NIGHTLYSHADES

smut tags― BIG DICK MINGYU, pussy eating/face riding, masturbation, whining and whimpering, hair pulling, begging, teasing, cock warming, pussy drunk mingyu, floor sex, sitting on his lap position, crying, unprotected sex, overstimulation, he kind of takes control back but it’s not in a dominant way– it’s more of an im so desperate to fuck you, i can’t stop.

~

There are days where you look at your boyfriend and think, yeah, he’s very clearly a soft and adoring man. One who is endearing, with his glistening eyes in the grocery store and tired yawns when he gets home from work. On those days, you find yourself melting into his rough palms, teasing and swaying you further from the release you both needed. 

Then there are days like today, where you look at him and he looks just like he does on any other day, but you want to see those tired droopy eyes glistening in a different way. Shining in the way he makes yours do when he’s hovering over you. Never have you even suggested this to him out of the three years you’ve been dating. You love being manhandled, degraded, teased, and he loved doing it to you. 

The dynamic works perfectly, and of course, it’s not always like this in the bedroom. Sometimes he isn’t too keen on edging you for hours with an evil smirk, sometimes he just wants to love on you and be close to you. 

And on a day like today, you don’t want any of that. You don’t want his fingers prying you open and pressing into you until you’re soaking one smiling boyfriend and probably the wall behind him, no, no. You don’t want to hear the sounds of his palms slapping your skin, or his teeth grazing your most sensitive areas. No! 

You’re so in your head about it today, staring at your boyfriend like an animal hunting for prey. He’s just sitting there, unknowing, giggling at stupid memes the two of you have seen four thousand times by now, a talk show muffled behind his laughs because you’re really more focused on him than anything else. It’s a sunday afternoon after all, and today is the only free day the two of you have when you’re not both exhausted from the week’s events. 

You wonder if he will be into it and if you’ll even have the ability not to melt into his grasp the second he shifts into his dominant self. You wonder more though, what it’ll be like to have this big ass man shivering at every touch you give to him, begging for more, whimpering. 

“Are you just gonna look at memes all day?” You ask, making your way into the living room to claim both the couch and Mingyu as your seat. 

“Probably, why?” He starts, leaning back against the cushions to make room for your legs on his lap. “You wanna do something today?”

“Hm, not really,” You shrug as you get comfortable, reaching an arm up to twirl his messy hair in your fingers. He hasn’t even brushed it today, but you love the way it looks on him. “I just wanted to ask.”

Mingyu turns his head slightly, narrowing his eyes at you with a knowing look. You never act this nonchalant if you don’t want something. You never play with his hair like this unless you’re both cuddled up in bed or you clearly want him to read your mind. 

“What’re you getting at?” He asks in a playful rasp, tilting into the feeling of your fingers in his hair as if he’s a puppy about to start wagging his tail. “You want something, and I’m not about to start making guesses without a hint.”

“You’re right, I do want something.” You smile, tugging slightly at a stand of his hair and looking away from him. “But I’m not gonna tell you what it is. You’ll just have to find out when it happens.”

He huffs in response to that before letting out a breathy chuckle. You wonder if he thinks you’re just trying to be a brat today. Maybe he thinks you’re gonna be annoying so that he will wrestle you down on the bed and put you in your place. That’s not it though. All you need is to get a reaction out of him in order to have him retiring with you to the bedroom sooner rather than later.

~

It didn’t take long to do that, as expected. It’s barely three in the afternoon by the time he’s fighting off a semi-hard on because you won’t stop pressing his buttons. 

From complementing his arms in the most annoying way to “accidentally” grabbing his bulge without warning. You know, the whole blatantly grabbing it then looking him in the eye with a small “Oops, thought it was something else.” 

He gritted his teeth through it for a little while before throwing his own form of teasing back at you. It all came to a sudden stop when he pressed you against the wall, effectively leaving no space for you to run and staring you straight in the eye. “If you want me to fuck you, you can just say that.” 

Of course you could have just said that, but it’s not what you want. You want to fuck him. 

So, now here the two of you are, you’re against the wall and he’s looming over you with all the power in the world. He knows how to end the teasing, he knows how to give you what you’d normally want, but he doesn’t know that maybe you can flip the tables on him.

He’s taken aback when you don’t look away from him, and even more appalled at the smirk you throw his way. Already, that switch in his head went off and you can tell that at any moment he’s going to drag you into the bedroom and give you what he thinks you want. 

“You think you know everything,” You smirk, throwing your hand forward and grabbing his growing length through his loose sweatpants. He winces at the feeling, arching into it almost. “If you want to fuck me, you could just say that.” You continue.

You mimic his words from before, a small power play to assert some type of dominance over him. Even in the position you’re in right now, even if you know all he needs to do is throw his hand around your throat to put an end to your plan, you’re still going to try. 

“Oh?” He quirks his brow, eyes trailing from your eyes to your middle, then back up. “You think I’m that desperate?”

You smile with a short nod, squeezing him in your palm to see if he reacts. He does, but you don’t think he notices. You can see that little curl on his lip twitch, with his confident smile never truly falling. 

“That hurts me,” You fake-whine, now palming him to urge his cock to grow to its full length. “You don’t want me as badly as I want you?”

He pauses, closing one eye as if to think with the correct side of his brain and try to ignore the fact that you always know exactly how to jerk him off. 

“you know that’s not it.” He falters with a gentle voice, giving into your false search of reassurance and once again arching into your hand. 

You can feel the press against your palm, he’s getting there.

“Then why don’t you ever show it?” You press on, prodding his brain to continue to take his dominant confidence down level by level. “I’m always the one having to ask for it.”

Mingyu doesn’t pause this time, his arm at the side of your head lowers to your cheek and caresses you there. 

“I love when you beg for me though,” He starts, leaning in closer to ghost his lips over yours. “You love it too.”

You can practically feel him not back down, even though he clearly isn’t aware of what you’re trying to do here. A wave of confidence flows through you too, and you refuse to back down this time as well. Your hand remains, pumping him through his pants and lurching forward against his lips.

He sighs into it, the hand caressing your cheek goes to the back of your neck as he, as always, dominates the kiss and angles your head in any way he deems fit. 

When you don’t react the way you normally do though, he appears to put even more effort into it. Kissing you in all the ways that would usually make you moan. Until he’s losing breath and trailing down your neck. 

At that point, you slide away from him leaving that small space between him and the wall and abandoning his now fully hard length, pulsing with no friction under his pants.

He stares at you as you back away from him with a smile, motioning for him to follow you. When he does, it’s another small victory in your head. You’re the one leading him this time, he’s the one chasing.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks as he follows you through the hallway, already untying the drawstring of his sweats and slipping them off by the time he gets to the door of your shared room. 

You don’t answer, and for some reason that’s got him thinking too hard about what’s happening right now. Never once have you rejected his advances. By now, you’d be grinding against his thigh and taking whatever you can from him against that wall in the other room. Instead, you’re stepping into the bedroom and not removing a single article of clothing.

He watches you with curiosity, scratching the back of his neck before lifting his shirt off of him as well. If he wanted to, he could walk up to you and have you right here right now, but he can admit to being genuinely curious as to what the fuck you’re trying to pull on him today.

“C’mere,” You say, standing against the bed and ignoring the fact that he’s so big. From his biceps to his shoulders, to his cock. 

When he walks up to you, he thinks he’s going to be able to simply press you back to have you falling onto the bed and spreading your legs for him, but he’s shocked when he gets to you and you’re the one managing to spin him around and harshly shove him down on the bed. 

He stares up at you in shock when you straddle him with a smile, and he can’t help but let out a sigh when you plant yourself directly on his length without so much as adjusting it.

“No, really,” He starts with another wince, hands shooting to your waist to stop any looming assumption that you’re about to start grinding against him. “What are you trying to do?”

You laugh, reaching down and pulling his cock into position, flat against his pelvis. You raise the band of his underwear and easily snap it back down onto his length, the head of it peeking out now. He seethes out a pained sound when he feels the snap, his shoulders tensing at it before he looks at you for an answer. 

“I’m trying to see how much you want me.” You say casually, waving your hand as if it’s obvious. “I’d like to know why you’re fighting it. Unless you really don’t want me as much as I want you?”

He furrows his brows at you and swallows around his words. This isn’t what he’s used to, but he does hold a particular type of love when it comes to giving you what you deserve. He thinks briefly back to all of the times you’ve been shaking, begging, and crying to have him. Is that…is that what you’re trying to make him do? 

His face feels hot as a blush creeps up on him. He’s not used to blushing in bed, in fact, the last time he blushed around you was when you had sex for the first time and you both expected the other to be as vanilla as possible. 

“Oh–” Mingyu starts, his hands on your waist gripping a bit harder when you instantly cut off his words with a harsh grind. 

You’re not going to argue about it. You’re going to have him fucking writhing if it’s the last thing you do. You grind harder when he doesn’t react past trying to stop your hips with his grip, still he hasn’t continued his train of thought, so you think you’ve got it in the bag by this point. 

“Jesus,” He groans when you continue even as he tries to stop you. The fabric of his underwear rubs harshly against the underside of his cock so aggressively that it’s starting to burn. “Okay, fuck. Okay.” He tries to get you to relent, but you don’t.

The immediate overstimulation is a lot to take for someone like him. Usually he gives himself just the right amount, never too little, never too much, because usually he’s the one in control. He’s realizing now though, how hard it is to give in to the lack of control. It’s not that he isn’t enjoying it, it’s just that like, you know, he likes overstimulating you. 

“That’s right,” You comment with a smile, sighing out at the feeling of rubbing yourself against his length. “Be quiet unless you don’t want this.”

He is still just staring at you in awe, the searing pain of fabric-rash nearly throwing him over edge and making him want to put a stop to it almost instantly. But then he remembers how often he’s used your clothing against you. Now, looking up at you as you grind against him, he can’t help but think you’ve never looked more sexy than you do right now, using his own tactics against him.

