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starsstuddedsky · 8 months

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Persimmon Problems

jaemin x reader

summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, he’s not a frat boy but he’s basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I don’t actually know what this is

warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (it’s pg-13), lmk if I missed any

wc: 18.3k (oops)

a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream… yeah. anyways so I’ve looked at this for so long that I don’t even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I can’t keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)

You’ve never had persimmon before but you think maybe it’s the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesn’t help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink.

There’s a pinch at your side. “You’re staring again.”

You glare at Renjun, who doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. “Was not.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Just don’t let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.”

“The only one distracting me is you, and you aren’t pretty.” You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture.

It’s not that you can’t focus around Na Jaemin–your perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that you’ve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and that’s enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit you’ll never have the opportunity to try.

Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjun’s computer instead.

“That looks like shit.”

“Trust the process,” he says.

“You spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?”

“You don’t think you can handle it on your own?”

“Stop trying to bait me into doing all the work.” You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. That’s when you realize you’re staring again. Shit.

“Are we eating before lab or do you seriously think you’ll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?” You ask Renjun, who still hasn’t moved.

“You want to be president when you aren’t even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?”

“I want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?” You wonder if he’s focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag.

“Whatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.” You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack.

“Should have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.”

“That’s because it’s his parents’ black card.” He finally looks up from his laptop at you. “Are you getting the food or not?”

You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. “I’m going to fire you when I’m president.”

“And who else will put up with your bullshit?” he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someone—bouncing off their chest, more specifically.

Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. “Woah there.”

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“Sorry,” you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark it’s difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why can’t you be normal around him?

“I was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasn’t all your fault.” He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from he’s going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to he’s going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic).

Instead, he says, “You’re YN, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

His smile widens when you say yes. “Student council vice president, right?”

You don’t trust your voice so you nod.

“I’m Jaemin,” he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. “Your picture is on the website.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brain’s whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all.

“Yes, it is,” he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does.

You don’t have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You don’t feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when they’re only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was right—Renjun’s give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back.

Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since they’re the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interaction–and god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldn’t even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush.

The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can.

By the time you make it back to the lecture room, there’s barely five minutes left of break.

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. “We are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.”

“Agreed,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spew hot chip dust everywhere.

“And I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.” He smiles at you over the purple bag.

“You’re horrible, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Music to my ears, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, Renjun’s graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes don’t look half as bad when they’re the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasn’t half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once.

It’s a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent that’s in serious danger of blowing away.

You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isn’t raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute.

Realistically, there’s no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually care—none of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since he’s the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can.

Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but there’s no real danger in losing that. You’ve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you haven’t shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms.

A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds don’t stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops.

Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?).

“What’s wrong? Hat got your tongue?” He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. “Sorry,” Jaemin says, “bad joke, I know, but I couldn’t help it.”

Even the most lovesick part of you can’t defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind.

“It’s Jaemin, from microbio,” he says, as if there’s actually a chance you don’t know him.

“Thanks, Jaemin from microbio.”

He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. “My pleasure, Vice President.”

“You can just call me YN,” you mumble.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You swear he winks, though maybe it’s the wind blowing in his eyes.

The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “This is Jeno, he’s–God, I guess he’s my best friend.” He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. “The position is temporary.”

“Thanks!” Jeno says brightly.

“Jeno, this is the vice president of the student council,” he says.

“YN,” you say, “I’d shake your hand but…” You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you.

“It’s alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.” Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point.

“Hey, I didn’t get a handshake,” Jaemin says.

“Did you need a handshake?”

He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that you’re paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed.

“I’ll settle for some advice,” Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else).

“Advice?”

“I was actually looking for you anyway.” Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. “The student council election is open to anyone, right?”

“The presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,” you say. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I’m going to apply.”

You blink at him. “For president? Of student council?”

“Yeah,” he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets.

President… but that’s your position. If it wasn’t for the senior-only rule, you’d already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get here–it’s your position.

“Do I apply there?” He asks, pointing at the table you’re supposed to be sitting at.

“The application is online,” you find yourself saying, “you have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, it’s all on the application information.” You’re about halfway through your own application, though it’s mostly copying and pasting from the document you’ve been working on since you joined student council.

“You can scan the QR code on this blanket, it’ll take you to the application.” You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder.

“Cool,” Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. “Can I ask you if I have any questions?”

Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him.

“Sure,” you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. “Whatever I can do to help.”

He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. “Thank you, YN.”

“No problem,” you mumble, knowing that’s not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chance–this is so much worse.

“I should go back,” you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaemin’s presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sun–no matter how hard you try, you can’t beat physics.

But maybe he isn’t the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesn’t revolve around you, he doesn’t even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy.

You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone.

“Are you following me?”

Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “You think you’re that special already?” Before you can answer, he laughs. “But, yeah, I am. I can’t leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.”

“As opposed to by myself at the table?”

He shrugs. “There’s two chairs. I could sit with you.”

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. He’s got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. “You’d freeze in five minutes.”

“You could–”

“Are we going to Doyoung’s or not?” Jeno calls from behind you.

“Right,” Jaemin says, “I definitely did not forget about that.” He glances at you. “Rain check?”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,” you say, “but seriously, I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.” You reach the table, turning to face him.

Jaemin pouts. “Why not?”

“For starters, I don’t want to be responsible for the hypothermia you’re bound to catch,” you say, “and it’s a student council thing. You’re not a part of the student council.”

“Not yet.”

Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-you’ve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. “Also, no offense, but I barely know you.”

“Offense taken,” Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. “We’ve taken half a class together!”

“We’ve spoken twice if you count today!” You say. Does he really not get it? “At the very least it would be awkward.”

“I take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,” Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. “I’ll prove it to you.” Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but there’s no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesn’t immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesn’t need to know that you already do. That’s why there’s simply no way he’s flirting with you–it simply doesn’t make sense.

“Dude, we seriously need to go,” Jeno says. “Doyoung is spam texting.”

Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye Jaemin,” you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders. He doesn’t look back at you.

What just happened?

Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. “Was that Na Jaemin?”

“Yes–wait, how do you know him?”

Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. “Renjun talks.”

You’re going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss.

“What was he doing here?” Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun.

“He wants to be president.”

“Of student council?”

“Apparently.”

“Huh.” Jisung sits back. “Aren’t you supposed to be president?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Jisung stares at you.

“Have fun!” You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. “It’s cold!”

Jisung grunts, huddling down and you don’t spare a second look at him. There’s a solid chance he’s texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though it’s March and the groundhog didn’t see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear.

For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up.

[Bitch #1] You’re just trying to avoid jaemin.

You don’t know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaemin’s intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you.

Jaemin’s message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasn’t sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you can’t think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. It’s one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? You’ve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, you’ve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety.

You should have trusted your gut.

You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance.

In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like he’s been sitting there the entire semester.

You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. “You’re in my seat.”

Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s snort, opting to smile at you. “Hello YN, it’s nice to see you.”

“Hi Jaemin,” you say, “you’re in my seat.”

He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. “I was just getting to know Renjun.”

You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. “I’m sure he’s been lovely.” Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council.

Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class?

“What are you doing?” You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I told you, I could never be awkward,” Jaemin says.

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and it’s not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other.

Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sides—Renjun doesn’t bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you can’t really complain about because it’s the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on.

“Is this what you do every class?” You whisper.

Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. “She grades for attendance, not participation.”

“Are you even passing this class?”

Jaemin grins. “Sweetheart, I skew the curve.” Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you haven’t met anyone who��s gotten similar grades.

Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldn’t he? Not only hot and popular, he’s smart too, smarter than you—it takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in class—he doesn’t even hide that he isn’t paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesn’t spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what he’s getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.

Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I don’t know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. You’re sure the second Jaemin steps away he’s going to be on your ass again.

Belatedly, you realize you’ve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didn’t miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class.

Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjun’s judgment, it’s hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do.

But can you really blame it on them? It’s you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesn’t actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesn’t mean you have to fall off the scale.

Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if she’s taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didn’t know your name and now you can say he’s ‘too’ something.

“So what do you normally do during break?” Jaemin asks. “Other than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.”

You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. “Go over the prelab in case someone forgets to do it–”

“I always do it!” Renjun says.

“–but usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but that’s because he doesn’t know how to manage his time.”

“Says the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.”

“Just because you’re good at Canva doesn’t mean you’re on top of your work.”

Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesn’t really matter. The truth is, he just doesn’t need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you.

“What do you normally do during break?” You ask.

Jaemin purses his lips. “Well, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.” From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you.

You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. “Should you go over there?”

“Probably.” He doesn’t make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. “You’re very interesting, YN.”

You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. “Well, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you don’t go over there.”

Jaemin laughs. “You’re probably right. I’ll talk to you later.” He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand.

You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. “You’re very interesting, YN.”

“Shut up,” you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesn’t fall like you wish he would.

He shakes his head. “I do not like that guy.”

“Really?” You frown. “Why?”

“The fact that you’re even asking me that.” He sighs. “He’s just not my favorite type of guy.” He glares at you before you can tease him. “You seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and it’s overall not a fun time for me.”

“Okay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,” you say, “and second of all, nothing’s ever going to happen with him.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows.

“Seriously,” you insist, “he’s literally Jaemin, and I’m… not his type. You can hate him all you want but don’t do it on my behalf.”

Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesn’t believe you, and he’s probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesn’t argue back.

“I didn’t do the pre lab, though,” Renjun says, “that was a lie.”

“I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident.”

Jaemin doesn’t show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but it’s not like you don’t have friends. You wouldn’t have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuck–but you’ve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you.

So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since “someone” stole one, he’s been overprotective of the cords). It’s movie night anyways, it’s not like you need your phone.

“Wait,” you say, “since when are we watching Endgame?”

“We literally just voted,” Donghyuck says, “You could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you weren’t paying attention.” He glares at you.

Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. “It’s all good, YN can just make the popcorn.”

“It’s hitting buttons on a microwave.”

“Oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!” Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. It’s bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen.

The shelves in Mark’s apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course that’s where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop.

A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. “You could have just used the stool.”

“That’s so much work.”

“And yet it keeps you off the floor.” He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage.

“You okay?” Chenle shouts.

“Fine,” you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that they’d let you bleed out to finish the movie—probably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you.

He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You would’ve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you.

“So,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows. “‘So’ what?”

“So, Jaemin.” Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. He’s been like this ever since you met him—pulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did.

“He’s…” A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him?

“He’s sort of famous,” Donghyuck says. “Or infamous, depending on who you ask.”

“And if I ask you?”

Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. “He’s lots of fun to party with. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like him.”

“But?” You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops.

Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. “But he isn’t the boyfriend type. I mean, I’m not best friends with the guy, but it’s pretty obvious, and I talked to—”

“Stop.” You hold a hand up. “I know exactly what kind of guy he is, I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m not saying you’re an idiot, I just—”

“Donghyuck, I get it.” You stare back at him. “I really do, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you aren’t doing. You don’t expect a single thing from Na Jaemin.

“I heard he’s running for president.”

“Come on,” you say, “you think he can beat me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He won’t call you out on it, but he doesn’t have to. Your lie doesn’t even convince yourself. Jaemin has it all—grades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily.

“Why are you helping him?”

“Jisung can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?”

“Renjun was actually the one that told me, but that’s not the point,” Donghyuck says.

“He hasn’t even asked for help,” you say, “and it’s not like I’m going to give up. I just…”

“You like him,” Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you won’t fight a battle that’s already lost. But you won’t admit it either.

“I know what I’m doing.”

Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. “Just be careful,” he says, “I do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I don’t want you to get hurt because he isn’t what you want him to be.”

“Gross, stop acting like we’re friends,” you say.

“Never mind, I take it all back,” he says, “and I won’t be your vice president.”

“Too late.” You shrug. “You already signed a contract.”

“Fine, I’ll veto everything you propose.”

“You don’t have the power to do that.”

He tossed his hands up. “What is the point of being vice president?”

You beam at him. “Doing the shit I don’t want to do!”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and that’s when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises.

He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isn’t on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing.

“Dude, what is that smell?” Mark shouts from the living room.

You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Mark’s kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out.

You’re so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. That’s why you don’t see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning.

[Na Jaemin] you busy?

For the past three weeks, you’ve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but you’ve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesn’t exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. It’s meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes.

You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications.

Jaemin’s message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didn’t rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait.

But no, you’re meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications.

The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though you’ve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight you’re supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Mark’s friends from grad school—depending on whether Renjun can find out if he’s a poli-sci major or not.

You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaemin’s name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“YN,” Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.”

“Sorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesn’t let anyone use his chargers.”

Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. “Damn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?”

You laugh a little but can’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesn’t speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenant’s antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could be—stabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaemin’s ceiling look like? He’s so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. He’s the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed that’s never made, yet he’s also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it.

“So,” Jaemin says, apparently realizing you aren’t going to say anything else. “I actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.”

You shove down the butterflies that spring up. “For what?”

“First of all, it’s cruel that you don’t think I’d want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.”

“Don’t you have a lab partner?”

“Yeah, he’s who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately he’s worse at taking notes than me.” He pauses. “Besides, you’re much cuter.”

“Oh.” The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach.

“So are you free?”

Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what you’d just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin can’t see your face right now.

“I’m free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?”

“Damn, council meetings on Fridays,” Jaemin says, “that works though. Meet you in the library?”

“We can use the council room on the third floor,” you say, “no one else will be there.”

“Okay,” Jaemin says, “see you soon, YN.”

“Bye, Jaemin.”

The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. It’s just sharing notes. It’s just Jaemin. He’s just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate.

Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way!

Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesn’t see the horrors of his classmates you truly don’t know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med.

Though being a non-poli-sci major doesn’t mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that he’s a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Mark’s problem isn’t his leadership—it’s that he doesn’t know when to give up.

The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage.

“It’s a proven fact,” Mark says. “How are you arguing with science?”

“Can science tell me what I feel?” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about my experience!”

You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe it’s time to intervene.

“You’re just gaslighting yourself,” Mark says, “it’s not physically possible!”

“Well, you’re not physically possible!”

“That makes negative sense. I’m getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.”

“Okay,” you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. “This isn’t council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?” According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisung’s hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle.

“Cool, majority rule,” you say, ignoring the outrage on Mark’s face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. He’ll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going on—you’re convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it.

Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops.

“Going home,” Renjun says, “we’re going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.”

“Huh,” Chenle says, “I can’t believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.”

Renjun shrugs. “I need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.” He grins. “See you guys later.”

“Bye Renjun,” you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications.

[Na Jaemin] in the library [Na Jaemin] lost in the library [Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairs

[yn] need me to come find you?

[Na Jaemin] nah i don’t get lost (yes please)

“You’re texting with Jaemin?” Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately it’s still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who you’re texting.

“This is painful,” he announces. He hands the phone back to you. “You could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.”

“Why?”

Chenle shakes his head. “You are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?”

“Is there any other?”

“You’ve got a chance here,” Chenle continues, ignoring your question. “Not many people—well, I’ve actually heard he’s quite experienced but that’s beside the point, because you have a chance and that’s rare.”

“Genuinely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you don’t think you want him overhearing this conversation.

“Okay, look,” Chenle says, “you’re you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whatever—”

“That’s not at all what I want.”

“—never a second you aren’t working, and then there’s Jaemin, and sure he’s a STEM major too, but the he’s type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because he’s hot and lucky but you can’t really be mad about it because he’s Jaemin.” He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. “You know what, you’ll figure it out eventually.” He glances at you with a frown. “Maybe.”

“Good bye, Chenle,” you say pointedly.

He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think he’s still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for him—he’s stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever.

“I’m meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,” you say. You hover over the send button, Chenle’s “advice” infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more.

[yn] on the way now 👍

Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. “You’re hopeless.”

You grin and give him a thumbs up. “Thanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.”

Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn’t read Jaemin’s messages closely enough—evident from missing the fact that he’s on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought.

Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like… well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies).

“Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.” You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as it’s gone.

“You’re not late,” you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. “Exactly on time.”

“Oh.” He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness.

[Chenle] good luck 🤪🤪🤪

[Chenle] have fun with the hottie 🔥🔥🔥

[Chenle] but not too much fun 😼😼

You clear your throat, praying he didn’t get a chance to read all of the messages. “Chenle’s just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.”

Jaemin nods. “I hate to take the side of someone I’ve never met over you, but he might be right.”

“I use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,” you say. “Besides, I’ve never seen you use any.”

“You’re just going to have to text me more to find out.”

You’ve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. It’s nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering.

Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. “This is nice.”

“Don’t lie,” you say. “The only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.” You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work.

“It is nice,” Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for.

“Chenle,” you explain, “he thinks he’s a part of the Golden State Warriors.”

“How much council work actually gets done in these meetings,” he says teasingly.

“You catch on fast,” you say. “It took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.”

“How come?”

“The president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.”

“Fresh-tern?”

“The freshman interns,” you explain, “since the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the ‘internship,’ which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothing—like, it doesn’t pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. It’s all based on whether the president likes you or not.

“Anyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldn’t get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldn’t go on tangents every two minutes.” You stop, realizing how much you’re talking. You’ve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. “Anyways, we’ve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Mark’s head on his shoulders until he graduates.”

“Sounds like fun,” Jaemin says.

“Sometimes.” You pause. “How’s your application going, by the way?”

He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. “Still figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.”

You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plans—but because you want to beat him or because it’s Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him?

You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash.

“It’s organized by subject,” you explain. “Usually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I don’t really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.” You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past class’s date to cross reference the relevant information.

Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “This is crazy.”

“Yeah,” you say, “Renjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, it’s worth it.”

“You know Renjun from student council?” He asks, beginning to type a few notes.

“I guess that’s where I met him first,” you say. “But he’s pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though that’s back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.”

“None of you are poli-sci?”

“I’m public health,” you say, “and Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.”

“You really hate them?”

“They deserve it,” you say. “But also it’s because I made the mistake of dating one last year.” You shudder at the memory.

“Really?” Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine. “It was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.”

“Not making fun,” Jaemin says. “Were the cookies at least homemade?”

“Well, yes.” You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you can’t help it. “He had his ex make them, actually.”

“No!”

“Yeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,” you say. “So, no, I don’t really like poli-sci majors.”

“A good observation,” Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glow—scientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you.

Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. It’s so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it.

You eye him. “Do you even need these?”

“Nope,” Jaemin says. He grins at you. “Just an excuse to see you.” He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he can’t flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile.

“Nothing special.” That’s what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there.

That’s how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot.

“Sixteen more to go,” Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you aren’t quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots.

At least you aren’t alone—Donghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces.

“What’s our motto?” Donghyuck shouts.

“Two and three to infinity!” Mark shouts.

“Nobody goes to the hospital!” You shout.

“To the grave!” Renjun shouts.

“Huh, I guess we should have coordinated that,” Donghyuck says. “I was thinking something more like ‘happy birthday Renjun.’”

“Shoulda said something,” you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe it’s actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you don’t know regardless of the alcohol.

“You’re YN, right?” The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. “I live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Who do you have?”

“Professor Ahn,” she says.

“He’s good,” you say, “I had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, he’ll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.”

She smiles even wider. “Really?”

You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movement—not a good sign, only five shots into the challenge.

The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girl’s friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name.

Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that you’ve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your shower—loud and last minute.

You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjun’s study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave.

Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuck’s bedroom door (something you like to call “not my problem”). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards.

You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you aren’t.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesn’t let go of your arms.

“Jaemin.” You grin at him.

