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seren1tyhaze · 3 months

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poison in my mind

PAIRING: idol!jisung x afab older stylist reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: he has been your poison for years - Jisung with his innocent looking face, steely gaze, and wicked tongue. you do your best to keep a professional relationship with him during your work as a stylist for NCT Dream but his calls of "Noona" on set continue to test your patience.

AUTHOR NOTE: A VERY belated happy birthday to Andy Park and a big thank you to SM for letting us have that Poison live performance at the end of the year. This has been half written ever since the Poison track video behind vlog went up a million years ago but fueled even more by the dance intro at MMA. His more recent lives may have also served as inspiration. I hope you all enjoy this very self indulgent fic made especially for all my friends who also love Jisung <3

WARNINGS: explicit smut, idolverse, pet names (including Noona kink I'm so sorry)

PLAYLIST: Poison by NCT Dream, Quiet Down by NCT Dream, OK! by NCT U

dreaming 'bout you, dreaming 'bout you

~~ The set is buzzing with nervous energy in the dimly lit space, dark blue light cascading over the stage area dressed with large floral arrangements that almost make it look like the ocean floor. Renjun is talking to the camera filming their behind vlog footage and you look up from the shirt you are steaming when you hear his voice.

“Dream will try for the sexy vibe for the first time,” with a sly smirk.

You can’t help but chuckle as the makeup artist next to you elbows your side and you tut at her, waving the steamer to quiet her. It wasn’t a secret that the Poison track video was going to be beloved by fans because of the concept and the way the members were styled. You had been tasked with pulling some of the key looks for the video, taking an opportunity to incorporate different textures like the metal grommets and fringe on the leather jacket Renjun currently was wearing. You watch proudly as he stretches his arms over his head in the center of the flowers, torso muscles rippling under the sheer mesh shirt.

You hadn’t been on staff for very long, a couple years of working under the main stylist under your belt. They had been hesitant to give you bigger opportunities due to your young age and lack of experience, but your boss saw that you had a great eye. It didn’t hurt that you were always the first one to volunteer for less than desirable tasks and always arrived early to shoots and stayed late.

“Sorry, this one’s a little too small, did you have others?” comes a voice behind you and you turn to see Mark, holding out one of the large metal rings you had laid out for him in his dressing room.

“Oh sorry, yes, of course,” you reply, smiling softly at him before kneeling down to dig in your bag for the small pouch holding the extra accessories. He was always so polite to the staff, greeting everyone and even when he was clearly exhausted, doing as many takes as the director needed.

“This one might work better and it’s adjustable,” you reply, taking his hand and sliding the ring on his pointer finger. You squeeze his hand gently before he inspects the rings, holding it out in front of him.

“Noona,” comes a harsh and low voice suddenly, causing you to move your head to the side of Mark’s leather clad legs to see an annoyed looking Jisung with crossed arms, shirtless and barefoot.

“Jisung, where is your shirt?” Mark replies, half laughing as he turns to face him, scratching at the back of his neck.

Ignoring him, Jisung returns his gaze to you and glares at your crouched position on the floor in front of Mark. A curious Renjun walks up at this moment, peeling a tangerine and flicking narrowed eyes between the three of you. Mark shrugs at him before walking away, answering a message on his phone.

“You tailored the crotch of these pants wrong, it feels weird,” Jisung continues, voice even and tinged with frustration.

Your face flushes at this, dropping the pouch back in your bag and grabbing your pins, suddenly on your feet and in front of Jisung.

“How do you know it’s wrong?” you ask, knitting your brows together as you look up at him.

He looks good and you know he knows it. Something has shifted in Jisung in the past year - especially since they returned from tour. He carries himself differently, with a different level of confidence and wears it well. Today is no different and the fact that he just barged onto set without a shirt on is evidence. His dark blue hair is styled perfectly, long strands dangling in his eyes and contrasting beautifully with his sharp jawline.

“Here, feel,” he tells you simply, pulling your hand to his crotch and you almost let yourself palm him through the tight denim until you snap back to reality and pull your arm back. His eyes hold no emotion, dark and still, long eyelashes blinking at you temptingly. His lips are soft and plump and you want nothing more than to close the distance between the two of you and taste the glossy lip mask.

And there it is, your poison, Park Jisung. When you had graduated early from your program a few years ago, you had been focused on your career and hadn’t spent much time dating. You had some people you went out on dates with every once and a while and had your fair share of waking up in a stranger’s bed after a long night out. But Jisung had caught you by surprise. Something about the way he was so forward and aggressive with you made your brain turn to mush around him. Your heartbeat would quicken, palms sweat, and filthy thoughts would swirl in your mind until you could indulge in them with your hand pressed between your thighs later that night.

A heavy sigh comes from Renjun, accompanied by a shake of his head, as he walks out a nearby door muttering something about not wanting to see Jisung’s dick.

You flush violently, grabbing at Jisung’s bicep harshly and pulling him to his dressing room, leaving the door propped open intentionally as you take the layered black tank off the hanger and hold it out to him.

“Please put the rest of your outfit on, I think they are going to be ready for you soon,” you sigh as soon as you’re alone, reaching for the box that holds the platform boots you were reusing from a shoot with Haechan a couple months prior.

You both move silently as he pulls the shirt over his head, staring at the long leather cords before lifting his head back up to you. You move behind him, reaching over his broad shoulders to pull the leather cords around his neck and then letting the ends dangle in front of his toned chest. You try to avoid brushing your hands against his bare shoulders as he steps into the boots and ignore that his ass brushes against your stomach when he bends down slightly to zip them up.

“I just don’t know about these pants, are they the right length?” he asks, tugging at the material at his thighs. His tone is whining and defiant, lighter than how he was in front of everyone, but still slightly combative. He knows you’re weak for this very tone, as he can usually get you to do whatever he wants if he just adds it into whatever he says.

You sigh and move around him, dropping to your knees at his feet, slapping his hand away from pulling at the fabric. You pull the pants leg out of his left boot, pulling lightly and examining the hemline. You’re about to correct him when you suddenly feel his hand soft on your hair.

“You look so good from this angle,” he murmurs, voice low and sultry, causing you to jerk your head up and look at him from the floor.

Your lower lip is instantly caught in your teeth, sinking into the flesh deeply as you try to control your breathing, unable to stop yourself from blinking up at him. You feel drawn into his dark eyes and his hand in your hair is almost overwhelming.

He lets out a groan, tightening his fingertips on your scalp, exhaling audibly and clenching his other hand into a fist at his side.

“What am I going to do with you,” he tuts, dropping his hand to your chin and gripping it gently.

You rise from your knees, glancing at the open door just as Jaemin bounces by, screaming at something Haechan is doing. Suddenly aware of where you are, you step forward, adjusting the cords aimlessly.

“What happened to my sweet, innocent Jisung?” you whisper, staring at the soft skin of his collarbone and wishing you could press your lips against it forever.

“Don’t act surprised. You created this monster, Noona, dressing me in all these sexy outfits. How could you think I would stay your bright eyed baby Sungie forever?” he asks back, tucking loose strands of your hair behind your ear. His words are biting, even if they do hold some truth.

Memories of him dozing off on your shoulder during long bus rides and hastily helping him into heavy jackets and necklaces during quick changes on tour come flooding in, mixed with the heavy, lustful stares you feel on you when you wear a low cut shirt or on hot summer days in Thailand when you wore thin athletic shorts in the airport.

He had kissed your lips gently a year ago after many bottles of soju and when the rest of the members were preoccupied by endless rounds of karaoke. You had stopped him then, told him that as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. Ever since that moment, he had made every effort to get you alone when he could, using every excuse under the sun, today’s outburst nothing new. You still remember how soft his lips felt on yours and the fire under your arm as he held you close after you rejected him.

Back on set, you’re packing up your bag again when you’re called over to check something on the computer from Jeno’s scenes. You give your feedback and suddenly your eyes are drawn up to where Jisung is filming, camera close to his face, light illuminating his beautiful features perfectly.

“Dreaming ‘bout you, dreaming ‘bout you,” echoes across the large soundstage and your heart is pounding in your chest as he plays with the cords at his neck, just as you had earlier, chests pressed up against each other in the dressing room. He makes eye contact with you briefly when the take ends and you look away quickly, embarrassed.

While you had been released to go for the day, you take your time packing the rest of your stuff, helping the makeup artists clean their station and even rearranging some chairs that barely needed adjustment. You watch the way he moves confidently, take after take, adjusting the jacket so his shoulders show boldly against the dark material. His fingers brush through the cords, pulling them up to his teeth at times before dropping them, leaving plump lips open before cracking a large smile at the reaction of the staff. In between takes he shakes his dark hair, casting his gaze down to the floor until someone asks him a question. You watch as he smiles and winks at the makeup artist powdering his cheek and you feel nervous energy stir in your stomach. You can’t bear to watch much more, so you slip out when he isn’t looking in your direction.

When you finally are home, feet pushed into fluffy slippers and sipping on steaming green tea you had just prepared, you peel the sheet mask off and rub the remaining serum into your cheeks and forehead. You are flipping through a magazine your coworker had given you on set, paying attention to the tabbed pages they had flagged for inspiration when your phone buzzes on the table next to you. A message from the head stylist fills your screen as you tap into it.

Jisung left his street shoes at set, did you take them home? He said he “needs them” for tomorrow.

You sigh and go to the shoebox by your door to find his Nike sneakers tucked neatly, laces wrapped nicely. You quickly reply to your boss, saying you don’t mind bringing them to the dorm since you know the managers had a late night meeting tonight. Running a brush through your hair, you dot some perfume on your wrists and behind your ear before grabbing your keys.

You fiddle with the edge of your oversized sweater in the elevator as you climb the floors to his dorm, feeling a nervous pit grow in your stomach. Finally outside, you knock quickly before dropping it down to hold the box with both hands.

The door swings open and Jisung is standing tall in front of you, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair damp. A dark zip-up hoodie covers his chest and it’s unzipped just enough that you can tell he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath. You can’t help but let your mind wander back to shirtless Jisung pulling your hand to his crotch earlier and wonder if he was just lounging in his room in the sweatpants. Or worse, just his boxers.

“Hi baby,” he slurs out, lips curving up at the edge into a mischievous smile as he props his arm up on the door, leaning down as if he might kiss you. His sweatshirt hikes up on his waist when he does this, revealing a large swath of skin.

You shove the box at him, pushing him back into the room with it, letting it drop into his hands. You fling your bag on the table near the door and step out of your shoes.

“Don’t hi baby me, Park Jisung. I know you left these there so you could see me tonight. Did it really take you multiple hours to realize you weren’t wearing the shoes you came in?” you reply with a huff, picking up a sealed water bottle on the kitchen counter and taking a long sip.

Sweat is pricking at your hairline and you are starting to regret not texting one of the assistant managers or drivers to come get the shoes instead.

Jisung chuckles and sets the shoebox on a chair, reaching out to take the water bottle from you and gulping down the rest.

“Don’t be mad, baby,” he replies, leaving heavy emphasis on the pet name, stepping closer to you and wrapping strong arms around your waist, thumbs instantly finding the hem of your sweater and travelling across your lower back.

You can’t help how your body reacts to his touch, feeling your chest meet his, nipples hardening under the knit fabric now tugged down and exposing your cleavage. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes for the second time today.

“Come on, I’m catching up on our show,” he says softly, lips grazing across your cheek gently. You had been watching the same show for the past few months, texting each other during episodes here and there, and chatting about it whenever you saw each other. He had complained none of the other members would watch it with him and while you would never let him know this, you had lied and said you were also planning to watch it.

Against your better judgement, you let him guide you to his small room, where his large tv is paused on the latest episode of the space docuseries.

“Oh, I haven’t watched this one yet,” you admit, dropping down to sit at the edge of his bed.

He clicks to restart the episode and unzips the sweatshirt, moving to remove it and reveal his bare chest.

“Jisung,” you say sternly and he chuckles, zipping it back up halfway, and plopping down on the bed next to you. He pulls the hood up over his dark hair for good measure before propping himself up against the pillows he has leaned against the wall. You settle back, leaving some space between the two of you and pulling a hamster plushie into your lap to nervously fiddle with.

While your eyes had started to get heavy back at your apartment, you are now wired, your body coursing with electricity and hypersensitive to every movement from the man next to you. He reaches for his phone occasionally, letting out light chuckles at messages from Chenle and even daring to post a couple Bubble messages. You thank whatever higher power exists that your phone was still tucked in your bag at the door, so he didn’t see yours light up when he sent the message. It was a drunken guilty pleasure you had indulged in and ever since receiving the first message tailored with your name, you couldn’t stop yourself from renewing the subscription.

His legs keep brushing against yours when he readjusts his position on the bed and somehow has gotten so close that his shoulder is now brushing against yours. You try to shift away, but he only closes the distance again when you do so. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re having a difficult time focusing on the show.

Suddenly the screen is filled with bright colors as they depict beautiful graphics of what scientists imagine the birth of a star looks like and a gasp falls from your lips as you lean forward, eyes flickering across the screen to take in the beautiful scene.

“You’re so pretty when you nerd out over this stuff,” comes his low voice, suddenly close to your ear, hand resting in the middle of your back.

You lean back in reaction, trapping his arm between you and the pillow, turning slightly to face him.

“Coming from NASA’s number one stan, please,” you reply lightly, shoving the plushie at him playfully. You let a chuckle fall from your lips and shake your head lightly, causing your hair to cascade over your shoulders.

He grabs at it and throws it off the edge of the bed, hands suddenly tight on your hips and pulling you into his lap, possessively gripping your ass as you straddle his legs.

Your lips drop open in surprise, both of you breathing heavy at the sudden movement. You feel your responsible self tapping your shoulder but finally decide to let the years of desire bubble to the surface and propel your lips to close the gap with his.

You move your lips across his gently, resisting the urge to push your tongue out immediately or bite down on his lower lip. He tightens his grip on you in response, pushing his crotch up to meet yours. You swear you can feel him through his pants which only makes you want him more.

He pulls away, taking your cheek in his other hand and looking between your eyes as if searching for some sort of silent answer to a silent question. You can almost see his own voice of reason forcing him to pause, if only for a moment.

“You ready to deal with the consequences of that monster you created, Noona?” he asks in a devastatingly low tone before moving his lips down to mouth at your chest, pushing the knit fabric to the side to bite at your shoulder.

A sigh falls from your lips as you let your head roll back, entire body on fire as he marks the skin at your neck, teeth sharp on your skin. You can’t help as your hands slide over the zipper of his hoodie and unzip it slowly, pushing the fabric down his shoulders to expose his toned chest. Running your hands over his hard muscles, you dig your fingernails gently, eliciting a deep groan from Jisung.

“Babyyy,” he sighs out, sliding his hand up to your throat and applying pressure there, pulling you forward to meet your lips again. The kiss is more urgent this time, tongue pressing deep into your mouth and hand gripping you tighter as he continues.

You let your hands slide down his torso, running over his abs and sliding them to his back to pull yourself closer to him. Before you can pull yourself fully flush against his chest, you are being flipped over, head falling back into the pillowy surface.

“Are you sure about this,” you ask, voice wavering despite every intention you had to form a confident question. Your eyes are flicking between his dark ones, as they had many times before, but suddenly holding so much more meaning in this intimate space.

“Are you not?” he asks back, head cocking lightly to the side, thumbs never stopping the circles they are rubbing into your hip bones.

“That’s not an answer,” you quip back, grabbing onto his hands to force him to focus. Unfortunately for you, it did the exact opposite.

You pull your eyes away from his, looking at your hands now pressed up against each other against the comforter. Your hand looks tiny next to his, his fingers could almost wrap fully around the tops of yours and that makes your mind fuzzy. You pulse your fingers, stretching them along his, feeling the length of them and how hot they are to the touch.

“Noona,” he calls, not as harsh and biting as on set, but still drawing you back to reality quickly.

His voice finally softens as he sees your watery blinking eyes, overstimulation creeping up on you before you’ve done much more than make out. He drops his thumb down the side of your face, caressing the space between your ear lobe and jaw tenderly. You want to look away, you want to push up and capture his lips in yours, you want to pull that stupid hamster plushie over your face and hide your burning cheeks.

“You know, I want it, I like,” he states, as if that is a full sentence other than in the context of the song they were filming with all day. His lips turn up in a small, shy smile at the end, showing a glimpse of that quiet boy you’ve always known and your heart settles a little in your chest. You nod rapidly a few times, sinking your nails into the palm of his hand and letting your eyes flutter shut.

His lips are on yours again quickly and that wicked hand that was just caressing your skin is now tightening around your neck again, which forces you up into an arch on the bed, pressing your lower body against his hardening cock. His tongue feels hot and wet in your mouth and you can’t help the moans that are escaping every time you have to pull back for air.

He sits up, straddling either side of your legs, tugging at your shirt and you manage to sit halfway up on your elbows, almost tearing the delicate fabric of your sweater as you rip it off, fumbling with the clasp of your bra as Jisung’s mouth is suddenly latched onto your neck, dropping heated kisses down your collarbone.

He sees you struggling and simply presses a strong thumb to the clasp, letting the cotton fabric slide off your arms and he tosses it clear across the room. This draws your attention to the door, which you realize now is cracked and you pray to every higher power that Renjun isn’t home.

“Hey, eyes on me,” comes the low voice above you again and you’re drawn back in, tuning out the distractions around you. He seems more amused than annoyed, which you have to appreciate given how long you’ve both waited for this exact moment.

Jisung makes quick work of removing his pants and boxers, reaching for a condom from his nightstand as you push down your own sweats, pausing at the thin band of your underwear. He sees you, dropping the foil packet to the bed and dips his head down, teeth dragging the elastic quickly, causing you to jump and let out a giggle.

“SUNG!” you yell weakly, trying to push his dark blue locks away as he continues to drag the dampened fabric down your legs.

He somehow manages to do it pretty easily, without getting too caught up on your knees or thighs, only struggling once he’s at your ankles and ripping them off with his hand, letting them drop to the floor with your bra.

He simply shrugs at you, a smile tugging at his mouth as he smooths those huge hands over your thighs, kneading the flesh there, eyes transfixed on your naked body. Your whole body is on fire and you silently beg for him to get on with it, even as it looks like he is about to swallow you whole.

A creeping monster your in your brain tells you you should feel more self conscious with him seeing you like this, despite both being equally exposed, realizing how many times you’ve seen him half clothed or even less. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he reaches up, covering your breast easily with his hand, thumb teasing your nipple absently. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but hold your breath as pleasure begins to flood through your body.

You beg your own gaze not to lower, not ready to see the size of him fully hard. You’ve unfortunately seen almost all the members’ dicks but usually in quick, embarrassed, accidental glimpses. Well, except for that one time Jaemin was literally helicopter swinging it around in the dressing room when you walked in with a tray of iced americanos. Both him and Jeno couldn’t speak to you for two weeks while Chenle continued to bring it up every chance he could, even mimicking the motion during sound check at their next stop.

You are startled at the sound of him tearing the condom wrapper, rolling it quickly on and leaning back down, face inches from yours as he cups the side of your face again. You instinctively nuzzle lightly into his hand at the contact, letting your eyes flutter shut as you draw your lips to his hand, smelling faintly of the lube from the condom. You kiss in between his thumb and forefinger lightly and before you know it, he’s slipping his thumb in between your spit covered lips, pad of his finger gently pressing against your tongue.

You gasp but drag your eyes lazily to meet his, knowing your own hunger is visible now not only in your gaze but also in the eager sucking of your lips.

He groans, taking the chance to push into you and you swear you see stars. Your eyes widen but pull his thumb further into your mouth, teeth grazing across the tip of his finger erratically as your hips buck up to pull him impossibly close.

Jisung’s eyes are fluttering shut, thumb dropping from your lips, now flushed red with teeth marks and slick with spit, sliding down to clutch your throat once again. Your own hand flies to your chest, groping at yourself, desperate for something to hold onto as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

He’s quiet, but with deep and passionate groans tumbling from his lips every once and a while. You watch as sweat begins to form at his hairline, perfect face beautiful in the dim light of his room, quiet music floating from his tv’s speakers as the episode is long forgotten and scrolling through the credits screen endlessly. Each noise that bubbles up from his chest equally soothes and paralyzes you, your own personal brand of poison seeping coldly through your veins. Your lips are perpetually hung open, mouth becoming so dry you can barely squeak out your own moans.

You feel your orgasm building suddenly after a particularly strong thrust and you swallow harshly, moving to speak to alert him. He doesn’t need any warning, reaching down to throw your leg over his shoulder and angle his lower body to perfectly hit that same spot over and over.

In seconds the poison is washing over you, lapping first at your feet like waves at the shore, nearly knocking you out as you float high above yourself, almost feeling like you’re having an out of body experience. Your chest is heaving as he slows his movements, as if he’s going to pull out.

A confused look forms on your face, head cocking to the side as you grip his arm, shaking your head wildly. Your hair is sticking to the back of your neck and you feel too hot on his plush bedding, but that isn’t reason to stop.

“Wait…what about…” you ask, confused, knowing he hasn’t come. Your eyes flick to the door again, wondering if he’s heard something while you were swimming a galaxy of bliss post orgasm.

He smiles at you, sliding out slowly and disposing of the condom quickly. He walks back over and takes your hand, bringing you to rise on shaky legs, standing naked beside his bed as he takes both your cheeks in his hands and kisses you deeply on the lips.

“I was thinking it would be better to continue what we started on set,” he purrs against you when he finishes ravaging your swollen lips.

A mischievous look forms in your eyes and you drop your hand to his stiff cock, giving it a few experimental pumps with the mix of lube and pre cum.

“Oh yeah?” is all you can reply, sinking slowly to your knees, still managing to tease him at this moment. You drop your hands to let them rest at your thighs, pressed together in an attempt to cool the burning heat still there.

He hisses out as soon as he can see you below him, bicep flexing as he runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head in feigned annoyance. His lids are heavy and all you can see are the whites of his eyes as they roll up in ecstasy.

You run your hands up your body, fingering the side of your neck and then tangling your fingers in your own hair seductively, never looking away from the man standing above you.

“Show me how good you can be for me, Noona,” he grunts out suddenly, gripping your chin way tighter than he had in the dressing room earlier. You grit your teeth but try to keep your face even as he tilts your head lightly, as if studying your face.

You gulp audibly and take him in your hands, finally faced with what you already knew was going to be stretching your cheeks as you were definitely going to struggle fitting him in your small mouth.

You tongue at his slit teasing it gently before sucking at the tip, letting it rest in your open mouth, eyes flicked up at him menacingly. You can tell from the look in Jisung’s eyes that he is dying to ram his cock down your throat but is trying so hard to let you set the pace.

Without any warning, you're sliding him further and further into your mouth, hands massaging his smooth calves to ground you. He’s getting louder now and one of his hands is playing in your hair, every once and a while gripping it tighter.

It only takes a few gentle thrusts till his voice becomes more strained and he’s tapping you on the head as a poor attempt of warning you he’s close. You resolve to let him spill into your mouth, but as soon as he comes the sudden movement causes most of the mess to land on your cheek and shoulder.

His loud exclamation of his pet name for you still ringing in the air, his hand loosens in your hair and you’re on your feet, hands settling on his broad chest, a hazy look of satisfaction on your face.

He seems mesmerised by you covered in his cum and draws a thumb up to that same spot between your ear and jaw, sliding it down and through the mess he made on your face. It’s as if everything’s moving in slow motion as your bottom lip drops open without a word and he slides his thumb into welcoming lips. You taste him, all of him, as he watches you suckle on the digit and blush form on your cheeks under the shine of your skin.

“Fucking filthy baby,” he whispers out, yanking you towards him as he sits on the edge of his bed and lifts you into his lap.

You can feel him harden under you and feel yourself warm up as his cock brushes against your core. You grind down on his lap which is met by him only gripping your waist tighter and landing a light smack on your ass. You grin at this and lean forward to kiss him, pushing your tongue greedily into his mouth.

“Already wanting more?” he asks with a mild mocking tone when you pull back, breathless and red in the face. He’s fully groping your ass at this point, massaging your cheeks with his fingers and pressing his palms into the thick flesh there.

You nod aggressively as you grind down on his cock again, spreading your thighs a bit more for better leverage. You want nothing more than for him to slide his bare cock into you right here and let you ride him through multiple orgasms, your tits bouncing right at eye level as he groans into your mouth through open mouthed kisses.

He merely laughs, pulling you out of your fantasy and reaches awkwardly for another condom, hand firmly keeping you in place.

“As much as I want what you want right now baby, let’s make sure there’s no-“ he starts out, rolling the condom on with shaky hands.

“SUNG, PLEASE!” you yell, clasping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Even in the midst of it all, all the lustful years leading up to this moment, all the hidden glances and late night drunken thoughts, he is still your poison. Something that worms its way into your mind, into your heart. Normally, you wouldn’t even imagine being this close to someone without protection but somehow, Jisung does something to you that makes you want to be reckless. You want to be reckless with your heart, let it be swallowed whole by him. You want to throw your body on him, let him tear you down and degrade you and use you. You want to give him everything and every bit of love you can offer. You think you can see the two of you growing old together, sitting quietly in a park watching your grandchildren play together in the distance.

But you see, that’s the problem with poison. It gets in your veins, in your lungs, in your heart and slowly sweeps and finally, finally tears you down. You float high above yourself again, seeing stars as Jisung releases into the condom and his head falls against your chest. You are both quiet and unsure of what comes next. The poison of this night will wear off soon and reality will set in, leaving you only the memories of this night to return to in your dreams.

#nct smut #nct fanfic #nct x reader #park jisung #jisung x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #jisung smut #park jisung x reader

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etherealily · 24 days

Text

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

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It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breaching every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffel bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

191 notes · View notes

hrdenha · 10 months

Text

— office hours | p.js

synopsis: you're stressed, still a virgin, and wanted to get laid. you wanted it to be a complete stranger. luckily, for you, there's one who's been watching you from the vip rooms.

pairings: stranger!park jongseong x office worker/virgin!reader

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. drunk reader, still with consent of course, basically asking some stranger to get her virginity, jay's big 👀, fingering, penetration, breeding kink, c*ck warming, oral s*x (f receiving)

AUTHOR'S NOTE — !

and i am backkk! it's been awhile since i posted here but tbh, i still have so many drafts in this blog. i dont know when i can finish it and post it but I'm hoping for the absolute best. please, turn a blind eye whenever you see errors and misspelled words. this is not yet edited and i just finished writing this a few minutes ago.

oh! and don't forget to check out some of my works and enjoy! also, let me know what u think in the comments or reblogs 🫶

"So, let me sum this up..." Ryujin held up her right hand for a 'pause' before drinking her Starbucks cup as if she needed the strong savor of coffee to stay sane on something that was about to go on.

"So you wanted to get laid but you're still a virgin and you don't know someone who can do you?"

Is it just you, or did ryujin just emphasize the words 'you', 'get laid', and 'virgin'? Is it that hard to believe? Is the idea THAT crazy?

"Yes, and please lower your voice" You hissed at her which Karina chuckled, all while trying to cover your face with your right hand; as you turned your head back when a group of employees walked past the three of you.

"How about, chan?" Karina suggested. "From the I.T. unit? He looks so good and IS good"

Both you and ryujin make a revolted face, "Ew. How do you know?" The woman beside you asked that karina just responded with a simple shrug before looking away to sip on her coffee.

You shook your head, "I don't want the person to know me and vice versa. I think I need a complete stranger to help me... with this" The word 'stranger' dragged in between your teeth when you groaned at your so-called 'problem'.

"Is that your new fetish?" Ryujin teasingly smiled at you, jutting her eyebrows up and down, making you roll your eyes.

"but seriously what? we can't just throw you to some man on the street, y/n. what if he's a good-for-nothing asshole?" ryujin replied with karina agreeing on her side. "But seriously, y/n what's the rush? I mean, I'm not the sentimental type of a person obviously..." The blue-haired woman rolled her eyes, "but would it even hurt if you wait a little bit more? for a person you know and are comfortable with?"

You exhaled, karina has a point though "I know but it's been bugging me. I don't like rushing things like this but it keeps me from experiencing 'that' level of fun. It feels like I'm missing something. I want to live my life a little, not that I'll sleep with everyone I laid my eyes but you know? Having fun without thinking of some limitation is such a temptation."

Both of your girls nodded, telling you that they understand. "Okay, let's go with plan B. After work this thursday, let's go to this bar I knew" This time, it's your turn to nod silently thanking your friends that they're supportive.

Your mind flies elsewhere as you try to convince yourself that your choice is fair, something that was not bad but also not good.

You're not lying when you told your friends that you don't like rushing things like this. Originally, you just wanted to go with the flow. If you'll get into a serious relationship, which is far away to happen because you're a career-oriented woman— then you'll give it to someone who deserves it. Of course, you had a fair share of relationships; a tough one on top of that.

Maybe it was the trauma. Having a relationship running for almost 2 years and then suddenly opening your eyes to see your boyfriend, heads up manipulating you was exhausting. That's why you didn't hesitate to break up with your boyfriend who tried to manipulate you into having sex with him while having a sexual relationship with his branch manager in a strictly no-office romance setting.

Of course, it didn't end with just the breakup. Of course, you wouldn't let him prey against other women again. No, it's not your type at all. You wanted to cripple him... big time. And so, you print all his soliciting of nudes amongst the women in their branch and the sexual conversation with his manager he's been having an affair with; even manage to ladle some CCTV footage where the two of them had sex in one of the office room then sent it anonymously to the head office of the company which resulted in his and the woman's contract to be terminated.

After that chaotic incident, you never opened up your heart to everyone. You just basically drowned yourself in work that resulted in you becoming the head manager of your own team.

At first, you're contented, happy even. You stepped up your game at work with nothing but your schedule as the first source of conflict in your life. The fact of you, being not in a relationship and a virgin on top of that, didn't really matter to you except last month when things started to happen.

The corporation you've been working at got a huge project that resulted in all the manpower to work causing you to be a little irritated. It's not the first time you handled such a huge project but if incompetent people will continuously be incompetent, then someone will definitely be on edge for days. You're convinced it was just the fatigue and stress. Of course, what else could it be? but then your cousin, Jake, told you otherwise.

"You're a little bit snappy these days, y/n" you smelled the oddly familiar aroma of Macchiato behind that even you can't help but to taste it on the tip of your tongue.

Jake emerges from behind you, mumbling a soft 'here' as he gently puts down the glass of the drink he personally made that he knew your favorite.