Perched up there, looking down at him with what he assumes is the same type of smirk he gives to you, he gives in easier than he ever expected he would. Already, he finds himself wanting to ask you to take his briefs off, already he wants to feel if you’re wet because of this. Already. Goddamn, that was fast and it’s not looking promising for him. 

“You look like you want to say something,” You say, grinding back and resting your hips for a moment. You don’t spare him though, as you move your hand to resume the stimulation against him. “Go on, tell me what you wanna say.”

He rolls his eyes at you, laughing internally at how good you already seem to be at his job. He doesn’t mind it anymore though, interested in seeing how you intend to go about all of this. Really though, you could have just said “Hey, let me have control this time.” 

But no. He should know you don’t work that way. You never ask for things outside of the bedroom, you simply demand them. He really should’ve known that you’d want to do this at some point.

“Nothing to say?” You ask, pulling off of him and standing to your feet. “I’ll take it that by the look on your face, you know exactly what’s happening?”

He nods, watching you stand and take your own pants off. There, he can already see the wet seeping through your panties. He nearly lets out a groan at it, because you somehow appear to be more wet than usual just by putting him in his place.

“Get up.” You demand, now having him in the head space you want him in. 

He listens without a single protest, scooting forward and standing up in front of you. 

For a moment, when you look up at him, you nearly buckle and want to beg him to take back his control. So tall, so broad. That blown out look in his eye always gets you, but at this moment he’s the one that is waiting for direction and it feels so fucking surreal to have him looming without intent, waiting, anticipating what you’re going to do. It’s intimidating to say the least, but you press on.

“Now–” You pause, swallowing down that last bit of submission in your head and looking up at him. “Get down.”

He skews his head, hooding his eyes as he does just that. Slowly but surely lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. 

You look down at him this time, feeling much more confident when you see him like this rather than him towering over you. The confidence comes right back as you shuffle closer to him. He scoots back as you get closer, up until his feet are nearly under the bed and his back is against it. 

Somehow, he looks obedient down there. You’ve never seen him look like this, with his eyes staring up at you, hair in his face and eyes sparkling much like they do when he tries to find the perfect tomato to buy and bring home. 

Mingyu opts to stay silent for now, watching and waiting to see how you plan to take what you want. But that silence is short lived when you lift your leg onto the bed and hover your clothed pussy in front of his face.

Already he’s reaching out with a proud moan and trying to grip your ass to pull you against his face, but you resist the pull. 

“Hands to yourself,” you chuckle out, swirling your hips in front of his face. “I’ll tell you when you can touch it.”

He nearly groans in protest, but doesn’t. He lowers his hands and watches you dance what he wants in front of him. Honestly, he can smell your arousal and it’s already driving him insane. 

“Is this what you want?” You ask him, pulling at your panties until they shift between your folds, exposing all but your entrance and clit to him. 

Mingyu can barely respond, suddenly spiraling into a world of arousal at the way you dangle yourself in front of him. He swallows hard around a lump in his throat, tongue falling out of his mouth for you to sit on without so much as an ounce of shame. 

“Hm?” You urge out an answer when you reach down to grab his hair and force his eyes up to you rather than your pussy. 

His whispered “yes” comes out in a rasp after he pulls his tongue back into his mouth, and while you wanted a please at the end of his admittance, you take what you can get. 

You adjust your panties back to their rightful position before sitting the expanse of your pussy against his chin while keeping his head tilted back by the hair. He nuzzles slightly, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of you like the animal that he is. 

“You act desperate to taste but you aren’t admitting it.” You laugh, guiding his head against your panties and fawning over the way he presses his nose into it without shame. 

Mingyu admits it with his tongue falling back out of his mouth again. Flattening it against the wet fabric and not moving it even an inch just to taste the stale arousal you managed to gather for him to swallow up. 

The warmth of his tongue is enough to have you gripping his hair again, pulling his head back and away from your core just to look at him. His dominant tongue strains to reach out and continue tasting you though, to the point that it’s almost embarrassing to see him act like this. 

“God, I didn’t think you could be so pathetic so fast,” You comment, pressing him back to your core and grinding up against his tongue. 

You can feel him flex the muscle, stiffening it to press the seat of your panties into your pulsing hole, and releasing a small moan at the way your leg shakes a bit at it. Even when he’s down here, face full of pussy, you’re still reacting like you would if he were the one in control. He might love it a bit too much. Even if he looks pathetic down here, he’s only pathetic for this pussy. 

“Mhm,” he hums against you, leaning more into the pussy in front of him rather than the harsh grip your hands have in his hair. “If you’d just let me–” 

You’re taken aback when he goes against your demands of keeping his hands to himself. You can feel one of his hands shoot to your ass and press you more against his mouth, and his other hand hooking your panties to the side. 

Barely able to react before a moan leaves your lips, he buries his tongue into your with a pointed hum against you. You can feel the vibrations flow through you to the point that you can’t help but grind. Fucking yourself against his tongue and then pulling back in a way to swirl your clit around the muscle.

His remains focused on the act as he closes his eyes. He even finds himself satisfied by the way you move on him that he releases the grip on your ass, trusting you to take what you need from him yourself, and instantly shoots that same hand between his legs. Not offering too much to himself, but enough to have him moaning the way you clearly want him to.

That, he does. Pressing his palm against his cock and furrowing his brows as his tongue tastes and licks up every inch of you. The way you grind is heavenly and the way your fingers tug at his hair only heightens the pleasure for him when he finally groans into you. 

The sound alone is enough to have you grinding harder, your thrusts becoming shorter just to feel his tongue repeatedly hit the same spot on your clit as you do it. You can see his lips curl into a smile around his tongue and you roll your eyes at the image of his unwavering confidence. Trying still to dominate even while on his knees.

That’s when you take note of his moving shoulder, hidden from under your hiked up leg. 

“So that’s why you seem so content,” You comment, halting your grinds. “Focus on me, get your hand off of your dick.”

His eyes shoot open, realizing he’s been caught and instantly follows your demands. He follows them so much actually, that he does focus entirely on you. Your voice speaking to him that way, denying him of his own pleasure? Fucking amazing, that’s what you are. 

Both hands shoot back to your ass as he practically hugs you in order to plant your pussy directly back onto his face. And just like that, he willingly and intentionally smothers himself in your scent. He easily nuzzles his nose against your clit while swirling his tongue around your hole, poking and prodding it while holding your hips in place. 

He can feel your hands in his hair grip tighter, and then your legs shake and you try to pull away. But no, not this time. He will let you take control after this. He promises himself, and promises you with a desperate moan to keep you planted on him. 

The moan wasn’t an act, he actually is desperate to get you to come this way, nearly purring into you when he pulls his head back just a bit to lick up and down your slit at an aggressive and animalistic pace. 

“Taste so good,” He groans, allowing himself to spiral as he laps away at you. “More.”

You’ve gone silent save from constant sighs of pleasure and hums. More? He wants more?

Already loving the way he manages to still be dominant while on his knees, you do the opposite to gain control again. You can tell he’s incredibly turned on, so now is the perfect time to pull that control back. You slide off of his face, pulling your leg back and watching the whole time as his mouth manages to chase the taste of you until he no longer can.

You study him, his cock leaking against the band of his briefs and his lips wet and glistening. He looks back at you with a look of…anger, maybe? You chuckle at it before lifting your shirt off of you and letting your breasts spring free.

“You were so close to begging,” You coo at him, stepping forward and falling to your knees in front of him, almost mimicking his own pose. Still, he towers over you like this, but you make a point to make him smaller than he is when you push his head down to your chest. “What a cutie.”

For some reason, he loves that compliment so fucking much in this moment with you. He strains his body to suck against one of your nipples, humming at the compliment and wanting nothing more than to hear you praise him now rather than beg him. Never did he think this would be something he’s into, but damn. 

You sense that he likes it with the way he moves his tongue on your chest, he always speeds up his actions when you do something he likes. Usually it’s when you start to cry, or whimper, or choke– but this time it’s because you called him cute. 

Taking note of that, you hold his head against your chest as you allow yourself to feel his tongue abuse your nipple briefly. Then you’re throwing yourself back into action by scooting back and away from him before tapping at his legs. “Take these off, and sit properly.”

He listens, in a daze of wanting nothing more than to have you back in his mouth in whatever way you deem fit. 

You’re pleased by his obedience when he kicks his briefs off and fully exposes his raging cock. Leaking, stiff, slightly raw from the fabric. Your mouth nearly waters at it when he sits flat on the floor and leans against the bed.

Typically, you’d go ahead and choke on it for a few minutes, but by this point you kind of want to feel him inside of you. You want to see how he will react to the overwhelming relief of having his cock inside of you, and so you slip your panties off and plant yourself on him without warning.

His arms shoot around you with a drawn-out moan of feeling you go straight for the kill. You slide down so easily, and he can’t help but shiver at how wet and tight you are as you spread yourself open on.

He squeezes around you with his arms, burying his face into your neck with a gasp and somewhat of a whimper. One that shows you that you’re doing exactly what he needs, but probably not what he wants. 

You, on the other hand, hold your moans in so that you can hear him clearly. With his hair tickling your cheek and his cock practically impaling you, it’s difficult not to try and wiggle away from your own doing. He splits you open so fucking good, the uncomfortable fit making your ears and cheeks feel hot as you try to adjust without showing him a reaction of either pain or pleasure. 

He’s the one whimpering about it. You know that the stretch you’re feeling must be overwhelming on his end too. You can feel his cock twitch, and his breath hitches with each second you don’t move on him. You sit there with your weight holding his hips in place to where he couldn’t fuck up even if he wanted to, which you can tell he does. 

