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badomensbaby · 2 months

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middle of the night. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem! reader

summary: you're awaken in the middle of the night by your best friend and roommate, luke, who's having quite a risque dream.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. cursing, degradation, wet dream, slight sir kink, unprotected sex, creampie, friends to lovers without the plot lol.

word count: 3,381

a/n: this only exists bc one of my friends on twt sent me a pic of luke that i can't find for some reason but all it made me think of was roommates x wet dream x well, smut. idk! i hope you enjoy!

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

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"Fuck, just like that."

It's the middle of the night when you begin to stir, a small ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable couch you and your roommate had fallen asleep on some hours ago, your eyes hesitantly and sleepily blinking open.

A soft glow of light from the television hardly illuminates the dark living room, a small yawn escaping your lips. A few incoherent mumbles continue to escape your best friend's lips, a slew of stifled moans and shifting limbs following them.

Peeking over your shoulder, you can barely make out the pale boy's features, his eyelids fluttered shut and lips slightly agape. "So good, Y-"

"Luke?" You nudge his bare arm with your elbow, feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks at the quick realization he's having a far from innocent dream. You try again, with a bit more force, despite the exhaustion coursing through you from the lack of sleep. "Luke."

"Hm?" the blonde suddenly blinks awake, slightly panicked as he sits himself up, eyes hazy and distant. "What's wrong?"

You stifle a giggle at his wild hair and confused expression, his bare chest still heaving slightly from his startled state. "Nothing's wrong," you say, "You woke me up."

"Oh," a pink hue washes over him, swallowing a thick lump forming in his throat, blinking away the images left behind from his stupid little dream about his pretty roommate. "Sorry. Fuck, what time is it?"

"Uh," you crane your neck, narrowing your eyes to catch sight of the small digital clock on the stove not far from you. "Half past three."

"Shit," Luke quietly hisses, shuffling underneath the knitted blanket covering you both, feeling a bit restricted in his jeans. With each blink of his eyes he can't stop picturing the sinful fucking sight he'd been dreaming about. "Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," You dismiss him with the wave of your hand, backside still pressed against the boy's clothed thigh, thinking nothing of the position. A small smirk however twitches at your lips. "Dreaming about Julia again?" you tease, pushing your lips to the side.

Luke shoots you a glare, clearly unamused by your attempt at a joke, though his heart skips a beat at the simple idea that you knew what type of dream was unfolding behind his eyelids. "No, Julia's annoying."

"I thought you said Rachel was annoying?" your brow quirks, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

"I said Rachel's obnoxious," he clarifies with a simple scoff, slinging his arm over the back of the couch, muscles flexing and catching your attention, "Why do you care anyway?"

Your breath hitches momentarily, affected unfamiliarly by the simple sight. You’ve seen Luke shirtless a million times - hell, you've cuddled on this very couch on more than one occasion. Platonically, of course.

You ignore the blush on your cheeks and the small frustration bubbling in your stomach from his question, "I don't," you shrug, though he isn't convinced, "I'd just rather not be woken up by your stupid wet dreams."

Luke's eyes quickly widen, lips parting in slight shock at the confrontation, though he doesn't utter a single word to defend himself. You just offer a simple soft laugh before getting up from the couch, fetching the two of you a glass of water.

When you return, Luke's jeans impossibly tighten at your attire, your crooked little tank top and sleeping shorts, unknowingly bunched at the tops of your smooth tanned thighs. Fuck.

Never had Luke looked at you, his best friend of nearly ten years in a sexual or romantic way, but the absence of a bra on your upper half and the little patch of exposed skin between the hemline of your tank top and waistline of your shorts has him on the brink of drooling.

"Hello, Earth to Luke," your hand waves in front of the boy's eyes, blinking out of his terrible, terrible thoughts to see you standing at the end of the couch, a glass of water in your palm. "You alright?"

A shaky hand reaches for the glass, nearly spilling the liquid all over his lap as he desperately brings it to his lips, chugging the contents in almost record time. Your brow raises curiously.

"You got that worked up over a dream?" You laugh softly, taking a seat beside him, legs criss-crossed while you sip on your own glass of water, no idea the effect you have on the blonde boy at this moment. "Damn, Luke, it's like you're sixteen all over again."

"Shut up," he exhales loudly, placing the now empty glass on the side table, raking a hand over his face. God, why now? Why in the hell is he having inappropriate dreams about his best fucking friend? "Drop it." Luke shoots you a stern glare, only fueling you further.

A mischievous smile appears on your lips, quickly disappearing as you compose yourself, feigning innocent curiosity. "Let me guess," you start softly, pretending to ponder, "Doggy? No, that wouldn't rile you up," you shake your head quickly, fingers tapping on the side of your glass, "Reverse cowgirl."

"Y/N." he mutters through gritted teeth, white knuckling the arm of the couch, fearful to glance at the brunette. "Stop."

"What?" you giggle quietly, "Oh come on, don't go all innocent on me now," your eyes roll playfully, "Not like I haven't heard it all before."

"I'm serious," Luke grumbles, trying to regulate his breaths but struggles, nearly full fucking mass in his jeans now. Thankfully the knitted blanket bunched in his lap prevents you from realizing how fucking turned on he is. "Cut it out."

Luke chooses the wrong moment to glance at you, just as you’re leaning towards the opposite end of the couch to place your half empty glass on the other side table, giving the blonde a perfect view of your backside. Fucking hell.

"You're no fun," you pout, turning back to him and meeting his darkened eyes, barely visible from the glow of the television. To this, your breath falters, noticing his tense demeanor. "What?"

"Go to bed." he suddenly says, not bothering to break eye contact between you two, watching as your tempting little lips part in genuine confusion. Had you pushed too far? Crossed a line?

"Luke, I was just teasing-"

Luke's eyes narrow at you, almost menacingly, enough to make you choke down your words. "Y/N, if you're not in your bed in the next thirty seconds I'm going to do something we can never come back from."

To the blonde's surprise, you stay put. Not out of fear, or worry that you’ve done something wrong, but because you’re simply curious. Folding your hands in your lap, you remain silent, awaiting the boy's reaction with nervously pursed lips.

His blue eyes flicker to those little fucking shorts, hardly covering you, and stifles a groan. "Come here," he says lowly, tongue tracing the inside of his lip. Hesitantly, you slowly crawl the short distance before sitting beside him on your knees. "God damnit, Y/N."

"What?" you ask, nearly a whisper, unaware of the effect you have on him. "Look, if I went too far I'm sorry-"

"Shut up."

"Luke-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N," Luke sighs frustratedly, tearing his eyes from yours, "Do you not get it?"

"Get what?" your fingers anxiously tap on the tops of your thighs, biting the inside of your cheek, filled with worry.

"My dream wasn't about Julia or fucking Rachel," he scoffs, turning to face you again, his adam's apple bobbing slowly, "It was about you."

Your breath hitches. Are you still half asleep? Did Luke really say-

"Me?" you whisper before quickly shaking your head, "Luke, that's not funny, okay? I don't know what game you're playing-"

Your words cease when a warm, calloused hand finds your thigh, gripping the soft skin firmly. "I'm not fucking with you," he tells you, "I don't know where the fuck it came from but those goddamn shorts of yours aren't helping right now."

Swallowing the thick lump of nerves in your throat, the words falling from your lips aren't remotely close to what Luke could have ever predicted. "So do something about it."

"Oh fuck me," a low groan leaves Luke's throat, tossing his head back momentarily, "Don't have to tell me twice."

And suddenly Luke's hand is on the back of your head, pulling you toward him forcefully to claim your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. You instantly melt into him, the taste of popcorn still lingering on his chapped lips from the bowl you’d shared hours ago.

Luke doesn't hesitate to swipe his tongue along your lower lip, pushing your kiss deeper as you brace yourself by grasping at his shoulder, a soft moan escaping your lips, which Luke is eager to swallow.

The blonde's unoccupied hand finds your hip easily, thumb firmly pressing against the bone there, his remaining fingers digging into the fabric of your pathetic excuse for shorts. Your hips instinctively roll at the contact.

Luke's regretfully pulling away, both of you adorning swollen, pink lips and flushed cheeks, even in the low light of the television it was quite obvious. "Fuck, you have no idea-"

"Me too," you cut him off in a whisper, eyes flickering between his and his intoxicating lips. "Luke-"

"Fuck, what've we done?" he mumbles more so to himself, though he doesn't retract his hands and you don’t bother to tell him to. "Y/N, I'm so sorry-"

"Just shut up," you shake your head, free hand grasping at the chain looped around his bare neck and pulling him forward, claiming his lips just as he had done to yours previously. He doesn't protest when you sling a leg over his lap, thighs settled on either side of his, eliciting a deep groan from his throat.

When your lips part, his eyes hesitantly flicker between yours and your new position, your hips flush against his own. "Are you- are you sure?"

You shyly nod. A groan of disapproval leaves Luke's lips, his grip tightening on the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair, pulling you closer to him as if your chests hadn't been brushing the entire time. "Yeah, silence doesn't work for me, Y/N."

"Yes," you breathe out, clenching your thighs desperately, "Yes, I'm so fucking sure, Luke. Please-"

"Fuck," he grits out, hips bucking against your center, "So fuckin' needy for me, aren't you?" When your eyes widen at his crass words, Luke's lips twitch into a sly, crooked smirk, filled to the brim with satisfaction. He tugs the strands between his fingers again. "Aren't you?"

"Yes- fuck."

The hand not grasping your hair retreats to your upper thigh, thumb resting in the crease there, fingernails digging into your soft skin and forcing his clothed length against your sensitive center. "Feel that, sweetheart?" Luke's tone lowers, fighting the urge to moan at the feeling alone, as he breaths low and slow against your lips, taunting you, "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

"Please," you helplessly whimper in response, eyelids tempting to flutter shut at the simple feeling, Luke's cock twitching in the confinement of his jeans at your sinful little plea. Never in his life had he imagined a scenario with you like this becoming a reality.

Luke quickly taps your thigh so you’ll raise yourself, allowing him to kick off the thin knitted blanket on his lap, exposing the outline of his achingly hard length in his fitted jeans, the blonde's jaw tensed so hard his teeth begin to ache. He can't fucking begin to imagine how good you’re going to feel wrapped around him.

His ringed fingers fumble with the button and fly of his dark jeans, too fucking anxious to finally set his cock free. He leaves them pooled around his knees carelessly, his fitted black boxers following suit. A soft hiss leaves Luke's lips at the release. You, however, are at a loss for words.

Sure, your mutual friends have always joked about Luke's dick- but never did you fucking imagine there being a lick of truth to their absurd statements.

"You-" you breathlessly choke out, unable to look away from his length, eyes widened and suddenly feeling a stir in your stomach. "There's no fucking way, Luke-"

"What, am I too big for you?" Luke teases in a low tone, a sickening little smirk on his lips, head cocked to the side. "You don't think you can handle it?"

As you’re shaking your head and finally tearing your eyes away, you meet his gaze, hesitant. "I- I don't know-"

He lets out a low, sinister chuckle before his hands are on your hips again, pulling your clothed center flush with his exposed length, ghosting his lips against yours. "Too fuckin' bad, sweetheart, you're gonna take it and I don't wanna hear a single fucking complaint."

A low, drawn out whimper escapes your poor lips, swallowing your nerves while Luke continues to jut his hips. "Yes, sir." the words fall from your mouth before you can even process them.

"Ah, what a good girl, hm?" the boy hums against your lips, "Gonna fuck you so good, Y/N, I promise."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, sir."

"Goddamn," he pulls away slightly, so fucking hard he's nearly on the brink of orgasm from the simple word alone, ringed fingers retracting from your hip to the thin, stretchy material of your shorts, sliding between your thigh and the fabric until his forefinger finds the dampened material of your underwear. "You want me that fucking bad? Hm? Had to go and get this fucking wet for me?"

"Luke-"

"Fucking pathetic," he scoffs, sending a shock straight to your spine as he slowly teases his finger against you, pressing firmly against your clit like some fucking expert. "Can't wait to watch you sink down on my cock."

You’re already a fucking mess and he's barely touched you, fingers grasping at the thin underwear and sliding them to the side, Luke's free hand preparing himself and pressing his tip against you. "So fuckin' wet, don't need nothin' else."

You suck in a deep, loud breath as Luke begins to push inside, giving you no mercy as his hands find your hips yet again and force you down his entire length, your hands grasping desperately onto his broad shoulders. "Fuck-" you croak out, eyes pinching shut at the sudden stretch. "Oh my-"

"S'okay baby," he coos softly, thumbs pressing firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving bruises there you'll find in the morning. Well, later in the morning, that is. "M'gonna take good care of you."

Your fingernails absentmindedly dig into his pale, freckled skin, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes. You’d never felt so- so full.

"Please, Luke-" your throat suddenly runs dry, eyes flying open as he uses the grip on your hips to pull your body upwards, forcing your back down onto his length roughly. "Fuck-"

"Quiet," he interjects curtly, "Want you to take my fucking cock the way I give it to you. Cry all you want, sweet girl."

The pain of the stretch doesn't last long, thankfully, though each rough thrust of Luke's hips has your vision blurring, the sound of his thighs smacking against the back of yours bouncing off the walls of your quiet shared apartment.

You adjust to the blonde's deep, rough rhythm, the fabric of your flimsy little tank top settling just below your breasts, catching Luke's eye. Managing to continue his pace, his teeth capturing the metallic black lip ring tucked in the corner of his mouth, one of his hands slides the fabric further until they're both exposed to him.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts softly, wetting his bottom lip due to the tempting fucking sight of you sinking down on his cock like the good fucking girl you are. He cups one of them, a whimper leaving your mouth amidst mumbled curses. "You feel so fucking good on my cock."

"Luke-"

"Say it, Y/N. Fucking say it."

"Sir, please-"

"Fuck," he grits his teeth for the millionth time, the word never growing old as it reaches his ears, before he's suddenly halting, pressing his hips firmly against you until you’re nearly out of breath. So goddamn deep.

It takes less than a second before he's pushing you onto your back, still connected and instead of grasping your hips his hands find your knees, pressing your thighs flush against your chest.

Luke sucks in a quick breath, standing on his knees as his jeans are still pooled around them, restricting him slightly but he simply doesn't give a fuck right now. Slowly retracting his cock, he keeps his eyes on your pretty little lips as he pushes his hips forward suddenly, hitting an entirely new spot and causing a borderline scream to leave your mouth.

"Fuck-" you gasps, lips parting and resting a hand on your bare breast to ground yourself, thighs already shuddering from one fucking thrust. This only heightens the blonde's satisfaction, ignoring the small beads of sweat that begin to accumulate on his forehead. "Oh my fucking god-"

"Fuckin' told you," Luke grunts, a white knuckle grip on your knees, preventing any pushback you attempted to give as your thighs shake beneath his hold, "Told you I'd fuckin' ruin you, didn't I?"

"Y-yes-"

"That feel good, sweetheart?" he rasps, throat nearly raw from the groans and moans he continues to stifle, "Feelin' me so goddamn deep inside of you?"

