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chanifesto · 1 month ago

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 mr. fix it | yeon sieun

pairing: yeon sieun x afab!reader (weak hero)

synopsis: yeon sieun was notoriously known as your program’s tech handyman. when he wasn’t hunched over calculus problem sets, sieun was busy fixing his peers' laptops, for a price of course—one that was nonexistent for you because you seemed to make his software hard.

genre: another smutty university au

word count: 6.9k

warnings: [MDNI!] explicit sexual content, grinding, making out, oral (f rec.), pussydrunk!sieun, piv sex, protected sex, many consent checks, sieun is so so gone for you, you are literally his pretty little angel, if devotion was a person it would be him, sieun can’t figure out his goddamn integral

reader notes: written with afab reader in mind. reader has breasts and a vagina. reader is described to look ‘small’ at one point. all characters are consenting and over 18 yo.

this fic was requested – thank you so much, i loved coming up with the concept .ᐟ

۶ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ park jihoon uggghhhh need need need him. had the most exquisite time picking out the concept pictures.

“You broke it again?”

His voice sounds flat, but there's a tinge of hope, a sense of subdued anticipation perking his last few syllables.

Sieun stares at the half-solved integral on his desk, phone pressed to his cheek, screen cold against his skin, fingers loosely gripping the sides. The warm glow of his lamp casts a nimbus over the mess made of a barely punched in calculation and his calculus textbook, pages worn from flipping back and forth between the chapter problem sets and appendix answers. Outside his window, the campus sky is dim, too gray for six in the evening.

“I didn’t break it!” Your voice crackles through the line, scratchy with frustration. Sieun can hear your breath over the receiver, rough and rushed.

“It just won’t turn on,” you continue, “I don’t know what happened. I just opened my tabs, and then—dead.”

He exhales. “And you tried plugging it in?”

“Yes, Sieun. I tried everything you taught me—nothing worked,” you huff, “I have an essay due Monday, and everything I need to write it is on this damn laptop.”

You sound slightly breathless, your voice hoarse with the kind of air that clings to lungs on chilly evenings. Wind rushes past the speaker, muddling your words with static. Sieun’s ears pick up on this.

“Where are you,” he asks, dull, but more abrupt than intended.

You’re silent for a few beats.

“Outside.” Another gust of wind bleeds through the receiver.

He feels the warmth of perspiration prick across his palms. “Where?”

The brisk, hollow rustle of plastic, and then, “Walking to your dorm.”

Sieun feels his breath dissipate in the back of his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you start. Sieun squeezes his eyes upon hearing these words in your soundwaves, words he thought were too unnecessary when masked in your voice.

“I saw the forecast, there’s going to be rain—shoot, I forgot my umbrella, I knew I was forgetting something—anyways, I figured I'd head over to yours before it hit,” there’s an unmistakable sincerity in your voice, “I really need you right now, Sieun.”

Need to murder him, he thought. Clearly, that was more fitting for the illusive objective of your last sentence, one that roused his hand to the back of his neck, called his fingers to smooth over his golden skin, wailed for them to curl against his flesh in hopes of helping him get a grip of himself. Literally.

He sighs, half flustered, half enlivened. “You’ll be here soon?”

“Yeah, just five minutes more.”

There’s a pause. “Okay.”

A quick exhale breaks past your lips, a restrained puff of air that had been trapped in the back of your throat, waiting for a green light to let it loose. “Thank you, Sieun.”

He can still feel the ghost of icy plastic against his cheek when you cut the call. Unfocused eyes cloud over the sheets and pens and smudged writing lazing atop his desk.

Of course.

Of course you’re coming over. Because why wouldn’t you? Your laptop’s dead, and he’s the tech guy, and this is just what happens. He fixes things.

And right now, you need him to fix your things. He couldn’t help but feel his heart jump at the idea, an eagerness creeping into his chest, fogging up his lungs and grabbing hold of the air that dared to escape up his trachea.

Sieun, as cold as he seemed, felt warmth fixing your things, like he’d swallowed the sun and it dissolved into his blood. Unlike the peers on your campus, he does it for you free-of-charge—hell, he thinks he’d pay you just to let him fidget around with your laptop’s battery that burns to touch or the program functions you can’t seem to figure out even after using the ‘help’ tab. He’d never admit to it though.

Not yet, at least.

His eyes flicker to the unfinished problem adorning his notebook, numbers and symbols half-formed, abandoned mid-line. The solution sits just out of reach.

Much like you.

His unfinished integral mocks him.

Your cheeks are flushed, supple and radiant, the dermal symptom of cool drizzle and dewy autumn air. Sieun’s eyes surf the strands of your hair, glinting from subtle rain droplets that catch even in the dim fluorescent light of his dorm hallway.

You look small like this in his doorway, backpack straps sagging over your shoulders, your sweater sporting little wet spots that are sure to smell like petrichor. Your hands tightly clutch a white plastic bag to your abdomen, the vertices of a cardboard box poking out at him.

You smile at him, small and sweet and a little flustered. “There was some drizzle when I turned onto your lane.”

Sieun’s gaze, currently traveling across the ridges tenting your plastic bag, snaps to your face.

“Oh.” It’s a soft expression, a barely-there phoneme he manages through concern for you—how dare the clouds cry over your angel face?—and some muffled curiosity.

Sieun just can’t help the fall of his gaze. He stares blankly at the bag in your hands. He’s not surprised when you take notice.

“It’s brownie mix!”

He peers at you again.

“Brownies?”

You grin sheepishly, fiddling with the plastic handles. “Yeah, I thought, well– you work so hard, you deserve a fun break, one you can get a sweet treat out of!” You pause. “And, I guess it’s also thanks for my laptop. You’ve saved me a lot of money I already don’t have, more than once now.”

He’s still staring at you, face blank, unreadable, lips sealed in a line, but his eyes gleamed. Whether it was annoyance or humour, you weren’t sure, but his dreamy, tired eyes gleamed.

Your eyes go wide. “Oh gosh, I should’ve asked you if brownies were okay. They looked so good on the box, I just had to pick them up. You could be allergic to chocolate, or maybe you don’t even like brownies–”

“Brownies are cool.”

Sieun watches your lips halt their rambling, configured mid-sentence, before they slowly spread into a toothy grin, one that radiates a warm feeling into his bones and almost—almost—makes his lip twitch up to match yours.

All you needed to do was force start.

That’s all.

No hardware to trifle with, no delinquent software meddling with your computer programs.

All Sieun had to do was press a couple buttons in tandem before your screen lit back up to life, resurrected from its cry of wolf.

Your cheeks had heated, bashful from your ignorance, but also a little humoured.

They blazed further when you caught sight of the calculus massacre on his desk, hurried apologies spilling past your pretty lips to wash out the guilt that crawled up your chest.

Sieun reassured you all was well—It’s fine, I was almost done anyways—with a look in his eyes that had you capitulating to his sincerity.

“Can I repay you with brownies?” you had prompted, fingers twiddling behind your back as if it would have subliminally helped rouse the answer you sought after.

Sieun slowly flattened your laptop to a shut before his Bambi eyes peaked at you and whispered exactly what you needed to know, exactly what you wanted to hear.

So, you’d both clambered in his tiny, cozy dorm kitchen, ingredients and bowls and utensils scattered across granite, instructions serenading the walls in your voice, Sieun’s hands working to mix the dark sea of cocoa batter.

You had assumed the role of a conductor but managed to pull a mess over you like a magnet. Whatever hadn’t been mixed into the warm batch of brownies basking atop Sieun’s countertop had found consolation on your being—cocoa powder and melted butter and drying batter decorated your skin and sweater.

Sieun thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

Of course, Sieun had missed any defiant ingredient attacks entirely.

You’d both picked up a piece each, melted chocolate furnishing your mouths while Sieun, starry-eyed and attentive, listened to you babble about your stress baking and how, no matter the many times you made something, you’d always be left with a bit of a messy souvenir from the process.

It was during this instance when the rain had hit.

Hard and harsh and pattering ferociously against the window of his measly living room. You and Sieun had snapped your heads at the sound, sticky embellishments of chocolate coating your fingers.

You’d looked so worried, so consumed in the thought of how you’d walk home through what was practically a typhoon. You hadn’t checked for a storm warning, all you’d known was a chance of rain. Your umbrella wouldn’t have stood a chance.

You’d looked so worried, so it felt almost natural when Sieun suggested you just stay over.

“...Really?” Your eyes were breaking past their sockets, and Sieun had nerely felt the weight of his words crash over him until your orbs softened and he saw the ghost of a smirk brush past your lips.

“Yeah, you can’t get home through that,” his voice had been tinged with his radiation of care for you. His eyes swept over your chocolate-covered frame. “You can use my shower if you want. I’ll give you some clean clothes to wear.”

You’d obliged. Quite happily.

And now, Sieun sat at his desk, unfinished integral staring up at him, the muted sound of his shower silking through the wall, almost louder than the merciless storm outside his window.

Sieun hadn’t touched his sheets or pens since he’d retreated to his room, changed into his own set of nightwear, and lowered himself into his desk chair. He couldn’t focus.

How could he? When you were just a dozen feet away, naked and wet under the rush of his shower.

He knew he shouldn’t think about it, begged himself not to, but when his mind slipped over the way you had chocolate powder flowering your neck and underneath your sweater, he couldn’t help but let his mind run, just a little.

Run over the way your fingers probably tucked under the bottom of your sweater, dragging it up along your beautiful body and over your head. What had you worn underneath? Had you even worn anything?

In Sieun’s little fantasy, you hadn’t. You’d been bare for him under your clothes, and he’d been ready, quick to ravish you, to kiss and suck and bite at your warm skin.

But, that was just a fantasy.

In reality, it didn’t matter whether or not you’d worn anything underneath your sweater. Sieun had just helped you out, made things a little easier for you, eased your anxiety by offering an innocent sleepover so you wouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself to what was the making of an ocean outside his dorm.

It didn’t matter, just like his integral, still unfinished. Deferred. Mocking.

The blood had barely made it to his cock before it was rushing back to his brain.

A couple minutes more of unsuccessfully undressing the math symbols littering his half-blank page and you were padding your way into his room, feet bare, heels marginally lifted off the cold floor of his dorm. Your clothes were folded, carried atop your forearms, and your cute body was swallowed in his t-shirt and shorts, sleeves too long, neck hole too wide, fabric swaying just over your knees with each of your scampered steps.

You gaze at Sieun from the edge of his bed, clothes now tucked away in your backpack, the hem of his shirt twirling in your fingers.

God, Sieun thought you looked ethereal, bare-faced and in his clothes. The warm, mellow glow of his desk lamp illuminates your face like a halo. Your sweet angel eyes are drowning him far past the storm outside.

Sweet oblivious angel eyes. If only they could see the mess he’d made of you in his head.

“Are you ready to sleep, or do you want to study some more?” Your voice is so soft, so melodious bouncing within the confines of his skull, and your eyes twinkle just right, brightened from his lamp and the mere cast of moonlight simmering through his window.

“I’m done,” Sieun starts, “You take the bed. I’m going to sleep in the living room.”

He’s about to push himself up when you cross your cute arms, defiant and determined. He watches your eyes narrow, eyebrows dip with a scrunch.

“Absolutely not!” you chide, your squint piercing. Sieun stares, half stood. He sits back down.

“It’s not fair to you! I showed up, practically unannounced, had you press a couple buttons on my laptop because I was too incompetent to figure it out myself, then made you make brownies with me against your will since you don’t take any economic compensation! And I know you’re not done with your problem set, I can see it from here. It’s exactly how you left it before we made those godforsaken brownies! I completely butted into your evening and messed up your studying, so you best believe you’ll be sleeping in your own bed and getting a good night’s rest!”

You puff at the end, like you’d said it in one breath, forearms glued to each other, fingers digging into your biceps.

Sieun is still staring at you, face blank, eyes gentle.

“You’re not incompetent.”

You blink.

“That’s not the point, Sieun.” You huff, pointing to his blankets.

“Now, get to bed.”

His eyes flick, your attention on his bed now shared. There’s an ease in the air, one that helps to hoist Sieun from his desk chair, click his lamp off, and carry himself over to the side of his bed. He lifts the corner of his duvet, slides underneath, and lets it fall over him. All without a peep.

His eyes scan to your frame, still at the edge of his bed, still in his too-baggy clothes, still looking too ethereal for him to indulge below the moonlight’s gaze, even in your quarrelsome stance.

You stare back at him.

“Okay… good.” You sound stifled, almost suspicious of his obedience.

Your arms unclasp, a little dazed at how fast he’d listened to you. With a hesitant scratch to your neck, you shuffle to what would be your side of Sieun’s bed, just for tonight.

Even though Sieun wishes it could be a less transient arrangement.

But he was doing this to help you.

Afterall, you’d looked so worried.

Sieun watches your warm body roll onto his mattress, feels it dip with your added weight from across. You shamble to face him, the duvet bunching in your hands, a relaxed, content tilt gracing your lips. Your cheek presses against the pillow, eyes squinting with warmth and kindness and gratitude and what Sieun could describe as a fatally contagious ray of tranquility.

You look so sweet like this, cuddled into his bed in clothes—his clothes—that swallow your body whole. The rain had slowed, granting permission to an even larger crowd of moonlight to flow over your face.

Sieun thought you were unreal, a mythical being from a dreamy world far beyond the current celestial limits.

A mythical being who saw him only for his technological abilities.

You were only here for tonight. Sieun was just helping you.

Because you had looked so worried.

So, he rolls onto his side, nearing the edge of the bed, hands tittering close to an abyss.