And you stay that way until his gasps become wet, and you can feel the remnants of drool fall against your neck as he tries to contain himself. You stay even as his gasps turn to little moans, pleading for you to move, until they turn to full out whimpers of pain. His hands grip at you in this harsh and close hug, his chest squishing your tits so close to your own body that you know he’s coming undone as you sit on him.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You question his hair, and you feel a short nod. 

“Say it.”

Mingyu’s body jerks under you as he spreads his legs and leaves your ass hovering just above the floor as you sit on him. The slight change of angle causes you to moan softly at the way the head of his cock reaches impossibly deeper. 

“Just ask, and I’ll let you.” You continue as you try to compose yourself, clenching your walls around him to elicit a response, but it appears he’s gone. 

Absolutely lost to the warmth of you, his hands grip harder and his legs tense up. 

“I could be coming so deep inside of you right now,” he tries to say, flinching at the way you clench around him again. “Of fucking course i want to fuck you.” 

You pull back from his grip to give him a disappointed look. 

“Well, you can’t.” You smile, clenching around him again and watching him drop his head back against the mattress in a pained groan of defeat. 

And like that, he feels you clench again, and again, essentially jerking him off with your pussy alone until he’s babbling and rolling his eyes back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, still.” He groans, throwing his hand to his hair to run his fingers through it, as if he’s searching for any type of relief since you’re not offering much to him. “I bet you feel so full right now, can’t believe you’re not bouncing on me yet, can’t believe you’re not begging me to fuck you.”

It’s like a fucking competition at this point to have him completely give in. You want him to give himself up to you, you want him to let you take him for all he’s worth.

“Not until you give in.” You challenge, swirling your hips just a bit to see if it helps your case. And god, it does. 

Surprisingly, he winces and begins to shiver under you at just that short movement, you watch his hand go from his hair to the blankets just behind and above his head to grip at them. You can feel him try to tense his ass, just to press into you a bit– just to see if he can get away with fucking you. 

“I can see how badly you want it, just admit it.” 

There it is, and there he goes. That last bit of brick wall between his dominant side and submissive side disappears and he’s falling into it. Easier now than before, it’s not an act now. Though it wasn’t entirely before either. He is desperate at this point. He’s not doing it because it’s what you want, he’s doing it because it’s what he needs. 

You draw back slightly at his hiccup, not at all expecting him to start fucking crying. But he does, his eyes prickling and glistening more than they ever have as the tears well up in his eyes. Not tears of sadness, but very clearly tears of pleading. 

“Oh,” You sigh out, clenching again but this time completely unintentionally at the image. Your big, looming boyfriend is sitting broken with his cock nestled so deep inside of you that he’s actually fucking crying because you won’t let him move. “My god.” You sigh out again when he looks at you with a deep breath. 

“You do want me that badly.” You confirm for him, knowing that his throat must hurt as he tries to continue to contain himself.

He nods aggressively, not even realizing how far he’s fallen from his throne, furrowing his brows as one of the tears falls down his cheek and he’s a heaving mess waiting for you to just fucking move. 

So, you do. You slide him out of you just a bit before sitting again and in an instant he’s shooting his arms around you and gripping you so tightly, hoping to whatever god above tells you to hang onto him because he knows for a fact that he can’t string together the words at the moment. 

Just like that, he gains control over you in a way that isn’t dominant at all. He’s lost in it, holding you so tightly and tipping you onto your back so fast that you can barely comprehend the speed he’s fucking you at. 

His eyes are still wet, and his hands are still bruising, and his cock is driving into you so aggressively that somehow he’s going harder than he does when you ask him to fuck you rough. So this is how he is when he’s desperate. 

The wet sounds of your pussy being slammed, his lips sucking at your neck, whimpering at the sudden and intense relief his cock is getting– it’s um.. it’s a lot to handle. 

And when he starts trying to talk in a whisper, it comes out at varying volumes, causing your ears to ring with somehow, even more arousal than before. 

“Can’t believe you pulled this out of me,” he starts, long and hard thrusts pushing you up inch by inch on the floor under him. “You feel so fucking good,” he continues, rambling out words he doesn’t even know he’s saying. “I couldn’t–” He pauses in a moan, slamming into you particularly hard and causing you to yelp, which causes him to nearly growl out the next words. “I couldn’t hold back anymore,” 

You can’t respond, as you feel the lights in your head flicker and the fog set in. 

“To think your pussy could have me crying,” he whimpers out pathetically this time, feeling his orgasm approach so fast that he doesn’t even want to edge himself like he normally would with you. “Still so tight, fuck.” He compliments through his chase, up until he’s stuttering his hips and crying out a string of curses and apologies for managing to be on top of you when he knew you wanted to be in control.

It’s not long before he realizes your spiral, mid orgasm, he notices your overstimulated shaking body and the reality smacks him in the face. Normally, you’re a sub, you’re his sub.. You practically forced yourself back into the mind-set while trying to force him into it, and when he tipped you over and couldn’t stop himself from taking the pleasure from you, you spiraled with him.

He continues to whisper out pained apologies as he releases the last bit of his cum into you before pulling you back up and into his arms. His heart is pounding, and his cock is twitching sensitively inside of you when he does it. 

He winces at the feeling but focuses more on your silence, rubbing your clit roughly as you sigh against him limply, up until your body begins to shake in his arms and he works you through your orgasm like the perfect boyfriend he is. 

~

“That didn’t end the way it was supposed to.” You pout, disappointed that he still ended up being the one to get both of you off. 

He smiles fondly at you, feeling like he’s weightless as you gripe and complain about it. 

“We can try again. I promise to totally submit to you next time.” He says with a gentle rub against your waist as you step into the shower. “I’ll even beg.”

You look at him with interest, smiling slightly but hating the fact that it didn’t work out how you wanted it to this time. 

“I did cry, you know..” He reminds you, his cheeks heating up at the embarrassment of the fact that you managed to pull that out of him. 

“You did.” You poke fun at him, feeling the water from the shower hit your sweat and cum stained skin, it’s warm and soothing. “And it was hot.”

He quirks a brow. 

“We are too alike,” He gripes with a laugh, shaking his head and preparing to get into the shower with you. “but it’s gonna take some practice if you want me acting the way you act.”

“But you cried.” 

“I did.”

The commonly shared belief among your friend group was that Seokmin is abnormally soft when it comes to you.

You thought they were full of shit. 

The bestest buddy in the world was also the softest ray of morning sunshine to ever exist in general. You could barely count on one hand the number of people he genuinely ever showed disdain towards or didn't get along with. All in all — it was extremely hilarious in your opinion because Seokmin's fluffy personality greatly contrasted with his lean, sharp physique. 

Ironically, the main reason you ended up in this position.

Just moments before, you were on his bed and caged between his arms. The dog tag necklace you'd gifted, engraved with his birth date and initials, swinging in the same rhythm that your heart rapidly beats with the small space separating your bodies. A sly grin raises the corners of his lips, the long fingers of his left-hand creeping up to trail lightly at your sides.

"I know you have abs."

Seokmin's hands fly up to wrap defensively around his body, though all in good jest. "You can't just ask a dude how many abs he has!"

"And you can't lie to me by saying you don't have any! Do you know how many of your dude-bros have blabbed about your crazy gym routine to me? Can you even guess how many girls bitched at me 'cause you weren't shirtless at my pool party? As if that's my fault?"

"But it's mine?"

"No, all I have to do is prove them wrong. So, show me the goods!"

You sucked at making up your mind — what to eat, what to wear, what to watch, what to do — okay, but who doesn't? It's something Seokmin was very familiar with, hence him always having to pick up wherever you left off. He also knows just as well that once you've settled on something, you'll see it through to the very end. Eventually. 

Which normally works out in his favor except in moments like now. So he resorts to a different preventative measure — tickling the decisiveness right out of you.

Like hell you'll let him do what he wants.

Maybe the whispers about him being soft for you were right. After all, it's to your utter benefit when you push at his shoulder. Only a bit unbalanced, he easily falls onto his side and you scramble to climb on top of him at record speed, one arm pinning Seokmin's wrists against the pillow beneath his head. 

Unfortunately, this looks like one of your 3,718,493,842 very bad choices in life. Once again, something you didn't think all the way through. Sure, you've bested Seokmin at light wrestling and play-fighting before — back when you were toddlers and all he did was cry.

Now, at adult ages, it seems like a horrible, terrible, very bad idea to have him beneath you. Your fingers play with the hem of his white t-shirt that's ridden up ever so slightly, unbearablely close to the leather band of his silver belt buckle. 

Seokmin's pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you with a strange, almost starry-eyed look of surprise. Black bangs flipped up across the dark gray of his blanket, silver chain askew shining against his collarbones, mouth slightly ajar.

Suddenly you're hyper-aware of sitting right on top of him, completely obliterating the distance between your bodies earlier, and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination from what you can feel nestled in between your legs. 

"Would it be inappropriate of me to take your shirt off right now?" you can't help but ask.

He laughs, all breathless and high-pitched like he does when he's nervous. "You're asking for permission?"

"Seokmin," you can't help but whine and shift your hips in protest without thinking. Another bad move. Oops. "I'm trying to be polite."

"You have me pinned to my bed with the intent to strip me and you're worried about being polite?"

"Oh, please, you could easily break free."

It's true. His wrists twitch a bit under your grasp, almost like he's attempting to do just that but you're faster once more. Or he's just letting you have your way with him. Whatever the case, your other hand firmly holds both of his down which only brings your faces closer together.

"Don't move."

"Okay," Seokmin agrees and licks his lips, "at least you know what consent means."

"Are you consenting?"

"Depends on what to."

"Me taking off your shirt."

"… Should I be flattered?"

"Very."

Brown eyes close, his brow furrowing. For a minute, you think you've accidentally taken things too far and are about to quickly apologize and backpedal before things backfire until his lips quirk up and Seokmin snorts.

