Random Musings

the door to the dream’s waiting room is half open. inside, the boys are scattered — collapsed on couches, riding that euphoric post-concert high. mark is the first to notice you.

“bro, no way,” he grins, already pushing himself up, “you actually came!” there’s something a little too pleased in his grin as he pulls you into a hug.

“of course i came,” you say, “you practically guilt tripped me.” mark just hums, innocent in a way that absolutely is not. voices overlap — greetings, teasing, someone offering you a water bottle. and then—

“noona.”

it’s quiet. not shouted. not playful. just…said.

you turn and there he is — jisung. standing near the back, towel draped low around his neck, chest still rising from exertion. his stage outfit clings in a way that feels unfair, like its asking a question you don’t have a safe answer for. his hair is pushed back, exposing his forehead, his eyes darker than you remember.

you blink, disoriented. when did that happen?

he smiles when he sees you, soft, familiar, but there’s something else underneath it. something sharper. more aware. his gaze drags, unhurried, like he’s memorizing you.

“did you—” he stops, breath hitching for just a second, “did you like the show?”

“you were incredible,” you say, forcing a smile on your face, hoping the boys couldn’t hear your racing heartbeat.

“don’t you know,” haechan’s voice pops up, smug, “our little jisungie here is all grown up,” he teases, patting the maknae on the back. his words hang in the air, earning a few chuckles from the others.

jisung shoots him a glare, a flush creeping up his neck that he tries to hide by rubbing the towel over his damp hair.

“yeahhh,” jaemin chimes in, lounging against the arm of the couch with a mischievous glint in his eye, “he’s far from the boy who admitted he had a crush on you during that one interview,” he continues, eyes sparkling, looking around the room, “do you guys remember that? jisungie was soooo cute then,” he teases in his baby voice.

the boys all glance at each other, all recalling that time a couple of years ago when they were all asked about their “ideal types.” somehow, they tricked their youngest into giving a proper answer meanwhile they were naming people like stephen curry and justin bieber.

chenle smirks from his spot on the chair, “oh! i remember, ‘y/n sunbaenim is really really pretty,’” he mimics in a high-pitched voice, drawing out the words with exaggerated innocence that has renjun snickering beside him.

renjun nods enthusiastically, scrolling through his phone but glancing up with a grin, “and don’t forget how quiet he got every time we ran into each other in music shows. mark hyung had to snap him out of it more times than i can count,” he shoots mark a playful look, who’s trying, and failing, to keep a straight face.

mark laughs lightly but knowing, “hey, cut the kid some slack. crushes hit hard at that age,” he gives jisung a firm pat on the shoulder, the gesture supportive but his eyes flick to you with a subtle wink that speaks volumes.

jisung groans, burying his face in the towel for a second before peeking out, his cheeks still warm, “hyungs, seriously? can we not do this right now?” his voice is half-protest, half laughter, but when his gaze meets yours, there’s a spark there — defiant, almost challenging, like he’s daring you to add on to the teasing.

to figure out what happens if you do.

jeno saves him then, already heading toward the door, “alright, i think they’re calling us…for that…thing…we should go,” he says. talk about mr. captain obvious.

the group starts to move, gathering jackets and water bottles amidst murmurs of agreement. jaemin stands, stretching with a lazy grin, “great seeing you again. don’t be a stranger,” he nods at you before clapping jisung on the way out.

renjun and chenle follow, the older of the two tossing a soft, “take care” over his shoulder.

mark lingers for a moment, squeezing your arm gently, “thanks for coming, it means a lot.” then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind the last of them.

the room falls into a sudden, electric quiet, the distant hum of the backstage chaos muffled outside. you quip a brow, a smile growing on your face as you look at the boy who is now a couple feet taller than you.

“shouldn’t you go with them?”

“i’m sure they can manage a couple tiktoks without me,” he chuckles and you can’t help but notice how deep his voice actually is now.

“sorry about them,” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips, “they never let anything go.”

you chuckle, stepping closer, proving to him yourself that you were not affected by his drastic glow up.

“sooo…you didn’t have a crush on me?,” you say, clearly teasing him as your eyes sparkled with mischief.

and god, he doesn’t know what annoys him more — that damn interview or the fact that you still look at him like he was a boy.

“noona,” he warns, a quiet heat in his voice.

you continue stepping towards him, refusing to back down, “i remember that interview,” you say, standing closer now, as you grabbed the towel hung around his neck, “and the boys were right…you were just the cutest thing in the world!”

you bring the towel up to his hair, ignoring the fact that you were on your tippy toes to reach him.

jisung’s breath hitches, his body going still under your touch as you ruffled the towel through his damp strands. his eyes never leave yours — dark, intense, pinning you in place, shifting the air.

he easily towers over you, the heat radiating from his skin mixing with the faint scent of his sweat and cologne, something woodsy and sharp that makes your pulse quicken despite yourself.

then he reached up, his hand wrapping around your wrist, holding you there, firm enough to feel the strength in his fingers.

“cute?” he echoes, his voice dropping lower, rougher. the word comes out laced with challenge, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist in a slow, deliberate stroke that sends a jolt straight to you, “is that what you still think i am?”

you swallow, the playful tease in your chest twisting into something hotter, more urgent, as his grip tightens just a fraction. your fingers loosen on the towel, but you don’t step back, the proximity making your breasts brush against his chest with every shallow breath.

you want to reply, but it feels like the cat’s got your tongue, his stare pinning you in place, in a trance — all that’s left is the dark pools of his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, the warmth of his touch on your wrist. words dissolve before they can escape, lost in the heat.

then he steps closer, impossibly close now, bringing his head down to your level, “noona,” his eyes flick down to your lips. once. twice. “you okay?”

he’s teasing you. his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you, laced with quiet heat. his breath fans across your skin, warm and minty, sending shivers down your spine.

you can’t help but let your eyes dart down to his lips – full, slightly parted, glistening pink. they curve into a knowing smirk, his face inching closer and closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing, lips brushing the barest whisper against his, hearts pounding in unison, the pull magnetic and inevitable.

and then—

the door bursts open and his manager strides in, phone in hand, oblivious at first, “jisung-ah, we need to—oh.” the words trail off as he takes in the scenes, eyes widening.

you two spring apart quickly, the sudden separation like ripping velcro, your cheeks burning as you smooth down your shirt and step back toward the makeup table.

jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, his ears flushing red, “hyung, yeah—i’ll be right there,” he mutters, voice steadier than he looks, shooting you a quick, loaded glance, promise and frustration tangled in his gaze.

his manager heads out the door without another word, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway.

jisung turns his attention back you.

and in three quick steps…

one.

two.

three.

he’s in front of you again, closing the distance with a quiet determination that makes your breath catch. his hand rises gently to your jaw, fingers warm and steady against your skin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. those dark eyes hold yours for a beat, soft yet unwavering and before you could process what’s happening, he leans in and kisses you — sweetly, tenderly, hotly?

his lips brush yours with careful pressure that blooms into something deeper, mouth moving against yours in a slow, lingering exploration that tasted of cherry chapstick and a hint of mint.

you kiss back for only a fraction of a second, your body igniting under the sudden touch, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. but he pulls away just as abrupt, his hand lingering on your jaw for a moment longer before sliding away, leaving your lips tingling and swollen.

a small, genuine smile curve in the corners of his lips — adoration, satisfaction, confidence — like he’s finally won a round in this game.

but you can tell he’s shy from the way his ears flush bright pink, betraying the flutter beneath his composed exterior.

“thanks for coming to the show, noona,” he murmurs, voice low and sincere, his eyes still locked on yours with that quiet promise. then he’s gone, striding out the door without looking back, the click of it shutting echoing in the empty room.

you’re left there, bewildered, leaning against the makeup table for support as your heart races wildly in your chest, pounding like a drum. the ghost of his kiss lingers on your lips, hot and sweet, your pulse quickening with the certainty that this is far from over.

🎬

“—and he just kissed me,” you say, recalling the events of yesterday, your voice a mix of disbelief and lingering thrill.

you’re in the dance studio with xian, one of your group members, the mirrors reflecting your exhausted but energized forms as you ran through the brand new choreography for your upcoming group comeback. sweat beads on your forehead and your muscles ache from the intense practice, but your mind is elsewhere – replaying that backstage moment on a loop.

“WHAT?!” xian’s eyes widen like saucers, her ponytail swinging as she turned to face you, water bottle nearly slipping from her grip, “what do you mean he kissed you?!”

“i mean he put his lips on my lips and he kissed me,” you shrug, the words tumbling out.

“what the hell?! park jisung?? little jisungie who couldn’t even look you in the eyes last year?” she leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, the rest of the group too busy chatting and stretching to pay attention.

“he’s not so little anymore…” you point out, still trying to comprehend it all — the memory of his large hand on your jaw, the way he tilted your head, fingertips on your pulse point — the kiss.

“he–he’s different now…he’s so….,” you trail off, biting your lip as you think of the right word to describe it.

“so….?” xian prompts, her eyebrows shooting up.

“hot?” you say finally, the voiced out admission slipping out with a flush creeping up your cheeks.

it’s true — jisung’s grown into a man. all lean muscle and quiet intensity. admitting it out loud makes your stomach flip, like butterflies turning into something hotter, more insistent

xian catches the shift in your expression and smirks, “isn’t their comeback next week too? we’ll probably be bumping into them all week,” she points out.

“and?” you shoot back, trying to sound casual even as your pulse quickens at the idea of seeing him again.

she arches a brow, her grin turning wicked, “and… what’re you gonna do about it? nothing? or are you gonna corner him in a hallway and show him who’s boss?”

the suggestion hits like a spark, igniting thoughts you hadn’t dared entertain. pretend it never happened? keep playing nonchalance? ghost him entirely and let the awkwardness fester? orrrr walk up to him, grab his collar, and steal back that kiss?

no. that’s insane. too risky. too real.

“no! of course not – are you out of your mind?” you blurt, heat rising to your face as you wave her off, “i’m just gonna let it slide. it’s probably nothing but that silly crush he’s had for ages…he needed to get it out of his system, that’s all.”

“sureee,” xian drawls, her tone dripping with skepticism as she bumps your shoulder playfully. you roll your eyes, but inside, doubt swirls like the beat of the next track starting up. the rest of the group calls you back to formation and you try to push all thoughts of jisung aside.

🎬

“fuck—,” you moan into his mouth, the word slipping out hot and desperate, earning a literal whine as his response, tongue moving in rhythm with yours, tasting you with a hunger that makes your head spin.

you were a huge. fat. liar.

doing “nothing” about it was completely thrown out the window the second you spotted him across the backstage halls. that tight black shirt molding to his lean torso like it was painted on, the subtle ripple of abs underneath pulling your gaze, the veins running down his arms. and god, those biceps — he had you hooked.

a double take became a triple until he caught you staring. his dark eyes met yours, sharp and heated, a faint flush creeping up his neck that only made him look more irresistible.

and now you were here — squeezed into this dim closet, tucked away from the bustle of the venue, shelves of old scripts and tangled cables pressing in. the door clicked shut and you were on him in an instant, your back hitting the wall as he crowds close, body pinning yours.

your fingers tangle in the nape of his neck, careful not to mess up his hair too much, tugging him down as you took back what he stole — kissing him hard, all teeth and tongue, swallowing his soft whimpers like they’re yours to claim.

“noona,” he breathes against your lips, voice cracking with need as his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer, close enough so you could feel the outline in his pants.

“i—i’ve dreamt about this for so long. years. every time i saw you, i’d imagine…fuck, kissing you like this, touching you…please, please let me touch you,” his confession spills out in a rush, almost pathetic, his cheeks burning red even in the low light, ears flushed pink like the shy maknae he used to be.

the desperation, the begging, the wide eyes and flushed lips — it all just lights a fire in you. knowing he’s wanted you this badly, dreamed of you while you barely noticed, it fuels you.

you kiss him harder, savoring the way he melts into it, his mouth pliant and eager under yours.

“how about turning that dream into reality?” you murmur, nipping his bottom lip, your hand cupping his jaw to tilt his head just right, a smirk curling on your lips as you pull away for a second.

now — jisung was never religious. but in this moment, he looks like he’s just been handed the keys to his own personal heaven.

his eyes widen, breath hitching as he nods frantically, that boyish awe softening the edges of his hunger, “yes—please, please…i want to make you feel good,” he whispers, voice thick with reverence, like touching you is a privilege he’s been training his whole life for.

you guide his hand down, sliding it under the hem of your skirt, your thighs parting just enough to invite him in. his fingers brush your skin, tracing upward to the waistband of your tight safety shorts beneath.

he hesitates for a beat, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. you nod, urging him on with a soft press of your hand over his. jisung slides his hand in until he reaches your panties, slipping beneath that lace too. his fingertips graze your slick folds, a soft gasp escaping you at the first contact. your tight shorts keeping his fingers closer, adding to the pressure.

you pull him back into the kiss, lips sealing over his to muffle the sound. he responds hungrily, tongue delving deep as his finger presses along your slit, the heat of his mouth mirroring the building warmth below. you rock against his hand instinctively, needing more, while the kiss turned sloppy and urgent, breaths mingling in hot pants between licks and sucks.

“like this?” he murmurs into your mouth, voice barely above a whisper as he pushes one finger inside your pussy with a careful thrust. the intrusion is slick and welcoming, your walls clenching around him as you nod against his lips.

“just like that, jisungie,” you breathe, the pet name slipping out soft and affectionate. his free hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek while his mouth claims yours again, the kiss deepening with every slide of his finger.

he groans quietly at the feel of you griping him, so wet and tight, “you feel so good, noona.” then he’s back, kissing you fercely, his finger fucking you deeper, curling to hit that spot that mkes your hips buck.

your body starts to respond more intensely, soft moans bubbling up from your throat, you feel yourself unraveling, turning pliant under his hand, knees weakening as the pleasure continued to build.

jisung notices it immediately — the way your breaths hitch sharper, your lips no longer catching up with his, your body melting against the wall, those quiet sounds escaping despite your efforts. it sparks something in him, confidence blooming in his eyes. his thrusts grow surer, fingers pressing deeper with purpose and he pulls back just enough to watch your face, drinking in every flicker of you losing control.

“oh god,” you gasp, the word barely out before another moan slips free, soft and needy. you have to bite down hard on your lower lip to stifle the next one, your head tipping back against the wall as your pussy clenches around his fingers.

god, the sight of you like this — putty in his hands, fighting to stay quiet — it was a dream come true.

but he’s greedy. and he wants to hear more, to coax every stifled sound from you in this cramped space where footsteps echo past the door every few seconds, voice murmuring in the hall.

he adds a second finger without asking, stretching you fuller, making your hips jerk as he pumps quicker, thumb circling your clit in firm, quick strokes. his mouth finds your neck instead, lips brushing against your skin, trailing kisses down the column of your throat, his ear attuned to the way your moans try to break free — muffled whimpers that vibrate against his tongue as he sucks lightly at your pulse point, nipping just enough to draw another gasp.

“jisung—ah,” you whisper-moan, the sound ragged and desperate, your hand fisting in his shirt, desperately trying to stay grounded as you bite your lip again, teeth sinking into trap the louder cry building in your chest.

people are right outside, the risk sharpening every sensation, but he doesn’t stop, encouraged by how you’re falling apart for him, your body trembling, walls fluttering tighter around his fingers.

“i love hearing you, noona,” he hums against your neck, voice low and round with his own arousal, fingers continuing to curl just right, driving you relentlessly toward the edge. another moan escapes, softer this time but no less intoxicating to him.

the coil snaps hard and fast — your pussy spasming around his fingers as you come undone, a choked cry muffled by your bitten lip, head thrown back, eyes shut in bliss, while waves of pleasure crash through you.

jisung holds you through it, his free hand gripping your hip to steady you as your legs threaten to give, his fingers still moving to draw out every pulse, his ears catching each stifled aftershock moan like a secret just for him, his eyes taking a mental screenshot.

“fuck, noona—that’s…that’s the hottest thing i’ve ever seen,” he swears, voice hoarse and reverent, meeting your dazed eyes. he keeps his fingers buried deep a moment longer before easing them out slowly, your pussy clenching one last time around the retreating digits, slick trailing in glistening strings.

without another word, jisung brings his hand up, eyes locked on yours with a mix of mischief and raw hunger — he slides his fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling deliberately to lick every drop of your cum clean, sucking them with soft, needy hum that vibrates through the air.

your eyes widen in surprise, heat flooding your cheeks at the bold move — filthy and uncharacteristically daring from the boy who’s still got that flush on his ears.

”what?” he murmurs around his fingers, popping them free, a shy grin tugging at his lips as he sees your reaction, “i had to clean them somehow.”

a laugh bubbles out of you, light and breathless, cutting through the tension. it’s infectious, easing the urgency into something warmer and you reach for the front of his shirt, fisiting the fabric to yank him close. your lips crash into his once again, tasting yourself faintly on his tongue as you kiss him deep and slow.

“when did you get so hot, huh, park jisung?” you whisper against his mouth, the words deliberate — no pet name, no jisungie, just his full name like he’s a man now, not the kid you’ve always teased.

and it pulls him completely under your spell. his breath stutters, eyes going wide and glassy, that confident facade cracking as he unravels right there, “i-i could…do more…if you want,” he stammers, hands clutching at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“yeah?” you tease softly, arching a brow as you smooth his shirt back down your thumb brushing his collarbone.

he nods quickly, frantically, the motion so eager it’s almost comical, his cheeks burning brighter. it’s cute. that boyish enthusiasm peeking through the heat, making your chest tighten with affection.

“i do…want that,” you affirm, voice dropping low and sure. the air between you crackles with promise.

“my place,” he blurts faster than you expect, the words tumbling out in a rush, ”come to mine tonight?”

you quirk a brow, smirking at the slip — half-invitation, half-demand.

“are you asking or are you telling me?”

he swallows hard, forcing that confidence back into place, jaw setting as he meets your gaze head-on, “i’m telling you, noona. come to mine tonight.”

a smile curve your lips, genuine and approving, “the right choice. text me your address,” you instruct, leaning in for one final kiss, soft, lingering, a seal on the deal.

then you slip away, cracking the door just enough to peek out before darting into the hallway, heart pounding like you’ve just run a marathon, the ache between your thighs a lingering thrill.

xian’s lounging against the wall nearby, scrolling on her phone, but her head snaps up the second you emerge. her eyes narrow playfully, scanning your flushed face and slightly mussed hair, before she flashes a knowing thumbs-up, lips twitching in a suppressed grin.

you mouth a quick “shut up,” playing it cool, smoothing your expression into casual nonchalance. she just chuckles silently, falling into step beside you as you both weave through the backstage chaos toward the stage entrance for the ending segment.

the mc’s voice booms over the speakers, calling out the nominated artists for the week. you stand shoulder to shoulder with your group members, lights blinding as the cameras pan slowly, capturing every polished smile and wave, the sea of lightsticks waving in synchronized frenzy below.

jisung is a few people away, flanked by his members, his posture straight and idol-perfect, that practiced smile plastered on as he waves to fans with the same hand that was inside you just minutes ago.

you catch it — the subtle flick of his eyes toward you, that idol smile turning into a smirk only you know the meaning of. a secret heat simmering beneath the professional facade.

the applause thunders on, spotlights dancing and to everyone who was watching — you two were nothing but perfect idols.

🎬

your heart races with a mix of nerves and mischief, the baggy floral pants swishing around your legs, paired with a crisp white long-sleeve and topped by a sensible vest that screams ahjumma. you’d gone all out. even adding a curly wig and a sturdy handbag dangling from your shoulder like you’re off to the market.

as idols, relationships are “off-limits.” you just have to be good enough to hide it. and this get-up ensures just that. no prying eyes from fans, no suspicious glances, no whispered rumors.

you ring the doorbell. footsteps hurry closer and it creaks open. jisung’s there in gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black shirt that clings to his lean chest, fresh from a shower with damp hair.

his eyes widen, gaze sweeping over you, from the vest to the ridiculous colorful pants, and he bursts out laughing, bending at the waist as if you just told him the funniest joke ever.

“noona,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach, “i’m into older women…but not this old,” his face is flushed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he straightens up just enough to let you inside.

you enter his place, kicking off your flats with a grin, the cool apartment air hitting your skin.

“what? is this not doing it for you?” you tease, adjusting the wig with exaggerated flair and striking a pose, hands on hips like a scolding elder, “not activating your ahjumma kink?”

that sets him off again, his laughter booming as he leans against his shut door, “oh my god, noona stop— it’s too much.”

you match his laugh, reaching up to yank the wig free in one swift motion, tossing it at him like a playful challenge. it lands in his hands, the curly mess dangling from his fingers as your real hair tumbles down, framing your face perfectly.

his chuckles die out instantly, the sound fading into a sharp intake of breath. the air thickens charged with something heavier and he pushes off the door, closing the distance between you in two strides. his free hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw as he stares, eyes dark and intense.

“i can’t believe you’re actually here,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, the words laced with awe and hunger.

your hand slides up his arm and you tilt your head to meet his gaze, “hmm and now that you got me here, what do you suppose we do?” the teasing edge lingers in your tone, soft, inviting, as you lean in to brush your lips against his.

he smirks against your lips, before pulling away slightly, “we could watch a movie?”

“that’s it?”

“and we could make out a little,” he says, his hand dropping from your jaw to your waist.

“just a little?”

“or a lot,” he says, pulling you closer, fingers flexing like he’s already forgotten his own suggestion about movies.

for a second, you think he’s going to abandon the idea entirely, his lips hovering just above yours, breath ghosting over your skin.

and then.

he pulls back. clearing his throat like he needs to reset his brain, “c’mon, let’s watch that movie.”

there’s no way.

there’s actually no way you’ve gone through all of this to watch a movie.

but before you can protest, he takes your hand and leads you deeper into his apartment. you toss your handbag on the floor, following him into his living room. the t.v. is already on as he unpauses it. bright snow. dramatic orchestral music. you stare at the screen.

“is this–”

“don’t judge me,” he says quickly, dropping onto the couch, “it’s a classic.”

anna and elsa appear mid-argument, voices echoing through the speakers.

there’s no way he was going to fuck you while frozen plays in the background…right?

you turn slowly to look at him. he’s already settled in, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, looking absurdly domestic. comfortable. like this was the plan all along. you slowly sit beside him, hyperaware of everything — the heat radiating from him, the faint scent of his shampoo, the way his fingers absentmindedly tap against the couch cushion near your shoulder.

on screen, anna is dramatically belting something about love. your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason. you sneak a glance at him. he’s watching intently. actually watching. eyes focused. brows slightly knit. fully invested in the animation.

you narrow your eyes.

what kind of sick foreplay is this?

you are so insanely turned on right now. the memory of his fingers curling inside you replaying in your mind. and he’s just sitting there. calm. composed. watching.

is he serious?!?

you shift slightly, letting your knee brush his thigh. nothing. he doesn’t even look at you.

“wow,” he mutters, softly at the screen, “that song is so good.”

you stare at him.

you lean back, pretending to get comfortable, but really you’re eyeing him from the corner of your eye. the curve of his jaw. the way his lips part when he concentrates. the faint rise and fall of his chest. he senses it. without turning his head, he smirks.

“you’re staring.”

“i’m not.”

“you are,” he says calmly, still looking at the tv, “you’ve been starting at me for the past 45 seconds.”

your face heats. he was counting?

his arm slides down from the back of the couch to rest behind you, fingers grazing your shoulder lightly. barely there. it’s subtle. too subtle. your pulse jumps anyway.

“you’re evil,” you whisper.

“for watching a movie?”

“for pretending you’re not aware of what you’re doing.”

on screen, anna dramatically falls into han’s arms.

jisung leans closer to you, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip, “i’m very aware.” your breath catches.

“but,” he continues, “i also really like this part.”

you gape at him. he laughs softly, the sound low and teasing, before finally giving in just a little. his hand slides from your shoulder to your waist, thumb drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your shirt.

“i’ve waited years for this noona…i don’t want it to be over just yet,” he says quietly.

your eyes narrow, “are you implying that this is a one-time thing?”

he turns to look at you then.

finally.

“is it not? just noona granting her poor little dongsaeng’s pathetic wishes?”

the words hang between you, laced with that familiar mix of playfulness and something deeper, more vulnerable.

his eyes search yours, the t.v.’s glow casting flickering shadows across his face, making the moment feel even more intimate in the dim room.

you shift closer, “pathetic wishes?” you echo, voice low, eyebrows furrowed, “do you really think i would’ve gone through all that effort to be here if i didn’t want you?”

his hand at your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his side, “yeah?” he murmurs, his free hand capturing yours, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss against your knuckles. it’s sweet, almost boyish, but the heat in his gaze tells you he's anything but innocent.

“then tell me, noona. what do you want this to be?” the air thickens, charged with the unspoken promise of more.

you lean in, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “not a one-time thing. not if you keep looking at me like that.”

his ears flush pink, that telltale sign of his shyness peeking through the confidence he's built, and it only makes you bolder. you nip at his earlobe, feeling him shiver, his arm wrapping fully around you now, hand splaying across your lower back.

the movie drones on — kristoff and anna's banter filling the speakers — but jisung can no longer pretend to care.

he turns his head, capturing your mouth in a kiss, slower, deep, his tongue sliding against yours with deliberate strokes. you melt into it, your body arching toward him. his hand ventures lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the skin of your stomach.

“fuck this movie,” you breathe against his lips when you break for air, the words spilling out rough and demanding.

no more teasing, no more waiting.

you swing a leg over his lap in one fluid motion, straddling him fully, your knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his hips. his hands instinctively grip your thighs, but you grab his chin, tilting his face up to meet your eyes.

“eyes on me, jisung. only me.”

he swallows hard, pupils blown wide, but he nods, gaze locked on yours as you crash your mouth back to his. the kiss is messy this time, urgent — teeth clashing, tongues tangling, your fingers threading through his hair to pull him closer.

he groans into it, the vibration rumbling through your chest, his hips bucking up slightly to press his hardness against your core through the layers of fabric. you rock against him once, twice, savoring the friction, but you want more. control surges through you, hot and heady, as you dominate the rhythm of the kiss, nipping his lower lip until he whimpers softly.

his hands roam up your sides, fumbling with the buttons of your vest in haste. he shrugs it off your shoulders, letting it slide to the floor with a soft thud. you break the kiss just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, leaving you in the white lacy bra you'd chosen specifically for this — for him. the delicate fabric clings to your curves, sheer enough to tease the outline of your nipples, already pebbled from his earlier touches.

jisung's breath stutters, his eyes raking over you like he's memorizing every inch.

“god, you're beautiful,” he rasps, voice thick with awe, before his mouth descends.

he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck, sucking lightly at the pulse point, making you gasp, then trails lower to your collarbone, licking and nipping the sensitive skin there.

his hand slide up fingers hooking into the bra's cups, tugging them down without unhooking the straps. the lace bunches under your breasts, exposing them fully to the cool air of the room — and to him.

he doesn't hesitate, leaning in to capture one nipple between his lips, sucking hard while his tongue flicks over the peak. you arch into it, a sharp moan escaping as pleasure shoots straight to your pussy, making you clench around nothing.

he switches sides, lavishing the other tit with the same attention — suck, swirl, graze with his teeth — drawing out your whines. your hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging in as you grind down against his clothed cock, feeling it throb insistently through his sweatpants, the heat of him searing against your damp panties.

the friction isn't enough, you need to feel him, all of him. your fingers dip into the waistband of his sweats, shoving them down just enough to free his length. you wrap your hand around his cock, squeezing the thick base, and your eyes widen at the size — bigger than you'd imagined, hot and heavy in your palm, veins pulsing under your grip.

he bucks into your touch with a choked groan, his mouth popping off your breast to bury his face in your neck, panting hot breaths against your skin.

“fuck,” he whimpers, hips jerking as you stroke him slowly, thumb swiping over the slick tip.

he thrusts up into your hand, desperate now, his control fraying under your command, “please,” he murmurs against your mouth, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, “—want you so bad. been dreaming of this.”

you quicken your strokes, twisting your wrist at the head, watching his face contort in ecstasy — eyes squeezed shut, lips parted on a silent moan.

but you tap his cheek lightly, reminding him, “eyes on me, remember?”

he forces them open, locking onto yours, the vulnerability there making your heart — and your pussy — clench.

“good boy,” you whisper, leaning in to suck a mark into his jaw.

the tension builds, his cock leaking pre-cum over your fingers, your body aching to take him inside, but you draw it out just a little longer, savoring the power, the way he trembles beneath you.

the outside world, the movie — none of it matters. just this, just him, unraveling under your touch.

jisung’s chest heaves as you continue to pump him up and down, his cock slick with pre-cum, fingers digging into your hips as he fights control. but the strain shows in the way his jaw clenches.

you lean down, capturing his mouth in another bruising kiss, swallowing his moans while you start grinding your soaked core against his thigh. his hands immediately slide to the waistband of your floral pants, tugging it down.

“off,” he mutters, voice rough and commanding, the shyness giving way to raw hunger. you lift your hips just enough for him to yank them down, the fabric pooling at your knees befre he shoves them aside completely.

his gaze drops to your panties — matching white lace, sheer and clinging to your folds, the material darkened with how wet you are. a low growl rumbles from his throat as he stares — you really did plan all this out, coming to him in a matching set.

he still couldn’t believe it.

“fuck, noona…you’re soaking for me,” his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider over his lap, thumbs brushing the edge of the lace. the sight undoes him — his cock twitching in your hand and he surges up, mouth latching onto your neck again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, “so hot. can’t believe you’re here like this, all for me.”

his fingers hook into the sides of your panties and with a frustrated snarl, he rips them – the threads snapping as he tears the fabric apart.

cool air hits your exposed pussy, your slick folds bare and dripping onto his sweatpants. you gasp at the suddennes, the possessivness of it sending a fresh wave of heat through you, your clit pulisng with want.

“jisung–c-condom,” you say through breathy moans. his eyes flick to the side table drawer without pulling away from you, leaning over awkwardly with one arm still banded around your waist to keep you close, yanking the drawer open and snatching a foil. you watch, breath hitching as he tears it with his teeth, the latex unrolling down his thick shaft in quick, efficient strokes.

“and here i thought we really were just gonna watch frozen,” you tease, an amused smile on your lips.

jisung chuckles darkly, tossing the wrapper aside, “yeah, fuck that. i should’ve fucked you the moment you walked in the door,” he positions himself, dragging his head through your dripping slit, bumping your swollen clit, earning a light moan from you.

“bad jisung, making noona wait,” you retort, reaching down to line him at your entrance.

you don’t hesitate, sinking down slowly onto him. the stretch is immediate, intense — his cock splitting you open, walls stretching to accommodate every inch as you take him deeper.

“fuck, jisung–you’re so big,” you moan, the words spilling out as you bottomed out, your ass flush against his thighs, the fullness making your vision blur.

he groans, head falling back against the couch, hands clamping onto your waist like anchors. you start to move, rolling your hips in a slow grind at first, savoring the way he fills you completely, the drag of him against your walls sending sparks up your spine.

the movie is white noise now, drowned out by the wet sounds of your bodies connecting, your slick coating the latex as you ride him.

jisung’s eyes stay glued to where you’re joined, watching his length disappear into you over and over, his breaths coming in ragged pants. he thrusts up to meet you, the force jolting through you, but you set the pace, hands braced on his chest, nails digging into the firm muscle there.

sweat beads on his skin, his shirt clinging and you lean forward, capturing his lips in a messy kiss as you bounce harder. your clit grinds against his pelvis with each slide, pleasure coiling tight in your core, but the angle tires your thighs after a few minutes, your movements slowing just a fraction. he notices it immediately.

“i got you, noona,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice husky and laced with lust, “gonna make you feel good.”

he surges up, wrapping an arm around your back and flipping your positions in one fluid, powerful move. now you’re beneath him, legs splayed wide, his body caging yours as he settles between your thighs. the shift presses him even deeper, the new angle hitting that spot inside that makes you cry out, arching up to meet him.

he starts thrusting immediately, deep, measured strokes that have you seeing white, building that steady pressure in your core, his body pinning you down.

your fingers hook into the hem of his shirt, finally tugging it upward. he pauses mid-thrust, lifting his arms to help you yank it off over his head, revealing his bare chest.

your eyes drop immediately to his abs — defined ridges of muscle flexing with each breath. they’re sculpted, earned from endless hours of training and performance, and the sight hits you like a spark, making your pussy tighten around him involuntarily.

“when did you get these?” you murmur, voice breathy as you trail your nails down the planes of his stomach, feeling them contract under your touch. he fucks into you again, deep and slow, the motion making his abs tense further.

jisung smirks down at you, eyes hooded with lust, but there’s a playful glint there too, “always had them, you just weren’t looking,” he teases, his voice low and rough, punctuating the words with another measured thrust that has you gasping.

you roll your eyes at his cockiness, hooking a hand around his neck to pull him down, whispering “faster,” before crashing your lips onto his for another heated kiss.

he doesn’t hesitate, adjusting his grip on your hips and picking up the pace, his thrusts turning sharper, harder, slamming into you with a rhythm that rocks the couch beneath you, the friction intense, hitting deeper with every forceful drive.

jisung pulls back from the kiss after a moment, his focus shifting entirely to the motion of his hips, breaths coming in hot pants against your ear. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as soft whines escape him — high and needy, mixing with deeper grunts each time he bottoms out.

“fuck, noona….so good,” he whimpers, voice cracking with the effort to hold back, his body trembling slightly above you. sweat drips from his brow onto your collarbone and you can feel the strain in him, the way his muscles lock as he fights his release, determined to push you over the edge first.

every thrust targets your pleasure, his hips angling just right to drag over your g-spot, the head of his cock nudging it relentlessly. your legs wrap tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back to urge him on, and the coil in your core winds impossibly tighter, heat building to a fever pitch.

jisung's whines grow more desperate by your ear, a mix of “please...cum for me” and breathless grunts.

his determination is clear — he wants to prove it, show you he's no longer the shy kid, but a man who can take care of you, make you shatter around him before he lets go.

your walls clench around him tighter, the slick heat building to an unbearable peak as his pace quickens even more, balls slapping against your ass with every forceful entry.

he leans in close, his mouth hot against your ear, breaths ragged and uneven, “c’mon noona... let go,” he murmurs between grunts, his voice strained with effort.

one hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing firm circles over the swollen nub, the added pressure pushing you right to the brink. your back arches off the couch, nails digging into his shoulders as the orgasm crashes over you, pussy fluttering wildly around his length, waves of ecstasy pulsing from your core outward. your juices flood his cock, soaking the condom and dripping down to the cushions below, thighs quivering from the intensity.

jisung groans deeply at the feel of you coming undone, his thrusts faltering for a split second as your tightness nearly undoes him. but he holds on, slowing just enough to ride out your climax, his fingers still teasing your clit lightly to draw it out longer.

