#wantthat

🧸ྀི brother's friend!woonhak x reader ⸺ est. relationship / hidden relationship ⸺ w. kissing 🧺 481 words

you and woonhak wouldn't have known each other if it weren't for him and your brother being on the basketball team.

every week, your brother and the basketball team would hang out at your house after school, their loud voices and sweaty bodies would fill the living room. you didn't mind sitting with them, as long as none of them bothered you. so you would sit silently at the corner of the couch, headphones in, book in hand, disconnected from whatever chaos ensued.

it was like any other friday as you sat—alone— in the corner of the couch, your house quiet and peaceful. the sound of the door opening and the sudden boom of voices prompted you to look up from your book. "hey, sungho." you greeted your brother and focused back on your reading. "hey." he said back, the group of boys throwing their shoes off and scattering themselves across the living room. you tucked your legs as sungho took a seat next to you, woonhak right beside him. you were engrossed in your book as the boys around you played video games and bickered—all except one boy, whose eyes were glued to you. woonhak (not so discreetly) watched you, leaning forward to see past sungho, who was too busy focusing on the game to notice. you looked up, meeting his eyes and smiling, before focusing back on your book.

but he continued staring, watching you from afar.

⌗ . . . 🧸ྀི

you're not a huge fan of sports, but you're your brother's (and woonhak's) fan. you sat on the front row of the bleachers, there to support your brother, but you kept watching someone else instead.

it was the final round and both teams were tied. your hands balled into fists on your lap as your eyes anxiously followed woonhak. there was only a few seconds left. his teammate passed the ball to him and you bit your lip. he dribbled the ball across the court, 5 seconds left, he stopped. he held the ball, eyes locked onto the hoop. 3 seconds. he jumped, shooting the ball, and... he scored! the clock hit zero and everyone started cheering and clapping, including you. woonhak grinned, his teammates rushing to him. jaehyun ran up to him, hugging him and giving him a quick smooch on the head. the boy immediately pushed him away, embarrassed and repulsed.

his eyes scan the room, the hopeful smile on his face turning into a huge grin as his eyes landed on you. he ran up to you, cupped your face and smashed his lips onto yours. you froze, eyes widening. no one knew about your relationship, not even your brother. but it didn't matter anymore. you melted into the kiss, hands gently gripping the back of his shirt.

"woonhak!" sungho shouted, eyes widened. he pulled away for a moment, giggling, before pressing another kiss on your lips.

im gonna emoji sign this if i may just in case you’d like to enable me

alt au where patricks sister is just super super mean and unapologetic like patrick. think sarah michelle gellar in cruel intentions kinda. like fully a bitch and she has a craaazy corruption kink with repressed art

like mayyybee patrick mentioned art wanting to save himself for marriage or smth like that to her and her brain goes brrrrrr i need to defile him… maybe everytime arts at their house she’ll like flirt with him unabashedly… suck on lollipops while looking him in the eye… rub her ass against him pretending to reach for things… and her just having so much fun when he gets all red and flustered and hard :(

idk just some thoughts

- 🐚 (if its available)

This made me need to take a walk. Had to crack open a cold Diet Coke to address this.

But yeah :(( art comes to stay with you and Patrick a lot for summers and holidays since, y’know, he can’t exactly stay at his grandmother’s nursing home.

You and Patrick have lived in the pool house forever— pool house is actually a stupid name for it. It’s a guest house, two full bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a whole loft upstairs. It’s obscene how fucking rich you two are.

And he gets so squirmy when he’s around you and Patrick, but even more when it’s just the two of you alone. He’s been staying up in the loft, pads down the stairs after a lazy, midday nap. And it’s just you on the couch, watching a movie. It’s dark, maybe he slept later than he thought he did.

“Where’s Pat?”

You shrug, pat the sofa beside you. He sits, but leaves an entire cushion between the two of you. “I think he’s fucking the neighbor. The one with the cute curly hair.” Art flushes, ducks his head. You smile, showing off pretty teeth. “Aw… I’m sorry, should I have said he’s making love to the neighbor?”

“Shut up,” he mutters. He’s pink to the tips of his ears.

It’s interesting, you think, that he told Patrick he’s saving himself. It’s sweet, very… admirable. But it’s such a fucking waste. He looks so yummy in his flannel pajama pants and grey tank top that shows off his muscles.

“So, you’re a virgin?” You ask, turning to face him. His eyes go wide before his face twists in annoyance. He splutters out weak— what did Pat say— That’s none of your business— you’re so out of line— but you interrupt. “No need to be shy about it, Art. I think it’s… very cute you want to wait until your wedding night. I’m sure you’ll have a really riveting time figuring out where it goes.”

“Shut up.” It’s the second time he’s said it that night. He really needs to work on his comebacks.

“I can give you a hint,” you say with a grin, scooting across the empty cushion until your knees touch. “There are two main holes down there, and it’s the one that gets all slick and wet when she’s turned on.” He clenches his jaw, looks away.

You laugh and sit back, only slightly. “Aren’t you going to thank me for the tip?”

He turns back, eyes narrowed. “You’re not very funny.”

“Was I joking?” You trail a finger up his arm, give him a crooked smile. “Really, Art, it’s sweet. Maybe I should’ve saved my virginity for a nicer boy instead of losing it in the golf cart shed at the country club.”

He stammers. “You— you could always—“ he can’t even meet your gaze, it’s too humiliating. The smug expression you wear pins him in place. “Start now. Promise to not have sex anymore, not until it’s with someone you love. It’s— it’s more special that way.”

You stick out your bottom lip. “You think I deserve special?” You ask softly. He shivers as your fingers trace swirls onto his chest. “That I need candles and rose petals and soft jazz music when someone stuffs me full of their cock?”

It’s too precious. Too good. His cheeks flame and he sits back. He stands suddenly, doesn’t even look at you as he marches back upstairs. You grin and listen to the sound of the shower turning on upstairs.

You wait until you hear the scrape of the shower curtain closing to pad upstairs and sit outside of the door. A smug grin spreads across your lips at the sound of him jerking off.

All whiny, poorly muffled moans, the slick sound of him beating his dick. All, ah! ah! ah! oh, fuck! god— fuck! You can tell when he cums based on how pitchy and whiny he gets, and the way you hear his head knock against the tile.

You fight the urge to let him know you heard, instead you slip back downstairs. When he comes down, you’ve switched the movie, act like you’d never left at all. You can see the guilt in his expression, like he knew he’d done something bad.