#wongyu

[nightshadeblooming]

well this ruined me.

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [to be released], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it. 

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing. 

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative. 

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught. 

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.  

Which was little to none. 

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe. 

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room. 

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters. 

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath. 

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through. 

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not. 

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand. 

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets. 

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks. 

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables. 

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased. 

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker. 

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around. 

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is. 

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else. 

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation. 

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did. 

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building. 

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again. 

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door. 

Nothing. 

You knock again.

Silence. 

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time. 

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor. 

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do. 

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek. 

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance. 

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit. 

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore. 

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other. 

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something. 

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag. 

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you. 

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door. 

“—long…” 

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room. 

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now. 

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back. 

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class. 

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately. 

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table. 

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t. 

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face. 

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over. 

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm. 

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A. 

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath. 

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen. 

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in. 

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found. 

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait. 

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain. 

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares. 

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing. 

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room. 

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves. 

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management. 

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table. 

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation. 

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you. 

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?” 

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went. 

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be. 

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such. 

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory. 

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores. 

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head. 

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics. 

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind. 

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat. 

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you. 

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait. 

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him. 

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether. 

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality. 

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student. 

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading. 

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables. 

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin. 

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason. 

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat. 

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat. 

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat. 

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do. 

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him. 

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page. 

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell. 

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know. 

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer. 

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words. 

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand. 

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger. 

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did. 

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag. 

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue. 

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.” 

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you. 

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind. 

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more. 

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.” 

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort. 

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.” 

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear. 

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation. 

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable. 

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of. 

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh. 

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday. 

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch. 

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early. 

Something isn’t right. 

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job. 

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him. 

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!” 

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach. 

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer. 

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know. 

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.” 

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education. 

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?” 

��Have you seen the time?” 

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you. 

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself. 

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair. 

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.” 

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.” 

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke. 

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.” 

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.” 

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?” 

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class. 

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile. 

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe. 

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.” 

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to. 

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply. 

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned. 

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic. 

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is. 

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes. 

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about. 

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons. 

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full. 

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return. 

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book. 

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up. 

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard. 

“I’m assuming…” you start. 

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible. 

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks. 

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind. 

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you. 

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend. 

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you. 

You sniffle. 

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal. 

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater. 

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you. 

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest. 

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question. 

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that. 

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him. 

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes. 

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse. 

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused. 

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation. 

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises. 

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?” 

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger. 

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you? 

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?” 

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before. 

His eyes are bloodshot. 

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin. 

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it. 

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch. 

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again. 

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed. 

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday. 

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset. 

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click. 

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself. 

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to. 

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you. 

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong. 

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most. 

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again. 

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him. 

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom. 

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it. 

Everything. You tried everything. 

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday. 

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it. 

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash. 

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements. 

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway. 

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another. 

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect. 

Estimation cannot be perfect. 

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

              ——————

                     P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

 it gets less complicated

 promise :/ 

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM. 

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like. 

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal. 

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds. 

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language. 

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note. 

Bright pink sticky note. 

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that. 

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag. 

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours. 

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are. 

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better. 

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it. 

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely. 

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf. 

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday. 

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears. 

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate. 

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway. 

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught. 

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension. 

You’re off centre. But it’s fine. 

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour. 

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else. 

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference. 

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

—  92/100

It’s Wednesday. 

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost. 

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things. 

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up. 

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view. 

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before. 

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense. 

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning. 

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes. 

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two. 

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages. 

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret. 

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live. 

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one. 

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true. 

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night. 

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself. 

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet. 

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial. 

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt. 

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether. 

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth. 

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10 

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01. 

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with. 

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before. 

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of. 

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place. 

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. 

It’s Saturday. 

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same. 

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too. 

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice. 

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand. 

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name. 

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.” 

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.” 

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further. 

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.” 

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual. 

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls. 

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily. 

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition. 

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle. 

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page. 

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator. 

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag. 

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work. 

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and  disappearing before going back to normal. 

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait. 

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set. 

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value. 

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely. 

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library. 

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students. 

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click. 

There’s an attached file in the email you draft. 

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version. 

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact. 

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own. 

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again. 

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you. 

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider. 

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well? 

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week. 

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox. 

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar. 

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this. 

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox. 

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop. 

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen. 

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him. 

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift. 

Clicking on the notification, the email opens. 

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes. 

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home. 

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly. 

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before. 

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward. 

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather. 

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is. 

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend. 

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed. 

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both. 

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do. 

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now. 

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you. 

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting. 

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains. 

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.” 

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late. 

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice. 

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?” 

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in. 

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.” 

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.” 

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.” 

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly. 

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled. 

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.” 

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears. 

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?” 

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words. 

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?” 

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm. 

“You know what?” he rasps. 

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap. 

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own. 

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom. 

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close. 

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint. 

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream. 

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours. 

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you. 

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected. 

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch. 

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.  

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself. 

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?” 

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition. 

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs. 

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.” 

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll. 

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.” 

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October. 

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face. 

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.” 

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?” 

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you. 

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.” 

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice. 

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes. 

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.” 

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you. 

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again. 

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.” 

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click. 

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend. 

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to. 

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough. 

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both. 

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students. 

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place. 

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you. 

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face. 

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way. 

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead. 

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine. 

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool. 

There’s a ding in the background. 

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether. 

Another ding. 

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding. 

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt. 

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end. 

“Gyu…” you whisper. 

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped. 

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso. 

His phone begins to ring again. 

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now. 

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily. 

The ringing stops. 

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage. 

There’s a ding. 

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again. 

“Oh for fuck��s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest. 

“You should answer.” 

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.” 

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone. 

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up. 

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear. 

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect. 

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort. 

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you. 

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply. 

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing. 

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth. 

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt. 

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway. 

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs. 

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too. 

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head. 

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice. 

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt. 

“Do you wanna come in too?” 

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment. 

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season. 

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed. 

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer. 

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head. 

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing. 

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight. 

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. 

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right. 

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out. 

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table. 

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest. 

“Hm? I think so.” 

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly. 

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea. 

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not. 

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer. 

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?” 

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in. 

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway. 

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory. 

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it. 

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins. 

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear. 

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach. 

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.” 

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.” 

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length. 

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive. 

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks. 

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach. 

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in. 

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want. 

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place. 

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue. 

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room. 

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth. 

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you. 

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him. 

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear. 

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch. 

I might love you too. 

You hide that as well. For now. 

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early 

[Mingyu]: be there in 5 

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics. 

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not. 

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost. 

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly. 

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray. 

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it. 

“Good thing I came back early, hm?” 

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that. 

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers. 

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?” 

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets. 

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland. 

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest. 

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you. 

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you. 

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend. 

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification. 

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions. 

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better. 

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself. 

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction. 

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look. 

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling. 

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.” 

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown. 

“Rumour has it,” he starts. 

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good. 

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming. 

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone. 

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you. 

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes. 

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth. 

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns. 

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss. 

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you. 

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach. 

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors. 

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time. 

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed. 

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop. 

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him. 

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long. 

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man. 

Mingyu was beautiful either way. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features. 

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there. 

“More than okay,” you mumble. 

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling. 

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly. 

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.” 

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.” 

You can only grumble in mild annoyance. 

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss. 

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting. 

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know. 

“I think I might love you too.” 

[find-krp]

hi ! i'm a 23 year old lit - to novella writer ! i'm currently looking for any seventeen 1x1 rp! whether this is member fcs or canon not, idm! i've just been craving writing them ~~ my main ships that i'm interested in is jihan, wongyu & jeongcheol! i'm into darker, more mature plots (nsfw is ok!) and i love making friends w/ my partners! i usually write on **discord!**

pls interact if interested.

[celestialsoyeon]

Seungkwan centric

wc: 1,24k

content: overexertion, working, good ending

Seungkwan knew it was coming. He had been feeling off for quite a long time, but kept pushing through, not able to really put the finger on what was wrong.

Vernon had seen it. He had warned him, tried to get him to see a doctor and get checked out. But his friend hadn’t listened to him, thinking he was just being overprotective. 

Turns out Vernon was right. It wasn’t just exhaustion, it was so much more severe than this.

He didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Moreover, Vernon didn’t seem interested in having more than just friendship with him. He didn’t want to ruin the whole group’s dynamic. Rather die. They all had worked too much to achieve all this to screw it all up now.

After their Lollapalooza, the members wanted to just explore the city, taking time to go eat in a restaurant, then they would just have fun and discover this city they had never gone to before.

Seungkwan had chosen to not go alone and joined Vernon, Wonwoo, Soonyoung and Mingyu. He thought it would be a fun evening, with the WonGyu duet behaving like a married couple and Soonyoung always teasing him about the bond he shared with Vernon.

It would be a lie to say they weren’t close. However, Seungkwan would never admit loving him in something else than a friendly, brotherly way. He wasn’t ready to admit that Vernon was much more than just a friend. 

The dinner went well, their usual banter lighting the whole restaurant despite the exhaustion clinging up to them. The time difference and the adrenaline from the performance wearing off was all too much, but they just ignored it to just have a good evening together.

Seungkwan was getting really tired when they got out of the restaurant and they all decided to go back to the hotel they resided in for several days. But as soon as they got there, Soonyoung dragged them into a funny game of Just Dance.

Seungkwan was having fun but his body couldn’t keep up anymore, and after several songs, dizziness began to creep in. He sat down, ate and drank, trying to make it pass.

Vernon saw it first and immediately came to him.

“Kwanie, are you okay? You look rather pale. You should get some rest and as soon as we get back home we should get you checked.”

“I’m fine.. Don’t worry about me.. I just need to get some sleep. I think I’m going to call this a night. I’ll play Just Dance with Soonyoung hyung later.”

He tried to get up, but nearly fell down as his dizziness got stronger. Vernon held his waist and helped him lay down on one of the beds. It didn’t matter whose bed it was, all that mattered was to keep Seungkwan safe.

And it wasn’t exactly the safest option to let someone who’s dizzy and exhausted going back alone to their room. So Seungkwan would spend the night here. And he would at every moment have someone by his side in case something happened.

Vernon decided to stay by his side. He had a bad feeling about this night. He knew something was going to go wrong. He could feel it coming. He warned Wonwoo about it, and the older kept an eye out, ready to take action if needed.

Vernon saw Seungkwan’s eyelids drooping, his gaze empty, lost in void, and instantly got worried. This, coming from Seungkwan, even an exhausted one, was unusual.

He laid down on the bed and hugged him softly, taking his wrist in his hand so he could feel his pulse beating under the skin.

What he felt got him even more worried. It was too fast to his liking. There was definitely something wrong. He tried to get Seungkwan’s attention, but the vocalist didn’t respond at all. His eyes had closed.

“Kwanie? Hey, Kwanie, wake up!”

He shook him slightly, despite already feeling that he wouldn’t answer. Seungkwan was usually a light sleeper, no one would usually need to shake him or to raise their voice to get him to wake up. His lack of reaction was clearly not normal.

Vernon glanced at Wonwoo, who instantly understood something was wrong.

“Non-ah? What’s happening?”

The younger was looking anxious, his usual quiet and composed behavior shattering.

“He’s not waking up! Something’s wrong with Kwanie!”

“Oh no.. Not now.. Is he breathing?”

Vernon leaned in closer to Seungkwan, trying to feel any breathing. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt a soft blow of air on his face.

“Y-yes.. He is.. He looks sick though.. I’m worried.. He’s still not waking up and I think there’s something really wrong with him.”

“Do you want me to check his vitals? Just in case?”

He hesitated for a few seconds before nodding. He knew Wonwoo knew what he was doing and that he would be able to take action if needed. Wonwoo immediately got the first aid kit and reached out for what he needed: the blood pressure cuff and the pulse oximeter. 

When he looked at the result, surprise and worry seeped through his usual serene facade. 

“Oh.. Shit. This is not good.”

“What’s wrong?! Is it severe? Is he going to..”

“Hey, stay calm. He needs help right now. So here’s what you’re gonna do. Go get the others and after that call an ambulance. The local number is 112. I’m taking charge of the situation.”

Vernon nodded and jumped in action. Wonwoo level-headedness kept him focused and calm and he was quick to act, getting Seungcheol’s attention. The leader was the most susceptible to immediately listen to him and understand what’s wrong.

“Hyung! We need help here, something’s wrong with Seungkwan!”

Seungcheol immediately came to help, signalling Soonyoung to stop playing around. Seungkwan needed them all right now. Soonyoung immediately understood something was wrong and his expression tightened in worry.

“Oh my God.. Kwan-ah…”

His hands hovered near Seungkwan, he didn’t know what to and was feeling anxious. It wasn’t the first time Seungkwan’s body betrayed him, but it was still as scary.

Soonyoung stayed near him, looking at Vernon each time he was checking on Seungkwan, hoping he would have good news. When he saw Vernon’s face going pale and his hands moving with urgency, he knew there was no good news. 

Seungkwan’s condition had deteriorated further, the ambulance was still not here and Vernon was doing his best to keep him alive.

“Fuck, I need someone to assist me!”

Despite his rising fear, Soonyoung immediately came closer to help Vernon. He followed his instructions, clearing Seungkwan’s airway carefully by tilting his head back.

The sight of his best friend so still and lifeless sent a jolt of fear through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. 

Now wasn’t the time to break down. Seungkwan needed him more than ever. He couldn’t let him down, his life was at stake. 

His hands moved by themselves, following Vernon’s instructions. He kept giving him rescue breaths, not even noticing for how long he did that, until he heard Seungkwan coughing weakly.

He stayed alert, ready to take any action needed to help his friend.

“You’re okay, Kwan.. We’re all here. You’re going to be just fine.” 

And at that moment, he knew that even though he wasn’t out of the woods yet, they would always be fine as long as they had each other.

[jimping4jihoon]

he KNOWS what he's doing but he acts like he doesn't...ugh fdjsdkl i hate him so much (i need him horrendously)

boyfie — ljh

summary: you might most definitely have the most perfect boyfie ever

tags: smau one-shot, fluff, gn reader an: this is actually real ss of me and jihoon's comversation, im just sharing to be nice 🥰

taglist: @kihyukie12 @hotricewoozi @luvthatleader-nim @lorde-oftherings @brxzilianbaby @hoeforcheol @blxckswxnxge @raevyng @ckline35 @toruro @jeanjacketjesus @namjoonbaby @n4mj00nvq @0717luv @lovelyhan @ovai @wolfgurl2600-blog @scorpiobitch88 @im-gemmy @lllucere @tulipgarland4 @embrace-themagic @sulkygyu @leejihoonownsmyheart @synthetickitsune @yeosayang @miraclewoozi @d0nghyck @soonhoonietrash @violetvoo @yongi-lee @spilled-coffee-cup @morklee02 @silverrmistt @valentxi @heavenly-mobo @pandorashbox @enhacolor @starlight-night0 @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @miriamxsworld @just-here-to-read-01 @sunnyteume @strawberri-uyu

join my NEW taglist: here!

[sluttywonwoo]

Oh no you just had to put the idea of the america line threesome in my head... now i'm thinking of literally all the possible threesome pairings... jeongcheol, jihan, seoksoo, wongyu etc... the junhao and vernkwan pairings might be interesting though... 🪼

hehe my b

[c-hamdeok]

informações

Nome completo: Ok Wongyu

Data de nascimento: 16 de dezembro de 1999

Local de nascimento: Busan, Coreia do Sul

Entrou no complexo: 2019

Esporte: Surfe

Pavilhão: Argentum

Perfil: @hdcgyu

Faceclaim: Mingi (ATEEZ)

entrevista

Vamos começar pelo início. Conte-nos, brevemente, sobre sua família, sua infância e adolescência. Em que momento percebeu que queria ser atleta? Foi algo específico ou um desejo que cresceu em você?

Bom do início...? Eu nasci aqui, no caso, em Busan! Sou filho de uma jornalista e um instrutor de mergulho, meio nada a ver mas deu certo. Com uns quatro anos, meus pais decidiram buscar novos ares e acabaram se mudando pra Gold Coast na Austrália, eles eram jovens e até que bem sucedidos. Foi bem fácil me adaptar, fiz amigos muito rápido e quando dei por mim já estava fazendo aulas de surfe por influência do meu pai, o cara é o maior fã do esporte. Eu passava muito tempo com ele, tanto no mar quanto em praias, e foi ali que me apaixonei; o amor foi crescendo, se tornando algo mais sério quando comecei a competir e aí percebi que era pra vida toda.

Qual sua lembrança mais marcante, seja como espectador ou em sua carreira, relacionada ao seu esporte? E ainda sobre lembranças marcantes, existe alguém que te inspirou e inspira até hoje? Por quê?

Minha lembrança mais marcante foi de uma viagem que fiz com meu pai, ele me levou pra surfar em ondas muito maiores do que eu estava acostumado quando eu tinha sei lá uns 15? E aquele dia marcou minha transição de um surfista iniciante para alguém que começou a se entender como atleta. Quanto à inspiração, minha mãe sempre foi uma grande fonte de inspiração mesmo sendo jornalista e com uma carreira bem distinta da minha. Ela sempre me ensinou a ser determinado e a buscar o que me faz feliz, algo que faço até hoje.

Pode nos contar, brevemente, sobre sua trajetória no esporte até o momento? E como é o seu reconhecimento dentro do cenário esportivo?

