Cat And Mouse
cat and mouse
summary: your co-worker has been on your case ever since you've started your time at the company. a strange turn of events and circumstance changes all that.
pairing: coworker! lee know x reader
trope: enemies to lovers <3, office au
genre: slight angst, smut, and fluff
warnings: fem-bodied reader, oral, creampie, overstim, unprotected sex, bulge kink, spitting, etc. 18+ mdni
word count: 9.8k
a/n: a little practice piece for you guys, i hope i did well;; so sorry this took me so long to write :( i also hope it's cohesive enough, i keep writing this fic on and off sleep deprived lol
-
tick…
tock…
tick…
to-
“the clock isn’t going to speed up just because you keep staring at it.” the cubicle beside you chirps in, momentarily shaking you out of your thoughts. by now, you’ve trained to pay him no mind as you keep your focus on the clock that reads 4:56 pm, almost taunting you in a way.
a few more minutes and you’ll be home free for the weekend. maybe you can finally relax and get away from your dreaded paperwork. perhaps look through your shopping apps since you had nothing else better to do for the weekend, or better yet- you could run a well deserved bath with that bath bomb you always wanted to use but never got a chance to. all the possibilities sounded heavenly although all that would have to actually wait until you get home.
one other thing that you had been anticipating all day was having that dinner after work with jeongin- your close friend and coworker from a different department. he had been begging you for ages to finally try that one soba place that opened up nearby with him. you being a good friend, agreed.
“you might actually melt the clock if you keep doing that y’know.” your cubicle neighbor- lee minho smirks, now standing and leaning over your workspace.
"what do you want?" pointedly asking him.
"oh, nothing. nothing."
“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you deadpan and tilt your chin up to stare at him, minho just offers a sly smirk in return. he always liked to bother and butt into your business for some odd reason.
minho shrugs, “it’s fun teasing you. you do that thing where you scrunch your nose when you get riled up.” a vain visibly pops up from your forehead, but turn to your computer, hoping to drown him out with your typing.
you knew better than to give him a reaction. if you had a penny for how many times that particular vein popped from your forehead because of minho, you’d probably be a millionaire by now.
“oh, one more thing-” the brown haired man saunters back to his desk, and comes back to yours with a huge stack of papers. he unceremoniously plops it down, the annoying feline-like grin on his face.
“what’s…this?” raising an eyebrow at him, you hope it's not what you think he's planning. you have plans. he crosses his arms and pushes his framed glasses back.
“paperwork, of course.” you wanted to strangle him. “yes, i’m well aware that this is paperwork. why is it now on my desk?”
before you could protest any further, “they want this finished by next week.” he leans to practically whisper in your ear. minho grins mischievously after he sees your pink flustered face take a step back.
the humongous stack was already on his desk, so your boss most likely assigned it to him in the first place. you furrow your eyebrows and turn to him, worst fear coming true.
"ohh no. not in a million years." you get up from your seat, avoiding the offending pile. he starts going back to his desk, neatly placing his things in it's organizers.
“why can’t you finish it? you- what are you doing?” but minho was already grabbing his bag and blazer and looking at his wrist watch.
“would you look at the time- thanks for covering for me!” aaaand he's gone.
plopping down on your chair, you bury your face in your hands, stopping yourself from pulling out hair. frustration creases on your forehead. well, you could kiss that dinner with jeongin goodbye. now you definitely want to strangle him.
-
lee minho. if you were to find a personification of the word annoying, the brunette would certainly be it. that man has done nothing but annoy the hell out of you ever since you started your time in the company. other people in your department often regarded him as one of the most reliable and polite employees here.
you would inwardly scoff at the frequent mention of minho and his apparent “reliable-ness and politeness” since all he was, was just the opposite. to you at least. it was hard to believe at first.
but then you actually saw the way he carried himself with effortlessness and composure, handled business affairs, and how he mingled so seamlessly with fellow colleagues. it was nothing short of professional.
so you had a theory that he was only like that towards you. a complete dick only to you. you although weren’t quite sure why.
the girls in your department would often talk about him as well, mostly for his appearance. you really weren’t one for gossiping but you would listen in sometimes, curious about what they see in him. it was hard not to when they would gush about their workplace crushes and love lives so openly, a tinge of envy seeps through your bones every time it would be mentioned. you have got to get laid one day.
“he’s totally my type, you think i should ask him out?” your other cubicle neighbor says quite loudly during her break. her friend beside her shakes their head, “no, no you can’t.”
“why not? isn't he hot and available?” she asks absentmindedly. you start to zone out for a minute, only catching bits and pieces of their conversation. but you contemplate about what she said for a second, you would be lying if you said that lee minho was unattractive.
far from that actually. distinctly remembering catching a few glimpses of him from your first day, intrigued and interest piqued. his sharp nose and cheek bones, features were like sculpted by michaelangelo himself, his toned and lean figure accentuated by the perfectly well fit suit that he always seem to wear.
you definitely found him attractive at first.
that was until he started annoying you, so all of that was quickly out the window.
but you would probably end yourself before admitting that to anyone. you let out a disgruntled sigh, appearance wouldn’t really matter if he wasn’t such a knob to begin with.
as you approached your dimly lit street, all you could think about was that feline faced jerk. what was he thinking, dumping all that work on you last minute? you felt really bad about cancelling on jeongin, texting him earlier about the sudden change of schedule. the dark haired man you've come to know just replies with a little;
'we'll just try again next week lol'
you breathe out a relieved sigh, thankful that he wasn't mad. kicking the pebbles on the side of the road, you imagined that the little rocks were minho's face. you could not wait until you get home.
“stupid paperwork, stupid minho, stupid…”
your muttering fades and you suddenly stop in your tracks as your elderly neighbor waves you over from her front door, grandma lee or just grandma- as she insists you call her instead.
you bowed and greeted her, “hi grandma, did you need something?” you were quite close with the sweet old lady, her gray hair swaying lightly in the wind.
the elder would often check up on you after hearing that you traveled all the way from your hometown to the city, almost taking you in as her own. you were grateful for the company since homesickness would often creep up. she would also often bring you comically large jars of kimchi which you appreciated greatly.
she smiles as she gestures to the multiple bags she was holding, "i just need a little help getting these inside the house, dear." you take the heavy bags from her hands. what were in these, rocks? grandma claps her hands together in remembrance.
“have you had dinner yet? i made extra.”
-
grandma sets a bowl in front of you, the sight of seaweed soup instantly brings you comfort. your stomach grumbles as you dig in. she watches you intently as you practically inhale the soup, starved from the long and terrible day you had.
you sent her a polite questioning look. “i want to ask you for a favor.” she finally starts, flicking through the channels of her tv. the weather was on, the forecaster droning on about rain happening this week in the same monotone voice for the past 10 minutes. you look at her and nod immediately, she had done so much for you, doing a few favors aren't going to hurt.
“do you have a car, dear?”
blowing on the steaming hot seaweed soup, you nod again at her question, wondering where this conversation is heading.
“i need someone to drive me to my son’s house tomorrow, i'm staying over there for the weekend and my bags are a little heavy. would that be alright with you, dear?” you’ve heard about her family from her stories when she would have you over like now, little bits and pieces. you smile and agree.
a cheshire grin graces your features after a moment. “what’s in it for me?” it was a joke of course, grandma knew it too. having spent a large amount of time with her, your humor must’ve rubbed off at some point.
you didn’t expect her to actually answer but she replies, “actually, i’d like you to meet my grandson as well. i think you two would get along. he's the same age as you too.”
the aforementioned grandson was someone you’ve seen in a bunch of grandma lee’s hallway pictures. you remember that he was an only child, often the only kid and the lone subject in the photos. your favorite was the kid in red with a toothy grin. he must’ve been 5 when it was taken.
"it was a joke, grandma. i'm sure your grandson wouldn't want a stranger suddenly coming to meet him." she shakes her head,
"nonsense. that boy doesn't know what he wants." you laugh at her persistence. getting another bowl of rice, you ponder her offer for a second. maybe this could finally cure your dull and dry love life, it couldn't hurt to try. if worse comes to worst, you could just pretend it never happened.
“but of course, i’ll drive you there. i have nothing to do anyways.” you say with a mouthful of rice. grandma pats you on the back and continues to flick through the channels once more.
“thank you dear.”
-
the sunset blears through your windshield, sun rays momentarily blinding you. it was clear as day. the ride to her family’s house was relatively quiet, the elderly lady in your passenger seat preferred to sleep the whole ride through after handing you the address, giving you a moment to leave you in your thoughts.
pulling up to the neighborhood, you let out a low whistle. the house was at the end of the street, steep and uphill. it was surely going to be a struggle to get the car way up there.
you get to the curb, reverse and try to park your car as best as you can. the house was really pretty, you thought. it looked pretty lived in too, but in a cozy way. vines was sprawled all over the brick exterior and flowers had bloomed all over the property.
you wake up grandma and start to haul her luggage up and out the car.
"you go up, grandma. i'll catch up."
after struggling to get the multiple bags of luggage up hill, you finally waddle to the front door. the door was left slightly ajar, probably for your convenience. you took a quick peek around, hoping for someone to let you in.
calling out before entering, you were met with silence. you figured they were too busy catching up so you eventually let yourself in.
the furniture adorning the hallway and rooms were made out of wood, the handiwork and craftsmanship was evident, intricate carvings on each and every one of them. it must’ve been made by grandma lee’s son as you’ve heard from her many stories.
a ginger cat with white stripes greets you as you enter the front door, it strides over to you in intrigue. leaning down and dropping grandma's bags gently, you let the feline sniff your hand before allowing itself to be pet. soon enough it starts rubbing its body on your legs and purring loudly. adorable cat, you thought.
silence fills the house, aside from the soft chatter coming from the other side of the wall. the cat leaves it's spot, not wanting to be pet anymore. you sit up and observe the house again, noticing a myriad of family photos adorning the walls and some of the tables.
coming closer to one of the pictures, again, you encounter the same young boy in red but this time he was wearing a cap sideways and a puffer jacket that seemed to be way too big for him.
"hello! you must be y/n!" a feminine voice suddenly calls out from the living room. you straighten your back from the mention of your name, hoping she didn't catch you closely staring at their personal and probably private photos. grandma lee comes out from the living room as well and walks towards you with a younger and kind looking woman in tow. she had another cat in her arms, this time it's coat was gray with dark streaks.
you smile and greet her politely, exchanging pleasantries. you quietly pick up the neglected bags and place them near the guest room. they continue their conversation with each other from before, you now awkwardly standing in the middle. looking at your wrist watch, you figured you should probably head on home.
"i suppose i'll get going now, it was really nice meeting you." mrs. lee looked startled at your sudden announcement.
"why don't you stay for a while? it must've been a long drive here, you're probably hungry." these two women weren't related by blood but they practically were, having the same idea when it came to hospitality.
"well, i don't want to overstay my welcome. i'm just here to give grandma a ride." smoothening out your non-existent clothes wrinkles in apprehension.
she waves her hand in dismissal, "but you must stay, you're already here anyways." she grins and pats your back. mrs. lee didn't seem to budge at your refusal.
you relented, finally accepting her offer. "my son is in the kitchen whipping something up. he's a great cook." you totally forgot about her son being actually here. the joke offer from yesterday completely forgotten and flew out of your mind. slight embarrassment runs through you, realizing that the offer was somewhat serious. you would surely need to mentally prep yourself for more socialization than you've anticipated.
but you instantly believe her claim that her son was a great cook, the amazing and aromatic smell of what seems to be steak and multiple herbs and spices from the kitchen wafts through out the entire house.
"okay- while we're waiting," mrs. lee gestures for you to take a seat, "you should go sit on the couch, y/n. i've been dying to meet you."
she hands you a mug of hot tea and sits down next to you. "mom here talks about you all the time, thank you for keeping her company."
"it's no problem at all, i like her company too." and with that, the three of you fall into a smooth and comfortable rhythm of conversation. the younger of the two women across from you continues to poke and prod into life, not that you minded. she would ask you about your life, where were you from, where you went to school, and where you went to work and among other things.
she offers you stories of her son gleefully in return, laughing about a particularly embarrassing story when he was younger. you learned that he was quite fond and talented in dancing, loves cats, and loves to cook. oddly enough mrs. lee never mentioned his name at all, you didn't want to pry. now that you've thought about it, grandma hadn't mentioned his name at all either. all you had for a lead was initials you remember seeing etched on one of grandma's photos. you figured you'd meet this person soon enough anyways.
after a while, grandma lee retreats to the guest room they've set up, assuming that she'd want to fix her belongings. mrs. lee starts to drag you around the house, urging you to help her set the plates up and talk more while doing so. midway through placing the chopsticks on the table, the sound of pots and pans clanging from the other room shakes you out of your thoughts.
"mom?" a voice calls out from their kitchen. it must be her son. you slightly raise your eyebrows, he sounds oddly familiar but you can't place your finger who he might've sounded like. you quickly brush it off.
"yes?"
"have you seen the slow cooker?" the man finally reveals himself and pokes his head through the entryway to the kitchen.
you lift your head and lock eyes with the said person. shock freezes your movements, dropping the utensils that you were holding. blinking owlishly in surprise, you weren't sure if what you were seeing was real.
you feel the wind knock out of your lungs. this was not happening. the brown eyes, brown hair, and cat like face from work that you've come to dislike stared back. you must be hallucinating.
standing across from you was lee minho, the lee minho. grandma lee’s grandson. the same one that's been tormenting you all year round. you just couldn't believe it, wondering what kind of luck you had to end up here.
you think back to when you looking (--more like snooping) at grandma lee's framed hallway photos, the kid- that was him all along? you're really bad at recognizing faces, you thought to yourself. well, she certainly made him seem like a complete angel from the stories.
"oh! this is y/n. your grandmother invited her to eat dinner with us." mrs. lee pulls your figure closer into a side hug and beams at her son.
he furrows his eyebrows at you, glancing back and forth at you and his mother. he must be as confused and shocked as you are. "hi." minho says, nodding at your direction. you purse your lips and shuffle uncomfortably in place.
minho again asks where the slow cooker was since the first time he asked was ignored. he was wearing a loose fitting shirt, his broad shoulders looking more prominent. you realize you've never seen him outside of his work attire before. he looked comfortable, domestic even.
his mom says to check the cupboards, paying him no mind and continuing to set the table up. minho nods slowly, eyes not leaving yours and heads back to the kitchen. a little shell shocked about your little encounter, you clear your throat and go back to the task at hand. you'd just have to deal with this for the evening and then you could go home.
when the table was done, mrs. lee turns to you, "y/n? would you mind helping minho over there with bringing the side dishes to the table?" you freeze at the realization that you would have to interact with him alone.
"sure." you say meekly. she thanks you and goes to the guest room to presumably get the older lady for dinner. psyching your self up before entering the kitchen, his broad back facing you. he senses your presence and chuckles.
you were sure he was going to make this whole night unbearable.
"well, this is a nice surprise."
"what are you doing here?" stupid question from you seeing as this was his own house. mentally face palming your head, he hums smugly and starts dividing the side dishes onto smaller plates. you notice his very toned arms flexing as he puts the tubs away.
"i should be asking you that. i didn't expect you to be here." he says nonchalantly, but you could feel a sly smile forming on his face as he speaks.
"neither did i." you grumble and lightly shove him aside, wanting to get the side dishes out to the table already. you ignore the way he looks so domestic right now.
-
you stare at him from directly across the table, hoping he would keep his mouth shut. he smirks while he eats, purposefully riling you up and glancing at you with a knowing grin.
do not lose your cool, y/n.
silence rings out the dining room aside from the quiet clattering of utensils on plates.
"y/n?"
"i'm sorry?" you snap out of your little less than friendly staring contest with him.
"do... you know each other?" his mother finally breaks the silence and here eyes flickers back and forth between both of you.
"yes-"
"no-"
a full on headache is surely forming now, it's going to be hard to hide your annoyance. quick, think of a lie.
"we're coworkers. same company." you grimace as he answers for the both of you. no use in hiding it now. "oh! that's wonderful." the older lady to your right clasps her hands in delight.
"you didn't tell me you worked together." grandma turns to you grinning brightly. you avoid eye contact with her, nodding and forcing out a smile. you wanted nothing more than want the ground to swallow you up right then and there.
"you two must be close." his mother says, sipping at her drink. you were about to open your mouth to say that you really aren't actually, but minho beats you to the punch.
"we kind of are." minho rests his elbows on the table and turns to you. he's enjoying this. the bastard was enjoying this. resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back to finish your meal.
hatred for the man aside, he really was a great cook as mentioned countless of times. you actually find yourself enjoying the meal he had prepared.
"tell me what you two get up to at work, i want to hear all of it."
you shift uncomfortably in your seat, being honest wouldn't be the best idea. you didn't want these two lovely women to know how much of an unpleasant man their son and grandson is. and it was his house after all, the best decision might be to at least be civil with him.
so you play along with his facade, not wanting to disappoint them even if it was probably going to bite you in the ass later.
minho starts cutting the meat up into bite sized pieces while the conversation between the two ladies continue. he places it on your plate without saying anything. this takes you by surprise, looking at his face for an answer.
the two audience members among the dining table seems to have noticed your little exchange. a wrinkly hand touches over yours catches your attention.
"oh, so are you two..." she trails off, implication heavy on her tone.
"no- no, grandma. i told you i wasn't seeing anyone." you shoot a discrete glare towards minho.
"ah, i see..."
you shrink down your seat for the remainder of the hour, embarrassment flooding your being. why did he have to do that? you were already practically fighting for your life not to get too involved with all this, and he pulls that?
after that very eventful dinner, it was already nearing 8 pm. you figured that you should probably get out of their hair, not wanting to disturb them than you already had. that bubble bath and movie marathon you had planned in your head sounded amazing right about now. maybe that would help you forget about this crazy night.
"grandma," she turns in response, "i think i better get going." you smile at her, digging through your pockets for the car keys. a different cat from the other two that you've met takes long strides, stopping by your feet. you greet it by petting it's head gently. you wondered how many cats they have.
"now? look at the weather dear," you look briefly at the window nearest you, surely enough it was heavily pouring. you deflate at the sight.
"i don't think it's a great idea to drive out in a storm." she looks at you in concern. crap. the conversation at dinner must've carried you away, not even noticing the angry rumble of thunder that came from the sky. she was right, you don't think you could drive out there immediately.
the last time you drove into hard pelting rain, you couldn’t see through the windshield and almost crashed your car in the process. you could still remember how your car swerved and screeched when you couldn't control the way the tires' direction.
reluctantly dropping your hands to your side in defeat, "i guess i can wait it out for a bit." you finally say.
"yes, please do stay. we made extra dessert!" mrs. lee chuckles, seemingly enjoying your presence. glancing at minho, he was leaning on the side of the couch watching the exchange between you three, uncharacteristically silent and expression unreadable.
you reckon he wasn't all that thrilled about the whole thing either.
-
"the storm isn't letting up." minho sighs next to you, observing the dark and heavy rain pelting the window. it continues to pour down, filing in the silence.
"great." you mumble lowly, crossing your arms. a loud cackle of thunder makes you jump from your spot. he just laughs in response. you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, anxiety quietly eating at you. damn weather man. you should've paid more attention to the forecast.
the smart watch on your wrist flashes with a notification. it was 11 pm now. "you should stay until tomorrow, dear."
you feel a comforting hand on your back, it was mrs. lee. it was only her staying with you two right now since grandma had already retired back to her room.
"tomorrow? oh, i- uh... i don't want to intrude." you stutter and look down, unsure how to accept her offer. but as much as you wanted to turn her down, you knew deep down you don't really have a choice in the matter.
another strike of thunder confirms your pitiful situation.
"i know what you're thinking, you can take minho's room." her words take you aback, that really wasn't what you were thinking. but she wasn't serious, was she?
at the mention of his name and apparent lending of his own bed, he whips his head towards his mother. he points to himself silently and gawks in disbelief.
you try to stifle a laugh at his ridiculous face. it wasn't often that you see minho all flustered.
realizing that mrs. lee might actually kick minho out of his room if you don't say anything, you decide to spare him. "that's okay, i'll take the couch."
"are you sure? the couch isn't the most comfortable..."
you reassure her that the couch is fine and not to worry. mrs. lee takes this as a confirmation that you'll stay for the night. she beams and grabs her son's shoulder,
"minho, do you have clothes that you can lend to y/n?" she catches you about to protest at the unnecessary offer, "don't worry about that, you're going to end up uncomfortable if you sleep in your clothes right now."
she leaves not long after with a quick good night to you both, also not leaving any room for any counter arguments. minho nods after registering what she said, hesitantly gesturing you to follow him towards the room at the end of the corridor.
he was quiet these past few hours, you observed. the annoying minho that you have gotten used to was no where to be found. putting yourself in his shoes, you understood. having a person that you dislike come into your home and spend the night would irk you as well.
the unexpected warm lighting and a subtle citrus scent with notes of jasmine and sandalwood welcomed you upon entering. it instantly brings comfort. not really expecting anything coming into his room, it was truly a pleasant surprise.
you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, not wanting to touch or disrupt any of his space or belongings. he heads straight to his closet near his bed.
"it's alright, uh..."
minho ignores your attempt to refuse and starts digging deep for clothes that he could lend.
okay, nevermind.
you quietly glance at the homey decor that adorns the wall of his bedroom. multiple pictures of what you assume to be his friends were strewn all across the room. some of them seemed to be taken when he was in high school and some more recent. there were doing various funny and serious poses, minho seems to be really well liked.
"alright,"
he starts handing you a pair of black jogging pants and a plain white t-shirt. you reluctantly take the pile of clothes from him, your fingers momentarily brushing. you were certain you could hear your pulse thump in your ears. it confuses you greatly.
"this is the smallest one i have, sorry."
he coughs and rubs his neck, "the bathroom is over there, if you wanna change."
awkwardly shuffling on the way to the bathroom, a sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you lock the door behind. why were you so affected by a simple touch of his fingers? this was minho. you quickly shove the odd feeling down.
you hold the white shirt up to your torso, it was definitely too big. the hem of the shirt reaching your thighs and sleeves reaching your elbows as well.
peeling out of your clothes, and hold up minho's large shirt to finally wear. as you put it on, you could faintly smell the cleanness of detergent and a faint musky patchouli scent. your cheeks burn with the realization that you were really going to spend the night here.
when you return to the empty main corridor, the leather couch was already set up with a cozy looking blanket and multiple plush pillows. you struggle to hide a smile.
-
tossing and turning, you struggle to find a comfortable position on the couch. the blanket proving to be too hot right now, you push it off. you check your phone out of boredom and the led screen lights up.
1:19 am. it was in the middle of the night and the rain continues to pour outside. the occasional rumble of thunder once again evoking anxiety in you. sighing, you don't think you will be getting any sleep tonight. it's just you and your thoughts for now.
thinking back to this afternoon, the whole situation seems so absurd and surreal. who would've thought that you and minho would pretend being friends even if it was just for one night. it was a strange chance of circumstance.
the door from the end of hallway opens, a scruffy and disheveled minho rubs his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. you sit up in curiosity to observe his sleepy state. he pads over the wooden floors to the kitchen looking for water, not sparing you a second glance.
when he was out of sight, you start thinking of ways to distract yourself, wanting to already succumb to slumber.
“oh, it’s you.” he says after coming back, finally noticing your slumped figure. "didn't sleep yet?" minho ruffles his hair haphazardly, trying to smoothen it down. you shake your head,
"insomnia. it's the thunder."
"ah."
"the couch is making your neck hurt isn't it?"
"yeah, that too."
he opens his mouth to hopefully offer another solution, but shuts it immediately. he wasn't sure if it would make you comfortable so he just stands there quietly.
"i'll go get you more pillows." he places his cup down on the coffee table before going to his room. minho stops in his tracks when he feels your fingers tug on his shirt. another strike of thunder flashes outside making you flinch.
"stay." you catch yourself saying before even realizing. it's selfish to ask but you don't think you could stand the thunder alone. watching him stare into your eyes, as if looking for an explanation- you offer him no words.
minho takes a seat at the end of the couch silently joining you, sipping at his mug. to fill the awkward silence, you clear your throat and fiddle with the ends of the cotton blanket.
you start thinking of ways to justify your selfish request of making him stay.
"i finished that damn paperwork you dumped on me. dick move by the way." you chortled to try to lighten the mood. he seems to notice your attempts to distract yourself and indulge your sudden desire to chat.
he folds his hands on his stomach, grinning. his bunny like teeth poking out. you always thought it was endearing. "it's fun seeing you all grumpy."
"sadist." you simper, the anger you felt from a yesterday dwindling at the surprisingly pleasant banter.
quietness takes over again. he stares into the celling, pondering. "i didn't know you were close with my grandmother." he says after a while. he avoids your gaze and places his mug back on the table.
"neither did i. it wasn't deliberate," you reply. he turns to you, curious about the story. so you explain to him how you met, for how long and that you didn't even recognize him despite seeing the photos.
he chuckles, "i bet it was this pose, wasn't it?" minho imitates the very same pose that he did in the photo, eliciting another laugh from you. it was exactly the same.
minho shuffles a little bit closer to you, now propping his arm on the back of the couch. you straighten up, now being hyperaware of his presence and proximity. he looks really different without his glasses.
a furry tail suddenly brushes against your exposed leg. you lean forward to check what had just rubbed past you, it was one of the cats. it meows for attention, pawing at the base of the couch.
"your cats are really cute." you watch him pick the orange haired feline and place it on his lap. one by one, two of the other cats that you've seen this afternoon start padding over to where you and minho were seated, jumping on the couch.
"that's dori," he points to the gray furred kitty. "doongie," an orange cat with a predominately white underbelly, "and soonie." the last one who's also orange but more so than the other. minho raises soonie's paw, waving it at you. cute.
"this one looks like you."
you scratch soonie's chin, the low purring getting louder the longer you do it. minho stares longingly at your eyes with an unreadable expression at the comment. you're not paying any attention to him.
after a while, the cats start to get tired of the two of you. they walk of to the end of the couch, now ignoring you and minho. you fold your arms and relaxing into the back of the couch, falling into a deep and comfortable silence that would be sorely missed.
"why do you hate me?" you say abruptly. the curiosity finally won, anxiety gnawing at your every fiber of your being. it was finally starting to be peaceful between you two and actually talking like normal people, your sudden comment might've affected it's chances of becoming true.
his head whips towards your direction in what you assume to be disbelief, furrowing his eyebrows. "since when did i hate you?"
you struggle to not scoff at his blatant charade, "minho, you have it out for me." this was strange and ridiculous. was he really being serious? how could he not be aware of the months of months of his incessant attitude towards you, and only you.
you remind yourself to be calm, to be civil. but he continues to feign ignorance. it was starting to get difficult.
"you don't treat me like the others, you constantly make my life harder by teasing me, and you dump your own paperwork on me. only me. the only time you talked to me normally was just a few minutes ago." your voice rising with exasperation.
"what did i do?" voice ultimately faltering, tired.
"i-..." minho refuses to meet your eyes, offering no solace.
instantly feeling vulnerable by your little outburst and by the lack of response on his end, you hug and bury the plush pillow for comfort. you wanted to go home. you wanted to go home and pretend this conversation did not happen. confrontation wasn't your strong suit.
after a long while of silence, he at last utters a low, "i'm so sorry."
"that was very, very stupid of me." minho's eyes are now trained on the hardwood floor, unable to even glance at you.
"what? the paperwork?" you scoff, "no, not just that. all of it."
you furrow your brows at him, "i just find you really really cute when you're mad." he continues. you stare at him, incredulousness and anger painting your features. before you could give him a piece of your mind, he speaks.
"and i realized i didn't know how to actually approach you normally without the teasing." he purses his lips, the cup on the table long forgotten. minho is staring up the celling now, still refusing to look to your direction.
"would you also believe me if i said i was jealous?"
you don't know what to say in return, heavily processing what he just said. what was happening? your mouth runs dry, confusion knocking the wind out of you.
"of your friend." he says, emphasizing the last part. you try to rack your brain of who he was referring to.
"jeongin?" you tilt your head. he says nothing, confirming the assumption. "i overheard him talking to his friends, bragging about how he was gonna take you out to this restaurant that he wants to drag you to." you couldn't possibly think of a reason why he would be jealous, you and jeongin are just friends. and why was he jealous in the first place?
