nichojoo lover

Okay, some house rules!

First things first, I primarily write reader inserts for black readers. I am a cisgender black woman, so I tend to write for black women unless requested otherwise. I have disabilities, so my posting schedule is irregular.

I am currently in the process of rewriting and improving old fics, but my requests are open and will close in a few weeks.

‼️I will not condone any homophobia, racism or hate speech on my account. You will be blocked if I see it in my reblogs, comments or dms.‼️

Secondly, some things to note:

Use the ask box for requests, not the chat feature.

I don't mind people asking for a fic of a certain character, but please add some basis to it. Not just "please write for __". I have prompt lists (and am working on a new one) if you want one of those.

Again, I am chronically ill and disabled, and I am not always writing, but I will try to have stuff in my drafts or queue.

Do not send multiple requests for the same thing. I will ignore it otherwise, as it clogs my request box

I do not write for minors, unless in a platonic or motherly capacity.

Following the bullet point above, if I write a preference, headcanon, or drabble for a group with minors (e.g. Cortis or 82Major), I will not be including the minors

I write smut so MDNI

Lastly, these are my non-negotiables when it comes to things I DO NOT write:

Illegal age gaps

Ageplay

Raceplay

Master/slave

Scat

Gore

Vore

Fisting

Pee (the action or consumption)

Incest/pseudo-cest (Caleb will not be written like the Infold myths of being a brother)

Body horror (in smut)

Mutilation (in smut)

Necrophilia

Prompts:

Prompt List One

Prompt List Two

Kpop:

ATEEZ

Tomorrow x Together

EXO

Seventeen

Zerobaseone

&TEAM

Ampers&one

Enhypen

Monsta X

Stray Kids

GOT7

P1Harmony

NCT (all subunits)

WayV

Riize

The Rose

Just B

The Boyz

Aespa

Twice

KHH:

DPR Ian (Christian Yu/ Yu Barom)

ONE (Jaewon)

Simon Dominic

Gray

Dean

Tabber

Jay Park

POP:

5 Seconds of Summer

The Vamps

Shawn Mendes

Omaha Boys

One Direction

Games:

Love and Deepspace

Baldur's Gate

Resident Evil

MOVIES:

The Kissing Booth

HIM

The Maze Runner

MCU (Black Panther/Iron Man/Spiderman)

DCU

Descendants

Harry Potter

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

The Mortal Instruments

Power Rangers (2017)

Avatar

Eternals

Dune

Twilight

Star Wars

Percy Jackson

Fast and Furious

Dracula: A Love Story

TV SHOWS:

13 Reasons Why

Gotham

Hemlock Grove

Once Upon a Time

Altered Carbon

The Mandalorian

Stranger Things

Pretty Little Liars

Teen Wolf

Euphoria

Shadowhunters

Riverdale

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Wednesday

Titans

The Witcher

Sons of Anarchy

Gachiakuta

Jujutsu Kaisen

Alice in Borderland

Peacemaker

The Umbrella Academy

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Daredevil

The Acolyte

The Order

Magicians

The 100

Criminal Minds

Sandman

The Night Agent

Outer Banks

Percy Jackson

Chicago Fire/PD/Med

Vikings

The Flash

S.W.A.T

Da Vinci's Demons

The Blacklist

Wild 'n Out

Optional Member:

Optional Member 1 (Old) ✧

Untitled I (new) ✧

Shippings:

Ship One

Ship Two

Ship Three

Ship Four

SocMeds:

Discontinued/Not Accepting

Discontinued - ✈︎

Not accepting - Crossed out

Rue Bennett - Co-dependency ✧❦

Peter Pettigrew - In The Shadows ☾❦

NichoJoo - Bass Down Low ✧❦

Lee Heesung - All My Bad Desire ✧❦☾

Neteyam Sully - In Your Fantasy ✧❦

Jabber Wonger - Freak Like Me ✧

Enjin - Untitled ✧

Cameron Cade - You Get Me So High ✧

The Maze Runner - Their Reaction To You Remembering Them 𖥔☾❦

Gally - Monday Mournings ☾❦

Rudo (platonic) / Arkha Corvus - A Mother's Touch ☾❦

Choi Jongho - Forgive Me, Father ✧☾

Fezco O'Neill - Interviewing Your Ex ✧❦

Ateez - Caught In The Act 𖧧𖥔꩜

Song Mingi - Lips 𖧧❦

A/N:

He sat down at a table across the room, pulled out a textbook he knew he wasn't going to read, and watched you for the next two hours.