Comecei a surfar ainda pirralho fazendo parte da Gold Coast Surf Academy e fui aos poucos me destacando nas competições locais, não é querendo me gabar... mas os caras falavam que eu era tipo um prodígio. Em 2019 participei da minha primeira competição grande o que me rendeu um quase bronze, quando por indicação de um amigo antigo da família voltamos para a Coreia e eu passei pra Hamdeok meus pais decidiram ficar de vez. Hoje, posso dizer que sou reconhecido principalmente por me destacar nos campeonatos e pelas medalhas que consegui. Reconhecimento esse que vem, principalmente, da consistência que tenho mostrando ao longo dos anos.

Como atleta, quais as maiores dificuldades que você enfrenta no dia a dia? Como você lida com elas?

As maiores dificuldades são, sem dúvida, o desgaste físico e as expectativas em relação aos resultados. Como surfista, o mar não é algo controlável, então você tem que lidar com um cenário imprevisível e o cansaço físico de estar sempre pronto pra próxima onda. Acho que pra não enlouquecer nesse tipo de situação o lance é manter a mente pelo menos um pouco equilibrada, além disso, eu sempre conto com o apoio da minha família, que, acabam dando um gás nos momentos difíceis.

O que torna o Hamdeok Complex diferente para você em comparação aos outros Centros de Treinamento Olímpico?

O Hamdeok Complex é aquele lugar onde você não só treina duro, mas também tem o equilíbrio que o corpo e a mente precisam. Eu gosto de como eles cuidam de tudo – desde o treino até o descanso. Tem uma vibe diferente, mais descontraída, mas com todo o suporte necessário pra crescer como atleta. No outro centro que passei, era um pouco mais tenso, focando no “resultado rápido”.

atributos

dedicação: 1

determinação: 1

equilíbrio: 2

sorte: 3

versatilidade: 1

qualificações

Jogos Asiáticos (2019) - 4° lugar (Korean Team)

Olimpíadas de Verão (2020) - 1° lugar (Hamdeok Complex)

Jogos Mundiais (2021) - 1° lugar (Hamdeok Complex)

Jogos Asiáticos (2023) - 2° lugar (Korean Team)

Jogos Nacionais de Verão (2024) - 3° lugar (Hamdeok Complex)

[another-fckn-incorrect-svt-blog]

Mingyu: Oh my god... I think I have a crush on Wonwoo.

Minghao: Congratulations! You are officially the last person to know.

[thegirlwhoimagined]

OH MY GOD THIS WAS SOOOOO GOOD

Like honestly, I loved the story progression because it genuinely felt like how two real people who are interested in each other would interact and slowly learn each other, rather than two characters. Both Cheol and reader were really multifaceted and I really liked it ALOT.

I also loved that when you talked about the characteristics of Leos and how they can seem aloof which can either intimidate or inspire, and we got to see it in real time in Biker!Cheol. Like the characterisation was literally perfect.

Special shoutout for making Shua and Sumin such good friends to reader, I loved both of them too. AND THE EXPANSION ON THE BIKERVERSE WAS SOOOO CUTE. Can't believe WonGyu and Angel have a baby now🥺🥺🥺🥺

Def one of my fav works of yours

dark protector

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Prologue

It’s been six months since your breakup. Six months of self-work and healing practices. Six months of connecting with your spirit guides, hoping you can work through this dark period of your life and come out the other side.

You’ve just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, where you work as an emergency room nurse. Cleaning up other people’s messes makes you feel a little more whole every day, it shows you that while your wounds might be deeper than the skin, you have the resources to fix things that seem unfixable.

After a shower, you slump onto your couch, your hands reaching for one of your tarot decks. It’s as if you can feel the energy radiating off your spirit animal cards, and you remove them carefully from the box, holding them close to your chest.

“Spirit,” you say softly. “I think I’m finally ready to try dating again. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll end up in the same situation as last time, finding a man who needs to be fixed- I know my pattern is finding broken men, and I’m done with that. I need guidance. I need some sort of sign that will show up when I meet the right person.”

Part of your healing journey was writing down what traits you’d want in a partner. You’d made a list that included, ‘kind, smart, patient, stable, loyal, and protective,’ and you’d folded to your own physical tastes by writing ‘tattoos’ as well. You can’t help it, you like the way art looks on skin, and although all the tatted bad boys you’ve dated in the past have been assholes, you’re holding onto a hope that you can find a good man with tattoos. You know they’re out there, you just have to find one.

“Spirit, can you help me pull a card, and whatever animal is on that card could be a tattoo that my future significant other would have?” you ask. “Please don’t choose a lion or a wolf or something super common- I want an animal that is a little more unique, something that couldn’t just be coincidence… but, I mean, if my soulmate is meant to have a wolf then I guess I can make that work.”

You hate questioning your guides, hate putting boundaries on them. If your soulmate has a stupid, overdone tattoo like every other man with ink, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to shuffle your spirit animal deck. 

You’re not being too fast with your shuffle, you prefer to sit for a long time and wait for cards to pop out rather than force a reading with erratic motions. Focusing on your breathing, and your ask from the spirit, you wait patiently.

Soon, a card pops out, landing on the coffee table in front of you.

An Elk looks up at you, and you take a moment to assess the card before finding the guide book.

You flip to the Earth section, finding the Elk easily. There are a few keywords at the top of the reading, they say ‘Stable, resilient, headstrong, the father.’

Stable is a word you’d written into your boyfriend manifestation notes, and you consider that for a moment before reading further. 

“The great Elk represents the Earth element in its masculine form. This means it provides underlying support and stability amidst life’s many changes. An Elk personality is fully established in themselves and knows their core values. They become known and respected for acting in ways that uphold those values. Sometimes the Elk’s ego can become inflated, but for the most part, they make damn good fathers, mothers, lovers, and friends. The world needs more elk energy.”

You think about the type of man who could be stable, whether that’s financially or emotionally. You’re hoping to find a man as set and in love with his job as you are- the kind of man you could build a future with. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about kids, and the note that Elk personalities make good fathers and lovers makes the feeling of hope stir within you.

However, the Elk - like the Lion and the Wolf -  is a pretty common tattoo. 

“I’m wondering if I should ask for a second card,” you tell your guides. “This deck has numerous animals connected to zodiac signs. Fish for Pisces, Scorpion for Scorpio… I know not all zodiacs have an animal correlated to them, so I won’t use this as a defining factor, but… maybe to make things even a little more specific, could you help me pull a card to represent the zodiac sign for my future Elk tattooed boyfriend?” 

This feels like a lot. And you’re aware that there are only a few cards in this large deck that will actually connect to the zodiac, so you prepare yourself for a dud card.

You begin to shuffle, and this time, a card pops out even faster than the first. It’s face down on your coffee table, and you take a breath, willing this to be a sign.

When you flip the card, you find a lion staring up at you.

The lion is correlated with the Leo zodiac, and you swallow thickly, thinking about the traits generally connected to Leos. The words that come to mind are ‘confident, loyal, ambitious, and protective,’ two of which are traits you’d manifested.

You find your guidebook again, reading the top line of traits: “Patient, regal, a complete master.”

“The Lion is a master of the fire element and the living mascot of self-transformation. A lion personality dedicates their life to personal and spiritual growth. This dedication inspires some and intimidates others, therefore the Lion is respected by all but known intimately by few. Some mistake the Lion as hard to access or aloof, yet those with a keener eye know better. Lions are observant, stealth, and precise in their words and actions. They do not waste energy or resources. This card reminds us that self-mastery is available to all, no matter where our quest begins.”

You consider your reading as you put your deck away and head to bed. A Leo man with an Elk tattoo, someone who is patient, stable, headstrong, loyal, and maybe a little egotistical, but hopefully not in any ways that would be damaging to you like your narcissist of an ex-boyfriend.

You’re prepared to not find a man who fits this bill, but you feel a little better about narrowing down the traits you’re attracted to. Some people don’t believe in tarot, and while you can understand that, this reading has spoken to you in a way that you can’t quite explain.

There’s no timeline to the reading, and you won’t be restricting yourself waiting for a man with an Elk tattoo to sweep you off your feet, but it feels a little easier having some parameters. 

When you fall asleep, you dream of a large man standing in shadows, Elk-like antlers protruding from his head. 

One:

“Tell me again how you found out about this place?” you sigh, getting out of your best friend’s car to stare at the tattoo studio.

“God, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Sunmin rolls her eyes. “One of my sister’s boyfriend’s cousins’s boyfriends work here.”

“I’m going to need you to say that slower.”

“My sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, his cousin is dating one of the artists here, and he says they’re all super hot. And I figured, since your tarot cards told you a few months ago that you’ll find some dude with an elk, a tattoo shop is a good place to look for him.”

“Okay, but please don’t bring up the actual tarot,” you plead. “People judge me for that shit all the time.”

“My lips are sealed but my eyes will be wide open,” she grins.

The two of you enter the tattoo shop, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the hot summer outside. Your friend chats with the receptionist about her consultation with an artist named Vernon, and soon the two of you are being escorted deeper into the studio.

It’s an open plan layout, with small sections for each artist. Only one man is currently tattooing someone, and you suppose that since it’s the morning, they likely get busier as the day goes on.

There’s a large man who approaches you and your friend as you sit in Vernon’s section. “Hi! You must be Vernon’s ten o’clock consultation! I’m Mingyu. Vernon’s just chatting with our boss in the back, but he’ll be out pretty quick.”

“Hi, I’m Sunmin and this is y/n,” your friend introduces you. “We have no problem waiting.”

“Cool. I don’t have a client for a while, I can keep you guys company while you wait for Vernon if you’d like.”

“We’d love that,” Sunmin beams. 

“How did you guys hear about us?” Mingyu asks, taking a seat on the tattoo artist chair.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dating one of the guys who work here,” Sunmin explains.

“Is your sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan?” 

You’re shocked the man was able to follow what Sunmin just said.

“Yup! That’s him!” Sunmin confirms.

“Love that guy,” Mingyu grins. “Yeah, I’m dating his cousin. He told me he’d tell others about the shop but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through with it.”

“Well, here he is, following through,” Sunmin laughs. 

“So is this tattoo consult for you?”

Sunmin nods. “Yup! I’ve always liked ink, got a few small pieces, but I wanted something bigger for my thigh.” 

“How about you?” Mingyu asks. “Any future tattoo plans?”

“Not at the moment,” you respond, gaze shifting to a door that leads to the office in the back. Two men have come out, they’re both quite handsome, dressed in oversized hoodies that obscure any ink on their torsos. 

“I’ve actually been looking at elk tattoos,” Sunmin lies, “know anyone with anything like that?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but one of the men from the back is already approaching. “Hi, are you Sunmin?” he asks.

“That’s me,” your best friend beams.

“I’m Vernon,” the soft looking man smiles. Mingyu gets out of his seat, bidding a quick farewell before going back to his own section. As Vernon and Sunmin begin to talk about her tattoo plans, you find your eyes shifting to the man who must be the boss as he walks over to inspect the tattoo taking place.

He’s got a nice build, and you can see the outline of strong shoulders even from under his large black hoodie. He rolls up the sleeves, and you can see he’s heavily inked, but from a distance, you can’t make out any elk-like marks. 

Sunmin had done her best to try to ask Mingyu about a tattoo fitting what your tarot had told you to watch out for, but you suppose you shouldn’t be shocked that your soulmate isn’t in the first shop you’ve gone into. 

You relax against your chair, listening to Sunmin and Vernon talk.

You’ll do your best to find your Elk inked Leo, but you suppose you can’t rush the process.

Two: 

You’re at a bar with friends when you hear a commotion just outside. As the designated driver of the night, you haven’t touched any drinks, and although it might not be anything serious, your emergency room nurse instincts kick in, drawing you to the possible danger as you quickly make your way to the front of the bar.

You catch the tail end of what’s happening, one bouncer chasing after some guy who’s booking it down the street, and another man being held back by a second security guard. 

The man being held back looks enraged, and he manages to break out of the bouncers grasp- which is when you see blood on the back of his white shirt.

“Fuck that guy,” the injured man snarles, and when he turns, you catch a glimpse of his profile.

It’s the man from the tattoo parlour, the one you assumed was the boss.

While he looks extremely pissed off, you can’t help but approach. “Excuse me,” you say quietly, grabbing his attention. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” He looks over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt where the blood is. “Fuck, he must have grazed me.”

Must have grazed him… with a knife?

“I’m uh… I’m an ER nurse, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” the bouncer tells you, darting back into the bar.

“I’m fine,” the tattooed man tells you.

“Then there’s no harm in me taking a look to confirm that.” You try to smile softly at him.

The man looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I think I was at your parlour last week, my friend had a consult,” you explain. “I’m y/n.”

He looks you up and down. “Seungcheol.”

You can see the anger and tension dissipating from his shoulders. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the curb and I’ll look at your shoulder?” you suggest.

Seungcheol sighs, but does as he’s told. He sits down, grabbing at the back of his shirt. You catch him wince as he tugs the bloodied fabric off, and you’re shocked at what’s revealed.

It’s not the slight gash that makes you take a step back, it’s the Elk head tattoo on the center of his spine, with large antlers tangling up toward the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?’ Seungcheol asks, looking over his shoulder at you again.

“No, it’s not that.” You do your best to compose yourself, kneeling down to look at the wound, although your eyes keep going back to the Elk. 

The bouncer returns with the first aid kit, and Seungcheol sits there quietly while you clean the wound. “You’re right that it was a graze, but I still think stitches would be a good idea,” you tell him.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Seungheol responds while you press gauze to the wound, bandaging him up with medical tape. 

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like hospitals,” the beefy tattooed man says simply.

You release a sigh. “Listen, I’m going to give you my number, and if there’s any sign of infection, call me, okay?”

“You said you're an emergency room nurse, right?” he asks, standing up when you finish with his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Words evade you as you look at his chiseled chest, and you do your best not to be too obvious at the way you’re gawking at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did to piss off the dude with the knife?”

“It’s not important,” you respond quickly. “You identified it as a knife wound, and that’s all I needed to know.”

“I was in the emergency room one time, got stabbed by some kid outside a strip club, the nurses kept pestering me about the details. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like hospitals,” Seungcheol explains.

“Well, your business is your business,” you tell him. “All I care about is that your wound doesn’t get infected, and you take care of it if you’re not getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s gaze feels hot as he stares at you, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Here. For your number.”

Your fingers are shaky as you type in your digits before handing it back to him, and you can’t help but notice the way your hands briefly touch.

“I need a drink,” Seungcheol says. “You coming back inside? I’ll buy you something, as a thank you for not pestering me.”

“No thanks is necessary,” you try to assure him, but Seungcheol is already reaching for your hand.

“Don’t fight this,” he tells you. “Let me say thank you in the way that I know how.”

You allow the big burly man to guide you back into the bar. He orders himself a shot of tequila, then turns to you expectantly.

“Uh, can I get an iced tea?” you ask.

“Not drinking?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” you explain. “My friends are over there-” you turn and catch your whole table of friends staring at you. 

Seungcheol follows your gaze and smirks, offering your friends a small wave. “Okay, so you're a stay in your lane ER nurse, and you’re a designated driver.”

“That sums it up I guess,” you laugh.

“She’ll get an iced tea,” Seungcheol tells the bartender.

You like that he’s not pushing you. Some people pressure you to drink when you’re out, but you like to have your head screwed on straight on your shoulders. You never know when an emergency is going to happen, and your soul calling is helping people. On top of that, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve got a shift in five hours that you need to be sober for.

“I’m trying to find red flags with you, you know?” Seungcheol says nonchalantly. “But so far, I’m not seeing any.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have any?” you suggest.

“I’ve been told I’m a walking red flag,” Seungcheol muses. 

“Tattoos can be deceiving,” you point out, although, studies do show that people with trauma are more likely to be inked- all your ex’s have had tattoos, and they’ve all had dark pasts. You can’t help you type, and staring at the man with the elk on his back, you wonder if this is going to be just another repetition. 

Your drinks are set in front of you and you watch Seungcheol down his tequila shot. He shakes his head out a little at the taste, and you appreciate the way his dark curls look with the motion. 

“Anyways, you’re here with friends, I won’t keep you,” he sighs.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” you smile softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Seungcheol nods.

You mirror the movement, grabbing your drink and heading back to your table.

The moment you’re seated, all your friends erupt into chatter.

“Who was that?!” one asks.

“He was hot!” another friend notes.

“Wasn’t that the dude from the tattoo shop?” Sunmin questions, looking after Seungcheol. “Is he… bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s the guy from the parlour,” you sigh. “His name is Seungcheol, and yes, someone tried to stab him outside.”

“Jesus!” Sunmin’s eyes widen. “But… he bought you a drink?”

“I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it,” you explain. “He insisted on getting me a drink.”

“Well… that’s nice, isn’t it?” one of your friends says thoughtfully.

“I guess.” It’s clear you don’t want to talk about this further, and your friends quickly go back to discussing something else, but you inch closer to Sunmin. “He has a tattoo.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” she laughs.

“No, he has like… this big elk head and antlers on his back.”

“What?!” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warn her, not wanting her to raise her voice too loud so your other friends hear. You’re quite private about your spiritual leanings. Being a woman of science, and ER nurse no less, sometimes it feels like believing in fate isn’t something that works well with your job.

“We’re talking about this later,” Sunmin tells you.

“Yeah.”

You sit back, thinking about it.

Obviously your interaction with Seungcheol was short. He came off as a bit of a hot head, perhaps you’d even use the word brash- there was certainly a level of ego that radiated off of him as well, but, at the same time, he’s one of the most handsome tattooed men you’ve ever met.

You’d asked your guides for a sign, and tonight, the Elk had bared its antlered head.

Now it’s up to you to decide if you trust in fate, or if this is all just a coincidence. 

Three:

You’re about seven hours into your eight hour shift. Having started at five am, after being a designated driver and getting your friends home at three, you’re quite tired. Things were very busy for a while in the emergency room, but for whatever reason now that it’s noon, things have seemed to calm down a little.

You’re just sitting in the nurse station with your coworker Joshua when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s an unknown number, and at first, you’re not sure if you should answer it.