"why are you so worked up about it? he's just a friend, minho."
"i'm not even sure myself," minho shakes his head in exasperation and turns to you. "but i like you, y/n."
standing there, paralyzed at his unexpected confession. minho likes you? he was giving you crap all year round, and yet he likes you? you shoot him a perplexed look, "wait, what?"
"let me get this straight," you hug your legs, trying to decipher what he was saying. "so your plan was to annoy the hell out of me, dump your paperwork seeing that you don't want me hanging out with jeongin because...you like me?"
"well, now it sounds stupid when you put it like that." he huffs, crossing his arms and pouting cutely.
deafening silence falls between you two, unable to say anything meaningful without stuttering and fumbling through your words. you just sat there, not really saying anything and staring at the floor. realizing that you probably don't feel the same, he sighs. its about time he went back to bed too.
"it's late. you should probably get some-"
before you knew it you felt your pulse roaring in your ears, grabbing his wrist and stopping him from standing up. you were going to regret it if you let him go.
"i like you too."
a magnetic pull causes you both to inch closer together, wordlessly gazing into each others eyes. you make the first move to lean into him, slowly placing an experimental peck on the side of his lips. you unsurely place your hands on his chest, "is this okay?"
his eyes flickering down to your lips and then back to your eyes. he licks his lips, still staring intensely- lovingly at you. he softly grins, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears and returns the kiss on your lips.
eyelids fluttering shut, you feel him press against you with much enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. you cup his cheeks as a reply, roughly pulling him towards you.
you already forgot about the rain outside.
he hoists you up his lap, a hand on your waist as he trails desperate kisses on your neck. minho pays his attention back to your lips, sloppy and open mouthed, saliva stringing from your mouths. urgency and eagerness was reflected in the way you both tangle your arms around each other, touching and caressing every part that you could reach.
all of the unresolved tension was slowly slipping away, replaced by desire.
a sudden meow breaks the two of you out of your trance. the green eyes of soonie stares up at the two of you, sitting quietly and their tail swishing side to side.
you loosen your arms around his neck, you two bursting out in laughter at the interruption.
"do you want to maybe take this to my room?" minho asks, placing a thumb on your lips. you didn't need to think twice.
-
your head hit his plush pillow, the cold and crisp linen feeling heavenly against your hot and flushed skin. shuffling up to the headboard, you watch minho with hazy eyes as he inches towards your form and props his knee on the edge of the bed.
he smirks as he sinks down on the mattress, hovering over your feverish body. minho sneaks a hand behind your back, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over so effortlessly to the top as if you weighed nothing.
"now, where were we?" he murmurs into the column of your neck, his hot breath sending tingling and electrifying shivers down your spine. you respond by trailing your hands all over his clothed chest, wanting to get the offending article of clothing off.
he chuckles and grabs your wrists, halting you from doing so. minho kisses the inside of your wrist, a teasing smile dawns on his face. you look at him with desperate, pleading eyes, wanting to have him already.
minho adjusts his tight hold on you, biting his plush lips in anticipation. with you now towering over his figure, you lean down to capture the lips that you had been fantasizing about all evening and bury your hands into his hair. the kiss was wet and messy, your tongues sloppily and desperately swallowing each other's moans. a trail of saliva strings from both of your lips.
it was starting to get too hot for your liking. you cease your movements for a second to remove minho’s borrowed shirt from your body. minho’s eyes shamelessly rake over your chest, his finger leisurely trailing the middle of your breasts. you let out a low chuckle, finally unclasping the hook of your bra. you release a breathy shudder upon feeling something hard poking you from where you sat. grabbing both of his wrists, you eagerly put them up to your tits, you could feel your sensitive nipples harden because of his cold touch. minho starts pinching at the sensitive buds, prolonging his eye contact with you, clearly enjoying your erratic squirming.
you suck in a sharp breath and almost topple over him in pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth, hot, warm, and wet. it was overwhelming, having no one touch you like this before. he continues to lap at your hardening bud. minho groans, closing his eyes and further burying his head in your chest. your tits were covered in spit, glistening under the subtle light of his night lamp.
minho, while smothering himself in your chest, takes a moment to hook his arm over you. his skillful hands trail over to the waistband of your jogging pants and pulls it down. you oblige, leaning closer to him and lifting your hips so he wouldn’t have to leave your tits. you jump in surprise once you feel a light teasing smack on your now semi exposed ass, only covered by thin panties. it elicits a small moan from you, pulling his head closer. you lightly pet his head and thread your hands in his hair affectionately as he continues his sucking, feeling a coiling sensation from your core.
but before you could cum, he detaches from your breasts, leaving his lips glistening with his own spit and his breath raggedy. a sly grin that you have come to love and hate graces his face upon seeing you whimper. the lack of stimulation makes you deflate, heaving frustratedly at his relentless teasing.
the familiar throbbing heat from your pussy suddenly gives you an idea. his hungry gaze watches you in curiosity. the bulge you were currently sitting on now immediately taking all of your attention. you do an experimental hump on it, hoping to relieve the aching heat from your cunt. minho's hands fly to your hips, groaning at the sensation.
"all this time, you made me think that you hated me-" you moan out, the fabric of his pants providing just the right amount of resistance. "when really you liked me?"
he stifles his moans by biting his bottom lip, his pants surely soaked through now.
"i did say i liked seeing you mad." minho manages to grunt out, licking his lips. you almost reel in disbelief but you keep your composure.
"you're confusing." another thrust.
"and i'm still mad at you." you huff out. hips now wildly humping against every ridge and curve of his cock. the sight of him makes you delirious, even more so that you’re humping against him.
"i-i'll make it up to you," he murmurs lowly, hissing the more times you buck up against him. "fu-fuck..."
despite the way that you were using him, it does nothing to quell the horniness you were feeling, in fact, it even spurs you on further. the wet patch from your panties soak and slowly transfer on to the front of his pants, your own wetness spreading messily every time you grind on his delicious dick, the ridges providing the needed friction that you've been so desperately craving. minho watches you, your tits bouncing up and down- he feels like drooling. "i love it when you use me." he finally breathes out, hands still on your hips, his nails making crescents on your skin. and finally, you cum, his words sending you over the edge.
it tremors through your body, white hot cum leaks out from your panties and you can’t seem to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on his broad chest. you clench your eyes shut in shyness, suddenly embarrassed from using minho so blatantly. he coos and pats your head in comfort, almost like how he pets his cats.
planning to make it up to him and eat his words, you sit up and shuffle down his hips. you admire the wet patch that stains his front, mouth watering. this surprises him, watching you with tantalizing eyes. you make a move to grab at his waistband, pulling it down slowly. he hisses out in pleasure as the waistband runs over his still clothed dick. minho’s boxers were thoroughly wet, you could see a dark patch on the front where you sat on him and where precum leaked out. you lift up a hand to experimentally give his bulge a tight little squeeze, him letting out a little shudder response.
it hardens even more under your touch- so you decide to tease him to test the waters even further, running your fingers over and over his tent causing him to hiss out, sending you a warning look. taking this as a sign, you lift the waistband of his boxers and stare at his eyes while doing so. it springs up immediately after freeing it from its confines. his long and fat cock stands tall, the tip a deep red, and the veins prominently running along the sides. the sight makes your mouth water in anticipation. you place a thumb on his cockhead, running slow circles on his slit causing it to drool heavily on your hand.
his cat like mouth parts in ecstasy once you start teasing the underside of his length with your hand and licking the oozing liquid up. minho’s hips start thrusting at the sensation, forcing you to hold him down. it was admittedly hard to do so, his thick thighs almost the size of your head but you still managed to restrain him from rutting wildly. the groan that leaves his lips sound is absolutely nothing short of sinful when you finally put your mouth on him. every desperate huff from him leaves you light headed, wishing you could record and replay it over and over again. when couldn’t fit all of him, you resorted to pumping the remaining of the shaft were you couldn’t reach. you egg him on even further by running a hand over his abs, seeing how his thighs and abdomen tense up.
you look up through your lashes to watch minho unravel. his eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the stimulation. while it bobs messily in your mouth, you try to pay special attention to his hot and heavy balls, rubbing it back and forth in the palm of your hand, hoping to get him to cum. minho closes his eyes shut again and tenses his thighs, finally cumming. his hands travel down to grasp at his length, taking it over yours, spurting his essence everywhere. minho finishes with a loud relieved groan, slapping his dick lazily against your cheek which you greedily lapped at.
“that might be the best head i’ve ever had, bunny.” he bites his lips, his voice light and airy. you quickly sit up from your position and gawked at him, suddenly feeling bashful at his apparent pet name for you.
minho gives you a mischievous cat like grin in return, feeling absolutely delighted at your expression. he begins to lightly graze your leg, leaving tentative touches and gentle pecks along the stretch of your lower limb. lifting your right leg up, you stop minho from inching any closer towards you by putting your foot on his chest.
"y/n..."
you pretend to think for a moment, stretching this out for as long as possible. he would just have to wait since he had yet to make up for being so mean to you. a little fun also wouldn’t hurt, right? no, you were quite wrong.
minho again grabs your ankle albeit more roughly this time and continues to place chaste kisses with more passion this time, clearly adamant about giving your legs and thighs hickeys. at long last, minho slides the wet and abused fabric off you, the panty is thoroughly soaked and it’s material sticking and clinging to your core.
he hooks ur leg over his shoulder, urging to part your legs apart and spreading them obscenely open. staring intensely into your eyes, minho starts teasing your core with feather light touches. “you like this?” he says his mischievous grin, continuing his ministrations. you offer him no response as he traces figures and shapes on your wet pussy that has you seeing stars. his fingers now erratically sliding up and down your folds. you almost sob at his nonchalant teasing, eyes clenching shut and begging him to put something in.
something about observing his veiny hand treading lightly just the outside of your lower lips leads you to tuck your face into your hands, the sight was like straight out of porn. “no, no. hands up bunny.” minho takes a hold of your wrists, putting them effortlessly above your head.
“you have to look.”
his free hand drags along your legs to pull them apart and starts lowering his chiseled face down to your core. his nose just close enough to feel the small exhaling puffs of hot air on your pussy, causing it to twitch in suspense. the brunette sneaks a peak at your trembling figure before diving right in, the first contact of his tongue on your cunt was searing hot, instantly making jolt out in shock and cry out. minho takes this as a sign to hold down your hips, pressing, flattening, and letting his tongue rampant against you all while avoiding your clit. he hums at the taste, huffing and delving further into your pussy, eating you out with such intensity, placing open mouthed sloppy kisses. he spits to make your pussy wetter so he could languidly and erratically make out with your cunt.
you throw your head back into the heaps of pillows behind you as he starts to pay attention to your clit, softly biting the bundle of nerves. minho then moves to swipe his index up at the large amount of cum and spit trickling from your core, using it as lube for his fingers. he gently prods his index in your entrance all while still licking you up. his long fingers, deliciously stretching your hole, deeper than all those nights you've tried to do so yourself. the bliss you were feeling was overwhelming. minho croaks out a little ‘hah, hah, hah…” every time he would come up for breath, completely drunk off your musky and intoxicating scent. you also don’t miss how he subtly humps the bed sheets he was lying under either. you began to arch your back upon hearing his desperate sounds, your arousal spurting on his face.
minho looks like a cat who got the cream, his pupils blown wide open and wetness trickling down the side of his mouth. he lets go of your hands after you were finished, the numb arm falling on your forehead as you catch your breath. he stands up to re-adjust your form on the bed, pulling you closer to his pelvis.
minho stares at your eyes, asking silently for permission. you look up at him with a toothy- fucked out grin.
the feelings that you couldn't place earlier was now clear, you wanted him.
minho reaches a hand over your face, caressing your flushed cheeks. he wordlessly leans to tenderly place a kiss onto your forehead and on your lips. you reciprocate lovingly, capturing his lips once again. minho without warning, pushes his long and girthy dick into you, the abrupt intrusion making you sob out. the bulbous head of his cock rubs deliciously against your gummy walls, you swore you could feel it in your throat.
“there we go. there we go…”
minho sets a rough pace, his hips thrusting against your pelvic bone. “ah-ah!”
toned and skillful arms cage you in, forcing you to look deep into his dark pools. "you better keep quiet, or else the whole house will hear you." that for some reason makes your cunt even wetter, weeping more than you thought was possible. the sole idea of getting caught with their precious son doing such lewd acts, it seems sacrilegious and absolutely sinful.
he once again reaches for your hardened nipple, tweaking and pinching the bud between his thumb and index. the bed was now creaking with how fast minho was going, you silently prayed that no one in the house suspects anything. the thought mortifies you.
minho leans against your figure and nuzzles up on your chest, looking up at you with an oh so innocent grin while he continues to pound your cunt. his movements start to stutter once he feels your walls clench around him. your mind begins to feel like mush but you still try to make an effort to suppress your groans of pleasure. a strangled sound between a moan and a whine leaves your throat once he hits that one particular spot in you.
“keep quiet, little kitty.”
you start squirming uncontrollably at the huskiness of his voice, not having experienced an intense orgasm like this before. “cum, you can do it.” your rutting hips stop to convulse for a moment, feeling your orgasm rip through the ends of your nerves. leaning back on his chest, you struggle to catch your breath, heaving from the aftermath of your orgasm.
fogginess still clouding your vision, you caught a small glimpse of minho to notice that he still hadn’t pulled out, his hands circling your waist gently. you unintentionally clench on his cock, yep he was still hard, very hard. minho sets his eyes on you, and gives you that look. oh no, you knew that look. the same one that he uses around the office to persuade a higher up to heed to his request. you nibble on your lower lip in excitement.
“one more, you can do one more right?” he coos, lifting your legs and his hips starting his monstrous once pace again. you double over in overstimulation, crying out in pleasure. his breath hitches after a particularly hard thrust, choosing to muffle his own cries by shoving his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your exhilarating scent. you respond by coyly playing with the hair on his nape, hoping that it would ground you to reality.
minho then sneaks a hand from below you and hugs your figure, pulling you impossibly closer. he swallows your moans, kissing you feverishly and running his hands wildly all throughout. it was so urgent, so intense, like he’s finding a way to meld your bodies together, his erratic and messy thrusts reflecting that.
your fingers clutch his thick bed sheets, euphoria piercing your body every time he drives another rough thrust into you. the lewd noises coming from the two of you echos and bounces off the walls, the conversation tomorrow morning was going to be so humiliating and awkward at the dining table.
you can’t hold it in any longer, and by the looks of it, neither can he. minho cums with a loud groan, spurting inside you. "goooood kitty." minho rasps out. you gape at the warmness, causing you to finish as well. minho reaches his hand downwards to spread your combined release, spreading it messily. it drips out of you obscenely as he pulls out.
you were positively flushed. he was too, sweat still glistening on the wide expanse of his chest and forehead. minho brushes your hair back affectionately before plopping down tiredly next to you. you turn to him, wanting to admire his fucked out features but he looks occupied and staring into space.
“what's the matter?”
"i really am sorry about the misunderstanding. i feel terrible that i made you feel like that. and i do really like you. wasn't lying about that." minho sighs out, closing his eyes for a moment and then faces you. “i want to start over, properly this time.”
"apology accepted. and yeah of course." you say, quite happy with how this whole misunderstanding turned out. "i really like you too." he kisses the top of your head, making you wrap an arm around him to cuddle.
"now you'll just have to figure out how to reject the girl beside your desk. she wants to ask you out."
"maybe we can start by just making out in front of her."
More Posts from Valreifang and Others
(❤︎) ── “ i couldn’t help myself ”
its not seungmins’ fault he finds you so attractive, its also not his fault that you promised him you would let him do this. and it’s especially not his fault you turned him on right before he was gonna start a match.
𐀔𓂃 kais note: hi! this can totally be read as a stand alone or if you have prior knowledge to CAL ! heres that extra i promised you!
warnings : fingering, cockwarming, unprotected sex, and anything else i missed. not proof read… 1.5k words
back to library | control alt + love masterlist
‘ill be home in 30 minutes, hyunjin had to use the bathroom’
you stared down at your phone replying back a quick ‘ok’ to jeongin, walking down the stairs hoping to find your boyfriend, since he wasn't in his room. seungmin was sitting in his gaming chair, staring at the loading screen. seungmin must've heard you walking behind him as he slowly turns his body smiling at you.
“well don’t you look pretty. are you still hanging out with hyunjin and jeongin?” seungmin leans on his arm rest taking in the cute top and skirt combo you were in.
“yes, hyunjin wants to go to this galla and he has extra tickets, though i'm third wheeling. unless you wanna come with us.” you put on your best puppy eyes in hope that you can convince him, stepping in between his legs.
“cant today baby. i'm teaming up with atz today. we wanted to try out that new support character.” he places the palm of his hands on the back of your thighs, rubbing them softly. he leans forward placing a kiss on the small sliver of skin peeking from under your shirt.
you place one of your hands on his shoulder as the other wraps around to the back of his head, softly playing with his hair.
“do you wanna help me?” he mummers against your skin, as his hands travel up your thighs landing on your ass, giving it a squeeze.
“i don’t really want to play, plus jeongin is gonna be here in thirty and i dont wanna afk.” seungmin wasn't really paying attention after he asked that question. he was more focused on how pretty you looked in this skirt, so much so that he started to feel his dick harden in his sweats. you slightly jump when you feel his fingers reach out and rub against your slit over your panties.
“seungmin, we can’t.” you grip tighter at the back of his hair, as you feel his fingers dip in your panties lightly playing with your clit. you softly moan as you feel him entering his finger in you. your head falls back when he slowly drags it against your walls, inserting another one.
as we start rocking your hips in the rhythm of his finger thrust seungmin leans back pulling his fingers out of you.
“oh my game is starting.” he gives a smirk at the face you are giving him, in absolute disbelief. “come here baby.” seungmin quickly pulls his sweats down letting his hard cock spring free, slapping against his shirt. you start to go down when he stops you, shaking his head with a soft smile. “no baby, i need to be in you. right now. this instant.” he helps you slide your panties to the side, and helps you slowly sit down.
you slowly make your way down his dick, completely filling you up, both of you letting out a moan when you sink all the way to the bottom. you slowly start to grind against him, when you see his hands reach around you grabbing his headset and putting it on.
“you arent seriously gonna game right now with your dick in me?” you stop your hips, turning back to see his beautiful smile looking at you. he places a quick kiss on your nose, “you promised me remember?” he then kissed you on your lips.
“promised what?” feeling the ache in between your legs from the lack of movement. which only makes you grind against him more.
“i just need you to sit here and look pretty, my love. don't move, it defeats the purpose.”
“what purpose?” you were starting to get irritated with this little game he was playing.
“cockwarming baby, now don’t make any noise you know these mics pick everything.” was all seungmin says before he reaches around you, his hands on his keyboard already talking to one of the guys in the party.
you hold in your voice from the small movements seungmin is unintentionally doing mind completely on the game in front of him. but as for you, you felt like your skin was on fire. you felt extremely turned on with seungmins dick in you, you could feel it twitch every now and then. beckoning you to bounce on it. you lay your hands on the edge of the desk in front of you, letting its cold touch try to get your mind off the need to move.
seungmin thrust his hips up, loving the way your hands completely flew up over your mouth to stop you from being heard. seungmin turns off his mic, “you okay baby?” he places kisses on the inside of your neck, his eyes and hands never leaving the game.
“baby please, i can't.” you pant out, losing every strand of self control. you needed him to fuck you, and you need it bad.
“just a few more minutes baby, seonghwa just has to level up and then i can fuck you my love.” you moan at his voice gently rubs your ear. you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, you continued to sit on him scared to move, because you knew if you did he wasn't gonna be happy.
your eyes were shut completely, focusing on your breathing you feel seungmin pull you up, bending you down over the desk careful to not ruin the setup.
“since you have been such a good girl for me, let me give you a treat. especially since hyunjin and jeongin should be here any minute.” with the thought of your friend walking in on you, you moan out.
“oh does my pretty baby want to be seen taking my cock like the little whore she is?” seungmin was giving you a chance to reply as he pounds into you from the back. pushing up your skirt to get a better view of his dick getting lost in you. seungmin was in pure bliss letting the moans and noises coming out of his mouth. you loved when seungmin was vocal, it always made your heart swell knowing he was getting off to this as much as you were.
“fuckkk.. baby.. you feel so good. god..” he pants in between, you turn your head to glance at him from behind. to see his head leaned back, eyes screwed shut taking in the way you are so warm and wet for him.
you feel seungmin softly rub the top of your ass before he lets out a loud smack right on it, forcing out a moan from you. seungmin leans over right in your ear. “i feel you baby, i feel you about to cum.” you whimper out, turning to capture his lips on yours. seungmin pulls back, kissing your cheek, before going back to his original position and plowing straight into you.
“god , if you keep squeezing me like that, i might just cum in you.” you couldn’t help but feel yourself squeezing even hard on him, in hopes he got the idea to actually do it.
you could feel your legs getting numb and your high getting higher, seungmin could feel it too as he started to pull you back into him.
“min.. im .. gonna. i'm gonna cum.”
“do it baby. let's cum together.”
it didn't take much after that, you could feel seungmin releasing into you. while he could feel you fluttering around him. seungmin pulls you down to sit back on top of him, kissing at shoulder and whatever he could get his lips on. “i love you min.”
“i love you too baby.” he wraps his arms around your waist basking in your warmth not ready to pull out yet.
the swinging of the door pulled you both back to reality. “yo yo yo! dude sorry we took forever, jeongin drives like a grandma.” hyunjin's voice echoed across the room. you quickly jump off of seungmin as he lets out a hiss from his dick being so sensitive. you pull your panties back to where they were, slowly feeling seungmins and your cum pool at your panties making you cross your legs to try to stop it from leaking . seungmin wasn't in any rush to put himself back in his sweats until he started to hear jeongin's voice ring out.
“sorry i abide by the traffic rules, you know every 3,700 people die everyday due to road accidents?”
“when the fuck did i start dating google? you ready babes? oh your blush looks so good, new placement?” hyunjin looks at you as seungmin smirks, going back to his game.
“yeah.. new placement. let's go!” you place a kiss on seungmin saying a quick i love you, walk out the doors before hyunjin and jeongin could gather what just went down a few minutes ago.
“the communal space is for the community, captain. not for you to practice exhibitionism with her.” jeongin groans, turning back from your disappearing figure to see seungmin laughing.
“shes just so pretty i couldn't help myself.”
hyunjin gags and jeongin groans as they follow after you unknowingly about to get teased like no tomorrow.
© strrykais ⋅
cal tags: @onlyhyunjin @chenlesfavorite @hippopotamusdreamer @vegetablesarefuntables @soondoongdoriii @jeonginplsholdmyhand @nappynapnaps @sincerely-sun @staytinyluv @kimseungminpabo @seungzsmin @sweetasmarie @hinanitiram @tricky-ritz @ayyonoona @hanniemylovelyquokka @toplinehyunjin @missystay @binniesbabe @tirena1 @jihoons-kitten @skz-ot8-stay @darlingz99 @khandzilla @icouldntcareless22 @rihaee @thatshroomiegirl @sillyhal @livixcore @dazzlingjade @h0rnyp0t @drewsandsebastianswife @jabmastersupriseee @flaminghotyourmom @velvetmoonlght @mihoonz @jazziwritesthings @thisrandombitch @vixensss @galbiirocher @skzstannie @babrieeee @ladybeautiful18 @hyeon-yi @lknosemole @night-storm7 @spearbinnie0327 @goldenmellow @jisungs-iced-americano @charlieg1rl @seungminsteddybear @sskzlover @abbiestearsricochet @isaenme @dreamerwasfound @ihrtlix
reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated! feel free to send constructive feedback/thoughts in my asks!
☆°. — study me | hhj
genre: smut, fluff
pairing: nerd!hyunjin x afab!reader
wc: 6k
warnings: inexperienced hyunjin, oral (m receiving), protected sex, fast-ish plot progression, strangers to lovers (only roughly proof read)
author's note: @hyunverse and @astraystayyh made me do it (also inspired heavily by rin's post!!!!!) 😚😚😚
He had always been cute, though he surely wasn't aware of it; when he sat in class, dainty glasses by the curve of his nose, he always seemed focused, taking notes with furrowed brows, full attention granted to the professor up front. When he left the lecture hall it was often in lonesome, and hurried; not shy, per se, but quick, and quiet. When people talked to him he was polite, though his shoulders tensed, and a blush crept up his smiling cheeks; not uncomfortable, as far as you could tell, yet visibly not in his element, either — and it all added to his charm. He was smart and aware of it, though he seldom raised his hand, initiated questions. He never corrected professors on their mistakes, never played the know-it-all even though he could. He simply sat in class, day after day, to your right in front of you, and left to go to his next class as quietly as he had entered your mutual one.
You watched Hyunjin walk into the lecture hall, headphones covering his sense of hearing, bag thrown over his shoulder lazily, a subtle lightness in his step. He fixed his glasses with a long, delicate finger before he sat down to prep his desk; placing his laptop in front of him, reducing the brightness before typing away his password, fishing in his bag for his phone right before the professor walked in. Hyunjin was busy taking off the bony headphones before they disappeared in his bag, and a big hand slid through the dark strands of his hair, only needing one movement to fix them into place; after that there seemed to be a click in his demeanour, in his attention. No music in his ears, no phone in his hands; quick fingers that were copying the headline of today's topic which the professor had projected onto the board, concentrated, glasern eyes void of the initial casual leisureness the had entered the classroom with.
It was a little bit of a ritual, watching him in class; you weren't sure if it was creepy, if it made you some sort of pre-version of a stalker, or an obsessed freak. You weren't sure either, if watching him was the reason you were at risk of failing the class, altogether. You were surprised every day anew that no one else was; that Hyunjin seemed to be nearly invisible for most people on campus, left for the few friends he kept with, or the occasional aquaintance he made for group projects before those relationships faded away, due to the lack of its' benefit. Yet even those people didn't seem to be taken by him the way you were, didn't see him the way you did; a striking beauty, hidden beneath a character so quiet and quirky, helpless, almost, that to others he appeared nothing but ordinary. A studious nerd, introverted and awkward; but you didn't want to go through another day without having talked to him. Couldn't, you thought; you needed to initiate a conversation, wanted so bad to hear the sound of his voice, the look of his eyes when the object he was looking at was you.
The professor had announced a group project for today's class, and had, by the end of explaining all about it and before dismissing the class, ordered you to look for partners until the next lesson, to start with first preparations. In your opinion, it was the perfect opportunity to go up to Hyunjin without appearing a freak, or too pushy, or utterly random; you weren't sure he even knew your name, so simply asking for a coffee seemed too finite to you. As expected, while everyone was still packing their bags and talking of weekend plans and just how boring their next class was going to be, Hyunjin had already put on his headphones and was on his way out of the hall, daring to disappear into the crowd of students before your very eyes. You hurried to collect your things before you stumbled down behind him, falling into a slow run to catch up with him. He was tall, quite a bit taller than you, so his struts were fast without being hurried, and you struggled to keep up with him, fighting your way between people before your hand could finally reach his figure, and a finger of yours tapped on his shoulder.
Your touch made him stop in his tracks in a rather confused manner, and he turned around perplexed before locking eyes with you. When you smiled at him expectantly one hand of his freed his right ear from his headphones, and he returned your smile, though only politely, yet not catching what you have stopped him for. The confusion was written in his eyes, and you hurried to clear it up.
"Hey, I'm y/n, from uh, Statistics... we just had this class together."
You looked at Hyunjin, waiting for a response, despite not having cleared up anything at all. He nodded, fixing his bag on his shoulder. You almost got distracted by the veins which ran through his hand when he did that, but you forced yourself to look him in the eyes instead. Brown and deep. You had never noticed before how captivating they were.
"Yeah, I know who you are...", a smile on his lips and you weren't sure what it meant, but there was a deep blush on his cheeks right after, and it made your chest fill with a warmth so sound you simply kept smiling at him.
"Was there anything you needed?" Pure curiosity in his tone, and you wondered how such a smart person could be so foolish. Though it was cute seeing him perplexed, cute seeing a void of his usual intelligence within his eyes.