He tilts his head. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re pretty,” you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny.

But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. He’s hot too. But first, he’s pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his face–the perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawline–and of course those lips. Perfect lips.

Jaemin leans closer. “You’re prettier.”

You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. “You almost sound serious.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. They’re the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balm–or maybe it’s the lighting–because they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be soft—you’d bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds you—pee.

You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. “Need to pee.”

He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. “You’re not going to slip and crack your head open?”

“Nope,” you say. “Really need to pee.” He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isn’t totally disgusting.

Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floor—and with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers.

Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, “Six!” anyways.

Another 2000s hit plays (it’s definitely Chenle’s playlist, which reminds you that you haven’t seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. It’s hot and sweaty and you wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.

Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head that’s completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side.

“And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!” You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing along—except for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacris’s verse to come in to rap it word for word.

Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. “Number seven,” he shouts in your ear over the bass.

“What about Donghyuck?” You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone.

Renjun shrugs. “He’ll catch up.”

You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You can’t see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but you’re already questioning the next round.

Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you aren’t even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jeno’s, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps.

Yeah, you’re definitely staring.

Jaemin asks something but you can’t hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist.

“How are you doing?” He shouts over the music.

You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. “I’m so hungry.”

Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. “The McDonald’s, across the street?”

“I need French fries,” you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours.

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free.

He doesn’t let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjun’s place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets don’t struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk.

The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaemin’s bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You won’t say it again for fear of being repetitive, but it’s the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. You’ll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight it’s all pretty.

Jaemin swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. It’s definitely the alcohol but you don’t look away.

The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights.

You’re hardly the only drunk couple at McDonald’s. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you don’t remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaemin’s back.

The fluorescent lights can’t make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmer’s tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from?

So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters.

Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. “Potatoes are incoming.”

“Do you know what persimmons taste like?”

“What?” His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what you’d asked.

“Never mind,” you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous game—you aren’t quite sure what will spill out.

He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something.

“You feeling okay?”

It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. “Renjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.”

Jaemin whistles. “Is Renjun going to survive tonight?”

“Probably not,” you mumble. “That opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.”

“Is that the only requirement for student council?” Jaemin asks. “Being pretty?”

“You can’t be a poli-sci major either,” you say, “which you pass. It helps that you’re smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.”

“That’s a low bar,” Jaemin says. “What else do you like?”

“Hm…” Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like?

“Sharks. They’re much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though he’s a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.” And you. I like you so much I don’t know how to say it.

“What about doctors?” Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Do you like doctors?”

You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. “Doctors have needles. I don’t like needles.”

Jaemin laughs. “Even if the doctor is super rich?”

“Rich? From taking all my money?” You cry.

“Rich from saving people’s lives,” he says. “Like a neurosurgeon.”

You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. “Are you actually pre-med because of Grey’s Anatomy?”

Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost.

“Oh my god.” You can’t hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you aren’t sure if you’re starving or need to throw up.

“It’s a perfectly respectable career!” Jaemin says.

“You want to be Patrick Dempsey?” You say between giggles. “Not even McSteamy?”

“Hey, he’s—wait, you watch it too?”

You shrug. “It’s fun.”

“Then how are you making fun of me!” He cries.

“I didn’t go into medicine because of it!”

Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves.

Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched children’s shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe he’s from the same planet as you after all.

He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that you’re grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?

“For you,” he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. “I didn’t know what sauce, so I fought… Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.” He pauses glancing at you. “Which apparently you don’t need.”

“So good,” you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you… fondly? Is that what’s in his eyes?

“What?”

He shakes his head. “You’re just cute.”

You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard.

The rest of your time at McDonald’s is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too.

“Back to Renjun’s?” Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You don’t think twice about taking it.

“Mm, I’m pretty tired,” you say, “and Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he won’t let me go until one of us is in the hospital.” Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonald’s, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t worried about him?”

“He swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, he’ll be fine,” you say, “plus Jisung is there, sober. They’ll be fine.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be fine when I get home.” You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you don’t move away and neither does he.

“Take me home?”

He doesn’t move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. “Okay.”

You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjun’s place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaemin’s arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling.

The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You don’t dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his.

“Goodnight, YN,” he says.

No. This isn’t the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask. “See my apartment?”

He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. “Okay.”

You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred term–a bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the “kitchen” of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.

Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed.

“I don’t normally have company,” you explain.

“It’s okay,” he says, “my room’s a mess too.” He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. “A gift?”

You shake your head. “Bought it myself for surviving sophomore year.” You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. “Freshman year.”

“Cute,” Jaemin says, still looking at the bear.

You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last year’s graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total.

“That one’s my ex,” you say, the word still strange in your mouth. “If you count two weeks as even dating.”

“The one in red?”

You nod.

Jaemin snorts. “I’m way hotter than him.” He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit.

Not drunk, not yet sober, it’s easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it.

You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him.

He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest.

Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like it’s his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words can’t capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily.

“How far you want to go?” He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You know consent is so sexy.”

You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. “You have a condom?”

Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it.

He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. “Now where were we?”

[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :( [Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke up [Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise [Na Jaemin] [image attached] [Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3

You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst it’s ever been.

No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didn’t stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. It’s Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours.

Your phone rings, but it isn’t Jaemin.

“Hey,” Renjun says.

“You sound awful,” you say, throat aching.

“You’re one to talk,” Renjun says, “and you didn’t even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.”

“And how’s Donghyuck doing?”

“Throwing up in the shower, it sounds like.”

You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. “Happy birthday Renjun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I actually did call for a reason.”

“I am not helping with clean up,” you say, “Chenle swore he’d do all of it since he bailed on set up.”

“Not that,” Renjun says. “I’ll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.” He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen.

Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take something—and with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like you’ll have plenty of time.

An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up.

“God, did you shower?” You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila.

“I was serious about coming over as soon as possible.” He groans, collapsing on your bed. “I think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.”

“Do you want toast?” You offer.

He glares at you. “Just sit.” Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely.

“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this,” he begins. “Did you go out with Jaemin last night?”

“He… took me home,” you say. “What’s wrong Renjun?”

“Last night—well—this morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,” he says, “who were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how he’s messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.” He falls quiet, studying your face.

“He wouldn’t.” Your voice feels so small.

He wouldn’t, you said, but you can’t even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts don’t need oxygen.

1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency first

2) he pretended not to know you were running

3) he’s known for hooking up with anyone

4) he never belonged in your world

The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you weren’t too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesn’t want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isn’t that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand.

Jaemin doesn’t exist a universe away–he lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe that’s the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. It’s you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says softly. “I wanted him to be different.”

“Did you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didn’t ever expect anything from him?” You shake your head. “No, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesn’t give a shit about them? A boy that’s actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream they’ve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.” You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but it’s too late.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute.

“I slept with him.” The admission burns its way up your throat. “Last night.” You sigh. “You don't have to tell me I’m an idiot.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to say that,” Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. “Though I’m kind of regretting sitting on the bed.” He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. “You’re going to do things you regret, there’s no stopping it.”

“Why do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?” Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. “Why can’t I just like a boy that likes me?”

“Do you think maybe you liked him too much?” Renjun asks gently. “Like maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.” He pauses, squeezing your arm. “Don’t let a boy that isn’t real hurt you.”

You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “But he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.”

“Okay, I’m not understanding.”

“I thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but he’s real and even though his flavor isn’t a mystery, it’s better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and it’s the best pineapple you’ve ever had, juicy and sweet.”

“Okay first of all, that’s a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,” Renjun says. “Also persimmons are real.”

“I know that,” you snap, “but I’ve never had one, so they’re magic to me.” You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. “I’m saying you are right. I didn’t really like him, not at first. But it’s worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasn’t a dream, he was a boy who watches Grey’s Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.

“I know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasn’t real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.” You purse your lips. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“You really liked him,” Renjun says, “that won’t just go away.”

“That would be too easy,” you mutter.

Renjun laughs. “You’re going to be fine. There are so many better men.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you say.

“And I was right,” Renjun says, “Jaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isn’t a poli-sci major.”

You snort.

“See, you’re already laughing at him.” Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. “Now, I’m going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.”

You bury your face into the bear. “Does everyone know?”

Renjun pauses. “The guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.”

You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart.

It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start.

Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart.

“God, I was afraid I was waking you up.” Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. “I wasn’t entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and there’s a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasn’t sure what you’d like, but–”

“Did you know that I was running for president?”

Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. “What are you–”

“Just answer the question.” You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white.

He pauses a moment too long. “It’s not like that.”

“Never talk to me again.” You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors don’t have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.”

Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didn’t want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob.

Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesn’t try again. He doesn’t look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat.

Chenle doesn’t bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says he’s hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really he’s just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out.

But today, it’s worth it. It’s been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but who’s counting?). He doesn’t look at you anymore. You haven’t fully escaped him–every once in a while you’ll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you won’t feel it at all.

And today, Chenle got a puppy.

She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenle’s room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet.

“Hi baby!” Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. “Aren’t you just adorable!” You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She won’t sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed.

“Hi to you, too,” Chenle says pointedly.

“Hi Chenle,” you turn back to his puppy. “And hello puppy!”

“Her name is Daegal,” he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. “‘Cause she’s got a big ass head.”

“Chenle is so mean to you!” You coo at the puppy at your feet. “But that’s okay, I’ll take good care of you. You can come home with me!”

“You hear that baby?” Chenle says. “YN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!”

You stare at him. “Did you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?”

He shrugs. “She’s really cute.”

“You’re insane.” Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head.

“I invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?” Chenle sighs. “To think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.”

“I don’t need your pity,” you say. Daegal licks your hand.

“It’s not pity.” He pauses. “Well I guess it is pity, but you’re also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. I’d much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” you mutter.

Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. “But that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but I’ve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but I’d love a first hand account.”

“What are you talking about?” You eye him.

“How was the sex?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. “I’m not answering that.”

Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. “That means it was good.”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

“And yet you’re not denying it.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peace–he doesn’t say anything that doesn’t matter. When Chenle doesn’t speak, it means he has something to say and he isn’t sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you.

“Just tell me.”

Chenle purses his lips. “He dropped out.”

“Of school?”

He rolls his eyes. “The election.”

You stare at him. “Seriously?”

“He hasn’t touched his application since Renjun’s birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasn’t going forward with it.” He doesn’t say anything about how technically you should be checking the email.

“But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Chenle shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I was told.” He stands up. “Now! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?”

You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze.

“Why am I cleaning up after your dog?”

“Because you tried to steal her,” he says, “and I’ve already done this three times today and I’m really sick of it.”

You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain.

“We’re going out tomorrow night, by the way,” Chenle says. “And you’ve passed two weekends in a row so you’ve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no ‘buts.’”

Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, it’ll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe you’ll get an answer to the giant question mark that’s lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope that’s survived these past few weeks can metamorphize.

And maybe he’ll break your heart again. But you won’t get any answers daydreaming.

How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didn’t even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesn’t taste like alcohol.

“It’s disgusting,” you say, pushing it closer to him. “I am not drinking this.”

He rolls his eyes. “You do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?”

“No one told me that!” You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. “For the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.”

Chenle cheers. “Donghyuck, you’re back in! YN is babysitting!”

Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever ‘conversation’ he was having with Jisung.

“I thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,” he says.

“You better be fun, then,” you say.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. “Brain freeze!” He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. It’s almost normal, except you can’t help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in.

The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowded–soon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines.

When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably can’t hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this.

You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you don’t have to—strong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You aren’t surprised at all to look into Jaemin’s eyes as he lets go.

He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe it’s the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint you’ve come to recognize as trouble, is missing.

“Hi,” you say.

He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “So you’re talking to me now?”

An apology begins on your lips but you can’t push it out. Not when you still don’t understand. “Can we talk?”

He glances at you. “Have you been drinking?”

You shake your head.

“Okay.” He doesn’t walk away, folding his arms over his chest.

When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldn’t ever do something to hurt you.

But Jaemin doesn’t exist in your head–it’s far past time you learned that.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have just cut you off. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought, let alone what I think now.” You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. “Chenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.”

He nods slowly.

“But Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really don’t get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because you’re you and I’m me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didn’t already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.” You take a deep breath, realizing that you don’t exactly sound sane. “What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesn’t make sense.”

Jaemin blinks slowly at you. “You would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?”

“Do you?”

He frowns. “Of course I do. I like you so much I think about things I’ve never wanted before, the silly shit–watching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries together–I wanted to do all of it with you.

“You talk a lot about how we’re different people—who gives a shit? If I’m the type of person that wants to be with you and you’re the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes aren’t cold, they’re full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you are—not fake smart like me, but really smart. And when I’m around you, I like who I am. I know it’s cheesy but you bring out the best in me.

“I know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldn’t have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didn’t think you would ever try to hurt me.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that I’d ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didn’t think you cared about any of that.”

Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesn’t exist in another world, he isn’t any kind of fruit. He’s a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. “I’m so sorry.” He drops his head, sighing. “I was an idiot.”

He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. “Where do we go from here?”

You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy.

“Hey.” You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. “My name is YN. I think you’re really cute.”

For a heartbeat he doesn’t move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. “Hey, my name is Jaemin. I think you’re really cute too.”

“Oh really?” You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his.

“I know we can’t start over,” he says, “but can we start again?”

“How about this time we just talk to each other?” You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. “No more rumors and gossip.”

He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. “I swear, I won’t give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I won’t be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.”

You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. “Wait, did they seriously say that to you?”

“I ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very… one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,” Jaemin says, “and Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didn’t like me.”

You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. “You’ll win them over again.”

“They really don’t like me,” he says.

You cup his cheek again. “You’ll change their minds.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist.

“Now, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?” You ask.

He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaemin’s bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess you’ve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jeno’s).

Jeno, apparently, isn’t all bad–he did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesn’t fully trust you, but then again, your friends don’t hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound.

You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, “you look sexy.”

“So cheesy,” you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. It’s too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident.

“What’re you doing?”

“A surprise,” he says, “at least my attempt at one.” He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Still no ass,” you say, patting him a little lower than his waist.

“Hey!” He sticks his lower lip out. “I’m trying.”

“No one’s perfect,” you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek.

“You are,” he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like it’s his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. It’s only when you can’t breathe that he finally pulls away.

“Good answer,” you say.

He smiles. “If you come to the gym with me I’d be more motivated to get an ass you’d be proud of.”

“You send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,” you say. “You want me to die?”

He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. “If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me, because you are too cute.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early.

“The surprise,” he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though it’s more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball.

“A persimmon?”

“I still don’t really get the persimmon thing,” he says, “but I’ve never tried one.”

You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding.

“No more magical mystical fruit,” Jaemin says.

“You’re going to make an amazing trophy husband,” you say. You tap him on the nose. “Maybe we could even be a power couple.”

He grins. “We’ll be so cool. Like Beyoncé and her husband.”

“Jay-Z?”

“Whatever.” Jaemin flips his hand. “The important part is that I am Beyoncé.”

You smack his shoulders softly. “Hell no, Beyoncé would never have a flat ass.”

“It always comes back to the ass.” He sighs. “Be honest: are you embarrassed by me?”

Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him.

“By you? Never.” You pat his cheeks. “Your ass leaves much to be desired, though.”

thank you for reading!

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct fluff #nct angst #jaemin #na jaemin #nct jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst

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rosiesmuts · 8 months

Text

Dangerous Game

Twice Sana ft. Nayeon

Words: 4,400

A/N: Sana hella hot doe

Nayeon is sick and tired of Sana bragging about her blowjob skills yet again.

"And then," Sana says, waving her hands as she recounts her latest sexual conquest. "He came, like, everywhere. All over my face. My tits. My stomach. I swear I was just covered in cum."

"You're so fucking disgusting," Nayeon replies. "Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Sana chirps. "It's not my fault guys just explode when I suck their dick."

Nayeon groans,"I'm really sick of hearing about how great you think you are at giving head. I bet I'm just as good as you are."

"I doubt it," Sana says, shrugging.

"Bet."

"Fine. Let's bet, loser has to do whatever the winner asks. But how are we gonna prove it?"

"I bet Oppa is game. He's waiting for me to come home. Technically he's the best person to judge."

"Are you crazy? I'm not gonna suck your boyfriend's cock."

"Aww, scared you'll lose?"

"Fine I'll do it, but don't get mad if he falls in love with me."

"I think I'll survive." Nayeon kept up a strong face, but as per usual, she got too caught up in winning an argument. She didn't actually think Sana would actually follow through on this, but sure enough, Sana followed her into the cab.

You hear the sound of your door creaking open. "Nayeon, is that you?"

"Yea! Sana's here too by the way!"

She must've had too much to drink and was crashing over again. A sigh escapes as you get up to greet the two crazy women.

"Here Sana, you left your pajamas last time, you can sleep in these."

"Oh what's the rush Oppa? Don't you want to have a little fun?" Sana teases you, running her finger up and down your chest.

"You're drunk Sana. Go to bed."

"Oh I'm not drunk at all Oppa. Nayeon brought me back here to suck your cock." She says in the most casual tone, like this was an everyday occurrence.

Your mind races. You can't deny that you've fantasized about Sana before. She's constantly talking about how she gives the best head in the world. But you've never taken her seriously, and you didn't want to ruin your relationship with Nayeon by actually testing the theory.

"What the fuck?" You yell at Nayeon.

"Look," Nayeon starts. "She's just been bragging so much about her fucking amazing skills. I told her to prove she was better than me, and who else would know besides you. It's the perfect solution."

You can't believe the words coming out of her mouth. This had to be a dream. But you know Nayeon is the type of girl who sticks her foot in her mouth. This is real. You can't hide the shock on your face.

"I thought she'd back down, but she's pretty set on doing it."

"Oppa, can I please suck your cock? Pretty please?" Sana pleads. Her eyes are begging.

"Um..." The decision doesn't seem difficult from her perspective, but your heart is pounding like it's a life or death situation.

Without a moment to respond, Sana is already leading you to the couch. In one swift move, she sinks onto her knees, making easy work of your sweatpants, sliding them off completely in a moment. The fabric pools at your ankles as Sana nuzzles her face into your underwear. She eagerly presses her cheek and chin into your groin. You've always appreciated her bubbly, round face, but it takes on an extra definition as it's cradled by your crotch.

She leans back for a moment and you can feel her fingers stroking your cock over your briefs, her eyes filled with childlike glee as they bounce around. Sana licks the front of your underwear and moans with delight as she gets a first taste.

Her slender hands hook into the waistband and gingerly slide it down, holding you steady by the shaft.

"Oppa, it's bigger than I thought." Sana giggles before planting an almost innocent kiss onto the head of your dick.

"What's wrong Sana, don't think you can handle it?" Nayeon scoffs as she plops onto the other end of the couch, her feet tucked into her black skirt.

Sana shoots Nayeon a glare, "Size isn't an issue my dear Nabongs. It's just I haven't really done anything yet and he's so hard already. I love how eager he's being for me."

She emphasizes her last word by rubbing her fingers up your thigh, ending at the base of your shaft, keeping it as straight as possible while her mouth hovers inches above.

"Just suck his cock, I'm not here to watch you talk," Nayeon commands.

"Now, now what's the rush Nayeon?" Sana teases while her hands reach under her shirt and into her bra, tossing them over her shoulder. You're left slack jawed, Sana's cute perky tits previously only a dream. But now they're here, in front of you. She's here, in front of you.

"What's wrong, Oppa?" she whispers "You're acting like you've never seen a pair of tits before." She teases, knowing they're bigger than Nayeon's.