Against your better judgement, you bring your phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“Is this the stay in your lane ER nurse who’s also the designated driver?”

You let out a sigh. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

“Hi. So, I tried to stitch up the wound when I got home, and I’m not sure if I did a good job.”

“You tried to stitch it up?” you ask, already exasperated. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it at the bar?”

“I just didn’t,” he says simply.

“Send me a pic of the stitches,” you instruct.

“One sec.”

You wait patiently, and Joshua catches your eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ he mouths.

You quickly mute your call. “Some guy I helped at the bar last night got grazed by a knife, he didn’t want stitches, but decided to try to stitch himself up this morning.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua laughs.

“Okay, sent.” Seungcheol’s voice makes you hit the unmute button, and you open your messages to see the picture.

Joshua rolls closer, staring at your phone. While Seungcheol’s broad muscular back is a bit of a distraction, the stitch up job on the wound is sloppy, and draws most of your attention.

“Seungcheol,” you sigh. “I’m going to say this in the nicest possible way. You might be a tattoo artist, but your stitching skills are sub par at best.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then you hear a chuckle. “Someone’s in a grouchy mood.”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he looks at you for your response. 

“You would be too if you spent all yesterday sleeping, woke up to be a designated driver for your friends, got home at three and had to be at work for five.”

“Oh… are you at work now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I shouldn’t bother you then,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“It’s no bother,” you assure him. “Look, I’m off in an hour. I’ll swing by to your shop to check out the stitching. Most stitches should be sewn within six to eight hours, we’re bordering on twelve- I just want to make sure there’s no infection.”

“You should just go home after work.”

“You should listen to your ER nurse and let her help you,” you retort, too tired to argue with him over this.

Seungcheol makes a groaning sound. “Fine.”

“See you in an hour.”

You hang up the phone and Joshua looks you up and down. “What’s his deal?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Four:

You and Joshua often have the same shifts, and you carpool together to feel more green, so it’s Joshua who drives you to the tattoo parlour when you’re done work.

Seungcheol is waiting outside, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he eyes Joshua as the both of you get out of the car. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol says as you approach, “who’s this?”

“My coworker, Joshua,” you introduce them, and Joshua has the decency to hold out a hand.

You hold your breath, releasing it when Seungcheol gives him a customary curt handshake.

“He’s your ride?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh, is that a problem?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable having him around while you check out my shoulder, even if he does work with you” Seungcheol explains. “Listen, I’ve got a motorcycle and an extra helmet in the shop, how about I take you home after this?”

Both men look at you, and for a moment, you feel flustered and put on the spot.

You’ve never been on a bike before- but fuck it, you’re too tired to work through Seungcheol’s weird alpha behavior and territorial mentality about you having a male coworker with you.

“That works,” you agree. “Thanks for the ride, Josh.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he warns, pulling you in for a hug.

You can practically feel Seungcheol staring daggers at the two of you when Joshua pulls away and heads back to his car.

Seungcheol’s demeanor is a bit icy as he leads you into the shop. You notice Vernon and Mingyu. Mingyu even says a loud “Hi, y/n!” and you nod politely as Seungcheol takes you into the back office, closing the door.

“So, is that dude your boyfriend?” he asks, heading to the first aid kit already open on his desk.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last ex, uh… he did a number on me.” 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol takes off his shirt while you grab medical gloves to pull on. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” you admit with a sad laugh.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he decides.

“How about you?” you ask, softly prompting him to turn away from you on his spinny chair so you can assess the wound, gently removing the gauze. 

“What about me?” he counters.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My ex was a bit of a shit show too.”

“Well I guess we’re kindred in that at least,” you smile, leaning close to get a better look at his shoulder. 

Seungcheol shivers slightly, and you think your breath on his throat must have set him off a little, but he stays silent. You notice his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I think your stitching can stay, but I’m going to clean your wound again and rebandage it.”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol responds gruffly.

“While I’m doing this, do you mind if I ask about your tattoo? This big Elk?” You gently graze your surgical gloved pinky finger down his spine, and Seungcheol shivers again.

“Jesus, don’t do that,” he snaps.

“Sorry. It’s a pretty tattoo, I couldn’t help myself.” Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and you notice Seungcheol’s ears turning red too.

“I uh,” he swallows thickly. “My grandma was a tarot reader. She was always doing these readings, very connected to the Earth and shit. She used to tell me I had an Elk soul, like her. Something about spiritual guidance, protection, kindred souls or some shit. I’m not super into that stuff, but when she died, I kept having these stupid Elk dreams. Sort of felt like she was trying to communicate with me- if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyways, I figured if I got the tattoo, I’d feel closer to her, like she has my back.”

This is not the tattoo explanation you’d ever considered would come from a man like Seungcheol, and it takes you a few moments to register it and decide on a response.

“It sounds like you were very close with your grandma, I’m sorry that she passed.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol shrugs it off. “Shit happens.”

And just like that, he’s closing up again.

You wonder if you should tell him about your tarot connections, but you don’t want to sound like some crazy chick if you mention your spirit guides pointing you toward an Elk. Instead, you bite your tongue as you finish up his wound. 

“All done,” you announce.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything as he stands up and puts on his shirt. “What’s your address?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

You show him on the maps where you live. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? Don’t you have… clients?”

“I can get you home and be back in time for my next appointment,” he assures you. “Think of this as another way of saying thank you for fixing me up.”

So far, he’s shown two love languages. He’s bought you a drink, and now he’s doing an act of service. He’d seemed hesitant on touch today, unlike last night when he’d been drinking, and you wonder what his history in relationships is like.

It sounds like you’ve both had shitty past experiences.

You just want to figure him out.

“Have you been on a bike before?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing a small black fullface helmet off a shelf of motorcycle memorabilia. 

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“More tired than anything else,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, my Harley has a sissy bar, so you’ll be okay.”

You don’t even know what a sissy bar is, but you follow Seungcheol out to his bike anyways. 

“Here, we can put your stuff in my saddlebag,” he explains, opening a large additional compartment near the back tire of his bike. “I don’t always ride with these, but for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have them on today.”

He helps you put your work bag in his bike, and then, he helps you with your helmet, his fingers delicately grazing your throat as he tightens the strap there.

“If anything is wrong, just tap my thigh,” he tells you, swinging a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

Even with layers of protection over your ears from the helmet, his Harley is loud. It purrs, like a lion, and you stand in a daze for a moment before he makes a motion for you to hop on. 

You’re careful of his injured shoulder as you slowly get on the bike, adjusting yourself on the seat. 

Seungcheol reaches for your hand, settling it on his hip. He opens his visor. “Ready?”

You nod.

He nods back, and the bike roars to life. He pulls out of the parking spot, and you hold on tighter, thankful for the additional padding of a safety bar behind your back- is this the sissy bar he was talking about? 

You can’t dwell on motorcycle terms as Seungcheol gets onto the street, the bike moving even faster. The feeling of summer air is hot but pleasant on your skin as you ride between cars. You get the sneaking suspicion that Seungcheol is holding back on his driving-

You could imagine him weaving between vehicles and being a general menace on his bike, but with you on the back, he’s trying his best to be a gentleman.

You’re shocked at the trust you already have in this man. A man who a little over twelve hours ago, was a stranger.

You’ve never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, everything else slips away.

You’re at your home before you know it, and you almost feel sad when Seungcheol pulls up to the curb. He motions for you to get off, and he joins you on the sidewalk a moment later, quickly helping you with your helmet.

“How was it?” he asks.

“That was super fun,” you tell him, beaming.

Seungcheol grins when he sees the expression on your face. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Listen, keep the helmet for now,” Seungcheol says. “I have your number and I know where you live, so I’ll come back for it.”

You feel your expression drop, and Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, concern written on his face.

“You good?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “Sorry, my uh- my ex used to say that to me. That he knew where I lived when I broke up with him. It felt like a threat, and it’s one of the reasons I had to move a couple of months ago.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Fuck that guy.”

You nod. “Fuck that guy.”

Five:

You’ve had Seungcheol stuck in your head. After he’d dropped you off, it had been hard to sleep, your mind preoccupied with his answer about his tattoo. When you’d finally woken up hours later, you hadn’t been able to help yourself, you’d pulled out your tarot deck.

“Spirit,” you’d breathed. “I think I may have met him. The Elk. And even though you’ve given me the sign with his tattoo, I feel like I need more confirmation. I’m going to shuffle, and if this is meant for me, can you please give me a love card?”

There are numerous cards within the deck that talk about relationships, partnerships and new beginnings, and you’re hoping that one pops out.

You begin to shuffle, closing your eyes and taking it easy.

It’s about a minute before a card pops out. It’s upside down on your coffee table. 

You take a deep breath, slowly reaching out to flip the card.

The Two of Cups stares up at you, and you don’t even have to open your tarot guide book to know what that means. It’s a card of unity, of partnership. Other than the Lovers, it’s one of the most clear relationship cards you can get. 

You stare at it for a long while. The Elk may have been a coincidence. The fact that his own late grandmother had been a tarot reader may have been a coincidence. But pulling the Two of Cups, out of any other card, when seaking confirmation- this feels like fate. 

Part of you wants to be extra sure and ask for the lovers card, but you also think this might be a good time to trust your spirit team. They’ve guided you twice now, and maybe you have to look inward.

Why are you so cautious that Seungcheol might be the one?

Are you ready for a new relationship?

You’d thought you were ready- and here you are, meeting a man who fits your type-

Maybe it’s the fact that he is your type that you’re worried. What if he turns out to be a dickhead like the last ones? You’re still holding onto a lot of fear. You want to protect yourself, which you validate as a legitimate concern.

But… are you going to spend the rest of your life frightened?

Or are you going to try to let go of those fears and learn to trust again, even if it ends up biting you in the ass?

The possible risk is heartbreak, but the possible reward is endless happiness.

Fate can only do so much, this is the part where your own actions will dictate the future.

Six:

“So, how’s that dude with the tattoos doing?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to you in the nursing station when things have finally calmed down.

“Cheol? I uh… haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off at my place two days ago.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

You shrug. “I’m not sure. We’re both busy people. I work here, and he owns a tattoo shop.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joshua nods. “Maybe you should call him and see how he’s doing?”

You quirk a brow at your friend. “What’s your angle here?”

Now it’s Joshua’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “No angle. I think, as your friend, sometimes it’s important to give you a little push. After all, your tarot said he’s your soulmate.”

Joshua’s one of your only coworkers who you’ve felt comfortable opening up to. He knows about all your spiritual inklings, and you’d filled him in on your whole Elk, Leo, Two of Cups fiasco yesterday. 

“Fine, I’ll give him a quick call,” you sigh. “Strictly as a nurse who wants to see how the wound is doing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Joshua grins.

You roll your eyes at him, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Seungcheol answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” you ask, putting him on speaker phone. Joshua might be encouraging you to do this as a friend, but you know better than anyone that he also loves some good tea.

“Doing okay.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Good as far as I know… why? You worried about me?” You can hear the grin in his voice, the fact that he’s loving the concern you have for him. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

“I’d just hate for it to get infected,” you sigh.

“Look, if you want to do your due diligence as a nurse and everything, how about you get drinks with me and assess it yourself?” he suggests.

Joshua grabs your thigh, eyes widening, waiting on what you’ll say next.

“We could do that,” you respond.

“Sounds good, when are you free?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about eight o’clock?” 

“That works,” you nod.

“I’ll pick you up at eight then, and bring your helmet.”

You find yourself smiling. “Will do.”

“It’s a date. See you then.”

“Bye, Cheol.”

Your heart is racing as you hang up the phone, and Joshua immediately repeats Seungcheol’s words, “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” you respond, jittery at the idea.

“Some guys are assholes and say ‘let’s hang out,’ but this one says ‘it’s a date.’”

“That’s a good sign,” you insist.

“A very good sign,” Joshua agrees. “If this dude ends up being the one, I might just have to get into tarot.”

Seven:

You’re surprised to find yourself playing nighttime mini golf with Seungcheol on your date. “What happened to drinks?” you ask as he pays for your tickets and grabs your clubs from the attendant.

He shrugs. “Figured you’re a nurse so you might not wanna get on my motorcycle after I had a few drinks, also the fact that you were designated driver last time I saw you at a bar- I thought this might be more your style. But, I’ll warn you, I’m not going to go easy on ya.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised at how astute this man can be. “I think this will be fun.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol’s wearing black jeans and a charcoal v-neck that shows off his strong shoulders. He’s the epitome of your type: a bad boy with tattoos. Yet, when you begin to play, he’s shockingly patient.

“Let me show you how to hold the club,” he suggests on the second hole, waiting for you to nod before he steps behind you and wraps his body around your own. “Feet positioning is key.” He also gently adjusts your hands, and your heart leaps in your chest when he breathes against your throat. “It might take some time to get used to,” Seungcheol warns, “so don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come naturally.”

You hit the golf ball, and it goes a lot closer to the hole than your first shot had.

“Did it take a while for you to get into mini golf?” you ask.

“Nah, I was always a natural,” he teases, flashing you a wink before he takes his own shot.

You admire the way his shoulders look with his back to you. “So what got you into being a tattoo artist? Into having your own place?” 

“Well, my grandma passed, and she left me a pretty big inheritance. She always thought I could succeed as a tattoo artist, but before that I was stuck doing blue collar type shit. I think, the money was her final way of telling me to follow my dreams. I’m kind of obsessed with ink, if you haven’t noticed.” He holds out his arms, which are littered with patchwork. “How about you? How does someone get into being an emergency room nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you explain. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I’d always been scared of hospitals, but the nurse who helped me in emergency was an angel. She made it less scary, and when it was over, I realized I wanted to be just like her. When people come into the emergency room, it’s never fun. It’s frightening, and cold- and I want to be there for people who are going through that, to be a warm, friendly face.”

“My grandma had a light worker's soul too,” Seungcheol nods. “That’s what she always called it anyways. She wasn’t ever officially trained, but in her later years she got into herbal medicine. Anytime I was sick it was lemon and garlic chicken noodle soup with bone broths and the works- always made me feel a lot better.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Seungcheol agrees. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think she would have liked you.”

You grin. “Is that an important trait you look for when taking girls to mini golf?” 

Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “It should be. My last ex wouldn’t have fit the bill, and at the time, I thought that was okay, but it didn’t end well.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll talk about mine if you talk about yours,” he suggests. “You said your last boyfriend was a creep when you broke up, threatened to come to your place and shit, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“He was,” you sigh. “I’ve got this thing for big tattooed men, bad boy types. It always leads to me getting my heart broken. He would tell me I was the one and everything, but I found out he was cheating on me with some waitress at the bar he used to go to all the time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… I’m your type.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry to hear that. Cheaters are the fucking worst.”

“Sounds like you’ve experienced something like that too.” 

“Looks like both of our ex’s were cheating fucks,” Seungcheol says. “I know it’s a red flag to talk shit about your ex or whatever, but some ex’s deserved to be talked bad about.”

You nod. “A hundred percent.”

“Did you think you were going to be with your last one forever?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

“I thought so.”

“Me too with mine, I was just about ready to get her a ring.” He frowns, looking down at his golf ball. With a sigh, he easily knocks it into the hole. “Well, this is just the way life happens I guess.”

It’s clear you both have very similar wounds. You’re shocked at how easy it is to talk about this with Seungcheol. Some people say not to talk about ex’s on dates with new people, but this almost feels therapeutic. You understand Seungcheol better, and you’re sure he understands you too.

It’s promising to know he thinks about the future, that he’s ready to settle down, not all men are.

Maybe you’re both in the same boat with all of this, and that’s a hopeful thought.

Eight: 

Seungcheol can’t seem to get you out of his head. 

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly superstitious man. His grandma had been spiritual, and he’d always loved that aspect of her. He’d enjoyed doing tarot readings and making all sorts of elixirs with her in the garden. She’d told him he’d be a successful tattoo artist, she’d seen it in the stars, and while she’d been a big part of making that premonition come true, he wonders what else she might be right about.

Seungcheol’s grandma had always told him he’d end up with a healer like her. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse- she wasn’t very specific, but she’d said his soul would call in a light worker when the time was right.

He feels drawn to you, his little emergency room nurse, designated driver, light worker. 

It’s been such a short amount of time, but there’s something unexplainable about the way he feels.

“You look distracted,” Mingyu muses, coming to join Seungcheol outside the tattoo parlour where he’s puffing on his vape.

“Just thinking.”

“About your birthday party tonight, or that girl you brought through the other day?” Mingyu presses, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Seungcheol’s. 

Seungcheol can’t help but sigh at his friend’s prying ways. 

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything, but summer is almost over and you need a backpack. My angel has been surrounded by testosterone motorcycle rides for months, and we’d all love another girl to be part of the group. You should invite her out tonight.”

Of course Mingyu’s coming at this from an angle of having a girlfriend. He and Wonwoo are obsessed with their ‘little angel,’ and Mingyu’s always talking about the joys of being in a relationship. It can get somewhat tedious for Seungcheol.

“Don’t you have a client soon?” Seungcheol sighs.

“Point taken, I’ll leave you be,” Mingyu says, patting him on the shoulder. 

As soon as his friend is inside, Seungcheol pulls out his phone. He thinks about what he’s going to say to you, before typing out an easy, “Up to anything tonight?”

He’s shocked by how quick your response is. “It’s Sunmi’s birthday this week so we’re celebrating tonight since it’s Saturday.”

Seungcheol’s mood drops, and a moment later, you’re calling him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond. “How are you doing?”

“Not so bad.” He wants to tell you that it’s his birthday tonight, wants to try to convince you to come, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to guilt you, doesn’t want to mess up your plans. “What’s up?”

“I just… I know we’ve only gone on one actual date, and I only met you a week ago, but… I just want you to know, when I go out tonight, I’m not going to be hitting on anyone or anything.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”

“Okay! Good! I just- I know with your ex and everything- and I just, I figured I’d clarify, even though we’ve only been on one date, I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

He respects that you’re so direct about this, and he appreciates your loyalty. You really are a good person. 