"Luke, please- so- so deep-"

"Yeah, baby," instead of gripping both of your knees, Luke decides to rest his forearm against them to keep you in place, snaking his free hand between your thighs, attaching his thumb to your sensitive clit, a desperate little whimper leaving you. "You're doin' such a good job, takin' me so well."

You instinctively clench around him, causing a hiss to leave his lips, eyelids falling shut at the overstimulation. "I'm- oh fuck-"

"That's it," he responds lowly, not slowing down his harsh, deep thrusts, rendering you nearly breathless. "Come on, fuckin' cum all over my cock."

"Sir- I-"

"Fuck," Luke grunts, continuing his quick firm movements against your swollen, sensitive clit, as you clench harder and harder around his cock. "Good fucking God, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

"Please, please cum with me-" you ramble helplessly, eyes flying open and meeting Luke's darkened blues, his breaths growing ragged and chest so fucking tight from the sight of desperation on your face. "Please."

Luke's thrusts grow sloppily, orgasm building quickly in his stomach, lower lip tucked between his teeth. One last particularly deep thrust, hitting that goddamn special little spot has you gasping for breath. Feeling your release coat his length, he finally lets go, hips stuttering to a slow pace, eventually stopping all together.

Both of you adorn heaving chests as the sound of your breaths echo the living room, both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Y/N-"

"Holy shit, Hemmings," You manage to choke out, every goddamn inch of your body now sore, choking back a whimper as the blonde slowly slips out of you. "I didn't- fuck."

"Didn't what?" Luke asks, just as breathless, knees reddened from the friction against the sofa, tugging his boxers up his thighs and tucking himself inside of them. "Are you okay?"

"There's no goddamn way we can ever be friends," You slowly slink your knees down, feet flat on the couch's cushion. Luke's lips pull into a frown at your words, about to interject before a little laugh escapes you. "Not if you fuck like that."

Luke playfully smacks your thigh, "You fuckin' scared me, Y/N, don't do that," he leans forward to hover over you, eyeing the snide little grin on your pretty lips. "Come on, if you shower with me I'll reward you for bein' so good."

Your dazed blue eyes blink slowly, watching Luke smile admiringly down at you. You both know there's no coming back from this, no way you’ll ever be just friends again.

And you don't mind one bit.

"The only way I'm showering with you is if you carry me, I'm fucking wrecked."

"I think that can be arranged."

#luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings smut #5sos smut #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos x reader #smut

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airbendertendou · 5 months

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May I please get a scenario or hc (whatever is easier for you!) of Rindo’s s/o dying their hair to match his hair color? Like they do it while he’s at work and he has no idea until he comes home. Thank you! I hope you have a good day/night!

synopsis : reader changes their hair to match their boyfie <3 characters included : mikey, ran, draken, koko & bonten!rindou

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

— MANJIRO! ♥︎ you copy his classic, half-up hairstyle ♥︎ doesn't even notice you've changed your hair ♥︎ draken says something snarky abt it like "oh, you're matching, cute." ♥︎ nd mikey goes ??? w his cheeks puffed out from a taiyaki ♥︎ but when he turns to see you ♥︎ it's like the sun shines down onto you carefully ; like angels are singing ; like he's falling in love all over again ♥︎ his head flops onto your shoulder, arms shakily bringing you closer to his hold ♥︎ mumbles something about turning you into a sano /:

— DRAKEN! ♥︎ you go for jus a simple braid, a little piece of hair tugged out ♥︎ he snorts when he sees you, rolling his eyes nd everything ♥︎ but his ears are so so red ♥︎ and hes thought abt how to tell you how pretty you look ; how you need a dragon tattoo now, too ♥︎ shoves you under his arm when you tease him abt his blush, digging his chin into the top of your head annoyingly ♥︎ tugs on that little strand a lot!! jus to get your attention, he swears ♥︎ but has this sort of pride in his eyes when you show your hair off at the toman meeting

— RAN! ♥︎ your hair is styled into two braided pigtails ♥︎ oh hes so smug ♥︎ but also keeps an eye narrowed and focused on anyone mking inappropriate comments ♥︎ we live in a society where pigtails are sexualized ♥︎ twirls your braids the way he twirls his!! ♥︎ will also purposely mess his hair up so you have to fix it for him ): ♥︎ grins at any and all matching hair accessories he see ♥︎ talk him out of getting the giant, obvious bows please

— KOKONOI! ♥︎ can b his bonten hair or his current one! ♥︎ either way, you twist or braid a few pieces of hair to mimic his style ♥︎ hates it at first ♥︎ bc how dare you make his signature style look better than he does ):< ♥︎ ends up liking it bc now he has easy access to kiss your ear nd neck ♥︎ he goes through all the other styles you'd look nice in ; all the colors you could pull off ♥︎ something about your hair matching his... ♥︎ makes you feel more official, somehow

— RINDOU! ♥︎ bonten era ; you get the jellyfish cut! or maybe copy his colors- ♥︎ he knew abt your hair appointment but didnt think it was anything out of the ordinary ♥︎ little did he know.... ♥︎ he just stares ♥︎ like wide-eyed, heartstopping, can barely breathe stares ♥︎ stands to his full height and cups your chin, turning your head gently to get a full view ♥︎ grins w pink cheeks ): kisses the tip of your nose and just continues to stare ♥︎ "all mine......" its whispered before he takes your breath in a kiss ♥︎ He's Obsessed.

——♥︎—— im so sorry for the lack of content lately ); hope this was okay / the format was alright. if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyo revengers content, let me know! ♥︎

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @thatpoindexterpixy @night-shadowblood-writes2 @muichirouswifeandhusband @chrofeisnightmaregf

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

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thehusbandoden · 9 months

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His Everything -Soft!Aizawa x Pregnant!Reader

Mwahahaha~ I'm writing again TuT (yes yes I am quite dramatic.) Once again not knowing what the freak to do with the title :')

Fluff, fluff, and fluff. | 503 words | Second person | Fyi- if you ever see a change in my writing or writing/formatting style it's bc I am still trying to find my style, so it can change a lot.

Blinking open your eyes, you frowned at the darkness surrounding you, instinctively glancing at the clock. It was 2:23.. am. Grumbling, you reached over to cuddle into your husband; Shota, only to frown deeper as you felt his side of the bed not only empty, but cold.

Wrapping your comforter around you, you waddled out of your shared bedroom, hand resting on your buldging belly. Walking towards your livingroom, you sighed as you regognized the dim light of your livingroom lamp. Shota was working late. Again.

"Shota~ how many times do I have to tell you to give yourself a break and sleep?" You pout, crawling onto the loveseat next to your husband of three years.

"I'm almost done Kitty." Shota murmurred, eyes glued to the several papers he was working on.

"What is it this time?" You yawn, crawling into Shota's lap, wary of your precious bump.

"Nothing nothing- I'm just looking over safety precautions that they're putting in place to help protect the students, and they're papers for internships. Oh and grading some school work. I'll be done in about an hour or so."

"Okay.. so why do you have to do that now?"

"Because between teaching, training, extra training, and caring for you and our baby- I don't have time in the day, Love."

"Okay.. how can I help?" You ask, smiling up at your beloved Shota.

"Kitten, you don't have to. You're eight months pregnant, you need your rest, just get back to bed." Shota smiled, leaning down to peck your lips before going back to his work.

"But I'm not even tired! Please~."

"I don't know.."

"The sooner you get done and cuddle me~ the better sleep I get~!" You grin, causing Shota to smile down at you.

"Fine." Shota sighed, a soft smile on his lips.

You just giggled before turning around, facing the coffee table, excited to finally be able to help Shota, just how he's helped you since your first day middle school.

~The next day~

Humming, you smiled as Shota held you against his chest, whispering words of affection and encouragment.

"I love you Kitty." He smiled, kissing the shell of your ear softly.

"And we love you too." You smile, causing him to chuckle and rub your belly lovingly.

"You know.. I hope that he's like you." Shota whispered, kissing your forehead.

"Well I hope he's like you."

"I said it first, Kitty~." Shota teased, moving to leave kisses to your belly.

"Yeah- well-"

Shota silenced you with a kiss to your lips, completely grabbing your attention.

"Shhh it's okay, Love. Just go back to sleep, I'll be back some time this evening."

"Okay." You pout, leaving another few pecks onto Shota's smiling lips.

Shota just chuckled before kissing your belly and lips once more. "See you tonight my love. I love you."

"Love ya too." You smile, gaze soft as Shota made his way out of your bedroom, mind already moving onto work as he regretfully left his everything safely tucked away.

Like this: Comfort

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braemjeorn · 2 months

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CHAPTER XV [masterlist]

pairing: bang chan x ofc

genre/notes: general audience; angst; regency period drama; family fluff; domesticity; ocassional angst; slowburn; governess!oc; nobility!BC; age differences; age changes

wordcount: 3.1k

summary: solem mullings in between old company

also available in ao3, if you prefer that format

⚠️ All characters that shares the name of real life person in this story are represented in a fictional manner for entertainment purpose, and not to be alluded with real life.

TAGLIST: @spookykryptoniteperson @nixtape-foryou @do-you-know-what-else-is-big

“Are you well, Miss Son?”

Mari turned, finding one of the boys trailing behind her at the terrace’s stairs. “Yes, Jisung?”

“You look awful grey these two days. You don’t play with us as much,” the boy said. The declaration rather perplexed her, but then the sheepish guilt rose at the truth of it.

It was only time before one of the boys took notice. It happened to be observant, little Jisung—but then his brothers were distracted with the newly installed sundial down in the garden. Mari had often relented the boys to the cares of their uncle or their father recently, stepping back from their plays and walks to the terrace, or a bench. The detachment from their party was intentional, that they might adjust to her shirking presence in exchange for Lady Jang’s. Yet as she spent the hours quietly beside the boy’s loud excitement and the sunny day, her thrumming mind and yearning heart began to wonder if it was the right course after all.

“My thoughts are like tangled yarns, like that day you came to me to the drawing room,” Mari confessed to the lad, keeping it as simple as she could. “And it makes me a dreary being—I fear making a miserable company between your games.”

Jisung frowned, head tilting as he contemplated. “I thought they would not be so burdensome when you’re older.”

Mari smiled. “Truthfully, perhaps you’d encounter them much more frequently as an adult; and however much you've encountered it, there are times when they will make you feel helpless.”

Jisung hummed. He climbed up the stairs to settle himself to sit beside her. “It looks like a burden,” he mused.

“At times you feel very grey, yes.”

“Can I do anything to help? Well, I might ask the others for help too…”

There was much comfort she had from his words, and Mari grasped his shoulder warmly.

“You are very kind already in coming to ask me about my state. Although—” Mari hesitates, but continues with the plans she had been arranging. “It is not for help, but… I would like to ask some permission from you and your brothers?”

There was an excited cry from the group beyond them. Jisung nodded, his attention settled upon her.

“If I return to the old school—for a few days only, perhaps until Monday—will you let me? And put my mind at ease by being good with your father?”

Jisung frowned, gaze lowered to their shoes in thought. Then he spoke again with a tint of whine, “But why are you going?”

“Well—it might clear my mind, and ease my burdens. That I might teach you better on Monday.”

“And you have to go to do that? A walk won’t do?” Jisung looked up.

“I’m afraid so.”

“But you’ll be back?”

“How can I not?” Mari smiled. “I have to read what poem you’ll write tomorrow.”

Jisung nodded, “All right. I say you may go.”

He grinned and Mari .annot help but kiss his brows in gratitude.

“Shall I tell my brothers as well?”

“Not now,” Mari said. “I’ll tell them myself, the same way I ask you.”

His brothers were more reluctant to let her go, even with her reasons and assurances. Jisung was quiet next to Yongbok, both watching as the others hovered about Mari while she packed her things.

Jisung nodded, then settled closer to her, resting his head upon her shoulder. She couldn’t help but think of the same way he attaches himself to his father in the evenings as they listen to stories.

“Did we upset you?” the oldest cried.

“Not in the least, Minho. No.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Jeongin pried next.

“Nothing. It is not because of any of you, Jeongin—that I swear. It is my mind, it is rather… wearied.” Seven pairs of eyes fixed on her, wide or frowning in concern. Mari strained a smile through her face, “But I assure you, I will find some relief in my old company, and thus I will be able to return with clearer sight and lighter burden. I promise.”

Mari felt guilty giving this news abruptly, tinting the boys with great worry and confusion. But it would only be for a few days, so fast that they wouldn’t even feel it.

“You’ve promised then,” Jeongin settled, even if a little sullenly.

“That I have,” Mari decided. “Won’t you boys like a little holiday?”

“I suppose,” Hyunjin hummed.

Minho was still perturbed—far more than he had been, for his hand dragged over his mussed hair and his scrunched eyes. Changbin’s stare delivered that he thought the eldest was mad.

“But what will become of us without you!?” Minho bemoaned.

“Minho, it is not the end of the world,” Mari reasoned gently, prying his hands away from his face. “You’ve managed quite well without me before, and even longer before that.”

She supposed that only his recollection of his being the eldest—and the necessity to keep his composure and senses—stopped him from bemoaning even further of his worries. At that moment, a new figure approached–all fine and flowy blue silk gown, defined curls, and a basket in hand. The boys fell into a hush, and Lady Jang asked them to excuse her with Miss Son for a moment. The boys exited the room, the elders taking the younger ones’ hands. Mari turned to her clothes, and as the hum of the boys’ footsteps receded away, the rustle of Baroness Jang’s skirt was stark in the room’s silence.

“Miss Son, you’ve left your sewing basket on the terrace. Quite the precarious place.”

“Oh,” Mari turned, now recognizing the basket gently settled over her covers. The boys had been quite rushed inside for lunch, she had forgotten. She peered inside, gently touching the scissors and embroidered fabric. “I thank you, Lady Jang.”

The lady gave a dismissive hum and moved to a more open part of her room near the desk.

“Miss Son—”

“Lady Jang, I think I have the answer already,” Mari cut. She felt awkward in abruptly speaking over the baroness but pursued on with the questioning look the lady gave her. “Forgive me for making you wait for so long only for me to say that I cannot accept your proposal.”

“Oh. I see,” Lady Jang hummed, then her frown turned troubled, “How unfortunate.” She slowly walked towards the window, deep in her thoughts.

“I cannot stay longer than my predetermined time,” Mari said, if only to fill the lengthy silence.

“Yes,” Lady Jang said absently. “It will be difficult, for the children are quite fond of you—it will be very hard for them to be parted from you, and for yourself as well I imagine.”

“I have my commitments…”

“And the Commodore too.” Lady Jang’s musing eyes turned to Mari’s sharply. The poor governess - harried as she was in the moment - could not make out the meaning in those glinting gazes and easy mouth.

“He regards you highly, with a great deal of respect I could never imagine bestowed for a governess.” Lady Jang moved to the side of the window, which let light illuminate the side of her face. Her gaze considered Mari and then came a little amused quirk of her lips.

“He is fond of you. That is all I could imagine with the way he speaks of you.”

