plateofmud

[plateofmud]

p

[plateofmud]

18+ jaehyun

myung jaehyun swears he's soooo tough. he loves flirting with people and he likes to he mean sometimes. he knows he's attractive too and he wears a stupid smirk on his face when he knows his antics are working.

as a friend, you would roll your eyes at his behavior, finding it nothing but annoying. you saw right through his facade. you knew exactly who he was.

one time he did push your buttons a little too much.

"shit," you cursed, having dropped a glass onto the floor.

jaehyun who had been against the counter, laughed at you. "dumb bitch."

his bangs were dropped over the frames of his fogged up glasses, panting as you edged him once more. you had lost count at that point.

when you first began, he acted like he didn't care and spoke the dirtiest of words, bucking his hips into your hand to test your limits a little more but now he was completely different.

"nghhfucking— mmhplease!" he begged, tears streaming down his cheeks, more desperate than ever. "i was just joking—!" he choked, trying to defend himself.

you slapped at his cock. "whoops.." you mocked, lacking any sympathy. you got up from the bed and left his hands cuffed together behind his back. "i'll be back in a bit."

he bent forward, feeling an ache from the lack of orgasm. "please dont do this to me," he tried to hold back a whine but failed.

"you saw it coming," you smiled, kissing his cheek before leaving the room.

your friend is nothing but a pathetic mutt!

[plateofmud]

June Never Ends

Pairing : han taesan x f! reader

Warning : drug addiction, emotional dependency, toxic relationship dynamics, self-harm, relapse themes, heavy angst, smut, trauma, co-dependency, blood, overdose (mentioned), psychological manipulation, mentions of violence, recovery themes.

The rehab centre reeked of peppermint and broken promises.

You stared at the pale green walls, tracing every crack like a map back to him.

Ten days clean. Ten long days. And yet your body still twitched at night, screaming for something—no, someone—it couldn’t have.

You weren’t stupid. You knew why you kept dreaming about his hands. Not because of the drugs. Not really. It was what came after—the high, the crash, the arms that held you through it. Taesan didn’t just sell poison. He sold warmth. He sold safety. In the cruellest, most fucked-up way, he became the only home you knew.

You never told anyone that.

They all thought he ruined you.

But you knew the truth.

He loved you. Just not the way normal people did.

You met him under a flickering neon sign behind a club you weren’t even old enough to be in. He looked like a sin wrapped in silk—rings on his fingers, smile lazy and sharp. When he spoke, it was slow, intoxicating, like every word had a drop of honey.

He didn’t pressure you.

He didn’t need to.

You were already falling before the drugs ever touched your tongue.

You sat in the garden behind the rehab building, legs tucked under you, hands trembling even though the weather wasn’t cold.

You could still taste him in the back of your throat.

And as if summoned by your sickness—

“Yo.”

Your head snapped up.

There he was.

Taesan.

Leaning against the fence like he belonged there, like you hadn’t spent the last ten days detoxing him out of your bloodstream.

He looked unfairly good. Hoodie slung over his sharp frame, silver chain glinting in the dull sun, jaw sharper than the last time you saw him.

“Shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.

He smirked. “You missed me.”

Your throat closed.

You did miss him. God, it hurt how much.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you repeated, louder this time.

“I brought something,” he said softly. “Not what you think.”

Your body betrayed you—heart leaping in false hope.

He saw it. Of course he did. He always noticed.

“No drugs,” he murmured. “Just… peach tea. Thought you’d want something that doesn’t taste like guilt.”

You stared at the bottle in his hand. Your favourite brand. Still cold.

He crouched next to you, holding it out.

“I shouldn’t take things from you.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t.”

He was right.

You took it.

And when your fingers brushed his, something in your chest cracked.

You didn’t tell the counsellors he came.

You should’ve.

But you didn’t.

Because you didn’t want them to make him stop.

That night, he waited outside your window.

You opened it before he knocked.

“Creep,” you whispered.

His smirk curled. “You let the creep in, though.”

You sat on the edge of the window, knees up. He stood below, leaning against the wall like this was a routine.

“I shouldn’t talk to you,” you said.

“You always say that,” he replied. “Then you do.”

Silence.

Then you said the one thing you weren’t supposed to,

“I miss you.”

His eyes softened. Just a flicker.

“Come outside.”

You shouldn’t have.

But you did.

The parking lot was cold. He handed you a hoodie you knew wasn’t yours, but smelled like him.

Taesan lit a cigarette, then held it out.

You hesitated.

“No drugs,” he promised. “Just nicotine and poor life choices.”

You took it.

The first drag burned.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Bullshit.”

He shrugged. “Alright. I needed to see you.”

There it was again.

That soft ache.

You looked at him under the pale moonlight and saw it—the exhaustion under his eyes, the way he kept clenching his jaw like he was trying to swallow something down.

“You’re not high,” you said.

He gave you a small smile. “Didn’t feel right.”

“You clean?”

He looked at you, dead-on. “As clean as you are.”

Your heart twisted.

Ten days. He’d gone ten days too.

“Why?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He looked away. “Didn’t want to come back to you with blood in my eyes.”

You didn’t sleep that night.

