#andearnet

Other sections of the code are more basic agreements, like lending a couch to crash on when your bro is in need, or playing wing man during critical moments.

The strongest friendships are backed by following code with no exceptions, and Mackiah has seen that first hand. He took these rules seriously. Since the age of fourteen, he had vowed that he'd never catch himself breaking the sacred code. He was smarter than that—cared enough about his friendships to think of the consequences before falling for someone off limits.

That's what he thought, at least. He's not sure where all the logic has fled since he met you. You are a type of off limits that shouldn't have even been entertained for a second. An ex-girlfriend of one of his friends would have already been toeing the line, but a younger sister was running across it with reckless abandon.

Unfortunately, it's rather impossible to backtrack once one crosses that line.

He still doesn't know how to tell Brian that he caught feelings for his little sister almost two years ago, or that he's been not-so-subtly flirting with you for nearly eight months, or that you've been secretly dating for three.

As time goes on, Mackiah knows he's only making the moment he finally comes clean harder on himself. Anyone would be pissed to find out their best friend started secretly dating their sister without even a mention of it beforehand. No consent, and certainly no blood oath. Not even a word or warning about it.

Hiding it for months on end was the equivalent of squeezing lemon juice on an open wound; a rather brutal slap in the face that says not only do I not care if this tears apart our friendship, but I'm also too guilty to tell you before it starts.

Mackiah is royally screwed, and he knows it. But none of the possible consequences can even cross his mind when he looks at you, even from across the room. It's silly, stupid, and slightly fucked up, but Mackiah is willing to risk it all for you. Even the four year long friendship that he's had with Brian. It could all go down the drain for this chance.

Maybe he'll live to regret it, or maybe he'll look back on this moment fifteen years from now and crack jokes about his nerves. He's prepared for either option, but he certainly hopes its the latter, because Brian has been nothing but a good friend since the start.

Maybe if you weren't so pretty, or kind, or had such a nice laugh that Mackiah quickly got addicted to, he would be able to save himself from the confrontation. Maybe if your eyelashes weren't so captivating, or your lips so inviting. Maybe if you weren't so easy to talk to or if you didn't have so many common interests. Maybe if your humour wasn't the exact same as his.

No. Mackiah can't blame any of this on you—perfect as you are. It's his fault, and he'll take responsibility. He was the one who flirted with you first, who spent months making eye contact from across rooms and finding excuses to talk to you that didn't sound too desperate. And he's the one who had ample time to reconsider the possible outcomes and turn back while there was still time.

But he didn't. And he can't now, either. Breaking your heart is a million times worse than the thought of a betrayed Brian. He's promised you that he'll make this work. There's no backing out now.

"I wish I had told him at New Year's. I could've used your parents as a distraction, and he would've been forced to act normal about it for at least a few hours over dinner. The wrath of his emotions would have had time to cool down," Mackiah mourns the lost opportunity, threading his fingers through his hair and tugging on the ends slightly.

He's drawn you aside to the hallway, obscured from the view of those in the living room. You agreed last week that today would be his best bet to spill the news to your brother finally. Now is your last chance for a small pep talk before the showdown. Of course, you still think he's making a bigger deal out of this than necessary.

You cross your arms. "You're overthinking this. There won't be any wrath of emotions."

"You don't know that! It's bro code. It's like the foundation of life itself!" he insists.

"What's the worst that could happen when you tell him?"

"He could beat me to a pulp?"

You crack a smile. "He can barely throw a punch, come on. I spent my entire childhood bullying him. If he really fights you, I'll kiss all your bruises better."

"Sounds like a pretty good deal, actually," Mackiah glances around the corner, checking to see whether Brian is still engrossed in conversation with Kamden. Despite the relaxed atmosphere of the hangout and the promise of magical healing kisses, Kiah is still jittery with nerves.

"Hey, stupid," you whisper, hands sliding to cup his cheeks and turn his face down to yours. "You better just get it over with. Then we won't have to hide us anymore."

Mackiah's eyes soften, palms covering your hands in their warmth as he nods his agreement. He'll own up to his faults, do whatever he needs to make it up to Brian, and then look to the brighter future. No longer holding a secret as explosive as this will be a massive burden off both your shoulders.

"Alright. I can do it. We can do it."