When he got home, he rushed to his bedroom. He had spent the entire time at the library observing you; the image of you leaning over that library table, your shirt gaping, burned into his brain. The soft curve of your breast peeking through. He'd jerked off to that memory four times since midterms. Four times, each session longer than the last, his hand wrapped around his thick cock, stroking until his balls tightened and he spilt rope after rope of cum into a wad of tissues.

That became his routine. Every day, he found an excuse to be in the library at the same time you were there.

He'd sit far enough not to be obvious but close enough to see everything. He memorised the way you bit your pen when you were thinking, the way you stretched your arms above your head when you'd been studying too long, the way your shirt rode up just enough to show a sliver of stomach.

His friends noticed.

Wooyoung caught him staring one afternoon and elbowed San. "Holy shit, he's actually drooling," Wooyoung whispered, loud enough for the entire floor to hear.

"Suck my dick," Mingi muttered, not taking his eyes off you.

"You wish." Wooyoung retorted, rolling his eyes at his friend's creepy staring.

"What would you even say to her?" San asked, leaning in. "'Hey, I know I've never spoken to you, but I've been fapping off to you for three weeks.' Want to study together?"

"Fuck off."

Hongjoong, ever the sensible one of the friend group, sighed. "If you're that obsessed, just talk to her. She's friends with Seonghwa. I can set something up."

Mingi's heart hammered; he looked like a kid in a confectionery store mixed with one caught with their fingers in the cookie jar as he stared at Hongjoong. "Set something up how?"

"I'll tell Seonghwa you need tutoring. He'll recommend her. She's like, top of the class. Then you get private sessions with her. Easy."

It really was easy. It was terrifyingly too simple.

A week later, Mingi sat in his dorm room, which smelled like stale energy drinks, his favourite Jo Malone cologne and regrets. He lay sprawled across his bed, phone clutched in his hand, when Seonghwa texted Mingi with a time and an address.

Hwa: 'She says she can help you with your assignment. Be on time, and don't fuck this up, asshole.'

He'd been half-hard since reading it, and now, two hours before he was supposed to meet you, Mingi lay in bed and let his mind wander. His hand drifted down to his sweatpants, palming his half-hard length.

He imagined what it would be like to have you beneath him. To feel your legs wrapped around his waist, your mouth open against his, your fingers digging into his back. He wondered what sounds you'd make — soft little gasps or needy moans?

Would you let him fuck you slowly, or would you want it rough?

Would you want his cum inside you?

The thought made his cock twitch, already hardening. He imagined gripping your hips, pumping into you, feeling his release build until he couldn't hold back anymore. Thick, hot ropes flooding your pussy, leaking down your thighs, marking you as his.

"Fuck," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

He was getting hard just thinking about it. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his sweats, fingers wrapping around his shaft. Already slick with precum, he started stroking — slow at first, then faster, his breathing ragged.

In his mind, it was your hand wrapped around him. Your palm sliding up and down his length, your thumb circling the tip, spreading the precum. His room filled with low groans and sharp gasps as he continued jerking off. He imagined you stroking him until he couldn't take it anymore, until he begged you to let him come, and when you finally whispered, "Go ahead. Show me how much you want it." His hips bucked into his fist. Precum dripped onto his stomach. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, that familiar ache that meant he was about to unload.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck–"

He came hard, his back arching off the mattress. Cum pumped out of him in thick, white ropes, splattering across his stomach, his chest, pooling in his navel. He kept stroking through it, milking himself dry, until his arm was soaked and he was panting like he'd run a marathon.