Your hands immediately glued to the cup taking a delicious sip before looking up to him, humming as the familiar taste of sweetness and vanilla hit your tongue, "It's nothing, just got a big project so we've been working nonstop"

"You need to relax"

"Believe me, I will..." You nodded your head, not looking at your cousin while your point finger keeps scrolling through the documents. "Just not now, maybe after this because work is currently kicking my ass off"

"Nah, bro. You don't need to wait for your work to finish in order to relax. You just need to get laid and then it will all go"

After Jake told you that, how can he walk out of your room as if nothing happened? Now, how can you function properly when you are mostly convinced that you really need to get laid in order to remove all the stress?

At first, you become in denial. You tried doing it the traditional way. Got yourself your favorite scented candle, play your favorite movie, a nice warm bath, and your friend, the pink vibrator after you bridged the project into a success that made the company give your whole team a two weeks vacation and an added bonus.

You become contented again. Turns out you don't need a man and sex just to relax, right? Wrong. Not until another project came up and you were on edge again, that's when you accepted your pain and resorted to your friends that put you in this situation.

Why can't God or someone high above drop a respectable, career-oriented man like you with a big dick and high stamina to fuck the stress out of you, straight on your lap? But no, that would be too good to be true.

Days easily passed by and here you are now, at Karina's house while she attempts to doll you up. You're used to wearing make-up, also because of your job where it is needed to look presentable at all times. What you're not accustomed to is wearing makeup with the purpose of getting laid.

"Drink this" Karina hand you a glass of water? Your hands took it unconsciously but give her a confused look where she just mouthed 'vodka'. That's when you realize all three of you have your own 'vodka' in your hands.

"... for what?" you ask carefully still confused as to why they drink vodka when there's a lot or you mean a LOT of alcoholic drinks at the bar later. You saw the two women behind you look at each other in the mirror before laughing. "Aww, this poor thing" Karina coos, "Luckily, she have us" Ryujin pouted before walking on your supposed-to-be outfit that was still in the box that she had delivered this morning.

"You need that so you'll be tipsy even before we get to the club" Karina replied when she saw your still confused face. She holds a makeup brush in front of you before whispering, "Don't worry, little tiger. We'll sharpen your claw and make you run free" You close your eyes tightly at the thought while feeling the brush on your lips. Dang, are you really that old potato?

"Try to be bold, y/n... remember that" Karina whispered as she brush another dab of the 'boldest' color of eyeshadow on your lids just like she said. "You're confident and bold, and we love that but it's not for the right thing as of now. This is not the job, not for hunting clients or something. Your purpose is to get laid, to have some dick in your mouth, okay?" ryujin added that made you playfully hit her.

"And... done!" Karina squealed, softly tucking an unwanted hair off your forehead. "Damn, you're so hot!" The girl made a 'cat claw' with her hands teasing as you stand in front of the full-body mirror across her room.

You were wearing a red mini dress that has a perfect cut-out on your solar plexus, partnered with a stylish necklace and simple earrings. The color made your hair and sultry makeup stand out.

Yes, you look good and you'll give karina and ryujin a thumbs up for helping you with the right make-up and dress but also, you can't help but cry inside when the skirt would slide up when you walk making your hands automatically pull it down again.

Ryujin slaps your hands, "No! No touching the dress, I'm not gonna let you slouch all day just because you wanted it to be below the knee length"

"It keeps riding up!" You pouted, "It's helping you get a dick tonight by practically displaying your ass" Ryujin replied before clicking her tongue, "Just let it slide the hell it wants, you look fine. Dang, you look so good, girl!" She added before pulling the three of you outside with the taxi waiting.

The bar was loud and dark. It has a bright light flashing in every direction and was packed with people. As the three of you walk towards the tunnel, the loud music slowly become prominent, the same with people greeting the girl you're with. "Karina!" Some guy called that she just responded with a kiss, "Who's this?" He asks looking at your figure up and down. "I didn't know we have a new meat coming up"

"You'll taste it if it wants to be eaten later so watch out but for now, we're here for a girl's night out and no boys are allowed" Karina responded for you, slightly pushing the guy out of the way and pulling both you and ryujin inside. Karina's action made you sigh in relief, you were getting uncomfortable at the guy's stare. It felt like he was stripping you naked. Will you be able to pull this off?

"How are we supposed to talk?" You talk loudly at ryujin's ears which made her laugh. "Just relax and have fun, y/n. Let it all out, just relax" She said patting your back before giving you a drink that karina ordered before.

"Have this... hope this helps you calm down" And she's right, you indeed got calm as the sweet taste of the cocktail hit your tongue. A little while and you were downing drinks after drinks. You even pulled your friends into the dance floor yourself, you were indeed having fun. In fact, too much fun.

It was just a cocktail, but you down a sweet cocktail into a shot of tequila real quick. And no, you're not drunk and you know it. You still know what you're doing, still, know what you're saying, and can still process what is happening around you. It's just that you were far more relaxed than the first time you walked through the entrance of this bar.

As you dance with your friends on the dancefloor, your eyes thoughtlessly linger on the second floor where the VIP rooms are located. And there you saw a man in a full expensive suit that perfectly fit and hug his body— standing on the veranda just in front of the stage where the dancefloor was located. He has a drink in his left hand while the other was tucked away in his pocket. You don't know if you're seeing this clearly but you swore, you saw him looking down directly at you. The man was sipping on his cup, hooded eyes still looking at you, watching you like a hawk observing its prey.

You want to blame it on alcohol, you were getting brazen and you like it. If it's true that the mysterious man WAS really looking at you then you have to give him a show, right?

And so you started to dance more sensually, feeling yourself like there's no tomorrow, even biting your lips. It was a bonus that an equally sexy song played at the right time. That made your hips unconsciously grind, making your friends hype you up even more. The time you look up again, the man was gone. Not a single person was standing on the second floor. The man suddenly vanishing in your eyes made you feel disappointed but didn't let it ruin your fun. Now, that's your main agenda, aside from hunting for a dick, of course.

When the song finished, you excused yourself from the dance floor to fetch yourself a drink. Well, that goes your social battery. It finally hit zero and right now, you need ice-cold water to help with your burning body. You walked towards the counter and requested your drink. Enough with the dance, now, all you want to do is drink in peace.

Which men never really understand. The whole time you were there, a handful of guys try giving you their company but you politely turn them down, not giving them a chance to see through you even though you can feel the liquor slowly hitting your senses. Your eyes unconsciously traveled towards the second floor where the reticent man was standing before. The rooms look expensive plus there are bouncers standing at the entrance of the stairwell.

If that man was real, then he was surely loaded. Lucky.

Your mind woke up when there was a shout coming from the other side of the bar. A fight just broke out and they were causing a scene. You don't know why but your head turns again towards the stairs going upstairs to the VIP rooms. The bouncers who were standing there before were now gone, maybe to assist with the fight.

Your lips slowly curved upward, feet straightly walking towards the stair and onto the second floor. There's a series of rooms and you took your time looking inside each of them. Finally, you reached the room at the far corner of the hallway. You were about to pull the lever handle when you noticed it was not closed, the door was just slightly agape and music was coming inside.

You slowly push it open and see a man in a suit sitting on the couch with papers on his hands. There are a few bottles of liquor on the table. Wine, Champagne, beer; you name it and it'll be there.

The man quietly looks at you, still waiting for your next move. You didn't know if this is the same man you saw earlier. But one thing is for sure, he is handsome: aura never failed to make your skin shiver.

As a career woman, him sitting expensively on the couch with a folder in his hands, while wearing black specs and a watch was so hot to see. It made your mouth water. It was as if the man was a blessing from the heavens and you really like him.

Your mouth can't help but release a giggle at the thought before finally letting yourself in and closing the door with your weight, your fingers turning their locks.

Maybe it was the alcohol, the liquor in your system was making you bold... making you brave as if you were in an illusion. You were in a perception that you mostly can do anything at this point.

You started walking in his direction, the man raise his brow, throwing the paper at the table not really caring if it got wet before shifting his position. His arms were now resting at the top of the couch as he manspread. Damn, he's so sexy.

His exorbitant suit really matched this place. The warm light that elucidates some parts of the room made his skin glow. He was so perfect, his eyes are soft but his thick eyebrows make them narrow and his hair... his perfect black hair slicked back completed his look.

He's a 10, a heaven on the place called Earth. You wanted him that's why you finally did the sole purpose of why you're here.

You approach his face and the manly fragrance immediately hit your senses, he smells good almost like a sophisticated noble. "You... I really like you" Your fingers seductively played with his tie before tugging it harshly closer to you, "Can you take my virginity... please?" Your voice drawled, staring intently into his eyes so that you can even see them mirror your lines.

It didn't go unnoticed on your sight the way his adam's apple bobbed, it made you release a snarky smile. "I believe you're drunk, miss" He coughed trying to compose himself and he didn't fail. The vulnerability you saw earlier fade almost immediately at the same time you noticed it.

"Too bad... I can clearly see you being turned on" You pouted, eyes gesturing at the forming tent on his pants; his eyes trailing behind.

"And, are you sure I'm drunk?"

"Well, are you?" He asks, the low tone of his voice making your skin shiver. You shake your head, smirking at him before grabbing a half-empty bottle of champagne and taking a drink of it. Oblivious, at the pair of eyes who are watching you with so much amusement.

"So..." You crawled on top, straddling him. Your lips can't help but smirk when you feel him jutting out his legs more for you. "Will you do me?"

"Don't need to tell me twice, kitten" His lips crashed with yours. Both lips molded perfectly with each other, and his teeth tugged at your lower rim demanding an entrance. The sudden stipulation made you smile in between your kiss and the way he deepens it made you think that he can't get enough of you.

The man pulled off from the kiss, heavy eyes setting on you while his hands feel your legs. "Come with me" He whispered leaving a butterfly kiss on one of your shoulders.

He gently pushes you off his lap before pulling you outside. There's another door aside from the one you use to get in, the said door was connected to a hallway where a modern elevator was waiting at the end of it. The two of you get inside and the man didn't waste the chance to once again entangled your bodies. He traps you on one of the corners, closing the space between the two of you with his body.

His lips immediately found yours, groaning when your lips caught him openly. Your arms can't help but unconsciously snake to his neck from the spur of the moment. He grabs your right leg, attaching it to his hips grinding himself on your clothed pussy

'Ding!' The elevator opened at its designated floor. The man pulled you again until both of you stops in front of a room. He snake his hands on his pocket, you noticed something black like a card. It must be a key card since he swipe it before the door automatically opens.

He pulled you in again before closing the door with your weight, kissing you hard again as if it was the first time he ever tastes you. The man scopes you up, both of your legs on either side of his body as both of you kiss like there's no tomorrow.

He put you on the bed, his hands tugging on his tie before pulling it off while his eyes set on you the whole time. You felt your pussy throb. How can someone be so hot just from pulling their tie off?

"Are you really sure about this?"

You didn't answer but nodded instead, the man shook his head. "I need your words, baby" His hands felt your cheeks, tucking your hair on your right ear. You hummed while closing your eyes to feel his tender touch, "I want you to take me" You finally said looking straight into his eyes.

"Just kiss me." And he did. He kisses you just how you like it, just how he likes it. It was as if he wants to devour you whole and you love it.

The man attacks your neck pulling you closer to him while leaving open mouth kisses on the way to your clothed chest. He was an expert, he made you lose your mind with his touch that you didn't even feel his fingers untying the strings from the back to loosen your shoulder strap.

He released a shaky breath at the sight of your bare breast. You felt his hot breath on your nipples and they almost immediately got hardened making him chuckle. His hands started massaging your front, followed by his mouth where his tongue played with your nipple, teeth bitting with your tits that made you lose your mind.

You felt his hands slowly traveling southward until he felt the wet spot on your panties caused by him. He didn't waste time and set the string of your thong aside then plunged a finger inside you that made you moan.

"Didn't even need to lubricate you on how wet you are, princess. So wet just because of me" He said, mouth and finger going back from to torturing both your tits and hole.

Your moan gets louder when he adds another finger and then another. "Fuck... ah!"

"Jay..." He suddenly said still pleasuring you.

"W-hat?"

"Moan my name" You don't know how your brain processed it but you nod. So his name was Jay? This a distinctive way of exchanging names but you love it

Jay eyes all your reaction as he torments you in pleasure. His hands didn't just go in and out but also up and down, even circling his fingers as if he was tickling the deepest part of you.

It didn't take long before the pleasure spreads across your body, the feeling of pleasure from his mouth and fingers mixing into a big pressure inside your stomach. You were practically screaming his new-learned name from pleasure and he was letting you. Even felt him smiling from your skin as you emphatically close your eyes.

"I- ah! gonna... cum! Jay!" You shouted feeling his pace becoming faster than before, making your back arches and head was thrown back at the bed. With one last cry of his name, you finally cum. Jay's fingers ride your high while you motionlessly lay on your back, mind still blown from the orgasm.

Jay lay beside you, his clothed erection brushing on your legs as he did. "You alright?"

You sighed before nodding just looking at the white ceiling, "That was... wow" a chuckle came out of your lips before looking at him. Jay was resting his head on his hands as he lay on his side while looking down at you, "One thing is for sure..." His brow rose, wordlessly telling you to continue. "I'm definitely not drunk"

Both of you chuckled, and you can't help but to stare at him. He really is beautiful. Your eyes gaze on his pants, "Aren't we going to take care of that?" You ask as you felt Jay eyes his erection.

"I don't know, will you?"

Is he challenging you? He didn't even know how you love challenges. You smirked pushing him to lay on his back that made jay smile in amusement, "Definitely" You took the chance to straddle him again, your bare chest giggling at the sudden movement.

Jay's dick was exactly underneath your pussy making you sigh in relief. The adonis sit up crashing his lips to you while you take off his suit then unbutton his polo and finally his well-toned body is displayed in front of you. "Like what you see?" He asks, brow raising at you.

You scoffed playfully, "And what if I do?"

And, that's the last thing you remembered before passing out and finally waking up in bed in the same room you and the man named 'jay' practically devoured each other out. You don't remember anything after you blacked out, and you're not certainly sure if you really took care of Jay's err— problem but one thing you are sure of is that you didn't get laid, well, in terms with penetration, that is.

You enjoyed the night, that's for sure. So, you waited for Jay. You waited for the man who made you see stars the night before but no one came. You also tried finding some notes or any message he might have left but nothing. Jay must've got turned off after you passed out on him last night. Oh well, life goes on. You can't really do something about it even though you're dying to see him again to try to make it up for how he made you feel. But then again, you have a reputation to maintain and so, you prepare yourself to go to work.

"Is it true that Chairman Park's grandson is finally here after years of managing our western branch?"

"Maybe? I'm just hoping he's hot— ah, good morning, sunbae!" it didn't go unnoticed to your ears on how the woman's voice raised a little higher before both of them bowed to you as a respect when you step inside the elevator. You're not a strict superior and have your own issue to resolve so you just dismissed them after returning a simple smile and a bow.

"Oh, so you're alive. We thought you were dead and got your organs sold over the black market." That's the first thing your co-worker, karina asked as soon as you pulled the glass door to step inside. You stared at her dumbfounded, mouth slight agape. "Not gonna let me sit first are you?"

The woman stared and is hot on your heels as you make your way on your own table to put your things down. You're not looking at Karina but you can feel how she rolled her eyes when you purposely do your own thing a little bit slowly to make your friend suffer a little bit. You know how she hates slow people.

You heard her huff a quiet laugh, still waiting for you as she rest both her arms on the lining that made your table's wall separator.

After making yourself comfortable sitting on your swivel chair, you finally look up to Karina; a teasing smile on your lips when you saw your friend's ticking patience.

She exhaled air, "So, what happened? We got so worried when we didn't saw you last night, even you're phone is off-" You quietly showed her your dead phone in which she just nodded. "Ryujin even thought someone kidnapped you" Well... that's not completely wrong, isn't it?

"I'm still alive and kicking as you can see, rin. And, I'm sorry about my lines not being open. I know you two are worried. Don't worry, this will never happen again."

"Fine... so what happened? Did you finally lost your virginity?"

"No"

"What?"

And so you tell the things that happened this morning, leaving all the details about the stunt you and jay pulled last night.

"So, you met this guy who brought you to a hotel room upstairs, blacked out and then that's it? Are you sure he didn't do something to you?" Karina asked, worried glazed over her voice.

You nodded before answering 'yeah', "I still have my clothes on and I don't feel anything wrong with my body."

"Well, that's good. I'm relieved nothing bad happened to you." She sighed, "So, what's the plan?"

You were about to say something when Ryujin ran inside hugging you, "Y/n! What happened? Are you alright?" Her hug was suffocating. This made you tap her, "Tigh—t!" She immediately pulled away whispering a soft 'sorry'.

"I'm alright, no need to worry, ryu."

"Okay, but that's not the only reason why I ran here. I heard that..." The girl signals for her hands to make you and karina scoot closer. "I heard that the chairman's son was here today and that he'll manage the company from now on." Ryujin whispered making Karina nod.

"Nothing new? I just heard about that in the elevator on my way here"

"That's cheating—"

"Everyone to the assembly hall, now!" One of the seniors announced after knocking on the glass, not even bothering to make his whole body go inside the door.

"What is it now?" Karina whispered but started walking towards the elevator otherwise. "Maybe we'll know whether the gossip about chairman park's son is true or not." You shrugged.

You, together with the other employees arrived at the hall not long after to finally take your respective seats. It was full and all the other high end members of the board were there too. "Something's big is coming" Ryujin whispered on your side that made you nod as you waited for the program to start.

"President Park Jongseong will now start his inauguration speech" Said the speaker as the crowd erupted in applauses as two young men entered the venue from the side before walking towards the stage. "President? Woah. He's our new boss." Karina whispered but you didn't care. Your eyes pinned on the man who was now in front of the center podium.

That's...

"Thank you for your warm welcome—" You can't hear what he's saying but you didn't remove your gaze at him. He's jay, right? The one who— wait. Is he looking over here?

You immediately lowkey covered your face and looked down when you realized he did. You're hoping he didn't see you at all. Hell, you're a few meters away from the stage. You're even sitting at the very end row of the chairs. There's no way he saw you.

Shit. You cursed realizing the weight of your actions. You just made your new boss finger you last night. The worst of it is that you even blacked out in front of him. You're fucked, Sim Y/n. You are fucked!

The speech address finished in line without fail or disturbance. Jay didn't even look over your way again much to your relief. After the speech was finished, the new president thanked the board members and immediately left saying he still had things to prepare for and that's the last thing you see 'Jay' today. It was as if nothing happened between the two of you and that he forgot about your existence.

After the event, things got back to normal. Aside from him being the sole topic of your office mate's conversation, nothing new reminds you about the man who does you good that turns out to be your new boss. That's why you're convinced that things finally ended. Well, that's what you thought.

"Y/n, are you sure you don't need us to wait for you?" Ryujin asked standing behind your chair, karina on the side. "No, really. I'm fine. Another slide and I'll finish this presentation then I'll go home. Don't let me take your time to relax." You replied smiling at them. They were convinced and so they finally left you.

It's early in the evening and you bet you're the last person on the floor. Not that you despised it. The presentation was due next week but you have the energy to finish it and so you did. You just wanted to spare yourself another workload next week.

After printing the last page, you decided to call it a day. You were about to ride the elevator when someone called you from behind. You look over your shoulder before turning around and finally met by an unknown guy explaining the unfamiliar voice that called you just now.

"Yes? Can I help you?" You politely asked, "One of the board members asked for you."

Board member? Me? That's weird. You thought you were the only person left.

"I understand, Mister...?"

"Kim. Kim Sunoo." He answered, smiling before starting to walk to show you the way.

"Sorry, I just don't recall seeing you around here." You explained looking at the back of his head. You heard Sunoo chuckled, "Well, we're new here, Ms. Sim."

We? But your confusion was resolved when you heard someone knocking but saw it was Sunoo. "Park sajang, miss sim is here."

Wait, park sajang? Your eyes got wide before looking at sunoo who just signal for you to come inside. Now, that you took a good look at him, you realize that sunoo's the same man you saw earlier at the assembly hall. The one who stands behind Jay, the chief secretary of this company.

"Miss Sim..." You woke up in daze when you heard his voice again. You didn't even realize that sunoo finally opened the door for you. And after contemplating things, you finally took a step inside.

The room was quite dark but well lit with the warm lights shining on the side. The wide glass window overseeing the city lights while a man, you knew was Jay, had his back turned to you while sitting on his table.

No one talked. The silence was suffocating at least, for you. Time finally came where you can't take it anymore and finally braved yourself to say something.

"You called for me, President Park?" You asked trying your best not to sound nervous.

The man stopped on whatever he was doing before finally facing you still sitting on his table with a folder on his hand.

"Sunoo" He called.

"Yes, Mr. Park?" Sunoo immediately answered from the other side of the door. I thought he left.

"I can take it from here, you can leave." You heard a 'yes, sir' before hearing the sound of steps finally fading.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Sim?"

You didn't look at him straight, just keeping your eyes on the floor. You heard him chuckled in low tone. That's sexy. "Now, where is that feisty woman i met last night, hmm kitten?"

"What?" You heard him right. You knew what he meant but your mind is currently blanked.

What's going to happen to you now? Will you get fired? Will you be homeless?

"Ms. Sim..." He called again making you look at him. He started walking towards you. You wanted to run or hide, whatever it is but you felt your body froze. Jay is now a few steps away from you. No suit in sight, just his white simple polo partnered with black slacks, two buttons unbuttoned causing his tan chest showing a little bit to tease. His sleeves were neatly folded up to his elbow wearing simple black bracelet while a glass adorned his eyes surely to read the files earlier. He looks so neat, elegant and... fucking sexy that you can't help but think how he'll look if you he decided to defile—

NO! What the heck are you thinking, Y/n?!

"I'm asking how you feel about last night..." Jay suddenly pulled you closer by your waist making you gasped, your hands automatically touching his shoulder and back for support. "How will you feel about picking up what you started last night?" Jay whispered in your ears and you swear you shivered, goosebumbs spreading on your skin. The only thing running on your mind is how you love to kiss him.

Oh fuck it! You thought before clashing your lips with him.

Jay greeted you with the same desire, playing with your tongue as both of you moan in pleasure.

"This is the office, Mr. Park." You whispered in between kisses. "I know," He replied leaving marks on your neck, "I just can't help it knowing I might lose you again."

"You won't. I promise."

Jay then looked straight in your eyes before kissing your forehead. "Let's get out of here."

Things happened so fast that you didn't even realize how the two of you got down towards the parking lot and into Jay's car. He immediately started the engine before driving away. Jay drove over the hills away from the traffic that explains why the drive felt like a blink of an eye.

You just saw yourself looking at Jay as he parked inside a huge house with an automatic gate that opened itself when his car stopped in front of it.

"Wait here" Your brain didn't have enough time to register his words when Jay jogged towards your side of door, opened it and started picking you up like a newly wedded bride.

"What—! Sir, I can walk."

"Sorry, can't help it" He whispered even though it's evident in his voice that he's not really sorry for the stunt. "And, that's Jay to you. We're not in the office anymore, Y/N."

How did he know your name? Oh, he's your new boss. It's not surprising if he did know basic information about you who's one of his employee. And with that, you simply nodded as Jay ascended the stairs and into a room. He gently puts you to bed as he connects his lips with yours. "Can't run now, kitten."

"I don't have the plan anyway" You replied, removing his polo, yours being the next one to join the pile of clothing on the floor. Jay started kissing your neck on the way to your chest where his skilled hands remove your brassiere in one swift move. He then continued his ventures southward kissing your stomach before removing your office skirt together with your lacey panties completely.

He spread your legs making you shiver in pleasure. Just the thoughts of the things he'll do to you is making you turned on, what more if he finally does it.

"Relax, kitten." He said before diving through your folds earning a moan from you. "J-jay! Ugh!" Fuck, he's eating you so good that your hands can't help but tugged his hair. Your moans got louder when his tongue focused on your clit before adding two fingers on your hole practically eating and fingering you like there's no tomorrow.

He can feel that you're close even if you won't say it or... don't have the ability to say it. You were far up to the stars and he will happily take you there. And just like what you want, a knot is slowly building in your stomach, the pleasure was so good that you finally started to let go following with moans.

Jay hummed on your pussy, riding your pleasure like a good man that he is. Keeping his pace unturned as it sends waves of pleasure throughout your whole body making you breathless.

You felt jay checking on you, ensuring you're comfortable enough as if he didn't just made you lose your mind using only his mouth and fingers a few minutes ago. "You okay? I'll do it now" He asked, innocently. You simply nod, still catching your breath that the man took away.

"Shut up... and, just do me" The man chuckled kissing your lips then pulling away to remove his belt and pants to finally show his hardness.

You propped up through your elbows, "Are you sure that'll fit?" Jay laughed at your worried yet amazed face. "So cute!" He crawled on top of you, "Don't worry, I'll make it less painful, love." You felt him spreading your legs further using his, and he felt how you tensed causing him to kiss you again.

Jay used his hand to run his cock up and down spreading your wetness and hitting your clit on the process. The stunt made you relax that he used to his advantage.

He suddenly thrust, fully. "Fucking shit! You-you're so big, Jay" You cursed feeling the pain on your lower body causing you to push yourself up.

Jay shivered on what you said, hugging your body trying not to fuck you mindlessly. "C-lose... shit, you're so tight" He can feel your hotness. It's making him lose his mind. This is better than heaven itself. You are better than life can offer to him.

"You can move now..." And, he did. No need to tell him twice. He started experimental thrust before picking up his pace when he felt you finally feeling it as your moans became louder, breaths becoming deeper and words becoming more lewd.

"Ugh! Shit, Jay. Yes! There!" You screamed scratching his back voluntarily spreading your legs to make him thrust deeper.

"I'm gonna... J-jay..." You whispered to him. Slapping of skin, moans and grunts filled the room. You were practically screaming all the pleasures, eyes shut tight.

"Cum inside. It's fine."

Jay didn't answer but the way his dick twitched inside let you know he understands. "Cum with me, love" He groaned, hastening his thrust, with one last curse both of you cum together painting your inside with thick white.

Both of you didn't move, still chasing your breaths, trying to recover from the waves of pleasure that's still running through your bodies.

"Don't move..." You whispered on his ears. You felt him kissed your cheeks, "So, this is your newfound kink. You want me to breed you?"

"Will you?"

"Don't mind me if I do." You both laughed, "I need to clean you though." And, you let him. Jay slowly pulled away from your hole making you gasped. You immediately felt the warm and thick cum sliding through your inner thighs and into the bed.

He wear his boxer again before disappearing to one of the room that you deemed as the bathroom. You took the time to slowly sit up looking at the evidence of your purity, and there it is the red stain that looks kind of prideful in your opinion.

When jay came again, he got some towels and a basin on his hands. "What? Can't believe that you just lost your virginity to me?"

"Yes, and no. I don't regret it at all. It's just that... that you're my boss." You replied, shyness taking toll on your system that you tried to hide by laying down and closing your eyes again.

The next thing you felt is a warm towels that jay is using to clean your body, "You alright?"

It feels so nice that you just answered with a hum.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure"

"What are we?"

You felt the towel stopped as if he was also thinking but then it continues, "Depends om what you want. Just remember that I like you"

You opened your eyes to look at him, "Like me... you mean?" He nodded, "But, how? I mean, we just met yesterday night."

"Maybe to you. I know you since the first time I worked at the company. We're both an intern that time. Dad asked me to go work by disguise to let me learn about the company" Jay explained slowly and when your brain process his words, you unconsciously sit up making you hiss and making jay groaned, uttering a simple 'careful'.

"Wait so you're jongseong? The jongseong that we don't even know the last name since you don't have an ID and you wont tell us."

He chuckled before nodding, "There even a time that you doubted me whether I truly worked at the company before." Jay then helped you wear one of his clothes to make you further comfy.

"You just vanished, I thought you're not real."

"Dad made me managed the business overseas. It took me three years to come back again. Last night, I can't believe I'll see you again just a day after I came back. You didn't chang, except that you became more beautiful, but other than that, you're still the woman that I admired. You danced truly enjoying yourself not for the other people and that's when I realized that you're the same person I want to see." Oh, so his the same person that observing me from the second floor yesterday. Jay cleaned himself then lay beside me, he covered both our bodies in the duvet before pulling me closer. I turned around to face him, I want to see him closer.

"I was planning to surprise you at work the next day, not as the president though." He continued, tucking some of my stubborn hair. "But then, imagine the shocked my body went through when you told me to take you. Seriously, my mind went blank. I can't... I am relieved that you walk to me and not another men."

"Whatever it is. Just remember that I like you, and I wanted to know more about this feelings. We can take it slow, I can wait. Just let me have the chance to prove myself to you" You smiled, you can feel that he's genuine and trying to walk on eggshells around you trying not to scare you.

You put your hands on his nape, closing your eyes. "Okay, let's do that."

#enhypen #enhypen smut #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #enhypen ff #enhypen x reader #enhypen au #adiwrites

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gay4abby · 6 months

Note

TW: sh — If you’re not comfortable with this no worries but I was wondering if you would write a Jordan li x fem reader fic where they are kinda rivals (like reader is a total academic overachiever and just gets on Jordan’s nerves) but then Jordan finds her in the bathroom or somewhere after/while she self harmed/cut herself and realizes that they have to stop being an asshole for a second and help her and just the realization that they don’t know everything that goes on in people’s lives.

Been Something More …

warnings, huge self harm warning, angst, anger outbursts, attempted sexual assault. pairings, jordan li x reader. requests r open, it takes me a minute to get thru them tho so i do value ur patience ‹𝟥 hope u enjoyyyy

12:15pm

If there’s one thing you know you absolutely love doing is pissing off Jordan Li. Number one at something was instilled in you since birth, it didn’t convenience Jordan in anyway. The rush of being better at something too good of a drug they could give up coke. Jordan was the one you always have to one up, the one where if they’re good at welding you have to be fantastic at it. Where Jordan’s ranking is number three, yours is number two. Essentially you guys are always neck and neck with each other and it irritates Jordan to no end. There hasn’t been a day at God U where they felt like they were on top because you were always there to kick them down a notch.

It wasn’t always like this, though. When you and Jordan first met, you were both wide eyed freshmen’s that were hoping to get into crime fighting school, get under Brink’s good graces and possibly make it to the 7. You had that dream, but you always felt like you weren’t enough for it. No one needed to know that though, not even Jordan. Little did you know Jordan felt the same way. Anyone who had the same aspirations as you had to know their place. General requirement classes were on every freshman’s time table and you found yourself in the same class as the timid teen.