He smiles, a little uneasy still, but you thumb over his skin until his gaze relaxes. He leans down, lips brushing over yours in an action that has become familiar in the last three months. When the taste of your lips is fresh on his tongue, he can pretend there never even was a bro code to break. You're worth it, no matter the consequences.

"Mackiah, either I'm hallucinating, or you just kissed my sister?"

Perhaps he's still screwed.

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Your heart beats loudly in your ears, almost completely drowning out your surroundings—and would have if you weren't so hyper aware of everything. With your senses heightened, you can't help but notice. Everything. You feel, you smell, you hear, you taste. You would see, too, if it weren't for your eyes being squeezed shut.

It's Jiho. Your senses are full of Jiho. Overloaded. The scent of his cologne. The feeling of his body, still clothed, pressed against yours. The taste of his lips as he kisses you. The sound of his contented sighs that get a little more frustrated and huffy the longer it goes on. It's all so much. So good. So overwhelming.

You'd kissed Jiho a number of times over the course of your relationship—starting with shy pecks, just barely pressing your lips together, until it naturally progressed to long make out sessions that leave you breathless. And lately, they've been leaving you wanting more. But truth be told, you were nervous. Scared, even. Not because you were worried about Jiho, but because, well, you couldn't deny that there was a big difference in the experience the two of you have when it comes to relationships and things you do while in relationships.

From the first date, Jiho was upfront about his past. Not because you asked him to, but because he felt it was fair. He told you that he'd had his fair share of relationships before. A long term partner and a few casual flings after that ended. And you were honest, too. Honest that you didn't have a past. Because, like him, you felt it was only fair to be truthful. You'd barely kissed anyone before, and you told him that. Because if a physical relationship was something he thought was important, it was best that the two of you got it out of the way before getting invested in one another.

Jiho assured you that it was fine. He told you that he would follow your lead. That he'd let you decide the pace. And he did.

True to his word, Jiho waited for you to initiate any sort of contact. He waited for you to accidentally brush your hand against his before he asked for your permission to hold it. He waited for you to lean your head against his shoulder as the two of you watched some mindless show to put his arm around you and pull you to his chest. And he waited for you to stare at his full lips a little too long, subconsciously making a kissy face before he asked if you wanted him to kiss you.

All of that leads to now—with you lying on Jiho's bed, bodies pressed together from head to toe. He's resting on his forearms as he kisses you, parting your lips with his own and teasingly swiping his tongue over yours. The two of you had kissed like this before. Many times. Kissing like you wanted to morph together, become one being as you press closer together until every part of your bodies were connected. Kisses where when he pulls away, there's a gross mess of saliva dripping down your chin and leaving a sheen on each others lips.

You'd parted your legs long ago for Jiho to slot himself between, making the positioning of your bodies more comfortable. And you weren't oblivious—inexperienced, yes, but oblivious? No. You could feel his bulge pressing against your center, and the thought makes you curious.

Despite the fact that you had never been intimate with someone like this, you trusted Jiho. You wanted it with him. You thought about it sometimes as he slept next to you—isn't it the logical next step, anyway? What would it be like to have him on top of you, pressing kisses to every part of your body, lips exploring parts of you that he'd never dared to go before? Kissing down your neck, your chest. Everywhere below your face, where his kisses had been contained to.

He pulls back from the kiss to catch his breath, panting as he nuzzles against your cheek. You're pretty sure he said something as you feel the vibrations against your chest, but you were deep in thought and didn't hear him. So you asked him to repeat himself. He can't help but huff an affectionate laugh. "I said…what are you thinkin' about?"

"Who says I'm thinking about anything?" You try to deflect. You want to tell him, but you're not sure how and every possible phrasing makes your face burn hot. It was a special kind of vulnerability, and while you trust Jiho completely, it's still nerve wracking.

He props himself up on his elbows and looks at you with a lazy smile on his face. "It's all over your face. You've got that look in your eyes that you have when you're zoned out and you look flushed. What's up?"

The fact that you have tells that you're thinking about something, and that Jiho notices them, makes a warmth spread in your chest. It slightly overpowers the nervous feeling you have about bringing up the topic because it reassures you that he cares about you.