When he finally opened his eyes, he stared at the mess he'd made.

Get it together, he told himself. You're about to see her. Don't fuck this up.

Mingi showed up at your flat thirty minutes early due to a mixture of nerves and lack of choice. Wooyoung had kicked him out of their shared dorm because he and San were "conducting important musical research" that apparently required privacy and a locked door.

"You're not staying here," Wooyoung had said flatly, blocking the doorway. "Go study or something."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"Literally anywhere else."

Hongjoong had passed by on his way out with a smirk and a stack of composition notebooks under his arm. "Heard you're getting tutored by Seonghwa's friend. The hot one from the library."

Mingi's face burned as he fidgeted with his clothes slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Hongjoong clapped him on the shoulder. "Try not to drool on the textbooks. They're expensive."

The rest of the walk to your flat, Mingi replayed their teasing in his head. He hated that they knew. Hated that they could see right through him. But more than that, he hated that he couldn't stop thinking about you long enough to form a coherent sentence.

When you answered the door, his brain short-circuited. You looked soft, comfortable, real, and his cock twitched in his jeans despite the fact that he'd just jerked off not even two hours ago.

You lived in a small studio near campus. "Hey," you said, stepping aside. "Come in."

As Mingi followed you further in, his eyes darted around the room, and he noted the walls were covered in posters of bands he didn't know. Polaroids of you and friends smiling, fairy lights draped over the window, and stacks of books on every surface.

It smelled of vanilla and laundry detergent. Mingi stood in the middle of the room, feeling too big for the space, while you cleared a spot on your desk.

"Seonghwa says you're struggling with the experimental design section," you said, pulling out a chair.

"Yeah." He sat down, trying not to stare at the way your jeans hugged your thighs. "I just– it's hard to focus." With the intensity of his stare, he's shocked he hasn't burnt a hole in your pocket. His eyes snapped back up to your face as you spun around.

You smiled at him, and it made his chest tight. "That's what I'm here for."

The first hour was torture.

You sat across from him, leaning over the desk to point at diagrams and equations, and every time you moved, your shirt shifted. He caught himself looking at your chest more than the paper. You were wearing a simple cotton top, nothing special, but he could see the outline of your bra underneath. His palms started to sweat.

"Experimental design relies on proper variable isolation," you said, tapping the textbook. "If you don't control for confounding factors, your results are meaningless."

"Right," he said, not registering a single word.

He'd been answering questions mechanically, half his brain on the work, the other half imagining what your skin would feel like under his hands. You must have noticed because you paused mid-sentence, looked up at him, and raised an eyebrow.

"Mingi. You're not listening."

"I am," he lied.

"You're staring at my boobs."

The words hit him like a slap. His face flushed neon red. He opened his mouth to deny it, tried to form an apology, but nothing came out. You didn't look angry. You looked amused, lips curving into a slow, teasing smile.

"You know, you're not as subtle as you think." You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms under your chest, pushing your breasts up slightly. Mingi's mouth went dry. "I saw you in the library. You always sit at the same table, don't you? The one with the direct sightline to my spot."

"Fuck," he breathed.

"Yeah." You laughed, soft and mocking. "You're kind of a pervert, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry," he managed. "I didn't mean to– I just– you're really pretty, and I–"

You held up a hand, cutting off his stammering. "It's fine. I know how to fix this."

Your eyes sparkled with something that made his pulse race. "I have an idea. For every question you get right, you get a reward. A touch. Something simple. You tell me what you want, and I'll let you do it. Consider it motivation."

Mingi's brain short-circuited. "A touch?"

"On the honour system. You answer correctly, you get to cross one of your fantasies off the list. But you have to keep studying. And you can't cum. Not until the end. Deal?"

He nodded, barely able to speak. "Deal."

The first question was simple. You slid a worksheet toward him, and he scribbled the answer in seconds. When he looked up, you gestured at your hand resting on the table.

"Go ahead. Claim your reward."

