"I'm trying to be romantic for you, lover." He smiles his signature gummy smile which is quite a rare sight.

"Lover...I like it." You smile gleefully, hands reaching for his to interlock your fingers. If you look very closely, you can see just the faintest hue of red shading his cheeks and ears and your heart flutters at the sight.

"Lover it is." Seungcheol whispers, capturing your lips in a loving kiss.

Lover, he is.

a/n 2: SO, if you enjoyed reading this and want to know more about this couple or lover! Seungcheol in general, my ask is open. I'd love love lovee to hear your thoughts about them and if you have any questions regarding how they/he would act in a situation or something like that, you can send me an ask and I'll write drabbles regarding it. I'm just so excited about this fic, I'd really like to chat about this with y'all, I'VE SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT so please let me know your thoughts and requests for any drabbles!

masterlist | kofi

Taglist: @coupsiekkuma @haomullet @haven-cove @woozarts @fairiewonu @qy61 @lilactangerine @wheeinz @melocular @soonchanshua @chvngbin @kp0p10v3r2 @mommymilkers6000 @silent-potato @luv4cheol (forgive me if I've forgotten to tag someone 🙏)

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 4 days

Text

───── “imperfections?”

⋆˚｡ or, in which svt appreciates your beauty.

pairings; hyung line x reader, established relationship. | a/n; this was so lovely to write. pls be kind to yourself and life is too short to worry about shallow things. love yourself, just a bit more today <3

⋆ SEUNGCHEOL ⏤ hip dips; cheol is someone who does not care for so-called flaws. if anything, he only loves them more. would do a double-take when you say that you hate your hip dips. he rests his hands on your hips, holding you like you'd break and he looks at you softly. “see? they're molded for my hands.” he presses his lips to your forehead and stills for a moment. “you're so beautiful. don't ever doubt it.” he takes you to greek museums, pointing out that even aphrodite has hip dips. “my beautiful aphrodite,” he kisses your hips, worshipping your body.

⋆ JEONGHAN ⏤ scars, birthmarks; he has curious hands, always discovering your body and memorising the map of your skin. his fingers outline any birthmark littered on your skin, and he kisses them. same for scars and stitches. he grazes his nimble fingers along them while asking for the backstory. he listens intently, still brushing his fingers over them. if you got it in a funny way, he chuckles and shakes his head. but if not, he locks his fingers with yours, comforting you silently. jeonghan kisses your scars and birthmarks like a silent prayer against your skin and you won't ever feel inadequate.

⋆ JOSHUA ⏤ stretch marks; he never understood the hate around stretch marks anyway. soft fingers trace the lines scattered on your belly, shoulders, hips and elsewhere. it's a habit he has developed, to slip his hands under the waistband of your pants and feel the lines under his fingerprints. it's calming and it grounds him to earth, a wordless reassurance that he's ok and that you are there. a frown decorates his face as you complain about them. but he cuts you off, telling you how much he loves your marks, and he's not saying it because he has to, but because he genuinely feels that way. because he loves you for you.

⋆ JUN ⏤ smile; more than anything else he loves to make you smile and laugh. and if you try to hide your smile, he'll remove your hands and kiss your lips. if you try to tone down your laughter or laugh in a different way, he'll tickle you. jun loves you in the most authentic form. he frowns when you tell that you've never liked your smile or laughter. how could anyone hate a smile? that too, yours? he'll never understand that. he shakes his head, telling you that you look beautiful always. he loves it when you smile into kisses, to taste your happiness on his tongue, to feel your smile, to be the reason behind your laughter. his love heals your inner child.

⋆ SOONYOUNG ⏤ nose; soonyoung is filled with so much love that it pours out through his finger tips. and he can't help but boop your nose all the time. if you do something he finds adorable, he'd crush you into a hug before showing cute aggression all over your face. he pinches your nose, cradling your face and kisses the tip. but he's overcome with so much love that he doesn't really know how to contain it. he rubs his nose against yours and there's something so intimate about it to him. he will cry if you tell that you don't like your nose. and he's very passionate about proving that it is beautiful. no days pass by without his compliments and kisses.