You take a deep breath. In, out. Jiho is still close enough to your face that the outward puff of air blows his hair off of his forehead, and it makes him giggle and blow on your face in return.

After the two of you calm down from your sudden fit of soft laughter, you brace yourself again. You turn your head to the side because he's looking at you with such intensity that it's making you more shy than anything. Even with your gaze fixed on the wall to the side of you, you can still feel his gaze on you. Boring into your face.

"I think I'm ready," you whisper, "for more."

Jiho immediately perks up. He sits up on his knees and the sudden movement drags his bulge over your clothed core before the touch is removed altogether. Only your knees very lightly clamped around his hips remain. "Are you sure? What more? Tell me, please."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you nervously nibble at your bottom lip. He reaches out and pulls your lip from between your teeth and smooths his thumb over it. A small, comforting gesture that builds your courage up just enough to say it. "Just…more. All of it." You look at him finally. His eyes are soft and warm and reassuring, encouraging you to say what you're comfortable with. "I want it all with you, but I'm a bit nervous."

"I've been waiting for this day," he beams. "Can I touch you? You don't have to be nervous." He gently caresses your face, and you lean into the touch. "I'll only do what you allow me to. Only what you want to do. Promise."

You reached for his hand, holding it with your own trembling fingers. For a moment, you just studied them. Like you'd done plenty before. Especially in the weeks leading up to this moment. All of those times where you'd stare at his hand as it rested casually on your knee when he sat beside you—a show of affection, but nothing too much, because he didn't want to cross any boundaries. You'd look at the way his hand splayed over your leg, sometimes imagining it in other places. The thought always made you shy, but you couldn't stop wondering.

Now, you looked at his hand—his long, thick fingers—and wondered how they'd feel inside you. So you pulled his hand to your body and looked at him with determination despite the anxious twist of your stomach. "Touch me…please."

With your permission, Jiho happily obliges. He starts by gently rubbing comforting shapes on your hips until you relax your tense body before ever so slowly moving his touch higher. He cups your breasts in his palms, and you let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his hands on you. He lets you adjust to the feeling of his hands on your body, in areas other than your safe zones, before gently kneading the flesh.

You're already breathing heavily by now. Just this touch was enough to have your mind reeling. It's all so new. It's so good.

He looks at you with an intense look in his eyes, still soft and sweet, but darker. "Can I get these out of the way?"

You know he's talking about your clothes, and you surprise him by reaching for them yourself and tugging at them. You get the shirt off smoothly, but fumble a bit with the pants, and he places his hand over yours.

"Hey," he starts. "There's no rush. Just lay back and relax, okay?"

He reaches behind you and expertly unclasps your bra. The action makes you pause, remembering. A reminder that he's done this before. Countless times, even. The thought made you a little insecure, but looking at Jiho's concerned expression when you don't respond to him, it starts to melt away. "I'm okay," you tell him. "I just got a little lost in thought. I want to keep going, though."

You let the straps of your bra fall off of your shoulders, and you toss the material aside. He tries not to gawk, but there's a sparkle in his eyes as he looks at your bare chest. He's thrilled that this is finally happening, yet he doesn't want to scare you.

Jiho dips his head down. His hair falls forward, the strands lightly tickling your skin as he kissed over your sternum and between your breasts. He looks up at you for any sign of hesitation. His catlike eyes look even cuter from this angle, and as they search your face, he sees you looking at him with curiosity. Your lips were parted, the very tip of your tongue poking out as you anticipated his next move. He thinks you're so cute like this.

The first swipe of his tongue over your nipples makes you jump. He licks over the bud before closing his lips around it and lightly suckling. When he pulls back, the skin is still held between his lips for just a moment before he lets go. When he does, he immediately does the same with the opposite side.

You begin to squirm a little. Both from the new feeling of his mouth on your chest, leaving behind a trail of saliva as he explores your body, and from complete and utter need. You need more.

He continues his kisses down your torso. Kissing, licking, nipping at your skin. Leaving the faintest teeth marks on your stomach as he moves further down your body. He was beginning to run out of room on the bed, curling his legs up so his feet weren't awkwardly hanging off of the bottom. When his lips meet the waistband of your bottoms, the ones he'd stopped you from rushing to take off earlier, he looks back up at you.