You kept replaying the way his fingers brushed yours when he gave you the tea, the way his voice cracked when he said “needed.”

And when the night nurse checked your room, you were already sliding the hoodie over your shoulders again.

Sneaking out.

Like always.

He was waiting in the car.

Music low. Engine purring.

The moment you opened the door, he looked at you like a man dying of thirst.

“You really came,” he murmured.

You slid in. “Just for a drive.”

But you both knew it was a lie.

The road was empty, the city asleep.

He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other twitching like he was itching for something—your hand, a hit, you couldn’t tell.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said after a while.

You stayed silent.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he added.

You looked at him.

“I thought you left me.”

He pulled over abruptly, parking under a broken streetlight. The silence that followed was suffocating.

“I did leave,” you said softly. “Because I had to.”

“Yeah?” His voice cracked. “So why are you here now?”

You didn’t answer.

He turned to you. His eyes were red—not from drugs, but from holding back tears.

“You still love me?”

You couldn’t lie.

“I never stopped.”

His kiss tasted like ash and regret.

But you let him kiss you anyway.

Because love like this doesn’t come wrapped in bows.

It comes with scars, with poison, with shaking hands and whispered apologies.

It comes with relapse.

And right now, relapse looked a lot like Taesan pulling you onto his lap and holding you like he never wanted to let go again.

The next morning felt like a bruise.

Your body remembered his touch before your mind did.

When you opened your eyes, you were in his apartment—his bed, his air, his everything.

Same apartment you swore you’d never return to. The same sheets you once overdosed in.

Taesan was still asleep next to you, hand wrapped tight around your wrist. Like he thought you might vanish again.

You studied his face in the early light. The gentle slope of his nose. The way his lashes brushed his cheekbones. The tiny scar on his bottom lip from when someone tried to rob him and you begged him not to retaliate.

He didn’t listen.

He never listened. Except when it came to you.

Always you.

You slipped out of bed quietly, pacing barefoot on cold wooden floors. The ache behind your ribs had nothing to do with withdrawal this time. It was guilt.

You were supposed to be recovering.

Not crawling back into the arms of the man who broke you just to glue you back together.

But it was like your bones knew him. Your blood still carried him. Your cells whispered his name every time you tried to clean them out.

“Where’re you going?”

His voice was sleep-rough, hoarse.

You turned. He sat up slowly, blanket sliding off, eyes puffy and raw from too many dreams.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you murmured.

He blinked. “Yeah. But you are.”

You swallowed.

“I want to leave.”

His jaw clenched. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I do.”

“No, you think you do. But if you really did, you wouldn’t have stayed the night. You wouldn’t be in my shirt right now.” His voice cracked. “You wouldn’t have let me hold you like that if you were gone for real.”

You looked down. You were wearing his shirt. It still smelled like his cologne.

He stood, crossed the room, slowly—like approaching a scared animal. His hands went to your face.

“Tell me you didn’t feel anything last night.”

You couldn’t.

He leaned in, nose brushing yours, voice barely a whisper.

“You’re still mine.”

You were trembling.

And then his lips touched yours—and it was over.

You kissed like the world was ending. Like this was the last time. Like love and pain came from the same bottle, and you were both drinking deep.

When his hands slid under your shirt—his shirt—you didn’t stop him.

Because it wasn’t just about the sex. It was about the need. The ache in your chest. The hunger that no rehab, no tea, no counsellor could touch.

Taesan touched it. Ruined it. Worshipped it.

“You want me to stop?”

You shook your head.

“You sure?”

“Please,” you whispered. “Don’t stop. Just… don’t stop.”

Clothes hit the floor one by one. His mouth was everywhere—slow, reverent, desperate.

He tasted you like salvation. Like you were the drug now. His tongue dragged over your skin like he could absorb you through his mouth. The way he groaned when you pulled his hair told you—this wasn’t just lust.

It was grief. Worship. Addiction.

You whimpered his name when he slid between your legs, tongue hot and slow, fingers curling inside you like they belonged.

“Taesan—”

“Say it again.”

“Taesan, I—”

“You missed this, didn’t you?”

You were crying now, just a little. Because it was too much.

“You missed me.”

He kept going until your back arched, thighs shaking, until you were sobbing into his shoulder and clinging to him like he was your last chance.

You came undone with his name on your lips.

And when you looked at him, his eyes were glassy.

Like it hurt him too.

Like maybe he was addicted to you just as much.

Later, when the room was quiet again, you lay tangled in sheets and shame.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” you whispered.

Taesan didn’t look at you. Just lit a cigarette and stared at the ceiling.

“I know.”

You closed your eyes.

“I’m going back tomorrow. To the centre.”

He was silent for a while.

“I’ll drive you.”

The next morning.

He didn’t talk much.

Just held your hand the whole way, thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin like he was memorizing it again.

When you reached the centre, he parked but didn’t get out.

You sat in silence for a while.

Then he finally looked at you.

“I’m not good for you,” he said.

You blinked back tears. “I know.”

“I’m gonna try anyway.”

Your chest cracked.

“Why?”

His lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace.

“Because loving you hurts less than living without you.”

You didn’t talk much after you went back.