"Never imagined you'd be stripping me like this."

You would agree because what the hell? All this for some abs? But the way he says it makes you pause.

"Have you imagined this before?"

Expecting him to panic or something, you're even more taken aback when he bites his lip like he's holding back more laughter. 

"And what if I have? You'll be offended even if I lie." 

You narrow your eyes challengingly while his sparkle. "Are you… flirting with me?" 

"That is not how I flirt but okay." 

"You're being weird. Weird weird. Like super-duper weird." 

"Says the one soaking my jeans, right now." 

You want to scream. Instead, you let out a scandalized gasp, eyes widening. The effort it takes to bolt away means you must release Seokmin. Something that doesn't even cross your mind with the shame heating up your cheeks, mortification setting off every sirening alarm in your nervous system.

Your first mistake.

Countless other mistakes will be made after this, but looking back — could they really be watered down to just a mistake after the end results? Why you're even so embarrassed in the first place is beyond you. And your best friend has zero intentions of letting you get away from him.

The minute Seokmin's hands are freed, one flies to keep your hips pressed against his while the other gently braces your back. Lifting his torso up with insane core strength he clearly was lying about not having, you have no choice but to wrap an arm instinctively around his neck like a koala. Your other hand curls into a fist, clinging against the fabric straining with the flex of his chest muscles while simultaneously attempting to push him back in a futile effort.

"Breathe," Seokmin murmurs in mild concern. His eyes crinkle as he smiles encouragingly. "Breathe for me, babe."

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath. If you inched any closer forward, your nose would brush against his, and leaning too far back would end up with him on top of you again.

"This is all your fault, babe."

"You're the one that started this in the first place, babe."

"All I wanted was to see your abs," your voice drops to a pathetic whisper, "babe."

"All you had to do was ask, silly."

"I did!"

To your horror, he leans in even closer with a devious smirk so his nose brushes tenderly against yours. "For yourself. Not others."

"What… what are you playing at Seokmin?"

"It's like you misinterpret everything I do on purpose."

"I — "

"If you think I'm just playing around you're sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Then what are you doing?"

"Nothing," he says innocently even though the hand on your back trails upwards and not-so-innocently unclasps the bra underneath your shirt. 

Your jaw drops. Of course, your modest top is still on and the shoulder straps keep your undergarment in place. Yet, you feel naked with the way Seokmin shamelessly ogles your covered chest and lets out a satisfied groan, pleased that you weren't wearing a sports bra. After all, it's not the first time he's done that for you — but it is under this strange context.

"Seokmin — "

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. Tell me." His voice is low, rougher than you've ever heard, causing tingles to shoot down your spine at the way he says your name. "I should take full responsibility for whatever happens."

His last sentence echoes over and over inside your head because yeah, what the hell is going to happen? — until you blurt out, "You find me attractive?"

Finally, Seokmin acts the way you expect and are familiar with, his shy demeanor coming out like sun rays peeking through overcast clouds. Bowing his head, forehead flopping on your shoulder, he admits defeat. 

"As if that's even a question, goofball."

"No way — there's no way! My bestie, you, find me, your bestie, like. Hot?"

"Look, I know it's cliché to fall for your friend and all that stupid shit," he grumbles, "but you don't have to sound so shocked. I already know thanks to Mingyu."

You freeze. "Know what?"

"… You're really going to make me say it?" he laughs in disbelief and shakes his head against your shoulder, causing your loose strap to slide down. "When my pride's already in tatters?"

Urging Seokmin to pick up his head and look at you, you face his brown eyes straight-on and cup his flushed cheek. "What did Mingyu say that crushed your pride?"

He sighs. "He told you I liked you before I ever got the chance to say it myself to you."

Your eyebrows raise. "He did?"

"Yeah. And I thought you just. Well. I don't know, I thought you were just ignoring it out of consideration or something. Obviously. Since you didn't say anything."

"… All 'cause I was pretty sure he blabbered about accidentally spilling the beans to you about me liking you."

The both of you pause, silently cursing poor Mingyu. He did mean well. Somehow.

"You're joking right," Seokmin whispers, "is this real?"

"What makes you think it's not."

"Because you've only ever returned my feelings in my dreams."

Your pride swells at that, wrapping your arms around his neck daringly. "Dream about me often?"

He falls backward on the bed, taking you down with him with your bodies pressed tightly together. You admire his handsome features with renewed thirst while he shuts his eyes, no longer forcing yourself to view him through the platonic lenses you'd kept on for so long.

Then his eyes flash back open and you flinch at the burning desire blazing within them. He's never looked at you like that, at least not directly and it ignites the equal yearning you feel for him like a match.

"Yeah," he answers your teasing question, "I do."

Just the thought alone makes you dizzy. Your best friend, your sweet and lovely Seokmin who puts up with all your bullshit, laying here on this exact bed with thoughts of you consuming his mind. Pining for you. Wanting you. Shit, you think he deserves to have all his fantasies come true. And you're more than happy to help him out. 

"What do we do in your dreams?"

"Everything. Anything."

An iron-clad grip will probably leave bruises behind but it's not enough to stop you from a slow, lazy grind of your hips. You sit up for more leverage, hands on his broad shoulders for support, watching with smugness oozing out of your smile as he struggles to continue his wholesome thoughts.

"Holding hands, cute dates, buying you pretty things… "

"C'mon babe," you tease, "what else?"

"Ah… " Seokmin sighs, throwing an arm over his face to hide his eyes though it can't hide the flush creeping up his neck, to his cheeks, and coloring his cute ears. "You know… "

"Nah, I don't. Not unless you tell me." 

"… Just gets lonely in bed. At night. Cold."

"We've slept together before when I've stayed the night and vice versa."

"Mhm, but never with my dick inside of you."

You coo, trying to keep up your unbothered façade as though the quickening pace of your hips isn't making an insane mess of his lap. 

"Poor little Seokminnie had to jerk off all by himself." Leaning down to whisper maliciously in the ear that isn't shielded by his elbow, "Or did you do it while I was laying next to you because you were so frustrated?"

"As if," he scoffs, "and I'm not sure what you mean by little."

Like a switch has flipped, two hands return and grip your hips, keeping them stationary. To prove his point hard, it's Seokmin's turn to grind his pelvis up into the moist heat of your covered cunt while holding you still to feel every agonizingly delicious drag of his cock. The way he can feel you pulse against him even through your thin shorts, the devastating whimper that leaves your mouth when the rough fabric manages to catch your clit just right make up for the mildly gross stickiness of precum inside of his jeans.

A sadistic grin leers at you, almost a snarl. Such a jarring contrast to the normally soft, fond looks you're used to and a shudder runs through your body at the shock, another rush of heated arousal dripping from your pussy.

It's cute, Seokmin thinks to himself, how you put up this act and think you're the one in control when it's really me, the one whose lap you're on.

"Can you even blame me?" he growls, not waiting nor expecting any answer as he sits back up, jostling your body in the process. "I was so good, so well-behaved in front of you. And yet you waltz around me with barely anything on all the damn time, flirting with all my friends in that skimpy bathing suit without a care in the world… "

You don't even know when you ended up on your back. Staring wide-eyed into Seokmin's narrowed ones, his eyelids fluttering as he recalls these memories, fist clenched and arms tense as he towers on top of you once again. He's panting, lower body still pressed against yours.

"Batting your eyelashes at me, giggling, grinding that sweet ass all over me on the dancefloor and then skipping away even though I wanted to touch you so badly… and if that's not torturing enough, constantly showing up in my dreams, always out of reach… So yeah, I'm just a little frustrated, sorry."

"I'm… I'm… I-I didn't know — "

"I know that. I know that and that's why I felt like utter trash. You didn't mean any of it and here I am throwing my disgusting fantasies on you."

"Don't say that," you plead and cup the side of his face, running your thumb repeatedly across his mole. "You're not trash, Seokmin. I wasn't thinking — I mean I didn't realize… I just — "

"Please," he interrupts suddenly, desperately begging. "Please tell me… if this… if this is going to be a spur of the moment, out of pity, and a one-time thing… please tell me you don't want this. That you don't want me — "

"I want to kiss you." 

You watch his body tremble before he takes a deep breath, smiling up at him as his eyes gradually open. They blink owlishly at you, nearly crossing in his attempt to scan your face if he really heard you correctly as you guide him by the jawline close to your lips.

"I want you, Seokmin."

To be honest, you've never really imagined what it'd feel like to kiss your best friend. The movies you've watched make it out to be magical, enchanting, and something out of a fairy tale. Sure, maybe they're not wrong but the majority of entertainment is the bad boy turning sweet or a soft boy remaining a gentleman.

Nothing's prepared you for awakening the beast in a good boy.

He kisses you with a ferocity that steals your breath from the get-go. A sensual clash of teeth, tongue, spit, love bites, and nips. Seokmin always had an enjoyable, pleasing tone to his voice and it sounds even better when he's grunting and groaning in the laidback battle for dominance.

Somehow, your clothes are merely disheveled and not ripped off despite continual tangling and grabbing at each other. Once again, you find yourself back on top as you gasp for air — having to push him away when he chases after you for more kisses. If you thought he was pretty before, he's even lovelier with shiny, swollen lips and a dazed, hungry look in his eyes.

Despite pouting at the sudden distance, the man astonishingly looks at you like you've hung the stars in the sky. As if he's never seen the ugly sides of you, your lowest and most embarrassing moments. His gaze trails from where you sit on his thighs to the rise and fall of your heaving chest to your blown-out pupils with such appreciation and awe that your cheeks are set aflame.

Although maybe you're just seeing a reflection of your own adoration. Running your hand down the toned length of one of his arms, you intertwine your fingers together. A smirk returns to your face as he squeezes back, distracted.

"So, can I see your abs now?"