A simple nod, a barely audible whisper telling him yes, is what he needed to hook his fingers beneath the fabric and pull. Instinctively, you lift your hips to allow him to smoothly pull off your bottoms and your underwear in one go. Once the items were thrown on the floor, Jiho resumes kissing your newly exposed skin. He presses kisses to the part of your stomach where the waistband of your pants had lightly dug into the flesh, leaving a faint mark in its wake, and moved lower. Dangerously low.

When his lips brush over your pubic bone, you reach out and firmly plant your palms on his forehead, holding him a few centimeters away from your body. He looks up at you with wide eyes, full of confusion and worry. He wonders if he went too far. If he made you uncomfortable somehow.

He hums, wordlessly asking what was wrong.

You take a shaky breath, eyes darting around the room to find something else to focus on so you wouldn't have to look him in the eye. Your face is burning hot with embarrassment and still, underneath the surface, a desire like no other. You want it to be Jiho. You really do. But you're nervous—what if he finds it boring because you don't know what you're doing? A bunch of what-ifs cloud your mind and you momentarily forget that your boyfriend is settled between your legs, face barely a few centimeters above the most intimate part of your naked body.

"Ah," you sigh. "Isn't it…weird? To….kiss down there…?"

Jiho huffs a laugh, his breath fanning over your skin nearly making you jolt. "There's nothing more in this world that I would love to do than kiss you here. If you let me." You finally look at him and see the sincerity in his expression. "But if you're not comfortable with that, we can do other things. Or nothing at all, too. It's your choice."

Your gaze lands on his hands. One was pressed flat against the surface of the bed beneath you, and the other gently cradled your hip, thumb rubbing soft circles where it rests. You make your decision then.

"I want—"

He never takes his gaze off of you, and for a moment you start to get shy an nervous about the words that are about to come out of your mouth.

"I want your fingers…in me…"

Jiho smiles and changes his positioning. Rather than laying between your legs, thighs to the side of each shoulder, he sits up on his knees. "Are you sure?" he asks.

You nod. "I'm sure…"

His touch starts slow. Much like he'd done with the kissing, Jiho starts by gently caressing your skin with his fingertips. Letting you get accustomed to the feeling of him touching your bare body.

You nuzzle into his palm as he cups your face, but he removes that touch as soon as you settle into it, ghosting his fingers over your jawline and down your neck to your chest. He reaches your breastbone and pauses. Jiho searches for any sign of hesitation in your expression, but your gaze is now focused on his fingers touching your skin, bottom lip pulled between your teeth in anticipation.

He moves his hand, mapping out the shape of your breasts and rubbing slow circles over your nipples that have you slightly arching toward the touch. With a flat hand, he slides his hand lower. Across your stomach, just barely brushing the top of your pelvis before changing his angle.

You release the nervous breath you were holding.

He rubs his hands over the lengths of your legs, down to your ankles and back up to your thighs. He braces his hands, lightly digging the tips of his fingers into the fatty flesh there.

His eyes scan up your body and take in your expression. Flustered. Eyes lightly glazed over with what he can only assume is desire from the way you're looking at him. It makes his cock twitch, interest and arousal simmering beneath his skin. But he pushes them to the back burner—it's not about him, it's about you and what you want.

"May I?"

"Please."

Jiho is gentle when he finally touches you. Tender, even. His fingers glide forward, smooth and slow, past the crease of your legs and to your center. With one hand, he uses two fingers to spread your folds. He lets out an amused sound at the sight of your slick arousal pooling around your entrance.

You squirm slightly from the embarrassment. "Don't just stare…"

He can't help but laugh a little, leaning down to litter your face with kisses. "Sorry," he says. "Just can't believe it. I won't keep you waiting."

Half a beat later, his opposite hand joined the other. Collecting some of the wetness from your hole and traveling upwards. You nearly jump when the pad of his finger rubs soft circles over your erected clit. The shock of him touching your sensitive bundle of nerves was new, and you're pretty sure that you like it. But just as soon as the touch was there, it was gone.

You can feel it circling around your entrance. Letting you brace yourself for what's to come. You were equal parts excited, ready, and nervous.