Rehab was colder the second time. Not literally—the blankets were the same, the tea tasted the same. But the way people looked at you had shifted. Like they knew.

That you’d left. That you’d gone back to him. That you let him touch you, fuck you, kiss you.

Like they could see his fingerprints still burned into your skin.

And maybe they could.

Because no matter how many times you scrubbed your hands, they still trembled.

Day Four.

You hadn’t heard from him. He hadn’t texted. Called. Shown up.

Your chest ached in a new way.

You told yourself it was withdrawal.

But withdrawal didn’t feel like heartbreak.

Day Six.

You woke up shaking.

Heart pounding, skin sweating, mouth dry.

You didn’t know if it was a nightmare or just your body craving him.

You curled into yourself and sobbed. Quiet, ugly cries that you buried in your pillow like secrets.

You missed him.

You missed him like a drug.

You missed the poison more than the cure.

Day Eight.

The knock on the counsellor’s door came mid-session.

“Visitor for you,” someone said.

Your heart dropped.

Couldn’t be. No way.

You stepped into the lobby—and there he was.

Taesan.

Slumped in a plastic chair, hoodie soaked in rain, hair messy, eyes red.

You blinked.

And that’s when you saw the blood on his knuckles.

“What the fuck happened to you?” you hissed, dragging him outside.

He didn’t speak at first. Just lit a cigarette with shaking hands.

“Are you okay?” you whispered.

He laughed. Bitter. Hollow. “That’s a stupid question.”

You stepped closer.

“Taesan.”

His eyes met yours—and it broke you.

Because you saw it.

The spiral.

He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t used—not yet. But he was teetering. Dangerous edge. One push away.

“I almost did,” he said.

“What?”

He flicked the cigarette away.

“I almost used.”

Your stomach dropped.

“But I didn’t,” he added. “I didn’t, because I remembered your face. The way you looked at me when I dropped you off. Like I was worth something.”

You reached for his hand. He flinched.

“Let me see,” you whispered.

He let you take his fist. The skin was torn open. Fresh and raw.

“Bar fight?” you asked gently.

He shook his head. “Wall.”

You blinked.

“Your wall?”

He nodded.

“You punched your wall?”

“I just—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t know what to do. I needed to feel something.”

Your chest throbbed.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you whispered. “I can’t be the reason you fall apart.”

“You’re not,” he snapped. “You’re the only reason I’m still here.”

He stepped closer, gripping your arms.

“I know I’m fucked up. I know I’m poison. But you—” His voice dropped. “You made me want to be clean. Not just from the drugs. From all of it. From me.”

Tears stung your eyes.

“I’m not better,” you said. “I’m still sick, Tae. I still think about it. Every day.”

“I know,” he murmured. “That’s why we need each other.”

That night, he stayed outside your window again.

Didn’t sneak in.

Just sat there.

Like a ghost waiting to be forgiven.

One week later.

You got permission to leave for the weekend.

Only under supervision.

So you told the counsellor, your mom was picking you up.

You lied.

It was Taesan.

He picked you up in the same car. Same scent. Same old playlist.

But this time, neither of you reached for the other.

Just sat in silence. Comfortably broken.

His apartment hadn’t changed.

Except for the holes in the wall.

You stood in the middle of the living room while he watched you like you were a hallucination.

“Are you staying?” he asked.

You turned to him.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“You.”

That night was nothing like the first.

It was slow. Quiet. Full of whispered apologies between kisses.

You cried when he kissed your scars. He cried when you kissed his fists.

You pulled his hoodie over your bare body. He tucked his arms around you like you’d disappear if he didn’t.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he said against your skin.

“You will,” you whispered. “And I’ll hurt you too.”

He nodded.

“But we’ll try,” he said. “This time, we’ll try.”

He sold his last stash.

Gave you the money.

You didn’t ask what he wanted you to do with it.

You bought groceries. Paid rent. Cleaned the blood off the past.

You weren’t perfect. Still had nights where your bones screamed. He still woke up from nightmares shaking like a child.

But you held each other. Again. And again.

And one day, it didn’t hurt to breathe anymore.

One Year Later.

You sat on the rooftop, eating peach ice cream.

He sat beside you, fingers laced with yours, eyes watching the sky.

“Do you think we’re clean?” you asked.

He thought for a second.

“No,” he said. “But I think we’re healing.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Still addicted to me?”

“Always.”

Then he kissed you—soft, warm, whole.

Like you were the cure now.

And maybe, just maybe

You were.

© brownetry

[plateofmud]

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 𓎢𓎟𓎡

i can totally see taesan teasing you, simply for his own satisfaction because he loves seeing you flustered. Just something about the way darling slips off his tongue is so satisfying, though you seem annoyed whenever he calls you it you can’t help but silently beg he says it more. The drill is usually the same: You two are somewhere quiet and calm, like over his apartment watching a movie. He’ll slip an arm over your shoulder, gently moving you against his chest. His other hand finds your chin, tilting it upwards so that your lips are mere inches apart. And in his raspy, quiet voice he’ll tell you his hearts’ strongest feelings.