“Goodnight,” he grumbles. He doesn’t bother to pull the duvet to his front, lets it hang just over his side, as if any extra movement would make him appear more visible to you.

You gape at his back.

“Sieun!”

Sieun closes his eyes. Perhaps the world around him wouldn’t see him if he couldn’t see the world.

You puff, a frustrated push of air that has Sieun squinting his eyes shut further. He feels the duvet minutely ruffle behind him, feels the dip of the mattress sink gradually.

“I don’t get it, are you actually upset?” Although you were quiet, you sounded so disgruntled, confused. Sieun could only wish he was better at this so he wouldn’t have to bear your honey-like voice convey such emotion, like thrones stuck in a cloud.

But, Sieun was Sieun. A man of minimal words who spoke the truth and nothing but—until now.

“No, just trying to get a good night’s rest.” Just trying to keep my mind off you, so close, for just one night.

“Ugh! Will you just turn around so I can talk to you?”

Your hand reaches out and grips the collar of Sieun’s shirt, a tight grip pulling him towards you, a gentle grip to avoid attempted murder.

His eyes pop open, a hand catching onto the taut fabric around his neck. If there was the slightest chance Sieun’s conscious was to succumb to strangulation tonight, he thinks he’d only remember the warmth of your fingers fogging over the back of his neck.

Sieun yields to your force, falling onto his back. Why are you so damn strong?

With a hatch of his neck, his eyes find yours in the dark room, the patch of moonlight from his window dimmed from the roar of thunder and familiar strikes of heavy droplets against the glass.

There’s light provocation simmering through your face, playful like a child in a game of tag.

“Talk about what?” His voice is quiet but firm, his body a statue sandwiched between the mattress and sheets, daring not to move a millimeter.

You peer at him, words hanging along the tip of your tongue, as if debating whether they were worth speaking into the medium shared between your beings.

You decide they are.

“I know you take a fee from others when you fix their laptops.” There’s a quirk in his neck, a twitch at the corner of his lips that urges you further. “You’ve never taken one from me, even when I mention it. Why is that?”

Sieun feels a gradual quickening of his heartbeat at this concoction of your voice, and, like the start of a tornado, the thoughts in his head rampage into a whirlwind.

To be or not to be? Sieun, who previously seemed to lack any cognitive resources to solve his monster integral, was now calculating his next move with rigorous intricacy.

Maybe it was the kick in adrenaline that had him instigating your little game.

Sieun chose to be.

“Why do you think?”

Your eyes narrow in an instant, the entire play a chain reaction. Were you also debating your next actions, words? Were you also aware of the string snapping taut between you, tense and nearing a strong, sudden tear?

Sieun definitely was. Like always, he knew what he was getting himself into, knew he was igniting something far beyond repair, unlike the many laptops he’d resurrected.

Sieun knew what he’d started. He’d calculated it, perhaps from the very beginning, from the moment he uttered the word “stay.”

He was just helping you, for one night. Just one night.

You’d looked so worried, of course.

Perhaps Sieun had wanted your eyebrows to furrow from another force of nature—him.

Say something.

A quirk to your lips. Dark shadows in your eyes.

And a hand reaching out for his neck, this time to pull him to the plushest centre of your visage.

His lips graze the fullness of yours when you whisper in a breath.

“I knew to force start.”

Sieun isn’t spared a chance to retaliate his sockets stretching back when you press into him.

The dense pressure molds his own lips flush against yours, an electric fog swarming your face and down the flanks of your neck.

It’s a reflex, an abrupt, consuming, greedy reflex, when his arm curls over your back, big hand hastily grazing along your spine to knot into your hair.

Had Sieun fallen asleep?

This has to be a dream.

But your lips were too soft against his, too warm.

And your back curved so well along his forearm, strands so luxurious curled around his fingers.

Your hand on his chest, basking down his torso… Sieun believes he doesn’t possess even a speckle of the imagination required to muster a feeling as heavenly as that.

Definitely not enough to muster a feeling as heavenly as your hand sliding over him through his thin flannel pajamas.

You were a fallen angel who had come to play unsacred games.

And Sieun proved to be a worthy opponent.

His fingers grip around the base of your skull to pull you from his lips.

His eyes are heavy with a murmur of inquisition, flitting over your lips before boring into your own with words unspoken. You mirror his gaze with equal weight, savouring his quiet inhale when you push further down over his hardening curve, feathering your hand up to rest against the supple part of his abdomen.

“You know where this is going.” It was a statement, a quiet, breathless, almost restrained mutter carrying all the responsibility and uncertainty and anticipation littered within Sieun.

You gaze, knowing, unbothered.

“This is what you want? This is what you came for?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “Take it as part of my thanks.”

“I thought the brownies were your thanks.”

You smirk. “That was just the appetizer.”

Sieun scoffs quietly, a humble pfft to accompany the fingers gently rubbing over the bottom of your scalp, a means of easing into his next utterance.

You were drowning in his milk chocolate orbs, a velvety sea full of nothing but care and adoration and awe for you.

“Are you sure you want to go further?” Any quieter and the storm battering upon his window would have drowned his sound completely.

“Yes, Sieun.”

That was everything he needed to hear.

A gentle push to your neck has your lips pressing back into the plushness of his own.

It’s a slow kiss, chaste but blazing with the need you’d both been bearing for months. You move against the other, the ghost of anticipation urging you further into it.

Sieun definitely is not dreaming.

All his prior frustration, graced from his still unsolved practice set and the many long, agonizing weeks of indirect contact with you, melts away, leaving a tender warmth to dry in its place. Your lips feel as soft as—no, they were softer, so much softer, and warm like sun rays on cold skin—the many times he’d imagined the ghost of them wisping against his.

A transient ghost, barely lasting a mere tortuous ten seconds. He’d stop himself from savouring it, pry the ghost away before his hopes shot higher than the sky above him.

But now, you were here, tangible, with your mortal lips on his. They were so supple, so plush and warm and real. And they were flush against his. No one else but him.

Sieun had spent so long denying your fabricated being, the one who would distract him from his problem sets, urge him to isolate from the many gadgets his peers would throw his way in times of technological misfortune.

Sieun decided it was finally time to show you what your ghost had been doing to him.

He sucks in your bottom lip, hands grazing over your hips to pull you over his growing hardness with a delicate hold, treating your vessel like original vintage artwork. Fragile. Authentic. Godly.

The duvet shifts against your back while you shift over him, the core of your heat finding solace over his own. The hem of his borrowed t-shirt rides up your torso like it knows what’s coming.

It’s an abrupt, consuming, visceral feeling when you first connect with the stiff rod bulging against the stressed material of Sieun’s pajamas.

It’s the same for Sieun, so when a small groan muses from the depths of his throat at the feeling of your heat radiating along his length, he remains basking in its aftermath.

Lips still working into each other, you almost don’t acknowledge the slow, tantalizing roll of your hips.

Sieun does, and it drives him crazy.

Sieun, who was always so cool, composed, and distant was now growing hot and undone, all while pressing himself further into you, meeting you at an undefined middle, ridding any and all separation from your heating bodies from the insufferable vexation of need.

His hands knead into your hips, bearing your heat further along him, before they configure to push himself up while embracing you flush against his chest.

You’re consuming him, physically and mentally. Your lips on his, your body wrapped tightly around his own, hot cunt slowly grinding over the hard curve of his cock, a barrier of too much fabric plastered between your beings and pushing you both into frustrated desperation.

Your name, your scent, the suppleness of your skin, they all fog his head, conquer it with the ghost of you.

Both your mortal and immortal forms had possessed him, consumed him whole until he was nothing but a spec of utter devotion to you and you only.

Your hips grind again, slow, sinful, and Sieun’s breath stutters against your mouth.

You feel the shiver that rebounds through him like a tremor, feel the tight grip of his hands at your waist falter before steadying again, tighter this time, as if he needs to anchor you, or maybe himself.

His lips leave yours only to trail hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, your crescent of skin beyond the shirt’s collar, the devotion in each press of his mouth turning you molten.

“You feel…” he murmurs, barely audible, like he’s speaking to himself, “…too good. Too good to be real.”

You tilt your hips forward again, slower, answering him with equal desperation, and Sieun’s head tips back, a ragged exhale pulling from his throat. The sight strikes you—his lashes trembling, his brows knit together in pleasure so raw it borders on pain. He looks ruined.

Kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks, shades of pink colonizing his visage in the shower of eventide luminosity.

You don’t realize you’ve gasped until his gaze finds you again, pupils blown wide and gleaming with disbelief. His thumbs rub along your hip bones, a fragrant sensation even through the fabric of his shorts you adorned.

Your hands glide under his shirt, pushing up until he’s reaching for the edge himself, prying the shirt past his head and letting the fabric fall to the cold hardwood beneath his bed.

His hands slip beneath the hem of your own, and his touch is hesitant, wavering, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he reaches too far.

“Can I…?” he asks, voice husky and threadbare, already tugging at the fabric.

You nod. His hands glide up, slow and reverent, brushing over the curves and valleys he’s only ever imagined, each touch leaving heat in its wake.

He drinks in the sight of you like he’s been thirst-starved for days, gentle eyes falling over your face and down to your taut peaks. You weren’t a ghost anymore—you were a dream, glowing and radiant beneath the muted haze of damp moonlight.

And when your bare chest presses to his, skin to skin, nothing between you but the thundering pace of your hearts, Sieun chokes out a soft, desperate moan.

The ghost of you has vanished.

What remains is you—real and soft and warm and all his.

And he’s no longer a boy haunted by longing. He’s a man who’s finally allowed to feel.

Your fingers find the nape of his neck, weaving into the soft strands of his hair, and the sound he lets out—broken, hushed, completely unguarded—settles somewhere deep in your chest.

Sieun’s lips return to yours with more urgency now, less caution, the kind that only comes when desire and restraint blur into the same overwhelming thing. His tongue traces your bottom lip before slipping inside, gentle, exploratory, worshipping, like he’s memorizing you.

Every movement of his hips under you is hesitant but needy, as if he’s still trying to slow himself down, still trying to process that you’re not slipping away.

“You’re driving me insane,” he whispers against your mouth, voice hoarse and cracking like lightning behind the storm-glassed windows.

He kisses you again, softer now, almost like an apology for how his hands are now gripping at the swell of your thighs with mounting desperation.

Then, with a breath that shakes against your lips, Sieun pulls back. Only just.

“Lie back,” he murmurs, voice low, thick with something you’ve never heard from him before. Anticipation, maybe. Hunger, definitely.

You do, painfully unlatching from his warmth and sinking into the pillow behind you.

Sieun follows, crawling down the length of your body like a man crossing sacred ground, his drowsy gaze never leaving you. It lingers on the slope of your neck, the lines of your collarbone, the tender stretch of skin bare to the cool air of his bedroom. Each inch he memorizes like scripture, utterly fascinated and unspeakably enamoured.

“You’re…” he begins, almost too quiet to even comprehend, but trails off, like no word quite fits what you are to him.

And then you see it. The way adoration turns to ache.

A valley of creases between his brows, a marginal slit parting his pout, the quickened wisps of air trailing out of him. He’s wrecked, far past.

And you had barely touched him.

Sieun’s hands slide up your thighs, calloused fingertips brushing along the waistband of the very shorts he lent you, the ones riding too low on your hips, the ones he's dreamed about you in far too many nights to count.

He kisses the inside of your knee.

Then your thigh.

Then the soft dip just above your hip bone.

His hands move, thumbs hooking into the waistband. There’s a beat—one last, wordless check—and then he draws them down.

And stops breathing.

You’re bare beneath them. No panties. Just slick, glistening proof of how long you’ve wanted this too.

“Fuck,” he breathes, like it’s been torn from him. His jaw goes slack, eyes shadowed with affection and disbelief. “You didn’t wear—?”

He doesn't finish. He can't.

His hands twitch.

You’ve rendered Yeon Sieun speechless.

Sieun blinks once, twice, like he’s trying to process the sight before him, trying not to let it undo him entirely.

But it does.

It does.

He swallows hard, jaw flexing as his eyes drag along the slick sheen glistening between your thighs, warm and glimmering and pooling out of you sans constraint.

His hands settle on your hips again, firm, needy, desperate.

“You’ve been like this this whole time?” he whispers, voice hoarse, eyes flickering up to meet yours, the question half-shattered already. “Wearing my shorts… like this?”

You don’t have time to answer.

Because Sieun leans in, drawn like a man starved, mouth ghosting just above your heat and breathing you in.

His composure fractures there.

A low, guttural sound breaks from his throat as he presses a slow, devoted kiss to your core. Just one.

Then another. Then again, deeper, wetter, until his tongue slides through your dampened heat with a shuddering groan of restraint and craving colliding all at once.

Your hips twitch and Sieun’s grip tightens instinctively, his fingers digging into your waist to anchor you to him like you might vanish otherwise.

His tongue moves again, slow and patient, still trying to worship even while losing his mind.

But you’re so wet, and he’s so gone.

Each soft moan that slips from your lips draws another shaky exhale from him, each roll of your hips a crack in his control.

He tries to keep it measured. Gentle.

But then he hears you gasp his name, all broken and raw, and something inside him snaps.

His pace quickens.

He licks into you deeper, more desperate, tongue flicking, flattening, circling like he’s chasing a high that stubbornly runs just a step out of his reach. His nose brushes your clit and he doesn’t even think to pull back.

He wants it all.

You feel his moan against you, deep and wrecked, and you realize:

Sieun isn’t composed anymore.

He’s hungry.

Possessed.