“I’m a one girl at a time kind of guy,” Seungcheol says finally. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”

“Me too.” He can hear your smile, and it makes his heart swell. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, bye, Cheol.”

Nine:

You’re having a great night. The drinks have been flowing, and you’re having a fun time celebrating Sunmi’s birthday. Things are fuzzy in the best way- until you hear a familiar voice say your name.

You turn to find your ex standing close to you at the bar, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s been a while,” your ex states.

You can’t even find the words to speak, suddenly getting drunk seems like a horrible idea.

You’ve just started to feel safe again, to feel stable- you’d thought being out with your friends, you could let loose, but now your ex is here and your heart is beginning to race.

“Have you been drinking?” your ex asks, coming to stand closer to you at the bar top, where you’d been sipping a gin and tonic. 

“I, uh-” your words catch in your throat, and you swallow thickly. “It’s Sunmin’s birthday.”

Your ex nods, and when you look toward your table, you see Sunmin gaping at you.

Turning away from Sunmi, your ex addresses you. “Is she still a huge bitch?”

“I-” you want to defend your friend, but you feel frozen. You can’t think- you’re completely overwhelmed, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart like thunder in your chest.

“We need to talk,” your ex says next. “Come outside with me.”

He grabs your arm, and then a hand wraps around yours. You turn to see Sunmi standing there, glaring at your ex. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she asks.

“Y/N and I need to have a chat outside,” your ex sighs, being very dismissive.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” Sunmi insists. “Honey, do you want to go with him?”

You quickly shake your head, moving closer to your friend for safety.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” your ex rolls his eyes, tightening his grip on your arm to the point where it almost hurts.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” Sunmi insists, somehow successfully tugging you away from your ex. 

“Run away, but I’ll be right here to talk to her when you’re done.”

It feels like a blur as Sunmi races you to the woman’s washroom. “Y/N,” she helps you to the sink, looking at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

Sunmi pulls you to her chest, hugging you deeply. “We’re going to sort this out,” she promises.

“How?” You feel like crying. All the emotions come flooding back, the fear, the helplessness-

“We’re going to call Seungcheol.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “We can’t do that!”

“We can, and we will. Men like your ex only respond to other men. We’re calling him. Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, you hand Sunmi your cell, turning on the sink to splash your arms with cold water.

“Hi, Seungcheol?” There’s a pause. “No, this is Sunmi. I’m out with y/n, we’re at a bar on Elm and fifth street, her ex just showed up- okay, okay, yeah, we’re in the bathroom in the back.”

She hangs up and you look to her for an explanation.

Your friend lets out a sigh. “As soon as I said your ex was here, Seungcheol said to give him five minutes. I’m going to keep you here and he’ll come get us, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry to ruin your birthday.”

“Honey, you’re not ruining anything,” she assures you, pulling you in for another hug. 

You hold back tears while you wait with Sunmi, and in no time at all, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Seungcheol pokes his head in, and you see his expression drop when he sees you.

“What happened?” he growls, coming to join you.

“Her ex was trying to drag her outside-” Sunmi tries to explain.

“He touched you?” Seungcheol asks, anger laced in his words.

You nod, pointing to your forearm. 

“Grabbed is more like it,” Sunmi breathes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “Okay, I’ll get you out of here. Just hold onto me and we’ll get out of here.”

You nod again, allowing Seungcheol to gently take your hand. He guides you out of the bathroom, and you huddle close to his side as he walks you through the bar- you almost think things will go smoothly when your ex steps in front of you.

“Who’s this, you’re new boyfriend?” he asks, venom dripping from his words.

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. “So you must be the dip shit ex.”

“Say that again, asshole,” your ex growls, eyes narrowing.

“You must be-” Seungcheol broadens his shoulders, “the dip shit ex.”

Your ex releases a laugh, and then he’s taking a swing. It feels slow and fast at the same time, Sunmi tears you away from Seungcheol, who dodges the punch easily, only to land a blow to your ex’s stomach-

“Y/N! Sunmi!” Mingyu’s voice appears out of nowhere, and suddenly two strong arms are wrapping around you and your friend. “Outside!”

Mingyu keeps you close as he gets you and Sunmi out of the bar while a commotion ensues in your wake. Four motorcycles are pulled up on the curb. You recognize Vernon, and there’s another man you’ve never seen before.

“Cheol’s starting shit,” Mingyu tells his friends quickly.

“We heard your ex was here?” Vernon offers, giving you a sympathetic look.

“He threw a swing at Cheol when I got inside,” Mingyu tries to explain. “Y/N, we’re going to get you out of here, Wonwoo pass me the spare helmet from the saddlebag.”

“What about Seungcheol?” you ask, watching the men fuss.

“He can take care of himself,” Mingyu assures you, helping you put on the helmet.

“Cheol will meet us at our place,” the new man, Wonwoo, says. “When he gets hot like this, he doesn’t drive very safely.”

“Trust us,” Mingyu pleads. “We just gotta get you out of here, your ex made the first swing, and nothing good can come from this now.”

You turn to Sunmi and she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay, get out of here. I’ll text you what happens.”

You can’t even think as Mingyu gets onto his bike and you awkwardly take the seat behind him. You can’t comprehend how things happened the way they did- how fast the altercation had been before your ex had taken a go at Seungcheol.

As you leave the bar, heart thundering in your chest, it’s the most you can do to try to slow your breathing, your body still carrying the trauma that you’d endured with your ex, the wound you’d thought was healed now torn open.

Ten:

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask as Mingyu covers you with a large fluffy blanket on his couch. “I mean- you just said your girlfriend is four months pregnant and sleeping in the other room-”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu assures you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You’d found your ability to speak again once you felt safe and in Mingyu’s apartment, and now, you can’t help the anxiety bubbling inside of you. You feel like a burden- and it’s an all too familiar feeling from your time with your ex.

“You didn’t ruin it, we were almost done anyways,” Wonwoo notes. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y/N, deep breaths,” Mingyu tells you, sitting on the couch next to you, offering your calf a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Cheol going to be okay?” you ask.

“He’s going to be fine, that man has never lost a fight,” Mingyu explains, smiling softly.

In the distance, you hear an engine revving, and Wonwoo sighs. “There he is.”

Not even five minutes later, Seungcheol is practically bursting through the door. His eyes find you on the couch, and you’re quick to stand, allowing him to envelop you in a hug. His heart is racing in his chest, he’s clearly panicked, and when he pulls away, he looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he questions, cupping your face as if checking you for injury.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” you retort.

“Just a few bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

You find yourself laughing, and as you laugh, your eyes well up with tears. Now that he’s here, you finally feel like you can take a deep breath, and he’s quick to tug you back to his chest as you cry.

“I’m going to give you a moment, then I’m going to take you home,” he tells you, hand smoothing up and down your back.

You stay in his arms until you feel a bit better, and when you pull away, Mingyu is offering you a tissue. You clean yourself up, say your goodbyes, then Seungcheol walks you out with the spare helmet in hand.

He doesn’t say anything on the way down, but at the bike, he hands you his fullface. “Want you protected,” he tells you, grabbing the bucket helmet from your grasp.

You nod, putting on the helmet and allowing him to help you fasten it up. 

You’re quiet as you both get onto the bike, and Seungcheol adjusts your hand to his hip, squeezing gently. 

The bike roars to life and you take off.

It’s a different feeling to be on a motorcycle while still a little drunk, and you find yourself throwing your head back to look up at the night sky. 

You’ve seen the stars before, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, it feels like you're experiencing them for the first time. 

You lose track of time doing this, and the ride is done sooner than you’d like when he pulls up to your building. “Come on, baby,” he says softly, helping you take off your helmet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

He holds your hand, helping you with your keys to get into the apartment complex. The elevator ride is quiet, but his hand is a reassuring constant, warm and large wrapped around your own.

He’s never been to your place, and you feel a little self conscious as you open up your door. It’s a modest apartment, one bedroom- there’s really nothing to be insecure about, but you think maybe your anxiety from the bar incident is just making you a little crazy.

“How about you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” he suggests, helping you to the couch.

You kick off your high heels, curling up on the cushions while Seungcheol putters around your kitchen. He already looks like he belongs here, and for a brief moment, you can forget about your ex.

Seungcheol rejoins you on the couch, handing you the cup. “Here.” 

“Thank you.”

You sip on your water, trying to breathe properly again.

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dropping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

It’s a soft kiss, not the kind of first kiss you’ve ever had before. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately try to dominate you like men in the past have, he lets you set the pace. You lean in closer, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you deepen the kiss. 

Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you, and it’s a somewhat awkward position on the couch like this, so he simply pulls you onto his lap. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing all your anxiety to dissipate while you enjoy the safety Seungcheol provides. 

After a while, Seungcheol pulls away, and you’re both breathing heavily. 

“How… how do your knuckles feel?” you ask.

He laughs, looking down at his hands. “I might black out my fingers when this is all healed,” he admits. “I get into too many barfights. My grandma used to say it was the Leo in me.”

“The Leo in you?” you repeat, heard thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah, I uh…” he lets out a soft chuckle, “I didn’t wanna pressure you to come out or anything after I heard you were at a friend’s birthday party, but it’s sort of my birthday today.”

You’re frozen for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a Leo,” you say again.

“Uh huh. You’re not about to tell me some weird zodiac rule about our signs not being compatible, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath. Just a short time ago, you’d decided not to tell him about the Elk tattoo meaning, and now here you are, about to tell him everything. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the bar situation, or the slight tipsyness, but you think fuck it, if he could tell you about his tarot loving grandmother, you can tell him about this.

“A few months ago, I did a reading,” you begin to explain.

“A tarot reading,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. And I asked my guides to show me a spirit animal card that would be a tattoo on the person I’m supposed to be with. The card came up as an Elk- and before you tell me it’s a very common tattoo, I know it is, which is why I asked for further clarification with them telling me the zodiac of this person too-”

“And they said Leo,” he breathes.

You nod. “Then, when I met you, the Elk lined up, but I still wasn’t sure, so I did another reading on us, and the Two of Cups came out, it’s a love card. So with those two cards, and now the fact that you’re a Leo-”

“Is this your way of telling me you think I’m your soulmate?” Seungcheol grins.

“God, I should have guessed you’re a fucking Leo,” you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be rude,” he tuts, gently pinching your hip. “If it’s any consolation, my grandmother always told me I’d end up with someone in the medical field, and you’re an ER nurse.”

“She really said that?” you ask.

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol’s gaze dips to your lips then back up again. “I wonder if she saw this future.”

Your heart melts. After your last relationship, where the lovebombing came on fast, you’d promised yourself not to get burned by that sort of thing again- but here you are, falling for Seungcheol way quicker than you ever have with anyone else in the past.

Even so, something about this feels so right.

You let out a breath. “One time with the Elk may have been coincidence. Two times with the Two of Cups card was a little odd. But three times with your Leo Zodiac-”

“I guess the question is, do you believe in fate?” Seungcheol moves closer.

“I think you know that I do,” you laugh.

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your hips, and he doesn’t say anything else as he brings his mouth to yours.

You kiss him eagerly, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your chests together. His tongue glides against your own and it feels like magic- there’s a bulge growing in his pants, and you can’t help but begin to grind down against him.

Seungcheol releases a small groan and it’s music to your ears, prompting you to apply more pressure to his cock when you wriggle against him.

With a sigh, Seungcheol pulls away. “Baby,” he says softly, “you’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage tonight-”

“I swear that whole situation with my ex sobered me up,” you admit. “Besides, maybe I want to give you a birthday present.” 

“A birthday present?” he repeats with a chuckle.

You nod. “Cheol, I haven’t even kissed anyone in months- I’m already practically drenched from making out, you won’t make me wait even longer, will you?”

He studies your face, and you can see the moment he folds. “We can do this, but at any point if I think you look drunk, we have to stop. I don’t want you to regret this being our first time.”

“I could never regret this,” you promise, leaning in to press your lips to his throat.

Seungcheol throws his head back, his fingers digging into your hips again. The low moan he releases tells you that he has a sensitive neck, and you enjoy simply teasing him for a minute while you mentally prep yourself for what’s to come next.

You do want to move on, and this is one of those steps.

You’re not afraid of it. You had been frightened about intimacy with someone new, but Seungcheol makes you feel more safe than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You want this. 

You shift a little on Seungcheol’s lap, reaching down to cup his cock with your palm. 

Seungcheol swallows thickly, his hands smoothing up and down your hips. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“It’s your birthday,” you point out. “And you took care of me at the bar, I think it’s my turn to show some appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue with you, and you can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s early,” he says, “but… if we do this, I don’t want any confusion. I want you to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Honestly? I’ve been yours since practically the moment I saw you take your shirt off so I could clean your shoulder wound.”

Seungcheol releases a chuckle. “Really?”

“Uh huh, you make me fucking feral.”

He lets out a groan of appreciation. “It’s been hard to control myself too. That day at the studio, when you touched my back tattoo- I was so close to breaking. Wanted to throw you onto my desk and make you feel good.”

You imagine what that would have been like, and it makes you moan. “Why didn’t you?”

“I could tell you had a past, and I didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits. “I’ve been… trying to be a good boy.”

Your bad boy trying to be good to make you comfortable. You really hit the jackpot with Seungcheol.

“Cheol, I’ve told you I have a thing for bad boys,” you tease.

“So maybe I should take control right now,” he suggests with a grin.

“Let me suck you off, and then you can take control,” you tell him, pulling away. “I’m going to get on my knees now.”

Seungcheol watches you slip onto the floor infront of him, and your hands find his belt. You try to focus on your task of getting his pants off, but you enjoy sneaking glances at him, seeing his pretty face as he tries to keep composure.

He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down, and his cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, hard and already leaking.

He’s a decent size, somewhere between six and seven inches, and his cock is as girthy as the rest of him. You lick your lips, grabbing the base so you can adjust him toward your mouth as you lean in.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol warns, voice softening when he says, “please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he laughs, reaching out to stroke your head.

You slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue. 

“And that’s the teasing I was talking about,” Seungcheol muses. “Feels good though.”

You sink further down onto him, beginning to suck as you move up and down.

“Fuck, that feels even better,” he groans.

When you were with your ex, blow jobs were an expectation, and because of that, you never really enjoyed them. There’s something powerful about doing this of your own volition, about making the conscious choice to pleasure Seungcheol.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the motion of providing this for him. Hallowing your cheeks, you suck hard when you’re near the tip, and Seungcheol groans loudly, shifting further down on the couch so you’re not bent over him in such an awkward position.

“You’re good at that, baby,” Seungcheol says. “But there’s only one birthday present I’d enjoy more than this.”

You let out a “hmm?” sound, an inquiry.

“When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

Your pussy throbs at his words, and you increase your speed on his cock, letting out a moan of appreciation. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll make it happen.”

You pull off of him, your hand smoothing up from base to tip to pump him while you address your beautiful dark protector. “I just want to make you feel good a little while longer.”

His expression softens. “Making me feel really good.”

You grin, returning to your task. 

Seungcheol’s hand is gentle in your hair. He caresses you while you suck him off, never applying pressure or trying to get you to deep throat him. It’s an ever constant, soft touch, and you’re shocked at how much of a gentleman this heavily tattooed, bar fighting, Leo can be. 

“Baby?” His voice draws you from your thoughts. “I know I said you could say the word and be done, but- this feels too good, and I don’t wanna bust the moment I begin to fuck you.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He lets out a shaky breath and grins. “Where’s your bedroom, gorgeous?”

“Right there.” You point at the door adjacent to the living room.

“Come on, baby, it’s my turn to take care of you.” He helps you to your feet, pulling his pants back up, and you’re shocked when he throws you over his uninjured shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom while you erupt in a fit of butterfly fueled giggles.

Seungcheol lays you softly onto your bed, staring down at you. He takes in your silky shirt and your dress pants, you like to be more classy when you go out, to keep up with your reputation as a nurse.

The two of you are very different people. He’s black ripped jeans, plain tshirts and tattoos. And you’re classy outfits, scrubs, and a healer’s touch. Somehow, even with these differences, the two of you work. Like Yin and Yang, complementary forces, light and dark.

“Can I take these off for you?” he asks, tugging at your pant leg.

You nod, watching the way he begins to undo your button and zipper. He’s slow with his motions, precise. It’s not a rush to get you naked, it’s an enjoyed exploration, and you love the way his eyes glow when you lift your hips to allow him to pull the fabric off your lower half.

“You’re so pretty,” Seungcheol muses.

“Yeah?”

“That day you were in my shop with your friend, doing a consult with Vernon- I was trying to act like I was watching my newest apprentice work, but… I kept looking at you. And then, outside the bar, when you showed up again-” Seungcheol shakes his head, his hand smoothing along your leg gently. “Baby, you’re going to turn me into a believer.”

“Invisible string theory, perhaps,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

He takes off his own shirt, and you watch the way his muscles move under his skin. He’s littered in tattoos, patchwork on his arms and chest. There must be a hundred small to medium sized tattoos, and you want to know the story behind each and every one.

But there’s a time and a place for that, and right now, you’re eager for something else.

Seungcheol gets on top of you, and you immediately thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, pulling his lips to your own.

Your free hand explores his muscular shoulders, careful of the bandage still on his bar wound, and you’re practically tingling with how attracted you are to this man.

He kisses you deeply, cupping your face while his other hand braces him to the bed over top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he grinds against your panty clad core.

The pressure on your clit has you moaning, and Seungcheol responds by kissing down your throat. He licks at your collarbone, and then his hand moves from your cheek to your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

“Uh huh, there’s a tie at the back.”

Seungcheol pulls off of you, and in one motion, he flips you onto your stomach. His warm hand smooths over your shoulder, toying with the tie there.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he begins to undo the corset style back of your slinky top. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck that makes your body erupt in goosebumps. 