One of his thick fingers begins to push into your tight hole, making you tense up. "Hey," he soothes. He lets go of your center with the hand that was spreading you open and reaches to cradle your head. He lightly massages your scalp and you can feel yourself relaxing into his touch. "It's okay. Relax. I'll go slow—or I'll stop if you want me to. Just say the word."

"Don't." You're firm with your response despite everything. "I'm okay. Don't stop."

Jiho changes his positioning, laying to your side rather than hovering between your legs. He throws one leg over yours to keep it pulled apart as he starts to move his hand again. As he pushes his finger further into you, he uses the hand on your head to turn your face toward him.

"Just look at me." He rakes his eyes over yours features. "Focus on me."

You pout your lips in response and slightly angle your head toward him; it was a silent ask for a kiss that Jiho knew all too well. He obliges.

The kiss serves as a distraction as he sinks his finger into you. As you focus on kissing him, matching the eager pace of his tongue and lips, you relax even further. This allows him to bury his finger into you completely. You gasp at the realization, but he keeps kissing you. Barely breaking the kiss to take quick breaths before going back for more. He swallows your noises as he slowly moves his finger. The feeling was odd at first, but something you could get used to, you decide.

All you can hear now, rather than incessant beating of your anxious heart, is the soft smacking sounds of the kiss and the noises you make into it, and the almost quiet squelching of your wetness as he makes slightly larger movements, testing your readiness. His hand pulls back until the tip of his finger is barely inside you before slowly pushing in again, creating a steady and relaxed rhythm.

It feels good, but also…not enough.

"Mmm," you whine against his lips. "More. Please."

Jiho hardly thinks twice before humming in confirmation, hand moving like it's got a mind of its own. He, again, pulls his hand back, but instead of pressing the one finger in, he adds a second. The stretch of another one of his thick fingers in your tight hole has you whimpering.

He backs away from the kiss, sitting up ever so slightly to glance down at where you suck his fingers in so well. You're squeezing down on him so hard, but you're so wet that it's still quite easy for him to move. He's amazed—he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this for a while, and now that it's happening, it feels surreal.

The pace he sets is slow, but is more than enough for you. He thrusts his fingers in a steady rhythm, curling the tips of them toward himself to brush against a spot inside you that has you flexing your ankles. It's a strange feeling when the slightly rough pads of his fingers stroke that spot. Almost like the feeling you get when your bladder is full—but it goes away as his fingers continue moving.

He leans down again, but he doesn't press his lips to yours this time. Instead, he kisses along your jawline, slightly firmer than his precious kisses. You can even feel him lightly sucking the skin into his mouth for just a moment, teeth catching the very surface before he lets go and smooths his tongue over the area. It wasn't enough to leave a mark, but it was enough, combined with the feeling between your legs, to have your mind effectively turning to mush.

Can sex really feel this good? You think to yourself. You start to wonder why you were so scared to do this with Jiho. Maybe you'd always wanted to do this with him. Craved this sort of intimacy. But you were nervous about the difference in experience the two of you had, worrying if you'd even be good because you weren't exactly sure what you were doing. Evidently, however, Jiho seemed to not mind, if the swell in his pants that's rubbing against your leg is anything to go by.

He continue to expertly take you apart, tenderly massaging the innermost intimate parts of your body. With his two fingers inside of you, he stretches his thumb to apply light pressure to your clit. He rubs the bud in counter rhythm to his fingers so you have constant stimulation and it has your back arching.

"Are you close?" he asks.

Through gasps and shaky breaths, you respond, "I-I don't know…I've never—"

"You keep clenching around my fingers." He punctuates the statement with a kiss to your cheek. "I can feel it. Can also feel your thighs tensing. What do you feel inside your body?"

Your mind feels fuzzy. The words to describe what you're feeling is hard. You just feel. "I can't—I can't explain it." It's nearly impossible to get those words out to begin with, so you can't imagine describing the range of sensations you're feeling. Kind of like you're going to pee, but knowing you won't? Or like a coil that's wound so tight it feels like it's going to snap? Somewhere in between, or nothing like it at all.

He kisses your lips again before mumbling against them. "Whatever you're feeling, don't hold it back. Relax and let go."

The words reassure you, and you realize that you'd been holding tension in your body, and as you released it, a whole new feeling washed over you.