“you know I adore you, darling.”

which is why it takes you by complete surprise when you hear your special name in a completely different setting. Taesan’s friends decide to get together one night, gaming to their hearts content. Naturally you figured he’d want to spend some time alone with the guys, particularly because you were both aware of their habits to tease even the slightest sight of affection from one of you. But when Taesan stops you just as you’re about to head home, tugging at the sleeve of your shirt. He mumbles something you can’t quite hear, and when he repeats himself you finally view the faint blush on his cheeks. “i want you to stay.” How could you ever refuse?

you say your hello’s when the boys arrive, opting to make a separate space for yourself to let them have their fun, but taesan’s quick to catch you withdrawing. He takes your hand gently and guides you to the space beside him, ultimately squeezing jaehyun out of his spot on the couch. jaehyun watches this gesture with a questionable look, before chuckling under his breath. “excuse me for getting in the way of true love.” Normally Taesan would make some whitty remark, teasing him for not having a girlfriend of his own, yet he just relishes in the feeling of being next to you this time, leading you to answer the other boy with a shrug.

After hours of laughter and never-ending conversations, leehan suggests running to the store to grab something to eat. You catch the way your boyfriend hesitates, a lingering hand resting on your thigh, but the peer pressure from his friends gets the best of him as they head towards the door. He looks at you, and you swear he’s almost pouting, before he stands up and leans his face above yours. “I’ll be back soon, okay darling?” Your eyes widen, as he flashes you his most dashing smile. He pecks you on your lips before catching up to his friends, who begin cooing at the poor boy for simply loving you so much.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!

[plateofmud]

SWEET AS SINㅤ ◞ㅤ 或 ❜ㅤ ── 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 ｡

𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖣𝖨𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖤 ★ ──── 𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗅 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 ｡

𝑓 ⟡ㅤ 700ㅤ ｡ ㅤ𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ❜ ㅤ ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉ㅤ ✴ㅤ 𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝗂𝖵𝖨𝖮

𝑙 ｡ 𝗀𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝗇'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆 🍀

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮

sungho’s hands are firm on your waist, gripping just tight enough to make you feel desired, but never too much. he loves pinning you against something, one hand cradling your head as he tilts it just right, so he can kiss you deeper, better. his fingers squeeze your side lightly, his lips grazing yours before he nips at your lower lip,pulling back just enough to scan your face with yearning eyes. he watches the way your breath hitches, the way your lips part slightly, and it drives him crazy—then he’s kissing you again—insatiable, passionate—like he’s addicted to the taste of you.

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖱𝖨𝖶𝖮𝖮

the moment your lips touch, he holds you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world. his hands are slow, deliberate, savoring every second. they start at your waist, fingertips barely pressing in before sliding up—tracing the curve of your back, the slope of your shoulder, finally settling at the nape of your neck. he tilts his head, deepening the kiss with a quiet sigh, his lips moving over yours with a gentleness that makes your chest ache. when you shift closer, his arms wrap around you fully, pulling you into his warmth. and when he finally pulls away, it’s only to brush his lips against yours once more, a soft smile forming before he whispers, “stay right here.”

𝖬𝖸𝖴𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖧𝖸𝖴𝖭

jaehyun doesn’t just kiss you—he worships you. his hands are everywhere, never settling in one place for too long. one moment, his fingers are tangled in your hair, the next, they’ve slipped under your shirt, tracing slow circles against your waist, brushing over your jaw—like he needs to memorize every inch of you. he kisses you deeply, thoroughly, like he doesn’t know when he’ll get to kiss you again. when you shift closer, he hums in satisfaction, pulling you fully into his lap, arms tightening around you as if he never wants to let go. and when he finally, reluctantly, pulls away, he presses kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, before murmuring, “let’s stay like this a little longer.”

𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖳𝖠𝖤𝖲𝖠𝖭

he kisses you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. his hands cup your face, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, holding you still as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. yet, there’s nothing rushed about it—just slow, unrelenting passion, like he’s trying to pour every unspoken word into the way his lips move against yours. one hand drifts down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and when he finally pulls away, he lingers—his forehead pressed against yours, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your wrist. his voice is quiet, rough with emotion. “i could kiss you forever.”

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖫𝖤𝖤𝖧𝖠𝖭

he kisses you with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. there’s no urgency in the way he holds you, just a quiet certainty—the way his hands find your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to keep you close, thumbs skimming absentmindedly over your ribs. when you shift closer, his arms wrap around you fully, warm and secure, his palms gliding up your back in slow, soothing strokes. he tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss with a soft hum, as if he’s perfectly content to stay like this forever. when he finally pulls back, his fingers trail gently over your cheek, like he can’t bear to stop touching you just yet. then, with a soft smile, he leans in again, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖶𝖮𝖮𝖭𝖧𝖠𝖪

he doesn’t just hold you—he clings. his hands are restless, fingers skimming over your sides, gripping at your sleeves, pressing against your back like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you. at first, he kisses you hesitantly, like he’s afraid you might pull away. but the moment you respond, he melts—arms wrapping fully around your waist, pulling you so close you can feel his heart racing. when you pull away, he barely gives you a second to breathe before chasing after your lips again, eyes dazed, cheeks burning, his voice a breathless whisper against your skin. “one more,” he pleads, “just one more.”