“fuck, yes... so fucking hot,” he pants, watching your face contort in bliss, pride flashing in his eyes — he did it, made you shatter first.

as your tremors subside, leaving you boneless and gasping beneath him, jisung's restraint snaps. he picks up speed again, fucking into your oversensitive pussy with short, desperate strokes, chasing his own release, guttural moans escaping his lips, body tensing as he buries himself deep one last time. his cock throbs inside you, pulsing as he cums hard, filling the condom with hot spurts. he collapses forward slightly, forehead pressed to yours, hips jerking erratically until he's spent, a satisfied shudder running through him.

for a moment, you both stay like that, breaths mingling in the quiet room, the movie still playing in the background.

jisung lifts his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, but it's clear he's beaming inside — his eyes crinkling at the corners, that boyish glow he can't quite hide, even as he tries to play it cool.

you're his dream girl, after all.

and the way his chest rises and falls a little too quickly gives him away.

“that was better than anything i could imagine,” he says softly, voice hoarse, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“well, now you don’t have to imagine,” you say, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back as you hold his gaze, the warmth in your chest making your words come out steady and sincere, “i was serious, you know? i don’t want this to be a one-time thing… unless that’s what you want.”

jisung's eyes search yours, that familiar flicker of surprise and something deeper — maybe hope — lighting up his features. he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow while his other hand rests lightly on your hip, thumb stroking the skin there in slow, soothing motions.

he's trying so hard to act cooler, but the beaming smile tugs at his lips, his cheeks flushing just a bit as he fights to keep his excitement reined in.

“no,” he murmurs quickly, shaking his head as if the idea alone is ridiculous, “god, no. that's the last thing i want. i've been imagining this — us — for months. years. but hearing you say that...it makes it real.”

you smile, reaching up to tuck a damp strand of his hair behind his ear, your touch lingering as you pull him down for another kiss, this one deeper but still tender, tongues brushing lazily.

when you break apart, you whisper against his lips, “good. because i like you — like, really like you. so start believing it, okay?”

“i believe you,” he says, voice muffled but excited, almost shy, the beaming energy seeping through despite his efforts to tone it down.

he exhales a shaky laugh, burying his face in the curve of your neck for a second, his warm breath tickling your skin as he presses a series of soft kisses along your collarbone.

you tilt your head, a playful glint in your eye as your fingers trail up his arm, tracing the lean muscle there.

“now,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, laced with that warmth from before, “you want to show me what else you've imagined us doing?”

his reaction is instant — a smirk curls his mouth, slow and knowing, chasing away any remnants of shyness. those dark eyes heat up, locking onto yours with confidence.

without a word, he shifts, sliding his arms under you in one fluid motion, scooping you up bridal style like you weigh nothing. your legs dangle over his arm, and you can't help the surprised laugh that bubbles out as he stands, cradling you against his chest.

“bedroom,” he says simply, his voice a rough whisper against your ear, that smirk still playing on his lips

🎬

three days slips by in a blur of schedules and stolen texts — late-night messages that make you smile at your phone.

but today, the music show buzzes with energy, your group weaving through the backstage chaos, outfits sparkling under the lights. nct dream's here too, their laughter echoing from down the hall as you prepare for your silly mini segment with stray kids' bang chan.

it’s all lighthearted fun, the concept scripted — you batting your lashes, calling him “oppa” in that exaggerated, cute tone that has the crew chuckling.

chan plays along perfectly, his dimpled smile wide as he hands you a single red rose, the stem wrapped in ribbon.

“for a pretty girl,” he teases, voice warm and brotherly. you take it with a giggle, then link arms for the heart pose — your hands forming the shape together, faces close enough for the cameras to catch the playful spark.

back in nct dream’s dressing room, the t.v. flickers with the live feed, the boys sprawled on couches and chairs, half-watching between touch-ups and snacks.

jisung’s there, legs kicked out, but his posture stiffens the moment your face fills the screen. he watches you lean into chan, that soft oppa slipping from your lips like honey, and something sharp twists in his chest.

his jaw clenches, teeth grinding just enough to make the muscle jump, eyes narrowing into slits as chan passes the rose. the heart pose seals it — your smiles synced, bodies angled close — and jisung's fingers dig into the armrest, knuckles whitening.

chenle, scrolling on his phone beside him, catches the shift immediately. he snickers, nudging jisung's shoulder with his elbow, “make it more obvious, won't you?”

jisung doesn't even glance away from the screen, his gaze locked on you as the segment ends, “i don't know how you do this,” he mutters, voice low and edged with frustration, finally turning to chenle.

chenle’s eyebrows raised in mock innocence, “do what?”

“date an actress,” jisung shoots back, running a hand through his hair, “i’m literally gonna crash out and it’s just a segment.”

chenle bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking as he claps jisung on the back. he shrugs, nonchalant and grinning wide, “i'm just cooler and more mature than you, jisungie.”

🎬

the show pulses on, a relentless rhythm of spotlights and applause, the corridors buzz with hurried footsteps and muffled chatter, but you navigate them with purpose, heart racing from the high and the unresolved pull toward jisung.

he’s been a ghost all day, avoiding your gaze like it's a spotlight he can't afford.

from the corner, your fingers brush his wrist, light but insistent, pulling him quickly into the familiar dim closet without a word.

the door snicks shut, sealing out the world.

jisung's back meets the wall, his eyes snapping to yours, wide, caught off guard, “noona?” he says, voice a hushed rasp, surprise threading through the warmth.

“you haven't looked at me once this whole show,” you murmur, closing the gap until your bodies nearly touch. your voice dips lower, probing, “what's wrong?”

he shifts, gaze dropping to the scuffed floor, jaw clenching in that telltale way. the jealousy from the segment with chan simmers beneath his skin, a sharp twist in his gut from watching you laugh and pose, but he shoves it down deep.

that's kid stuff. and he’s a man. a mature man.

“nothing... just being careful,” he murmurs, forcing a casual shrug.

you see the sulk anyway — the downturned lips, the furrowed brow, the way his shoulders hunch just a fraction. it’s endearing, pulling a soft smile from you as you step in closer, your palm flattening against his chest to feel the rapid thump of his heart.

“you’re cute when you lie.”

his eyes lift then, dark and conflicted, holding yours for a beat too long before he sighs, “i—i’m not lying—the cameras, the fans... everyone’s watching. don't want to cause trouble for us. that's all.”

it’s a half-truth, delivered with a shrug that doesn't quite land, his body betraying him as it leans into your touch.

“try again,” you tease gently, fingers sliding up to cup his jaw, tilting his face so he can't hide, “is it the segment? chan oppa?”

his breath catches, a flicker of admission in the way his eyes narrow, but he nods slowly, the mature mask slipping.

“kinda,” he confesses, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, his hand settling at your waist, thumb on your bare skin, “stupid, i know. it’s a segment. but seeing you call him that, smile like... like that…”

he pulls you flush against him, the confession hanging heavy but freeing, “i don't want to be the jealous kid. but fuck, i hate sharing even a second of your attention.”

the closet feels smaller now, the world outside fading as you lean in, lips brushing his ear, “you’re not,” you murmur, feeling him shiver, “you're the one i pulled in here. the one I can't stop thinking about.”

the admission hangs between you, raw and real, and you close the distance, lips grazing his in a feather-light touch that ignites everything. he responds instantly, hands framing your face, deepening the kiss.

the urgency builds but so do the voices echoing down the hall — staff calling for the next lineup, footsteps approaching — and he breaks away with a frustrated groan, forehead resting against yours, breathing ragged and uneven.

his eyes, dark with want but sparkling with that boyish hope, search yours.

“come to mine again tonight?” he whispers quietly, voice laced with plea, his thumb stroking your cheek in soft, adoring circles.

you shake your head, a playful glint in your eye as you bite your lip, “no.”

“no?” he pulls back slightly, confusion flickering across his flushed face, brows knitting together in the most adorable pout, his lower lip jutting out.

“you come to mine,” you say with a smile, voice teasing and inviting, your hand sliding down his chest to rest over his racing heart.

“i'll wait for you….in your best ahjussi outfit,” you wink, eyes dripping with that knowing mischief.

he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest, a shy grin breaking through the sulk as he leans in closer, his ears turning an even brighter shade of pink.

“i’ll borrow a gray wig from the costume department,” he says, his voice light and playful, eyes crinkling, at the corners with pure delight, gummy smile and all.

you giggle, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, soft and lingering, both of you smiling into it before the outside world swallows you both back into reality.

The annual holiday hangout you and your friends host to celebrate Christmas happens on the third Friday of December. Every year. Like clockwork. No negotiation, no “oops, something came up,” no last minute rescheduling because someone’s doubled booked. 

It’s a priority. It’s immovable by design. In fact, when you gifted everyone custom calendars last year, they all found the date already printed in bold red letters, as if it were a national holiday. Because these people—dramatic, childish, aggressively chaotic people—are your family. And every family has its own holiday traditions.

Yours just happens to be The Wish List Pot™.

Yes. That’s the actual name. You can thank Renjun and Hyuck for that stroke of linguistic genius. They spent an entire hour arguing over alternatives (‘Dream Jar,’ ‘Festive Flowerpot,’ and Hyuck’s personal favourite, ‘Santa’s Special Suggestions’)  until Hyuck’s girlfriend finally snapped, snatched the pot right off the table, and wrote WISH LIST POT across it in permanent marker to shut them both up. It saved the rest of you from permanent ear damage, too. 

But the name isn’t the important part. The timing is.

The third Friday of December is so important because the wishes that go into the pot are supposed to be unattainable. Ridiculous. Entirely unrealistic. They are wishes, not asks. Things no one could possibly obtain in the week or so left before the holidays. That’s the whole point. They’re meant to be wild and impractical and embarrassingly revealing.

Which, of course, is what makes the night so fun—because somehow, every year, someone still manages to shock the rest of you. 

“Hyuck, get your ass out of my face!” Renjun smacks him with a rolled-up Argos magazine, the force sharp enough to make the string lights tremble.

Hyuck whirls around, affronted, the Wish List Pot now balanced precariously in his lap as he flops back down on the sofa. “Jesus fucking Christ! If your lazy ass just sat up and grabbed the pot, my ass wouldn’t even be in your face—”

“For fuck’s sake.” Hyuck’s girlfriend pinches the bridge of her nose. “Do you two ever stop talking about each other’s asses?”

Before either can fire back, Jaemin—your boyfriend—waltzes in from the kitchen. He’s carrying a beer in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. 

“No,” he answers, deadpan. “Unfortunately they’ve been doing that for years. So much so, Jeno and I actually had a bet back in college that they were gonna fuck. Or that they had fucked already—”

“We haven’t!” Renjun and Hyuck snap simultaneously, voices overlapping in perfect defensive harmony.

Jaemin just stretches the word, “Okayyyy,” then he settles onto the couch beside you, immediately slinging his arm over your shoulders. You ignore the popcorn bowl he sets down because his lips brush your forehead, and suddenly that’s the only thing that matters.

You burrow deeper into your blanket, tucking your toes under your thighs as a shield against the December air. (Because you’re at Mark’s place and he refuses to use his fireplace. It’s strictly decorative.) 

“Did you make your wish yet, baby?” he murmurs against your ear, warm breath skimming your skin. You roll your eyes, but still flush. Because. Well. It’s him. 

A major consequence of having an annual Wish List Pot—and a boyfriend who’s in the same friendship circle—is that Jaemin started pestering you for your wish the second the clock hit 12:00 a.m. on December 1st. It’s absolutely against the rules. He knows that. He does not care.

Because Na Jaemin is, unfortunately for your sanity, a man who makes things happen. Grand gestures, tiny gestures, everything. He does them all without being asked. Nothing is unattainable to him.

Well… everything except the thing you slipped into the pot this year.

“I’m just saying,” Hyuck’s girlfriend declares from the armchair, arms crossed tight, “I think you’re more obsessed with his ass than mine.”

Hyuck groans dramatically. “Baby, don’t be stupid. You know I love your ass. I tell you every time I pound—”

“Oh my god, stop!” Chenle yells from the floor, recoiling. “Christ, Hyuck, you don’t hear me talking about my sex life with my girl every Christmas, but you somehow manage it every year.”

“That’s because you two”—Hyuck gestures between Chenle and his girlfriend, like he’s presenting evidence—“probably don’t fuck.”

There’s a dangerous inhale from Chenle; he’s two seconds from launching himself into an argument that will inevitably end with someone being banned from the occasion next year. But before that chaos can detonate, Jisung reaches forward, plucks the Wish List Pot from Hyuck’s lap, and clears his throat loud enough to cut through the noise.

It works. Miraculously.

“If the two of you can stop acting like children,” Jisung says, voice dry enough to be dehydrated, “I’d quite like to read our wishes.”

“He started it,” they both chorus, each stabbing an accusatory finger at the other. Identical expressions. Identical childish behaviour.

You laugh—because of course they do. It’s exactly like you always say: these dramatic, childish, aggressively chaotic people are your family. 

Jisung reaches into the pot, swirling his hand around. After a moment, he pulls out a neatly folded slip of paper.

“Wish one,” he announces. He unfolds it with zero urgency, just to spite everyone’s anticipation. “Someone wants… a yacht life.”

“Don’t we all,” Chenle mutters, which earns a wave of agreeing grumbles just as Jisung passes the pot to Jeno sitting beside the tree. 

Jeno unfolds his slip. “Person two wants… an Oscar.”

Immediately, everyone’s eyes snap to Jaemin. Your boyfriend, who has been chasing an acting career since high school. Your boyfriend, who has the talent and drive and soft, stubborn hope that makes you believe he’ll get there one day.

He lifts his beer to his lips, trying to pretend the room’s collective attention isn’t strangling him. “Come on, guys. This is supposed to be anonymous. Stop looking at me.”

But you don’t.

You can’t.

You won’t.

“Baby,” you say quietly, nudging your knee against his. “You think you’re not capable of winning an Oscar?”

For a beat, something vulnerable flickers across his face—like you peeled back a layer he wasn’t ready for anyone to see. His eyes drop, his shoulders stiffen, and without a word, his arm slips away from around your shoulders. You feel the loss like a draft of cold air. 

He leans forward, snatching the pot from Jeno a little too quickly.

“Next,” he says, forcing brightness into his tone, redirecting all focus away from himself. He unfolds the next paper. “Someone wrote…” His brows furrow. “‘a fat ass with a baby face?’”

Hyuck immediately hacks out a fake cough. “Renjun.” He thumps his chest for dramatic effect.

Renjun sputters. “Now look who’s talking about my ass?!”

They launch into yet another bickering match—loud, pointless—but you barely register it. Because you’re still watching Jaemin. Your very capable, endlessly hardworking Jaemin, who seems to doubt himself more than he admits. Who won’t even look at you now, even though you can feel him sensing your eyes on him. He doesn’t want to talk about it at all. 

And maybe… maybe that makes you start doubting your own wish. The one you folded so carefully. The one you slipped into the pot with trembling fingers and a pounding heart. 

The one he absolutely cannot find out about now if he’s not willing to discuss his own paper. 

The group barrels on, oblivious to the way your pulse is suddenly thumping like a drum. Jaemin notices though, and he gives your leg a squeeze as wishes keep flying around the circle.

Someone wants “a lit spring break” (impossible, considering it is currently winter). Someone else wants “a contract with Real Madrid” (wildly unlikely, mostly because not a single one of your friends actually plays soccer—you’re pretty sure Hyuck’s girlfriend just has a crush on Jude Bellingham and is manifesting). Another wants to “live off the grid” (absolutely preposterous, because how the hell would this tradition survive without the group chat?).

“One left,” Chenle announces, practically glowing with the power of being the one holding the final slip.

Your stomach drops straight through the couch cushions. You know it’s yours. Your mouth goes dry. Your brain starts an emergency meeting, all of your thoughts yelling contradictory advice.

You could reach for the pot. You could insist on reading it yourself. You could “accidentally” swallow the paper whole. But that would be suspicious. And being suspicious is the thing that makes people instantly remember forever.

Besides… it’s not like everyone will immediately connect you to your wish.

Right?

Chenle clears his throat. Dramatically. Loudly. “The grand finale is…” He unfolds the paper. His eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Don’t say holy shit,” Jisung mutters, “just read it—”

“Who the fuck wrote: ‘to get pregnant’?”

Silence. Pure, echoing, apocalyptic silence.

And wow—that’s infuriating, because if you’d known all it took to shut this group of gremlins up was anonymously confessing your desire for your boyfriend to knock you up, you would’ve done it years ago. It’s not even that weird. People want things. Fantasies exist. Biology is real.

So why—why—are everyone’s heads slowly swivelling between the only three girls in the room?

No one talks.

No one even breathes.

Why is no one talking?

Would it look more suspicious if you broke the ice?

You’ll never find out, because Hyuck clears his throat.

“Well,” he says, far too loudly, “safe to say it wasn’t my girl who wrote that.” He leans over and presses a deliberately obnoxious kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. “Because she wouldn’t have to beg me to put a baby in her. I’d happily ditch the condoms and cu—”

“Stop!” Chenle yelps. “Oh my God. I know way too much about your sex life already.”

The argument erupts like it always does. You tune it out, exhaling shakily as you pull the blanket tighter around yourself, cocooning into whatever false sense of safety it can offer. God knows you need it. 

Because you feel it. That pull. That stare.

The same look you’d been throwing at Jaemin earlier now burns into the side of your face with the subtlety of a solar flare. His gaze is hot and heavy, like he’s peeling your thoughts open, reading them line by line.

You don’t look at him. Not when Jeno brings out the hot chocolate. Not during the gift exchange. Not even when Mark ushers everyone out into the cold and you follow Jaemin toward his car.

You keep your eyes anywhere but on your boyfriend.

Jaemin unlocks the car with a quick tap, headlights blinking awake in the snowy December night. You slide into the passenger seat. He starts the engine. You buckle your seatbelt. You’re both clearly going through the motions. The motions where neither of you says anything.

Which would normally be fine—the two of you have never been afraid of silence—but this isn’t comfortable silence. This is… pregnant silence.

Great. Even your adjectives are betraying you.

The car rolls down Mark’s street, and you’re too busy pretending streetlights are fascinating to notice Jaemin’s hand until it’s already there. Resting on your thigh the same way it always does when he drives.

Your breath catches—not because it’s unusual, but because it isn’t. Because this is autopilot affection with Jaemin. Muscle memory, if you will. Something he does without thinking.

Which means…

Either he doesn’t know you want him to get you pregnant. Or he does, and he’s pretending he doesn’t. You’re somehow not sure which option is worse.

You sneak a glance at him. Just a small one. It’s enough to read the outline of his profile in the passing lights. Jaw tight. Mouth set. Eyes straight ahead. He’s not avoiding you. He’s just… not looking at you. And that distinction is driving you insane. Life of an overthinker, you suppose. 

You swallow and turn back to the window, watching your reflection blur in the glass. You look a little wild. But who could blame you? Tonight you anonymously admitted you wanted your boyfriend to put a baby in you. To your entire friend group. 

He’s either figured it out.

Or he’s about to.

The drive is only fifteen minutes, but it feels like crossing counties.

By the time Jaemin pulls into your apartment building’s lot, you’re already unbuckling. You’re out of the car before he even cuts the engine, breath puffing white in the cold as you fumble with your keys at the door. His footsteps follow. 

Inside, you kick off your boots and fling your scarf onto the rack. Your coat joins it a second later. Jaemin mirrors you, still quiet, making his silence somehow feel louder now you’re indoors.

You’re both still not talking. You hate it. You need normalcy. You need something familiar. Something routine. Something to drown out the echo of that wish still ringing in your ears.

So you inhale and force your voice into something casual.

“Do you think Chenle wrote the Real Madrid wish?”

Yes, it’s probably stupid to bring up the very thing you’re desperately trying to avoid—but not bringing it up would be worse. Suspicious, in fact. Because this is another tradition. Every year, after the Wish List Pot gathering, you and Jaemin come home, peel off your winter layers, and spend the night figuring out which wish belongs to who. Even the absurd ones. Especially the absurd ones.

If you pretend that doesn’t matter tonight, he’ll notice.

He’ll know.

“Real Madrid?” Jaemin repeats, rolling the words around his tongue. “No. Chenle’s not a soccer man. Basketball, maybe.”

He toes off his shoes, hangs his coat beside yours, then steps further into the apartment—toward you. Slowly. Like he’s approaching a skittish animal that might bolt.

“And besides,” he adds, hands sliding into his pockets, “that handwriting wasn’t his.”

You freeze. Because that means he was paying attention. Closely.

You swallow. “So… who do you think wrote it?”

He studies your face a beat too long. “I don’t know.” Then, quieter: “Was it yours?”

You bark out a laugh. It's one part nerves, the other half relief. Because this could be it. Your chance. Your out.

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Actually. I got this insane Jude Bellingham edit on my For You Page the other day. Guess I was feeling… inspired.”

He hums. “Right.”

“Yep.”

Silence drops again. Except it’s different this time. Thicker. Denser. Pressing. You have to break it. “So,” you murmur, “want to guess the rest of them?”

Jaemin tilts his head, then steps closer, stopping just short of your space. “Fine,” he says. “You go first.”

You hesitate. Then: “The Oscar one. That was yours.”

His jaw tightens. “No.”

You blink. “Jaemin.”

“I said no.”

You fold your arms. “Jaem. Come on. Everyone was staring at you.”

“Because everyone always stares at me when anything acting related comes up,” he snaps, frustration finally bleeding through. “That doesn’t mean it was mine.”

You open your mouth, then close it. “You’re lying.”

His eyes flash. “That’s rich.”

You stiffen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He drags a hand through his hair, pacing once before turning back. “You really don’t get to call me out for lying when you’re doing the exact same thing.”

“What… what are you talking about?”

He scoffs. “You must think I was born yesterday if you expect me to believe that Jude Bellingham shit.” A beat. “You hate soccer, Y/N.”

You wince.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The hum of the heater fills your apartment. Jaemin stares at the floor like he’s arguing with himself. Then he exhales—slow. “Fine,” he mutters. “It was mine. The Oscar one.”

Your chest tightens. “How–why?”

He rubs at the back of his neck, eyes still down. “I don’t know. It was stupid. I just—” He huffs a humourless laugh. “It feels like this acting thing is leading nowhere lately.”

Your heart cracks a little.

“I didn’t want to talk to you about it,” he continues quietly. “Because you’re my biggest supporter. You’d tell me I’m being ridiculous. That I’m talented. That I’ll get there.” He finally looks at you. “And I guess,” he sighs, “I wanted someone to validate the bad thoughts I have about myself.”

The silence that follows isn’t tense. It’s fragile. You want to shake him because you don’t know how else to make him understand how wrong he is. How deeply, painfully wrong. There isn’t a single person on this planet who would validate those bad thoughts he has about himself. Not one. And the fact that he thinks there might be says more about how cruel he is to himself than anything else.

Jaemin is good at everything.

It’s actually kind of infuriating.

That realisation hits you so hard it spills straight out of your mouth.

“Jaem, you’re kidding me, right?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You’re the best at what you do,” you say, voice rising despite yourself. “And I’m not just saying that because I love you. I’d say it even if I didn’t.”

His head lifts at that. Big puppy brown eyes—soft, attentive, a little wounded—lock onto yours.

“You know that role you did a couple months ago?” you continue. “The one where you played the single dad?”

His shoulders tense, but he hums in acknowledgement. 

“You were so natural,” you say immediately. “Like—scarily natural. It didn’t feel like acting. It felt like you were just… meant to be a parent.”

Jaemin’s mouth parts slightly. He’s listening, really listening, and he doesn’t interrupt. 

“I mean, I can’t even tell you the thoughts I was having watching you,” you add, waving a hand, flustered. “Which is exactly why I wrote it as my wish—”

You stop.

The room freezes with you.

Oh.

Oh no.

Slowly, you look up.

Jaemin isn’t staring at the floor anymore. He’s looking directly at you. And he’s smiling. A slow, knowing smile that spreads across his face, like he’s just connected a very important dot.

“Wrote it as your wish?” He repeats calmly, tilting his head. “That’s interesting.”

Your blood turns to ice.

“I—” You scramble. “I meant—”

“Because,” he continues, stepping closer, “last time I checked, you wanted a contract with Real Madrid.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. But it’s fine, because Jaemin doesn’t rush you to say anything. (Honestly, that should have been the first sign you were done for.)

He closes the distance between you, hands brushing the air beside you before his fingers finally make contact, ghosting along the outside of your arms. His fingertips settle at your hips, thumbs pressing in just enough to claim your attention.

“Ready to tell me your real wish, baby?” he murmurs.

The word baby lands heavily. Intentional. His voice is low, a little smug around the edges—it’s cocky in that way that says he absolutely knows what he’s doing. Like this was always the plan. Like opening up about his insecurities was never about his weakness, but a strategy to get you talking about your own. 

And God, it’s working. 

You quiver beneath his touch, breath catching as he leans down with his pretty pink mouth hovering just beside your ear. 

“I…” Your voice comes out throaty, barely there. You swallow and try again. “I wanted to get pregnant.”

“Oh yeah?” Jaemin echoes, just as soft. Just as needy. His hands tighten at your hips. “Seeing me play dad on screen got you all hot and bothered with baby fever, honey?”

You nod, weak and unashamed, forehead tipping forward until it nearly rests against his shoulder.

He tuts quietly. A teasing little sound. “But the Wish List Pot is supposed to be unattainable.” His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, tugging it down before asking: “You really think I wouldn’t give you a baby if you asked me to?”

You exhale shakily. “No. I know you would.” Your hands come up to fist lightly in his shirt. “That’s the problem.”

His brow creases. “What?”

“It’s not the right time,” you say, rushing the words out before you lose the nerve. “You’re so busy. You’re finally getting traction. You’re always auditioning, always working—”

“Yeah, fuck that,” he cuts in immediately.

You blink.

“I would change jobs in a heartbeat to give you what you want, Y/N.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But you shouldn’t have to. You’re too early in your acting career to miss work for a baby. Your agent—”

“Baby,” he interrupts, leaning down until his forehead presses to yours, voice deadly calm, “respectfully shut the fuck up.”

You let out a startled laugh despite yourself.

“I want you,” he continues. “The world, my agent, my schedule—they can all get fucked. If my girl wants to have a baby, we’re fucking making a baby.”

You laugh again, breathless this time, poking a finger into his chest. “Stop.”

“I’m not joking.” His hand covers yours, pinning it against where you poked him. “Not even a little.”

Your smile softens, chest aching. “You’re insane.”

“For you?” His mouth curves. “Always.”

The room goes quiet again. Jaemin dips his head, brushing his nose against yours.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” he says quietly. “Or tomorrow. Or next year.” He pulls back just enough to look at you properly, thumb brushing along your jaw. “But don’t ever think wanting a future with me is something unattainable,” he adds. A pause. “At least it’s not from my side.”

Your chest tightens. 

“What about your Oscar?” 

“It can wait,” he says easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “because it all pales in comparison to having you. And a couple of our kids.”

Something intense flickers behind his eyes. Possessive. The way he says our sends a shock of electricity through your spine. Frankly, it catches you completely off guard. He catches you off guard. 

Because why does it sound like he likes the idea of having babies even more than you do?

Your pulse stutters. You chew on your lip, nerves and adrenaline tangling together.

“What if…” You hesitate, then force the words out before you can overthink them. “What if I wanted to do it tonight?”

His reaction is immediate. Jaemin’s pupils blow wide before he closes the distance. His lips crash into yours, sudden and sure, like he’s been holding back this entire time, and you just cut the last thread keeping him sane. 

Your back hits the living room wall with a soft thud, the impact rattling framed family photos as his hands brace on either side of you. He kisses you like a man starved. It’s a hunger you didn’t even know he possessed. When he finally pulls back, breath uneven, his forehead drops to yours again.

“Baby,” he says, voice rough now. “If you say the word…”

“I want to,” you cut in, heartbeat roaring in your ears. “I want to have a baby. With you, Jaemin."

“Fuck,” Jaemin groans, the sound torn from his chest like it’s been waiting there all night. His mouth crashes into yours again, deeper this time, messier—like restraint was a courtesy he’s officially done offering.

His hands are everywhere, greedy and roaming and doting all at once. Fabric disappears in clumsy, impatient motions, discarded somewhere between the couch and the hallway. You’re laughing into his mouth one second, gasping the next, dizzy with the sudden shift from talking to this.

When your back hits the bedroom doorway, he doesn’t slow down. He scoops you up like it’s nothing—like you don’t weigh anything at all—and the smoothness of it sends an excited thrill through you.

“Jaemin,” you breathe, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He hums, pleased. “I know, baby.”

The bed dips beneath you as he lays you down, eyes dark, expression unguarded in a way you don’t get to see often. Then his mouth traces a path down your body until his head is between your legs. 

Your laughter bubbles out of you when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and tug them down. 

“That’s not how you make babies,” you tease, breathless.

He glances up at you, mouth curved. “It’s how I make them.”

You snort. “Oh, so you’ve got experience doing this?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p. “But I’ve got to learn. Trial and error, babe.” His smile turns wicked. “I’ve got big plans. Whole neighbourhood’s gonna wonder why everyone looks suspiciously like us.”

“Jaem,” you warn, laughing, “if you’re serious about this whole thing, you’re gonna need to focus.”

His eyebrows lift as he straightens, hands bracketing your thighs, eyes bright with challenge. “You telling me how to do my job now?”

“Yes,” you shoot back. “Because if you think you’re getting a football team of kids out of me by eating me out, you’re wrong. Your cock needs to be in me.”

He looks up at you then, eyebrows raised, whilst a smile—pearls of white teeth—spreads across his face. “You that desperate for me to be inside you, baby?” His voice dips. “Want my cum that badly?”

You shiver at the thought because yes. Oh God, yes. You need his cum inside you that badly. Isn’t that the whole reason you’ve ended up here, tangled up and gasping beneath him?

Jaemin’s breath ghosts over your pussy, teasing, brushing, and it’s enough to have you soaked already. He grins, low and wicked, his hand pressing between your thighs to ground you.

“Need you ready before you take all of me, baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t wanna hurt you, because once I’m inside of you, bare, I don’t think I can be gentle.”

“Jaem,” you whine, and that sound alone is enough to make him smirk.

His mouth snaps onto your clit, sucking and licking with a need that makes your toes curl. You arch against him, hips lifting on instinct, desperate for more even as he teases, tortures, and drags out your pleasure until it’s sharp, burning, electric.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans, voice vibrating low in his chest whilst his fingers spread you wider, giving himself better access to press and curl his tongue in all the spots that make you squirm. “So wet for me, baby… gonna make me lose it before I even get inside you?”

“No!” you gasp, fingers clutching at his hair. “Please, Jaem… can’t waste any.”

He growls at that, teeth grazing, pulling a moan straight from your chest. “You don’t want to waste any of my cum, huh? You want all of me for your pretty little cunt?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” you cry, nails digging into his shoulders. Every trace of his tongue, every press of his fingers has you melting, trembling, so ready it hurts.

“You better hurry up and cum then, because you’re too fucking hot like this, Y/N. I can’t help myself,” he chuckles darkly, and the tremor of it presses into you and makes your core clench around nothing.

“Jaem… oh God… fuck!” You shiver, body writhing as every one of your nerve endings comes alive. Your body collapses around him, shaking and quivering, your cry of his name lost in the throes of your orgasm. 

He hums, satisfied, and wastes no time moving his mouth up and along your body, kissing you gently, claiming every inch, until his lips connect back on yours. It’s purposeful. It’s his favourite thing to do. He’s making you taste yourself on him. And you love it. 

When he pulls away, your breath skips as you look down. The bare sight of him—harder than you’ve ever seen him, veins straining, tip leaking—is enough to make your pulse hammer faster. Every inch of him wants you, every movement, every groan, tells you he’s all in about this.

“You’re sure, yeah?” he asks, running the naked tip of his cock along your slit, not daring to push in just yet. “You can say no, Y/N, and I’ll grab a condom right now and fuck you just as good as I usually do.”

“No!” You shiver at his words, wetness pooling slickly around him. “I want you like this… please.”

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, pushing just the tip inside. His hands cradle your hips, holding you still as he slides completely inside you. The stretch, the warmth, the way your body moulds around him, it’s all perfect. “Fuck… you’re so tight,” he groans, burying himself slowly. “Feels like you were made for me. Gonna fill you up, all of me… can you take it?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes! Please, Jaem…” you beg, hips jerking, desperate for him to move.

Once you’re adjusted (and he takes a moment to think about his elderly co-worker so he doesn’t instantly blow his load), he starts to move. And, as he warned, he isn’t gentle. Not at all. The bareness of it all, the rawness, flips something primal in him. His thrusts are feral, needy, hungry.

This isn’t the usual gentle lovemaking. This is fucking. Point blank. One goal in his mind. Get. You. Pregnant. 

“Gonna breed you, baby,” he murmurs, teeth scraping your shoulder. “Make you mine… let everyone know who you come home to. Feel me stretching you… filling you… dripping inside you.”

You gasp, nails raking down his back. “Jaem… yes… fuck… fill me…”

He grins against you. “Fuck, you take me so well. So wet… so perfect… feel yourself clench around me? Want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes! Oh God… yes!” You moan, arching into him.

“Every drop, baby. Every single drop that leaks out, I’ll push back in,” he growls, thrusts snapping harder, making you cry out. 

He starts pounding into you then. So hard your pussy has no choice but to clench around him. That has him lulling, cock still buried to the hilt, as his hands gripping your hips to calm himself. His chest is heaving. His voice is ragged as he says:

“You feel so perfect… my dream girl… I’ve dreamed of this, Y/N. Wanted this… wanted you… bare… mine… all mine. Now… fuck… now I’m getting my future. My girl…”

He’s rambling, and the neediness of it makes you tremble. Your legs lock around him, fingers digging into his shoulders to coax him along. “Yes, Jaem, all yours.”

He groans, teeth nipping your neck before his lips press hard against it. Only then does he drive all the way inside of you, letting you feel every inch of his hard cock. “Mine, you’re mine… taking all of me, just me… gonna fill you so full…”

Your vision whites, your nerves screaming, as your walls flutter around him for the first time, completely bare. He doesn’t hold back—slamming into you, thrust after thrust—until he can’t anymore.

He lands a final thrust, then feels himself spill inside of you, groaning your name over and over as he fills you up. It’s warm. It’s intimate. And once he stills, his forehead nuzzles against yours, along with his nose. His chest rises and falls over you, as the two of you melt together, bare, joined, and utterly each others.

After a moment, he pulls out, and the sudden emptiness makes you cry out. You’re oversensitive and wrecked, thighs trembling as white warmth spills down between you. You can feel it—feel him leaking out of you, thick and hot. 

Jaemin groans at the sight. “Fuck… look at you,” he murmurs, thumb tracing where you’re still slick and sensitive. “You feel that? That’s me. That’s all for you.”

You whine, hips twitching helplessly. “Jaem—too much—”

“I know,” he says softly. “Just let me—”

He presses back in with one slow push, reclaiming what spilt, making you gasp. The sensation is so intimate it borders on obscene. “Told you I’d push it back in,” he says. “Not wasting a single drop.”

A broken sound leaves your throat. After a moment, he eases out again—gentler this time—and gathers you against him. You’re still pulsing from the overstimulation, but now you’re pressed chest to chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. And that makes you relax. 