⋆ WONWOO ⏤ acne; he has eyes for the little details. he notices any small changes too. if you get acne before your periods, he'll notice it and remind you. and it's kind of cute to him, little spots that grow on your face and when they're tinted a bit red or brown. kisses your skin, feeling the texture with his lips. and if he gets any pimples too, he'll introduce it to your pimples. he's goofy like that. stares at you like you're the night sky, connecting your acne like constellations with his fingertips and feeling like he touched the sky with his bare hands. he doesn't allow you to be insecure ever, always appreciating you no matter what. life is too short to care about small pimples anyway.

⋆ JIHOON ⏤ dark circles; whether it's by lack of sleep or genetics, he loves them. eyes are the window to the soul, and sometimes those emotions can seep out, staining the skin around your eyes. or maybe, it's a gift passed down by your ancestors. he's worried that you are not getting enough sleep but if it's normal, he finds them attractive. he caresses it under his thumb, kissing your eyes. he doesn't get why you want to hide them. why would you want to hide your moon-kissed eyes? they're beautiful, you're beautiful and you're his muse. it makes you look serene, your smoky eyes brings a calmness that only the moon could do. he writes about your eyes often, a secret serenade.

tags;

@seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys

(send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

#reblogging cause i cried at wonwoo's #shed a tear would be more correct #but 🥺#an hour ago i was looking at my acne breakout feeling kinda shitty #like “when will it stop”#and now i come across this #god i'm tearing up again #sorry for this dear author #you're appreciated 🫶#thank you for this

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 4 days

Text

“i seriously don’t know how to tell you this,” your friend says, somehow looking anything but serious. “it’s about vernon.”

you glance between seungkwan, who’s sat himself directly in front of where you’re playing with vernon’s cat, and vernon himself — who’s just gotten up to make popcorn. “alright,” you reply, mirroring seungkwan’s hushed tone. “what’s up? is everything okay?”

“well, no, actually.” seungkwan has a flair for dramatics. “it isn’t my place to say this, but i’m going to say it, because it’s been literally almost two years, and neither of you are saying it. and so by this time, it’s like, my moral duty. like, i owe it. to society.”

“kwan,” you say, wrinkling your nose, “i love you very much, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

“you’re in love with him. vernon.”

the statement in itself doesn’t shock you. seungkwan is smart; you’d honestly be more surprised if he hadn’t known your deep, dark secret. what’s surprising is that he’s bringing it up, when vernon is literally just a few feet away, bopping his head to some invisible tune or the hum of the microwave.

“no comment,” you whisper, finally, adding in a hiss: “and also shut up. he’s right there!”

“___, please,” seungkwan begs. and there is madness in those eyes; he looks borderline frantic. “i can’t be the third wheel for any longer. like i physically can’t take it.”

you reach for his knee to pat it soothingly, eyeing him with a wary expression. “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. but it’ll be okay, kwannie. i believe in you!”

he groans, miserably, but continues, still speaking in rapid-fire whispers. “i’m saying vernon has feelings for you. like, more than friends.”

“…you mean, like… best friends?”

seungkwan collapses. throws himself backwards onto the carpeted floor with a long, drawn-out groan — you’re used to seungkwan’s dramatics, but this is top tier for him. you’re honestly kind of impressed with how long he keeps the groan going. it’s injected with very emotive frustration, and you can respect that.

seungkwan sits up with abrupt suddenness, grabbing you by the cheeks. his eyes meet yours with ferocious intensity; yours meet his with a confused blink. “you,” your friend says, very seriously, “are fucking stupid.”

you don’t even get the chance to muster a response, simply sitting dumbfounded on the carpet as seungkwan gets up. “i’m leaving,” he announces loudly over the beeping of the microwave. “jeonghan hyung called. i have to feed doljjongie.”

vernon sticks his head out the kitchen, brows furrowed. “you mean the rock?”

“yes.” and with that, seungkwan points at you, mouthing a verocious say something, before turning on his heel and marching straight out the apartment.