ㅤnetworks ◞ @kstrucknet @k-films @sgz-net

[plateofmud]

WARMㅤ ◞ ㅤ前 ✿ ❜ㅤㅤ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂'𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 ｡

GUIÓN, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗒 !

 𝒇 ! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋ㅤ  𖥔  ㅤ1700 ㅤ ❛ 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉ㅤㅤ ─── 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉ㅤㅤ 🥐ㅤ ㅤ𝖣𝖮𝖲𝖲𝗂𝖤𝖱

◜ᴗ◝ ✿ㅤ:ㅤ𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽

(재현) 𝖬𝖸𝖴𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖧𝖸𝖴𝖭

jaehyun is lying on your bed like he’s got no bones, limbs sprawled out messily, one foot hanging off the edge, hoodie sleeves bunched up around his elbows. his head is tilted just slightly, eyes following your every move like he’s watching a movie he never wants to end.

you’re not even doing anything remotely interesting—just folding laundry, fixing your hair in the mirror, humming under your breath. but to jaehyun, it’s like the whole world slowed down just to spotlight you.

“stop staring,” you murmur, without looking at him.

“can you blame me?” he says, soft and lazy, and you roll your eyes. he just smiles.

a few seconds pass. then, quietly, he reaches out a hand—fingers curling around your wrist like an invitation.

you let him pull.

you fall forward with a laugh, catching yourself just before you land fully on him, but jaehyun’s already wrapping himself around you like a vine. arms around your waist, legs hooking around yours, face buried in the crook of your neck.

“you looked too pretty,” he murmurs, voice low. “couldn’t help it.”

you let out a breathy laugh, arms bracing yourself on either side of his shoulders. “you’re so clingy.”

“mhm,” he hums. “you say that like it’s new.”

you don’t try to fight it, just melt into his arms, your nose brushing his temple as you whisper, “you’re not gonna let go, are you?”

he shakes his head, nose bumping against your neck. “never.”

after a few minutes, you try to wiggle out of his arms—but he just tightens his hold, trapping you between his legs. you groan, but immediately give in.

“you’re really annoying,” you say, but there’s no real bite to your words.

he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “you love it.”

you do.

you really, really do.

(성호) 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮

you’re mid-conversation with a friend when you suddenly feel it—an arm sliding around your waist, the weight of a chin resting on your shoulder.

you turn your head, blinking—sungho? he’s not usually like this, especially not around other people. but here he is now, pressed up against you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you okay?” you ask softly.

he doesn’t answer. just hums and tightens his hold on you, shooting your friend a perfectly polite smile. but there’s something smug in his eyes too—like he’s making a point.

you’re starting to piece it together when your friend finally leaves after muttering an awkward excuse. sungho lets out a quiet sigh against your neck.

“you jealous?” you tease, turning in his arms.

“maybe a little,” he says, not even trying to deny it. “i don’t know… i just saw him looking at you like he wanted your number.”

you don’t tease him for it. instead, you smile, warmth blooming in your chest as you lean into him a little more, fingers brushing where his rest on your waist.

“you could’ve just said you missed me.”

“would’ve been less effective,” he murmurs, his nose brushing your cheek as he presses a few lingering kisses along your jaw.

you don’t push him away, and he shows no intention of letting go anytime soon, paying no mind to the people around you. and for the rest of the day, he stays close—his arm brushing against yours, fingers laced through yours—like he’s not quite done being mad cute.

(리우) 𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖱𝖨𝖶𝖮𝖮

you wake up to the scent of early morning—cool air, faint sunlight peeking through the curtains—and the feeling of something warm and heavy draped around your waist.

your first instinct is to stretch, but you can’t. you’re being held in place.

when you blink your eyes open, the sight that greets you is enough to make your heart ache in the gentlest way: riwoo, still deep asleep, face tucked into your shoulder, nose brushing your collarbone, arms locked securely around your body like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world.

his hair’s a little messy, hoodie slightly rumpled, lips parted just barely as he breathes softly against your skin. he looks peaceful. too peaceful.

you shift ever so slightly, trying not to wake him—but even that tiny movement makes his brow twitch in protest. you pause. then try again, gently peeling the blanket back.

bad idea.

he lets out the tiniest, grumpiest noise—something between a sigh and a whine—and immediately tightens his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“riwoo,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath. “i need to get up.”

“five more minutes,” he mumbles, voice rough and muffled against your shoulder. “s’cold out there. stay warm with me.”

you huff a quiet laugh. “you’re such a baby.”

“am not,” he grumbles, still clearly half-asleep. “i just… like this.”

he says it so simply, like he’s explaining why the sky is blue. like being wrapped around you like a human blanket is the most natural thing in the world.

you glance down at him, only to find his eyes cracking open—just barely. sleep still clouds them, but the way he looks at you makes your chest tighten.

“ten minutes,” he murmurs, already nuzzling into you again. “maybe forever. just… don’t leave yet.”

you don’t answer. you just slip your arm around him in return, pressing your face into his hair and closing your eyes again.

(태산) 𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖳𝖠𝖤𝖲𝖠𝖭

it starts when you cancel plans with taesan. just a quick text: “sorry, can’t make it today. something came up.”

you meant to follow it up, but time slips by, and you forget. you don’t notice his silence until hours later, when you’re walking up to your house and see taesan sitting on your porch—head hung low, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. his head lifts the moment he hears you call out his name.