He reached out slowly; his fingertips brushed your knuckles. The contact sent a jolt through him. He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your palm. It was soft and warm.

"That," he said, voice low. "Wanted to know if you'd let me."

You let him hold it for a full minute before pulling away.

"Next question."

He answered it correctly again. This time, he got braver, his fingers sliding up to graze your neck before he leaned in slowly.

Mingi leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of your throat. He lingered, breathing in your scent — vanilla, coffee and a hint of something spicy — before pulling back. You shivered, and he felt a surge of pride.

By the third correct answer, he was bolder. "Can I touch your thigh?"

You spread your legs slightly in answer. He slid his hand onto your knee, then slowly upward, fingers grazing the denim of your jeans. Your breath hitched. He squeezed gently, feeling the muscle beneath.

The fourth question was harder. He had to think, to recall details from the textbook he'd barely read. Something about factorial designs that he should have known but had completely blanked on. You were watching him, waiting, and his mind went blank.

"Give me a second," he muttered.

"Take your time."

But he couldn't focus. Not with his hand still resting on your thigh, not with the memory of your neck against his lips, not with the way you were looking at him — patient, amused, knowing.

He guessed wrong.

You smiled softly and shifted back in your chair. His hand slipped off your thigh, landing on empty air. You stood up, stepping away from the desk entirely, folding your arms.

"Wrong answer. No reward." Your voice was teasing but firm. "Try the next one."

Mingi groaned, running a hand through his hair. "That's cruel."

"Study motivation, remember?" You sat back down, but this time you kept the chair a few inches farther from him. "You have to earn it."

He gritted his teeth and flipped to the next page.

I'm going to get every single question right, he swore to himself. And by the end of this, I'm going to have you underneath me.

Two hours later, Mingi had answered fifteen out of twenty questions correctly. His hand had mapped the curve of your calf, the dip of your waist, the soft skin behind your ear. He'd kissed your palm, your wrist, the hollow of your throat. Each touch left him harder, more desperate, his cock aching against the zipper of his jeans.

By the time he reached the last question, he was sweating, his breathing shallow. You closed the textbook and set it aside. "Last question."

He was barely listening. His eyes traced the line of your collarbone, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He wanted to taste you. Wanted to feel you writhe beneath him.

"If you get this right, you get your last reward. Anything you want."

Mingi's head snapped back up to your face. That definitely got his attention. "Anything?"

"Within reason." A small smile played at your lips as you tapped your pen on the cover of the textbook.

You asked the question — something about p-values and statistical significance — and this time, Mingi didn't hesitate. The answer came easily, pulled from a corner of his brain that had actually absorbed your teaching.

"Correct. Sixteen out of twenty, a passing score." You leaned back, crossing your arms. "So. What do you want?"

Mingi stood up. His chair scraped against the floor. He rounded the desk, grabbing your hips and pulling you to your feet. Your body pressed against his, your warmth seeping through his clothes. But his hands trembled slightly, his heart hammering against his ribs. He'd never done this before, never been this close to a woman's body like this, and the anticipation was almost unbearable.

"I want you to ride me."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull away. "Here?"

"Here." He guided you toward the edge of your bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. "Right now."

You straddled him, your thighs bracketing his hips. The heat of your cunt pressed against his clothed cock, and he groaned, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your tits through your top.

"You sure?" you whispered.

He answered by kissing you hard and desperately, his tongue sliding against yours. But his hands were shaking. His heart hammered so loud he thought you might hear it. He wanted this more than anything, but he didn't know what the hell he was doing. Every move felt like a gamble.

Instead of rushing, he pulled back, breath coming in short gasps. "Let me–" He swallowed. "Let me taste you first. Please."

He didn't wait for an answer. He slid off the bed, landing on his knees in front of you. His fingers found the button of your jeans, but they fumbled, clumsy with nerves. A frustrated laugh escaped him. "Sorry. I'm–" He didn't finish. He just focused, finally getting the button undone, pushing the denim down your thighs.