And completely, unbearably devoted to the taste of you.

You’re gasping now, each breath shallower than the last, and Sieun can feel you trembling beneath his palms.

It spurs him on, wrecks him in ways he never knew were possible.

His thumbs rub slow circles into your hips, as if to soothe you, steady you, but his mouth is relentless, nose tirelessly working into your nub. His tongue is languid one moment, then firmer the next, lapping through your folds with aching, focused precision, memorizing all that makes you fall apart.

You roll into a nimble arch, head tipping back, and your thighs quiver where they rest over his shoulders.

“Sieun—” you whimper.

His name breaks in your throat, and that’s what crumbles him.

He groans into you again, the vibration shooting straight through your core as he licks you harder now, deeper, more rhythmic, mouth coaxing you right to the edge, right to the place he’s been aching to take you.

His hands are cradling your hips now, keeping you spread open, helpless, vulnerable, his.

And then he whispers it, barely audible, a prayer into your skin.

“Come for me.”

Your breath catches.

“Let me taste all of you,” he mumbles again, like he’s asking for divinity, like your pleasure is holy.

And when you finally do, when your body tenses and your thighs clamp tight around his head and that beautiful cry of his name leaves your lips, Sieun doesn’t stop.

He groans into you, licking you through it, drinking it in like he’s never tasted something more sacred.

Like he’s never belonged more to anything—anyone—than he does to you in this moment.

And even after the tremors still, even when you’re limp and gasping and glowing beneath him, he keeps kissing you softly, as if he can’t bear to let you go just yet.

As if this is how he says I’ve wanted you like this forever.

You’re still panting when he pulls back, lips slick and pink, eyes hooded and blown wide with awe. He looks stunned. Disheveled. Like a man undone by worship.

But you, squirming and aching and desperate to have all of him, manage to find your voice.

“Sieun,” you whisper, reaching for him. Your fingers trail along his jaw, coaxing him up until he’s hovering over you again. “I want more.”

His breath hitches.

Your palm slides over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his ribs. “I want you inside me.”

Sieun stills completely.

And then his eyes close, jaw tightening as if your words alone could undo the last shreds of his composure.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice rough with disbelief.

He kisses you, not hard, not hurried, but slow and deep, like it’s all he can do to keep from losing control. You savour the heady taste of your slick coating his lips. He presses his forehead to yours, and mutters shakily, “One second.”

You watch as he reaches for the drawer beside his bed and pulls out a condom from the crumpled blue box Hu-min had shoved at him weeks ago with a stupid grin and no explanation.

He’d meant to throw them out. He hadn’t.

He tears the foil open with controlled fingers and slides his flannels and boxers off his body, finally bearing himself free.

He’s thick, flushed, already leaking from the tip. He hisses under his breath as he rolls the condom on, fingers twitching like he’s barely holding it together.

When he settles between your thighs, eyes drowning in your sight, the air changes.

Gone is the boy who’s too quiet, too closed off, too powered from the urge of indignation.

What remains is Sieun drowned in passion, eyes wide and dreamy and dazed by the sight of you spread open for him, the warmth of your body beckoning his own.

“You sure?” he asks again, voice almost too tender.

You nod, pulling him down into a kiss, and guide him with a soft whisper, “Yes. Please, Sieun. I want all of you.”

He exhales shakily.

Then he lines himself just beyond your heat, and with a leisurely push of his hips, he slides inside.

You both gasp.

You’re hot and wet and hug onto his inching cock, and he sinks in like he’s always meant to belong there.

“God—” he grits, arms quavering on either side of you as he tries not to lose it too fast, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“You’re…” His voice cracks. “So good. So—gosh, I don’t—”

You wrap your legs around him, anchoring him to you, and moan when he rocks forward again, deeper this time. You feel everything, every inch, every pulse, every lazed drag.

He starts slow, shallow, testing your fit, his own restraint. His hips roll into yours with a tender kind of ache, like he’s afraid to break you, like each inch of him inside you is a miracle he can’t fully comprehend.

But your body answers with desperate softness, clinging to him like silk caught in wind. You tilt your hips, chasing more friction, and whimper at the way his cock presses deeper, fuller, perfectly where you need him.

Sieun moans, a sound so broken and quiet it nearly guts you.

“Please,” you breathe, clutching at his back, your voice hitching with each movement. “Don’t hold back.”

His jaw clenches. His eyes flutter shut.

And then he moves deeper, hips rocking into you with a fluid rhythm that makes your breath stutter and your legs tighten around him.

The friction is delicious. The stretch, overwhelming yet cosmic.

Sieun presses closer, burying his face further into your neck, panting softly against your skin.

“You’re so—” He chokes on a groan as your walls flutter around him. “You feel unreal.”

You drag your nails lightly down his spine, whispering back between moans.

He fucks into you slowly, like it’s sacred. Each thrust is a vow, a prayer, an unraveling. His hands are everywhere—one gripping your thigh to anchor you to him, the other cradling your jaw like you’re too precious to let go.

Your body sings for him. You meet each movement with your own, hips rising to greet him, rolling and shifting to take him deeper, to keep him close.

Your moans mingle with his gasps, the heat between you building with every thrust, until there’s nothing left of restraint, only the desperate, languid drag of two bodies finding rhythm in devotion.

Sieun lifts his head to look at you—really look—and what he sees makes his hips stutter.

Your face, flushed and shining, lips parted, still pink and swollen, eyes glassy with bliss and admiration.

You’re breathtaking. And right now, you were his.

He moans again, broken and stunned, and leans down to kiss you like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t, slow, messy, teeth grazing lips, all while his hips begin to move faster, harder, chasing something he’s never dared imagine before you.

Your bodies are slick with heat and need, the world around you reduced to nothing but the way he fits, the way he fills, the way he worships you with every thrust.

Sieun is whispering your name like a lifeline, like it’s the only word he knows, murmured into the skin of your throat, your jaw, your lips, as if it can tether him to reality while he teeters on the edge of something vast and consuming.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, voice hoarse and reverent. “So perfect—you’re perfect.”

Your back arches, body shuddering as he angles his hips just right, deep and slow and precise, hitting that spot inside you that makes gush over his length.

Your moans turn high and breathless, desperate.

“Sieun—” you gasp, legs tightening around his waist, pulling him in deeper. “I’m close—oh god—”

He knows.

He feels it, the way you start to flutter and squeeze around him, the way your breaths collapse into whimpers. And even through the haze of his own rising pleasure, Sieun slows down just enough to draw it out for you, to feel every quivering second of it.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, breath stuttering. “Come, please.”

And you do.

It rushes over you in waves—white-hot, pulsing, unstoppable—your climax washing through your entire body with a strangled moan, your limbs tightening, your voice shaking as you cry out his name.

Sieun swears under his breath, something desperate and soft, and then he loses it.

The way you clamp around him, slick, pulsing, so warm, is all it takes to send him spiraling. His rhythm falters, hips stuttering, muscles trembling as the pressure finally breaks. He groans, deep and guttural, and spills into the condom with a few last shallow thrusts, his whole body curling into yours like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together.

And when it’s over, when the tremors in both your bodies begin to subside and your chests press together in exhausted, blissful rhythm, he stays.

Buried in you, breathless, consumed. His forehead pressed to yours, his lashes fluttering, lips ghosting your cheek.

And finally, his lips quirk at the corners, gracing his features with a small, gentle smile.

Because he decides he won’t be washing his shorts.

And he thinks he’ll get you to ruin another pair when you bring your laptop over for him under the guise of fixing it again.

৬ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝘰𝑠𝘵𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ i decided for a soft, feral rendition of sieun’s university au. this will be the last weak hero fic i write before i move onto skz and atz! need more? you can read hyuntak’s version over here ⌯⌲ smart girl

───── how do we feel about starting a taglist?

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nadloves · 1 month ago

Text

MY FAVORITE WEAK HERO CLASS 1 & 2 FANFICT

Yeon Sieun

Yeon si-eun x reader

LOVE LESSONS

unspoken

After School Surprise Pt 1 , Pt 2

You 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎

Don’t leave me behind

PARTY ON YOU Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3

sidelines

Not just friends

homework and heart

UNREQUITED Pt 1 , Pt 2

Ahn Suho

Oh Mama!

“Strike for Strike”

Stay a little longer

Just strong enough to love you

Go Hyuntak

go hyuntak boyfriend hcs

Not his girlfriend

Reconnection Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3

go hyuntak boyfriend hc's

Sickeningly in love literally.

Na Baekjin

before the storm

still, i choose you

Geum Seongje

Advice.. Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3 , Pt 4

collarless

let love bleed red

„Bite The Blade” Pt 1 - 8

❝ Love ❞ Pt 1 - 5

+ DISCOVER YOUR SECRETS Pt 1 - 5

+ YOU CARE SO MUCH

+ SIX FEET OF SMOKE AND SILENCE

Park Humin

Taking care of you

Oh Beomseok

afterglow

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haomnyangz · 2 months ago

Text

WEAK HERO CLASS: 2 (2025)

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gotaksboyfie · 19 days ago

Note

maybe bf!gotak and 'think fast i'm a random girl' trend?

"think fast, i'm a random girl!"

go hyuntak, yeon sieun, ahn suho, park humin/baku, seo juntae, keum seongje, na baekjin

go hyuntak

» it takes a moment for the words to register, but he understands the reference quickly from a tiktok he saw a few days prior. he never thought you would do it on him though. luckily, he has the perfect plan

» dodges any attempts for you to touch/grab him, darting away with quick feet. even jumps onto some furniture too

» "don't touch me! i have a girlfriend!" he screams it while you're both laughing like madmen as he keeps slipping from your grasp, running around your furniture

» eventually you two end up tripping over each other, with you falling onto hyuntak's chest and knocking the air out of him

» "i'm.. telling my.. girlfriend." he wheezes out, out of breath from the impromptu chase session. he's too tired to push you off, so he just lays star-fished out on the ground

» you lift your head slightly to look him in the eye and hyuntak immediately takes an interest in the ceiling, still acting like you're a random girl

» "hm. you should've pushed me off but you passed. nine out of ten."

» "you think i have the strength to push you off while you ran after me like tom and jerry?! i should get full points," hyuntak pouts, flicking your forehead

» "minus two points for hurting your girlfriend."

yeon sieun

» ??????????

» has no clue what you're talking about. just stares confused as you try and explain the trend to him, but he just continues staring with a deadpan face

» "you.. want me to act like you're a random girl?"

» "yes! okay, pretend i'm a random girl from your cram school." you walk up to him and wrap your arm around his, leaning in for a kiss

» sieun rolls his eyes but plays along anyway, putting on his most stoic face for you. he proceeds to hand his notes over to you and untangle himself from you, effectively dodging all your moves.

» you stand still for a couple seconds, waiting for his next move. he just begins studying like nothing happened. well that was fast.

» "thats it?" you ask. that was so ... sieun.

» "you're just getting my notes. what else should i do?" sieun furrows his brows, genuinely confused. okay maybe in retrospect you should've clarified a little. sieun heard 'cram school' and his mind immediately thought of studying

» a semi-failed attempt because sieun is sieun. he scores an eight and a half out of ten for keeping it short and quick, you suppose.

ahn suho

» shrieks the second you step within a foot of him, already meters away in the blink of an eye

» "get away from me!" he takes up a defensive stance, cowering behind his arms

» "but i–" you don't even get three words in before suho interrupts you with a loud yell

» "not interested, lady!"

» somehow, somewhere, he got ahold of a frying pan in the few moments you took your eyes off him. now he just looked insane, waving it around your apartment while hooting and hollering

» you can't even get your words out with how hard you're laughing, tears forming in your eyes

» suho's act starts to fall when he notices, letting out giggles of his own. when you recollect yourself, he snaps back into character

» "don't look at me! i'm happily taken, i'll have you know!"

» "but can you help me?" you bat your eyes, hoping to lure him in for a kiss. there's not much to do when he has a frying pan, unless you want a concussion (though you both know he would never hurt you)

» "no can do!"

» after a stare-down between you and suho, you give a firm nod and a thumbs up. "ten out of ten. i raised you well."

» suho smirks and scoops you up in a bear hug, taking your feet off the floor for a few seconds. "so, can i get a reward for doing so well? or.."

baku

» you have to take multiple shots because baku keeps kissing you back and holding your waist too tenderly. he can't pretend for the life of him

» "babe, you have to pretend i'm not me."

» "but why?" sulks like a puppy each time you tell him he failed. after the third attempt (he just wanted kisses) he promises to actually do it

» "nope! i'm taken." his hand is holding your face pushing you away. you try to advance forward, but he's holding you completely in place with just a hand after a few seconds of struggling, he grabs you up by your ass and wraps your legs around him

» "can we do something funner now?" seems like you weren't the only one affect by the display of strength. horny bastard

» eleven out of ten for effectiveness (bonus point for the sex afterwards)

seo juntae

» similar ??? reaction to sieun. he's a bit (months) late to trends, so he hasn't caught wind of this one yet

» "but why would i do that baby? you're not just any random woman to me, you're–"

» you cut him off before he can wax poetics about you and how much you mean to him. "no, tae, it's like a trend. just pretend okay?"

» juntae pouts but agrees. he's surprised when you grab him by his face and press chaste kisses all over his face, melting into the touch for a moment before remembering what you wanted him to do

» "aah! wait, no!!" juntae pushes you off a little too hard, sending you to tumbling to the floor. he gasps and rushes to your side, "are you hurt?!"

» challenge is cut short when juntae is in tears over hurting you, and you reassure him it was fun and it really didn't hurt. he's too soft for his own good

» six out of ten for the delayed reaction, but he gets a ten out of ten in your heart

keum seongje

» "now why would i do that, sweetheart?"