Your mouth falls open and Jiho pulls back to watch your face. He thinks that he's never seen a sight so beautiful, with your eyes squeezed shut, eyebrows furrowed and a blissed out expression on your features. Your chest heaves as you try to breathe through it. And it's like your body has a mind of its own, both of your hands shooting down to grasp Jiho's wrist as you intuitively rock your hips further into his touch.

"There you are," he praises. "You're doing so good. Doesn't it feel good? God, you look so pretty like this."

Your orgasm washes over you in waves, starting small until it builds to white-hot, blinding pleasure that takes over your body. And through it all, Jiho never stops his movements. Not even when your fingernails dig into his wrist and the back of his hand. Not when the involuntary muscle contractions squeeze down on his fingers like a vise. He keeps moving, keeps telling you how good you're doing, keeps praising you as he guides you through the first orgasm at your boyfriend's hands.

IdolBF!Brian sometimes needs more reassurance than others, his job requiring a lot more confidence than he can muster.

IdolBF!Brian usually spends these times with you, his girlfriend, watching whatever tv show has caught your attentions and snuggling under a blanket.

IdolBF!Brian also likes to use this time to release his pent up frustration, starting off slow, teasing his long fingers up and down your inner thigh.

IdolBF!Brian sneaks his naughty little fingers into the waistband of your pants, his fingertips skating over your skin under them. He looks up at you, eyes begging for something more, which you so easily give him. Suddenly you’re allowing the man to pull your pants down, his body shifting lower on the couch until his pretty face was level with your clothed cunt.

IdolBF!Brian takes his time feasting on you, his tongue moving with precision as he draws you closer and closer to an orgasm, long slender fingers pumping in and out of your greedy entrance. He takes great pleasure in making you fall apart.

IdolBF!Brian talks you through each orgasm he gives you whether it’s his hands, his mouth, or his cock. He praises you with a tone so gentle it’s like his words wrap you up in a warm embrace, driving you even deeper into ecstasy.

IdolBF!Brian holds you so close as he fucks you, his hips stuttering slightly as he thrusts in, his hands holding your waist below him. He smirks to himself when your back arches off the couch, taking pride in the way he’s the only one who can make you fall apart so perfectly.

Sunday morning. No work, no plans, no alarms. The sun was just barely peeking up over the horizon to shine into your bedroom and, at this time of the year, the first rays of the day beamed directly onto your pillow. Groaning at the rude awakening by the light, you turned over to bury yourself back into the blankets, expecting to find the other side of your bed empty, or at the very least, Kyrell awake and waiting for you. Instead, you were greeted with your boyfriend's peaceful, sleeping face.

You stared at him, astonished. The times when he was actually still sleeping when you woke up could probably be counted on one hand, and even then, he would soon wake up, never allowing the opportunity to watch him. Even asleep, he looked… happy. You wondered if you had a similar expression on your face when sleeping, happy in the knowledge that you were cozy and safe with the one you loved.

He shifted in his sleep, as if he knew that he was being watched. You involuntarily held your breath to not wake him from his slumber, but he only gave a heavy sigh and snuggled deeper into the covers.

A fond smile graced your face. He was so cute like this, so delicate. The urge to wrap your arms around him and hold him close was strong, but that would probably wake him up. Not that he'd mind, of course, but waking up before him was such a rare occurrence that you wanted to admire him like this for just a little longer.

You had long since committed every line, curve, and dimple of his face to memory, but seeing him in this state was a fairly new experience. His sleeping expressions were, predictably, similar to his waking ones. His eyes were still those cute, little crescents, though now they lacked the usual glint of mischief, the look that said he was scheming something silly. His lips were just barely parted, releasing quiet wisps of breath with every slow rise and fall of his chest, and his soft hair was tousled from sleep. He looked like a doll, or an angel. Either way, ethereal. You licked your lips, suddenly tempted to kiss him.

Reaching out a hand, you gently brushed back the hair that had fallen into his eyes, cupped his squishy cheek, and leaned in to press your lips to his. For the briefest moment, he didn't react. Then, automatically, his mouth opened to meld into yours. You could practically see his brain booting up, his lips the power button activated by a kiss.

You stroked his cheek with your thumb as he blearily opened his eyes to focus on you. "Hey, cutie. Good morning," you greeted softly.