Seokmin groans your name and chews on his lip, uncertain. You shrug and toy with the hem of your own shirt before decisively pulling it over your head. A blissed-out sigh escapes his mouth at the reveal.

Your bra is undone — thanks to his earlier mischief — and barely covers your breasts. Threatening to fall off at the slightest move, you pretend to protect what little modesty you might have and keep it in place with a free hand. 

"Tit for tat?" you tease.

He audibly gulps and you watch his Adam's apple bob. You wait patiently, letting him go at his own pace and back out if he wants. Though he does relent because he feels at confront with you, revealing his gorgeous tan skin and upper body you hadn't seen in what feels like years.

"Omigod…" you gasp out and he cringes, upper body taut with nerves. "You've been hiding a six-pack away from the public for so long?"

"I — "

"I want to touch them."

"Why are you so obsessed with my abs?"

"'cause they're mythical. Like unicorns or… or Bigfoot."

"You're comparing me to a yeti?"

"Not yet…i!"

He rolls his eyes at the ridiculous pun. "I thought I was getting a 'tit for tat'?"

"Yeah," you nonchalantly slide off your loose bra and toss it somewhere on his bedroom floor. Seokmin doesn't even get to relish the bare sight of your tits for his own enjoyment because you're grumbling, "can't even show his best friend his fine ass abs," and he has to correct you.

"Maybe if I was your boyfriend, I'd show them to you all the time."

"Oh? Is that a promise? A threat? A distraction?"

"An offer. A suggestion even."

"It's pretty tempting," you play coy, "can I touch you if I say yes?"

"Only if I can touch you too."

"Then yes." Your pointer finger travels down the flexed crease of his skin to right above his belly button. "Can I see your dick now?"

"But I want… I'd like to… taste you."

"Later," you assure and daringly place a kiss above his waistband. Your hands tug at the belt when his hips stutter upwards. "Please?"

He's gone the moment you flutter your eyelashes at him and so are his ruined jeans. Discarded on the floor to join the growing number of other clothing when he says yes. 

Even Seokmin himself would admit he is indeed too soft for you but his cock certainly isn't. Your eyes nearly bug out when it flops against his stomach, angry red and leaking tears of precum. He grits his teeth at how much it aches, perfect jawline even more prominent. 

His self-esteem would have been dashed to pieces at the devastating frown on your pretty face but it's greatly inflated when all you can do is whimper out, "You're so big… "

"Yeah?"

Your best friend — no, now your boyfriend, you suppose — hisses when you blink at him. 

"There's no way you're gonna fit."

"Hah, 's never been a problem before." Nails dig into his thigh, the little show of possession at the mention of his previous partners wickedly giving Seokmin another ego boost. He's quick to try and appease you though by saying, "don't worry, babe… let me prep and taste you, I'll make it fit I promise and you'll feel good."

"Fuckin' sweet talker." You feel a hand reach out to temptingly slip under the band of your shorts. "Everything about you is always so sweet."

"'m sure you taste even sweeter." 

"Seokmin…" 

"Hm?" His touch grows bolder at the moan of his name, squeezing at the plumpness of your ass. "Will you please let me have a taste? Just wanna help you out." 

You won't be thinking I'm so sweet after this. 

Eager to touch him, you nod and start to take off your shorts but Seokmin is faster. Nearly tearing them off your body in excitement and somehow managing to position your bare lower body right where he wants it. 

Luckily, you're able to face his neglected cock. A shriek leaves your mouth, though, because the hardened tip of his tongue is searching for your clit, lathing and suckling on it when he does find it. 

You try to focus on your prize but it's difficult with the vigor he's attacking your throbbing, needy pussy. Seokmin holds you up high enough that he can leave occasional nips on the inner crease of your hips before harshly licking and sucking up your messy arousal. Shaking his head back and forth with an animalistic growl, all you can do is resort to pitiful kitten licks and slobbering mindlessly on just the side of his cock. 

The more you attempt to wrap your lips fully around the tip, the further down he brings you to his mouth until you're almost suffocating him. A brutal assault where you can only twitch your hips to which he agreeably grunts, gliding you across his open mouth ever so slightly. Unable to escape the throes of pleasure, not that you would want to — you give up and give in. 

Tears fill your eyes as your body convulses and shakes, staring longingly at his cock through bleary eyes. Seokmin's muffled moans as he gladly helps you ride out your orgasm with your fluttering hole clamping around his tongue barely registering in your ears. You feel like you're floating while underwater in the most delicious of ways. 

Seokmin manages to nudge you enough so he can catch his breath while waiting for you to come back to him. A fond smile on his lips when you're finally able to move and he helps you flop by his side. 

"Why on earth are you a pussy-eating pro?" 

"You keep complaining about things most people don't find fault in." 

"I wanted to suck the life out of you, not the opposite." You reach for his cock again but he stops you — again — and rubs the back of your hand consolingly while he wipes the wet mess you'd left on his face with a smirk like a badge of honor he takes pride in. "Lee Seokmin!" 

"Shhh, don't whine, baby. Almost there, I'll let you have my dick soon. Give it to you real good. Now that I've confirmed what a tight, good little pussy you have for myself, gotta make sure you're stretched out enough. Don't wanna hurt you." 

"It already hurts, 'm so empty, 'min." 

"Greedy," he snickers, knowing you're full of shit, and sits up. "After I just stuffed you with my tongue so well that you complained about it, now you want me again?" 

"Always want you. Always have. Didn't realize it before but it's true. 'm sorry, Seokkie, need you so bad though." 

"Lucky I like you so much. Now turn around, let me see that lovely ass of yours." 

You do as he says, clambering up on all fours and arching your back prettily, looking over your shoulder to see what he'll do next. 

The sight alone is a wet dream. He's licking his lips, brown eyes honed in on your puffy, seeping cunt until he's snapped out of the trance when he realizes you're watching him. He sticks out his tongue to pull a silly face and you shake your head in disbelief. 

A finger traces up your spine before it turns into his palm pushing down between your shoulder blades so your cheek is pressed into the pillows. You can just feel the heavy heat of his cock but he pulls away before you can savor it for too long. A constant tease that leaves you whining again in frustration and wiggling your hips enticingly, a futile effort. 

"I know you're desperate. 'm sorry, don't wanna cum too fast and disappoint you though." 

"You won't disappoint me." 

"Nope, I'll make it worthwhile. Promise. We can do whatever positions you want after this. I'd like to see you riding me like you do in my dreams, personally." Watching how you clench at his words, he chuckles. "Knew you'd like that too. Now, let's see…" 

He slips a digit inside your hole muttering, "There we go," and adds another. And another. Three fingers explore your gummy inner walls and he hums in contemplating tones before he begins scissoring motions to get your pussy to further open up. 

Your moans are muffled by the bed and Seokmin simply increases his pace to make them louder with a sneer of satisfaction you don't see. You do feel him kissing down the length of your spine, more love bites that make you squeal at each pinch. 

"So cute and perfect. What 'm I gonna do with you?" he asks and pretends to understand the unintelligible garble to his rhetorical question. "Yeah, that's right, babe. Fuck you even more stupid than you are now 'cause it's what you deserve." 

Retracting his fingers, licking them clean, and mumbling how pretty you are — then he's finally wrapping a veined hand around his even veinier cock to tease at your entrance. 

He plays with your wetness, coating his tip with it and making both your mouth and pussy drool. And god, does Seokmin relish the vision before him. 

You're everything to him and that thought alone makes him bite down on his lower lip, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He doesn't want to fuck this up. Every muscle in his body tenses when he takes a deep breath and eases himself inside, enraptured with the way your soft pussy lips part and cling around his length to welcome him. 

When he glances up to check how you're doing, he has to reign himself back from exploding or thrusting insensitively all the way in. The way your eyes roll up, a stain of drool left on his blanket, and the feeble thank you's followed by a filthy series of moans — he lets out a string of curses that would make even a depraved whore blush out of shyness. 

"S'big, s'full," you hiccup, clenching and unclenching in rapid successions that has Seokmin wheezing, though he tries to comfort you. 

"'m not even all the way inside, sweetheart. Bear with me, babe. Breathe. I've got you." 

"Got me… hella fuckin' full."

"You can take it. I know you can." He pushes his hips forward a bit more. "There you go, sweetheart. Relax just a tiny bit… Yeah, that's it…" 

Praises fall from his lips and you sob at both the goddamn stretch and unfathomable pleasure. You already feel him buried in your gut reaching spots you didn't even know existed by the time he's almost bottomed out for his pelvis to press temptingly against your ass — you're pretty sure you can feel him in your lungs at this point.

"S'deep…!" 

"Feel so fucking good… d'ya need me to pull out a little, baby? You still with me?" 

You answer him by bravely using whatever strength — or more like the urge for him to split you open and take it all because you want to be as good as he's telling you that you are for him — and push yourself back so he's fully seated within your tight cunt. 

You're probably screaming if your raspy throat and ringing ears are anything to go by. He's panting and rubbing his forehead with a groan. 

"Fuck, what are you so hot for?" 

The air feels like it's been punched out of his lungs, the same way his cock is being suctioned and squeezed. In an effort to wrangle whatever control is left within himself, Seokmin focuses on your body and how it reacts. Laying over your arched back to press your bare bodies close together in an intimate fashion. 

You can feel his necklace and its cool touch on your burning skin. The recollection of never seeing him without it since gifting it to him reignites a possessive streak in you and has your pussy pulsing around him more fervently. Suddenly you long to have his mark engraved on you permanently, etched into your body and soul just like the inanimate object. 

It's almost a shame when he pauses to tug it free so it doesn't break and let it hang over your shoulder instead. Not that it matters much, for you'd only have a temporary imprint of a dog tag shape on your back. 