» has seen the challenge one or two times, but always skipped it because it was boring. he doesn't understand why you want to do it, everyone already knows not to approach him (both men and women)

» "just do it, please?" you plead, putting on your best puppy eyes. seongje relents, and agrees to do it begrudgingly.

» "don't get mad at me for what i do, 'kay?" seongje raises an eyebrow at how excited you look. obviously he won't punch the shit out of you just for some 'trend', so he'll just stick to a watered down version of his actual reaction

» when you start walking towards him with your hands out—looking for a hug—he quickly swipes his feet to send you falling

» "whoops, didn't see you there." he says dryly, leaving you on the floor.

» you roll over onto your back, and look up at him. you laugh and give a thumbs up. he passed. "eight out of ten, good job." minus two points for not being straightforward about it

» "not a ten out of ten? i'm hurt sweetheart," seongje watches as you get up, dusting off your clothes. damn. and he thought he did good too. maybe he should've went for a light slap?

na baekjin

» a bit confused because 1. what the fuck is this trend and 2. he's so busy with union work and keeping his grades that he hasn't had time to doomscroll as much as you do

» you explain it to him, and he agrees to do it with you. he wasn't expecting you to launch towards him with puckered lips, landing a kiss on his cheek within seconds.

» keep a straight face and uses his notebook of motorcycle orders to swat at your face like a fly. "i have a girlfriend." he says, lightly patting your face with the rolled up notebook on each word

» not very effective on you, since you keep going anyways. but if it was any other girl they'd get scared off (probably). if it works, it works

» "eight point five out of ten, you were hitting me too lightly."

» "that's not fair!" everyone knows baekjin has the biggest soft spot for you, he can't bring himself to hurt you in the slightest. sucks for him though, he lost two points because of that

fin

a/n didn't really know how to write it bc i felt like it's be too short either way, so i decided to do multiple characters to make it less empty (;;;*_*)

alsooo it has come to my attention i've been neglecting my poor baby suho 💔 will be writing more of him in the future i promise! also psst what do we think of these style headcanons for these type of posts? would love some feedback ^___^

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juliettejwnewinesa · 26 days ago

Note

BAKU VER OF 💦 "you came on my lap?" PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS

You came on my lap?

hyuntak version su-ho version sieun version seongjae version yeongbin version wooyoung version beomseok version

pairing: humin x fem!reader tags: suggestive content, clothed grinding, accidental orgasm, teasing, dom!humin undertones, lap sitting, kissing, tension, soft smut, aftermath, implied smut continuation word count: ~1.2k ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

You were just messing around, lounging sideways across Humin’s lap while he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. His hand was resting on your thigh, barely paying you any mind—and that was the problem.

You were wearing nothing under his oversized t-shirt but panties, and he was in loose joggers. It should’ve been nothing. Should’ve stayed playful.

But he wasn’t paying attention, and you were in the mood to change that.

You shifted in his lap slowly, like it was innocent. Adjusting your position. Resettling.

Except… you did it again. This time pressing down.

Humin didn’t look up.

“You’re ignoring me,” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you turned toward him. “Rude.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” he replied, still looking at his screen, but his voice had changed—lower, rougher. “You’re just being annoying.”

You rolled your hips deliberately once more, slow and heavy against the growing outline beneath his sweats. “Still annoying?”

His hand tightened around your thigh. The phone disappeared somewhere behind him.

He looked at you finally—eyes low-lidded, mouth slightly parted, like he was already imagining how this would end.

“You trying to get me hard or something?”

You smiled sweetly. “Are you saying I’m succeeding?”

His gaze dropped to where your hips were pressing down into his lap. The tension in his jaw said enough.

You kissed him before he could say anything else. Lazy. Testing. Like you were still pretending this wasn’t what you wanted.

But Humin didn’t play half-games.

He kissed you back hard, tongue pushing past your lips, hand sliding up your back to hold you down firmly against him. The pressure made you shiver, the way his cock pressed thick against you through both layers of fabric—hot and heavy.

You grinded on him again. And again. The slow friction of cotton against cotton sent a pulse of heat straight through your gut.

"You're so warm," you whispered, dazed, already feeling the ache build between your thighs.

He smirked. "You started this. Don’t act shy now."

You weren’t shy. You were desperate.

Every roll of your hips made it worse—more sensitive, more raw. Your panties were soaked through, dragging against the soft cotton of his joggers, and the contact was maddening.

"Keep going, baby," he muttered, hand splayed over your lower back now. "If you wanna get yourself off on my lap so bad, I won’t stop you."

You whimpered, pace stuttering for just a second. His voice in your ear made your stomach twist.

“You like that?” he murmured. “Grinding like a little slut, soaking through your panties just from a kiss?”

Your thighs clenched. Your nails dug into his shoulders.

You didn’t mean to fall apart so fast—but your body wasn’t listening. The heat coiled tighter. Every little thrust against him made your clit throb, your breath catch.

“I—Humin—”

He felt it the moment you snapped.

You gasped—high-pitched and quiet, body shivering as you came right there in his lap, your thighs trembling, cunt pulsing helplessly through the cotton of your ruined panties. You buried your face in his neck, fingers clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you together.

He was so still beneath you—until a slow, knowing chuckle rumbled through his chest.

“…You came?”

You didn’t answer.

“Baby,” he said, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “did you just cum on me without even getting undressed?”

You groaned and tried to hide again. His hand gripped your waist, holding you there.

“Oh my god, you did.” He laughed softly, dark and absolutely delighted. “That’s crazy. You were trying to tease me, but you’re the one who couldn’t take it.”

You huffed. “Shut up.”

But Humin leaned in close, teeth grazing your jaw. “Nah. I like knowing I can make you cum like that.”

You shivered again.

And just when you thought it was over—when your body was still wrung out and trembling in his lap—he shifted underneath you, cock still hard and twitching.

“Now sit still,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous. “Because I’m not letting you get up until I’ve ruined you for real.”

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lixiaolang · 2 months ago

Text

Reconnection

Pairing: Go Hyuntak x fem!reader

Summary: Having known of Hyuntak from his training days of Tae Kwon Do, you never thought you'd run into him again. What started as admiration from afar quickly turned into the beginning of something more.

Word count: 1.7K

Warning: Slight trigger warning of SA if you squint, but other than that, none.

A/N: Wrote this for me. My first fanfic in years, and God, it felt good to write again. I'm happy with it.

Go Hyuntak was someone you've never imagined crossing paths with again. Attending different schools. Having different friend groups. Only ever catching glimpses of him from the window when you would walk past Hu-min's father's chicken restaurant across the street on the way home. Sometimes, it was hard not to notice the bruises and wounds he and his friends bore. You began to wonder if he's still as skilled in Tae Kwon Do as you remember. Of course he is. You shook your head. He was the best.

Rumor had it he hurt his knee and couldn't compete anymore. When you heard, you felt devastated. Someone as talented and hardworking as him, only for his dream to be taken away. It wasn't fair. You could only imagine how he felt. Did he suffer through the pain alone? Does he still think about what could have been? To be the best Tae Kwon Do athlete and have it all?

You'll never know. But from where you stood, the injury doesn't stop him from fighting. From protecting his friends. The five young men laughed at a joke Baku made and then dug in at the feast placed before them. Hyuntak's smile still dazzled you, even from a distance. As you start to worry whether he is taking care of his injuries properly, you hear your name being called.

"y/n!"

You turned and quickly rejoined your friends who had walked further ahead.

"Staring at Gotak again?" One of them teased, using his well-known nickname. Your face instantly blushed, and you looked away, unable to deny it.

"Hey, leave her alone. I think it's cute," your best friend piped up, putting an arm over your shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with a little yearning every now and then."

That made you laugh, "Shut up." You both giggled and continued going about your way.

After you said goodbye to your friends, you decided to stop by a convenience store before finishing your walk home. You were thirsty and wanted your favorite cold drink: a strawberry and banana smoothie. It was probably the best part of your routine. You grabbed your favorite bread to go along with it and headed for the register.

You thanked the cashier and just stabbed your straw into the drink when a rowdy group of boys walked in. They were a noisy bunch, and their uniforms told you they also attended Eunjang High, the same school as Hyuntak and his friends. Your eyes scanned the store, looking for a way to exit without having to go through them. Luckily, the aisle that was next over was free, and you kept your head down, making your way to the door. Due to your short stature, you didn't have to crouch much, being 5'2 and all.

You stand straight and head for the door, pushing it open when you feel someone pull you back from the strap of your backpack, hard. Somehow, you were able to maintain your balance and look up at the face who deprived you of your freedom. Hair dyed blonde and a scar across his left eye. He sneered.

"What do we have here?" His friends behind him snicker as he pressed forward, making you bump against some of the merchandise.

"Is that for me?" The blonde placed his hands over his heart as he feigned gratitude, noticing your drink and pastry. As he stepped closer, you looked away and felt him take your bag with the bread. He threw it on the ground and stomped on it, smearing the delicious treat on the floor with his foot.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep, shaky breath. Never imagining yourself in this position before, you decided not to go down without a fight, no matter what their intentions were. You held your breath as he took one more step closer, and that's when you jammed your right knee against his crotch with all the strength you could muster. It was enough to distract him for a moment, and you ran out, throwing your drink at him, focusing only on getting out of there.

As you heard him and his group start to run after you, you heard a voice. Not just anyone's voice. His voice.

"Hey!"

You stopped in your tracks and turned back around. Being a good distance away, you noticed Hyuntak and his friends a few feet apart from the entrance of the convenience store where the blonde and his group were also stopped in confusion. The blonde looked pissed, whether from being hit in the nuts or stopped from chasing after you, you couldn't be sure.

"This has nothing to do with you!" He screamed in rage.

All the while, Hyuntak remained calm. His eyes scanned the area, first seeming to count how many of the goons there were, and then to the blonde covered in your drink. Hands in the pockets of his pants, he glanced over at you, and you both locked eyes. Your heavy breathing from the adrenaline and run began to slow down, and you felt a sense of peace take over you.

He turned back to the blonde. "It does now."

The next word was said at the same time. You in your head and the blonde aloud, "What?"

Before you had time to think it over, Hyuntak's fist connected with the blonde's face, knocking him to the ground. You gasped, stuck in freeze or flight mode. The decision was made for you when one of the goons charged after you. The last thing you saw before running away was three of Hyuntak's friends joining in on the fight, including Baku.

You ran as fast as you could, not daring to look back. You knew the area pretty well and figured you would be able to hide somewhere once the coast was clear when you felt a pair of hands slam you against a wall. Your face and body were pushed into it, holding you in place.

"We weren't done with you yet." Said an unfamiliar voice, his hot breath fanned against your ear, and you struggled to get away.

Before you could scream for help, someone threw the boy off of you. You turned around, back towards the wall, as you watched Hyuntak beat the guy to a pulp. With his back towards you, you badly wanted to tell him to stop, but you couldn't find your voice. It wasn't until Baku walked up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Enough, Gotak."

Hyuntak stopped fist midair and let go of the boy, his limp body making a thud as he hit the ground. He was breathing heavily, and yet there didn't seem to be a scratch on him. Baku looked untouched as well. As if he read your mind, he turned to you and smiled.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded, still a bit in shock and unsure of how to thank them. Hyuntak took a breath and finally turned to face you. His eyes looked into yours again, and this time, you felt your heart start to race for a different reason.

"I need to hear you say it," his voice was soft, yet stern, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay." You managed to get out.

His eyes softened, and he looked at Baku. With a nod of his head, he turned and walked back from the way we came. Hyuntak looked at you and simply said, "Let's go."

The walk back to his friends was silent. You tried to fix your school uniform and composure as discreetly as possible. With no idea of how your hair looked, you figured it was what it was. You peeked at Hyuntak, and he looked lost in thought. Up ahead, two of his friends were waiting, and it appeared that the blonde and his goons had run off. You wondered where his other friend went. The one with the glasses.

"Nice job, Sieun! Suho!" Baku threw his arms over their shoulders with a wide smile. "Where's Juntae?

As if on cue, the one named Juntae comes out of the convenience store with what looked like your drink and a pastry bag. He smiled shyly and handed you the items. "We hope you're alright. I wasn't sure of the pastry, so I just got one I recommend."

The day's toll hit you instantly, and tears welled up in your eyes. You quickly wiped them and looked at the five boys who rescued you. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The boys all smiled, apart from Hyuntak. He cleared his throat, adjusted his blue hoodie, and faced his friends, "I'll walk her home. See you guys later."

They waved goodbye to you, and you waved back with a smile. You then noticed Hyuntak staring at you with curiosity. You blushed and turned to the general area of your home. "It's this way."

Even though the distance was short, they say time lasts longer being with someone you like. The sun was beginning to set, and the breeze felt nice against your skin. It was a comfortable silence until you heard Hyuntak say, "Drink."

You stopped walking and looked up at him confused, "What?"

He sighed, "You must be dehydrated. Drink." He gestured to the strawberry banana smoothie.

Oh. You hadn't even realized how thirsty you were until he mentioned it. Your lips covered the straw, and you drank. The cold drink felt good traveling down your throat. You eagerly drank some more, and that's when you heard Hyuntak chuckle. You watched his smile, and up close, it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You blinked and took in your surroundings, and saw that your home was just a few houses down.

"I'm fine here. Thank you for walking me home. And thank you for helping me today."

"You can thank me by letting me walk you home for a while." He said.