He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Do you really want a football team of us?” You ask quietly, voice hazy now. 

He laughs. “I told you, baby. Whole block’s gonna look like you and me.”

You poke his side. “How come you never told me you wanted kids with me before today?”

His smile softens. Then he exhales. “You’re the one carrying them,” he says gently. “And as much as you say I’d do anything for you… I know you’d do the same for me. If I’d said it out loud, you would’ve said yes just for me.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want that pressure on you. Or your body.”

You tilt your head, listening.

“So, hearing you say you wanted to get pregnant this Christmas?” He continues quietly. “That felt like the green light to lay my cards out too.”

Your chest tightens. You smile, kissing his chest, right over his heart. “Well,” you say, “in that case… I hope we both get what we want.”

It's not like you’re obsessed with Lee Haechan. You just enjoy looking at him. You barely even know the guy, but, annoyingly, he's difficult to ignore. Difficult not to notice. And it’s not like you’ve spoken much to each other either, apart from the rare exchange of a few words here and there or the odd nod of acknowledgement in corridors.  

There was this one time where he sat next to you in class, but that was only because he was late and the seat next to yours was the only empty one that was close to the entrance of the classroom. That was the first time he smiled at you. Nothing more than casual and polite but it still made your heart race.

Then, of course, there was the time where you bumped into him on the street, while you were on your way to a date, which ended up being disastrous, but that didn’t really bother you. What bothered you was the fact that he was also on his way to a date. With a girl. A girl he chose to go on a date with. A girl that he probably found pretty. A girl that wasn't you. Regardless, that didn’t negate the fact that, that night you had your first ever conversation with him. It was brief, but it happened, and it certainly left you with a bittersweet taste in your mouth, which was probably why you later couldn’t focus on the boy you matched with on that godforsaken dating app. And as mean as it sounded in your head, you hoped Haechan’s date went as badly as yours. 

Next time you saw him, was at a campus party you got dragged to by Chenle and Ningning. Mark convinced Chenle, who convinced Ningning, who forced you and it’s not like you don’t enjoy a fun night out with friends and alcohol, you just weren’t in the right mood that night and you were convinced that being in your luteal phase had definitely something to do with it.   

You remember instantly spotting him in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter as he was speaking to a girl you didn’t recognise and you could tell just from her side profile that she was nothing but attractive. You watched as she reached and took the drink he was holding, bringing it up to her lips, tasting the contents of the cup but also him, and you decided to look elsewhere before witnessing anything that would (but definitely shouldn’t) ruin your night.   

You were determined to spend the rest of the party as far away from him as possible, forcing poor Chenle to go and refill your drink in the kitchen every time you ran out. You were more than aware it might have sounded silly to anyone else, but you didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of trying to get someone’s attention, when they were clearly not interested. You’d been that person in the past, and you refused to make the same mistakes again. At the end of the day, it was just a crush. It would go away eventually. Right?  

When the party started to die down, you found yourself in the back garden with no one else other than the lovely Na Jaemin, after you stumbled upon him being sick in a fake plant pot. You could have left him in his own fate, but knowing yourself, you would definitely feel guilty for the rest of the night, if you didn’t make sure he was safe. You started to regret your decision about 10 minutes later, when he had already fallen asleep with his head in your lap and you were sure he was drooling on you, but that was the least of your concerns in that moment. Thankfully, Chenle picked up on the first ring and when you asked him to come outside with reinforcements, he immediately said, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

The reinforcements, of course, being Jeno and Haechan, wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, but you weren’t in a position to be picky. You found out shortly after that Haechan had only stepped outside for a smoke and got dragged into ‘helping’, which he refused to do since, according to him, Jaemin had put him in that position countless of times and he’s sick of looking after a grown ass man who’s got the alcohol tolerance of a twelve year-old. You found his point more than valid, but you didn’t say anything.   

When Chenle and Jeno disappeared back inside, carrying a whiny and barely coherent Jaemin, you found yourself alone with the boy you had initially tried to steer clear of at all costs. Your mission miserably failed that night and at the end of it all you realised one thing; whatever it was that you felt for Lee Haechan, wasn’t just a harmless crush.   

“I gotta admit, that was slightly entertaining.” He said as he took the seat that Jaemin had previously been occupying next to you on the wooden bench.   

You must have sat there with him for about an hour, talking about everything and nothing, while enjoying the early summer breeze and the freedom that came with the end of finals. He insisted on getting you an uber home when you announced that you were going to walk because your phone had died and when you asked if you could pay him back somehow, he said, “Just don't be a stranger next year.”  

Autumn  

You were aware Zhong Chenle was an evil little thing, but you hadn’t pegged him for a traitor. And betrayed is what you felt as you read the message on your screen over and over again.   

@kh1000le: greetings folks, party at my new place this saturday @8 – I'll add the deets later but feel free to invite more people. ps. don’t forget to bring extra booze.  

You look up from your phone, remembering you're still in class and the professor is still talking stats. Your eyes instantly land on Haechan, still sitting two rows ahead of you, between Jeno and Jaemin and you can tell he’s looking down, probably reading the message you were reading just seconds ago. Jaemin shifts closer to whisper something in his ear and Haechan leans in to hear better. He quickly nods his head agreeing to whatever Jaemin says. 

You turn your attention back to your phone again as more notifications flood your screen. Other people in the group chat responding and reacting to messages. Haechan is still silent. No reactions or responses. You wonder what he's thinking. But most of all, you wonder if he's noticed you're also in that group chat. Would he recognise your username? You only started following each other the day after that party before summer, but it’s been almost four months now and there has certainly been no exchange of messages.   

Suddenly, you notice people have started packing up their belongings and you quickly start doing the same, hoping you can flee the scene as fast as possible, before Jaemin comes up to you with questions about the party.   

The second you step outside the doors and into the corridor, you exhale, relieved to have succeeded and as you start walking towards the main building exit you realise you spoke too soon.   

"Y/n, wait up!"

You close your eyes muttering a quiet “shit” to yourself. You put on a smile and turn around, Jaemin quickly approaching you. Haechan, who's trailing a few steps behind him, isn’t really paying attention, already in a conversation with Jeno.   

“Jeez woman, you sure walk fast. You got somewhere to be?” He speaks fast as he tries to catch his breath.  

“Hey Jaemin, yeah, sorry, I'm in a rush, how can I help?" You try and respond as nonchalantly as possible.   

"I just saw you're in that group chat and I'm assuming you'll be there on Saturday?" He asks with eyes full of hope.   

"Yes sir. I'm actually meeting up with Chenle now to talk logistics." You explain quickly, seeing Haechan getting closer from your peripheral.

"Ahhh that makes sense, I just wanted to ask if we should bring anything else other than alcohol?"   

"Just your drink of choice will be enough for you I reckon, don't want you ruining any of his new plants." You say with a teasing tone. 

"Yah!" He complains with a pout that is nothing but laughable. 

"Hey Y/N." Jeno approaches with a smile and joins your conversation. “Is this man bothering you?”   

“Not really, just making sure he doesn't die of alcohol poisoning on Saturday.” You try to keep your eyes on Jeno, avoiding the handsome boy who's also joined your little group. 

”I thought you were a nice one.” Jaemin whines like a little child while a frown adorns his face.   

“You’ve been fooled my friend,” Jeno comes to stand next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “She’s evil.”   

You're mid eye roll when Haechan’s voice cuts through. “Seems pretty harmless to me.” He’s standing next to Jaemin now. One hand in his pocket, the other holding the strap of his bag. You notice the two rings adorning his middle fingers. Such a pretty hand, you think, the veins prominent, running down his smooth arm, disappearing underneath an oversized check shirt he's wearing over a white t-shirt. You then notice he's got a pair of jorts on and you can't help but wonder who can even pull off jorts that effortlessly nowadays.   

Your attention drifts back up to his face, the most adorable boba eyes are twinkling as he looks at you and his captivating mouth offers you a cheeky smile. A small dimple appears, barely there for you to see and you think you're on the verge of throwing up. His lips move again and you watch him carefully like he’s moving in slow motion. "Hi." His hand leaving his pocket and raising in the air to offer you a quick wave. It's annoying how such a small and casual gesture makes your heartbeat faster and your cheeks feel warmer. You're pretty sure your eyes are giving you away, showing how affected you are behind the stoic expression you’re struggling to maintain. You never thought you'd be here, but you have Chenle to thank. Or maybe strangle. You haven't decided yet.   

"Hi." You return the smile as calmly as you can, foregoing the wave. You don't think your limbs are working properly right now and you're pretty sure your fingers are slightly shaking by your sides. And you’re now thankful for Jeno’s arm still draped around you, the weight grounding and necessary. You feel your phone vibrate a few times in your back pocket, assuming it's either Chenle or Ning checking if you're alive and that pulls you out of your trance. “Evil is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”   

”That’s funny, remember when you told me to go fuck myself and read a book whilst I’m at it?"   

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You shove his arm off you in fake annoyance. “Did I offend you?” You feign concern dramatically. “Remember when you asked me if I’ve got any friends who need, and I quote, an unforgettable dicking down session and then proceeded to say, and I quote again, ‘is Murakami the fella who wrote that book about some Norwegian guy’s dick?’” You get slightly irritated just at the memory. 

"Ahhh that explains it! This guy came back home a few months ago asking if anyone’s got a copy of Norwegian Wood." Jaemin looks at you as he explains, whilst pointing a mocking finger at Jeno. 

"Oh? You actually read it then?" You ask with a hopeful smile and Jeno offers you a shy nod. Maybe there's hope for him after all. 

“Read it? He actually cried when he got to the part where Naoko kills herself.” Haechan snorts at Jeno’s sour expression and reaches out to lightly pinch his cheek. He instantly gets shoved away. “Aw come on, I thought it was endearing.” Haechan turns to look at you now. “I was wondering who made him read that.” He holds your gaze while you hold your breath, and you wish someone could hold your heart as it’s about to beat out of your chest. “I love that book.” He admits with a smile, and you celebrate internally, because you knew he wasn’t just a pretty face, and you feel giddy knowing that you’ve both loved the same thing, even if it’s just a book. 

You picture him sitting in a pink cafe, wearing a cozy sweater, looking all warm and comfy while turning page after page. You find yourself wanting to ask if he’s read it more than once, like you have and what his thoughts are on the ending. But you don’t. Not yet. 

“Well maybe you two nerds should join a book club.” Jeno bitterly says.   

“I mean, I’d be down?” Haechan raises his eyebrows suggestively at you. Mothefucker.   

“I would, but unfortunately I have somewhere to be right now.” Your response causing his tongue to poke in his cheek, trying to fight off a smile. The gesture making him look incredibly handsome and boyish at the same time and if you were a cartoon character, pink heart eyes would be bulging out of your eye sockets. You force yourself to look away from Haechan's face, opting to divert your gaze between the other two boys instead. They're both carrying amused expressions, looking between you and Haechan and you feel like you’re missing something.   

“Ouch.” Jaemin says with a laugh, now mocking Haechan.   

“See?” Jeno looks at both of his friends, crossing his arms over his chest as if proving a point. “Told you she’s evil.” He smiles like he’s proud of you.   

And that’s your queue to escape. ”Right, well, as lovely as this has been, I actually have to go.”   

“Okay, busy queen.” Jaemin snaps his fingers and you can instantly picture him getting along with Chenle. “We’ll see you Saturday then.” He smiles sweetly.   

”You will indeed. Don’t be too late.” You say with a warning, pointing a finger between all three of them.  

”Yes, mam.” Jeno nods in agreement.   

You look at Haechan one last time. His expression contemplative, almost like he's torn between saying something else and keeping quiet. The way he's observing you makes you feel like he's already got you all figured out. Like there's no way he doesn't know you’re having trouble breathing, all because of him.

“See you Saturday.” He says in the sweetest tone, smiling at you like he's done it a million times before.  

You give him a small nod goodbye and when you start to walk away you try your best to do so at a normal speed, not wanting to give away the fact that you're practically running away.   

You hear Jaemin's loud voice again. “Bye Y/N!”   

”Bye Jaemin!” You respond, mimicking his cheerful tone without looking back.   

As you head towards the exit, you've already decided you're going to go with the option of strangling Chenle. Because there’s no way you’re surviving Saturday night without going clinically insane. Not if Haechan holds your gaze the way he did just a few moments ago. Not if he talks the way he talks and certainly not if he looks as good as he always does. 

You’re done for.   

_

You’re baffled as to how and why Chenle knows this many people. You assume majority are friend of friends and acquaintances, because you’ve known the boy for three years now and never has he mentioned more than five names. You’re also starting to get worried he might get a noise complaint from the people occupying the flat downstairs, but you assume he has already warned them about tonight.   

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud exclaim and you feel like laughing when you hear Chenle’s screechy voice shouting Mark’s name excitedly, announcing his drunkenness along with the older boy’s arrival.   

"Lover boy still not here?" Ningning teases you as you check the time on your phone for the umpteenth time that night. She takes a sip from her drink and looks over your shoulder. "Relax, it only 9pm." 

"I'm relaxed." You defend quickly. She takes in your stressed expression and pauses to think for a second. "What?"  

"Nothing, I just realised I haven't seen you so excited about a boy before. It's refreshing." She smiles while trapping the straw between her pearly whites. "Speak of the devil." She jerks her chin towards the direction of the door and you instantly know who she’s referring to, but you don't dare to turn around and look yet. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest and Ningning sets her drink down on the kitchen counter before taking hold of both your shoulders. "Y/N, we talked about this. There's literally no reason to freak out. If he flirts, flirt back. Let it happen naturally yeah?" Her tone serious, as if you're both on a mission. 

You widen your eyes comically to match hers, nodding your head quickly while trying not to laugh at her expression. It’s almost as though she’s more anxious than you are. "Ning, I'm good. I got it."  

"Just saying, he'd be a dimwit not to like you." One of her hands pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and the comforting act gives you the reassurance you didn’t know you needed. "Plus, this dress makes your tiddies look yummy." She smirks and you wack her hand away with a laugh when she reaches out to poke into the bit of cleavage that spills from the top of your dress. You can tell she's entered the realms of tipsiness, and you wish you were there with her too, but the tequila shot from earlier definitely didn't do its job. 

"Fuck me, didn’t think this many people would turn up." Jaemin's loud voice startles both of you, making you turn around and you're met with the three boys from your stats class. "Good thing we brought reinforcements, huh?" He says excitedly, shaking a Jack Daniels bottle.   

"Are you a middle aged man by any chance?" Ningning's face scrunched up in disgust as she inspects the whiskey bottle in Jaemin's hands. "What happened to just drinking plain old vodka at parties?"

"Ah, Jeno is your guy." Jaemin points his thumb behind him and Jeno raises the hand holding a vodka bottle.   

Jeno's face lights up when he spots the unused cups and heads over to start making drinks for him and Ningning. "Lemonade?" He asks, looking at her and she nods excitedly. "Same for you Y/N?" His eyes on you now.  

"Nah, I'm on gin tonight, thanks though." You smile appreciatively at him.  

"Guess I'm your guy then."   

Fuck.  

Your eyes instantly meet. He's already smiling down at you, and he looks so good. Too good for your respiratory system to function properly. His dark hair is messily styled, fringe almost covering his eyes. He's got a black button-down shirt on, top three buttons undone, collarbones on display and sleeves rolled up revealing his veiny forearms, all effortlessly combined with dark blue jeans and black converse. Pretty. Perfect.   

Without permission, his hand engulfs yours, wrapping around your drink, bringing the cup to his lips, your own hand slipping down as he downs the liquid in one big gulp. The cooling feeling of his rings lingers, and you can’t help but stare at his neck as he swallows and then his eyes are on you again, his tongue slightly darting out to lick his bottom lip where there's a drop of liquid. His eyebrows furrow and he nods in approval. 

"Lemonade it is." He casually says, like he didn’t almost just cause your heart to fail. He takes your now empty cup with him, joining Jeno at the counter.   

"Well then," Jaemin feigns disappointment, eyebrows furrowing dramatically. "I guess I'm having this whole whiskey bottle to myself."  

"I'm sure Chenle would help you out." Ningning half jokes. "Good luck finding him though." 

"Yeah, what the hell, this place is so crowded." Jeno returns with two drinks and hands one of them to Ningning. "It might be a bit strong, sorry." He warns her.   

Her face grimaces slightly when she takes a reluctant sip, proving Jeno right, making you both laugh. "Eh, it'll do." She says carelessly, "I've had a stressful week."  

"Here to help." Jeno raises his cup, and they do a quick cheers. They start conversing comfortably about why her week was stressful and you're pretty sure they've never met before but that's Ningning. Top yapper, never awkward.   

"Yours might be a bit on the strong side too." Haechan says apologetically as he stands in front of you, handing you back your now full cup. You smile at the sparkly straw he's added. Cute. "Try it."  

And you do. It feels too intense, almost intimate, drinking while holding eye contact with someone, let alone this fine man, so you don't. But you feel his eyes on you as you take a sip. And you really do hope the drink is strong, because if you're going to survive tonight, alcohol will be your savior. He's looking at you, carefully taking in your expression as you taste the drink, almost as if he's sat on the edge of his seat waiting for your reaction.   

"It's good. Thank you." You smile appreciatively as you welcome the slight burn in the back of your throat and he mirrors you excitedly. 

"Good." He nods with a satisfied expression. Then he lets his eyes wander downwards. He takes in your dress in a not-so-subtle way, and you could swear he’s checking you out. You watch his eyes move on you and you love how he's still holding his cup close to his lips, touching the bottom one. You fight against the urge to reach out and drag it down with your thumb. Would he mind if you did that? You reach behind you instead, resting one hand against the counter to somewhat ground yourself, and the action seems to bring him back to reality. Is he always this obvious? 

"Did you also have a stressful week?" He asks casually, like he wasn't just staring at your boobs a second ago. His eyes on yours now.  

"Huh?"  

"Your friend said she's had a stressful week," He explains, chuckling at your confusion. "Was just asking if it was the same for you."  

"Oh right. Umm, I dunno." You shrug. "A little, I guess." 

"How come?" His head tilts to the side slightly.  

"It's always fine until Thursday to be honest." Your admission holds a double meaning and he seems to catch on as the sides of his lips slightly lift amusedly.   

"Really? I thought Thursday was our day, no?" He playfully pouts and you’re trying your best not to let his smooth words affect you. Our day? What a little shit. You notice the silver chain around his neck and you can't help but feel a tinge of shame at the inappropriate thoughts that flood your mind. 

"Just not a big fan of stats." You make up an excuse with a slight delay, hoping that he can't tell you're practically ogling him. 

He nods understandingly. "You and me both. I've been seriously thinking about dropping it next semester."  

"What would you choose instead?" You ask curiously, trying to cover the frown that takes over your face at the thought of not sharing any classes with him. 

"Why, you interested in joining me?" Is he flirting or have you already gone insane?   

"Depends." You shrug, twirling the sparkly straw, eyes not leaving his. 

"I think I'd go for creative writing." He studies your face for a reaction.   

“Oh?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “So you really did mean it when you said you wanted to join a book club.” You tease with newfound confidence and he lets out an airy chuckle. 

“That offer's gone now, you turned me down.” He says with a smirk.   

"I'm sure I could convince you to reconsider." You say with a suggestive tone, catching him off guard and before he can retort with a witty response, you return to your initial subject. “So, you wanna be a writer or...?”  

"Well, no, not exactly.” His voice is hesitant, eyes lowering to look at his drink, almost as if he’s embarrassed. Does he think you’ll judge him? You suddenly get the feeling that you might have overstepped.   

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to-”  

“No, no, you’re good.” His words are rushed, his head shaking quickly, hand reaching to touch your arm reassuringly. It’s light, quick, barely there but his fingers feel hot against your skin. Before you have time to react, he continues. “I just- I don’t really go around talking about personal goals and what not, don’t want you to think I’m flaunting.”  

“Why would I think you’re flaunting?” Your perplexed tone causing him to smile. 

“I wanna make music.” Eyes carefully watch you as he waits for a reaction. When you just nod for him to continue, he almost looks surprised but quickly recovers, clearing his throat. ”So, I thought creative writing would help.”  

"So, you wanna write songs." You state as if to make sure that you heard him correctly and he nods, still watching your face. "Or have you already?" You ask carefully and he chuckles at your attempt to keep your nosiness to a minimum but failing.   

He moves to stand next to you, leaning against the counter. You feel like you can breathe again, now that his eyes aren't on you, but his arm brushes against your shoulder and you almost shiver when you feel the warmth radiating off him. You get a whiff of his scent, subtly inhaling, cologne and detergent mixing into an intoxicating potion that clouds your senses. He's too close but you somehow want him closer. You suddenly wonder where Chenle is and instantly feel bad for threatening to cut his air circulation. This is good. This feels good.   

He looks down at his drink, in thought. "I play the piano, so creating a melody is relatively simple if I really put my mind to it." Oh? He looks at you again and you feel scrutinised under his gaze. Suddenly, your shoes are very interesting to look at. "It's just the words I struggle with." He admits.   

"Maybe you need to find some sort of inspiration?" You suggest.  

"Maybe." He puts his drink down and leans against the counter, crossing his hands on his chest. "Got anything in mind? 

"I mean, it could be a person." You say nonchalantly, without really thinking. "Unless you’ve already got that covered?" The bold question comes out before your brain can process the thought and you internally scream.   

He smiles wide now. Pearly whites on display. His eyes back on yours. "I thought you didn’t mean to pry." He teases and laughs when your eyes widen. “I’m joking.” He elbows your side softly and you almost gasp as the touch. Why does he keep touching you?   

“I tend to get nosy after a couple of drinks, sorry.” You huff a quick laugh before taking another sip of your drink, trying to distract yourself.  

“You can be nosy, I don’t mind.” He says in a more serious tone now and you feel his gaze on you. Choosing to keep your eyes on your drink seems like a wise choice, watching as you swirl the liquid in your cup. "To answer your question though, I currently have no clue what or who I'd write about." He responds indirectly, but the implication is clear. He reaches for his drink again in thought. "Maybe ask me in a year's time? Hopefully I’ve found a source of inspiration by then."   

“That’s fair.” You pick up your phone from the counter and after unlocking it you click on your calendar app. You scroll until you find next year’s October and select today's date. He looks over your shoulder and laughs when he reads 'Ask Haechan about his songwriting' as the reminder's title. You show him your screen and smile when you see the approval on his face.   

"Yeah, that works." He nods.  

You look around and notice that all your friends are now gone. "We should probably mingle." You suggest.   

"Right, yeah." He agrees with a nod, looking around just like you did a second ago. 

When you spot Ningning in the crowd, she's laughing with Jeno and Jaemin. Their attention on Chenle and the girl who's got her tongue down his throat. You and Haechan find the situation just as comical.   

The rest of the night flows smoothly. You get to meet a few more people as well as the other two boys Haechan, Jeno and Jaemin live with and you wonder how all these insanely attractive boys came to be friends. Renjun and Jisung are both equally as lovely. You find Renjun’s mother figure hilarious and Jisung’s shyness endearing. You don't fail to notice that Haechan always hovers close. Not necessarily standing or sitting next to you, but always close enough that you can see him from your peripheral and you can't help but wonder if it's intentional or just a coincidence. 

You’re mid conversation with Mark when you feel a hand on your lower back. You easily recognise the now familiar scent of his cologne, and you instantly turn your head and look at him. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol deceiving you, but he looks even more irresistible than he did before. His hair slightly stuck to his forehead from the heat surrounding the crowded living room, cheeks and lips a deeper shade of pink now that he’s had his fair share of alcohol. You wonder if his lips taste the same as yours since you’ve been having the same drink all night.

“Shots?” Haechan shouts over the music and you and Mark follow him into the kitchen, where Jaemin and Jeno are preparing tequila shots and you wonder who assigned these two clowns with bartender duties. Chenle is now gulping down a glass of water and you’re thankful to whoever made that decision for him. 

As soon as you’ve downed your shot, you take a sip of your drink as a chaser to minimise the burning sensation in your esophagus. “Wanna go get some air?” Haechan leans in and you almost shiver as his warm breath fans against your naked shoulder and you internally thank Ningning for prompting you to wear a strapless dress.   

You respond with a quick nod and he smiles. “I got you.” He mumbles as he takes hold of your hand and leads you to the big balcony doors. On the way, he grabs a hoodie you assume he dumped earlier on the couch and the second you’re outside and he shuts the door, you feel the ringing in your ears. You’re thankful for the fresh air infiltrating your lungs and brain, feeling a little less intoxicated now. “Maybe that shot was a bad call,” Haechan laughs quietly at your dazed expression. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.” He teases.  

“Yah!” You elbow him, your voice louder than you intended it to be and he giggles softly, clearly also affected by the drinks he’s had all night. “I’ve had the same amount as you.” You pout drunkenly.   

“I’m just teasing.” His smile soft now.   

“Yeah, you seem to keep doing that.” You say with a complaint in your tone, eyes narrowing.   

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep getting all flustered every single time.” His words take you aback; a surprised laugh escaping your throat at his boldness.   

Before you have time to speak, he notices your arms coming up to conceal a shiver and without a word, he’s closer than he’s ever been before. His arms circle around you, hands hovering just above your shoulders as he holds up the hoodie, waiting for you to slot your arms through the sleeves. You look up at him before you obey, his intense stare not giving much room for any objection.   

Once it’s on you, his hands come to your front to fix the neckline that connects to the hood and when you think he’s about to zip you up, he reaches behind you again, playfully dragging the hood up, over your head, covering most of your face with the thick fabric and you whine loudly, causing him to laugh. You push the hood back down, with a frown.

“Aww, cute.” He coos as he gently tames the mess he created on your head, fingers untangling and smoothing down the strands and he smiles endearingly when he’s happy with his work. "There you go, all done." 

“Thanks.” You say in a bashful tone.   

“For keeping you warm or calling you cute?” He asks with a smirk and you can’t help but scoff, feigning annoyance as you swat away the hand still playing with a strand of your hair.   

Desperately needing to escape his daring eyes, you walk past him and towards the railing as you take in the view of the twinkling city lights and you withhold a smile when you feel him follow after you.  

You feel his stare on you as he leans against the railing, taking a vape out of his pocket. He takes a puff and exhales the smoke through his nose, as he takes in the view himself, before turning to meet your eyes again. The action shouldn’t feel this intimate and it definitely shouldn’t make him look even more attractive than he already is. 

You instinctively reach out and fix the chain that’s somewhat tangled around his neck. He doesn’t flinch, just moves his head to the side to make room for your hand and the sides of his lips twitch, fighting a grin. “What flavour is it?” You drop your hand from his collar and step a little closer to take a look at the fruit-flavoured stick in his hand.   

“Cherry ice.” He holds it out for you. “Wanna try it?”   

When you do, you can't help but scrunch your nose at the sugary taste. “Hmm.” Your uncertainty obvious as you exhale the smoke. “It’s too sweet.” You cringe at the aftertaste, your funny expression making him laugh. And you feel your heartbeat fastening at the sound. Because you're right. It's too sweet. 

“I like sweet things.” He says in a hushed voice, as if he's letting you in on a secret. The dual meaning of his words causes a blush to creep up from your neck to your cheeks. You can tell he notices, but this time he holds back on teasing you and turns to look at the view again, taking another puff.  

You gawk at how handsome he looks from this angle. His long lashes, the slope of his perfect nose, his incredibly kissable heart-shaped lips, his sharp jawline, his neck. Pretty. Everything about him. 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” You mutter in a daze. He looks at you again and you don’t look away this time. His brown eyes sparkle, reflecting the city lights below. You realise that you’ve never actually been around him in a setting like this. It’s always been daytime with him. Always crowded. Always surrounded by noise that you had to block out. But now it’s all new.   

Nighttime. Just you two. Quiet.   

“That dress looks good on you, I like it.” His eyes trail down your form again, a lot quicker this time, but still noticeable and at this point you're convinced he's not even trying to hide it. 

Your face feels warmer than before as you look down at your dress, your hand instinctively smoothing down the material. You can see the smoke he exhales from your peripheral and then you choose your words boldly again. “I know you do.”   

“Really?” He steps closer and his hand comes up, thumb delicately tracing the tiny bow at the centre of your cleavage. “What gave me away?” Your heartbeat increases when his fingers trail upwards, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and settling on the base of your neck, his thumb on your jaw, giving you no option but to look up at him.   

“You’re just-” You pause to inhale sharply when you realise how close he is. Your noses almost bumping into each other. You tip your head back slightly, to look at him properly.  

“I’m what?” He urges you to go on.  

“Not very subtle.” You finally finish your sentence.   

“Y/N-” He says with a breathy laugh and you don’t think you’ve ever liked the sound of your name so much before. The tip of his nose rubs against your own just once and the sweetest smile takes over his features. You feel yourself leaning into him even more. His thumb still caressing your jaw and you know he wants to kiss you, but you wait. You let him take the lead. Because you need him to. “I don’t think I ever intended to be subtle with you.”   

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and you so desperately want them on yours now, you think you might cave and close the gap yourself. One of your hands travels up and your pointer finger curls around his chain, pulling just a tiny bit.  And the second he closes the gap you think you’re going through an out-of-body experience. His lips feel soft, and you can instantly tell he’s a good kisser.   

His mouth slots perfectly against yours, slow at first. But he doesn’t waste time when your lips eagerly part against his. He licks at your bottom lip teasingly before briefly sucking, tongue easily finding its way in and the second it glides against your own, hot and wet, you moan. Both your hands find their way in his hair, slightly pulling, and you feel him sigh against your mouth. The hand on your jaw drags slowly to the back of your neck and into your hair, tilting your head to get the angle he wants. It's filthy, the perfect amount of sloppy and careful. A thousand times better than what you’ve imagined. He sucks on your tongue, forcing another moan out of you.   

You try to pull away for a second to catch your breath but the hand in your hair silently instructs you to stay put. “Mmh-mm.” He protests with a whine and the vibration against your mouth feels delicious. Arousing. And you feel pathetic at how wet you already are just from kissing him. He licks into your mouth one more time before pulling back, allowing you to catch your breath, a string of saliva still connecting your lips as you both breathe heavily and your fingers tighten around the collar of his shirt in desperation.   

“Fuck.” He exhales against your lips, sounding beautifully wrecked, chest moving up and down rapidly against your own and your erect nipples feel so sensitive rubbing on his shirt. Even with your eyes still closed, you can sense him looking at you, making you feel exposed and incredibly turned on at the same time.    

You fully come back to your senses when he starts walking you backwards until you’re eventually backed up against the wall next to the balcony door, suddenly reminding you of your surroundings. You don’t have much time to think before his lips are on yours again and you immediately turn into mush in his arms, mouth pliantly giving him access. The only things audible are your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of your lips smacking. The faint music coming from inside, barely noticeable now.

Haechan wraps a hand around your throat, gentle but possessive and you love the weight of it on your sweaty skin, just resting there with intend. His other hand grabs the side of your thigh, raising your leg to rest on his hip. And that’s when you feel the hardness, grinding slowly against your tummy, testing the waters, and you can’t help but gasp in response. 

His mouth leaves yours, trailing gentle kisses down your jaw and the side of your neck, leaving wet patches of your combined spit on your skin, and when he reaches the dip of your collarbone, he bites gently, soothing the skin with his tongue afterwards. You can’t help but clench around nothing.   

He angles your head to the side, giving himself more space to suck and lick where he pleases as his other hand trails from your thigh to the curve of your ass, squeezing the flesh and bunching up your dress in the process. You whimper at the feeling of his rough hand, your eyes rolling back when he grinds into your front again, with more urgency this time.  

"Fuck." You whisper breathlessly, feeling lightheaded.   

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your sensitive skin, and you cup his face in your hands, guiding him to look at you again. “What do you want?” He gives you a sweet peck and you instantly melt, your insides turning into mush as you hold him there, kissing him deeply again, squishing his cheeks between your hands and he smiles into the kiss, biting your bottom lip playfully, letting lets it snap back into place, making you whine softly. “Talk to me baby.” It’s barely audible, and he says it with ease, like he’s been calling you that for a long time and your eyes almost roll back at the pet name. A few hours ago, you were high on nerves because of him and now you’re just high on him, touching you and kissing you and calling you ‘baby’, like he owns you.   

Your thumbs caress his cheekbones before you trail your hands back up into his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp and he closes his eyes, humming in satisfaction. “Want you,” You murmur and kiss the side of his mouth as you drag a hand down his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze, before sneaking down to his hand that’s casually resting on your ass like it belongs there. You interlock your fingers with his, bringing both your hands between your bodies, guiding him under the front of your short dress, pressing his fingers against the seat of your lacy underwear. “Here.” You whisper against his lips and he inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring and you almost laugh at his reaction. Your leg wraps securely around him urging him closer by pushing the calf into his ass.   

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers and his eyes are on his hand as his fingers now start rubbing slowly against your sensitive clit, the delicate lace somewhat helping with the much-needed friction, but you desperately want to feel his skin on yours with no barrier.   

You kiss him again and he pliantly parts his lips for your tongue to invade, allowing you to taste the remnants of cherry ice. Your wet muscle glides against his slowly, and you moan when he pushes the flimsy material of your panties aside, like he’s read your mind. The moan turns into a whine when his middle and ring fingers make direct contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles around the nub with precision, like he knows exactly what you like and you kiss him harder trying to distract yourself from the sensitivity, because there’s no way you’re cumming just from a few touches like a horny teenager.

You both moan in the kiss the moment his fingers dip lower and drag through your wet slit and he doesn’t waste a second, rubbing up and down slowly, spreading the wetness messily.   

“You're soaked, fuck.” he mumbles in awe and you bask in the feeling of him finally knowing how much you want him; how much you need him to do something about it. “Messy baby.” His filthy words cloud your brain as your head lulls back against the wall to watch his face. He looks so pretty, his bottom lip trapped in his mouth, his glazed eyes focused on his hand still working between your legs. 

He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up at you and watches your reaction with a satisfied expression as the tip of his middle finger catches at your entrance before coming back up to your clit, spreading more of your wetness. He smirks when your jaw drops and your eyes roll back as he starts rubbing the bundle of nerves in firm and quick side-to-side motions with three of his fingers. 

"You're so pretty." He mutters against your lips and your stomach flutters at the words, along with your pussy.

“Fuck.” You whine when you feel him delicately suckle on your bottom lip, his tongue playfully dipping out to lick before he starts kissing down to your neck again and your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him close, tugging at the fabric of his shirt in desperation. “So good.” You breathe into the night air, relishing in the intense pleasure the pads of his digits are giving you, flicking with just the right amount of pressure, exactly how yours would.   

“Wanna make you cum.” He breathes heavily into your neck, dragging his lips up until he gently bites your earlobe. His fingers move faster now, abusing your poor clit, circling and massaging harder, and you feel a bead of sweat rolling down the back of your bent knee.   

“Yeah, want it.” You nod eagerly, your hips jolting forward and he inhales sharply.   

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes on you now. “Think you can take it?” His fingers now slowing down, teasing.  