“yo,” vernon says, glancing at the front door with bemusement as he rejoins you, armed with a bowl of warm, buttery popcorn. “what happened to him?”

your mind is still reeling from two minutes ago (“vernon has feelings for you. like, more than friends.”) and so when vernon squishes against you, as he always does, you choke up. can’t answer his question, only shrugging and very determinedly staring at the screen in front of you both.

you only offer a lame little shrug in response to his question, sneaking glances at vernon from the corner of your eye. you’re stupidly in love with him: the way he always eats three pieces of popcorn at a time, taps you on the side of your knee when he wants your attention, brushes his overgrown hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

you used to think it felt like the world was coloured rose when you looked at him. a swooping, butterfly-inducing, fluttery feeling — but now, you’ve realised that’s not it. with vernon, you see the world exactly as it is, bright and grim, but maybe a little softer round the edges. a little less daunting, because he’s always on your side.

even from a distance, seungkwan is the one to buzz you out of your reverie. your phone vibrates and lights up with a text from him —

[9:36pm] seungkwan: say something!!!!!!

you let out the smallest sigh, and vernon catches it, eyes flicking to your phone and back to your expression. he nods, once, eyebrows raised, “everything good?”

“just seungkwan,” you say. and without any build-up, you blurt out, “vernon, do you ever think about dating?”

his brows furrow and his lips twist in their characteristic vernon way. “dating?” he pauses, meeting your eyes. “that’s a random question. do you think about it?”

all the time. “do you?”

“i mean. yeah, i guess so,” he answers slowly, uncertainly. “sometimes.”

again, without warning, you’re changing the subject, speaking rapidly before you can think it through. “seungkwan didn’t leave to feed doljjongie.”

the movie is long forgotten by now, vernon shifting more to face you. “i mean, i figured,” he starts, half-amused, half-concerned. “it’s a rock. you’re acting weird. are you okay?”

“seungkwan left because he didn’t want to be a third wheel.”

you watch as bafflement appears on vernon’s face. “third wheel? but — we’re not — we aren’t dating.”

you swallow, suddenly wondering how you’ve found yourself in this situation. “yeah, well. i guess he thinks we should be.”

there’s a heavy silence that settles in the room, then. vernon doesn’t move away, his eyes falling to your twisting hands, watching as you start picking mercilessly at your nails.

“don’t do that,” he says quietly, taking your hands in his, separating them. he squeezes, ever so gently, just enough to make you look at him — when your eyes meet, his grip tightens ever so slightly, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows.

“what do you think?” he asks, after a moment that feels like forever.

you blink at him. “what?”

“seungkwan thinks we should date.” he hesitates. “i think we should date. what do you think?”

when you breathe out this time, you’re smiling, unable to bite it back. “i think i have to agree with the majority.”

the smile you get in return is practically divine.

an / one day i will figure out how to write another trope for vernon. today is not that day. neither is tomorrow.

also my taglist is currently not working and i have no idea why 😭 will try and tag in the replies but if i miss anyone i’m so sorry!

#my goddddd #🥹😭🫶#i love love love it

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justanothergirlfromeurope · 6 days

Text

body language

well, pining after your brother’s fucking attractive best friend isn’t a sin if he doesn’t know right? nobody has to know.

nobody has to know that you're lodged in his fantasies when the nights deepen.

nobody has to know what happens when you're forced to share a room with Yunho.

Genre/Warnings: smut, big dick! X Perverted! Yunho, unprotected sex, low key corruption kink, mutual pining, cream pies, fingering, orgasms, overstimulation, oh no they are forced to share a room!, sexual tension, dirty talk

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee

🩷 back to staying perverted

A/N: send me to jail for being so inactive TT I know life happens and I shouldn't apologise for going mia for a bit but I still feel so bad! Nonetheless, please continue giving my works as much love as you all always do, and that ya'll are my source of motivation. Thank you for waiting ❤️

Undoubtedly, it’s either your brother has good taste in making friends, or you just have interesting taste in men, because out of all men you had a crush on, it had to be the one closest to your brother—Jeong Yunho. Something about him made your heart flutter uncontrollably. Maybe it was the way he would lean in towards you when he wanted to whisper something in your ear, keeping your brother an arm’s length while his voice tickled perfectly as it reverberates in your brain. Maybe it was the way he would hold your stare for a couple of seconds before his pretty smiles spreads across his lips, as if he was keeping a secret that he wants to tell you. Maybe it was the way he would bump his arm against yours when he wants to ally with you to piss your brother off.

Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that the feelings you had for him were growing exponentially. How you managed to keep said feelings in bay was a mystery. You could attribute it to knowing Yunho for as long as you did. Maybe he treated everyone nice and politely like that. It was hard not to keep your hopes up sometimes and it really made you frustrated.

“A chalet?” You repeat. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just a weekend out”, your brother replies. “A couple of friends will be coming. You know them, including Yunho.”

“Are you going?” Yunho suddenly asks.

You break eye contact with Yunho, going back to your phone. “No. I’m going on a date.”

Yunho’s eyes widen. There is a flash of panic that flickers in his eyes. His words spill out of him before he realises it.

“With who? How come I didn’t know?”

You cast a confused glance at him. “Why would you need to know?”

That was when Yunho realises, and he simmers down, going back to hiding behind his phone screen. He bites his tongue, hoping you nor your brother ha caught on. But thankfully, no one else questions him. In fact, your brother doubles down.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me?” Your brother echos.

“As if you’re interested in my love life”, you playfully retort, rolling your eyes before you disappear into your room, before Yunho starts to hear your heartbeat right in your ears again.

Yunho stares blankly at his phone, still processing that you’ll be going on a date. Something sits uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He’s running his brain, thinking of a million ways to make you cancel the date, half of it under the pretence of your brother. How could he do it without making it obvious?

“And why would I cancel my date, Jeong Yunho?” You ask, your arms crossed. For some reason, your brother and Yunho were suddenly way too interested in your date. Especially Yunho. He would not get off your back about it.

“It’s dangerous? Who knows he might be a serial killer!” He was really dramatic about too, might you add.

You scoff, and an amused smile tugs the corner of your lips, as your hand reaches out to pat his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Yun. You’re on my speed dial if anything happens okay?”

For a moment, you feel his gaze piercing right into you, as if time didn’t exist—the both of you caught in between each other’s gazes, Yunho looking like he wants to say something, but he stops himself. You quickly break the eye contact, remembering that he’s your brother’s best friend, and that Yunho is just being as worried as your brother. Nothing more than that. Yunho wants to hold the gaze longer. He almost wants to break the imaginary boundaries then both of you set, but he snaps into to reality when he watches you leave, his voice trapped in his throat.

Fuck. Looks like he’s the one losing now.

It doesn’t help that during that night, you slip into his dreams, and instead of you leaving, he has your face in his hands, and your lips are on his. He feels you in your entirety, and you feel so fucking good pressed against him. Yunho wants so badly to mark every part of you, to remind you he could do so much better than whoever you’re supposedly going out with. He could kiss you better, fuck you better. Then it switches—to you in front of him, your ass bouncing off his cock, loud smacks echoing from the walls as he sinks into your pussy with a broken sigh.

That’s when he fucking jolts awake, warm fluids streaming down his thighs, as he swallows an imaginary mass in his throat because what the fuck just happened? He stares blankly at the white ceiling of his room, mind as blank.

How fucked is he?

Yunho reaches to the doorstep of the chalet, almost close to midnight. Dance practice had bleed past the time, later than he thought. He greets his friends at the barbecue pit, still grilling chicken and seafood, stealing a stick and getting playfully hit before he enters the chalet itself.

Your brother sat there, comfortable with his girlfriend’s legs crossed over his lap as they had joycons in their hands, playing some kind of co-op game together. His friend turns to him, before his eye dart back to the screen once he acknowledges Yunho, much too engrossed with the level he and his girlfriend was at.

“Your room’s to the left of the stairs. I hung your lanyard there”, your brother says, before his attention goes right back to the game. For a spilt second, he suddenly remembers that he wanted to tell Yunho something, something important, but when his girlfriend squeals at clearing the level, the thought is completely erased from his memory.

Yunho climbs up the stairs, pushes the door open, and completely stops in his tracks as his gaze locks with yours. You’re seated on the bed, relaxed and on your phone until the door suddenly pushes open, and Yunho stands there, looking as bewildered as you.