You cleared your throat and fixed your bag yourself, before nodding up at him. You had never stood this close to him, had never noticed just how tall he was.
"I wondered if you wanted to be my partner for the group project thing. I'm not really good at statistics, so I wanted to pair up with someone who could... help me. In a way."
Hyunjin blushed deeper at that, and the fist around the strap of his bag tightened. He gulped visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing before his eyes lost yours suddenly, and he nodded, stuttering a little when he spoke.
"Uh, yeah, for sure. I, uh, I'm not really, like, sure if I can help much, I'm not a great teacher, but, uhm-", he looked at you, and you simply reciprocated his gaze; he blushed yet a little harder, fixed his glasses with a clumsy finger, and gave you a shy smile, "but, yeah. I'll be your partner."
☆.☆.☆
It was a Saturday night, and it felt strange not sitting in front of the mirror to apply some make-up, or get a decent outfit ready to wear to a night out with your friends. Instead, your old bag was thrown carelessly over your shoulder and the steps you took on the glistening asphalt were taking you to Hyunjin’s dorm, to study and work on the project with him at seven in the afternoon. Not what you normally busied yourself with, not on a weekend, but you hadn’t been this excited over a Saturday night plan in a good while. The day prior, Hyunjin had been ready to leave right after confirming he would partner up with you; that you needed to exchange phone numbers in order to be able to start the work he had seemingly forgotten, and you had giggled when he’d typed his contact into your phone with a guilty smile and a low-hanging head. He had replied quickly when you had texted him, clarifying his schedule – busier than you had expected, packed to the brim – before confirming to meet up today. And you had been giddy ever since.
When you knocked on his dorm room, Hyunjin opened moments later. He looked comfortable, in a plain black shirt and grey sweatpants, no glasses but his long, raven hair in a lazy bun. He smiled before welcoming you in, stepping aside and closing the door behind you. The room wasn’t big, much like your own, but clean, neat. Not much decoration on the walls but a picture or two, seemingly of family members, or close friends. You spotted multiple game consoles and a spacey monitor on his desk, an expensive looking keyboard, heavy headphones – different ones he took with him to class –, a mic, his school laptop on his bed. Two candles by his nightstand, and one bouquet of dried flowers on his windowsill; if dried on purpose of due to lack of care you were unsure, but they were pretty nonetheless.
Hyunjin stood behind you as you took in his small room, abashed and clearing his throat when you finally looked at him again. You smiled, and disposed your bag next to his bed.
“Nice room.”
He must have not expected the compliment; he looked perplexed, chuckling suddenly and a little too loud before thanking you quietly. He got rid of a couple strands of loose hair with a quick hand, and straightened his back, shaking his head as if to rid himself off thoughts, to find his way back to you. He gave you a quick smile, too; it was so pretty that you almost told him, almost stepped up to be level with him and touch the side of his face, purely to manifest him within you. Him and his face, his shy smile with its’ small, pearly teeth and glistening eyes.
“Alright, I guess we should start. The desk is pretty, uh, full and stuff, you can just sit on the bed, if... you don’t mind.” He sat down on the chair in front of the desk, motioned you to the bed. He tripped over the light carpet on his floor before finding his seat, though acted as though nothing had happened; cute.
“Just get comfortable.”
The sentence didn’t carry any connotation yet Hyunjin reddened after he spoke, and lost your eyes to rummage in his bag and in the drawers of his desk to fish out all the materials he thought he’d need. You smiled to yourself, and did as he told you; got comfortable on his bed, and got out your papers and pencils, spreading them out on his blanketed mattress. It smelt nice, his bed. Clean, almost like neutral linen, but with a hint of a scent you believed to be uniquely his. It was the first time you sensed it; you had never been close enough to him before to notice it, but now that you sat in the essence of it, in the core of his existence, in his very own four walls, it engulfed you. It was deep vanilla and sweetest honey, it was a scent dark and intense, but light. It wasn’t heavy, it didn’t suffocate you. It simply existed in the space around you, and it stuck to him; you doubted you’d ever forget the scent again.
When Hyunjin looked at you again, turning to face you on his chair, he stopped in his tracks, and his eyes seemed to widen, his jaw to tighten. It felt unfamiliar seeing him without his glasses, though very much known to watch the pink flush creep up his neck. He blinked a couple times, simply watching you, and it wasn’t until you shifted in your place, sinking further into his mattress that he moved again, pretending to look for something, or really doing so. He cleared his throat and choked on his own spit, fell into a short coughing fit; you almost giggled, and when Hyunjin caught sight of your repressed grin, the pink on his neck deepened into a red; he was even more helpless than you initially thought. He was still looking around, not frantically but close to it, mumbling something you didn’t catch, until you spotted his glasses on the nightstand. You leaned over to get hold of them, and offered them to him, with eyes big and expectant.
“Are you looking for those?”
The room was so small that the distance between the edge of the bed and the desk was only an arm length, so Hyunjin got hold of the glasses simply by reaching out, thanking you. He was interesting; everything he did around you, from the way he moved to the way he spoke, seemed always to be happening in a state of trance, or incredible awkwardness you hoped stemmed from fluster, not discomfort. The feeling spreading in the pit of your stomach was indescribable, when Hyunjin, with soft, delicate fingers and a familiar move, placed the silvery glasses on the rich curve of his nose, fixing them into the dip of his ears before sliding them up; ready to work, and he looked concentrated momentarily, serious; far more attractive up close than when you watched him in class, and you wondered if you’d handle an entire hour of speaking to him while in his bed, in his room, in the midst of his scent.
Yet the hour flew by too fast for your liking, and before you knew it you were packing your bag and making your way to the door of Hyunjin’s dorm room. The hour had contained of more giggling and casual talking than you had thought, and it had gotten you excited. Maybe it was your fantasy, but Hyunjin had seemed interested; more than just into the project, interested in you, too. He had asked questions, had initiated conversation, had neglected his work. He had been – after half an hour – brave enough to poke fun at your lack of mathematical skill, after you had failed to understand an equation he’d tried to bring closer to you. You had gasped and acted hurt, and the giggle which he had followed up with had made you so speechless that Hyunjin had needed to continue with the explaining, flustered and stuttering, a little rocky; all hope of understanding his explaining had been lost there, but you hadn’t minded it.
Hyunjin stood by the door, held it open for you. There it was again, the fluster in his eyes, the flush on his neck; and you weren’t even doing anything. It’s not like the big doe eyes you caught his gaze with could play any role in his abash, or the purposeful teasing smile you shot him. It also couldn’t be the fact you simply stood in his door, waiting for him to say something, instead of leaving for the night with a simple goodbye, with your bag in hand, and quick fingers in your hair, pretending to fix it.
“Uh, we didn’t really come really far.”, he finally voiced with a chuckle, and you reciprocated. Yet you waited; it seemed there was more he wished to say. Hyunjin stepped from one foot to the other, furrowed his brows quickly before losing your eyes, locking your gaze again and opening his mouth, though without success initially. He closed it again, at a loss for words, and you cocked your head curiously, deliberately waiting, feigning ignorance. He huffed out an awkward chuckle, more air than laugh, and ruffled his hair. It made it look messier than before, but you liked it.
“Sorry, just – do you wanna meet tomorrow? I know it’s a Sunday, but... I don’t know, I thought we could work on the project some more. Only if you want to.”, he added quickly when you didn’t say anything. Only after you nodded with a smile Hyunjin’s shoulders seemed to relax, the tension in his body dissipating into relief.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Same time?”
☆.☆.☆
It had been two weeks of continuous meeting and working on the project with Hyunjin; but it had also been two weeks of continuous laughing and talking, of conversations far more memorable than the frustration over the schoolwork. Hyunjin had opened up to you, though still shy and quiet, far calmer around you now, more comfortable, it seemed. Yet you shied from initiating more; you had touched his thigh in friendly manner a week ago, barely a second, and the man had turned to a statue of stone, had lost sense of every word he’d had dancing on his lips, had lost train, even, of every thought; it had needed him a good five minutes before he had spoke again. Not only that, but he had eyed you the entire time after, hadn’t left his eyes wander from you, unless you’d caught and reciprocated them; only then his gaze had fallen to his fiddling hands in his lap, sneaking a look again only when you weren’t watching anymore.
You were sure he liked you, you doubted to be wrong about that; but ironically, you liked him too much to confront that, in fear of shying him away, of risking the delicate friendship which had developed over the past two weeks. The group project would end next week, and you weren’t sure if you’ve acquainted enough to stay friends beyond that.
You were sitting on Hyunjin’s bed, him on the mattress beside you, two hours into working on a PowerPoint which looked somewhat decent; decent to Hyunjin’s standards, that was, because you didn’t even know half the tricks he used to connect slides and merge texts and pictures; you would have stopped working on it a good while ago, deeming everything neat and sensible, but Hyunjin had looked at you wide-eyed and shocked, claiming it wasn’t near half-way done. You didn’t mind that he continued working on it; you enjoyed spending time with him, and you enjoyed watching him work, seeing him in his element. He had told you that he was into computers and everything regarding them, whether it was gaming or programming, or merely learning about the matter; you’d had the privilege to watch him build together a new keyboard he acquired, and as little interest as you had in the matter yourself, it was fascinating seeing him burn for something. He had grown bashful when he’d notice how much he had talked, and had apologized; when you’d admitted how cute it was, he hadn’t known what to do with himself, and had simply gone back to installing.
The small laptop lay on Hyunjin’s thighs as he typed away, finding new things to add, brows furrowed and the familiar, concentrated look in his eyes you knew so well from class; and, now, from working together with him. You watched him, weren’t left to do much more; and you enjoyed it. Hyunjin wore a nicely fitting polo-shirt over a simple flannel, and loose jeans which hung down his body leisurely. One of his fingers was adorned by a simple silver ring, matching with the silver of his square glasses; he looked unbelievable, and he didn’t even know it. Over the past week – if it was any possible – Hyunjin had somehow become even more beautiful to you. Knowing him closer made his exterior seem brighter, kinder; as though his soul reflected on his body and pulled you in even deeper than previous.
When he noticed you staring from his peripheral he caught your gaze, though not without his usual shyness. He chuckled a little before you smiled at him, and his eyes lost yours again.
“Why’re you looking at me like that.” His voice carried a hint of a whine, and your skin burned at the sound of it. The side of his face was a deep pink, his ears fire as he typed away on the project. You gathered your bravery; today could be the last time you’d meet him like this, with an excuse and void of brave initiations.
“I like looking at you. You’re cute when you’re working.”
He hadn’t expected it, neither have you; you meant the words, but you were surprised just how easily they slipped past your lips. Without friction, smooth; clear. So clear that Hyunjin stuttered around before going back to the laptop, the blue hues illuminating his face so prettily, you wished to remember this sight forever. Even if today didn’t go anywhere. Even if your short friendship would only be a memory a year down the line; you wished to remember the way his eyes glistened with a mix of confusion and curiosity in the dim light of the laptop screen, how his nose curved beneath his reflecting glasses, the way his tongue darted out and his wet lips caught again the hues of the computer.
Hyunjin mumbled a quiet “What are you saying?”, almost to himself because you barely caught it, and you huffed out in amusement.
“I’m serious.” Your tone was, too, and it made Hyunjin look at you, momentarily. His brows were furrowed, in something like question, doubt. It needed him a while to find his words, fishing them from somewhere within him; you could see the work in his mind, processing your words and understanding them, thinking of a response. You saw the whole process, before he finally spoke.
“Why, though?” Too long a time he took for two words only, but they sounded so honest your eyes softened, and your head cocked a bit, questioning. Hyunjin noticed, and followed up.
“I’m, like, boring. Why are you even hanging out with me?”
“Because I like you.”
The words flooded the room. They had felt trapped in your throat though gushed out the moment you allowed them, and they drowned you both in their weight. Hyunjin only sat, and looked at you. You have never seen him so pale, so colourless; you hoped it was a good sign.
“I don’t think you’re boring. You’re the most interesting person I know. And I like you.”
Only then Hyunjin’s face returned to the usual colour he’d acquired around you over the past two weeks; crimson red and his ears flaming, his neck probably hot if you only touched it. The moments of silence he granted you with were torturing, but the look in his eyes as he held your gaze looked promising; and then his cheeks painted pink, and he started blinking excessively.
“I... I like you, too.”
Two highschoolers confessing, but something about it was sweet, and pure, and ignited a fire within you.
“Can I kiss you?”, you heard yourself saying, and before you knew it, you felt his lips on your own. Soft, the very first thing you thought. Like clouds on your lips, or feathers, or sweet cotton candy. And though Hyunjin wasn’t skilled per se, a little helpless with his teeth and his tongue, unsure of what to do, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the slow pace of the kiss, the wet sounds your lips made when they touched. You enjoyed feeling his urge to touch you, to lay a finger on your thigh, before he collected enough courage to do so; and the touch was heavenly, too. Heavy on your body, significant and real. Everything about Hyunjin made you buzz; and then a whine slipped past his lips. It tumbled over into your mouth and you swallowed it, before Hyunjin could retract from you a bit, embarrassment glazing his eyes. You smiled in response, burning with a newly found passion now. He mumbled a quiet “Sorry.”, but you shook your head, softly, inching yet closer to him. You felt his breath on your lips, could see the droplet of sweat on his forehead. You could see your own reflection in his glasses; you took them off slowly before almost connecting back to a kiss, yet not quite.
“Don’t be sorry. I wanna hear that sound again.”
You closed the distance between you, and at your words Hyunjin complied, and let a sigh escape him. You almost reciprocated, almost followed suit; you had never heard anything prettier, anything more desperate and honest. You continued kissing him before you allowed your hands to explore his body, cautious of his reactions and even more eager when he leaned into your every touch. He was chasing you, your lips, your hands, your fingers which started playing with the loop of his leather belt. Hyunjin’s breathing had become staggered by this point, heavy and irregular, chest heaving so intensely you almost chuckled at it.
It was subtle, but when you felt his hips buck up from the mattress in impatient anticipation you moaned into him, and finally undid his belt, opened the button of his jeans. You retracted, gave a quick peck to his searching, reddened lips.
“That’s okay, yeah?”
Hyunjin didn’t seem like he had understood the question. He didn’t seem like he understood anything around him while he was looking at you; seeing him so very dumb founded, in absence of his usual cleverness and brains, was far better than you had anticipated, far more satisfying. It gave you an ego boost you didn’t know you needed, or wanted, for that matter.
You chuckled, and asked again; only then Hyunjin nodded frantically, following up with what felt like a million “Yes, yeah yeah, yes.”’s before you continued with a smug grin.
And it was adorable, seeing Hyunjin pucker his lips in the thought of feeling your lips on his again, only for you to lower your head, and bury your face in his neck instead. You felt his low whine against your lips before you heard it, and he sensed your smile against his skin, followed by a kiss deep and long, while your hands played with the waistband of his jeans. It’s been far too long he’d had anyone like this, embarrassingly long; and even longer since he’d liked someone as much as you. He was in trance as your lips travelled further down his body, not undressing him but catching bare spots of skin to plant kisses atop; his collarbones, the curve from his neck towards his shoulders, his jewellered chest right above the neckline of his shirt.
It wasn’t long before you were levelled with his core. Your position on the bed was awkward, a little uncomfortable, but it was the least of your concerns. You pulled up the hem of Hyunjin’s shirt a bit to kiss at his abdomen, teasing and licking and making a show out of it, and it paid off; the man was flush against the wall of his room, fingers digging into the blanket beneath him, looking at you, blinking so often you wondered if he was able to see anything in between. And you were getting impatient. You could feel the faint weight of his erection beneath his jeans as you brushed his core occasionally, his jerks and jumps when you did so, silently begging you for more. When you asked another “Can I?” he nodded, and you pulled his erection from its’ confines. Hyunjin sucked in a breath at that, bashfulness written in his eyes, brows furrowed; and he suddenly looked for something, tapping across his mattress before he got hold of his glasses, slipping them on. He blushed when you cocked your head at him, fixed them onto his nose with a finger; you loved that habit.
“Just, wanna see everything clearly.”
He was almost ashamed when he said it, but he huffed out in embarrassed amusement when he heard you laugh softly, teasingly. Your hand tightened a bit around the base of his sex, causing him to tense up at the sudden pressure, and your fist moved further up his length. You looked up at him beneath your lashes, intently, dark, almost. You gave a single kitten lick to his tip, gave him a kiss after before smiling up at his dizzied expression; “Watch, then.”
With that, you started softly sucking on his tip, cautiously and void of hurry, taking your time. You were languish with it, letting your tongue dart out and dance across his skin, swirling it when he moaned out or tightened his fist which held captive the fabric of his vanilla scented blanket. You didn’t know that watching him throw his head back would bring you the pleasure it did, but watching Hyunjin’s Adam’s apple beneath the soft, frail skin of his neck made you roll your hips into nothing, the sweat slowly forming on his skin made you flush and sigh against him. You took him deeper, engulfing him in your warm, wet mouth, inch by inch, getting used to his length, the feeling of his heavy veins against your tongue. And he was shy with his hands, placed them everywhere but on you; ran his fingers through his hair with furrowed brows, fisted the fabric of his jeans, or the softness of the blanket, or the pillow laying next to him. It wasn’t until he locked eyes with you, when he caught sight of a loose strand of hair framing against your cheek that he was courageous enough to reach out; Hyunjin moved the hair out of your face softly, delicately almost, held it then, his palm a nice feeling on your skull. And he kept it there. Stroking your hair, tightening around it when you hollowed your cheeks, when you sucked away the salty precum oozing out his angry tip.
You felt him at the back of your throat. He was bigger than you had expected, and his weight lay on your tongue, his tip grazing repeatedly at your uvula, by now sensitive and reddened, though you didn’t stop your antics. Not when the sounds he let roll off his tongue increased not only in volume but in desperation, whines so high pitched you couldn’t help but grin against him. You watched him, every of his movement; the way his glasses slid off his nose before he fixed them with a haste movement, quick and messy, making them sit slightly tilted; enough for you to notice, not enough for him to care. The strands framing his face starting sticking against the sweat forming on his forehead, his lip had developed a bruise from his repeated biting on it; he was a mess, heaving breath and breathless sighs, sweaty palm fisting at your hair in utter helplessness. And he could barely speak a word, could barely form a thought, yet opened his mouth nonetheless, only for words to fail him. He stuttered about, whimpered more than he succeeded to speak. You slowed down your pace, halted a little in the bobbing movement of your head, let your jaw rest to allow him to collect his mind. He looked down at you, urges so deep swimming behind his eyelids, and he breathed out shakily, licked his bruised-up lips.
“I’m so close.”
The words came out his mouth almost apologetically, breathless and quiet. He sat there, back against the wall, an utter mess, too beautiful to be real; lips spit-covered as he spoke, brows formed into one line, eyes glazed with every human emotion this planet granted.
“Do you have condoms?”, you whispered against him, your voice hoarse and weak, your throat sore. He hadn’t expected the words, but nodded after a moment of blushing, motioning to his nightstand with a cock of the head. You eyed him teasingly before shifting to open the drawer of his nightstand; packs of painkillers and coughing drops, looking old and unused. Pencils and other useless stuff before you spotted packs of condoms shoved into the very back, and you fished for one before meeting his eye again. You contemplated teasing him about it; you knew he wasn’t bringing girls over regularly – if at all – to his dorm room, so the small stack of contraceptions was all but adorable – Hyunjin was so very reddened though, and looking so very bashful already that you decided against it, and busied yourself with sliding off your jeans instead, leaving you to sit in front of him in your shirt and panties.
And he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Not much exposed but when you straddled him your thighs were everything his eyes ate alive, shyly placing his hot palms atop them, breathing in shakily when you giggled at him. You tore open the little plastic wrapping, slid on the condom after a confirming nod of his; and when you leaned in to kiss him, he reciprocated it with a depth before not shown, clashing against your mouth clumsily but so passionately that you couldn’t mind it. You shifted in your place, lips never stopping to eat up his own, until you hovered above his erection. He felt your warmth atop him already, bucked his hips up in impatience only for his tip to graze your clothed sex; you both moaned at the embarrassingly short contact, and it was your cue to sink down on him slowly. You weren’t prepped, but you were wet enough for him to slide in easily after pulling your panties to the side, taking him inch by inch, not hurrying, dragging out the scenery. You watched him all the while, and the sight was utterly priceless; blown-out pupils beneath his glasses, a longing so grand behind his lids that you couldn’t help but kiss him again. A deep kiss as you bottomed out on him, felt him endlessly inside you, and he whined into your mouth, loud and raw when you clenched around him.
“I’m not gonna last long.”, he breathed out when you leaned back again; he was too adorable. Looking almost guilty, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs desperately. You chuckled before placing another peck on his swollen lips – even more like clouds now, puffy and soft to touch – and rolled your hips against him. He groaned deeply, throwing his head back with a quiet thump against the wall, hands tightening on your body, as though trying to hold you in place. You felt him twitch inside you, felt him throb against your depth; he wasn’t lying, he wouldn’t last at all.
“I don’t care. Just enjoy yourself.”
With that you started riding him slowly, and softly, giving him an opportunity to collect himself, though it was to little use. He was whining, he was throwing his head back and forth, lulling to the side, he was losing control of everything around him; his glasses slid off his nose repeatedly, sitting so deep they dared to fall off, sounds so loud you wondered if people outside could hear what was happening behind closed doors. His neck was red, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were closed so tight you wondered if it strained the muscles in his face; and you kept rolling your hips against him, chasing the feeling yourself, basking in the way he filled you out entirely. Basking in his sounds, in the sight of him, in the way he felt; this was better than what you had dared to dream of, and you hoped it would be yours for eternities to come.
It wasn’t two minutes, and not before you started bouncing up and down Hyunjin’s length slowly, with thighs strained and hips eager, that the man stuttered in his demeanour, bucking his hips so helplessly into your own, without much success in causing friction, simply to chase you, to chase the feeling, to come closer to you. And it wasn’t long after that when a whine so endearing, so frantic left his throat, and he came into the condom with a string of apologies and curses, and whispers of your name. You allowed him to ride out his high, moving against him in failed search of your own release, kissing at his neck and nibbling at the lobe of his ear, whispering reassurances, feeling his hands on your skin, his arms caging you in. His breathing was heavy, shaky, his eyes closed in exhaustion, or relief, or simple and pure pleasure when you leaned back again. You smiled to yourself, watching calmness take over him now; no nervousness now as you yet sat atop him, no awkwardness, only satisfaction, content.
When he opened his eyes and noticed your staring at him he blushed again, and upon remembering his softened sex inside of you he groaned lowly, twitching in his seat. He was sensitive, he was endearing; and for now he was yours. You smiled at him, and he reciprocated it shyly; you fixed the glasses on his nose, gave him a long, deep kiss. He basked in it, simply let you kiss him, let you run your hands through his hair. It wasn’t until you guided his right hand to your core he sucked in a breath again, upon feeling your warm wetness on his fingertips; and he looked at you with eyes wide open when you leaned back, and whined out again when you whispered; “Gonna show you how you can make me feel good, too.”
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it’s something about jealous chan.
it wasn’t often that he would get this way— that singular raised eyebrow, snarky remarks, the squeezing of your thigh. though when he did, it was noticeable. blatantly obvious.
he didn’t like when guys talked to you, or even be anywhere near you. it drove him nuts seeing a smile creep onto your face from just talking to another guy, or when you laughed at someone else’s joke. why didn’t you react that way with him?
was he the problem?
oh but he was. you two weren’t dating— in fact were merely just friends, but you did know of each other. despite that, chan wanted you all to himself. he admired every part of you, and wanted nothing more than to shield you from the male gaze.
the music was louder than anything around you, but you didn’t care. here you were, in a random room with a complete stranger. you had no idea where bangchan was, nor did you care— well, you were too drunk to care.
your moans we’re soft and persistent as his lips bit and nipped at your skin, leaving small marks against your neck. his hand slipped up your dress, brushing over your clothed area slightly.
you wanted this, you needed this.
so why did it still feel like it wasn’t enough?
because it wasn’t him?
the boy’s hand tugged at your skirt, eager to pull it off only to be stopped by someone coming into the room. you whined out, looking over to see bangchan standing in the door way. before you could say anything, he invited himself in, leaving you in a confused dazed.
“Chan?! I thought you went home?”
“You think this is funny?”
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, watching as he walked over to the two of you, glaring at the boy harshly.
“Woah man, I didn’t know this was your girl.” you sighed, moving away from the boy and giving Chan an annoyed look.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend and needs to act like one.”
chan grabbed him by the arm, pulling him out the room and closing it behind him. you heard the lock click making you sit up. you stared at him blankly, unsure of what to say to him. you had no idea what he was thinking or what his intentions were, but you remembered this expression before. the scoffing, the rolling of his eyes.
jealousy.
he was jealous.
“Before you get all riled up. It was nothing Chan, we barely did anything.”
he walked over to you, eyeing your neck for a moment before laughing to himself. a small red mark was painted into your skin, turning almost a soft purple. you’ve surely done it now and this may have been enough to set him off.
“Barely did anything, huh?”
he glared at you, his eyes feeling as if they were stinging into your skin. his eyes trailed down your skin, being met with multiple bite marks, and the small tints of pink that threatened to form into a hickey. he peeked at your skirt, seeing the zipper half way undone. your heels laid a mess on the floor as the male’s jacket rested beside them.
“I don’t understand what you’re getting all worked up about.” you stumbled up, rolling your eyes at him as you bent over to grab your heels.
chan grabbed your wrist, pulling you back up and holding it by his head. He squeezed it, his nails digging into your delicate skin.
“Chan— ow, let go of me!”
your brain was fuzzy, legs so numb, you couldn’t quite grasp what was going on. one thing was for sure though, you were desperate. desperate for his attention, desperate for someone to touch you and make you feel as if you were worth something.
and the gaze he gave you, only made that feeling it worse.
“What will it take for your dumb little brain to realize.”
he leaned in, his face merely inches away from your own. the tension between you two grew, making your body heat up and your heart beat out of your chest.
“I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”
you stayed quiet, feeling his glare worsen as he backed you up against the wall. he let go of your wrist, his hand grazing under your chin softly.
“And calling me a friend?”
your skin was hot to the touch as he brushed his lips by your neck, smelling a mix of your perfume and the previous man.
“Bold choice of words for someone who begs for me every other night, isn’t that right bunny?”
this is what you wanted. his attention— you wanted him to notice you, to want you as bad as you wanted him. his gaze was still harsh, not softening in even the slightest. his free hand slipped under your skirt, his fingers running along your clothed area. a soft whimper escaped you, making you shift slightly in reaction.
he circled your clit softly with his two fingers, his lips kissing against your neck. he sunk his teeth into the same areas the man did, only harder receiving a small yelp out of you.
chan tugged at your band of your underwear, pulling it down until it fell to your ankles. he slipped his fingers between your folds, gathering a bit of your slick.
“Chan, fuck— more.”
“So needy, aren’t you baby..”
you nodded your head, feeling his fingers push into you softly. your walls clenched around him as they curled, hitting your sweet spot perfectly. his hooded eyes felt as if they burned a whole into your skull. he tilted his head at you, watching you fall apart as he pumped his fingers into you repeatedly and not letting up.
“You like that?” he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding up your weight as your knees began to buckle under him.
“Is this what you wanted? Poor bunny wanted my attention, hm?”
he pulled his fingers out of you, placing them on his tongue to taste. a low growl escaped his mouth as you both watched your string of slick connect from his tongue to his finger.
“As much as I wanna give you what you want,” he pushed you onto the bed, bending you over just enough to expose your ass through your skirt.
“You sadly don’t deserve the princess treatment.”
chan quickly undid his buckle, pulling his pants down slightly. he pulled his cock out of his band, rubbing it softly against your folds. he threw his head back, pushing himself in you just enough for you to feel his tip.
“Fuck baby..” his hand gripped your waist as his cock sank deeper into you, feeling your walls constantly squeeze at him.
he fastened his pace, pushing his tip against your sweet spot with every motion. his nails dug into your skin, his strokes getting sloppier by the minute as he fucked his emotions into you.
you didn’t even deserve this— you were about to give yourself away to some random man all because he wasn’t paying attention to you. but god, was it so hot to see how desperate you were. watching you fuck on the closest thing you could find, only to realize they were nothing in comparison to himself.
he wrapped his arm under your waist, pulling you up against his body. his hand held the front of your neck, squeezing it softly but still allowing you to breathe.