You shimmied out of your pants, and Mingi's mouth went dry. Your panties were dark at the centre, a damp patch glistening in the low light. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, slowly revealing your cunt inch by inch. The sight of you bare, slick, and waiting for him made his cock twitch painfully.

He leaned in, pressing a tentative kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then another, higher. His nose brushed your curls, and he inhaled your scent — musky, sweet, intoxicating. His tongue darted out, tracing a line up your slit.

You gasped, your hips shifting toward him. Encouraged, he parted your folds with his thumbs and pressed his mouth to your clit. He licked experimentally, then with more confidence as your moans grew louder. He circled the sensitive nub with his tongue, flicking and sucking, learning what made you squirm.

But he wanted more. He wanted to feel you clench around his fingers. He slid one hand up your thigh, fingers teasing your entrance. "Tell me if it's okay," he mumbled against your skin.

You nodded, breathless. "Just– go slow."

Mingi pushed one finger inside you; the heat and tightness made his head spin. He pumped it gently, then added a second, stretching you, curling them to find that spot that made your back arch. Mingi watched your face — eyes squeezed shut, lips parted — and felt a surge of power mixed with nervous wonder. He was doing this. He was making you feel good.

Your wetness coated his fingers, and he kept working you, alternating between licking your clit and tonguing your folds, until your thighs trembled and your moans turned into desperate whines. He pulled his fingers out slowly, wiping them on his own jeans before standing up.

"Okay," he said, voice rough. "Now, ride me."

He sat back on the edge of the bed, his cock straining against his jeans. He freed it with trembling hands, and a bead of precum oozed from the tip, thick and viscous, more than you'd expect. It dripped down the shaft, glistening. He pumped himself once, twice, spreading the slickness, then guided you forward.

You positioned yourself over him, the head of his cock nudging your soaked entrance. Mingi's breath hitched. He was so hard it almost hurt, the pressure building in his balls already. He gripped your hips, steadying you, trying not to thrust up.

"Slow," he repeated, more to himself than to you. "Go slow."

You sank down, inch by inch, and Mingi's eyes rolled back. The heat of your cunt, the silkiness of your walls — it was overwhelming. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, fighting the urge to come right there. A groan tore from his throat as you took him fully, your hips flush against his.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you rocked forward, and he felt another wave of precum leak from his cock, mixing with your wetness. He shuddered, fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck, Mingi. You fill me so good," you whispered.

He couldn't speak. He just nodded, his hands trembling as you began to move; a slow, rocking grind that stole every thought from his head. You rode him with a rhythm that started gentle, then built, your hips rolling in circles while he gripped the sheets and tried not to come immediately.

The pleasure was overwhelming. Every sensation — the clench of your cunt, the slap of your thighs against his, the sight of your tits bouncing in front of his face — pushed him closer to the edge. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, that familiar ache that meant he was about to erupt.

"Fuck, I'm gonna–" He couldn't finish the sentence. His hips bucked upward, burying himself deeper as his orgasm ripped through him. Thick ropes of cum shot into you, pumping again and again, flooding your pussy with hot, white fluid. His body shuddered with the force of it, his hands digging into your hips so hard he'd probably leave bruises.

You gasped, your rhythm faltering as you felt the torrent of semen filling you. It leaked out around his cock, dripping onto the sheets, your thighs, his stomach.

But Mingi wasn't done. As the aftershocks faded, a new hunger flared in his chest. He needed more. Needed to feel you come on his cock while he controlled the pace.

He flipped you onto your back before you could react, your legs falling apart as he hovered over you. His cock was still hard, still slick with his cum and your wetness. He lined himself up and slammed back inside you, a guttural curse ripping from his throat.

"Oh God," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Mingi–"

He didn't answer with words. He fucked you hard, deep, each stroke driving his cock into your sopping cunt. The bed creaked beneath you. Your moans filled the room. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your sounds as he pounded into you. Your nails left lines of red down his back.

He could feel your walls clenching around him, hear your breath hitching. You were close, so close, and he wanted to see you fall apart.