There is a long moment of silence between the both of you.

“Can I help you, Yunho?” You break it.

“No…isn’t this my room?” Yunho clarifies. You glance around and shrug.

Yunho drops his bag, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

His eyebrows furrow, confusion sprawled across his face.

“Hold on. Weren’t you suppose to be on a date?”

You shrug again. “Yeah. It ended early. I thought of finding my brother and he asked me to use this room since it was vacant. I supposed he forgot to tell you? I could leave if-“

“N-no. You can stay, since you’re already here”, Yunho cuts you off. No fucking way is he wasting this chance. Somehow the thought of you within the same, close proximity is making his head dizzy. “You’re okay with sharing the bed? I can sleep downstairs.”

Your face starts to heat up. As much as it was the elephant in the room, for Yunho to bring up so straightforwardly like that was making your mind wander a little too close to the sun.

You force a small smile. “It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Well, not a lie, the only thing was that the both of you were blacked out drunk when it happened that one time.

Yunho’s signature smile appears. He looks comforted, at least. “Right. Then I’ll use the bathroom to wash up.” He grabs a spare towel on the rack, then walks back to dig for his clothes in his duffle before he disappears into the bathroom, leaving you with your messy thoughts. Your hand is over your heart, and you feel it beating a little too wildly.

Nothing’s gonna happen. Two people of the opposite sex can share a bed just fine, is what you tell yourself. Yeah, that would have been the case, if the opposite gender wasn’t Jeon Yunho.

Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen years in all honesty. The anxiety wouldn’t simmer down, so you end up burying yourself underneath the cold sheets, hoping that you’d end up falling asleep.

And by some miracle, you did. That is, until you feel the mattress weigh down, and shuffling on the sheets, then something bumping against your leg. You stir slightly from the disruption.

“Sorry. The bed’s a little…cramped”, you hear Yunho’s voice tickling your ears as his legs press against yours.

You stay silent, the only things that you hear are the whirling of the air conditioning and the sound of your heart about to fucking burst from your rib cage.

“It’s fine”, you finally reply, your body completely still, unsure how actually close the male is against you, only his legs pressed up against the back of your knees and his arms are barely touching your back as a gauge. Well, you weren’t in the mood to find out. The myriad amount of assurances you repeat to yourself that he’s just a friend, that he’s just Jeon Yunho, does nothing to comfort you to say the least.

You hear his voice ring a little to close to your ears again. “How was your date?”

You don’t want to answer, your eyes are focused onto the darkness of the door in front of you. You fear that he might hear your thoughts if you speak, even though that’s literally impossible.

“It was fine”, you curtly reply, squeezing the spare pillow in your arms.

“What did you think of him?”

“I think he’s okay. He’s quite a decent guy. Then again, it’s just the first date”.

The mattress shifts suddenly and you freeze when you feel him inch even closer to you. You have no clue what expression he’s making but from the way he suddenly shifts rather dramatically, you would assume that he seemed shocked?

Oh, you were definitely about to find out.

“You’re planning to see him again?” He’s closer now. You feel his chest almost pressing against your spine. You feel his gaze piercing daggers into the back of your head. You feel his agitation. But over what?

“I haven’t decided on that yet”, you reply. But you cut him before he says anything, “but what’s it to you? You usually don’t care about the things I do. Let alone my dates.”

This time, it’s Yunho’s turn to fall silent. The weight of the mattress beneath you shifts once more it stills. For a moment, you assume that he’d shifted away from you, and maybe he’d let the matter die off.

“Who said I didn’t?”

Now he’s completely pressing his body against you—you feel his lips just a hair’s length from the back of your neck, his chest completely flat against your back.

His crotch right against your ass.

“Yunho-“, you try turning to face him before the both of your start making any mistakes, but his hand presses your waist down, halting any movements you were about to make. Heat is flushing your cheeks.

“I’ll stop if you don’t want to, and I’ll turn away, and sleep downstairs. I won’t force you if you don’t want to.”

Shit, shit, shit. The more words Yunho speak, the more they aren’t registering in your damn head. His voice is melting in your ears, low and dangerous. The consequences that once rang like alarm bells in your head slowly grow muted, and now it’s just your carnal desire to let Yunho do whatever he wanted to you.