A lump bloomed in Mari’s throat, spreading to fill her chest. Mari sighed to relieve the tears she would not let the baroness see on her face. She hated it, that she might be seen in a vulnerable state, and be triumphed over. Lady Jang stood tall, elegant and poised as ever. The perfect consort to a seafaring man—the victor. Mari’s hands clenched up into a fist, and she took a deep breath.

“I am only a governess,” she said. “There will be others better and worse than me. I only hope that the boys may have one that is capable of bringing lessons and strength for them to grow in.”

The boys understood that they could not wheedle out more reasoning from her nor change her mind, and let her have her way while holding the promise firmly as if against her. The Commodore eased her away from their pestering—aware of her departure before they did, and again asked Minatozaki-san to supply her with goods from the pantry or the dairy, and called for his carriage for her use. Mari bade her goodbyes to the guests and held the boys’ hands as they waited on the stairs. They slipped lavenders and daffodils in her hands this time. Commodore Bang stood before the carriage, waiting while she talked to Seungmin. Then Mari turned, waving her hands and slowly descending the stairs. She looked up, finding her employer waiting for her with a small smile. His garbs were dark for the day, but his presence was as comforting as ever. Mari felt pleasure when his hand took her gloved one, guiding her inside the carriage. The door was shut, but he stayed near, hands upon the open window.

She would not stay under the woman’s household and bear her scrutiny. Even if it meant relinquishing any contact with her boys.

“If you do not wish to return, you only need to say it,” he said. He had leant close to her, and his words were quiet, only for their own company. “I shall dissolve your obligations here, and arrange for your things to be sent your way.”

“You offend me, Commodore,” Mari replied, surprised at her revived boldness in teasing him. “I have more respect for my commitment than you assumed. Nor could I hurt the boys any more than I have.”

“You, hurting the boys?”

Mari turned towards his broods, waiting upon the stairs. The day was not so bright, and a gloom settled over the house’s red shade. But she gave them one last smile and raised her hand in a wave.

“They shall have to be used on not having my company. I shall be gone forever one day,” Mari hummed. “But that doesn't mean I shall not cherish them during the few days I have.”

The Commodore made no reply, gazing morosely at her. He rather looked like Minho that way, and Mari’s heart thumped with a pang. Her hand neared his, and before she was conscious of any better–as if they moved together—their hands melded again in a warm grasp. A sharp current ran through her skin—but Mari felt relief too, to be in his genial acknowledgement again, his good, steady presence.

“On Monday, then, Commodore,” Mari whispered.

Commodore Bang smiled, as if he found the stability as well. The sombreness in his eyes reflected those of his children, but his smile was like a glow of sun on that grey day. There was a little crack in her heart at the sight, spilling a wonder if she might like to see his face every day forever.

Mrs Ahn received her with some surprise; her eyes doubtful at Mari’s reasoning—that she had returned to hear Mr Park’s sermons, and the Bangs had been so kind as to give her leave. That gaze did not diminish. Her daughter noticed too, yet took matters in an entirely different direction. She clasped Mari warmly while telling her how pleasant a surprise it was. In such a manner—although Mari caught the doubt in her eyes as well—the welcome was warm, and questions were set aside. In return, Mari listened to all the news Inha wished to tell and was comforted in how easily they settled back into old habits of lazing around each other’s bed and conversing.

“Take care, Miss Son,” he said softly. Commodore released her hand and called for the carriage to drive on. Mari jerked at the movement, looked back, and saw that he stood where he was, watching on, until the carriage turned away from the front park and the house disappeared out of sight.

Inha had frequented the town, for the company of Mr Noh—a tradesman, a nephew of some sort to one of their gentry neighbour. Curious of the man whom Inha had so well favoured, she was satisfied in his presence for dinner that Saturday evening, making a pleasant table of six. His black hair was full and his brown eyes warm and kind; generous and affable to all at the table, with a steady maturity that tempered Inha’s excitement, but a softness which pleased her attention. Mr Goo was his uncle, a landlord of the same parish. Mari shared some amusement with Junhee that the old gentleman had found great pleasure to be in the company of Mrs Ahn. Not that they would disclose it to the other two ladies.

It was how Mari passed Saturday and Sunday, playing chaperone to the new lovers at home. They would talk over one another while she sewed, only speaking when she liked or more often when persuaded to. The evenings were quieter, and at the same time increased her melancholy. By then, Mari had lacked the desire to pursue her embroidery, and her gaze would trail away upon the moonlit garden. The whirls of her worries occupied her, that she had not heard when Junhe and Inha agreed to retire and now she found Mrs Ahn settling down beside her.

“I cannot help but think, my child, how little spirit you seem to have,” the old matron said, startling Mari, even in the gentle way she settled into the chair beside her. “Much as I am glad to find you here.”

Mari was in proper, good humour, with gentle smiles towards the company around her. But Mrs Ahn's familiar eyes noticed, how there was little light in her pleasantries, and how when she thought nobody else was watching her gaze trailed out the window to the garden, lost in her mind while fixated on the lush green fields or the simple—almost miserable—hydrangeas; and her hands, idle over the embroidery hoop, clasped and unclasped, or a finger traced over one palm absently, as if in a search. She didn’t even seem to hunger for walks in the afternoon the way she would.

It was so she had found the young governess that evening, who abruptly realised that she had set herself in a situation she could not remove herself from, contemplating far too long after Inha and Junhee bid themselves away to retire. Now Mari would have to answer her—but what came out of her surprised Mrs Ahn considerably.

“I should never be a governess again,” she started quietly.

“Whyever so?”

“I do not think my heart’s inclination to attachment would be pleased to suffer another separation.”

Mari, who had been so eager to venture out into the governess’ shoes. Out of all the obstacles she had expected would hinder the girl from trying again, this was the least of her imagination. But she chose not to point it out and asked about another subject. “But isn’t separation a common part of life?”

Mari fell silent. She would like to answer, but at the moment only a weak agreement seemed possible for her to say, so she refrained from it thoroughly.

“Attachments need not be severed by distance,” Mrs Ahn said at length. “I kept correspondence with a few of my previous pupils, even until now.”

“I’m not sure if I will have that privilege.”

“You were not unhappy in the house?”

“No,” Mari exclaimed, starting herself to sit straighter. “Not at all. I found no other place where I was so alive and content that I laughed so often and freely—gaily, in earnest happiness.

“But then perhaps it is the feeling of purpose, of being needed, important to the boys which had taken to coddle me. I never had any more than three hours of rest in my waking hours before one of them would look for my attention, and after him came another or two… My desire for fulfilment was thoroughly satisfied.” A small smile crept on her face. “But I cannot linger, they will have to do without me and adjust to another presence. Cruel as that may be. As for myself, I had seen so little of the world; in comparison to the Commodore, who’s travelled seas and lands beyond. He would have been able to decide easily where he would let his heart find his final anchor. Unlike me, who might need to discover other opportunities for my skills.”

“I suppose it is so,” Mrs Ahn hummed. “By being a governess, you have tried the extent of your contentment.”

“As such I am resolved. My wish is to work here with you, in O—.”

“You are resolved?” Mrs Ahn had her apprehensions of Mari settling into such a decision, all for the young girl to turn at her with a smile.

“I thought that if I were to enter another house, I would not be able to help myself in comparing the children to Commodore Bang’s boys. I’m not as brisque and practical as you are, Mrs Ahn—much as I’d like to be. My affections get the better of my decisions. You must make me a good headmistress instead,” Mari smiled. She sighed and found herself inclined towards the old widow’s lap, in the same manner she might have done at thirteen, then wearied by arithmetics. “I must be prepared for the role I wish to achieve—to care for the school after you—now that Inha’s found her love.”

“And if your love came?”

“I am three and twenty,” Mari mused. “What luck should it be if I could—but that’s like finding a four-leaf clover.”

“Mari, you must be happy,” Mrs Ahn insisted. “I cannot help but feel like you are settling yourself into an everlasting gloom. No—do not reply to me, listen well. You were entrusted to my care thirteen years ago, and I’ve acted as your mother since. I want you to live your life in the world as well as you ought, and satisfy all your curiosities and yearning. As so I wish you would not just settle so to this own school. If you are to teach in another school, and another place, I would be glad of it for you. If you decide that you might live into another profession, if you are suddenly sick of teaching, you have my good wishes to do so. And if, like Inha, you are to find your happiness, you must not think of me, but happily fly into that path to that someone waiting for you. Promise me.”

Mari’s thought wandered again to Commodore Bang’s smiling eyes and the warmth of his hand. Her heart wanted and yet her mind knew that she could not—to entertain another possibility does not sit well in her, and the thought that she might have to, that she must, to be satisfied and to find care as a dependent, fills her instead with hollowness. Her answer came quiet like she was obliging to a hardy, prophesied labour, “Aye, I promise.”

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neetols · 8 months

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Hi Neetols! Would you ever consider expanding to reddit, tiktok, or threads? I know the first two are kind of a mess especially in the gaming and anime communities, but a lot of people are always pleasantly surprised when I mention your work (not reposting just linking to it in gc), but a lot of people on those apps really dislike or are leaving twitter bc of musk and feel tumblr is too old / niche

I know that’s more their own thing but still I wanted to ask bc your art style is really cool and amazing and your storytelling is incredible and so (this may be weird or selfish to say) I’d like to gush over your arts and comics on more places since twitter has blocked off viewing profiles without an account, again I do know lots of content creators don’t want to go to tt and reddit bc of the reputation and completely understand if you’re not interested in those apps or would rather not I just wanted to know if there was a chance or consideration

Thank you for sharing all of your arts comics and stories, they make my day

hi and thanks so much! i have threads and instagram (both r.neetols) tho I barely use the former. i'm not sure about tiktok tbh since ive heard a lot of bad things from artist friends regarding the community there, so i've never considered it. i stay on twitter since that's where i get most of my clients + networking. if I'm ever interested in video format since i'm making a long xv comic rn maybe i'll try tiktok but again very slight chance.

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atxxzist · 1 year

Text

broken | c.s (04)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 9.5k

warning: smut! (read at ur own risk)

a/n: have to repost this completely bc the tags would not work on the first post no matter what. if formatting is messed up its bc i lit just copy pasted

you have told yunho that there is no way you're going to waddle into yeosang's presence and beg for his help like a peasant, just because you got a sixty-eight percent on your first exam. that's almost a passing grade.

that you'll just study more and hopefully score better on the next one--or, like any other college students, look it up online for extra help. but he was immensely against it, saying you are not financially secure at the moment to be giving away twenty dollars a month for some subscription.

which, if you're to be honest, you'd rather be living on ramen noodles and water for an entire month to make up for the extra cash than to humiliate yourself like that in front of yeosang.

but yunho being the good boy he always is--genuinely and truly caring for you, he had asked him against your wishes, and to say you were surprised when yunho had told you he said yes, is an understatement.

"i feel pathetic," you voice upon seeing the cafe from a distance.

that's if anything can even be more pathetic than the score you got despite studying days and nights.

maybe if your professor isn't so busy with the other group of students fighting for their grades; his office hours all filled up, you wouldn't be in the current predicament.

"you're overreacting. he's happy to help," yunho assures.

happy to help? as in, sincerely doing this because he wants to? or because he sees it is the perfect opportunity to get under your skin again--like every other time where his words felt like bullets.

even the air of the cafe is already taunting as you both enter.

yeosang is quick to notice the new arrivals, his head shooting up from his book and eyes not landing on yunho but yours. amusement all over them as he occupies a seat far in the back.

"have fun," yunho whispers from beside you, and if he isn't as good-natured as you know him to be, you'd think he's setting you up judging by the tone.

"you're not going to walk me over there?" you snap to him, anxiety in your expression.

he returns a chuckle.

"he's just yeosang, y/n. not a disease or a rabid dog. you're a big girl, i'm sure you can do it."

you scoff and roll your eyes, keeping your gaze trained ahead.

"well, if you're going to drag me into this against my will, shouldn't--"

you turn to where he was originally but he's already gone; the cafe door clinking, only to catch him outside the glass window bidding you a goodbye with a smirk on his lips.

freaking yunho.

usually in cases like this, you embrace your naturally timid nature--whether that's turning your feet back around or acting aloof, but there's something very provoking about kang yeosang.

well, that and the fact that yunho made it blatantly known that you did not do very well, so it'll be even more embarrassing if you have tried putting on such a pretense act.

you accept your fate after all, taking a seat opposite of him that makes one of his eyebrows quirk up.

"are you really going to sit there?" he speaks up

"obviously," you answer dryly, barely able to get one of the straps of your backpack off before he snarks back.

"how am i going to help you pass the class when you're an ocean away from me."

there it is. the yeosang you know. not the one that yunho and mingi always talk so kindly about, swearing he's the offspring of saint mary.

in your head, the desired outcome would be cursing him out since you didn't even ask for any of this, so you don't have to take his shit.

but... there's a more rational part that's echoing its voice and telling you to just hold onto that patience a little longer for a friend who only wants the best for you.

you release a heavy sigh, not bothering to hide your annoyance--you can do that at least.

getting up to migrate, it takes everything in you to keep the composure when a smirk conjures up on him. must be so satisfying to see you so weak and powerless.

your phone is the first to go on the table before you sit down completely next to the window that displays the sight of many students passing by.

your eyes stay on your phone for a second too long before prying away to meet yeosang's obnoxious ones.

"you're going to have to pull up the exam so i can see what questions you missed."

you don't object or make a show, only compliantly pull out your laptop to navigate to the school's site and your classes, opening up the exam the class took online a week ago.

he squints his eyes, leaning in closer so he can get a better view.

you're frozen in the position, trying to not snap a neck or a turn head because he's so close and you don't know why the hell your heart's doing flip at the proximity.

it doesn't help when he stays like that for too long, fingers taking over your laptop to scroll down till the last question.

a nervous gulp travels down your throat, finally relaxing itself when yeosang pulls away, causing a light gush of wind to form, his scent brimming your nose but fades shortly after.

he doesn't smell of anything strong or artificial. you can only assume it's his natural scent, much fitting for a guy like yeosang. he doesn't seem like the kind to impress... unlike san.

a guy like san, he always dresses to impress, always carry a strong, artificial scent that smells expensive, and his hair is always nicely slicked back--probably with some kind of gel or something that he also invested a lot in--

"how do you not know what applications are?" yeosang's voice is the one to bring you back.

"huh?" you're completely out of loop.

"question four. you got it wrong."

"some of the answers were too similar to one another," you defend.

"if you were paying attention or even studied a little, the answer is quite obvious, actually."

you grimace and already, there's a trail of heavy breathing as you try to contain the brewing temper.

"i did study!" you hiss, keeping the volume only loud enough for him to hear.

it's not your fault your professor had worded the answers so stupidly alike to one another. you're pretty sure both microsoft word and something like setup.exe are examples of applications.

if all yeosang's going to do is berate you, you just might break your own code of conduct and offer an apology to yunho later.

he doesn't have much of a reaction, only shake his head and moves the topic along.

"did you bring your textbook?"

you just nod, afraid that if you actually speak, you will say something that will lead to regret later.

"okay. then we'll just go over some of the chapters again."

you still have to offer your perspective, though--not like you're ever going to be right.