“Uh-huh.” You manage to get out in urgency as his fingers dip down again. “Please.” You stare into his eyes, and you feel yours starting to water when his middle and ring fingers slowly slide into you with ease. Your jaw drops, the stretch delicious and so needed, so welcome. Your vision blurs when he slowly starts pumping them in and out, testing the waters first and your eyes roll back in relief. A squeal escapes you when he curls his fingers just the right amount and starts fucking in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace, like he’s on a mission.   

“Oh fuck!” You exclaim in shock, your hand flying to his bicep as you look down at his hand, the veins protruding on his tan arm, the sight so sinful you have to close your eyes again. The heel of his palm rubbing against your clit each time he fucks into you, creates a deliciously warm vibration. The sounds are obscene, your wetness making every thrust loud. 

Another pornographic moan breaks out of you when his pace gets a little rougher and Haechan has to shut you up with a hand on your mouth. Your shaky fingers are clawing at his chest, over his shirt, and he lets out a low grunt against the hand he’s got pressed on your mouth, his forehead resting on yours and his eyes closing when you clench around his fingers. Your legs start shaking from the intense pleasure and he opts to wrapping his arm securely around your waist in order to help you maintain your compromised balance. He doesn’t hesitate to replace his hand with his lips, silencing you with a wet, tongue-filled kiss, swallowing all your noises. You’re not really kissing him back, your lips parted against his at a pathetic attempt of reciprocating, just panting and whining, completely lost in pleasure. 

“I’m so close.” You whisper and you feel like you’re on the verge of crying.   

“I’ve got you, baby, c'mon.” He murmurs into the messy kiss breathlessly, saliva coating both your chins and you love every second of it. The pads of his fingers now abusing the spongy spot at the front of your walls at an intense speed, hitting it just perfectly and you think you might pass out. Your walls flutter around his fingers, sucking him in and you're sure he can tell you're right there. Slick is dripping down his wrist, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. “Fuck yeah, there it is.”  

“Haechan, I'm-“ Your eyes slightly widen, and you can’t even finish your sentence as you stumble over the edge. “Oh my god.” Your voice strained, your lungs struggling to keep up. The heat from where his fingers are burying repeatedly, starts spreading and your stomach clenches. Your walls clamp down on his hand, kneading his fingers and for a second, his eyes close, seeming to enjoy the constricting feeling. Your own eyes roll back at the pleasure, eyebrows creased, jaw dropping in a silent moan, breaths coming out quick and you're sure he can feel your leg shaking uncontrollably against his hip.   

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His words make you smile in your daze, and you bite on your bottom lip knowing he finds pleasure in your own. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, letting you ride out your high for as long as possible and when your eyes open, you see him watching your face in awe, and ironically, you feel shy.

His fingers slow down when you whine from overstimulation, until he completely halts and buries them inside to enjoy the feeling of your sensitive walls for a little longer. He kisses your cheek sweetly as he carefully pulls out of you, his fingers bumping lightly against your clit, causing you to flinch. He buries his face in your neck to conceal his laugh, hot breath fanning against your damp skin as he scatters little kisses.

You sigh and relax contently when his warm hand cups your soaked centre and he keeps it there in a comforting manner.   

"Good?” He whispers, nose delicately rubbing against your flushed skin and you almost don’t hear him due to the ringing in your ears still lingering after the intense high.  

"Yeah." Your forehead is sweaty; you feel baby hairs sticking to the damp skin and you lazily smile at how fast his heart is beating against your palm. Your eyes are staring dreamily at his face and you rub your nose against his, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek affectionately. Your thumb drags across his bottom lip and he bites on it playfully, his nose scrunching cutely, making you swoon. It scares you how comfortable you already feel around him.   

Your leg drops from his hip, and you wince at the soreness. His hand now trapped between your legs, still cupping your heat. An idea pops into your head, making you smirk and he watches your expression with an inquisitive look, eyebrows raising slightly in question. 

"What?" He asks, eyes innocent, seemingly lost. 

You firmly wrap a hand around his wrist, trying not to whimper when you feel his fingers drag against your sensitive clit and your hold tightens. He lets you lift his hand between both your faces, his eyes inspecting the strings of wetness stretching between his long digits. Without warning you lean forward, wrapping your swollen lips around the two fingers that were inside you just a few minutes ago and Haechan whimpers at the sinful gesture. It’s erotic, filthy and you don’t even know what took over you but you certainly relish in his reaction. Your eyes watching him carefully, his pupils dilated as he watches you hungrily, cheeks flushed, swollen lips parted prettily.   

“Shit, baby.” His voice on the whiny side now, and you feel his other hand tightening on your hip. He’s very clearly turned on and you almost feel bad for torturing him, considering he’s done nothing but please you. He pushes his fingers deeper inside your mouth wanting you to taste yourself and you swirl your tongue around them, harshly sucking, making a mess on purpose. You let a satisfied hum around his digits, closing your eyes as you pull them out with a wet pop.   

“You’re being unfair now.” He grunts and grabs the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss. Teeth clashing and tongues tangling messily as he licks into your mouth obscenely, moaning at the taste of you. You let out a surprised yelp when his fingers find your oversensitive cunt again and he dips them between your puffy lips, rubbing them up and down, like he did before, unforgivingly ignoring your protesting sounds. “Still so wet.” He mutters into the kiss and you whine pathetically.   

“Mmf-, too much.” You force the words out against his mouth and grab his wrist in urgency this time. He laughs meanly but obliges anyway. He brings his soaked fingers up to his own lips this time and you can’t seem to be able to break eye contact as he slowly sucks on them, making a spectacle, the act much more intimate when he’s the one doing it.   

Once he’s done, he drops his hand on your waist, wiping the wetness on the material of his hoodie and kisses you again, this time slow, languidly, wanting to savour your taste and he moans when your hands start unbuckling his belt. “Can I make you cum?” You murmur into the kiss and he’s contemplating but just as he's about to kiss you again, the moment is ruined by a wandering Jaemin, who rolls the doors open and lets out a shocked sound when he steps out.   

“Oh shit, sorry.” His eyes widen when he realises it’s you and Haechan he’s walked in on and not a couple of strangers. “Oh shit.” He says again, with more emphasis this time and you bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. His arm around your waist tightens in reassurance, sensing your unease and you smile against his neck in silent gratitude. “Yo!” Jaemin says loudly and points an accusatory finger at both of you. "What the fuck? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”   

“Jaem, read the fucking room.” Haechan’s tone is slightly harsh but his touch feels delicate where his hand strokes gently on your waist. “Go back inside, we’ll join you in a bit.”   

Jaemin grins mischievously. “Well, most people have gone home now, I just came out to have a smoke, but I’ll leave you to it.” He moves to head back inside but before shutting the big glass door he pokes his head out again. “Oh, just fyi, Chenle is passed out on the sofa and Mark is still in there somewhere, just in case you’re planning on fucking out here.” His expression then changes, eyes narrowing as he inspects both of you from head to toe, a look of realisation taking over his face. 

“Unless you already have?” He poses quizzically. 

“You’ll go back inside now, unless you want Jeno finding out about last-“   

”Kay bye!” Jaemin quickly shuts the door, fleeing the scene before Haechan can finish his sentence.  

“Sorry about him.” Haechan mutters, burying his face into your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “Half his brain cells appear to be dead.” You snort at his jokey comment but you can sense the irritation in his voice. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching on the back of his neck and smile to yourself when you feel him shiver against you, his cheek resting on your shoulder.   

He lifts his head, looking down your figure as his hands slide down your hips and onto the tops of your thighs, dipping under the hem of your dress and before you can protest, he slips your underwear back into place. His knuckles drag against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and your breath hitches when you feel him tap his fingers against your core lightly. He laughs when you slap his hand away and you narrow your eyes at him scoldingly. You relax when he smooths over the fabric of your dress to make it look less wrinkled and you find yourself fighting a smile at the sweet gesture. It feels domestic almost. 

“Thanks.” You say softly, eyes locking with his. He smiles and leans down to quickly peck you on the lips. His hands caress your sides one last time and then they slide up, squeezing your tits softly in the process, the pads of his fingers lightly dipping into the flesh that spills over the top of your tight dress.  

”Pretty.” He mumbles almost to himself and if you were under the impression he was an ass man, now you're thinking you might have been wrong. He continues his journey upwards, taming your messy hair, gently combing stray strands behind your ears. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”   

When you step back inside, you both quietly laugh at the sight of poor Chenle sprawled face first on his new sofa and you’re pretty sure he’s drooling on it. Haechan heads into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water, which he places on the coffee table next to Chenle’s unmoving body. He then maneuvers him carefully, turning him on his side so he doesn’t choke to death in his sleep with his face buried in the cushions. You smile at the thoughtful gesture, and you move to grab your bag from the coffee table to distract yourself from the fluttering in your stomach.   

“’Will he be okay on his own?” A tinge of concern in his eyes.   

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He always passes out like this when he gets too drunk.” You lean down and leave a small kiss on Chenle’s temple, brushing the hair away from his forehead. “I’d say he looks angelic but he’s actually the devil incarnate.” You whisper, observing Chenle’s cute face, and you can confirm he’s actually drooling on his sofa. 

_

The walk back to your place is mostly quiet but comfortable. Haechan swings your interlocked hands distractedly as you’re both walking at a slow pace, trying to prolong the night for as long as possible. 

“What’s Jaemin’s dirty laundry then? You threatened him you’d tell Jeno earlier.” You break the silence and he chuckles at your question. 

“He had sex in Jeno’s bed last year.” He chuckles as he spills the secret and looks at you, gauging your reaction. 

“Sounds like someone needs to teach that boy a lesson.” You say, and before you can stop the words tumbling out of your mouth, “Maybe we should fuck in his bed.” Your eyes widen at your own words and Haechan’s head snaps up to look you, mirroring your shocked expression. And then he laughs loudly. A kind of laugh you’ve never heard from him. His hand rests on his abdomen as if his stomach is in pain.   

“Alright it’s not that funny.” You pout in embarrassment. “In my head it sounded kind of sexy.”   

His laugh gradually dies down until there’s just amusement written on his face. “I mean, we can do that if you actually want to, but I have other priorities.”   

“Meaning?” 

“Well..” He trails in thought. “Ideally, I'd like to take you out first,” You feel like exploding but you maintain a stoic expression, gesturing him to continue. “And I'd rather fuck you in my own bed before moving on to Jaemin’s or anyone else’s.”   

Your breath catches at his forwardness and you’re suddenly struggling to find the right words. “Umm,” you think carefully. “What about my bed?” You ask innocently.   

"Don't worry, it's up there." His smirk makes you feel weak and you feel him squeeze your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it.   

“You sound awfully confident.” You say calmly, fighting a smile.  

He pulls you closer by your hand. “What, you think I’m playing?” He almost sounds offended.   

“I dunno, don’t really know much about you.” You shrug. 

“Do you want to?” He asks and for the first time he sounds nervous.   

You squeeze his hand the same way he did with yours, hoping to reassure him. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I do.” You halt your movements when you reach your building and look up into his eyes. “A lot.” His fingers stay intertwined with yours lazily. A relieved smile takes over his expression, and you really feel like kissing him again. He looks shy all of a sudden and a giggle escapes your throat. “Cute.”   

He clicks his tongue to show annoyance, and you can see him poking the muscle against the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a smile when he looks away for a second. Then he steps closer, invading your space again. “You wanna give me your number? I don’t really use instagram.”   

“Okay, green flag.” You say playfully and he snorts. You hold your hand out for him to pass you his phone and when you’ve saved your contact, you text yourself a “hi” so you can save his number too.   

“Cool.” He says casually as he shoves his phone in his back pocket.   

“Cool.” You say back and step closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth one more time before parting ways. He smiles in understanding and pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around your waist to hold your body flush against his. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his chest. “I had fun tonight.” You murmur.  

He rests his chin at the top of your head. One of his hands sneaks up and holds the back of your neck gently while the other strokes the small of your back. “I did too.” His fingers bury in your hair, gently pulling to make you look at him but you don’t get the chance, because his lips are on yours instantly, dragging slowly, carefully. Both his hands cup your face as he licks your bottom lip for access, which you give without a second thought and his tongue sneaks in to play with yours, letting you taste him. Your body completely relaxes against his, enjoying the warm feeling of his chest against yours.  

You whine when he pulls back to look at you and he smiles when your lips trail after his. He gives in with a smile, chastely kissing you again. No tongue this time, but he playfully sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you love how safe you feel in his arms. He trails up, kissing the tip of your nose and back down again as he gives you another wet smooch before creating a tiny bit of distance between your lips while still maintaining the closeness between your bodies.  

You smile against his jaw as you slip your hand into his empty back pocket, lightly squeezing his ass cheek and he laughs at your playfulness.

“Okay, you better go now before I drag you upstairs with me.” You give him a little kiss on the cheek before slipping away from his warmth. You take off his hoodie and hand it back to him.   

"Mmm okay." He moves away reluctantly. “I’ll text you yeah?” He says with a cute smile.  

“I’ll try and text you back.” You tease and he rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering.   

“Night, Y/N.” He quietly says in the night air and you melt at the way your name rolls off his tongue.  

“Night, Haechan.” You give him a small wave goodbye and watch him walk away.   

_

The next morning, you're quietly munching on your cereal, lost in thought, reminiscing last night like it’s a distant memory, when you see a hungover Jeno messily stumbling out of Ningning's room, carrying his shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other. "Didn't care to take off your shoes at the door?" Your voice seems to startle him in the quiet of the morning.   

"Shit!" His reaction making you laugh. "Fuck, Y/N, you scared me."  

"Sorry." You're really not. "Are you pulling a French exit on my friend?" Your serious tone seems to intimidate him.  

"No, she's awake, just snoozing." He says quickly. "I swear." You try not to laugh at the nervousness written all over his face. "Nothing happened, we just cuddled."   

"Relax, I'm just fucking with you." You chuckle at his disheveled state. "Want some breakfast? I can offer three kinds of cereal." You point at your selection of boxes.  

His eyes widen eagerly at that. "Sure, thanks." He walks towards where you're sitting at the kitchen table, dropping his shoes on the floor and his jacket on the back of his chair, before taking a seat across from you. "I'll just have what you're having." He says with a sweet smile, eyes almost disappearing and you realise he sort of looks like a Samoyed puppy but refrain from making a comment. You’re not that close after all.  

You nod and get up to grab him a bowl. He's looking at his phone when he speaks up again. "So, you and Haechan?" You hold back a smile as you pass him a bowl with a spoon and the milk. He looks at you again and he explains when he sees your questioning stare. "Jaemin messaged the group chat."  

"Ah," You nod in understanding. "Of course."  

"So?" He asks expectantly, chewing loudly after he's poured the milk in his cheerios.   

"What, you can't wait until he tells you himself?" You ask sarcastically.  

"Girls' perspectives are always better." He pauses mid munch. "Plus, Haechan is the most private dude when it comes to stuff like that." For some reason that doesn't surprise you.   

"Good for him." You get up to wash your bowl after finishing. "Maybe you're just too nosy."   

"Oh c'mon, it's not that big of a deal, is it?" Your silence seems to intrigue him. "Or maybe it is?"  

You turn to look at him when you're done washing up, leaning next to the sink and you see he's already devoured the contents of his bowl. "Feel free to go for seconds." You say pointing at the box in front of him and his face lights up before he starts pouring more cereal.   

"Do you like him then?" He asks casually as he starts munching again and the question makes you falter. "Because, if you do," He swallows. "I can confirm it's reciprocated." Your eyebrows lift at his confession and Jeno smirks at your shocked expression. "Just spill, I won't tell him." And you trust his words, but you suddenly feel shy, thinking about your intimate moments with Haechan.   

"I'll tell you if you tell me about you and Ning." You like knowing boys' perspectives too.  

"Sounds fair." He nods with his mouth full.   

"You want the TMI or PG-13 version?" You appreciate he's still eating so you don't want to ruin his breakfast.

"TMI, always." He says casually.  

"He fingered me on Chenle's balcony and then said he wants to take me out." Jeno chokes at your confession.  

"Jesus woman!" He coughs lightly and clears his throat before continuing. "No tact whatsoever."  

You snort at his reaction. "You said 'TMI always' no?"  

"Was it good?" He asks in a quieter and more serious tone now. Like he's asking you to share one of your deepest secrets. And here you were thinking you weren’t that close. You can’t help but laugh because that sounds like what Ningning would have asked in a situation like this. Maybe they are a good match after all.   

"The fingering?" He nods at your question, eyes not leaving yours, having paused his eating, spoon still in hand hovering over his bowl. "I mean, I thought I was gonna pass out at some point so, yeah, pretty good."  

An eyebrow raised in fascination. "Damn, go Haechan." Then he asks carefully. "So, I take it you'd go out with him?"  

You shrug. "Maybe, but I don’t think I want a situationship or anything like that."  

"You're in luck, he's not into that shit either." 

"We'll see, he hasn't texted yet." You try to sound casual but you know Jeno can see right through you.   

"Don't worry, he will."   

"Who says I'm worried?" You huff a humorless laugh.   

He rolls his eyes and gets up to walk over to the sink, taking his bowl with him. "If he said he wants to take you out, he meant it. And trust me when I say, that boy has had enough of casual flings. He might be going about it a bit backwards, but he’s definitely interested." He states like it's a fact and you're thankful he's trying to reassure you even though he doesn't owe you anything.   

"How do you know it's reciprocated?" You ask carefully, referring to what Jeno said earlier and he smiles cheekily.   

"I thought you weren't worried." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down and you flick the back of his head. "Ow! Okay okay, jeez." He rubs the sore spot with the inside of his wrist to prevent his soapy fingers from touching his hair. He then proceeds to dry the clean bowl with the kitchen towel he spots on the counter and hands it to you with a sweet smile on his face.   

"Thanks, you didn't have to wash up." You say, putting the bowl back on its shelf. He waves his hand, gesturing that there's no need to thank him for something so small.  

"He said he thought you were ‘pretty cool’ after we hounded you on Thursday and for the first time in, like, forever, he was stressing about his outfit before a party."  

You give him a pointed look. "How’s that an indication of anything?"  

"Trust me, that's enough indication for Haechan. He's probably already planning your wedding as we speak." You roll your eyes at his exaggeration. "Y/N, he likes you. It was so obvious that both me and Jaem knew he was gonna make a move last night." He sits down again and starts putting his shoes on. "Obviously, I didn't think he was gonna finger you in a public space and what not but-"  

"To be fair, I initiated that." You interrupt him and he snorts.  

"I'm sure he didn't mind." Jeno jokes with a smirk, and you cover your face in embarrassment, earning a chuckle from him. He must be enjoying this because he proceeds to tease even more. "If anything, he probably found that incredibly hot." You groan at his words. "Seriously, there's nothing hotter than a woman who knows what she wants."   

You look at him through your fingers still covering your face, a teasing comment pops in your head. Two can certainly play this game.   

"That explains why you didn't sleep in your own bed last night." You notice the blush that creeps up on his cheeks and you can help but cross your arms over your chest proudly.  

"Yeah, something like that." He says sheepishly, his hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and you suddenly can't wait for your debrief with Ningning later. "Anyway, my point is, I think you should give him a chance." He finishes putting his shoes on, both feet on the floor now and he looks at you, his back leaning against the chair and his arms crossing over his chest. "He's a great guy." 

"Alright, enough about me, your turn now."   

_

Haechan likes to think he's a decent guy. He's got his life together; he's on top of his coursework, he gets decent grades, he's got good friends and he's got a part-time job at a record store that pays relatively well. At least well enough to cover his own personal expenses. His parents help him out with rent, but they do appreciate his efforts and he does his best to not feel like a burden. He's a good son and a good big brother to all three of his siblings. 

He's polite to old people and even helps them cross the street when he needs to, he loves his friends and always looks out for them, even if he gets grumpy sometimes, he never holds grudges and is upfront about things that bother him. He likes buying his loved ones presents and not just for special occasions. Not because he's a people pleaser, but because he just likes making them happy whenever he can. He tries not to lie except for the odd white lie here and there.

He doesn't fuck around or date aimlessly. At least not anymore. He went through a phase during his first year of uni but it's been two years since then and he's currently embracing single life. Yes, he sometimes does cave into the temptation of bringing a girl back after a party, but it's a rare occurrence and he's always honest about what he wants. He hates leading people on. It's not that he's afraid of commitment, he often finds himself wanting a girlfriend but he's not actively searching for one either.   

He knows he doesn't lack in the looks department, or in any other department really. Yeah, he's got his silly insecurities like everyone else but he's a confident guy overall. Although, he does admit that he can sometimes be cocky, that's because he knows he's the most mature out of his friends. Yes, Renjun mostly looks after everyone and has a motherly figure, but Haechan gives the best advice when it comes to most serious life dilemmas, and he's aware of that. He might not be the brightest when it comes to academics but he's confident when it comes to navigating life sensibly and responsibly. That's why he was completely and utterly flabbergasted when you came into the picture. His picture.   

He's always noticed you before, yes, and he's always thought you were good looking, but that's about it. He doesn't just go around hitting on every girl he finds attractive. He's more of a 'personality above all else' type of man, so when he first saw you, even though he thought to himself 'wow, pretty', he didn't think it would be appropriate to just come up to you and ask for your number. Plus, you seemed somewhat reserved from the few times you had exchanged words. Not that he didn't like that, because he did, he did find you intriguing, he would get to know you if the opportunity posed itself to him, but he also didn't feel like chasing after you would be something you'd like or even welcome. You didn't seem cold, just indifferent. And so, he kind of just opted to observing you from afar.

Sometimes you were alone, other times you were with a girl whose name he didn't know, others with a boy whose name he couldn't remember. He was sure they'd met before though, maybe at a party around campus or maybe through a friend? He couldn't quite place him. Other times you were with them both, laughing your heart out at whatever you three were talking about and he found himself wondering what makes you laugh that hard.   

He knew you always sat two rows behind him in his stats class every Thursday afternoon, his last class of that day. However, he rarely got to see you on Thursdays, even though you were both in the same room for an hour and a half. You always arrived after him and left before him, so, whenever he turned his head at the end of the lecture to look for you, you were already gone. The times he did get to see you, were the times he would turn up a little later than normal, which was exactly one minute before the professor started speaking. Even then, he wasn't really able to observe you for as long as he'd ideally like. He would just get to see the back of your head for a few seconds before reaching his usual seat. He sometimes would pretend to crack his back, just to turn around twice and look at your pretty face for a few seconds. Your attention was always on the notes in front of you though. One time he did catch you already staring at him. You looked away the second his eyes met yours, almost shy. He found it cute and thought to himself; 'maybe she's not that indifferent after all'.   

He knew you and Jeno were somewhat friendly because you shared a few classes and he was sure he'd caught you speaking with Jaemin a couple times in corridors. He wasn't jealous or anything, but he definitely wouldn't mind being on first name basis with you too. And it's not like he was obsessed with you. He didn't really think about you that much, but his intrigue definitely intensified when he got to speak to you properly for the first time at that party just before summer. He can’t clearly remember what you two exactly talked about, but he does remember not wanting to leave, he remembers thinking you looked unreal and he certainly remembers wishing he could relive that moment sober so he could memorise every word that came out of your mouth.   

Things have changed now though. Drastically and unexpectedly. Because just two days ago he got to speak to you again and his curiosity morphed into excitement.

You pleasantly surprised him. From the way you handled yourself around Jaemin's obnoxiously loud personality to the way you put Jeno in his place like no girl ever has before. You were witty and smart and sweet. Too sweet. And he knows that, because he's quite literally tasted you now. Just a few hours ago he had you pinned against the wall of your friend's new apartment. Just a few hours ago he had you gasping and writhing and pathetically whining his name, simply because his fingers were too much for you. And he loved every second of it.   

Haechan didn't really go to Chenle's party thinking he'd get some. He was just excited to get to know you and speak to you one on one. He went into the situation hoping he could maybe flirt with you and end up with your number in his contact list at the end of the night, which he did. And maybe he was hoping he could get to walk you home and get a kiss from you, which again, he did. But he didn't expect you'd reciprocate his flirting like you were prepared for it. He definitely didn't expect you'd ask him who and what he wants to write songs about and he definitely didn't expect you to kiss him back the way you did.

He's kissed many people before. He's had good kisses, bad ones, a few memorable ones and certainly a lot of forgettable ones. He's never kissed anyone the way he kissed you, though. And he's equally never had anyone kiss him the way you kissed him. Not even ex-girlfriends. Not that he's had many, but the two he's had don't even come close. And that scares him. Because if Haechan thought he wasn't obsessed with you before, he really doesn't know what to think now. But what he does know is that it’s incredibly unfair of you to make him feel and think this much, this soon.

It's still early, the sun barely out. He's maybe managed to get four hours of sleep before getting woken up by the sound of someone retching in the bathroom down the hall. Most likely Jaemin. He almost fell asleep again after that but the sound of a door slamming, completely ruined his slumber. So, now he's just staring at his ceiling, one arm supporting his head on the pillow and the other resting lazily on his naked stomach. He feels tired but he knows he won't be able to go back to sleep now. And that's fine, because he can at least think about you. He can think about your voice and your scent and he can think about how you touched him and how you let him touch you. He can think about how you tried to keep quiet in the midst of pleasure but miserably failed repeatedly. And he's definitely going to think about how good you felt around his fingers. Perfect. There are so many things he can think about when it comes to you and there's not a single bad one. Everything related to you is good.   

You said you wanted to get to know him 'a lot', and that was exactly what he wanted to hear, but he can't help but wonder when you started to feel this way. Not that it matters that much, because, regardless of the timeline, he's going to make it happen. He's going to take you out and he's going to get to know you. He's almost worried that he's going about this in the wrong order, because, ideally, he would have wanted to take you out before any kissing and sexual activities took place. Not because he's old fashioned or some kind of prude, but because he doesn't want you getting the wrong impression. He doesn't want you thinking he's only into you because of the sexual chemistry you share. Of course, he thinks physical intimacy is important, but he's always found that emotional intimacy beats all. And he wants to see if he can get to that level with you. He knows you're compatible sexually, he could tell last night you were on the same wavelength. There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty. 

He could tell you knew your body well, that you knew what you wanted and he liked that you weren't shy about it. And he'd be lying if he said that wasn't one of his favourite parts of the night; the moment you guided his hand where you wanted it. He found that so attractive that he actually thought about it when he got in his bed last night and finally managed to relieve the hardness in his boxers. He loved that you weren't shy about how much you wanted him to touch you. You were the perfect amount of vocal, and your body reacted to his words the way he hoped it would. So, yes, he is positive sexual chemistry isn’t something you two would struggle with, but he also doesn't want it to be the main thing that you connect on. He wants a lot more than that.   

Haechan is self-aware. He's a horny guy and he's not shy about it. He likes what he likes and there's not much he doesn't like when it comes to sex. He's very much open to exploring and what not, but he knows that he's always struggled connecting with people on an emotional level before. Especially people he's dated. He's had flings and he's had casual sexual partners. He's been in a couple of serious relationships, and he's been infatuated with his ex-girlfriends or ex flings, but he knows he’s never been in love with any of them. He remembers thinking he loved his first girlfriend, but he was only 16 back then and when he thinks back to that relationship, he barely sees it as a relationship. All they ever did was go on walks, watch movies, cuddle and make out. Eventually it just fizzled out. 

His second relationship was serious, but toxic. He remembers enjoying the push-and-pull situation initially but when it all became so unbearably exhausting, it put him off relationships for a long time. Now that he's had time to be alone and process his own feelings, he knows he's capable of commitment, but he wants it to be with the right person, and he wants it to be with someone who will accept him for who he is. Haechan knows that if he found the one now, he would commit. And he doesn't know if you're the one, but he wouldn't mind exploring if you would stick around for the long run.   

And so, later in the day, when he's lazily sprawled on the sofa, next to a hungover Jeno, who apparently saw you this morning and reassured him that you're definitely interested, Haechan decides to finally text you like he promised. When he opens your chat, he sees you've already texted yourself to save his number and added a little sunflower emoji next to your name and he smiles to himself. He wonders if you've added an emoji next to his name too and if so, which one?  

20:03 Hae☀️: hey pretty   

20:03 Hae☀️: have any free periods tomorrow?   

20:09 y/n🌻: hii :)  

20:09 y/n🌻: i do 

20:10 y/n🌻: I am free between 1pm-3pm   

20:11 Hae☀️: wanna grab a coffee with me? 

20:12 y/n🌻: i'd love to 

20:13 Hae☀️: woop! 

20:13 Hae☀️: where shall I meet you?  

20:18 y/n🌻: how about the café by the architecture building?  

20:21 Hae☀️: i know the one  

20:21 Hae☀️: i'll be there there at 1pm sharp  

20:22 Hae☀️: don't stand me up 👉🏻👈🏻  

20:24 y/n🌻: i would never 🥺  

20:25 Hae☀️: thought about you a lot today  

20:26 y/n🌻: really?  

20:26 y/n🌻: what did you think about?  

20:28 Hae☀️: yes really  

20:28 Hae☀️: just...things   

20:29 Hae☀️: can't say much more than that   

20:29 Hae☀️: did you not think about me? :( 

20:31 y/n🌻: nah   

20:31 y/n🌻: not really :(  

20:32 Hae☀️: 🙄  

20:32 Hae☀️: ur rude  

20:32 Hae☀️: and a liar    

20:34 y/n🌻: oops  

20:34 y/n🌻: why ask a question you already know the answer to?   

20:35 Hae☀️: smooth   

20:35 Hae☀️: i guess i needed some reassurance  

20:36 y/n🌻: Hae?  

20:36 Hae☀️: yea?  

20:37 y/n🌻: I thought about you  

20:37 y/n🌻: a lot   

20:37 y/n🌻: like an unhealthy amount  

20:38 Hae☀️: fuck   

20:38 Hae☀️: didn't think you'd actually say it  

20:40 y/n🌻: happy?  

20:40 y/n🌻: it appears I can't say no to you  

20:41 Hae☀️: very :)  

20:41 Hae☀️: it appears the feeling is mutual  

The rest of Haechan's evening consists of him pretending he's paying attention to the Netflix show Jeno picked out for them to watch after dinner, when the only thing he's actually interested in are the messages he's exchanging with you. You told him you're also chilling on your couch with Ningning, watching a crime documentary with a bowl of instant ramen.  

"Bruh, you're astronomically whipped." Jeno laughs to himself, the constant buzzing coming from  Haechan's phone making it obvious that he's been messaging you.   

"Yeah, so? Deal with it." Haechan doesn't even lift his head to look at Jeno, just keeps smiling distractedly at his screen.   

Jeno snorts. "At least you're not denying it." He turns his attention back to the show he's practically been watching on his own for the past hour. "I respect that."  

Haechan looks up at Jeno and shrugs. "I'm no fraud, Lee Jeno. You, of all people, should know that." And that earns him laugh with a nod of approval.   

“You asked her out yet?” The question casual. No teasing tone detected, just curiosity.   

"I'm seeing her tomorrow between classes." Haechan's attention back on your chat.   

“Like a coffee date?” Jeno asks cutely and Haechan just responds with a nod, his thumbs hovering over his keyboard as he looks up at Jeno, waiting for some sort of comment.  

“That's a good first date.” Jeno's words of approval offer Haechan a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. "Just good quality time, no pressure."  

“Yeah, that's what I was thinking.” Haechan's eyes are on the tv now, but he isn't really paying attention to the programme.  

Jeno sees right through him. "You nervous?"  

Haechan thinks about his response. Is he nervous? “More excited than nervous, I'd say.” Haechan looks up at him when he's met with silence. "What?" He asks confused when he notices his friend's amused expression.   

“Nothing, just trying to think when you turned into an absolute sap.” And he laughs loudly when Haechan hits him in the face with one of the cushions scattered on the sofa. “Relaaaaax you big baby, I'm just messing with you.” Jeno throws the cushion back at Haechan and he catches is with a grunt. “I actually think this is good. You haven't dated anyone half decent in a long time.”   

Haechan snorts, because Jeno's words hold nothing but the truth. “True.” He states with a purse of his lips.   

“If your first date is casual vibes, you should do something fancy for the second one.” Jeno says in a skeptical tone.  

“Since when are you a dating expert?”  

“Shut up, you've been dying to ask for advice and you know it.” He's right, but Haechan would never admit that. “It should also be on a Friday or Saturday so you don't have to worry about being hungover in class.” Jeno points a finger at Haechan. “Karaoke could be fun!”  

“Where are you taking Ningning?” Jeno's eyes widen at the question and Haechan chuckles triumphantly. "You ever gonna tell me about that or nah?"  

“Your new girlfriend can tell you all about it tomorrow.” Jeno crosses his arms over his chest after pulling the hood of his jumper over his head.   

“Yeah, we're gonna spend the entirety of our first date talking about your sexcapades.” Haechan responds sarcastically.   

“No sexcapades, she said she's not currently dating.” Jeno says quickly with a frown.   

“And that's a problem for you, because..?” Haechan gestures with his hand for Jeno to explain. “Is your ego hurt or something?”  

Jeno shrugs his shoulders like a toddler. “Just a bit disappointing, you know?”  

“Shit.” Haechan says with a tone of fascination. “So, you're into her then.”  

Jeno shrugs with a huff and Haechan almost feels bad.   

“Did you sleep with her or nah?”  

“Nah, just cuddled.” Jeno admits, voice laced with disappointment.   

“Jeno,” Haechan pinches the bridge of his nose to show exasperation. “You're an idiot.”  

“Wha- why?” Jeno's eyes widen at his friend's insult.   

“Are you being daft on purpose? She would've fucked you and chucked you out if she wasn't interested.” Haechan is putting the facts out on the table as if it's going to help Jeno realise what is happening, but to no avail. “She's clearly aware of your reputation.”   

Jeno perks up at that. "What about my reputation?" His eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.   

Haechan kisses his teeth. "You're a certified slut."  

“Yeah and? What am I meant to do?”  

“Well, if you want her, you're gonna have to work for it.” Haechan says like it's self-explanatory.  

"I don't chase." Jeno mumbles stubbornly.   

"No Ningning then." And Jeno scoffs at Haechan's patronising tone. "Sounds like you're in need of advice more than I am."  

_

You can't really wrap your head around the fact that you're currently walking to your favourite café in campus, only this time you're not meeting up with your two best friends, you’re meeting with Haechan instead. Fuck. You're meeting up with Haechan.  

You don't even know if you're supposed to call this a date. He said he wanted to hang out with you and that he can't wait to see you, but people say all sorts of things, and you don't want to get ahead of yourself. You wonder if he's nervous like you are, or if he sees this as a casual coffee break in between his routine. But then again, if it's just that, why ask you and not one of his friends? You told yourself this morning that you wouldn't overthink, but you're now realising that you're miserably failing. Ningning would not be proud.  

You check the time on your phone and that instant it buzzes in your hand. Your heart beats a little quicker.   

12:55 Hae☀️: what do you want?   

12:55 y/n🌻: in life or..?  