“All these guys, and they don’t fuck you like I do huh?”
you whimpered and moaned as he pounded into you, showing no mercy. chan dug his nails into your neck, making you cry out in response.
“Aww, too fucked out you can’t even respond to me? That’s too bad.”
his grip onto your neck wouldn’t let up, your legs shaking as they felt like they would give out at any moment. chan relentlessly fucked you, his thrusts getting harder and faster as he felt himself slipping.
“Chan.. oh my god.” he kissed at the back of your neck, groaning against your skin as he felt your walls quiver around him.
“Gonna cum for me baby?”
he was practically out of breath at this point, his tip leaking into you. you nodded, knowing any marks you once had were now going to be replaced by the marking of his nails. he pushed your body toward the bed once again, fucking you into the mattress with no remorse.
a small white ring formed around his member as your drunken whines filled the room, begging him to slow down as you reached your peak.
“that’s it, let it out f’me.”
within seconds he let himself go, his own pleasure leaking out of your abused hole and mixing with your juices. chan let out a large sigh, feeling you pulsate around his cock as his thrusts slowed.
“Feel so good when I fill you up.” he mumbled, pulling his cock out of you.
he pushed two fingers into you, pumping them slowly as he watched your thighs squeeze from overstimulation. he used his free hand to grab you by the hair, pulling your head up. you cried out in pain, feeling his fingers curl inside of you.
“The next time you talk to another man..” he leaned over, lips only a few inches away from your ear.
“If I even see another man touch you, i’ll make sure he watches me destroy you.”
chan pulled his fingers out of you, placing a soft kiss against your cheek. he pulled up his pants, hand running against the curve of your ass.
“Are we clear bunny?”
💌: took me a little longer than i hopped to finish this but it’s ok hehe. i hope you guys enjoyed !
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Call It What You Want
Hyunjin x fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI
Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff
Summary: You and Hyunjin have been doing this 'friends with benefits' thing for a while now. But let's be real. You love him. And when he starts showing similar feelings, you're terrified. And it leads to a whole lot of Hyunjin-style drama.
“Fuck, princess,” Hyunjin groaned, voice wrecked, “you’re so tight.”
He had you pinned to the bed, as he fucked you like the world’s about to end. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust hitting so deep you’re seeing stars. Galaxies even. His lips were on your neck, sucking bruises - which would have your art class whispering for weeks.
You pressed your eyes shut, losing yourself in him completely. The way he moved in and out of you. The soft wet sounds that filled the room. And him whispering the filthiest things in your ear.
You were barely coherent, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer. Hyunjin had this glint in his eye, as he shifted slightly, hitting that spot, and you choked out a moan, tugging at his short dark strands.
His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers circling your clit, and your orgasm hit you so hard, and you whimpered his name, clenching around him so tight, making him curse.
His thrusts turned sloppy as he whispered, “Fuck, that’s it,”
He came just as hard, burying himself deep inside you, and you were both panting, sweaty messes when he finally collapsed beside you. Pulling you close, he kissing your temple, and you let yourself enjoy it, just for a second.
It started about an year ago at a frat party you were dragged to by your friend, Jennie. You’d been sulking in a corner, nursing a warm beer, when Hyunjin, already tipsy, waltzed over, and declared you “the hottest grump he’d ever seen.” You’d scoffed at him, but in less than ten minutes, you had somehow ended up making out in his room upstairs.
One thing led to another, and now you were in this absurd, hilarious mess called, friends with benefits.
---
Hyunjin: You left your glasses on my nightstand. I can bring it over
You: Bring it to class tomorrow
Hyunjin: I’m keeping them hostage.
You: Hyunjin 🙄
Hyunjin: Sleepover tomorrow? I’ll make pancakes.
You: Maybe. But only for the pancakes.
Hyunjin: Liar. You want my pancakes and you know what.
Hyunjin: Night, Nerd Queen 😘
You: Night, Hwang.
---
You smiled at your phone, heart doing that stupid flip again. You knew you shouldn't be feeling like this. You two were friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. But every time you were with him, you fell for his stupid smile and his childish self way harder than you liked to admit.
It was a Friday night, and you were curled up in your dorm, binge-watching a new series, when your phone started buzzing.
Hyunjin's frat was organizing a party, and he was probably charming the socks off everyone with his stupidly perfect face. You were trying to stay strong - no running to him tonight - because if you kept giving in to his every whim, he would surely figure out that you were completely, pathetically in love with his dramatic ass.
And that was a secret you kept locked in a vault.
But Hyunjin? He wasn't making it easy. Your phone lit up again, and you caved, glancing at the screen.
---
Hyunjin: Babbyyyyyy where are you 😭 This party sucks without you!
Hyunjin: Seriously, come over. I miss your face.
You: You’re drunk, aren’t you? I’m staying in. Go flirt with your bros.
Hyunjin: Drunk? Me? Pshh. Ok maybe a lil. But I only wanna flirt with youuuu.
Hyunjin: Come over, I’m lonely.
You: Lonely? Go cuddle Felix.
Hyunjin: Felix doesn’t moan like u do.
You: Nope. I’m in my PJs, and I'm comfy. You’re on your own tonight.
Hyunjin: I'm coming to you then. Can't escape me.
You: Hyunjin, no. Stay at your party. You’re too drunk to walk across campus.
Hyunjin: Too late. I'm on my way. Gonna cuddle you so hard you forget ur own name. 😤
You: Oh my god.
Hyunjin: I'm gonna climb into your bed and never leave.
You: I’m locking my door.
Hyunjin: You won't. You love me too much. 😘 Be there in 10. Wear that sweater I like.
---
You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed. You should lock your door, but you don’t. Instead, you fix your hair, pull on that oversized sweater (the one he liked, because apparently you’re weak). Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again, and you hated it. You were supposed to be the cool, studious introvert. But here you were.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it, and there he was, looking like a dishevelled Greek god. His short hair and forehead glistening with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and his leather jacket slipping off one shoulder.
He gave you a sunny smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.
“My girl!” he slurred, stumbling forward and wrapping you in a sloppy hug. He smelled like beer and his cologne, and it was so unfairly intoxicating. “Told ya I’d come. Missed you so much.”
“You’re so drunk, Jinnie,” you said, but you were smiling as you guided him inside, shutting the door. “How did you even make it across campus without falling into a bush?”
“Love,” he declared dramatically, flopping onto your bed. “Love gave me wings.”
He patted the bed, saying “C’mere, nerd. I need cuddles.”
Then he decided that he couldn't wait, and grabbed your wrist, tugging you down next to him. You landed with a squeak, and he immediately buried his face in your neck, nuzzling like a needy puppy.
“Fuck, you smell so good. Like… home and sexy books.”
“Sexy books?” You laughed, pushing at his chest, but he’s clinging to you like a koala. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he mumbled. “God, I love you.”
He's drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it. But your poor heart wished that he did. Meanwhile, his hands slid under your sweater, and you yelped as his cold fingers grazed you stomach to move up and cup your breasts.
“Hyunjin! Your hands are freezing!”
“Then warm me up,” he whined, and before you could stop him, he was crawling under your sweater, tugging it up and burrowing into it. “Lemme in, it’s cozy in there.”
“Oh my god, you won't fit under my sweater!” you laughed.
He was wiggling, his head and shoulders all the way under the fabric.
“You’re gonna rip it!” you squealed, but he just hummed, pressing his face into the space between your breasts.
“Worth it,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Wanna live here forever. You’re so soft. And warm.”
You were dying, torn between shoving him off and melting at how stupidly cute he was. He was still trying to fit into your sweater, but finally gave up with a huff and whine and said, “Fine.”
And then settled for wrapping his entire body around you instead. He threw a leg over yours, arms squeezing you tight, face buried in your chest (half submerged in your sweater).
“This’ll do. For now.” he said, and you hummed, stroking his back.
“You’re such a baby,” you said, and you both remained silent as his breathing slowed and you thought he was falling asleep. But then he murmured, “Love you…so fucking much. You’re my everything.”
Your heart stopped. You froze, hand still on his back, waiting for him to laugh it off or say something dumb. But he just snuggled closer, sighing like he was finally at peace. You swallowed hard, emotions bubbling up.
You loved him too. His childish giggles, his unhinged texts - but saying it felt too big, too scary. So you just hold him, letting the moment linger.
“Sleep, you idiot,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head (poking out through the neckline of your sweater). He hummed, already half-gone, and soon he was snoring softly, clinging to you like you’re his lifeline.
---
Hubby: Morning, wifey 😘 You're so cute when you sleep. Didn't wanna wanna wake you up. Let's go get some breakfast?
You: WIFEY? You changed your contact name to HUBBY? Hyunjin, I’m going to murder you.
Hubby: Murder your husband? Harsh, babe.
You: You’re not my husband. You’re a silly boy who needs to stop stealing my phone.
Hubby: I don’t have to steal anything. You're mine. Your phone’s mine. Deal with it, nerd.
You: You're delusional.
Hubby: Call it what you want
Hubby: Now come gimme a kiss, I’m dying😩
---
You rolled your eyes, yet you were grinning like an idiot before kicking your feet and squealing into your pillow.
---
Later that day, you were in the library, trying to study, but Hyunjin had other plans.
---
Hubby: Wifey, I’m lonely 😢 Lets study together.
You: Stop calling me that. And I’m not falling for your tricks. I’m studying.
Hubby: Tricks? Don't be so mean my love
You: I’m muting you.
Hubby: You can’t mute your soulmate. Be real fir once, you can't resist me.
You: You're so full of yourself.
Hubby: Come over and you'll be full of me too 😉
You: Omg HYUNJIN.
Hubby: Lmao you're so easy to rile up. Ok, I’ll be good. Love u, wifey.
---
You bit your lip, trying not to smile. He was so stupidly endearing, and you hated how much you loved it. You were about to reply when a shadow fell over your table. You looked up, and there stood Hyunjin, holding a coffee and grinning.
“Surprise, wifey!” he said, loud enough for it to echo through the library. He slid into the seat across from you, completely ignoring everyone’s glares. “Coffee for my love.”
“You’re not my husband,” you hissed, but you took the coffee. “And how are you even here? Don’t you have class?”
“Nope,” he said, leaning forward, chin in his hands. “Had to see you. I knew you'd be wearing those glasses and looking so cute…makes me wanna bend you over this table.”
Your jaw dropped, and you kicked him under the table. “Hyunjin! We’re in a library!”
He laughed, unbothered, and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.
“Can’t help it.”
You snatched your hand back, face burning.
“You’re insane. Go away before I get kicked out.”
“Nope,” he said again, scooting closer until his knee brushed yours. “I’m staying. Gotta protect my wife from nerdy predators.”
He winked, and you were so torn, because you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe this was real. But this whole thing started off on sex. And you were worried that he'd get bored and he'd get over you.
You tried to focus on your notes, but Hyunjin was making it absolutely impossible - humming softly, doodling “Mr. & Mrs. Hwang” in your notebook. You give him a glare and yanked your book away, ruining the cute doodle he was working on.
He gave you a pouty look, and you narrowed your eyes at him. The usual Hyunjin would whine or tackle you into a hug. But he did none of that. Instead he stood up, putting your pen down as he held your gaze, and then just walked away.
You watched him disappear, and for the first time ever, you were terrified.
It has been three days since the library incident, and you’re losing your mind. No “wifey,” no texts about bending you over a library table.
Nothing. Just… silence. The worst part? You missed it. You missed his childish whining, his needy cuddles, his sweet face. You tried to play it cool, but by day four, you were a mess.
You had just finished class and were walking towards the campus cafe, when you spotted him. Hyunjin. Reading. You did a double take, nearly spilling your drink. Since when did Hwang Hyunjin, read a book that thick? He was sitting under a tree, leaning against the trunk, looking so soft in his hoodie and glasses (glasses?!). Your heart squeezed, but you were also annoyed.
You marched over, plopping down next to him. He glanced up, one eyebrow raised, and went back to his book. No grin, no nothing. Just a cool, “Hey.”
“Hey?” you repeated, incredulous. “That’s it? Why are you ignoring me?”
He closed his book, looking at you with a neutral expression that was so unlike him it was creepy.
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just… reading.”
“Reading?” You narrowed your eyes. “You haven’t spoken to me in days. What’s your deal?”
He shrugged, and said, “Figured you were sick of my ‘needy bullshit.’ You kept telling me to stop, so I stopped.”
You blinked, caught completely off guard. He was being… serious?
“I didn’t mean stop everything. You’re acting like we’re strangers.” you snapped.
“I’m giving you space,” he said, his voice is tight. “You said I was too much. So, here’s not-too-much Hyunjin. Happy?”
Happy? You were miserable. But he was staring at you, all sulky and gorgeous, and you realized that he was on strike. No kisses, no touching, no sex. He was punishing you for resisting, and oh, it was working.
“You’re pouting,” you said, poking his cheek.
He swatted your hand away, but there was a flicker of his usual playfulness.
“Am not,” he muttered, turning back to his book. “Go study or whatever. I’m fine.”
You stared, heart twisting. He was hurt, and you did this. You pushed him away, and now he has dialled it back to zero. But you weren't letting him win this. You needed your Hyunjin back, drama and all.
You couldn't take another day of this cold-shoulder nonsense. You mustered the courage for what you were about to do, and walked to the frat house. Ignoring the party raging downstairs, you headed straight for Hyunjin’s room. You didn't knock - you just barged in, and there he was, at his desk, sketching. He was in a loose tank top, hair messy, pencil moving with that focused intensity that made him look so unfairly hot. He glanced up, startled, then leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Ever heard of knocking?” he asked, but there was a spark in his eyes, like he'd been waiting for you.
“Nope,” you said, shutting the door. “We need to talk.”
He raised an eyebrow, playing it cool, but that pout’s still there, lingering. “Talk then. I’m listening.”
You took a deep breath, heart pounding. You’ve been resisting him for months, pretending you were not in love with him. But you were done fighting. You reached into your pocket and pull out the ring pop you had bought on a whim at the campus store - a cheap plastic band with a strawberry-flavored candy “diamond.” It was ridiculous, but you were desperate.
“Hyunjin,” you said, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I was scared. Because I have wanted more for a while now. I don't want to be someone you sleep with. I wanna be more. I miss you. I miss being your wifey. I miss you so damn much.”
His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything, so you kept going, holding up the candy ring.
“You wanna be my husband? Fine. Here’s your ring. Marry me, you idiot.”
For a second, he just stared, and you felt like you'd broken him. Then his face blooms - eyes sparkling, cheeks flushing, grin so wide it could overshadow the sun. He looked so happy, so Hyunjin, it was like the room got brighter.
“Wifey,” he breathed, voice shaking. “You’re proposing? With a candy ring? Fuck, that’s so cute. I think I'm gonna cry.”
“Please don’t cry,” you said, but you’re grinning too, heart racing. “Just say yes so I can stop feeling like an idiot.”
“Yes yes yes,” he said, jumping up and grabbing your face, kissing you so hard you stumbled back. His lips were soft and desperate, and you kissed him back, hands tangling in his hair, and it was like the world snapped back into place. He was yours, drama and all, and you were his.
The kiss deepened, all tongue and heat, and you were both gasping, pulling at each other like you’ve been starved. He lifted you onto his desk, knocking over his pencils and sketchbooks, and you laughed against his mouth.
“Careful, Hubby,” you teased, and he groaned, kissing you harder.
“Say it again,” he murmured, hands sliding under your shirt, warm and needy. “Please.”
“Hubby,” you whispered and he practically whimpered, pressing himself closer, lips trailing down your neck. You made out for what felt like hours, all sloppy kisses and wandering hands, until your lips were swollen and your hearts pounding.
Finally, you pulled back, both of you panting. He had the candy ring on his finger, and he looked so genuinely happy and excited.
“I love you so much,” he said, holding up his hand to admire the ring. “Strawberry’s my favorite.”
“You’re such a dork,” you mumbled, but you were beaming, because he’s your dork. “I love you, Jinnie.”
---
Hubby: My heart’s gonna explode.
You: You survived the strike, you’ll live.
Hubby: Never. You looked so hot with that ring, though. Oh fuck, I'm hard again.
You: HYUNJIN. Behave for five seconds.
Hubby: Can’t. I’m married to the hottest nerd ever. I’m gonna kiss you forever.
You: I love you baby
Hubby: Fuck, I love you. My wifey. My nerdy goddess. I’m never shutting up again, you know that, right?
You: Good. I missed your dramatic ass.
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes
hello you magnificent human being.
I see your requests are open and I’m always ready to send my ideas to capable writers haha
so: Seungmin + angsty angst + redemption + happy ending (bc I’m a weak and unstable bitch)
reader is pregnant, at the beginning maybe she knows, maybe not. Seungmin is having some existencial crisis (maybe he feels like he’s not living he’s youth as he should), gets distant, neglecting his relationship. he cheats on reader (maybe not, and it only looks like it), reader finds out, confronts him, he says some really mean words about her, the relationship, the baby. maybe (I know, tons of maybes, I have ideas but also want to give you freedom to write whatever you want! hahaha) he implies he doesn’t want the baby or mentions something about an abortion?
however the reader reacts, what he does after, the redemption and else is up to u.
I hope you like the idea as much as I do. happy writing🧚🏼♀️
Fractured Foundations | Seungmin
Synopsis: When secrets flow and hearts break during an argument, you are left wondering why you entered into this relationship.
Pairing: bf!Seungmin x fem!reader
Genre: Angst. So. Much. Angst. (But a fluffy ending!)
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of drinking, implied cheating (he does not), arguing, mentions of Seungmin not wanting the baby, break-up This is a pretty triggering fiction, so if you need to skip this one, please feel free to!
Notice: No, I did not sob my eyes out while I was writing this; what are you referring to?! Nevertheless, my darling! Your suggestion is out of this world, and it broke my heart just reading it! The only thing I did not include was the idea of abortion just due to some past experiences of mine and because the topic is insanely controversial; however, I hope you enjoy the story all the same ! As I stated in the warnings, this fiction is one that is more on the triggering side, so please feel free to skip out on reading if you need to :)
The apartment felt cold, even with the heater on full blast. You sat curled up on the couch, a half-forgotten mug of hot chocolate cooling in your hands; your eyes were fixated on the little plastic stick on the coffee table. The two faint lines stared back at you, blurring slightly through your tears.
You should have been happy; this is what you have been dreaming of for so long - to start a family and have a minature you running around the house. Yet, all you could feel was an ache deep in your heart - one that had been festering for weeks.
Seungmin had not been the same lately, and you could sense it. He was not the boy who used to hold your hand under the table at crowded restaurants or sneak kisses when he thought nobody was looking. He was not the man who used to talk about the future like he could not wait to spend every moment of it with you. He was not the man who shared your dream of settling down and beginning a family of your own.
These days, he came home late, smelling like a mix of winter air, cigarettes, alcohol, and someone else's perfume. He did not touch you like he used to, and he did not look at you with the love he had once felt if he even made the effort to glance your way at all.
You tightened your grip on the mug, the ceramic bearing into your palms. The words you had practiced in your head over and over felt heavy in your throat.
How do you tell somebody you love that you are carrying their child when you are not even for certain that they still want you?
The sound of the door unlocking snapped you out of your consuming thoughts. You wiped at your face quickly as Seungmin stepped inside, his shoulders stiff and his expression unreadable.
"You're home," you commented softly, forcing a smile.
"Yep," he muttered, kicking off his shoes without looking at you. He walked past the couch, heading straight for the bedroom.
"Seungmin?" Your voice cracked slightly, and you hated how desperate it sounded. "Can we talk?"
"I'm tired," he stated as he stalled in the doorway, his back still turned to you. "Can it wait 'til tomorrow?"
"I don't think it can." You swallowed the lump in your throat, your fingers trembling against the cooling mug.
He turned then, his face annoyed and his eyes carrying a sharp, distant stare.
"What is it?"
The words were right there, ready to spill out. Yet, as you looked at him - the man you used to know better than he knew himself - you doubled down.
"I..." you hesitated, suddenly unsure. "I just want to make sure you're okay. You've been pretty distant lately."
Seungmin sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"I'm fine," he replied. "Just stressed."
"About what?" you pressed gently.
"Work. Life. Everything and anything." He glanced at you then, his tone hardening. "And I certainly don't need you breathing down my neck right now, so just drop this."
Your stomach twisted, a painful knot forming in your chest. You wanted to cry, to scream, to break down and tell him everything. Instead, you nodded, your barely audible voice mumbling an, "Okay."
Seungmin disappeared into the bedroom, leaving you alone in silence.
For the first time, you had felt like you were truly alone.
---
The days that followed felt like they were unfolding in slow motion, each one darker than the last. Seungmin stayed locked in his own world, a stranger in the home you had built together. His absence lingered, even when he was physically present, silence replacing the laughter you once shared.
You told yourself to wait for the right moment to bring it up, to tell him about the baby, but the fear of his reaction gnawed at your gut. Every time you opened your mouth, his distant gaze or clipped tone shut you down.
The breaking point came one Friday night.
Seungmin had been out late again, the smell of whiskey clinging to him as he stumbled through the door. You were sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of untouched food in front of you.
"Seungmin," you called, your voice shaking slightly. "We need to talk. it can't wait any longer."
"Not this again," he groaned, leaning against the wall as he kicked off his shoes.
"I'm serious," you stood up as your hands trembled. "I can't keep doing this. You're never here, and when you are, it feels like you aren't. What's going on with you?"
"What's going on with me?" he repeated, his tone slurring out of frustration. "You're the one who's always picking fights here recently."
"Picking fights?" Your voice rose, anger bubbling over your previously meek demeanor. "I'm trying to save this relationship, Seungmin! You won't talk to me! You won't let me in!"
"Maybe because I don't want to, y/n!" he snapped, cutting you off.
The words hit you like a harsh slap; you stared at him, your heart pounding so hard you felt it in your ears.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm suffocating, okay?" He clenched his jaw, rubbing his temples aggresively. "This life we have? It's not what I wanted."
"Not what you wanted?" Tears blurred your vision as you took a shaky step backwards, nearly stumbling in the process. Seugmin exhaled sharply, pacing the small space of the kitchen.
"I'm 24, for fucks sake. I should be out living my life, not tied down to some boring routine."
"You feel tied down?" you echoed, your voice breaking. "Is that all I am to you? Some weight holding you back?"
"I don't know!" he shouted, his emotioned boiling over. "I don't know what I want anymore, but I do know that I can't keep pretending that everything is fine when it clearly isn't!"
The room fell silent, save for the sound of your muffled, shaky sobs. Slowly, you reached into your jacket pocket, pulling out the small ultrasound photo you had been carrying around for days.
"Maybe this will help you figure it out," you responded, your voice quiet, trembling even as you placed it on the counter in front of him.
Seungmin frowned, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the photo. When realization dawned, his expression twisted into something you could not quite discern - shock, confusion, maybe even rage.
"You're...you're pregnant?"
"Yes!" you replied, tears cascading down your face. "I found out a couple weeks ago, and I just went to the doctor to confirm it. I didn't tell you sooner because I knew, I knew this was how you were going to react."
Seungmin shook his head, a stressed hand clamped onto his forehead.
"This can't be happening."
"What do you mean?" you demanded, your voice rising several octaves. "This is happening, Seungmin. We're going to be parents, and you don't get to act like it's some inconvenience!"
"Inconvenience?" he repeated, his voice hard. "Do you know what this means? We're not ready for this! I'm not ready for this. I don't even know if I want-"
"Don't you dare," you cut him off, your voice growling with anger. "Don't you dare say something you can't take back."
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to keep it."
The words hung in the air like a knife between you: sharp and unforgiving. Your breath hitched, your hands shaking as you stepped back from him.
"You're unbelievable," you whispered, pain prominent in your tone. "You know what? I'm done. You can figure out what you want without me here, because I'll be damned if I raise our child in an environment where I am treated like this."
Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your coat off of the rack in the living room, slamming the door behind you as you walked out.
---
You did not know where you were going, but anything felt better than the asphyxiating walls of that apartment. Your hands gripped the steering wheel as you drove aimlessly, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. The world outside blurred into a kaleidoscope of color. You could not stop thinking about what Seungmin had said.
"Maybe you should've thought about that before deciding to keep it."
The statement echoed over and over, each repetition cutting deeper than the last. You pulled into an empty parking lot and parked the car, burying your face in your hands as sobs washed over your body.
How had it come to this? The man you loved, the man you thought you would spend forever with, had looked you in the eyes and shattered every hope you had held onto.
After a few moments, the tears slowed, leaving you hollow and exhausted. You reached for your phone, scrolling through your contacts until you landed on a familiar name.
"Hello?" a groggy voice answered after the second ring.
"Changbin," you sobbed. "I need somewhere to stay."
---
The apartment was eerily quiet without you. Seungmin stood in the middle of the living room, holding the ultrasound photo you had left behind.
He felt horrible.
The anger and frustration that had fueled his words had disappeared, replaced by a sickening pit in his stomach. He had not meant to say half of the things that he did, but in the moment, it all came tumbling out.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered under his breath, sinking into the couch. He could not stop playing the look on your face - the way your shoulders had slumped, the tears in your eyes and anger in your voice as you left.
For the first time in weeks, he let himself confront the feelings he had been burying. The truth was, he was terrified. Terrified of losing his freedom, of not being good enough for you, and now of fatherhood. Instead of talking to you about it, however, he had lashed out, pushing you away when he needed you the most.
Seungmin stared at the ultrasound again, his thumb brushing over the tiny image.
'That's my baby.'
The thought sent a wave of emotion crashing over him, of fear yes, but also a deep unfamiliar sense of awe.
Yet, he was convinced he had already ruined everything.
---
Changbin greeted you at the front door in sweatpants and a hoodie, his face full of concern.
"What happened?" he questioned, his voice filled with concern but also tiredness. You shook your head, not able to speak without choking up. He ushered you inside, grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders.
"Take your time," he told you softly, sitting beside you.
The story spilled out in fragments - your fears about the pregnancy, Seungmin's distance, the fight, everything. By the time you had finished, Changbin looked angrier than you had ever seen him.
"That idiot," he mumbled under his breath. "I swear, I'm going to knock some sense into him."
"Don't," you replied quickly, your voice hoarse. "It's over, Changbin. I'm not going back." Changbin frowned but did not argue; instead, he pulled you into a comforing hug.
"You don't have to decide on anything right now. Just focus on taking care of yourself, okay?"
---
The next morning, Seungmin woke up to an empty apartment and a gut-wrenching sense of dread. He had tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail. Panic set in when he realized he had no idea where you had gone.
It was not until later that day that he worked up the nerve to text Changbin.
'Is she with you?'
'She's safe. But don't plan on coming here. She needs space.
Seungmin sank down onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. You were safe, and that was all that mattered for now, but he knew that he could not leave things like they were.
The empty apartment was becoming unbearable; Seungmin missed the warmth of your embrace at night, the sleepy sounds you yawned in the morning, everything. Nothing felt right without you there.
His first attempt to fix things was impulsive; he showed up to Changbin's house unannounced, despearate to see you.
Changbin opened the door, his expression a mixture of disappointment and stifled frustration.
"She doesn't want to see you."
"I know I messed up," Seungmin responded. "I just need to explain-"
"You don't get to explain," Changbin cut him off. "Not yet, at least. You can't just apologize and expect her to forget everything that happened."
Seungmin faltered, shame washing over him.
"Then what do I do?"
Changbin sighed, his tone softening slightly.
"Figure out why you acted the way you did. Fix yourself, then fix the relationship."
---
Seungmin took Changbin's words to heart. For the first time in weeks, he had sought out therapy.
Sitting in the therapist's office, he struggled to put his thoughts into words.
"I feel trapped," he had finally admitted. "Like my life is moving faster than I can keep up with, and I took it out on my girlfriend." The therapist nodded, encouraging him to continue. "I think I'm scared. Scared of failing her, of failing the baby, of being stuck in a life I don't know if I'm ready for."
"That's understandable," the therapist gently assured. "But you need to know that running from your fears doesn't make them go away; it just hurts the ones you care about."