As if he can read your muddled mind (he probably can), Seokmin makes up for it in his concentration to delay his dizzy cloud of absolute unbridled lust. He's already left many physical reminders of his touch where you'll definitely be sore later scattered around your body and as a bonus — bites down where your neck meets your shoulder. 

(You have no idea how you'll explain the obvious teeth marks to your friends the next day but you know they'll know. Especially when Seokmin — the little shit that he is — shamelessly shows off the various marks you'll leave all over him later tonight.)

But you don't think about that right now, any and all thoughts consumed of him, him, and him. You're full. So full. Oh, how you ache to run your fingers across his gorgeous body the same way he's able to yours, sneaking a hand underneath to fondle at your breasts and tug at your nipples. You suppose that can wait, already inching toward another crashing orgasm when he's unable to stay still anymore and starts shallow, cautious thrusts.

"Mm, ah, 'min… Seok… min… "

"'m here baby, you're gonna cum for me already, aren't ya?" He pulls his dick out far enough to see the way your essence glistens and coats his length and then smoothly stuffs you full again. "Go on and cream on my cock, make me yours."

Shockingly you shake your head. "No, too soon!"

"S'kay, I know you can give me another one after. If you let go now, it'll feel even better after. You're still so tight, I can barely move."

You really can't believe you're about to climax so soon again. There's not really a choice to hold it off anyways, especially when his hand moves away from your tits and mercilessly rubs your clit. He could've just fucked your throat raw with how hoarse your voice is now with all the sounds he's drawn out of you.

As you recover from the fuzziness of a second orgasm, he'd taken out his cock that's basically gone numb at this point (he's not sure if that's a good thing or not), and appreciates the delectable view of how your hole has been stretched out perfectly in the shape of his cock to accommodate him so sweetly. It all screams I am Seokmin's and he fucking adores it. And you.

There's only one thing left to do. Paint you with the color white.

"You ready for me?" 

You breathlessly huff out a yes but honestly, you're unsure if you will be able to handle another peak without passing out. Seokmin soothes you, whispering that this will be the last one for this round accompanied by two chaste kisses on each of your shoulder blades. So wonderful and perfect, he reminds and suddenly you can do anything he asked of you.

Which is good because he's finally snapping his hips hard and fast with better ability, drilling into your warm, wet pussy he calls his that confirms that ownership itself with filthy noises of agreement and gushes of more arousal. You moan out a mix of yes, yours, and his name — growing so fucked out that when he asks you where you want him to cum, all you do is feebly bounce your asscheeks against his abs when he refuses to move.

"Shit, you gotta tell me now or I'll… fuck, I'll do it inside. I-I know you're on the pill but… "

"Please…"

"You'd look pretty with it all over your back but also spilling out of your pussy… "

"If you don't cum right now anywhere… I'll cry."

"You're already crying." His thumb brushes at the trail of tears that spilled over your eyelids.

"Seokmin…!"

"'m sorry, let me give you what you want."

His hips resume slamming at a rapid pace, hitting deep within that magic bundle of nerves without fail. Stars swim in your vision and the mind-numbing pressure twisting in your lower gut builds up without warning.

It's a silent scream this time and a peak that doesn't seem to end. As your body violently shudders and shakes for what feels like hours at its intensity, Seokmin's release is triggered. Gently thrusting as you spasm around him, milking his cock as it starts to fill you up with a comforting warmth. In a daze, he's forced out by the end of your explosive orgasm and watches with a slack jaw in awe.

He's managed to leave beautiful lines of white across your ass and back as intended. Though the bit he'd left inside of you is mostly expelled by you squirting and coating his thighs with your release, if he looks close enough, there are still globs of cream left around the outer lips of your cunt that has him groaning.

"This is better than what I've dreamt about."

"Of course. Real thing is always better."

"In this case, yes." 

"… Do you still think I'm sweet?"

"… Somehow, yes."

Seokmin laughs as you collapse flat against the bed. You need to clean up but both of you can afford to rest a little first. He lays down next to you on his side, bringing you into his arms and you immediately snuggle your face into his chest before fixing him with a serious gaze.

"I don't get it."

He stiffens in fear. "Wh-what?"

"You fucked your previous partners, right?"

"Um… most… of them… "

"Like this?"

"Uh… " he narrows his eyes. "What… what do you mean?"

"There's no way they would've wanted to let you go if you got a stroke game and stamina this good. Unless you were just too much of a beast in the sheets — which I could understand."

His arms tighten around you. "I'm sorry, did I go too hard on you? I just didn't wanna cum too fast."

"No, you're insane but it was… incredible. You're the unreal one here."

"Didn't expect that when you harassed me about my abs, huh?"

"I did not harass you and of course not, did you?"

"No, but… I'm glad it did. You… don't…  you don't regret it, do you?"

"No, why would I?" He breathes out a tiny sigh of relief which has you raising an eyebrow but you continue on. "I don't get why they didn't try harder to stick around. I mean you're perfect. In all aspects. I one-hundred-percent mean that."

"They weren't you, though. I'm sincere when I say you've always been the one. I was just afraid…" 

"You're a damn good actor, you know that. I had no idea."

Your favorite smile beams at you. "I did major in theater. And we're both kinda idiots."

You slap at his chest playfully and he covers your hand with his. "I like you too, you know that? Like really mean it when I say I do. Even if you just obliterated my fucking vagina out of existence."

"There's no way, I most certainly did not." He kisses your forehead. "'cause you still have to ride me like promised."

"I don't think I'll be able to."

Your eyes close, ignoring Seokmin's gasp of shock and protests about cleaning up. He can tell you're pretty exhausted and acquiesces, shifting you into a position more comfortable for you to be able to doze off for a bit.

But you take that opportunity to spring to life, sucking the nastiest hickey on his neck right above his silver chain. One that will take weeks to heal. He lets out a moan as you do it and when you back away, the atmosphere has heated up again.

"You're giving me a hard time," he points out with an eyebrow wiggle and you giggle. 

Urging him to roll over, you lug your aching limbs up and over so you can straddle his upper body. Adding more and more love marks and bites on his chest, neck, and arms. It's your turn to stake a hushed claim of mine whispered into his ears that you nip at. And he giggles, loving the attention you're showering him with.

His cock is stirring to life under your ministrations as is another pool of arousal swirling in your gut. Despite the hiss of oversensitivity and slight pain you both feel, you ease his length back inside. Nearly crying out because this new angle means he's stuffed in you even more, you don't know if he can fit until you're gasping in relief once you're successful.

He tentatively brushes his fingers against the bulge that appears in your lower tummy, wanton moans erupting from both of you at the gesture. It sends chills down your spine and you shiver.

"Gonna have to help me move, dunno if I have enough strength to make your dreams come true."

"S'kay, we have forever to act them out again and again," he reassures you which erases your pout. "You'll get used to me with enough practice."

"You think so?"

"Well, we can only test that theory to make sure."

You giggle as he pulls you in for a tender kiss by the back of your neck. "You're naughtier than I could've ever imagined."

"But you love it. You love me." His smug look only grows at your agreeing hum and when he flexes his abs. "Now, shall we see if all the work I put into my abs is worth it, babe?"

onlyseokmins: February 2023 ©

The night used to feel like getting half of a peeled orange from someone you love – a gentle brush of fingers, a smile you keep to yourself, and a quiet thank you. Something that made you feel like you weren’t seconds away from turning transparent at the edges.

Now it’s something that coats your whole being in a sticky layer you can’t wash off, keeping you in place, then pulling you under like waves, sinking until your feet touch sand. You wonder if maybe one day you’ll be too far gone before the sun finally peeks out from behind the city.

Your alarm clock’s buzzing pulls you from your unending thoughts, almost as a gentle reminder that you’re still here.

00:00

You never really figured out how to turn the factory alarms off, even after having read through the user manual multiple times front to back. It became part of your routine, and now you’re almost grateful whenever hearing it.

You close your eyes, attempt to count the stars on the inside of your eyelids, relax your toes and fingers one by one, but sleep still doesn’t come. You turn on your side, glancing at the hamper by the door, and you wonder when you last did your laundry. Another look at your clock before you finally decide to get up to collect your clothes from around your apartment. Still in your pyjamas and slippers, but now with a bag full of dirty laundry, you make your way out into the warm summer night.

The night is quiet, save for an occasional car speeding past you while you walk silently towards the laundromat. It’s a comfortable distance from your place, just far enough to clear your head, but not far enough that the dark of the night seeps into it. The lights inside blink in rhythm with the neon sign by the entrance, and the small bell above the door signals your arrival to no one in particular. You like the reminder that you’re still here.

Your favourite washing machine – the one that occasionally spits your coins back out –, waits for you patiently with its mouth open. You feed it your clothes and some money, and as you press the start button it returns your coins. The machine comes to life with a beep and a satisfied hum, water gently filling it up.

You sit down in front of the washing machine on the floor and count the bubbles inside while there aren’t too many. The laundromat is almost perfectly silent, save for the faulty air conditioning unit by the entrance that reminds you of its existence with an occasional drop of water landing in a well placed bucket underneath.

You wonder if anyone ever empties it.

The fluorescent lights lazily blink down at you, keeping you company as you wait for the washing cycle to finish. You’re lost in thought when the glass door at the front creaks open and a boy walks in. Soft music spills from his headphones as he walks past you, visibly surprised by the fact that he’s not alone. He moves to the other end of the store, stuffing his own laundry into a machine. He fishes some coins out of his pockets, metal clinking as he throws them in one by one. You hear him press start, but you don’t hear the familiar beep and hum. He presses the button a few more times before realising that it’s a lost cause, instead looks in all his pockets but comes up empty handed each time. He briefly looks your way, and you take pity on him, grabbing your own charge.

You jingle the coins and stretch your arm towards him still seated on the floor. He shoots you a puzzled look before walking closer.

“You sure?” His voice is hoarse, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while, and his eyes flicker between your palm and your face.