"can't we just cover the newer chapters? it's not like i can even retake the exam." you cross your arms.

"yes, but, the final is comprehensive, so it's best if you get a better grasp of the materials now rather than later."

you badly want to roll your eyes, but it's not even worth trying to argue back. he's not getting paid, after all. but gods know why he even agreed in the first place.

before rummaging your backpack for the book, you steal a quick glance at your phone screen that has yet to light up with any new messages, unfortunately.

"code is a series of instructions, and each instruction is an operation--"

a feeling of relief washes over, after managing to finish your first ever interview somewhat normally; the lady offering you a farewell and saying you should be hearing back in a few weeks.

y/n: just got done with the interview :)

san: really?! how did it go?

y/n: okay i think. she said they'll call me back in a few weeks, so there's some hope lol

san: you'll get a call for sure!

y/n: i hope to

san: i'll pick you up 😋

y/n: oh you don't have to. i can take a cab

san: i'm already on my way 😎 we can... celebrate

you don't really know what he means by celebrate, but you're just overjoy to be seeing him again if you're to be really honest that you do in fact want him to pick you up.

ever since thursday, aside from a few flirty texts and reminders of the interview, he didn't really bring up ever doing anything together again. and you're too much of a coward to try initiating anything because then, it'll give away that he's all you've been thinking about.

the conversation in the car is surprisingly casual--all as if he wasn't on top of you with his fingers deep in your pussy a few days ago.

he asks more about the interview and you answer, attempting to reframe from staring at him too much, but it's nearly almost impossible.

he just looks so clean and sharp in his signature hairstyle, that brown zip shirt, and those beach pants as he accelerates in those sneakers.

in the pitched blackness of the evening, even he glows. he's bright and he's tempting, your eyes unable to look away faltering when he catches you in the middle of being starstruck.

he giggles, and it's that melodic sound that pulls you away from the light and back into the dimness of the night.

maybe if you weren't so blinded, you would have realized sooner than later that he brought you to his complex and not the dorms.

"and programs are comprised of millions--are you even listening?"

"what?" you meet yeosang's unamused gaze. "of course i am."

he sighs and flips the book at least two pages back.

"okay, then summarize what i told you just now." he relaxes against the table, one palm on the side of his face and attention burning a hole in your forehead.

"uh--" but a sound from your phone has you turning head to it so fast, it's a miracle your neck is still intact at this point.

but you're only met with disappointment when you see it is not from the one person you are expecting. just a stupid reminder from your phone plan about bills being due soon.

the frown on you doesn't go unnoticed by yeosang, him raising another brows in return when an idea comes along.

"hey!" you protest, at him suddenly snatching your phone and shoving it into the back pocket of his pants.

"i didn't think i'd have to improvised rules, but it seems like i'm gonna have to. rule number one: no phones allowed," he says sternly, and you can only look at him with horrified eyes.

"b-but--"

"--no exception. come on, y/n. this isn't high school. you can play the waiting game with lover boy when you get home."

your expression twists in anger. maybe later, you can just buy yunho a box of his favorite donut flavors and tape an apology note to it.

"this is stupid. i don't even want to be here." you sulk, just like a child throwing a tantrum.

"that makes two of us," he adds on, casually sitting up and going back to the book like nothing. "so if you just work with me, this will be over a lot faster."

but you're still not one-hundred percent convinced.

"why did you even agreed to come? you hate me," you state as if it's a fact.

he chuckles lightly, with you shooting him a daggering glare.

"hate's a pretty strong word."

you shrug.

"well, it's the truth, isn't it?"

there's a quick pause before he speaks again; something in his brain trying to piece together his thoughts.

"to hate is to feel such a passionate, intense dislike for someone. i don't feel that strongly about you... hate or like. so you don't have to worry."

god, he's infuriating. but you almost want to applause him for the attitude; for how he delivered such a line while lacking any kind of emotion.

you stay with him for fifteen to twenty minutes, following along and repeating after him unenthusiastically but at least you're not dozing off.

you get most of the answers right to the questions he'd test you because actually going through the chapters again, you realize how much you have went over the materials it's practically ingrained in your head.

how you managed to fail will remain a mystery.

but you're getting bored and he's going on a really long lecture about a topic you're currently not interested in, and so naturally...

the both of you barely makes it inside his apartment before he swoops you up in a surprise attack, both arms under your butt--and yours, nicely wrapped around his neck as he places you down on one of the kitchen counters.

parting your legs so they can rest at his side, he takes your lips in for a messy kiss; you responding as if your lips were made to take his, though you've only kissed him once--now twice.

his hands grip your thighs with strength, keeping them in the open position they're in while both of yours caress his soft cheeks, using them as a tool to deepen the kiss.

when a guy like san says to celebrate, you can only assume the one thing he's talking about.

he pulls away, breaking the intimate session; both you and him still trying to catch your breaths. he stares at you with hunger, but there's a shine in his eyes that makes him look so innocent at the same time.

"congratulations," he mumbles, settling on a tender smile after. "i knew you could do it."

"thanks, but... she only said she'll call me, i still don't know--"

"--shhh," he shushes you, index finger thumped against your lips. "you're going to get the job, okay?"

your heart flutters at his words, nodding in response.

"good girl," he coos, lifting your chin swiftly to continue where you guys left off. flesh moving on top of flesh and hands all over each other despite your lack of experience of where exactly you should be touching him.

you decide on his shoulders.

it only goes on for another minute until san decides to switch up; a guy like him also unsatisfied in a certain position for too long. he always need something new, sooner or later.

his hot breath trickles down your neck, sinking his teeth in when he finds a spot perfect to mark--show that he did this to you.

he also just loves hearing your moans. pretty and pure moans that makes his cock twitches. his hands find the top of your skirt.

"let's celebrate, princess," he whispers so seductively into one of your ears, you can feel a shiver run through your body.

and though you want him to make you feel so good just like he did last time, it'll be too selfish of you to only take but not give.

"san," you say, putting a cease to his action when you put your hands over his.

he backs off and has a concerned expression on, unsure of what's running through your mind, only watching as you hop off the counter to shrink under him, such a pristine and wholesome look on your face.

'y-you have helped me so much," you mumble but with a sincere tone, probably not fitting for the current scenario. "and... i want to help you in return."

"and how are you going to do that, beautiful?" he fuels the fire, a smirk threatening to break, feeling like he's got you right where he wanted.

your eyes shyly dash down to his pants before moving them back up, a deep blush on your cheeks when he doesn't bother to hide the smirk anymore.

"you want to make me feel good?" he sings, almost in a tone too mellow.

you only nod, refusing to meet his gaze because you're getting flustered, but he laughs a soft endearing chuckle, moving you back by the grip he has on the side of your face, proceeding on the sweet encouragements.

"go ahead, beautiful." he smiles, rubbing small circles on one side of your cheeks.

you gulp. "just to uh... let you know, i've never done this before. it's going to be pretty horrible."

he laughs and shakes his head.

"you're going to do fine, trust me."

now, usually, san likes taking control. he likes being the one in charge; the one who keeps the flow going--whether that's eating a girl out, making her cum with his fingers or fucking her, he likes knowing that they're so weak when under his grasp.

that he can do anything to them and it will be from his own account. he doesn't care much for if they want him to feel good in return. most of them doesn't consider that too much of a thought when they're already near the point of orgasm.

but you... you're so sweet and so obedient just for him, and now you're asking to suck his cock. just knowing he's going to be the first ever cock in your pretty little mouth is already something that makes that sick side of him so smug.

you drop down to your knees, face against the view of his crotch and it takes a moment to process everything; your head all of a sudden trying to recount all events that's happened so far that lead to the current position.

you think about mingi and yunho for a second; how they will feel knowing you kissed a guy you've known for only less than a month, and now about to give your first ever blowjob.

it's crazy.

you start by tugging the top of his pants down, nervous swallowing that can be heard in the quiet space; a sight too fulfulling for someone like san.

the red shade on you darkens once you get it down low enough where you can see his hard cock protruding through the fabric of his boxer. you swallow another gulp.

"slowly, baby. take your time."

a groan escapes him when you free it fully, air hitting his flesh and you never thought you would ever like such a sound, but just now, you realize how much you do.

his decent-sized hard cock staring back; a wave of thoughts hittting you right in the face. how, this is your first time seeing one for yourself, your eyes wide and hanging like the little prude you are.

but temptation trumps any kind of fear or anxiety, one of your hand already around his cock as you sink it inside your mouth, that slight salty taste lingering.

"oh, fuck!" he curses, throwing his head back, one of his hand suddenly latching onto your hair as he indulges in the sensation.

you don't know what the fuck you're doing, but he looks so sexy and it feels so nice to know--

"y/n!" yeosang snaps, taking you out completely from the recap of your first ever blowjob--which, from san's perspective, was probably one hell of a sloppy experience.

"what--yes, i'm here," you attempt, straightening your posture like that's going to make it all better.

"jesus," he exhale, a deep sigh leaving as he slams the textbook shut.

"i was listening, kind of."

he rolls his eyes, the audacity of you to lie in front of his face actually quite triggering.

"sure you were," he says unenthusiastically, tossing your phone onto the table and already grabbing at his bag. "anyways, when you get your head back from the clouds, maybe i might consider taking the time out of my day to help you again."

and he gets up, bag swung over his one of his shoulders and disappearing out the door.

you scoff.

"okay well, he was rude to me, too!" you counter, because it's true. he was.

"he probably was, but good chance it was because you were dozing off and not paying attention in the first place," yunho defend his roommate, who, by now, have told him exactly how it went.

or maybe he didn't. maybe he exaggerated and made you out to be like the biggest bitch on the planet, who knows. you're sure yunho wouldn't have believed it anyways, though he is advocating for his friend pretty hard as of currently.

"i never even asked for his help," you grumble, annoyance seeping into your tone, only to regret it leaving your mouth not even two seconds after.

because yunho was the one who asked him, and he only did it because he cares about you.

"no," you add on, "i didn't mean it like that. just... we don't have the best relationship."

a slight frown overtakes the shape of your lips as you await his response from the other line.

you don't like upsetting yunho, and it's rare to fight--that's to say if you guys ever even fought at all before.

small disagreements, yes. but it never takes too long before one or the other gives in because they feel bad.

mingi on the other hand, is a different story. you would have to really define 'fight' first before you start counting on both of your hands just how many times it's happened.

"don't worry, i understand," he murmurs, voice beginning to chip out. you don't blame him. it's getting late and he must be tired.

"i also hope you don't think i'm scolding you or something. but i think you'll really like him if you give him a chance. that's all i want to say. he went out to wash himself a while ago and might be coming back soon, so i'll talk to you tomorrow."

"goodnight yunho."

"night, y/n. may you have the sweetest dreams only."

you should be used to it by now. that phrase he always tells you right before bedtime; something so yunho and so sweet, but it does always make you giggle every time as well.

the other line goes silent, and you release the phone from your ear, yunho's words still echoing in your head.

you'll really like him if you give him a chance. it's not like you were cruel to him from the start. he was the one to give you the cold shoulder first, and hearing all these good things from your friends make you wonder what is it about you that he has such a dislike for.

you let your head fall back on the pillow, phone screen lighting up your face and a low whine departs, disappointed that it's another day with no signs from san.

you don't expect him to be texting you 24/7 nor do you expect any information about his whereabouts, but you just want something. even just a simple good morning text or a good night.

but the silence from him the past couple of days makes your chest feel just a little heavy, not wanting to think that he's purposely ignoring you, that you're not even worthy of crossing his mind even though you've stripped a part of yourself bare for him.

tucking your phone under the pillow, you close your eyes and allow that feeling to die out, consumed by the lack of sleep and mind that isn't exactly suitable for such an occasion.

you do catch the time on the alarm clock just before you really fall into a slumber, thinking yuna will be back soon and that maybe she can tell you another story of how her night went when you wake up in the morning. those usually make you feel a little better every time.

san texts two days later, telling you he's been busy studying for exams and all that. you never even questioning any possibility of it not being true, because you were also in the same exact situation.

it makes you feel rather silly now. thinking that someone so kind who helped you at a party and now in finding you a job, was not texting because he has some other intentions.

just your natural anxious self feeding doubts into your head.

but you have promised yunho, after a series of conversation, that you will apologize to yeosang.

you're usually one to hold grudges, more so if you feel so strongly about a certain person. but you're also easily persuaded (if that isn't obvious by now), especially when it comes to yunho, all it took was another day for that guilt to fully come into bloom.

after all, yeosang didn't have to come. he didn't have to help you nor take the time out of his day, but he did. and so, you do feel just a little bad about how it went; you being more at fault than his occasional snarky comments.

"hey!" you greet him, like actually greet him; a smile on your face and all, taking the usual seat beside him.

the class isn't that big in population so everyone always sits at the same spot, and though you do want to make amend with yeosang, you're not going to act like you're sitting next to him by choice.

he doesn't say anything, only keeping his chin up and attention on the computer screen in front. he's sulky, that's new. but understandable.

"so... how was your morn--"

you don't even get to finish your sentence, interrupted by your professor's loud voice as he goes over the usual routine--you having no other option than to back out with a pout.

a small smirk graces yeosang's lips, going unnoticed by you.

the rest of the class is spent in agonizing boredom. you like computers, but you're more interested in the gaming aspects of it. the pretty graphics and the joys you get from the entertainment it provides.

not the more technical, complex stuff that you have too little care for. maybe in conclusion, you failing the first exam isn't so much of a mystery.

your attempt of an apology didn't go through the first time, but second time's a charm, which, you find that is not the case either.

"hey," you try again, another smile coating your lips in a way it has never before. "i was thinking." you only slightly turn to put your notebook back inside your backpack. "that we could--"

you're talking to the thin air at this point; yeosang already gone and you only catch a glimpse of his blonde strands until it's completely out of sight.

you sigh.

entry #3

i almost forgot i have this. probably because the past week had been so hectic and everything. i was studying for most of my classes, then prepping for the interview. at least i did okay on the interview and passed most of my exams?! except for one. it's a little embarrassing because it's a course tied to my major, but i swear, i did study. i don't want to go too much into what happened with yeosang, but you (i, myself) should already know what went down. of course, i haven't given up on this little mission of mine. quite funny considering it's yeosang, but i'd like to think i'm doing it for yunho. i have a better plan this time, i think. so i hope it works this upcoming wednesday

"the weather is nice today, isn't it?" you try initiating a conversation, having just arrived at your seat.

"not really. too chilly for my liking," he actually replies, much to your surprise but his eyes hasn't moved from the screen.

you scoot your chair in and clasp both your hands together, head turning his way.

"i think it's perfect. a lot better than last mont--"

once again, you're cut short by your professor who has a thing for making your life just all more difficult. but you're going to make it work today. you are.

and, yeosang's already speaking to you again, which is a good sign.

your 'plan' is pretty much packing everything a few minutes before class is over, sneaky gaze toward yeosang's direction and making sure you're a few steps ahead of him at all time.

even when he gets up to exit, you're strolling right behind him, only to block his path when you feel like the area's in the clear.