"Come for me," he growled against your ear, his fingers trailing down to rub firm circles against your clit, causing your back to arch further into his chest. "Come on my cock."

That was all it took. Your body arched, a sharp cry escaping your lips as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy milked him, squeezing and fluttering, and Mingi groaned, burying his face in your neck as he came again — a second, weaker orgasm that still spilt another hot pulse of cum into you.

When it was over, he collapsed beside you, both of you panting, sweaty, tangled in each other. The sheets were a mess, soaked with sweat and cum. He stared at the ceiling, his heart hammering.

After a long silence, you spoke. "Mingi?"

"Yeah?"

"That was insane. Where the hell did you learn to fuck like that?"

He pushed himself up on one elbow, looking at you. A nervous laugh escaped him. "I, uh... didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that was my first time."

Your eyes went wide. "What? No way. That was your first time?"

He nodded, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "I'm a virgin. Or, I guess, was a virgin."

You stared at him, then burst out laughing — not mocking, but genuine, surprised laughter. "Holy shit. You're kidding me."

"I'm not."

"Mingi– You let me take your virginity for a study session, and you fuck like that?" You reached out, running a hand through his damp hair. "You're a natural, I guess."

Mingi grinned, pulling you closer. "Lucky guess.”

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who couldn't focus on a single word Hongjoong said as he let his thoughts wander to what your thighs would look like around his head or draped across his thighs as he pounds into you. Are you a moaner? Maybe you whine? Maybe you whimper? All he knew was you were running through his mind, causing his jeans to feel tight, and he didn't even know your name.

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who went home and had the longest session of his life just masturbating to the thought of you as you sat there studying, he had never felt this intense of a feeling in his life. His large hand pulls out his big, veiny cock from their confines, and he spits in his hand as he strokes himself to what he would do if you let him. He damn blacks out when he reaches his peak, groaning loudly as his chest heaves and his hand moves faster as he jerks himself through his earth-shattering orgasm. The mess on his chest settled as he lay on his bed, limp.

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who repeats this cycle daily. He'd go to the library and sit at a few tables away, where he won't be in your direct line of sight, but close enough that he can see how your crop top pushes your breasts up, and your jeans hug your curves as you have a new hairdo this time. Twists with beads. The soft clacking of your beads as you shifted your head slightly when you read a new paragraph. He'd watch you throughout your entire study session only to return home and wonder if he'd be able to hear your beads as he thrusts into you from behind, his thoughts race as he imagines you clenching around him as he tightens his fist, moving up and down faster.

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who gets caught staring at you as you study with Seonghwa by Wooyoung, who teases him for being so hot but such a damn loser who can't pull because once he opens his mouth, he exposes how much of a gooner he is. Hongjoong decides that he has to step in and help, so he gets Seonghwa to set up a tutoring session for him.

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who comes to your house early because he was so nervous, but what you don't know is that he jerked off before coming over in order to try and decrease his chances of getting hard in your flat. His theory failed. The second you opened the door, he was a goner. He felt his dick twitch in his trousers as you let him into your house that smelt like vanilla and bergamot. As you led him to your table, Mingi couldn't help but stare at your ass on the short walk, almost getting caught by you as you twirled suddenly, and his eyes snapped back up to yours in record time.

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who can barely concentrate on what you're saying when he's so aware of how close he is to you, close enough to smell your cocoa butter lotion and papaya leave-in conditioner. He was buzzing from head to toe with awareness as he attempted to focus on not cumming in his pants when you brush his leg when you move.

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who gets caught by you as his eyes practically burn holes through your top and bra. His laser-focused expression as you watched for a second, deciding not to say anything just yet. A few minutes go by before you mention it and watch him attempt to stammer out excuses and apologies.

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who agrees to your rewards system rule, attempts to answer every question you have for an opportunity to explore your body. With each right answer, he requests a new favour — a graze here, a kiss there — he was practically shaking as he pulled you closer.

pervy, hot loser! Mingi, who loses his virginity that night. You push him down on your bed and give him the ride of his life. He cannot believe he's balls deep in your warm, wet pussy as you bounce up and down on his thick length. He breaths out little moans and groans, broken whines and words escape him as his eyes roll back and his hands alternate from gripping your waist as you move fervently and holding onto the sheets as his hips stutter in his attempt to keep up with your actions.