“hey,” he says, but his voice is quieter than usual, a little hesitant.

“taesan? what are you doing here?”

he shrugs. “wanted to see you. you didn’t answer.”

you blink. “oh—i… i forgot. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you—”

he doesn’t say anything. just takes a step forward and wraps his arms around your waist, like it’s the only way to make sure you’re not mad at him. you try to laugh it off, not used to his clinginess, but he doesn’t budge. instead, he tucks his cold nose against your neck, like he’s trying to soak in all your warmth.

“i missed you today,” he mumbles, his breath tickling your collarbone.

you pull him inside, and he doesn’t let go—not even for a second. not when you’re unlocking the door, not while you’re kicking off your shoes. you end up half-walking to the couch with him still glued to your side, arms looped tight around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

he melts into you entirely when you sit down, arms still locked around your middle, pulling you closer like he’s trying to make up for all the time he didn’t get to hold you today.

eventually, he murmurs, “don’t cancel on me again without telling me why.”

you press a kiss to his cheek. “i won’t.”

but you probably will, if it means you get him all cuddly like this.

(이한) 𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖫𝖤𝖤𝖧𝖠𝖭

you’ve seen leehan tired before—after all-nighters, post-practice, sometimes when he forgets to sleep properly before a trip.

but today’s different.

he shows up at your house in the evening, hoodie zipped up, dark circles under his eyes, and a shy smile that doesn’t quite reach yet.

“hey,” he says, voice scratchy. “can i stay for a bit?”

you nod immediately, pulling him inside before he can explain or make excuses. he’s running a low fever—you realize it the second he leans into you, eyes closed, skin too warm.

you start fussing—getting him water, meds, a warm blanket, dimming the lights—and he just watches you from the bed, lips parted slightly, like he doesn’t know what to say.

“you should’ve told me,” you scold softly, kneeling beside the bed and running your fingers gently through his hair. “you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

his fingers brush against yours. “i know… i just didn’t want to bother you.”

later, when he’s tucked under your blanket, warm and drowsy, you think he’s fallen asleep.

but then you feel him shift, reaching for your arm. he tugs gently, eyes barely open.

you hesitate—only for a second. but when you slip under the blanket beside him, leehan immediately curls into you, arms winding around your waist, nose tucked into your shoulder.

“you didn’t have to take care of me,” he murmurs, “but you did.”

“you’d do the same for me,” you whisper, brushing your fingers through his hair.

“i would,” he agrees, already half-asleep, voice fading. “but i still think i’m the lucky one.”

(운학) 𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖶𝖮𝖮𝖭𝖧𝖠𝖪

it’s late, way too late. you’re standing at the door of woonhak’s room, backpack slung over your shoulder, jacket already zipped. the room is dim, lit only by the warm glow of his desk lamp. and he’s standing there, pouting.

“you’re really leaving?”

you laugh. “yes, woonhak. it’s late.”

“but i just got you to myself,” he says, walking toward you slowly. he stops right in front of you and lets his head fall onto your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. “we barely got to do anything.”

“you dragged me into three different board games.”

“yeah, but i wanted to cuddle.”

you roll your eyes affectionately. “you can’t make me lose five rounds of uno and then ask for cuddles.”

“yes i can,” he whispers, arms tightening around your waist like a little kid. “just stay five more minutes. please?”

“woonhak…”

he looks up at you, lip jutting out slightly. “if you leave now, i’ll miss you the whole night.”

that’s the thing about woonhak—when he wants you close, he really wants you close. he’s a flirty, playful loudmouth with everyone else, but with you? he softens. and you give into his wants every single time.

he presses his forehead against yours, like it’s the only way to make time slow down.

“please…?” he pleads, one more time.

you sigh, defeated, and drop your bag to the floor.

his whole face lights up.

“i love you,” he beams, pulling you straight into his arms and wrapping himself around you like a koala, dragging you to his bed. “just until you really have to go,” he murmurs, face buried in your shoulder—and you can feel him smiling against your skin.

you won’t leave for another hour.

ㅤ𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 ◞ @kstrucknet @k-films @sgz-net

[plateofmud]

bsf!hyuck helping camgirl!reader but he's in love with her

mature themes, minors dni!! ⊹₊⋆ 🍸 ྀི

an; so this was a request...i fear i missed the point but this monstrosity will have to do ok.

masterlist

[plateofmud]

practice makes perfect

bestfriend jisung x reader

genre: smut 18+, fluff (if you squint)

wc: 6.05k

synopsis: you have a crush on jaehyun whos a year above you in college, but you’re so inexperienced it makes you think that he will never look at you. so who will help you if not your best friend?

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

you didn’t want to ask jisung for help. in fact, you were avoiding it, trying to find other ways, because it was insane and he was your best friend since childhood.

and asking your best friend to help you learn how to kiss so you didn’t screw it up with your silly little crush? yeah, that was the craziest thing you ever were about to do.

“hey, sung,” you start, trying to sound casual but failing as your voice cracks mid sentence.

jisung glances up briefly, raising an eyebrow. “what’s up?”

you hesitate, chewing on your hoodie string as your palms grow sweaty. why is this so hard? you can’t even ask him a simple question?