12:56 Hae☀️: lmao  

12:56 Hae☀️: to drink silly  

12:56 Hae☀️: we can talk about what you want in life when you get here  

12:57 y/n🌻: caramel iced latte pls and thank you :)  

12:57 y/n🌻: im 2 mins away btw  

12:57 Hae☀️: thought you didn't like sweet things   

12:58 Hae☀️: no rush, just ordering now  

12:58 y/n🌻: i like my coffee sweet  

12:58 y/n🌻: among other things  

12:59 Hae☀️: cheeky   

12:59 y/n🌻: im here   

13:00 y/n🌻: where you at?   

13:00 Hae☀️: you look cute   

13:00 Hae☀️: to your left   

And there he is, sitting at a table by the window, already looking at you, head tilted, eyes pretty, smile saccharine sweet. His phone is still in his hand, thumb hovering over the screen and you notice there's a new ring adorning the digit. His other hand raises and his fingers wiggle, playfully waving at you. You already feel flustered and you think that it should be illegal for a man to be this handsome.  

When you walk over, he stands up and casually lifts an arm for you to slot under. "Hey you." He says quietly and you smile. Your arms instinctively wrap around his middle, and your face buries in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent. It immediately brings you comfort, your overthinking long forgotten. You feel his arms squeezing around your figure and he playfully rocks you from side to side. You giggle and pull back slightly to look at him.   

“Hey you.” You repeat his words back at him and his smile is nothing short of mesmerising. His lovely doe eyes hold warmth and tiny stars that you feel could burn you if you stare into them for too long, so you decide to look at the table instead. You spot your iced latte, placed opposite what you assume is an iced americano. “Thanks for getting my coffee, you didn't have to.”   

“I wanted to.” He states plainly and unwraps his arms from you, allowing you to sit down before taking his own seat opposite you. It almost feels strange sitting with him like this, seeing him in this light. Not in a lecture hall and not at a party surrounded by your friends. Just the two of you, on a Monday, sitting at your favourite café, in the middle of the day. It’s real. It’s mundane. “Are you hungry? We can get something to eat if you want.” He speaks so fast, one would think he’s trying to cover up nerves.   

You smile at his attentiveness and shake your head. “I’m good for now, thanks.”   

“Okay.” He doesn’t press and you can’t help but think he looks so boyfriend coded. His big forest green jumper makes him look extra cuddly and you want to bury your face in his neck again. “Heard you bumped into Jeno yesterday.” He says, filling the silence before taking a sip of his coffee.   

“Yeah, I interrupted his walk of shame.” You chuckle at the memory. “He looked quite embarrassed, bless him.” You twirl your straw, staring at the condensation dripping down your cup. “Didn’t realise he was that nosy though.” You say with a grin and your eyes move to look at Haechan who’s mirroring you.   

His lips curl into a smirk. “Why, did he ask about-” He pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. “About Saturday night.” His eyebrow raises inquisitively.   

Your chin rests on your hand. “Mm-hm, apparently Jaemin messaged your group chat.”   

Haechan snorts and you assume he knows which message you’re referring to. “Yeah, if you found Jeno nosy, good luck tolerating Jaemin.”   

“I’m just hoping we didn’t scar him for life.”   

“I mean,” he shrugs, gently tapping his fingers on the table surface. “He didn’t actually see anything.” His tone suggestive, eyes watching you, trying to gauge a reaction. “Had he walked out a few minutes earlier-”   

“Shut up.” You warn and cover your eyes with both hands in embarrassment, smiling against your palms at the sound of his pretty laugh.  

“C’monnnn,” he reaches across the table and takes hold of your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face so he’s able to look at you properly, while holding your hands in his, in the most delicate way. You stubbornly look away, trying to hide the blush that has taken over your face. “Aww don't be embarrassed.” He coos and squeezes your wrists in his hands, his thumbs sneaking under your sweater paws, rubbing gently against your pulse points, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t tease anymore today, I promise.” He says in a playful tone but you still don’t look at him and maintain the pout on your face. A quick kiss on the inside of your wrist earns him your attention and then another on the opposite one makes you break your resolve completely, your eyes now on his. “Yay, there she is.”   

“You’re annoying.” You huff and he chuckles again.   

“And you’re still blushing.”   

You retract your hand from his hold and attempt to flick at his forehead, but he grasps it again before you’re able to. He interlocks his fingers with yours and gives you a toothy grin. His perfect teeth showing and his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “How do you expect me to not feel embarrassed when you act like-” You stop yourself from saying what's on your mind and he perks up at your hesitation, eyebrows raised.   

“Like what?” He asks, his voice laced with intrigue.  

“The way you do.” Your gaze moves to your connected hands, taking in the way his fingers look slotted between yours. Perfect. Like they belong there.   

“You don’t like the way I act?” His bottom lip jutting out in a fake pout, gently stroking the back of your thumb with his own.   

“No, I do but-” You observe how his palm opens against your own, fingers extending and yours instinctively mirror the action, elbows pressed on the table and your heart flutters at how big his hand looks compared to yours.   

“But?” He’s also looking at your hands now and slots his fingers between yours again, his grip tight, his palm warm and you worry he can feel how clammy yours is.   

“You’re just too forward.”   

“Is that a bad thing?” His tone more serious now, his eyes observing you. “I told you; I never intended to be subtle with you.” His hold on your hand loosening. “But I can stop if you’re uncomfortable.”  

“No.” Your hand tightening its hold, quietly indicating you don’t want him to let go and he sports a cheeky smile, like he expected you to react that way. “I’m just not used to this.”   

His eyes are curious now. “Used to people being forward?” You nod at his question. He thinks about it for a moment. “You were pretty forward yourself the other night.” 

“That’s different.” You say calmly.   

“How come?”   

“Nights like that don’t happen all the time.” You explain with a shrug, without giving away too much. 

His expression softens, and his nods in understanding. “So, you knew you wanted me before the party then.” He says it like a statement but you know he’s asking as he watches you with expectant eyes. His hand leaves yours momentarily, dropping on the table, palm facing up, waiting for your own hand to drop back into his. And it does. You trace your fingertips from his wrist to the middle of his palm, drawing along the lines there. His own fingers raising slightly to tickle against your palm, tracing patterns and you feel giddy. He’s emitting this softness you’ve never encountered in a romantic partner before and you’re not sure if you can handle it. But you want to be able to.  

“I did, yeah.” You admit with a smile, eyes finding his wide ones. “Why are you so surprised?”   

“I just- I did too.” He bites the inside of his bottom lip in thought. “Just wasn’t sure how to approach you before.” Your own surprise evident. “Why are you so surprised?” He mimics your question with a playful tone.  

“Since when?” You ask, wanting to know more.  

He hums skeptically, and you feel his knee bumping into yours under the small table, “I mean, I’ve always been intrigued.” He moves again and you feel both his knees rubbing against yours now. “But I knew I was into you after we spoke at that party in June.” Both your knees are trapped between his now and you can’t help but feel flustered, your fingers limp in his palm while his index is still tracing the inside of your wrist. It slightly tickles but it’s welcome. “You?”   

You could lie and say it was the same for you. That you realised you were interested when you finally spoke for the first time. But you don’t really want to, and you don’t see the point. “I think- I can’t really place it, but I was definitely interested before June.” You expect him to tease, but he just nods in understanding, gesturing you to continue. “And I could tell you were kind of flirting, when we briefly spoke last week, so, I thought Chenle's party was the perfect time to act on it.”   

“So, you’ve had a crush on me?” He smirks and his knees squeeze yours between them, finally teasing you. "Cute.” He says under his breath, eyes move to your lips for a second and then up to your eyes again. “You should’ve said something sooner.” He raises his drink and his lips wrap around the straw and you can’t help but look, remembering what they felt like on yours, on your skin, what they looked like wrapped around his fingers when he wanted a taste of you.   

“I didn’t think you would’ve reciprocated.” You say bashfully and he looks at you, like he finds your words absurd.  

He puts his drink down again. “I'd be clinically insane.”   

His words emit a small laugh from you. "Well, I'm glad you're somewhat sane."  

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" The question unexpected and your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Sun's out again." He points his chin towards the window and you turn your head to look outside. The autumn leaves are still falling but he's right. The sun is out for the first time in a few days. "Promise I'll have you back by three." He says in a playful tone and you look back at him, pretending to consider his suggestion, even though, you know you won’t decline.

_ 

Haechan isn't really a big fan of autumn. He doesn't hate it, but he certainly likes summertime the most. He likes being able to walk down the beach with no layers on and no worry that it'll get cold late at night. He likes the way the sun feels on his skin and he definitely prefers the way he looks when he's sun kissed. He finds that everyone looks good in the sun.  

He's always associated the idea of falling in love with a nice refreshing summer breeze; not necessary, because he's content in the heat, but definitely not unwanted.   

The thought of summer always makes him miss home and look forward to the next time he's able to visit. If he's completely honest, Haechan always misses home a little bit, it's always occupying the back of his mind. The city; as fun as it is living here, has always felt too different. Too chaotic. Now that you're walking next to him though, he's not missing anything and he thinks it's the first time since he moved here, that he feels absolutely and utterly content. At peace even. Even in the chilly autumn air as you two walk through the park near your campus, surrounded by brown leaf covered trees.   

"What's your favourite time of the year?" He can't help but ask the question when it pops into his head.   

"Hmm I think this one." You lift a finger, gesturing to your surroundings and you pause for a moment skeptically. "I think it’s mostly because I prefer autumn fashion." He chuckles at your reasoning. "Hey, don't laugh," You protest. "I'd like summer more if I could lounge by a pool in a bikini whenever I wanted." You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly closing and he can tell you're enjoying the autumn air. "Autumn is just easier, plus, I love the smell of rain." You turn to look at him before looking ahead of you again. "What's yours? You give off major summer vibes."  

He exhales a laugh through his nose. "Really? What gave it away?" He looks at your side profile as he waits for a response. He thinks you look so pretty in this gloomy setting and wonders if you’d look even prettier during his favourite season.   

"Dunno." You seem to be in deep thought, your lips pursing and your eyes narrowing as you inspect his face carefully. "Maybe your tan?" And he mimics your expression, scrunching his nose too and you gently elbow him. "Did I get it right?" You ask hopefully.  

"You sure did." He confirms, nodding proudly and a cheeky smile makes its way to your lips.   

"Why summer then?" You ask with a curious lilt in your tone.   

"I guess I associate summer with my childhood." He explains with a fond smile. "It reminds me of being-"  

"Carefree?" You finish his sentence and he smiles, nodding slowly in agreement. "That makes sense." You validate his thought process in the sweetest voice and he can't help but feel a certain way that leads him to slip his hand into yours. He senses your hesitation and worries he's overstepped a boundary but instantly relaxes when he feels your fingers take their place between his. You're not looking at him, but he can sense you trying to conceal your flustered state by nonchalantly keeping your eyes on the pavement.

He suddenly remembers you've got a class to attend at 3pm and slips his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. "It's half two, we should probably start heading back." He reminds you, not wanting to be the reason you mess up your schedule for the day.   

"Oh shit." Your eyes slightly widen at the realisation. "That was quick." You admit absentmindedly and he laughs softly.   

"Hmmmm what can I say, time flies when you're with me." He says with a suggestive pointed grin.   

"Didn't realise you were this deluded." You scoff, eyes rolling playfully. 

"Hey now." He warns with a nudge against your shoulder and can't hide the amused grin on his face when you giggle. "You had fun, admit it."  

"Mmmmaybe." You say with a cheeky smile, and he feels his pulse increasing. His chest constricts inevitably at how cute and soft you look. Your chin brushing your shoulder as you turn your head to look at him, batting your lashes seductively. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him.   

“You act all brave now, but -” He stops walking, making you halt, and you turn to look at him. “I bet I could easily make you skip class, if I really wanted to.” He says suggestively, a cocky eyebrow raising when he takes in your surprised expression. He pulls you closer, pulling lightly at your hand that's still in his and you stumble, putting a hand on his chest to regain your balance. You look up at him, and he thinks 'there it is', there's that not-so-innocent look from Saturday night. You don't shy away or get flustered this time, you stand your ground, and he suddenly wants to ruin you. But he knows this is not the time and place and he curses internally for choosing to go on a stupid coffee date. He's definitely taking you out somewhere more intimate and romantic next time, like Jeno suggested.   

"And how exactly would you do that?" You ask, testing his resolve, which, apparently, runs very thin when it comes to you.   

He leans down so his lips are by your ear, the hand that's not holding yours, taking purchase on your waist. "I'd show you but you'd probably get all shy on me." He murmurs and relishes in the way your hand tightens its hold on the fabric of his jumper. He feels your breathing quicken and can't help but laugh at your reaction.   

He moves to pull away and the second his eyes land on yours, your hand grabs the back of his neck and your lips crash on his. His breath hitches and his eyes widen at the impact, before he relaxes against you and kisses you back. He relishes in the feel of your soft lips sliding against his, and the warmth your body radiates when he pulls you closer with his arm around your waist and when he feels you sigh, body pliantly slotting into his, he wonders if someone if playing a prank on him, because there’s no way you’re this perfect for him. You wrap both your arms around his neck securely and he moves a hand to your hip, gently squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to your ass. You whimper when his tongue makes contact with your bottom lip and he feels you tilt your head to the side silently asking him to deepen the kiss, but he decides that the next time he has a full on make out session with you is going to be somewhere private. He bites your bottom lip lightly and gives you a quick peck before breaking the kiss completely and you whine at the sudden loss of contact, making him laugh. The hand on your hip sneakily slides itself into your back pocket, giving your bum a playful squeeze, before letting it rest there lazily, simply because he can't help himself. "You're trouble, Y/N." He mumbles against your lips.  

Your eyes open at that, finding his and your hand caresses the back of his neck while you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and his jeans start to feel constricting at the thought of you doing that so you can taste him again, now that he's no longer kissing you. "I'm trouble?" You ask in disbelief.

"You kissed me." He states in an accusatory tone as if he wouldn't have done it himself anyway.  

"I know." You whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips again. "I wanted to." You mumble and your tone makes his brain overflow with thoughts that revolve around you and his bed, because it doesn't matter that it's Monday afternoon and you're walking around the park. In Haechan’s head, nothing matters in this moment other than the fact that he desperately wants you in ways he hasn’t wanted anyone before and that scares him. Not because he doesn’t want to. But simply because he does. Haechan wants to want you.

_ 

"And with five minutes to spare." Haechan says with a proud smile when you reach the entrance of the building your class is in, still hand in hand and you can't help but smile back.   

“You know you're definitely gonna be late, right?” You say in a scolding tone and he scoffs rolling his eyes.  

“And whose fault is that?” He says playfully, pulling you closer.   

“You should've said you were meeting Jaemin at three, how am I supposed to- mmmf.” He interrupts you with a kiss against your lips, cupping your face in his hands. He pulls away quicker than you'd prefer but you still can't help the surprised laugh that escapes you.   

"I know I’ll see you on Thursday, but can I take you out Friday night?" He asks, eyes wide and hopeful and you smile.   

"You can." You say with a dreamy tone, taking in his pretty brown eyes and the way his smile widens when you accept to go on a second date with him.   

"Good." He kisses you chastely again and rubs his nose against yours before dropping a wet smooch on your cheek, laughing at your reaction.  

"Yah!" You complain cringing at the wet sensation against your skin. "Ewww, you slobbered on meeee." You whine, wiping the wetness off your face with the back of your hand, your nose scrunching in fake disgust but your heart flutters at the sound of his laugh. "Fucking weirdo." You huff, torn between laughter and exasperation.  

"Be a good girl and get to class." He turns you around, putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you towards the entrance of the building, arms hugging you from behind and the butterflies in your stomach go ballistic. "Also, sit with me on Thursday." He whispers in your ear and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. You turn your head sideways to look at his face and you can't stop your lips from curling into a grin.   

"Be a good boy and don't tell me what to do." You whisper against his jaw, where you press a quick kiss that surprises him, his arms loosening around your shoulders in shock and you take the opportunity to turn around and loosely wrap your arms around his waist. You raise on your tippy toes so you can bring your lips to his ear. “I’ll see you soon, Lee Haechan.” You say with a low tone and to anyone else it might seem like you're just hugging, but you can feel his chest moving shallowly against your own when you give him another gentle kiss, on the cheek this time.  

"What the f-" You walk away with a sweet smile, before he can react or finish his sentence and you couldn't be more satisfied with yourself. You know he's still standing there, looking at you while you walk away from him and you smile to yourself.   

When you take your usual seat next to Chenle, in the back of the big lecture hall, he looks at you with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. "So? How was it?" He asks and a giggle escapes him when you sigh with a dreamy smile on your face. "That good?"   

“You have no idea.” You feel you phone buzz in your pocket and you already have an idea what to expect.   

15:01 Hae☀️: that was fucked up...  

15:01 Hae☀️️: you're in for a treat next time i see you

_

Thursday rolls around slower than normal this week and you know why it feels that way. You can’t wait to see him.   

It’s the first time you’re running late to class though, and you’re cursing yourself for deciding to take a nap earlier. The bus that would have gotten you there on time is long gone, so your only option was to walk and be ten minutes late. You know it’s not the end of the world, students run late all the time, and it’s not like you’re anal about punctuality. It’s just that you hate being the centre of attention.   

And when you walk in the lecture hall, everything pans out exactly how you had predicted; some people turn their heads to look when you enter the hall as quietly as possible and some couldn’t care less. When you skip past your usual row of seats though, taking a seat two rows ahead instead, next to the handsome boy who’s been lately occupying your thoughts nonstop, more people’s eyes drift to your direction and you’re thankful to your professor, who continues speaking, without batting an eyelid at your tardiness.   

“You okay? I texted you.” Haechan leans into whisper in your ear, voice as quiet as possible. An arm extends behind you, resting on the back of your seat casually and you feel the warmth radiating on your shoulder blades, through the material of your top.   

You look at him for a moment before starting to take out your notes and iPad. “I know, I took a nap and overslept.” You whisper back maintaining the decibels of your voice as low as possible and you can tell he’s holding back a laugh.   

You look past him and you see Jaemin and Jeno both looking at you and waving. You mouth ‘hi’ to both of them offering a smile and your eyes land on Haechan again who’s smiling at you like he’s up to something. He relaxes in his seat, comfortably sinking into it while spreading his legs, his knee now touching yours and you know what he’s trying to do.  

You also lean back and relax in your seat, pretending to finally pay attention to whatever example is being demonstrated on the board. Your knee playfully nudges his.

“Stop manspreading.” Your eyes still on the board but your attention on him.   

“I’d say sorry, but it was intentional.” He states and you hold in your exasperation as well as your laugh. Your amused expression falters when he reaches to take your hand in his and rests them on his thigh. He’s too casual for your liking and too soft for your poor heart.   

When he said that you’re in for a treat he really did mean it.  

He walks you home that day.   

-

“What the actual fuck?” Your voice is high-pitched; eyes so wide, they resemble a cartoon’s.   

“What?” He laughs at your comical expression and places the mic down on the table in the centre of the noraebang room.  

“You made me go first so you could embarrass me!” You loudly accuse with your finger pointing at him.   

“You weren’t bad!” He can’t help the laughter that won’t stop. You’re frowning still and you look so adorable and believably annoyed. He knows it’s all pretend though.   

“You were so good though.” Your frown slowly turns into a pout. “And it was all in Japanese.” Your wide eyes looking up at him from when you’re still sat cross legged on the leather sofa seat. He feels weak. You make him feel weak.   

“I took singing lessons when I was younger.” He explains with a smile. “And that’s my favourite song so I’ve had practice.” He approaches slowly and takes a seat next to you, huffing and spreading his legs slightly to get comfortable while his head rests on the back of the sofa. He’s the one looking up at you now. You look so pretty in the purple and blue hues that light up the room. He definitely made the right choice bringing you here after dinner. He wanted to keep your second date PG but the way you’re looking at him right now makes him contemplate.   

“Ah right. He’s an artist.” A teasing smile takes over your face as you hold his gaze. He groans and you giggle when his hands come up to cover his face in embarrassment. He feels you shift next to him and when he looks at you through the gaps of his fingers you’ve turned your body towards him, still crossing your legs. “You have a pretty voice, Lee Haechan.”   

He knows he’s blushing, but he snorts, trying to feign nonchalance. “Thanks.” his hands drop and rest on his thighs.   

“Did you bring me here to show off then?” Your tone still ever so teasing.  

“No, but I was hoping to impress you maybe.” He admits without realising. Your effect on him frustrates him.   

“By serenading me in a language I can’t understand?” Your smile is so sweet, tooth ache inducing. So sweet it’s contagious. You move a little closer and he can smell your sweet perfume. His eyes drop to your exposed neck and then to the collarbones he’s dying to press soft kisses on. “Consider me impressed.” You say and his eyes come back up to your face. You seem to be fighting your smile now and he’s obsessed with the fact that you don’t want to give away how affected you also are by him.   

“What’s your favourite song?” He asks in a low voice, sitting up a bit and extending an arm along the back of the sofa. Your eyes instantly drop there, and your hand comes up to trace a vein absentmindedly. He manages to contain the shiver that creeps up on him, but he can’t control the goosebumps raising on his skin.   

“Japanese Denim by Daniel Caesar.” You respond, copying his low tone. Your eyes not leaving your fingers gingerly trailing up and down his skin. “You know it?” you look at him in question.   

Haechan is thankful he does. “Myyy blueee jeaaansss.” He sings the start of the chorus playfully and you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly.   

“Okay r&b king.” You joke with a laugh. He pokes your side and you flinch with a half whine half giggle. He can’t help but smile at the sound.   

“I just think his lyrics are like poetry, you know?” You shrug, explaining why you see the appeal. Your hand is now resting in his arm, no longer tracing and he enjoys the weight of it. The warmth. He wants to reach out and touch you too, but he doesn’t move. The moment feels too precious to ruin.   

“They really are.” He agrees with a small nod. He likes to think that maybe he’ll be able to write lyrics like those one day, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to talk about himself now. He’s too busy admiring you. “You’re so pretty.” He says softly and he doesn’t even register the words leaving his mouth until he gets the cutest reaction from you. You look away, smiling big and your hands come up to press against your cheeks, attempting to cover what he assumes is a blush. A soft chuckle escapes him and he reaches up with both hands to remove yours from your face. “Blush away, no need to hide.” He teases you. He finds that he’s good at it. He wonders if it’s because you generally get flustered so easily or if it’s just the effect he has on you. He hopes it’s the latter.   

When your hands aren’t in the way, he taps a finger under your chin gently encouraging you to turn your head so he can look at you again. He then instinctively moves closer, craving to feel your warmth better and when your eyes find his again, his chest constricts. He sometimes doesn’t understand how it’s possible that he’s come to feel so attached to you in such a short amount of time, how he so easily gravitates towards you. But then you look at him and he understands. You speak and he understands. You laugh and he understands. You touch him and he understands. It almost feels foreign but never unwelcome. Never forced. And that scares him.   

Haechan trails his fingers from your chin down to your collarbone, tracing softly and he slowly moves the fallen strands of hair behind your shoulder. He feels your gasp when he leans forward to leave a kiss on the curve of it. Then a little lower. And a little lower until his nose nuzzles against the dip of your collarbone. Another kiss. And another. This time his tongue makes contact first, tasting the skin, before his lips pucker on the sensitive surface again. Your breathing has turned shallow and he smiles at the sight of your chest moving up and down. Your fingers thread into his hair, slightly pulling and he sighs against your wet skin. You catch him off guard when your other hand pushes him by the shoulder and he’s about to apologise for crossing a line but then you quickly straddle him and his mind goes blank. This is definitely not PG.   

“Someone could see us, you know.” You whisper against his lips and he almost moans. The hand in his hair pulls again and his head drops against the back of the seat pliantly, eyes closing at the feeling of your lips on his jawline. You scatter small kisses until you reach his ear and lightly bite on his lobe, his breathing quickens and the moan he’s been holding in eventually escapes at your next words. “Bet that turns you on though.” His hands instantly come up to hold onto something, anything. One grabs onto your waist, the other lands on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt. “Talk to me.” You whisper sweetly in his ear before starting to trail kisses down the column of neck. The further down you travel, the wetter they get and he feels himself getting hard, his hips slightly raising to get some friction, but you don’t budge. “Behave.” You laugh against his neck in a hot puff of air and his voice comes out in a soft whine.   

“Baby,” he breathes out weakly and you coo softly against his neck while gingerly sucking on the delicate flesh. He feels you place a hand on his chest, above where his heart is beating uncontrollably and he knows you can feel it too, your thumb stroking soothingly to comfort him. “Wanna kiss you.” He pleads pathetically and he feels like he might come in his pants when you suddenly grind your hips down. His breath catches in his throat and he trails a hand up your back, between your shoulder blades, to wrap around the base of your neck, pressing you down as he thrusts up into you. He smiles stupidly when you bring up your face, unburying from his neck, to look at him with wide eyes. He thinks you might scold him but instead you just wrap a hand around his neck, pressing your fingers against his pulse points in a possessive manner and he groans. His eyes shut at the dizzying sensation and when he feels your lips press on his, he relishes. His head tilts automatically to deepen the kiss and he sighs into your mouth when your tongue finds its way in. It’s intoxicating and he swears he feels high. Your hand around his neck definitely playing a part but it’s mostly your taste and the way you kiss him exactly how he likes to be kissed. Wet and filthy but still slow, sucking on his tongue to tease him. He feels his heartbeat going wild without permission when you grind down again, just the right way, the perfect amount of pressure to drive him insane.  

His hands trail down to messily bunch up the fabric of your corduroy skirt so he can squeeze the flesh of your ass in his palms, fingers digging into the skin. He’s not gentle with you this time but your moans against his lips encourage him not to hold back.

You’re now grinding down with determined force and he moans into your mouth when his fully hard dick slots between your pussy lips, the only thing separating you, his layers and your underwear. He matches your pace, hips coming up when yours drop down and he realises that you’re no longer teasing him. “Think you can cum like this?” You ask against his lips, the scratch in your voice driving him insane, breathing ragged, hips quickening their eager ministrations. He nods, staring into your eyes. “You want to?” You ask again, keeping your eyes on his as your arms wrap around his shoulders to gain more support and he responds with another nod and a shaky breath. His head dips forward, eyes dropping down to where you’re connected and his hand pushes your skirt up even further, to get a better look. He groans at the sight. Your panties almost trapped between your folds, your pussy leaving a trail of wetness on the front of his jeans whenever you drag your body back and he feels himself twitch in his pants. It’s sinful. It’s perfect. You're perfect.  

“Fuck, hang on.” He whispers suddenly, arm wrapping around your middle to halt your movements and he quickly unbuttons his jeans with one hand. His hips raise a little bit as he clumsily pushes the fabric down, leaving his boxers still on. “Okay.” He exhales and his hands find your hips again, guiding you to resume your work. The friction so much better now that he can properly feel your wetness seeping through the cotton and he loves that he can see the way his fat cock drags between your lace clad pussy lips.

Your whining doesn’t go unnoticed, and he looks up at your face only to find you also looking down dazedly. He relishes in the idea that you can get as dirty as he can and he takes in the sight of you now; lips parted, gasping audibly, your nipples hard and visible through your thin blouse and he’s suspecting that you’ve foregone wearing a bra. 

His hands drag upwards, leaving your hips, trusting you to keep grinding down with no guidance and when he squeezes the flesh of your breasts through the fabric, his suspicions are confirmed. You moan when his thumbs rub on your already sensitive nipples, leaning into his touch and he repeats the action, enjoying the desperate little sounds you let out.

“I’m close.” He announces in a gasp, his balls feel heavy and he knows he’s leaking precum, adding to the wet patch you’ve created on the front of his boxers.   

“Yeah?” Your eyes search his, hands cupping his face and kissing him again, soft this time. “You gonna cum for me, pretty boy?” He feels his eyes roll back at your words and all he can do is nod again. He anchors himself by squeezing your ass in his hands again and he loves the whimpers you let out when his hands get a little rougher, making the flesh ripple. He decides to take matters into his own hands when he feels your thighs shaking around his hips, suspecting the soreness in your muscles and his hold on you gives you no option but to quicken the pace

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin good, baby, please don’t stop.” He exasperatedly begs, his breath shaky and he feels like he’s losing it. Pathetic.   

“Yes, god, m’cumming.” His voice comes out ruined, words muffled against your lips, vision blurring and his jaw drops when he reaches his peak, soaking his boxers like a teenage boy. Your hands slide into his hair when he starts shaking and he basks in the comforting touch. His head drops back on the seat again and he feels dizzy, your hips are still moving, dragging out his high and when it gets too much, he gently taps his fingers on your ass cheek, smiling dumbly. “Mmh, just give me a second.” He sighs as you take a seat, directly on his cock, softly cooing at him and kissing his cheek as you push his fringe back, revealing his damp forehead and he purrs at the gentleness.

“Good?” You ask sweetly and he almost scoffs, because there’s no way you don’t know you’ve just ruined him when he’s pathetically drenched his underwear like a horny teenage boy.

“Intense.” He hums and he feels himself shiver when you let out a breathy laugh against his skin, nuzzling into his temple. He slowly turns his head and catches your lips in a slow kiss. “Wanna make you feel good too.” He murmurs in the kiss and when he notices the conflicted expression on your face, he doubles down. “I’ll be quick.”

“Confident?” You tease with a smile that he can’t help but return. Your teeth sink on your bottom lip when he cups your pussy and he moans at the feeling of soaked lace.   

“Not like I haven’t done it before.” He teases back and he laughs when you swat at his chest. “Please?” He tries again, tone needy this time and he uses his puppy eyes, smiling when he breaks through your resolve. The second you nod, he wraps an arm around you securely and his other hand grabs at the fleshy bit where your ass meets your thigh. “Lie down for me.” He whispers and helps maneuver you onto your back swiftly.

He can’t help but smirk when your legs instinctively part for him to slot in between, and he does exactly that, coming to position himself above you, supporting his weight on one arm by the side of your head. His lips find yours again, in a hungry kiss and this time it’s his tongue that dominates yours, sliding into your mouth, tasting you just like you did to him earlier. He loves the sigh you let out through your nose when his hand slips into your underwear slowly, sliding his middle finger between your folds but what he loves the most is how wet you are.   

“Can I use my mouth?” He questions mid kiss and you must like the sound of that, because he feels you grind against his palm.   

“You can do anything you want, just no sex.” You say shyly. “Not here.”

“Told you, baby,” He gives your lips another peck before kissing down your neck, giving your tit a tentative squeeze as he moves downwards. “Wanna do that in my bed first.” Your moan at the promise brings a smile to his face as his hands slip into the top of your panties and drag them down your legs hastily, feeling the goosebumps on your skin. He stuffs the flimsy material into his back pocket, earning a questioning look from you and he grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll get them back.” He starts kissing from the inside of your knee to your inner thigh, wet and full of tongue.   

“Stop teasing.” You whine, raising your hips impatiently when he reaches closer to where you want him. And he chuckles against your folds, watching as your legs spread even more for him.   

His head rests on your inner thigh, comfortably and he looks up at your face, gauging your reaction. “What do you say?”   

“Please.” You whisper and he feels his dick harden again at your submissive tone.   

“Good girl.” He mutters and his hands slide up your inner thighs, thumbs pulling your pussy lips apart, revealing your cute swollen nub, all pretty and in need of attention. He can see you’re clenching around nothing, clear pearls of slick dripping from the tiny hole that he can’t wait to lap up. 

You’re more than wet enough but Haechan doesn’t think twice before letting a fat glob of spit slowly drip from his mouth and he feels his dick twitch at the sight. You moan when you feel the extra wetness land on your cunt and he does it again, watching his spit drip down to your asshole, making a mess of you. Nothing but sensual. “Yeah? You like it messy?” He breathes out in admiration and he doesn’t even need an answer, he knows you do.

His hand comes up again, fingers spreading the mixed wetness through your folds. His middle and ring fingers create a v shape around your clit, isolating the nub between them and the tip of his tongue comes out to make contact, flicking gently up and down. You both moan in unison, your hands burying in his hair to keep him where you need him and he loves how ruined you already sound, how your legs part completely, how addictive you taste on his tongue. And he loves that he can’t get enough of you.

“Mmh, fuck.” You moan when his arm wraps around your thigh, bringing his hand to separate your folds from the top, palm pressing against your pubic bone, fingers delicately pulling the hood of your clit up, revealing more of the little nub. His flat tongue licks from your hole to your clit and he repeats the action when he feels your fingers pull at his hair harder. The pink muscle then settles back to delivering quick flicks on your nub, the direct contact making you squeal and he smiles at the adorable sound. “Yes, like that.” You encourage him, the praise making his chest swell with pride. His other hand joins and his middle finger teases your leaking entrance, circling before slowly sliding in until it’s fully buried inside, your soaked walls making the glide so easy, that he’s certain one digit won’t be enough.

When his jaw gets tired, he switches to sucking harshly on your clit, making you groan and he slowly starts to move his finger in and out, curling up slightly, following the curve of your pussy. He knows you want more, your hole dripping even more slick around his finger, so he slows down as he adds a second one. You sigh when you feel the extra stretch and he knows he’s got you where he wants you when you start clenching.   

“Fuck, baby, you’re creaming.” He points out in disbelief when he sees the white substance coating his digits every time they pull out of you and you whine in embarrassment. “I swear to god, I’m gonna fuck you stupid one day.” He promises against your cunt and goes back to sucking, more determined this time. His fingers start pumping quicker into you, the squelching sounds nothing but melodic in his ears and your tight walls nothing but heaven around his fingers. Your whines get louder when his speed increases and he knows he’s hitting your sweet spot every time he thrusts in, the pads of his fingers dragging against your walls. “Right there, hm?” His pace quickens even more and he looks up when he feels your eyes on him. You’re on your elbows now, jaw agape, eyes on his lips, watching him ruin you and his tongue comes out to flick quickly from side to side, his head moving with it, making a spectacle without breaking eye contact.   

“I’m gonna cum.” You warn in a whisper, burying a hand in his hair again and your elbows give out, allowing your body to drop back down. He hums against your cunt, letting you know he’s got you and he feels your legs trembling around his head. “Fuck, yes yes yes.” Your voice sounds broken, your walls are kneading his fingers and he has to put extra effort into sliding in and out due to the restricting tightness.

He doesn’t stop though, even when he knows you’re coming down from your high, he keeps pushing your boundaries. He wants more. “Haechan!” You squeal when he suckles on your clit again and he laughs darkly at the cute sound. Your hand tries to push him away, legs attempting to close around his head but he’s not quite done yet, his hold around your thigh tight enough to keep you open for him.   

He pulls his fingers out slowly and you whine. “Sorry, pretty.” He whispers mockingly against your clit before dipping down to lick at your pulsing entrance, smiling at the mewl you let out. He licks from bottom to top again, gently flicking at your clit when he comes up and he knows it’s too much when your body convulses and you sound like you’re crying. You’re not pushing him away though, which gives him hope. He opts to circling instead of flicking, tongue relaxed now; languid and he feels your legs spread again. “Yeah? Want more gentle?” He coos as his eyes look up and he can see your perky tits moving up and down with your breathing. He trails a hand up your body, squeezing greedily around the flesh and he moans at the feeling of your stiff nipple against his palm.   