They barely spoke a word to you as you sat next to each other. You noticed their fingers pulling at one another underneath the table, but had the straightest face to anyone who can see. It was applaudable, but you tried not to make it shown that you were watching them. Jordan carried an air of confidence, your body tense, mouth tightly shut. Unnoticed by Jordan. It was a wonder how you guys are the way you are today, constantly fighting and bickering when just freshmen year you didn’t think you could outshine someone like Jordan. The yearn of a hollow heart where it once was filled with a brief friendship from you and Jordan, you really don’t know where it went wrong.

You passed out flyers, enthusiastic energy blooming from you as you engaged with the students who passed by the courtyard of the fourth quad on campus. The housing system always confused you when you first started out, your understanding of it coming from a rival. You felt his eyes bore into you, your smiling almost fading, the lull feeling of wanting to crawl away somewhere and die was welcomed. As much of a front you put up, it always felt demeaning when Jordan would turn their nose down on you.

You used to yearn for them to look at you lovingly only for it to be squashed like a child’s dream of being a mythical creature. “Vote for ____ for Student Council President! Justice is an action that deserves traction. Wouldn’t you want your voice to be heard?”

“Yeah, your future president will make sure all your needs are met. A vote for them is a vote for universal accessibility!” Your choice for your team was all your best friends idea and by the outcome of those accepting pins and proudly placing them on their attire, you knew you were in good hands. Almost all of the flyers that were in your hand were tossed out on to the floor, the aggressiveness of the impact alerting you of who it was. Your own attitude began bubbling underneath the surface, turning your body with a strained smile on your glossed lips. Jordan’s smug look made you breathe heavily, free hand fist curling slowly as you pulled it behind your back.

Seeing them was one thing, knowing they were another one of the candidates was another.

They were the last thing you wanted to see, but going to God U, being amongst the top five, it was fucking inevitable. “Watch where you’re going, I would hate it if someone would to hurt that pretty face,” it was malicious. Like inkling on a threat and it had you wondering if they were serious or not because it was always hard to tell with Jordan. Your jaw clenched, the strain sending a beaming pain through your temples. Your nail dug into your palm. You’re sure it drew blood. “There’s nothing as insulting than being called pretty by you.” You spit back, the grind in your teeth at the last part causing Jordan’s smirk to turn in size that even you wondered how it didn’t fall off his face.

How you wished you could sear it off their face for it to never appear again. “You’re so fucking funny,” Jordan bit, long legs carrying them away from you as they walk backwards, giving you the bird before turning back around. How did it even come to this? At one point you genuinely thought that you both could be good friends, the kind that makes it out of university and grow meaningful connections outside of yourselves that brings you closer together. You thought a lot of things about Jordan. You never thought you’d end up hating their guts.

The lot of you continued handing out flyers as your best friend kept a watchful eye on you from behind the table. It was unsettling succumbing to the thought of surrender, but for your sake, your best friend knew not to stir anything up when it came to Jordan, no matter how much she wanted to. Besides it wasn’t her place to say anything, she knew how you were and to cause anything to ruffle the waters was the last thing she wanted to do.

20:05 (8:05pm)

“So, the last of the flyers were passed out at the courtyard. Since the elections tonight we don’t need to make anymore. We have enough hanging on the bulletins around campus, so, we’re all set!” Everyone cheered as you all were gathered around in the small space that was reserved for the campaign meeting. The people on your team put in so much work — you almost felt like you were slaving them, but with reassurance from them that they volunteered to do this, you weren’t forcing them to do anything.

They knew you were the perfect candidate for president. And you were reminded of it constantly.

“I appreciate every single one of you for putting in all the hard work to make this campaign possible for me. I really couldn’t have done it without any of you,” it was so sincere that you teetering on crying almost. Waterlines slowly filling up. Prior to your life before Godlkin University, it wasn’t something you were automatically proud of; the sheer thought of a full house feeling vacant wasn’t something you can easily tell someone.

They’d think you’re being ungrateful, for gods sake.

You drowned out most of what everyone was saying. That dreadful feeling creeping slowly, wrapping around you like it wanted to cocoon you into a blanket of worry and self doubt. This was typical, especially in a moment of an achievement that you couldn’t imagine for yourself. You knew you were a shoo in for the win, but it didn’t matter how much you were sure, how high your confidence in the moment was; the one thing you knew for sure was the voice in the back of your mind. Way deep to the very crevice of your brain telling you something is going to go wrong. And when it’s right you never respond to it very well.

20:59 (8:59pm)

Everyone stood around their computers and tablets, monitoring the gradual progress of the ballots. You were nervous of course, but you knew. You knew you were going to win, you knew that you were going to be able to give a voice to those that didn’t have the same advantages most funded students did at this school. And you weren’t going to fuck it up for absolutely no one.

It was yours for the taking and you worked so hard for something you never had the opportunity to do in grade school. Only a couple more seconds before the lot of you found out it was you — there was a sudden high pitched sound that drowned out the countdown to the announcement, clammy hands touched your heated skin. Your throat felt tight, your smile tight and frozen as you tried to breathe. Everything was moving slow, you didn’t realise your name was being called until you were shook to reality. “Hey, it’s alright. It was a bust, but you were runner up if they’d–”

“I don’t need your backhanded pity,” you snapped, the expression on your face made her whimper and cower back as you took a strained breath. Your heart dropped way past your stomach, it was completely out of your body before they finished saying that wretched, nonsensical pest’s name. They were invading parts of your life that you were…fine with letting go, but the one thing you were looking forward to, knew that would be yours no matter what was stripped from you like clothes.

You felt like you were in a dream where you were in front of everyone in just your underwear. It was unraveling your mind to the point where you would do absolutely anything to be buried six feet under. “Let’s let loose and forget about tonight, huh? There’s a rager being hosted by Lambda Phi Epsilon…what better way to blow off some steam than to blow an actual steamer?” Layla’s voice pulled you back to reality. You turned your head in surprise weighing the option in your head. Gilmore Girls definitely was not a hot fuck. “If you can get me alone with Luke, I’ll make sure you have a years supply of Nature Valley granola bars.”

Layla squealed pulling you along and out of the dorm to get the both of you ready for an unforgettable night.

22:30 (10:30pm)

On campus parties aren’t something you frequented to for pass time. Mainly because you didn’t care for that. Partially because you knew you’d see Jordan there and their face alone can ruin an entire week for you. But tonight? Tonight you weren’t going to allow anything or anyone to ruin your night of fun. Carefree, brute fun without any sort of supervision. You earned it, you deserve it. Layla was nowhere to be found, failure on her end to hook you up with Golden Boy. But that’s okay since you were nursing your eighth…ninth drink? You kind of lost count after the round of shots Elliot brought over for everyone standing around the island.

The room was divided into twos, doubles of everything showing up in your vision but you couldn’t care less. The only thing that mattered was getting another drink in your system to make it all blur into one. You stumbled around in the kitchen, grabbing a red solo cup and stumbling again towards the keg. Your unawareness of eyes following you left you open for any random party goer to warp you into their grasp. “Whoops! So…rry!” Your giggles filled the air as you dropped to your knees after almost knocking over a passerby while trying to regain balance again. You were pumping the keg trying to get the beverage through, unsuccessfully pouring any beer into your cup.

“Aw, don’t pout. Look I got you.” A smooth voice rang through your ears before you even register it. You looked up a dazed expression on your features, moving over a bit to give him some room. The stranger grabbed your cup, pumping the keg until it spewed out more beer into your cup, your hands coming together to aggressively clap at the revelation. “You did it! How’d you do that?” Your words slurred as his hand grabbed you underneath your armpit to help you stand up and to give you your drink. You held on to him, he was broad and tough to the touch; you couldn’t even remember the last time you felt up a guy.

His hands slyly made its way around your hips, pulling you close to him as he practically carried you away from the scene in the kitchen. Everyone around you was unaware of the two of you, drunk or high off their asses. You were unaware of the situation at hand too, you had no idea who this guy was, but because you were unsuccessful in bedding Golden Boy — despite him having a girlfriend. You’d admit you were even willing to do a little home wrecking if meant getting destroyed by his golden dick.

But the one you were practically hanging off of would have to do. The red solo cup barely made it to your lips before it was pushed out of your hand, a whine escaping you as you carried up the stairs of the overflowing frat house. “My drink…we have to get another!” The guy could barely hear you, nodding along anyway as he continued to drag you up the stairs. You were growing antsy due to the alcohol in your system slowly fading away, but the haziness was still there. “It’s alright I’ll get you another one soon, baby.”

It was fleeting, the way he said it, like he just wanted you to shut up. You didn’t take it this way, though. You could barely understand what was going on around you. A cheer was heard from downstairs, but it soon became muffled as you heard a door shut. The clink sound rebounded on deaf ears. “This isn’t where are – the drinks aren’t… Where…” It was slurred. The guy had you leaning against a wall, hands roaming around the region below your stomach. You hummed, head lolling off to the side.

Everything around you was muffled, the guy talking to you, the music outside the room, the sudden banging on the door that the guy tried to ignore. “We’re busy!” He yelled before going back to you, how’d you get to the bed? You were motionless underneath him and he didn’t seem to care at all. You didn’t hear anything until you came back to reality to the commotion unfolding in front of you. “You don’t see they’re wasted out of their mind? What the fuck, dude?” The guy was shoved back into the nightstand, the lamp toppling over. Your eyes connected with Jordan’s tall stature, the aggressiveness of his push causing the guy to grow red in the face.

“Fuck you, man! They were practically jumping my bones, they wanted it!”

He didn’t even get the chance to stand up straight enough before Jordan landed a clean one on his cheek. With the way his body swung to the side, he was going to be out cold for a week. Fury wouldn’t be able to describe the feeling gorging from within you, “What the fuck, Jordan! You asshole, you’re such an asshole!”

“I’m the asshole? Sorry for fucking saving you from getting raped by the fraternity fiend! Do you realise who you were just with?” You scoffed as you tried to push him back, but being unable to due to his rigid form. “You had no right! I wanted to him to fuck me!”

“Right, so then you can go cry about it and tell everyone who will listen just how fucked your life is! ‘Oh poor ol’ ____, I was taken advantage off while I was drunk off my ass. Why does bad things always happen to me? Why am I such a fuck up that nothing can ever go right?’” Your heart couldn’t even drop from your chest because it was gone the minute it was announced that Jordan won the elections. You felt like eating yourself alive the way a snake does when depressed. You wanted to be nonexistent in a world that was never in your favour. So, Jordan was right. To you, he was right.

“You took everything from me, you know that? I just wanted this one thing and you took that too.” It was barely even a whisper, you shoved your shoulder against Jordan’s as you stumbled your way out of the room. “Where the fuck are you going? You’re not going home by yourself.”

“Of course I’m fucking not! Contrary to popular belief, I can come to a party responsibly and have a buddy when leaving!” You didn’t even give Jordan another chance to stop you before you slammed the door close, making haste to text your sober buddy to meet you outside. One fuck up after the other and you couldn’t even have a night of reprieve to drown your sorrows in liqueur for losing. This was the worst night of your entire life.

03:45am

Sobering up after the unfortunate events that occurred at the party made you pity yourself. Although Jordan was right, having them as your saviour left a horrid taste in your mouth. It was all hitting you at once. Sitting in your dorm room in the dark could do that to you. Streaks of tears stained your cheeks. You’ve been sitting in the same spot your sober buddy had put you in for three hours. Makeup still caked on your face but it was old looking now, the crying didn’t help it stay intact either, what a shock. The only way you were going to get rid of this feeling was a shower. And not just any typical shower.

The communal showers should be vacant during this time of night. Everyone either studying, partying or sleeping. You mustered up enough energy after crying for three hours straight to get up, strip yourself of your party clothes, grab your shower caddy and head off to the showers. You breathed a sigh relief after seeing no one was in here and you didn’t hear anything so you were in the clear making quick work of turning the shower on. You took the stall further down, away from the entrance so you could have some privacy.

It wasn’t something you were proud of doing, but it was something you knew that you needed to do to let yourself know that no matter what, the pain will always be there to comfort you. To mask what dreadful emotion you’re feeling so you can forget what it feels like. Fortunately for you, the showers had benches in them, it wasn’t hard for you to cut yourself because you were not about to sit on those communal shower floors. One slice and you hissed, the blood pouring from the open wound. You didn’t care to have the blood swirl from underneath the curtain because no one was there.

Or so you thought.

“Hey…uh…is everything okay in there?” You silently jumped at the voice that rang through the vacant occupied washroom. And it wasn’t just anyone’s voice. The soft, almost velvety tone would have comforted you at a time where you thought you were both friends. Now it just sends an unusual chill up your spine. “I see the blood. Are you okay?” They continued, hearing them move closer to the curtain. You couldn’t stay silent because they already knew someone was in here, plus the goddamn shower was on! “Everything’s fine, just, go away.”

Jordan called your name and it sounded concerned. Moving closer to the curtain, their delicate hand grabbed on to it, hesitating a little, “I’m going to open this, okay?” It made you jump up slightly, slipping on your foot and blood to collide with the floor. Jordan didn’t wait for an answer before opening the curtain to find you wet, naked and covered in your own blood. There was at least four cuts running down your inner thigh. The worry on Jordan’s face caused your heart to clench and you hurried to cover yourself with what little you had.

“What the fuck! Are you okay? Fuck,” she leaned down, the towel that was over her shoulder long discarded as they reached out to tug you up from your underarms. You didn’t have the energy to fight back, but that’s what losing blood tends to do to you. Jordan shut the water off after getting wet through their pyjamas. They sat you down with care on to the bench examining your thighs. You weren’t sure why they were making such a fuss over it, the both of you hating each other like your life depended on it.

“Why? What the fuck?” She looked at you with her big brown eyes and what shocked you the most was it wasn’t filled with the usually flaming hatred that you always saw. You couldn’t hold it in anymore and tears streamed down your cheeks once more. You let yourself go, the impact of the hit against the wall causing a pain to run through your skull. “Ow…”

“Come on, get up.” After reaching for your towel and securing it around you, she lifted you up from the bench and used all her strength in her female form to lug you out of the washroom.

04:27am

You didn’t expect to ever be in Jordan’s dorm room, let alone on their bed, naked, and getting patched up by Jordan! After you guys had fell off, anything remotely close to friendly activities seemed out of the ballpark for you and her. Literally impossible to be in the same room together. Who knew self harming was going to be the thing that brought you both back together?

It was silent for the rest of the time she spent covering up your wounds. You know for sure she saw the other healed over one’s, just littered across your thighs. You couldn’t read their face as they taped over the gauze, moving back to put away the first aid kit. The silence was killing you, you never realised just how much tension you both held until you were alone with them. The clattering of the kit being stored away was the only sound that rang through the room.

You can hear a pin drop if you so pleased.

You were still on their bed, wrapped in a towel and shivering slightly. Jordan took note of this and walked back to their closet to pull out a sweater and some sweats. Upon noticing, you jumped from the bed immediately stating that you should go. “I’m not leaving you alone just so you can hurt yourself again. You’re staying here for the night. Until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Any sane person would be able to tell you that,” Jordan said sternly. You both were in a state off now, eyebrows furrowing. Jordan had enough before they threw you the clothes, which you reluctantly caught. “Put them on. Now.” Without any further argument, you stripped yourself of the towel and slid the clothes on. They were warm and it smelled like her, too. You can’t remember the last time you even hugged Jordan. Wearing their clothes made you realise how much you missed them.

You sniffed as you fix the hem of the sweater. It was a little big on you, the sleeves covering your hands making them look like paws. Jordan hid their smile before walking over to her mini fridge to bring out a bottle of water and gummy bears. “Here.” You accepted, no questions asked. Silence rang through again. The only sound this time was the crackling of the plastic bag and your swallowing as you sat on the floor, Jordan in their desk chair. It was eating away at Jordan to ask why. She couldn’t imagine you feeling that way about yourself so much so to cut yourself.

She always saw you as someone who was resilient, didn’t back down. Never took no as an answer when it came to getting what you want. Jordan saw you as someone they always admired to be. Which made them realise that everyone has their own silent battles going on and that they should be kinder even if it is to a stranger. Even if it is towards you. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘How could you do this? Your life is perfect!’” Perfect came out of your mouth like it was a bad tasting pasta. “I never thought that.”

“You’re lying. I know you do.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling again and Jordan rushed over to sit beside you on the floor. The haribo wrapper was crushed in your fist as you tried to hold the tears back. It all came rushing out like word vomit, “You were my friend. You were the first person I connected with on campus. I came to this school with high hopes, but I didn’t come here thinking I was going to make an enemy out of someone I admire so much.

“You had no idea how much I looked up to you. How much I wanted to be apart of something I knew you were going to be apart of someday. You had it all. And I just wanted to be…I wanted us to be a paired equal,” you took a second to breathe which made Jordan cut in. “You didn’t use the past tense in admire…does that mean…”

“You fucking asshole. That’s your take away? How much I admired you?” Jordan stuttered a bit before answering you.

“No, that’s not. Fuck. No, I’m sorry. I mean. I admire you too and you don’t even realise.” That confused you. Jordan Li, ranking at number two on the charts, admires you? Someone who could never outmatch an opponent like Jordan admires you? And don’t even get me started on the fact that admire is in present tense, not past. “I’ve always thought you one of a kind. Someone my parents would love more than their own child. Granted I have other siblings, but they don’t count. You’re another Supe with incredibly unique powers. I couldn’t imagine going against someone like you.”

“So what’s with all the animosity for the past three years, Jordan?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t! I thought you hated me!” You exclaimed into the otherwise quiet room. It was baffling to find out that it was just a case of fucking miscommunication. And come to think of it, there wasn’t a significant event that happened between the two of you to cause such strife in your friendship. Jordan realised she needed to make amends. “Well, I didn’t. At least not all the time. And what I said earlier, it was uncalled for. It’s never your fault, I hope you know that.”

You nodded, “I know, but you were right. I probably would’ve just whined about it when I could’ve just said no.”

“No, don’t do that. You were intoxicated, barely in your right mind. It’s all his fault. Not yours,” you felt her hand slide into yours as she said this, squeezing it gently those wide brown eyes wouldn’t leave you for a second. “Can I also ask…”

“It’s something I’ve always done. Even before I came to God U. Growing up in a household like mine you find other ways to make yourself forget the on going torment from your parents,” you whispered, squeezing her hand back. You leaned over placing your head on her shoulder and she automatically wrapped her arm around you to pull you closer. “I’m sorry for not being there,” Jordan whispered, as if they said it any louder it would ruin the quiet moment the both of you have going on. “I’m sorry for not being there, either.”

“Promise me something?”

You nodded in agreement, “We will always have each other no matter what, who or when. I don’t want you to be a stranger again.”

“I promise.”

#jordan li x gn!reader #jordan li x reader #jordan li x you #jordan li x y/n #gen v x reader #gen v #gen v amazon #gen v jordan #gen v imagine #‹𝟥 requests

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rafferty3207 · 10 months

Note

omg I'm the anon who requested the jamie x reader neighbours fic and boy you delivered! fucking love it! can't wait for part 2

This is so lovely anon, I'm so glad you liked it!!! For you, I will deliver a part two with the caveat that I'm so sorry I got carried away and now it will be in three parts (sorry again), but the last part will be the finale!!! Anyway I present to you:

Too Good to Be True (part two)

read part one here

warnings: allusions to abuse, mention of anxiety/panic attack, daddy issues, two hopeless idiots flirting, a bit of angst at the end but worth it (sorry again)

A/N: I have nothing to add except this gif is not mine and has turned me feral

It’s been several days since you left your phone number and you are nervous.

You don’t get why you care so much.

It’s just Jamie, your annoying neighbour. Your annoying, but also extremely handsome neighbour. Your annoying, handsome neighbour who massaged your feet, and your legs, and almost your thighs and god you couldn’t think straight. You’d been able to get nothing done as you had spent the last few days just constantly replaying that evening in your head. And to make things worse, it turns out Annoying Handsome Jamie was in fact a very famous Premier League footballer. Who has also been caught having sex on TV. (Yes, you had binged the entirety of his Lust Conquers All series since that night, but that was neither her nor there.)

After almost a week you had given up. The exhibition was just under two weeks away and you hadn’t seen him in the garden or outside the house at all. He had probably come to the conclusion that you were both too weird and too normal for him and the only conclusion was move on with your life and forget his stupid sexy face ever existed, when you got a text.

u free tonight

Jxoxo

Of course, you wanted to play it cool. After all, you had spent the entirety of the week waiting for this message.

29 minutes and 59 seconds later.

I might be.

The phone immediately pings.

do u not know??

xoxo

Depends, what are you thinking?

thought u wanted a model

Xoxo

Of course, he was thinking about the painting. As you also definitely were. You were a professional artist. Almost.

What time?

ill come after the match

You spend your evening preparing and also perhaps figuring out an outfit that says 'casual bohemian artist that definitely doesn't care' while redoing your makeup twice. However, as the hours stretch on and on and on you are at the point of giving up and going to bed, when the doorbell finally rings.

You race down, before waiting a minute, quickly checking yourself in the mirror and pulling out your phone to pretend you had already been looking at something when you open the door.

But before you can pull the casual act, he walks right past you.

“Hello to you too, Jamie.”

He strides into your living room where the canvas is set up and immediately starts taking his clothes off.

“Woah, what do you think you’re doing there?”

“Er, I thought you were painting nudes?”

“Er no-” At this point his shirt has already come off and he’s starting to unbutton his trousers. Of course he is very toned, with tanned arms and neck where his football shirt has been. You feel the breath knocked out of your body, glimpsing the very top of his boxers as you struggle for words.. He looks at you confused. Eventually you stutter an answer. "K-Keep the trousers on, okay?”

“What should I do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do I pose, like?” You shrug.

“However you want to, Jamie.”

“I dunno what I want.” You sigh.

“You just need to stand there and look pretty.”

“Well I do that all the time, so.”

“Great. So just…keep doing that.”

Jamie smiles to himself.

“What is it?”

“So you do think I’m pretty?” He smirks at you. You fold your arms.

“What are you, a sixteen year old girl Jamie?” You start sketching. “Besides, you know what you look like.” You go back to drawing in silence. You swear you see his cheeks dust pink for a second before he ouffs his chest back out and smiles.

“Aren’t you going to ask if I think you’re pretty?”

You freeze.

“No, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m not sixteen. I am an adult woman and I don’t need random men for unsolicited affirmation, no matter how pretty they are.”

Jamie opens his mouth, before closing it again. Maybe that was a bit harsh, but what else could you say? Tell me how pretty you think I am Jamie. Or better yet, show me. I’m dying to know. You could practically feel the feminism leaving your body.

You dismiss these thoughts and get back to sketching. You can see Jamie is looking down and acting fidgety, swinging his arms.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” You walk over and plant your arms on his shoulders. He is surprisingly warm and firm to the touch, and you try not to blush. “Is it okay if I move you?”

He nods, surprisingly quiet. You turn him ever so slightly, before gently pushing him down onto your stool. As you move one of his (very muscly) arms, you swear you feel a slight tremor. Was he shaking? You step a little closer, a hand on his back.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Jamie.”

His face hardens.

“But I said I will, so I will.”

“But you don’t have to. Only do this if you want to.” You smile at him, and his face softens again.

“I do want to, trust me. It’s just been a long day.”

“Okay, but if you need to stop or take a break, just say the word.”

You step back to your canvas. You try to focus solely on the drawing, but every time he looks at you, you find your whole body heating up. Despite this, you steal glances anyway. He stares at you constantly, in a way that makes you feel stupid and giggly. Observing all the soft and hard lines of his body, you eventually start to notice small scars all over his body until you reach his hands. You don’t know why it took you so long to notice, but his knuckles are slightly bruised.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about your day.”

“Why? It was dead boring.”

“I don’t know. I find it helps me find the right mood.” You prepare your brushes. “You know, it tells me what colours to use.”

“Oh. I mean, nothing much happened.” He looks down at his feet. “I got up, went to play football, came here.”

“But why did you text me? Why today?”

“I dunno.” You sit in silence for a moment, as you mix the colours. “I mean, my dad came to the match.”

“Right.”

“Pulled his usual shit.”

“Usual shit?”

“Just being a complete dickhead.” You start painting.

“In what way?”

“Saying stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just the usual stuff.”

“You keep saying “usual” Jamie. I don’t think whatever he said is usual for most people.”

“What about your dad? He said that thing about you being a teacher right? Because you couldn’t paint or summat?” You put your brush down.

“Yeah he did say that. He says a lot of shit, none of which I would consider usual. Or at least it shouldn’t be.” You step off your chair and towards Jamie, reaching gently for his hand. “We don’t just have to take this shit, you know.”

“I don’t fucking take it!” He pulls away. You flinch back. He looks alarmed as he realises. “I should go.” He starts to walk out.

“Jamie, I didn’t mean to upset you -” You walk after him as he paces towards the door. He halts at the entrance.

“I’m not upset, I just - I came here because I didn’t want to think about my dad. When I’m with you, I never think about him. Or anything else, really.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.” Before you can reply, he runs off.

The next few days pass by. You send a few texts to Jamie, but no reply. The exhibition is only a couple of days away now, so you try to keep yourself busy. But his words won’t stop swirling in your head to the point you struggle to sleep. So you do what you always do: paint.

It’s not until one of these nights when you're up late at the canvas that you glance out of the window. Your heart stops. Someone is lying in Jamie's garden, very still. You dare to look closer. Is that..Jamie? He looks glassy eyed. He can't have...Without thinking, you run down.

"Jamie! Jamie!" Your heart is thumping in your ears so loudly you can't hear anything else. "Jamie are you okay?" You ask as you scramble to climb the fence. However just as you are almost over, you catch your foot, spectacularly falling over it into the bushes. You hear that trademark laugh.

"Why are you laughing? I thought you were dead, dipshit!" You say, crawling out of the shrubbery.

He remains lying down but he’s smiling at you now.

"Why would you think I was dead?"

"Why are you lying in your garden on your back completely still at 2am? Let's not pretend this is normal." You crawl down next to him.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“No I won’t.”

He looks away from you.

“I mean everyone else does, why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think they do.”

“There’s my dad. Plus, I’ve read Twitter.”

“You know how I feel about your dad and Twitter is full of very stupid people. But never mind them. I can promise you I don’t. And let’s be honest, I’m the only opinion that matters.” He scoffs as you offer him a pinky. But, he puts his pinky in yours before looking back up at the night sky.

"I can't get up."

"What? Are you injured?"

“No…I dunno, I told you it was stupid."

“It's clearly not that stupid. Are you okay Jamie?”

"I dunno. I was thinking about the other night with you and my dad and then I came outside because I needed some fresh air and then I lay down and started thinking about everything and now it feels like I'm stuck here. It's stupid -"

“Stop saying that.” You lie down and grab his hand. “Sometimes when you've gone through some shit, it comes out of your body in weird ways. But you're okay. We can stay here for as long as you like, but when we get up, you will be able to.”

He nods, and the two of you lie there holding hands in silence. You take some deep breaths and he follows. Eventually a small voice pipes up.

“I think I can go in now.”

You sit up and slowly pull him.

"See?"

He smiles at you gingerly before he looks down.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?”

You look down. Both your knees are cut, along with one of your palms and your wrist.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

He gently holds your wrist up to the light. He looks sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I need to work on my graceful dismount. Either that or just walk around to the back door.”

“I mean, I dunno, I think you could give Simone Biles a run for her money.” You swat him.

“Oi, you cheeky shit! Next time I’ll just leave you for dead.”

“I think the blood loss is going to your head, we should treat that ASAP.” He leads you into his house. “I think I’ve got a first aid kit upstairs.”

He starts walking up and you follow him. He seems surprised. You realise your error.

“Oh, I can wait downstairs if you like.”

“Er, no, it’s fine.” He steps into a bedroom and starts rummaging around in what is clearly an ensuite bathroom. You sit on the edge of his bed and look around. There’s pictures of him and his mum, as well as some pictures with the team and one with a slightly older moustachioed man.

“Is that your dad?”

He pokes his head out and laughs.

“No, that’s our coach Ted.” You look up at him. “He’s a nice guy though. Annoyingly nice. Almost too nice, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” It was clear Jamie was soft on this man, but you wouldn’t push it today. He sits down and starts gently wiping the cuts. It is the same tenderness he held your foot, and it is the same tenderness that is slowly melting your heart. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were starting to fall for Jamie Tartt.

You yawn as he applies the final plaster. “Right, you need to go to sleep.” He says, through his own yawn.

"I could say the same for you"

You sit up to leave, but hesitate. YOu feel Jamie’s about to say something.

“Hey, I don’t suppose.. You’d maybe fancy…”

You turn around.

“Staying around?”

Jamie looks at you pleadingly.

“No funny business I promise.” He looks up and offers you a pinky.

“What if I want funny business?”

“Eh?”

“I’m just messing with you Jamie. Besides, I’ve already stolen your knickers anyway.”

“Someone told me that’s a weird thing to say to people.”

“Well, that person sounds very wise.” You look around. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He gestures towards it and you go in. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you think: what the fuck is going on here? You splash some water on your face and tell yourself to get a grip.

“There’s a spare toothbrush in the blue pot if you need it.” Jamie calls through the door.

“Ew gross Jamie, I don’t want to use one of your many girlfriend’s toothbrushes!”

“I’ll have you know that’s brand new as I don’t have any girlfriends at the moment. Although there are sanitary towels if you need them love.”

“Piss off you patronising git!”

“‘Ey, I was trying to be nice and a good feminist and that.”

You brush your teeth before coming out and leaning against the doorframe.

“No girlfriends? What happened to the Island’s top scorer?”

He groans before flopping back onto the bed.

“I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I’ve been doing my research.” You get into the bed next to him. He flashes you a dirty grin.

“Bet you have, you little perv.”

“Me? The perv? What you did in that jacuzzi was a crime to my eyes, and probably in several countries.”

“Woah, you have been doing your research - that was like episode 42? 43?”

“What can I say, you make good television?”

Jamie pulls the duvet back before hovering for a moment.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He gestures to the bed.

“I know. But I’ve been in your position before, and I really needed a friend back then. And I think you would do the same.”

“Any time.”

You squeeze his hand.

“Now go to sleep, you menace.”

“Aye aye captain.”