“uh, so…” you trail off, your voice dropping as you struggle to get the words out. “hypothetically speaking… if someone wanted to, like… learn how to do something… how would they, uh, go about it?”

jisung stares at you for a moment, blinking in confusion. “you gotta narrow that down for me, y/n. what are we talking about? gaming? cooking? math?”

“oh my god, no,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. this was already so much worse than you imagined.

“relax, relax,” he says, setting his phone down, which made you peek at him through your fingers. “what’s going on?”

you take a deep breath, you kept reminding yourself, if you didn’t just say it, you would never going to get through this.

“i… kind of have a crush on jaehyun.” you admit quickly, the words tumbling out as if you were rushing.

jisungs brows shoot up, and for a split second, something unreadable flickers across his face before his expression turns into something neutral. “uh, okay. and?”

“and… i want him to notice me,” you continue, heat rising to your face. “but i don’t know what i’m doing. i mean, he’s cool, and experienced, and i’m just…” you trail off, gesturing vaguely at yourself.

jisung tilts his head, his lips pressing into a slight frown. “you’re just what?”

“a loser, jisung,” you groan, slumping forward dramatically. “i’ve never even kissed anyone, and what if he finds out and thinks i’m, like, a lost cause?”

jisung opens his mouth, probably to argue against the whole “loser” thing, but you cut him off, too embarrassed.

“so, i was thinking…” you pause, glancing at him nervously. “maybe you could, um, help me.”

“help you?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“yeah. like, practice?” you wave your hands vaguely, trying to look like you haven’t been agonizing over this for days. “y’know… kissing.”

jisung stares at you like you’ve just sprouted a second head.

you don't think you ever were this embarrassed before. you had always hung out in your best friends room, but the reason behind this visit had made you want the ground to swallow you whole.

your voice felt shaky as it cut through the silence of jisungs bedroom. "i just think it'd be better if i... y'know... knew what i was doing. i can't ask jaehyun to... y'know, like—" you swallowed as you tried to not repeat the words again. your face heated up at the thought of finishing the sentence, "to teach me how to kiss if we ever do it."

jisung, sitting on his gaming chair, nervously fiddled with his hoodie string. he moved his head in a way that made his messy black hair flop into his eyes to avoid looking directly at you. "are you, like, actually being serious right now?"

"very serious." you said with a poor attempt of trying to sound confident, but the way your voice was wobbly instantly gave you away, which only made him blink in irritation. "i-i mean, i can't... i don't want to fuck up if he–"

you closed your mouth, hesitating as you clutched one of his pillows tighter to your chest, sitting on the edge of his bed. talking to him was always easy for you, since he understood you in ways no one else could. but sometimes his ability to read you made things worse, as he was making you aware of how much of a loser you actually were.

after he sensed that you weren't completing your sentence, he tilted his head and exhaled hard. "so, if i understand correctly," he rested his chin on the back of his hand. “you want me to help you practice… for some guy? jeong jaehyun specifically?”

you squirmed. his delivery made it sound as stupid as it was. in fact, this made no sense. who asks their best friend for— gosh.

you were already too deep in to start laughing and tell him it was a joke and he was silly for falling for it, and his slightly wide eyes made it seem like he wasn’t totally opposed to this idea (which mattered way more than it should’ve).

“um… yeah,” you croaked. jisung ran a hand through his hair like he was suddenly going to come up with an excuse, but something in his eyes, the awkward confidence, tipped you off. he never really refused your offer.

“i know you never make good decisions, but this is seriously the worst idea you have ever had in your life,” he muttered, though you could tell the amusement in his tone. before you processed his reaction, he leaned forward, clasped his hands, and finished his sentence, “but okay.”

your heart skipped a beat, “okay?” you almost stuttered, “like… okay okay?”

“yeah, okay okay.” he huffed and scratched the back of his neck as though he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “i’ll help, but just practice,” his tone was serious, “if it gets weird, we stop. alright?”

you nodded quickly, “alright.”

“and don’t tell anyone about this.” he said, holding up a finger like you were a toddler.

“obviously,” you answered, which only earned you a smirk from him. a smirk that made your stomach flip. why is he suddenly smirking at you?

there is a beat of silence before jisung slides off his chair, kneeling awkwardly in front of you, where you’re perched on his bed. his height still towers over you a bit, but the soft flush creeping up his neck made you realise you weren’t the only one that was nervous.

“um… you want to start now?” he asked quietly, as if he was shy. you nodded again, your mouth running faster than your brain, “unless you’re scared of me or something.”

“y/n,” he groaned like he wanted to pull his hair out, “why are you making things harder than they should be?”

despite his words, his laugh was gentle, and maybe even fond. you bite your lip as he carefully shifts closer until your knees bump against him.

“you’re sure about this, right?” he whispers, and when you nod, he leans forward slowly, like he’s scared to startle you.

his plump lips brush yours gently at first, as if he’s giving you time to back out. his hand awkwardly lingers in the air near your shoulder, before settling there. you can barely think straight, you would’ve never thought that jisung, nerdy and awkward, would’ve been this careful and soft. you clutch onto him and his breath hitches which only makes your face burn ever more.