Fuma:

Fuma notices her immediately.

Of course he does.

But unlike the rest of the members, he barely reacts.

At least outwardly.

He simply blinks once before resting his chin against his hand. “You’re late,” he says smoothly.

Her jaw drops. “Late? I surprised you!”

“I knew you’d come eventually.”

The fans nearby squeal at the exchange while Fuma continues signing her album with maddening composure. But then she leans closer to point at one of the concepts in the photobook, and suddenly he forgets to keep his expression neutral.

His eyes soften instantly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that looks far too fond to be casual.

It’s subtle.

Too subtle for him to notice.

Not subtle enough for Luné.

By the time fancams hit social media, everyone is replaying the exact moment he stops listening to the crowd and starts listening only to her. Someone zooms in on the way he unconsciously mirrors her smile.

Another fan posts after replaying the clip fifty times:

“He looked at her like she hung the moon and then tried to act cool five seconds later.”

The clip circulates like wildfire immediately.

Fuma never comments on them.

But the members absolutely do.

Nicholas:

Nicholas is laughing with the previous fan as they moved down the line when she sits down.

The second he sees her, his entire demeanor changes.

“HOLY- what are you doing here?!” he blurts out too loudly.

A few heads turn at the sound of his voice.

He immediately regrets it.

His girlfriend bursts into laughter while Nicholas covers his mouth, eyes darting around the venue like he can somehow erase the last five seconds from existence.

“I’m a fan,” she says innocently.

“You’re annoying,” he mutters, but he’s smiling so hard it sounds more affectionate than insulting.

He spends the entire interaction trying to act normal and failing miserably. He signs the wrong page in her album because he keeps getting distracted looking at her.

At one point, she thanks him for working hard during promotions.

Nicholas stares at her for a full three seconds before quietly saying, “You too.”

The internet explodes.

Fans immediately latch onto the way his teasing disappears whenever she speaks seriously. Viral tweets compare his usual chaotic energy to his sudden shyness in front of her.

One popular comment reads:

“Nicholas looked like HE was the fan signing winner.”

Nobody ever recovers from the eye contact.

Least of all him.

EJ:

EJ almost drops the marker.

He catches it at the last second before looking up at her with the most betrayed expression imaginable.

“You didn’t tell me,” he whispers.

“That would ruin the surprise.”

His ears immediately turn pink, and it only gets worse when she keeps smiling at him across the table.

Fans nearby coo softly while EJ tries desperately to focus on signing the album properly. He asks her polite fan-sign questions like he asks everyone else, except his voice keeps getting quieter every time she smiles at him.

When she compliments the new album, he ducks his head shyly.

“Thank you for always listening to our music,” he says.

Our music.

Not my music.

As if that makes the interaction any less obvious.

The viral clip later captures the exact moment EJ accidentally stops signing because he’s too busy staring at her while she talks.

Luné collectively decide he’s hopeless around a baddie.

“He looks at her like she personally invented happiness,” one fan writes.

Another points out how he instinctively leaned closer every time she lowered her voice.

The shipping tweets gain thousands of likes omand comments within days. The videos gaining even more.

EJ never watches them.

The members most certainly do, teasing him for being unable to stay cool.

Yuma:

Yuma notices her instantly and immediately narrows his eyes.

“You planned this with the members, didn’t you?”

She smiles innocently.

“That’s confidential.”

Yuma laughs under his breath, shaking his head while signing her album. Unlike the others, he recovers quickly, slipping into playful banter like this is completely normal.

Still, there’s something noticeably softer about him during their conversation.

He listens carefully to every word she says, elbows resting on the table while he watches her with quiet amusement.

At one point, she tells him she’s proud of how hard he’s worked for this comeback.

Yuma’s teasing expression disappears immediately.