____

You wake up and find yourself once again not in your own bedroom. In fact, not only are you not in your own bedroom, but you appear to be cuddling Jamie Tartt. You panic silently. Your leg is swung over his, while his arm is draped over you. You try to move, but still asleep, he squeezes you a little tighter. And then something really surprising happens.

He kisses you. Just a little kiss on the forehead, but your chest is fluttering. You hate to admit it but, it feels just so natural. You’re so content and relaxed in his arms then…

Fuck. You fell back asleep. You’re in the exact same problem as before.

This time however, you are both awoken by Jamie’s phone going off. He reaches to switch it off, eyes still closed, but then it rings again. And again. The third time his eyes shoot open.

“Shit!”

“What is it?” You ask from behind bleary eyes.

“The match!”

You slowly sit up and watch him run around and get dressed, silently handing him things on occasion. He runs downstairs and you plod along after him, still half asleep. He runs out of the door, before abruptly stopping and turning around.

“Aren’t you going to wish me good luck or something?”

You wrinkle your nose at him in confusion.

“I don’t need to. You’re going to smash it anyway.”

“How do you know that?”

You shrug and smile.

“I just know.”

At this point, he strides right up to you, before cupping your face in both his hands.

“Jamie what are -” Before you can finish, he kisses you, hard. Your eyes flutter closed and you melt into the kiss, before he pulls away, but only just. His arm reaches around the small of your back and his forehead touching yours, he whispers.

“Wait for me.”

He runs off to his car, and you stroke your bottom lip, where you trace the swell of where he used to be.

Your heart is still pounding and you are unsure what to do with yourself, so you try to make yourself at home. You take a very long, hot shower before getting changed. Of course, you didn’t have any clothes here, so you find some pyjama shorts along with one of Jamie’s old jerseys.

You sit down to watch the match. You had never really gotten into football, but now you were glued to the screen. You couldn’t believe that the little Jamie on screen was the same one who shared a bed with you last night. And the same Jamie that kissed you…

The game is electric, and Jamie in particular is the standout player. Even the commentators remark on his zest this match as he keeps skilfully weaving through the players to lead Richmond into not one, not two but three goals.

Once the match is done, you watch, still glued to your seat when Jamie is invited to an interview.

“Jamie the way you played today was extraordinary, against Man City too. If you don’t mind us asking, what happened?”

“Ah well, I was really inspired by Simone Biles. She’s honestly changed my life.” At that moment, he turns straight to the camera, grins and winks, and you feel like he’s somehow winking right at you. Your heart skips a beat. You were really in trouble.

You look at your phone and Jamie Tartt is trending. Simone Biles herself has already tweeted reminding everyone she is a married woman and has never met Jamie. There are plenty of other women, including some famous other gymnasts and celebrities offering their Biles-like services to Jamie in some rather explicit tweets. You wonder if Jamie reads these ones too.

You walk to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and as you wait for the kettle to boil, you look at Jamie’s calendar. There’s all sorts of notes, primarily training and matchs but you notice your exhibit is there too, with a little heart drawn around it. Jamie never stopped surprising you. But then a cold shock goes down your spine. You remembered today’s date. You are meant to be going to the gallery this evening to plan the exhibition. Shit. You check the time. You’ve still got three hours left, but you need to get back into your flat ASAP. You scramble around before realising that you had left your phone in the flat last night in the chaos to get out. But you also remembered Jamie and what he had said.

Wait for me.

You write a little note and stick it on the fridge.

____

Jamie comes back way later than he planned. Of course, after the match, there were drinks and celebrations but he couldn’t concentrate on them, just trying to leave to get back to you. He finally manages to break away, but when he gets home, he finds the living room empty. He searches around the rest of the house, and you are nowhere to be found. He checks his phone. No messages. He gets a message through from Keeley about how he’s trending online.

Of course he sees all the Simone Biles stuff and smiles to himself. He made a note to send Simone Biles a message in future, if this all worked out. Then he sees all the stuff other women are saying online. A lot of it is quite graphic and he wondered what you’d think. He imagined the two of you laughing together at them. Then he sees. The tabloids are already speculating. Not only do they actually think he’s having an affair with Simone Biles, but they have already posted some paparazzi shot of him with Keeley, along with long extensive timelines of his tumultuous dating history. His stomach drops. Anyone would run away if they saw this much baggage.

He tries to ring you. Once, twice, three times, No pick up. He’s desperate and pacing, until he realises he can just walk over to your front door. He rings the bell several times, before loudly knocking. Still nothing.

He can’t believe how much he’s fucked it. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you, but he couldn't help it. No one had made him feel like this, like he was going crazy but also that he was calmer than he had ever been, like riding a lifeboat in the centre of the storm. As he walks back into his flat and into his kitchen, he doesn’t see the small corner of a note that has fallen under the fridge. He checks his phone again.

Still nothing. What could he do?

____

Sorry for the angst kids, hope it was worth it and the finale will be juicy!! lmk if you want to be tagged in the final part!! Not sure if I've done these tags right, apols if not!!

@skewedcherries @e-mmygrey @reading-blogs @alex-sulli @cameoutstruggling93 @sqrlgrl22 @maydayfigment @aiyaiy @alipap3 @okkkkkkksure @city-of-cards

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #fanfic #romance #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt

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nonclassyparty · 3 months

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tins without labels - chapter 1 (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: drinking, little bit of kissing, descriptions of erm...male genitalia? cursing, cringe fest you've been warned. !word count: 9.3k taglist: @maru-matt @yawnzshit @mcsalterego @ddaeing @downbadreading @btshook (sorry if i forgot anyone but pls reply if u want to be added!)

previous chapter

(chapter 1; when we feel each other up)

Got different people inside my head, I wonder which one that they like best, I'm done with tryna have it all, and ending up with not much at all

present time (21 and 23 years old);

There was a really ugly drawing framed and hanging on the wall at the doctor's office.

It was a house tilting to one side with three stick figurines whose shoes were far too big next to it with strokes of green thrown everywhere which you presume is supposed to be grass. It was drawn by crayons.

You presume it's an art piece made by the doctor's kid but you hope she realizes early on that her daughter or son doesn't really have a proclivity for the arts.

But then again, maybe they will later on. Maybe they'll stand out amongst their peers and be further encouraged by their parents. Maybe they'll even take private lessons to get better. Maybe they'll get into art school and have the professor praise them up on how their talent is extremely rare. Maybe they'll even win some awards.

And then, maybe someone will break their hand so badly that they never get to hold a brush again.

Alright, now you were just projecting.

But what else is there to do as you sit in the almost sterile office with your dad by your side as the doctor keeps going on and on with a somber expression on her face. You're sure Doctor Son is a nice lady, if you were paying attention you'd maybe notice that she tries to break the news extra gently but you're barely listening.

There's been a lot of "it was more serious than we first thought", "rehabilitation will be a long and steady process", "a new excellent physical therapist works at the sports center on campus so she'll be able to visit him a couple times a week, we've already made sure that he gives all of his attention to her" and the most gruesome one, "another even minor injury and there's a risk of her not being able to walk again."

You don't really have to be paying too much attention to know what the underlined thought is.

No more football.

The persistent ache in your left knee serves a constant reminder of what happened almost four months ago, it was the last game of the season. Little did you know it might be the last game of your measly career.

You refuse to look at your dad, feeling the sadness radiate off of him like it does every time he speaks to any of the doctors you've visited in the past four months.

And it's been a lot of doctors.

The fact that you spent the whole summer at home for the first time since you finished high school didn't help. All he did was coddle you and stare in pity and disappointment. Or try to be overly positive and enthusiastic about your recovery.

You didn't know which was worse.

After the final doctor's appointment before the start of the new semester which you leave with barely saying a word during the almost half an hour you're there, you and your dad get lunch at a dinner just off campus.

The thick holder containing scans, blood tests, surgery papers and whatnot, lies on the table between the two of you and you feel like nothing could cut through the thick silence.

Your dad, of course, tries.

"You can still have an amazing career in education, you know? Your mother was a teacher and she loved her job."

It's just sometimes, your father really doesn't know how to beat around the bush and in this moment, you wish he did.

"Right." Is all you say.

Neither one of you comments on what you both know. Which is that you didn't give a fuck about your major in education. Sure, you had passing grades but that is because you needed to study something to stay on the team and not because you were actually interested.

Football was always the bigger picture, the real goal.

"You can always switch majors?" He offers and you nod again, thanking the waiter when he brings two bowls of noodles to your table.

You don't want to say that switching majors in your third year of college seems like a complete waste, of both money and time.

He sighs and you know he's frustrated with you, you understand it as well but you can't control it. Talking about your career, now that your dream career is over and done with, is an extremely sore subject.

"You know what, you've been working so hard since before you even started college, you deserve to rest."

"I've been resting since May." You respond and he winces at the mention of May. When it all fell apart.

"That wasn't rest. It was recovery." You give him a bland look and he sighs again, "I'm just saying! Maybe you'll discover something else you like to do this semester."

"Doubtful." You murmur, the reality finally sinking in at least a little.

"It's not doubtful at all." Your dad scoffs, taking a slurp of his noodles. "You're twenty-one, your life just begun, I'm sure there are other things to do and new people to meet. You wouldn't know if you never even tried."

"Dad-"

"Get yourself a boyfriend. Go to parties. Find yourself some friends who aren't talking behind your back in the locker room-"

"They weren't my friends-"

"Live your life. Is my point. Don't be cooped up in your bedroom, refusing to see anyone like you were doing the whole summer. Just...try, at least." He is silently begging now and now, it's your time to sigh.

"Fine."

"Who knows...you might discover that football isn't all there is to life."

You go silent at that, embarrassed of your own thoughts on the matter so you just keep them to yourself.

You flip through the pages of the magazine that you've read front to back at least four times by now before throwing it on your bed.

Your dad left earlier this afternoon after you've settled into your dorm and since then you've just been lounging on your bed, trying to busy yourself with knick-knacks that you have lying around so the time could pass faster.

You adjust the ice pack on your knee a bit better and with a soft sigh, your eyes fall on your roommate.

Yunjin was sitting behind her desk that was pushed up right next to your identical one and was busy doing her makeup. Carefully applying a pretty shade to her eyelids as she moves her desk mirror to her liking.

She was getting ready to go to a party no doubt. It was the last Friday before the new semester after all and Yunjin was a frequent party goer from what you could tell in these years living together.

Yunjin and you have been roommates since freshman year and yet, you've barely spoken to each other. Always sticking to your sides of the generously sized dorm room, you guess it's because you don't have much in common with each other that you never tried to be friends.

You didn't know much about her if you were honest, just that she majored in political science, often dyed her hair and had a lot of friends. You were sort of the complete opposites from what you could tell.

But since she kept renewing her contract for the room with you every year, you think it's safe to assume that she at least doesn't mind you all too much.

Just...try, at least.

You clear your throat. Here you go...

"You, uh, you do your makeup really prettily." It's out of your mouth before you know it, you already feel awkward as it is but when your red haired roommate turns to you in surprise that maybe you even spoke in the first place - the awkwardness triples.

"Oh." Yunjin utters with raised brows before a tiny, careful smile settles on her face. "Thank you."

So...now what?

You both stare at each other for a long hard second and you hesitate, thinking it's best to leave it at that. Keeping up a conversation was never your strongest suit either. Now that you think of it, apart from football, you don't have any strong suits at all.

"I, uh, I had a lot of practice." She offers awkwardly, motioning to her face with the eyeshadow brush wedged gently between her fingers.

"Right, yeah, I can totally see that." You nod, surprised that she responded back with something that almost sounds like she wants the conversation to keep going. You clear your throat, "The eyeliner and stuff, seems tricky."

It seems like that was all it took for the ice to disapparate for Yunjin because next thing you know, she's rambling without a plan to stop;

"Oh, that's just at the beginning, the first couple of tries I mean and that goes for everything makeup related or, hm, maybe everything life related as well, wow." Yunjin shakes her head as if life philosophies were certainly not more important than a perfect winged eyeliner, "But anyways, I was looking like a panda for the majority of my junior year in high school." She chuckles at that, not looking embarrassed at all, "Had those thick eyebrows as well, it was a complete disaster. But the longer I wore makeup, the better I got at it and the more I learned what suited my face."

You clutch the pillow in your lap as you diligently listen to her, feeling like a younger sibling watching her older sister get ready for a party.

"People say eyeliner isn't in fashion anymore, like it's an old makeup trend or whatever," Yunjin rolls her eyes at you and you chuckle lightly, shyly because you had no idea what was in trend, "Such bullshit, I'll never stop wearing it. It looks so good on me."

She observes the perfect thin wings decorating her eyelids and almost sighs a little in admiration.

You nod in agreement, not being able to stop yourself, "You have big eyes so the eyeliner frames them perfectly. It suits you."

Yunjin smiles happily, "Right? I totally look like Jihyo from TWICE, right?"

You hesitate, having no idea what Jihyo from TWICE looked like but you don't have the heart to sway her happiness so you just give her a small nod.

You continue to chat, mostly Yunjin talks, and by the amount she seems to have to say to you, you start to think that maybe all this time it wasn't that Yunjin avoided getting to know you because she wasn't interested in knowing her roommate. It seems like she had the idea that you had no interest into getting to know her, so she never bothered.

Once she's done with her makeup and she looks over herself in her precious small round mirror standing on her desk in satisfaction, she turns to you with a glare.

It's not a glare as if you've wronged her somehow but a glare of curiosity and seemingly not taking 'no' for an answer. You raise your brows.

Her glare deepens, one inquisitive but perfectly plucked eyebrow raised, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

"Oh," You huff out, for some reason embarrassed that she's aware you're a complete klutz in that department, "I don't know."

"Hm, why not? You might like it. Makeup is fun!"

"No, I know I'll like it." Your cheeks flush, embarrassment growing at the thought of her thinking that you're one of those girls who thinks she's better for not being interested in makeup. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. "I just...won't I look stupid?"

"Stupid?" Yunjin frowns as if the idea is ridiculous and maybe it was a little. "Why would you look stupid? I'm basically a pro at this, I wouldn't let you look stupid."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything about your...y'know, skills." You grimace when she continues to stare at you, not really in the mood to disclose that ever since a stupid teenage boy named Son Eunwoo laughed at you at prom for trying to look pretty that you've given up on it as it obviously didn't suit you all that much. "Just, y'know, people will think I look silly if I wear it. It's not my thing...y'know?"

There's a faint moment of silence and you cast your eyes somewhere else as you feel awkward all over again for ruining the relaxed mood. Finally, Yunjin speaks,

"Y/N," She calls quietly, face set in a serious expression when you bring your eyes up to her again, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

You blink at her a couple of times, mouth parted as she sits in her chair, perfectly curled hair and perfectly applied makeup, and waits for your response.

"I'll go wash my face."

"Yes, you go do that and don't forget to moisturize."

It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for Yunjin to do your makeup. Before she starts, you carefully tell her you don't want too much and she says she'll ask before everything she applies if you want it or not.

And she really does.

She places a little bit of foundation just to cover the natural redness of your cheeks and the couple of small pimples that appeared on your chin. She foregoes contouring because you tell her you don't want that, not sure what's the purpose of it.

She goes a little bit crazy with the eyeshadows though, maybe she notices that you have the most interest in them. Glitter especially. It makes your eyes look glossy, almost wet but you're sure you're not describing that properly.

She even does some thin eyeliner on you, some mascara, brushes out your eyebrows but doesn't fill them out because you tell her you don't like them looking sharp. Some blush, a pretty light orange color that decorates your cheeks in a way that it surprises you by how good it looks on your face. And at the end, some lip gloss to finish everything off.

All through out, you two talk. About school, about your hometowns, about your parents.

It's bonding, you realize.

You never bonded with anyone through makeup before, it was usually over football with Ryujin or gossiping over the people you knew from school because that's what you had in common with her. But football is gone now, so is high school and for years now, so was Ryujin.

It was hard to keep up with a friendship that was out of necessity in the first place, even harder when there's an entire ocean separating you now.

But with Yunjin, although you seemingly have nothing much in common, the conversation just flows with each soft stroke of a brush or pat on the cheek.

"See!" She hands you her round mirror to look at yourself, "You look so good!"

"Oh," You muse out, staring at the reflection, admiring the glitter and shimmer and all the colors you're not used to having on your face, "I like it."

"Now, don't get me wrong!" She warns quickly with her hands up, painted nails glistening under the shitty dorm lights, "You look good without makeup too. Well," She rolls her eyes at herself, "You obviously know that since you don't wear it at all as it is but like, if you sometimes want to wear it, you'll know now that it won't look stupid on you."

You chuckle shyly at her short rant, placing the mirror back on her desk.

You wished Yunjin's words of affirmation would be enough to rid you of all your insecurities regarding makeup or...anything 'girly', they don't but you don't have the heart to tell her that. "Thanks."

She nods in response before checking her phone for the time apparently. She throws it on her bed before clapping her hands, "Well, since you already have your makeup done, you might as well go to this party with me."

That leaves you stumped. You turn to look at her from the chair in front of her desk. Party? "Wait, what?"

Yunjin doesn't even grace you with a look, standing in front of her closet which was flung open as she sorts through different materials and patterned clothes.

"Come on L/N, brush your hair out and get into a pair of jeans that make your ass look great." Her head peaks out from behind the door of her closet, she winks at you, "I'll worry about your top."

You really don't know how this happened. You don't know how you ended up here, in the jeans that hugged your hips and thighs the tightest and in the most preposterously skimpy top you have ever worn with your brushed out long hair falling over your back and your lips tinted a deep glossy red. You were a willing participant in it but you really have no idea how this happened.

"I don't think this is an appropriate outfit." You tell Yunjin as you look over yourself in the tall mirror which you both share. "I don't think this shirt is supposed to be worn like this."

"Actually," Yunjin said as she fixed her skirt in the mirror behind you and paid no mind to your ongoing breakdown, "For the last three months I thought I got scammed by the online shop I ordered that top from because it looked nothing like the photos on me but now looking at you, I'm starting to realize that the online shop is legit and that I simply didn't have the tits to fill it out."

You spluttered about at her commentary as you stared at the outfit, wondering if it would be rude to chicken out on her now.

Your light blue denim flare jeans and white sneakers looked totally acceptable. They were yours after all.

The shirt, the offending bright red sleeveless low cut crop top that almost had your boobs out completely for the whole entire world to see, on the other hand, was certainly not.

You don't think you've ever worn something so short, so tight, so...revealing. In your life.

It's not even that you felt uncomfortable in it, really, you thought you looked hot but it just....wasn't You.

And at that point, you had to remind your self very strongly that you had no idea what You actually was. Football was no more (at least for the near future but you have an inkling it's for forever) and maybe the you that was tied to it and that the rest of your small world knew should rest for a little bit while you explore what other you's are there.

Beats moping around and feeling sorry for yourself, at least.

Yes. You will try your hardest not to care what anyone else might think tonight. You looked good. Sexy as fuck, as Yunjin said.

It wasn't all she said. Yunjin, as you begin to find out in the last hour you've actually spoken to her, is the best when it comes to making a girl feel good about herself.

"God, Y/N, your body is crazy." You hear her say as she pulls your hand away from your stomach that was bare since the skimpy shirt or jeans didn't cover it. She stares at your abs. "Do you still workout?"

Still. Meaning she also knows you're a retired athlete at only twenty-one years of age. Once again, you have to try your best to not let that reminder dampen your mood.

"Thanks." You respond clearing your throat, giving her a weak smile. "Yeah, I workout five times a week."

You don't mention the physical therapy you're about to start next week or the fact that all your workouts are under strict supervision ever since the injury happened. That, starting from next week, two other people will be responsible of you staying in shape.

It's so pitiful, you're so used to doing everything on your own.

"Five?!" Yunjin's jaw drops before she scoffs, looking at her body in the mirror with overly critical eyes.

Yunjin seemed to be naturally on the skinnier side, she didn't have any muscle built up. Not like you, years of doing football made your physique change, your body looked amazing - you were aware of that. Personal trainers, coaches both male and female told you so at least....'Defined thighs, defined stomach, toned arms...'. You heard enough about your body to know that it looked good.

It took years of sweat and regular gym hours to make it that way though and you feel bad that Yunjin seems to be comparing it to her own.

"When I was in my best shape, I had a whole team of people working with me from diet to workouts, that includes my coach as well." You chuckle lightly, as she turns her eyes from her stomach to you, "Everyone was expecting me to go pro so...The university invested a lot in me."

You force out another laugh, not trying to turn an attempt to stop the comparisons into a pity party. "Even now when I won't be playing, I'll have two people working with me."

When all you get in return is a dumbfounded stare, you groan feeling like you read the situation incorrectly. Your social cues still need some catching up to do.

So, there's nothing left to do when you feel so uncomfortable but ramble and it's what you do best, you will be quick to learn.

"This is stupid, I don't know if that's what you were doing and I'll feel like shit if I say it but ended up assuming it wrong but I'll say it anyway just in case; if you were comparing yourself to me, don't, I had professionals working with me for the past three years. Professionals that are extremely expensive and finished schools and shit to learn how to make people look hot and fit, so...." You trail off, avoiding her eyes at all cost and scratching behind your neck awkwardly.

The silence is so long that it almost wills you to run out of the room and maybe ask for a permanent roommate change, just to beat Yunjin to the punch. Instead, you hear a stifled giggle.

You glance at her just to see your roommate bite back a grin.

You huff, cheeks turning red from the embarrassment because you barely speak but when you do, it's really almost always complete and utter shit, as you try to hide your own smile.

"You're a nice girl, Y/N."

"Yeah, yeah." You huff, always terrible at taking compliments, "So are you, I guess."

She snorts at your awkwardness but doesn't further comment on it as she rummages through her jewelry box and pokes big hoop earrings on.

"And you can keep that shirt if you want...God, I hate you big boobed bitches." You let out a surprised laugh at that as she rummages some more through her jewelry box. "Do you have any earrings for yourself? I'd offer you a necklace but I think it's hotter if your neck is bare honestly."

"Um," You approach your desk and pull out your mom's jewelry box with a humble amount of items in it. You show her your tiny golden hoops, "What about these?"

"Yeah, those are great. Put those on and let's get ready to go, Chaewon might be dancing on tables by now."

As you lock the door to your dorm and turn to leave, Yunjin intertwines your arms as you both walk down the hall crowded by college students either going in or going out.

New girl friend, not so bad, you think to yourself.

Chaewon is not dancing on tables when you get there. You don't exactly know who Chaewon is but there's nobody dancing on tables in the crowded frat house you've walked into. You don't know anyone there, you thought you might see some girls from your team at least despite not getting along with them the best but you don't.

Yunjin, on the other hand, seems to know everyone.

She greets every living soul in the dusty, stuffy living room and every living soul greets her back. You guess it's safe to say that your roommate slash new girl friend is very popular with the party crowd at your campus.

As it's your first ever college party, you just follow her around like a lost puppy but she never makes you feel like a lost puppy, instead, she introduces you to every person that comes to chat with her even though you can hardly remember their names. You appreciate that more than you'd like to admit.

You end up in the kitchen which is less crowded but still has a handful of people in it where Yunjin shoves the classic red party cup in your hand and clinks it with her matching one, telling you to drink up.

At least you're not a complete virgin in this area. You drank before, you weren't an expert or anything because alcohol is limited for athletes but still, it's one of the first 'not first's of the night.

You meet Chaewon who is bubbly and cute with her bob and sparkly eyes. She's not nearly as drunk as Yunjin led you to believe she would be. When you comment on it, Chaewon smacks Yunjin's arm jokingly.

"You've made the girl think I'm an alcoholic or something." She scolds your roommate with a smirk before turning to you, smile back to complete innocence, "I don't even drink that much, Y/N. Honest."

Yunjin comes closer to mutter in your ear, "She's a liar, it's just that she's trying to be sober to see if the guy she's into comes alone tonight."

"Oh!" You nod and give Chaewon a reassuring smile as she goes beet red in the face and glares at Yunjin who continues to tease her.

You were about to tell Yunjin that you much prefer the crowd in the kitchen than the living room area and that you'd hope to stay here a bit more but you don't get a chance to.

Loud hoots echo through the kitchen and you turn your head to see what the ruckus is all about only to see the bane of your very existence walk in with a wide smile along with a group of other guys, greeting everyone like he's the king of the world and with the way everyone in the room treats him - he might as well be.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would be considered the life of the party.

He can be! You don't give a fuck! But why did it have to be the first party that you are attending.

You try to hide your scowl by taking another sip of your drink, trying your hardest not to let your eyes trace his movements from the other side of the kitchen island but one second your eyes are coasting over his ridiculous outfit (which he looks damn near scrumptious in but that's besides the point and something you will never admit that you ever thought about for even a second) and the next thing you know - his eyes are meeting yours.

You quickly whip your head to stare into the living room, feeling the edge of the counter dig into your back.

Yunjin and Chaewon are talking about something, laughing loudly through the noisy room and you're trying to hard to keep up with their conversation but that turns out to be impossible now that you're aware of a certain menace lurking about.

And lo and behold, quickly enough he skulks away from his group of friends and sneaks up to your side in three long strides.

"Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me or is this Y/N Y/L/N at a frat house party?"

You stand rigid as his clothed elbow brushes your bare one but otherwise don't give him any further acknowledgement. Yunjin, from your freshly learned discovery is ever the social butterfly, grins with an eyeroll.

"Don't be a dick, Wooyoung."

Oh. Oh.

Yunjin knows Wooyoung. Well, that makes just about everything a thousand times worse.

"What? I didn't say anything." Jung Wooyoung defends with a smug smile from next to you before giving Chaewon a charming (or at least what might be charming by some people's standards, definitely not yours or anything) smile. "Chaewon, hello."

She stifles a laugh, "Hi, Wooyoung."

You're irritated to the highest degree for some reason.

Why were you never on the receiving end of his charming smiles? Again, charming by some people's standards. Let it be known, it's not by yours. Not that you want to be on the receiving end of any kind of Jung Wooyoung smile but just...why aren't you ever?

"Can't believe you two managed to get babyface over here out of her room for once." He comments and for a second you have no idea who he's referring to. Until Chaewon laughs lightly again before motioning towards Yunjin.

"That's all Yunjin. I just met Y/N, actually."

"Lucky you." Wooyoung adds and only after his second mischievous glance do you realize they're talking about you.

"Babyface?" You turn to him, growing outraged as his lips stretch into a wide grin. What is it with him and these weird nicknames which all contain the word 'baby' in them. What happened to calling you a troll like he did in middle school and moving about his night?

He shrugs, "I reckon it's better than crybaby."

"You reckon?" You scoff, not being able to stop yourself. Not even a full minute with him and you're already showcasing the gnarly childish side of yourself to girls you were hoping would become your friends. "Wow, how many years of college and you're finally using big words, Jung."

Wooyoung, for reasons you could never wrap your head around, looks positively delighted at your quip. "If you think 'reckon' is a big word then I have no further comments, Y/L/N."

You flush a deep red at that as a glare fully sets down on your face, aimed entirely towards him now. He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing which only makes you grow redder.

"So, you two know each other?" You forgot for a split second that the two of you were in the presence of your new friends. Yunjin stares at you with brows raised.

With a solemn sigh, you respond, "We were neighbours."

"We still are." Wooyoung adds, cozying up to you further. You watch in contempt the way his shoulder brushes yours and his arm lays on the kitchen island behind you, one wrong move and his arm would be around your waist. Seriously, why is he so damn close?

To your own embarrassment, you find yourself not moving away, liking his warmth and whatnot. Maybe, he smells nice as well. Just a little bit. Something citrusy and delicious. Whatever.

"Oh?" Yunjin asks, looking awfully too interested in your relationship with Wooyoung. Not that there is a relationship. Your brows furrow as you observe the way she silently communicates with Chaewon.

"What?" You ask, lost entirely.

Chaewon gives you the same, overly enthusiastic smile, "Oh, nothing."

Wooyoung's chest shakes against you from silent laughter about something you must've missed and you turn to glare at him. He didn't do anything, you just felt like it.

A couple of minutes of conversation pass and you find yourself even enjoying it, despite the little nuisance stuck to your side. It's been awhile since you hung out with anybody, you never thought you even needed it but you think you understand now the hype around these college weekend hangouts.

Until it somehow dips to Yunjin and Chaewon ditching you.

"Y/N, remember that guy Yunjin was talking to you about? The one I have a crush on?" You nod as Chaewon talks against your ear, "Well, he just got here and Yunjin and I will go say hi to him."

"Oh, I'll come with!" You say pathetically before Yunjin loudly exclaims "NO!"

"No, Y/N, you stay right here with Wooyoung, okay?" She motions to the guy next to you, "You two seem to have so much in common!"

She's giving you a weird smile, overly wide, overly excited and you have trouble reading what she's trying to tell you, not knowing her nearly enough to be able to read girl code already.

You can barely get a word in and they're already gone, whisked by the living room crowd and you're stuck with Jung Wooyoung of all people by your side, feeling completely and utterly stupid.

They...ditched you? Did Yunjin regret inviting you? Did she find you embarrassing? Maybe you should just go home.

A deep sigh is heard by your side and you're once again reminded with who they left you with.

"Y/L/N, they didn't ditch you. They don't hate you or whatever it is that you scrambled up in that big head of yours, they're trying to set you up with me." Wooyoung lazily explains from your right and you turn to look at him like he's crazy. What surprises you more than his statement is the fact that he's actually sticking by your side.

"What? Set you up with me?" You scoff, crossing your bare arms over your chest, "Don't be ridiculous."

He snorts, "You'd rather think they ditched you than trying to get you laid?"

You go silent at that. Laid. How preposterous. How insane and how ridiculous.

It's another thing that you're a complete virgin to. Literally and figuratively. You've never went with a boy past a clumsy make out session. Get laid, you scoff inwardly, how silly.

Suddenly, you're aware of a pair of eyes on the side of your face and you're not surprised to find Jung Wooyoung staring at you in amusement. With all your defenses up, you ask, "What?"

His eyes twinkle with mirth. "I didn't say anything."

Another moment of silence between the two of you passes. Some guy comes to greet Wooyoung, he gives you a small nod in greeting which you return and after some small talk between the two of them he walks away, leaving you two alone once again in the middle of the semi-crowded kitchen.

Wooyoung inches closer to you again, mirroring your stance now by leaning against the island with his back. "Is being alone with me that scary that you refuse to talk?"

"Scary?" You scoff again, it's all you seem to do in his presence, without even looking at him. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Jung, you're not nearly as intimidating as you like to think you are."