“I’m too sensitive.” You sigh and bring a hand above his, squeezing around your own tit with him as you raise on your elbows again. 

“You can give me one more, though, right?” His eyes staring into yours, hopeful.   

“I think so.” You nod tiredly, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the overstimulation, breathing coming out harsh. “I’m still turned on.” You admit shyly, biting down on your bottom lip as you push his fringe away from his damp forehead.   

“Such a good girl.” He says dreamily and his tongue gently circles your clit again, wet hand pressing against the back of your thigh to keep you spread out for him.   

Only after you come again on his tongue, does he stop, moving to kiss on your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin there, leaving a wet patch behind along with a subtle mark. He leans over you again, taking in the sight under him. Your breathing slowing down as you look up at him, your hair fanned around you and your eyes blinking slowly. You look beautifully and utterly fucked out and so angelic. His heart swells when you reach up, pulling him close to you and he gives in right away, dropping down, resting his weight on you carefully. He kisses you slowly, pushing his tongue past your parted lips, moaning with you, knowing you can taste yourself.   

“You’re hard again.” You whisper against his lips and he laughs, because of course he is.   

“You are not making me cum in my pants again.” He scolds and kisses softly on your cheek as you snort a laugh, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him close.   

“Okay, I won’t.” You say with a smile, leaning in to kiss him again. He lets you.   

—

“Do you guys have any, like, weird fetishes?” Jaemin asks randomly, interrupting your conversation with Ningning and almost causing you to choke on a fry.   

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Haechan pipes up next to you, genuine concern laced in his tone, his hand stroking your back whilst you cough.   

“Yeah, changing the subject from ‘I’m broke’, to that, is slightly worrying to say the least.” Ningning agrees but that doesn’t stop her from laughing. “Look, even Jeno is speechless.” She points at Jeno’s shocked expression and he snaps out of it, taking a sip from his coffee.   

“I was just curious.” Jaemin shrugs as he explains. “I’ve been texting this girl and the other night it turned into sexting and she asked me if I’d be down to piss on her?”   

“Oh wow,” Ningning is suddenly interested. “What did you say?” She asks and he eyes widen as she awaits his response. All eyes around the table are on Jaemin now and he’s clearly thrown off, struggling to find the right words.   

“Wellllll-“   

“Oh my god!” Renjun exclaims and covers his mouth with both hands. “Please tell me you didn’t actually do it.”  

“No, of course not.” Jaemin defends himself quickly. “I haven’t even slept with her.” He steals a fry from your plate. “Yet.” He concludes with a smug smile.   

“Okay, but, let’s say you do sleep with her and she asks you to piss on her.” Haechan interferes. “Would you?” He asks with an amused expression and Jaemin seems to be in deep thought.   

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it but I’m pretty sure I’d get stage fright.” Says casually and stuffs a few more fries in his mouth. “Also, I don’t think I can pee when I’m hard.”   

”Yeah, I was thinking that.” Jeno says with narrowed eyes. “It’s also a bit weird if you don’t know them that well or if it’s just a one-time thing, no?” He looks around, asking everyone.  

“Yeah, true.” Renjun agrees. “Not that I’ve done it before, but, surely you do those kinds of things with someone you’re in a relationship with or at least someone you’ve been seeing and agreed to experiment with.” He looks at Jaemin. “But then again, you’re a different kind of breed.” Everyone laughs at that.   

“That I am my friend.” Jaemin laughs darkly and leans over to kiss Renjun on the cheek. The latter pushes him away by shoving a hand against his face with a disgusted expression and you snort at the scene.   

“The question is, where did you even meet this girl?” You ask with a wiggle of your eyebrows, not because you care, but because you find it amusing when Jaemin gets flustered.   

His eyes meet yours now and he seems taken aback before he puts on his cheeky grin again. “Oh, I have a better question, miss thing.” His voice laced with nothing but mischief and you’re now scared. “Would you let Haechan piss on you if he asked?” There it is.   

“And I ask again.” Haechan saves you momentarily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is calm but there’s definitely an edge to it, a warning even. He doesn’t move from his position next to you. An arm lazily resting on the back of your chair, the warmth certainly comforting on your shoulders. You instinctively lean into him, resting a hand on his thigh and his knuckles rub against your arm soothingly. Your eyes meet Ningning’s who’s watching the whole interaction smiling and you try to contain your own smile.   

“What? It’s a good question, no?” Jaemin says with a shrug and you roll your eyes.   

“Jaemin, I don’t know about you, but I don’t really talk about golden showers at least until after the fifth date.” You say sarcastically and Jeno snorts trying to hold in a laugh. “And that’s besides the point. You asked if we have any fetishes so I think we should all share one.”   

Jaemin smirks and points a finger at you playfully. “I knew you could match my freak.” He says, giggling like a schoolgirl and Haechan’s arm around your shoulders tightens, the act unnoticeable to everyone else but not to you. Your fingers resting on his thigh, tense slightly trying to get his attention as you turn to look at his face and you can’t help but notice the frown on his face while he’s looking at Jaemin. He’s jealous and it’s obvious and you can’t help the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your belly. When he looks down at you, his expression softens and you feel his arm relax around you. You give him a smile, which he instantly returns. You’re definitely bringing this up later.

“Take your freak elsewhere please.” Renjun says with sass, earning a few laughs around the table.   

“Ugh fine, I’ll start.” Ningning says and all eyes snap towards her. “I’m not opposed to some toe sucking. There you go. Thank you. Let’s move on.” Your laugh is loud and you wish Chenle didn’t have basketball training so he could witness this shit show.   

”Alright, I like sucking on toes.” Jeno confesses and you bury your face in your hand leaning into Haechan’s shoulder to conceal your laugh. You feel him chuckle in your hair as he wraps his arm around you properly and you love the heat radiating off him so much that you wish you could stay there for the rest of the day.   

“Next!” Ningning says exasperatedly, sending Jeno daggers across the table. It wasn’t even his turn but you respect his efforts. Not a lot of men have managed to get Ningning this flustered before and it actually makes you wonder if any toe sucking took place that night they supposedly only cuddled. You make a mental note that this might also be worth bringing up earlier.  

It’s Renjun’s turn and he seems to be in deep thought. “I honestly can’t think of anything, I think I’m pretty vanilla.”   

“Surely there’s something, it doesn’t have to be hardcore.” Haechan butts in. 

“I guess choking?” Renjun’s ears have turned red now and you almost feel bad, because out of everyone around this table, he’s the one that deserves to be embarrassed the least.   

“Ooooh erotic asphyxiation!” Jaemin says feigning a seductive tone. “Okay, so, I may or may not like butt stuff.”   

Everyone’s eyes widen at the confession.   

“As in your butt or the other person’s?” Jeno asks curiously. Jaemin only responds by wiggling his eyebrows and Jeno gasps dramatically. 

“As in you’ve had a finger up y-“   

“Moving on!” Jaemin exclaims loudly, interruptinh Ningning. "Your turn, lover boy." He gestures at Haechan to continue as Jeno’s mouth is still open in shock.   

“Hmm.’ Haechan ponders, his fingers tapping on your shoulder absentmindedly as he thinks. For some reason, even though it’s not your turn to answer, you feel exposed, as though all your friends are watching you both, trying to gauge your reaction at his response. You try to maintain as neutral an expression as possible and you hope he says something you might have already guessed by the times you’ve been intimidate with him. “Maybe the risk of getting caught.” He finally admits and you’re definitely not shocked.   

“That’s boring, everyone likes that.” Jaemin complains.  

“Speak for yourself, sicko.” Renjun defends. “Some of us like total privacy.”   

“Aww you really are vanilla.” Ningning pouts cutely and Renjun scoffs.    

“Y/N?” Renjun says to divert the attention from him and you fear your ears might be as red as his now. Everyone is watching you, including Haechan and you’re starting to regret suggesting this in the first place.   

“Just say it, no one is going to judge.” Jeno encourages and you want to bury your face in Haechan’s shoulder again.   

“Maybe Haechan should try and guess.” Renjun suggests and now you feel like you've underestimated him.  

“Oh yes!” Jaemin quickly agrees excitedly, clapping his hands. “Okay, how about he whispers it to you and if he gets it right, he then has to say it out loud.”   

“What if he gets it wrong?” You ask and Haechan scoffs next to you.   

“He seems pretty confident.” Ningning says, pointing at Haechan’s face and when you look up at him, he’s got a cocky smile plastered on his stupidly pretty face.   

“Alright, Haechanie, make us proud.” Jaemin says while holding a hand to his chest and Haechan rolls his eyes at his friend.   

“Okay,” He leans closer, cupping his hand around your ear to conceal his mouth from the group. “Spitting.” He whispers so that only you can hear and you feel lightheaded for a moment. When he retracts, he gently moves your hair behind your ear and when your eyes find his, he smirks. He’s got you all figured out and he knows it. Bastard. “So?” He asks patiently.   

“Correct.” You say in defeat and everyone cheers a little too loudly around the table.

“So, what is it?” Jaemin asks excitedly.

“Can I?” Haechan asks, eyes still on you, ignoring his friend and you appreciate that he prioritises your comfort. You nod with a smile, giving him permission to say it out loud.

“Spitting.” He says again, out loud this time for all your friends to hear.   

“That’s quite vague, no?” Jeno says. “Who’s spitting and where?”   

You turn in his direction, throwing daggers at him, because there’s no way he’s trying to be a brat. “Oh, would you perhaps like a demonstration? I’ll happily spit in your cute little boba tea right now.” Your sweet tone, insincere and Haechan bursts out laughing, head thrown back, pretty neck on display but you push that thought to the back of your mind.

“Relax woman!” Jeno says with his hands raised in surrender. “No saliva in my drink please.” He takes his drink from the table and covers the top with a hand protectively.   

“You can spit in mine.” Jaemin offers with hopeful eyes, holding up his drink in your direction and you groan at his crassness.   

“Dude, you’re sick.” Renjun says with a shake of his head, judging his friend.   

“No, I’m just versatile.” Jaemin defends with a pout. “No one’s spat in my drink before.”   

“That you know of.” Haechan says with a feigned smile, voice laced with mild irritation.

“Right, well, I hate to ruin the fun, but I have class in fifteen minutes.” Ningning gets up, grabbing her bag and drink. “Bye losers.” She says with a sweet smile and starts walking towards the exit of the cafeteria.   

“Wait!” Jeno’s voice is loud. “I’ll walk with you.” He gets up quickly, clumsily gathering his stuff before following after her like a puppy following his owner, without even looking back at the rest of you. You look at them walk away, already discussing something. You think they look cute together and you wonder what you and Haechan look like to other people.   

“Someone’s toes are definitely getting sucked later.” Jaemin says and you can’t help but laugh at his silly joke.   

Haechan turns to you with a sweet smile. “Are you done with classes for the day?” He asks quietly, leaning his body closer to you and you smile at how comfortable he already acts around you, not caring that his friends are still there.   

“Mm-hmm.” You confirm with a nod, sitting up to stretch your limbs and once the stiffness is somewhat relieved, you sink back into your chair, leaning into his warmth as he wraps his arm around your shoulders again, like it belongs there. “You working this evening?”   

“Nah, I only need to go in on Sunday this weekend.” He says happily as his other hand takes hold of yours, resting limply on his lap. “Wanna come over for dinner?” He asks carefully and your eyes fall on Jaemin and Renjun who are deep in conversation about what jobs Jaemin could look for to earn some extra cash. They’re paying no attention to you and Haechan.   

“Dinner?” You ask with a hopeful smile and turn your head to look up at him, his pretty boba eyes already on you and he nods.   

“Yeah, I could make us something, or we could get takeout.” His cheeks are now pink and you feel giddy at his flustered look. He looks so unbelievably cute and you get the urge to give him kiss, but you don’t. Not here.   

“Sure, I’d like that, but-” Then you look at the two boys sat across the table again, posing a silent question.   

“They’re all out tonight, don’t worry.” He reassures you quietly, reading your mind.   

It’s not that you don’t like being around Haechan’s friends, they’re all lovely and have been nothing but nice to you, but you would appreciate some one-on-one time with him. It’s been exactly a week since your second date and even though you’ve seen him around campus since then, it’s always been with his or your friends around. On the other hand, you’re now realising that neither of you have been over at each other’s places and you feel the nerves as well as the excitement brewing in your stomach.   

You’re aware that both you and Haechan are still navigating the nature of your relationship and even though you know that it’s too soon to tell where it’s going, you’re more than happy to see it through with him. 

You’re also aware that so far, you’ve both made very clear that when you’re left alone, it’s almost impossible to keep your hands off each other. And although, the last thing you want is to keep things between you at a superficial level, you can’t help but wonder what sex with him would feel like. And although, you want things to progress naturally, you have a feeling that if you go over for dinner, you might find out.  

“You sure you don’t wanna go out with them?” You ask, checking that he’s not cancelling any important plans for you.   

“I can’t think of anything worse than going to a frat house filled with a bunch of people I barely know, trust me.” He says with a laugh, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. “Plus, I feel like I haven’t properly seen you this week.”   

“Missed me?” You tease him, laughing at his reaction. His eyes roll and he tongues his cheek, trying to conceal his smile.   

“Yeah, and what if I did?” He challenges, his eyes widening, his lips forming a cute pout.   

“If you did,” You trail, leaning closer as you lower your voice, squeezing his hand in yours. “Then that’s great. Because the feeling might be mutual.” You reach up with your free hand to pinch one round cheek and before he has time to react, you lean in, dropping a quick kiss on the other one. “I’d love to come over.” You say with a smile and poke the tiny dimple that’s appeared where you’ve just kissed him.   

“Oh great, so you guys are fucking on our couch.” Jaemin ruins yet another moment and Haechan closes his eyes trying to compose himself. A thought pops into your head and you’re already internally laughing at your own joke.   

”Now, why would we do that, when your bed is available tonight?” You say with a toothy grin and you’re sure Renjun’s loud laugh makes some heads turn, Haechan mimics his reaction, head thrown, hands clapping. “Do not test me Na Jaemin, I will break you.” You point a finger at him with a serious look.   

“You two make a great match, it’s actually scary.” He says in what could be described as amazement or fear, gesturing between you and Haechan.  

_

You wake up confused, looking around and seeing you’re not in the familiar space of your apartment and when you inhale deeply you realise you’re safe. Haechan’s familiar scent helps you relax again and when you move to stretch your legs, you feel a comforting weight on your back, stroking slowly. You nuzzle your face into Haechan’s neck, humming in delight as he pulls the fluffy blanket, which you assume he threw over your figures whilst you were asleep, up to your chin.

“Hey, pretty.” He whispers in your ear, not wanting to startle you, his hand now in your hair, gently scratching your scalp and you purr in delight. “We fell asleep.” His tone still low, voice a little groggy, laced with sleep still.   

”Mmm, what time is it?” You mumble sleepily in his neck and he shuffles around, careful not to move you from where you’re lying comfortably on him, grabbing his phone from the coffee table near the couch you’re both currently cocooned in. Your blink your eyes slowly, thankful that the only thing producing light in the living room area, is the tv screen. Shin-chan still playing on the screen from earlier but the volume is lowered. You assume you must’ve fallen asleep mid cuddling, after dinner. You remember telling him about this crime documentary you watched with Ningning a few nights ago and how you couldn’t sleep after. You also remember him saying that you should’ve called him so he could take your mind off it, and you remember wondering if he really meant that or if he was just being nice.   

“It’s almost nine.” He says quietly after unlocking his phone. “We slept for like two hours.” He yawns cutely while checking any missed notifications and you can see from the corner of your eye, he quickly replies to a message from Jeno. “Seems like Jen convinced Ningning to come out.” He announces with a snort and your ears perk at that, your head slightly raising to look at him in question and he shows you the selfie he’s received from a visibly drunk Jeno, who’s got an arm wrapped around your friend’s shoulders, who’s sticking her tongue out, also visibly drunk.   

“Fuck's sake.” Your head drops on his shoulder again, groaning. “She’s gonna be hungover tomorrow.” You whine and Haechan lets out a laugh, holding you tightly against him, his arm wrapping around your middle. Your hand rests on his chest and you close your eyes, allowing the cosiness to engulf you.  

“It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll look after her.” He places his phone back on the coffee table and wraps his other arm around you, squeezing you like a teddy bear, with a sigh. “Bet my left nut, he’s staying at yours again tonight.” He jokes and you snort at his choice of words.   

“Why the left one specifically?”   

“I’m right-handed so I thought I’d keep the right one.”   

“I’m sure you’ll get to keep both anyway; he’s definitely going home with her.” You agree with his point and tap your hand lightly on his chest, while resting your chin on it to look up at his pretty face. His eyes are closed now and he looks so relaxed, you can’t help but wonder if he’s enjoying the cuddling session as much as you are, but you also don’t want to assume he wants you to stay over. “I can go home, if you wanna go to bed. It’s getting late.”   

His eyes open the moment he seems to have registered your words and he looks down at you. “Or you could stay?” He suggests with hopeful eyes, gauging your reaction. “I have a spare toothbrush, and you can wear something of mine.” He can definitely tell you’re contemplating. “No pressure of course, I get if you wanna be in your own bed.” His fingers comb through your hair soothingly and you close your eyes momentarily.  

"Hmm." You ponder with a smile, letting your hand trail up his chest, fingers absentmindedly stroking along his jaw, feeling the scratch of the light stubble adorning his chin and he tilts his head, leaning into the touch. “I'm sure I won't miss my bed that much.”  

_

After you’ve both brushed your teeth and he’s given you a comfortable big t-shirt of his to change into, you’re ready for bed and when you walk into his room, he’s already turned the main light off and left the bedside lamp on.

He’s lying comfortably under the white covers, back against the headboard while he’s lazily scrolling through his phone. You feel giddy at how soft and warm he looks. Just like a teddy bear you wouldn’t be able to sleep without.

You place your clothes on his desk chair and walk over to the side he’s not occupying, noticing your own phone is placed on the bedside table next to him, plugged in and screen down. You smile at the thoughtful gesture and slowly lift the duvet to get under, instinctively shuffling closer to his side of the bed when he stretches his arm out for you and you place your head on his chest, resembling the position you were in earlier on the couch. His bedsheets are cold and you tangle a leg with his, wiggling your toes against his skin to warm them up, making him flinch and you giggle quietly. “Sorry.”   

He places his phone down, next to yours and moves to get comfortable against the pillows while holding onto your shoulders, bringing you down with him. He maneuvers you so you’re both on your sides facing each other and his arm is still slotted under you, between your head and your shoulder, while yours lazily drapes over his waist. He cups your jaw, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin and when he kisses your forehead gingerly, your eyes close momentarily while your arm tightens around his middle, pulling yourself closer so your chest is touching his. It feels domestic and so comfortable, like you’ve shared a bed with him a million times before.

“You comfy?” He whispers and you nod, the tip of your nose rubbing against his in the process. You see the corners of his lips lifting into a smile that probably mirrors yours. “Are you sleepy?” He murmurs against your lips and you smirk, knowing he’s testing the waters now. His fingers are in your hair and his thigh is resting between your legs, so close to your aching centre that you’re worried he can feel you throbbing through your underwear.   

“Not really.” You breathe against his lips, your hand on his back slipping under the hem of his t-shirt and you feel him shiver when you trail your fingers up, your nails lightly scratching, feeling the goosebumps on his warm skin. “You?” Your breath hitches when his thumb traces your bottom lip, dragging it down and your eyes travel to his heart shaped lips. You instantly wish they were on yours, but you want to let him go at his own pace.   

“What do you think?” He asks rhetorically and you breathe out a laugh, biting down on your bottom lip when his thumb moves to stroke the apple of your cheek.   

“I think,” you pause, lightly dragging your nails down his back, earning a whimper from him. “I’m not really thinking actually.” You confess as your hand travels to his front, fiddling with the strings of his shorts, your fingers catching the elastic band of his shorts and letting it snap against his lower abdomen, earning a gasp from him, which hits your eager lips.   

“Dumb already?” He attempts to tease and the smile dies on his lips, jaw dropping when your hand dips into his slacks and past his underwear, to wrap firmly around him. His eyes close when your thumb rubs under the head and you relish in the fact that he’s almost fully hard. He feels velvet smooth against your palm, thick enough to make you think it will probably sting when he enters you for the first time, slightly curved upwards, length perfect for hitting that sweet spot in your walls. You feel yourself getting wet at the thought and your breathing stutters when his thigh makes contact with your pussy, your hips instantly pushing forward, chasing the stimulating feeling. “Mm fu-“   

His lips are finally on yours, interrupting you and you moan against his mouth in relief, kissing him back like you were made for it. You can’t help but think of that night in the noraebang room; how these very lips completely and utterly ruined you for anyone else. How they devoured you like no one else has before and probably like no one ever will.   

Without breaking the kiss, you push him gently and he rolls onto his back dragging you with him so you can straddle him. He buries his fingers into your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue gliding against yours and you moan at the taste of him; toothpaste and something uniquely him. Your hands take hold of his, dragging them down your figure and you stop to rest them on your ass, smiling in the kiss when he instantly kneads and pulls at the plush skin. You allow him to lick into your mouth one more time, before breaking the kiss to sit up and take in his dazed expression. Eyes hooded, lips wet and swollen and so irresistible, you feel helpless. Before he can complain, you drop your hands to the hem of the shirt that he let you borrow and slowly start dragging it up your skin, until it’s off you and on the floor.   

“Fuck.” He exhales heavily, the second your tits are free and his hand comes up caressing from your hip up to your ribs until he reaches the underside of your boob and he gently cups, feeling the weight of it in his hand. “You’re fucking unreal.” He whispers and licks his lips before sitting up and wrapping his other arm securely around your waist.

His forehead rests against your chest for a moment, inhaling deeply, almost as if he needs a minute to compose himself while still squeezing your boob in his hand and you let him, threading your fingers through his hair to offer some comfort. His warm breath caresses your nipple and your shiver, the skin around the nub pebbling against his palm. You whine at the sensitivity, pulling at his hair to guide him closer to where you want him.

He gets the message and he kisses across your sternum, his tongue coming out to make contact with your skin before it circles around your areola slowly, teasing you. The pads of his fingers digging into the skin of your boob, squeezing as he sucks the nipple into his mouth and he moans when you whine. He starts flicking his tongue, driving you close to insanity and the wetness in your underwear feels almost unbearable now, but you have other priorities.   

“Hae?” You call out into his hair as he’s still sucking and licking and he hums, indicating that he’s listening, as he scatters more kisses across your chest, moving to wrap his lips around your other nipple. “I wanna suck you off.” You say quickly, before allowing the shyness to infiltrate your brain and he instantly releases the nub, with a wet pop, so he can look up at your face with wide eyes. His mouth is ajar and his lips swollen and wet with his spit. He looks fucked out like this, hair messy and you love it, because you’re the sole reason. You cup his face and he absentmindedly squeezes both your tits in his hands, pushing them together, his eyes not leaving yours.   

“Yeah, baby?” He leans up and kisses you softly. “Wanna make me feel good?” He mumbles seductively against your mouth, and you don’t even think before quickly nodding.   

“Mm please.” You say in a whiny voice, playing along with him, as you pull at the fabric of his top and his hands move to pull at the collar, swiftly removing it. Your hands drag down his naked chest, pushing him to lie against the headboard, continuing their journey down his body, until they reach his shorts. You don’t waste any time, pulling his boxers along with them and he spreads his legs when he’s completely naked, for you to kneel in between them. His hand wraps around his hard cock, resting on his tummy and he whimpers at the needed friction while his eyes are on yours.   

“Tongue out, keep your eyes on me.” He says softly and you clench around nothing, your panties a mess by now, you have to refrain from cringing at the feeling. You instantly obey, leaning closer and sticking your tongue out, millimetres away from where he wants it. He gently taps the head against the centre of your awaiting wet muscle and you moan, fighting to keep your eyes on his, the act feeling intensely intimate. “Suck, baby.” He says, his voice still gentle but more authoritative than before. You wrap your lips around the head and suck softly, tasting his precum and you can’t help but let your eyes close at the taste and weight of him in your mouth. You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around him and flicking at the underside, causing him to grunt. “Fuck, pretty girl, you’re so good to me, aren’t you.” He says, with a shaky voice in his state of vulnerability, and you moan at the praise as you slap his hand away, replacing it with your own, wrapping your smaller fingers around his thick length and he lets you. You start to move your hand up and down, pumping him at a quick pace while sucking around the tip again, tongue dipping gently in his slit and when his hips buck up, wanting you to take him deeper, you place a hand on his hip as a warning and he grunts. "Fuck baby, please."   

You gather a good amount of saliva in your mouth and when you look up to make sure he's watching you, you let it drip down slowly, watching as it coats his cock and travels down to his balls. You smile when his eyes roll back and you lick from base to top teasingly, surprising him when you take him as deep as you can, with your hand wrapped tightly around the base.

You moan when he reaches the back of your throat, swallowing around him with purpose and you pull back up when you start to gag. Your hand follows your mouth as you slowly start to move your head up and down, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can and you know you're doing a good job when his hands curl in your hair, gathering the strands into a messy ponytail and his moans turn into whines. This time, when his hips start moving, you allow him to fuck up into you, having gotten used to the feeling of him in your throat.

You slacken your jaw, moving your hand from the base to his thigh, and he moans louder when you allow him to go deeper than before. You feel your eyes water and you know you're slobbering around him, making a complete mess as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, gathering at the base of his cock and balls. Your hand comes up to cup them, rolling gently and he abruptly pulls your mouth off him with a loud groan.

You look at the thick string of spit mixed with precum that’s connecting your lips to his tip, as you gasp for air and then your teary eyes travel up to meet his wild ones. He looks conflicted and his grip on your hair feels tight. "What's wrong?" You ask, your voice comes out hoarse and you feel like coughing to clear your throat, but you just swallow carefully.  

He manages to laugh breathlessly at your confused expression, his breathing shallow and his lips bright pink from all the biting. "I was about to cum." He explains and grabs you by the arms to pull you up.   

"Ain't that the point?" You say as you straddle him again and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, some of the drool smearing on your chin and you internally cringe at the wetness, but his eyes on your mouth tell you he thinks otherwise.   

"Not if you want me to fuck you, no." Your heart jumps at his words and the look on your face must betray you, because he’s smirking. "Unless you don't." He teases, caressing your thighs as you place both hands on his naked chest, your pinky rubbing against his nipple and you giggle when he shudders.   

"No, I do." You confess as you lean down to kiss him but he quickly sits up, meeting you halfway as he wraps his arms around you, maneuvering you onto your back swiftly and you feel yourself bounce on the mattress when he plops you down. He kneels between your legs and without warning, he starts pulling your panties off you. You eagerly raise your hips to help him, bringing your bent legs together, so the fabric doesn't stretch.   

Once the lace is somewhere on the floor, you see his lips curling into a smile as he bites on the bottom one when you mindlessly spread your legs for him again, inviting him to settle between them. He moves closer, dragging his knees on the mattress as his hands take purchase on your hips.   

"Scoot up a bit for me?" He asks sweetly and he helps you move up the bed, so your head rests comfortably on the fluffy pillows, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach causing havoc with no permission, your heart thudding like crazy as your eyes find his and fuck holding back now. You just want him to ruin you.   

You pull at his silver chain, your other hand grabbing the back of his neck and he grunts the second your lips crash, all tongue and teeth with no coordination. You tilt your head to the side to get better access and the wet sound of kissing fills the room. Your clit is throbbing and you desperately need him to do something. Anything. "Please, I'm so wet." You whine against his lips and he moans at your neediness, grinding into your centre. His cock sliding between your folds, the head bumping into your neglected clit and your hips raise searching for more friction.

He leans back on his heels and hunches over you, one hand splayed on your tummy, the other wrapping around his dick as he taps the head against your clit and your legs spread completely, giving him full access as you squeeze around your own tits, needing to hold onto something. Your eyes roll back when he starts firmly rubbing the swollen nub, flicking from side to side and you feel like you're  about to combust, your back arching off the bed as you moan loudly.   

You open your eyes the second the friction comes to a halt, and the complaint dies in your mouth when you're met with the sinful sight of him coating two of his fingers in spit before they disappear between your legs and into your needy hole. "Shit, baby." He says in awe when they easily slide into you and your jaw drops at the fullness, your eyes threatening to shut from the pleasure, but you refuse to stop looking at him. His arm muscles are flexing when he starts fucking you open, instantly finding that sensitive spot that drives you insane, his other hand still, possessively pressing down on your lower abdomen to hold you in place, his hair matted on his damp forehead, his eyes focused on your dripping centre, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in concentration. He looks so hot, you could come just from looking at him and when his thumb comes into the equation, rubbing merciless circles around your clit, you feel yourself getting tighter.   

“You gonna cum?” He asks in a whisper, his eyes meeting yours momentarily and you nod quickly, eyebrows creasing at the intense pressure in your belly.   

"Uh-huh, don’t stop." You respond in a high pitched plea and his pace quickens, creating the filthiest squelching noises around his hand and your eyes close, half in ecstasy half in embarrassment. "Oh my god." Your fingers knead your tits harder when you're on the edge and a moan from him is what topples you over. "Fuck, I'm cumming." Your pussy feels like it's on fire as your walls spasm, your clit throbs like it's about to fall off and your legs can't stop shaking. His fingers are pistoning into you so hard and fast, that it feels like it slightly hurts but it feels so good at the same time. Too good. You sense that you're on the verge of peeing and your voice comes out in a broken squeal. "Shit, ah, stop stop stop!" Your hand grabs his wrist in a desperate state and he looks up at your face with widened eyes, like he's come out of a trance. He stops his ministrations but keeps his fingers buried inside you.   

"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry." The hand on your stomach, moving to your ribs, caressing gently. "Did I hurt you? You- shit, I thought you were gonna squirt for a second so I kept going, I'm really sorry." His pupils are shaking as he explains quickly, taking in your sweaty, disheveled form and you feel so exposed that you make grabby hands at him, wanting him close. He instantly moves, supporting his weight on one arm, careful not to crash you and you sigh when you feel his chest flush against yours, warm and damp.   

"It didn't hurt." You assure him, cupping his cheeks in your hands and he closes his eyes, sighing in relief. "I just felt like I was gonna pee." You confess bashfully and he chuckles, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as you run your fingers through his hair. "I've never squirted before, so I freaked out a bit." You explain quietly. "Plus, I don't wanna ruin your bed sheets before we even get to the sex part."   

He snorts and raises his head to look at you again. "Pretty sure they're already ruined." He says giving you a kiss on the cheek and you move to playfully push him off you, but a gasp escapes you when you feel his fingers slightly move, reminding you they're still buried inside your sensitive walls. "Unclench a little, you're squeezing." He whispers and when he kisses you, you slowly relax your walls around his digits, allowing him to carefully pull out and you whine at the loss, making him smile in the kiss. His hand cups your sensitive core, making you mewl at the comforting warmth. "You sure you still wanna keep going? We don't have to if you're feeling sore."  

"I'm fine." You wrap your legs around his waist, holding him close. “Want you.” You whisper, hands sliding up his chest, coming up to bury in his hair again, as you bring his lips down to yours, urging him to kiss you stupid. And he does. 

It’s slow, steady, passionate and you feel like mush in his arms, numb to the core, your lips moving in sync with his, taking what he’s giving you. You inhale and exhale heavily through your nose, refusing to break the kiss and you moan when he obscenely shoves his tongue into your mouth, licking messily and the conversation from earlier enters your mind suddenly. “Mm- I want mmf-” He interrupts you with another messy kiss before pulling away, allowing you to speak.  

“You want what?” He asks quietly, lips still grazing yours as he catches his breath. Your eyes are on his glistening mouth, and he must sense your hesitation, because he presses again, hand caressing up and down your thigh in encouragement. “Tell me, baby, I’ll give you anything you want.”   

“Remember what we talked about earlier?” You try, too embarrassed to actually say the words.  

“Earlier?” His eyebrows furrow in thought, not catching on straight away.  

“At the café.” You whisper, your eyes drop to his mouth again, slightly hinting and when they find his again, you know he’s caught on.   

“You- fuck.” He falters when your hips raise, the tip of his cock catching at your entrance momentarily before sliding between your folds. “You want me to spit in your mouth?” He asks carefully, after having somewhat collected himself, both arms coming up, trapping your head between them as he rests his weight on them. You nod, holding eye contact, hands traveling down his abdomen, fingers tracing his sides before trailing up his spine, bracing once having reached his shoulders, palms resting on the blades. “You fucking minx.” His hand cups your chin, fingers lightly squishing your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker as he leans in to press a chaste kiss on them. 

His index taps against your cheek gently, as his hold on your face loosens. “Open up.” He instructs, his voice low, eyes darkening and you feel your cunt fluttering around nothing. “Tongue out.” His fingers lightly shake your face from side to side possessively and your brain stops functioning, tongue sticking out as if on demand and you whine when you watch him gather saliva in his mouth, cheeks hollowing a little, before slowly letting it dribble down your awaiting muscle. Your eyes rolls back when you feel it and your fingernails instinctively dig into his shoulders. “Swallow.” He instructs again, and you obey with a desperate moan, revelling in his dominant demeanour. His hand wraps around your throat, feeling the movement and he kisses you again, grunting against your lips, as you struggle to keep up with him, mouth widening to take his tongue in and you feel the wetness smearing on your chin messily.   

You realise no one has ever kissed you like Haechan, and you wonder if he’s always kissing his sexual partners like this. Has anyone else experienced this level of intimacy with him before? You instantly feel the jealousy brewing at the thought of someone receiving this kind of affection; this kind of pleasure from him and you surprise yourself, never having felt this possessive over someone before. Something switches in you.

“Fuck me.” You breathlessly mumble, not recognising your own voice and he moans in your mouth as your hand reaches down, wrapping around his cock, smearing the shiny drops of precum adorning his tip. His hips thrust forward into your touch and you pump him steadily a couple more times, offering some sort of relief.   

He pulls away slightly, to look at you. “Let me grab a condom.” He says quickly before grabbing your ankles, unwrapping them from his waist.   

“Right, yes.” You nod dumbly, feeling a little silly for having lost all sensibility because of him.   

You watch him as he reaches blindly in the bedside table drawer; his eyebrows furrowing in concentration and his face lights up the second he finds one. You watch him as he sits back on his heels, ripping the foil with his teeth. You watch him as he rolls the latex carefully onto his hard cock, teeth sinking in his bottom lip as he pumps himself a few times, ensuring the condom is on properly, chest moving as he breathes heavily. You watch him as he moves closer, coating two fingers in saliva, before bringing them down to your slit again, rubbing up and down slowly before dipping them in and quickly pumping into you to prep you, even if you really don’t need it. You let him though, because you want to keep watching him for a little longer. 

He looks ethereal, skin glistening in a sheen layer of sweat, his shoulders wide, his chest and arm muscles lean, bicep flexing subtly as he expertly slides his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch you for him. He looks like the epitome of sex and you can’t even bring yourself to moan as his palm rubs against your sensitive clit, your jaw dropping with a quiet, trembling breath when he starts jabbing at your already abused g-spot and your hands release the sheets in favour of holding your legs open, when they threaten to close.