Shaking your head, you began to protest. "There's really no need. You don't-"

With what looked like slow motion, Hyuntak leaned over. He maintained eye contact until his lips touched the straw of your drink. You held still, letting him finish it and at the same time not believing this was happening. When he stood up, he smiled at your reaction. You couldn't tell if it was his smile that blinded you or the sun setting behind him.

He walked past you and said over his shoulder, "See you tomorrow, y/n."

A/N: may or may not continue this. Gif is made by me. Feedback is appreciated :)

Update: Part 2 is posted! ♡

#go hyuntak #gotak #go hyuntak x reader #weak hero class 2 #reconnection #reconnection part 1 #whc2 #fanfiction #park humin #baku #seo juntae #weak hero x reader #weak hero class 1 #i took taekwondo when i was younger so best believe he instantly became my fave #i love him so much

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chuxmy · 2 months ago

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Hii! I hope you’re doing well!

Could you do reader fixing Baku’s bruises after he got in another fight with the union members, could it also be romantic?

Taking care of you

Pairings: Park Humin (Baku) x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a fight, you patch up Humin and a quiet kiss reveals what words never could.

Warnings: violence, injuries

A/N: Hii! Yess I’m doing good. I hope you like it 🫰🏻

The air was thick with heat and leftover adrenaline as Park Humin stood alone at the edge of the alleyway, his shirt collar torn, fists scraped raw, and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t look at the three guys groaning on the ground behind him, Union members, the usual type that thought they could outnumber him and win.

They didn’t.

But they did a hell of a job trying.

Humin exhaled slowly, like his breath was trying to keep him upright. His jaw clenched as he rolled his shoulders back and stepped into the weak glow of a flickering streetlight, head bowed slightly. His knuckles were red and cracked, a cut just beneath his eye swelling into a bruise already turning a violent shade of purple.

And then he saw you.

You had been searching for him ever since you heard whispers in the school hallway, something about Humin getting into it again. Another fight. More Union dogs barking up the wrong tree.

“Park Humin,” you breathed, and the name came out sharper than you intended.

He flinched a little at your voice, not because he was scared, he never was but because of the disappointment laced in it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, trying to walk past you.

“Too bad,” you snapped, stepping in front of him. “I came anyway.”

His gaze dropped, his lashes low over his dark, unreadable eyes. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” You grabbed his wrist and yanked it gently. “Come on. You’re bleeding.”

He hesitated. “It’s not—”

“Now, Baku.” The nickname rolled off your tongue like a scolding mixed with concern.

He sighed through his nose but followed you. Maybe it was the weariness settling in, or maybe he knew there was no point arguing when you looked at him like that.. like he wasn’t just a fighter, or a problem, or a bruised set of fists, but something worth being worried about.

He sat on the edge of your bed, hands resting on his thighs, bloodied knuckles twitching now and then. You knelt in front of him with the first aid kit cracked open between you.

You dipped a cotton pad in antiseptic and reached for his face.

“Hold still,” you murmured.

He didn’t move, but his eyes locked on yours. There was something in them that you couldn’t quite name, tiredness, maybe. Regret.

You dabbed carefully at the cut below his eye. He hissed, jaw tightening.

“Still think you’re fine?” you asked, voice quieter now.

He didn’t answer.

You worked in silence for a while. His skin was warm under your fingertips, even bruised and battered. You tried not to notice the way he watched you, or how the dim light made his features look softer, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“You didn’t have to fight them,” you said finally.

His lips twitched, almost a smirk. “They started it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to finish it every time.”

“I’m not letting them get away with shit.” His voice was low, raw. “Not after what they’ve done to us. To the others.”

You knew what he meant. The Union had left more than bruises on everyone. You, Sieun, Gotak even Juntae none of you were untouched. But Baku… Baku took it personally. Every threat, every insult, every blow, it fueled something in him that wouldn’t rest.

Your fingers hovered over a bruise along his cheekbone. You hesitated, and then finally whispered, “I just don’t want to see you like this again.”

His gaze dropped to your lips. “I know.”

You finished wrapping his knuckles and leaned back, resting on your knees. “There. You’re patched up.”

He looked down at your hands, still hovering near his. Then, slowly, he laced his fingers through yours.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t say anything, not right away. The silence stretched, thick with something that had been building for a while. Unspoken things. Careful glances. Unnecessary risks taken just to protect each other.

“Hey,” he said quietly, thumb brushing your knuckles. “You know I wouldn’t lose, right?”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” you murmured.

He tilted your chin up with one finger, his touch impossibly gentle for someone so often wrapped in violence. “Then what?”

You looked at him, really looked at him. At the pain behind his smirk, the bruises trying to heal, the boy who fought everyone else so hard he forgot how not to fight himself.

“That one day you won’t come back.”

The tension broke like glass. He pulled you close, not with force, but with the kind of need that had been waiting for permission. His forehead touched yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he said.

And then he kissed you.

It was slow at first, almost cautious like he was afraid he’d break you too. But you didn’t pull away. Your hands found his jaw, rough and warm beneath your palms, and he deepened the kiss, tilting your head just so.

It wasn’t a fairytale moment. His lip was split. Your hands trembled. There was blood on his shirt.

But it was real.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathing a little harder, he rested his forehead against yours again and let the silence speak for him.

You didn’t need him to say the words yet. They were in the way he kissed you like you were the only safe thing in his world. The way he let you clean his wounds. The way he looked at you like you made the fight worth it.

“Stay,” you whispered.

He smiled faintly, eyes closing. “Always.”

#weak hero class two #humin park #park humin x reader #park humin #weak hero class 2 #weak hero season 2 #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class x reader #weak hero class one #baku #baku x reader

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cheesynachosworld · 30 days ago

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gotak would be just comforting juntae and shutting baku up

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cheongsanthinker · 2 months ago

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— park humin boyfriends hcs

baku x gn!reader

warnings: typical canon violence & possible grammar mistakes

a/n: hello i’m back from the dead :) i love whc and there’s quite literally almost nothing for them so here i am! feedbacks are deeply appreciated! baku is so bf btw i am so inlove with him

masterlist

• he would have the biggest crush on you.

• he’ll constantly tell gotak about you, and he’d reply with, “just ask them out already!”, despite gotak’s relentless encouragement, it still took him some time to muster up the courage to ask you out.

• once you started dating, gotak became your child—occasionally tagging along on your dates. he’s glad that his best friend and the one he cares about the most get along so well. after all, he’s still grateful gotak gave him the push to take you out on a date.

• speaking of dates, he absolutely loves taking you out on picnics. he always packs your favorite snacks, along with a few new ones he thinks you’ll enjoy. and if you casually mention loving something he brought—he’ll quietly take a mental note of it.

• he is a total sweetheart but he doesn’t know it. what could be a simple “good morning :) see you later ❤️ please take care.” to him means the most to you. he is oblivious about the fact that he is the sweetest person ever. one time, he casually brought up that he wishes for your happiness with every passing shooting star.

• so so energetic and LOUD, it’s hard to keep up with it, but you love it anyway. he loves expressing his love for you publicly—and it can be a little embarrassing, but you love him all the same.

• he is 100% a good listener. baku can sense when something’s wrong and would always take the time to talk things through, whether it’s an issue or something weighing on your mind. he never lets you go to sleep with a heavy heart, and he swears by that.

• he is also funny—and that is one of the many reasons why you fell in love with him. baku’s the type to crack up the corniest jokes just to make you smile.

• he will teach you basketball. no questions asked.

• he loves holding your hands at public, a simple way of showing you’re his. also, before he leaves after walking you home—baku never misses a chance to give you a gentle kiss to your forehead.

• when the tension with the union began, you would always be there to patch baku up after a fight, tending to his wounds and his weary heart. you never fail to remind him to be careful—gently murmuring, “you know i don’t like seeing you get hurt like this, baku” and he’d offer a quiet “i can handle it,” and a soft kiss planted to your lips.

• if you think he was protective before, he would be overprotective now. your safety is always his top priority, especially now that the union is constantly after him.

• when he finds out the union tried to use you as a bait—he’d tear through anything in his way and move heaven and earth if he had to—because nothing matters more than getting you back.

• the guilt lingers in him after that incident. from patching you up, successfully fighting the union, and even after that—but you reassure him that it is not his fault. it never was and never will be.

• you are each other’s lifelines. baku is simply the best boyfriend you could ever have. to be loved is to be seen and known, indeed.

#weak hero class 1 #weak hero class 2 #weak hero class x reader #baku x reader #park humin x reader #ben park x reader #weak hero class imagines #weak hero class two #weak hero class 2 x reader #whc2 x reader #park humin #weak hero class 2 fics #weak hero x reader

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suhosieun · 2 months ago

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weak hero class 2 + text posts (4)

< prev part

#weak hero class 2 #weak hero #weak hero x text posts #suhosieun #yeon sieun #go hyuntak #geum seongje #oh beomseok #ahn suho #park humin #seo juntae #suho x sieun #whc2

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aleese1111 · 2 months ago

Note

hii!! i love the way you write the whc boys so much. can you do something with the eunjang quartet x fem!reader but in a platonic way. like she is there to patch them up and treat them to some food or something after every fight (especially after the last one they had with the union - which she was understandably worried about)

after the storm | eunjang!quartet x fem!reader

summary: after the brutal fight against the union, they show up at her family’s restaurant—bloodied but alive. she worries, she scolds, she patches, she feeds. in between, there's banter, comfort, and something quiet and tender that lingers in the silences.

warnings: [platonic?] canon-typical violence aftermath, light blood/injury description, hurt/comfort .

author's note: this is so wholesome :(( . requests ,,

the familiar scent of frying oil and garlic wafted through the air as she wiped down a table by the window, cloth in one hand, mind far from the rhythms of the restaurant. the neon sign of her family’s fried chicken place buzzed softly behind her, but the usual comfort it brought her felt distant today. she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it—the fight. the one she wasn't supposed to know about, but of course she did. she always did when it came to them.

her hand slowed over the tabletop, worry nesting in her chest. the late afternoon sun spilled golden light through the glass, casting long shadows and warming the wooden floors, but it did little to settle the twist in her stomach. she had checked her phone twice in the last hour, hoping for a message, even just an emoji. nothing.

just as she turned to the next table, she caught a glimpse of movement outside. her breath caught.

the four of them.

yeon sieun, stoic as ever; baku, somehow still smiling even with dried blood on his brow; jung tae, bruised but beaming; and go hyuntak, his arm slung carelessly over sieun’s shoulder, eyes bright with the adrenaline of victory.

she dropped the rag.

"are you serious?!" she half-shouted, half-squeaked, rushing to the front entrance, throwing open the door so fast the bell above it clanged in protest. she stormed outside, arms flying in disbelief.

"what the hell happened to you guys?! look at your faces! jung tae, are you even walking properly?! baku, your lip—! gotak! you're bleeding through your shirt! and sieun—" she stopped at him, heart clenching at the sight of crimson staining his temple. "you too?"

they all looked at her like she was a sight from a better world. baku chuckled, reaching forward to ruffle her hair with a bloodied hand. "missed you too."

she slapped his hand away with a huff, eyes wide with exasperation but soft with relief. "you're all idiots. absolute, complete idiots. come inside before you all faint on the street."

they followed without protest, brushing past the bell once more as she ushered them to the back of the restaurant where it was quieter. her parents peeked in from the kitchen, and she waved quickly. "can you make extra portions? they need food. a lot of it."

"rough day again?" her father asked, already pulling out the pans.

"something like that," she muttered.

she dragged out the first aid kit and moved toward the table where the boys sat—some slouched, some upright, all bruised. gotak was the first she started with, dabbing a cloth gently over his cheek.

"you didn’t even try to block, did you?"

he grinned, his hand naturally resting on her thigh like it always did, no thought to the gesture, and she didn’t mind. "didn’t need to. we won."

"that’s not the point," she said, flicking his forehead.

"ow," he chuckled, his eyes catching hers for just a second longer than usual. her hand lingered a beat longer too, thumb brushing just under his jaw. he didn’t flinch.

she cleared her throat and moved to sieun next. he sat perfectly still, letting her tend to him like he always did. their eyes met—no words exchanged—but he gave the smallest nod. she returned it with a faint smile. he never needed to speak much. he always understood. but something in the way his gaze lingered today made her chest tighten. like he was reading more than he let on.

jung tae winced as she pressed antiseptic onto a scrape on his neck.

"don’t be a baby."

"you’re treating me like one."

"because you are one," she said, patting his cheek. "you’re lucky i don’t swaddle you in bubble wrap."

he flushed, muttering something about being strong as she moved on to baku, who held out his arm with a dramatic sigh.

"you should open a clinic," he teased. "but only for good-looking guys."

she smirked. "so i guess i’ll be closing after today, then."

"ouch. that’s cold."

they bantered easily as she wrapped gauze around his forearm. it was always like this with baku—like talking to a much older friend who still knew how to laugh like a kid. he leaned a bit closer as she tied the final knot in the bandage.

"you’re really good at this, you know?" he said more seriously, his voice low. "you keep everyone stitched up, not just with tape and gauze."

she blinked, taken aback by the sincerity. "you’re just saying that because i’m your free nurse."

"nah. saying it ‘cause it’s true."

food arrived not long after, filling the air with sizzling spices and warmth. plates clinked. drinks poured. for a moment, the chaos of the outside world paused.

gotak’s hand stayed on her thigh as he ate, casual and unthinking, but every so often his pinky tapped against her knee like he wasn’t quite as unaffected as he looked. she leaned slightly into him without thinking. it was just how they were—but tonight, the warmth of him beside her seemed to sink deeper into her skin.

sieun sat across from her, meeting her gaze occasionally with the tiniest of smiles. that was enough. except this time, he didn’t look away as quickly. his eyes lingered. she looked down at her plate, suddenly aware of how warm her ears felt.

jung tae animatedly talked about how he “almost” knocked a guy’s tooth out, while she poked fun at his exaggerated expressions.