"Who said I thought I was intimidating?" He asks calmly, enjoying the way you're riled up for no apparent reason.

You don't answer his question, aware that you're being a bitch for no reason. But it's his fault if anything, years of juvenile fights made Jung Wooyoung bring out the worst in you.

"These parties don't seem like they're all that." You comment, more to yourself than anything but he's obviously listening so you decide to include him in the conversation. "Don't you get bored of them?"

Wooyoung hums from next to you, lightly swaying to the music from the living room as he hands you a cold cup of...something and takes one for himself as well. It feels weird that he actually is sort of attentive by getting you a drink when he noticed your empty cup on the island. You decide not to dwell on it too much.

"Bored? Not really, they get repetitive but there's always something fun to do." He responds, mouth quirking up as he looks down at you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips just in time for his tongue to swipe across his bottom lip. You look away quickly.

Clearing your throat, for the life of you, you have no idea why you nod to a couple in the corner right next to the kitchen almost having intercourse against a wall. "Like that?"

Wooyoung snickers and you feel yourself flush slightly but you blame it on the drink which is...much better than whatever Yunjin handed to you at the beginning of the night. "Don't blame people for having fun, Y/L/N."

You turn to him with your nose crinkled, "That's your idea of fun?"

Wooyoung seems a bit surprised and yet strangely intrigued by the course of the conversation. Maybe you are too but in this moment, it feels all too exhilarating with him being so close and you being a complete and utter virgin and all. God, if Chaewon and Yunjin left you here in hopes of getting you laid, maybe they were right.

There's no reason to be acting like this around Jung Wooyoung.

Honestly, what is wrong with you Y/N? Maybe you really should fuck someone. You'd stop thinking about Jung Wooyoung this way and lose your virginity at last.

Two birds with one stone.

"I know lots of ideas of fun." Wooyoung starts before he gives you that devastating grin of his that you despised even as a lovesick teenage girl as he subtly nods to the couple, still at it in the corner, "That is one of them. Although I'd at least take it up to one of the bedrooms upstairs."

Your nose crinkles in disgust again at the thought of the state of the beds in these dirty testosterone filled frat houses. "Gross, they probably don't even change the sheets."

"My apartment is two blocks away." Wooyoung adds, a little too quickly in your, once again completely virgin, opinion. "I always have that option as well, y'know?"

You blink a couple of times, staring at the kitchen tiles as you start thinking that you're not talking about his ideas of fun only anymore.

Was he-? Is he trying to-? No. No way. Do not.

"Right." You say quietly, taking a tiny sip of your drink before smacking your lips.

There is no way that in any shape or form Jung Wooyoung is attempting to flirt with you.

He's quiet for only a couple of seconds before two other guys approach him, doing those weird half hugs half handshakes that assholes like Jung Wooyoung use to greet their friends. Which he seems to have a bunch of. Mr. Popular he is.

While they converse, your eyes are still stuck on the couple making out in the corner of the room and to not seem like a complete and utter creep, you draw your eyes away from them into the living room where...all you seem to see are couples.

Flirting. Kissing. Grinding on each other (Gross). Humping on the couch (Double Gross, you're sure people use that to sit on ordinary days). Clumsily walking up the stairs with their hands already on each other's clothes (Triple Gross). They're all going to have sex!

Meanwhile, you're a virgin. Not by choice either, if it were up to you you'd grab the first guy you see right this second and let him fuck you just to get it over with. It's not like you're saving yourself for someone special or anything. Too bad that they all seem to be taken one way or another and the only guy you've spent the whole night talking to is-

Wait.

Nononono.

But-

Wait.

You turn to observe Jung Wooyoung by your side, who is still talking to his two buddies. None of them paying you any mind.

As you mentioned before, there was a general consensus going around that Jung Wooyoung was good looking. You've seen him only a handful times since that night he dropped you off home after prom even if you're both on the same campus but you can admit (although you'll outwardly deny it if anybody asks) that he has gotten even hotter.

His face lost all of his baby fat with years that went by, his jawline got sharper and lips plusher. His eyes were expressive and the mole under one of them was cute. His hair was still long, you don't know if he cut it after prom night and just let it grow out again or if this was simply the length her preferred, now all black but it suited him immensely.

He had nice hands as well. Veiny hands, long fingers with nice and tidy nails. And you might've called his outfit ridiculous but you only did it to fulfill your role as his self-appointed enemy, it wasn't that ridiculous. Just a pair of baggy jeans and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. You guess he knows that he has sexy hands. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, making sure to showcase the naturally tanned smooth skin underneath and a necklace decorating his collarbones.

This...whore.

A man that plays up his good physical attributes this well could be nothing else but a man that gets around a lot.

When you notice that you've spent a good two minutes doing nothing but checking Jung Wooyoung out, you notice that his two friends have left already and he's holding his red cup while staring at you with an amused smirk on his face.

"What now?" He asks and you part your lips before licking them, almost shivering when you catch Wooyoung following the action closely.

Well, your dad did say that should live your life and try at least. His words, not yours!

Although when he said them, you are most definitely sure your dad didn't think you'd ever be applying them when asking Jung Wooyoung to take your virginity but what he doesn't know won't put him in an early grave.

You are twenty-one years old and among a lot of other things, you are horny. It's time to get a move on.

"I'm going to ask you something now and for once," You let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you can't believe you're about to do this before opening them to level Jung Wooyoung with an open stare as you inch closer to him to make sure he can hear every word, "Just this once, I ask of you, nicely, to not be a dick about it. If you're not up for it, just...just let me down gently. Don't laugh at me, please, just tell me no and we'll forget it ever happened."

All traces of amusement leave Wooyoung's eyes after your all-too-honest speech and he turns to rest his hip against the kitchen island to be face to face with you. He looks serious and asks quietly, "What do you wanna ask me, Y/L/N?"

You take a deep breath, feeling undeniably nervous under his heavy gaze. "Those ideas of fun you mentioned before, the ones involving your apartment...."

Wooyoung presses the rim of the cup against his lower lip, teeth gently grazing it before he takes a sip. He nods, looking a little confused as he swallows, teeth coming back to bite on the cup.

"Mind showing me?"

It takes him a second to catch on but when he does, it only takes another second for the mischief in his eyes to triple and lips placed against the rim of his red cup to stretch into a wide breathtaking smile.

Wooyoung had an inkling of an idea where the course of the night would take him when he first left his apartment. Have a drink or two, mess about with the guys for a few hours and maybe if he was up to it, find someone to take home.

But this... if someone told him this would happen, he'd burst out laughing and call that person crazy. Insane. Deranged. A lunatic.

Really, he had no idea how the hell this happened.

This being two handfuls of your jean-covered ass in his hands, tongue shoved deep into your mouth as he pushes you against his hallway wall and swallows every tiny sound you make while your hands tug and rake through his hair.

He's pretty sure your dark red lip gloss is all over his cheeks from how messy and rushed the kissing is. Everything tastes like artificial cherries, a taste too sweet for Wooyoung's liking accompanied by a tinge of vodka and lemonade that you've both been drinking.

Your hands are soft when they run over his jaw and latch onto his shoulders, he swallows another surprisingly sweet whine of yours and slips a leg between your thighs. Embarrassingly enough, Wooyoung is already hard and once his hands slip from your ass to your hips just to feel the way you move them as you grind against his thigh - he fears he might finish in his pants.

Yeah, if at the start of the night someone told him that Y/L/N Y/N would be dry humping him in the hallway of his small studio apartment after he went out of his way to keep her company at a party, he surely would've dialed the nearest psychiatric institution to take that person in for much needed treatment.

When you reward him with a whimper that goes straight to his dick for placing a kiss underneath your ear, Wooyoung starts coating your neck in slow hot kisses and bites that leave you trembling in his arms.

He's been (as subtly as he could) staring at the naked skin that your shirt revealed for the majority of the night anyway so, truly, this isn't much of a chore for him.

When his teeth gently graze your clavicle, he pulls away for just a moment and realizes he's finally gotten a front seat view of your tits.

Jesus Christ.

When the fuck did you become hot?

Wooyoung always found you cute at most. And fine, he thought you were pretty too that night he drove you home from your prom night. But that's where it all ended. He didn't think about you all too much in any other way given your history and barely saw you as it is.

Looking at you now...your hooded eyes that glittered around the corners. Flushed cheeks and heavy breaths that made his head spin. Disheveled long hair that fell down your back and that he wanted to tangle his fingers in (which he quickly did as soon as that thought appeared, no time like the present!). And those fucking tits covered with nothing but a sorry excuse for a shirt that clung to your torso.

Wow.

It really must be true when they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Although there's little heart involved in this situation and a whole lot of thinking with his dick.

He pulls the thick strap of your top a little and watches at it smacks against your skin gently. You keep quiet, breaths still heavy as you watch him.

"This shirt is fucking ridiculous, Y/L/N."

No time left for talking, his fingers curl around your waist again as he bends down to place kisses against your chest. You both probably smell like smoke, sweat and booze but there's a soft layer of vanilla mixed into it the closer he gets to you and Wooyoung finds himself not minding the combination.

"I-It looks bad?"

It's the first words you've spoken since you stumbled into his apartment and Wooyoung has to pause, almost in disbelief. His first reaction is annoyance, not pegging you as the type of girl to fish for compliments by acting insecure even though she knows very well she looks delectable.

But then, the more he stares, the more he notices the way you twitch in his hold, shifting your gaze around his face in order to avoid his eyes, his annoyance disappears. You are insecure about the shirt. You are genuinely wondering whether or not it looks good on you.

And Wooyoung is nothing, if not ready to please at all times.

"I wanna drag it off of you with my teeth." He says the honest truth, hating the way his voice is low and husky. What the fuck is he doing. Why is he breathing so heavily?

The blush that overtakes you doesn't stop at your face but slowly curls around your neck and appears at the top of your chest. He hums, satisfied with the reaction he got before going back to business.

The business being your marvelous tits.

With his hand still curled around your waist as he lowers down so his forehead is basically resting on your bare chest, he groans once he thumbs over your left breast and feels a hard nipple under the material.

"Are you not wearing anything under this?" He murmurs against your skin, groaning again once he feels your fingers intertwine with his hair. Wooyoung doesn't wait for a response but roughly pulls one of the thick straps down your arm and places a hand over your naked breast feeling its weight in his hand.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He thumbs at your nipple, liking the soft moan that escapes you at the action as you continue to grind against his clothed thigh.

"Y-Yunjin said it didn't need a-a bra." You stutter out through a whisper and he places a soft kiss to the middle of your chest as if to soothe you before returning his attention to what's really important.

God bless Yunjin then. Wooyoung should remind himself to buy her that chicken sandwich she likes so much tomorrow morning.

His thumb rubs over the hard pink nipple one last time before its enveloped by his lips, tongue twirling around it and arm tightening around your waist as your breath hitches and you twitch even more in his hold.

When you let out a high pitched moan once his teeth gently graze the soft bud, Wooyoung thinks he'll send Yunjin a whole damn buffet to her dorm.

Wooyoung releases your nipple with a 'pop' that makes you groan lewdly and he scrambles to stand up to his full height to get the offending red shirt off your body.

"Off." He mutters and you quickly grab the ends of the shirt to pull it off, needing Wooyoung's help since it was genuinely so tight on your torso.

With your hair disheveled even more now and bare chest on full display, Wooyoung almost kneels down in front of you.

His dick ached.

"Oh my fucking God." He mutters, burying his face into your chest as he licked and kissed and sucked and...

"Bed." You whisper through a moan, tugging at his hair. You grit out almost bossily, "B-Bed!"

"Bed?" Wooyoung looks down on you in confirmation, body now completely pressed against yours and when he sees your wide, desperate but sure eyes, he quickly nods. "Bed."

His lips are back on yours again, hand grasping at your jaw as he pulls you from the wall and leads you further into his studio apartment. The bed was only a couple of feet away anyways.

You grunt against his lips as you trip over something and he pushes it away with his foot (it was a sneaker that fell out of place as he was getting ready in a hurry), continuing to lead the way to his bed.

"You take off your shirt too." You whisper, almost shyly which causes something warm to swirl in his stomach. He obeys quickly, dropping his shirt to your feet before pulling you in with a hand at the back of your neck, biting at your lower lip and letting out a small laugh as you gasp.

"Pants too." You add innocently and he huffs, growing amused at your bossy nature even in the bedroom.

So, of course, he'll be a little shit about it.

Wooyoung drops himself on the bed, thanking God he changed his sheets this morning, and obnoxiously spreads out his legs. He observes you with a tilted head and a grin on his face, "Why don't you take them off?"

You lick your lips at the request, feeling like it's awfully hot in the room despite the fact that you're not wearing a shirt. You without a shirt in front of Jung Wooyoung with your tits on full display was another thing that you weren't ready to unpack just yet.

He's beautiful.

Wooyoung's skin is a pretty color of fresh honey and you carefully step closer, between his legs, to place a hand on his firm chest and feel his velvety skin. He watches your every move with hooded eyes, holding himself up with his arms placed behind him on the bed.

There's a tattoo on the side of his ribs, one that you would never know about unless you see him like this, so you run a thumb over it in admiration. Still, you don't want to take too long at the risk of coming off as weird, so with all the bravery you can muster - your hand drops to the button of his jeans and you gently (because of your fucking knee) lower yourself down to sit between his legs.

You thumb it open and pull the zipper down, shivering at the way Wooyoung's lips part and he softly exhales in what seems to be anticipation. You further flush when you finally get to see the outline of his....well, his dick.

You felt it against your hip, when you were kissing by the entrance door but you didn't have the guts to ever look down.

When Wooyoung lifts his hips up to help you get his pants off, you realize you're about to see it now anyway.

Clearing your throat, you curl your fingers around the waistband of his jeans and underwear all at once and pull it down. If Wooyoung notices how clumsy you are with it, he decides not to comment at least.

And there it is. His dick. A dick, first of all. The first dick you've ever seen in your life that wasn't through the screen while watching a bad porn video.

You don't stop pulling on his pants until they're pooling at his ankles without breaking stare with his...penis.

You don't really know what you expected if you're being honest. You never thought a dick would be pretty and...it's not exactly ugly either. Just, odd looking you suppose.

You can't tell if it's either big or small as you have nothing to compare it to. Maybe average? What is considered small? You're scared what a big dick looks like if this is a small one. Or even average one. It's kind of thick though which is worrying, you don't even notice the way your lips part as you imagine how exactly is this...thing supposed to fit anywhere inside of you.

There's neatly trimmed hair at the base of it and the tip is flushed, a thick vein running at the underside of it and two-

"Uh," It's like a sound of a scratched record as you freeze, "Your first time seeing a dick or something, Y/L/N?"

Your head slowly lifts from his lap and up to his face where a Jung Wooyoung awaits with raised brows.

It's only then that you realize you've been examining this guy's dick like he was at a doctor's appointment instead of trying to get him off.

You're at a little loss of words to be honest and for a split second you're worried that Jung Wooyoung will take your stutters of "I, uh" and "Um"'s and "Uh, hm"'s the wrong way and think you're impressed by him or something. You're not, once again, you have nothing to compare it to. You barely know what you're looking at right now.

His facial expressions go a little like this in the next twenty seconds: Cockiness (that quickly fades though), Confusion and last but not least Realization.

"Oh my God, it is?!" He laughs in disbelief before his eyes grow even wider and mouth continues to hang open. He quickly places a pillow laying on his bed over his lap, to shield his manhood from the big bad scary virgin apparently, "You're a virgin?!"

It feels like a punch to the gut and you flush a deep red, already scrambling up to your feet and shielding your bare chest. While you try to find that damned crop top, Wooyoung is still rambling in the background.

"There's no way! Wow, seriously you've never had sex before?! Never?! Wow, there's no way! Wait, why are you putting your shoes on-"

You refuse to turn towards him, pathetic tears of embarrassment already welled up in your eyes and bottom lip wobbling, "Uh, I'm gonna go."

"Wait, what? Why?" You hear shuffling behind you and you assume he's trying to get back into his jeans.

You quickly slide your second sneaker on and are flinging the door open, not looking back. "I have to go. I'm sorry, bye."

"Sorry? What are you- Will you just wait a fucking second for me to put my clothes back-" The door falls shut and you're stalking down the hallway of the apartment building, trying to get as far away from his door as you can.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

What were you thinking? Kissing Jung Wooyoung, going home with Jung Wooyoung, doing anything with Jung Wooyoung. What were you thinking?

You cry only a little when you get back to your dorm. Really, it's only a little, just a couple of flimsy tears.

Then you scrub the makeup from your face and change into your pajamas. Yunjin still isn't back and you're angry at her too, for bringing you to that party in the first place. For leaving you with Jung Wooyoung as well.

You're angry and embarrassed. And on top of that, you're horny too.

Why did Jung Wooyoung have to be such a good kisser? Why did his hands have to feel so nice? Why was he so beautiful?

You huff, buried deep in your sheets and all ready to go to bed but sleep just isn't coming. You're too busy thinking about the guy you've sworn not to think about at all anymore.

It was going so well these last two years.

With another huff, you cover your face with your pillow and scream at the top of your lungs.

He tasted like lemonade.

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff

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familyvideostevie · 1 year

Note

ok but meeting remus lupin during the end of nov and admitting how melancholy this time of year makes u feel and that's it ur invited to all the marauders events over the holidays and spend new years together

my first attempt at remus! this really ran away from me, but i hope you like it! i am still finding my footing with him but this was great fun. | fem!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, nye kiss, 3.3k

You meet Remus at a local book club, of all places.

A flyer on the bookshop notice board tells you the group meets every other week -- a bit frequently, in your opinion, but you've got the time to read so you figure you'll give it ago. Moving to a new place means you haven't got many, or any, really, friends, and you could do with getting out of the house more. The days are getting shorter and you find yourself a bit more lonely with each passing day.

The group, when you go for the first time, consists of eight elderly women (though, they are sure to inform you, sometimes numbers swell to as many as 15), you, and Remus. They ask for your name and your age, which they all titter at.

"I, uh," you say, crossing your legs and shifting in your folding chair. "I'm really happy to be here," you say. "Thank you for letting me join." That seems to soften them, and they all are a bit more smiley as they introduce themselves.

It is clear right away that they adore Remus. It's not surprising -- he's handsome in a tired way, a ragged way. His face is a mash-up of sharp edges and tight scars that slash across his nose, but his eyes are soft and warm. You want to inspect every inch of him, so naturally you look away.

It takes three meetings for you to say much. After four, you see Remus at the grocery store twice in one week. You wonder if he lives around here. By the fifth meeting, you're fairly sure you've got your footing. You chime in more often than not, and they're going to let you pick a book next month. It's the last meeting before you all break for the holidays and you are quite sad to not have these to look forward to for the next few weeks. But you push it down and instead focus on your impassioned defense of the unlikable narrator in this week's novel.

"It's the edge that makes the story so compelling," you say. "We get to judge her because we recognize her, but we don't know why until too late. It's because she's normal, and we're meant to see ourselves in her." You've gone on for too long, and after you finish, you don't know where to look. Remus is smiling at you, as he always does.

"Brilliant," says Florence, the bookstore owner and facilitator "What a way to end! I can't wait to see what you come up with in the new year, dear." She hands out the plates of cookies that she made for everyone and the ladies begin to go their separate ways. You're juggling your book, bag, and the plate while you try to shove an arm through your coat. A hand appears in your vision to grab the items in your grip.

"You alright?" It's Remus. He smells like chocolate and something earthier. You've spoken a few times, but not much apart from a hello here and there. He complimented your sweater last meeting and the words burned in your brain for days. You nod, quickly sliding into your coat before taking your things back. His fingers are warm where they brush yours.

"Thanks," you say. The bookshop is almost empty.

"I agree with you, by the way," he says. You've noticed that when Remus talks to you, even if he's responding to something you've said in the group, he looks at you the whole time. His attention does not waver. It's both warming and unnerving. "What you were saying about the narrator. I hadn't been able to put it into words like that, but I think you were spot on."

You start for the door and he follows. "I just think it's easy to fall into the trap of putting every character on one side of morality or the other," you say.

"Exactly!" He nods emphatically. "With a writer of this caliber the text encourages you to read about her with nuance and to consider that she's not just one thing." He holds the door for you and you both spill out into the chilly night air. The town has wrapped every lamppost and tree in lights that cast everything in a warm glow.

"Listen," Remus says. He looks especially lovely out here. You hug your plate of cookies close to your chest before you reach out to push away the lock of hair that's fallen across his forehead. "I know this is probably not going to come out well, so feel free to tell me to shove it."

You blink at him. What?

"I've seen you at the supermarket around the corner a few times," he continues. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he's being shy. "And I figure you live around here?" You nod. You've no reason to believe he's anything but a nice guy, but you know nothing about him. Even if you have also noticed him at the same store.

"Well," he keeps going. His smile is tight, the creases at the corner of his eyes deep in a way that screams nerves. "I was wondering, if you don't have plans that is, if you wanted to come to the pub with me? I'm meeting a few of my mates and I--." He runs a hand through his hair, fixing the piece you can't stop looking at. "Well, we don't get to talk much during club and I'd uh, like to get to know you?"

"Are you asking me to be friends?" you blurt out. Probably not the best thing to lead with, but he's really so handsome and he seems nice and you haven't got much to look forward to in your empty apartment and this is just a little bit overwhelming. His shoulders creep back down away from his ears and he grins.

"Yeah," he says. "I am."

"Okay," you say. "Lead the way." Remus doesn't strike you as someone who wears his emotions plainly, but his grin softens into something lighter and you think that you want to figure out how to read him.

You fall into step beside him. "It's not far," he says. "I do want to apologize in advance for my friends, though," he says.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, they're great. Don't get me wrong. I love them to pieces." He sighs. "But they're also a bloody pain."

You laugh loudly and suddenly. It feels nice. "Well, that's a ringing endorsement. It's alright though, I could use some friends."

Remus looks over at you and tugs on your elbow just once to tell you to turn with him. "You just moved here, yeah?"

"Well, a few months ago now, but I haven't had much luck with people." Between working and trying to keep your head above water, you haven't figure out how to add socializing into that yet. "And I don't really like...all this." You wave your hands in the air, gesturing at the lights and ribbons adorning the street.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," you say. "It all makes me feel a bit sad." You start to feel embarrassed. "Oh Remus, I'm sorry. We've barely spoken and I'm being all melancholy." He knocks his shoulder with yours and you look over at him to see he's still got a small smile on his face.

"Darling," he says. "I am as melancholy as they come. You're speaking my language."

---

The pub is crowded and noisy and you like it immediately. Remus takes your hand and leads you through the throng to a back corner where two guys are taking up an entire round booth with what seems to be an arm wrestling match.

"Surrender, Potter," one of them says. He's got a knot of dark hair tied into a bun and tiny hoops in each ear and one nostril.

"Fuck off," growls the other. You can tell right away that he's tall, maybe as tall as Remus. He's got messy hair and round spectacles. He is not winning the match.

"Idiots," Remus mutters. He lets go of your hand and places his palm on your lower back. "Hey, knock it off!" This distracts the boy with glasses, allowing the other one to slam his arm down on the table.

"Shove it," he cries. Remus rubs the bridge of his nose. You don't think they've noticed you yet.

"Where are the girls?" he asks. More friends? you think.

"They're coming," says the boy who lost. Potter, you think. His eyebrows climb up his forehead once he notices you standing next to Remus.

"Marlene called and said they had to stop at home first," adds the other one. His eyes find you and his gaze is sharp. "And who is this?" he says, eyeing you.

"Uh," you say. Remus's hand presses a little harder into your back. "Remus and I do book club together?" You put the plate of cookies down on the table like a peace offering.

"Merlin's beard," glasses boy whistles. "She's real."

The one with piecing looks delighted. "James, you owe me a fiver." He holds out his hand.

"Fuck off, Sirius," says...James. "Wait are those cookies?"

"As you can see," Remus sighs, "these gits are James and Sirius. Are you two about finished?" You look at him and his cheeks are a little pink but he's doing his best to look bored. James and Sirius break into roars of laughter as they scoot to make room for you both. Remus ushers you into the booth. "I'm going to get drinks," he says. "What would you like?"

"Whatever you're having," you tell him. You tug off your coat and don't know what to do with your hands.

"I want a stout, Remus," James says.

Remus doesn't even look at him. "I wasn't asking you, dear." He winks at you and turns on his heel, heading for the bar. You feel a bit strange to be left with two guys you just met, but this is how you make friends, right?

"So what's this about me not being real?" you ask. Sirius raps a tattooed knuckle on the table before reaching for a sugar cookie.

"Well," he drawls. "Lupin told us about his book club when he started going earlier this year but we don't hear much else about it. And then a little while ago, he comes to drinks and he says there's a new girl."

James says your name in a poor imitation of Remus's accent. You twist your fingers in your lap. "And he says a few things about this new girl," Sirius continues, until James elbows him.

"Keep your limbs to yourself, Potter," he grumbles.

James leans in, elbows on the table. "Remus hasn't made a new friend since like, grammar school. So naturally we thought he was having us on when he said you two were friendly."

"Oh," you say. He's been telling his friends that you're friendly? It makes your chest tight in a nice way, like you're being hugged. "Well, thank you for letting me crash your pub night," you say.

"Are you kidding?" Sirius deadpans. "We've been begging him to invite you for weeks." Remus returns before you can reply with two pale-looking pints. He sets them down and slides in next to you, close enough that it's clear you know him the most, even if that's barely true, but far enough that you're not touching except for your knees knocking under the table. He stretches an arm across the top of the booth behind you. You hope you're not staring.

"So how were the books this time?" James asks. His eyes say mischief but he seems to be willing to let you off the hook for now. You and Remus recount the drama from today's meeting. The boys ask you basic questions like what you do for work and how you like the city and what club you support, but none of it feels stale or disingenuous. In fact, it really feels like they want to get to know you.

"Well, surely you've been to the skating rink in the park." Sirius is interrogating you on what neighborhoods you've visited. You shake your head and he gasps like you've slapped him. "What about the market?"

"I don't really do the holidays very well," you say, a bit softly. He raps his knuckles on the table again and Remus presses his thigh into yours on purpose. "I just haven't got my footing yet. I haven't been here that long and I don't have a guide."

"Well that won't do," James says.

"You do now," Remus says. You turn to him and find that he's closer than you realized. His eyes bore into yours and he looks rather serious. "Have a guide, I mean. You'll just do everything with us." You blink. Is it really this easy? Making friends? A handsome boy wants to facilitate your holiday season and you don't really know what to say.

"Brilliant idea, Lupin," Sirius says happily. "I always say you're the smartest of us."

Remus kicks him. "Okay," you say. "That sounds nice."

"I'm sure Remus has your phone number," James says cheekily. "He'll sort it." Remus does not, in fact, have your phone number, but you remedy that by passing him your mobile. He taps away at it with one hand, the other still hovering just over your shoulders.

"Where the bloody fuck are the girls?" Sirius grumbles. It seems he can change moods from one moment to the next faster than anyone you've met before. "Marlene has my nice suede jacket from last week."

"And we need Lily here so James stops looking so put out," Remus says, not looking up from your phone. "Lily is his girlfriend," he adds for your benefit. "Are we not good enough for you, Jamie?"

James ignores him.

"More friends?" you say quietly. Remus nods.

"You'll like them. And they'll adore you." You've been friends with him for all of one night, but his tone is sincere. The pub lighting makes his scars softer and you fight against leaning into him as he talks.

"How do you know?"

His mouth curls up at one end in a smile that makes you shiver a little. "I just do."

It wouldn't do to develop a crush on your first real friend in town, so you try your best not to over the next few weeks. You fail miserably. How could you not like Remus? He carts you around the city with his friends -- your friends too, he insists -- going ice skating and drinking mulled cider and market shopping and every time you are struck by how lovely he is. He holds your hand a lot and sends you photos he manages to take of you without you noticing. You meet the rest of the group -- Lily and Marlene and Dorcus -- and you love them, too. You see lights all over the city and laugh a lot and smile so much your cheeks ache. His friends tease you and you end up in multiple group chats and things start to feel good. Even when you go back to your apartment alone, you feel warm. You are just excited for whatever you're going to do next.

And then it's New Year's Eve.

The pub you've become a regular at is having a party and Lily was timely enough to book your regular table for the whole crew. You're running a little late because you could not decide what to wear, but you make it, shoving yourself through the crowd to the back booth.

Someone -- you're not sure who -- spots you and screams your name. You recognize a lot of the people here, but it's not until James enters your field of vision that you relax.

"There she is!" he cries, looking over his shoulder. "Remus, she's here!" Remus emerges from the crowd and scoops you up, pressing his lips to your cheek in a quick hello as he grabs your coat and pulls you in for a hug. He's warm and smells like beer and something spicy.

"You look lovely," he says. He's had at least one drink judging by the color of his cheeks and his general handsy-ness.

"So do you," you say. He wrinkles his nose at you.

"Go sit in my seat and I'll get you a drink. The usual?" You nod. He gently pushes you towards the table and disappears into the crowd. You slide into a space Remus has clearly vacated next to Sirius. He's got some sparkles on his lower lids and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth as he shuffles a deck of cards. Everyone at the table is flushed and ready.

"Hey, you," he says. "You in?" You've no idea what they're playing.

"Next round, Sirius." He shrugs and you watch something that looks like Hearts happen in front of you.

Remus returns before the round wraps up and you stand to give him his seat. He looks at it and then at you and then back at the bench before he slides in, setting your pints on the table before wrapping his long, slender fingers around your wrist and tugging just enough so that you stumble towards him and end up in his lap. Everyone at the table is fighting smiles and Sirius wraps up the round and turns to you both. He puts the cigarette behind his ear and manages to look extremely bored with your antics.

"Now are you playing?" You nod, breathless. Remus's arm wraps around your back, hand settling on your hip so that you won't fall off of him.

A hand moves your hair off of your shoulder and you feel lips on your earlobe. "What are we playing?" You turn and all of a sudden Remus's face is incredibly close to yours. He does not move away.

"No idea," you say, forgetting that you do know what you're playing. Your brain is a little fuzzy right now. Which is probably why you lose horribly, Remus laughing underneath you as you desperately try to shove aside thoughts of kissing him so you can focus for just one second.

And then it's almost midnight. The energy in the pub changes to something a bit more exuberant and someone passes out champagne in classes of all kinds. You end up holding a whiskey tumblr of fizz and the booth around you empties as everyone gets to their feet, ready to chant in the new year. Remus maneuvers you gently so that you're no longer totally in his lap, just next to him with your legs across it. His arm is a warm band around your shoulders to keep you close. The pub increases in volume as people start to sing.