"Do you wanna play with them? It's okay. Here." She pulls your hands towards her, allowing you to squeeze her soft tits.

Your gaze remains locked onto her breasts, unable to fully take in the surreal situation. One second they were out, in a teasing peek and next, you were grasping them like an overeager schoolboy.

"I thought this was about sucking cock Sana."

"Oh Oppa, she's so impatient," Sana whines, "doesn't she know a great blowjob isn't just about sucking cock. It's about the whole experience." Sana teases, placing your cock in-between her breasts, jiggling the skin, stroking you, providing sweet warmth as your tip peaks through with every movement.

"Fuck Sana..."

"Do you like that? Do you like my tits rubbing all over your big hard cock? It's okay if you do."

Nayeon is staring from the corner of your eye. "You're going to have to try harder than that to beat me," she sneers.

"See, he likes it. Isn't that right Oppa?" Sana ignores, bouncing her tits on your cock. "Doesn't that feel nice?" Sana beams at your disheveled face, pleased at your helpless reaction to her tits.

"Mmm, that's so hot, Oppa. It feels so warm sliding up and down." She interlocks her hands together, squeezing her tits together. Her tits aren't big enough to fully cover you, but it's just enough. Your cock presses into the valley of her cleavage as she starts fucking them against you, and a sight unlike any other. Sana has been teasing Nayeon this whole time but when she says those last few words, the sneer and confidence falls off her face, turning into an unadulterated gape.

Her tongue sticks out, licking the tip whenever it pops up from her squishy embrace. "Mmm, Oppa, I can taste you already." Sana kisses your slit with a hungry moan, letting some saliva drip down her chin and onto the space between her breast.

"Uggh. Can you fucking suck it already." You can hear the impatience in Nayeon's tone, finally losing all pretense and sincerity.

"This is just an appetizer," Sana interjects, stopping her jerking movements. A smirk on her lips and and naughty look emerges on her face.

"Oh my god Oppa, I can't believe how wet I am. Look." She slips a hand into her pants, and then takes it out, her fingers glistening with her juices. You look down, seeing your cock still poking up from between her tits, but also her fingers, coated with her juices.

"Here have a taste."Sana brings her index and middle finger to your mouth, gently pushing the liquid inside, tracing your lips as you gulp down her arousal.

She squeals in joy. "Oh Oppa, how naughty of you. Do you like the way I taste, hmm?" Her voice coos, watching your reactions. It's like you're drunk, entranced by the sight before you, stuck in a euphoric daze. Sana's so fucking sexy it makes you wonder if there is any woman alive that could top this.

"Come on Sana, quit fucking around." Nayeon sighs with annoyance.

"Silly, silly Nayeon, the key is making them beg. Don't you want Oppa begging for it?" Sana giggles.

"If there's not some cock sucking action I'm gonna declare myself as the winner."

"So impatient. Ok Oppa, let's give Nayeonie a show she won't forget." Sana gets back between your legs and takes a deep breath, inhaling your musk.

"Oh my god, Oppa, your scent is so intoxicating." Her hot breath is blowing against your cock. "I can't wait any longer. I need to taste you." She places a kiss on the tip, then another, then another, each time lingering a little longer than the last. The tip of her tongue slides along the sides of your cock as Sana explores with a curious excitement.

Nayeon scowls. "So your fucking blow job is going to be taking all day."

"He's just soooo hard." Sana caresses the throbbing appendage with admiration. Her right hand strokes your inner thigh in long soothing motions, the pads of her fingers tracing lines up and down your tense muscle.

It's slow, torturously slow. Light kisses and licks cover every surface of your cock, the feel of her tongue now a sensation rather than individual touches. Her tongue starts to flick against the underside of your tip, sending a shock through your body. You can feel the warmth of her breath, the pressure of her tongue. Her eye contact is unwavering, rubbing your thighs up and down with her soft hands.

You and Sana are now in your own world. A private space for the two of you, separated by both time and distance.

There's an excruciating pause. The room stills. There's no sounds, no movement. Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks. You're frozen. You can't breath, can't blink. It's an eternity.

The air moves with the slow grace of a dancer as she sucks you between her lips. Her eyes light up when the tip meets her tongue. Sana sighs, relaxing her shoulders. She lets herself get lost, transported by her desire. With the slow rhythm of a slow song, she slowly sinks lower, deeper.

Sana is worshiping your cock, treating it like it's the only one in the world. She's moaning and humming, sending vibrations through your shaft. As great as it feels, there's a special technique about her, knowing exactly how to keep you from cumming. As if she's been with you for years. She reaches for your hands, interlocking your fingers together, making this feel like a tender loving moment rather than just your run of the mill blowjob.

Her eyes remain fixated on yours, never even once breaking focus. It's one continuous moment until she pulls back for breath. A thick, translucent web stretches between the two of you. A dewy layer of spit is now surrounding your cock, dripping off the sides of her lips. You can feel the edges of her lips form a perfect ring as your cock passes between her lips. She is hypnotic, the speed is torture, but it's impossible to stop looking.

She lets you go, slowly inching up until she's next to your ear. "Oppa, can I tell you a secret?" She's whispering, like she's scared Nayeon will hear.

"Sure."

"I really love doing this, especially when it's a cock like yours. I can't wait to make you cum. I can't wait for you to explode in my mouth.

"I can't either."

"But I wanna make you wait a little bit, cause when you finally cum, it's going to be amazing." She trails a string of saliva down from your ear, running her finger past the puddle of spit still leaking off her chin and finally across your balls. She pecks her lips on the underside of the head, all the while looking like a kid about to play with their new toy.

Nayeon hits you. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Um...yeah," You whisper back. You've nearly forgotten she's here.

She seems satisfied at your answer, but it feels weird admitting that in front of her.

Sana's right back into action, your fingers still interlocked so she's using only her mouth. This time she's focusing on the tip, flicking her tongue and sucking on your head.

"Fuck Sana..."

She chuckles, feeling accomplished, her grin big as can be. The two of you resume your rhythm as you grind your cock against her welcoming cheeks. Slowly working her way down the shaft until her mouth is about halfway down. She inhales, breathing deeply, smiling even with her mouth full.

"God, I love your scent." she moans out seductively on her way back up. The hot air of her words permeate and swirl with your sweat. Her pace is further teasing, steady at first then almost playful as she slows and pauses, relishing the torment it has on you. You can feel her tongue working its way down, swirling around your cock. You're so close to bursting, but she knows just when to stop. Her hands pull away, squeezing your balls, ignoring your shaft, focusing all her attention on them. She's cupping them, massaging them, using her tongue on the one not attended by her hands.

Her hot, wet tongue tickles and warms them as she begins sucking and groping, working in unison. Knowing it felt good, but wouldn't cause you to cum. It's a change in tempo, something else to enjoy until it was time again.

"You're gonna be a good boy and hold out until I've shown Nayeon all my skills right?"

"Oh, so he's your new puppy. At least he's useful," Nayeon is curious, testing the waters, seeing how much she can push her.

Her fingers are tracing circles around your balls, sending shivers up your spine. Her other hand is slowly jerking up and down, sizing you up, using her hand to measure your cock.

"I think I can fit you." Sana calmly states, flashing a wink.

"What? What does that mean?" Nayeon yells out.

"Shush, Nayeon, let me concentrate." She tells her off and returns her eyes to you. They're dark and hungry.

Her hands position the tip between her puckered lips. Nayeon stares at the scene unfolding before her, feeling the waves of lust emanating off of Sana. She's got her hands wrapped around your shaft, holding it like a weapon. Your heart races, eyes closed, feeling the pleasure pulse.

You feel a rush, an impending doom, but one you welcome. A moment of heaven, a moment of hell, it doesn't matter to you. Lower and lower she goes, only a couple inches in and you're already overwhelmed. A surreal bliss radiates, filling your mind with an unbelievable pleasure.

There's moaning and slurping, the sound of her muffled voice vibrating through you. She's going further, inch by inch, her eyes locked with yours, fitting more of your cock into her throat every time she goes back down.

Her pace remains the same as ever, steady and sure. A thrust in, followed by a drag out. Up and down, the same torturous speed, letting the sensation flow through your entire body. There's a smug grin, prideful smile, confident in herself. Her hands roaming your inner thighs, content with her conquest, basking in it.

Nayeon stares, but with a different emotion. You feel the heat of her gaze, the anger behind them.

"It's not possible. His dick is way too big. It'll never fit. I've never even been able to-"

"Hush, Nayeon, we're not talking about you right now." She chides. Her voice is softer, kinder, the commanding tone dropping slightly.

Sana's pace quickens, the sound of her gagging and choking fills the room. Drool is dripping down her chin, and she's going faster and faster. Her nails dig into your thighs, her eyes tearing up as she forces her mouth all the way down. Her cheeks are puffed up and bulging, her neck stretches out.

"Holy shit, Sana." Nayeon jumps out of her seat, her eyes wide.

"Holy shit," you echo, feeling her sharp pointed nose tickling pressing into you.

Her tongue is jittering from the girth filling her mouth, sending wonderful vibrations through you. There's a grunt, she's struggling, straining. Sana holds it there for what seems like forever. Your cock is being squeezed by her throat, and you can feel every breath, every twitch, every swallow. After an eternity, she slides back up, and releases your cock from her throat. A string of spit and precum follows, breaking as she licks her lips. Sana looks pleased with herself, savoring the sight before her.

"Holy fucking shit," Nayeon can't hide the shock, can't help but step closer to get a better look at the ridiculous sight.

"I told you size wouldn't be an issue." Sana winks at Nayeon.

Nayeon scoffs, folding her arms in annoyance.

"Oh Oppa, do you like seeing Nayeon pout? That's such a cute look on her."

There's a few minutes of respite, Sana sucking you down every once in a while but nothing more. It gives you a chance to breathe, a moment to process. The image before you is difficult to process, as if you're having an out of body experience.

"Let me try again. It'll be easier the second time." She's not lying. The next time is even smoother. Her throat is slick with spit and precum, and your cock slides in like a knife through butter. There's sucking and slurping, coating your cock with her saliva. She's going up and down, over and over, and the pleasure is insane.

It's not like she doesn't have a gag reflex, she's using it to her advantage. She's gagging on your cock, spit leaking everywhere, the sounds of her throat a sinful delight. After taking a deep breath her head becomes a blur going faster and faster. Your cock is disappearing and reappearing, over and over again. You can't believe the sight before you. Sana, the picture perfect idol, is deepthroating your cock, gagging and choking herself over and over. Her hands have abandoned you, caressing her throat, stroking where you cock is pushing her insides outward.

She looks up at you with her pretty, innocent eyes. The term cutie sexy starts to make sense, so adorable, yet obscene, like an angel became a slut. You're groaning, and panting, stuck in an endless maze of pleasure.

She's drooling, saliva dripping down your balls to her chin, not even bothering to wipe her mouth. She just keeps bobbing her head up and down, faster and faster, moaning like a pornstar. You can see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Your cock is throbbing and twitching. You're on the precipice of climax. You can't hold it back any longer.

She brings her mouth up, making a loud pop as she slips you out of her lips. "Oh no Oppa, you can't cum yet. Not until I've showed off all my skills to Nayeon." holding your cock in her hand and slapping it against her tongue.

"What are you doing?" Nayeon questions her, unsure on what else Sana has to show.

"Shush Nayeon, It's only the second round, and I promised Oppa three. This one is my favorite." She coos to you, sweetly kissing your tip.

"Stand up Oppa." You stand before her, looking down on her beautiful messy face. She places your hands on her head.

"Do you wanna fuck my mouth, Oppa?" Sana teases. "Here, grab my hair and shove it in."

You're stunned. This is all happening so fast.

"Come on Oppa, fuck my mouth." She takes your cock back into her mouth, and you feel the pressure from her hands pulling you forward.

There's hesitation on your side, a lingering reservation, a fear of overdoing it. You're a bit unsure, you've never been deepthroated before, yet alone fucked someone's face. You're afraid to hurt her.

Her lips curl upward, smiling like an eager puppy, letting your cock rest, leaving you suspended. With your grip still on her head, Sana waits for you.

"Come on Oppa," Nayeon snarls, "stop being such a pussy. You know she can take it. She just swallowed your whole damn cock in one go. Stop being a little bitch and fuck her face."

You thrust forward, and immediately the pleasure is overwhelming. Her hands are still pushing, and now your hands are pulling. You're thrusting and pulling, fucking her face. The feeling is unlike anything you've felt before. It's wet and sloppy, the sounds of her mouth a depraved melody. Your hips are moving faster and faster, her eyes are wide and full of lust, begging for you to use her.

The reality of the situation sinks in as Sana sucks harder and harder.

You're facefucking Sana. You're fucking an idol with every inch of your hard cock. She's pushing her head into your crotch and you're burying her face.

You're not gentle, you can't be. It's so wet and hot, and the sensation is insane. Her nails are digging into your thighs, and you're grunting and groaning, pounding her throat like an animal. She's slapping her face against your crotch, taking everything you're giving her. She's choking and gagging, drool pouring from her mouth. Her fingers are exploring, stroking the bottom of her throat and her neck.

You're groaning. This is not a blowjob this is something else altogether. Your hands are tight on her head and your mind is hazy. You're so turned on by her. You're mesmerized by her. You can't stop fucking her mouth. She's moaning and crying, but tells you to fuck her harder every time you pull out. You're focused solely on Sana and her perfect mouth. She's not even sucking - just letting you use her mouth as a cocksleeve. Her tongue is flicking over your tip whenever it enters her mouth. And it's so fucking hot.

You're at your limit. You can't hold it in anymore. You're gonna explode. And then Sana wraps her hands around your ass and squeezes, pulling you closer, forcing you to push deeper into her mouth, your balls pressed against her chin.

"Sana, I'm gonna -"

And that's her cue, her throat constricting and contracting, massaging your head while it's buried deep inside. You didn't even know this was possible. Her final trick. Her ace in the hole. A sense of pleasure that previously only existed beyond your wildest dreams. Your body tenses, and then you let go, the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced in your life, mouth or otherwise. The world goes white and the only thing you're aware of is the warmth and wetness of Sana's throat.

Cum explodes into her mouth, filling her up. She can't take it all, it's too much, and she coughs, and chokes. She pulls off, harshly stroking your cock with her hand. You're still cumming, some landing on her face, her tits, in her hair. Your entire body is shaking.

"Fuck," you groan, collapsing onto the couch. She taps on your thighs and opens her mouth, showing you the pool of creamy liquid collected on her tongue.

"Oppa, you came so much!" she says after gulping down the mouthful.

"I swallowed so much and there's still so much on me." She's scooping your cum off her face, licking her fingers clean, moaning with every drop she swallows. Her breasts are covered, and she's gathering as much of it as she can, putting her hands between her legs, scooping up any drops that landed on her thighs. She takes your hand and puts it on her chest, covering her nipple with your cum, rubbing it around her nipple, teasing it with your sticky seed.

"I told you Nayeon! An explosion! Cum everywhere!" Sana winks and teases her with a wag of her tongue.

Nayeon rolls her eyes.

Sana goes back for more, sucking your cock until every last drop has been extracted. She's cleaning you off with her tongue, kissing the head of your cock, and then she's rubbing her face on it, like a cat nuzzling her owner. "Mmm so good," she coos.

"That's enough, you've proven your point."

"Aww, but Nayeon, look how cute he is, all tired and sweaty." Sana pouts, giving your cock one last kiss before getting up.

"Yeah, well, you look like a total slut." Nayeon snaps. "Seriously, you've got cum all over your face, your hair's a mess. Not to mention, there's a fucking puddle of spit on the floor."

"So?"

"So? Do you have any idea what would happen if someone saw you like this?"

"They'd fall in love with me." Sana teases. "Oppa did."

"Don't give me that shit. You know what? Fine, you proved your point. I guess I owe you a favor." Nayeon takes a deep breath and then exhales, bracing herself. "Whatever you want, just do it quick, and don't tell anyone, okay."

"I'm so fucking horny after all of that." She looks at you, then back at Nayeon. "Threesome?" She's fluttering her eyelashes, acting more innocent than she has all evening.

"Th-threesome?" You stammer.

"Of course." Sana says, matter of factly. "You didn't think I was going to leave without taking care of myself did you?"

"Wait a second, I never said I'd do that!"

"Come on, we're both so horny, I'll bet Oppa is hard again just thinking about us making out. I bet he's already got a load saved up. Besides, he's already fucked my throat. How much worse could it get?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Please? Please, please, please? Pretty please, Nayeon? Oh, does this help? I swear I have the best pussy around, guys can't help but explode inside of me. Want me to prove it?" She was stripping as she spoke, not a shred of shyness or timidness anywhere to be seen.

"Oppa, look." She moans, sliding her fingers out and showing the string of sticky fluids connected to them. "Look how wet I am. You did this to me. All that talk about cocks and cumming. I'm so fucking horny. And it's all because of you." She slides her fingers back inside, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. "I'm so close to cumming."

"You're the worst." Nayeon snaps, grabbing her hand and pulling it out of her pussy. "Fine, whatever, but only cuz you won the bet. I'm not doing this because I want to."

"I love you, Nayeonie!" Sana squeals, throwing her arms around her friend. "Come on Oppa! Don't leave us hanging. We'll be waiting in your room." Sana grabs her clothes and skips away, leaving Nayeon alone with you.

"This is such bullshit. Why did she have to be so good at that? Ugh.." Nayeon mumbles. "Come on, I don't wanna keep her waiting...."

#sana smut #twice sana smut

1K notes · View notes

chiiyuuvv · 5 months

Text

• PAIRING — bestfriend!xikers x gn reader (i think)

• GENRE — "imagine if we were dating" prompt, shy, fluff, angst in minjaes, screaming at hunters, yeah

• WORD COUNT — 880

• AUTHOR'S NOTE — i got this idea when i was reading some skz texts. Basically, you were saying "what if we were dating" but you already dating- wait lemme just

• TAGLIST — @lil-elle @hyunukitty

MASTERLIST! – JOIN THE TAGLIST!

MINJAE ☆

Doesnt find your joke funny

Theres a very clear line of best friends and lovers and besides, theres no possible way you could like him back

Zoning out a lot, trying to understand his feelings more when he just blurts out what was on his mind. Because you guys are close, he could tell you anything, right?

“No, no its fine. I know you obviously dont like me and it’s okay, i just wanted to get it off my chest. Im sorry i made you uncomfortable.”

He was already on the verge of tears, but when you tell him you love him, more than just friends, he just bursts out crying ♡

JUNMIN ☆

Just goes along with it

Holds your hand, puts his arm around your shoulder. Refuses to call you by your name but babe

Likes that your getting flustered because hes screaming on the inside

Gets so into his role that he leans into you, your noses touching and hes about to kiss you. Until wait a minute and just pulls back with a sheepish smile

Daydreams for the rest of the day about the almost kiss. And when he drops you to your house, he finally does it ♡

SUMIN

Freezes; were you reading his thoughts? Were you able to somehow see his dreams? H-how did you know??

He tries to play it cool even though his face is burning red. "Y-yeah.. that'll be crazy right?! Haha.." he clears his throat

But to his dismay, you already knew about the massive crush he had on you, as he was very obvious

So you use that to your advantage, scooting extra close to him, your hands shadowing over his small ones

"I like you too, stupid." You would laugh, placing a soft kiss on his cheek as his face gets even redder ♡

JINSIK ☆

"Yeah, imagine if we were dating." He would take it as a joke, lying down and fantasizing about your lifes as a couple

"I would take you to this hot air balloon festival, since i know you've always wanted to go."