"you should’ve seen me! the guy was huge. i mean, hulk huge."

"and you? what, ant-man?" she laughed, nudging his side.

"i’m tall!" he protested.

"you’re adorable."

he groaned, dropping his chopsticks in defeat. "why does everyone call me that?"

"because it’s true," gotak chimed in with a grin, ruffling jung tae’s already messy hair.

and baku, between mouthfuls, reached over to ruffle her hair again.

"you’re good at worrying," he said.

she rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "and you’re good at making me do it."

as the night wore on and the plates grew emptier, the energy shifted into something slower, softer. gotak leaned back, his shoulder brushing hers, and she didn’t move away. when she yawned, he tilted his head toward her.

"tired?"

"a little. long day."

"want me to carry you upstairs?" he teased.

she rolled her eyes but laughed. "you’d trip over the first step."

"still worth the offer."

across the table, sieun watched quietly, fingers tapping against his drink. their eyes met again, and for a heartbeat, everything felt still.

it was nothing. probably nothing.

but maybe it wasn’t.

the table bubbled with quiet laughter again. they were beaten, bruised, borderline limping—but they were together.

and that made everything feel okay again.

#weak hero class 2 #class 2 x reader #whc2 #whc2 x reader #eunjang!quartet x reader #yeon si eun x reader #go hyuntak x reader #gotak x reader #baku x reader #park humin x reader #seo jun tae x reader #aleese1111

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chanifesto · 2 months ago

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 smart girl | go hyuntak

pairing: hyuntak x afab!reader (weak hero class 2)

synopsis: a university au in which hyuntak, determined and mighty and ready for anything, turns to mush in your presence. that is, until he has you turning into mush under him.

genre: somewhat of a smutty slowburn

word count: 8.1k

warnings: [MDNI!] explicit sexual content, softdom!hyuntak, making out, grinding, pet names (baby, pretty girl, smart girl) nipple play, oral (f rec.), fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it! please!), mentions of STI testing and birth control, just enough consent checks, absolute devotion, your insides are soft, his outsides are hard, gosh he’s such a simp for you, i have never written smut before proceed with caution

reader notes: written with afab!reader in mind. reader has breasts, a vagina, and hair long enough to fall over their shoulder. all characters are consenting and over 18 yo.

۶ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ i am feverishly starved for this man. it’s only right i dedicate my first post to him. enjoy (at least, i hope you do).

Hyuntak thought his heart was about to ram out of his chest.

He was perfectly serene ten minutes ago, when it was just him, Hu-min, Jun-tae, and Si-eun at a booth in the university cafeteria. Perfectly serene basking in hoarse laughter at Hu-min’s flimsy puns. Perfectly serene, before you padded towards their table alongside Hu-min’s girlfriend, a textbook caged against your chest, the slightest quirk of a smile clutching at the corners of your pretty lips in response to something Hu-min’s girlfriend had whispered to you.

You slid into the bench opposite of him at the other end of the table, quietly greeting the other boys as you slipped your tote off your shoulder. If Hyuntak hadn’t been ambushed by his own nervous system, he would have seen the kind eyes you offered him instead of finding a sudden interest in the nutrition facts of his energy drink.

He was perfectly serene ten minutes ago, before you got there.

And now you sat there, gently scribbling in your agenda, your plush bottom lip softly caught between your teeth, unaware of the fevered anguish you had inflicted upon him.

Hyuntak, who was previously doubled over in laughter, was now pressed against the back of his chair, sweaty palms rubbing ever-so-slightly against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Heat had begun to ghost down the sides of his face to his neck. The last time he was this strung out was for his first basketball tournament, and that was seven years ago. Gosh, the things your presence did to him.

Hyuntak curtly flips over his wrist to check the time on his watch, just as he did thirty seconds ago, and thirty seconds before that.

His chest expands in a quiet huff. He had fifteen minutes before he had to leave for his class, more like twenty since the first ten minutes of the hour are allotted for students to relocate between possible back-to-back classes. Hyuntak always believed he could get to his classes in five—a belief he always proved wrong.

It was the start of a new semester, so it only made sense to depart earlier than he usually would to locate his lecture hall in time for class. This logic was foreign to him, he was never concerned about getting to class on time, just as long as he showed up.

But he had to get away from you.

Had to get away from this feeling you were giving him, the feeling you gave him whenever you came around.

Hyuntak only ever saw you with Hu-min’s girlfriend—your best friend—and that, too, was usually just on campus. You would show up to their group together, and then you would flip open a textbook or write in your agenda or type notes onto your laptop. It seemed like it didn’t matter where you were, you were always studying, always ready to put that pretty brain of yours to work.

And that’s how it typically was. Hyuntak had never exchanged more than a few words with you because you were always studying, but he was slowly charmed by you.

He adored the scrunch of your eyebrows when you were stuck on a practice question, adored the tip of your tongue sticking through your pouting lips whenever you were writing something, adored the way your hair would fall over your shoulder whenever you leaned into your textbooks.

He adored you, but he loathed the feeling you gave him.

The tight chest, the heartbeat on a rampage, it was all so foreign to him. Hyuntak, who was usually so poised, so vigorous, and sometimes a little arrogant, was absolute mush in the palm of your hand.

And you didn’t even know it.

Hyuntak slid his chair back with a crisp screech, pushing himself up into a stiff stance while catching the looks of the acquaintances around him.

“What’s wrong, Gotak? Where are you going?” Hu-min questioned, a reminiscent grin charming his features from what must be the aftermath of a joke Hyuntak was too zoned out to hear, his arm slung over the shoulders of his girlfriend and head hung back to look at Hyuntak’s face.

“I have class.”

It’s an abrupt response accompanied by Hyuntak’s darting eyes at Hu-min before he swiftly leans down and collects the strap of his backpack in a tight grasp.

Hu-min reaches for his phone on the table, tapping the screen. “But you don’t have class for another…”

“Fourteen minutes, I know,” Hyuntak brisky replies, straightening up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. His eyes remain downcast as he shuffles with rapid feet to the side of the table, his hand rushing to grab the back of his chair to push it in.

“So why-”

“I need to find the lecture hall,” Hyuntak spurts out, his eyes bulging at Hu-min against his own will. Hu-min’s eyebrow quirks into a raise, his eyes holding Hyuntak’s in a quiet stare.

“Where is it?”

This is not a voice Hyuntak was expecting to hear. This was the last voice Hyuntak needed to hear.

Hyuntak’s billowing eyes find themselves striking at your figure standing at the other end of the table, your tote hung over your shoulder and textbook gripped within the embrace of your arms once again. When did you even get up? Did you always move so quietly?

“Huh?” The dumb-witted sound clambers out of his throat. Did Hyuntak imagine that? He doesn’t think so, but he hopes so.

“Uh, where is it?” Your voice is quieter when you repeat yourself, almost hesitant, “I was going to look for my lecture hall now, too. I thought, if yours is in the same building, we could walk there together.”

Hyuntak stares at you blankly, eyes still bulging.

Did Hyuntak imagine that?

He had to have. There’s no way you’d pay him any mind, no way you’d want a guy like him around you, walking you to class, beside you and breathing the same air as he walked you to said class. What if your hands brushed on accident? You probably wouldn’t want that, you probably think he has sweaty hands, all calloused from the rough rubber of basketballs and the many years of taekwondo. You probably think his fingers are grimy and his hair is greasy and his teeth are yellow and his breath smells bad and his–

“Or– we don’t have to.”

Your voice is nimble, but it’s enough to stir Hyuntak out of his head. His eyes blink at the sudden impact of mental whiplash.

“We’re probably in different buildings anyway–”

“North building.”

Hyuntak’s breath had entered his lungs but had not returned back out of him. He stood still watching you, waiting for your response, and if you weren’t fast enough, Hyuntak thought he might faint from lack of oxygen.

You gaze at him, and then your plump lips tug into a small smile.

“Me too.”

Hyuntak’s fists were moistened with perspiration, and the cool winter air made no difference to the toasting skin of his face. It definitely didn’t help that you were trotting beside him, your textbook cuddled in your cute arms, your soft hair wisping with each breath of wind.

Hyuntak was determined to stare at anything but you. The trees lining the brick path, the students walking in all sorts of directions, the static dead leaves caught in the corner of a building. What a coincidence that all these things happened to be on the opposite side of him, the side that had no indication of your being.

Your acknowledgement of this was unfortunate for Hyuntak, whether you realized it or not, so when he heard the sound of your mellow voice prick his ears, he couldn’t help the way his shoulders jumped and head snapped.

“Do you not like me?”

You said it with a chuckle, eyes kind but curious, squinting at him, assessing what his body was subconsciously trying to tell you.

His shoulders had dropped but remained strained closer to his midline. His lips had pursed into a clueless pout, eyebrows drawn and stiff, conjuring a faint patch of creases between them. His wide eyes, however, glinted, in awe or fear you did not know. But, they glinted.

And then, Hyuntak eased. Like water, his body flowed into his more natural posture. His fingers flexed in his sweatpant pockets and his eyebrows anchored down. His eyes, faintly glossed, blinked into a squint.

He was an idiot.

“No, I do like you– I mean, I don’t not like you, you’re cool. I just, yeah, I think you’re cool,” he blurts, “Why do you ask?”

His face is blank as he eyes you. Your lips spread out marginally in amusement.

“You’re always laughing around with Hu-min and the others before I show up. Then you get all quiet and distant,” you explained, “It gives me the feeling that you don’t want me around. I thought you just didn’t like me.”

Oh, he was such an idiot.

“I don’t like you?– No, what, why would you think that? That’s absurd.” Hyuntak almost doesn’t feel himself scowling. You watch him, amusement still soaking through your face. “You’re always studying, I’ve barely spoken to you. I barely even know you.”

You gaze with a giggle.

His scowl tightens. “Just– can you– gosh,” he huffs, “What room is your lecture in?”

“One fifty.”

Hyuntak’s scowl simmers. His eyebrows knit together.

“That’s where my lecture is.”

“Linear algebra?” You question.

His features question you in return. “Yeah.”

��Oh, we must be in the same class then.”

Hyuntak feels sweat begin to coat the insides of his fists again. He never expected to see you in any of his classes. He had never seen you in any of them before. And linear algebra? What could you possibly need linear algebra for? You obviously weren’t in his program, so what’s with this?

“Do you need to take it for your program?”

You shake your head. “It’s my elective.”

Of course, you, with your angel face and luscious hair and pretty, big brain, were taking linear algebra as your elective.

“Right, okay,” Hyuntak huffs.

Of course you were.

It had become routine for you and Hyuntak to walk to your shared class together. Hyuntak, who was always five minutes late rather than early, found himself showing up to the lecture hall and waiting for the previous class to finish. And you? You were always right there, right by his side.

As the semester progressed, so did your friendship with Hyuntak. It started with faint encounters—he would ask you simple questions about lecture material during lecture breaks. Soon, the two of you had started doing the assigned practice problems together in the campus library. At first, it was just after class. Then, Hyuntak decided he needed more of your help.

Or perhaps, he just needed more of your time.

Hyuntak was quite competent in mathematics. As quick as you were with solving problems, Hyuntak offered himself as fair competition. He definitely benefited from the wisdom you could bestow upon him, but he most definitely did not leech off of it. No, Hyuntak was quite competent. He just needed more you.

Hyuntak’s nervous system gradually surrendered to him. He found, the more time he spent with you going over questions, he no longer felt a winding in his chest, no longer felt his breath retreat from its post. His hands remained as dry as the Sahara, and he wouldn’t want them any other way.

Eventually, Hyuntak found himself asking you to cafes—wouldn’t it be nice to study with a warm drink?

You had obliged with no hesitation, leaving Hyuntak with a pleasant feeling fogging through his chest and vessels and bones.

He took you to cafes littered across the city, all around the campus exterior. A French cafe, an Italian cafe, he’d even taken you to a cat cafe, one where you were both guaranteed to get the least amount of work done, falling victim to tufts of fur and fluff.

When he learned of your love for reading, Hyuntak took you to a book cafe and watched, no, admired as you browsed through the shelves, grazing the spines of different books with your pretty fingers, eyes wide and marveling.

The only mistake Hyuntak had made was taking you to a cafe that specialized in your favourite drink. He almost didn’t fathom the anguish that smacked him when you moaned in pleasure from your first sip.

“Mmm.”

He couldn’t move a nanometer. He couldn’t swallow the sip he had taken from his own drink. He could only listen to you, hear your ethereal sound reverberate within the walls of his head.

“God, this is so good. Where did you find this place?”

Hyuntak gapes at your plush lips, the gate to all the pretty sounds that could be elicited from the deepest parts of you. He can’t help but let his own lips tingle at the ghost of what yours might feel like against them, what they’d look like wrapped around his tip–

“Hyuntak?”

He thinks he can feel the hot blood that was rushing to his cock freeze in his vessels.

He swallows. “Huh?”

“I said, it tastes so good, where do you keep finding these places?”

Your eyes look so innocent peering at him, so oblivious to the dirty picture Hyuntak had painted of you, of your lips, your sound…

“Oh. I just, I guess I know my way around the city,” he muses, “I like to try new things, new places out.”