"Have you got anyone to kiss at midnight?" he yells into your ear, lips brushing your skin again.

You pull back to look at him. He's flushed, but his eyes are clear. "I think so," you say. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he sets down his own glass and grabs your jaw. His thumb rubs over your lower lip.

"Lucky bloke," he says. The countdown chanting starts around you. You cup his jaw for the first time and run a gentle finger along one of the scars on his jaw. He shudders.

You can't wait a second more so you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He gasps just a little bit before responding, tongue tracing the seam of your mouth. His fingertips dig into your party dress and you kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and everyone is cheering and you think some of it might be for you two.

You have a feeling that this year isn't going to be so bad.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders

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sakuraryomen01 · 2 years

Text

Valentino.. /Sukuna Ryomen x Female Reader/ Pilot/(.o1?)

warnings: flashback (moving, feelings of abandonment leads to resentment against reader, childhood crushes, small kisses), asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, roomie is fucking with Getou oml

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 2.914k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 (will be updated..)

a/n:: already? another fanfic? yes. i love these. anyways, i wanted to make a longer slow burn with more of an upsetting beginning. i hope you love this one as Lost Lamb comes to an end.. ^^

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy~

. . .

"You're.. leaving?"

You gave a nod, your eyes teary with despair as you held your friend's hands in yours. Giving a squeeze, you felt the sadness in your heart only grow when you turned to see your parents loading your car up with the last of your belongings.

"But.. you said you'd stay," The boy in front of you mumbled. His black hair hung low, and red eyes looking at nothing but your face and expression. "Forever, remember? You said that!"

"Sukuna, I'm sorry," You responded, your heart aching with sorrow.

You didn't want to leave either. You had been here since you were a baby. Though, your parents said they needed to move for better work, and a fresh start for school. You were only six, you couldn't say no.

"It's for school and work.."

"There's school and work here!" He protested, his eyes dewy as you held your hands tighter. Making you look up at him with a slight blush tinting your cheeks, your eyes finally connected with the boy that lived down the road.

"You have school and friends here! And me! You don't need to leave, Y/n!"

Sukuna Ryomen, the boy that stumbled over with his brother the day you moved in on his way to school. The boy that you became friends with after doing a collage together during pre-k. You had played games and helped him when his father was drunk by letting him stay at your place while his grandma was away. Hiding him in your secret hideout where there was enough room for three people; Sukuna, his brother, and you.

Your first crush..

"I can't stay, Ryo.." You mumbled, watching as the boy's eyes filled with tears at your response. "My momma and dad said I can't.."

"Love, time to get going!" Your mother called, waving her hand in the air and smiling brightly. She was excited to go to the city..

"Please, don't leave me.." Sukuna's tone soft as he stared at the ground. A flash of red and his arms were around your neck, hugging like you were going to shatter into a million pieces.

You couldn't leave.. He loved you..

"Who am I going to play with and go to the lake to see the frogs grow? I want to keep climbing the Willow Tree with you, Y/n.. Don't go.."

With a stab to the heart, Sukuna's nose nuzzled against your neck, his breath hitched as he began to cry quietly. He never cried. Even if his knee was cut or his father punched him.

He never cried..

"S-Suku.. I hafta.." You had begun to cry as well, holding onto Sukuna's scuffed up shirt and pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

Two little kids in love. So precious.

"Y/n.." Sukuna sniffled, his tears staining your shirt until he lifted his head and wiped at his red eyes. He lifted your face, his palm on your cheek, your cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment.

"Promise me I'll see you again. When we're older, I want to be with you like your momma and dad are.."

Your cheek burned hot, eyes widening in shock at his confession. Sukuna?

The determined boy nodded, holding your face in his hands and blushing. With his face red like a tomato, he gave a small breath and gave you a soft kiss. Your parents, thankfully, didn't witness this as they had gone inside the house to gather a few more things, but you were flustered beyond relief.

"M-Mm!" You mumbled, closing your eyes quickly as to savor it.

Eventually, Sukuna had the power to pull away. His face was hot with embarrassment as he looked into your eyes, the kiss and realization hitting the both of you suddenly.

It was a promise.

"I-I swear.." You said finally, your voice quiet as you looked down at the ground. He was your first kiss..

"Good."

Sukuna gave a confirmed nod, letting your face go and holding your hands and smiling, despite the tears. Your face beginning to cool as Sukuna began to speak, his eyes glowing bright.

"I'll see you when I'm a big man, and smart and have lots of money so that I can take care of you forever. I'll go to school in the big city too and get a 'degree' like from one of your books and use it to find a good job. I will make you my wife and love no one but you, Y/n!"

He gave your hands a squeeze and began to walk you to your car, to where your parents waited and helped you inside. Once you were in the car he finally let go, hoping that his promise and his words would stay with you and give you some comfort.

The sounds of the country are slowly beginning to fade as you stare out the back window of your parents' new car. Watching Sukuna slowly become smaller and smaller, his hand never stopped waving as you turned the corner down your former driveway. The dirt clouds and stones that were kicked up by the tires covering what last you saw of your childhood friend..

. . .

That was eighteen years ago. And now, you sat alone, in your college dorm with music blasting from your speakers as your roommate rode one of the many dicks she owned.

You hummed the sweet music as they climaxed together, scribbling down a few notes in your handbook before standing and heading to the kitchen.

Still in your sweats, tank top, and sports bra, you gathered a few items from your fridge and began a bowl of ramen. Though, trying to be fancy, you started cooking some beef for ram-don. A dish that you regularly topped with chives and a slab of bacon, though you didn't have the luxury as your next paycheck was next week.

As you began cooking, you could smell the weed wafting from down the hall. Your roomies bedroom was normally the hot spot for hippies and other assorted college morons since she had more marijuana than your weird uncle.

You know the one. The one that normally hid his stash in his cabinet and had a rolled up cig with it when you went to visit.

Eventually, a disgruntled man stumbled out of her room and began walking towards the exit. His shirt is missing and his jacket was hanging from his hips. Jeans too ripped to be considered stylish and his hair all messy and hanging past his shoulders.

"Hello, Suguru," You said, your eyes looking towards your cooking food as the college boy made his way to your fridge.

Getou Suguru, computer major and an academic athlete for three years until now. He likes working with his friend Gojo Satoru on big projects though he ends up doing most of the work and crashing before the deadline. He was one of the only guys you liked having around.

He was smart, funny, and a real charmer, thankfully he wasn't your type. You didn't have one as of right now.

"Hello, sweetness.." The long haired gentleman chuckled as he leaned over the counter. "What're you making?"

"Ram-don. It's for lunch," You answered, Getou humming in response as he sipped his beer.

"Sounds like a party."

You chucked at his words, finishing the meat and pouring out any extra grease before stirring it in with your ramen. Getou gave a warm groan at the smell of food, walking over to your side and purring with content as you chopped up some chives you had found.

"Can you make me a bowl, Y/n?" He asked, his dark eyes staring down as he licked his lips.

"I don't know, Sugu," Your voice cooed, teasing your friend as you looked back up at him. "Are you sure you remember how to use a fork or chopsticks?"

You both laughed as you proceeded to make him an extra bowl, quickly talking to him about his next project. Weirdly enough, him and Gojo decided to collab on this big animation project for Getou's final exam that semester.

It's funny to hear "Gojo" and "work" in the same sentence, though..

"So it's an animation?" You asked, slowly sucking the warm ramen noodles into your mouth while Getou licked his lips.

"Yeah, but it's not going to be some huge ass animation though," He answered, using his fork to stab the beef in his ramen.

"Probably going to be a minute or two long, not much. I only really want to pass the class with at least an A. Sato's going to be a help though, he's weirdly good with computer animation."

As you continued to ask questions, Getou answered them. On and on until you both finished the food and cleaned up the dishes. Continuing to talk though didn't last long once your eyes landed on your clock.

You were a minute late to your first class of the day, which was normal, you didn't like paying attention to the time that much.

"Anyways, I'll be seeing ya," You said, standing from your spot on the couch. "I got Economics right now."

Getou teased you about being a few minutes late until you closed the door to your bedroom and began to change. Grabbing a large, black hoodie you had bought two months ago with your favorite band logo on the back where the hood rested and some shorts rather than your sweats.

Sure, the sweats were nice, but your legs had begun getting hot and it was rather uncomfortable. And your economics class wasn't exactly air conditioned during your time there. Besides, your legs were nicely shaved and you enjoyed wearing shorts when they were.

Anyways, you grabbed some socks and slide-ons before heading out the door with your book bag hanging from your shoulder. You said a few goodbyes to Getou, grabbing bottled water and your bento for lunch, and left. The sounds of the dorms becoming active soon filling your ears as you walked towards the exit and onto campus.

It was a rather dark looking day, due to lots of clouds, but it relaxed you. Classes weren't something that bothered you and having a day like this was nice. Kept you calm while you were studying, even though thunderstorms might scare you from time to time at night.

As you made your way over to the building that held the first half of your classes, passing by a large statue of the universities founder, your eyes caught onto a newsletter that hung from a telephone poll nearby.

'Willow Tree,' it read, with information about an upcoming road trip to this lake out in the Sticks. Most of the Economics and Computing classes, along with some of the Track squad were allowed to go for freshmen and up.

Well, this is the first I'm hearing about it.

The Sticks. Where you used to live. That's a coincidence.

You shook your head, planning on learning more through your teacher later, and heading inside the building. It wasn't long until you walked down the clean and quiet hallway and found your class. There were a few students in there, some you assumed were nursing a hangover, and your teacher who's lesson was around it's mid-point.

His eyes were a beautiful emerald green like aways, his black hair hanging low against his forehead and nape. There were a few girls that'd love to bag a man like him, Toji Fushiguro. He had a son that went here that you knew very well, and was actually rather friendly despite his cold demeanor.

Toji looked more like a gang leader rather than an Economics teacher, in your opinion.

"Oh, hey," The man said, his eyes lifting from some paperwork towards you, you had just walked inside. "You're a little late, Y/n."

"Yeah, I'm sorry," You said, nodding as you closed the door. "I was studying and lost track of time. It won't happen again."

"I sure hope it won't, you're my best student after all."

Giving another nod, you headed over towards your seat and opened your bag. Some of the students there weren't really paying attention and listening, but that's to their own fault if they don't pass. Toji's words, not yours.

As your professor started speaking about the trip that was coming up, there was a knock at the door. Toji walked over after putting his stuff down and opened the door, revealing a student you assumed as you didn't pay much mind and continued to write down a few notes that were written on the board.

You didn't hear much but a name.

One single name. That's it.

"Sukuna Ryomen, is going to be attending this class for the next month or two for credits," Toji announced, your eyes darting up to look at the student you ignored earlier.

His hair was dyed a pink color with that same scar under his eye. How was he here in all places? You didn't want to say anything harsh about him, but he wasn't particularly college-material. He was the loud kid in the back of class that got in fights. Always had a few cuts from playing too hard in the play pen.

But the man you're looking at right now is nothing like the kid he was.

He was clean and seemed to be taking extra care of himself, physically. Exercising and eating right, having a proper sleep schedule without any bad habits. This couldn't be him, right?

Sukuna wouldn't dress like he was about to meet his girl's parents, properly shaved around the chin without a scratch. You could even hear a few girls cooing in the back row at the new student. He looked so perfect, nothing like the messy little boy you once knew..

This wasn't Sukuna, right?

"Treat him well, alright?" Toji finished, motioning for Sukuna to sit at one of the tables as the girls continued to coo and giggle over the freshman.

You couldn't blame them, Sukuna looked very handsome.

Rather rouge-ish look but also too simple and striking to be considered a bad-boy persona. He pulled some things from his bag as he sat down clicking a pen and turning his attention towards his professor. Your eyes could never peel from him, how could they?

Sukuna? At your school? It must be a dream.

"Anyhow, the field trip to the Willow Tree Farmhouse will be held at the end of the year for all students. " Toji continued, holding up a flyer and talking about fees for the trips and such until the bell rang.

Quickly, you stood and grabbed your things, the urge to talk to Sukuna on your mind after years. Though, you were stopped as Toji called your name and motioned for you to come to his desk. You gave a soft sigh, though you saw red eyes on you.

Sukuna's lidded eyes were staring you down from his spot at the exit, a girl already attempting to ask him out to which he ignored. The stare was so intense, making an old flutter in your heart ignite.

This wasn't normal at all..

How could it already be so soon? When did he move? You had so many questions you needed answered, so many things you wanted to talk about, but Sukuna was soon gone. The girl that was bothering him an annoyed mess as she left in the opposite direction. You found your way to Toji's desk, your professor sensing your unease and smiling.

"What's got you so upset, darling?"

"Hm?" Your head perked up, suddenly back from your dream world. "N-Nothing, sir. What do you need to talk to me about?"

"It's nothing you can't handle," Toji sighed, dropping his concern and pointing the pen in his hand towards the door where Sukuna formerly stood as he leaned back in his chair, a creak echoing from it's gears.

"The new kid. I wanted you to talk to him about the class and catch him up. He's been skipping out for half the year and he's severely behind in assignments."

Your professor stood from his seat and walked around his desk as your heart fluttered away. Was this your chance to reconcile? To apologize properly? To be friends again, from the beginning? To start over?

"I thought it'd be only fitting seeing as you must've grown up with each other," Toji said, folding his arms around his large chest. "Seeing as you both grew up in the Sticks."

You gave a nod, your eyes fixed on now particular area, your mind clouded with past memories and words. You had so much to tell him about, to say, to feel.

Did he still feel the same after so long?

The doubt in your heart ached, thought it would be expected. Anywhow, Toji wrote down your former friends dorm number and instructed your way inside the boy's dorms. Though, you would be forced to wait til after classes and go around 3 in the afternoon.

That wasn't going to be a bother, you could wait.

"Thank you," You said, dipping your head and exited the classroom. Toji gave a small goodbye before returning to his seat as a fresh wave of students entered behind you.

You walked towards your next class, a smile on your face as you felt all that past admiration and comfort fill your body.

Sukuna Ryomen, a name you thought you'd never hear again.

You were more than a little excited...

a/n: Already another fanfiction? Yes. I had a new idea for this one and wanted to start it already!! It's so fun to write for Sukuna, and make ya'll love him. I have more ideas for this slow burn, and it's going to be longer than Lost Lamb (:'D)!! You guys are going to love the shit out of this one, and the drama is going to be intense~

Chapter Song Theme: — Years & Years - Valentino (ft. MNEK) (lyrics

taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd, @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalfleshlight

next chapter || no set date

899 notes · View notes

bangtanfancamp · 1 year

Text

Oh Christmas Tree | KNJ

∴ summary: you’re looking for a fresh start and a Christmas tree when you unintentionally stumble across the worlds most attractive dimples and the sweet, gigantic, bumbling man attached to them

Alt: Namjoon + a Christmas tree farm + his best friend’s girlfriend’s little sister = the best Yuletide he never saw coming

∴ masterlist

∴ part of the breakfast with bangtan series

∴ pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader, guest appearances by cultivating a life with you Hoseok x his y/n

∴word count: 10.8k

∴ rating: mature, 18+

∴genre: fluff, strangers to lovers. slice of life, Christmas romance

∴warnings: flirting, woke adjacent Christmas tree banter? sexual tension, joon is a big man (we all know this), a few subtle pov shifts- but only at already marked breaks in the story beats (should be easy to follow. Hopefully), subtle daddy kink, joonie has big boobies and he likes boobies, what was meant to be really soft smut that got a little out of hand honestly

∴author’s note: This started as a little scribble in March of 2021 that only involved the scene of y/n and Namjoon bantering about Christmas trees. I’ve been neck deep in 30k+ monster fic drafts for months and I just wanted to write something quick & fluffy so here we are. This y/n is the sister Hoseok’s girlfriend visits in cultivating a life with you. The stories are totally independent of each other but technically- chronologically- this takes place two winters later. Not meant to be hallmark movie related. I honestly just love the idea of Namjoon in one of his tiny little beanies getting tongue tied in the snow while surrounded by Christmas trees. Enjoy! Please let me know if you like it, if you like :) also… this is not proofread yet. I stayed up all night writing this and didn’t sleep. So I’m gonna leave this here, crash, and come back later to edit and add my copious italics, as I do.

───────────────────────

“My gosh, are these Christmas trees in outer space?”

You’d spent the last hour and a half being squashed in the backseat of your sister’s Mini Cooper. Your knees were beginning to ache.

“Oh don’t be a grinch, silly. We’re almost there,” your sister twisted to smile back at you from her spot in the passenger seat.

Her pink mittened hand was happily resting on her boyfriend Hoseok’s slim thigh. He reached down to tap out the rhythm to “walking in a winter wonderland” across the back of her knuckles as she beamed back at you, and you felt a little bit of your irritation melt away. It was nice to see her so happy. They were sweet to each other. It was lovely for them, but it wouldn’t help straighten out the kink in your back.

Who takes a coupe to pick up a live Christmas tree?

Hoseok caught your eye in the rear view mirror and smiled in apology as you shifted. He was as nice as your sister, just as keen to accommodate, and as soft for her as you were, if not more. His car was in the shop and yours hadn’t arrived yet. You’d driven a u-haul here from three states away a week and a half ago, settling down to take root during a holiday season best celebrated in an established home like the smart planner you were (not).

But for once, you didn’t care. Or at least, you were learning not to.

You’d spent too much of your life stuck in places you didn’t even want to be, taking life too seriously. Spent too many of the last few years feeling stagnant and like you were running out of time all at once. So when the opportunity arose, you took the first chance you got to move here. To be closer to your sister, to be somewhere where the air felt lighter, where you could be whoever you wanted to be.

And today, you wanted to be the owner of a live Christmas tree.

Give yourself something to smile at in your studio that currently consisted of bare stucco walls and aesthetic cardboard box piles.

When you’d mentioned it over the phone, your sister had known just the place.

“It’s the cutest little Christmas tree farm! Me and hobi get our tree there every year! They even have a hot cocoa stand up front for you to sip on while you pick your tree out. It’s owned by the sweetest family. One of our friends works there too. Oh you have to meet him!”

Your sister had gushed it all in one breath.

“Have to?”

“Absolutely. Not even a question. Get dressed! Me and hobi’ll pick you up in 10!”

That was that. You’d bundled up to the best of your ability, (Your wardrobe was not prepared for how chilly the winters got up here) and twenty minutes later, your sister and a blushing Hoseok were waiting for you in the parking lot in their jolly little holiday mobile.

Your sister had added reindeer antlers and a red nose to her Mini Cooper and jingle bells to the door handles. There was a set of white vinyl stickers with the silhouette of Santa’s sleigh and all nine reindeer plastered on the back window and a sprig of mistletoe-that she’d probably grown herself- twirling from the rear view mirror. Somehow she’d even gotten the horn to match the melody of “we wish you a merry Christmas.”

You’d have to ask how later.

The ride ended up being cozy enough. Now you were just eager to get out and get the feeling back in your toes. Hoseok tipped the driver's side seat forward for you to crawl out from the back. The second the icy wind slapped against your cheek you wondered why you thought going out in the cold would bring any sort of circulation back to your toes. You rolled your eyes at yourself and chuckled when you caught sight of the purplish tinge along Hoseok’s throat peeking out just over the edge of his chunky crocheted scarf. (Your sister probably made it for him. And now he was using it to hide her hickies. The little hoe.)

He felt your stare and blushed, his wide animated eyes becoming sheepish as he yanked his scarf up just the littlest bit higher.

So that was why that ten minute pickup time had stretched into twenty.

Good for the both of you.

Soon, the three of you were wandering through the farm. There was a section of freshly cut trees ready to take home near the front but rows and rows of trees still rooted to the ground off into the horizon, all dusted with this week’s newest burst of powdery snow. It was a magical thing to see really.

Your sister was happily tucked into Hoseok’s lithe side, one arm looped through his, the other hand cradling a hot cup of cocoa with a candy cane poking out of the lid. Nothing if not festive. You’d opted to save your cup for later. You liked the brisk air, and you liked both your hands being deeply plunged in the warmth of your fleece lined pockets.

“Cell reception is shit up here.” Hoseok piped up. “I tried to text Namjoon to see if he was working today but all I got back was the green text bubble of death.”

“Boo, Joonie’s the worst at charging his phone too. It’s probably dead,” your sister giggled.

“Guess I’m never gonna meet your jolly green giant, Hobes,” you bumped his elbow with yours.

“With the brain of archibald asparagus,” your sister added.

“Sexy brain, that man has,” Hoseok sighed with envy.

“Your brain is sexy too, babe.” Your sister tipped up on her toes to kiss Hoseok’s wind-chapped cheek.

“Not as sexy as his,” Hoseok nodded resolutely.

“Oh, what about when he wears his little wire rimmed professor glasses?”

“Too hot. He’d melt the snow,” Hoseok swooned.

“Goodness, are you in love with my sister or him?” You teased.

“Both,” Hoseok admitted, a little too sincerely, clutching at his heart over his oversized parka.

“I don’t blame him,” your sister nodded sagely. You quirked a brow at her and she simply shrugged, all innocence, zero guilt. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Trust me, it’ll make sense when you see him.”

“If I ever see him. I’m pretty sure he’s a myth.” Your skepticism came out with a snort and an opaque puff of air.

Geeze, it’s cold.

────────────────────────

At some point in the wandering, you got distracted watching a small child drag their parent by the wrist to the tree of their dreams. The scene was so wholesome and sweet. The little girl squealed with delight as a pair of squirrels skittered past them in chase, twining their way up her tree and darting down and away, ruffling soft powdery snow loose from the tree’s needles in their wake like a fairy sprinkling pixie dust.

The whole interaction was so idyllic that you’d stopped paying attention to where you were going and plowed directly into the broad back of what you were sure must be a bear. What else could it be? No man’s back was that broad, that’s for sure.

The force of it knocked you flat back on your bum, leaving you dazed in a little pile of crunchy snow and loose pine needles.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

The words came too fast, too rushed, and at sure as hell too deep of an octave to come from anyone you knew, man or bear included.

There was a massive olive green, gloved hand shoved in your face- apparently attached to whoever was apologizing so profusely. You grabbed on and let it hoist you up. Goddamn, whoever this was was strong. After flying backward just a few seconds ago, you were now flying forward, toppling directly into what seemed to be just as equally broad a chest as the back you had crashed into moments ago.

“Are you alright? I can’t believe I did that. Are you o-“

The rambling ocean wave of a voice stopped crashing over you the second you looked up and locked eyes with what you were sure was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in person.

“Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath.

The man’s full lips seemed to gape as he looked at you.

Not necessarily in an objectionable way. It was more like, the tape in his brain had spun off the track and tangled itself up like an old cassette that needed help being wound back up again. It was like his thoughts were written all over his face. If you knew him better, you could have read them like a novel. For now, you knew one thing.

He was pretty when he was thinking.

Hell, he was pretty, period.

And two, he was solid as an ox.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Mr Yun’s gonna kill me if you’re hurt. I should have been paying more attention.” He patted down the sides of your ribs and torso like he was half expecting a bone to be jutting out.

“I’m okay. I’m good. i-“ am still holding his pecs, you realized.

What a Christmas miracle they were. Geeze. He had better boobs than you. You swallowed once then smiled up at him. “Do you, by any chance, work here?”

He blinked at you. There was snow on his eyelashes. His tiny dark green beanie wasn’t doing any good at shielding his face from the snow, but god did the color look good next to his golden skin.

“Um, yes, actually. I do. Again, I’m so sorry that I-“

“Shush, enough of that. You’re going to help me pick my tree.”

“I am?”

It was his turn to swallow.

“I mean, yes. Of course I am. Can. What are you looking for?”

He was nervous. So visibly nervous. You weren’t sure if it was because of you or if it was just his general disposition. Either way, you were hopelessly endeared by it. Pretty, bumbly, abominable snowman of a man. With great tits.

“Well, I came here in a Mini Cooper, so… whatever will fit on top of that, I guess.”

He blinked again, before he smiled- wide and gracious. His eyes crinkled at the edges and Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

His dimples.

How obscene.

“Sounds like a great place to start, to me.” He laughed for the first time. It was so boisterous and rich, you were sure he’d cause an avalanche.

The sound was as deep as winter, but soothing and warm. You already wanted to hear it again.

Oh boy. You really liked this one.

────────────────────────

“So what technically constitutes ‘ethically sourced’ when it comes to Christmas trees?” You looked wide-eyed up at Namjoon.

“Um… you know I… well, usually I-I would know the answer to that.”

“But right now, you don’t?”

“I mean, I can’t say that I do.” He shrugged ruefully.

“Despite currently being employed on a Christmas tree lot?” You arched a brow at him, a wry smile pulling at your lips.

“That does seem to be the case, yes.” His brows pinched at his own glum response.

“Are you new?” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you watched him.

“No, actually, I’ve been helping Mr. Yun since college… senior year of high school technically, actually.” Namjoon looked a bit lost in space as he wracked his brain for his qualifications.

“So you should have seniority around here?”

“Sort of ? It’s just , you know, mr. yun is a friend of my parents and he’s always been good to me so I always try to return the favor and help out every year, if I can.” He swallowed.

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. He literally talked to people for a living. He could sell a polar bear ice, for Pete’s sake. But every time he made eye contact with you, he was practically on the verge of forgetting his own name so this whole witty repartee thing was an absolute struggle in ways it absolutely should not be.

“Well, he’s very lucky to have you then. Even if you can’t tell me where this tree came from.” You chuckled.

“No, I that- that I can do. All our Douglas firs come from grey farms about two hours north of here. Again, super kind family. They’ve been doing this for generations, actually.”

He found himself affectionately gripping the top of the tree while you smiled up at him like you had a secret and he felt a new rush of sweat rise beneath the fold of his beanie.

“So locally sourced then.”

“Family owned.” He nodded.

“Well now, that’s a great start. You know more than you let on.” You tapped an index finger into the down of his puffy coat and he felt himself flush, wishing he actually could have felt that touch.

Every part of him felt like he was back in middle school right now. It had been ages since something this simple was this difficult for him. Trying to figure out how not to trip over his words while maintaining eye contact with the you and your the luminous smile really wasn’t working at all. He should have been better at this by now, he sighed. His thirteen year old self would have been ashamed to see how little progress he’d made in that department in a decade and a half.

“So, should I choose to re-home this lovely tree, do you know of anyone who could, say, strap it to the roof of my car for me?”

Your eyes were twinkling, face framed by the softly falling snow flurries that had started up again and Namjoon felt himself swallow.

“I- I would be happy to find-“

“There you are! Finally found you- Oh, hey bro! So you are working today!” A voice bright like tangy sweet lemonade interrupted Namjoon’s inelegant struggle.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon looked mystified at the pair of you as Hoseok clasped a mittened hand around your shoulder. “How do you two-“

“This is my girl’s sister, y/n, remember? I told you we were helping her move in last week.” He explained with a happy shrug.

“This is… you’re… wow. Hey. Nice to officially meet you.” Namjoon released the tree to dizzily shake your hand, trying his best to ignore your amusement at his manic behavior.

“So you’re the mysterious friend who was too busy to help with the u-haul unloading, huh?” You quirked a brow up at Namjoon. He looked a bit green around the gills as his snow frosted lashes fell away from your gaze.

“We were slammed here that day. If it makes you feel any better, I got so much pine sap all over me that I had to toss my favorite gloves away.”

“Tsk. Now why would that make me feel better?” You teased as something mischievous glinted in your eyes.

“Because my shitty friend status made me suffer?” Namjoon shrugged.

“Well, we weren’t friends yet,” you grinned. “But now that we are, I think it’s only right that you should come over when you’re off to help the three of us decorate my new locally sourced, freshly cut Christmas tree”

“Oh absolutely!“ Hoseok piped in. “You haven’t hung out in weeks- you have to come.”

His endearing smile beamed bright across his face in a way that was impossible to fight. Bright red bits of hair peaked out beneath his beanie as he grinned widely up at Namjoon, and Namjoon was too distracted by his openness to process his nerves at the invitation.

“I mean, I guess I… I mean I wouldn’t want to intrude on…”

“Nonsense,” Hoseok interrupted,” you’d only be making the party better! Y/n needs all the friends she can get anyway. Poor thing’s stuck hanging out with us all the time- she could use a few new faces in the rotation, right little sis?” He hip checked you, ruffling your hair with the hand slung over your shoulder.

“Not your little sis yet,” you countered, eyes full of challenge.

“Wait, Hobi, this Christmas are you gonna…” Namjoon twisted his left hand, the gesture caught vaguely somewhere between the Queens wave and the single ladies dance.

Hoseok pulled a nervous face, brows lifting and jaw tightening until his smile bared all his teeth, as he patted the chest of his puffer coat.

“I’ve been carrying it around for weeks actually. Can’t seem to find the right time.”

“Are you insane?” You swatted him. “You brought it with you here? What if you lose it in the snow, you dummy?!”

“Ow!” Hoseok rubbed his shoulder dramatically. “The little ones are always fighters.”

You rolled your eyes as Namjoon blushed for reasons beyond him. Maybe he didn’t need any more explanation than the fact that you were cute as hell and he liked seeing you laugh.

“Your sister would never hit me like that,” Hoseok huffed.

“Yeah, she doesn’t have to because she knows I’d do it for her. Now why on gods green earth is the ring just chilling in your pocket while you stroll through endless yards of nature??”

“I keep it with me in case there’s a moment that just feels right. I’ll already be ready, you know.”

Hoseok’s face was far away, dreamy.

Namjoon was happy for him, even if he wanted a little piece of his friend’s wonder for himself one day.

“I still think you should propose to her at home in your little jungle. You have to know how happy that would make her,” you asserted.

Namjoon thought back to his last visit to Hoseok’s apartment. The walls had almost been alive with the amount of trailing vines climbing toward the ceiling. It was otherworldly, serene, like an indoor garden. It would be a spectacular place to propose actually.

“I think she’s right. It would be pretty damn perfect, Hob.” Namjoon offered.

“Ooo, did you hear that?” Slipping out from under Hoseok’s slinky arm, you attached yourself to Namjoon’s bulky one. “He already knows I’m always right. The company you keep, Hobi. I like this one.”

You squeezed Namjoon’s bicep, and he swore he could feel the warmth of your touch through his puffer jacket. He knew his cheeks had to match Hoseok’s fire engine hair now.