Has this smile on his face until he stops; were you actually serious?

You had to be joking, there was no way this was directed to him, right?

Almost stops breathing and his mouth is dropped open when you kiss his cheek. "I like you, jinsik." ♡

HYUNWOO ☆

Your question honestly made him sad

Because wdym “what if you were dating?” no, he didnt want to pretend. He wanted to live his dreams, he wanted to be with you

So he gets a little quiet, looking down as hes lost in his thoughts, a little teary eyed

Snaps out of it when you call his name, and would say he’s okay even though you know he’s lying

So with all courage, you confess to him. And when you’re done, he’d pour his heart out to you ♡

JUNGHOON ☆

He’s completely taken aback, the silence making you feel a little uneasy

“B-but i mean.” wouldnt even let you talk without pressing his lips against yours, his face completely red but he doesnt care

Would kiss you again if you tried to talk, getting to the point where hes just peppering your face with kisses

Would have the whole rant about how much he loves you

Then it would be your turn to cut him off with a kiss ♡

SEEUN ☆

Also freezes; the first time hes speechless

Theres a long awkward silence, your faces red and seeun twiddling with his thumbs

"I mean I- well we- or m-maybe-" struggles to find words

"We can definitely start it slow.. i-i mean, it you wanna, i can understand if you dont b-but you decide haha!!!"

After you agree that you wanna take it slow, he would have this shy smile on his face, holding both of your hands, looking down the entire time ♡

YUJUN ☆

Would have the cutest smile on his face

“Dating??” the giggles he would let out, gosh

Like jinsik, he would fantasize about how everything would go, his ears red

But that turns into convincing you to go on a date with him. He’d treat you so well, buying anything you want

“I mean.. I wouldnt mind. I already love you and i know you do too, so why not we just make it offical?” ♡

HUNTER ☆

"If we were dating?" He would stop as you were walking through the park

Has this cheeky smile on his face. "I think i would do this."

Grabs both of your hands with a warm smile, checking to see if you were comfortable before tucking some hair behind your ears, his eyes filled with love

"You're so pretty." He would mumble as he picks a flower out of a bush next to you

Lifts up your chin and slowly connects your lips, moving in a slow but meaningful pace ♡

YECHAN ☆

The boy would not stop giggling

"I-if we were dating?" He would burst out laughing, making you think he's making fun of the question

Would stop laughing when he notices your frown

"I-I mean.. if we were dating, it would be so nice and we would wake up together and text pick-up lines and-" his face was bright pink as he was rambling

Stops when he notices, "i-i'd think i like it.." ♡

926 notes · View notes

nmjoo-n · 2 years

Text

DREAM GIRL 💭 kim namjoon.

pair. writer! namjoon x f. reader | genre. age gap romance, obsession, love at first sight, angst | warnings. corruption kink, profanity, slight stalker behavior, daddy kink, pet names, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, power imbalance, just filthy sex tbh | word count. 3.7k

synopsis. “tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?” or namjoon is completely enamored by your angelic innocence, and absolutely has to claim you.

Kim Namjoon spent most of his time reading.

His most recent binge had been Murakami books, the woman through a man’s point of view, and while fascinating—it lacked depth. Intensity. This author clearly understood the peculiar sex very little, was entirely focused on his love for them, and their reaction to it. If it was Namjoon, he’d let them lead the narrative, while he’d step back and observe.

Women were to be observed, understood, before approached. This is how he found you, a perfect little angel in your white dress, sipping coffee outside his neighborhood’s café, softly talking to a grey, stray cat, your hand extended out for it, your fingers delicate in their calling. You stopped him dead on his tracks. He could do nothing but stare.

You looked so peaceful in your oblivion, your hair up and away from your face, a book propped on your knees. Namjoon’s feet moved without his knowledge, his mind replaying one thing—I have to see your face, your beautiful features, I need to meet you, sweetheart. Shamefully, his cock stirred in his pants, alerting him of his improper intentions. No matter. He couldn’t control his response to you, didn’t want to.

Walking in the coffeehouse, he leaned against the tall counter, head lazily falling into his open palm, gaze following your every move. Ordering his usual drink, he gathered the courage to approach you. You seemed to like this cat, so, perhaps an animal lover, and you most certainly were a reader—it was a start, an opening for him.

Clouds were beginning to gather, September coming to an end, but you paid no mind to them, your eyes scanning the pages of whatever you were reading. His writer brain was romanticizing your entire existence, was picturing you under him, in his arms, consumed, defiled, claimed. A pretty little thing dancing in the rain, running towards him, laughing, the outline of your breasts visible for anyone to see.

Henry Miller would’ve been one jealous fucker if he’d ever known you were out there, years ahead of him, a muse for the taking. Namjoon thanked every fucking God known for putting you in his way. Bukowski would be having a field day fantasizing about your honey dripping thighs and sweet pussy. You are every writer’s dream, sweetheart, and do you even realize?

“Beautiful choice,” he comments on the book in your lap, coming to stand over you, desperately trying not to lose it over your angel features.

You jump, startled, and look up to witness the most breathtaking man you’ve ever come across in your life, smiling down at you. You smile back without meaning to, your back straightening, your shoe clad feet touching the pavement.

“Anaïs is for the bold,” you retort, voice light, motioning for him to sit in the empty chair opposite you.

He’s massive, with strong arms and long legs. He thanks you softly and takes the seat, paper cup in hand, eyes piercing through you in an identifiable way. You shiver—blame it on the chilly day.

“Are you bold, then?” He asks cryptically, leaning into you. You feel exposed, but intrigued. So incredibly intrigued.

You falter in giving him your answer. You don’t even know his name. You don’t think it matters. “I—I try, I think.”

He smirks, and pulls away, taking with him his amber scent and magnetism. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. You reason with yourself, try to find an explanation for your thought’s reaction—your body’s.

“I’m Namjoon, sweetheart. What should I call you?” His voice was velvet; deep, and manly. It radiated through you.

Closing the book, you instead chose to hold your coffee cup between your hands, a distraction from the intense man pinning you down with those dark eyes. His black leather jacket accentuated his big shoulders, the buzz cut on the top of his head making him appear meaner than he actually was. Namjoon was older, you could tell. It scared you, but in the way rollercoasters make you nervous, or in the way thunder cracked in the night, somewhere far away, miles and miles from you. Bark with no bite.

“(Y/N),” you reply, licking your dry lips.

He follows the movement. “Pretty—(Y/N),” he tries it in his mouth, the sound sinful, inviting. “It’s beautiful.”

He sees your cheeks flush crimson, your head dropping to hide. Namjoon is an intuitive person, a risk-taking man. His fingers reach out, his index lifting your face to look at him. Your breathing has changed, you’re not accustomed to flirting, much less compliments from strangers, it’s all there for him to see. His innocent baby. He’d take his time with you. You deserved nothing less—he’d give you the fucking world, if you so wished.

“Are you a lover of books?” You ask, wanting to break the incantation, disperse the intensity of the moment.

His hand drops, the touch that lit a fire inside of you burning still, bright and strong heading lower, in between your legs, gone in an instant. You mourned for it, yearned for his hand to come back, touch you somewhere else. Your thoughts were shameless, your deepest desires but a breath away.

“You could say that,” he sips from his cup, calm and collected, legs crossed, studying you. “I’m a writer.”

“No way!” You exclaim, your cute reaction eliciting a laugh out of him. How adorable, he thinks, watching your nose scrunch up, your small, fuckable mouth curving in a smile that knocks the wind out of him.

“What about you, angel?”

“I’m a sophomore in college. Literature.”

Of course you are, his smart girl. He needs you to know, before he proceeds. He needs you to vocally say it’s okay for him to court you, to make you his. He won’t lay another finger on you until you do so.

“Sweetheart, you understand the age gap between us, don’t you?”

The part you dreaded. The truth. “Yes,” you say loud enough for just him to hear.

Namjoon leaves his now cold drink on the table, leans forward, forearms resting on top of his knees, fingers lacing together, a serious expression on his flawless face. Is this how it happens, you think? One day, out of the blue, no warning, no signs? Love, plainly in sight, asking you to accept it? You can’t say no. You don’t want to say no, knowing the difficulties, the struggles that entails.

“One word of yours and I’m out of your life. You’re holding the reigns,” he explains, but his eyes are terrified of you rejecting this, of scorning him, of sending him away after he’s found you, an oasis after a long dry desert.

He wants to love you madly. He wants to fuck you senseless, and ruin you for any other man. Most of all, he wants you to want the same things. Eight years isn’t a lot, but it’s a lifetime apart.

“You—you like me?” Your lips fall open, your chest deflates.

Oh, sweetheart, you might not be ready for what I feel for you, what I’m planning to do to you—it’s beyond words. Beyond reason.

“As soon as I saw you. I’m not a talkative person, (Y/N), I don’t walk up to just any girl.” There go those eyes again, haunting your soul, turning you inside out.

You blink, surprised at his honesty, at the bluntness of his words. In your twenty years on this earth, you’ve never been more sure of anything. This man will show you things you’ve never seen before, take you to places you’ve only dreamed of. He’s experienced, he’s an all rounded person.

He’s handsome. His mouth begs to be kissed.

“I like you too,” you admit, but refuse to meet his gaze.

He can’t have that. His fingers shoot out again, gently bringing your face level to his. Rain droplets release themselves from the puffy clouds. You don’t react to any of it, hypnotized under him, under his irresistible touch.

“It will be more than that. I need to know if you’ll be able to handle it, pretty girl. I’m not going to be your high school boyfriend.”

“I understand.” Your thighs clench together, your breathing erratic.

Namjoon notices, of course he does. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

Your eyelashes flutter, the red painting your cheeks turning a shade darker, your skin hot under his palm. He’s closer than ever, this broad man asking if he can take care of you. You’re endeared. Your heart is weak.

“I’m—no. A boy in my senior year,” you reply, embarrassed. Excited.

His eyes flash, something dark stirring in them, before it’s gone instantly. Jealousy. But, why? You couldn’t have possibly known, and even then…the danger. The forbidden. No, that couldn’t have been it.

Why hadn’t you waited? Who dared touched you before him? His muse, his perfect girl. Thoughts that had no place being voiced out loud, in fear of sounding insane. He would never admit to them.

“Then tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?”

His lips were but a breath away. You wanted to give in so badly, anything he wanted, you’d become pudding in his hands, melt away if that meant you’d be with him, if that meant he’d take you with him everywhere. His question. You stayed silent.

“Use your words, (Y/N). I’m not doing anything without your consent.”

You were so wet. So incredibly wet. If only he knew the influence his words had on you… He only had to reach a hand under your dress, touch your core. Then he’d realize just how inexperienced you truly were.

“Never,” you whisper.

You exchanged breaths, your eyes falling shut in the thought of his lips on yours, and it almost happened, the ghost of them faintly pressing, a gentle caress, before he pulls away completely, his hand finding yours, pulling you up with him.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you just did to me,” an arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you closer, your head at level with his chest, a man, standing before you, asking to have you.

“I should wait, I should take you out and make sure you’re fed, take care of you, every fucking inch of you, before I even begin to think—do you want this?” His voice is vibrating, filled with his desire, breath now tickling your ear, a whisper between lovers.

You just met Namjoon. You don’t know anything about him, nothing but your attraction to him. Your body’s reaction. So what if this was a bad decision? He didn’t look like a bad guy. Anais Nin wasn’t second guessing herself when she fell into an affair with Henry Miller. It just happened, their souls spoke to each other clearly. Could this be what was happening?

You wanted him inside you. You wanted what he offered, every bit of it. Yes, yes, yes.

“Take me with you, Namjoon.”

Together you run, belongings forgotten; the rain had turned from a faint whispering to a thundering roar in a split second, and it didn’t take long for the both of you to get completely drenched in it, tasting sky water, your small hand in his bigger one, holding tight, fingers intertwining.

He only had to look back once. Your dress was see-through, he could see your white undergarments, the silk of your panties, the cups of your bra. Namjoon growled, a guttural noise boiling from his throat. Immediately, he pulled you in between two buildings, a narrow alleyway leading to apartments’ fire escapes unraveling in the length of it.

Leading you under a small shed, he made sure you were against the wall, covered, while he let his arms rest above your head, your bodies touching. He looked down at you, his breathing labored, and he saw the skin glistening, the fabric sticking on every curve, those pink lips open, fast breaths exhaled.

He kisses you, then. Takes your lips as his own, traps you in his embrace. You taste like cold rain, but when his tongue slips past, there’s hints of coffee with milk. Namjoon smiles against your mouth, hands getting lost in your hair, steadying themselves at the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw, your chin—you fit right into him, so small, so precious. He’s going to love corrupting you, tainting you.

“Has anyone ever touched you…here?” His fingers bunch your dress up, dip under it, over your slick. You gasp—he marvels at your expression.

“No? Baby talk to me, use your pretty mouth,” he kisses you again, his digits moving over your panties. You’re moving with them, rubbing against them, it’s all wet wet wet—

“No one.” Your nails dig into his jacket. He sighs dreamily; you’re a vision for him. An angel send.

“Did that boy not know how to please you, baby? He just shoved his fucking dick in you carelessly?” His voice grew rough, anger rippling through him. “You deserve so much better than that, sweetheart. You deserve to be loved, to be caressed…”

With one hand slipping inside your panties, fingers curling, entering you slowly, the other one ran up and down your thigh, gripping at your waist, snaking its way to the small of your back, and back down. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pumping movements inside you, the long digits bringing you pleasure, making your cunt ache, clench around them.

Namjoon was hiding you from view with his entire body. This was only for him to see, but it also served as a test. To see how far you were willing to go with him.

“You’re doing so well, my sweet girl. So tight, so wet for me… I want to taste you, baby, I want to inhale you. Will you let me?”

Your moans were music to his ears. They started as low pants, your hand blocking most of them, your cheeks that familiar pink shade. He saw it happen, as his fingers curled a specific way, the way your legs fell open wider, the way your voice turned a pitch higher than before, unable to hold back, helpless against your pleasure. Namjoon was rock hard, stifled in his pants.

But that would come shortly. First, he needed to show you—what he can do. What you could have every single day, everywhere, as soon as you spoke the words. He’d cater to your every need, be whatever you wanted him to be. As long as he could have you, take you, own you.

A smack on your ass. Your eyes shot open, staring wide at him. He lifted you up at once, arm under those plump cheeks, his fingers still fucking your cunt vigorously. You yelped, held onto his shoulders in fear of falling, but quickly grew overwhelmed, your volume rising. Fuck him, you’re so fucking hot.

“Tell Daddy, my sweet girl—will you let me have a taste of your cunt?”

“Oh, please,” you whined, your head falling in the crook of his neck, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “Please.”

He needn’t be told twice. With your feet planted firmly on the ground again, he removed his hand from your panties, kneeling down in front of you, rain sipping through him, as he lifted your dress up. Namjoon looked up at you through his eyelashes, before he ripped that silk right off you, diving right into your slick.

Divine. He’s had a lot of sex, has tasted a lot of women, but none could ever compare to you, to your sweet fucking cunt. It was pure Heaven. And the way your back curved against the wall, pushing his head into you, his tongue swiping your wetness, sucking your clit—it was enough to make you cum. He slurped all of it up, fingers finding their way again into your warm hole. He’d blow, he fucking swears. Your beautiful voice moaning out his name, wet all over, a Goddess for him, as he laps your intoxicating juices. He drinks you up, he makes it his life’s mission.

“Fucking tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever had a lick of this pussy? You know it belongs to me now, don’t you?”

You nod your head, losing your mind. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’re convulsing this hard. His baby.

“Words.”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please,” you sob, “please…fuck me, please…”

He locks you in place, his hands on your ass, determined to make you cum with his tongue, before his cock is anywhere near you. His impatient girl, so lost in feeling, such a slut for him, for what he’s giving you. He’s never had such a perfect woman.

When he started working both his fingers and mouth again, this time aggressively, his only motive was to get that pussy to drench him, to have your cum dripping from his chin. And it did just that when his thumb flicked over your clit relentlessly, tongue moving just underneath, three fingers deep. Your nails dug into his scalp, your entire body convulsing. He rubbed his stubby jaw on your lips, inhaling deeply. Your scent, uniquely yours—he now knew how you smelled. Truly. He would never be able to let you go.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me. Ready for me? Ready to give me another one?” He muttered, hands on your breasts, dropping kisses on your neck, before unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. “I love the way you cum. I can’t wait to have you on my bed, have my way with you. You’ll let me, yes baby? You’ll let Daddy defile you, pretty thing?”

You looked down at his girth, swallowing thickly. Namjoon chuckled darkly, allowing you to see what would enter you. He pumped himself a couple times, his other hand rubbing your pussy, making sure you were wet enough for him. You just looked so fucking innocent, all fucked out. He attacked your mouth once again, biting down on your lip.

“Do you taste yourself? My delicious fucking girl.”

He enters you slowly, brows furrowed, savoring the tightness. Once he bottoms out, he stills in you, letting you get used to him, his will made of iron. Your fingers wrap around his biceps as you take a deep breath through the sting of his cock.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks, worried.

“Yes,” you reply at once. “Go on.”

He hikes your thigh up and around his torso, as he lifts you up. You wrap around him and that’s fucking it—he loses it. His cock brutally starts pistoling into you, holding you tight against him. You meet his thrusts halfway, before it becomes too much for you to handle, instead becoming his personal little fuck doll to pound senseless. And he does. His moves are exact; sharp, and precise. He’s hitting everything inside you, the position as well as the thickness of his cock filling you up to the brim, until all you can think is him him him, inside your cunt, fucking you dumb.

“Call me by my name, sweetheart,” he pants in your ear, bouncing you on his dick.

“Namjoon,” you weakly moan, your breaths coming short, on the brink of passing out.

“My name,” he repeats harshly, ramming into you once, twice—

You throw your head back in ecstasy. “Daddy! Fuck, don’t stop! Keep fucking me please, please, I’m so fucking close daddy, please!”

“That’s my fucking angel.”

He does just that, until he can feel you spasming, until you’re screaming, begging, crying, coming on his cock, his desperate whore, getting fucked so good, isn’t she, bounce on my fucking dick, baby, ride it out, that’s right, milk me, fucking own me, my sweet fucking baby, you’re so beautiful, so fucking hot, give me a kiss—

“Where do you want me, baby? Tell Daddy, fuck you’re clenching me so goddamn hard right now, sweetheart, please.”

“Inside, please inside, I want your cum inside of me, please,” you beg, and he almost fucking chokes on his spit.

His thrusts are fast, hard and sloppy now, bruising your pussy, chasing after his own release, his mouth filthy—you want me inside this fucking cunt, don’t you my perfect fucking baby, my little slut, you’re gonna let daddy paint your walls white, won’t you, squeeze me dry, baby, fuck, come on, clench those tight fucking walls, goddamn you, I want to die in this pussy, please baby—

His arms tighten around you as he comes, and you let him; you let him calm down, for his breathing to even out, as he slips out of you, and carefully unwraps your legs from his hips, planting kisses on your shoulders, water dripping from his hair. The thunderstorm still hasn’t passed, raging on beyond the shelter of this shed.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” you confess as he fixes your hair, your dress, adjusts the straps, gives you his jacket to make up for the lack of underwear, and even though it’s several sizes too big on you—he cares.