“Well, keep trying out new places,” you say. Then, you take another sip, “Mmm, it’s so good, Hyuntak.”

Yeah, taking you here was definitely a mistake.

The semester was nearing an end, and so came the final round of assignments.

A wave of tension had ambushed the entire collegiate crowd. The library was full to the brim with students cramping over assignment materials and lecture content, the hallways of each building were full of chatter either discussing chapter solutions or champagne problems. No one had missed being swallowed by this sea of stress.

You and Hyuntak had succumbed to it fully.

“This question makes no sense,” Hyuntak muttered, slowly swaying himself in a chair in the empty classroom you’d both colonized, staring at the assignment question that lit up his laptop screen, chewing down on his lip and winding a pencil through his long fingers.

You stood before him facing the black board, chalk painting your fingers as you scrutinized the scribbles you had flowered the board with, trying to make sense of the question at hand.

“There was something similar to this in chapter thirteen, but it’s not quite the same...” you murmured.

Hyuntak forces out a heavy huff. You shuffle to face him.

“We can stop now, we’ve put in a good amount of work, and we’re making progress,” you suggested, watching his form swaying, basking atop the chair like he owned the entirety of the university.

He was clad in a tight black t-shirt. You couldn’t help but wonder at his biceps, swoll from crossing his arms. His legs were spread, concealed in black sweats to match. His hair, tousled over his eyes from his veiny hand raking through his strands each time he felt a slap of tension gifted from the assignment question. And his eyes, god his devil eyes, they drank your figure in like red wine.

He sighed, still eying you. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s stop here.”

You nodded and turned to collect your things.

There was a pause, and then, “Would you…”

Your head swiveled to face Hyuntak again, your hand reaching into your tote with your pencil case. “Mhm?”

Hyuntak had stopped swaying, his feet planted against the floor. His biceps, still crossed against his chest, swelled at you. His bottom lip rolled between his teeth.

“Would you wanna come over to mine on Saturday?” His voice is timid, but it doesn’t waver, “We can finish working on the assignment. And, I can make us ramen.”

Hyuntak blurted the last comment in hopes of further persuading you into his humble abode. Luckily for him, it seemed to have worked, and he almost clutched his chest as his heart fluttered to the ring of your giggle.

“Sure, I’ll see you Saturday,” you smile, “Promise you’ll make it good?”

Hyuntak grins and sticks out his pinky.

Saturday had circled around, and Hyuntak was circling around his coffee table, kneeling to, once again, fix the vanilla-scented candle—the one he had bought and lit just for you—before moving it back to its original place, when you knocked at his door.

Hyuntak heaved himself up off his carpeted floor. His heart was steady, his lungs didn’t betray him, and his nose was happily lazing in the scent of warm ramen and vanilla, but he still found himself wiping his hands across the front of his sweatpants as he walked over to the door, his hands scrunching at the soft material before reaching for the knob.

He pulled it open, revealing you on the other side, and he swears he feels his heart stop for a millisecond.

You looked the way you always did, if anything, you were just a little more undone. Bare faced, your delicate hair combed back in a clip. You had worn a flimsy black t-shirt—gosh, no bra?—that fit snug along your torso, and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on your hips. Your tote was slung over your shoulder, and your linear algebra textbook was pressed between your forearms and trunk.

You hoisted your textbook snug against your chest once you took in Hyuntak, his welcoming frame swallowed in one of his favourite blue hoodies.

It takes a second for Hyuntak to find his words before he’s welcoming you into his apartment.

“Hey, come in,” he started, “did you find the place okay?”

You scrambled through the door, giving him a smile. “Yeah, it wasn’t too bad.”

He’s closing the door behind you when you shimmy your feet out of your shoes. “That’s good–”

“I think I figured it out!” You declared, traipsing over to his coffee table in a hurried skip.

He watched you take out your supplies, organizing them across the surface of his coffee table, adoring your grace and need for order.

He feels warm, his lips spread in a closed smile, and he thinks the ramen will just have to wait until you’ve had a chance to giddily fill him in on all your ideas.

He carries himself over to the couch and plops down. You sat with your back turned to him, kneeling in front of the coffee table, laying out the notes you had written up since your last study session.

You’re too far for him to hear all the solutions your incredible brain had come up with, so Hyuntak pats the spot next to him. You turn your head.

“Get up here, let me hear your theories.”

Your eyes gaze into his before traveling down to his hand on the couch. You nod.

Collecting your things and joining him on the couch, you start handing him your notes, reciting the details of the solution you had been working towards. He nods along, listening to you ramble about how chapter thirteen had been conjoined to some topics in chapter fifteen, or at least that’s what he’s able to make out of it.

Hyuntak can’t concentrate with your thigh brushing against his every time you move around to grab another sheet or book or pencil. He’s holding your notebook, reading your writing and little scribbles, but nothing's getting through to him. He can hear your voice—your angel voice—but he’s not comprehending the jumble of letters you're spitting out.

He can hear your voice, and god he wants to comprehend you so bad, but his mind is racing, running away from his conscious morality, and taking him to a tavern that offers nothing but hot, liquid lust.

Hyuntak feels searing blood surging through his body, feels it pool into the rod between his legs. His face is starting to heat up, and he’s afraid of leaving moist fingerprints on your pretty notes. His breath is starting to gallop, his chest raising just a bit higher and falling just a tad deeper. Hyuntak, who had grown to be so cool and calm around you, was now hot and desperate, and instead needed you around him.

Your thigh feels so supple against his, feels so grippable. Hyuntak can’t help but wonder what both of them would feel like pressing into the sides of his face–

“Hyuntak, are you listening?”

You’re looking at him, your eyes kind, pitifully unaware of how Hyuntak had you spread out in his head.

“Huh?” Hyuntak doesn’t think he can conjure any other sound, let alone move any muscle in his body. Your notebook rests in his lap, balancing against the wrath of a hardening cock you were faultlessly oblivious to.

Your lips tug into a mellow frown. “I was telling you how we approached the matrix incorrectly in the beginning. Hold on, maybe I should just show you the textbook chapter I’m referring to.”

You turn towards the coffee table and reach over for the textbook, bending just enough for the dainty lace of your white panties to peak over the band of your sweatpants.

Hyuntak thinks he might cry.

“Y/N…” It comes out as a soft mumble, just audible enough to get your attention, wisping out of his mouth and traveling through the now viscous, honey-like air.

You swivel towards him, the textbook sitting in your lap. The lace of your panties shy back into hiding.

“Mhm?”

You’re gazing at him with those godforsaken prudent angel eyes. His feel so heavy, so full of heat and desire, and he’s staring at you with them, begging you to unravel the things you were doing to his body.

He thinks you need a little help, so he lifts the notebook from his lap, unveiling his aching cock stretching into the tightening fabric of his sweats.

He watches your eyes shift to the subtle action, watches the skin around them spread back, and—fuck, your pupils are dilating?

His breathing has deepened, and his dark eyes droop into begging slits. He needs you so bad, has been needing you all these months, but he doesn’t just need your body.

“These weren’t my intentions,” his voice is so low, so gentle, bordering on a whisper, “please believe me. I’ve liked you for– fuck, I don’t know, a millenia I think.”

His eyes wash all over your face, searching for any indication of a reaction, perhaps even reciprocity. He follows your eyes traveling back up to meet his.

Your gaze is velvety, eyes heavy-lidded and chasmic. You’re staring at his lips, parting with each deep breath he takes.

“Do you like me too?” Hyuntak’s heartbeat hurts. His heart rhythmically hammers against its thoracic confines.

You nod. His heart cramps.

He needs to hear you, has to savour his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet confession.

One of his hands slowly reaches up to the clip imprisoning your hair, unclipping it and letting your hair brush down your neck.

The clip falls from his hand and onto the space on the couch behind you. He snakes his hand past your hair, lets his fingers graze into a delicate hold on the back of your neck. He gently rubs.

“Words, baby.”

You think you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“I like you, too, Hyuntak,” you murmur.

Hyuntak exhales.

“Please, can I kiss you?” It’s a muted whimper.

You pry the textbook and sheets of notes off your lap, pushing them onto the couch beside you, before you lean into Hyuntak, answering him more viscerally than he had calculated.

The hand on your neck is hooking you in, responding to your movement.

The heavy lids of your eyes give up, closing to a shut.

You definitely can’t breathe now, and there’s no point in trying because your lips are molding into the plush pinkness of Hyuntak’s.

It’s such a desperate kiss, you're both moving into the plushness of the other. You think you can taste his hunger on his lips, and you think you might wail because he tastes starved.

Hyuntak swats your notebook onto the couch beside him, fingers gripping into the supple flesh of your neck and slowly grazing down your back. His hand falls to your hip, squeezing it, his other hand clutching your opposite thigh to work you onto his lap.

Your body yields to him. Lips still moving into one another, you let him guide your hips onto his.

You break away, noses grazing, breaths deep. And then, you’re latching back onto each other.

The seconds melt, stretching like honey between your mouths. It’s slow, then urgent, and everything in between. It’s you and Hyuntak pouring months of anticipation and desperation into each other. Your lips are swelling against the other, saliva mixed into a drowsy potion that you both keep lapping at.

Hyuntak’s hands are gripping onto your hips, and you find yourself grinding your heat down into his hardness. He groans, his sound reverberating into you, and grips harder, pushing himself up into you. His body responds to you unconsciously.

Your lips are melting into one another, your hips are joined right where you both needed each other, separated by what you both thought was too much fabric. The leisurely friction heats the slit between your legs. You feel the hard curve of his cock rubbing the moistening patch on your panties into your hole.

Hyuntak’s hands are silking their way into your shirt, rubbing and gripping your bare waist, when he breaks away.

He’s panting, his voice hoarse, nose chafing yours. “Bedroom?”

“Please.”

And then your lips drive back into each other.

You’re wrapping your arms around his neck, his around your waist, when he pushes the two of you into a stand, staggering across his apartment to his bedroom with your body pressed against his. Your hands are feeding into his hair, tugging, luxuriating in the softness of his strands. You feel him moan against your lips.

When you break away, it’s almost painful. You didn’t need to breathe anymore, you just needed his mouth on yours, lips working into yours, sucking your tongue against his.

He lowers you onto his bed, and you finally get to see what had become of him.

His lips are swollen, red and covered in a blend of your spit, parted to let the string of quick, deep breaths flow out of him. His hair is fluffed, strands sticking out to where your hands had been, almost aching, reaching out for your touch again. Dark strands loll over his eyes, his heavy, heavy eyes that crawl over your body, licking, biting, sucking at your supple skin with his leaden gaze.

You’re no different. Your pout has swelled, pink and wet. Your nipples pebble against the material of your shirt, breasts raising with each hallowing breath that flutters past your lips, weeping out for his hands to touch them. You’re leaning back on your hands, your legs spread into brackets fit just for Hyuntak’s frame.

His hands reach back and grab onto his hoodie, pulling it over his head, letting it fall from his pulsing forearm and to the ground.

His golden skin looks so warm to touch, and you think you might reach out to graze your fingers down the ridges of his tight torso, but Hyuntak is already moving.

He’s leaning down into you, his arms caging your waist, warm hand brushing along your lower back. He’s catching your lips in an embrace, softly sucking onto your bottom lip, licking it and letting it swell in his mouth, then pulls away to look at you.

His fingers rub the fabric of your t-shirt between their tips. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

There’s a warm glint in his eyes, and then he nods. His hands slide under your shirt, savouring the heat of your waist, before lifting it up and over your head.

There’s an inviting coolness in Hyuntak’s room, and it hits your fiery skin, dousing over the upper half of your body, hardening your nipples even more.

You peek up at Hyuntak.

He’s already gazing at you, eyes soft, smooth like melted milk chocolate, slowly breathing through his nose. Your shirt falls from his hand, onto the blue pool of his hoodie.

Hyuntak is taken by the sight of your half-naked body. He thinks he nearly salivates when his eyes fall over your pretty tits, the most beautiful pair he thinks he’ll ever see. Perfect, simply because they were yours. He can’t help but let his tongue scrape against the roof of his mouth, trying to mimic the way he wants to lave over your hardened nipples.

There’s a genial quirk to his swollen lips. Your cheeks start to flush, heating from the warmth of his gaze, and you feel a wistful smile takeover your features.

Hyuntak leans back down into you. A strong arm curves against your back, the pads of his fingers whisper with the soft hairs prickling across the back of your neck.

He delicately pulls you down against his mattress, and you let him. His forearm rests near your head, keeping him above you as he kisses you again, slow and wet.

His bare torso is so warm against yours. He’s bent over the edge of his bed, grinding down into you again. Your thighs are grazing his flanks, heels pressing into the edge of his bed, hips grinding up to answer his, scavenging for more traction.

Hyuntak’s arm is pressing your body into his, desperately trying to dissolve your beings together. The feeling of your tits rubbing against his chest makes him shiver with anticipation.

His big hand skims down your back, circling lazily over your waist. It climbs higher up, inching closer to your breast, until his palm smoothes over your peak.

You sigh into his mouth, and Hyuntak is urged to give you more, whatever you need, so he can hear more of your ethereal sounds.

He gathers as much of you as he can into the cup of his hand, pressing into your pretty tit, and gives it a soft squeeze. You moan into him, and he bucks his hips harder into you.

His thumb murmurs slowly over your nipple, rubbing a languid circle around it, rousing a whine from the back of your throat.

Hyuntak groans, pulling away from your lips with a pop, and plants an urgent kiss to the corner of your mouth. He kisses down your jaw, mouth open and hot, onto your neck, gently sucking at your skin.