“Think I’m gonna cum again.” You mumble in awe, eyes staying on him still.   

“You think?” He asks, voice laced with sarcasm, pace quickening, urging you to unravel around his fingers for the second time tonight. “Go on, baby.” His free hand, presses against the back of your thigh, pushing your leg close to your chest, testing your flexibility and the second his eyes meet yours, you cum. Hard. “Yeah, good girl.” He praises softly and you let out a whine, allowing your eyes to finally shut, not being able to handle his intense stare, your back arching as your fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, legs uncontrollably shaking, walls clenching repeatedly around his hand, clit pulsing against the heel of his palm as he helps you ride out your orgasm.   

He starts kissing up your trembling body, lips wet, tongue lapping up your sweaty skin and he doesn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath when he harshly sucks your nipple in his warm mouth as his fingers leave your heat to wrap around his hard cock, rubbing the head up and down your soaked cunt. Your hands come up to grab onto his hair, as you attempt to anchor yourself and you can’t help but moan loudly when he pushes in. And even though it’s only the tip, it’s enough to drive you close to insanity.   

“Fuck!” You exclaim, forcing his head up so you can kiss him as he slowly bottoms out, distracting yourself from the stinging sensation.   

You both moan when his pelvis meets yours, his pubic bone flush against your hypersensitive clit as he gives you a second to adjust. He slowly pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in, maintaining a slow, careful pace to make sure you’re feeling comfortable.

“Relax for me.” He exhales a shaky laugh against your lips and you squeeze even harder to tease him. “Fuck! Baby, what the f- don’t.” He warns with a grunt as he wraps an authoritative hand around your neck and draws his hips back a little, before slamming in with force, not a second later. 

The loud noise that escapes your throat resembles a scream and your eyes roll back when he starts fucking into you hard and fast, wet slapping sounds echoing and you don’t even feel embarrassed at hearing how wet you are, the intense pleasure taking over your senses, completely clouding any coherent thought.

“Not so bratty now, are we?” He grunts against your jaw as the hand around your neck tightens slightly, causing your ears to start ringing and your eyes to water. He releases you just when you start feeling dizzy, allowing you to catch your breath. He lets out a dark laugh at your loud gasps and buries his hand in your hair instead, pulling at the roots, so your head lolls back on the pillows, giving him access to your neck. 

“So fucking wet, fffuck, so good.” He slurs between sloppy kisses against your sensitive skin as his hips slow down, fucking you nice and deep at a lazy pace, torturing you. “You take me so well, baby.” His crude words causing you to clench around him as his tongue laps from the base of your neck, up to your ear, flicking the lobe playfully.

“Look.” He whispers, moist breath tickling your ear as the hand fisting you hair, forces your head forward and off the pillow, making you look down between your bodies and you obediently open you eyes. You take in the unholy visual of his cock slowly dragging out to the tip, coated in your shiny slick essence, a white ring forming at the base and your eyes threaten to roll back when he so easily slides back in, at the same torturous pace. “See how perfect you are?”

Your nails drag down his back, leaving scratch marks behind and he hums against your neck when they dig into the flesh of his ass. “Faster, please.” You breathe out and he loosens his hold, allowing your head to tip back down, his eyes finding yours as he maintains the slow pace. 

"You sure, baby?" His tone mocking as he sits back up on his knees, looking down at your messy cunt practically sucking him back in every time he slowly pulls out. You reel at the sight of his feral expression, his eyes unfocused as they trail up and down your naked body, like he can’t decide what to focus on. You feel exposed to the core but your arousal wins and you moan loudly, back arching when his thumb slowly circles around your clit twice, stimulating the stiff nub. 

"Hae, please." You're on the verge of tears and he must like the sound of your begging, because he doesn’t hesitate this time.

He leans down again, bringing his lips to yours, thrusts increasing in pace and force significantly but never losing preciseness, giving you exactly what you want. “Yeah, you want it hard? Fuckin take it.” He grunts, kisses turning sloppy, all tongue and teeth and you can’t stop moaning, mouth hanging open against his as he relentlessly slams his hips against yours.

“Yes, oh my god.” You exhale against his mouth, as he changes the angle slightly and starts fucking directly into your g-spot, barely pulling out before thrusting back in, his balls slapping against your ass and you’re pretty sure you’ve never been fucked this good before. “Fuck, Haechan, baby, please please please, don’t stop.” You blabber, completely lost in mind-numbing bliss, your legs spreading as far as they can go, allowing him to thrust as deep as he pleases. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I need you to cum.” He whispers, tone laced with urgency, almost sounding like he’s in pain and he wastes no time; a hand slotting between your bodies, resuming the stimulation on your clit, as he supports his weight on one arm, thrusts unfaltering, unforgiving and just perfect. His fingers start rubbing rough, tight circles around the nub and your toes curl against his sides, arms securely wrapping around his shoulders, as your walls squeeze around him, indicating another orgasm approaching, and when his fingers along with the head of his cock rub against the right spot, you’re gone.

Your moan comes out broken, walls clamping down on him, legs pathetically attempting to close around him but failing as your thighs shake violently and you feel dizzy, a tear rolling down your temple from the intensity of your high.   

He keeps fucking you into the mattress, thrusts turning a little sloppy now that you're squeezing around him, hips losing their steady rhythm and when the pleasure borders overstimulation, causing you to mewl, he abruptly pulls out, kneeling between your legs and over your spent body. He pulls the condom off quickly with trembling fingers and he moans as he starts jerking himself off, aiming for your abdomen as his free hand curls around your ribs, holding you exactly where he wants you.  

“You look so good.” You exhale in awe as you observe him in the midst of his pleasure, his eyes shut, head thrown back, his pretty neck on display as he moans loudly and his hooded eyes find yours again for a second before they roll back into his head. 

“Shit, gonna cum.” He shakily announces, your praise seeming to have worked wonders, as you feel the first spurts of hot liquid landing on your skin. You take in the beautiful sight of his shaking form, chest and neck flushed, drenched in sweat, eyebrows creasing in between, eyes still shut, jaw slack as he releases short breaths.

He’s milking himself when you look down and you can’t help but ogle at the sight of your skin covered in the sticky white mess he’s created, illuminated by the bedside lamp. You notice some of it has landed on your tits, some on your tummy and you’re pretty sure some of it is pooling in the dip of your belly button, causing you to bite back a smile. 

“Fuck.” He breathes in relief as his eyes slowly open to look at you and he looks dazed, fucked out. His tan skin flushed, making him look delicious. Sweat drips down his temple, hands shaking as they rest on your thighs limply. “I think I blacked out for a second there.” He mutters in awe and you giggle at his crazy eyes, while he tries to regulate his breathing.

His cheeky smile has returned, and he leans in, taking a closer look at his work. “Damn, I did a number on you.” He teases, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sinful sight. “Pretty.” He whispers and takes your limp hand in his, lips kissing gently on the back of it, eyes looking up at you innocently, like he didn’t just fuck you stupid.   

When he drops your hand, he leans down with no warning and you panic at his mischievous expression, as his head disappears between your legs.

“What are you doing?” You ask in confusion and he chuckles softly.   

“Shhh.” He breathes against your folds as his hands hold your legs open and the second his tongue swipes against your heat, you squirm, trying to move further up the bed, but he tightens his arms around your thighs, holding you still. “Relax, just take it.” He whispers calmly before gently sucking on your clit. His tongue slides down to lap at your entrance, slightly dipping in, tasting you directly, before flattening and licking up to the bundle of nerves, making you mewl when he swirls around it languidly. He keeps going, alternating between sucking, licking and gently circling until your legs are shaking again. Your hands release the sheets, moving to desperately hold onto his hair, fingers pulling, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer and his moan vibrates against your clit, pushing you over the edge once more. You cry out pathetically, not able to form any words, cumming uncontrollably on his tongue as he refuses to let up until your whole body shakes from overstimulation.  

“Please, I- I can’t- can't cum again.” You stumble over your words, as he licks against your entrance, slurping up your juices, the sounds incriminating and you don’t even have the energy to push him away anymore. You just accept that if he tries to make you come again, you’ll probably pass out. To your relief, he thankfully stops once he’s cleaned you up with his tongue.

You blink up at him when you feel his weight on you, his skin feels hot on yours, his cum smearing between you, and he doesn’t seem have a care in the world. The only thing he does seem to care about is shoving his tongue in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself, kissing you like he owns you and at this point, he might as well spell out his name on your body with his cum, because he has completely and utterly destroyed you and you know you’re irrevocably ruined for anyone else.   

“So good for me, baby girl.” He mutters wetly, mouth open against yours, breathing heavy. “So fucking sweet.” He whispers almost inaudibly and you cup his chin in your hand, squishing his cheeks between your fingers, pecking him on his puckered lips.   

“You’re fucking insane, Lee Haechan.” You weakly chuckle as he tries to kiss you again, his whine childish as your firm hold on his face prevents him from doing so. “Get off me, before I piss myself in your bed, you freak. You’re pressing against my bladder.”  

_

After having gently cleaned you up with a warm hand towel and carried you to the bathroom so you can sort yourself out, he’s got you back in his bed, safely cocooned in his arms and under the covers. His front is comfortably pressed against your back and you’re basking in the warmth and the nakedness.   

“Now I’m definitely sleepy.” You mumble with a content smile and he quietly chuckles in your hair, tightening his arms around you, holding you as close as possible, sighing in delight.  

“Mm same.” He mumbles sleepily against your neck. “You comfortable like this?” He checks, and you feel giddy at his attentiveness.   

“Mm-hmm, more than.” You nuzzle back into him, lazily stroking your fingers up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle, his palm casually cupping your boob; not squeezing, just gently holding. You feel him smile as he presses a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

A few moments of comfortable silence pass, and just when you think his breathing has started to slow down, he quietly speaks again.  

“Y/N?” He asks tentatively and his serious tone worries you.   

“Yeah?” You attempt to turn your head to look at him, but his tight embrace holds you in place and you presume he needs to not be looking at you when he says his next words.   

“I think-” He pauses, collecting his thoughts and you have a feeling you know what he’s trying to get at, so you give him time, hand still gently stroking his arm. “Are we on the same page here?”  

“Well,” You sigh, feigning uncertainty and the tensing in his arm almost makes you regret dragging this. “That depends Lee Haechan.” The teasing smile evident in your voice. “What page are you on?”  

Blind Items have been talking about these two rockstars in indirect musings for some time, with uncorroborated sources claiming they’re ‘exes’ out for vengeance’, while others note that they ‘got into a fight at a throwback-themed party thrown by renowned DJ pair Mark Lee and Johnny Suh last Spring.’ 

Regardless of history, one thing is certain: these two have sparks that just can’t be contained, and with them both headlining this year's Music Awards, it’s sure to be a spectacle.  

One:

With the Music Awards quickly approaching and a tour on the horizon, your life has become a series of press conferences and interviews. 

Being an artist has never been about saying the right thing to news anchors and TMZ representatives; no, to you, being an artist is about two things: the music and the fans. You’re aware that PR is part of your job, but you refuse to be anything other than authentic, and - to even your label’s surprise - the ‘genuine approach’ has actually bolstered your success. 

You’re at the Vice headquarters today, answering questions for a piece that a new writer is drafting for next month's edition, and you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t beginning to feel monotonous. 

Two Starbucks drinks in, and you’re getting restless, your knee is bobbing as you do your best to go through every question with the right level of genuine thought. 

You’re asked about how you and your team choose which cities for your tour, and that’s when you notice someone out of the corner of your eye.

Your skin tingles with even more annoyance, heat flushing through your body, and as you take a second to look like you're considering your answer, your gaze shifts to Lee Donghyuck, who’s standing by the refreshment table off camera. 

His eyes lock with yours, and he smirks over the rim of his cup.

Taking a breath, you try to focus on the interview, but it’s nearly impossible to be professional with Hyuck in the same room.

He’s the most judgmental little shit of a human that you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, and the last time he released an album, you and a few of your friends had conducted an ‘anti-success’ tarot reading in the hopes that he would crash and burn.

It’s hard to be in the same industry and circles as a person you’ve come to hate, and even more difficult to finish the interview, but as the questions come to an end, you’re more than happy to jump up and try to escape.

“Hiya, Wolfie,” he calls, making you groan with annoyance immediately.

“What do you want?” you snap.

“Noticed you were struggling a bit near the end there,” Hyuck grins.

“Yeah, well…” you scour your mind for a comeback, but you’re just too exhausted, “fuck you.”

The rockstar lets out a laugh. “Fuck you? Is that the best you could come up with?”

“I don’t have time for losers today,” you brush it off.

“Well, we’re both headliners at the Music Awards, so if I’m a loser, what are you?” 

“Just the best female rock artist,” you retort.

“Nominee,” Hyuck corrects. “The best female rock artist nominee. And again, I’m the best male rock artist nominee, so… seems we’re equals, Wolfie.”

“Why are you even here?” you scowl.

“Hmm, why would I be at Vice right now?” Hyuck pretends to think on it, raising one black chipped fingernail to his chin. “Oh, right, maybe because I also have an interview? It’s not rocket science, you know.”

“No, I mean, why are you here watching me like some creep?”

Hyuck shrugs. “I like to see you squirm.”

You scoff. “I was not squirming.”

“Okay, little miss, ‘can’t stop shaking my knee.’” 

“At least I’m not little mister, ‘clearly hungover on a work day.’”

“Sex, drugs, rock and roll… alcohol, more sex, more drugs,” Hyuck’s grin widens. “I thought we were both on the same wavelength with that, but I guess one of us is a pretender.”

“Fuck you.”

He lifts his cup mockingly. “Fuck you, too, Wolfie.”

Two:

In an exclusive video acquired by TMZ, we can see the tension between rockstars Lee Donghyuck and Wolfie Muse heating up already. While at a Vice interview, the pair were caught exchanging heated words behind the scenes.

This altercation raises questions that have been on the minds of fans, haters, and journalists since the meteoric rise to fame both rock stars enjoyed earlier this year. Like a WWE feud crafted by a creative team, this fiery duo is sure to bring even more eyes to the Music Awards happening this month. Now the question is: is the animosity between these two real, or is it all a PR setup known only to a select few, in hopes of spurring more fans, more media coverage, and more attention? 

Three:

Rehearsals for something like the Music Awards are never fun, especially as a performer and an MC. You have dual duties, and what feels like ten times the stress, which isn’t made any easier by the fact that Hyuck is taking longer than his slotted time during prep.

He’ll be announcing Best Female Rock Artist, and he’s been paired up with Johnny Suh, a famous DJ. Suh is perhaps the only person in the world that Hyuck looks up to, and as you wait in the wings for the two of them to finish up their practice, you can see the joy radiating off the rockstar.

For a man who has a resting bitch face and an unparalleled mischievous streak, Hyuck turns quite boyish when he smiles and looks up at Suh. 

The sight of him simping over his Hyung is enough to make you laugh, hiding your mouth with a hand, but the amusement is quickly overshadowed by annoyance. Not only is Hyuck overdue on his time, but he’s also extremely cute when he smiles, and the realization makes your blood boil.  

Finally, a stage hand announces that the two of them really have to wrap things up, and a minute later, Hyuck is walking toward you in the wings of the stage.

“Took you long enough to read a cue card,” you say under your breath.

“Took you long enough to end up nominated for awards,” he retorts.

“Says you, we have the same career trajectory,” you snap back.

“Well,” Hyuck struggles for a response. “I’m the announcer for Best Female Rock Artist, and if your name comes up on the fucking card…”

“What? Finish your threat.” You grin. “Are you going to read the wrong name and be corrected like that time at the Oscars? I would actually love to see that.” 

“I guess it won’t matter, because you won’t win anyway,” Hyuck scoffs.

“Really? Who else would win?” You laugh, knowing he’s grasping at straws now. 

“Literally anyone else,” he spits back.

“Wow, so a drunk and delusional.” You shake your head at him. “I really don’t understand what anyone sees in you.”

Hyuck takes a step forward, and your heart leaps to your throat. “They see my handsome good looks, my sexy hair, my attractive smile-”

“Okay, Narcissus,” you blurt out, trying to put some distance between you and Hyuck by taking a step back, but the rockstar only follows you.

“Come on, Wolfie, you might hate me, but you’re not blind.” The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk that makes your skin heat up.

You hate that he is good-looking, and you hate the fact that your body reacts to it, even though your mind is screaming at you to hate this man and everything he stands for. 

“You think I’m sexy, just admit it,” Hyuck says, his voice lowering.

“And you know I’m going to win that award,” you fire back once you can find your words.

Hyuck releases a sigh, stepping back. “Keep dreaming.”

Four:

Red carpets are a different monster.

You feel the weight of your makeup on your skin, and the heaviness of the ‘designer dress’ adorning your body. It’s tight in all the right places according to your stylist, but as it hugs your stomach and your ribs, cutting off some of your breathing, you think maybe it’s tight in all the wrong places. 

To make matters worse, red carpets are a shit show of yelling, flashing, demands, and the extreme pressure to act graceful and poised through all of the noise. 

You do your best to focus on each interview, each small touch and go, most of which are about your outfit, your performance tonight, or your tour.

Somehow, in the circus that is the Music Awards red carpet, you end up next to Hyuck as you both take short interviews, and your skin tingles at the proximity.

“So, I want to address the elephant in the room,” the interviewer grins, and you match the smile, listening hard for the question that is soon to follow. “This rakishly handsome man to your left, Lee Donghyuck, The Huckster. Everyone is dying to know the root of your rivalry.”

“Oh, uh,” you falter, swallowing back the words that are dying to come out of you.

You fight with yourself, wanting to be candid, but remembering your PR training. However… your manager had mentioned that no press is bad press, and a rivalry with Hyuck is something that’s been putting you in the headlines recently…

“Do you want my honest opinion?” you sigh.

“Yes, please,” the interviewer grins, smiling like a vulture.

“I think he’s a whiny little boy half the time, and he’s obsessed with himself, which, sure, it’s a nod to the old rockstars, the sex, drugs, rock and roll, the alcohol and smoking, but if we’re being honest, don’t we know better by now? Don’t we, as a collective, as a culture, know that the type of shit that was happening in the seventies, eighties, and nineties was not conducive to actual health? Sure, some of the best songs ever written were written under the influence of cocaine, ecstasy, alcohol, etcetera, but are any of Hyuck’s songs instant classics? I, personally, don’t think so. So it feels like a waste of drugs, and a risk to himself, to be doing all of that to emulate the rockstars of old, while being nowhere near their level of talent.”

The interviewer stares at you in shock, and you can see her processing your words.

You can’t believe all of that just came out of you.

“Tell us how you really feel,” the interviewer laughs, finally. “So it’s safe to say you’re not exes like the blind items claim.”

“Honestly,” you scoff, “some days, I think he wishes.”

Five:

“And the award for Best Female Rock Singer goes to…” Johnny and Hyuck open the folded envelope. 

“No fucking way,” Hyuck laughs under his breath, but the mic still picks it up.

“Wolfie Muse,” Hyuck and Johnny say together, and the entire arena roars with the reveal.

You feel numb even as your team stands to congratulate you. Part of you had known you’d win, but it still feels surreal, and everything is a blur as you make your way to the stage. You’re in such shock that you even accept a hug from both Johnny and Hyuck, although one feels more performative than the other. 

Both men stand respectfully behind you as you give your speech, and you’re overwhelmed with emotion as you bare your heart out for everyone. You’re practically shaking as Johnny and Hyuck walk you off the stage after your acceptance, and it’s not until you’re in the wings that the reality and ecstasy truly hit you.

“Congratulations,” Hyuck says, hanging back with you as Johnny scurries off to prepare for his set, which is happening during the middle of the show intermission.

“I-” You’re tongue-tied, staring down at your award. 

“You’re part of the closing event, which means you have time to go celebrate, if you want,” Hyuck muses, awkwardly patting you on the shoulder.

“Hyuck…” You swallow the lump in your throat, all your animosity toward him disappearing as it hits you that you’ve won your first major music award.

“Yeah, yeah, you deserved it,” he sighs, his own issues with you clearly evaporating into thin air.

Right now, you’re not Wolfie and Hyuck, the rockstar rivals; you’re just two people, one who won an award, and the other who is genuinely congratulating them for the achievement.

“I can’t even think,” you admit, running a hand through your hair. “Do you want to come have a drink with me in my trailer before I have to do prep for my show?” 

“I guess all the awards I was up for already went through, so I have the time, and I make it a rule to never turn down alcohol,” Hyuck smirks.

“Oh, right, congratulations on your Best Male Rock Singer award, too,” you blurt out. 

He shrugs. “I guess we both knew we’d be winners tonight.”

He’s so nonchalant, and it’s annoyingly sexy how full of himself he can be.

“Come have a drink before I change my mind,” you laugh, finally feeling grounded as your usual irritation for the man starts to slowly return.

Hyuck only chuckles, following you as you head through the backstage area to the VIP lot outside, where your trailer is.

“So… I got a bottle of Champagne in case I won this,” you explain as you enter the space that contains your hair and makeup station, a closet, and a bed in the back to nap on in case you get tired from working. 

“No vodka or whiskey?” Hyuck jokes, taking a seat on the couch area while you grab the bottle from the minifridge. 

“This is a champagne occasion,” you insist.

“But you do have vodka or whiskey?” he asks.

With a sigh, you point to a cupboard where you keep your liquid courage, and Hyuck grins as he stands up to saunter over to it.

“You’re going to make me drink my champagne alone?” you question, pouring yourself a glass.

“It’s your win, Wolfie,” Hyuck winks, flicking the cap off the bottle of vodka before lifting it to his lips. “Sex, drugs, rock and roll.”

You groan at his words, in disbelief that you actually invited this man into your trailer.

Hyuck takes a seat, and your eyes are drawn to the way his thighs look in his pinstripe pants. He’d gone for a more refined look this evening, but there are still touches of rockstar. You’re pretty sure someone dusted his face with a bit of glitter, and the chunky rings match the chipped nail polish that he always sports. 

A bit of his chest is showing with his unbuttoned white shirt, and you swallow a lump in your throat before downing your glass of champagne.

“Oh, so it’s that kind of party,” Hyuck grins, taking a large swig of the vodka. “And you were on my ass about being drunk while working.” 

“I’m not getting drunk,” you insist.

“So what’s made you so thirsty?”

You look over at him again, and you can see the mischief in Hyuck’s smile. He spreads his legs a little, and you have to fight the urge to gaze down at his thighs again.

“Fine, don’t answer, I know you’ve been high-strung today,” Hyuck sighs, turning away and nursing the bottle of vodka.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“That interview you gave earlier, you know, the one where you said I do a bunch of drugs and act like an idiot, but I don’t actually make any good music.”

Your heart lurches to your throat. “I didn’t know you heard all of that.”

“I was standing three feet away,” he scoffs. “It’s fine, I don’t think that highly of you either.”

“Oh?” You quirk a brow. “And tell me, what have I done to you?” 

“You’re a faker. You make money trying to be this sexy rock and roll goddess, but it’s a costume you put on for show, and then take off. I bet you go to sleep early, have a cup of tea, hang out with your cat, that type of bullshit. You are monopolizing on a lifestyle and aesthetic that you don’t actually embody.” 

Your words catch in your throat.

“Oh, and I bet you’re celibate,” Hyuck throws in for good measure, flashing you a grin before taking another sip of vodka.

“I am not celibate!” you insist.

“Yeah? Prove it.” Hyuck licks his lips, sitting up on the couch to stare at you.

You scoff loudly, rolling your eyes, but when your gaze returns to your rockstar rival, you realize he’s dead serious.

“Wait, you’re propositioning me?” you ask in shock.

“Kind of been wanting to fuck some sense into you for a while.”

“Fuck some sense into me?” You can’t contain yourself anymore. “I’d like to see you fucking try!” 

“Fucking finally,” Hyuck groans. He sets the bottle of vodka on the floor and stands up abruptly, grabbing you by the hips and tugging you to his chest. You let out a squeak in shock, having not expected him to actually do this, but when his lips smash against your own, your mind goes blank.

The glass you’d been holding in your hand slips from your fingers, and you hear it shatter against the floor, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, kissing him passionately, fighting with his tongue for dominance.

Hyuck groans, one of his own hands slipping down to your ass, where he gropes you through your dress. A moan escapes you, and the rockstar grins slightly, leaning down to get a grip on you so he can lift you up.

Your legs wrap around his hips, and he carries you toward the small hallway that leads to the back bedroom. He pushes you against a wall there, and you bite on his lower lip as a warning, but he only grins into the kiss, the roughness continuing.

You hate that you enjoy the manhandling, the way he’s dominating you, but you won’t take it lying down, and you thread your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly to earn yourself a deep moan that goes straight to your core.

Hyuck moves his mouth down to your throat, and he licks your sweet spot. You release your own moan of pleasure, panting in his ear as he begins to suck on your skin.

“You better not mark me,” you gasp when you feel his teeth drag against your neck.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snaps back.

You tug on his hair, forcing his mouth away from your throat, and you begin to attack his own neck, licking and sucking, earning all sorts of sinful sounds from the man who has you pressed against the wall.

“Fuck,” Hyuck says, his voice shaky, his fingers digging into your skin where he’s holding you up.

He tightens his grip on you, then walks you toward the room at the end of your trailer. The blinds are all closed, but there’s a red light on the wall, and it creates a sinful ambiance as he tosses you onto the bed.

“So how hard is it going to be to get you out of that dress?” he asks as he begins to remove his clothes.

“Depends, are you man enough for a challenge?” you retort.

Hyuck scoffs, shaking his head at you. “I swear to god, I will tear that dress off of your fucking body.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ve gotta stop challenging me,” Hyuck sighs, ripping off his shirt to expose a thin but built form that’s covered in tattoos. “Don’t you know? I hate to lose.”

He’s on top of you in an instant, lips hot against yours as his hands grab the front of your dress. It’s only when he begins to rip it apart that you realize he wasn't playing around. Hyuck truly doesn’t care that this is a designer garment, he doesn’t care about anything other than getting you naked, and it makes your core pulse with desire.

“You’ll have to pay for this dress,” you tell him between kisses.

Hyuck chuckles. “A rockstar wouldn’t care about ripped clothes.”

“A man would just say yes and be done with it,” you snap back.

He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you back roughly so you have to stare up at him. His voice is low when he says, “I like you best when you don’t talk.”

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you,” you grin.

Hyuck shakes his head, letting out a sigh of annoyance, and then he slams his lips to yours again, pushing your ripped up dress off your body so one of his hands can grasp your now exposed breast.

You groan desperately, loving the way he’s immediately rough with you, pinching the sensitive bud between two fingers.

“I always knew you’d like to be dominated,” he says smugly, his lips moving to your throat where his teeth graze your skin again.

“Fuck off,” you snap, but another whimper escapes you when he twists your nipple.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

A powerful surge of adrenaline runs through you, and you push him off of you, leaving the rockstar blinking in confusion.

You tear off what’s left of your outfit, leaving only your high heels, and then, you grab his pants, tugging them down with rough hands. 

“Oh, shit,” Hyuck laughs. “Didn’t realize you wanted to suck me off so bad.”

You roll your eyes at him, of course Hyuck thinks you want to give him head, but this isn’t about to be a one way street.

“I make it a habit to never eat alone,” you tell him, standing up straight and looking down at his naked body.

His cock is thick, it’s not the longest you’ve ever seen, but you begin to salivate as you think of the stretch the girth will give you.

“So… we sixty-nineing or what?” Hyuck grins, laying back against the pillow like the cat who ate the canary.

You roll your eyes at how much tact he lacks, but you climb onto the bed anyways, core practically dripping with anticipation.

He helps you adjust over him, and you stare down at his cock, feeling his breath on your wet pussy.

You can’t believe you’re about to do this, but you don’t take the time to think about it, because Hyuck’s hands pull you down to his mouth.

He clearly doesn’t have a care in the world that you’re ‘rivals,’ and as he fully dives into eating your pussy, you throw all inhibitions away as well.

Grabbing the base of his cock, you sink your mouth down on him, not caring to tease. If he’s not going to beat around the bush, neither will you, and from the way he’s sucking on your clit, you think he’s trying to see which one of you can make the other cum first.

It’s a wordless challenge, and it drives you to take as much of him into your mouth as you can. The tip of his girthy cock hits the back of your throat, and your gag reflex kicks in, but you clench your eyes shut and will it away.

Hyuck groans desperately, slurping and sucking your pussy while the vibrations run through you. You can feel your thighs shaking slightly, and Hyuck adjusts his grip on them, warm palms massaging your muscles.

For a moment, you can forget that this is Hyuck, and you can just focus on the fact that he’s eating you out better than anyone else ever has.

You grind down against his mouth, and Hyuck flattens his tongue to allow you to ride his face. 

He’s being shockingly good for you… and this is a man who - by all accounts - has made it seem like he’s more dominant. However, you get the sense maybe he’s more versatile than he lets on, and the thought excites you. 

You repeatedly push your mouth down on his cock, your eyes watering as you fight your gag reflex, and Hyuck moans wildly, his hips buckling slightly. 

You can feel your orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and it spurs you on as you suck Hyuck stupid, wanting him to be the one who breaks first. 

His lips wrap around your clit, and he holds you still, forcing you to take everything he’s giving you.

You can no longer hold in your moans, and you pull off of his cock, wrapping your fist around it so you can stroke him off while you press your face to his thigh, whimpering like a whore.

Hyuck grins a little, but he doesn’t stop his motions, and soon, your entire body is teetering on the edge. 

You try to hold it off, but you can’t help the orgasm that washes over you, enveloping your form with pleasurable shivers.

The high is overwhelming, and you’ve never felt more alive as Hyuck eats you through your orgasm, his mouth still moving like a man who is ravaged by hunger.

But soon, it becomes too much, and you lift off of his face, whimpering and shaking.

Hyuck pushes you off of him, and you land on the bed as he sits up. “I could eat that pretty pussy for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Wolfie,” he muses. “Now are you ready to take my cock, or what?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I thought we agreed to keep the talking to a minimum.”

“No, I said I like it better when you don’t talk, we never agreed I would shut up,” he laughs, adjusting you on the bed before getting on top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, and you stare up at the beautifully infuriating man. “Don’t be two pump chump.”

Hyuck laughs even harder, then he leans over you, his lips ghosting your ear, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Two of his fingers slide into your mouth rather suddenly, and his other hand guides the head of his cock toward your core. 

You’re so soaked that it’s easy for him to push into you, and you groan at the stretch, sucking his fingers diligently.

“So this is the way I can shut you up, huh?” Hyuck groans when he’s fully inside of you. “Give you something to suck on and you turn into a complete sub.” 

You open your eyes and glare at him, teasing your teeth against his knuckles.

“I know you liked sucking my cock,” Hyuck continues. “Don’t try to deny it. And I also know that you’re about to love this.” 

With one slight adjustment to anchor himself, Hyuck begins to rut into you, and your eyes roll back into your head from the sensation.

He’s just so thick, and you can feel him stretching you out with every motion. Your core is still sensitive from your orgasm, and it makes your toes curl as he fucks into you, finding a pace that works for you both.

You moan around his fingers, fully immersed once again. 

His sounds aren’t something you’re averse to either, and there’s something sexy about the slight whining tone he makes between gasps and grunts.

Hyuck pulls his fingers out of your mouth to smash his lips against yours, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, moaning desperately as he fucks you stupid.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and you kind of love the wet sounds coming from between your legs, the skin on skin, the heat and sweat. 

His teeth tease your lower lip and you groan, tugging on his hair.

It seems you both have a thing for pain, and Hyuck’s pace quickens, the head of his cock hitting a deep spot inside of you that has your toes curling.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, pulling out of you abruptly. He flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and lifting you into doggy style before slamming into you again.

You mewl against the sheets, pressing your cheek firmly to the mattress as you grab for something to steady yourself. His hands are on your hips, tugging you back toward him to meet every thrust as he ravishes you in the best possible way.

“Fuck, pussy tastes amazing, but it feels like fucking magic,” he groans. 

Your core flutters around him, and you love the dirty praise, which is something he clearly knows, because his thrusts falter slightly.

“I knew you liked dirty talk like this shit,” Hyuck laughs. “Knew you’d like listening to your rival come undone as he fucks you stupid.”

For once, you have no response, and you can only moan, pushing your hips back toward him, desperate for more. 

“Fuck, keep doing that, keep fucking twerking on my fucking cock,” Hyuck grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. “And rub your clit too, I wanna feel you cum this time.”

You shove your hand under your body, two fingers finding the sensitive bud. Your core tightens around him again, and you both moan from the sensation.

“Just like that, fuck,” Hyuck groans, and his words make your entire body tingle.

You let your sounds escape you uncensored as he fucks you toward another high, and the rubbing of your clit has all of your muscles tensing in anticipation.

Then, he grabs your hair, tugging your head back so your body is arched in an odd shape. “Don’t hold back,” Hyuck warns, and from the angle of your throat, your sounds are much more guttural now, but there’s something so sexy about the animalistic way in which he’s fucking you.

“Keep going, keep rubbing that pretty pussy,” he instructs, and you give in to him being the dominant now.

You give in to Hyuck, and it actually feels amazing.

Each rough thrust has you closer and closer to the edge, and soon, your entire body is tensed with anticipation.

“That’s it, cum for me, cum on my fucking cock,” Hyuck groans, and without any more prompting needed, you let go.

Your orgasm slams through you, your pussy clamping down hard on Hyuck, who lets out a desperate moan.

Then he’s pushing you down flat, his body collapsing on your back as he shallowly fucks you, his cock throbbing in your own pulsating hole.

The warmth of his cum fills you, and the way he’s panting against your shoulders has your body tingling with sensitivity. 

The two of you are gasping, and you can feel his heart racing against your back as you both try to steady yourselves.

A few minutes pass, and then Hyuck groans. “I probably should have asked you about birth control and STD’s and shit.”

Your heart lurches into your throat. “Did you just give me something?!”

“No, I’m clean, are you?”

“Fuck off,” you groan, pushing yourself up so he has to roll off of your back while you grab some tissues to deal with the cum that’s starting to drip off of you.

“So we’re both clean, good,” Hyuck laughs, but then his demeanor gets more serious. “This doesn’t change anything, by the way.” 

“Yeah, in your dreams this changes anything,” you snap back. 

“In your dreams!” 

And the irritation is back.

You shake your head, going to the small bathroom to clean yourself up. You grab some clothes, checking your phone for the time. “Fuck, my team will be here soon to prep me for my show.”

“Wouldn’t want to hold little miss Best Female Rock Artist back,” Hyuck chuckles, pulling on his jeans.

“Yeah, get the fuck out of my trailer.”

“You’d have to beg me on your knees if you wanted me to stay.”

You roll your eyes. “Again, I don’t want you here.”

“Sure you don’t.” Hyuck grabs you by your hips, pulling you in for one last heated kiss, and when he pulls away, he’s grinning. “All bark and no bite.”

You can’t with him, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Hyuck winks as he heads toward the exit door of your trailer. “And again, this doesn’t change anything.”