It wasn’t just a lie to have a quickie with you. He took his time to explore your body, to study what makes you tick, what sends you over the edge. You didn’t even know his last name, but he knew his way around your pussy the best, better than you it felt like.

His eyes are fond, staring down in adoration. “I want to make you feel good for as long as you let me, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you.”

You hug him, then, your arms not quite reaching all around him. But it’s enough for him. More than enough. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you so easily. You’re the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed. He wants to hide you away, put you in his pocket and carry you everywhere.

“What’s your last name?” You ask innocently, head still buried in his chest.

He barks a laugh out, squeezing you in him, the vibration of it radiating through you. “Should’ve mentioned it, huh? It’s Kim, angel. Kim Namjoon.”

“Kim Namjoon,” you try it. It sounds…wholesome. “Hi, Kim Namjoon.”

“Hello, baby.”

The two of you stood there for a long time, waiting the storm out in each other’s arms. Namjoon couldn’t stop smiling, didn’t want to, never wanted to, ever again.

You couldn’t stop staring at him—he felt like the sun peeking after the gray of the clouds. Warm, important.

#bts #namjoon #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kpop smut #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #.mine

7K notes · View notes

sugaurora · 4 months

Text

Dream Come True

Since your brother had warned you years ago that his best friend Seokjin was off limits, you’d only allowed yourself to safely fantasize about him in your dreams. You’re not sure why tonight his lips feel so much softer and his hands so much warmer than usual, but you’re also not about to complain.

Pairing: Med Student Seokjin x Plus Size Female Reader

Genre: Brother’s Best Friend; Friends to Lovers; Smut

Word Count: 16,800+

Tags: Profanity; Explicit sexual content; unprotected sex; Seokjin is a soft, sweet, gentle guy and I’m so gone for him, big dick seokjin, inexplicable amounts of cum???, dirty talk, cumplay, breastplay, oral (m and f), fingering, of course they kiss a lot because that’s my brand, brief blood mention, wound redressing

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Crossposted to AO3 and Wattpad

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“Oh! Y/N? I didn’t know you were here, love.”

Ahh, there he was again—the man of your dreams. And you had to be dreaming because, thanks to the rules, Seokjin could only meet you alone inside your dreams. You heard him loose a light groan of frustration, his voice so close by you should have been able to reach out and touch him. The world of your dreams was still dark though, the always breathtaking vision of him not yet fading in.

“Your brother would kill me if I let you sleep here all night.”

Dream Seokjin was right. Your older brother, Yoongi, had laid down his law years ago: his best friend was off-limits. No dating. No kissing. And definitely no fucking. Understandably, he didn’t want anything coming between him and the bestie he’d had since kindergarten, especially not a sour relationship with his little sister just in case things went south. So the only times you found yourself alone with Seokjin were here inside your unconscious dreams. Thankfully, your mind was kind to you and let him visit often. Unthankfully, it was so kind that seeing the man during your waking hours was sometimes a little torturous. It was why, even though Yoongi had given you permission to crash in Seokjin’s bed tonight, you’d ended up on their uncomfortable couch instead. Better a stiff back than the torment of smelling your one true temptation all night long.

You heard a light pop as Seokjin clucked his tongue. “The pull-out’s been broken for weeks. How could he let you fall asleep here?” The scene of this dream still had yet to form in your mind’s eye, even though Seokjin’s sweet voice still sounded so temptingly close.

Jungkook liked to joke that you spent your spare time fucking out your frustration over the cockblock. As your best friend and roommate, he might’ve been a little right in analyzing your bad habits. Though it was rich coming from him, a masochist in his own right. A photographer with a keen eye for gorgeous men, he’d called your brother his ultimate muse since the first day they met. But like most people, Yoongi never gave him the time of day and Jungkook had been nursing a pining blueball of his own ever since.

At least being barred from pursuing the man you truly wanted had never left you shy about pursuing your sex life. Maybe the constant temptation of someone you couldn’t have made you much more likely to seek out satisfaction elsewhere. Even if it meant you were never truly satisfied, leaving a trail of fuckbuddies who still wanted a bit more of you in your wake. Your habits probably weren’t helping to convince your brother that anything between you and Seokjin would ever be a good idea, and even though you would’ve enjoyed a chance to prove him wrong, you loved Yoongi just enough to respect his wishes. Mostly.

Seokjin had always had a different allure from your usual flings. Your history together since childhood stretched long and had formed in you a crush that ran beyond skin deep. You’d gotten reckless more than once, losing your sense and attempting to buck your brother’s request. And time and again, Seokjin had proven he wasn’t interested. No amount of revealing outfits, spicy innuendos, or inappropriate proximity seemed to phase the man. Considering how Seokjin spent almost all of his time consumed with school anyway, you should’ve given up ages ago. If only that one memory would stop resurfacing and making you wonder at the what-ifs. Still, he never seemed to notice you in that way, never acted like he would be interested in anything romantic with you.

Dream Seokjin though? Oh, that was a different story. He was always interested.

“I’m going to take you to sleep in my bed, alright?” he asked in a gentle whisper as though he were sharing a secret. Seokjin’s unforgettable scent that you’d been trying to avoid invaded your dreams despite all your best efforts. Fresh cotton, earthy cedar, and that subtle, sweet scent of fruit that always clung to him surrounded you, making you curse your own memory for being so potent. Your dream finally faded into vision just as you felt the soft pressure of his fingertips against the back of your neck. You were still in your brother’s living room, though the space was dimly lit and all you could see were Seokjin’s bare, broad shoulders, his skin the color of rich honey, damp and glistening in the barely there light. His dark brown hair hung around his face, slightly heavy as though still a little damp from a shower, curling just above the dark-rimmed glasses he usually traded his contacts for at night. You groaned internally, unsure why your subconscious had intended to be so kind, yet so cruel for the evening.

“Hey, it’s just me,” he said in that same soft rumble, the edges of his familiar, plush lips curving into the gentlest of smiles. “Go back to sleep, love.”

Love. Seokjin had called you that for years. Sometimes, when your pining got a little out of hand, hearing the nickname stung. But he’d been you and your brother’s friend before anything else and, no matter how much he’d made himself scarce since starting med school, you had no doubt he truly did love you.

Suddenly it felt like you were floating, though that feeling was overshadowed by the radiating warmth of Seokjin’s bare chest. You felt the impression of him skin-to-skin as his arms hooked you beneath your knees, his large hand splayed against your back, the blanket you’d curled around yourself falling away. In the waking world, you’d never considered whether he was strong enough to carry you. Compared to your svelte brother, you had inherited a much plumper body type, all soft rolling curves, rounded wherever you could be. Seokjin may have been taller, but you were surely heavier. To be fair, Seokjin had never lacked in athleticism. He’d been a track star his entire college career and still spent more than his fair share of time sculpting strong, lean muscles in the gym. He said it helped strengthen his constitution so he would rarely get sick at the hospital and it gave him the stamina to focus for his long hours of study. It may have also given him a fair shot at lifting you without much difficulty. Of course, even if he couldn’t, in your dreams it wasn’t surprising that he could do anything.

You were curious how this strange dream would play out though. You’d spent countless nights dreaming of him in endless scenarios, from pirating on ships and flying through outer space to driving in race cars and solving crimes between the stacks at his university library. Sometimes he spent the dream pleasuring you in any way you could imagine and other times you went on nonsensical adventures together, ridiculous in the way only dreams could be. But in your current dream state, you couldn’t recall one quite as ordinary as this. You curled into him as he carried you, letting the delicious warmth and fresh air of his scent envelop you as he moved and enjoying the feeling of the flex of his forearm muscles against your legs.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” you heard him say in gentle reassurance.

Fuck. As if you hadn’t suffered enough that day, clearly the night intended to be torturous as well. The race track where you worked was a lot closer to your brother’s apartment than the one across town you shared with Jungkook. So you’d sent a pleading message, asking if you could crash on their couch for the night. Since Seokjin was spending a night shift at the hospital, your brother had offered you his friend’s empty bed. And since you’d needed to avoid that torture, you’d chosen to use their wonky couch instead to etch away enough of your exhaustion to be able to function like a normal human being in the morning. Yoongi’s room was quiet, his door closed when you arrived. So you’d showered away the funk of the day in Seokjin’s en suite and borrowed one of his oversized t-shirts, saying a thankful prayer for his massive shoulders because it fit perfectly.

It occurred to you too late that his scent likely lingered on the clothes, triggering your poorly buried desires. Now Seokjin was in your dreams, smelling like heaven and touching your bare skin. Any dream with Seokjin was a good dream and, just like any other, you intended to enjoy the fantasy as much as you could. But no matter how much you enjoyed it at the moment, your misjudgment in borrowing his clothes meant you were going to wake up horny and disappointed.

You hadn’t realized your vision of him had faded out again until you felt your body being lowered into soft, cushioned sheets and a new blanket being drawn up over your body. You heard Seokjin curse softly under his breath, the darkened vision of him fading in once again. Why was he so hot when he cursed? Perhaps because it was so rare? The room was lit only enough that you could just barely make out his broad silhouette at the edge of whatever bed he’d lain you on. Could see his bare chest not far away from you in the dark, planes of skin that you longed to touch so temptingly close. Scratch that. Why was he so hot in general? Your narrow vision slowly faded and you thought the dream might be ending already, your body quickly slipping back into a deeper sleep. Then you heard the faintest sigh and felt the surface just next to you shift, the weight of Seokjin’s body settling into the bed beside you. You felt soft fingertips stroke your forehead, brushing lightly against your skin.

“I really hope someone’s told you how pretty you are when you sleep,” he said quietly. He faded back in then, hand outstretched in front of your face, lips slightly parted as he stared down at you in a look of subdued reverence.

It was enough. Even if you were cognizant that this was all a dream, that none of it could ever be real, you didn’t want to let your chance fade. Understated as it was, it was honestly the closest to the real Seokjin you’d ever dreamed of; thoughtful, doting, and kind in the selfless way you’d appreciated about him your whole life, in the way it took you a long time to accept that you deserved. Slowly, you leaned up, watching his eyes widen slightly as you did so.

“S-sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll…” His words trailed off as you lifted your hand and pressed it against the side of his face, letting your thumb trace the soft skin of his cheek. He breathed in quick and sharp in response. Real Seokjin was visually striking. But the close-up of this dream Seokjin was starting to drive you mad. Between the level of detail your mind conjured, from the tiny mole just below his collarbone to the exact pink shade of his lips to the muscled lines of his bare chest, it was all enough to make you wish this fantasy would never end. Sometimes in these dreams, you kissed him roughly, took control of the moment, and loosed your sexual frustrations within the safest setting you had available. But since this Seokjin was so much more like the real one, tonight you wanted to meet him gently, experiencing a delicate pleasure you could never have in real life.

You let your lips meet his jaw first just below his ear, savoring the barely there shudder that rippled through his skin at the contact. You made a slow path of light kisses up and along the length of his jawline, savoring each time you connected with his skin. Finally, you let yourself indulge and pressed your lips firmly against the warmth of his mouth. You were happy you had taken your time to enjoy him. His lips felt the softest they ever had, better than your imagination had ever conjured before. You wondered if you’d wake up with one of Yoongi’s stuffy cardigans smashed against your face.

He didn’t respond at first and you worried you might’ve dragged the fantasy out too far, that perhaps the dream really was over, your brain overheating from bringing to life so much high-definition detail of Seokjin’s exquisite mouth. Then you felt a strong grip circling your waist, fingers skirting around to the small of your back and pressing you forward and into him. There was a shift in the bed underneath you as he leaned further into your kiss. Slowly, tentatively you felt his tongue seek lightly for entrance. You indulged, allowing this dream whatever access it wanted, not knowing when your subconscious would be this kind to you again.

You tasted the sweetness of his mouth as your lips parted, as Seokjin’s tongue grazed your own ever so lightly. He tasted like mint and sugar and you exhaled at the feeling of him pressed so close, your own hand still cupped just below his jaw, the raw pound of his pulse beneath your fingertips so surprisingly tangible. He breathed a delicate moan into your mouth and you felt him pull back just a little, still close enough that his breath ghosted against your lips as he spoke.

“We can’t…” he said, words tight and restrained. Because above anything else, Seokjin was a gentleman. A gentle man. He had never been anything but kind, fitting between you and your brother’s rash abrasiveness like a soothing gel. This close, you could see the desire floating in the rich, dark brown of his eyes, belying his words. Even here in your unconscious mind you knew this was wrong, that you weren’t allowed to be with Seokjin in this way.

You let your next kiss be your answer. Here, you could. Here, in the safety of this fantasy, you could have each other exactly as you wanted. As you greedily took up his lips again, as he responded with a greed of his own, tongue meeting yours, hand at your back pulling your body closer still against the bare of his chest and causing the blanket to slide away from your body, you knew you’d be masturbating to the fantasy of this kiss for weeks to come.

Seokjin’s light touch came to rest atop your thigh as he kissed you, sending sparks skittering against your bare skin and up between your legs. Since you’d only been able to find one of his t-shirts, you’d gone to sleep on the couch with that on and nothing else. And it seemed that had transferred to your dreams, his fingers dangerously close to the hem of a shirt with nothing underneath. Since your brain had put so much energy into recreating every detail about him, conjuring up pants likely wasn’t high on your subconscious’ list of goals.

“Y/N,” he said softly, pulling away from your kiss and instead brushing his lips against your cheek. “You’re not drunk or something, are you?”

You laughed air through your nose. What a weird thing for a dream to say. Though, what a very responsibly Seokjin thing to say. You pressed in for another deep kiss, desperate for yet another taste of his tongue. You wondered what you had eaten during the day to deserve a dream so vivid, so satisfying as the taste of him filled your mouth, the smell of his freshly washed body, the clean scent of his shampoo and soap filled your senses so strongly you would swear he really was right there with you.

Your own hands traveled down, fingers tracing the defined lines of his bare chest, over each of the stomach muscles he had chiseled to perfection. And hurriedly, before your alarm knocked you out of this bliss, you slid down to cup the firm impression of him on his lap that your kissing had produced, warm even through his shorts. It had always helped to fuel your dreams knowing how enormous his cock was. You’d seen the thick outline of it enough times over the years, straining against his basketball shorts or sweatpants, to know it was more than enough to satisfy you, to be able to imagine it well enough in your dreams.

“Y/N,” Seokjin moaned softly into your mouth and hearing your name in his voice, in that sensual and yet almost embarrassed quality you had never heard before sent a throbbing ache between your legs. His hand shifted from your thigh, fingers sliding upward to squeeze gently around your breast through the soft cotton of his shirt. Ok, maybe not weeks. As his thumb brushed lightly against your nipple. As his body began shifting, leaning you down into the bed. As his mouth got hungrier, intensely kissing you with a baser passion. As you felt his knee land between your legs, felt it press against the bareness of your heat there, you decided you would be getting off to this dream for months, maybe even years.

“Seokjin,” you panted, though your voice sounded too real, too raw, too desperate. Dream you never sounded like that.

He pressed his teeth ever so lightly into your lower lip in response. His hand moved from behind you as he laid you down and gripped your thigh, likely intending to reposition you beneath him for a new, more erotic purpose. You’d never get to know how or why. You hissed in response as his fingers closed around your fresh injury of the day and a sharp pain shot through your thigh, cracking through every layer of pleasure that the dream had built.

“Y/N?” Seokjin said in a panic, body instantly off yours, sitting back on his heels and staring down at you in shocked concern. “What is it? Are you alright?”

You froze. You felt your body seize up, fear blocking out the pain for a moment. Seokjin froze too. You stared up at his face in the dim light of his bedroom, at the dark hunger still swimming in his eyes even as worry set in, the flush in his too-warm skin, the bruising swell on lips you’d studied for years. At the blankets of his bed folded back beside you both. At the wall behind him lined with his collectibles and rows of medical books. At the clothes you’d forgotten to grab after you’d showered, left in a messy pile at the edge of the dresser just outside his bathroom. At Seokjin in front of you.

Seokjin. Real Seokjin. Your brother’s best friend since kindergarten Seokjin. Real Seokjin whose hand had been squeezing your breast, whose hard cock had been pressed against the palm of your hand, whose tongue had been dancing inside your mouth.

“Y/N?” he asked in a nervous breath, cementing the reality in front of you.

You gasped and jumped back until you ran into the headboard behind you. Seokjin was off the bed immediately.

“Shit, shit, I knew it. You’re fucking drunk. You don’t taste drunk.” His eyes widened at the implication of his own words, hands flying to his lips, then to his hair, ruffling his fluffy strands. “Shit, I’m so sorry! Fuck!”

It was so strange to hear Seokjin, who was usually so soothing and patient with his tone, spout off in this panicked cursing. The absurdity knocked you out of your shock and a sharp pain faded back in, forcing you to reach for your thigh again. You felt a warm dampness and looked down, noticing dark red had begun to seep through the flimsy bandaid you’d stuck on after showering.

“What…what happened to your leg?” Seokjin asked as his gaze followed yours down. You watched as his years of training began to overtake his panic at the other situation. “Wait. Let me get the first aid kit.” He was out of the room before you could say another word.

What the fuck had just happened? You replayed the events in your mind with a new, awake perspective. You had fallen asleep on the couch. Seokjin found you on the couch and brought you in here to his bed. But you thought it was a dream. You kissed him. It would be so embarrassing except…Seokjin had kissed you back. And as far as you could tell, he wasn’t drunk or half-asleep. He’d definitely kissed you. His hand had definitely just been squeezing your tit, right?

He returned with the first aid kit and, after switching on the lights, he set to work, peeling off your band-aid and assessing your cut.

“This happened at work?” he said with a disappointed huff.

You shrugged. “It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. Accidents happen.”

His grimace deepened, though the downturn only rounded the plush of his lips and drew your mind back to his kiss. “I already worried about you before when you worked at the shop,” he continued. “Now you’re already getting hurt at the track.”

That was enough to make you peel your eyes away from his lips and stare out across his bedroom instead. Unlike your brainy brother and his best friend, both of whom had run to medical school as fast as they could, you’d followed your childhood love of cars right into mechanic repair, much to your parent’s chagrin. It didn’t always pay the bills, so you’d picked up odd jobs over the years—barista, fitness instructor, delivery driver. But finally, finally this year you’d landed your dream job—working on race cars. You’d been at the track all day, getting to know the team and the workings of the raceway, and spent half the time touching cars you’d only ever watched in videos. It had been all your fantasies realized until another careless rookie somehow sent a tapered awl careening in your direction. Luckily, it had only grazed you before pinging off the lifted tire chassis just behind you and skittering to the floor. Still, it had sliced right through your jumpsuit and left you with a nasty cut on your thigh. After tightly wrapping it in some clean rags, you’d powered through the rest of your day, but by quitting time your body was at a new level of exhaustion. It was why you’d ended up here in the first place.

This new job meant everything to you and Seokjin knew it. Hell, he’d been there with Yoongi and Jungkook to celebrate when you’d gotten the offer. You didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt hearing that he didn’t approve after all, especially when you were so used to him being the first to back up your decisions, no matter how unorthodox.

“Hey, don’t misunderstand me,” he said and you forced yourself to look back in his direction. His eyes still didn’t meet yours though and you hissed a little as he rolled antiseptic onto your cut. “I know you’re passionate about what you do. I didn’t mean I thought you should stop. Just that I worry. I’ll take care of you no matter what, but I just want you to be careful out there, alright?”

“Take care of me?” you laughed. Seokjin was studying specifically to be a pediatric doctor. “You take care of children, Seokjin.”