You enjoy the way he takes his time with your shirt, and he slowly helps you slip it off. You’re laying flat on his bed, your tits pressed to the comforter, while Seungcheol explores your back with his hands. He traces the curvature of your sides, pressing kisses along your spine. Soft curls tickle your skin, and you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how good this feels.

Seungcheol flips you over again, and his gaze dips to your exposed breasts. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, gently groping your chest, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You watch him swallow thickly, and then he’s leaning over, taking the sensitive bud in his mouth while you tangle your fingers in his curls again.

With his mouth on your breast, his free hand slips down your body, and he tugs your panties down just enough for him to access your core.

Two digits rub between your pussy lips and you feel him smile against your nipple. “You weren’t lying about being wet, baby.”

“Would never lie to you,” you breathe out shakily.

“No?” He circles your clit and you moan loudly. 

“Never,” you repeat, pushing your hips up toward his hand, needing more friction.

Seungcheol rewards you by slipping both of his digits into your wet core, pressing his palm to your clit as he begins to finger fuck you. He sucks on your breast while he does this, and you’re lost in the sensations he provides.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper when his teeth graze your nipple, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers.

“Wanna make you cum,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your breast to look down at you.

“Then make me cum,” you respond, nodding at him.

Seungcheol presses one last kiss to your lips and then he shifts down the bed, pulling his fingers from your core. He gets onto his knees at the foot of the mattress, dragging you toward himself and pulling your panties off.

He spreads your thighs. “So pretty,” he muses. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty.”

Your skin heats, it can be hard to take a compliment, but something tells you that Seungcheol will get you used to this kind of praise.

He leans forward, eyes meeting yours as he presses a kiss to your clit. You jolt at the small contact, releasing a shaky breath.

No one has eaten you out in months, and your core is already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Gonna take care of you,” Seungcheol promises, and you know that this promise extends far past the sexual setting you’re in right now.

He moves forward again, capturing your clit in his mouth while his digits easily slip into your pussy again.

You throw your head back, enjoying the sensation of him worshiping your cunt. He’s gentle with his motions at first, kitten licking your sensitive bud. You know he’s getting used to your sounds, figuring out what pressure works, what you enjoy, whether thats sucking, or more gentle stimulus.

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Like the way you crook your fingers.”

He responds by applying more pressure to the ‘come hither’ motion he’s making, and you release a whine at how good it feels.

“Just like that,” you whimper.

He sucks your clit harder too, and you moan louder, hips bucking toward his face.

Seungcheol’s free hand finds your lower abdomen and he pins you to his bed, keeping you still while he works on your pussy.

You can feel your walls clenching around him, and Seungcheol releases a groan of pleasure. It adds to your own feeling of euphoria that clearly he’s enjoying this. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’s usually a giver, and the fact that he doesn’t see this as a chore has you able to enjoy it fully, unlike certain past experiences where men had to be begged into eating you out.

Sex with Seungcheol - even foreplay like this - feels so natural. You’re not as in your head as you usually are, with his nonverbal communications and moans, you can be certain he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it gives you the confidence to give yourself over completely to the pleasure.

Sex should always be like this, you realize.

There’s no pressure, no worrisome thoughts, it’s just two souls connecting physically in a way that’s mutually beneficial. 

Having not been eaten out in a long time, it’s not surprising that you’re extremely sensitive, and Seungcheol works you all the way to the edge before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Cheol-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair, “I’m gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, he sucks harshly on your clit, and your words become moans as your orgasm surges through you.

His hand on your abdomen keeps you steady as he works you through your high, sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking on his broad shoulders.

Seungcheol pulls away, and you open your eyes to watch him wipe the back of his mouth, licking his fingers clean. 

“Still want this?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“More than anything,” you smile.

A moment later, Seungcheol is as naked as you are, and he gets between your thighs again, lips returning to your own. He doesn’t immediately slip his cock into you, instead, he grinds against your core, teasing your sensitive clit and driving you wild.

You kiss him eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair and groping his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him despite the need growing inside of you.

You’re reminded again that there’s no rush.

You can take pleasure in this without feeling like you need to be getting fucked to be worth something.

You’re a hundred percent sure that if you’d told Seungcheol you’re not ready for sex, he would have stopped, cuddled you, and not taken it personally. There’s this feeling that Seungcheol is going to be around for a long time- and as crazy as it is with how short of a time you’ve known him, you know that your connection runs deeper than your physical attraction.

Seungcheol shifts slightly, grabbing at his cock. You bite at your lip while you wait for him to line it up with your core, and you break your kiss, panting. Your eyes meet as he slips the head of his length into your wet hole, and you both groan at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, sinking in inch by inch. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You feel better,” you retort, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

“Impossible,” he grins, burying his face in your throat as he begins to fuck you.

You claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust. He fills you so well- he has probably one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever taken, and the way he stretches you out is like heaven, like he was made to be in your pussy.

The sounds he’s making are unlike any other pleasured noises you’ve ever heard.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

Seungcheol’s uninjured hand finds your own, and he laces your fingers, squeezing you reassuringly as he fucks you harder, his speed increasing.

His lips are hot on your neck, and it feels delightful. You love just laying back and taking everything he’s giving you. He’s so big, like a warm, weighted blanket covering your form.

Your toes are already curling at how deep he’s hitting, and your thighs shake desperately around his hips.

“Cheol-”

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You just- fuck, this feels so good-”

“You deserve to feel good,” Seungcheol tells you. “You work so hard for others, I’m lucky I get to be the guy working for you.”

Your heart swells at his words. Past boyfriends’ haven't ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be an emergency room nurse. You spend your whole shift taking care of others, and that high pressure, intense mentality bleeds into your personal life. It's a sweet relief to be the one on the receiving end, to relax and know that you can fully give yourself up to the pleasure and desire you feel, without feeling obligated to return this favour with future sexual gratifications.

Seungcheol’s lips meet your own, and you get lost in him, moaning desperately as he works your pussy open.

His thrusts slow, and he stays completely still inside of you for a moment, then pulls away.

“Can you shift onto your side for me?” he asks. “One leg straight on the bed, the other thigh pulled closer to your chest.”

It’s a position you’ve never tried before, but you trust Seungcheol, and you’re quick to adjust. You lay half on your side, one leg stretched between his knees while you bring your other toward your breasts. 

Seungcheol’s warm hand finds your thigh, and he helps bend you, his free hand guiding his cock to your pussy again.

When he pushes in this time, it feels even deeper, and you let out a squeak at the stimulation.

“You like that?” he asks, hand moving from your thigh to your breast, where he gently pinches your nipple.

“So deep- I feel so full-” you whimper.

Seungcheol only grins, and he’s an absolute vision in this position. He’s practically on his knees, and his chest is all exposed and gorgeous. His tattoos are beautiful as he massages your breast with one hand, the other on your thigh, anchoring you while he fucks you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sideways angle or what, but he’s hitting a spot that has your toes curling tight, your pussy clenching.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Shit, I should have asked this before-” Seungcheol says, voice shaky, “do I need to pull out or-”

“I’m on birth control,” you assure him. “You can cum inside.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans, rutting into you even harder. 

“Kinda want you to fill me up,” you admit.

“You’re way too sexy, baby, holy shit-”

You can tell your words are doing a number on him, and it makes your core throb with pleasure.

“Can you rub your clit?” he asks. “Want you to cum with me. I hate cumming alone.”

“Yeah.” Your hand slips between your thighs awkwardly, and Seungcheol decreases his pace  to give you a chance to catch up to his pleasure.

His movements are slower now, more precise, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that has you crying out again.

“You look so good like this,” Seungcheol tells you. “My pretty little nurse.”

For some reason, his words just do something to you, and your core throbs even harder. “Cheol, I’m close-” you warn him,

“Tell me when you’re almost there and I’ll go fast again.”

You focus on the sight of him, on the tattoos and muscles, his strong features and the pretty dark curls. His small groans egg you on, and you’re at the edge in no time, giving him a nod. “Okay-”

He releases your breast, using both hands on your leg now to steady himself as he fucks you stupid, your whole body jolting with each motion. You let out a desperate whine, rubbing your clit even harder-

“Fuck, fuck-” Seungcheol groans. “Feels so fucking good- fuck, cum with me, baby, cum with me-”

You moan in response, your core clenching down desperately on his cock as your orgasm explodes through you. Your whole body shivers with endorphins, heart racing in your chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back, releasing an extremely sexy groan as he cums with you, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts slowly and deeply, working you through your orgasms.

You rub your clit until you can’t take it anymore, tearing your hand away.

Seungcheol slumps forward, stilling completely, and you greedily grab at his shoulders. He collapses half on top of you, and you thread your fingers through his hair, panting hard.

His forehead rests against your own, and you both just try to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt connected to someone the way you feel connected to Seungcheol in this moment. It’s all consuming, and it makes you emotional as you come down from your high.

Seungcheol must notice your shaky breathing because he opens his eyes and looks at you. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just-” you swallow thickly. “I don’t know-”

You can’t voice it, can’t voice the way you’re feeling. There are so many thoughts swirling around in your head, so many past traumas rearing their ugly faces and making you second guess yourself-

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Seungcheol breathes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, he can clear all of your anxieties, as if he was able to read your mind and see your fears. 

You’ve always been drawn to bad boys, to men who you envision as some kind of dark protector- and now, you think you’ve finally found the right one. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this fic is written in conjunction to my other story 'crossroads,' read more about Mingyu, Wonwoo, and their y/n here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol’s thrusts get faster, and he rests his forehead against your spine while he rails you into the blow up mattress at a campsite where anyone could walk by. His baby fever is at an all time high, and he’s fucking you like a man who means every word he’s saying.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, sex in a campsite, exhibitionism, staying quiet during sex, pussy eating, fingering, large/muscled/tattooed Cheol, quickie, baby fever, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise, breast worship, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

 bonus

It’s been just under a year since you started dating Seungcheol, and through him, you’ve found a family. Many trivia nights, and bowling excursions have been spent with Seungcheol, his friends, Sunmi, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan. Once you’d met everyone face to face, it had been much easier to track Sunmi’s convoluted explanation of her connection to the tattoo parlour, and it’s been a joy to become so close with so many wonderful people.

Sunmi’s sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, is cousins with Mingyu and Wonwoo’s girlfriend, who’d had a beautiful baby girl this past January, and now, it’s the baby’s first summer. You don’t mind the shift of hang outs to be more baby inclusive, and now, you find yourself at a campsite with the whole gang.

While everyone is quite enamored with the little baby girl, Haesoo, no one is more obsessed than your boyfriend Seungcheol. You always get to see him coddling her while out and about as a group, but in the past three days at this campsite, you’ve contracted a serious case of baby fever.

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[cuti3chw3]

sorry to interrupt

pairing: mingyu x reader, and wonwoo x oc (celest)

when i invited mingyu to help babysit my nephew, i didn’t plan on talking about our best friends status, i knew celest is a very secretive woman but wonwoo? he’s on another level

i looked at mingyu and folded my arms “y/n hear me out, we both know those two had some shit going on and it’s not even that unrecognizable my boyfriend rolled his eyes and bounced the newborn on his lap

“yeah yeah yeah, whatever gyu” i took my sisters son off of his lap and pointed to the corner “can i have my future nephew back i will stand in the corner after i have him” i giggled and gave him back my nephew and he smiled at the baby “he definitely looks like your sister” “no he looks like me” “that’s impossible”

we bickered back and forth until jay decided to take a nap, so mingyu gave him to me and i laid him down in my room, when i came back to our living room, he was definitely think about something

“wonwoo and celest are definitely fucking, they give each other bed room eyes” i smacked his hands and rolled my eyes “what it’s true y/n and those two were making out last hip hop unit hang out i swear, i was trying to use the bathroom but no, those two were kissing” “no they weren’t”

deciding to ignore him i stood up “wait y/n i have an amazing idea” “what is it” “double date just the four of us to catch them” “we won’t catch anything but sure” “you’re so sure let’s make a deal” “no way, i don’t make deals with the devil” “y/n” “fine mingyu what do you want if you win”

“to makeout” “oh in that case please win” “you know i’m talking about in front of the members so i can tell them we’re finally dating like this “yes i do, i wish you weren’t though” i stretched and laid across his lap while he ran his hand through my hair “okay then the deal is on”

that weekend surprisingly wonwoo and celest agreed to hanging out with me and mingyu, without me or mingyu using bribery.. again to our surprise, we were sitting around the table and made myself seem antsy

mingyu took notice of this and nodded while paying attention to how wonwoo and celest were looking at eachother

“i’m sorry i need to use the bathroom you know” i got up and mingyu faked concern and ran after me “i will be right back, hyung and celest can you wait up” “mingyu shut the hell up”

instead of going to the bathroom me and mingyu sat directly behind the couple and watched as wonwoo put his hand on her thigh “y/n did you-ow” i pinched mingyu to make him quiet down and let him know i did see it

“what are they saying” i elbowed mingyu and tried my best to shush the taller man “well based off of how their lips are moving, they’re scheduling a date not date” “so basically a hook up” “exactly” “see y/n i told you they had something going on” “mingyu if you don’t stop lying” after bickering for a small bit, we decided to come back and noticed wonwoo and celest’s faces change

after a couple more minutes me and mingyu finally came from hiding behind the two, when we came back, wonwoo was looking away and celest looked a lot sadder compared to how happy she was before we left

“hey y/n, im going to go home, i’ll call you, if you’re getting your back blown out by mingyu tell me, but not all the details” i got up to hug my best friend, and sighed at how upset she seemed

“mingyu i’ll be leaving too, i’ll see you at home” the two went separate ways making me and mingyu sit down in shock “what the hell happened” “you tell me i’m just as confused” “there’s definitely something between the two of them, so be ready to makeout with me”

mingyu kissed my cheek and i giggled “this might be the first bet you win” “what do you mean by that” “i mean this will be the first bet i lose to you mingyu we both know you suck at making bets”

“just say i’m gonna win and go” “i’m gonna win and go” mingyu deadpanned and gently pushed me to the side “i’m winning this bet”

later that day mingyu took me back to the seventeen dorms and before we went to his room we passed by wonwoo’s

“wonwoo you never want to admit what’s going on between us, i haven’t even told my best friend” it went quiet except for some noise and mingyu looked at me

“let’s go in” before i could protest we walked in only to see celest and wonwoo making out, sitting on his lap, his shirt unbottoned type of makeout

“oops”

a/n: happy 100 days @fairytaleyaya 🫂🥺🥹

[misswoozi]

Umji fucking loud so that it's heard through the wall to teach Sinb a lesson.

oh she definitely called Mingyu over for this task, too

[cheolaholic]

SNEAK PEEK 👀 RoL (12)

a/n; small little peek of the upcoming chapter !! read it now on my patreon, or you can wait til 18th Jan 2025 KST for it to be released here & ao3 ~ ヾ(•ω•`)o

You were on a video call with Aki as you told her your plans of visiting Japan during fall break. Her eyes lit up immediately you thought light would eventually shine through them. “Really!? You’re gonna be flying in?”

Aki always said she has a black cat personality. But, you’d like to think she’s more of a golden retriever. “Yeah, we’re thinking of flying in next week.”

“Whoa. We? Are your parents joining? Also, did you move places? Thank God, but please don’t tell me it’s in another shady neighbourhood.”

“Whoa, you,” you laughed, “One question at a time, girlie. I’m flying in with my friends. Yeah, I moved places and no, it’s not in a shady neighbourhood. I’m actually sharing a place with –”

“Whoa, there. You’re sharing a place with someone? Oh my God, is this a character development?”

A knock is heard at your door and it is pushed open, “Hey, pup, Mingyu is asking –”

His words die in his throat as he sees Aki on the screen of your laptop.

Aki blinks once, then twice.

“Is that… Is that Choi Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol snaps out of his frozen state a few seconds later, snorting when he approaches you. “Well, if it isn’t Kim Aki. I do not miss you one bit.”

Aki scoffs, rolling her eyes as she flips him off. “Likewise, you asshole. But, I do miss beating your ass. In fact, I might do that when I see you in the flesh!”

And thus, it was as if the years of Seungcheol’s absence never happened. The trio dynamic remained the same – Seungcheol and Aki bickering as usual, you being the diffuser. “Okay, enough of you two bickering,” you roll your eyes, “What is it about Gyu?”

“Ah, right. Gyu wants to know if you want to book a hotel room or an airbnb,” Seungcheol responds, handing you his phone to show you the multiple screenshots of hotels and airbnbs Mingyu had sent. “An airbnb would be cheaper since we’ll split the cost, but… I’m not sure you’d want to stay in a house with four men. Especially if they’re Wonwoo and Mingyu.”

“Wonwoo and Mingyu?” Aki pipes in, “You mean the famous streamer and model?”

“It’s a long story, honestly… I’ll tell you all about it when we meet. This is something we need to have brunch over.”

“Yeah, given their… hormonal nature, I don’t think you’d wanna hear them if we share a living space.”

“What about Vernon?”

“He sleeps like a log. Literally. There was one time we rented a homestay with a karaoke system, Wonwoo and Mingyu were singing to some Adele song; you know how high notes that woman can go and… super high notes ain’t really their thing. Bro slept through the entire thing.”

“So… if WonGyu were to have a threesome, an orgy… He just sleeps through it..?”

Aki snorts through the skin, “Oh, honey, there are people who can sleep through a lot of things. I dated this one guy who slept through an entire frat party!”

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head, “Sounds like something Vernon would do.”

“I don’t understand,” Aki says, cocking her head to the side, “Why can’t she stay with me? My parents are more than happy to have her over.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, “Listen here, you prick. You’ve had her for the past five or six years. Which I do appreciate that you’ve been there and looked out for her. But, this time, she’s mine to spend time with.”