You shrug, shaking the coins around a little, and he gently scoops them into his own hand, walking away with an unsure ‘thanks’. Your skin tingles where his touch lingers, and your mind wanders to peeling oranges in the warm sunlight of an afternoon.

The machine beeps once, then twice, the door clicking open as your laundry finishes. You move the wet pile into the closest dryer, coins clinking, your finger already on the start button when you’re reminded of the boy. He’s sitting in a position similar to how you were mere minutes ago, his eyes closed as he listens to his music. You awkwardly shuffle over to him, gently tapping his shoulder to get his attention. His eyes snap open, his headphones off his ears so he can hear you.

“Hey, uh,” you start quietly. “Do you… Y’know, have money for the dryer? I can wait for you if you, uh, if you want?”

His mouth forms into an O, and he only thinks for a second before replying.

“Is that alright?" He sounds just as unsure of himself as of putting his laundry in with a stranger's.

You give him a slight nod, and he simply mimics your action in response.

"I take it you don't do this often?"

"I- No, my roommate kinda, uh, broke our washing machine at home." He grimaces at his own words so you don't press him further, giving him an understanding look and a tight lipped smile instead.

You're thankful when a beep, then another, ends the silence, and you walk back to the dryer to wait for the boy to move his laundry over.

Clink, push, beep, hum.

You've always found comfort in small rituals like doing laundry, washing the dishes, pitting cherries and peeling oranges. Giving someone half, offering to dry their laundry, slapping a mosquito on their arm then saying sorry. You think about summer nights and your childhood room, climbing out windows at night as a teen just to go for a walk. Making playlists for people who don't know your name anymore, and drying someone's laundry whose name you don't yet know. You wonder if you ever will, if he even cares, if you're even supposed to have a name in each other's lives.

You wonder if he wonders.

You sit in silence together on the cold tiles, blink in time with the lights above you. One beep, then another, the door clicks open and you're already pulling your things out, folding them neatly on top of the machine, while the boy stuffs everything as is into his bag, making you scowl. He notices your displeased look, his face heating up for some reason, almost embarrassed by accidentally letting you in on something so personal. It never bothered him that he doesn't like folding his clothes, but somehow now that someone else knows, he feels almost bad about it.

"I'm just not good at it," he says, almost as if to save his own conscience.

"Do you want me to..?" You look at him expectantly instead of finishing your question.

He looks between you and the crumpled clothes in his bag, then lets out a sigh and dumps everything next to your pile. You motion for him to step closer, wait for him to hold one of his own shirts up, and you take one of yours, slowly going over the steps with him. He makes wonky work of his laundry, but still looks satisfied with the result, a curious smile on his lips as he thanks you. You return his expression, turning back to your belongings to start packing up. The boy looks at you a bit longer, seemingly lost in thought.

“When do you think you’ll be here again?” His words make you whip your head towards him.

‘What?” The confused look on your face makes him laugh.

“So I can return your money.” Your silence makes him keep going. “Or the favour, whatever, I just don’t like… Owing people things.”

You grimace at his words, letting a laugh slip out before you can stop yourself. You tell him that he doesn’t need to pay you back, but he keeps insisting.

“If by any chance we meet again, then fine.”

Your words don’t satisfy him, made obvious by the scowl on his face, but before he can say anything you’re already leaving. The door jingles and creaks, and you give him one last wave before walking into the night.

He wonders if he’s dreaming.

-

The small alarm buzzes gently next to your bed. It’s been a few days, maybe weeks even, since it was last midnight. It fills your chest with something – something that makes your skin tingle and your face warm, something that reminds you of drinking cold milk straight from the fridge after a nightmare. A car speeds past outside as you gather your dirty laundry, keys and coins jingling in your pocket as you make your way down to the street.

The sky is clear, a few clouds swimming past in the black, stars winking in and out of existence. The night is warm and stuffy, a fine sheen of sweat glazing your skin already. Despite the urge to go back to your bed and lay under your trusty fan, you set off towards your destination. 

The door of the laundromat is propped open with a barely alive potted plant when you arrive, and you immediately notice that the air conditioner’s dripping has ceased. The bucket underneath is bone dry.

You wonder who emptied it.

Your favourite machine is unoccupied as usual, however the one to its left is sloshing around a load of laundry, the timer telling you that it hasn’t been long since it got started. You look around to see if you missed someone, but the place is once again empty. You shrug to yourself and stuff your clothes into the drum.

Clink, push, beep, hum.

You take a seat on the tile floor, the cold of it a welcome feeling against your warm skin. You watch the machine fill with water, count the bubbles until a mosquito landing on your knee distracts you. The other washer beeps right as you slap the small insect, then again as you observe the remnants on your palm. You wipe it on the floor, smearing someone else’s blood on the tiles. The clock above the entrance reads midnight, the arms ticking in place. A beep, then another, and you move your laundry to a dryer, patiently waiting for the cycle to finish.

You like the repetition of folding laundry. Most things never really feel like they’re really part of your life, however exciting or important they may be. Once something is gone, it becomes only a memory. You like the repetition of folding laundry, the same as you like your alarm going off at midnight, and the same as you like counting bubbles in washing machines. The permanence of your clothes needing to be washed makes you feel oddly safe, and you hope the clock at home still reads midnight when you get back into bed.

You’re halfway out the door when someone slams into you, and you both stumble to the ground. You mutter an ‘asshole’ under your breath, still facing the concrete sidewalk. Wincing slightly you move to get up, but you only manage to push yourself up on your forearms when a hand reaches out to help you.

“I’m so sorry,” you hear a familiar voice from above you. You ignore his hand and finally sit up.

He tries to explain himself, but stops mid sentence. A loud sigh leaves his lips and he puts his hand in your face again, waiting until you finally take it. He helps you up, his touch lingering on your fingers as he awkwardly looks you over.

“You, uh, you okay?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. You nod in response and he nods back at you.

“Is that your laundry?” You look towards the row of machines, and the boy confirms your suspicion. “I thought those socks were familiar.”

“You looked at my socks?”

“They have skateboarding dinosaurs on them, of course I did,”

His cheeks flush pink, and his gaze falls to the ground. In the momentary silence you watch how his eyelashes almost touch his cheeks, how his hair is messily pushed back, and how he always has a hand in his pocket. His headphones rest around his neck this time, but you can still make out something faintly playing from them. He suddenly looks at you, his face unreadable as he fishes around in his pockets. He pulls out a handful of change, quickly counting it right on his palm.

He takes out some and holds it out towards you, a small smile on his lips as he puts the rest away. With a raised eyebrow you look between his palm and his face, and he rolls his eyes at you.

“For last time.” You tell him you don’t take money from strangers, which makes him laugh. “You can ask me for my name, you know.”

“What makes you think I wanna know? And I told you to keep the money.”

He hums quietly, his eyes tinted red with the bright ‘OPEN’ sign blinking next to him. His other hand finds one of yours, gently pulling it towards him and lets the coins fall into your palm. They’re still warm. A gentle brush of fingers, a smile you keep to yourself, and a quiet thank you.

“I told you I don’t like owing people things,” He lets go of your hand and you feel your face heat up. “I’m Vernon, by the way.”

“Well, Vernon, I think you should get to your laundry then. See ya.”

You gently bump shoulders with him as you walk past, and you turn back to give him a smile. He’s almost frozen in place as he watches you cross the street, finally coming back to his senses when a car drives past.

“Hey!” He yells towards you and it makes you stop in your tracks. “Can I get your name?”

“If by any chance we meet again,” You yell back. “Then maybe.”

His hands find themselves in his pockets once more, and he shakes his head with a laugh almost on his lips. You wave at him as you start walking again, and he finally makes his way inside the laundromat. That night he folds his laundry the way you showed him, and thinks about how warm your skin felt against his. 

He wonders if he’s going to see you again.

-

The next time it’s midnight you’re having a hard time pulling yourself from under the breeze of your fan into the sweltering heat of the night. Somehow you manage to anyway – pyjamas and slippers; then clink, push, beep, hum. You’re alone with the broken air conditioner, sweat rolling down your forehead and your back, and you’re tempted to climb into one of the washing machines and press start. Instead, you opt to lie on the floor on your back, however dirty it may be, it can only be better than the suffocating heat. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet rumbling of the machine.

The cycle ends with a beep, then another, startling you from your position. You get up slowly, your eyes adjusting to the fluorescent lights.

“Oh, good, I was getting a little worried,” The voice comes from behind you, making you jump and almost slip on the pool of sweat you left behind.

“Don’t- Fuck. How long have you been here?” You turn to Vernon, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Not that long, didn’t want to wake you though.” You tell him it would’ve been nicer than being scared like this, but he only supplies a grin in response.

You move your laundry to a dryer and lean back against another machine. The clock above the entrance still reads midnight, and for a fleeting moment you wonder what time it might actually be. You decide you like thinking that it’s always midnight when you do your laundry, as if time stops, waiting for you patiently to wash away everything that happened since the last time you were here. You wonder if Vernon exists outside of this laundromat and midnights.

He’s standing in the same position as you when you look at him, and your eyes meet briefly. Just then, both machines beep in unison, so you get to work folding, and he moves his wet clothes to a dryer. You’re ready to leave when he speaks again.

“So… Can I get your name?” You think for a second before ultimately deciding to tell him. He repeats it quietly a few times, almost as if he was tasting the word, rolling it around his mouth. Then he looks back up at you. “Do you wanna go get ice cream?”

“Now?”

“There’s a convenience store a few corners away.”

Another bead of sweat rolls down your neck, but you’ve grown too fond of keeping him on his toes, for some reason. You like repetition, folding laundry, running into Vernon whenever it’s midnight, peeling oranges, and giving him change for the dryer, his skin on yours.

“If by any chance we meet again-”

“Then maybe?” He laughs, bright and full of something you can’t quite place.