His eyes finally slid up to yours and there was something new and unreadable floating within them. The sight sent a nervous shiver prickling down your spine.

“I know the adult body too,” he said quietly.

Your eyelids fluttered as his words flew straight down to your core and Seokjin looked down again, hands stretching a proper bandage. He patted the side of your thigh, encouraging you to lift so that he could wrap it properly.

“Why are you here?” you asked as you adjusted for him. “Yoongi said you had a shift at the hospital tonight.”

Seokjin’s eyes went wide for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued to bandage your thigh. “Low patient census so the preceptor sent most of us home. Your brother didn’t tell me he’d told you to come by so I had no idea you were here. I guess I walked right by you when I came in.”

Finally, he finished his work on your leg and you noticed the reddening blush spreading across his cheeks. You realized your repositioning for the bandage had given him a clear view between your legs, where you currently wore no panties. You lowered your leg and Seokjin repacked the first aid kit, determinedly looking anywhere but at you. You pulled the blanket across your lap in a belated effort to spare him the discomfort. You may have been confident in your body, and you may have craved Seokjin in a very carnal way, but forcing him to unwillingly stare at your vagina wasn’t high on your list of seduction tactics.

“I’m really sorry about earlier,” he said, voice wavering with embarrassment. “I hope you know I’d never, ever take advantage of you, especially not when you’re under the influence. There’s no excuse for-”

“What?” you questioned, cutting him off. “Seokjin, I’m not drunk.”

He paused, blinking up at you in confusion. You sighed, deciding it would be best to just be honest about it.

“I dream about you sometimes so,” you paused, chewing at your cheek for a few seconds. “So I thought I was dreaming.”

His face screwed up in disbelief, his perfect eyebrows pressing far too close together. “That doesn’t make it any better!” he whisper-shouted, voice pitched a little higher. He glanced at the doorway, then scrubbed a hand across his face. “Yoongi is going to absolutely murder me.”

He reached down to gather up the first aid kit and backed off of the bed, rushing to head toward the exit.

“Wait,” you called out after him. He was clearly uncomfortable and part of you wanted to let him leave if only to help him feel a little better. But Seokjin had kissed you back. His hands had been ready to explore your body in the dark. And after spending the past few years thinking you’d imagined him ever having a moment’s interest in you, you couldn’t let the night pass without at least finding out the truth. “What if...what if I want to keep dreaming?”

His footsteps slowed to a stop and he stared at you from just before the doorway, studied you for a long moment, the tips of his ears slowly growing redder.

“What about Yoongi?” he asked, voice quiet and sincere.

You blew out a laugh, though you could hear your nerves in it. “Well, I mean he’s not in my dreams. My nightmares maybe.”

“No, I mean...he said...and you…”

You patted the bed in front of you, encouraging him back to the space he’d hurried away from a moment ago. “What did he say, Seokjin?”

Seokjin stayed silent for a few seconds, staring back at the doorway as though it was his only path to salvation. You watched his free hand clench into a fist then slowly unfurl as he flexed his fingers and reached for the door, pushing it closed with a click that seemed to signify something definitive. He tossed the first aid kit onto his dresser and turned to face you on the bed, choosing to lean back against the wall instead of joining you among the covers.

“That no one’s good enough for you. That he thinks no matter who you finally settle for, they won’t be good enough for you.”

You blinked. Your brother had said that? The same one that gave you a hard time for dating or sleeping with whoever you liked? For not being ashamed of how much you liked to have sex? The same brother that shit on every reckless choice you made, whether it paid off or not?

“You’ve been off-limits to all our friends since you were in middle school,” Seokjin continued, rubbing a nervous hand along his arm. “I’ve even heard him threaten a few after they snuck out of your room.”

Alright, so maybe Yoongi had been a little more overprotective than you’d been aware of. But he’d also told you directly to stay away from Seokjin. Had he told his friend the same thing about you?

“What about you? Did he say I was off-limits to you?”

Seokjin hesitated. “Well, no, not in so many words.”

“Then why do you think that includes you too? You’ve been his best friend forever.”

“Would I stay that way though if I had an interest in his little sister?” he asked, though it sounded like it wasn’t the first time the question had come up for him. “I guess I’ve always been too chickenshit to find out.”

You held back a laugh. “If anyone isn’t good enough in this situation, it’s both of us for you.”

“What are you talking about, good enough?”

You shrugged. “You’ve always been the nice guy who’s friendly with everyone. You’d give the shirt off your back to any stranger who needed it,” you said, trying to focus on the conversation and ignore the fact that currently Seokjin had no shirt on to give away to anyone. “Yoongi and me, we…we’re the too blunt, too direct people that everyone avoids. We’re lucky to have someone like you in our lives. Someone that finds us tolerable.”

He chuckled softly, fingers stroking lightly under his chin in a moment’s contemplation. “You know, I wouldn’t even be in medical school if it wasn’t for you.”

“You mean if it wasn’t for Yoongi?” you tried to correct. After all, they’d applied and gone through this far together.

“No. I mean you.”

You cocked your head in confusion and once again patted the bed in front of you. On the practical side, it felt like the kind of conversation you should be having closer together. And on the emotional side, you suddenly wanted Seokjin within your reach, to seek comfort in his touch now that you were finally having this conversation.

Seokjin bit his lip for a moment before moving slowly toward the bed and sinking down in front of you, crossing his legs in front of him and facing you.

“You’ll remember I wasn’t the most confident kid.”

“You?” you asked in surprise, then slowly nodded in agreement after a little more thought. “Alright, I guess that’s true, though you’d never know it now.”

“Awkward, nerdy, thick glasses, more bad haircuts than a kid should be forced to live through.” He sighed. “It was rough there for a while.”

You giggled, memories of each of those haircuts rolling through your mind.

“When I got to high school I really wanted to make a change, to join a sport and make more friends,” he continued. “I thought track would be perfect for my build and stamina, but I was so scared to be teased or bullied, especially if I wasn’t any good. I remember Yoongi being home sick and me coming to walk you home from school. I told you I wanted to chicken out of the tryouts the next day. Yoongi would’ve told me to suck it up and just go. And I wanted so badly for you to tell me it would be okay to just give up.”

The memory of that conversation resurfaced in your mind too. And with it, one of a long list of your very poor life choices. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah,” he said with a stifled laugh. “You took off running. Telling me to catch you. Running right into traffic.”

You put an embarrassed hand to your mouth. Yes, you were only in middle school at the time, but your sense of self-preservation should’ve been much stronger than to make a decision like that.

“It uh…it made sense to me at the time?” you said with probably not enough mortification.

Seokjin let out a warm laugh, as though the memory was less terrifying and more heartwarming.

“I’d never run so fast in my life to get you out of the middle of that street. That multi-lane street,” he groaned. “We definitely almost died at least three times before I got you across and onto the sidewalk. And I remember you staring up at me and saying-”

“See, you’re a really good runner,” you said slowly. Seokjin breathed another laugh and his face warmed as his smile spread.

“Yeah. You were there for my tryout too. I remember all the adults getting upset at how loud you cheered like it was a football game or something,” he chuckled. “I made it in because of you, love. I got scouted because of you. And that track scholarship was the only reason I got to go to college in the first place. It’s the only reason I get to have this career that I already love so much.”

“Well, there’s tons of dumbass kids like me that are gonna need a doctor like you, especially if they don’t have any track stars there to rescue them from their mistakes.”

You both broke out into laughter at that and the sound of it filled Seokjin’s bedroom, warm and comforting like the perfect cup of tea on a cold winter morning.

“I forgot all about that,” you said, wiping away a tear from the corner of your eye. “You never even told me off for being an idiot and running into traffic. You just kept saying…”

“Be careful,” he said in the same soft, patient voice you’d been listening to since you were a kid, deeper, more mature now, but with the same soothing quality. Even then, even when you’d almost gotten both of you so seriously hurt, Seokjin was too kind a spirit to muster any scolding beyond looking after you.

“So if anyone needs anyone, it’s definitely been me that’s needed you. That’s not the only time you’ve been my much-needed confidence booster,” he said. You noticed then that he’d clasped his fingers together, fidgeting as he rubbed them against each other. “And I…I definitely find you more than tolerable.”

You took his cue, sliding forward across the bed until you sat just in front of him and slipping your hands between his. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” he murmured. He glanced behind you for a moment. Or maybe he was trying not to focus directly on your face when he spoke. “So you, uh, you really dream about me?”

“Oh, all the time,” you said casually. It was out now, so what was the point of being coy about it?

Seokjin blinked and scrunched his nose in the endearing way he always did when he got nervous. “I’m kind of afraid to ask what they’re about.”

You flicked through images in your head, some of which were enough to bring a little heat even to your cheeks. But you supposed it was now or never.

“A lot of things. We’ve been on a lot of adventures. Done plenty more stupid things. But most often? I dream about what it would be like to go on a date with you. To kiss you, cuddle with you. Put your enormous cock in my mouth. Sit on your dick.” You looked down at the plain, soft T-shirt you wore. “Though, in my dreams, I’m usually dressed in something a bit more flattering.” You glanced up at Seokjin before you continued and bit your tongue as you watched his eyes slowly widen. He’d always appreciated your straightforwardness, but this level of honesty may have been a little too far, regardless of how true.

Seokjin’s deep groan echoed lightly around the room.

“Wow, love. Your dreams sound a lot like mine. Even your clothes.” His eyes flicked down to your body draped in his shirt. “Especially in my clothes.”

You blinked, feeling happy, and yet a little frustrated at the admission. “I’m so confused. You haven’t acted interested at all in all this time.”

He actually snorted. “I couldn’t show it. I’ve had to run away from you so many times. Every time you wear something short and let me see those delicious thighs for free. Every time you lean over to smell my cooking and I fought with my own DNA to take my eyes off your chest. Every time…well every time you’re around I go a little more insane honestly. I use school as an excuse, but that’s not the only reason I can’t be around for very long when you come over. You’re so hot it makes my dick hurt.” He groaned again. “I’m ashamed of some of the places I’ve had to rub one out just to get you out of my head.” He pulled his hand away from yours, placing it over his mouth as though saying the words had burned him on the way out. “It never worked anyway,” he mumbled through his fingers.

Oh.

“It can’t just be Yoongi that kept you from telling me this. How come you’ve never said anything?”

“I…I didn’t think I was your type. Race cars, tattoos, cigarettes, bar fights. Not guys who don’t know anything about cars, who spend every weekend studying, gaming, or working. Not…me.”

Now it was your turn for reminiscing. “You remember my eighteenth birthday?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. You didn’t miss the newest rosy blush that sprouted across his cheeks.

“I’d spent half the day arguing with my parents about going to auto tech school, not even knowing if they were going to kick me out over it. It was the most miserable birthday of my life. And then you and Yoongi took me on that midnight boat ride.”

Seokjin’s smile returned as you recalled the memory, brightening up his whole face. “You caught the biggest fish I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been so put to shame before by someone who’d never been fishing a day in their life.”

“And then we came back and climbed onto the roof and you guys had baked me a little cake and you sang me happy birthday under the stars. It was…perfect.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice noticeably smaller, smile turning a darker shade of reminiscent.

“Seokjin.”

“Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

He stayed silent, worrying his plump bottom lip between his teeth.

That night, your brother had gone inside to get you all drinks. Seokjin’s long frame was sprawled out next to yours on the roof, bodies comfortably close as you both stared up at the star-dotted sky. He’d told you that he never doubted you’d always get exactly what you dreamed of. And that he and Yoongi would be there for you to support you down whatever path you wanted to follow. And then he’d sat up, his beautiful face hovering just above you against the glittering backdrop of stars, and given you the softest kiss, hot in a way that seared through your every layer, imprinting itself on your soul. You’d threaded your fingers into his hair and melted into his kiss and tasted the sweet of cake frosting and happiness and him. Your brother had come back just after you’d leaned apart and, though you’d never been able to forget it, neither of you had spoken about it since.

Seokjin hung his head, seemingly weighed down by the recollection. “It was the next day that Yoongi told me no one would ever be good enough for you. I never knew if he saw us or if he could just tell how close I was getting to you and he didn’t like it. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to ruin anything, so I…I just backed off.”

You nodded. “I don’t think it was long after that that he told me you were off limits too.”

“So see, even I’m not good enough for you, Y/N.”

“Seokjin, you’re not just Yoongi’s friend, you’re mine too,” you said, a little more defensively than you meant. “You know that right?”

“Of course I do, love,” he said hurriedly. He lifted your hands then, planting a soft kiss against the back your yours.

“You’ve supported me my whole life, through every misstep and triumph and doubt you’ve always been there for me. Studying, gaming, working, and being a great friend. I don’t care about all that other shit. I care about someone who’s kind to me, who respects me, who likes me for who I am exactly as I am. That’s my type. And that’s always been you.”

“Always will, love,” he said quietly, punctuating his words with another kiss to the back of your other hand.

“So,” you started, a little emboldened by his touch. You leaned toward him with a cautious grin. “You kissed me and then spent all these years running away from me only to go rub one out, huh?”

He groaned and pulled one hand away, pressing it against his mouth as pink blossomed in his cheeks again. “Why did I tell you that? That’s so embarrassing.”

“Oh, I want to hear more,” you said, sure your grin had turned mischievous. “I told you about my dreams. Tell me what else we do in yours?”

He swallowed and you watched as thoughts he’d clearly buried for a long time resurfaced on his face. He rubbed his fingers nervously against his lips and his eyes betrayed him, drifting slowly down to land on yours.

“I spend a lot of time dreaming about your mouth. Kissing you for hours. Biting your lips. Tasting your tongue. Though I suppose I’ve had some of that experience now.”

You leaned forward and met your lips to his again, starting out with the lightest press to test that he still wanted this. You felt his lips part slightly, felt him lean into the kiss, and you sank into him further. You swiped your tongue slowly across his lower lip and just as he leaned into you, preparing to reach for more, you pulled away. Seokjin looked a little dumbstruck, exhaling softly as he stared down at you, fingers of the hand still gripping yours clutching you tighter.

“Dreams can’t compare,” he said breathlessly.

You chuckled and sat back on the bed, slipping your hand from his and widening the space between you. It was selfish, but the look of desperation that flashed across Seokjin’s face as he watched you move away was worth it.

“What else?” you asked teasingly.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, or maybe to taste what you’d left behind, and a wave of heat swept across your skin as his gaze drifted lower on you.

“Kissing your neck.”

You leaned your head to one side, encouraging him to come and take an active part in his fantasy.

Seokjin didn’t hesitate, sliding forward on the bed this time and meeting your mouths together again. He cupped your cheek as his lips moved away from yours, kissing down your jaw until he landed on your neck. He kissed the skin there so lightly, so tender, and the effect was brand new for you. You had never had someone turn you on with so little while making you feel so precious. He kissed down to the base of your throat, pulling aside your shirt so his lips could roam across your collarbone, and finally returned to your neck with another tender kiss that became a slow lick that became a teasingly soft bite. Your mind was spinning at his achingly slow contact and you couldn’t hold back, letting a soft moan escape your lips. The sound seemed to shake Seokjin from whatever spell he’d been drawn into and he leaned away slightly, warm breath ghosting across your now damp skin.

“Keep going,” you encouraged, arousal already thick in your throat.

“I dream about touching you everywhere, beautiful,” he confessed, his own voice gone husky with his desire. “Your body drives me insane. You do.”

“So touch me, Seokjin. Just like you dream. I want you to.”

You nudged his face up, capturing his lips in another smoldering kiss. His hand moved up then, sliding under your—technically, his—shirt and cupping the full swell of your breast in a gentle squeeze. His other hand joined a moment later at your other breast and you arched into his touch, sighing contentedly into his mouth. He leaned back and released a shaky breath as his lips parted from yours. You started to pout until you felt the tug of him lifting your shirt, sliding it over your arms and off of you. His lips went back to your neck, maddening wet kisses pressed against your throat as his hands found your breasts again. He teased your nipple in slow circles with his thumb and you could feel his smile against your neck as your breath hitched in response to each stroke, wider still at the soft moan that broke free as he gave one of them a light pinch.

His satisfied groan rumbled against your neck. “If you knew how often I dream about putting your fantastic breasts in my mouth,” he said, tone gone dark and syrupy. His lips traveled down your neck again, your chest, a trail of hot kisses against your skin until he reached your breast and took a slow lick at the nipple he’d pinched. His hand still gently caressing the other, he circled the tender bud lazily with his tongue, leaving you panting, body arching into him.

“Your whole body. You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he said, making a wide, wet swipe with the broad of his tongue before pulling in your nipple again in a gentle suckle. You slid a hand forward, burying your fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck and tipping your head back. Your body trembled at the sensation of his mouth on you this way, naturally arching into his touch as he satisfied cravings you’d held close for so long.

Seokjin swapped breasts then, wrapping his lips around your other nipple and freeing his hand to travel further down your body. He caressed the soft of your belly and settled on your uninjured thigh, giving the thick of you there a firm, hungry squeeze.

“Touch me. Please,” you begged immediately and although he technically already was, you had a feeling Seokjin could tell exactly where you wanted to feel him right now. He hesitated for a moment, hands and tongue slowing to a pause. And though every part of you was aching for him, you waited for him, waited for his decision on how far he wanted this to go, ready to meet him where he needed. You felt his resolve harden as his hand continued its path downward, squeezing your inner thighs before finally sliding between your legs. Immediately, his fingers met your bare heat and the wetness that had been building since your kisses had first begun.

“Y-you got this wet for me?” he panted against your nipple.

“Seokjin, you’re the hottest man I’ve ever known. You’ve been shirtless the whole night, kissing me and sucking on my nipples and calling me beautiful. Yes, I’m fucking wet for you.”

Seokjin lifted his head from your breasts, angling up instead to kiss you, the firm warmth of his chest pressing against your own as his fingers stroked your wetness, back and forth. You inhaled sharply as he swept his fingers across your sensitive clit, breathing more of Seokjin, thinking that you could never tire of his tongue exploring your mouth again and again. You would never get enough of tasting him, of kissing him, of being this close to him. You slid your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer as his fingers alternated between stroking your aching slit and making slow, agonizing circles around your swollen clit.

“Hottest you’ve ever known, hm?” he said, breaking from your lips.

“You already know it, you just like having your ego stroked,” you offered back, though your words had a needy edge thanks to his busy fingers. “Got your hairstyle under control and we haven’t been able to stop you since.”

Seokjin only chuckled shyly. Though it was true that his confidence had grown to a healthy level over the years, his humility had grown along with it. Which was why, even though he knew what you said was true, and even though his fingers were between your legs, he still had the beginnings of a new blush spreading across his cheeks at the compliment.

Finally, he sank his fingers inside you and you leaned forward against him, burying your head in his neck and panting a whimper that ended in a fragmented moan. Seokjin paused his movements, much to your disappointment, and made a nervous glance back at his bedroom door.

“I think Yoongi and his date are asleep in his room,” he said softly into your hair.

His date? Yoongi hadn’t mentioned he had a date over when you asked if you could come crash. His bedroom door had been closed, so you’d assumed he was already asleep when you got here. You clenched down involuntarily around Seokjin’s fingers inside you and decided you really didn’t want to think about your brother at the moment.

“It’s alright,” you said. You reached down and cupped Seokjin’s hand with your own, pressing his fingers deeper inside you. “We’re only dreaming, remember?”