Seungmin left the session feeling lighter, though the weight of his actions was still pressing down on him.
He knew he could not fix things overnight, but he wanted to show you how serious he was about changing.
He started small, dropping off groceries at Changbin's house, knowing that you would not accept them from him directly. He began attending prenatal classes on his own, learning everything he could about what you were going through.
One day, he left a note for you with a small gift; it was a baby onesie that read, "I already have the best mom."
---
Weeks passed before you agreed to see him. You met at a park, the winter air crisp and cool. Seungmin looked nervous, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he approached.
"I'm not here to ask you to forgive me," he began, his voice steady but soft. "I just want you to know how sorry I am."
You crossed your arms, giving him a wary, "Go on."
He took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours.
"I was selfish, and I let my fear and insecurities control me, and I hurt you in ways I can't even begin to make up for. You didn't deserve that."
"You're right," you replied quietly. "I don't." Seungmin nodded, swallowing hard.
"I can't change what I said, but I'm working on being better, for you, for our baby, and for myself. I understand if you never want to be with me again, but I'll always be here for our child. No matter what."
His sincerity caught you off guard. For the first time in weeks, you saw a glimpse of the man you had initially fell in love with.
---
The months that followed were not easy. You let Seungmin attend the doctor's appointments with you, but you kept your defenses up. Seungmin did not push; he showed up for every appointment, every class, and every moment you allowed him to be apart of. He listened more than he spoke, letting his actions do the talking.
One night, after a particularly long day, he found you sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib. You were far along at this point, about six or seven months; the realization of having this baby was finally beginning to set in.
"Everything okay?" Seungmin asked gently, leaning against the doorframe.
"It's just...a lot," you hesitated before nodding. Seungmin walked over, standing behind you and resting his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms gently around your belly.
"I know, but you're not alone in this. Not anymore."
---
A few months later, you found yourself laying in the delivery room, clutching Seungmin's hand as your baby lay in the hospital's makeshift cradle just in the corner of the room. Seungmin's cheeks were stained with tears, his love evident within his expression as he walked over to the baby.
"I didn't think it was possible to feel so much love," he whispered, his voice breaking. You smiled through your exhaustion, watching as he gently cradled the baby for the first time.
In that moment, you knew he had changed.
And as he leaned down you press a gentle kiss to your forehead, you felt it too - the hope of a new beginning.
💔❤️🩹🇵🇸🇵🇸To Those with Compassionate Hearts and Conscience,🇵🇸🇵🇸💔❤️🩹
My name is Mohammed Nasr, from Gaza, where war and suffering prevail. In this land that has turned into hell, my family has lost everything. I lost my brother Mahmoud, my brother Ahmad suffered a leg amputation, and I have been injured in my legs and abdomen. My parents suffer from chronic illnesses, and my children, Nasr (7 years) and Alin (6 years), are suffering from malnutrition and skin diseases.
The war has destroyed our homes and businesses, leaving us without shelter or resources. Our displacement has caused my mother and siblings to live in different areas of Gaza, while I, my wife Yasmin, who is battling cancer, and my children are in the south.
We are living in a state of displacement, having fled more than ten times, and we are struggling with a lack of food and water. My wife now requires treatment abroad, which is extremely costly, and we cannot afford it.
Therefore, I appeal to you with open hearts to extend a helping hand, whether through financial assistance or psychological support. Even a small contribution could change our lives.
I thank you from the depths of my heart for your support and concern.
Sincerely,
Mohammed Nasr
Hey stayblr, I've been thinking of ways we can unite to help Palestine in the current genocide. With Israel closing borders again, no aid is allowed in and local organizations on the ground urgently need our help. So, i thought of rallying to raise donations for Palestine, big or small, as every dollar counts and can truly make a difference.
Initial target : 3000 dollars ✅
‼️ Next Target : 3500 dollars.
To be split between Care for Gaza, UNRWA and Palestine Children’s Relief Fund.
We’ll raise the target goal according to our progress!
update as of 15/06/2024- [10:03 a.m.] : 3107,35 dollars!!
For transparency, donations will be received through my Kofi, with daily updates on our progress. Here are the links to UNRWA’s, Careforgaza’s and PCRF’s work in Gaza!
Palestinians are saying that this is the worst phase of the genocide yet. They need as much of our help as we can give them, so please, let’s all stand together for this.
If you cannot donate
- please reblog and share around!
- stream hind’s hall (all proceeds will be donated to unrwa!
here are the receipts of our 1000$ donation to UNRWA & 1000$ donation to Careforgaza (to their paypal acc)
im waiting for paypal to release the 1k on hold to donate it!
thinking about how there isn't enough on virgin!minho
like things get a little handsy and then you learn how sensitive he is... idk i just love subby whiny min but i haven't seen any inexperienced/virgin minho around :/
Made of Glass
pairing: lee minho x reader
warnings: dom afab reader (no pronouns are mentioned, reader does have a hole but i don't think anything else - besides minho referring to the reader as a goddess once), sub virgin minho, lots of build-up, little bit of a handjob, grinding on his bare dick, penetrative sex ( r receiving, haven't written it in a long time so don't get mad if it's shit😻), fluffy build up (they're in love your honour), he says he hates you a lot (but he doesn't mean it cause we love subby tsundere boys)
word count: erm...about 4.6k
-- MINORS BEGONE --
Minho wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was a virgin.
Untouched and "pure", undirtied by the hands of another some might even say. Specifically you, teasing him with light kisses and gentle touches.
And sure, he'd gotten to 2nd base in a high school relationship and older drunken mishaps but never anything more. Never as so far as to...feel certain things from another person.
Or from himself for that matter.
But no, wasn't ashamed that he was a virgin but he was maybe, perhaps, just a little bit embarrassed.
And he had absolutely zero idea how to breach the topic with you much less approach it.
You, who knew he was a virgin. Always so patient and careful with him.
Obviously, it should be expected that in the heat of the moment you stop when he freezes up or slows when he tenses up. But none of his previous partners had ever treated him so nicely, without getting angry or miffed off after at the very least.
They hadn't kissed his cheeks gently with a smile and conceded into a cuddle after it happened several times. They hadn't wrapped him up in their arms and turned on a movie, or delicately asked to talk about it after the fact.
You did though.
With no questions and no pressuring and no guilt-tripping. No anger.
He loved it. He loved you...as long as that had taken for him to come to terms with, with you and with himself.
He loved you.
And he was ready.
To...to, yeah.
And what better way than to just come out and say it? But that's embarrassing.
"I think I wanna...you know."
"Darling, sorry, can you speak up?" You looked up at him, yawning and setting your phone down on the coffee table.
He flushed and turned away, "um..." and he could feel every ounce of confidence in his body drain out of him like that.
Under your eyes, like this, you so attentive to listen to him. So nice, giving him your whole attention like he was the only thing that mattered.
You patted the couch next to you and he had no choice to sit down, falling into your arms like he was the missing piece to your puzzle.
He was quick to nuzzle his face into your throat, hiding against you. You just made him so nervous. Why did you make him so nervous still? After dating for this long, you shouldn't make him feel this way still.
Fluttery and gooey and nervous.
He'd say he hated it. The way you made his heart flutter...as sappy and love-drunk as that sounded.
He'd say he hated it when your hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. But he didn't hate it. Not one bit.
"I love you."
A grin split across your face, lighting up in that way you always did when he said those three words. No matter how many times he's said it, it would still drive you crazy like it was the first.
You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose gently. "Say it again for me darling? Just one more time, please?"
Now you were teasing him. But you couldn't help it. You loved teasing him so much. Loved fluttering kisses over his face and hearing him say those words again and again and again.
You didn't think you could ever get sick of it.
"Fuck you," He groaned but his tone with filled with anything but malice, making you laugh; letting him bury his head into your neck. "Fuck you for being so..."
"So what?" You challenged. "Hmm?"
His voice was muffled against your skin, barely legible, "So...insufferable." But he must like suffering then. "And intolerable." And he must have built up some tolerability, maybe because he was around you so much, indulging in you far too often.
You pulled his body against yours, leaning back to slot his body onto yours.
He was too eager to follow your lead.
To let himself be maneuvered so his hips were pressed against yours and your chest was aligned with his, so softly you moved him, so carefully you treated him.
He could feel your heart beating in time with his, fluttering and quick. He loved the feeling like he loved everything about you.
Fuck you for making him feel like this.
For the butterflies in his stomach. And the flush on his cheeks. And the hard-on between you and him, wishing desperately you wouldn't notice.
But of course you would.
You pulled his face from your neck, hands holding either side of his face, keeping him in place - like he'd want to be anywhere else.
"So I'm insufferable and you're...what?" Your lips pouted and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss them. To kiss you. Hard and fast and the way he needed.
He pretended to think but was only sidetracked by the feeling of your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, tracing his lips and following down to his jawline.
"Mmm, I'm...handsome. And, uh," he let out an embarrassing breathy sigh when you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth so softly he wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't watched you.
"And...?" You prompted, smiling coyly. You knew the effect you had on him.
You peppered kisses over his face, following where you'd touched him with your fingers seconds before. You nipped at his cheek and pulled away before he could properly reply.
"...pretty?" Though the words came out more as a question than anything else. "I mean-"
A giggle escaped your lips, "Hell yeah you are," you brush your nose against his, looking at him in a way so scarily intimate he has to look away first.
"Pretty..." you mutter, sighing. "Y'know, I think I can accept being insufferable and intolerable if you can accept being pretty," you whisper, guiding him back to you with a delicate kiss, finally to his lips. "And handsome," you murmur, smiling against him as he deepens the kiss, hands grasping at the fabric of your shirt.
You pull away with a small teasing smirk, "And beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunnin-mmph!"
His hands fist the fabric, pulling you in before you can continue with your stupid rant. Before you can focus on the way his heart pounds when you add on another praise.
You hum and recede into the motion, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth, sloppyily, in the way oddly reminiscent of the way horny teenagers kiss.
In a matter of seconds he's turned the kiss from sweet to something not-so-sweet.
Exactly what he wanted, and maybe he wouldn't even need to suffer through the awkwardness of asking.
Everything he put in was returned by you in the tenfold, one hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, the effects making you laugh against his lips. His form shivering into yours, full-bodied and obvious.
"Sensitive?" You pulled away, with a breath, mouth curling up. "It's okay, it's cute-mmph!"
He crashed his lips against yours again, effectively cutting off your words and your thoughts. Even if you continued to play with the nape of his neck, fingers teasing over the spot. The feeling only made him more and more desperate.
But if he was needy, you were nothing but eager to reply, deepening the kiss like you were trying to consume him whole.
"Darling," you mutter, too soft. "Minnie," you groan, holding him to you gently.
But you were too soft, too gentle.
He wanted more, he wanted you.
Unrestrained, doing what you wanted for once, using him like you wanted. Because he wanted it.
Wanted to not be treated like he was a piece of glass, in danger of breaking every moment. He loved how carefully you treated him but now he wanted to be treated rough, he needed to be treated rough.
But he didn't want to say it.
Slowly, he pressed his hips against yours, shuddering at the fizzle of friction sending sparks through his nerves.
"Minho," you sighed, nails scratching against his scalp making him whine. "Darling," with a particularly harsh nip to his lips, almost hard enough to break the skin - that was what he wanted.
A whimper built up in his throat only to be swallowed down. He wasn't that desperate yet. Even if every one of his movements seemed to argue otherwise, finding a clumsy rhythm in grinding against you, replicating and intensifying those sparks.
Building them up to what he hoped was more.
Even if the motions were clumsy and new. Curious but wanting all the same, the way he moved was raw, exploring and ruining. It made his head spin and everything else go foggy.
You dragged your mouth away from his, tugging his head up by his hair to lick your way down his neck.
A lick and an open-mouthed kiss, making him shudder and shake, heat emanating from the areas you touched and the places you pressed together.
Separated by stupid clothes but not enough to stop him.
He must look pathetic the way he thrusts against you, each discordant grind getting more desperate, more sloppy with the skim of your mouth. With the drag of your tongue down his jaw and pulse-point, heart thrumming beneath your lips. With every shockwave of euphoria that tingles down his spine, with every moan and whisper of his name that leaves your lips.
"Minho," "Minnie," "Baby," "Darling,"
His head is too fuzzy to worry about anything else. To think about the needy noises that leave him, he's sure he sounds lewd, and dirty.
From just dry-humping against you.
But it's not enough. He wants you rough and hard and on top of him. Showing him what to do, telling him what to do. To make him feel good, to make you feel good.
He falters imperceptibly. Should he...?
No, he doesn't want to. He can't. Because how is he supposed to ask you to-
He's caught up in his head but his body works on autopilot, reacting to the sensations that are bringing him closer and closer to cumming in his boxers.
Caught up in his thoughts but not so much so that he forgets about you,
and he certainly doesn't miss anything you say, like the words "Such a fucking good boy," nearly growled into his throat, voice husky and ragged as your teeth scrape down his skin.
Good boy?
He freezes. Heat pools deep inside of him, warm and making him painfully, painfully hard. The words push him nearly to the edge, and he can feel himself on the precipice of-
And then he's being shoved back, hard.
Harder than you meant to, but necessary for what you were about to do.
You pant, as does he, both of you flushed and trying to catch the breath stolen from your lungs.
No, no, not when he was finally getting somewhere, not when finally, finally he was getting what he wanted. Not when you were actually unrestrained and-
"I'm sorry."
His gaze snapped to yours.
"What?"
Your lips were red and parted, he was sure his weren't in much better shape. All he wanted to do was kiss them again, and again, and again.
He wants to hear you call him a good boy again.
"I-I'm sorry," you ran your hand through your hair. "I should've...I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry Minho." This time you were the one looking away.
"The fuck do you mean?" He snaps. It came out a little harsher than intended, he admits. But really, he was sitting here, horny and pent-up and just wanting to get fucked, and here you were, pushing him away and apologizing?
You blink, slowly, surprised.
And here he is, fuming.
Why won't you just fuck him?
"I'm sorry-" would you just stop saying that? His glare shuts you up. "Um," You only looked confused now, a furrow between your brow.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch it.
He wishes you'd just make the first move.
Because now he was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you. Not just mumble some nonsense and hope that you'd pick it up.
"I want you." He said simply, inching closer to you.
You nodded but made no move to continue anything. "Okay..." then a sigh. "I'm going to need you to elaborate just a little, Minho."
The flush across his cheeks spreads, down his neck and over his collarbone. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was made of glass or something? Like you cared about him so much it made him melt.
Fuck, he loved you.
"Look at me baby." You gently cup his face, turning him to meet your eyes. "You can tell me."
You definitely knew.
He could see it in your eyes, the worry giving way to a teasing look. Now you just wanted to humiliate him huh?
He hated you.
"Shut up."
You smiled, pulling him into your chest again, laying between your legs. Just like you were before. "Well that's not what good boys say, now is it?"
He pulled his face away, burying it into your shoulder to hide from your eyes. "I don't like you." His voice came out muffled into your shirt.
You only scoff out a laugh. "We both know that's not true darling. You love me." Voice dropping to a whisper, you lean into his ear. "Do I make you nervous baby?"
Someone just kill him now.
Put an end to his misery.
"N-no;" his voice still muffled in the fabric of his your shirt. "you're just-"
"Just what?" You challenge, fingers teasing into his hair, the way you know he likes it. "You're a big boy, you can use your words, can't you?"
He shudders and swears he can hear your smirk. "I...- fuck you."
You tug on his hair, making him face you. You swear he has a eye-contact problem. Or maybe he just gets too nervous looking you in the eye.
Either way, he's too adorable not to coo at.
"I was imagining this the either way around, but whatever rocks your boat~" you purr. "All you have to do is tell me what you want."
His hips jolt against yours, heat filling his body. As soon as he does though, your free hand stills his hips, fingertips teasing under the hem of his shirt while you look at him expectantly.
He wants to hide again, but you hold him in place. Pinning him against you, not letting him look away, not letting him move.
He wants you so bad.
"Touch me..." He mutters, and your hand slides just a bit higher on his abdomen, your thighs squeezing just a bit tighter around his hips.
It's over for him. He knows as soon as your lips turn up just a bit more into a coy smile. "Where?"
When he doesn't reply soon enough you skim your hand up and over his ribcage. Breathing growing heavy as your other leaves his hair, trailing down his neck and over his shoulder, slipping just beneath the collar of his shirt.
"Here?"
Such a simple touch makes him feel hot.
"Or here?"
Slowly, your hand under his shirt makes its path towards his chest.
He gasps lightly when your fingers tweak over his nipple, delighting in the way he quivers, rutting against you. You click your tongue at him. "You know, I really can't do anything to you until you tell me what you really want." Lips ghost over his ear, nipping lightly at the shell. "Too bad, really. I could take such good care of a cute little virgin like you~"
His voice cracks under the weight of your touch; trying to clear his throat while biting back a moan. "I'm not cute-"
You cut him off with a kiss, tentatively, like you hadn't stolen his breath with a kiss only minutes ago. Like you're afraid to break him.
But he wants you to break him.
The kiss is too short for his taste but it effectively cuts off his thought process, making him nearly dumb against you. Not dumb enough to not catch the smile against his skin, "I'm not cute." But he sounds so cute. It only makes the smile widen, turning your attention to trail kisses down his neck, murmuring between each press of your lips.
"Yes you are." Kiss.
And for some reason, he can't argue.
"Remember?" Kiss.
"I'm...what was it?" Smile, kiss, lick.
"Intolerable?" A pause, but only for a second, taking the moment to drag your tongue across his throat.
"And you're cute," Stopping to suck on the spot where his pulse thrums, feeling his heart beat under your lips.
"And pretty..." Kissing, once again, over the pretty mark you've left on his pale skin.
"And beautiful...and stunning...and..." you pull away, looking to see his eyes hooded and pupils blown. "...not getting anything more until you can tell me what exactly you want here."
You pinch his nipple one more time before pulling away, leaving him cold, whining, grinding desperately between your legs.
He's hard enough, you wonder if he would've cum in his pants if you hadn't stopped.
"I..." he starts and you wait patiently for him to continue. If you've learned anything about Minho, it's that he's nothing if not embarrassed to voice his wants. Especially the ones like this.
You remember how he blushed and couldn't stop wringing his hands when you worked him up to ask to kiss you for the first time.
The way he couldn't look you in the eye, focusing anywhere else.
But he knows by now, you're nothing if not a tease, willing to play the long game to get him to tell you what he wants.
Fuck you.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
He's so hard though, it hurts. And his skin nearly burns with the need to be touched, to feel you on him again. And all he wants to do is let you have your way with him.
Something that won't happen until he tells you.
"Please," he whines. Though he knows it's not enough. He just wants you. "Please?" On him, touching him, teasing him, kissing him, consuming him. "I need it." pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. "Just fuck me, I want you so, so bad." He pants, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Wanted you so bad, for forever now."
God, you can't wait to fuck him.
A grin blooms across your face, one that he can barely process. "Thought you'd never ask baby."
Not before you're pushing him onto his back, onto the soft cushions of the couch, switching your positions before crawling on top of him.
"M' gonna make you see stars baby." You purr, and he can do nothing else but nod dumbly, looking up at you with wide eyes like you're something of a goddess on top of him.
And you will make him see stars. Not yet anyway.
His vision goes hazy though as your hands quickly move to pull his shirt over his head, leaning down to kiss him again.
Deep and hard, filled with promises and care.
You lace your fingers with his against the couch cushions as you kiss down his jaw and down his neck and his chest and-
He gasps when you lick over his nipple, wrapping your lips around one to suck on it lightly.
Your tongue swirls around it, free hand tweaking at the other, making sure not to ignore it.
His cock is so hard, he can feel it throbbing in his sweats. He's sure he's already leaked through his underwear.
He swears he could cum from this alone.
"Don't!" He gasps and you pull away quickly, concern etched across your brow before you see his face clouded with pleasure, mouth hung open to let out breathy moans. "Please don't." He squeezes your hand in his. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."
You melt, filled with the overwhelming need to make him cum by just playing with his nipples. How cute he'd look from having his tits played with.
"So sensitive, aren't you?" You coo.
Maybe another day though. Right now, you'll give him what he wants. What he's wanted for 'forever'.
"Shut up," he scowls though it's quickly wiped away when you pinch his nipple one more time, making him gasp.
Finally, you glance down at his sweats, tenting with his boner. "Well someone's excited for me." Seeing you stare at his crotch makes him excited. His already hard cock twitching in his pants. "You're so sensitive for me, aren't you, Min?"
He hates you so much, covering his face with the back of his arm. The fact that you're only telling the truth makes him want to hide his face into your chest again.
But you're too far away, and too focused on watching his boner through his pants, fascinated by how hard you've made him with so little.
"Please," he whispers, but the way you watch him, eyes full of hunger makes him throb even more.
Somehow, he gets a kick out of you just watching him, softly moaning at his eagerness, as he lets out a hushed whisper, "Please. Please y/n, don't tease me like this. I'm already horny." His legs spread open shamelessly.
"Awe, why? Can you not handle it?" You look up at him, at his blushing face and his needy eyes. You wanna kiss him so bad.
And so you do, getting close to his lips, your warm breath tickling him. Your hand runs over his clothed cock, teasing your nails gently over the head of his dick. His eyes widen as you begin to touch him over the fabric.
But your lips quickly silence him as you kiss him again. He moans into it, the feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking him lightly and your lips on his.
Your tongue pushes through his lips as you stroke him a few more times, squeezing him lightly in a way that has his back arching off the bed, pushing into your hand even more.
Panting, you pull back a little. "Such a good boy for me, Minnie." Before you're pinning his hips to the couch and looking at him one more time for conformation.
Then you pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift movement.
And then he does see stars as you slide yourself over his hips, grinding against his bare cock.
He thinks he tells you he loves you, that he worships you, that he adores you more than anyone on this planet. He thinks his hand squeezes yours so hard that you bring it to your lips, kissing his hand and telling him to relax. He thinks you grind against him slow and gingerly, watching to see his reactions.
Like he'd ever tell you to stop.
He'd rather die.
Shoot him in the head if he ever tell you to stop, because it sure as hell isn't him.
Again, he thinks. But he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything really right now.
His head is a mess of sensations and feelings, whines pouring from his mouth until you kiss him again and again and again.
Whispering that he's a good boy.
He's going to cum, he's going to cum.
Stars explode behind his eyes as they roll back and he isn't even inside of you yet.
And then you stop.
And he thinks tears might be rolling down his cheeks. He needs you, he needs you so fucking bad.
"Please, please, please." He pants, trying to roll his hips up against you, failing to find any contact as you sit back on your haunches, just out of his reach. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you so bad!"
You push sweaty hair out of his face, kissing the back of his hand one more time before you pull away entirely. He whimpers and you coo. "Be patient baby, just need to do something."
He watches blearily as you pull off your shorts and tries to calm his racing heart and heavy breaths as you roll a condom over his length.
"One more minute baby," you hush as you kiss him. "Are you ready?"
He nods desperately, of course he is. He's waiting for this for so long. He's wanted you for so long. He's going to go insane if you don't-
He gasps.
You groan as you slide down his length, slowly burying him inside of you until he bottoms out.
If he though grinding was intense, this was like nothing he could've ever imagined. His mouth gapes open, an endless stream of whiney moans and needy whimpers flooding into the room, feeding into you as you lift up and sink onto his again, groans of your own mixing with his.
He can't think anymore - he doesn't want to. He only wants to fall into the feeling of your walls squeezing around his dick, warm and wet as you ride him and the feeling of your hand once again finding his.
Whispering into his ear that you love him so much as you turn his head into mush
"I…I can-" Minho tries his best to talk, to tell you how good he feels. He really does, but whenever the thought comes to mind, it just gets cut off with the liquid heat coursing through his veins.
By the intense feeling of everything that is you.
He's an idiot for not asking you to fuck him sooner.
"Yeah, baby?" You chuckle breathlessly when he fails to complete his sentence. "You feel yourself inside?" You bring your interlaced fingers to your lower abdomen, "You feel it?"
All he can do is respond with a loud sob as he nods his head to your question, hips bucking up into you, desperate to chase the high quickly approaching ever since you've touched him.
He's not going to last much longer.
"You fit so well inside me," you murmur.
He's going to cum. Of this, he's sure.
"Please!' He hiccups, but he's not sure what he's pleading for. "P-please!" For more? For less? For something - anything to stave off the inevitable, he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want it to ever end.
You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. You flutter kisses over his face, so softly compared to how you're fucking him into the couch so roughly.
"I love you, Minho."
"I love you so much!" He pants and squeezes your hand, his other grabbing onto the nape of your neck as he shoves your lips against his.
He's fucking beautiful, you think. Cute and pretty and beautiful, under you, falling apart.
It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your own name against you lips, pleading between sloppy kisses for you to let him cum, to let him cum for you.
You show your approval with a collision of lips and teeth and tongue as he tips over the edge and you follow suit. He sobs as he cums, shivering violently as waves of pleasure roll over his body, his back lifting into an arch, pushing himself deep into you with a followed whine.
Each moan and whine are muffled by your tongue pushing into his mouth but his hips still grind as he pushes himself into overstimulation, whining until you have mind enough to still his hips.
For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, both catching your breath as you pull away, looking at him.
"Minho?" His eyes are shut and his cheeks are painted red. "You okay baby?"
He murmurs something you don't catch, but you don't tease as you push the hair out of his face, sweat-soaked and tired, kissing his forehead once.
You make a move to get up off of him but he only wraps his arms around you, holding you in place. "Don't leave," he whispers, looking up at you with tired eyes. "Just stay, please. For a little bit?"
His sleepy eyes make your heart skip a beat. "Who are you and where's my Minho?" You tease softly, but give in nonetheless.
"Fuck you." But his tone is with filled with anything but malice, as he nuzzles into you like a happy cat.
"I just did." You giggle.
"I love you so much." He mutters, kissing your shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."
"And I love you too."
a/n: I did it ^-^, who's proud of me!! also haven't written reader being penetrated in a looooong time, so if it's shit, oh well :p
pls leave feedback, i need motivation to finish my other teaser fics😭
THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.
FINAL PART.
Bangchan x reader. (s,f,a)
Chapters: Part I / Part II / Part III
Synopsis: When a new fuckboy, Minho, moves into the building, Chan’s sense of security is shaken. Minho’s flirtatious confidence and bold claim to win you over rattles Chan, igniting a rivalry. As Chan struggles to defend his relationship, he’s forced to confront his insecurities while proving his worth to you. (18,1k words)
Author's note: It's been fun writing this series. Thank you for enjoying this "fuckboy". Hope you enjoy this one too, my darlings ♡
The early morning light filters through the window, painting the room in soft hues of gold. You blink awake, your senses still heavy with sleep, and it takes a moment to realize where you are—wrapped in the warmth of Chan’s bed, tangled in the sheets that carry his comforting scent.
Turning your head, your gaze falls on him. Chan lies next to you, his face relaxed in sleep, his lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks. His soft curls are a tousled mess, a few strands falling over his forehead. He’s snoring lightly, the sound barely audible but undeniably endearing.
You can’t help but smile as your heart swells with affection. Careful not to wake him, you reach out, your fingers brushing his curls gently, marveling at their softness. The light touch doesn’t disturb him; he shifts slightly, murmuring something unintelligible before settling again.
Your hand trails lower, tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, the slight bump of his nose. He looks so peaceful, so utterly beautiful, that for a moment, you’re content to simply watch him.
You know you should wake him, ask if he wants to come with you to the farmer’s market like you’d planned. But seeing him like this, so serene, you can’t bring yourself to disturb him. Instead, you lean down and press a feather-light kiss to his lips, his soft breathing tickling your skin.
With a final glance, you slip out of bed and quietly gather your things. Pulling on yesterday’s clothes, you tiptoe out of his apartment, careful not to make a sound.
As you step into the hallway, the door closing gently behind you, you nearly jump when you see Minho standing a few steps away, leaning casually against the wall. He’s dressed for the day, a small smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your disheveled appearance.
“Morning,” he says, his tone teasing but not unkind.
You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, shyly hugging yourself to hide your rumpled clothes. “Good morning, Minho,” you mumble, offering him a small, embarrassed smile.