“I’m not doing this without your consent, my dear”, he reminds , and his hand is slowly trailing off your body.

All the repercussions, completely wiped off when your feelings that you once tried to fucking hard to suppress behind to bubble up to the surface, and for Yunho to just summon them so easily when he says it so gently and with such temptation.

But you should still probably stop this-

From the way you’re staying quiet, Yunho is ready to just cut his advances. After all, he’s not interested in making you feel uncomfortable, as much as he wants to just ruin you all for himself. He keeps his breathing light, but his heart is still beating loudly in his chest, bracing himself for the rejection, his hand gradually lifting from your waist, very much reluctantly-

Until he feels your hand cup his.

“I wanna feel you, Yunho”, you answer him, loud enough for him to hear, even though it was only the two of you within the confines of the room.

Yunho feels like he’s not close enough to you, even though the both of you are squeezed together, and his erection is evident—pressing shamelessly against the curve of your ass. It’s driving up the wall.

Another thing he doesn’t expect is the way your fingers curl around his wrist, and you bring him to your braless tits, and he short-circuits when his fingers press against your hard nipples. You curse softly when he rolls them gently against his fingertips, and you lean back against his chest. Yunho takes the chance to kiss your neck down to your shoulders, making you melt all over again.

But he doesn’t want to stay there for long. His cock is just throbbing and it’s overtaking his rationale.

You always offhandedly complimented that Yunho had such long, slender and pretty fingers, and that he made mundane actions—writing, typing—look so attractive.

And now, his fingers are prying your legs to spread open for him.

His fingers dip into the wetness of your soaked folds, and his mind almost completely blanks out for the second time at the way you’re drenched for him.

“Fuck. All of this for me?” He asks rhetorically, as he easily sinks two fingers in, hearing you choke from how his fingers are filling you up so well. The tip of his fingertips press against a spongy spot, and your head tilts back, face so flushed from the pleasure when he begins curl his fingers while in you and while he fucks your wet cunt.

He’s not letting you form any coherent thoughts in your head, not while he’s finger fucking the thoughts right out your poor brain.

“You’re so fucking soft. Shit. I really want to fuck you so fucking bad”, he grunts in your ear, his hips grinding against your ass like a natural instinct to.

“Your cock”, you mutter, struggling to keep your eyes open and mind clear. “Fuck. Need you to fuck me so good.”

Yunho inhales the scent of your hair wash as he peppers bites and kisses down the nape of your neck, smiling when he feels goosebumps spread across your skin.

He’s so tempted. But not yet. He desperate—desperate to see you fucking fall apart just with his fingers.

So he pulls his soaked fingers out, and for a moment, you whine at how empty your cunt feels, just ready to fucking beg him to fuck you with his fingers, his cock, whatever.

He sits up, pushing the thick and heavy blankets aside, tugging your wet bottoms and panties off, giving himself a mental reminder to pocket your panties when he’s done with you.

You’re spread open and perfectly wide for him to admire and drool over. By now, his eyes are pretty much adjusted the darkness, and the both of you are lazy to switch on the nightlight, so he’s definitely able to see your pussy in full view.

“Y-yu-“, your words completely cut off when he plunges two fingers right into your pussy again, filling you up completely. And this time, his other hand is on your clit, fingers rubbing, sending sparks flying beneath your eyelids.

The pleasure makes you buck your hips, and it builds so dangerously quick in your abdomen. The sounds of your pussy growing so fucking wet only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, catching a rhythm of fucking and rubbing your clit so perfectly that you realise the feeling is growing way too funny.

“Y-Yunho-“ you try again. “Oh god. Feels weird.” Nonetheless, you don’t say it without your eyes rolling back and your abdomen flexing.

“That’s it. Let it go for me, baby. It’ll feel so fucking good.”

Oh fuck. You don’t even register it before it happens—it totally washes over you, and you’re just helplessly submitting to how fucking good this feels as you squirt all over Yunho, your mind swimming in the depths of ecstasy, your moans drowned when Yunho seals your lips shut with his, greedy to just keep them all to himself, and well, also not trying to wake the whole chalet up.