“You know it.”

The walk home goes by way too quickly, your mind too occupied with Vernon to count your steps or the cracks in the sidewalk. The night is quiet, even the gentle breeze blowing past you doesn’t make a sound. You think about the boy who barely knows anything about you, yet his face lights up whenever he runs into you, and about how many times you might’ve missed each other before.

You sit on the stairs in front of your apartment complex until you hear birds singing.

-

Midnight. Again. Maybe forever.

You stand outside the laundromat, studying the stranger inside. He’s standing by your washing machine, the one that occasionally spits your coins back out, reading the peeling instructions on top of it.

You walk inside and towards the corner that Vernon usually occupies, but seeing the room from that angle makes you feel a little too weird, a little too unfamiliar. You’re about to stuff your laundry inside when you spot a lone sock in the drum, one with skateboarding dinosaurs on it. You immediately recognise it as Vernon’s. Unsure what to do with it, you hold it up in front of yourself.

“Hey, sorry to- Oh, I must’ve left that in there earlier!” the stranger is suddenly next to you, pointing at the sock still in your hands.

“This is… yours?”

“Well, my roommate’s, he just asked me to bring his stuff along too. Do you think you could help me a little? I’m not really sure how any of this works.”

And you do, even if it makes you feel seasick to stare at someone else’s clothes spinning around in your favourite washer. Vernon’s absence especially makes the night feel like it’s not midnight anymore. You feel out of place, your fingertips transparent and your heart beating like an out of tune piano. Being at the laundromat alone somehow feels like a broken promise, even though it really shouldn’t. You used to come this late to be alone, to take your time walking there in the dead of the night, only going back home once the birds started singing.

It used to be different.

You’re sitting alone at the table, peeling an orange all by yourself, keeping half in case you get to give it to someone you love.

The stranger, Vernon’s roommate, moves his pile to a dryer, asking for your help once again. And you do, even if he’s the one washing Vernon’s silly socks. You later learn his name – Chan, maybe – and you ask about their washing machine. You also learn that it was Vernon who broke it the first time, and now also a second.

“I’m starting to feel like he’s just gonna keep coming here, instead of getting it fixed again.”

Chan laughs it off, but for some reason it makes you feel like you kept that half orange for a reason.

The walk home feels longer than usual, and you’re asleep by the time a bird outside your bedroom window starts chirping.

-

The next time you go to the laundromat you’re so happy with your favourite spot being empty, that you don’t even notice the boy at the other end of the room. You jump a little in surprise when he clicks the door of the machine closed, and he’s already smiling at you when you turn towards him. He greets you first, patiently waiting for you to load your own laundry. The two machines start at the same time, and Vernon takes the chance to walk over to you.

“So… Do you wanna go get ice cream?”

And you don’t think there exists a midnight where you say no to him.

The way to the convenience store is as short as Vernon had said, it being only a few corners away from the laundromat. He opens the door for you, letting you in first into the small shop. A young girl is working the register, not paying much mind to your arrival as she blows another bubble with her gum. You find your way to the freezer in one of the corners, only to realise that the small store only sells one type of popsicles. You glance at each other in the cold blue of the freezer, a warm smile on your faces, and Vernon lets out something akin to a giggle. He takes out two bars, pays before you even get a chance to take out your money. Something about paying you back, even though he already did.

You walk back in comfortable silence, both of you too occupied with the frozen treat in the summer heat to bother with talking. You sit on the curb in front of the laundromat, kicking pebbles and tracing patterns in the concrete with your eyes as you finish your popsicles. Your eyes move from the ground to his face, a lopsided smile on his lips as he studies your features.

“There’s a little something…” his hand hovers over the corner of your mouth, his finger gently wiping the remnants of your ice pop away. His skin is cold against your lips, even more so when you can feel your face heating up, the tips of your ears almost on fire. A blush creeps up on Vernon’s cheeks, his hand still frozen in place. He looks like he’s about to say something, but the words die in his throat. Instead he hurriedly gets to his feet, offering you a hand that was burning a hole into your skin mere seconds ago. There’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen before, something that makes you wonder if he’d take half an orange from you.

You finish the rest of the process in silence, starting the dryers at the same time by accident, folding your clothes in perfect harmony.

That night you leave without a promise, and Vernon doesn’t ask for one either.

-

You spend the next few midnights alone. 

It’s weird, really, how something that used to be comfortable feels so foreign now. Being alone at the laundromat is like a puzzle with a missing piece. Except this time, you don’t have to look on the front of the box to figure out what goes in the empty space. Occasionally your eyes flit to the other end of the room that’s usually occupied by Vernon, only to be met with a lonely row of machines.

You like repetition; that’s why it’s especially hard on you when Vernon stops showing. You ask yourself if it was just proximity that made it feel like something, something that maybe it wasn’t. You think about how he stopped bringing his headphones, how he bought you an ice pop, how his skin felt on yours.

The washer beeps, and you move your laundry to a dryer.

You look at the clock above the entrance, but instead find a lone hook in its place. Your head feels fuzzy, filled with static and something akin to nostalgia that turns your stomach sideways, then upside down. The beep of the dryer is drowned out by the ringing in your ears, your eyes desperately trying to focus on something that’s not there anymore. 

You spend the next few nights alone.

-

Clink. Push. Beep. Hum.

You sit in silence in front of the washing machine, count the bubbles until you can’t anymore. The laundromat is deserted as usual, and the air is stuffy even with the entrance left wide open. A mosquito lands on your knee; all it takes is one swift slap, then you wipe the remnants on the floor next to you.

“Wow, vicious,” comes from above you, almost making your heart jump out of your chest. “Want some?”

Vernon sits down on the floor next to you, holds out a popsicle and waits for you to accept it. You do, with a barely audible ‘thanks’ and shaky hands. You notice that he doesn’t have a bag this time, but decide to say nothing.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, my roommate insisted on fixing our washing machine.” The question is on the tip of your tongue, how come you’re here then?, but you stay silent again. Vernon looks at you, his eyes sparkling like the night sky – full of stars and wonder. “But I missed you.”

He says it so simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You want to tell him the same, that the place doesn’t feel the same without him, and neither do you. As much of a stranger you might be in each other’s lives, he still feels like part of it all.

“I fixed the clock.” You give him a look that makes him blush and smile anxiously. “I just- I noticed you looking at it and it- it wasn’t working.”

You can feel the tears burning the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away. A few stray drops roll down your cheeks, and it makes Vernon apologise. He leans his shoulder against yours, stutters as he goes on about how a cogwheel got caught on something and that’s why it was stuck at midnight. You turn your head to look above the entrance.

01:35

Sugary liquid slowly drips down your fingers. Vernon is eyeing you cautiously, waiting for you to say something, anything. A drop lands on the floor right next to the mosquito that you squished earlier. Somewhere in the distance there’s a beep, Vernon already on his feet before you even fully realise where it came from. He moves your laundry to a dryer, throws in some coins and presses start. He sits back down next to you, fiddling with the stick left from his popsicle. You turn towards him and he does the same, your faces suddenly a lot closer than ever before. You’re still looking for the right words to say when he speaks again.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes trace the lines of your face, resting on your lips before finding your gaze again.

You want to say yes, even more than that you want to say nothing and just press your lips against his. You search his eyes for something, but you only find the most beautiful midnight you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t rush you, almost as if he knows what you’re going to say.

“If by any chance we meet again, then maybe,” you tell him with a smile, and he mimics your expression.

He helps you fold your laundry, does it the same way you showed him the first time you met. Then you’re standing outside the laundromat, the ‘OPEN’ sign reflecting in his eyes and painting both of you in red.

You don’t have to wonder if you’re going to see him again.

-

00:47

When you arrive, Vernon is already sitting on the curb in front of the laundromat, laying back on his elbows and looking up at the sky, an empty popsicle wrapper next to him on the ground. You sit down next to him in silence, bump your knee against his to greet him. The moon is round and close, as if you could reach it from the tip of your toes. Stars blink down slowly at you, a plane flying past them, a lone red light in the black of the sky. The warm night air makes your chest feel tight, so you close your eyes and lay down on your back on the sidewalk. Your knee is still against Vernon’s, and he gently places a hand on it, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

You know it’s not midnight anymore, but you’re still waiting for your alarm to wake you up, having to realise that you’re sleeping under your fan still. The buzzing never comes. The night stays silent, and Vernon’s warm skin stays against yours.

“I take it you haven’t broken your washing machine at home since?” You ask, opening one eye to look at him.

“What- I didn’t- Did Chan tell you that?” He seems both embarrassed and defeated, but he still smiles down at you. You nod in response. “He made me get it fixed… again. I mean I did break it, but it was an accident I swear.”

“I’m glad it happened.” You sit up, his hand still on your leg. “Ask me again.”

It almost comes out as a whisper, and he thinks for a long moment before realising what you mean. But then his eyes sparkle brighter than any star in the sky.

“Can I kiss you?”

His voice is soft, and so are his lips. He tastes like oranges, and his hand on the back of your neck feels like the warm glow of a sunset. He kisses you slowly, once, twice, until you feel lightheaded. You’re lost in the feeling, your fingers tangled in the front of his shirt, your head spinning like the inside of a washing machine.

He pulls away first, rests his forehead against yours, his chest vibrating with laughter when you quietly gasp for air.

“Ask me again?” You breathe the words against his lips, and he does, kisses you again with hunger and love, his hands cupping your face softly. 

You ask him again, and again, until you’re laying under your fan in your bed together, the birds singing outside your window.

-

Somehow, he manages to fit into your routine as if he’s always been part of it. It’s still weird seeing him outside of the laundromat and midnight. You realise he’s even prettier in the morning light of your room, his voice even softer, and his touches even more gentle.

Somewhere along the way, your alarm stops buzzing at 00:00.