“You're a morning person, I see,” he adds with a playful lift of his brow, his eyes flicking down from your head to your toe.
Your face burns hotter, but you muster a weak laugh. “Why are you even awake this early?”
Minho shrugs, his smirk softening into something closer to amusement. “Wanted to check out the farmer’s market. Fresh produce, you know?”
Your eyes light up, relief washing over you at the change of subject. “Really? I was actually heading there too.”
“Perfect timing,” he says, straightening up. “Want to go together?”
You nod, grateful for the distraction. “Sure, just give me a minute to change. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
As you move past him, hugging yourself tighter, you catch Minho’s amused glance lingering. It’s clear he’s enjoying your flustered state, but he doesn’t say anything more.
Safely inside your apartment, you lean against the door, exhaling deeply. You glance down at yourself—messy hair, wrinkled clothes—and groan softly, vowing to make yourself presentable before facing Minho again.
You can still feel the warmth of Chan’s bed, the softness of his curls beneath your fingers, and the image of his peaceful face stays with you as you quickly get ready. It’s a walk of shame, sure—but you can’t find it in yourself to regret it.
-
Chan stretches out on the bed, his hand instinctively reaching for the space beside him. It’s empty, but the faint warmth still lingering on the sheets tells him you haven’t been gone long. The sunlight filtering through the curtains reminds him it’s Saturday—your farmer’s market day.
He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair as he sits up. Saturday mornings are quiet without you. Your trips to the farmer’s market are a ritual he admires, though he can’t help but miss waking up to your smile.
Throwing on a hoodie, he pads into the kitchen. The apartment is quiet, save for the hum of the fridge. He pours himself a glass of orange juice, sipping it while glancing at the clock. You should be back soon.
As if on cue, the sound of your laughter echoes through the hallway. Chan perks up, moving to the door just in time to hear another voice—deeper, smooth, and unfamiliar.
Curious, he cracks the door open. You’re standing there, balancing bags filled with fruits and vegetables, laughing at something the man beside you has said.
“Let me take that,” the new neighbor, Minho, offers, easily grabbing one of the heavier bags from your hand.
“Thanks, Minho,” you say with a warm smile.
Chan’s chest tightens as he opens the door wider. “Hey, you’re back,” he says, keeping his tone casual.
He leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek and you subtly dodge away again by turning your head, beaming. “Chris! Look who I ran into at the market.”
Minho looks up, flashing Chan a confident smile as he extends a hand. “Morning, Chris.”
“Morning,” Chan weakly replies with a faint smile.
“We bumped into each other,” you explain. “And he’s new to the area, so I showed him around a bit.”
“That was kind of you,” Chan says, the words sharper than he intends.
Minho doesn’t seem fazed. “She's got great taste. She picked out the best peaches I’ve ever seen.”
Chan’s jaw tightens as he opens his mouth to reply, but Minho shifts his attention back to you before he can. “Here, let me carry this for you,” Minho says, gently brushing your hand as he takes another bag from your arm.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” you reply, though your smile stays warm.
“Too late. Can’t let someone as lovely as you strain herself,” Minho says smoothly, winking.
Chan’s stomach churns, his grip tightening around the doorframe. “I think she’s stronger than she looks,” he mutters, his tone laced with a subtle edge.
Minho turns, a smirk playing on his lips as if he hears the challenge in Chan’s voice. “Maybe. But I’m just trying to be neighborly.” His eyes flick to Chan’s, sharp with a silent taunt, before he turns back to you.
“Well, I’d better get these inside,” you say, oblivious to the tension. “Thanks for helping with the bags, Minho.”
“No problem,” Minho replies, stepping back toward his apartment. “See you around, neighbor.” His voice is light, but as he passes Chan, his shoulder brushes just enough to feel deliberate.
Chan watches as Minho disappears behind his door, leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.
“Nice guy, huh?” you say, unlocking your door and stepping inside.
“Yeah,” Chan mutters, following you in. But deep down, he knows Minho isn’t just being friendly.
As you step inside, you nudge the door open wider, motioning for Chan to follow. "Come on, don’t just stand there."
He steps in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The moment it’s shut, Chan’s frustration bubbles to the surface.
“So,” he starts, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, “why do you always dodge me when I try to kiss you outside?”
You pause, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” he says, his tone half-playful, half-serious. “I went in for a kiss earlier, and you just… turned away. Again.”
You exhale, pulling a carton of eggs from one of the bags and placing it in the fridge. “I’m just not comfortable with public displays of affection, Chris. It’s not you—it’s me.”
“Yeah, but it’s hard not to take it personally,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.
You walk over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel like that. It’s not about you. It’s just how I feel. I promise it’s not because I don’t care about you.”
He glances at you, his frown softening slightly. “I just… I like showing the world you’re mine, you know?”
You smile, cupping his cheek. “I know,” you murmur, brushing your thumb against his skin, “but in here, you can kiss me as many times as you want.”
His face lights up at your words, the tension in his shoulders melting away. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you so close there’s barely any space between you.
His lips find yours, soft and eager, moving with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. You kiss him back, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax under your touch.
The kiss deepens, Chan’s hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips grow hungrier, and his grip tightens as he starts to lose himself in you. Sensing the shift, you gently pull back, your lips lingering on his for a moment before parting.
“Easy there, tiger,” you tease softly.
He groans, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re killing me.”
You laugh, stroking his hair. “Come on. Let me make you breakfast.”
He sighs dramatically but steps back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But only if I get to watch.”
“Deal,” you say, heading toward the kitchen, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.
As you start pulling ingredients from the fridge, Chan takes a seat at the table, watching you with a soft smile. Moments like these remind him why he doesn’t need the validation of public displays—this, right here, is what matters.
-
It’s one of those rare weekends where neither of you has work pulling you in different directions, and Chan insisted on making the most of it.
“Just a normal date,” he’d said, grinning like a kid as he scrolled through movie listings.
Now, as you step out of the restroom, the smell of buttery popcorn fills the air. You spot Chan at the concession stand, leaning slightly against the counter as he waits for the popcorn and drinks. He’s smiling, that warm, dimpled grin you’ve come to adore.
But it’s not for you.
The girl behind the counter, probably a college student, is laughing at something he said. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze lingering a little too long on him. You know that look—girls are always drawn to him like moths to a flame.
You don’t even feel a pang of jealousy anymore; it’s practically routine. Still, you’re not about to let her think he’s single.
Walking up beside him, you clear your throat. “Got the tickets?” you ask casually, your voice cutting through their little bubble.
Chan startles slightly, his grin faltering before he turns to you. “Uh, yeah, got them right here.” He pats his pocket like a man trying to prove he hasn’t lost his wallet.
The girl’s expression falters, and she quickly hands over the popcorn and drinks. Chan fumbles with his wallet, hurriedly paying as if he can’t get away fast enough.
Once you’re walking toward the theater, his shoulder brushing yours, he exhales and glances at you sheepishly. “You could’ve let me hold your hand, you know. Then everyone would’ve known I’m with you.”
You roll your eyes, the corner of your mouth quirking up. “I never said you couldn’t hold my hand, Chris.”
His face lights up with a grin, and before you can react, his hand slides into yours, warm and secure. “You’re right,” he says smugly, giving your hand a squeeze. “You didn’t.”
Shaking your head, you let him lead you into the dim theater, his thumb brushing against yours. As the movie starts, Chan leans closer, whispering, “Next time, I’m holding your hand the whole time, no excuses.”
You bite back a smile and focus on the screen, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. Some things about Chan might drive you crazy, but moments like this make it all worth it.
-
The movie is halfway in, but Chan's attention is barely on the screen. Instead, you catch him watching you out of the corner of your eye. His hand stays in yours, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin, but his gaze keeps flickering your way.
You nudge him gently. “Chris, the screen is that way. You’re missing the movie you wanted to see so badly.”
He grins, unapologetic. “Yeah, but I kind of regret taking you here now.”
You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? And why’s that?”
He shrugs, leaning closer so his voice doesn’t carry. “If we were watching this at home, I could actually cuddle you... maybe kiss you a little.” His grin turns teasing. “Or a lot.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “This whole thing was your idea.”
“I know, I know,” he admits, squeezing your hand. “But I can’t help it. You’re right here, looking all cute, and I’m supposed to just sit here and watch the movie?”
You glance at him, warmth blooming in your chest despite his antics. You’ve always appreciated how much Chan respects your boundaries. One of those boundaries being your aversion to public displays of affection.
But right now, sitting in the darkened theater with no one paying attention, you’re tempted to bend the rules. You put your bucket of popcorn aside, turning fully to face him. Gently, you cup his cheek, drawing his attention to you. His eyes widen, and you can see the curiosity sparkling in them.
“It’s dark in here,” you whisper, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I think we can make an exception just this once.”
Chan doesn’t need to be told twice. He leans in immediately, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, almost testing. But as you respond, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek.
It’s as if he’s been waiting all day for this, and the world outside the theater melts away. The movie becomes background noise as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment.
By the time you both pull back, slightly breathless, the movie is already well past its climactic scene. You glance at the screen, then back at Chan, who looks utterly content.
“We missed most of it,” you point out with a low laugh.
“Totally worth it,” he murmurs, his fingers still entwined with yours.
He leans in again, clearly aiming for another kiss, but you grab a piece of popcorn and pop it into his mouth instead. His lips close around it, his expression shifting to surprise before softening into amusement.
You laugh quietly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Focus, Chris. At least pretend to watch the ending.”
He chews the popcorn, grinning as he leans back into his seat. “Fine, but just know I’m only staying for you, not the movie.”
You shake your head, trying to hide your smile as you settle back beside him. Chan might be incorrigible, but moments like this make you fall for him just a little more.
-
The elevator hums quietly as it ascends, but Chan barely notices. His attention is entirely on you—your hand in his, the faint smile playing on your lips, and the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows over your features.
He feels giddy, almost buzzing from the events of the night. The movie had been fun, but honestly, he can barely remember the plot. What he does remember is you, and how you made the entire evening feel like something out of a dream.
Unable to help himself, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. You turn your head, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow, and he grins mischievously.
“So... Your place or mine?” he teases, his tone light but with a playful edge.
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Neither. I’m going to my place to sleep because I’m working tomorrow.”
His grin fades into a dramatic pout, his shoulders slumping. “What? No fair. I thought we were having a date night, not a goodnight.”
The elevator dings softly as it reaches your floor, and before he can protest further, you tighten your grip on his hand and pull him along toward your apartment.
Once you reach your door, you turn to him with a sly smile, one that makes his heart skip a beat. “You’re staying at my place tonight, Chris.”
His pout vanishes instantly, replaced with a boyish grin. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
The moment you unlock the door and step inside, Chan pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as his lips find yours in a kiss that’s anything but restrained. All the affection he’s been holding back spills out as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.
His hands wander to your lower back, pressing you flush against him, and he groans softly when you respond with equal fervor. The scent of your perfume lingers between you, mingling with the faint warmth of the apartment.
Chan smiles against your lips, murmuring, “I don’t care how early you have to wake up tomorrow. I’m not letting you go.”
And for now, it seems, you’re just as unwilling to let him go either.
-
"Are you going to be my girl tonight?"
Chan's voice is husky, teasing, as his lips capture yours in a deep, heated kiss. He doesn’t wait for an answer—not with the way your body responds to him. His hands glide down your sides, firm but tender, pulling you closer, despite you already being laid bare before him.
He finally breaks the kiss, only to continue down your body, his lips leaving a burning trail on your skin. You're sprawled across the bed, your legs dangling off the edge, and the way Chan looks at you feels like he’s savoring every second.
“I know you like it when I call you that,” he murmurs as he parts your legs, kneeling before you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. You giggle softly as he places a teasing kiss on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
“You are my girl,” he breathes, his voice thick with reverence. “My sweet, sweet girl.”
He punctuates each word with a kiss closer and closer to where you need him most. You barely have time to prepare before he surprises you, tugging your body toward the edge of the bed and positioning himself closer, deeper. Your breath catches as he throws your legs over his shoulders and dives in, his mouth working magic that has you squirming in seconds.
Chan’s skill is unmatched—his nose pressing against your most sensitive spot, his tongue exploring with precision and intent. Your hands find their way to his curls, your toes curling, your body writhing under his ministrations. The sound of your moans fills the room, sweet and breathless, as he pushes you closer to the edge.
And when you finally unravel, shattering in his hands and on his lips, he doesn’t let up. Instead, he lingers, soft kisses marking your thighs, his tenderness grounding you in the aftermath of bliss.
Hovering above you now, Chan takes in the sight of you, your chest rising and falling, your face radiant with pleasure. His dimples appear as he smiles, brushing stray hair away from your damp forehead. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss so gentle, it feels like a promise.
“Hey,” you tease, your voice light and playful as you encircle his neck with your arms. “Your girl wants you to put it in now.”
His brows raise, his grin widening. “My girl wants it inside?” He presses his forehead to yours, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Now?”
You nod, your sly smile making his chest tighten with affection. “Mm-hmm.”
With deliberate slowness, he drags his lips down your jaw, leaving a trail of heat on your skin. “Only if you say please,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“Baby, please,” you coo, and the way the pet name falls from your lips has him grinning, his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.
Chan doesn’t need more encouragement. He shifts lower, positioning himself at the edge of the bed. One hand holds your leg open while the other guides himself to your entrance. As he pushes in, his eyes lock onto yours, drinking in the way your expression shifts—the way your lips part in a gasp, the way your body arches to meet his.
Fully sheathed, he pauses, his chest rising and falling as he takes in the sensation of you. With a satisfied smile, he begins to move, the angle perfect thanks to the bed’s height. Each thrust is measured, deliberate, his focus entirely on you. Your hands glide over his shoulders, down his arms, feeling every inch of him. They trail lower, cupping his ass with a playful squeeze that earns you a breathy chuckle.
He leans down, teasing you with a slow kiss before pulling back just enough to ask, “Impressed?”
Your gaze is locked on his, unwavering, and you nod firmly. “Very.”
Your moans mix with his quiet groans, the room filled with the sound of shared pleasure. Chan’s eyes never leave you, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. He’s close—he can feel it, and with the way you’re tightening around him, he knows you are too.
“Where do you want it, hmm?” he asks, his voice rough with restraint.
But instead of answering, you pull him into a kiss, hot and heavy, your tongues tangling as if the world outside doesn’t exist. The kiss steals his breath, and the moment takes him over the edge.
With a groan, Chan pulls out at the last second, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself over you. His hand moves quickly, chasing his release as your hands rest on his thighs, your gaze locked on him in anticipation.
Moments later, with a shudder and a raw moan, his release spills over your chest, painting your skin in streaks of white. You gasp softly, the sight of him undone above you leaving you breathless.
Chan collapses onto his elbows, framing your face with his arms. He kisses you deeply, his lips lingering as he brushes your hair back with tender fingers.
“Stay, yeah? I’ll grab a cloth,” he whispers against your skin, his tone filled with affection.
You stop him with a soft kiss, smiling. “Okay.”
After a quick cleanup in the bathroom, he returns to find you sitting up on the bed, your hair swept back, your skin glistening wet in the aftermath of passion. With gentle care, he wipes you down, his touch lingering longer than necessary.
When he’s done, you reward him with a kiss, your lips soft and full of promise. “Thank you,” you say with a grin.
“Time to cuddle.” He eagerly moves to his side of the bed, ready for his favorite part of the night.
You hold a hand to his chest, stopping him from pulling you in. “Hold that thought,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I have to pee.”
Chan laughs, watching you saunter off to the bathroom, and admiring how beautiful you are with your skin glowing under the soft glow of your bedroom lights.
“That’s my girl,” he delightfully sighs, his smile full of adoration.
-
Chan is already smiling when you step out of the bathroom, his head resting lazily on the pillow, the sheets pooling around his waist. The way he looks at you, with an easy grin and a softness that doesn’t quite match the image he projects to the rest of the world, almost makes you forget to breathe. But his smile drops the moment he notices you pulling on a t-shirt.
"Hey," he whines, propping himself up on his elbows. “Take that off. It’s illegal to wear clothes in bed when I’m here.”
You roll your eyes, tugging the hem of the shirt into place. “I’m cold.”
“Excuses.” He opens his arms wide, an irresistible invitation. “Come here. I’ll warm you up.”
With a small shake of your head but a smile on your lips, you crawl into bed beside him. He helps you taking the t-shirt off and aggressively tosses it onto the floor after. His arms wrap around you immediately, pulling you close until your head rests on his chest. His hand finds its way to your hair, idly brushing through the strands while his other arm holds you securely against him.
For a while, there’s just comfortable silence. Chan’s chest rises and falls steadily beneath your cheek, and you let yourself relax into the comforting rhythm.
Then, out of nowhere, Chan breaks the quiet.
“Why aren’t we dating yet?”
You blink, caught off guard. “What?”
“I mean, think about it,” he says, his voice contemplative as his hand stills in your hair. “We like each other, right? That much is obvious. And the… uh, sexual chemistry?” His lips curl into a sheepish smile you can feel more than see. “It’s off the charts. So why aren’t we just… together?”
You lift your head to look at him, raising a playful eyebrow. “What happened to the guy who used to hide in my apartment to avoid having these kinds of conversations with the girls he was seeing? Huh?”
Chan chuckles, the sound low and warm. “That guy grew up, okay?”
You hum, pretending to think. “Who are you? And what did you do to the fuckboy next door?”
He laughs outright this time, shaking his head. “He retired. Sold the title. But seriously...” His voice softens as he meets your gaze again. “I want this. I want us. So why not just make it official?”
His earnestness leaves a slight ache in your chest, but you press it down. Instead, you offer him a soft smile, reaching up to brush his cheek with your fingertips.
“I think,” you begin carefully, “that we shouldn’t rush it. Relationships are a big deal, and I don’t want to mess this up. We’ll know when it’s the right time, Chris. I promise.”
He searches your face for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he sighs and nods. “Yeah. Okay. I get it.”
But you can feel the tension lingering in his shoulders as he pulls you close again. You know what’s bothering him, even if he doesn’t say it. Minho. That bold, smug smile. The little comments that he probably thinks are harmless but dig under Chan’s skin like splinters.
And for all his charm and newfound earnestness, Chan is still afraid. Afraid of losing you before he even truly has you.
-
The bed shakes, pulling Chan from the light doze he’s been enjoying. He cracks an eye open, disoriented, and watches as you bolt out of bed, mumbling something about being late. The slam of the bathroom door jolts him further awake, and he groans, dragging his hand down his face.
A quick glance at the clock confirms it—you’ve overslept. Knowing how rushed you must feel, Chan forces himself up despite wanting to stay cocooned in the sheets a little longer. He stretches, yawns, and heads to the bathroom. The sound of water rushing in the shower drowns out any chance of conversation, so he settles for a quick wash at the sink before leaving you to it.
In the kitchen, he moves on autopilot, pulling ingredients from the fridge and setting the coffee machine to brew. Within minutes, the smell of toast fills the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Chan prepares a cup just the way you like it and grabs a plate with a buttered toast before making his way to the bedroom.
When he enters, you’re perched in front of the vanity, expertly applying your makeup in quick, efficient motions. You glance at him in the mirror and flash a grateful smile as he sets the coffee and toast down beside you.
“Thanks, baby,” you murmur, pausing briefly to take a sip of coffee and a bite of toast before resuming your routine.
Chan smiles hearing you used a petname for him and then he leans against the wall, watching you with a fond smile. “Want me to help dry your hair while you do that?”
You glance at him and nod. “That’d be great.”
He picks up the hairdryer and begins carefully running his fingers through your hair as he dries it, making sure not to disturb your makeup process. It’s a small thing, but he loves moments like these—helping you in the ways he can, being part of your busy mornings.
When you’re finally ready, you sit on the bench by the foyer to put on your shoes. Chan hovers nearby, watching as you lace them up.
“Want me to pick you up at the bus stop later?” he asks.
You glance up, slipping your second shoe on. “I’m working on a photoshoot today. I’m not sure when I’ll be done.”
Chan nods, already mentally preparing to wait up for your call regardless of the hour. You stand, heading for the door, but Chan stops you with a light tug on your arm.
“You’re forgetting something,” he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
You blink and smirk, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “There.”
Chan laughs, holding up your phone. “Not that, genius.”
Your cheeks flush, and you laugh along with him, snatching the phone from his hand. “Thanks. Again.” This time, you cup his face and give him a longer, lingering kiss, leaving him momentarily breathless.
The two of you exit the apartment together, and just as the elevator arrives on your floor, you step inside, waving goodbye with a rushed smile.
Chan stands there, hands in his pockets, watching the doors close with a content grin on his face. He couldn’t ask for a better way to start his day.
The elevator doors slide shut, and Chan stands in the hallway for a moment, a warm smile lingering on his face. He stretches, ready to head back inside for a quiet, lazy morning. Just as he turns to his door, a voice cuts through the peaceful silence.
"Well, isn’t this a cozy little scene?"
Chan looks up to see Minho leaning casually against the doorway of his apartment, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face.
“Good morning, Chris. Or should I call you ‘Neighbor Boyfriend’ now?” Minho teases, his voice laced with mock amusement.
Chan’s grin falters slightly, replaced by a frown. “Morning,” he half-heartedly replies, trying to keep his tone neutral.
Minho straightens up and steps into the hallway, his smirk only widening. “Gotta say, you two are quite the sight. She’s so... composed, and then there’s you, acting like a lovesick puppy.”
Chan exhales sharply through his nose, willing himself to keep his cool. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t I?” Minho chuckles, casually leaning closer. “I mean, I’ve only been here a few days, and it’s already obvious. You’re head over heels, but her?” He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Hard to tell.”
Chan clenches his jaw but forces a smile. “Thanks for the unsolicited opinion, Minho.”
Minho chuckles again, stepping back toward his door. “Just calling it as I see it. Enjoy your day, Chris.”
He gives a mocking little wave before disappearing into his apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar as if to taunt him further.
Chan stands frozen for a moment, hands curling into fists at his sides. He lets out a deep breath, shaking his head as he steps back into his own apartment, Minho’s words still echoing in his mind.
Ugh. So much for a peaceful morning.
-
Chan wipes the sweat off his forehead as he steps into his apartment, dropping his gym bag by the door. His phone buzzes, and he checks the screen to see a message from you:
Almost done with work! Heading to the bus stop soon.
A grin tugs at his lips, and he glances at the time. “Perfect,” he mutters, making his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. He knows you’ll appreciate him being on time, especially after how hectic your morning started.
Minutes later, Chan is freshly showered, towel-drying his hair as he scans his wardrobe for something decent to wear. Settling on a simple hoodie and jeans, he slips into his sneakers and grabs his phone, ready to text you that he’s on his way.
Before he can type a word, there’s a knock at the door. His brows furrow. It’s too early for you, and he’s not expecting anyone else. When he opens it, the sight on the other side is the exact opposite of what he wants to see.
Minho stands there, a sly grin plastered across his face.
“Chris! Just the guy I was looking for,” Minho says, leaning casually against the doorframe.
Chan crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Minho?”
Minho straightens up, his grin widening. “Oh, nothing much. Just here to show someone where you live.”
Before Chan can question him further, Minho steps aside, and someone else comes into view. His stomach twists as he sees her. Sue.
The familiar face catches him off guard. Sue, with her perfectly styled hair and charming smile, greets him warmly.
“Hey, Chris,” she says, her tone light and casual, as if no time had passed since they last spoke.
Chan’s hand tightens on the doorframe, his mind racing. Of all the people to show up here, Sue is the last person he expected—or wanted—to see.
“...Sue,” he finally manages, his voice clipped. He shoots a quick glare at Minho, who’s now leaning against the hallway wall, looking far too pleased with himself.
Chan forces himself to meet her gaze, bracing for whatever reason she’s here—and for whatever game Minho thinks he’s playing.
-
Chan sets the glass of juice on the coffee table in front of Sue, trying to balance politeness with the unease creeping up his spine. He forces a small smile as she thanks him, her eyes scanning the room before landing on him again.
“Nice place, Chris,” she says, her tone light, her lips curving into a warm smile. “It’s cozy.”
“Thanks,” he replies curtly, sitting down on the armrest of a nearby chair instead of joining her on the sofa. He fiddles with the hem of his hoodie, feeling the seconds stretch awkwardly between them. “So… why are you here, Sue?”
Sue’s expression brightens as if she’s been waiting for the question. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a tie, holding it up.
“This,” she says, a playful tone in her voice. “I believe it’s yours. From that wedding we were at a while back. You left it behind.”
Chan stares at the tie for a moment before taking it from her. It’s familiar, all right—the tie he wore the night they reconnected. He thanks her, though the gesture feels unnecessary. A tie isn’t exactly something worth returning.
“You really didn’t have to go out of your way for this,” he says, placing it on the coffee table.
Sue shrugs, crossing her legs. “I thought it’d be nice to stop by. And I figured it’d give us a chance to catch up.”
She leans back, her gaze softening. “It was such a surprise seeing you again that night. It brought back so many memories, you know?”
Chan nods, his smile tight as he feels her words start to linger in the air. He’s polite but cautious, sensing the subtle shift in her tone.
Sue continues, her voice lowering slightly, as though sharing a secret. “And if we're being honest, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then.”
Chan freezes, the implication behind her words settling heavily between them. His heart sinks as he realizes where this conversation is heading.
Clearing his throat, he straightens his posture. “Sue,” he starts, his voice measured. “I think I wasn’t clear enough the last time we talked.”
Sue tilts her head, her smile faltering ever so slightly.
“I know what you’re trying to do here,” Chan continues, his tone gentle but firm. “And I really don’t want to lead you on.” He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m seeing someone right now. It’s… getting serious.”
For a moment, Sue doesn’t say anything. Then, her expression shifts, disappointment flickering in her eyes as she processes his words.
“Oh,” she murmurs, lowering her gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t mean to—”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Chan interrupts, his tone softening. “Really. I’m flattered, Sue. You have no idea. If anything, I feel like my teenage crush has finally come full circle.”
Sue blinks, her lips curling into a reluctant smile. “Teenage crush, huh?”
Chan chuckles, feeling the tension ease between them. “Yeah. I mean, come on, you were way out of my league back then. And still.”
Her laugh is genuine now, and she shakes her head. “I guess timing was never on our side.”
“Guess not,” Chan agrees, a warmth settling in his chest as they share a moment of mutual understanding.
As the laughter dies down, Sue rises from the sofa, smoothing her skirt. “Well, I should get going. Thanks for the uh... juice and the honesty, Chris.”
Chan stands, walking her to the door. “Take care, Sue.”
She gives him one last smile before stepping out into the hallway. As the door clicks shut behind her, Chan exhales deeply, feeling a strange mix of relief and gratitude. Timing really wasn’t on their side—and for once, he’s perfectly okay with that.
-
Chan’s knuckles rap softly against your door, the sound almost drowned out by the racing of his heart. He adjusts the hem of his hoodie nervously, rehearsing his apology in his head. When the door opens, your bright smile greets him, and all of his words evaporate on his tongue. Without a second thought, he steps inside, cups your face, and kisses you.
The kiss lingers, soft and apologetic, before he pulls back just enough to speak. “I’m sorry about last night,” he begins, his voice low and earnest. “I meant to pick you up, but something—”
Before he can finish, a figure emerges from your bathroom. Minho steps into the living room, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest, soaked through as though he’d just been caught in the rain.
Chan freezes, his words dying mid-sentence. Minho runs a hand through his damp hair, offering Chan a sly smile before addressing you. “Hey, the shower head’s fixed, but it might still leak a little. You’ll probably want to check it later.”
Your smile falters slightly as you glance between them. “Thanks, Minho. Let me grab you a towel.” You disappear down the hallway, leaving the two men alone.
Chan shifts uncomfortably, glaring at the floor while Minho leans casually against the wall.
“Rough night, huh?” Minho starts, his tone far too conversational. “Must’ve been, with your guest and all.”
Chan’s jaw tightens, his gaze snapping to Minho. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Minho shrugs, feigning innocence. “Oh, nothing. Just thought it was interesting helping your friend return your tie. You know, the one you left in her hotel room?”
Before Chan can respond, you return, handing Minho a towel. “Here,” you say with a warm smile. “Thanks again for helping with the shower.”