When Yunho pulls back and sees how flushed spent your face looks, he can’t help but sink deeper into his feelings for you. He goes in for another kiss, this time with your mind slowly clearing from the mind-blowing orgasm. Your arms wrap around his neck instantly, pulling him as close as you could, soft moans in between kisses only making him impossibly harder than he already was.

He shifts to lie down on the bed with you again, this time the both of you facing each other. He tugs the hem of your shirt and lugs it over your head, before lowering himself slightly to face your chest. You don’t know how but his pants are somehow kicked off, somewhere on the bed, and he’s bare and so fucking hard when he presses his cock on your pussy.

“Lift your leg for me, babe”, he says, palm sliding on the underside of your thigh as he feels you spread your legs open for him once more.

Yunho rubs his cockhead along your wet fucking folds, before he pushes himself in, a whimper leaving his lips as he bites on your shoulder to stop any loud noises from slipping past his lips.

He pushes himself in even more, and your arms are around his neck once more, light red imprints from your fingernails dig into his skin.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Feels like fucking heaven. So fucking tight and soft”, he mutters, eyes so glazed, and arms so tight around you when he finally buries himself into the hilt.

Your mind is complete mush by then—combined with Yunho’s cock that’s stuffed in you and the scent of his hair wash, you swear you were gonna cum for the second time. You knew he probably packed something, but holy fucking shit, you just never thought it would fill you up this fucking good. The rest of your senses slowly start to dull, the feeling of Yunho’s cock almost taking them all away.

“Shit. You’re fucking squeezing me-fuck!-here,” Yunho says, but it comes off as a broken moan. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, and you hear him trying to steady his breath through a slew of curses.

“You wanna move now?” You ask, your fingers combing through his messy locks. Yunho thinks he might have some sort of hair combing fetish with you now.

“Fuck, yes, please,” is all he replies before he pulls out slightly, then thrusting right back in, projecting fucking stars into your eyelids when he fills you up again and again.

You press your head against the pillow, eyes shut from the pleasure. When you find the strength to open them, Yunho’s glazed out expression is what comes into view. He’s looking at you like you’re his fucking treasure.

“Does it feel good? You feel so fucking amazing, y/n.”

“You can’t be asking me that when you’re fucking the thoughts right out of me”, and you squeal when he thrusts into you once more, filling you up to the brim.

“Even better. So my cock will be only the cock you know, right?” He smiles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes when your walls clench around him again.

And when you don’t answer, his hand slithers to your neck, and he squeezes, making you gasp.

“Answer me, pretty.”

“Yes, fuck yes. Don’t need anyone else’s when you’re fucking me so good”, you cry, relishing in the way he’s gradually cutting off your oxygen supply.

His thrusts grow harder and faster, his hands slowly letting go of your throat.

“That’s my good girl.”

And that makes your cunt flutter and pulsate uncontrollably for the second time, only now it’s on his cock this time.

“F-fuck. Oh, that’s it. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, his voice ups a pitch when you fall apart again. “I’m gonna cum. Make sure you’re full and dripping when I’m fucking done with you.”

And when he does, he leaves a whole garden of bites on your chest and shoulders on top of filling your pussy up with his thick and warm cum. You never thought his face would get anymore attractive, but when he cums? You could get addicted to pulling that expression out of him, that’s for sure.

The both of you are panting as your highs wear off, hands still not off each other despite the shared warmth. He’s the first to let go, and you’re about to say something until he turns you around, and it’s then when his cock starts to harden in you. Your heart is beating rapidly again when his cock is filling you up once more, as it slowly displaces his cum that leaks past your sopping hole.

Your hand grabs onto his arm that’s snaking around your waist.

“W-wait. We need to talk about my broth-“, and he hears you whimper when he pushes himself deeper into you, throbbing in you. The way he’s littering kisses down your neck is sending you into a spiral, and now you’re nothing but weak against him, and his fat cock.

“That can wait to tomorrow, babe. I promised that I’ll make sure you’re full and dripping once I’m fucking done with you right? Well, I’m not done fucking you yet.”

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