"hey," you utter, putting a pretty smile on so it'll make you feel a lot less pathetic and desperate that you're trying this hard for kang yeosang.

he raises an eyebrow, an intrigued look on his face but you don't know how to read into it.

"hey?"

"look, about the other day--"

"you're still on that?" he cuts, something amusing in his tone that makes your mouth puckers.

"well, you seemed like you were as well." your comment coming off playful rather than mocking.

he sneers and blinks away.

"please, i'm way too overgrown for that."

"says the one all sulky face on monday," you reply, exceptionally fast.

he locks gaze with you again, another amusement written all over his face.

"just wanted to make your life all much harder," he snide quietly, and you're also fast to give a reaction with a cheeky smile.

"you wouldn't even have to try at all."

a scoff departs him along with a chuckle. "so this is all you wanted to say?"

"that and yunho wanted me to ask you if we can, by any chance, give the whole tutor thing another go." you make sure to put extra emphasis on yunho's name so he'll know that although you're caving, it also isn't completely on your own terms.

"mhmm," he hums, acting aloof as if he's actually thinking about it. "we'll see."

you nod it off, lips drawing a thin line before your attention settles on his hair. or more particularly, something in his hair.

the pink cherry blossom petal laying on top his blonde locks, a little amazing how well the two go together. and maybe if his guts doesn't annoy you so much, you'd even say they perfectly complement each other.

a tiny giggle leaves when you go to rid the petal from his hair, chin titled because he's much taller.

his eyes follow the movements of your hand until it travels down to your own, catching your gaze in his and by the time you have picked the petal, hanging it by the side of his face, you think the blush that emerges from him is easily the same shade.

"you had something in your hair." you wave the petal in your hold before letting it slip away to the ground with the rest of them.

"thanks?" he swallows nervously, and you'll be damned if you're to ever admit that a flustered yeosang is a little endearing.

typically, you'd be in the library or cafe with yunho and mingi at this time, scribbling and doodling away while listening to tales of their godly college experience so far, but there has been a change of plan.

for some reason, they decided that this afternoon would be the perfect time to scramble inside mingi's and wooyoung's tiny dorm and watch a horror movie.

and when you say they, you mean mingi. you honestly don't even know why. he's the biggest scaredy cat ever and can't watch anything remotely scary for shit.

last time he wanted to watch some b-rated film and he couldn't sleep for days after. it wasn't even that scary. was literally just about an evil turkey killing on thanksgiving.

"did you say it's killer clowns from space this time?" yunho repeats, just to be sure he's not hearing things.

"yes," mingi confirms, navigating to a rather suspicious looking website with clumps of ads because he wants to watch it for free and none of you can afford to rent it at the moment.

you await quietly while yunho's scrolling through his phone.

"actually, i think it's free with ads on youtube," yunho enlightens.

"well shit." mingi clicks his tongue, typing into the address bar.

it's a little clustered, the three of you huddled on the floor in between mingi's and wooyoung's beds and with only a small table in front holding mingi's laptop.

if only college dorms came with wide flatscreens as well, life would be a lot easier.

"okay, it's playing, i think..." mingi says, "fuck, why is this shit so slow."

the video just keeps buffering and buffering; no signs of it playing any time soon.

"okay, either this campus has some dogshit wifi or i need a new laptop."

"well, you've had that laptop for years," you comment.

"then you go and get us your new laptop. you know, the one that can run roblox at 60 fps."

"pfft," you blow and yunho laughs in response. "right. the one that overheated and shut down when i was playing the sims."

"okay? at least you got past the loading screen before it crashed. and you should be grateful. i spent a whole summer being berated by my father just to get the extra cash for it."

"no, you got berated because you did a god awful job of dogsitting and the neighbors were cursing your parents' names for weeks after," yunho chips in.

"it's not my fault the animal got out."

"oh yes because it just magically opens the door and gate by itself."

"okay well, i gave it freedom. i doubt that dog saw a speck of sunlight in years. i hate that wretched old hag mrs. han. she's always giving me that look."

"well no shit, you let her dog out," you're the one to say it this time.

"but he came back--and oh would you look at that, the video's finally playing. now both of you please kindly shut the fuck up."

the video plays smoothly, much to all three of your surprises. which leads you to believe mingi's ancient laptop isn't the problem after all.

you wouldn't really say the movie is scary; more so disgusting because of the gore.

"that's fucking gross," yunho comments, expression pinching in from the revulsion.

"sick. whoever came up with the idea for this movie is sick in the head," mingi grumbles. he has both his hands over his face, one eye barely peeking out from in between the small space of his fingers.

"more sick than whoever recommeded we watch this?" yunho fires.

you're about to join in on the fun banter, when a buzz in the pocket of your jeans go off. seeing that the two are rather occupied, you pull it out, thinking it's just going to be a quick check.

your eyes literally about to pop out of its sockets and the beat of your heart seems to have multiplied; breath growing fainter when you see his name.

san: hey :)

you haven't even thought about him at all today, and maybe even barely a little yesterday. because after the monday he texted you, he went radio silent again.

and with the whole yeosang shenanigans, you really did seem to have forgotten. but now that he's announced his existence again, everything comes flooding back all at once.

his sweet words, the position you guys were in a couple days ago, and then the once again, abrupt and short period of silence.

you try to keep from showing any kind of reactions, afraid at least one or if not, both of them will catch on.

it's already bad enough that yunho has stern eyes on san and mingi was just making a comment a few days after the party about how weird san was acting.

you don't like disappointing your friends or going against their wishes, which is why you won't tell them. because if they don't know, then it doesn't apply, which in restropect, sounds a lot worse. because you have never felt like you had to keep something from them before.

"y/n would agree, right y/n?" yunho's voice snaps you back.

"uh--yes!" you attempt to sound like you weren't just dozing off, thrusting your phone back to where you got it from.

"two against one! an evil turkey is way more manageable than a bunch of alien clowns out for blood."

"well at least the clowns doesn't look like someone's burnt dick."

fortunately, the movie finishes within another hour when it's finally evening, and you're fast to pull an excuse like you need to get back to your room to finish up an assignment.

mingi and yunho not even aware at all that you've been telling them small lies just so you can dwell in the attention of a boy who likes to disappear for a few days, and has a knack for making you question things you have never before.

y/n: hey san, i'm sorry for replying so late. i was with mingi and yunho.

you sit at the edge of the bed, staring at the screen so intensely because there's that familiar feeling of butterflies swimming in your stomach, and a curiosity that has you wondering what he has to say.

what's the reason for the sudden text, and that maybe, he just might finally want to do something together. him seeking you out means he's finally thought of you at least.

time flies by steadily but there has yet to be a reply from him.

assuming that you probably took too long and he has found another source of entertainment, you settle your phone on the nightstand with a frown, the back of your head hitting the pillow as you stare up at the ceiling when there's a sudden knock at the door.

you're thinking to yourself that yuna's back awfully early tonight; maybe she's got her hands full and can't rummage for the key. it's happened before.

"welco--" the words get stuck in your throat and your eyes goes wide like an idiot when you see who has shown, and it is not your roommate.

"san?"

he's here, outside your room and looking as good as always; especially when there's dimples decorating his cheeks and he's smiling at you that makes a certain warmth ripple through your chest.

"hey! sorry i wasn't able to reply. was making my way over."

"oh, uh... that's okay."

his smile broadens, gaze sneaking past your shoulder.

"are you alone?" he asks.

you slowly nod, missing the faint smirk crawling onto his lips.

"may i come in?"

you nod again, stepping aside and widening the frame. when he passes by, there's a light alcoholic smell that trickles your nose. you wonder if he was drinking just before he came. but he looks and sounds sober enough.

he's admiring the interior and decorations with hands tucked inside his pockets when you come around to the corner of yuna's bed, a little embarrassed about how contrasting her side is compared to yours.

"i've yet to done anything with it," you mutter.

he turns around and give you a reassuring smile.

"i like it. just exactly my kind of style. simple and easy to the eye."

a low giggle pours from you.

"you could put it like that."

since that wasn't really what you were going for. it's more like 'i'm obviously broke but how can i make this look as decent as possible'.

the air goes quiet for a bit, a tension hanging between the both of you that neither wants to speak of, yet.

"is there something i can do for you?" you bring up. something that drives him all the way to the floor of your room--and to standing in front of you.

but that seems to be the green light; the sign for him to begin taking closer steps toward you, causing your breath to hitch inside your throat. before you know, your back's already in contact with the solid hard wall.

"actually, there is," he mumbles, one arm pinning the wall and hovering over your head. the proximity allowing you to drown in his scent confirms that he's at least a little tipsy. but maybe not completely drunk.

you swallow both nervously but also with some anticipation, because whenever you're with san, he always makes something inside of you so heated; a throbbing feeling in your core that he has a special charm for conjuring.

"you know, beautiful," he whispers, his free thumb swiping over your bottom lip. "i couldn't stop thinking about what we did the last time we were together."

you feel the temperature of your cheeks rising and a pink shade painting over them at such statement. but honestly, who are you kidding. you have been thinking about it, too.

it even got you in trouble with yunho because instead of studying, you were busy thinking about how you sucked san's cock.

"so tell me." he leans closer until his forehead collides with yours, hard eyes boring into your own with something dark and lustful. "have you been thinking about it, too?"

you nod so fast, even san's a little surprised at the immediate response. but ever since he kissed you the first time, and after everything else, it has given you an odd amount of confidence. or at least enough fascination to find out where this will take you.

"i have..."

"fuck," he curses. "i love it when you're straightforward like this."

and he kisses you. just like that. head slanted for better access and given that this is the third time now, you're starting to become a little better at this.

your arms naturally settle around his neck and when he departs with heavy breathing to place small pecks over your jawline, you groan in awe at the sensation.

the back of your spine sinks harder into the wall from how he has you pressed against it. only until he releases himself from the tip of your skin, do you feel a drop of pressure; your chest relaxing a bit.

but that's only for so long before a grunt leaves his mouth because he's lifted your entire body off the flooring and proceeding to throw you onto the mattress of your bed--the cushion submerging when your back meets it.

he climbs on top and you freeze, only able to stare back at him. you won't dare to look at your roommate's side, or her arts and belongings glaring back for doing this with a man in the shared space.

"miss seeing you like this," he says, pressing down to kiss again, and it must've go on for five minutes. your grip in his hair and his hands roaming all over your body, tongue clashing one another like it'll be the last time.

of course, you have no idea what you're fucking doing. just following along san's movements and letting him guide you.

both his palms pin the bed at your side, lips moving away to nibble at your neck, drawing a wet trail as he moves lower and lower till he's face first at your crotch; his hands already at the waistband and ready to strip it off.

he's impatient. so impatient.

"want to return the favor, beautiful," he coos, before he pulls it off with a jerk. thankfully it was loose and not too tightly clasp around you.

you whimper just slightly at the short lasting burn that's soon met with the naked air; you never having felt so exposed before in front of someone. especially not somone like san.

pretty... even your underwear is pretty, he thinks.

"may i?" he asks in a soft tone, your eyes barely holding his from the position, but you do want it. whatever he's about to do.

"yes, san," you answer, even more mellow than his.

he doesn't waste a single second, hands going to rid the undergarment right away by sliding it off; you slightly lifting your body to make the process easier.

he tosses both pieces somewhere you'll worry about finding later, but not right now. especially not with your legs spread and pussy bare in front of him--which makes you incredibly flustered and on the verge of covering your face because it's just a little embarrassing. it being your first time and all.

"shit, y/n," he growls lowly at the sight. "is everything about you always this fucking pretty?"

you're about to say something but a whimper draws out instead when he goes to spread your legs even wider for better access.

"gonna make you feel so fucking good."

you don't get a chance at replying this time either, because he's already shot himself in, head in between your legs and a sloppy wet sensation at your entrance that makes you fold back in building gratification; both your hands immediatly branching out and squeezing the sheet of the bed.

"hmm..." you moan, coming off more like a cry. "o-oh my god, san."

you arch before settling back down on the bed again, the grip on the sheet only getting tighter and you can only imagine the wrinkles that's going to be imprinted.

because san knows how to eat pussy, and he knows how to eat it good.

you don't exactly have anyone else for comparison, but the way his tongue's swirling in your core and there's an oncoming sensation rushing in, is enough as it is.

even he seems to know your own body more than you do. all the right spots to suck, and the exact one where he needs to lay down extra suction.

his arms has found its way around your legs, face buried and delivering such excrutiating pleasure that makes your eyes roll itself and head thrown back, looking up at the ceiling while he devours your part like it's his last meal.

another thought goes over, almost unable to believe it yourself that just first semester into your college experience and this is already happening.

your mind does always seem to flash back to your friends and their stances whenever you do something you think they won't approve of.

but as of lately, you've been doing a lot more of those. especially when it involves someone named choi san.

"nhmmm..." you let out, when his tongue flicks at your clit.

san doesn't stutter even for a second, causing you to go into overdrive from the immense pleasure.

"shit..." the comment leaves you, coming out raspy breath.

his fingers dig into your thighs; all the feelings at the moment overwhelming for someone of your experience, suddenly at the edge and like you're going to combust.

but then, he stops... much to your disappointment.

you peep up, holding yourself down by the elbows to look at him with a frown on your lips while his are a little red and there's messy strands of hair falling over his forehead.

he sits on his knees poking the mattress and looks back with eyes just slightly dark.

"may i fuck you, beautiful?"

a clog plugs up your throat, but you manage to overcome it somehow. the thought scaring you a little, but you do want it.

"y-yes. please fuck me."

and as if he isn't already hard as a rock, he thinks such words leaving you like that only makes it so much worse.

"when you say it like that..." he mumbles, going to unbutton his pants. even with it on, you can see his erection. "it's so fucking sexy."

sexy... that's definitely one you've never heard before.

before he gets it off fully, his hand scrambles for something inside one of the pockets and keeps it in his hold. only until your sight is better adjusted on the item do you realize it's a condom.

his boxer and pants comes off as a pair, sliding down to his knees and kicked off somewhere on the floor--proceeding to tear the packaging with his teeth and that, too, goes with the rest of his clothes.

you watch as he sets the plastic over his size, all you can think about is if you're going to be able to take it.

"tell me if it hurts, okay?" he soothes, and the way it softens you up is not very fitting for the current scene.

you nod, letting your head fall back against the pillow, awaiting that stretching burn as you tighten your lips together.

and a burn it definitely is--as soon as the head of his cock enters, you're already squirming.

"you okay?" he asks, hands gripping your hips.

"y-you can keep going."

the sting is still apparent and naturally, your hands find his, clutching onto it as he opens you up.

"so fucking tight," he curses, just wanting to fuck into you already. but he knows better than anyone that patience does pay off in the end.

you're heavy breathing and gasping for air just a tiny bit when his entire length is in, you're honestly surprised you can even take it--though not exactly well.

"hugging my cock so well," he speaks so melodically, hands rubbing over your hips and you feel your walls clenching itself on him, loosening another curse under his breath.