“No problem.” Minho takes the towel, winking at Chan. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
As the door closes behind Minho, Chan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His gaze moves to you as you sit down on the sofa, looking at him expectantly.
“Okay,” he says, standing in front of you. “I need to explain something.”
You nod, but your attention drifts almost immediately. Your eyes flicker downward, then linger a little too long.
“Are you listening?” Chan asks, noticing your distracted expression.
You blink and meet his eyes, caught off guard. “Yeah, of course,” you say, though your gaze quickly strays again.
Chan follows your line of sight and catches on, his cheeks flushing as he realizes where you’re looking. “Hey, my eyes are up here,” he teases, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Are you even listening to me?”
You finally snap out of it, sitting straighter. “I am,” you insist, though your shy smile betrays you. “It’s just…”
Chan raises an eyebrow, waiting.
You hesitate, then admit, “It’s hard to focus when you’re wearing those grey sweatpants.” Your cheeks heat as you gesture vaguely toward his lower half. “They’re… distracting.”
The flush on Chan’s face deepens, and he stumbles over his words. “What? These? They’re just—” He glances down, clearly self-conscious now. “I wasn’t—this wasn’t—”
You lean closer, your voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “I don’t have much time before work so…” You let the sentence hang, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Can we talk about it in the shower?”
Chan’s breath hitches, his brain short-circuiting at your suggestion. The apology he had so carefully crafted is long forgotten as you take his hand, pulling him toward the bathroom.
-
The steamy mist envelops the bathroom as Chan steps in, his heart racing the moment his eyes land on you. Warm water cascades down your body, tracing paths he longs to follow with his hands and lips. He stands there, momentarily stunned, feeling like he’s witnessing something ethereal.
Unable to resist any longer, Chan moves closer, slipping his arms around your waist. The heat of your skin against his sends a shiver through him, and he presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, letting his lips linger on the beads of water glistening there. His mouth trails up to your neck, the salty-sweet taste of your skin driving him wild.
You turn in his arms, your hands resting firmly on his chest. The mischievous glint in your eyes makes his pulse quicken. Gently but insistently, you push him back until his back hits the cool tiles of the shower wall. Chan’s breath hitches as you lean into him, your wet body pinning him in place.
Your lips hover tantalizingly close to his, and he instinctively leans forward, only for you to pull back, teasing him with a sly smile.
“Patience,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry.
He groans softly, his hands finding purchase on your waist as you finally close the gap, kissing him deeply. Chan melts into the kiss, his arms pulling you impossibly closer, the warmth of the water surrounding you both like a cocoon.
You move your lips down to his neck as your hand glides down his front, not stopping until your hand meets his hardening member. He's helpless as you're kissing his sensitive spot and your hand wrapped around his length, and the warm water does nothing but contribute to the rise of the temperature.
As you slowly stroking his cock, you press your mouth to his ear. “Mmh... so big.”
Chan drops his mouth on your shoulder, drinking in the scent and beads of water on your skin. His hand snaking down your back, kneading on your ass cheek.
“Want to feel it getting bigger in mouth,” you whisper and with that, you put your knees down on the bathroom floor.
Your hand keeps stroking his cock while your eyes fixated on him, you tease its head by circling it with your thumb. You begin teasing his tip with kitten licks and you hold his cock slightly upward to land a lick along his length, earning a raw groan from him.
You slyly smile seeing him losing focus of you but you surprise him by cradling his balls in your hand while your mouth starts taking his length. You take and keep on taking his length until it fully disappeared into your mouth.
Chan lets out a deep growl as you close your lips around his length and sucking at it, your tongue feels hot around him, oh... he knows he's about to lose it soon.
While keeping the eye contact, your head bobbing as you pull away and take more of him, twirling your tongue around it, sucking him harder and using your hand to compensate the rest that you can’t take.
Next thing he knows, Chan is teetering on the edge, it's the way you're looking at him, your eagerness to please and just how good you are with your mouth. He tangles his hand in your damp hair, breathlessly he says, “I'm about to cum, baby.”
With your mouth full of him, you can exactly respond to him but ypu blink your eyes, signaling that you hear him. You slowly pull away, replacing your mouth with both hands now, continuing building the tension that's about to burst soon.
You tilt your head upward, watching him falling apart at the seams as you tirelessly pumping him with your hands. A smile tugging at your lips ad you wait for him to come undone before you.
“I'm coming, I'm coming,” he says with a rushed tone.
You close your eyes to brace yourself to receive his load on your face and you gasp as the first streak of his seed lands on your cheek and some more landing on your chin and around your mouth. When you think he's done, another one lands across your eyelid.
“Chris, not my eye!” you grumble with a playful laugh. You keep your eyes closed and freeze, unsure on what to do.
Chan pulls you up so he can help you with it, he collects some water from the shower and gently, he washes your eyes with it and eventually all over your face.
“There. Done,” he announces as he wipes the last of his cum on your chin and gives you a quick kiss on the lips.
You slowly open your eyes and smile at him. “That was fun,” you teasingly comment.
Chan shyly smiles and pulls you close. “I think that was hot.”
Your arms slide up to rest around his shoulders, and you look at him with a playful yet expectant expression. “Alright,” you say with a grin. “I’m ready to listen now.”
Chan blinks, momentarily disoriented, before the memory of why he came over resurfaces. “Right… Sue,” he begins, his voice slightly breathless. “She stopped by yesterday to return a tie I left behind. That’s all it was.”
You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Uh-huh. And why’d you leave your tie at her place in the first place?”
“It was from a wedding I went to, remember?” he explains hurriedly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips. “I didn’t even realize I left it. She just… used it as an excuse to show up.”
You can’t help but laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his. “Chris, you could’ve just told me that. No need to make it a big deal.”
He sighs, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I know, I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not… like that anymore.”
You chuckle, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “I know you’re not. But for the record, if you get into trouble again, you might want to hide your ties better.”
Chan laughs, his heart feeling lighter as he kisses you again, this time slower, savoring the moment. All his earlier worries melt away under the warmth of your touch and the water cascading around you both.
-
The soft hum of conversation fills the lobby as you step in, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes scan the space and quickly land on Minho, standing by the mailboxes, sifting through a stack of letters. He looks effortlessly put together, dressed casually yet sharply, and you can’t help but smile as you approach him.
“Morning,” you say, catching his attention. He looks up, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk.
“Morning. Shower still working?” he asks, setting the mail aside.
You nod, feeling a bit sheepish. “Yes, perfectly. Thank you for fixing it this morning. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” he says with a wave of his hand, as if it were no big deal. Then his gaze flicks to your bag. “Heading to work?”
“Yeah,” you confirm with a small smile.
Minho tilts his head slightly, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Want a ride?”
“Oh, no, I’m good,” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “It’s not that far, and I don’t want to trouble you—”
“Trouble me? Please,” he interrupts, his smirk widening. “It’s literally on my way. Just say yes.”
You hesitate for a moment, but Minho raises an eyebrow, clearly not taking no for an answer. “Come on,” he urges. “Unless you want to be late?”
With a soft laugh, you relent. “Okay, fine.”
The ride starts off light, the radio playing softly in the background as Minho drives. He’s casual, one hand on the wheel, the other draped over the gear shift. It’s comfortable, easy—until he glances over at you and breaks the silence.
“So,” he begins, his tone teasing but laced with curiosity. “You and Chris. What’s the deal?”
Caught off guard, you blink at him. “Uh… what do you mean?”
“I mean, are you guys… serious? Casual? Still figuring things out?” He spares you a quick glance before returning his focus to the road.
You shift in your seat, feeling a flicker of nervousness. “We’re still getting to know each other better,” you answer carefully. “It’s… new.”
Minho hums thoughtfully, and you can tell he’s not convinced. “You sound like you’re hesitating,” he observes, his voice soft but perceptive.
“I’m not hesitating,” you counter quickly, meeting his gaze briefly. “I’m just… being careful.”
“Careful,” Minho repeats, the word hanging in the air. Then his tone turns playful. “Is that because Chris has a bit of a, uh… reputation?”
You can’t help but laugh softly at his bluntness. “No, it’s not that,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s because… I like him. A lot. And I don’t want to ruin this—for either of us. Like I did with my last relationship.”
Minho’s teasing demeanor softens slightly, and he gives you a sidelong glance, a flicker of understanding in his expression. “Ah, I get it. You’re serious about this one.”
“I am,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just want to do things right.”
A beat of silence passes before Minho’s smirk returns, albeit gentler this time. “So, you’re saying I don’t have a chance?” he asks, feigning disappointment.
You laugh, the sound genuine and light. “Sorry, Minho. I’m very much taken at this point.”
He lets out a dramatic sigh, playfully smacking the steering wheel. “Chris is a lucky bastard,” he grumbles, though his tone is laced with good-natured envy.
You shake your head, still laughing softly. “He’s… something else,” you admit, warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Chan.
Minho glances over at you again, his smirk softening into a smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re happy, neighbor.”
As Minho pulls up in front of your workplace, he shifts the car into park and turns to you, a teasing smirk already forming on his lips. “Well, here we are,” he says, gesturing grandly like a chauffeur.
“Thanks for the ride,” you say with a grateful smile, reaching for the door handle.
“Don’t mention it,” he replies. Then, just as you’re stepping out of the car, he adds with a mock-serious tone, “But don’t think I’m fixing your shower again.”
You freeze mid-step and turn back to him, laughing softly. “What? Why not?”
“Because next time, I’m charging you,” he quips, leaning back in his seat. “Or better yet, I’ll let Chris deal with it. He can pick up a wrench for once.”
You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Minho grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good. Now go have a nice day at work. And tell Chris he owes me for this ride, too.”
Shaking your head, you step out of the car, shutting the door behind you. “Thanks again, Minho,” you call out with a wave.
“Anytime,” he replies, winking. “But seriously—no more broken showers.”
You laugh, turning toward your workplace as Minho drives off, his playful words lingering in your mind and leaving you with a lighthearted smile for the rest of the morning. You can’t help but feel a little more certain of the path you’re on—with Chan, and maybe even with Minho as a good friend by your side.
-
The evening air feels warm and easy inside Chan’s apartment. You're perched on a stool next to his DJ setup, your fingers hovering uncertainly over the turntable as Chan stands close, guiding you through the basics. His voice is soft but enthusiastic as he explains how to cue up tracks, mix beats, and create seamless transitions.
“See? Just like this,” he says, demonstrating the movement with fluid precision. His hands brush against yours, and you feel the slight buzz of electricity from his touch.
You bite your lip, pretending to concentrate. “So, what happens when a girl comes into your DJ booth?” you ask teasingly, glancing up at him with a playful smirk.
Chan grins mischievously, his dimples deepening. Without missing a beat, he takes you gently by the waist, pulling you into the open space of his living room.
“This happens,” he replies, starting to sway with you to the beat of the music.
You laugh, a little awkward as you try to follow his lead. “You know I’m terrible at dancing, right?”
“There’s no such thing,” Chan counters, spinning you around playfully before demonstrating a goofy dance move, making you burst into laughter. “See? Now you’re better already.”
Shaking your head, you try to mimic his move, but it’s hopeless. He chuckles and takes your hands, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space between you. “Alright, let’s make it simple,” he says, lowering his voice. “Just follow me.”
Despite the upbeat track playing in the background, Chan slows his movements, leading you into a slow dance. The contrast feels silly and intimate all at once, and your heart beats faster as he gazes at you with a soft, unguarded look.
He leans in, his lips brushing yours, and you melt into the kiss. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, anchoring you as the world shrinks to just the two of you and the music in the background.
When you pull back, you tilt your head and narrow your eyes playfully. “Do you do this with every girl who comes into your booth?”
Chan smirks, his dimples making another appearance. “Absolutely not,” he says smoothly, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’m very selective about who gets into my booth… especially who gets to touch my turntable.” He pauses, his grin turning cheeky. “And let’s be honest, no one handles my knobs like you do.”
Your jaw drops as you laugh at his lewd joke, swatting his arm. “Chris!”
He laughs along with you, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “What? It’s true,” he says with a wink, pulling you back into his arms for another dance, the music now forgotten as the two of you move to your own rhythm.
The music hums softly in the background as Chan’s lips move with yours, his hands firmly holding your waist as the two of you sink into the plush sofa. The warmth of his body against yours, combined with the way he kisses you—urgent yet tender—sends shivers down your spine.
Chan’s fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your sides as the kiss deepens, pulling you closer. His breath hitches as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low groan from him.
Then comes the knocking.
Chan stiffens slightly but doesn’t stop, his lips still lingering on yours. When the knocking persists, you reluctantly pull back, breathless. “Chris,” you murmur, your lips still brushing his. “Someone’s at the door.”
He groans audibly, his forehead dropping against yours. “Ignore it,” he mutters, his voice heavy with frustration.
The knocking grows more insistent, and you nudge him lightly. “You can’t just ignore it forever.”
With a resigned sigh, Chan pulls himself up, running a hand through his messy hair as he trudges to the door. He swings it open, already prepared to send whoever it is away, but freezes when he sees Minho leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Chris,” Minho greets with a smirk, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Nice party you’re having. Could hear it from my place.”
Chan narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh. “What do you want now, Minho?”
Before Minho can reply, you appear behind Chan, peeking over his shoulder. “Minho,” you say with a smile. “What brings you here?”
Minho straightens up and gives you a polite nod before turning back to Chan. “I actually need a favor,” he starts, leaning just a little too casually against the doorframe. “There’s this heavy piece of furniture I need to move from my old apartment, and I figured Chan here could help me out. It’s too much to handle on my own.”
Chan’s jaw clenches, clearly unimpressed by the request. Deep down, he’s looking for an excuse to say no, but when you glance up at him with an encouraging smile, he knows he’s already lost.
“That’s so nice of you to ask Chris,” you say warmly. “He’s always so helpful.”
Chan exhales sharply, knowing he can’t refuse in front of you. “Fine,” he mutters, his tone begrudging. “When do you need help?”
“Tonight,” Minho replies, his grin sly and victorious. “I’ll swing by to pick you up in... 15 minutes?”
“Okay,” Chan replies just so the conversation ends quickly.
“Thanks, man.” Minho gives Chan a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering off, clearly pleased with himself.
Chan closes the door a little harder than necessary, turning to you with a pout. “You know I didn’t actually want to do that, right?”
You laugh softly and loop your arms around his neck. “I know,” you tease. “But I like having a boyfriend who’s nice and kind. It’s very attractive.”
Chan pouts deeper, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t like him.”
You nudge him playfully. “Come on, Chris. We didn’t like each other at first either, remember?”
He crosses his arms, his pout unrelenting. “This is different. I’ll never, ever be in love with Minho.”
Laughing, you pull him into a hug, resting your head against his chest. “Good,” you murmur with a smirk. “One reformed fuckboy is enough. I don’t think I could handle another one.”
He softens under your touch, his arms coming around you as he mumbles, “I told you, I’m not that anymore.”
You lean back just enough to meet his eyes, a teasing smile on your lips. “Exactly. That’s why I’m keeping you.”
He grins despite himself, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his earlier frustration melting away entirely. He sighs as he pulls away, knowing he has to get ready.
“I'll go get changed.”
You playfully slap his butt as he walks towards his room. “Now, that’s my good boy!”
-
The car ride to Minho’s old apartment is tense. Chan sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed as Minho keeps throwing questions his way.
“So, you and her... it’s serious?” Minho asks, eyes flicking between the road and Chan, a sly grin playing on his lips.
Chan sighs, looking out the window. “How far are we from your apartment?”
Minho ignores the deflection, his grin widening. “You’re dodging the question. Come on, it’s me. You can tell me. Is she ‘the one,’ or is this just a phase?”
Chan keeps his gaze firmly outside, biting back his frustration. “Are we there yet?”
Minho laughs, clearly amused by Chan’s silence. “Touchy subject. Got it.”
When they finally arrive, Chan follows Minho up the stairs, carrying a dull sense of hope that this errand will be quick. Minho unlocks the door, and the sound of music and chatter spills out. The apartment is crowded, with people milling about and laughing loudly. Chan frowns.
“I thought we were here for a table,” he says, glancing at the scene unfolding before him.
“We are,” Minho says nonchalantly, stepping inside and greeting his friend.
Chan hesitates at the door before reluctantly following. Minho is already chatting away, and before long, a drink is being pressed into Chan’s hand.
“Relax,” Minho says, grinning as he sips his drink. “The table’s in the kitchen, but look at it—it’s holding up all the drinks. Can’t exactly take it now, can we?”
Chan’s eyes narrow as he spots the dining table in question, completely covered in bottles and snacks. He exhales sharply, already regretting agreeing to this. “So this is a party. Not a quick errand.”
Minho shrugs, his grin unrepentant. “Two birds, one stone. Come on, have a drink. Socialize a little. You used to be great at this.”
Slumping into a seat, Chan takes a reluctant sip from his drink, more out of necessity than enjoyment. He knows Minho well enough to realize there’s no rushing this.
As the evening drags on, Minho leans back in his chair, eyeing Chan with a mischievous glint. “You ever miss it?”
“Miss what?” Chan asks, his tone clipped.
“The lifestyle,” Minho says, spreading his arms. “No strings, no commitments. Just fun. You were the shit back then. Why’d you give it up?”
Chan takes another sip, avoiding the bait. He knows what Minho’s doing.
Minho smirks, leaning closer. “Me? I don’t get it. Settling down when you could have this.” He gestures around the room. “You’re still young. Still good-looking. You could have it all. Why lock yourself down?”
Chan keeps quiet, his grip tightening on his glass.
Moments later, a group of girls approaches their table, all bright smiles and curious eyes. Minho grins, clearly in his element, and introduces himself—and Chan.
“This is my boy Chris,” Minho says, slinging an arm over Chan’s shoulder. “He’s a legend. Used to be the life of every party.”
The girls giggle, their attention now focused on Chan, who shifts uncomfortably. Leaning in close, Minho whispers in Chan’s ear, his tone low and tempting. “You can have fun, you know. No one’s going to find out. I won’t tell her.”
Chan’s jaw tightens, the words cutting through him like a blade. He sets his glass down, staring at the table. This is what Minho wants—to see if he’ll crack, to see if he’ll slip back into old habits.
But Chan knows better. He’s not that person anymore. And he’s not about to prove Minho right.
-
The moment Chan leaves, you find yourself wandering around his apartment. Though you've been here countless times, something about being alone in his space feels different. It’s like you’re seeing it through fresh eyes—the meticulous way he keeps everything in order, the slight personal touches that reflect his personality.
You run your fingers along the edge of his desk, smiling at the neatly stacked papers and perfectly aligned pens. His living room is spotless, not a cushion out of place. Even his shoe rack catches your attention, with every pair arranged in perfect color coordination.
When you peek into his bathroom, you can’t help but chuckle softly. His toiletries are lined up like soldiers on parade, everything from his toothbrush to his cologne standing in perfect order. It’s so Chan—practical, disciplined, and oddly endearing.
As you wander further, you pass by the laundry room and pause. A small pile of clothes spills out of the dryer. Without thinking, you step inside, deciding to fold them for him.
You reach for the first item, a hoodie you’ve seen him wear so many times before. Lifting it to your nose, you inhale deeply. The scent of fabric softener mingles with the faint, familiar smell of Chan himself—clean, warm, and comforting. An unexpected ache blooms in your chest, a longing for him even though he was right here just hours ago.
Smiling to yourself, you finish folding the clothes and set them neatly on the counter. You glance at the clock, realizing it’s later than you thought, and decide to wait for him to come back. You make your way to his bedroom, lying down on the bed that smells just as much like him as the hoodie did. It doesn’t take long for sleep to claim you.
-
As the night drags on, Chan finally decides he’s had enough. He stands, leaving his half-finished drink on the table, and starts making his way toward the door. The noise and chatter fade into the background as his only focus is getting out of this suffocating situation.
“Leaving already?” Minho’s voice cuts through the din, and Chan turns to see him catching up, his grin still infuriatingly smug. “What’s the rush, man? We haven’t even moved the table yet.”
Chan sighs, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not wasting any more time here. You didn’t need me for this. You just wanted an excuse to drag me into your mess.”
Minho laughs, stepping in front of him to block his path. “You’re so obedient these days. Might as well put a leash around your neck and hand it over to her, huh?”
Chan’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “Move, Minho.”
Minho tilts his head, mock curiosity in his eyes. “What’s the rush? Afraid she’ll get mad at you for staying out too late? Or is it guilt because you know I’m right?”
Chan glares at him, but doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes past, his hand already on the doorknob.
But Minho isn’t done. “You know, relationships like yours don’t last long,” he says, his tone deliberately casual. “Guys like you? You get bored. You might not want to admit it, but I know you, Chris. You’ll start to crave what you gave up. And her?”
Chan freezes, his grip tightening on the doorknob.
Minho takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a mockingly sympathetic tone. “She doesn’t even address the relationship, does she? Never flaunts it publicly. Almost like she’s already bored of you. But hey, maybe that’s a good thing. Makes it easier for you to go back to your old self.”
Chan exhales sharply, his knuckles white as he grips the doorknob. He turns his head slightly, just enough to meet Minho’s gaze. “I’m not the same as you, Minho.”
With that, he steps out, slamming the door behind him. The cool night air hits him, but it does little to cool the frustration simmering in his chest.
As he walks away, Minho’s words echo in his mind, planting seeds of doubt he desperately doesn’t want to acknowledge.
Is Minho right? Would you get bored of him? Would he?
Chan shakes his head, trying to dispel the thoughts, but they cling to him like shadows, following him all the way home.
-
The sound of the front door opening wakes you. Disoriented, you scramble out of bed, brushing your hands through your hair as you hurry to greet him.
Chan steps inside, his jacket slung over his arm and a weariness etched into his features. His eyes meet yours briefly, but there’s none of the usual warmth in them.
“Hey,” you say softly, approaching him. “You look exhausted. Was the furniture that heavy?”
He doesn’t respond, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of the couch. His silence makes you hesitate, but you press on. “How was it? Did you—”
“Do you even think of me as your boyfriend?” he suddenly bursts out, his voice sharp and filled with frustration.
The question hits you like a punch to the gut, leaving you momentarily speechless. “What?”
Chan steps closer, his eyes searching yours, his tone a mixture of anger and vulnerability. “Do you? And if you do, why don’t you ever talk about us? Why don’t you ever want anyone to know? Do you want this relationship? Or are you already bored with me?”
You stare at him, completely thrown off by the intensity of his words. You’ve never seen him like this before—so raw, so unguarded. It’s clear something is bothering him deeply, but you can’t figure out what triggered it.
“Do you even want to be with me?”
“Chris…” you begin, but your voice trails off when you see the exhaustion in his eyes.
He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair and turns his back to you, avoiding your eyes. “I’m not feeling well tonight.”
You take that as your cue to leave him alone. Nodding, you grab your things, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Goodnight,” you whisper before slipping out the door.
As you walk back to your apartment, your mind races. What happened tonight? Why was he so upset? You replay his words over and over, trying to piece together what might have caused such a drastic change in his mood. Something feels off, and you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t just about tonight.
-
The next morning, you find yourself standing in front of Chan’s door, your knuckles poised mid-air. You’ve been replaying last night’s events over and over, trying to make sense of his sudden outburst.
You knock softly once, then twice. On the third knock, you pause, lowering your hand. Maybe he’s still sleeping. He probably needs the rest, you think to yourself, chewing on your bottom lip as you hesitate to disturb him further.
Just as you’re about to turn and leave, the door across the hall creaks open. Minho steps out, his ever-present smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Morning,” he greets casually, leaning against his doorframe as if he’s got all the time in the world.
You offer a polite smile and greet back. “Morning, Minho.”
Deciding not to linger outside Chan’s apartment, you turn and make your way toward the elevator. Minho follows, his footsteps echoing lightly in the hallway.
As you press the button to summon the elevator, you glance at him. “So, did you manage to get that furniture back to your place last night?”
Minho’s smirk widens slightly, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, something like that.”
His vague answer doesn’t sit right with you, but you choose not to press further. Instead, you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking again.
“Minho, can I be honest with you for a second?”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Sure.”
You turn to face him fully, meeting his gaze with calm determination. “I like you. I think you’re a great guy, and I really appreciate how friendly you’ve been. But I just want to make sure we’re clear about something.”
He tilts his head slightly, his smirk faltering just a little.
You continue, your voice steady. “I’m with Chris. We’re building something together, and he’s been working really hard on leaving his old habits behind. I know it’s not always easy for him, but he’s trying, and I want to support him in that.”
Minho’s expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—behind his eyes.
“I’d really appreciate it,” you say, your tone firm but not unkind, “if you could stop… whatever it is you’re doing to him. I want us all to stay friendly neighbors, but I need you to respect that Chris and I are in this together.”
For a moment, Minho doesn’t say anything, his smirk fading into a neutral expression. Then he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step inside, glancing at him one last time.
“Thanks for understanding, Minho,” you say, offering a small smile.
As the doors close, you can’t help but wonder if your words got through to him. You don’t know what exactly happened last night, but you’re determined not to let anything—or anyone—get in the way of what you’re building with Chan.
-
Chan heard your knocks this morning. He was sitting on the sofa, debating whether to open the door. He wanted to. He even stood up, reaching for the handle, but then your voice carried through the door.
You were talking to Minho.
At first, he tensed, expecting some kind of casual banter, but what he heard instead made him freeze. You were telling Minho off. Not angrily, but in a calm, respectful way that had him smiling despite himself.
Chan leaned against the door, listening to every word, and for the first time in a while, he felt lighter.
Now, as the hours tick by, he waits for you to come home. His ears are tuned to every little sound in the hallway, and when he hears the chime of the elevator, his heart jumps. Without thinking, he scrambles to the peephole. There you are, stepping out of the elevator, looking just as calm and composed as you did this morning.
Chan feels a surge of emotions he can’t quite untangle. Guilt for the things he said last night. Gratitude for the way you stood up for him. Relief that you’re still here.
He retreats back to the sofa, sitting down heavily, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t have a plan. Part of him wants to rush out and hug you, to thank you. Another part reminds him of the way he hurt you last night, and the words that might have planted doubts.
His thoughts spiral until a knock at the door snaps him back to the present. He’s on his feet in an instant, heart racing. When he opens the door and sees you standing there, smiling softly, it takes everything in him not to collapse into you.
“Hey,” you say gently. “Just want to check if you're feeling any better.”
Chan doesn’t respond with words. He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug. His face buries in the crook of your neck, and he breathes you in, letting your presence soothe the storm inside him.
You don’t hesitate. Your arms circle his back, your hand rubbing slow, comforting circles. “Aw, poor baby,” you coo playfully, your voice warm and teasing.
Surprisingly, Chan doesn’t mind. He lets himself melt into your touch, holding you as if you’re the only thing anchoring him. Because right now, that’s exactly what you are.
-
The room is dimly lit, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows as Chan curls into you on the bed. His head rests against your neck, his arms securely wrapped around your waist as if you’re the only thing tethering him. He sighs softly, comforted by your fingers threading through his curls.
Every now and then, you press a gentle kiss to his head, and Chan feels his heart swell. Moments like these are rare, and he’s determined to soak up every second.
You take his hand, your fingers lightly tracing the rough calluses on his palm. “Where did these come from?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.
“Deadlifting,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled against your neck.
Your eyebrows lift in surprise. “And how much can you lift?”
“Three-fifty,” he answers casually.
You gasp, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Three-fifty? You can lift that much but crumble like a baby from a slight fever?”
Chan pouts, his lips jutting out adorably as he buries his face deeper into your neck. “That’s different,” he grumbles, voice tinged with mock indignation.
You laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Aw, is my big strong man pouting?” you coo, planting a soft kiss on his pout to make it disappear.
For a moment, everything feels lighthearted and easy, but Chan knows he can’t avoid the topic forever. He exhales deeply, adjusting slightly to look at you. “I need to talk about last night.”
Your fingers pause in his hair, and you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes filled with understanding. “Okay. I’m listening.”
Chan hesitates for a moment before speaking. “It wasn’t about Minho. Not really. I mean, he has a way of... getting under my skin, but that’s not why I blew up.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s me. My fears, my insecurities. I’ve spent so much time trying to change who I was—trying to be better for you—and sometimes I worry I’m not enough. Or that... you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”
You frown, your hand cupping his cheek. “Do you really think that?”