“Don’t say things like that here,” he murmurs, looking at her like he already knows he’s losing composure.

Unfortunately for him, one of the many cameras picks it up.

The fancam goes catastrophically viral.

Luné replay the clip nonstop, especially the part where he keeps staring at her after she finishes talking like he forgot there are hundreds of people around them.

Someone captions a clipped part of the video.

“He folded SO FAST.”

No one disagrees.

Jo:

Jo sees her and instantly lights up.

There’s no subtlety.

None.

His eyes get brighter, his smile wider, and suddenly every fan nearby starts screaming because they’ve clearly witnessed something important.

“You actually came!” he says.

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“Because you said you were busy!”

She shrugs smugly while Jo laughs so hard he has to pause signing the album for a second.

The entire interaction feels warm and easy, like they forgot cameras existed and accidentally slipped into their own little world for a minute. Jo keeps trying to continue the conversation normally, but every time she says something funny he looks at her with this unbearably fond expression.

Fans notice immediately.

One fancam in particular spreads everywhere because it catches Jo staring at her while she talks to the point where a staff member has to remind him to keep the line moving.

The internet loses it.

“HE WAS LOOKING AT HER LIKE A DISNEY PRINCE,” someone tweets.

The clips being shared across multiple accounts with different angles from the fansign became unavoidable after that.

Especially because Jo accidentally likes one.

Harua:

Harua’s reaction is small.

So small most people would miss it.

But not the fans.

The moment she sits down, his eyes widen just slightly before he presses his lips together to stop himself from smiling too hard.

“You came,” he says softly.

“Mhm.”

“That’s dangerous.”

She laughs quietly while Harua lowers his head, pretending to focus on the album even though he keeps sneaking glances at her every few seconds.

The interaction itself is calm and gentle. They speak softly enough that fans can’t hear much over the venue noise, but Harua’s expression says more than enough.

He watches her with complete focus, eyes lingering on her face a second too long every single time she smiles.

Like nothing else around him exists.

The fancam becomes one of the most talked-about clips from the event because Luné notice how differently he looks at her compared to everyone else.

There’s one screenshot in particular where he’s staring at her with the softest smile imaginable.

It trends for two days.

Fans collectively decide they’ve never seen him look happier.

Taki:

Taki gasps.

Like actually gasps.

The second he sees her, he points dramatically across the table. “YOU!”

The members beside him immediately start sniggering.

“Taki,” she says through laughter, “please act normal.”

“I am normal! This is me being totally normal!”

He is absolutely not normal.

He spends the next two minutes trying to whisper while somehow still being louder than everyone else. He keeps asking why she didn’t tell him she was coming, then gets distracted halfway through signing because she compliments his performance.

His entire face goes pink.

The members notice instantly.

Nicholas starts teasing him from two seats away while Taki tries to defend himself and completely forgets there are fans filming everything.

Naturally, the video goes viral.

Luné adore the way he looks at her with pure excitement, like he genuinely can’t believe she showed up just to support him.

One comment gains over a hundred thousand likes:

“He looks like a puppy seeing his favorite person and immediately forgetting how to act normal.”

That basically becomes the official fandom opinion afterwards.

Maki:

Maki is in the middle of talking to Taki when he looks up and completely loses his train of thought.

“…Oh.” He blanks, staring at her like she was a figment of his imagination.

"Wait, I mean hi."

His girlfriend grins. “Good recovery.”

“No, hold on, I had something cool to say.”

“You definitely did."

Maki laughs, running a hand through his hair while fans around them immediately start reacting to the chemistry between them.

He tries to continue the conversation casually, but every sentence somehow sounds flirtier than intended.

When she tells him she’s proud of him, he leans forward slightly.

“You should be,” he says jokingly.

Then he notices the crowd reacting.

Then he realizes what he said.

Then he nearly dies.

His girlfriend is laughing too hard to save him while Maki hides his face behind the album for a full five seconds.

Unfortunately, a lot of the cameras in the venue caught it.

The clip spreads across TikTok.