“Hey, be sweet to him. He’s sensitive,” Hoseok tutted as he pinched Namjoon’s rosy face despite being swatted away by one Namjoon’s big hands.

“I… is this the tree you’re settled on y/n? If it is, I should start getting it wrapped for you.”

“Hoist it on the beige Mini Cooper in the back, eh Hulk?” Hoseok patted his unoccupied bicep, giving it a happy squeeze as he pushed past Namjoon. “Im off to find where my poison Ivy wandered off to again. Probably somewhere talking to the cedars.” He shook his head softly but gosh, there was nothing but fondness in his happily crinkled eyes. “You two don’t get up to anything too wild while I’m gone now, yeah? We haven’t even brought out the baileys and the eggnog yet. Save it for later - or I’ll be the one kissing Joonie under the mistletoe.”

Hoseok wiggled his fingers and brows in puppety unison as he vanished through the trees, leaving Namjoon alone with you once again.

“He’s quite the character isn’t he?” You chuckled.

“You have no idea.”

“He’s good to my sister though. I’ve never seen her so happy.”

“They’re pretty made for each other,” Namjoon nodded in assent as you sighed.

It wasn’t until he looked down to catch your expression that he realized you were still holding onto his arm. Jesus Christ of Nazareth, was he going to faint in a Christmas tree lot?

You looked up then, a soft giggle bubbling out of you when you saw whatever his distress was doing to his face, and squeezed his arm before walking a few snowy paces ahead.

“Come on, tiger. The quicker we take care of this, the quicker we can get out of the cold.”

Namjoon had never followed anyone faster in his life.

────────────────────────

Why had the three of you come in a compact car?

This was pure delusion.

The tree Namjoon had helped you pick loomed over the front windshield like something from whoville. Good thing you weren’t the one driving. Good luck with that visibility, Hobi.

You and your sister stood side by side, linked at the elbow while the two men tied the tree down to the roof of the car.

“Think we’ll tip over in a strong breeze?” You queried.

“I think we’ll tip over if anyone even looks at us funny,” your sister giggled.

Her laughter was contagious and soon you were both cackling uncontrollably as Hoseok and Namjoon secured your dr Seuss tree to the roof of her car. Namjoon looked back over his shoulder, making accidental eye contact with you. You let your gaze rove over his absurdly pretty face, eyes lingering around the high corners of his cheekbones and the doughy imprints of those audaciously sweet dimples of his.

“My god, just look at him,” you sighed. “It’s like heaven tried to make focaccia bread when they made his face and decided to stop two pokes in because it was already perfect.”

Your sister looked between you and Namjoon, chuckling when the giant of a man turned away bashfully, as if those big shoulders could make him disappear.

“I told you he was pretty,” she shrugged. “And you gave me your judgy eyebrows.”

“I was a fool,” you sighed again. “In my defense, I didn’t know there could be boys prettier than Hobi around here.”

“Wait til you meet the children. Jimin and Jungkook are so beyond anything you could even comprehend. Beautiful little whores.”

“There’s more?” Your brows shot up high.

“Oh and Taehyung! Taehyung will charm you right out of your coat. He’s the dangerous one. I can’t even make eye contact with him without stammering,” she shook her head in derision.

“Whew boy, what a winter we’re in for.” You rocked up on your toes with a whistle.

“Winter is a mercy. Seokjin’s shoulders in summer? Glory be.”

Lovingly, you squeezed her tighter into your side. “At least we have Yoongi on our side.”

“Oh, no ma’am, we do not. He’s the worst one!”

“Min Yoongi ?” You gasped. “No!”

“Yes! He’ll sneak right up on you out of nowhere just when you think you’re finally friends and keep your glass full of wine all night until you accidentally spill all your most embarrassing high school secrets,” she muttered.

“No,…not the pyramid.”

“Yes, the pyramid. And he’ll get it on tape too. Adorable little bastard. Don’t let that cute little gummy smile fool you. He’s ruthless.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard your big sister curse before.

The pout on her face was too priceless not to laugh at so you did. The laughter was robust and full- it came straight from somewhere deep in your belly and pretty soon she was laughing too, hiding her face in the faux fur collar of your coat. The two of you clinging to each other as you cackled like wild children in the snow.

────────────────────────

Hoseok looked over the roof at the two of you and melted into an inordinately affectionate grin.

“You could just go ask her now and put yourself out of your misery, you know,” Namjoon chuckled to himself.

“Nah, she’s so happy right now. I’ll let them have their moment.”

Namjoon let himself study you.

The two of you looked so much alike yet so different. Your sister was all spun sugar and sweetness, quick as a dragonfly on the breeze. But you, well, he didn’t quite know how to put it into words. You were still sweet, but it was different. There was something more rich, a bit more solid about your aura. If your sister was candy floss, then his best guess - based on his limited interaction with you- was that you were salted caramel.

The thought had him pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He wanted to know what else made up the pieces of you. He wanted to get off this shift so he could be in the same room as you. So he could be alone with you.

He wanted to get you under the mistletoe and taste those pretty lips of yours.

But of course, that meant he had to have a coherent conversation with you first.

“Hey, quit undressing my baby sister with your eyes,” Hoseok snapped.

Namjoon shook his head, rattled the stars out of his eyes.

“My bad. Sorry, man.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” Hoseok huffed. “Hey, I think I’m getting good at this protective big brother thing. That was pretty convincing right ?” He beamed proudly.

“More than you know… hey, we should be good here.”

Namjoon patted the now secure tree, rustling a bit of soft snow loose from its branches.

“Then it’s time to get this baby back on the road!”

Hoseok slapped the chassis and the car jingled— jingled!

“I can’t believe you’re gonna marry a Christmas elf,” Namjoon snickered.

“Hey, you’re one to talk, Yukon Cornelius. You work at a damn tree farm. Don’t judge me. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be next. Y/n is just as bad as her sister.”

Namjoon stole another glance your way, his eyes darting away in a flash when he realized you were already watching him, something sultry glittering in your gaze that he tucked away in his pockets to think about later.

“Maybe being next wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” he smiled to himself.

────────────────────────

Before you could get off the tree lot, Namjoon was running back to the car, something small in his hands that you couldn’t make out.

You were crammed in the back seat between the extra boughs your sister had bought to turn into wreaths and garlands. All the evergreen scents made you feel like a new car air freshener. God. It was gonna be a long ride back to the city.

Namjoon knocked on the glass in a hurry, and you rolled the window down. What on earth was he-

“You never got your cocoa.”

“What?”

“You said you were gonna wait to nurse it on the ride home so I got… I got you cocoa.” His volume trailed as he handed the cup to you, like he was second guessing every action in his life that had brought him to this moment.

“Oh, I…” you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t trust yourself not to open your mouth and accidentally tell him you were already in love with him and did he know a guy who could get you both a marriage license by sundown.

“Kim Namjoon. You absolute sweetheart,” your sister gushed from the front seat.

Namjoon’s cheeks went from rosy from the cold to plum from embarrassment. You’d never wanted to kiss someone’s eyelashes before.

“Well, that’s all. I gotta get back. i-“

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes flicking up from beneath your lashes to meet his.

“I…. Yeah. I.. I hope you like it.” His smile was wide, inebriated, giddy. You swore you could see the stars during the daylight.

“I’m sure I will. Six o clock. Tonight. You can come right?”

He nodded, bobbleheaded and boysish.

“Yeah. I’ll grab the address from Hobi.”

“Oh will you now?” Hoseok piped up from the front.

“Hobi, shut up or I will end you,” you threatened through your own teeth as he and your sister laughed at you.

“Tonight?” You called to Namjoon as Hoseok began to shift the car into gear.

“Tonight!” Namjoon shouted back, both his arms waving over head as the car pulled off and he shrank into something small in the distance.

Settling back in your seat, you brought the cup to your lips and breathed in the steamy liquid. You noticed a little black heart drawn in sharpie on the cup, remembered seeing a sharpie tucked behind one of Namjoon’s ears and smiled to yourself like you’d just been passed a note in eighth grade.

You looked up to see two sets of eyes watching you in the rear view.

“Oh god, eyes on the road mom and dad. This has nothing to do with you.”

Your sister giggled, “well I for one am very happy for both of you.”

Hoseok chimed in with a “right? They’re cute.”

God. What a pair of menaces.

You sank in your seat but couldn’t help but smile.

“He is cute, isn’t he?” You whispered into your cocoa cup.

Maybe this wouldn’t be such a long ride home after all.

────────────────────────

“Why did I let you make me think this was a good idea? I don’t even have any furniture! What, we’re gonna make that Goliath sit on boxes for a chair?”

You were frazzled. Namjoon had texted Hobi that he’d be at your place in half an hour. Suddenly the idea of that massive man being in your tiny apartment drinking eggnog out of a solo cup that you’re sure would look like a shot glass in his massive hands made no sense at all.

“First of all, this was your idea,” Hoseok chuckled,” so don’t pin this on me.”

“Traitor.” You whispered.

“But if it makes you nervous, I can shout out the boys to swing by.”

“What? How does that make any sense? Why would we add more people I have no place for? Come on now, use the brain in that pretty head, Hobi.” You rapped your knuckles against his temple as he laughed at you- laughed!

“ I am! It’ll make it feel less like a date. Less pressure to talk one on one there’s a little more of a crowd,” he shrugged like it was that easy. Maybe it was.

“Okay. Fine. Do it. But somebody’s gonna have to bring food cuz there’s nothing in that fridge but eggs and kombucha.”

“God, we need to feed you, little one.” Hobi frowned, concerned.

“Groceries are on tomorrow's to do list. I wasn’t expecting to feed a small army today. I was just gonna grab some take out once you and the missus went home.”

“And you still can. I’ll see if JK can snag something from work.”

A key jingled in the lock as your sister shimmied her way in the door, arms filled with Christmas decorations with a string of gold tinsel draped across her throat like a feather boa.

“I’m back! Hobi, baby, I texted you. Can you bring the other bin up?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and darted out the door.

“Holy mackerel, it’s gonna look like Santa’s workshop exploded in here.” You took in the sheer amount of tinsel, lights and decor your sister had managed to manhandle up the stairs.

“Oh stop you. They’re just extra decorations and props from the photography studio. I figured you can use what you like, and we’ll just put them back when the season’s over.” She shrugged.

“I’ll take free decorations that I don’t have to store any day.” You asserted with a grin. Peeling the sticky back off a command strip, you climbed up on a chair to hang the dang thing as close to the ceiling as you could reach. Your sister came behind you to spot you. No sense letting you break your neck before the guest of honor even got here.

“Most of our mini sessions are over anyway. Nobody should be trying to book their Christmas card photos after December 14th, and if they do, they deserve the Charlie Brown Christmas tree they get.”

It always tickled you when your sister tried to be matter of fact. You knew good and well she was too accommodating not to at least try to bend.

“Lay down the law, sis. Hey, hand me those string lights will you. Can you plug them in?”

The room burst into light in a cacophony of colors.

“Whew. Multi. Bold.”

“Sorry, I didn’t check if they were colorful or warm white first. Shoot.”

She looked so chagrined. It was so sweet. Here she was being so giving and thoughtful, and she really thought you were gonna have the nerve to be picky.

“Shush, you. They’ll look great. It’s kind of… cozy. Very vintage Christmas. Nostalgia chic,” you smiled, and she smiled with you, relieved.

“Hey, you don’t need to be nervous about Joonie.”

“I don’t?” You looked up at your sister through your lashes.

“He’s really a sweetheart.”

“I mean, I can tell that from space.” You smiled.

“Don’t be smart, you know what I mean, dummy.”

“Wait, which one am I ? Smart or dumb?” You laughed.

“Goofy. But I mean it. He’s such a good guy. His last relationship didn’t go so well,” the color of your sister’s voice changed then. “It was a long time ago. It was. I’m sure he hardly thinks about it anymore. It’s just, I think we’re all rooting for him to find someone who realizes just how lovely he is.”

Hobi chose just then to come clunking through the front door.

“Look who I found!”

Sure enough, all six foot something of Namjoon was right behind him, bashfully twisting a Santa hat between his nervous hands despite still wearing his little green beanie from the tree farm on his head.

Thirty minutes, my ass, you grumbled internally. But out loud you said : “Hey! You made it!”

He looked so big in your doorframe like that. Were his shoulders going to fit? Surely he was going to get stuck like Santa in a chimney flue.

“Looks like you guys got the tree up no problem.” He offered gently.

“Me and Hobi accessed our inner lumberjacks and got it done.” You flexed one bicep and Hoseok patted it like it was made of steel. You both giggled like the weirdos you were as Namjoon smiled softly, still hulking in your doorway like a vampire in need of an invite to cross the threshold.

“Come inside, you silly boy,” your sister tutted. “You’ve let half the winter in.” She tugged Namjoon’s sleeve as he ducked his head to come inside. God, you wanted to climb him like a tree.

He looked so nervous shucking his snow-caked boots off by your front door. It made you want to put him at ease.

“I can take your coat, and… whichever piece of headwear you’d prefer not to wear,” you eyed his double hat situation for the second time as he seemed to notice it for the first.

“Oh shoot. Am I still?” He snatched at his scalp and realized it was shrouded in green yarn. Pulling the beanie off, he inadvertently gave you a glimpse of his face framed by his thick head of tousled ebony hat hair. You weren’t sure if you wanted to climb up to fix it for him or pull him into your room and make it worse. “Can I use your bathroom?” He blurted.

“Mmm hmm. Down the hall, to the right.”

He thanked you, banking around you and the corner to hide in the bathroom.

As the door clicked shut, you locked eyes with your sister across the room. Even you felt how desperate you looked. She had the gall to laugh at you.

Traitor.

────────────────────────

Maybe this was going to be alright after all.

Sure enough, each of Hoseok’s boys rolled in, each one prettier than the last. The apartment had never been so blessed.

Jungkook brought two massive trays of food from chick fil a with enough side sauces to last until the apocalypse. What a fascinating juxtaposition he was. Wide eyes, innocent pink lips puckered unsurely around a little silver hoop and the dimensions of a Mack truck. How someone with that much ink curling across his skin was allowed to serve the lord’s chicken, you did not know, but you did know that god himself must have had a hand in sculpting his perky little peach of an ass. Glory.

Jimin and his obscenely pretty face brought champagne. Taehyung and his intense eyebrows brought vintage Christmas vinyls and a record player that looked like an old leather suitcase that he’d carried up the stairs on his hip like a briefcase. As soon as he’d gotten settled he’d put on Bing Crosby’s rendition of “white Christmas” and waltzed with Jimin around your kitchen island.

Seokjin brought the good food. Yoongi brought the good liquor. Your sister and Hoseok brought the laughter and joy.

It was a perfect way to spend a December night.

Somewhere during the course of the night, seokjin - who was wearing a Christmas sweater with an embroidered cat on it that he referred to as The Second Coming of Min Yoongi- decided to make an old fashioned popcorn garland for your tree. As he and Yoongi squabbled over how to properly thread a needle, you realized it had been ages since you’d seen Namjoon.

When he’d emerged from the bathroom earlier, his soft skin had been glistening as if he’d splashed water on his face. His hair looked to have been slicked back with wet hands, while one stubborn piece jutted forward to softly frame his brows. You’d gulped down your drink and avoided eye contact, knowing good and well your face was probably screaming “for the love of god, please marry me” every time you looked at him.

In your self-preservation, you feared it may have come across as plain avoidance. You needed to find him.

He’d driven all this way.

The tree farm was so far and he’d been working in the cold all day. Yet somehow he was here in your tiny home, without a single complaint.

Earlier in the night, you’d nearly tipped off your chair ladder trying to put the star on your tree and he’d caught you, scooping you up bridal style like it was as natural for him as breathing air. It was an unnecessary gesture. You really hadn’t been that far off the ground and the show of strength was absolutely welcome but embarrassing nonetheless. You’d been cradled in his chest again and god, it had taken everything in you to fight the instinct to bury your face between his pecs.

“Stop objectifying my sweet baby. You’ll taint him.” Hoseok had teased from across the room.

You’d shot him a death glare as a glum Namjoon had placed you gently on the ground.

“Sorry. Hope I didn’t make that awkward. I just… you were falling and…”

“It’s alright, Joon. Thank you.” Your smile was earnest. You watched the way his reaction played across his face like a movie. It made you want to kiss him. “Besides, I should’ve put the tallest man on the job in the first place.”

His dimples had reappeared then, and you’d felt the oxygen in the room go thin.

You’d been avoiding him ever since.

Pressing up off your IKEA futon and stepping around the push up - off a shirtless Jungkook was currently doing as Jimin sat cross legged on his back and Taehyung counted, you set off to find Namjoon.

In less than six hundred square feet, there weren’t many places he could go. Everyone else was in the kitchen/living room. That really only left the open bathroom, the balcony- which your sister and Hoseok were currently cuddled up on, watching the snow fall- and your bedroom.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected to find when you pushed open the door, but somehow Namjoon folded up on the floor studying the lower tier of your bookshelf actually made loads of sense. You hadn’t been aware someone that large could fold themselves into something so small. His long fingers trailed over the spines of your favorite books and something in your lower belly swirled.

You could have spent the rest of the night just watching him read.

That, however, even in your own home, might be kinda creepy so you decided to announce your presence instead.

“Howdy stranger,” you crooned, leaning shoulder first into the door jamb.

Namjoon startled, clutching his chest like you’d just given him a heart attack. His long limbs flailed, knocking into the bookshelf like the baby moose he was, sending a small picture frame careening down onto his head. It knocked his Santa hat off kilter, leaving the beautiful man looking like a bamboozled disaster.

Your laughter filled the room as he collected himself, straightening his hat and placing your frame back on the shelf. You came to sit beside him, hugging your knee and leaning one shoulder into his.

“Whatcha doing? Whatcha reading, more importantly?” You shot him a pointed look paired with a smile you hoped was disarming.

“Oh. Uh, nothing yet. I didn’t mean to pry. I just… well there was so much going on in the living room. I just wanted to get some air so I stepped in here, but I ended up getting lost in your book collection.”

His fingers trailed their spines again, and you felt a shiver down yours.

“You like to read?”

It was a pitiful question on your part really. Clearly he did. He was surrounded by your personal mini library, and it was the most comfortable you’d seen him be all day.

“Oh it’s the best thing, really. You can learn so much about a person by looking at the things they like to read.”

“And what have you learned about me?”

You felt yourself hold your breath as he looked down, dimples daring to show themselves again now that the two of you were in a private place.

“Well, it seems like you appreciate the classics, for one.”

His finger traced the curve of letters embossed in gold on an ivory spine.

“I went through an intense thrift shopping phase over the last few years. I got kind of obsessive about collecting beautiful books,” you confessed.

“You should come to my store sometime then. You’d love the first editions section.”

There was a pride glittering in beautiful dark brown eyes, the first swell of something like confidence showing in them.

“You work at a bookstore too?” You tilted your head to the side in question as his trademark sheepishness returned.

“Um, own. Co-own, really. Between me, Seokjin and Yoongi.”

“Stop- seriously?” You felt yourself press into his space without meaning to. The sharp, earthy smells of cedar and pine still swirled on him, but underneath that was soft clean soap. You found yourself wanting to press your nose into his throat. You realized too late that your eyes had been doing it for you, and Namjoon had caught you doing it.

Cleaning his throat, something in him seemed to grow bold.

He didn’t shy away anymore. He pressed up off the palms he’d been leaning back on and leaned into your space like you did into his. His thumb pulled your bottom lip out of your teeth, tracing along the edge of it softly.

“Seriously.”He whispered, the timber of his voice deep as winter.

His deep set gaze grew heavy as the moment lingered. You caught sight of his tongue flicking out to wet his full lips as his thumb traced yours and suddenly you felt all your grace leave you all at once.

“You should stay.”

It came out breathy, soft. You knew your face must have given away how molten you felt beneath his touch. He chuckled gently, eyes warm as he smirked. Only half a dimple this time, you noticed.

“Stay?” He arched a brow your way.

“When the others leave… you should stay.”

It was crazy, but the lightheaded part of you that was under his spell couldn’t think of anything else she wanted more.

Suddenly, he was soft again. Eyes no longer serpentine but wide. Kind.

“Is that… would you… like that?”

You smiled at him, sweet as strawberries, and then you were kissing him.

Just once. Slow, gentle, but deep.

There was a hint of cinnamon on his lips. Hobi had picked up some horchata at his favorite taqueria on the way back. He must have given some to Joon. You smiled against his mouth, licked into it once. Felt his chest vibrate with the groan it created.

When you pulled back, he was dazed, staring at you like you were made of stars. Eyeing you like he wanted to know what else you were made of. His lip bitten like he was too hungry to wait.

“Stay.” You breathed again.

“I’ll stay.” He whispered back.

────────────────────────

When the last person had left the apartment, you’d locked the door behind them.

Suddenly it was truly just you and him.

You’d turned, back to your front door and looked at him, eyes sultry, smile sweet.

Namjoon was across the room, too busy drinking you in to remember how to move. But you hadn’t forgotten, it seemed. You took your time crossing the small room. The vivid lights cast bursts of blue and red across your skin- it made your eyes look unearthly, tempting in a way Namjoon was incapable of fighting.

You stopped in front of him, palms pressed to his chest. He felt his eyelids grow heavy at the sensation, but he wouldn’t let his eyes close. Not yet. He didn’t want to miss a moment of you.

You slid your hands up his chest, alongside his throat, skimming his jaw and cupping his face. You stood between his legs and god, did he want to rock his hips against you. You were already leaning into him, your hips pressed into his pelvis. What were his corduroys gonna do? He knew you could feel him already swelling against you.

Your brushed soft thumbs across the angles of his face. He reciprocated by tenderly pushing your hair out of your face. Was your heart racing like his?

Slipping his hands down, he tugged the buckle of your belt forward into him with a thunk. He crept his thumbs beneath the sweater you’d tucked into your high black jeans, and let his fingers swirl against your stomach, smoothing over the dips at your waist. Your body was so soft. He felt himself grow warmer, swell against you harder. When your eyes clouded over and your bit your lip, he knew he was sunk.

“I’m gonna take this off now, okay ?” He whispered, tugging at your sweater as you nodded, glassy eyed and obedient, up at him. Jesus.

Why was he whispering? He didn’t know. It just felt right, he thought. Felt right like being beside you all night had felt. Felt right like he knew being inside you was gonna feel.

When he slipped the sweater up over your head, your earring got caught. A little gold hoop snagged in the knit.

Breathe, he reminded himself, go slow. You don’t have to rush.

He soon realized that was advice he was going to need to take to heart in more ways than one the second he untangled you and saw your glittering smile glowing brightly, saw the way your breasts were spilling smooth and fleshy over the confines of your lacy little balconette bra.

Jesus. Fuck.

Turns out he’d said both out loud and your glossy eyes grew hungrier the longer he looked at you.

“Do something, daddy.” You teased, voice low, gaze heady.

“Christ, y/n,” he drawled as his self-control blacked out.

Soon he was pushing your breasts together, burying his face between them. Sucking one into his warm mouth, scooping the other loose from the dark lace. He had one large hand firmly fitted just behind the buckle of your jeans as the other cupped your breast that wasn’t in his mouth, thumb diligently flicking your nipple until it grew stiff like a meringue peak. He slipped that one in his mouth then, tongue picking up pace his thumb had set and tweaking the nipple on your other breast.

You panted beneath his touch, sinking and molding into him like warm clay in his hands. He wasn’t sure when his hips had started to glide against you, but god, yours were moving too, supple and fluid like water. He needed to get you out of the rest of these clothes. He needed to find out if he could mark your breasts and neck black and purple with his mouth like he wanted to while he fucked you. You really did taste sweet, just like he thought you would. God, he wanted to take a bite out of you.

Pleasantries first though, he reminded himself.

Pushing his head back against the wall, he tried to catch his breath but your nimble fingers were working open the snaps on his corduroys instead.

“Question-“ he asked breathless.

“Answer,” you grinned, triumphant as you finally popped the latch on his pants.

“Jesus, fuck. Cripes.” His eyes fluttered shut as you ran his zipper down and reached beneath his boxer briefs to grab him.

“Which one of those was a question?” You smirked, licking your thumb before brushing it gently across the fleshy tip of him. His stomach dipped in, toned muscle crunching in on itself as your big man buckled under your touch.

“Okay, okay okay. I’m gonna have to ask this quick before you make me spontaneously finish on your tits touching me like that. Whew.” His eyes were blown, head back. Unprepared for you licking more fingers and slipping back down to gingerly play with his balls. “Oh my gooooooood. Okay. Okay. Okay. Marks?”

“Like hickies?” You asked curiously, your hand moving of its own accord to grip him firmly at the base and pull up.

“Yeah, yeah hickies,” he panted, his pretty skin growing sweaty.

“I like that.” You smiled, wide and way too pretty for him to handle right now.”it’s winter. Go crazy, big boy.”

He nodded raggedly, his brow furrowed deep as he bit his lip. He almost looked angry, he had no way of knowing it made you incredibly aroused.

“Tits. I like your…tits. A lot. So much. They’re so pretty.”

You smiled into his throat as you kissed his neck and pumped him silly.

“Joonieee, youre so sweet.” You nipped at his collarbone, giggling at shiver that ran through him.

“Would it… could I… Jesus, woman, why are you so good at that? Screw this. Fuck it. Can I cum on you, your chest at the end of this?” His eyes were direct now, serpentine and lusty as he licked his lips, ran a thumb along the swell of your breast.

“Yeah ?” You ran your tongue along his neck, sending another tremor through him.

“Yeah. You’d look so pretty with my cum on your chest. I mean, they look so pretty already, but Yeah, god yeah I want that.” he nodded.

“Okay. Promise. You can finish on my pretty titties, if you want.” You laughed.

“I want.”

“I’ll even let you fuck them if you want.”

“Christ. You said…what?” He was out of breath, lightheaded from the thought of himself being pressed between the two warm pillowy clouds on your chest.

“Uh huh, if you don’t finish inside me first, that is,” you breathed in his ear.

“Oh my god. Not fair. Get on the bed, now.” He said it with an edge, a grit you didn’t expect from your sweet nervous Christmas tree man. A bite that made you want to obey. Made you want to fuck his brains out. Made you want to be his baby girl so you followed along and played nice. He fumbled with your belt as you melted. You did what you were told and climbed back on up onto the bed, stripping the rest of the way for him along the way.

────────────────────────

As he followed, he pulled his thick wool sweater over his head, black hair falling in gorgeous eyes as he did. The full reveal of his torso left the space between your legs glossy and sticky in ways you hadn’t known it could be. His Jeans and black boxer briefs went next and then he was climbing up and over you, golden and lanky and strong and hung.

Jesus , fuck, Indeed.

He smiled at you, sourdough dimples and serpentine eyes as he slowed down.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

You nodded, obedient, nervous, eager. You wanted him. God, how did you describe how badly you wanted Kim Namjoon? His lips were plump, sweet, inexhaustibly delicious. His tongue slipped deep into your mouth, his hand firm but sweet on your hip as it climbed up your torso.

Your tits were in his mouth again, tongue flicking wildly as he moaned around your fullness and your nipple. He tweaked the other, switching back and forth as he rutted his too big dick into the meat of your thigh.

“Question,” you gasped, breathless.

“Answer, baby,” his hooded eyes were looking darkly up at you as his thumb slipped its way down to gloss smoothly over your silky clit. You cried out, and he smiled, mouth still filled with your voluptuous tit.

“Daddy?” You questioned, and the primal groan that rattled through his chest and through the sharp twitch of his dick against your leg answered any further queries you had to ask.

“Yes, please, baby. “

He slid up to suck a dark splotch into your neck, his dick sliding up and catching on the slippery ridge of your clit as he did.

“I can call you that ? Can I call you daddy?” You gasped.

He simply nodded, dropping kisses along your collarbone and throat as he lined up to finally slip inside you. The fit was snug, the drag of him along your inner walls sublime as he rocked, working you more and more open to the massive size of him. You smiled, delirious, giddy, as he fucked you like you were divine.

You came three times that night, he came twice. Once inside you and once on your pretty tits. Then one more time down your throat in the morning.

────────────────────────

“There’s not much, but I have…. Let’s see. Coffee, kombucha, seokjin’s leftover gingerbread men… oh and eggs. Can I make you eggs?” You fluttered your lashes up at him. “I’d really like to make you eggs.”

Namjoon looked so cute. Face puffy, lips full. Hair still damp from the shower he took. You’d both been too nervous to shower together, so you’d taken turns and done it separately. You thanked god you actually owned two bath towels to make it possible. He was so adorable. It made you want to cook for the man.

“Sure,” he nodded. Mercy, his voice was even deeper in the morning. He’d barely used it so far today, aside from the sexy groans that had spilled out of him this morning when you’d woken him up with your cheek resting sweetly on his inner thigh and his cock in your warm mouth. (You’d gotten consent the night before, of course.)

“Um, how do you take your coffee? And is scrambled okay? I make really good scrambled eggs.”

He smiled warmly, his gruff exterior softening with your exuberance. He nodded his assent and you got to work getting out the egg carton, your chopsticks, the milk and your lone skillet.

“Oh, wait. Your coffee, how do you take your coffee?”

You turned in your robe, a harsh pivot, just to accidentally end up nose to Namjoon’s sweatshirt covered tits with an Ooof.

He kissed your hair, a deep chuckle from the depths of his throat booming through his chest. He was wearing one of your giant college sweatshirts ( that fit just on the roomy side of just right on him) and his black boxer briefs, his substantial thighs looking gorgeous as ever as he stood barefoot in your kitchen. What a turn of events.

He slipped his sturdy arms around your waist from behind, pushing up against the underside of your boobs and buried his blushing face in your hair.

“Black. Just a little cream is good.” He murmured as you sank back against him.

You weren’t used to how soothing another person’s presence could be.

“Gotcha. I’ll grab the-“

He chuckled, pulling you tightly into him to stop your scurrying.

“Shhh. I got it. Thank you.” He pressed a kiss deep into the skin on your neck. It melted you just a little bit further into the solidity of him.

“For what?”

“Last night. This morning. Yesterday. All of it.”

His confidence dipped again. Cockiness replaced by a sincerity so disarming you felt your heart dip softly. He’s so sweet, you thought as you gently caressed the forearm he had draped over your stomach.

“Yes, well…I ….” it was then you realized you didn’t know what to say. In lieu of words, you kissed his palm.

“You’re already making us breakfast. Least I can do is grab my own coffee… you want some?” He nudged the tip of his nose against the top of your ear.