With another shy laugh, Seokjin curled his fingers, sending a ripple of pleasure through your body and coaxing another of your moans into the little dip just above his collarbone. His mouth found a new home at your earlobe, licking and biting softly as he found his rhythm in the wetness of your pussy. His other hand hadn’t forgotten its mission, not-so-gently squeezing the soft flesh of your breast and rolling the firm sensitive bud of your nipple between his fingers.

Before you lost yourself entirely to his touch, you reached down for him through his shorts, this time slipping your hand past the waistband and finally curling your fingers around his cock. He was so hot to the touch, the skin soft and smooth in an almost jarring way compared to how hard he felt. As you palmed the veined length of him slowly, you accepted that your imagination was highly inaccurate; Seokjin was more enormous in your hands than your dreams had ever managed to capture. You tried hard to focus your movements on him, but between his thumb circling your clit, the pads of his fingers rhythmically knocking against that sweet spot inside you, and his damn mouth, wet and teasing on your ear, you felt overwhelmed, only managing a few half-hearted strokes as your pleasure rapidly threatened to spill over.

“Seok…”

It hit you before you were ready, his name interrupted by your shuddering moans as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you. Seokjin didn’t let up, his fingers still stroking back and forth as you rode through your climax, his tongue still circling your ear. Once you finally stopped trembling he slipped his hand from between your legs and leaned back a little, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead. You looked up to meet the dark, polished amber of his eyes. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear the smile on his face was just a little bit smug.

“You’re so sensitive, love,” he said, purring the words like a satisfied cat.

“You seem a little too pleased about that,” resisting the urge to nuzzle your face into the warmth of his neck.

He stroked the fingers of his dry hand along your shoulder and down your arm. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

You pulled yourself up onto your knees and motioned for Seokjin to move further back toward the head of the bed. He obliged and you kneeled between his legs, leaning forward to kiss his lips. Seokjin’s hands went to your hips, but you backed away a little, instead kissing down his neck, pathing along his chest until you reached one of his dusky brown nipples. You teased the tiny bud with your tongue, listening to his soft whimpers at the attention. You pressed down on a soft bite and smiled at Seokjin’s responding half-moan, half-exhale.

“I’m not the only sensitive one,” you said. Seokjin only chuckled lightly in response and placed his fingers atop your head, making a gentle stroke across your hair.

You backed away again and curled your fingers under the waistband of his shorts, sliding them down past his hips. You blinked for a few moments, unsure when your hands had frozen in place in your mission to finally disrobe him. You just remembered staring, your mouth falling open at the sight of the biggest cock you’d ever seen, bobbing tauntingly against well-defined abs and the sluttiest slim waist.

“Y/N?” Seokjin asked, and the strained concern in his voice broke you from your reverie.

“S-Seokjin,” you managed to stammer, though you didn’t tear your eyes away from his lower head. “No wonder you’re so ripped having to carry this around all day.”

He breathed out a shy laugh.

“Your dick is…” Magnificent? Insane? The biggest, most glorious, breathtaking cock you’d ever seen? It all felt ridiculous and yet…the right words wouldn’t surface. Maybe there weren’t any words good enough. Yes, you had seen plenty of cocks, but apparently, you had never seen the cock until now.

It took you a second to realize his hands were moving down, trying, but naturally failing to hide his third leg. “You don’t have to…” he mumbled. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable so we don’t have to…”

You blinked, still working through your shock. Nothing in your imagination could’ve prepared you for this. But as his words finally sunk in, you looked up at him in confusion.

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. It’s…some have said that before. So you don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“Are you kidding?” You brushed his hands aside, taking in the thickness, the deep pink of it, the tantalizing pearl of precum pooled at the tip that had you all but salivating. You wrapped your fingers around him and gave his full length a long, satisfying stroke and he whimpered at the movement. “I want nothing more.”

Seokjin’s hands were still close by yours, his gaze once again drifting past you.

“I just…I don’t know that I can…that I’m...what I mean is I haven’t really…”

His sudden communication struggle left you feeling unsure of what signal he was trying to get across. As much as you didn’t want to, you took your hands off of him.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“I want to!” he said, then bit his lip in embarrassment at his own enthusiasm. “Believe me, I want to. I…”

You let his words marinate, taking in the concern now pressed between his eyebrows.

“You’re worried you won’t fit? Because yes, your cock is massive, but I know you’ve studied enough anatomy to know that I can get you in me with no problem.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

You wanted to tell him you couldn’t wait for him to hurt you, but something about the uncertainty etched across his face had you changing your trajectory for once.

“You won’t hurt me. I don’t know what happened with your other partners, but we’ll go really slow, alright?”

Even with that, Seokjin still looked unsure. As kind as he was, it sometimes came at the cost of him hesitating to say what he really meant for the sake of others. Luckily for him, you’d never suffered from that affliction.

“What else? You’re worried…because I’ve had a lot of experience and you haven’t had much?”

He nodded.

“I do like sex, Seokjin.”

“I love that you enjoy sex. I love that you live so fully in your own body. I’ve always loved that about you.” His eyes drifted downward, settling on the sheets next to him, though you had a feeling he was looking at nothing beyond his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m messing this up. I’ve just thought about you for so long that I…I’m kind of terrified to disappoint.”

You leaned down, laying next to him and curling your body against his long frame. As you settled into the curve of him, Seokjin wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close against him, warm bare skin to skin.

“I mean, on the whole, sex is just sex,” you said. “And based on the fact that you’re even worried about it, I guarantee you’ll give me a better experience than anyone else.”

He made an unconvincing nod, turning his face to kiss your forehead once, twice, again. He was nervous, you could feel it radiating off of his skin, see it in the tightness of his jawline, and thanks to years of reading his moods, you could feel the hesitation in the air around him.

You spoke softly into the crook of his neck. “There’s no one else in this dream, right? Just you and me.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“You know me. And I know you. So there’s no pressure, no expectations. We can just enjoy being me and you, yeah?”

He turned to face you, finally focusing his eyes on yours. You waited, stared back into the beautiful brown of his, and let him search for whatever answer it was that he needed. Finally, he leaned forward, kissing you again, sweet and slow. He leaned away for a moment, slipping off his glasses and tossing them onto his nightstand before joining his lips with yours again. You sighed into his kiss and Seokjin’s arm wrapped around you tight as you kissed, and kissed, and lost yourself between his lips.

“I want you, Seokjin,” you panted when you finally broke away for air. “I want you so bad I can’t think straight.”

“Want you too,” he said in quick response, then immediately sought out your mouth again, tongue dancing with yours for what might’ve been hours. You both lie there, tangled in each other’s arms, kissing and making up for lost time and seeking solace and building trust together.

You hadn’t realized your hand had found its way back to the hard length of him until he gasped lightly into your mouth and you felt the heat of him in your grip. You nodded at him, making sure it was still what he wanted. When he nodded back, you slid your leg over his hip as Seokjin rolled onto his back. You leaned down to kiss him one more time, then up again as you lifted your hips to find the best angle to guide his enormous cock into you.

As the tip of him met your aching entrance, you had to remember to temper your eagerness with the reality that you would probably need to go very slow to adjust to the size of him. Between how wet he’d gotten you with his fingers and the glide from his ample precum, there was hardly any resistance as you slid him inside you. Except for…

“Fuck,” you hissed. “Your cock is so fucking big, Seokjin.” You had barely gone past the head, but it was already a tight fit. Seokjin hadn’t responded and you looked up to find his focus between your legs, watching as he slowly disappeared inside you. Plush lips slightly parted, he was already panting and looked about three seconds away from losing his mind.

Desire renewed, you lifted your hips and used the slick of you to slide down a little further. Your tactic worked, slipping in as much as you could handle, backing off, and slowly sliding him in again, his cock a little wetter from you each time. You took him slow inch by slow inch and feeling the gradual stretch of him inside you was almost as satisfying as watching Seokjin’s eyelids flutter as you sank down onto him. It took a little time and patience, but after what felt like a million inches later, finally you met the base of his cock.

“Holyfuckingshit,” he whined, words barely recognizable as they slurred together. You watched the knot in his throat bob, veins in his neck straining, head lolling back.

You had never been so full in your life. Even without moving, the feel of him pressing against your walls, taking you right to your limit, had molten heat collecting at the base of your belly.

“See? You’re just right.”

He finally leaned forward, staring up at you with half-lidded eyes. “You feel so good around me, love.”

You pressed your hands forward, finding your balance against his abs and slowly rocking your hips, moving the thick length of him in and out of you. Even at the slow pace, your breath grew shaky, the full stretch of him against your dripping pussy already tightening the coil inside you.

“So tight, beautiful,” he said, voice scratching low between his panting breaths. “So good.”

Seokjin’s hands slid up your thighs, landing on your hips as you guided yourself up and down. As your pace picked up, he quickly began to unravel. His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into the soft of your skin. And slowly, his whimpers became throaty moans that rippled through you like little arcs of lightning, rolling in time with the press of him deep inside you, knocking against each perfect sensitive spot.

“Are you okay?” he asked between quick breaths.

“Better than ever. Please don’t stop.”

The mattress had begun to squeak lightly beneath you both as your rhythm built, but considering Seokjin’s dark stare, the expanse of his pupils taking in your bouncing body as if you were his own personal sunrise, you thought he’d long since lost any concern about what anyone outside this room might hear. You pulled one hand back to circle your clit, speeding you toward what felt inevitable.

“No, let me,” he said and for a moment your passion-addled brain wasn’t sure what he meant. He leaned up, lips closing around one of your breasts, tongue teasing your nipple. Then you felt his hand leave your hip and nudge yours aside. His fingertips grazed your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure to send your head spinning.

“Seokjin…fuck. I’m close,” you said, spilling the words out over your moans. You tilted your hips forward just a little and shuddered as the new angle had Seokjin’s cock hitting you in the perfect spot.

“Y/N,” you heard him pant between your breasts and hoped the adjustment was just as good for him. “It’s been…it’s been a while for me.” He leaned back his head and you looked down to see the muscles in his neck flexing, teeth clenched in his effort to hold back. You weren’t so far behind him that it would matter anyway.

“Okay. It’s okay.”

“No…condom,” he managed to grit out.

As if you wanted it any other way. Your only response was to squeeze down, impossibly tight around him, and Seokjin’s growling moan let you know he got the message. His fingers tensed where they gripped your side and he sat up further, lifting his hips and thrusting his cock into you with a renewed force. The plush of his mouth met your neck, your jaw, and finally, your lips again.

“Not without you, beautiful.”

He leaned back into the mattress, taking you down with him, lips never parting from yours. His free hand slid to cup your ass as he thrust his cock in and out of you faster still, his fingers between you circling your clit. You slid your hands up into his hair, gasping between drags of his lips and the moans pouring out of you every other breath. Each time his cock slid deep inside you could feel the cliff’s edge looming, the dizzying height leaving you a little afraid of the drop.

“Come for me, love,” he breathed inside your mouth, voice deep with a decadent richness you could almost taste. “I’ve dreamed about it so many times. I want to hear what you really sound like when you come on my cock.”

It was over for you. You moaned his name and perhaps a few expletives as your orgasm crashed into you, body quivering against him as pleasure rippled through your core and out to every corner of your being.

“Y/N,” Seokjin panted as he fucked you through every wave of your orgasm. You felt his hips shudder and tasted the growling moan on his lips as he buried himself deep inside you and finally spilled everything he had. His orgasm seemed to last for ages and you rode along with his every thrust and hip roll, your body close to teasing another tip past the brink as you drank in his pleasure.

Eventually, you felt his hips relax. He stared up at you, lips parted, shiny and inviting, eyes half-lidded and watching your body as it bobbed gently from the matching effort of both of your breathing. He slid both his arms around you, pulling you forward against his chest into an enveloping hug.

“Am I too heavy?” you asked, lips brushing against the searing skin of his neck.

“Don’t you move an inch, love.”

You lay there on top of him, planting soft kisses against his neck, surrounded by his intoxicating smell, mixed with the heady scent of sweat and sex you’d both created. You still felt so full even as he slowly softened inside you, the feeling of his cum leaking out around his cock adding to your satisfaction.

“So much better,” he whispered, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the side of your face. “Better than I’ve ever imagined.”

Finally, you felt his softened cock slip out of you and an unexpected, warm gush followed, sending a noticeable dribbling mess down your inner thighs.

“Holy shit. Do you always come this much? Though, I guess with a dick that big…”

His fingers roamed down your back before making a soft stroke across your ass. “You felt so good, love. I couldn’t hold back.”

“Well,” you say before playfully grazing your teeth against the skin of his neck. “You’re not done with me yet, are you?”

“I…I...” he stammered.

You let your lips brush against his cheek. “Unless you’ve had enough of me? No more dreams you’ve been dying to fulfill all this time?”

The hand at your ass paused and Seokjin bit into his bottom lip. Watching him sort through his thoughts with such a familiar, endearing habit was starting to melt you a little from the inside. It drove home how much you had missed spending time with him, that your busy lives and mutual pining had kept you apart far too much over the years.

“I do like you on top, but I’ve…I’ve thought about you a lot from behind too.”

Oh?

“Behind?” you said, both amused and pleased at his sudden straightforwardness.

He went quiet and you lifted your head, giggling as he tried to turn his head to hide his embarrassment.

“Seokjin, come on. You really don’t have to be shy about telling me how you want to have sex.”

“It’s not the sex. It’s…it’s you. I never planned on telling you how much I was into you and I…”

You quieted him with a light kiss.

“And since when have you been such a planner? Aren’t you the one who taught me to live a little without thinking to be happy?”

That got a laugh out of him. “I think I taught you a little too well, didn’t I?”

You nudged his shoulder in mock offense, even though he was probably right. “My point is, don’t worry about whatever you planned. It’s me. And you know me. So you know I want to hear everything. Just tell me.”

He hesitated again, having another of those internal battles, and you waited for him to decide how much he really wanted to share.

“Iwanttoburymycockinyouandwatchyouramazingassbounceagainstme,” he let out in one long, strained breath. He risked a nervous, sidelong glance at you once the words were out, gauging your reaction to his admission.

“Let’s get you ready then,” you said simply, following up with another kiss. Seokjin’s hand gripped your ass and you knew he intended to keep you right there, indulging in your lips while he hardened between your legs. But you’d already decided on other plans.

You sat up and turned your body to face away from him, meeting instead with the sticky mess that was his now wet, shiny cock. It fell limply to the side of his thigh, though even softened it was an impressive sight.

As you ran your tongue across the head, meeting the salty tang of the mixture of your arousal, Seokjin whimpered quietly from somewhere behind your ass. You smiled to yourself and took it as a sign to continue your work. You could admit to yourself that it was a selfish move since he’d clearly wanted to make out with you. But if one of his biggest fantasies was hitting you from the back, one of yours was definitely getting his cock in your mouth. Why not satisfy both goals tonight?

It didn’t take long for his length to start to thicken in response to the caress of your tongue. Gripping him at the base and slowly inching your mouth down him as much as your jaw would allow, the satisfying moans you coaxed out of him let you know that he was more than happy with your choice. Seokjin’s hands were on your ass and thighs as you worked, squeezing and stroking your skin between his slowly increasing breaths.

“Is...Is it weird that I like watching my cum drip out of you? It’s so hot.” He groaned. “You’re so hot, Y/N.” You felt his fingers spreading your pussy wide, felt another dribble of the mess he’d made leak again from inside you. How on earth was there still more?

“N-no, of course not,” you panted at the stimulation. “It turns me on more how attracted you are to me.”

“Look at you. My cum is still coming out of you.” His fingers spread your lips further apart and you felt a soft gush as more leaked from inside you. “I want to fuck it back inside of you, love. I’ve never been this turned on in my life.”

You moaned at his words. “I…I never thought you would talk to me like this.”

“Sor-”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I love it.”

You’d intended to go back to choking on his cock, but your plans were interrupted, a full-bodied moan tumbling from your lips as Seokjin slid at least two of his thick fingers inside your cum-soaked pussy.

“H-hey,” you breathed, though it didn’t stop the teasing rock of him inside you. “I said this was about getting you ready.” You let your hand continue where your mouth couldn’t, fisting his wet cock in a firm squeeze and coaxing another soft moan out of him.

“I was ready as soon as you got your lips on me, love. If you keep going much more, I’m probably not going to come where you want me to.”

You made a teasing wave with your ass, swaying back and forth in front of him. “Go where you really want then.”

Seokjin slipped his fingers from between your legs and slid from underneath you, positioning himself onto his knees behind you. As his hands landed on your hips, you felt another inexplicable dribble of his cum run down the side of your thigh. In as many partners as you’d had, you’d never had this kind of experience before.

“How long has it been for you that you had so much cum to give me?”

“It’s not time. I always…it’s always a lot. I’ve always been that way. If you like it…let me fill you up, beautiful.”

He bent forward and planted a light kiss on your shoulder that made you shudder, his lips slowly pathing their way down your back. You felt the bed shift beneath you and one of his hands leave your hip, and then the erotic press of the thick head of his cock between your folds.

You pressed your hips back in response and with all the lubrication he met no resistance. His cock slipped inside you and you leaned down a little into the bed involuntarily, raising your ass toward him, weak at the feeling of him inside you again at this new, satisfying angle.

Seokjin’s movements started slow and gentle, his thrusts hesitant as though you still needed time to adjust to the size of him. But you were far past the need for gentility. You wanted this man and his mammoth cock to turn your insides out.

“You can be rough, Seokjin,” you said, catching the desperate edge in your voice. It was taking all the strength you had not to slam yourself back into him, but this was Seokjin’s fantasy and you didn’t want to take over. A little guidance would have to do.

You looked back at him over your shoulder. He took a few moments to respond and you watched as he resurfaced from what seemed like a very deep focus on your rear end.

“…What?”

You licked your lips. “You wanted me from behind so you could watch my ass bounce, right? I bounce more if you fuck me. Hard. I like it.”

Seokjin groaned, fingers tightening the grip on your hips. “Shit, Y/N. You can’t talk to me like that.”.

“No? I’m just following your lead. You don’t like it?”

“I...I like it too much.” He breathed out in frustration. “I’m already ready to blow again because of your mouth on me, your pussy around me. Now your words too. You drive me crazy, love.”

“So don’t be gentle with me then. I can take your cock, baby. Fuck me, please?”

The moan you exhaled as he finally pressed himself into you to the base echoed around Seokjin’s bedroom. He pulled himself out and forcefully pushed back into you, this time letting his moans match with yours. As he found his pace between your legs, the music of the room only grew louder: the gasping breaths and satisfied whimpers between you both, the sticky, wet noises of your slick as his thighs met your ass again and again, the quiet squeak of his mattress in time with the movement of his hips, and the thrum of your heartbeat in your throat as he buried his cock deep inside you, filled you to your limit over and over.

As his hands made bruising grips on the thick flesh of your ass, you arched your back, letting go of yourself as he guided you closer and closer to your limit. Instead, Seokjin took the opportunity to pull you up toward him, the surprising change in angle making you clench down, though he continued fucking into you all the same.

“My cock fits in you so nicely,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your skin, voice a dangerous new level of addictive. “Keep squeezing me just like that, beautiful.”

You whined as his teeth sank into your earlobe, as one of his hands made its way to your breast, cupping it in his hand and teasing your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

“What…” you breathed, your brain finding it a little difficult to form words between all the stimulation. “What happened to staring at my ass?”

“I can feel your ass. Your whole body.” He planted a long kiss on your neck and another on your shoulder. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

His lips found a home on your neck, kissing, sucking, licking, and driving you mad. You felt the searing, sweat-lined heat of his chest against the skin of your back, the light pinches and caresses as his hand kept up its toying with your breast. His other hand made its way between your legs, fingers swirling around your clit, and the coil of pleasure building inside you warned that it wouldn’t last for much longer.