"gonna fuck you now. gonna fuck you so good."

he starts by gliding in and out slowly, allowing for you to still adjust to the stretch as well as his pace. because once he starts really fucking, there's no going back.

you have your eyes squeezed shut, indulging in the commotion in between your legs that is both agonizing and fulfilling. when you feel you're ready for the next step--whatever that is, you urges him.

and san is very urgent.

his hips snapping into yours and fingernails now digging into your skin, the room is a nasty mix of sex, moans, and muffled weeping.

"s-san," you manage to get out amidst the desperate pounding, "i-it feels s-so good..." your voice thinning out into a whisper because he's hitting that spot so perfectly, your eyes can't stop rolling back.

"i know, baby. i know." he soothes your waist, at the same time using it as leverage to fuck into you even more. "and you're taking my cock so well."

and if sex is always this good, or at least feels this good when done right, you think it just might consume you.

his hands travel from your waist to your cheeks, cupping it and presses his body down to deliver a kiss, but still able to hold a rhythm as he never stops thrusting even for a bit.

it's the chosen position for the next couple of minutes; lips tangled and body intertwined with heavy pantings and groans filling the room, until a pit forms in your stomach and from how good he's fucking you, you're definitely going to come.

"g-gonna cum," you breathe through the kiss.

"cum, baby," he whispers, moving to your ear, "cum on my cock."

his lewd words are the breaking point, and you do. it's the second time you've ever cummed, and of course it's by choi san, the only person who's ever made you orgasm.

after the peak of his visit is over with, you both sit up, goal fixated on finding your clothes and hoping that your roommate doesn't happen to have a change of plan that sends her back early tonight.

"wait, san," you say, legs hanging off the side of the bed and staring at him while he's picking the pieces off the flooring.

"did you even get to cum...?" there's a hint of something in your voice; guilt maybe. that you were so hyperfocused on feeling so good under him, the fact that he also should be enjoying it as well flying over your head.

he smiles, a little endeared that you would care this much.

"way before you, beautiful. no need to worry."

your chest settles back in relief, which in turn makes san chuckles dryly.

your jeans and underwear sitting at the corner of yuna's bed on the floor catches your attention and you hop off, making way toward it.

he turns to you amid the process, pants still draping loose around his ankles and utters, “you should probably get cleaned up.”

you nod and start on the undergarment, having absolutely no idea how things like this usually works; what goes before or after, but since he suggested it, you’re thinking if he wants to do it together.

it’ll probably be overly suspicious; that’s if the smell speaks of anything, but the men’s and women’s bathrooms are separates and shouldn’t be of any problem.

your mouth only just slightly departs about to say something but he has you beat, gawking at you with something unreadable in his eyes and expression.

"i think i'm gonna go," he says, just finished with the last button of his pants.

"oh, did you have somewhere you gotta be?"

there's a quick silence before he really answers.

"yeah..."

you don't want to make it like he owes it to you to stay just because he fucked you. or maybe perhaps he does--you don't really know. you just know you don't want him to slip out of your grasp, and you're willing to do anything to keep holding on.

even if it goes against your heart's wishes.

"i'll see you then."

two seems to be the magic number for san.

it takes another two days to hear anything from him again, and though your chest sits uncomfortably tight at where exactly this 'relationship' is heading, you're really just glad to be hearing from him again.

you take a cab to his apartment and it starts and ends all the same as last time--with you under him and moaning his name, then him attempting to mend over it with some sweet words that doesn't do very much in terms of aiding because he's telling you he has to be somewhere and already, you're taking a cab back to the dorm.

and the day after when he calls you back isn't bound to end any different.

he's sitting at the end of the bed, back and broad shoulders facing you patting down the wrinkles on his pants.

there is something strange about you so willingly accepting of the fact that there's a big chance he's going to kick you out any second now; but you don't want it to be all the same.

a part of you even wishes today might be the day he'll also want to do something else together.

if everything is already predetermined, you want to be the one to change it. oh, so naive you are.

"san..." you say softly, still situated near the head of his bed.

"yeah?" he slightly turns and spare you a glance, all intrigued eyes.

three times... that's how many times you've already slept with him, but you realize that you still know almost absolutely nothing about him aside from the obvious givens that he's hot, in the same year as you, and is wooyoung's friend.

even his favorite color or food, you don't know.

"can you tell me something about yourself?"

he raises an eyebrow and looks as if he might've heard it wrong; his posture shifting toward you more as it goes on.

"like?"

"well, like what's your major, or favorite color or food. or even your birthday."

"why do you want to know?"

you almost want to gasp or at least look a little offended, because you're sure you deserve to know at the very least these basic things about him considering the extent of the 'relationship'.

"because i want to know more about you."

he sighs and you want to break on the spot because you never thought such a simple question would ever make someone so annoyed like the reaction he's giving you right now.

"even if i answer, it won't matter."

your lips turn just a smidge wobbly, talking through your shaken voice, "of course it matters. it matters if it's you."

the air goes silent after your response and you're wondering if regret or guilt is a common feeling when asking someone about themself.

"july 10th."

your eyes shoot back to him.

"huh?"

"my birthday is july 10th."

"oh…" is all you can say. you didn't even think he'd answer, given his initial reaction.

"yeah..."

you continue sitting on the bed in the air that's now turned unpleasant, observing his movements as he goes to pick something off from the floor--and it's your clothes.

he stretches an arm your direction with the items in his clutch and mumbles, "you should go."

and you do... but with something heavy sitting on your chest--one that's completely different from last time--one that will rob you of any joy for the rest of the day because it's just the littlest kind of painful.

entry #4

i like san, i really do. and when you get that close to that level of intimacy, i think it's only natural you'd get curious about the other person. but it's like he doesn't want to open up, and i don't really know how to feel about that...

next // series m.list

#ateez angst #san x reader #choi san angst #choi san x reader #ateez series #san smut #san angst #fic: broken

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meowsticmarvels · 1 year

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hello mcsm community. this is a repost of a long ass twitter thread i made so i apologize in advance if its formatted weird (and sort of disorganized). but heres some of my Thoughts and analysis on radar. i have much more to say than just this of course but HERE WE GO! radar insaneposting tumblr edition. long post incoming (i worked very hard on this)

ANYWAYS!

- he idolizes the new order and puts them on a pedestal above himself a bit. i mean from some dialogue it's clear he doesn't have the highest opinion of himself but he treats the new order smiliarly to how they felt about the old order in thw wither storm arc

- i have mentioned this several times but the "prison radar" thing definitely comes across to me as him trying to overcompensate (and mimic those he sees as "strong" like petra and jack) sort of. like if you contextualise it with how a lot of the characters called him weak an episode prior and it definitely seemed to have an impact on him its like. yeah. especially being thrown into a situation like w/ the sunshine institute and the whole iron breathtaker thing that has Got to fuck you up. idk i jusy see a lot of people take that at face value like "oh look he's being silly" when it comes across to me as more like insecurity ig?

- hes so autism its unreal

but yeah the whole thing kinda fucks him up

ig the only thing thay kinda bothers me is that arc doesnt feel finished. and also jesse can ENCOURAGW him to act like someone hes not??? OH AND. id like to point out this thing also involves him trying to break his own strict patterns which is p interesting to me. by this i mean the "disregard my bedtime! break whatever rules I feel like! within reason!" he seems to feel that in order to become stronf he has to be like. less caring of the rules w/e but the "within reason" line and the fact that he dislikes things being disorganized still is like. he doesnt Want to act like this. he doesnt seem to like thag but he feels iys the only way he can be strong and adapt to such a lifethreatening situation (to act like someone he clearly isnt)

another point id like to make is his relationship with Stella. it isnt really explored past this one scene in episode 2 of s2 but god there's a lot to unpack here

"you'll never change" - has stella... always been like this? even when radar worked under her (which HAS to be at least a year before s2 bc apparently he's been working for jesse for about a year)

also she calls him a "quitter" which. 1. has a negative connotation meaning that she Does Not Approve of him leaving 2. implies he quit of his own accord. this isn't normal former boss/former employee interaction though something definitely happened. like theyre both Weirdly Hostile and this is never brought up again....... ehat happened.

also "he doesn't even know how to use a sword" this part stuck out to me but Considering this thing i noticed a few months ago about how the mcsm world is very. survival oriented and people who can slay powerful monsters (i.e. old order) are looked at with high respect. so basically she's calling him weak here which is. Huh. also "you don't know anything" girl what happened.... why does radar feel he has to prove himself like that...

"id be careful about counting on him for anything" what did she mean by this. did radar fuck up in some way unintentionally and it pissed stella off or something??? because something clearly happened and im very sad this is never explored further bc this is a fucking interesting plot point.

also. the last image...... this is so fucking interesting regarding radar as a character because it does actually provide context for the whole prison radar thing. like holy shit this says a lot. the first line kinda shows his insecurity already. he's aware people don't believe in him and think he's weak and a coward, but he's going to try anyway. he feels he has to prove himself kinda.. like "you'll see! i can do it watch!" and considering his behavior in this episode it shows. he's overcompensating for that fear and trying to prove that he can be enough to make a difference. especially shown by how he reacts when "Vos" tells him he's not up for the task. he's trying, it isn't enough, so he decides to mimic his heroes and pretend to be someone he isn't (which... unfortunately half the cast doesn't take seriously)

the second line proves my points more. "im not the person she thinks i am anymore" raises a lot of questions on what happened ofc but there's also the "I can be different. Braver. If that's what the situation requires... I'll do it." and guess what! he *does* do that! a combination of pressure from people telling him that he can't do it and he'd just get hurt in the process and is too weak and cowardly to really do much + the stress of the situations he's thrust into seems to sort of catalyze his decision to put on the "prison radar" persona and pretend to mimic his heroes and act strong to not only make a difference and mean something but also to survive The Horrors . but he doesn't want to do this, that isn't who he is as a person, moreso what he feels he has to do. also thinking of pne line where he says something abojt the "incredible misery in the world crushing down on you". like this is a random throwaway line?? clearly the entire situation of s2 is Getting to him but he never really gets to Express that

now ofc like i mentioned this arc is in no way perfect. it's fucking interesting but it feels unresolved and forgotten by episode 5 along with the other characters completely ignoring the fact that that isn't who he is along with jesse even praising that in some dialogue options. like the writing of this kinda confuses me because everything radar says and feels up to that point implies that it's a façade built to be what others want him to be and as a stress response but some later things kinda treat the way he acts as a Good Thing and like ???? like i get it if they wanted to do the "being more courageous" arc sure. fine. but this doesn't seem like it was simply written as that. he does Not usually act like how he does during the "prison radar" thing and its just never addressed. which fucks me up bc this is personally one of my favorite character arcs of mcsm due to how complicated and insane it is + hes one of my favorite characters ever and i relate to his issues a lot but instead thw writings kinda ????? but yeah. its always bothered me really but to be Fair mcsm was hit by a lot of budget cuts that affected the plot like dont even get me started on the scrapped assistant to the warden who sesms to be meant to be the antithesis to radar kind of... and im p sure some episodes had different writers. so yeah this sucks but it isnt gonna piss me off that bad I just wish his arc was handled a bit differently. might potentially write something or w/e about this but anyways if you read this entire thread 1. you're insane 2. we do a little trolling. follow me mcsm truthers

original tweet thread here: https://twitter.com/rival_trevor/status/1659130820999753730?s=20

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm radar #radar mcsm #minecraft story mode radar #please reblog i worked very hard on this... im insan #also i am a radar autism truther #long post #character analysis

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niaojirou · 10 months

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My headcanons for Orgamika/gen (Reposting them here from my twt for better format, also some of this are like canon or borderline canon??? idk)

Boys in Tekkadan smokes, even the younger ones, like Ride. Orga smokes but he always do so if Mika is around because Mika wants a puff too from his cig

Orga is the only one who smokes cigar

Whilst dreaming to provide a better future for Tekkadan and to reach 'that' place, Orga's first and foremost thought was he wanted to build a place where Mika doesn't ever need to step inside Barbatos ever again

100% of Mika's salary actually went back into Tekkadan, that's what Mika asked to Kudelia to do with it, when Orga realized this he asked Dexter to make a separate account for Mika's salary and turn it into savings or capital for agriculture in Mars

After the whole ordeal with Hashmal, Mika was offered the option of wheelchair by Merribit and Nadi with some modification for his arayashiki, but Mika disagrees because he prefer getting carried around, by Hush or Orga

Orga and Mika went spiraling down into abyss after the death of Biscuit. He was the voice of reason for Orga's dangerous plans and Orga's limiter for the usage of Mika. After his death, Orga's plans became more suicidal as his and Mika's codependency grew stronger and stronger

Mika has no understandment of what is sin and what is not. If Orga disagrees then it's bad, if its Orga's orders then it's good

Among all Tekkadan members, a few realized how toxic Orga and Mika is towards eachother, but they couldn't really intervene due to their bond

Mika is the only one who didn't knock when entering Orga's room or his office, Orga also didn't knock but he does calls Mika's name by his door to make sure he's inside

(this is canon but i'd like to include bcs i love it so much) Orga is the only one who calls Mikazuki by 'Mika'

Mika prefer snacking on mars' palms because it's easy to digest and store in his pocket, he doesn't particularly enjoy the taste as he knew a lot other are more delicious, but mars' palms are one of the early snacks Orga bought for him (before CGS) because it's cheap

Even though he rarely shows it, Orga is actually jealous when he saw Mika eating chocolates, because the only one time Mika gets to eat them was always given by Mcgillis

Orga has trouble falling asleep, sometimes Mika would sneak to his room and sleep in his bed, once Orga realized it's Mika, he instantly wrap his arm around him

Mika is quite forgetful for the stuffs he consider not interesting or useless to him

Mika will only lend his gun to others that he considers 'qualified' to hold it, but Orga can use it freely, though Orga always ask Mika when he needs it

Even though Mika seemed to really take in the 'tool' or 'weapon' role, Mika knows Orga valued him more than that

Mika never sees himself as something other than 'human', but would sometimes ask Orga if he's really one. Especially after defeating Hashmal, the line between how he looked at himself as and what he actually is; blurred

Orga's opinion towards Mika never change, sure he was afraid of him at first, but he never really consider Mika as something else that's not human. Although he felt guilty after seeing Mika in Barbatos Lupus Rex for the fighting style of that the Hasmal seemed to influnce him

Mika have ever asked Orga to get himself the 4th arayashiki surgery, Orga disagreed

Both Orga and Mika's bloodtype is A-, Each time Mika had to have transfusions, Orga's blood is always available

#gundam ibo #gundam #orgamika #headcanon #probably add more but not now #all of these are copied from my twt

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under-and-over-the-moon · 2 years

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Debt II | Jisung

*Please read Part I first for context *

Minors DNI/DNF/Do not read!

pairing: Reader x Jisung

word count: 6.7k

genre: friends-to-lovers (but briefly enemies-to-friends in this chapter), fake marriage!au, canal city!au, slowburn, fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

warnings: flashbacks, reader’s ex is toxic, manipulation and gaslighting (not by Jisung, don’t worry), mentions of birth control, past Jisung is even more awkward, social anxiety, classism/discrimation

A/N: I was going to have some sparser flashbacks thrown in to explain how they got to where they are, but I felt like it didn’t give sufficient time for things to build, so I’m trying a new format - splitting the chapters between ones set in the present w/ Jisung’s POV, and ones in the past w/ Reader’s POV (also had to repost this bc tumblr somehow ate half my tags and won’t re-pick them up)