You’re too swept in the feeling of his hot lips loitering down your complexion to realize Hyuntak has a destination in mind.

His tongue flattens over your pebbled nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

“Mmmm.”

Hyuntak sucks harder, swirling his tongue over the tip of your peak. His hand is pushing more of your breast into his mouth.

Your lips vibrate with moans. Your slick is pooling into your panties, splurging within your pussy lips with each grind Hyuntak offers. Your toes curl into the comforter because of how desperately you're pushing your hips into his. One of your hands is clutching at his hard shoulder, the other basking through his hair.

You needed more, god you needed so much more.

You're pulling Hyuntak’s head off your chest, your fingers gripping into his hair. His lips suck off your nipple, leaving it with a sheen of his saliva, a thin sliver of spit being the only thing connecting him to your breast.

He pops off with a moan, eyes shut tight at the feeling of your tugging at him. He opens them, lids shadowing his sight with desire.

Your eyes are pleading, soaking him in. “Need more, Hyune.”

Hyuntak feels your order shoot straight to his throbbing dick, then nods.

And his lips are back on your skin, soft as sin.

“I’ll give it to you, baby, gonna give it to you so good,” he murmurs against you, moving down your body.

His fingers hook into the band of your sweats. “M’gonna make you feel so good.”

You’re up, leaning back against your forearms. You lift your hips to let him tug your sweats off your legs.

He draws them off, kneeling in between your legs on the edge of the bed. His hands skim over your legs, fingers trailing absentmindedly over the expanse of your skin.

You’re an angel beneath him, almost bare on his sheets if not for your white panties, the cute little bow that decorates the waistband inviting Hyuntak to unwrap you. His eyes dance over you, over the wet patch that renders the fabric just under your hole translucent.

Fuck, you were a wet dream, the most beautiful, cinematic wet dream rejuvenated into reality, spread out just for him, soaking just for him. Hyuntak takes in your angel form, and he is wreaked.

You were lying there all pretty, on his bed, and Hyuntak can’t help but think the months of prowling with the torturous feeling your presence gave him was irrefutably worth it.

Hyuntak clasps a hand over one of your ankles, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder, fingers lightly grazing up and down. He grapples with the whimper that threatens to spill out of him.

“Look so pretty, so perfect for me.” He licks his lips. “Been such a smart girl, hm? Need to reward you.”

Hyuntak wants to stand there, idolizing you with parted lips, watching your tits expand with each of your breaths, eyes droop with need, hips twitch with hopelessness. But he has to give you what you need, has to make you feel good.

He itches to make you feel good. He has to, after all, you’d been working so hard this semester.

So, he slowly drops to his knees in front of you and pulls your thighs onto his shoulders.

He can smell your heady wetness through your panties, now lucid from your deprivation. He breathes out against you.

His air cools the patch of slick. It’s a potent sensation that has your back curving off the sheets.

“Take them off, please,” it leaves your lips concealed in a whine.

Hyuntak brushes the tip of his nose against your aching bud, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to the soaked patch.

You’re cunt flutters, trying to clamp down on emptiness. You whimper.

Hyuntak slings his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, dragging them through your legs before they finally clear your feet.

He’s gripping your thighs down into his shoulders, drinking in the sight of you, bare and spread for him.

“Such a pretty cunt… my smart, beautiful girl,” he mumbles, eyes drowning in the sight of your glistening pussy, watching your stickiness pool out of you. He wants to savour you, wants to drag his tongue through you with selfishness and greed until he knows his taste buds will be coated with you for days. He wants to take his time, but you had been so good, so smart, working so hard, and you needed him so badly. The last thing Hyuntak wanted to do was deny you for his own pleasure.

He decides he’ll hold you down and savour you another time, before he crashes into you.

Hyuntak licks a thick strip from your hole to your clit. It’s such a delicious feeling, there’s a moan breaking through your voice box, and your hips are delinquently rolling themselves into his tongue.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, licking once across its surface, and letting it go. His tongue squishes through your folds, driving back to dig the tip into your hole, and doing it all over again like a broken record.

The sounds are filthy, wet with lust. You can hear Hyuntak sucking on your clit, hear his tongue squelch and squish through your slick. Moans and whimpers are clambering out of you, whether you want them to or not.

He’s sucking your bud when you feel the tip of his middle finger flit around the outskirts of your cunt. He can feel your walls clench, trying to suck him in, and he smirks against you at your need.

But he can’t hold back on you, so he lets it sink in, lets you coat his finger with your wetness, lets you squeeze around him, before he pulls it back out and glides it back in with his ring finger.

The stimulation is just right. It feels so good with his fingers slowly pumping into you, his mouth sucking and licking your aching nub. You fall back against the sheets, shutting your eyes and dragging the tips of your toes over Hyuntak’s back. Your hand trails down your front, finding his tousled locks, and you twine your fingers into them.

Hyuntak groans against you, stimulating your clit further. He curls his fingers, digging them deeper into your cunt. He slightly flexes them out when you clench around him, resisting your confines and giving you a larger stretch.

You’re breathing faster, deeper, just as Hyuntak’s fingers are working into you. You feel heat spread through your face, down into your chest and through your limbs. Your hips roll with the wave of Hyuntak’s hands. There’s a coiling at your core that has you moaning for more.

Hyuntak feels you rolling your hips harder against him, feels your thighs starting to squeeze the sides of his face, feels you tugging harder at his hair, and he knows he’s drawing you closer to a release. So he plants his fingers in deep and curls them against the spot that has you gushing, whimpering his name over and over, until finally, you twitch, your cunt clenches, fluttering open and shut, and you're a whining mess above him.

Hyuntak lets his fingers rest in your contracting cunt when he pulls away from your clit. He brings his thumb to gently rub against it, helping you come down from your release.

Hyuntak is wrecked. His lips are parted, coated with your slick that dribbles down his chin. His hair is messed from your hold, spiking out and flatted against his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, draining in how undone you are.

Your sweet, swollen lips are parted, deep pants escaping through them and making your breasts heave with each breath. You let go of his hair, dragging your hand up to grip onto the sheets near your head.

He watches you, and soon becomes aware of his hips bucking against the side of his bed, trying to catch a release of his own.

He’s so hard it hurts, so wet he’s soaked a small patch of his own through his boxers and into the material of his sweats.

Hyuntak doesn’t think his body has ever been so desperate for someone. He’s desperate for you, the girl who’s been unintentionally tampering with his breathing, setting his heart ablaze with white fire, making his palms sweat up a sixth ocean for the past few months.

And now, Hyuntak thinks he finally has you desperate for him, right where he wants you, leaking onto his sheets and moaning his name.

Hyuntak was the most fortunate idiot in the world.

“Did so good, baby, you look so pretty right now,” he sighs, licking at the taste of you on his lips. You peek open your eyes and take him in.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you with a squelch, leaving you empty and squeezing onto nothing.

“Wanna taste?”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He brings his fingers to your lips, coats them with your wetness. They part just enough for him to slide them in. You drag your tongue around them, sucking them further into your mouth, and Hyuntak strains to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. He thinks he might cum from watching you, feeling you, so he pulls his fingers back, enduring your suction.

They latch off with a pop.

“Want you inside, Hyune. Fuck me, please,” you’re mumbling.

Hyuntak was going to combust. Your words grip onto his paining dick, and he’s bounding onto his feet.

His thumbs slide under the waistband of his boxers, and he pushes them down with his sweats. His cock is springing out, bobbing against his lower stomach, veins pulsing out of his skin. His tip is sticky, glossed over with his precum.

“I have some condoms, Hu-min gave them to me,” he clarifies with a mutter, hoping you don’t get the idea that he's been anticipating sexual encounters, “I’ll grab one–”

“No,” you murmur, “Want you bare.”

Gosh, were you trying to kill him?

He gapes at you. “Are you– are you sure?”

You lazily nod, heaving, back still arched. “I cleared my test, and I’m on birth control.”

He takes a second to process what you said, process the fact that you wanted him bare inside you, then slowly nods, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “Okay… okay, I tested negative, too.”

He mounts himself onto the bed, kneeling before you, fingers rubbing over your knees. You’re slowly breathing, looking up at him with your fucked out eyes.

“You’re sure, baby?”

“Yes.”

And then Hyuntak is caging himself over you, sliding his hand up your thigh and hooking it over his hip.

“Wrap your legs around me, pretty girl.” You obey him.

He hoists you closer to his abdomen and shifts you up until your head digs into his pillows. He lowers himself onto his forearms, his fingers looping into your hair, the soft strands that stray over the pillows.

Your gaze is drowsy, reaching out into his eyes and drawing him in. Hyuntak is reeling his head lower, giving into your spell. His lips feather over your own until he’s pressing them down into a kiss far too innocent for your current arrangement.

Your legs, wrapped snug over Hyuntak’s hips, drag him down until the length of his cock rubs into your wettening folds and he’s whining into your mouth.

He pulls back his head. God, he needs to be in you so bad.

He snakes a hand down to line himself against your hole, rubbing his tip against you, making you writhe your hips for more.

“Please, Hyuntak,” you whimper, and that’s enough to do him over.

Hyuntak sinks into you, and you moan in tandem.

Your walls are so hot, so inviting, hugging around him like you never want him to leave. He’s pushing himself in, feeling each of his inches get sucked in by your confines.

He looks into your half-open eyes. “Okay?”

“Mmm, Hyune, feels so good, so full.”

He breathes out a moan, dropping his head into your shoulder. Your reassurance drives all the scorching blood in his body to the only part of him that’s buried in you.

Hyuntak slowly pulls himself back out, dragging his veiny rod against your pulsing walls, before he’s sinking himself back into you, filling you full.

He flattens his hand against your back, curving you into his chest, feeling your tits press into him. Then, he’s grabbing onto your hip so he can really start pounding into you.

The squelch of your pussy around his pumping cock fills the room, your little gasps and broken whimpers serenade the fibres in his ears. His open mouth rests against the base of your neck, wreaked moans sinking into your warm skin. Your hands are in his already unkempt hair, nails digging into his neck and scraping over his upper back.

He’s fucking into you slow, deliberate, letting you feel all his passion, trying to get you to acknowledge the hard times you had given him, or rather, all the times you had gotten him hard. He wasn’t greedy before, but now? Hyuntak believes he has all the right to take you exactly how he wants.

Make you feel the stretch of his cock in your gushing cunt.

Make you whimper and whine over the loving manner with which he pumps himself into you.

He snaps his hips, squeezes onto yours, and grinds his dick deeper into you. His tip grazes your g-spot, and you clench around him, trying to keep him in, trying to make him stay there and rutt into your spot over and over until you’re coming for him all over again. You squeeze your legs around him, attempting to bury him further into you.

But Hyuntak pulls himself out with a groan, pushing against the hold of your cunt and legs. He bucks himself deep inside you again and pulls out with a fastened pace.

He’s so hard, so deep, but he’s still so gentle, so raw. His fingers are wreathing through your hair, the pad of his thumb is circling over your hip bone, and he’s mumbling against the supple skin of your neck.

“Taking me so well, baby, fuck.”

“Feel that? Feel how hard you made me? It’s all for you, just for you.”

“Been getting me so hot and hard for months. Gonna fuck it all into you now, m’gonna make you take it.”

You’re whining at his words, rolling your hips to match his pace.

The hand on your hip is smoothing over your lower stomach, his palm pressing into it when he pounds into your g-spot again. You’re whimpering at the friction of his tip against your sweet spot, gripping whatever part of him you can get your hands on. Then, he’s sliding his hand down, his fingers pushing your swollen clit out from under its hood, and rubbing down into it.

The pressure is enough to make you twitch, chasing your second release. Hyuntak is still rutting himself into you when you feel the coil burst in the depths of your abdomen, you cunt finally giving in and clenching down on his cock again and again and again.

“God, Hyune– nngh.”

Hyuntak’s hot, heavy eyes are pouring into yours when you come undone for him again. He basks in the moans trailing out of your parted mouth, and when he hears you repeating his name, masked in lewd whines, he feels a coiling of his own brewing deep within him.

His abs tighten, arms bulge, hands gripping into your hair. His mouth falls open with groans, and he whimpers your name when the tense string finally tightens and snaps. His hips are worn, bucking into you hopelessly, wretchedly, and his deviled cock is draining your spent pussy walls with his hot seed.

He’s spurting into you, and you're clenching onto him, wrapping your tight walls around him and sucking up each drop he has to offer you.

He fucks his cum deep into you with one more thrust before his hips slow to a stop inside you. He’s still lazily rubbing over your clit, halting with a chuckle when he feels you squirm from overstimulation.

You're both panting, noses rubbing softly, and Hyuntak wants to stay like this forever, with his cock stuffing you and your cunt full of his searing cum. But he knows he can’t, and he can feel himself softening, so he delicately starts to pull himself out of you.

You let out a low mewl in protest, and Hyuntak answers you with a mellow whine of his own.

He twists himself to lay on his side next to you. His eyes wash over you, over your hair sprawled in a sea around your head on his pillows, your plush, still swelling pink lips, your eyes, now soft and kind, squinting at him when you smile up at him.

Hyuntak melts, and knows he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He wants to wrap you up in blankets and kiss you all over your glowing face, but he thinks you’d benefit more from something edible.

So, he smiles back at you and says, “I made ramen, I promised you, didn’t I?”

You giggle, your hands reaching for his neck and pulling him down to your lips.

“Maybe after one more round?” you suggest, mumbling against him, eying him with a playful twinkle.

Hyuntak thinks he feels his blood mockingly rush back into his cock, and he’s a goner.

The ramen will just have to wait. Again.

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