Being that close to his voice made you shiver. You nodded without realizing it. The sound of his voice made you want to be so obedient to him. Why were you so turned on by him being kind, damnit ?

His hands fitted themselves to your hips, pushing the fullness of your bottom back against his hips. You were about to tell him you take yours with sugar and more cream than coffee when your phone began to ring.

Startled, you bolted out of his arms to find… your sister trying to FaceTime you?

Kissing Namjoon’s cheek, you stepped away to answer. Queuing up the screen, you were thoroughly unprepared for brilliant, happy screams pealing through the phone. There was too much motion to make out an image at first, until finally. you caught a glimpse of sparkle. It was the ring Hoseok had shown you a picture of the day he decided to custom order it for your sister.

“Hobi proposed!!!” Your sister squealed. No regard for the neighbors, this one.

“When?”

“Last night. When we got home. Y/n it was perfect…. I could tell he seemed weird when we were on the balcony yesterday, oddly stiff. Like he was trying to tell me something, but it wasn’t making any sense. I teased him and told him to try again later. I was just being dumb- I didn’t know! but when we got home, I had gone upstairs to change out of my Christmas tree clothes and when I came back. He was on his knees in the kitchen.”

Your sister clasped a hand over her mouth as her eyes filled with happy tears. Smart boy, he’d listened to you and Namjoon.

“Y/n, I’m gonna be a wife. I'm gonna marry Hobi. Y/n, I’m so happy I could cry,” she sniffled as tears spilled over the backs of her knuckles.

“Baby, you are crying,” you teased, your own eyes growing glassy too.

“Hey, that’s MY BABY” you heard Hoseok yell from somewhere off camera.

“She was mine first,” you stuck your tongue out petulantly.

“Congrats, man!” Namjoon cheered from his spot by your coffee pot.

“Thanks bro!” Hoseok called back.

“Wait.” Your sister started….

Oh no.

“Was that…” Hoseok added.

No. No. No. no. No.

“Oh my god. Y/n, was that Namjoon?! Did he spend the night?!? Oh my gosh are you two in love now?!?

Startled you let you out something between a yelp and a shriek, dropping your phone on the carpet.

“Did you hold onto those arms of his all night?” Your sister teased.

“Wait-“ Hoseok interrupted ,” do you have a thing for Namjoon’s arms babe?”

“Everyone does,” your sister quipped.” You do too Hobi.”

“That’s not the point… eh! We’re Balenciaga buddies!” Hoseok cheered, the snap of elastic ringing through the air.

Apparently your phone fell in such a way that the camera gave them a beautiful view of Namjoon’s sleek black briefs and the tree trunks they were stretched around.

“Stop objectifying him!” You scolded Hoseok.

“I will when you do!” He taunted.

“Oh my god I can’t do this.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed as Namjoon scooped both you and your phone up from behind again

“Then I will.” He whispered in your ear. “Congratulations you guys!”

Hoseok and your sister gushed something sticky sweet about how obnoxiously in love you and Namjoon were and you couldn’t help it, you smiled too. You told your sister how happy you were for her, promising to call her later with all the juicy details before finally hanging up the phone and burying your face in Namjoon’s hard tiddy. Which he flexed for you, god bless him, before also flexing his yummy, yummy arms around you until you burst into a fit of giggles.

“I like this,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Me too…. Got any plans today?.”

“Nope. I’m off the rest of the weekend.”

“Wanna go grocery shopping with me after I cook you eggs?”

“Are you just using me for my car?” He squinted slyly at you with a smile.

“No. That hadn’t occurred to me actually. I was actually planning on using your height and your body for my own personal benefit.” You answered thoughtfully.

“Oh.” His eyes went a bit wide like he hadn’t thought about that option. “Well. Then. Can I use you for yours?” He asked innocently.

“Sure. Although, you should know, I’m all talk. I’m the biggest softie…. I’m pretty sure if you’d asked me to marry you when we were talking tree-sourcing ethics, I would have strongly considered saying yes.”

Crap. You hadn’t planned on admitting all that. This was his fault. He was just so damn sincere. Those stupid eyes of his were so goddamn kind. You kept forgetting to put a guard up around him.

As you braced for him to be thoroughly traumatized by your admission, nothing of the sort came. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he hugged you beneath the ribs and hoisted you in a circle, nuzzling his cheek tenderly into your cheek.

“Oh thank GOD” he exhaled.

“I’m sorry- what?”

“I’ve spent all morning trying to figure out how to tell you how much I like you without making you feel like you might become the subject of the next true crime podcast.” He ran a hand through his silky hair as you stood stunned where he’d set you down to process his words.

“You….”

“Yeah…”

“That bad?”

“Honestly I’m not opposed to taking your last name if you asked me.” He shrugged.

You covered your face with both hands, shaking it ruefully despite the cosmically bright smile on your face. Soon you were both howling with laughter in each other’s arms, smiling into Namjoon’s deep eyes.

“This is crazy! We’re crazy.”

“I know.” He nodded in agreement.

“I like you.”

“I really like you.”

“I don’t know the first thing about you.”

“Let’s find out together, shall we?”

You felt your eyes fill with annoyingly happy tears. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“You just moved here right?”

“Yeah. Finally- should have done it ages ago. My turn-Why do you and Hoseok have matching designer underwear ?”

“We all do actually. It was Jimin and Seokjins doing a couple Christmases ago.”

“But just one pair each right?”

“Yeah?” Namjoon nodded, brows hunched in confusion.

“Okay. So that means you’re telling me you and Hobi just happened to be on the same daily boxer rotation the day you both fucked a pair of sisters with the same DNA?”

“Please don’t word it that way.” Namjoon grimaced.

“I worded it how it is,” you shrugged.

“My turn. Why do you really want me to go to the grocery with you, Hmm?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Besides the company? For the view when I make you stretch for everything I’ve ever needed on the top shelf, Babyyy.”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?” He couldn’t contain his laughter.

“As a heart attack.” You winked.

“C’mon. Show me how you make these super fluffy eggs I’ve heard so much about. I’m starving. The gorgeous girl who owns this apartment milked me dry three times in less than twelve hours. I’m famished.”

Goddamn him and those cheeky little dimples.

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558 notes · View notes

dalamjisung · 6 months

Text

feel something ❁ lee minho

genre: p u r e a n g s t

word count: 5835

pairing: reader x lee minho

description: he was a habit that was just too hard to break, but you did it. two years ago, you broke the vicious cycle that was him... until he came back.

[to be read as a continuation of Habits of My Heart, but can also work as a stand alone!]

You are in his apartment.

How the fuck did you end up in his apartment?

And is that– yes, that’s his arm, laying heavy on your naked waist.

Fuck, is all you can think, raising your head from the oh so soft pillow while blinking your tired eyes awake. This is not how you planned to spend your holiday, but alas, there you are. Under his soft, striped sheets that, moments ago, you held onto for dear life as you moaned his name so prettily. That, you are sure, is something he would love to talk about once he is up, and that is why you start stirring, slowly moving despite the anxiety rising up your throat having you ready to run. It’s still quite dark, the cold, winter days taking their time with sunrise, but you could see enough with the dewy shine coming in through the sheer curtains. Your underwear is thrown by the end of the bed, and somehow, you still manage enough strength in your legs to drag it up to where you can reach with your hands. Unfortunately, your body is trapped under his weight, half on top of you and half taking every little free space available, and you can’t really move too abruptly or else he’ll wake up and you’ll be forced to face a reality you’re not quite ready to.

You’ll be forced to face Lee Minho.

“Oh come Y/N, are you really back on that dating app?” Sam asks, laughing her guts out over the cup of coffee that has long gone cold. “You didn’t even last the month!”

And she is right– last time you deleted that god forsaken app was three weeks ago, with the promise of taking a break while things at work started to pick up. Cue to now, 21 days later and counting, and you are back on it, swiping left and right whenever you feel the odd tingle of boredom creeping in. It’s an easy distraction, is what you always say; the amount of men in that app giving you a bit of a power high at the opportunity for choice, but the conversations bringing you way back down to the sad reality of the dating world. In between ghosting people and being ghosted, finding ‘the perfect match’ is impossible. For those that claim that they found true love on such places, you simple smile and nod– there is no point in debating your beliefs on modern if they are living their own happy ending. All you can do then is bubble a little in your jealousy, pretending is not big deal.

“Let me see your profile,” Sam is one of your closest friends, and definitely your biggest enabler. “Are you still using that photo of you I like? The one in the red shirt with– yes, you are, amazing.” Her feedback is overall positive, from the pictures, to the prompts, to the profiles of the people you matched with. “Oh! Miss dating app has 23 new likes! Let’s check them out, I’ll swipe– no. No, no, no, no way… right? No way!”

You are not sure what she’s talking about until you catch a glimpse of your phone in her hand. And there he is, that same photo you had swiped right on two years ago. Black and white– a dramatic flair, you’re sure– with him in the centre, smirking in a way that it seems almost taunting. It’s like he hasn’t changed at all, like time stopped when it came to him, and you can’t help but gasp in shock. Your hands are trembling when you grab the phone from your friend, bringing it closer to you in a way that very much so said you didn’t believe your eyes. “Holy shit.”

Two years. “Holy fucking shit.”

Two years without talking to each other. Without seeing each other. Without texting. “Holy shit, it’s Lee Minho.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You mutter like a crazy woman, and it gets on his nerves. It would get on his nerves, that is, if he was awake. Minho likes to tease you; he likes to push you away only to make the pull that much more appealing. And you fall for it, every single time, no matter how many times before you promise you won’t.

The routine is the same, as if you two are following a script. You get to his place– he never have and never will step foot into you apartment– and you text him. It feels oddly detached to ring his doorbell and announce your arrival, so a message is more than enough. The first thing he does is basically roast you for being unable to open his door, and really, who is he kidding? That old thing is so stuck in place you’re a bit surprised he’s able to have guests over. You try to tell him so, but he just clicks his tongue in that condescending way that makes your eyes roll as you follow him inside.

As always, the apartment is impeccable. He might be many things, really, with annoying being one of them, but the man is neat. The floor is clean, the lighting is perfect, the music in the background washes over you like calming waves trying to still your racing heart. Minho has this power over you, making you nervous in a way that no other man ever has, even if this is not your first encounter… by far. But you don’t show. Actually, you refuse to show, purposefully acting a bit too nonchalant about being there at all, loving how you can see it ticking him off by the second.

But before that– before the flirting, before the fucking, before the sneaking around with your underwear in your hands, there was the game. And boy, did you hate playing that fucking game.

Hey :D

What do you want, Minho?

What do I want?

I don’t know! I have a lot of things to say sorry for! :)

So… sorry! I acted like an immature dick back then.

I had other reasons to behave the way I did, but I don’t want to use them as excuses and just wanted to apologize

Apologize? You want to apologize after two years… on a dating app?

Well, okay… Uh, thank you, I guess? You did act like an immature asshole and I appreciate your apology.

But you do have my number, so I’m a bit confused as to why you just didn’t text me?

I do have your number, but… sometimes all we need is a push, you know?

I got this app yesterday and you were literally the third profile that showed up. Seeing your face again felt like a punch to the gut haha

And I thought I’d just say that if I could go back and do it all over again, I’d be better. For you. You were never anything but nice and understanding, and I should’ve treated you better.

So if you ever feel like… trying again… I’d love to give it a shot.

Are you serious, right now?

With all due respect, Minho, you gave me no reason to want to try and give it a shot. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the apology and I hope you are good and happy, but there is no way in hell that I’d ‘try again.’

Just thinking of the messages has you cringing. It was probably the stupidest thing you’ve convinced yourself of– the fact that you wouldn’t fall for his pretty words. It’s like he has a way with them that truly makes you wonder if he’s in the wrong profession. You tell him that, too, saying he should have been a poet or a fiction writer; the pictures he paints to you with his words do look better in your head, after all.

It takes him five days to get into your head… by literally doing nothing. After the conversation dies, with many more attempts of ‘let’s try again’ and empty ‘I miss you’s, you feel like you’re on a runner’s high. You feel like you’re on top, like you’re the winner of this stupid game you two always end up playing. But then he doesn’t text again. No ‘good morning’ or ‘how are you?’. No ‘thinking of you’ and definitely no begging for you wonderful, amazing presence to be back in his life. Now, it’s a little foolish to believe he’d ever do any of those– not even when you two were actually dating, two years ago, did he do that, so why now? What’s different now?

Well, to start, you. You are different, and he knows it. You’re grown now, more mature than you were. You are smarter, too, despite falling for the same words you feel for before. And now, you want different things too– no more silly ideas of a perfect relationship; no more giving your heart away in a whim, no more letting him handle you like a little stupid toy, no more wanting to call him when things get tough. All you want now– more like all you need, really– is some relief. Things have been hard… and that is putting it lightly. Work is hell, the winter is harsh, and life is just… a mess. So yes, safe to say you are desperate for some sort of soothing relief, looking to ease that growing tension on your shoulders.

Hence the dating app.

Going on dates is harder than you remember, when you begin again, but you simply amount the exhaustion to work and push yourself to get past your door, and out onto the street. It’s like you have a schedule for your free time as well as one for work– Hyojoon Friday night at the bar, Juyeon Saturday afternoon for lunch, Mark Sunday evening for an early dinner, and the list goes on and on and on. A few are first dates only– actually most of them are– but the ones that make it to a second or even a third date remain as that. A second or a third. As bad as it is to say, none seem to excite you as much as Minho did. Some are boring, and those are, oddly enough, the ones you try to stick to the most. If they are boring, you think, they won’t surprise you with any hurtful realisations of how you are not enough, or how they are better alone, or how they ‘can have some fun, but otherwise, just don’t have time.’

And it’s one of these boring ones, the ones you want to work so badly, that is the last drop in your very, very full bucket.

“And what do you think of climate change?”

You try so badly to ignore the itch in your hand, making you want to grab your phone and check that useless app again. You have your notifications off as a way to not allow an obsessions to arise but it’s futile and, honestly, quite naive to believe you’re not going to overthink every little thing that man said; and so you check, again and again, to make sure you don’t miss a message you know it’s not coming. It has been two days since he sent you anything and yet, you still check, and check, and check. The funny thing is that you meet Jeongin on the same app that Minho reached you on, but unlike Minho, your first date with Jeongin is one that you count the seconds to end.

“Climate change?” You repeat, eyes wide a bit in surprise. There is a smile on your lips, stiff and so well trained that, at this point, you don’t think it’s even believable. “I worry about it, of course.”

“But you eat meat?” He asks. The glint in his eyes tell you that he finds amusement in caging you against a wall. “That’s not very environmentally conscious.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

The close-lipped smile and the way your eyes discreetly check your wrist watch should have been enough, but he still manages to drag you to a coffee shop, running from the rain that poured all over you two as you marched out of the park. Tomorrow is a Monday and you have a presentation to prepare for, but still, he ignores you. And talks, and talks, and talks. By the time you make it home, you barely have any energy left to re-read your slides before passing out in the couch.

Date two isn’t much better, but at least it is a nice day and there are some musicians out playing in the park to keep you entertained as you two sit in complete silence. He’s not a chatty one, and you’re kind of tired of putting so much effort in and getting nothing back, so when you get home after that, you promise to not go out with him again. It’s a bit of an ego trip, how much he tries to contact you for a date you’ll know he’ll silently through, but you keep up with your dedication to your peace of mind. It’s not that deep, once you think about it. All this guy knows about you is the basic stuff– what you work with and how busy it keeps you. You take ages to respond to his message, and yet he still tries, and, at one point, he tries too hard.

It’s more the joke he makes than anything. You are mid report writing when you get a notification about an Instagram account trying to send you a message.

Hey Y/N, found you.

Who is this?

Kai!

Oh! Hi :) hahah how did you find me?

Took me hours lol

After that you just tell him that you’re not really ready to date and that you’re too busy, but it was lovely meeting him. After that, you get scared, and tired, and defeated. It’s like no matter what you did, you still couldn’t feel safe. No matter how many times you went out with them, how many chats over coffee you had, how many slightly intrusive questions you asked… it was never enough. It was still strange and new and unfamiliar and, quite sadly, unsafe. The slight touches have you flinching and the hungry looks make your curl inwards. Dating is hard for you, mainly because you’re not adventurous or fearless, quite the contrary– you are very, and with all the right, paranoid.

So when you text Minho, on your way home, regretting every words typed, you know that despite breaking your heart and acting like a class A idiot, he is, and will always be, familiar.

Familiar. Yes, Minho was familiar— everything about this situation was fucking familiar. The way that you hurriedly got dressed, the way that you walked on your tippy toes in hopes to make less noise, the way that, when you did make noise, you flinched, looking at the door in panic. Waking him up is not an option. Throughout the night, multiple times he tells you about how busy he is; how he has to write a speech for work, and how he has to present in front of a very important crowd, and how he is oh so nervous to do what he always does. And multiple times through the night, you nod and smile and say that ‘everything will be okay’, even if you don’t quite know what you are nodding and smiling about.

Is it because you’re there with him? No, that’s not it. There was a time Minho made you happy; a time in which the aftertaste of him lingered in your lips and you smiled, wide and unabashedly, every time your tongue poked out to lick your lips. A time in which the smell of his cologne that clung to your sweater would make you blush at the memories of limbs intertwined on the couch and whispered words floating in the air. Yes, there was a time in which Lee Minho made you happy. But that time is now long gone.

“Why are you here, then?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour? Why are you there? On his couch, laughing with a cup of wine in hand, retorting every little quip he throws your way. There are quite a lot of them– Minho is a man that likes being right, he likes being on top… in all facets of life. Winning, for him, is extremely important, and you wonder just how much he’s willing to sacrifice for that first place position in a competition with no one else but himself.

Actually, you know how much he’s willing to sacrifice. You know it very well. “I was bored,” You shrug, taking a sip of your glass. “And horny.” It’s no secret why you’re there. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, as he always does– something about how cute you look when you’re all flustered and annoyed– and you wonder if he knows how cuter you can get when you’re excited and driven. You wonder if he knows how much you can talk about something you love, instead of having to talk about something irrelevant. You wonder if he knows you at all and it’s quite depressing to even question that, chuckling to yourself at the thought.

Of course he doesn’t.

In some odd self-defense against yourself, trying to ease the admonishing conscientious voice in your head, you tell yourself that his laughter is nice. It’s quite loud and free and his shoulder wiggle in amusement, and you like when he laughs. The same way you like when Sam laughs, or when your flatmate laughs, or when your work teammate laughs… the same way you like when anyone you care for or about laughs. And this is not news to you, you’ve always known you care for Minho. His opinion matters to you, and his words, as fake as they can be, still get to you. You might be blinded by youthful impulses and thoughts of immediate satisfaction, but you are definitely not an idiot– you see reality, but you wilfully ignore it for a few hours or so. Minho allows you to do that, and it’s quite a relief to allow yourself to do it, too.

The moment he sits next to you is impactful. The air stills, and it’s more out of expectation than anything else– will he make a move now? Later? There is no dance in between the two of you, as ironic as that sounds, but more of a game of who can surprise who. He enjoys the moment he touches you first, you know he does; it’s the smirk on his lips that gives him away. He adores tugging you closer, even if it ends up with you two crampled up in awkward positions on his couch. And he lives for the moment of the first kiss of the night.

It starts like it always does– a simple touch of lips, a bit of space for reassurance, because Minho is many things, but he is not forceful; and then the lunge. You smile everytime he does it and maybe you’re at fault for how smug he looks about it, but it doesn’t really matter. You like the lunge, you love it, even; it appeals to something inside of you, a need to be needed, to be wanted, that has you putty in his hands with one single move.

There is time.

You convince yourself that you still have time, and that maybe rushing around the empty apartment at 7 in the morning is not needed. Minho sleeps like a log, and unless you break something, he’s not waking up. And even if you break something, he might not wake up… or he might just not care. The later hurts a little, but you’re used to being hurt by him and you accept that you have no one else to blame but yourself… after all, you’re the one that told him you wanted something like this– casual, noncommital, stress free.

All in all, the plan is supposed to be fail proof. It’s that youthful impulsive behaviour, you see, and you are quite embarrassed to admit it, but you are not, in your core, a casual person. You are not noncommital and stress free. If anything, you are probably the most commital and stressed person you know, dedicating a full 110% of yourself to everything you do. It’s why you are always so tired, so burnt out… it’s why you avoid, with everything you have, debates and discussions. You just don’t have the energy to do all that anymore. You are still young, but you’re not stupid, anymore, and that’s what changed.

Sitting on the couch as you pull your sweater down, you sigh. “What the fuck am I doing?” It’s laughable, the amount of times you sat on that couch and asked yourself that exact question. Your friends don’t even want to hear about this anymore; they get annoyed, with you, with the situation, with him, and it’s always the same. 'You’re too good for him' or 'he doesn’t deserve you.' They are not wrong, but there’s only so many times you can try to tell them that you know that. You know; you know better than they ever will, and as much as you embrace their annoyance as love, you’re annoyed too. You want to vent too. You want to laugh about stupid shit Minho does too. You want to make all the mistakes you just weren’t allowed to make when you were supposed to make them, and he is definitely one of them. You want to not have to think about everything al the time, to be right all the time, to make the smart choice all the time. You want to simply not think all the time, and better than anyone else, Minho lets you not do that.

“Arms up.”

It is easy to ignore the bossy tone of his voice when his mouth is working on your neck, kissing, licking, biting. It feels good– it always feels good and, sometimes, it feels too good. Right now, however, it just… feels good. Feels peaceful and serene. It’s like time doesn’t matter when you’re kissing him, like all you have to do is follow his lead and not think and you love that. You love that feeling, even if you don’t love him. “Good girl,” He whispers, smiling as he pulls your sweater over your head.

It’s cold outside. Really cold, actually, and you shiver the moment the air hits your skin, goosebumps littering your arms as you shiver. Minho is on it, though, warm hands touching you all over, spreading a path of fire through your back and stomach and arms and breasts. “Cold?” He asks, and it’s a stupid questions, but it makes you giggle. These are the moments that are okay to pretend… okay to pretend he cares, with his hands tracing patterns all over until your bra goes missing, your pants are open, and his fingers are slowly brushing against your wet underwear. With his voice, mellow and soft, whispering sweet nothings and everythings against your ear, calling you all the names he knows you like to hear. With his restrain, cock hard against his jeans but not rushing or pushing until he knows you’re good and ready for him.

The thing about his house is that, as much as his living room is this sea of mood lighting and comfort, his windows run from the floor to the ceiling. You dream of the day you’d be brave enough to fuck him right there, on the same couch you two always start but never end– but right across the street is a bar, filled to brim every night you’re there, almost as if he had invited a crowd to watch you crumble at his fingertips. “Room,” You gasp, air being knocked out of your lungs just as his fingers tug your underwear to the side, teasing your entrance while playing with your clit. It’s amazing, how he moves his hand in the little space your pants allow him to, but with every push and pull of his fingers inside you, you gasp. Minho knows your body just like you know his– he knows what you like and it just so happens, he likes it too. Likes seeing you like that, breathless and limp; likes kissing you as you moan his name, wiggling on his lap as you make out on his couch. Likes when you beg him, to go to the room, to speed it up, to make you cum. He likes being in power, you assume, as much as he might not like you.

“You wanna go to the room?” He chuckled, speeding up his movements in a way that has you too distracted to event think. “Not a fan of exihibitionism, are you?” You would have laughed if that wasn’t the exact moment he chooses to pull his hand out, fingers dragging up, up, up to your clit for a little tease. A taste of what you can you have if you just let him work. “Come on, let’s go.” But before he can even take a step towards the familiar room, you tug him by the collar for a kiss, filthy and wet, and you basically rip his shirt off of his body. He is soft and hard at the same time, pun intended. For a man, he takes a lot of care of himself, and you envy the clear and soft skin of his chest, feeling self conscious about the blemishes you know you have. It’s an anxious impulse to pick at your arms, and it’s times like these that makes you cuss are your longish nails.

You forget all about it when he moans at the feeling of those same nails scratching down his chest, stopping just below his bellybutton. These moments are rare, you never have a chance to have some resemblance of control in how things unfold between you two, but something about it makes your eyes twinkle… and you want more. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so hot.” And you are– you feel like you are and that’s all that matters as you pop the button open, making space for your hand to slide down, under pants and underwear, to grab a hold of him. “Oh…”

There’s a draft coming from the room, where he insists on sleeping with the window upen as snow covers the entire street outside in white, and you shiver almost the same way you did last night. Except this time, you don’t have his sweaty, overheated body on top of yours, and it’s not as pleasant anymore. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on that couch, but you do know it’s time to get up and go. At one point or another, Minho will notice the empty space next to him in bed, and you don’t wish to be there to find out if he cares enough to come look for you or not.

You grab your jacket as if it’s made of glass. He hangs them neatly at the front door, which is right next to the room entrance, and you are scared to even step on his wooden floors. If the wood gives you away, then you are not sure you’ll have the guts to face him again. Usually, when you leave like this, doing the classic Irish goodbye and disappearing for a couple of weeks or so until someone falters. To be fair, so far, t’s an equal score. You wonder if there is an unspoken agreement between you two that dictates whose turn is it to text first… last night, it had been him.

“Fuck!” You moan, and just like before, you wiggle in place in a silent plea. Sometimes, in your opinion, Minho takes too long with his teasing, but you know it’s on purpose. Like how he is right now, brushing the tip of his dick between your folds. If it wasn’t for the condom, you’d feel the way he leaks in excitement. But alas, that’s one level of intimacy you are not, and never will be, ready to have with him. Someone, maybe, just not… him. You will never give yourself that fully to Lee Minho, because you did, once upon a time two years ago, and it was a struggle to get yourself back. “Minho, please, please just– oh my god…”

He’s a calculated lover. He knows just when to push and pull, and just then, as you beg and buckle your hips into him, hoping to feel that delicious, burning stretch of him, he pushes. Despite everything, you don’t quite like feeding his ego, and so you try and hold back the whimper that threatens to escape.

The build up of sex with Minho is slow. He pauses, moaning into your neck as he gives you a couple of seconds to get used to the feeling of him. “Y/N, fuck,” He whispers, moving to give you a bruising kiss and that’s when you know your time is done. The way he pulls back and pushes in again, and again, and again starts to build up inside of you, making you throw your head back into the pillow, fingers sinking into his back. You enjoy keeping him close, knees pushed up to his hips trying to feel him deeper, harder. You like the way he picks up the pace little by little, hipbones harsh in how they snap against yours, letting you know you’d be sore for next day with the echoes of his skin on yours. “Minho!” You moan, feeling his harsh breathing on your cheeks. A shiver runs up your spine when he fucks you harder, mouth everywhere until he finds bliss sucking marks on your chest. “Fuck, baby, please, please, please–” At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just wanting to feel that tension in your stomach explode and tingle everywhere, blanking you out from existence.

It’s not an easy job, making you cum, but he never fails to impress you with how determined he is. Not that he has ever been successful, but as you explained before, it’s not about the destination, but the journey. Sometimes, you think the reason why he keeps calling you back is the fact that you are a challenge. Sure, he had made you cum with his mouth before, those sinful lips wrapping around your most sensitive part as sucking like he was trying to drink you fully. Or those hands– long fingers drawing an orgasm out of you as if he was simply beckoning you to come closer and closer to him. But cumming from his dick, as much as your mind loved the fantasy, is hard. It’s more of a you thing than a him thing, but he is relentless in his mission. He pushes away from you, as much as your grabby hands try to keep him in place, and raises to his full glory, standing on his knees while holding your hips up to match his erratic rhythm. “So tight… feels so fucking good,” He groans, bringing one leg over his shoulder and you can’t handle it anymore. It’s odd, feeling this good yet feeling pain at the same time. Your leg is cramping up, and your hands are holding onto the bedsheets so tightly you might just crack your fingers out of place, and your core… god, your core is on fire.

“Minho, please, just– oh my– cum, please baby,” Your twisting your whole body in a sensation that is foreign to you, and for a moment, everything stops. This is the first time you know it’s coming… you feel it, so close yet so far, and just as you’re about to tip over the edge, that euphoric sensation starting to spread in advance as your stomach coiled tighter and tighter as he pounded into you harder and harder… until he groans, impossibly loud, and his hips slow down to a stop. “You have got to be kidding me.”

What comes after is not that important– mainly because it’s not you, even as he slides his body down the bed, throwing your legs on his shoulders to get to work. If there is one thing Minho excels at, besides driving you absolutely nuts, is coaching you to the brink. It’s a shame, really, that you panic early, never letting him push you off the edge and make you cum so hard you scream his name in that high-pitched tone he loves teasing you about.

It’s a hard relationship you have with yourself, really. On one hand, that’s the only reason you’re there, the sex, the panting, the hours that pass by and you don’t even notice. But then, on the other hand, as much as you chase that orgasmic feeling like a madwoman, you don’t want it to end. No the sex, no– sometimes, all you want is for it to end, because you’re close, so so close to cumming that you might just ruin it all.

You don’t want to lose.

If you cum, you lose. It’s a sick game, and you’re playing it with no one else besides you, but you refuse to lose. This time, you’re on fucking top.

This time, if anyone is getting heartbroken, is him. If anyone is ending up on the floor crying, it’s him. If anyone is desperate for answers, it’s him.

This time, if anyone is losing, it’s fucking Lee Minho.

“Leaving early again.”

Chuckling, you don’t really acknowledge him yet, finishing tying your boots and wrapping your scarf around your neck, your chin, your face. You cover everything his eyes trace, smirking under the soft fabric and enjoying how it brushes over your lips so gently… he’s never that gentle with you, so it’s a welcoming contrast, your inanimate scarf to Minho.

It’s cold out, cold enough for the little skin you have on show to numb. With every step you take away from him, you numb. With every goodbye wave, every nonchalant glance, every uncaring smile– you’re numb to the point of feeling like you’re hypothermic. The cold, you find, opening his front door, only brings you back to a state of being you’re awfully too familiar with.

“What can I say,” You shrug, refusing to admit the defeat that is when he simply leans against the wall, smirking as if he knows what you’re going to say next. “I have nothing else to do here.” And with that, you step out, ignoring the pang in your stomach when the door actually slams shut behind you.

You can’t lost, you remind yourself one more time, marching to the subway station just a block away.

You can’t lose because if you lose, you lose him. And if you lose him, you’re numb forever.

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Hi lovelies!!! Oh my god, this one was a wild ride >.< I hope you guys enjoy it, my little heart needed to write this as a venting session haha

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