All characters are adults.

~~~

[One year ago]

The paint needed touching up.

From your perch on the couch, you saw the way it peeled beneath the windowsill, the leaking water having pulled it from the concrete beneath in curling sheets. Early winter was always rainy, and you had found shortly after moving in that the windows were not weatherproof – any time it rained for more than an hour, you would start to hear the water drip onto the floor, your stomach always dropping with it.

You would call the landlord again in the morning. Not that he would actually respond, but you had to try.

“Babe!!”

You turned towards the voice, and saw your boyfriend ducking through the front door, moving his head away from where the metal of the doorframe hung jagged, a perpetual threat of casual maiming that neither you nor any of your roommates even thought about anymore. Another request to your landlord, lost to the ether.

Your boyfriend stepped forward, backlit by the teetering gray light of rainclouds in retreat, until he was in the glow of your reading light. His eyes were bright, news heavy on his tongue.

“I got an invite from one of my buddies at the work gym, friend of a friend, you know how it goes…”

He smiled wider, clearly more towards himself than you. He had been going to the gym fairly regularly since he found he had more influence there than anywhere else – even though he was born no higher than you, the government officials who also attended seemed to see some burly, youthful ideal of an underdog in him, the body he was born into allowing him a measure of favor that his family situation didn’t. He had been collecting acquaintances there, and returning to you with stories of his quiet triumphs for months.

“..for a holiday party at one of the senior officials’. Go get dressed,” he continued, brushing raindrops from his coat, “We have to leave in 5.”

“We?” you countered.

“Of course we. Don’t you want to go? It’s a great networking opportunity.”

You sighed, sitting in the uncomfortable tension between should and want. Your week had been long and stressful, and you were looking forward to a quiet night in, listening to the rain, away from the daily jostling and grinding you were forced to do to reinforce your place. And you heard his point but…a party like this would be exactly the kind of place you would be the least wanted, the least comfortable.

Even though you had been working in the housing office for a few years and were widely acknowledged as being a hard and efficient worker, you never expected any sort of a invite during this time of the year. You heard whispers about holiday parties near the coffee machines and sometimes would see women putting on eyeliner and velvet dresses at the end of the day in the office bathrooms before heading off to some riverhouse across town, but you mostly ignored it. Parties like that were for a certain circle, and you were definitely outside the lines.

That had been, in fact, the first thing that had bound you to your boyfriend – he worked in the budgeting office, and he, like you, was born to a worker family far outside the towns center, where sun-parched grasses drowned in the waters of crumbling canals, the floors of your house in a perpetual state of drying-from-floods. Like you, he had worked himself to the bone during school so that he even had a chance to interview his current job - even though it was just an entry level position, people like you rarely made it to any post in the government. So you had thought that he would be an oasis in the daily grind of performance, of hustling to prove that you belonged.

Sometimes you were just so tired of the striving that the exhaustion sat itself behind your eyes, wrapping itself around your head in a pounding headache.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“I uh,” you said, breaking your boyfriend’s expectant daze, “Was kind of thinking of just staying in tonight. It’s been a long week, I’m pretty tired.”

Your boyfriend’s expression immediately fell, his eyes taking on a glint of gray from the rainclouds outside out window.

“Why do you never want to do anything,” he retorted, eyebrows knit together, “It’s a party. And a nice one. You’re lucky you even get to go.”

You’re lucky because of me, he meant.

“I don’t get why you don’t network more,” he continued, eyebrows pulled taught, “You’re never going to get to be a higher level official at this rate, especially with your background. And I’m giving you an opportunity to combat that on a silver platter and you won’t even go?”

You broke his gaze an took a long, deep breathe, that familiar feeling of being cornered returning to your bones. He must be right. You were being ungrateful, lazy, to not accept his invitation.

So, swallowing back your stomach, you whispered a faint, “Okay, I’ll get ready,” your cheeks reddening from the cold and the shame he had drawn out of you, like blood from a wound he himself had cut into your skin.

~~~

The party was held in an appropriately swanky red riverhouse, the owner’s boat tethered boastfully along the riverfront. The interior had been decked out in décor that was simultaneously overwhelming and restrained – endless evergreen garlands, golden candlesticks, extensive spreads of the finest cheeses and wines on artisanal oak tables, expensive in their curated ruggedness. There was little joy in it, but there was power, and therefore, wonder.

Your boyfriend flitted between groups of people in a rising line of importance, and in the candlelight you saw the garishness in his exaggerated expressions, the slightly-too-harsh tone of his laugh. For better or for worse, you were mostly left alone – people at this kind of party knew who came from where, and the exception they had so graciously bestowed on your boyfriend didn’t extend to you. There was an empty, polite question here and there, but eyes rarely fell on you. You still smiled along, trying your best to participate in the conversation, biding your time until you could leave.

And then suddenly there was a cold gust of wind as the door opened, and a young man walked in, short and slight of build. His eyes darted across the room, and then he walked over to you and your boyfriend, and said simply, his eyes technically looking at you but not quite, “Hi, I’m Jisung.”

And so you introduced yourself and your boyfriend, before the young man turned away, without a second glance, staring flatly at the group in front of you.

He stood there for a while, watching as people talked without participating. But you saws the eyes of the men in front of you flit to him every few seconds, not with the confusion or mockery you would expect, but some sort of recognition. Quiet, restrained. Almost reverent.

And then, half-way through a conversation, a sentence still only half formed on the tongue of the elderly official in front of you, the young man turned to the food spread without a word, extending his hand out towards a cracker before withdrawing it. He then turned on his heel, and headed straight for the door.

“That was odd,” you whispered to your boyfriend.

“Yeah…super weird dude,” he muttered, not breaking eye contact from the man in front of you to respond.

And for the rest of the evening, you didn’t think once about him. He was just a passing wind, you thought, an odd chill that had swept through your life for a few moments, leaving no trace. Like so many of the buzzing voices around you, or your own existence to those with whom you spoke at the party.

~~~

At around 3 am you finally found yourself descending the concrete steps into your basement apartment, the dampness in the air clinging to your skin, the chill allowing it to sink into your bones. You ducked under the jagged metal that once again welcomed you home, entering your now pitch-back apartment. Your roommates were already asleep.

You tip-toed down the hall, trying to keep the old creaky floorboards as quiet as possible, past four doors. Those four bedrooms housed seven people in total, and with you and your boyfriend in the bedroom at the end of the hall, the apartment felt always too small, never quite comfortable. You perpetually felt like you were disturbing someone. But the rent was low split nine ways, and you did your best to bring some happiness into the space – picture frames with your family, quilted pillows from your mom, a few random knick-knacks from a store you had found under a market downtown.

You gently pushed your bedroom dorm open, closing it behind your boyfriend before rummaging through your drawers. The room was only filled by faint blue moonlight, flickering slightly as the rain fell against your small, high window, but you didn’t need to see – you knew the fabric of your nightgown by touch, the linen cool against your palm. You quickly stripped yourself of your party clothes, relieved as you slipped the light fabric over your head, and then yourself between the sheets of your bed.

Your headache from earlier had sunk so deep beneath your skull that nothing but sleep could erase it. You were relieved that you finally got a moment of quiet, of peace, to rest in the darkness with nothing you were obliged to do.

And then you felt a hand snake over your shoulder, and the whisper of a “Baby…”

You knew the term was reserved for requests, not endearment.

You sighed, squeezing your eyes together.

“Not tonight,” you responded, “I’m really too tired.”

And then you felt his hand slip from your shoulder and the dip of the mattress as he turned onto his back.

“Fine,” he muttered, the frustration thick in his voice, “I’m tired too, probably wouldn’t even feel that good with the condom and all….”

What had been a gentle inhale caught in your throat, your shoulders immediately tensing. You had been through this before, explained the situation to him, but it had always been like banging your hands against the wall, hoping it would move. You know you would only hurt your own fists.

So you let our your exhale - slow, unsteady – but decided to remain silent. With your eyes closed and in the silence you had chosen to create, you could almost pretend that you were alone.

~~~

When you arrived at work the following Monday, you were immediately flagged down by Seungmin.

He had started working in the same office only a month or so before you, and while he mostly stayed to himself, consumed in his own work, there was one thing that could draw him out of his bubble to slide over to your desk.

Gossip.

“Hey…” he murmured, scooting backwards from his desk so that he was in whispering range. You unwrapped your scarf from your neck, draping it on the back of your chair, eyebrow raised.

“Did you hear?” he whispered.

There was no one else in the office yet – no one else came in this early – but his eyes still darting at the door, carefully watching if anyone was entering.

The gossip must be good.

“Someone new is joining the team,” he said, “A new grad.”

“Oh? Who?” you responded, settling yourself down into your chair and turning towards him.

“I didn’t meet him,” he answered, “But his name is Jisung.”

The name sprung something in your brain, but in your sleepy morning fog, you were having a hard time pinpointing exactly why the name registered. And so you repeated it silently in your head, over and over until -

An imagine of the short man at the party popped into your head.

Oh no.

“I think he’s a Han,” continued Seungmin, unaware of your recognition, his voice growing even quieter as his eyes widened.

“A Han?” you asked. Having only moved to the city a few years ago, you didn’t know family names past the ones of those you worked with directly, or those of your roommates.

“Of the Hans,” he responded, as if that was a full explanation.

At your confused expression, he leaned in, eyebrows shooting up.

“You don’t know the Hans??” he whispered again, but with so much force it might have well been a shout, “They’re like…super old money. Came here at like the dawn of time to trade, controlled the canal construction in the city? Their patriarch was chancellor a few decades ago, and their hands go deep in pretty much every part of the government. Pockets even deeper.”

He scooted a little bit forward, the corners of his mouth rising as he thought of his next tidbit to share.

“I think Jisung’s older sister married a billionaire from the southern capital a few years ago,” he continued, “Wedding was insane. At least from the pictures, I wasn’t invited.”

His enthusiasm was shattered briefly by a look of frustration – although Seungmin’s family was not of the worker class, you had learned after moving to the city that there was a strict hierarchy within the upper class itself. Seungmin’s family occupied the lowers rungs.

Those whose ancestors held the top posts during the canal construction were highest, nearly untouchable, but there was a whole array of others who hadn’t technically labored on the canals, yet still didn’t truly call the shots. These included the more minor officials, a smattering of high-ranking merchants who had organized the supply of raw materials, and construction managers. Their descendants had the privilege of navigating society with relative ease, but their didn’t wield enough influence to be invited to be invited to the exclusive, opulent parties of families like the Hans.

But Seungmin regained his composure, buoyed by his sparkly news, the freedom with which he got to opine in the empty space. He lowered his voice, and looked pointedly at you.

“Bet he’ll be a peach to work with,” he muttered, eyes dancing around the room to make sure no one else had arrived, “So you might want to buckle up, get ready to take on some extra work.”

Your stomach immediately dropped, the space it left behind immediately filled by a bubbling, burning anger. You were already coming to work early and leaving after anyone else – what you did not need was to take on the work of some lazy, entitled heir.

And, on a personal note, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like to actually have to spend the whole day with Jisung. You had only spend a few minutes with him at that party, and it was painfully awkward. You remembered then how the older officials had looked at him, and it now made sense – he was probably one of those people that never had to learn how to integrate themselves in conversation. The world adjusted conversation to them.

You reached to your temples, a stress headache already forming.

“When does he get here?” you asked, trying to keep the obvious bitterness out of your voice.

“Tomorrow,” Seungmin responded, just as another coworker strode through the door, cutting your conversation short.

~~~

As Seungmin predicted, Jisung arrived at 9 am the next day.

You watched as your coworkers greeted him, biting the inside of your lip to hold back your frustration as they grasped his hands with eagerness, eyes locked on him with an attention they certainly hadn’t given you on your first day.

After a few minutes, you stepped forward too, offering your hand. He only looked at you blankly, as if he had never once laid eyes on you, never spent a half-hour standing next to you.

Of course he didn’t remember you. Or just wouldn’t acknowledge you. Silly to think he would.

So you reintroduced yourself as quickly as you could, exchanged the minimum number of pleasantries necessary and quickly got back to work. If you were going to have to take on his work as well, you didn’t have time to waste giving him any more attention. He certainly didn’t need it.

So you turned on your heel, returning to your desk, sliding the first set of documents from your to-do pile as you uncapped your pen.

~~~

As the day progressed, you found at one unexpected benefit of Jisung’s presence.

For the whole rest of the workday, your coworkers flocked around him like hyenas, asking if he needed anything, trying to entice him with witty anecdotes, stories of interactions they had had with various members of his family. Even high officials from other offices came to greet him, to welcome him heartily to his government post.

The ceaseless attention continued to irritate you, but with all eyes on Jisung, you were at least left alone to work in peace. No one came over to you to ask you to pick up some random task, to run an errand, to get coffee. So even with your bitterness nibbling quietly at your core, you were eventually able to tune it out, so that the whole world was just you, your desk, your work. It was blissfully productive, and then –

“I…is there something I can help you with?”

Startled, you spun in your chair to see Jisung standing behind you, his hands clasped together.

“Why are you still here?” you snapped before you could control your tone, and you saw something that looked strangely like hurt flit across his eyes. He stepped back slightly.

“I – sorry,” you said, softening your voice, “I just – it’s already 8pm, so I guess I’m just…confused why you’re still here. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“I…don’t,” he said. Almost as if he were embarrassed.

Your boyfriend had been right…Jisung was a weird dude. You couldn’t understand what he was doing, why he was here, why he was offering to help you. He had already ignored you twice – why was he acknowledging you now, when you finally were getting work done?

“You don’t have to help me,” you said firmly, “You can go home.”

“I…” he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t say that I recognized you earlier. Because I did.”

He swallowed hard, continuing, “You were at that party, right? At the red riverhouse?”

You nodded slowly, and at your affirmation, the words began tumbling from his mouth, all smushed together.

“I’msosorry. I was thinking about it all day, how I must’ve made a bad impression today. I don’t want you to think I forgot, or that you weren’t memorable, but I got nervous that you would think I found you too memorable, like I had just been thinking about you since we met, because that would be creepy. I promise I just remember you a normal amount but I got kind of overwhelmed and froze up and then I just didn’t –“

“Jisung, stop,” you said, holding up your hand, “You don’t have to apologize.”

If you had given yourself one extra second to think it through your next statement, you would have stopped yourself, said something neutral and pleasant. But something suddenly clicked in you – maybe just the exhaustion of day, or the simmering resentment with roots that had been growing your whole life – regardless, quite past your own control, you found yourself suddenly unable to say anything but the truth.

“Look,” you said, voice firm, “I don’t know who you talked to, or how much you know about this office, but you don’t need to worry about getting into my good books. I’m an entry level worker, just here to do this job the best I can, so I can feed myself, house myself, and send money to my family in the countryside to repair our home from flood for like the seventeenth time.”

He likely already knew based on the way he had interacted with you at the party, but this would surely make it clear who you were - only the worker class lived in the countryside, had to bail out their houses from floods, again and again.