You wonder if he’s trying to convince you or himself, but you don’t dwell on it. You have a job to do, and you’d never let a man - let alone a man like Hyuck - get in the way of your work. 

This is something to deal with another time, and you’ll cross that bridge then. 

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🔮 preview.  Hyuck always seemed like a wild card to you, so it’s a shock that he actually has a calming effect when you’re around him, and you melt into the feeling of relaxation, the feeling that everything will be okay.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, mentions of roleplay, alcohol, grinding, groping, foreplay, oral (f/m receiving), dick sucking, deep throating, pussy eating, overstimulation, multiple reader orgasms, mutual orgasms, dirty talk, praise, thick cock Hyuck, etc…   I petnames. (hers) Wolfie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 115

🌙 starring. Haechan x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been over a year since the now infamous onstage moment at the Music Awards, wherein ‘The Hyuckster’ had to present his rival, Wolfie Muse, with the distinction of Best Female Rock Artist. And what a year it has been.

Blind items about this pair of rock stars have been popping up left, right, and center. But blind items are just gossip, and as a journalist who did attend university for a degree on the subject, I don’t deal in word of mouth. The picture below depicts one Mister Lee Donghyuck, leaving a hotel in Madrid, and whose hotel you may ask? Well, Wolfie Muse’s hotel, where she stayed after doing a concert two days ago.

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his eyebrows lift immediately, playing along without hesitation.

“should i be worried?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head before lowering your voice again, more serious now, “but honey told me something today.”

and here it is.

he’ll never admit it out loud.

but he loves girl talk with you.

not necessarily for the stories — though those can be entertaining too — half the time he barely knows who the people you’re talking about even are. the names blur together sometimes.

but…the way your eyes light up when you tell them?

that part he never misses.

jeno hums again, softer this time, his hand sliding absentmindedly along your back before settling at your waist, fingers resting there like they’ve memorized the shape of you.

“honey? that’s xiaojun’s girl, right?” he murmurs, piecing it together just enough.

you nod immediately, serious, like this is important.

“okay so apparently — and don’t! tell anyone because this is a top tier secret—” you pause, letting the suspense build, leaning even closer without realizing it, “—the leader of the pinks sorority,” your voice drops, “…and hendery.”

jeno’s head tilts slightly at the mention of his friend, “hendery? like wayv frat leader hendery?”

“yes,” you whisper urgently, eyes wide.

his mouth pulls into a quiet grin, clearly amused — not at the story, but at how invested you are.

“okayy,” he says slowly, dragging it out just a little, “continue.”

you lean in even closer, practically conspiratorial now, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders without thinking.

“they’ve been secretly hooking up since sophomore year.”

jeno blinks, a bit of shock actually plastered on his face, “what?”

“crazy, right!” you gasp, hands lifting for emphasis before settling back on him, your energy spilling over into every movement.

jeno lets out a quiet breath of a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back slightly, the chair creaking under the shift.

“aren’t their houses like… rivals or something?”

you point at him instantly, eyes lighting up, “i know! that’s exactly what i said!”

he watches you for a moment. the way you lean forward every time you make a point, like the story pulls you closer. the way your lips move too fast for your thoughts, like you’re trying to get everything out at once before you forget.

his hand squeezes just slightly at your waist, grounding, steady.

“and nobody knew this?” he asks, quieter now, still playing along, still following, even if his focus is slipping back to you.

“apparently not,” you say, eyes wide, completely invested, “honey said they’ve been sneaking around for years. like secret meetups, late night stuff, the whole thing.”

jeno lets out a low whistle, head tipping back against the chair for a second before his gaze finds you again, “that’s kinda impressive.”

you stare at him, “jeno.”

“i’m just saying,” he laughs, lifting one hand in mock defense while the other stays right where it is on your waist, keeping you close without even thinking about it, “keeping a secret that long on a campus like this?” he shakes his head, amused, “that takes skill.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

and jeno…he’s just focused on you.

because the truth is, he’s only half following the story now. the other half of his attention is on the way your eyes shine when you’re excited, the warmth of you sitting comfortably in his lap like it’s the most natural place in the world. like you belong there.

his thumb traces slow, lazy circles at your waist.

“so what else did she say?” he asks quietly, voice softer now, like he’s easing you right back into it.

your eyes light up immediately again, “okay wait…it gets juicier.”

jeno’s grin spreads, fond and a little amused, “oh, does it?”

you nod enthusiastically, already leaning in again — and he lets himself sink a little deeper into the chair, arms tightening loosely around you like he’s settling in, like he’s not going anywhere.

and he doesn’t want to.

because he could sit here all night listening to you ramble about campus gossip if it meant you stayed exactly where you are — straddling his lap, smiling like this, looking at him like he’s the only person you want to tell your secrets to.

“so apparently,” you continue, fully pulled back into the story now, your hands resting on his shoulders, fingers curling slightly into his shirt, “hendery is like… actually in love with her.”

jeno’s brows lift, playing along, “in love?”

“yes,” you say emphatically, “he’s been obsessed with her since sophomore year. apparently all the boys in wayv house know it too.”

jeno lets out a quiet hum, his hand resting comfortably at your waist, “that’s rough.”

“exactly,” you say, nodding rapidly, “because the problem is she refuses to commit.”

jeno tilts his head slightly, eyes still on you, “refuses?”

“yeah,” you sigh dramatically. “like they’ve been secretly hooking up for years but every time he tries to make it official she shuts it down.”

jeno’s mouth twitches, a quiet hint of a smile, “poor guy.”

“right?” you lean forward again, more animated now, pulled deeper into it, “honey said he literally tried to ask her to define the relationship and she told him—”

you stop.

just for half a second. because you feel something warm brush your skin. jeno’s lips. soft. barely there. against your collarbone.

you blink, momentarily thrown off — your words catching for just a beat before you push through it anyway.

“—she told him she didn’t want their houses involved in drama and—”

another kiss.

just as soft. just as distracting.

jeno hums quietly against your skin like he’s still listening, like nothing’s changed, his thumb still tracing slow circles at your waist.

you narrow your eyes slightly, glancing down at him.

“…jeno.”

his lips pause for a second, lingering just above your skin, but his hands don’t move from your waist — if anything, they tighten just a little, like he doesn’t want you shifting away.

“hmm?” he murmurs, voice low, innocent in a way that’s definitely not convincing.

“are you paying attention?”

“mhm,” he answers easily, lips brushing your collarbone again, soft and absentminded, like he’s doing it without thinking, “i am.”

you squint at him, clearly unconvinced, but you push forward anyway.

“anyway,” you continue, trying to gather your thoughts again, “so he’s been waiting for her to change her mind this whole time.”

jeno presses another kiss just below the first, slower this time, like he’s lingering on purpose.

“that’s dedication,” he murmurs against your skin.

your sentence stumbles into a warning, “…jeno.”

“what?” he asks, tone light, but his lips are still hovering there, barely pulling away.

you inhale quietly, trying to refocus.

“as i was saying,” you continue, stubborn now, determined to get through it, “honey said the boys think she keeps him around because she likes him but she doesn’t want the responsibility of actually dating him.”

jeno hums in response, drawing you in closer without asking. another kiss. this one slower. warmer. you inhale a little sharper this time before forcing yourself to keep going.

“and apparently he still drives her home every time they meet up and—”

kiss.

“jeno.”

“yeah?” he replies softly.

you try to glare at him but it’s difficult when he looks so relaxed, so completely at ease — chin dipped slightly, eyes half-lidded as he presses another gentle kiss along your collarbone like he has all the time in the world. completely innocent. and completely distracting.

“you’re ruining our girl talk.”

jeno smiles faintly against your skin, the corner of his lips brushing you, “am i?”

“yes,” you say, firmer this time, even if your voice wavers just a little.

he finally pulls back, just enough to look up at you, expression calm, unreadable — but there’s something playful sitting right behind his eyes.

he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“finish the story,” he says, like nothing happened, thumb still tracing slow circles at your waist, grounding, steady. “i’m listening.”

you stare at him for a second, trying to decide if you believe that. then you sigh dramatically.

“ok so,” you continue, though your voice is a little less steady now, “so honey thinks hendery is eventually going to snap and demand she either commits or—”

your words falter.

because jeno’s not even pretending anymore. his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips for just a second, then back up again — slow, deliberate, like he’s weighing something. like he’s deciding. his hand shifts slightly at your waist, thumb pressing a little more firmly this time.

“or…what?” he asks quietly, a teasing glint in his eye.

he doesn’t sound all that interested in hendery anymore. and it’s getting harder to focus on words when his lips brush your skin like that.

screw the girl talk.

you lean in, capturing his lips with yours, with absolutely no warning. jeno’s eyes widen for a split second in surprise, then flutter shut as he responds eagerly, his mouth parting to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping past your lips.

“bunny,” he chuckles against your lips, the sound vibrating through you as his hands grips your hip, pulling you flush against him.

“—or what?” he teases, again.

“it can wait,” you say breathlessly, your fingers threading through his soft hair to tug him back in.

his lips meets yours again, soft at first, but the heat builds quickly as you sink deeper into it.

he parts from the kiss for a second, fingers gently reaching up, careful and tender, hooking the arms of your glasses and sliding them off your face, setting them aside on the desk. his touch lingers on your cheek for a moment before returning to pull you closer, tilting his head and connecting your mouths fully, tongue sliding in, slow, exploratory, tasting you with languid strokes that curl against yours.

his hands roam slowly up your sides, fingers tracing the hem of your t-shirt before slipping beneath it to graze your bare skin. his touch igniting sparks.

you follow his lead, the rhythm he’s set unhurried but intense. the kiss turns wet and thorough, saliva mixing as he sucks gently on your tongue, drawing a soft moan from your throat.

“mmm,” he hums into your mouth, breaking only for air, nipping at your lower lip, then diving back in.

your fingers curl into his hair, pulling him even closer as you tilt your head to give him better access, the kiss turning sloppy, tongues sliding insistently.

the chair creaks faintly as you shift your hips, grinding down against the growing bulge in his sweats. his thick cock hardening beneath you, pressing up through the layers — your leggings and his sweats creating just enough friction to make your pussy throb.

jeno groans low, the sound muffled against your lips and he bucks up lazily, matching your roll with a deliberate thrust.

you pull back a fraction, panting, your lips glistening from the thorough attention.

“this better be worth ruining girl talk,” you tease, voice breathy.

his eyes are dark, hooded with desire, but a playful smirk tugs at his swollen lips.

“oh, it will be,” he murmurs, capturing your lips once more in a slow, sucking kiss that leaves you dizzy.

one hand slides down to your ass, squeezing, guiding your movements, urging you to hump against him harder.

the dry friction builds heat fast — his dick grinding right against your clit with each pass, your wetness soaking into your panties.

you rock steadily now, the pace still teasing, playful pushes and pulls that have him breathing raggedly into the kiss. his tongue laps at yours in mirroring slowness, hot and wet, while his free hand cups your neck, thumb stroking your jaw to keep you locked in the makeout.

every grind sends jolts of pleasure through you, his cock so rigid it outlines perfectly against your pussy.

“fuck,” he whispers, parting from your lips and trailing kisses down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin there, “want more of you,” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and low.

his fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down quickly. you lift your ass slightly to help, the fabric peeling away from your skin, exposing the damp spot on your panties where your arousal has already soaked through.

he slides the leggings off your legs completely, letting them pool on the floor. the air feels cool against your heated skin but jeno’s warmth presses right back in as he pulls you flush against him again.

his hands immediately return to your ass, palms cupping the full cheeks, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. his grip is firm, possessive, thumbs pressing into the crease where your thighs meet your ass, spreading you open just a bit as he guides your hips down to his clothed bulge.

you grind against him immediately, the friction now more direct, your panty covered pussy rubbing along the length of his cock through his sweats. he’s so hard. the outline thick and throbbing. you’re so wet. the fabric of your panties growing slicker, you can feel it leaking out — dampening his sweats, leaving a visible wet patch on the grey material.

jeno’s gaze drops, fixated on the sight of you grinding slowly on his lap. he can’t look away, eyes glued to the way your soaked panties cling to your folds, the dark stain spreading wider as you bounce a little faster.

“shit,” he breathes out, voice strained, one hand sliding up to grip your hip tighter, urging you to keep that rhythm.

you moan in response, the direct pressure on your clit sending sparks up your spine, making your thighs tremble as you grind down harder.

“neno,” you whimper, nails scraping over his shoulders through his t-shirt, your body arching into the friction, your pussy throbbing, clenching at the tease of his hardness so close yet not inside.

“you’re killing me, bunny,” he groans deep in his throat, fingers digging deeper into your ass, spreading you wider so your clit catches perfectly on his tip with each bounce.

his breaths come ragged, chest heaving, and you feel him twitch violently beneath you, the heat of his arousal seeping through.

the sight of him so entranced, eyes dark and hooded, lips parted as he watches your body work him over — it pushes you further. you let out a breathy moan, picking up the pace just a touch, bouncing with more intent, your panties so drenched they slide slickly against his sweats.

“feels so good,” you gasp, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder for a moment, but you don’t stop, hips rolling in tight circles. your core tightens, pleasure coiling hot and insistent, but jeno’s reactions hit you harder — his grip bruising your ass, pulling you down forcefully now, like he’s chasing something urgent.

“fuck—can’t... hold it,” he grunts suddenly. his cock jerks hard against you, and then he’s cumming, hot spurts soaking into his sweats as his hips buck up uncontrollably — head thrown back against the chair, lips parted in a silent groan that turns into a low, guttural moan. his face twists in ecstasy, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks flushed, completely fucked out and lost in it.

the wet warmth spreads under you, mixing with your own slickness, making the friction even messier as you keep moving through his release.

you smirk down at him, satisfied, slowing your bounces to a teasing grind, savoring the vision of jeno unraveling beneath you — his chest rising and falling harshly, a sheen of sweat on his neck, that dazed look in his eyes as he finally blinks up at you.

“have i ever told you how pretty you look like that?” you say, pulling a low chuckle from his chest.

“you’re prettier,” he murmurs, voice thick and gravelly, one hand sliding from your ass up to your lower back, holding you steady as the other dips between your bodies, and into your soaked panties.

his thumb presses directly against your clit, starting a slow, firm rub that tightens that coil in your stomach again.

“oh god, jeno,” you gasp, the direct pressure igniting every nerve, your hips snapping forward on instinct.

you cling to him tighter, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading into his hair as you bury your face against his shoulder as you grind down desperately, rolling your hips in urgent, needy circles, chasing that building fire while his thumb continues circling your swollen nub.

you can’t hold back, the moans spilling from your lips right by his ear — soft, breathless whimpers.

his favorite sounds. right next to you yapping his ear off.

your pussy clenches around nothing, thighs trembling as you hump against him faster, the chair groaning under the frantic pace.

“yes, right there,” you plead, voice breaking into a whine, nails scraping lightly at his scalp as your hips buck wildly.

he doesn’t let up, thumb flicking side to side now, then rubbing broad and fast, his free arm tightening around your waist to keep you pinned close, absorbing every desperate roll of your body.

“you’re gonna soak me, aren’t you?,” he growls low, breath hot against your skin.

you nod frantically, moans spilling hot and ragged against his neck, until you break with a breathless whine, body seizing as your orgasm rips through you, pussy pulsing wildly, gushing wetness over his hand, clinging to him as he holds you steady.

your body hums with the aftershocks, chest heaving as you slump against jeno's shoulder, the world fuzzy around the edges from that shattering release. he doesn't rush you, just wraps both arms around your body, tracing gentle, soothing circles along your spine beneath the rumpled t-shirt.

you feel his lips brush feather-light kisses against the exposed skin of your neck, then your collarbone, warm and tender pecks that make your eyelids flutter in contentment.

minutes slip by like that, your breaths syncing up as the haze clears, his steady heartbeat thumping under your cheek.

finally, you push yourself up a little, propping on his chest, the sticky evidence of your combined messes cooling between you.

jeno's eyes meet yours, a teasing glint sparking in them as he tilts his head, voice low and playful.

“so…you were saying? what does honey think hendery is gonna do?”

you blink at him, the post-orgasm glow fading into a sudden wave of annoyance.

your cheeks heat — not from arousal this time, but from the sheer audacity of him circling back to that gossip like nothing happened.

glaring at him, you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“ugh, see—this is why i prefer girls’ talk with the girls,” you pout, lips pursing in exaggerated frustration, “you’re too distracting.”

that earns a wide, amused grin from him, his hands sliding down to grip under your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there.

“let me distract you some more,” he teases, voice husky with renewed intent, before he lifts you effortlessly off his lap.

a surprised squeal escapes your lips as he stands, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

he carries you the short distance to his bed and drops you onto the rumpled sheets with a playful bounce, hovering over you immediately, bracing on his forearms to cage you in, his body heat enveloping you.

“and you wonder why no boys are allowed in girl talk,” you joke, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw, your voice light but laced with challenge.

both of you are smiling now, breaths mingling in the close space, the air thick with that easy, flirtatious energy before his lips press onto yours again

🐰

an: i finished this earlier when i thought was doing okay. i unfortunately am so so sad again so this is probably my last fic for a while. i will try to get orgasm donor johnny out before april ends but i’m gonna be honest chiefs, writing smut is really hard rn 😔💔😣anyways, i hope the loverboys and lovergirls are able to cheer everyone up a bit! ♥️ captain jeno is back with his freaky ass panty kink in this one heheheh

btw if you want a specific scenario with a specific couple, you can always leave the idea in my ask box! (i can’t promise i’ll write it, but if the idea really speaks to me, i might)

love tags: @dearlyminhyung @hyuckluvr-com @fancypeacepersona @chvngminz @hyunkaluv @iluvgnabnahc @n-jules @haesunlover2 @nottkwiwin @alexameliamg @ihatefrvits @amazinggraxia @karleereadssmut @drunkhee @bamjjwi @mahae @ncityswrid @jaeminiwrld @httpsxnox @blubb0 @pocketyoun @multifandomania @mey-archive @zuzu-the-simp @markiepoo4eva @jungwooie @kkyeoji @withapairofwings @cookydream @meowieshibal @remgeolli @yutasputa @kyungsooislifeu @dior-15 @hyucksnctzen @bridgertonletsgo @leleszn @hijjjjku7 9999 @afterhvours @mangoescrazy @vantxx95 @nctubatu

TAGLIST: CLOSED.

his eyebrows lift immediately, playing along without hesitation.

“should i be worried?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head before lowering your voice again, more serious now, “but honey told me something today.”

and here it is.

he’ll never admit it out loud.

but he loves girl talk with you.

not necessarily for the stories — though those can be entertaining too — half the time he barely knows who the people you’re talking about even are. the names blur together sometimes.

but…the way your eyes light up when you tell them?

that part he never misses.

jeno hums again, softer this time, his hand sliding absentmindedly along your back before settling at your waist, fingers resting there like they’ve memorized the shape of you.

“honey? that’s xiaojun’s girl, right?” he murmurs, piecing it together just enough.

you nod immediately, serious, like this is important.

“okay so apparently — and don’t! tell anyone because this is a top tier secret—” you pause, letting the suspense build, leaning even closer without realizing it, “—the leader of the pinks sorority,” your voice drops, “…and hendery.”

jeno’s head tilts slightly at the mention of his friend, “hendery? like wayv frat leader hendery?”

“yes,” you whisper urgently, eyes wide.

his mouth pulls into a quiet grin, clearly amused — not at the story, but at how invested you are.

“okayy,” he says slowly, dragging it out just a little, “continue.”

you lean in even closer, practically conspiratorial now, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders without thinking.

“they’ve been secretly hooking up since sophomore year.”

jeno blinks, a bit of shock actually plastered on his face, “what?”

“crazy, right!” you gasp, hands lifting for emphasis before settling back on him, your energy spilling over into every movement.

jeno lets out a quiet breath of a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back slightly, the chair creaking under the shift.

“aren’t their houses like… rivals or something?”

you point at him instantly, eyes lighting up, “i know! that’s exactly what i said!”

he watches you for a moment. the way you lean forward every time you make a point, like the story pulls you closer. the way your lips move too fast for your thoughts, like you’re trying to get everything out at once before you forget.

his hand squeezes just slightly at your waist, grounding, steady.

“and nobody knew this?” he asks, quieter now, still playing along, still following, even if his focus is slipping back to you.

“apparently not,” you say, eyes wide, completely invested, “honey said they’ve been sneaking around for years. like secret meetups, late night stuff, the whole thing.”

jeno lets out a low whistle, head tipping back against the chair for a second before his gaze finds you again, “that’s kinda impressive.”

you stare at him, “jeno.”

“i’m just saying,” he laughs, lifting one hand in mock defense while the other stays right where it is on your waist, keeping you close without even thinking about it, “keeping a secret that long on a campus like this?” he shakes his head, amused, “that takes skill.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

and jeno…he’s just focused on you.

because the truth is, he’s only half following the story now. the other half of his attention is on the way your eyes shine when you’re excited, the warmth of you sitting comfortably in his lap like it’s the most natural place in the world. like you belong there.

his thumb traces slow, lazy circles at your waist.

“so what else did she say?” he asks quietly, voice softer now, like he’s easing you right back into it.

your eyes light up immediately again, “okay wait…it gets juicier.”

jeno’s grin spreads, fond and a little amused, “oh, does it?”

you nod enthusiastically, already leaning in again — and he lets himself sink a little deeper into the chair, arms tightening loosely around you like he’s settling in, like he’s not going anywhere.

and he doesn’t want to.

because he could sit here all night listening to you ramble about campus gossip if it meant you stayed exactly where you are — straddling his lap, smiling like this, looking at him like he’s the only person you want to tell your secrets to.

“so apparently,” you continue, fully pulled back into the story now, your hands resting on his shoulders, fingers curling slightly into his shirt, “hendery is like… actually in love with her.”

jeno’s brows lift, playing along, “in love?”

“yes,” you say emphatically, “he’s been obsessed with her since sophomore year. apparently all the boys in wayv house know it too.”

jeno lets out a quiet hum, his hand resting comfortably at your waist, “that’s rough.”

“exactly,” you say, nodding rapidly, “because the problem is she refuses to commit.”

jeno tilts his head slightly, eyes still on you, “refuses?”

“yeah,” you sigh dramatically. “like they’ve been secretly hooking up for years but every time he tries to make it official she shuts it down.”

jeno’s mouth twitches, a quiet hint of a smile, “poor guy.”

“right?” you lean forward again, more animated now, pulled deeper into it, “honey said he literally tried to ask her to define the relationship and she told him—”

you stop.

just for half a second. because you feel something warm brush your skin. jeno’s lips. soft. barely there. against your collarbone.

you blink, momentarily thrown off — your words catching for just a beat before you push through it anyway.

“—she told him she didn’t want their houses involved in drama and—”

another kiss.

just as soft. just as distracting.

jeno hums quietly against your skin like he’s still listening, like nothing’s changed, his thumb still tracing slow circles at your waist.

you narrow your eyes slightly, glancing down at him.

“…jeno.”

his lips pause for a second, lingering just above your skin, but his hands don’t move from your waist — if anything, they tighten just a little, like he doesn’t want you shifting away.

“hmm?” he murmurs, voice low, innocent in a way that’s definitely not convincing.

“are you paying attention?”

“mhm,” he answers easily, lips brushing your collarbone again, soft and absentminded, like he’s doing it without thinking, “i am.”

you squint at him, clearly unconvinced, but you push forward anyway.

“anyway,” you continue, trying to gather your thoughts again, “so he’s been waiting for her to change her mind this whole time.”

jeno presses another kiss just below the first, slower this time, like he’s lingering on purpose.

“that’s dedication,” he murmurs against your skin.

your sentence stumbles into a warning, “…jeno.”

“what?” he asks, tone light, but his lips are still hovering there, barely pulling away.

you inhale quietly, trying to refocus.

“as i was saying,” you continue, stubborn now, determined to get through it, “honey said the boys think she keeps him around because she likes him but she doesn’t want the responsibility of actually dating him.”

jeno hums in response, drawing you in closer without asking. another kiss. this one slower. warmer. you inhale a little sharper this time before forcing yourself to keep going.

“and apparently he still drives her home every time they meet up and—”

kiss.

“jeno.”

“yeah?” he replies softly.

you try to glare at him but it’s difficult when he looks so relaxed, so completely at ease — chin dipped slightly, eyes half-lidded as he presses another gentle kiss along your collarbone like he has all the time in the world. completely innocent. and completely distracting.

“you’re ruining our girl talk.”

jeno smiles faintly against your skin, the corner of his lips brushing you, “am i?”

“yes,” you say, firmer this time, even if your voice wavers just a little.

he finally pulls back, just enough to look up at you, expression calm, unreadable — but there’s something playful sitting right behind his eyes.

he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“finish the story,” he says, like nothing happened, thumb still tracing slow circles at your waist, grounding, steady. “i’m listening.”

you stare at him for a second, trying to decide if you believe that. then you sigh dramatically.

“ok so,” you continue, though your voice is a little less steady now, “so honey thinks hendery is eventually going to snap and demand she either commits or—”

your words falter.

because jeno’s not even pretending anymore. his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips for just a second, then back up again — slow, deliberate, like he’s weighing something. like he’s deciding. his hand shifts slightly at your waist, thumb pressing a little more firmly this time.

“or…what?” he asks quietly, a teasing glint in his eye.

he doesn’t sound all that interested in hendery anymore. and it’s getting harder to focus on words when his lips brush your skin like that.

screw the girl talk.

you lean in, capturing his lips with yours, with absolutely no warning. jeno’s eyes widen for a split second in surprise, then flutter shut as he responds eagerly, his mouth parting to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping past your lips.

“bunny,” he chuckles against your lips, the sound vibrating through you as his hands grips your hip, pulling you flush against him.

“—or what?” he teases, again.

“it can wait,” you say breathlessly, your fingers threading through his soft hair to tug him back in.

his lips meets yours again, soft at first, but the heat builds quickly as you sink deeper into it.

he parts from the kiss for a second, fingers gently reaching up, careful and tender, hooking the arms of your glasses and sliding them off your face, setting them aside on the desk. his touch lingers on your cheek for a moment before returning to pull you closer, tilting his head and connecting your mouths fully, tongue sliding in, slow, exploratory, tasting you with languid strokes that curl against yours.

his hands roam slowly up your sides, fingers tracing the hem of your t-shirt before slipping beneath it to graze your bare skin. his touch igniting sparks.

you follow his lead, the rhythm he’s set unhurried but intense. the kiss turns wet and thorough, saliva mixing as he sucks gently on your tongue, drawing a soft moan from your throat.

“mmm,” he hums into your mouth, breaking only for air, nipping at your lower lip, then diving back in.

your fingers curl into his hair, pulling him even closer as you tilt your head to give him better access, the kiss turning sloppy, tongues sliding insistently.

the chair creaks faintly as you shift your hips, grinding down against the growing bulge in his sweats. his thick cock hardening beneath you, pressing up through the layers — your leggings and his sweats creating just enough friction to make your pussy throb.

jeno groans low, the sound muffled against your lips and he bucks up lazily, matching your roll with a deliberate thrust.

you pull back a fraction, panting, your lips glistening from the thorough attention.

“this better be worth ruining girl talk,” you tease, voice breathy.

his eyes are dark, hooded with desire, but a playful smirk tugs at his swollen lips.

“oh, it will be,” he murmurs, capturing your lips once more in a slow, sucking kiss that leaves you dizzy.

one hand slides down to your ass, squeezing, guiding your movements, urging you to hump against him harder.

the dry friction builds heat fast — his dick grinding right against your clit with each pass, your wetness soaking into your panties.

you rock steadily now, the pace still teasing, playful pushes and pulls that have him breathing raggedly into the kiss. his tongue laps at yours in mirroring slowness, hot and wet, while his free hand cups your neck, thumb stroking your jaw to keep you locked in the makeout.

every grind sends jolts of pleasure through you, his cock so rigid it outlines perfectly against your pussy.

“fuck,” he whispers, parting from your lips and trailing kisses down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin there, “want more of you,” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and low.

his fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down quickly. you lift your ass slightly to help, the fabric peeling away from your skin, exposing the damp spot on your panties where your arousal has already soaked through.

he slides the leggings off your legs completely, letting them pool on the floor. the air feels cool against your heated skin but jeno’s warmth presses right back in as he pulls you flush against him again.

his hands immediately return to your ass, palms cupping the full cheeks, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. his grip is firm, possessive, thumbs pressing into the crease where your thighs meet your ass, spreading you open just a bit as he guides your hips down to his clothed bulge.

you grind against him immediately, the friction now more direct, your panty covered pussy rubbing along the length of his cock through his sweats. he’s so hard. the outline thick and throbbing. you’re so wet. the fabric of your panties growing slicker, you can feel it leaking out — dampening his sweats, leaving a visible wet patch on the grey material.

jeno’s gaze drops, fixated on the sight of you grinding slowly on his lap. he can’t look away, eyes glued to the way your soaked panties cling to your folds, the dark stain spreading wider as you bounce a little faster.

“shit,” he breathes out, voice strained, one hand sliding up to grip your hip tighter, urging you to keep that rhythm.

you moan in response, the direct pressure on your clit sending sparks up your spine, making your thighs tremble as you grind down harder.

“neno,” you whimper, nails scraping over his shoulders through his t-shirt, your body arching into the friction, your pussy throbbing, clenching at the tease of his hardness so close yet not inside.

“you’re killing me, bunny,” he groans deep in his throat, fingers digging deeper into your ass, spreading you wider so your clit catches perfectly on his tip with each bounce.

his breaths come ragged, chest heaving, and you feel him twitch violently beneath you, the heat of his arousal seeping through.

the sight of him so entranced, eyes dark and hooded, lips parted as he watches your body work him over — it pushes you further. you let out a breathy moan, picking up the pace just a touch, bouncing with more intent, your panties so drenched they slide slickly against his sweats.

“feels so good,” you gasp, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder for a moment, but you don’t stop, hips rolling in tight circles. your core tightens, pleasure coiling hot and insistent, but jeno’s reactions hit you harder — his grip bruising your ass, pulling you down forcefully now, like he’s chasing something urgent.

“fuck—can’t... hold it,” he grunts suddenly. his cock jerks hard against you, and then he’s cumming, hot spurts soaking into his sweats as his hips buck up uncontrollably — head thrown back against the chair, lips parted in a silent groan that turns into a low, guttural moan. his face twists in ecstasy, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks flushed, completely fucked out and lost in it.

the wet warmth spreads under you, mixing with your own slickness, making the friction even messier as you keep moving through his release.

you smirk down at him, satisfied, slowing your bounces to a teasing grind, savoring the vision of jeno unraveling beneath you — his chest rising and falling harshly, a sheen of sweat on his neck, that dazed look in his eyes as he finally blinks up at you.

“have i ever told you how pretty you look like that?” you say, pulling a low chuckle from his chest.

“you’re prettier,” he murmurs, voice thick and gravelly, one hand sliding from your ass up to your lower back, holding you steady as the other dips between your bodies, and into your soaked panties.

his thumb presses directly against your clit, starting a slow, firm rub that tightens that coil in your stomach again.

“oh god, jeno,” you gasp, the direct pressure igniting every nerve, your hips snapping forward on instinct.

you cling to him tighter, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading into his hair as you bury your face against his shoulder as you grind down desperately, rolling your hips in urgent, needy circles, chasing that building fire while his thumb continues circling your swollen nub.

you can’t hold back, the moans spilling from your lips right by his ear — soft, breathless whimpers.

his favorite sounds. right next to you yapping his ear off.

your pussy clenches around nothing, thighs trembling as you hump against him faster, the chair groaning under the frantic pace.

“yes, right there,” you plead, voice breaking into a whine, nails scraping lightly at his scalp as your hips buck wildly.

he doesn’t let up, thumb flicking side to side now, then rubbing broad and fast, his free arm tightening around your waist to keep you pinned close, absorbing every desperate roll of your body.

“you’re gonna soak me, aren’t you?,” he growls low, breath hot against your skin.

you nod frantically, moans spilling hot and ragged against his neck, until you break with a breathless whine, body seizing as your orgasm rips through you, pussy pulsing wildly, gushing wetness over his hand, clinging to him as he holds you steady.

your body hums with the aftershocks, chest heaving as you slump against jeno's shoulder, the world fuzzy around the edges from that shattering release. he doesn't rush you, just wraps both arms around your body, tracing gentle, soothing circles along your spine beneath the rumpled t-shirt.

you feel his lips brush feather-light kisses against the exposed skin of your neck, then your collarbone, warm and tender pecks that make your eyelids flutter in contentment.

minutes slip by like that, your breaths syncing up as the haze clears, his steady heartbeat thumping under your cheek.

finally, you push yourself up a little, propping on his chest, the sticky evidence of your combined messes cooling between you.

jeno's eyes meet yours, a teasing glint sparking in them as he tilts his head, voice low and playful.

“so…you were saying? what does honey think hendery is gonna do?”

you blink at him, the post-orgasm glow fading into a sudden wave of annoyance.

your cheeks heat — not from arousal this time, but from the sheer audacity of him circling back to that gossip like nothing happened.

glaring at him, you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“ugh, see—this is why i prefer girls’ talk with the girls,” you pout, lips pursing in exaggerated frustration, “you’re too distracting.”

that earns a wide, amused grin from him, his hands sliding down to grip under your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there.

“let me distract you some more,” he teases, voice husky with renewed intent, before he lifts you effortlessly off his lap.

a surprised squeal escapes your lips as he stands, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

he carries you the short distance to his bed and drops you onto the rumpled sheets with a playful bounce, hovering over you immediately, bracing on his forearms to cage you in, his body heat enveloping you.

“and you wonder why no boys are allowed in girl talk,” you joke, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw, your voice light but laced with challenge.

both of you are smiling now, breaths mingling in the close space, the air thick with that easy, flirtatious energy before his lips press onto yours again

🐰

an: i finished this earlier when i thought was doing okay. i unfortunately am so so sad again so this is probably my last fic for a while. i will try to get orgasm donor johnny out before april ends but i’m gonna be honest chiefs, writing smut is really hard rn 😔💔😣anyways, i hope the loverboys and lovergirls are able to cheer everyone up a bit! ♥️ captain jeno is back with his freaky ass panty kink in this one heheheh

btw if you want a specific scenario with a specific couple, you can always leave the idea in my ask box! (i can’t promise i’ll write it, but if the idea really speaks to me, i might)

love tags: @dearlyminhyung @hyuckluvr-com @fancypeacepersona @chvngminz @hyunkaluv @iluvgnabnahc @n-jules @haesunlover2 @nottkwiwin @alexameliamg @ihatefrvits @amazinggraxia @karleereadssmut @drunkhee @bamjjwi @mahae @ncityswrid @jaeminiwrld @httpsxnox @blubb0 @pocketyoun @multifandomania @mey-archive @zuzu-the-simp @markiepoo4eva @jungwooie @kkyeoji @withapairofwings @cookydream @meowieshibal @remgeolli @yutasputa @kyungsooislifeu @dior-15 @hyucksnctzen @bridgertonletsgo @leleszn @hijjjjku7 9999 @afterhvours @mangoescrazy @vantxx95 @nctubatu

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