He nods reluctantly. “Last night, when I said all those things... I didn’t mean them. Not really. I was scared. Scared that maybe you don’t see this—us—the same way I do. And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
You soften, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Thank you for telling me. And I’m sorry too—for anything I’ve done that made you feel like that. I want you to know that you are enough, Chris. More than enough.”
His chest feels lighter at your words, and he leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around him. “Always.”
As you settle back into the embrace, Chan feels himself relax completely. The warmth of your touch and the reassurance in your words lull him into a sense of peace. His breathing slows, and before he knows it, sleep starts to claim him, safe in the comfort of your love.
-
The sound of soft breathing fills the room as you glance over at Chan, still fast asleep. His features are peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily. You carefully slide out from under his arm, pressing your knuckles gently to his neck to check his temperature. It's lower than before, a relief that makes you smile softly. Quietly, you adjust the blanket over him, tucking him in snugly before stepping out of the room.
Your mind races as you head to your apartment. Dinner time is approaching, and you remember Chan once mentioning his favorite comfort food. It’s been a while since you’ve cooked, but for him, you’re willing to try.
Gathering ingredients from your fridge, you return to his apartment, silently letting yourself in. The kitchen is as neat as always, but it doesn’t take long for it to be filled with the sounds of chopping, sizzling, and the occasional clatter of a utensil. You hum softly as you stir the curry, hoping it will turn out as close as possible to what he likes.
You’re so focused on your task that you don’t notice Chan until you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind. His warmth and familiar scent surround you, and his voice, soft and a little groggy, breaks your concentration. “What you doing?”
You glance over your shoulder, smiling at him. “Making you curry. Thought you might want some comfort food.”
His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “You remembered?”
“Of course,” you say, turning back to the stove. “But don’t thank me yet—it could be inedible.”
Chan leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms still loosely around you. “I’m thanking you anyway,” he murmurs.
You try to act unfazed, brushing him off with a teasing smile, but the warmth in his voice makes your heart flutter.
When the curry is finally done, you serve it with some rice and set the plates on the table.
Chan takes a bite, his eyes widening slightly as he chews. He grins, shoveling in another mouthful before looking at you with exaggerated enthusiasm. “This is amazing! Like, Michelin-star worthy. No, better!”
You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that because I made it.”
“No, I mean it! This is comfort food and happiness in one bite,” he says, still grinning as he digs in.
Watching him eat so heartily makes you momentarily forget your own plate. He looks so genuinely happy that you can’t help but feel a warm glow in your chest.
“Do you like it?” you ask, though you already know the answer.
“Like it? I love it,” Chan replies, his voice bright and sincere.
As he finishes the last bite, you remember something important. “Oh, by the way, I have to go out of town for work tomorrow. I’ll be back Friday.”
Chan’s expression falls into a dramatic pout. “Who’s going to take care of me while you’re gone?”
You chuckle at his reaction. “Minho can,” you tease, watching as his pout deepens.
“I’ll starve,” he mutters, slumping in his seat.
You roll your eyes and lean closer, gently patting his cheek. “You’ll survive.”
As Chan finishes the last of his curry, he leans back in his chair, looking content and drowsy. His cheeks are slightly flushed, probably from the warmth of the food and the lingering effects of his fever. You watch him quietly, a smile tugging at your lips as he gives you one of his bright, boyish grins.
“What?” he asks, tilting his head.
“Nothing,” you reply softly, shaking your head. “Just glad you liked it.”
But it’s not nothing. Not really. As he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand and watching you with those warm, chocolate-brown eyes, something inside you feels steady, sure. This isn’t just a fleeting feeling, a passing infatuation. It’s deeper than that.
In Chan, you see someone who works tirelessly, who loves with everything he has, even when he’s afraid. Someone who has his flaws but owns up to them, who’s willing to grow and try harder. He’s not perfect, but he’s real. He’s kind, patient, and someone who makes you feel safe just by being near.
You reach out, placing your hand on top of his. “You know,” you say softly, your voice carrying a weight of sincerity, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this certain about anything before. About how I feel about someone.”
Chan blinks, caught off guard by your words, but the way his face softens tells you he understands. “Yeah?”
You nod, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You’re the person I want to be with, Chris.”
For a moment, he’s silent, his expression unreadable. Then, with a shy but radiant smile, he squeezes your hand. “I’m glad. Because… I feel the same.”
The moment feels still, like the world has quieted around the two of you. You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and when you pull back, the look in his eyes is one of pure affection.
“Now,” you say, breaking the quiet with a teasing grin, “finish your curry so I can clean up and start packing for tomorrow.”
Chan laughs, the sound light and happy, and as he dives back into his plate, you can’t help but think that, with him, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
-
Chan wipes his forehead with the towel slung around his neck as he steps into his apartment, still catching his breath from his gym session. The familiar hum of quiet greets him, but his first thought isn’t about the silence—it’s about you.
Grabbing his phone off the counter, he unlocks it with quick swipes, scrolling through to see if there’s a text from you. Nothing. His brows furrow slightly as he opens the messaging app, his thumb hovering over the screen to type. Where are you? he begins, but the sound of a knock at the door stops him mid-sentence.
Setting his phone down, he walks over to the door and opens it, and there you are. Leaning against the doorframe, you look up at him, your eyes wide but glittering with a playful edge. His heart gives an involuntary thump against his ribcage.
“You didn’t text me you were here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, though his mind is already spinning at the way you’re looking at him.
You don’t answer right away. Instead, your gaze drops, roaming over him like you’re savoring every detail. He suddenly becomes hyperaware of himself—his black compression top clinging to his chest, the sheen of sweat on his pale skin, the way his grey sweatpants hang on his hips.
“Hey! Eyes are up here,” he teases lightly, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
You blink, snapping yourself out of it with a slightly sheepish but unapologetic grin. “Right. Sorry.”
You straighten up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I just came by to remind you—it’s pajama party tonight. Be ready by 9.”
“Got it,” Chan replies with a nod, though he can’t help noticing the way your eyes still linger on him, making him feel like he’s under a spotlight.
You flash him a sly smile, leaning in close enough for him to catch a hint of your perfume. “I can’t wait for tonight,” you murmur, and before he can say anything else, your lips press against his in a slow, lingering kiss.
When you pull away, your eyes sparkle mischievously, and with one last glance—one that travels shamelessly from his head to his toes—you turn and start walking back to your apartment.
Chan leans against the doorframe, watching you go. You glance back just before closing your door, flashing him another teasing smile that makes his chest tighten and his pulse race.
He closes the door with a soft click, leaning his back against it as he exhales slowly. His pulse is still racing, and it has nothing to do with his post-workout adrenaline. The way you looked at him just now—the glint in your eyes, the sly smile, the lingering kiss—was enough to leave him completely disarmed.
He glances at the clock to check how much time he has until he has to go to your place. His lips tug upward in a small smile as he thinks about it. Pajama parties with you were always something to look forward to, a mix of playful banter, laughter, and quiet moments where the rest of the world seemed to fade away. But the way you'd just looked at him… He had a feeling tonight would be different.
“Cold shower,” he mutters to himself, already heading toward the bathroom. "Definitely need a cold shower."
Shaking his head, he pushes off the door and heads inside the bathroom. The memory of your lingering kiss makes his lips tingle, and he absentmindedly touches them as he grabs a towel.
“You’re really gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles to himself, stepping into the shower and letting the cold water wash over him. It doesn’t do much to cool the warmth that spreads across his chest, though.
As he dries off and changes into something comfortable, his mind drifts back to you—your smile, your voice, the way your eyes seemed to linger on him. He can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Tonight, he tells himself, will be another reminder of just how much you mean to him.
And honestly, he can’t wait.
-
Chan inhales deeply before knocking on your door, his nerves already getting the better of him. He tries to keep calm, shaking out his shoulders and muttering under his breath to steady himself. When the door finally clicks open, and he sees you standing there with that soft, welcoming smile, it’s like the air is stolen from his lungs.
“Hey,” you say gently, stepping aside to let him in.
“Hey,” he replies, his voice quieter than usual as he walks into your space.
The scene you’ve set hits him instantly. The lights are dim, candles flicker softly around the room, and the scent of something sweet and warm lingers in the air. You’ve transformed your sofa into a makeshift bed, complete with blankets and pillows, all perfectly angled toward the TV.
It’s obvious you’ve gone all out tonight, and that realization makes Chan’s pulse quicken. He knows where this could lead if he lets it, but he silently resolves not to give in so easily.
“Make yourself comfortable,” you tell him, already heading toward the kitchen.
He nods, sitting on the edge of the sofa and rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to steady his thoughts. You’re just here to watch a movie. Keep it together, Chan.
When you return, balancing a tray of snacks in your hands, Chan smiles at the sight of you—until you set the tray down and shrug off your silk robe.
His throat goes dry.
You’re wearing a silk slip dress that clings to your figure in all the right ways, but what nearly makes him lose composure is the white stockings you’ve paired with it. He swallows hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close you’re standing.
You sit next to him, curling your legs up on the sofa as you flash him a teasing smile. “Ready?”
“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, clearing his throat as he fixes his attention on the TV.
The movie starts, and Chan leans back slightly, trying to focus on the screen. But then you shift closer, snuggling into his side, your warmth seeping through his clothes.
“So, how was your day?” you ask casually, your fingers grazing his arm.
“Good,” he manages, his voice steady despite the way his heart is hammering. “Spent most of it at the gym.”
“Is that why you're so tense?” you murmur, your hands sliding to his shoulders. Before he can respond, you’re massaging the knots in his muscles with deliberate care.
Chan sucks in a breath, closing his eyes briefly as he mutters, “I–I'm fine.”
You hum softly, but from the corner of his eye, he notices you’re barely watching the movie. Your gaze is on him, studying him with an expression that’s both mischievous and affectionate.
“This is a good movie,” he says, desperate to break the tension.
“You’re a good movie,” you tease back, your tone light but laced with heat.
Before he can protest, your lips brush against his neck, slow and deliberate. Chan’s breath catches, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his resolve wavers.
“Focus,” he whispers to himself, gripping the edge of the blanket tightly.
You don’t make it easy for him, planting more soft, heated kisses along his neck, your hands tracing slow patterns over his chest.
Somehow, by sheer willpower, Chan makes it to the end of the movie, though he has no idea what happened onscreen. His thoughts were too consumed with resisting the endless temptations you threw his way.
As the credits roll on the movie, Chan exhales a long breath, his muscles tense from an evening spent in quiet restraint. He feels like he’s been holding his breath the entire time, caught between wanting to let himself relax and staying vigilant.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, standing up and heading to the bathroom.
Once inside, Chan splashes cold water on his face, gripping the edge of the sink as he stares at his reflection. Get it together, he tells himself. You’ve made it this far.
He dries his face, takes a steadying breath, and steps back into the living room. The sight waiting for him freezes him in place.
You’re lying on your side, one arm propping your head up, the hem of your silk slip dress riding high up your thigh. His eyes trail down, catching a glimpse of the garter encircling your leg—a detail so provocative it sends his resolve teetering on the edge.
Chan swallows hard, forcing his face to remain impassive as he approaches the sofa. “So,” he says casually, his voice steady despite the way his heart races, “what movie are we watching next?”
You smirk, your eyes sparkling with mischief. Instead of answering right away, you reach out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down beside you. Chan lets himself be tugged into the space next to you, your warmth immediately invading his senses.
You lean in closer, your voice low and teasing as you finally reply, “What you’re watching next… is me.”
Chan freezes, his breath catching as your words sink in. For a split second, his mind goes blank, and then he feels the corner of his lips curve into a smile, his carefully constructed resolve cracking just slightly.
“That’s it! I give up,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with a mix of amusement and surrender. He takes you by the waist with force, sending the two of you collapsing onto the mattress.
-
A triumphant smile spreads across your face as Chan finally gives in, his whispered declaration of defeat filling the quiet air between you. Before you can say a word, his lips find yours, urgent yet tender, his hands gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you. Though you're already straddling him, he pulls you closer, closing any remaining distance as if afraid of letting you slip away.
His lips wander to your neck, brushing soft, tickling kisses that make your shoulders twitch in delight. You can’t help but giggle, the sound light and airy in the warmth of the moment. When his head tilts up to meet your gaze, you gently cradle his face in your hands, his flushed cheeks warm beneath your palms.
“Chris,” you begin, voice steady yet filled with quiet conviction. “I’m ready. Let’s do this. You and me.”
Chan freezes, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat too long. The silence stretches thin, but then he pulls you into another kiss. This time, it’s different—deep, deliberate, and brimming with every emotion he can’t put into words. Your hand presses to his chest, and beneath your fingertips, you feel the frantic, erratic rhythm of his heart.
It gives you pause. You pull back slightly, just enough to study his face. His breathing is shallow now, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Concern prickles at the edges of your joy. “Are you okay?” you ask softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw.
“I’m fine,” he replies, but his voice is barely above a whisper, and it doesn’t convince you.
His heartbeat only quickens, thundering against your hand, and a flicker of panic crosses his eyes. “Chris,” you murmur, your worry rising. You start to slide off his lap, intending to get him some water or give him space, but his arms tighten around your waist.
“Don’t,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly as he holds you close. His lips part, struggling to form the words. Finally, with a quiet, almost trembling breath, he confesses, “I love you.”
The raw vulnerability in his voice makes your chest tighten. The weight of his words lingers in the air, fragile and unguarded. Suddenly, everything makes sense—his uneven breathing, his racing heart. It wasn’t fear, but the overwhelming intensity of his feelings for you.
Relief floods through you, and you let out a soft sigh, cupping his face gently. “Gosh, you worried me,” you murmur, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Pressing your forehead to his, you let out a slow, steady breath, grounding both him and yourself in the moment.
Gathering your courage, you lean in and press a feather-light kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Chris. So much,” you whisper, your voice trembling with sincerity.
His eyes search yours, wide and hopeful, his emotions laid bare. As the tension melts from his body, he exhales deeply, a sound filled with relief and quiet joy. You stay like that, foreheads touching, your breaths mingling in the shared stillness.
Gradually, the wild rhythm of his heart begins to settle, syncing with the steady cadence of your own. In that moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you—connected, understood, and wholly in love.
-
Chan towers over you, his eyes dark with want as he works with practiced ease, removing each piece of clothing until there’s nothing left but the soft white stockings clinging to your legs. You feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of his admiration, and it sends a thrill coursing through you.
Your lips curl into a sly smile as you meet his eyes. “This isn’t fair,” you say, your voice low and teasing. “Take it off.”
He doesn’t argue. With a grin that makes your breath hitch, Chan reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled perfection of his chest and abs. The sight steals the air from your lungs—it always does. No matter how many times you’ve seen him like this, it feels like the first, like you’re witnessing something sacred.
You sit up slowly, your gaze locked on the hard ridges of his torso. Your fingers lift almost instinctively, tracing the outline of his muscles, the way his body shifts and flexes beneath your touch. His skin is warm, smooth, and alive under your fingertips.
Leaning forward, you press your lips to his abs, soft at first, letting them linger for a moment before moving to the next spot. You taste the faint salt of his skin, the heat of him, and it makes your pulse quicken. His breath hitches as your kisses turn bolder, your tongue flicking out to trace along the defined lines.
A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you gently nip at his skin, your teeth grazing just enough to tease. The sound is playful, dripping with mischief, and you feel a rush of satisfaction when his body tenses in response.
You glance up, catching his gaze. His smile is tender yet filled with unmistakable desire, his dimples deepening in a way that makes your heart flutter. There’s something intoxicating about the way he looks at you, like you’re his entire world.
You let your lips trail lower, your fingers continuing their journey, savoring every second. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, a silent declaration of your adoration. You linger, taking your time, committing the feel of him, the taste of him, to memory.
And as you feel him relax under your touch, you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s completely and utterly yours in this moment.
You brace your hands against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. With a sudden surge of boldness, you push him down, catching him completely off guard. He falls back onto the bed with a soft grunt, his sly, mischievous grin spreading wider as he looks up at you.
You straddle him, your thighs framing his waist, and his gaze darkens with anticipation. There’s nothing between you now, and the heat radiating from his body only fuels your desire.
“I’ve been dreaming of this,” you confess, your voice low and dripping with intent. “Of riding your abs.”
His brows lift, and his dimples deepen as he lets out a low, amused chuckle. “Yeah?” His voice is a rich hum of approval, laced with arousal. “Then don’t let me stop you.”
He props his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing as he settles back to watch you. “Do whatever you want, baby,” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m all yours.”
You feel a rush of exhilaration as you scoot forward, positioning yourself so that your core hovers above his perfectly sculpted abdomen. Slowly, deliberately, you lower yourself, your wetness meeting the firm ridges of his abs. His body tenses beneath you, muscles hardening, and you gasp softly as the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you.
Chan flexes beneath you intentionally, giving you exactly what you need, and the friction only heightens the thrill coursing through your veins. You begin to roll your hips, dragging yourself along the hard contours of his body, painting him with your essence.
Your head tilts back as a moan slips from your lips, the sensation unlike anything you’ve felt before. His hands remain where they are, but his eyes follow your every movement, dark and heated, his mouth slightly parted as if he can feel every wave of pleasure you’re experiencing.
“Look at you, baby. So perfect,” he murmurs, his voice strained with desire.
The way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing in the world—makes your pulse race even faster. His chest rises and falls steadily beneath your palms, but there’s a tension in his body, a barely contained restraint that tells you he’s just as affected as you are.
You grind harder, your movements becoming more erratic as your pleasure builds, and the sound of your moans fills the room. Chan watches you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.
“That’s it,” he whispers, his tone low and reverent. “Take what you need, baby.”
And you do—letting go of everything else and losing yourself in the intoxicating rhythm of your body against his, feeling completely and utterly alive under his gaze.
-
Your body is a vision before him, a masterpiece of curves and softness that Chan could never tire of admiring. As you settle onto your hands and knees, the arch of your back catches his breath in his throat, the way it flows so naturally into the curve of your hips. He's already buried deep inside you, but the way your body welcomes him only fuels his desire to savor every single moment.
His hand glides down your spine, his touch reverent as though he's committing every dip and line to memory. The softness of your skin makes him whimper—a sound he doesn’t try to hide—his fingers trailing upward until they reach the nape of your neck. Without hesitation, he tangles his hand into your hair, gently tugging to tilt your head to the side, baring the column of your neck for his lips.
He dips down, pressing hot kisses along the sensitive skin, each one deliberate and full of hunger. The way you shiver under him only spurs him on, and he tightens his grip, tugging your head back further. Your lips part slightly, just enough for him to claim them in a rough, demanding kiss, the kind that leaves no room for doubt about who you belong to in this moment.
Without warning, Chan begins to move, his hips setting a steady rhythm that has you gasping into his mouth. The way your body reacts to him, the way you’re already melting under his touch, sends a rush of satisfaction through him. He grins against your lips, knowing he’s in complete control, playing with the balance of gentle and rough in a way that keeps you guessing.
“God,” he groans, his voice deep and strained. “You’re so perfect like this. Do you know what you do to me?”
Your moans grow louder, and Chan feels your body start to tremble. He knows you’re close, and it only drives him to push you further. His lips trail back to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Bite the pillow, baby. I’m not holding back anymore.”
With that, he releases your hair, letting your head fall forward onto the pillow. He watches as you follow his command, sinking your teeth into the fabric while your hands clutch the sheets. The sight sends a fresh wave of arousal through him, and he plants both hands firmly on your hips.
Then he lets loose. His thrusts become harder, faster, each one drawing a sharp cry from your lips muffled by the pillow. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he drives into you with relentless intensity. Sweat beads on his forehead and runs down his chest, but he doesn’t slow down—not until he feels you clench around him, your body trembling violently as your release washes over you.
“That's it,” he growls, his own pleasure building to its peak. “Let go for me. Come for me, baby.”
The way you pulse around him is almost too much to bear, but he keeps going, determined to give you everything before letting himself fall over the edge. And when he finally does, it’s with a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he pours himself into you completely, lost in the overwhelming sensation of having you in every possible way.
Chan watches as your body shudders beneath him, the aftershocks of your climax slowly ebbing away. He gives you a moment to recover, his hands gently tracing soothing patterns over your hips and lower back. Carefully, he pulls out of you and rolls you onto your back, his movements tender as though handling the most precious thing in the world.
His eyes search your face, concerned yet soft. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead.
You meet his gaze with a weak but contented smile, nodding. “I’m okay.”
Chan leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, and finally to your lips. “Good,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of relief and affection.
He gives you another moment, letting you bask in the afterglow. His lips pepper soft kisses along your collarbone and shoulders, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, grounding you in the tenderness of the moment. You let out a small, blissful sigh, and he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips.
When you start shifting under him, signaling that you're ready, Chan positions himself between your legs again. He kisses you deeply, his lips molding to yours as if trying to convey everything he feels but can’t say. Then, he enters you once more, this time with infinite care, his movements slow and deliberate.
His thrusts are unhurried, every roll of his hips designed to make you feel cherished. His lips barely leave yours, his kisses deep and consuming. When he pulls back to breathe, he whispers sweet nothings against your lips, his voice a soothing melody.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze locked with yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
Your hands find each other amidst the tangle of sheets, fingers lacing together as you share this quiet intimacy. Chan feels something new, something deeper—a connection that goes beyond the physical. For the first time, he feels like he’s truly becoming one with you, not just in body but in soul.
The sheen of sweat on your skin doesn’t matter. The messy sheets don’t matter. All that exists in this moment is you and him, moving together in perfect harmony.
When the two of you finally reach your peak, it’s as if time slows, the world narrowing to the shared rhythm of your breaths and the racing of your hearts. He presses his forehead to yours, groaning your name as you both shatter together, your bodies trembling in unison.
After a long moment, Chan shifts slightly to look at you, his expression soft and full of adoration. “How you doing?”
You let out a tired laugh, your voice teasing. “Remind me to send a thank-you note to your personal trainer.”
Chan blinks, then bursts out laughing, his chest shaking as he collapses beside you. “Oh, gosh,” he says between his shy laughs, pulling you into his arms.
You nestle against him, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you add. “That if my hand can ever grip a pen again.”
Chan shakes his head, still laughing as he presses a kiss to your temple. “I think I’ll keep that note for myself,” he murmurs. “After all, I’m the one who gets to make you feel this good.”
You hum in agreement, your smile softening as you drift into the comfort of his embrace. And as the two of you lie there, tangled together, Chan feels a deep sense of contentment, knowing this moment is one he’ll carry with him forever.
-
The movie is long forgotten, a faint hum in the background as Chan lies sprawled on top of you, his body perfectly molded to yours on the makeshift sofa bed. His head rests just above your chest, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat grounding him. Your fingers weave through his curls, gentle and soothing, while he trails soft kisses across your chest, his lips brushing against your skin like whispered confessions.
He’s elated—completely and utterly elated. The words you said to him, “I love you too,” keep replaying in his mind, wrapping around his heart and filling him with a joy he can hardly contain.
He lifts his head slightly to look at your face, illuminated softly by the glow of the room. You’re so beautiful, so perfect, and it feels like this moment is too good to be true. His chest tightens with emotion, and for a fleeting second, he wonders if he needs to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.
“What are you thinking, mmh?” you ask, your voice soft and teasing as your fingers trace his temple.
Chan hesitates for just a moment before answering, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve been thinking about the future. About you being in it. And how… happy that makes me. For the first time, I can’t wait to live that future with you.”
Your lips curve into a playful smile. “Oh yeah? What kind of future are we talking about?”
His cheeks flush slightly, but the words come naturally. “A house. A family. Seven kids. And a dog, of course.”
Your eyes widen, and you gasp in mock horror. “Seven kids? Are you serious? You’d better find another girlfriend if you want seven kids because I’m not doing that.”
He grumbles, a mix of amusement and protest, and buries his head into your neck. The scent of you, the warmth of your skin—it’s all so grounding.
“Too late! You can't back out now,” he mumbles against your collarbone as he possessively holds you. “This fuckboy is yours.”
Your laughter vibrates through him as you wrap your arms tighter around him, holding him close. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he feels himself melting further into your embrace.
Chan closes his eyes, sinking deeper into your warmth. For the first time in his life, he feels like he’s standing at the beginning of his happy ending—and he’s never felt so sure about anything.
-
As Chan watches you sitting at the vanity, carefully applying your makeup, he still can’t believe this is his life now. This is his morning—seeing your face illuminated by soft daylight, your focused expression softening whenever you notice him watching. It feels surreal, like the culmination of every quiet dream he’s ever dared to have.
You catch his gaze in the mirror and smile, and Chan’s heart squeezes. He walks over, placing a cup of coffee on the table in front of you, and leans down to kiss the top of your head.
“Thanks, baby,” you say, turning to press a quick peck on his lips before going back to your routine.
As you finish getting ready, Chan busies himself, making sure your bag is packed and you’ve got everything you need for the day. When it’s time to leave, he walks with you to the door.
At the elevator, you pull him into a kiss, your hands resting gently on his chest. He savors the moment, every second a reminder of how deeply he’s fallen for you. When you pull away, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his voice soft as he asks, “Want me to pick you up at the bus stop later?”
You shake your head, slipping a spare key into his hand. “Or you can wait at my place instead.”
Chan stares at the key in his palm, overwhelmed by what it means. It’s not just a key—it’s your trust, your willingness to let him into your life even more deeply. His chest tightens with gratitude and joy, and he leans in for another kiss, slow and lingering, pouring all of his emotions into it.
The sound of a door opening down the hall interrupts the moment. Chan pulls back, turning his head, bracing himself for one of Minho’s sarcastic remarks. But instead, Minho’s door swings open to reveal Sue stepping out.
Chan freezes as Sue says something to Minho, who smirks and leans down to kiss her. The shock must be written all over Chan’s face because Sue looks startled when she notices him.
Minho, on the other hand, is his usual unbothered self, raising a hand in a casual wave. “Morning!” he calls out with a sly grin.
Sue walks toward the elevator, her steps hesitant, and exchanges an awkward smile with Chan. “Hey, Chris.”
“Morning, Sue,” Chan replies with a smile.
“So... This must be the girl you’ve talked about,” she says, glancing at you.
Chan’s cheeks burn as he nods and glances at you. “Yeah. This is my girlfriend.”
You smile warmly, looking between Sue and Chan. “Oh, is this Sue? The one you had a crush on when you were a teenager?”
Chan groans, embarrassed, as Sue’s eyes widen before both you and Sue burst into laughter. Thankfully, the elevator comes and saves Chan from further embarrassment.
“Good taste, Chris,” Sue teases, giving him a wink before stepping into the elevator.
You press a quick kiss to Chan’s lips before joining Sue in the elevator. “See you later!” you call out as the doors close.
Chan stands there for a moment, the absurdity of it all sinking in. His first love meeting his current girlfriend—and laughing together, no less. Added with the fact that Sue is also hooking up with the neighbor he hates so much, Minho. He shakes his head, chuckling softly to himself as he walks back to your apartment, amazed at the twists life throws his way.
Back inside your apartment, Chan locks the door behind him, letting out a deep sigh as he leans against it. He turns the spare key over in his hand, still marveling at how much his life has changed.
The morning had been a whirlwind, but somehow, it left him feeling more grounded than ever. Watching you confidently interact with Sue—teasing him like it was the most natural thing in the world—only solidified his feelings. It struck him that while his first love had been a naive dream, you were his reality, and everything about it felt right.
He makes his way to the sofa, the scent of your perfume lingering faintly in the air. Sitting down, Chan stares out the window, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Life had a funny way of surprising him, weaving paths together in ways he couldn’t have imagined. And now, holding the key to your apartment, it feels like a metaphor for more than just trust—it’s an open door to the future you’re building together.
Chan leans back, running a hand through his curls. His phone buzzes on the table, and he picks it up to see a text from you.
“Miss me yet? ;)”
He shakes his head, grinning as he types back:
“Always.”
As he hits send, Chan realizes he’s not just happy—he’s completely at peace. For the first time, the unknown doesn’t scare him. He’s not caught up in what might have been or what could go wrong. Instead, he’s focused on what’s in front of him and what’s to come.
And he knows, without a doubt, that it’s you.
-
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