“So you don’t need to bother with trying to charm me,” you continued, “It won’t matter for your career.”

And then, the boiling anger that had lodged itself in you ever since Seungmin’s announcement a day earlier bubbled over, the most bitter corner of your honesty hitting the air.

“And it’s not like you made any kind of effort at the party with me,” you said, “So why start now that we’re coworkers?”

Jisung stared at you wide-eyed for a moment, stunned, and the quiet suddenly clanged with your own panic.

How could you be so stupid? Impulsive? He was a Han. He could destroy your tenuous position like that if he wanted, all your hard work to be washed away in the winter rains.

And then he spoke, slowly, quietly, like a confession. Not making eye contact.

“I’m…sorry for that too,” he said, “That was…I didn’t mean…It’s my own problem I –“

He looked up briefly to make eye contact with you, and it looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else, to be talking about anything else. But there was something desperately earnest in him, forcing it out.

“I’m not…good with people,” he continued, “I try to come up with the right the thing to say and you see what happens, it gets all twisted and weird, so then sometimes I just kind of freeze, and can’t say anything at all. People will humor me, be nice to me because of my family, but this…it doesn’t come easily to me.”

He took another deep breathe, sighing heavily.

“But I’ve been…trying to get more practice, maybe get better at it, so I went to that party but I got so overwhelmed and nervous that then I just left – which of course, you saw. So, I’m sorry about that too. And today. And for now, also.”

You paused for a moment, trying to process, a tight wad of guilt budding in your chest.

“You just seemed nice at the party. And you were still nice, even though you clearly didn’t…know me.”

His implication was clear. Know my family.

“So I was waiting for a moment when there were fewer people today so I would be less likely to mess up to talk to you. I was just hoping I could get to know you a little better, maybe? Make amends for earlier?…But I totally get that you’re just here to work, I didn’t mean to disturb you more by coming over here. Sorry again.”

And with that he gave you a weak smile, and said “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

And then the guilt fully bloomed, crowding into your heart, your lungs. He was just a kid, and this was his first day of work and he clearly had been so nervous and you had been so mean to him when he hadn’t actually done anything to you. You had constructed a whole persona for him based on a few flimsy facts, and a mountain of assumptions. You never even gave him a chance.

“Jisung, wait!” you called after him, and he slowly turned, eyes on the edge between apprehension and hope, “I’m so sorry. That was so rude of me. I just…I thought you didn’t think I was worth your time, which you clearly don’t. It’s just that I’m used to that kind of thing and with your…”

You waved your hands in his general direction, and he nodded slightly so that you knew he understood the meaning of your wild gesticulation.

“A lot of people act like I’m not worth their time once they know…more about me. To think you came over because you thought I was so nice…”

You shook your head at yourself.

“Can I treat you to lunch tomorrow? To apologize? Maybe have second chance for both of us, start over?”

His face lit up, his smile uncontained.

“Oh it’s okay! You don’t have to treat!” he responded, “But I would love to get lunch with you.”

“Great,” you said, “Go get some rest then, I’m sure you’re tired from your first day. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

And you sent him off with your warmest smile.

~~~

The sun was warm against your face, baking the bricks beneath your feet and dancing in the canal waters in front of you.

“The third seasons my favorite,” you said, stabbing your fork into your lunch, “It just wraps up everything so well, the character arcs are perfect.”

“Mmm,” agreed Jisung, “My only issue with the third was the pairing they ended up with? I don’t know it just seemed like there were so many better option for her to end up with and then she ends up with him? It just seemed kind of forced to me, like they planned out that storyline from the beginning, but then the characters evolved and ended up in such difference places that other people would have just made way more sense?”

“Yes!” you agreed, “There was no chemistry. You’re right – it really seems like they decided on it early on, and then stuck to a plan they shouldn’t have. Honestly, none of the pairings really made sense.”

Jisung took another bite of his sandwich, nodding vigorously in agreement while his mouth was full of bread. You leaned back against the bench, gazing across the flowerbeds. The government building loomed behind you, gray and imposing, the shadow it cast a constant reminder of the work you had yet to complete.

You had expected your first lunch to be mostly a mea culpa, maybe a gateway to a gentle work acquaintanceship, but you had quickly found that you had more in common than you thought. You liked all the same books, movies, and shared a favorite childhood show that both of you still (embarrassingly) liked to watch. Things with Jisung were suprisingly easy. Comfortable, even. So your first lunch had naturally flowed into one the next day, and then the next week, and now it was just a normal part of both of your routines.

At noon each day, you would leave the office together, and while he grabbed lunch from one of the fancy lunch places along the river, you staked your claim on your favorite bench where he would meet you a few minutes later.

“So…” you said, watching as he scrunched the paper that had wrapped his sandwich into a ball, “Your birthday is Saturday, right?”

Jisung’s had snapped to yours, eyebrows rising in surprise, as he asked, “How did you know?”

“I always look up birthdays in the employee database when new people join,” you responded, “If I like them, that is.”

Jisung smiled, breaking eye contact to watch a tug boat that floated lazily by.

“So I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” you said, “since I won’t see you until after.”

He looked back at you, but said nothing. But there was something in his expression to you that was clear, but you couldn’t pin exactly why you were able to decipher it. He wanted something.

“You have a thought,” you stated, looking at him intently.

“Oh I…” he said, “Oh no it’s nothing.”

“Come on, Ji,” you said.

You immediately pushed your lips together, chastising yourself for your slip-up. The nickname had come out so naturally, so easily but…you might be work acquaintances and have some things in common, but he was still a Han. You shouldn’t just be throwing around nicknames with someone like that.

But Jisung just smiled, the reflections off the water pooling in his eyes.

“YouwannacometomyhouseSaturday?” he said all at once, as if he was pushing the words out before he stopped himself, before he reconsidered.

“You want me to come over?” you asked, wondering if you had misinterpreted his mumbling, constructed a fantasy meaning from entirely different words.

But he just nodded vigorously, expression apprehensive.

“For your birthday?”

He nodded again.

Your immediate thought was that no, you did not want to attend some sort of party that no doubt would be populated only families like the Hans, having to awkwardly dodge questions and watch as people looked at your with that pitying look. You didn’t even know what the expectations would be – what were you supposed to wear? Bring?

It sounded like hell, but after the way you had talked to him on his first day, you still felt that you owed him.

And aside from all the family stuff – he was nice. At least he had been so far, to you.

“Okay,” you said, breathing in slowly, “Yeah, I think I can do that. Should I…bring anything?”

He grinned widely, and just shook his head as he said, “Only you.”

~~~

At Saturday at 8pm, you found yourself standing in front of white door, in a long, glittering hallway, clutching at the box you had brought with you.

You took one deep breath. Two. You would knock after the third.

Three. Four. Five. Six.

Okay, you said to yourself, you can do this.

You squeezed your first, rapping twice on the door.

You heard a shuffle from inside, and then a few clicks before the door swung open, Jisung’s bashful smile coming into view.

And then you saw the interior of his apartment, and your jaw dropped.

You had known that his apartment would be luxurious and beautiful, like all those staged homes you had seen on the cover of architecture magazines as you had waited to check out your groceries. But to see it in person was quite another thing.

The interior was all painted white, with soaring ceilings and exquisite moldings, wrapped by on all sides by high windows that offered a glittering view of the bay below, the lights of boats and windows twinkling in the darkness. Your eyes bounced between the fireplace, the spotless couch, various sparkles of gold and bronze and silver, the colors in the rug spread beneath his feet. Heirlooms too precious for him to touch, for you to even look at.

And then you noticed – there were no people. Just you and Jisung.

You swallowed before stepping across the threshold and handing the box you had been carrying to him.

“A cake,” you explained, “I baked it, for your birthday.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, face lighting up, “Thank you! That’s so nice of you. Let me take it to the kitchen, we can cut it there.”

And so you followed him as he walked through the living room, your eyes desperately trying to take in your surroundings. You weren’t surprised to see that his kitchen was similarly appointed with what was no doubt an incredibly expensive coffee machine, the same expanse of windows with views of the bay, a set of tables and chairs that looked as if it had been pulled straight out of a magazine.

He gently opened the box, rummaging through the one of the draws to pull out a knife, and then carefully pressed it against the cake. The cake was a simple chocolate one, dusted in powdered sugar, the one your mother had always made you. You were sure he was used to finer desserts, but he seemed genuinely excited that you had brought it.

As you watched him slice it into eighths, you finally gave voice to the question that had been clawing at you since you entered.

“Sorry, Jisung, am I early? I kind of thought this was going to be a party…”

You saw him freeze for a moment, tensing, before turning around slowly, his eyes falling on yours.

“It…no, it’s just us. Is that okay? I probably should have made that clear.”

And then you saw his eyes bug out, a sudden realization hitting him, and he rushed to explain,

“I hoped you don’t think this is a…move or something. To like, invite you to my apartment to get you alone. That wasn’t my intent, I just thought it would be fun to…hang out?”

You were suddenly hit with that familiar urge that you sometimes felt around him, to say what you actually thought, and before you had thought it through you were asking:

“Can I ask…why? I just kind of assumed with all your connections and your family and everything you would have this big party. So I guess I’m just surprised, and kind of confused why I’m here, and like, clearly you wouldn’t be hitting on me or anything but I don’t know…I guess I’m just kind of confused?”

He took a deep breathe, lowering his eyes.

“I had that before this, the family thing. Dinner with my parents, my sister, her husband, family friends. But honestly it’s more of an obligation than anything else, a way for families to reinforce ties. And then normally I just come home to my apartment after.”

He took a deep breath, biting at his lip.

“Every year my sister suggests have a party after, with just my friends, but…I guess there just hasn’t been anyone who I felt comfortable enough with for that? Who I thought would want to celebrate with me? I guess I just don’t really have…”

Friends. He trailed off, letting you fill in the rest of the sentence, the reality too heavy for him to speak.

“But this year, when my sister asked, I thought of you. Even though we haven’t known each other for that long, I’m…comfortable with you. I like spending time with you. And it seems like might like spending time with me? And I didn’t think I would actually ask, but then you mentioned it at work and well…”

He gestured towards you, standing in his kitchen.

“It’s embarrassing to say, but that’s the truth, since you were curious.”

You nodded, a little bubble of something new and warm forming in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile. At your expression, his shoulders visibly relaxed. You wanted to put him at ease, to assure him that he hadn’t made the wrong choice in pushing himself to ask.

You were also reeling a little bit at the idea that he had been so nervous about asking you.

“I do like spending time with you,” you responded, “And I’m honored you want me to celebrate with you…”

“But I would try the cake first,” you said, your smile taking on a mischievous edge, “before you decide that I’m the birthday guest you want. It’s my mom’s recipe, but she’s the good baker, not me.”

He chuckled, saying, “Honestly, it could be the driest cake and I think I would still like it.”

~~~

The doorbell rang. Your order of chicken wings, probably.

“I’ll get it,” said Jisung, rising from his seat.

You had been curled up on his couch for the last five hours or so, going through the entire first season of your shared favorite show. And while you hadn’t entirely settled into your surroundings, you were finding surprisingly easy to feel comfortable. You chatted and laughed, ordered various fried foods as the night progressed between bites of your (mediocre) cake, sinking deeper and deeper into the cushions.

Jisung walked back over to you, placing the take-out container on the table. You gingerly picked up a wing, holding your hand against the back of your plate, guarding against any drips. You still were terrified of getting anything on his pristine white couch, which no doubt cost more than half a year’s rent.

Catching your caution, Jisung quickly said, “Oh don’t worry about getting anything dirty. It’s not a big deal.”

You looked at him incredulously, saying, “But isn’t this couch like…thousands of dollars…”

“Well yes, but…” he trailed off, clearly weighing whether continued explanation would too clearly highlight your differences, come off as a boast.

And then you saw something spark in his expression. And you knew immediately, just as you had by the canal earlier in the week – he wanted to ask you something.

“Can I ask you something?” he ventured cautiously.

“Mhmh, ” you responded, your mouth still full.

“Why the housing office? “ he continued, “I know it’s not…typical for people with your background. So I’ve been curious.”

You swallowed your mouthful, before responding, “I think I alluded to it when we first talked. But the house I grew up in was always in a pretty dire state. Which is pretty typical in the countryside with the crumbling canals and everything built too low but…waking up in the middle of the night to floods, all of your belongings getting ruined, constantly fighting the dampness and the mold…”

“I just think sometimes about when I have kids, how awful I’d feel too if they had to live in a house like that. How awful my parents did feel. Trying to keep the house safe and stable for us. It always hurt to see how much they blamed themselves for something they couldn’t control. I just feel like everyone should be able to have a nice, safe house, a true home. So I wanted to get into the housing office to see if I could maybe get more attention on that, on building homes that are more flood resistant in the countryside, and better support for when there are floods.”

You let out a slow, frustrated exhale.

“Of course right now I’m mostly just getting through paperwork. And that dream feels pretty stupid now, actually. Like, there’s no way I’ll be able to actual do anything at this rate but, I’m here in this job now I guess, so…” you shrugged, looking back at the screen in front of you.

“I don’t think it’s stupid at all,” said Jisung gently, laying his hand gently on your knee, before catching himself and pulling it back.

~~~

When you woke up the next morning, you immediately knew by the feel of the sheets – silky, soft – that you weren’t at home.

You bolted upright, blinking away the sleep until the room came into view. Jisung’s apartment. Jisung’s bedroom.

You threw off the comforter and padded back into the living room to see Jisung sitting on his couch, a pillow to his left and a crinkled blanket to his right.

“Oh my god, did you sleep on your couch because of me?” you asked.

Jisung turned to you, and exclaimed, “Oh you’re up! Oh uh, yeah, but, it was no problem – you fell asleep during the movie so I moved you to my bed, I hope you don’t mind? And obviously I wasn’t going to sleep in the bed with you, so…”

“I’m so sorry Ji!” you said shaking your head at yourself, “It was your birthday and you didn’t even get to sleep in your own bed! I’m the worst.”

“No, no, it’s okay!” he said, “I was really fine! The couch was perfectly comfortable.”

“And honestly I kind of…” he continued, “I’ve never had a birthday that was so fun that we just kind of fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.”

He looked down for a moment, the embarrassment casting a shadow over him for a moment, before he looked back up at you, his face all sunshine.

“So I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday,” he concluded.

You smiled back at him, and before you thought it through fully, you leapt forward pulling him into a hug. He tensed for a moment in surprise, before he melted into you, his chin resting against your shoulder.

“I’m glad,” you whispered, “You deserve the best birthday.”

He then pulled away, looking at your seriously, his eyes quickly dancing between yours, looking for something.

“How about I make you some coffee?” he asked, his hand rubbing at the back of his head, expression guilty, “I think you maybe got like…four hours of sleep max? Which is my fault, so this is the least I can do.”

You knew then that you must look tired but that he was too polite to tell you that, so you suppressed a giggle, simple stating, “That would be great, Ji.”

So he stood up, and, with one final smile, disappeared into the kitchen.

~~~

* Part III Coming Soon :) *

~~~

Photo by Henry Be on Unsplash

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