He smiled sleepily, leaning into your touch. "Good morning, honey. This is a nice way to wake up," he said. His bemused expression turned to alarm. "Wait, what time is it? How late did I sleep?"

"Shh, shh. It's still early," you assured him and he visibly relaxed. "The sun is juuust coming up. It's actually why I'm awake in the first place; it was shining in my eyes," you chuckled.

"Oh, do you want to switch places? I can be by the window if you want."

"Nah, it's fine. It gave me the opportunity to admire you while you slept. Do you have any idea how unbelievably adorable you are when you're asleep?" You played with his hair while you spoke, twirling his soft locks around your fingers and then sweeping them back. Kyrell's eyes tried to stay open, to concentrate on what you were saying, but the feeling of your hand carding through his hair put him on the verge of dozing off again.

"Not as adorable as you are," he mumbled. "So beautiful. Why do you think I get up before you to make breakfast all the time?"

The question took you a bit off guard. "Because you care for my well being and don't want to eat breakfast alone?" you answered.

"Yes, but that's not all," he said sheepishly. You raised an eyebrow at him. "The other reason is that, if I stay in bed with you too long, I have a hard time keeping my hands off you. If I woke you up for my selfish needs, I'm worried you'll get mad at me." A blush crept across his cheeks.

Mad at Kyrell for finding you desirable even before you've had the chance to put yourself together for the day? Impossible. Just this one little confession made him all the more mesmerizing. He could look so cute, so innocent, whether he wanted to or not, but then, out of nowhere, he'd say something so casually charming and suddenly he's irresistible. Cunning little quokka.

You shifted closer to him and propped yourself up on one elbow. "And what would you do if I said you could touch me?" you purred.

That familiar glint of which you've seen so many times appeared in his eyes. "Oh, maybe something like this," he answered in the same tone. There were no plans for the day, so it couldn't hurt to spend just a little bit longer in bed with your sweet, seductive boyfriend. But Kyrell, Mister Mischief himself, could not resist teasing you, even if it meant killing the mood you two had going on.

His hands shot up from under the blankets to attack your sides with tickles. You squealed and squirmed, but, in your effort to get away, ended up trapping his hand under the arm on which you were just perched.

Seeing an opportunity, Kyrell snuck his hand up into your armpit and managed to wrestle his way on top of you. His fingers danced over your skin, tapping and pressing all your sensitive areas while battling to avoid your flailing limbs. But, in his haste to straddle you to continue his tickle assault, his legs got wrapped up in the blankets, and eventually, he lost his balance when your leg swept to the side.

You took advantage of his momentary floundering and retaliated with fervor. Before he could defend himself, your hands were up under his shirt to press and squeeze his supple skin. Kyrell let out a shriek and tried to gator roll out of arm's reach.

Finally, with the sheets all in a tangle and the two of you out of breath from laughing and wrestling, you had him on his back with his hands pinned above his head on the pillow.

Your boyfriend gazed up at you, panting, but compliant. "Okay, okay. I admit defeat."

"I don't think that was a fair fight. It seemed like you gave up towards the end."

Kyrell gave a look of mock offense. "I would never. Look. I'm pinned. You won fair and square."

You laughed. "I'm not sure pinning the other person is the end goal of a tickle fight, but I'll take it. So," you cocked your head, "what do I win?"

"What would you like?" For being pinned and having supposedly 'lost,' Kyrell looked pretty pleased about his situation.

Still pinning his hands, you leaned down until you were just an inch away from his lips. "You're a pretty nice prize, Ky. Just like this." You emphasized your words by gripping his wrists tighter. When you finally pressed your lips to his, you felt his legs writhe underneath you and his back arched hungrily in an attempt to get closer to you. Yep, this was his goal all along. With one hand still holding his wrists, your other arm came down for support beside his head and you let yourself sink into the inviting warmth of Kyrell's body.

He shouldn't be so nervous. You've already confessed, been on a few dates, and started feeling more confident about actually admitting that you're dating. He knew this moment would come, and he's had weeks to prepare.

But kissing feels… new. Not scary in an unwanted way, but terrifying because it's something he's never done before. Seungmo is nineteen already, but he still hasn't had his first kiss. In terms of dating experience, he's as fresh as you can get.