A knowing smirk tugs at Aki’s lips when she hears the way he says ‘mine’. She raises her hands up in mock surrender, “Alright~ She’s all yours. My suggestion is those three boys can rent an airbnb together or yall can share two hotel rooms. ___ can have one room while you boys share one; or two considering that streamer model duo.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad…”

“Or, you can share a room with Seungcheol.”

You looked at Aki as though a pair of dog ears had grown out of her head. “Look, by all means I am not making this sound like you are at fault. But, considering the whole stalking and assault incident, I’d say rooming with Seungcheol would be the safer option.”

“But –”

“Look, I know everyone out there makes Japan out to be this country with a super low crime rate; which is true, but when crimes do happen, it goes from one to a hundred just like that.”

Aki snaps her fingers to emphasize her point. She also heaves out a sigh, “And, the stalking cases in Japan are crazy, too… I-I just want you to be safe, ___. Plus, that man beside you is a boxer; not professional but he’s a trained boxer!”

You turn to look up at Seungcheol who seems to catch on to your upcoming question, “I’m okay with it, pup. The question is, are you okay with that arrangement?”

You’re quiet for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons (although there aren’t many cons). “Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

[itza-meee]

I need some WonGyu hugs rn...

how seventeen hug their s/o

requested by anon : "Hi! If you are still accepting requests (I'm literally so scared that I've read it wrong) can I request how svt would hold you or cuddle you? Something like that? I'm feeling very soft (and a little touch starved ahaha). Sorry if I've misread!!"

notes: this turned into what kind of hugs svt give their s/o which is kind of the same thing, but a little to the left (?) enjoy anyways haha <3

masterlist

seungcheol

hugs where he wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his lap. when you want a hug, you want to feel safe and protected, and this is something he's found out through late night talks with you and tearful breakdowns where you finally admit what you really want. his arms are fully around you, keeping you in his embrace, and you're all curled up in his lap and it's the safest place you can be, surrounded by seungcheol and his sturdiness and his reassurance. he keeps you there for as long as you need, letting you fall asleep in his arms before he too dozens off, cheek against the top of your head

jeonghan

hugs where you curl up really small and feel warm. whenever you've had a bad day and appear in the doorway of whatever room jeonghan is staying in, he'll look up at you and smile, opening his arms and allowing you to run to his side almost immediately. he wraps one arm around your shoulders, the other around your waist, pulling you into his side, your head tucked under his chin and ear against his chest. you're bent over double, knees pressed into his side, but in this way you can hear his steady heartbeat and feel his warmth encompassing you. 

joshua

hugs that are the softest things in the world. joshua gives hugs often, side hugs and brief hugs and celebratory hugs where you pull away after a few seconds. but when you need a hug, need to feel his arms around you, he smiles and his eyes soften and he pulls you towards him almost delicately, one arm around your torso and the other cupping your nape as he cradles the back of your head and guides you to hide into the crook of his neck. it's gentle, soft, sweet in the way only joshua can be, before his fingers find your sides and he starts tickling you until you're laughing and screaming and completely having forgotten your sadness from earlier

junhui

hugs that feel like being on top of the world. his hugs are almost unintentionally romantic, where he either holds you delicately or wraps you completely into his warmth and his scent so you feel like burrowing into his neck and staying there forever. he's always willing with his hugs, albeit a little surprised most of the time, where his eyes widen as you tap him on the shoulder before his face lights up and melts all at once before he's immediately wrapping a hand around your wrist and pulling you against his chest, laughing and wrapping his arms around you and hugging you in just the way that you needed in that moment to feel like everything would he okay

hoshi

hugs that knock the wind out of you and knock the love into you all at once. he hugs with his entire being, with everything he has, and soonyoung's being is something that's incredibly all-encompassing and incredibly comforting to fall into. he hugs you in a way that makes the rest of the world fall away, as he hugs you tight against his chest and rocks you back and forth, making nonsense noises or spewing compliments or simply laughing and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. he's sweet with his hugs, sweet and bright, and make you well and truly feel all of the love he holds for you

wonwoo

hugs that feel like coming home. wonwoo has some sort of inherent ability to be able tell when you want a hug even before you realise yourself. he'll silently come into your room while you're working yourself up into a meltdown at your desk, and he'll just envelop you in his lavender scent and his soft sweater, chin resting against your shoulder, arms around your neck, his voice nothing more than a low rumble in your ear. he doesn't have to say anything, and his presence alone is enough to reassure you that he's here for you, that he knows you're going through something but he'll stay by your side, no matter what. 

woozi

hugs which make your heart swell and your head feel all light and giddy. woozi's hugs are quick affairs, and so, so rare, so it makes you smile widely every time they happen. he'll wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, squeezing your upper arm and kissing your temple lightly before letting you go, and it's all light touches and gentle warmth and his own pleased smile lifting his lips as he walks away, but it's the most beautiful thing ever and knowing that you're someone who he deems worthy of his hugs and his kisses? it's the most wonderful thing in the world. 

minghao

hugs where the whole world quietens and all that matters is the fact you're in his arms. he has delicate limbs, delicate touches, and as his arms wrap around you and you fall into his lap, his lips are a gentle pressure next to your ear and his fingers are light warmth that trace patterns along your back, all fluttering comfort and a promise of treating you as the most precious thing in the world. he holds you for as long as you need, keeping as silent as you desire, and there have been endless accounts of you falling asleep against his shoulder, and he's never offended, because the peace in your expression reassures him that he's helped you feel better

mingyu

bear hugs. hugs where he practically gathers you all up into his arms and holds you like he never wants to let you go, where he buries his face into your neck and presses soft kisses there before pulling away slightly to smile at you and then hugging you tighter once again. they're hugs that help you see that he's here, he's with you, he's real and he's not going away. mingyu is always so warm, and that makes him the best for hugs like this, where you can feel the love and warmth radiating off of him, both figuratively and literally. maybe it gets a little suffocating after a while, but neither of you are moving because it makes both of you feel so loved. 

dokyeom

hugs that sweep you off your feet. literally. he loves hugging you, loves showing you affection in all physical forms, and you've been a subject to his flying hugs multiple times, where he runs towards you and scoops you into his arms and spins you around until you're both laughing and your hands cradle his face and you lean down to press your lips together. he's always smiling, always beaming as bright as the sun, but when you're in his arms he's smiling impossibly wider, tightening his arms around you and wanting to make sure you feel how much you mean to him and how happy you make him. 

seungkwan

hugs that remind you that he loves you above all others. his hugs are always accompanied by a kiss on your cheek as he pulls away, and yeah he's gonna get teased by the others but it doesn't matter, because it's you, and they're all just jealous that he doesn't kiss them on the cheek. he's hugging you all the time, side hugs and back hugs and everything hugs where he hugs you with his entire being. he always lets go after a few moment, and he'll complain when you pull him back in, but he's laughing and his arms are wrapping around you once more and really, if he could have his way then he'd continue hugging you until the end of time

vernon

hugs where you simply lean into him and he becomes your support. hansol can tell when you're close to breaking point, where you feel like the whole world is going to collapse onto your shoulders, crushing you with its weight, and that's when he comes up to you, offering his shoulder, unflinching as you melt into him or collide into him, depending on how you feel. there's no other moment in which you'd let him hug you in this way. it's not even a proper hug: just your head in his shoulder, his arm around yours, but it feels so much more relaxing than any other hug. simply having him beside you, having him as your pillow and your pillar means everything to you. 

chan

hugs where it feels like he's trying to mould you into his being so you never have to leave. he hugs tightly, but also warmly, and you can almost feel the thumping of his heart in his chest because he's pulling you so close into him. they're hugs that ground you into reality, that remind you he loves you, that he is absolutely and utterly gone for you and wants you to never leave his side. they're hugs where he whispers the cheesiest things into your ear, all ticklish and adorable until it makes you burst out laughing and try to squirm out of his grasp until he hugs you even tighter, never planning to let you go. 

request guidelines

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[raibebe]

Birthday Girl

Genre: Smut Words: 6.030 Pairing: Mingyu x Wonwoo x female reader poly relationship Warnings: Meanie/Wongyu (member x member elements, y‘all have been warned), double penetration, dom/sub undertones (subspace?), daddy kink, slight degradation

A/N: This was originally written as a birthday present for @min-inu​ almost a month ago late at night in her dm’s because that’s apparently the only way for me to write Seventeen smut and today I present you the cleaned up and extended version of what I originally wrote at 1am. This is somewhat of a sequel to Triple Threat. No need to read it though, it‘s also basically PwP but set in the same universe, so if you enjoy these dynamics, give it a read. This has somewhat more of a plot though... I have no idea if this is actually possible like this, but this is fiction and I tried to make it realistic to an extent.

Today was your birthday and you probably hadn’t been this excited about this day since you had been around ten years old. The day had already begun great: The sun’s rays that had tickled your nose had woken you up in the arms of one of your boyfriends that he had sneaked around you and below the big shirt that you had most definitely stolen from Mingyu. Wonwoo had his chest pressed against your back where you could feel the even rhythm of his breaths, indicating that the sunlight wasn’t bothering his sleep in the slightest. Carefully squirming out of his hold, you closed the curtains so he could get another couple of minutes of sleep before you slipped into the kitchen where a small breakfast with a little note written in the messy handwriting of your other boyfriend was already waiting for you. You smiled and quickly read over his saccharine words before eating the fluffy pancakes he had made.

After you had finished the delicious yet a little cold meal and put the dishes in the sink, you quickly scribbled a little heart and a ‘thank you’ on the little paper, sticking it to the fridge. After taking a look at the big clock in your living room, you decided that you still had enough time for a shower before you had to leave for your only class of the day and your shift at work. Because it was your birthday after all, you not only treated yourself to a scorching hot shower but also rubbed some expensive body lotion into your skin before getting dressed in a simple outfit. Nothing of the noise that you had made had seemed to have bothered the still sleeping Wonwoo who instead of you was now hugging your pillow tightly. Smiling you pressed a kiss to his forehead, making him wrinkle his nose adorably before mumbling something incoherent and burying his face deeper into the pillows. Committing the sight to your brain, you quickly gathered your things and softly closed the apartment’s door to go about your day.

Once your class was over, you had your shift at work and after that your parents would treat you for dinner. But what really made you excited was that you got to spend the late evening with your boyfriends who had promised that they both would be at home and didn’t need to finish any essays or needed to study for exams. It had been a while since all three of you had spent time like this and you were basically buzzing with excitement during dinner. When your parents had commented on it, you just said that your flatmates had planned a movie night with your favorite movies for you. To them that was all that Mingyu and Wonwoo were to you because how should you explain to your parents that you had two boyfriends that were also dating each other.

After you had parted ways with your parents before the restaurant, a beautiful new bracelet shining in the low lights of the taxi you took home, you sent a quick text to the group chat with your boyfriends, telling them you were on your way home. As always Mingyu was quick to reply: Be safe on your way back home, darling. We missed you today ❤ You smiled at the message that illuminated your screen, excitement bubbling in your chest. With a bounce in your step, you quickly walked up the stairs to the door of your apartment when you had arrived, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. “I’m back,” you spoke before your breath was taken away from you. The lights in the apartment were off, the only light coming from what must be hundreds of candles stacked on the furniture and the floor.

Giggling happily, you shrugged off your shoes and coat before you followed the line of candles that first lead you into the kitchen where another note similar to the one from this morning was waiting for you. ‘The first present’, it read. Smiling you opened the silky red ribbon that held the lid of the dark box closed that the note was stuck onto. Beneath a layer of dark red packaging tissue there was a beautiful black negligee made of pretty lace and soft satin with matching lace panties. In awe at the present, you carefully picked it up and felt the soft fabric. You were sure Mingyu had thought of this. While Wonwoo always enjoyed seeing you and Mingyu in pretty clothing, he didn’t quite have the eye for picking these kinds of stuff himself. Your heartbeat picked up in pace when you quickly got rid of your clothes and slipped into the soft dress. It fit you perfectly. Smiling, you traced over the little swirls and blossoms that adored the skirt of the dress before you followed the line of candles into the living room.

On the little table in front of the couch, two more packages and another note were waiting for you alongside a single red rose that was sitting inside a delicate vase. That seemed more like a Wonwoo thing. The little note read: ‘You look gorgeous in that dress.’ And you couldn’t help but blush. Carefully you opened the first, smaller package that seemed to be wrapped by the store in a light blush colored paper, revealing the expensive perfume you had eyed over the past couple of weeks. An excited squeal left your lips as you fumbled to spray a little on your neck and wrists, the flowery scent mixing beautifully with your own natural one.

The last package was just a little smaller than the one you had received in the kitchen but was packaged in a similar way. Carefully you opened the box to find a pair of black lace thigh highs that you also quickly slid onto your legs, making them appear longer than they were. Just wearing this sexy lingerie that your boyfriends had picked, made arousal course through your body and you couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom where you suspected them to be hiding.

When you followed the trail of candles to the door of your shared bedroom, you quickly decided to slip away into the bathroom for a second to apply the dark red lipstick you had gotten yourself as an early birthday present earlier this week to complete the sultry look. Smiling at your reflection, you quickly made your way back to the bedroom, you probably had kept them waiting long enough.

The lights in the bedroom were also off except for the bedside lamp, a cloth draped over it to soften the light, and a couple of fairy lights that you had hung when you first moved in but never really turned on. Your boyfriends both sat on the bed, only wearing tight boxers that left next to nothing to your imagination. “Welcome home beautiful,” Wonwoo spoke up first, getting up from where he had been leaning against the headboard and taking your hand before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Happy birthday,” he whispered before Mingyu took his place and kissed your other cheek. “You look absolutely stunning,” the taller breathed, playfully spinning you around once, “Happy birthday, love.”

You felt your face heat up from their compliments and from how their eyes raked over your body. “Did you like your presents?” Mingyu eagerly asked, trailing his fingers over the skirt of the negligee. “I love them,” you admitted, smiling up at both of them, “Thank you so much.” Chuckling, Wonwoo pulled you along to the bed, encouraging you to sit on his lap when he leaned to sit against the headboard. “But this isn’t everything, princess,” he smiled, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands teasing the skin of your thighs, “Tonight is going to be all about you.” “Let us make you feel good,” Mingyu breathed, kneeling next to you on the mattress, his eyes dark with lust. A soft mewl left your lips and you could feel yourself getting more and more turned on from the arousal that seemed to ooze off of your boyfriends. “Will you let us, princess?” Wonwoo breathed, his deep voice dropping another octave when he gently cupped your face to turn it towards him again. “Please,” You whimpered, letting your eyes flutter closed when Wonwoo claimed your lips in a deep kiss.

It wasn’t long before you felt his tongue tracing your lips and you eagerly opened them to deepen the kiss even further, pressing your body against his where you could feel his growing arousal against your body while making the soft fabric of your dress rub against your sensitive nipples, making you gasp into the kiss. It wasn’t often that he dropped his usually dominant behavior and let you just do as you please and you took full advantage of it, basking in the way you could touch him and bury your hands in his dark hair to mess it up. Soon you felt another pair of hands on your body, gently exploring your curves before settling on your waist and a strong chest pressed to your back. Usually Mingyu would whine about not getting attention by now, but he stayed quiet and instead busied himself with pressing open mouthed kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and jawline, gently sucking and biting on the skin until it bruised, leaving marks just high enough that they would peek out from beneath your collar, making more and more gasps leave your lips that Wonwoo eagerly swallowed.

After a while you felt Mingyu’s big hands sneak beneath the hem of the negligee and your skin almost burned where he was touching you now, pressing you back against him, making you feel his already hard cock. “Feel what you’re doing to me, princess?” He rasped while shamelessly rutting against the swell of your ass, “You look so hot like this.” The moan that left your lips forced you to part from Wonwoo who smirked at you before angling his hips up, so his clothed erection could brush against your core, making you arch your back and another moan leave your lips. “You’re driving us crazy like this, princess,” he spoke softly.

“What do you want princess?” Mingyu asked, his breath hot against your ear. “Touch me please,” you whimpered before clashing your mouths together. The angle wasn’t ideal but that wasn’t stopping you from kissing him like your life depended on it. You felt Wonwoo’s chuckle from where you had your hands braced against his chest more than you actually heard it. “My needy babies,” he chuckled, sounding so fond of you two. His fingers started roaming your form as well, teasing your nipples through the thin fabric before he lowered the fabric just enough so he could wrap his lips around one of them, tearing a moan from your lips. Subconsciously you started grinding your hips against Wonwoo’s erection, desperate for some friction on your neglected core, making him growl and release your perky nipple with a lewd sound. “Touch her Mingyu,” he ordered, eyes dark and fingers gripping your thighs to force them open just a little bit wider.

Eager to please, the younger slipped a hand between your legs, teasing your clit through your panties. “You’re already so wet, princess.” “I need you, please,” you whimpered, grinding down against his palm and throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder. “Don’t tease her, be good Mingyu,” Wonwoo cut in when the other kept slowly pressing the heel of his palm against your clit, making you work for the sweet friction you desperately needed. Following the elder’s orders, Mingyu quickly slipped his fingers inside your panties, letting them drag through your folds. “You’re so wet, fuck,” he cursed but before you could respond, he slipped one of his thick fingers inside you, making any words you wanted to say turn into a drawn out moan. “So pretty,” Wonwoo praised you while Mingyu stretched you around his finger, quickly adding another one and curling them to find your sweet spot, making you moan and writhe in his hold.

“What do you want, princess?” Wonwoo moaned as he palmed his own erection to take some of the edge off. “Need you inside me,” you breathed, trying to even out your shaking voice. “Which one of us?” Mingyu asked, slowing his hand down, so you could form a proper sentence. “Both of you,” you whined. “Baby...” Wonwoo soothed you, carding a hand through your hair. You had tried taking both of them at the same time once before but it hadn’t worked out and it had just made you so frustrated with your own body. “Please Wonwoo,” you begged, “I know I can, please, please, please.” “Ssssh, baby,” he soothed, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “Everything for our princess tonight,” he decided, “Let’s get you out of these panties, hm?” You eagerly nodded, whimpering when Mingyu pulled his fingers from you, so you could slip the soaked fabric down your legs.