“Am I fucking your pussy hard enough, love?” he asked softly, breath tickling the skin he’d left damp. “Will you let me hear you come on my cock again, baby, hm?”

Your head was spinning, hardly able to believe your ears. “Kim Seokjin. You have a filthy fucking mouth. I’ve never heard you talk like this in all the years I’ve known you.”

“You’re a bad, bad influence, love. Answer my question?”

“Yes, Seokjin,” you breathed, leaning your body back against his and surrendering to everything he was offering you. “Yes, I’m so close. Please.”

“Please what?” He pressed his lips against your skin and you could feel the spread of his smile there. You lifted a hand, cupping the side of his face.

“Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he whispered. “I won’t.”

And true to his word, he didn’t. Your eyes rolled back as Seokjin’s vigor renewed, his cock pounding into the perfect spot inside you again and again and again, his thighs hitting your ass with enough force that your breasts shook each time he buried himself inside you, his greedy fingers rolling back and forth across your swollen clit, calling every ounce of your pleasure to him. It was all too much, the edge of release taunting you from a breath away.

Seokjin made a sudden half-groan, half-cry and your eyes fluttered open at the sound.

“Fffffuuuu,” he hissed, letting the curse trail off as his hips made you quiver. “Your pussy is squeezing me so tight. I..I…”

The guttural sound of his pleasure cresting, raw and vulnerable, was what finally sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed into you, shockwaves rippling through your entire body. Seokjin clung to you, hips jerkily thrusting his cock inside you as you squeezed down and milked every drop of seed he filled you with. Your hands went to meet his, gripping him just as close as you rode through your satisfaction together.

You’d never felt so full in your life. Even with him still buried to the hilt inside you, you could already feel hot cum leaking from around his cock, your womb overflowing. Seokjin held you for a few minutes as your breathing slowed, kissing your neck, your chin, your cheek. When you finally slid yourself from his grasp, your exhausted body leaned forward and collapsed ungracefully onto the bed. You felt all used up in the best way possible.

“Shit,” you heard him mutter from behind you. You glanced back to see him staring down at your ass, likely mesmerized by the mess he’d left there. You lifted yourself onto your knees and used the last of your energy to wave your rear end teasingly for him, hoping he could enjoy the show.

“I want to burn this image into my brain,” he said, swallowing hard, the knot in his throat jumping. “It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life “

You glanced back at him, biting into your bottom lip suggestively. “So take a picture.”

He blinked. “W..what?”

“Go on. I want you to look at it later and think about me.”

“I…” he didn’t continue, mouth hanging open instead.

“No plans, remember? Go on,” you encouraged. Seokjin was off his bed a moment later, grabbing his phone from his nightstand and angling it toward your ass. You turned away, not necessarily wanting your face in the picture, but if he minded that part he didn’t say anything.

You heard his phone land somewhere on the bed with a soft puff a few seconds later, his arm suddenly sliding underneath your body.

“Come here, love.”

He helped you up onto your feet and pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight hug. Respectfully, neither of you had anything to say about the inconceivable amount of semen currently dripping down your thighs and leaving tiny drops on the floor at your feet. You nuzzled your face into his chest, content to be in his arms again.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I do,” you said with a confident giggle.

He put his fingers to your chin and tipped your head up, kissing your lips this time with a deep satisfaction, as though he’d finally accepted he’d left you well pleased.

“I could probably fuck you again in five minutes if we keep this up,” he said after finally leaning away from your lips. “But I’m also tired as hell.”

Oh yeah. That was what you were supposed to be doing right now, getting some rest. Your own exhaustion hit you then, reminding you that even mind-blowingly good sex couldn’t make it go away.

“You’re about to pass out. Let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep, love.”

You tilted your head. “You could tell?”

He tapped your nose lovingly with the tip of his finger. “I’ve known you since you were two. I’d be ashamed if I couldn’t. You’re about to fall over on your feet. Come on.”

After a quick shower in his en suite involving a healthy amount of sweet kisses and Seokjin palming your ass like he never wanted to let go, you were spent. Truthfully, you could’ve fallen asleep on him, standing there soaped up under the spray of the warm water. He’d gone out to change his sheets while you toweled yourself off, and while part of you wanted to do some kind of mental recap of the night’s events, the majority of you just wanted to find the sleep you’d been searching for before all this had begun.

You walked out of his bathroom to find him throwing a fresh blanket over the bed. His eyes flicked to you as he noticed your movement, lips lifting in a half-smile as he brazenly admired your naked body.

“So, can I still sleep in your bed?” you asked, your voice husky with your fatigue.

Seokjin’s smile turned warmer, spreading across his beautiful face. He crossed the room and lifted you into his arms just as he had before, carrying you to his bed and laying you down in his sheets. Only this time he climbed in next to you, pulling you into his arms. He reached up and turned out the lamp on his nightstand before burying his face in your hair.

“I forgot how exhausted I was,” he said with a sigh, heavy with contentment.

Reaching up for him in the dark, you slid a finger across the plush of his lips. “Even tired, you still have such a dirty mouth when you fuck.”

“Y…Y/N…”

“Sweet dreams,” you said with a quiet giggle, settling into his arms and let yourself drift away surrounded by the scent, the warmth, the feel of Seokjin.

You rose from sleep on wings of pleasure.

Seokjin’s body was curled against yours, warmth radiating from bare skin to skin. You felt his breath at your neck, felt his stiff cock pressing against the curve of your back. And most importantly, you felt one of his greedy hands kneading the soft flesh of your thighs while his other arm was wrapped underneath your body, hand cupped beneath one of your breasts making gentle squeezes. You felt him between your legs, not quite grazing your sweet spot, but close enough to ignite the beginnings of wetness he had been coaxing while you’d been slowly waking from sleep.

“Nn…Seokjin?”

“Good morning, beautiful,” he purred into your ear, and if you had only been a little wet before, the sound of Seokjin’s morning voice full of gravel and desire had just taken you the rest of the way. You arched your ass back against him, savoring the rumbling groan he made in response to the contact.

“Good morning yourself.”

He pressed a kiss into your neck, grinding his cock against you, and his hand squeezed at your thigh again. It felt good to wake up in Seokjin’s arms like this, to have his attention so fully, to know he was this attracted to you. But no amount of teasing morning dry-humping could’ve prepared you for his next direct request.

“Can I eat your pussy, love?

You froze, unused to having someone ask the question rather than either avoiding the act entirely or diving in as they pleased. Although, considering what he’d said about his past experiences…

“Has…has someone told you no before?”

“No, I just didn’t want to assume that you…” He trailed off and you felt his face dip a little lower into the crook of your neck. “I wanted to wait until you were awake,” he mumbled.

You barely managed to stifle a giggle. “We had sex half of last night. You really think I wouldn’t consent?”

“You could change your mind,” he said, the pout in his voice vibrating close against your skin. “I wanted to be sure.”

You turned over in his arms. Backlit by the orange and yellow beginnings of sunlight peeking in through his blinds, the sight of Seokjin this close threatened to take your breath away. His dark hair was still roughly tousled from the night and an interesting mix of sleepiness, arousal, and embarrassment hung in his eyes as she stared down at you. You let loose a half laugh before pressing your mouth to his in what you hoped was a confidence-inspiring kiss.

“Yes, Seokjin,” you whispered against his lips. “I’d love it if you ate my pussy.“

He didn’t waste any time, face lighting up at your permission. A quick kiss to your lips was followed with another to your neck, your collarbone, traveling slowly down your body until you felt his warm breath on your slit. You were already aching for him as his hands gripped each of your thighs, careful not to touch your injury as he spread them apart and gently kneaded with his fingertips.

“So pretty,” you felt, more than heard him say, the vibrations of his deep voice at the apex of your thighs. Looking down and watching him between your legs, Seokjin’s handsome face staring at your core with such reverence, you felt more aroused than you had in your life, tempered by a bashfulness you hadn’t felt in years. Only he could do that to you, make you feel like someone so sacred over something so erotic.

He first met your lower lips much like he would your upper ones, a gentle kiss against your folds that sent a satisfying shiver up your spine. Soft kisses turned to slow, teasing licks, gentle grazes with his tongue that coaxed quiet sighs out of you. Your body relaxed into the sheets, the tension in your muscles evaporating as Seokjin somehow used his mouth as a painter would, turning you into a masterpiece all his own. This felt so new somehow. Something that was usually so hard and fast, that others wanted to get out of the way. Not Seokjin. Not patient, meticulous, giving Seokjin.

When his pillow-soft lips finally landed on your clit, you whimpered in pleasure, your fingers reaching out and sliding into his hair. But there was nothing hurried in it, nothing taut. Only feeling, craving, only the slow, sensual build of something earthly and carnal.

Sunken so deep in the bliss he was giving you, you hadn’t registered the sound of your lustful moans until Seokjin’s fingers tightened against the flesh of your thighs. You realized only a moment before falling that he had no intention of satisfying you with anything besides his mouth. And suddenly your body bloomed with light, with heat and a pleasure like you’d never known. You lifted your hips as your orgasm vibrated through your body and Seokjin’s tongue met you through it all, lapping up your release with eagerness.

He kissed along your inner thighs as you came down, up the soft, round of your belly, lingering at your breasts before finally meeting your mouth with a long, satisfying kiss.

“Where the hell have you been hiding those pussy eating skills?” you asked in a breathless whisper when your lips finally parted.

“No skill,” he said, and you could hear that hint of smugness in his smile. “You just taste delicious, love.”

“Bullshit,” you said, but Seokjin only slid to your side and hugged you close in response, his noticeable erection pressing once more against your lower back.

After a few moments of letting the afterglow settle, you moved to get out of Seokjin’s bed. Before you choked on his cock again, which you fully intended to do, you were in desperate need of a glass of water. But his arm around your waist only tightened, holding you back. He pressed a light kiss to your shoulder.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said, words humming against your skin. “I don’t want to wake up yet.”

You raised one of your hands, laying it on top of his at your waist. “I’m just going to get a drink. What makes you so sure I won’t come back?”

“Will you?” he asked, and a breathless vulnerability hung between his words. “I mean, I want you to, but…” He huffed in frustration. “Look, I know this was only meant to be a dream, but it wasn’t just sex for me, Y/N.”

You turned over in his arms, making sure to meet his eyes as you spoke.

“You think I only dreamed about you for sex? You were in my dreams, Seokjin, not just your dick. You and your terrible jokes, and pretty smile, and brilliant brain. You, the kindest person I’ve ever known. You, my friend. I only dreamed about you so much because I never thought I’d really get to tell you just how much I like you.”

“I like you too.” His words came out rushed and you both laughed at the awkwardness.

You sighed. “I can’t believe I really spent all this time thinking you weren’t into me at all.”

“I did kiss you, you know.”

“Yeah. And then never again. I…I guess I didn’t know what to think. With Yoongi’s warning maybe I thought…I thought you didn’t like me after that or something.”

His fingers reached up, trailing along the skin of your arm in nonsense circles. “I like you,” he repeated slowly. “If you…want to try this, I’ll talk to Yoongi, so…”

You pulled his hand away from your arm, sliding your fingers between his. “We’ll talk to him. My brother’s an asshole, but not usually without good reason. Now that I know this is mutual between us, I want to know why he decided to try and keep us apart all these years.”

“Now that I get to kiss you, I don’t know if I care.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop kissing me like you’re not sure?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been hesitating, holding back.” You put your free hand to his cheek. “I’ve been kissed by you before, remember? I know what it feels like when you really mean it.”

Not one to ignore a request, Seokjin crushed his lips to yours. There was a new eagerness in his mouth this time, tenderness and need and the hint of starlight that you remembered. Your thumb stroked his cheek as he drank deep from your lips, as he finally made you believe in this kiss.

“Does this also mean I’ll get my friend back?” you said after you’d finally parted.

“Hey, what? You never lost me.”

“I kind of did,” you argued. “You buried yourself in school, I started working a hundred jobs and…I miss us. I miss late-night karaoke and video games and watching terrible movies until the sun comes up. I miss telling my bad ideas to someone who isn’t just as reckless as I am, aka Jungkook, or someone who won’t call me an idiot and walk away, aka Yoongi. I miss cooking and playing sports together. I miss…you. So much, I didn’t even realize it.”

“I miss you too. I’m sorry, Y/N. I got so focused on trying not to cross a line with you, I accidentally pushed you away.”

He pulled your fingers from the side of his face and kissed the back of your hand lightly a few times in continued apology.

“Do you have work today?” he asked.

“Later tonight, yeah,” you lamented. “You?”

“Nothing. Studying.”

“Well, I’d be happy to lie in your bed on days you study,” you offered to lighten the mood. “I’ll only distract you about fifty percent of the time. Maybe give you a little stress relief.”

His other hand gripped your ass, giving your cheek a healthy squeeze. “I’d better keep studying at the library, and you’ll be at the race track most days anyway. But I’d be happy to have you ass up on my bed on nights when you’re free. And…maybe a date here and there?”

“Is that you asking me out?”

He gave you a blushing nod. “If you want to see where this goes.”

You responded with a tight hug. “Of course I do.”

“And I want to hear about all your dreams,” he said shyly. “Learn everything you like.”

Your mouth was at his again and there was no more hesitation in his kisses, finally fully indulging in you, fully accepting that you wanted this with him.

“Is this going where I think it’s going?” he panted against your lips.

“Only if you promise the same as the kissing. You don’t have to fuck me like you think I want you to.”

The steel hardening in his dark eyes as he stared into yours sent electricity skittering across your skin.

“I wouldn’t fuck you then. I’d make love to you.”

A warmth settled in your chest at those words, unwrapping something new and exciting and yet so familiar between you both. “Do that then, Seokjin. Please.”

There was nothing left to say. Seokjin’s lips were on yours, his hands at your hips, molding your bodies into one blazing point of heat. He rolled on top of you, knees gently pressing your thighs apart, the thick tip of his cock finding your soaked entrance easily. Without ever parting your lips he was inside you in one dizzying thrust, thick, and long, and hard, and buried in you so deep you thought you might faint. Both your moans mingled with the wet of your kisses, as his cock paced slow alongside your pleasure. You slid your arms over his broad shoulders, burying your fingers in the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck while your body turned to jello beneath this man you loved so much.

Just like with his kiss, this was on a different level. You’d had plenty of sex before. Hell, you’d had sex with him just last night. This was an entirely different experience. Seokjin rocked his cock in and out of you with slow decadence, highlighting each second as its own special moment, as something to be treasured.

“Seokjin,” you found yourself whining, finally pulling yourself from his kiss, gasping for breath.

“Yes, love?” he said, voice honeyed and thick. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you breathed, not even sure what you were saying anymore. “Just you. Please.”

A growl escaped him and he buried his face into your neck. “Every time you say please to me, I lose a little more of my mind.”

“Please,” you rasped again, barely able to catch your breath, your grip in his hair feeling a little less anchoring, a little more desperate.

Seokjin’s hands slid under your hips, tilting them slightly and driving him inside you deeper, knocking against the very spot that made you cry out louder for him. The grind of him against your clit as he sped his thrusts inside you and the echo of his deep moans sent you on a spiral, chasing you toward an end you didn’t know if you could handle.

“Love,” Seokjin said in the gentlest whisper just beneath your ear.

It was your name. It was what you shared with him right now. It was the feeling you’d had for him your whole life, what you’d been missing for too long, what you craved with him more than anything. It was that single word that lit magic within you, your body trembling, Seokjin’s name tumbling from your lips as you came undone beneath him. He leaned to capture you in another kiss and swallowed your cries as you came, groaning into your mouth as he met his own release alongside you, as you clenched down tight around his cock, as he spilled inside of you and your womb swelled again with his seed.

Finally spent, he slid his body off of you and you felt the now familiar warm gush between your legs as his cock slipped from between your legs. He pulled you close, kissing your cheek gently, though you could still feel the pound of his heart against his chest as it rose and fell.

“We’re going to have to start putting a towel down or something,” you said as the mess he’d left behind started to collect again underneath your bottom. “You only have so many sheets.”

“I can buy more,” he said simply. “I want you dripping for me every time, love.”

With as much as he came, that wouldn’t be a problem.

“I never want my cum anywhere else but inside you ever again. Your pussy, beautiful. I need this pussy.”

You giggled and nuzzled your face into his neck. “There’s that filthy mouth again.”

Seokjin only chuckled in response and pulled your body closer.

After a visit to the bathroom, and borrowing a new shirt and a pair or shorts, you left Seokjin to once again clean up and headed into the kitchen to hunt down a cup of water and maybe get some coffee started.

On the upside, a pot of coffee was already brewing as you walked in. On the downside, it was Yoongi you found standing in front of the kettle.

“Sounds like it was a good night. And morning,” Yoongi said flatly.

“In spite of you, yes,” you quipped. Yoongi shrugged. Immediately your suspicion meter was rising. No smartass comment? No irritated huff? He looked almost...embarrassed?

“Oh.”

You heard Seokjin in the hall followed by a second very familiar voice muttering a quick, “Sorry.”

You turned to find a shirtless Jungkook walking alongside Seokjin toward the kitchen. You whipped your head in Yoongi’s direction, but he refused to meet your eyes.

“What the fuck?”

“I knew it’d happen sooner or later. You idiots are actually perfect for each other, you know?” You hadn’t missed that your brother was avoiding one topic in favor of the other.

“Then why’d you keep us apart all this time?”

“He was scared,” Jungkook offered. “He didn’t want to lose either one of you.”

“Shut up, Kook.” His eyes narrowed and you could see the reasoning wheels of a future psychiatrist turning behind them. “You two weren’t ready for each other yet. Y/N, you were still figuring your shit out, you barely had your own two feet under you. Jin, you’ve barely made time all throughout college to look at other people, let alone date someone. I didn’t want to be the third wheel without knowing the whole thing wouldn’t break down. I knew I had to step in after I saw you two trying to suck each other’s souls out on the roof. I figured you’d work it out when it was time.”

You and Seokjin exchanged a shy glance.

You’d probably never say it to his face, but Yoongi was right. If you and Seokjin had gotten together all those years ago, would either of you have been ready? Would you have lasted through the stress, the struggle of navigating your newly adult lives?

“Well, it looks like there’s four of us now,” Jungkook said with a smile way too cheerful for the moment. You snickered at your friend’s post-coital joyfulness, though how he’d managed to get past your brother’s defenses would have to be a long conversation later. Considering he was supposed to be at an important photoshoot all day yesterday, he’d better have a damn good explanation for how he even ended up here.

Seokjin pulled a pan from the cabinet, giving it a tiny spin in his palm.

“Breakfast?”

You leaned across the counter while Seokjin pulled another skillet from the cabinet and Yoongi started rooting through the fridge.

“So,” you said to Jungkook, leaning your face casually against your hand. “Did you take any good pictures yesterday?” you asked, barely holding back your smile as you watched the tips of Seokjin’s ears go a vibrant red out of the corner of your eye.

Taglist: @firesighgirl @yoosmekihyun @persnyako @angelsuni-ficwrecks @ikuyootori

#bts fic #kim seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #bts fanfic #seokjin fic #bts smut #dream come true #dct #writing #i have not posted anything in over 2 years #please be kind if my writing quality has dropped a lot i'm trying my best #i had a good time writing for the first time in forever so no matter what i consider this one a win #pls have a good time and stay safe

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