He's still too embarrassed to admit he's been saving his first kiss for you all these years. Ever since you were in high school and he started secretly crushing on you, he's promised himself that you would be the first girl he would kiss. He's had years to dream about this exact moment, but now that it's happening, he can hardly process it.

You're moving too fast, yet not fast enough at the same time. A million thoughts rush through his head. He's scared he won't be a good kisser. He's scared you won't like it. But he's also excited. The past few weeks have been a countdown to this; building anticipation to something that will surely last in his memory forever.

The moment, in actuality, is over quite fast. You don't linger long against his lips. You stand on your tiptoes to reach him, cupping his face gently and brushing against him tenderly. Sparks fly, and Seungmo finally understands what it feels like to be the main character in a first love romance.

But as quickly as it starts, it's over.

You pull back with a shy smile on your face and the tips of your ears tinging pink. Seungmo thinks he's in love, but that isn't new. He also thinks he's forgotten how to breathe—that is new, but not important enough to spare any of his attention for.

Not when you look so adorable, so sweet, so perfect. You're unable to look away from him, even though you're fidgeting with your fingers and bouncing a little on your heels—a nervous habit of yours that he adores.

"Was that… okay?" you ask nervously. Seungmo has his head in the clouds. "Seungmo?"

"Huh? Oh, I… yeah. I… really liked it," he whispers.

You grin. "You're such a dork."

"You like this dork," he laughs, grabbing your arm when you try to turn away.

"I do not!" you insist and try to wriggle your way out of his hold. Of course, he easily overpowers you, and your attempt to escape only ends with you pressed against his chest.

"You just kissed this dork," he reminds you seriously. You shake your head. Your jaw is starting to ache from smiling.

"You're denying it?" Seungmo brow raises in surprise, but his lips quickly jump to grin at you. "There were witnesses, Y/n."

You giggle. "What witnesses?"

"For starters, me."

"You're the victim, not a witness. It doesn't count!"

"A victim? So you're saying that kissing me was you committing a crime?"

You flush and hide your face in his chest.

"Do you think you'd risk becoming a repeat offender?" Seungmo whispers against your ear.

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It's a risky business. You both know what the possible consequences could be if fans found out and didn't like the fact that Jiho isn't single—no matter how dumb the argument was. You are never too obvious. You always stay within a safe territory. Your comments require the knowledge of the many inside jokes and references you and Jiho have built up over the years. You haven't just been his girlfriend for the past three years; you were his best friend long before that as well. You know him inside out, better than anyone else, and you love to play into it.

You're feeling bolder today for some reason—maybe its because Jiho forgot to give you a kiss this morning and you feel personally wronged by it. Obviously, you could just ask him for one outright, or even steal a few from him at any moment, but you decide it's more fun to write a comment instead.

Purple_Jihos: Jiho! Good morning >< I think you might have forgotten something?

You watch Jiho's eyebrow raise when he finds the comment. You're cuddling on the couch before he has to leave for work. It's been a slow morning, one that you know will end too soon for your liking. Your legs are swung over his lap, comfortably reclined as he rubs his hand up and down them.

↳ 지호: Oh? I had breakfast tho? 😄

↳ Purple_Jihos: You forgot to receive my love for you 😤

There are already andears replying to your post, laughing at the cute interaction, but you see Jiho tilt his head, considering your response a bit deeper. You wouldn't say that out of nowhere—he must have actually forgotten something somehow.

He glances at you. You're already staring right back at him, waiting for him to realize his wrongdoings of the morning, however unserious they are. It takes a few seconds for it to click. Something had felt off this morning, like he hadn't done something important. Of course, it involved your lips.

"Morning kiss? Is that it?" Jiho asks. He's studying your expression carefully as if he has to uncover the secrets of what he's still missing, even though he already figured it out. Cotton candy pink hair frames his cheeks and eyes. He's irresistible. "It's not too late for it yet. It's only 11:40—that's still morning!"

His logic is adorable. So is the slight pout on his lips, like he's silently pleading for you to forgive him for his forgetfulness. You kiss the pout right off his lips, and he hums in content.

"I think I deserve double since you were so late," you mumble against his lips, hands tangled in his hair. He's quick to oblige you as you both lose track of time.

You're interrupted by his phone ringing. It's Kamden.

"Dude, where are you?"

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