When you turned back to the bed, Wonwoo had Mingyu pinned underneath him, kissing the younger hard while rutting their hips together. “Be good for her,” Wonwoo whispered to the taller, finally pulling the dark boxers off him, making his cock spring free, slapping wetly against his toned stomach. “He’s all yours, princess,” he smirked, playfully slapping your ass before climbing off a panting Mingyu who had an adorably crooked grin on his face. Licking your lips, you took Wonwoo’s place, placing your hands on Mingyu’s strong chest and ground your now bare core against his cock, coating him in your juices. “Please,” Mingyu whimpered beneath you, grinding your hips together like two horny teenagers. Smiling, you raised yourself up and grabbed his cock by the base to line him up with your entrance before sinking down on him in one smooth movement, making you both moan loudly.

You slowly circled your hips, getting used to his length inside you, filling you up just right but you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to truly be filled to the brim with both of your boyfriend’s cocks. Mingyu’s strong hands on your hips tore you from your thoughts when he helped you to set a rhythm as you bounced up and down on his dick, the sounds of your moans and the slick slide of him inside you filling the air. “You feel so good, fuck,” he cursed, pulling you down so he could kiss you while fucking up into your tight heat with sharp snaps of his hips. You lost yourself in Mingyu and the way he stopped his harsh pace to bury himself as deep as it was possible to grind inside you, pressing into your walls just how you liked it, making the pleasure slowly build more and more inside you. It could have been just minutes or hours, you weren’t sure but you quickly felt your orgasm approach, reminding you that this wasn’t how you wanted to cum tonight. “Wonwoo,” you whimpered, straightening up again to turn to where he was sitting, slowly stroking his cock while watching you and Mingyu from dark and hooded eyes. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself, princess,” he grinned. “Need you as well,” you whined, making grabby hands towards him. “I know you do baby,” he rasped, grabbing the lube that he had already prepared and positioned himself behind you. “Lean forward for me,” he breathed, pressing a hand down between your shoulder blades. You easily followed his wish, folding yourself on top of Mingyu’s chest and catching his parted lips in a heated kiss.

“Relax for me princess,” Wonwoo rasped before you felt a lubed up finger massage where you and Mingyu were connected, coating everything in an obscene amount of lube and forcing little moans and whimpers from the younger who did his best to force his hips to stay still. Chuckling Wonwoo slapped the inside of Mingyu’s thigh when he snapped his hips up after Wonwoo had teased the base of his cock. “Stay still, puppy,” he scolded. “Not fair,” Mingyu pouted, making you chuckle before kissing his pursed lips chastely.   “Tell me if it’s of much,” Wonwoo spoke after he deemed your entrance lubed up and you relaxed enough to press one of his lubed up fingers inside you alongside Mingyu’s cock. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant yet but you knew that this wasn’t all. When Wonwoo began to pump his finger, you desperately clung to Mingyu, distracting yourself with messy kisses. By the time Wonwoo had worked a second finger in and began scissoring them, the stretch became more painful and you whimpered into Mingyu’s mouth. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he soothed you, gently biting the skin of your neck and fondling your boobs to distract you. The longer Wonwoo stretched you, the less it hurt and the more pleasure began to build inside you again only to be brought back down when he introduced yet another finger. Meanwhile Mingyu did his best to make you relax, canting his hips up so your clit could rub against his pubic bone, the sparks of pleasure numbing the pain from being stretched. “Please Wonwoo,” you begged after a while when the pain had made way for pleasure yet again, “I can take you.”

“Not yet baby,” he soothed, rubbing your back with his free hand, “I want this to be good for you.” You let out a frustrated groan and started to grind back onto his fingers to prove your point. “Fuck, baby,” Mingyu cursed, the grip he still had on your hips tightening, “You’re driving me insane like this.” “No coming yet, puppy,” Wonwoo‘s harsh voice cut in, grabbing the base of the younger‘s dick tightly to starve off his orgasm, making him thrash beneath you, a drawn out whine leaving his swollen lips, his eyes screwed shut. “Please Wonwoo,” you gasped, throwing him a pleading look over your shoulder.

“Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, princess,” he whispered this time, pressing a kiss to your spine before pulling his fingers out, making you whimper. You held your breath when you heard the telltale sound of Wonwoo slicking up his cock before you felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against your entrance before it gave away, stretching you almost impossibly wide, knocking all air from your lungs. When he was finally bottoming out after what felt like hours all three of you let out a deep breath. “Fuck you’re so tight,” Mingyu groaned, gripping the sheets tightly to stop himself from bucking up into the tight heat engulfing his cock. “You feel so good princess,” Wonwoo agreed breathily, the grip he had on your hips almost bruising. “Please move,” you softly spoke when the initial pain had bled into a low throbbing, making you head dizzy.

“Anything for you princess,” Wonwoo promised and gently started rocking his hips, tearing loud moans from Mingyu and you. “F-feels so good, so full,” you blabbered, not even sure if you were even forming coherent sentences anymore. Every thought was wiped from your brain when Mingyu and Wonwoo found a rhythm and both thrust into you, their cocks filling you and pressing deliciously into your walls and into your sweet spot. It wasn’t long that the room was filled with your moans and whines forming a symphony with your boyfriend’s low groans and the sound of skin meeting skin and the obscene squelching sounds from the amount of lube Wonwoo had used.

“I’m not going to last, fuck,” Mingyu cursed, wrapping his arms around you and thrusting up into you hard, his hips losing his rhythm. “Not yet puppy, let her cum first,” Wonwoo spoke through gritted teeth and you could tell that he was fighting back his orgasm as well from how hard he was gripping you. “Don’t hold back please,” you begged,” Want you to fill me up please.” Another curse left Mingyu’s kiss swollen lips and he bucked his hips up a couple of more times before he pressed into you as far as he humanly could, nailing your sweet spot as his orgasm crashed over him. When you felt his cock twitch inside you, painting your insides white, you couldn’t hold off anymore as well, letting your orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolled back while your body completely locked up before you shook in Mingyu’s hold from the force of it. The rhythmic clenching around his cock tipped Wonwoo over the edge as well, his groan resonating deep in his chest as he came inside you as well.

For a while all three of you just laid there, trying to catch your breath, basking in the presence of each other. You could feel the exhaustion settling inside you, finally realizing the strain it had taken on your body to have both of your boyfriends inside you. “Fuck, we really made it work,” Mingyu giggled and broke the silence, high on his post orgasmic bliss. Wonwoo just laughed hoarsely before slowly pulling his softening cock out of you, making you hiss when you felt what must be a mixture of your boyfriend’s cum and lube trickle down your thigh. There was no way you were leaving the bed tomorrow, you already felt impossibly sore but sated and proud at the same time. “Fuck,” Wonwoo cursed, his eyes fixed to where Mingyu was still settled deep inside you, his cock and pelvis smeared with cum and lube. He slowly reached out to run his fingers through the slippery mess, making Mingyu whimper in overstimulation when he teased his shaft. “Wonwoo,” he gasped, his hips twitching to escape the touch, tearing a high pitched sound from your throat. The elder just giggled and retreated his teasing hand. “I just can’t help myself when you look like that.” You didn’t have the strength in you to roll your eyes at Wonwoo and his territorial kink for seeing Mingyu and you covered in his cum.

“How are you feeling, beautiful?” Mingyu gently asked, smoothing down your hair. “You did so well.” “I feel messy,” you slurred against the skin of his neck, breathing in his calming scent. “How about a bath, angel?” he whispered before pressing a kiss into your hair, swiping it back from where it had stuck to your forehead. “I don’t think I can move.” “Not a problem when you have a strong boyfriend like me,” Mingyu laughed. “I’ll fall asleep in the bathtub and drown,” you groaned when his by now soft cock slipped from your core from his laughing, and a mixture of cum and lube followed. “How about a quick shower for you two then?” Wonwoo interrupted, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. “You two can clean yourselves up and I’ll take care of the bed.” “Don’t wanna,” you pouted even though Wonwoo couldn’t see it. “I can clean you up but you’ll regret it in the morning, angel,” he spoke, pressing kisses to your spine while massaging your lower back where your negligee had ridden up. “Don’t care,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s chest, mind already disappearing into the world of dreams. “I don’t want to hear any complaining tomorrow,” Wonwoo sighed before he pressed a final kiss right between your shoulderblades and slipped out of the room.

“Let’s get you out of this as well, angel,” Mingyu softly spoke, trailing his fingers over the fabric of your dress. After making an affirmative noise you let him gently roll you off of him on the mattress to pull first the negligee off your torso and then your thigh highs off your legs, leaving kisses on every inch of skin he uncovered, making you giggle. “I love you,” you whispered, making grabby hands at him so he would come up to kiss you. Grinning brighter than the sun itself, he granted you your wish, lazily letting his tongue play against yours. You contently sighed, letting his body press you into the soft mattress.

When you heard the door fall into its lock again, you gently broke the kiss, smiling brightly when Mingyu pressed a last kiss to your forehead before he climbed off the bed to clean himself up, letting Wonwoo take his place between your legs. He quickly got rid of most of the mess with the cloth he had wetted with warm water, soothing you with little kisses to your thighs and reassuring words. “You did so well, baby,” he praised when he threw the cloth somewhere into the room, his eyes full of love and adoration. “I told you I could take you both.” “I apologize for ever doubting you were anything else than perfect for us, babygirl.” “Kiss me and I’ll forgive you,” you returned playfully. “If that’s all it takes,” Wonwoo grinned before kissing his way up from your thighs, over your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, along your neck where he paid special attention to the bruises Mingyu had sucked into your skin before he captured your parted lips in a deep kiss, wasting no time to lick into your mouth. This kiss was nothing like what you had shared with Mingyu before. Wonwoo kissed you with so much passion, gently biting your lower lip, a smirk building on his lips when a moan slipped past yours. “Wonwoo,” you gasped his name when he started to place open mouthed kisses along your neck, making you shiver. He just hummed deep in his chest, slowly grinding his hips down.

“You’re hard again,” you gasped, feeling his length drag over your soft skin. “It’s all your fault,” he scolded, biting down on your collarbone. “You look so pretty when you’re fucked out, baby. And it’s your birthday. I can’t just call it quit after one little orgasm, babygirl. You deserve more, don’t you think?” To accentuate his words, he sneaked one of his hands between your bodies, cupping your core. Another whimper fell from your lips and your legs instinctively fell open further to give your boyfriend more access. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit, making you mewl. “Still sensitive,” you choked out, but knew better than to shy away from his touch. Your head already started to swim from his words, spoken sweetly like the stickiest honey, a dangerous heat starting to pool between your legs. “I know my baby can take it,” Wonwoo rasped when he moved his fingers so he could put pressure on your clit in earnest. Still overly sensitive, your legs twitched close but he had anticipated it and gripped one of your thighs in a tight grip, forcing you to keep them open. “Remind me of your colors, baby.” “Green for good, yellow to slow down and red to stop,” you choked out, eyes screwed shut. “What color are you now?” “I’m green, daddy.”

“Such a good girl,” Wonwoo growled, suddenly slipping a finger into your heat which was both too much and exactly what you needed. “Mingyu, help me out and hold her thighs,” he ordered when you had started to thrash in his hold after he had slowly started to pump his finger inside you, just barely grazing your sweet spot to not overwhelm you. At the mention of Mingyu’s name, your eyes snapped open. You hadn’t even heard your tall boyfriend coming back into the bedroom. Your eyes wandered down from his sunkissed pecs and his subtle abs to his cock that already had started to fill out again. The sight made a whimper slip past your lips. “Like what you see, baby?” He teased when he kneeled next to you, gripping your thighs tightly to spread them for Wonwoo who groaned at the sight of his finger disappearing inside you over and over again. “First you don’t even notice me and now you’re basically drooling for my cock. You are so greedy, baby.”

You didn’t have it in you to deny his words, the words only intensifying the cloud that began to form in your head, reducing you to a needy mess. A mewl left your lips instead and you tried to close your legs again when Wonwoo suddenly pushed two more fingers inside you, pistoning them right into your sweet spot. “Mingyu asked you a question baby. You should answer him,” Wonwoo scolded you, his other hand coming to rub little figure eights into your clit. Had he really asked a question? You couldn’t remember. A helpless moan left your throat instead of an answer and you pressed your face into the pillow to muffle the sounds. The pricking pain from where Mingyu had dug his nails into the tender flesh of your thighs brought you back for a bit. You knew you had to answer them. “I, I don’t know,�� you sobbed, feeling tears clinging to your lashes, “I don’t remember, daddy please.”

“Is that all your mouth is good for? Begging and talking nonsense?” Wonwoo growled, crooking his fingers inside you to massage your sweet spot, making more words spill from your lips and at this point you didn’t even know if you made sense anymore. All you could focus on was the pleasure building inside you and the obscene squelching noises that your core made whenever Wonwoo dove his fingers back into you. In the back of your mind you wondered if you had ever been this wet or this far gone into what must be subspace.

“Mingyu, stuff her mouth, let’s see if it’s good for literally anything else, I can’t listen to her nonsense anymore,” Wonwoo scoffed, his words harsh but breathless from how he was rutting against the mattress to relive some of the pressure on his cock that already was leaking precum and turning an angry red shade from neglect. Mingyu eagerly followed his orders, using his height to his advantage so he could still hold your thighs open while dragging the tip of his hard length over your lips and cheeks, smearing them with precum. “Remember to tap my leg three times for me to stop,” he gently said and you weakly nodded before letting your mouth fall open. “Such a good and obedient girl,” he purred before pushing his hips down, engulfing his cock in the warm and wet heat of your mouth, making him groan and you mewl from feeling the familiar weight on your tongue.  Like the gentleman Mingyu was, he let you adjust for a bit, just gently grinding his hips before he squeezed your thighs tighter and buried himself deep in your throat, a raw moan spilling past his lips. After some seconds he pulled out again to let you heave a couple of breaths. Seeing the shiny head of his cock connected with your lips by a string of spit, made one or maybe both of your boyfriends groan and before you had the chance to even whine about the absence of cock in your mouth, Mingyu thrust his hips again, effectively muffling any sounds you could try to make.

You could just lie there and take whatever your boyfriend’s gave you and you couldn’t be any happier about it even though tears where staining your cheeks and your throat was hurting from how Mingyu used it. Your lungs where burning with the lack of oxygen but all that was just fueling the fire in your core where Wonwoo was pistoning his fingers inside you expertly. You could feel your orgasm approach you at lightning speed but Wonwoo hadn’t given you permission to cum yet, so you tried your best to fight it back down, your thighs shaking with the effort. “Oh look how good she’s trying to be,” Wonwoo cooed, slipping his fingers from your core to watch it clench around nothing, making you mewl around Mingyu’s cock, who in turn shakily lost his rhythm, a curse leaving his lips. “You want to cum baby?” The older asked, teasing your clit with his drenched fingers, the slide oh so slippery from how wet you were. You could just whine around Mingyu’s cock again, flexing your hips to try to grind against Wonwoo.

“Then cum baby, make a mess for me.” That was all it took for your orgasm to crash over you. Luckily Mingyu had pulled out, so you could scream in pleasure as your whole body went taught, your back arching off the bed as white hot pleasure coursed through your veins. You could feel your core twitching and hot liquid drenched Wonwoo and the sheets below you as your lower body shook from the force of your orgasm, your core pulsating with waves of pleasure, gushing out more liquid. “Fuck baby,” you heard one of your boyfriends curse and just moments later you felt the telltale warmth of drops of cum covering your chest along with a guttural moan. Your core was still throbbing when you opened your eyes again, your chest heaving, to see Wonwoo quickly jerking his cock, his eyes still fixated to your core. Only seconds later, he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut, when his cock spurted out ropes of white cum, painting the space between your spread thighs.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, fuck,” Mingyu chuckled, shakily climbing off of you to see the mess you had made for himself. “I didn’t know you could do that.” You wanted to tell him that you hadn’t known either but after your orgasm, the fog in your brain had only intensified and your lids felt like they had heavy weights glued onto them, forcing them shut. “Hey, angel,” you heard Mingyu speak through the fog, his big hands gently cupped your face and his thumbs rubbed away the tears that had stained your cheeks. “I’m green,” you managed to slur, turning your body towards his warmth. “You did so well,” he praised, kissing your forehead, “But I need you to come back to me, okay? Take your time but don’t fall asleep on me, okay?” You just hummed, curling your body around his. “Hey, angel. I need to pick you up so we can change the sheets okay? And I’ll clean you up, alright?” You hummed again, managing to put your arms around his neck.

What happened next was lost in the haze of your mind. You knew that Mingyu had lifted you from the bed and that he had carried you somewhere with a lot more light, making bright colors dance behind your closed lids. The next thing your felt was a cooling spray of water before you were wrapped up in a soft fabric that had the scent of something purely Mingyu. You happily buried your nose in the fabric and hummed in content.

“Open your eyes, princess,” you heard another voice speak to you when you felt your back meet the softness of your bed. “For me, please,” the voice repeated and a gentle kiss was pressed to each of your closed eyelids. Scrunching your nose, you tried to fight the weight keeping your eyes closed and when you finally managed to open them again, you were met with Wonwoo’s beautiful amber eyes that shone with love and adoration in the low light of your bedroom. “I’m so proud of you my love,” he smiled before he kissed your forehead. “Can we cuddle?” You asked in a small voice. “Of course, angel,” Mingyu spoke from your other side, a bottle of water in his hands. “As soon as you finish this for us.”

You nodded and drowned the bottle, the cold water doing wonders on your sore throat. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to either sit or speak tomorrow but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. “Happy birthday baby,” Wonwoo kissed you when he rejoined Mingyu and you after discarding of the ruined bedsheets, your cheeks turning pink when you realized what had happened. “I love you two so much,” you confessed, smiling as you were squished between both of them, feeling warm and safe beneath the fresh sheets.

[letpetalcrisp]

☆ aktsndngomg

[mayanangel]

WONWOO X MINGYU 'Bittersweet (feat. LeeHi)' Official MV

IT’S HERE AND I CAN’T BELIEVE WE LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE IT EXISTS 

[jimping4jihoon]

i appreicate the jihoon love hehe WE LOVE JIHOON HERE!! but also fsjdlk reading this at work wrould have been a little funny

ahegao and arousal — ljh

summary: jihoon just wanted to have a nice night watching anime with you, how was he supposed to know the show he picked was a hentai?

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, hentai, ji is kind of a perv, creampies, spanking, scratching, finger sucking, pinning, multiple orgasms wc: 3.6k an: ANON I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THIS LIKE AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i made up my own anime plot for this hehe but watched wotakoi while writing bc office romance

orignal request: woozi and reader are at a sleepover and are both anime geeks but what’s playing is not anime and more hentai

Akira, long time secretary at Hayashi Corp, spends her days doing errands for her boss, Hiroshi, and keeping the office running. The mundane pace of her life is suddenly thrown for a loop when the new data analyst, Kaito, is hired.

That’s what the description of the show Jihoon picked said. It sounded like a cute little work place, slice of life romance anime at the time of Jihoon scrolling through what show to watch with you tonight. Oh how wrong he was.

Last week you hunted Jihoon down and insisted that it has been far too long since you two had a day to spend hanging out just you two, so Jihoon invited you over for an all night anime marathon. It’s no secret that you two are giant anime buffs, and so it was difficult for Jihoon to find something that both of you have yet to see. So when he came across this new anime he thought it was the perfect pick. It had an 8.7 review and tropes that Jihoon knows you enjoy, making it the perfect show to watch with you.

The show started out fine, a bit cliche but overall carrying the same cute aesthetic of all romance animes. Sure there were a few throw away fanservice bits, but Jihoon didn’t think anything of it. Until he did.

Jihoon’s ears burn as he tries to figure out where to look. He can’t look at you, that would just make him even more flustered, but staring at the TV is out of the option. Even as Jihoon stares at the wall, he can’t escape the lewd sounds playing out of the speakers. He can’t exactly tell what the characters are saying due to it being in Japanese, but from the excessive moaning and slick sounds, he can interpret it.

The show was going so well, to the point where the two of you were starting to root for a male lead, and then all of a sudden Akira is being cornered in an empty meeting room by Hiroshi (who is the wrong male lead, by the way) and their clothes are flying off and then Jihoon had to stop watching.

His curiosity gets the best of him though and Jihoon glances at the TV, just to take a quick peak, only to get a full view of an animated cock being slid into an exaggeratingly wet pussy (why is it uncensored!?). She cries out as the subtitles read, “He’s so big!~”. The image changes to the bouncing of Akira’s unnaturally large tits as Hiroshi starts to thrust into her. Above her tits is the image of her face, screwed up into a classic hentai ahegao. 

Now, Jihoon is well…a man, and men have certain urges that need to be taken care of every once in a while, and Jihoon often finds himself looking to certain content to help out those urges. He of course carries shame for it and would never actually admit that he watches hentai (a lot), but it's a fact that’s hard to hide when his body is reacting to the scene the way it normally would if he was watching it alone.

You haven’t spoken a single word since the scene started, and Jihoon just prays to god that you’re not looking at him or his lap.

Now in theory, Jihoon could just turn the TV off but then that would force both of you to face the reality that you have now consumed porn together and Jihoon doesn’t think he can handle that. Just thinking about it makes Jihoon’s dick twitch even harder.

Jihoon takes a shallow breath and finally risks a glance over at you. He’s shocked at the sight. Your bottom lip is placed between your teeth, being chewed up as you stare intently at the screen. Your knees are pulled to your chest and there’s a slight gleam in your eye as you watch the scene. Is it possible that you’re…enjoying this?

Jihoon allows himself to get a better look at you, as it’s clear you’re solely focused on the show. He watches as you take a shaky breath, your thighs squeezing together as well. The sight drives Jihoon just slightly insane, and it doesn’t help you’re in the skimpiest pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, sans a bra. 

You and Jihoon have been friends for a while. You two met coincidentally at an anime convention, You were cosplaying as one of his favorite characters and Jihoon made sure to get your socials. You were interested in his own socials though, noticing the OST covers he uploaded occasionally. When it was revealed you two are from the same area, you two quickly became close. Now, nearly six years later, you’re one of Jihoon’s closest friends.

The only thing is, Jihoon has a fat, massive crush on you. He has for years now. It doesn’t help that the characters you cosplay the most are either some of Jihoon’s favorites or characters who are the biggest victims of fanservice behaviors. One time you cosplayed a character who fell under both categories and that night Jihoon shamefully jerked off to the pictures you sent to him.

And now you’re here, dressed in revealing clothes, sitting on Jihoon’s couch, invested in the porn scene playing on the TV. 

Jihoon eyes travel down from your face to your chest, where your tank top does a poor job of hiding your cleavage. He can see the way your chest swells with each shuddered breath. It’s clear now that you’re very into this, and Jihoon wonders for a brief second how wet your panties are.

Jihoon then quickly chides himself, looking back at the wall and away from you. That’s where his gaze stays until the scene ends. Once the show goes back to being a seemingly innocent romance anime, Jihoon finally allows himself to glance over at you. To his surprise you’re staring back at him.

“I, uh, can’t believe she’d hook up with Hiroshi,” you say, breaking the silence between you two. “Clearly Kaito is the better choice.”

Jihoon coughs, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah. It’s also kinda weird since he’s her boss…”

The conversation fizzles out quickly after that and you and Jihoon go back to watching the TV in awkward silence. Jihoon can still feel the ache in his cock as he watches the characters fumble around each other. 

Jihoon can barely even focus on the show, too busy trying to think about anything that will get his boner to go down. He’s not sure what’s happening on screen when all of a sudden you start squealing.

“Oh my god Jihoon, it's happening!” You launch yourself across the couch to grab at Jihoon’s arm. He’s startled for a moment, his skin burning where your fingers dig into his flesh. He glances at the TV to see Kaito walking Akira back to her home.

You don’t let go of Jihoon as you settle down next to him, your body now pressed up against him rather than across the couch. God Jihoon swears his cock has never been so hard in his life. He’s sure the pillow placed over his lap is anything but subtle.

You’re not looking at Jihoon though, too invested in the conversation the two characters are having. Jihoon glances down at you, only to realize that was a bad choice as he’s now staring straight down your shirt at your cleavage. For a moment Jihoon thinks about how he wouldn’t mind seeing how your boobs bounce while he fucks you.

Jihoon’s still focused on you solely, when you gasp. He glances at you and then the screen to see the two characters posed in a kabedon. It doesn’t take long for the two to start making out and Jihoon can already anticipate what’s going to happen next. Your fingers dig into Jihoon’s arm before you realize what you’re actually doing. You go to pull your hand back, but you stop halfway through, your fingers just barely ghosting Jihoon’s arm.

“We can just skip this scene,” Jihoon finally says, seeing the internal conflict going on in your mind. He moves to reach for the remote but you stop him.

“N-no, it’s okay,” you tell him, in a voice that’s smaller than normal. “U-unless you don’t want to!”

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine,” Jihoon says. You give a slight nod, not moving your hand away.

You and Jihoon quiet down once more, staring at the TV, both of your cheeks warm. On screen Kaito is bending Akira over the counter, his cock pulled out and rubbing against her slit. Jihoon hears the labored breath you take, as your fingers slightly tighten on his arm.

Jihoon flits his eyes to glance at you, noticing the intrigued look back on your face. His fingers twitch on his lap as he stares down at your thighs, pushed together. The lewd sounds of moans and squelches fill the living room and Jihoon is five seconds away from getting up to go relieve himself in his bathroom.

Jihoon knows you. If something goes wrong you’ll both just brush it off and forgive and forget it. Fuck it.

Jihoon reaches out and slides his hand over your thigh. You jump a bit and Jihoon goes to pull back, but you stop him.

“No! You’re uh-, you’re fine.”

Jihoon just nods, trying to pretend like his mind isn’t reeling right now. His thumb brushes over your bare thigh, caressing the skin.

Your thighs are soft and he does his best not to full on grope the fat there. Just touching you like this has Jihoon’s cock leaking desperately in his boxers and he thinks about how good it would feel to touch in other ways as well. The swell of your breasts under his palms, his plump lips against your tender neck, his hard cock nestled inside of you.

Jihoon lets his mind wander too much, and the last image makes him squeeze your thigh hard, causing you to let out a moan.

“Fuck, Jihoon,” you mutter.

“I’m so sorry!” Jihoon shouts, quickly pulling his hand away. You’re quicker though, grabbing his hand and placing it on your upper thigh, his fingers just barely brushing against your crotch. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry.

“F-finish what you started, Ji,” you tell him, your voice thick with lust.

Jihoon gulps and nods. He moves his fingers to press against you harder and you automatically spread your thighs to give him more room. Jihoon can already feel how wet you are and he stifles a groan. You let out broken gasps as Jihoon continues to rub at your clit through your shorts. 

Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you the way the swell of your breasts heaves with each breath. Jihoon shifts his position to face you so he can reach out his free hand. It hovers over your chest for a moment before he finally pushes forward, grasping your boob in his palm. Your breath stutters before you release a low moan. Jihoon can feel the clench of your thighs around his hand. 

Your pussy is dripping now, soaking straight through your panties and shorts. Jihoon’s cock is also leaking, begging to be slid into your warm walls. His cock strains against his shorts, like it’s trying to break free from the confines itself.

Jihoon groans and pulls his hands off of you and you whine. You’re not left untouched for too long though as Jihoon hooks his fingers into your waistband and starts to pull your shorts down. You lift your hips to help him out, pulling your top off your body as well. Even though your clothes did little to cover you up, seeing you fully naked drives Jihoon insane.

He stares at your slick pussy and he nearly drops to his knees then, thinking about how heavenly it would be to be in between your thighs, but his dick twitches a little too hard and he knows he has to get inside of you now. Jihoon pushes his shorts down his legs and his cock finally springs free.

“Jihoon please,” you whine and Jihoon groans. He sits back down on the couch and grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. You look pretty, perched on Jihoon’s thick, pale thighs. Your pussy rubs up against his cock and Jihoon can feel your arousal spread across his length, lubing it up.

“S-shit,” Jihoon curses. Your fingers grasp his shoulders tightly, your fingernails just starting to dig in, and the slight sting goes straight to Jihoon’s cock.

“C’mon Hoonie,” you mumble. “Just fuck me.”

That’s all Jihoon needs to properly line himself up and slam right into you. You whine loudly at the feeling as Jihoon slides right into you, your cunt already so need that there’s no resistance. Just as Jihoon expected, your walls are soft and warm as you clench down around him.

Jihoon grasps your waists, slowly guiding you up his length before pulling you back down. Jihoon can see you biting down on your lip as you roll your hips against him. He reaches up and gently pulls your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. Before Jihoon can tell you he wants to hear your moans, your tongue darts out and licks at the pad of his thumb before you lean down and take his whole thumb into your mouth.

Jihoon’s hips buck up into you as you suck on his thumb, your tongue swirling around it. You look down at him with your sultry eyes and for a moment Jihoon wonders if you’ve wanted him just a long as he’s wanted you.

You gradually speed up your pace until you’re fully fucking yourself on Jihoon’s cock, fast and hard. You pop your mouth off of Jihoon’s thumb, finally letting your moans flow free. To Jihoon, you sound like an angel singing. As you bounce in his lap Jihoon can’t help but stare at your tits as they bounce in front of his face. He realizes that if he stares for too much longer, he’s going to cum too soon.

He leans forward and starts to pepper kissings along your neck and chest. His fingers trail up your torso until they come to your tits. He palms at your chest, hard and mean, desperate to feel you up as much as he can.

Your fingernails dig into Jihoon’s shoulders even harder, slightly dragging up and scratching him. Jihoon would never consider himself a masochist but the pain burns delightfully and suddenly he wants you to tear up his whole back.

“F-fuck, Ji~” you whine. “Your cock feels suh’good.”

Your cunt squeezes Jihoon’s cock, so close to milking him for all that he’s worth. Jihoon doesn’t bother taking his mouth off of you, just humming against your collarbone. Jihoon’s body feels like it’s burning up, the feel of your soft skin pressed against him, your warm cunt wrapped around his aching cock. If he doesn’t cum soon he’s sure that he’ll implode.

Jihoon reaches between your body and snags his finger on your clit, rubbing at the bud rapidly to get you closer to your orgasm. You gasp and whine as your hips get more frantic, breaking your steady pace.

“G-gonna cum,” you say between broken breaths. You lean down and capture Jihoon in a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his is new and Jihoon already can’t get enough of it. Jihoon pushes his tongue between your lips, licking into your mouth to taste you better.

You move your hands up to cup his face, tugging him into you even harder as your body trembles in his grip. Jihoon can feel your walls fluttering around him as you reach your high. That’s all the signal Jihoon needs to let go as well, finally letting himself spill right into your cunt. Your hips soon come to a stop and lift up off of him as your body slumps down onto his.

“You know,” you mumble into his neck, your fingers now playing with the hair on his nape, “I’ve always kind of fantasized about this happening.”

“W-what?” Jihoon asks, his mind already dizzy from his orgasm and now your words aren’t helping.

“You’re hot Ji. Like, I’ve never met an anime nerd as buff as you. You’re also just like…really nice and caring? I don’t know, ever since we met a small part of me has always wanted to fuck you.”

“Shit,” Jihoon groans. “You’re saying that we could have been fucking for years now? Baby I don’t think you know how badly your cosplays turn me on.” 

“You’re gonna turn me on again,” you murmur.

“Good,” Jihoon responds. “Because I still have one more round in me.” Even after cumming, Jihoon’s cock is still hard and he easily flips you around and presses you down against the couch. Your face is now buried in the cushions as Jihoon pulls your hips up to meet his.

“S-shit,” you gasp.

Jihoon pushes his thumb against your folds, rubbing at them for a moment before pulling one to the side. Your cunt is shiny from your arousal and as Jihoon forced your entrance open, some of his cum from earlier starts to spill out. Jihoon is tempted to finger fuck it back into you, but it’s not too much of a loss when he can just give you fresh load.

Jihoon’s tip rubs up against your slit, teasing you. You wiggle your hips slightly, begging for him to put it in. Luckily, Jihoon is just as desperate as you are and pushes his hips forward, his tip easily sliding into you.

You just had Jihoon inside of you and yet the feeling of his cock rubbing up against your walls as you moaning and drooling on the couch cushions.

“So good for me,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “Fuck how do you feel ever better the second time.”

Jihoon’s hips slam into yours, rough and slow, making each stroke intentional. His grip on your hips is tight, making sure you stay in place as he fucks into you.

As much as Jihoon loves staring at your tits bouncing in his face, the view from the back is just as good. He can’t help himself as he lifts his hand up, letting his palm smack against your ass as he brings his hand back down. He watches satisfied as your ass recoils, the fat jiggling deliciously. He repeats this action a few more times until he’s sure your ass is warm and stinging from the hits.

“H-hoonie, faster, please,” you beg. You push your hips back, trying to force Jihoon to pick up his speed.

“You need more, baby?” Jihoon coos teasingly. “Want my cock to pound your little pussy?”

“Yes,” you sob out. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

“Okay baby, your wish is my command.” Like a switch flipped, Jihoon starts to plow into you, the head of his cock ramming into your g-spot with each thrust.

Jihoon slides his hand up your spine, his fingers coming up to cup around the back of your neck, and he pushes down, holding you against the couch. It’s dirty, your ass sticking up in the air as your face is squished against the cushion, but that just gets Jihoon going even more.

“You look so pretty like this,” Jihoon tells you. “Back arched just for me.”

You can’t even respond, just letting out a spew of babbles and moans. Your fingers grip onto the edge of the cushion and Jihoon wonders if it’s second nature for you to dig your nails into something when being fucked. He’ll have to test that another time, your nails raking over his back as he fucks the life out you.

For now he’ll stick to railing you into tomorrow.

“S’close,” you slur. “P-please. Need to cum.”

“Aww, you need to come? Okay baby, cream all over my cock.”

Jihoon continues to abuse your sweet spot with his cock as your body tense under him. Your cunt clenches down tight into a vice grip as you whine high pitched and loud. Jihoon rubs at your hip as you orgasm. It isn’t until you fall spineless to the couch that Jihoon allows himself to fill you up once more. He milks himself dry inside of you, making sure you’re stuffed full. Jihoon knows you’re on birth control (you’ve complained about the change in hormones to him before) but the knowledge that Jihoon pumped you full with two loads still drives him slightly insane.

Jihoon slides out of you and slumps down on the couch as well. You shuffle around so you can cuddle up into his side and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“This was fun,” you mumble and Jihoon laughs.

“Yeah…we should do it again.”

You grin. “We should.”

Before Jihoon can say anything else, you’re both caught off guard by a loud shout coming from the TV. You both whip your heads back to the screen, it seems in the midst of your own fun you both forgot what started it all.

A smirk crosses your face as you look at Jihoon. “You know, for my next convention maybe I should dress as Akira. I think I have a blazer sitting around in my closet somewhere…”

The thought alone sends Jihoon’s mind reeling. The thought of you dressed up in a tight blazer and short skirt, knowing that the character is from a hentai. He’s not sure he would be able to keep his hands off of you.

“And who knows, maybe you could dress up as Kaito with me.” You send a wink Jihoon’s way and it’s enough to have Jihoon’s dick twitching to life a third time.

Oh yeah. He definitely won’t be able to keep his hands off of you, but something in Jihoon tells him you won’t mind too much.

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