“just practice,” he whispers as his lips meet yours in hesitation. as you deepen the kiss, it doesn’t really feel like practicing.

he pulls back and rests his forehead on yours. you could feel his warm breath against your lips. he quickly opens his eyes, nervously trying to read you, as if he was trying to figure out if you regret it, or if he should stop.

you don’t say a word, you’re too shocked from the fact that you’re enjoying this, considering that heat was pooling in your lower stomach.

“y/n,” he whispers so quietly that it almost got swallowed by the tense air in the room. it took all your courage to swallow and look back up at him, “was that okay?” you whisper, and you feel your cheeks get red because of how nervous you sounded.

his lips twitched, which you realised was an effort to give you a reassuring smile, “yeah” he says, then he lets out a small laugh, glancing to the side to avoid eye contact, “it was more than okay.”

you blink in surprise, and then open your mouth to say something, but you can’t form words, “really?” you finally blurt something out.

you noticed his ears turn red as he retreated. “i mean, not that i do this often, i just— um… you’re—“ his voice disappears into thin air as he slides his hand up to scratch his head in embarrassment.

you would’ve chuckled and called him cute if it didn’t plant a fucked up idea in your head, the type of idea that you’re half shy to say out loud.

but once again, your mouth works faster than your brain, “should we keep going?” you blurt it out, and before you process what you said, jisung freezes.

his mouth opens and closes, but there’s no words coming out of him. “it’s not fair if i practice once,” your voice is trembling, “i mean, i have to— i should get used to, like, more….i need— i’m gonna mess up with jaehyun if i—“

“okay, stop.” jisung cuts you off suddenly, his hands coming up as he was surrendering, “i get it.”

your stomach drops at the look on his face until he settles back on his knees, leaning forward again. “we will go slow, and if you feel too overwhelmed,” his voice is so low and serious that it makes your throat tighten. “we will stop immediately, no questions.”

you nod nervously. his thumb brushes across your jaw, leaning in closer until his lips meet yours again. his lips part slightly, guiding yours open, which sends a shiver down your spine. you gasp quietly, and the sound might have gotten a reaction out of him, because he slides his hand up your hoodie, not that you don’t enjoy it.

jisungs tongue flickers against your lip in such hesitant and sweet manner that it made you instinctively arch closer and let your knees drift apart slightly. you didn’t think that this tiny shift would change anything.

the hand bracing your cheek falters and before you know it, both of you sink onto his bed, almost deliberately. as the soft mattress hugs your back, he positions himself above you, his eyes darkened.

his lips hover over yours again, “still okay?” he asks, his voice painted in roughness.

“y-yeah,” you whisper, your heart racing so loud that you’re pretty sure he hears it too.

when he kisses you again for the third time, it must be something about the pressure, the position you two are in, or the way he worries so much about you, that unlocks something in you that you never knew existed.

you feel his hand slide down, his fingers trembling as they graze the hem of your hoodie. his hesitation makes your brain almost shut down, and maybe that’s why you let your hand find his wrist and grab it, guiding him beneath the fabric of your clothes.

“y/n,” he groans softly against your lips, his voice being desperate, a sound that you had never expected to hear from… him.

his breath grows unsteady as his fingers slide higher, slightly trembling as they run over the bare skin beneath your hoodie. as this is unfamiliar to you, you wonder if you should say something, maybe a joke to ease the tension, but the moment feels so.. raw. you never felt this close w him before. so you don’t.

instead, you shift your hips slightly, just enough to send a signal to him. the movement makes jisungs face scrunch, as if he was struggling to keep himself together. his forehead dips against your shoulder as his breath brushes ovee your collarbone.

“y/n…” he says in a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. your hand searches for his wrist again, and when you find him, you guide it lower, past your waistband. you feel him freeze, his fingers stiffen up against the elastic, which makes you think that he’s going to pull away.

the bubble of disappointment forming in your mind was popped when you felt him exhale. his touch inches lower, “i don’t…” his voice is barely audible, “i don’t want to mess this up.” you look away, hiding your face from him, “you won’t. just… please?”

that must be enough for him because his fingers immediately slip beneath your underwear, sliding hesitantly across the slick and sensitive skin. the first touch makes you gasp, clutching his hoodie.

“is this okay?” he asks as his fingers explore you in slow and cautious movements.

“yeah,” you answer, your hips slightly jerking at the sensation, “jisung, it’s— yeah.”

his lips graze the side of your neck as his hand continues. his thumb circles around your most sensitive spot, which draws a soft whimper from you. for a second, you feel him freeze, as if he’s stunned by the sound, but he quickly gets back to doing what he was doing.

he shifts slightly, his free hand bracing beside your head as he adjusts his weight. you notice that he somehow got more confident, as his fingers gets braver, now slipping inside you carefully. the stretch is new to you, but it’s comfortable, and it makes your breath hitch.

jisung immediately slows, “is it too much?” he asks, his voice low, but you can feel his hand twitch where it rests against your waist.

you shake your head, pulling him close by the collar of his hoodie. “no, it’s… it feels—“ your words dissolve into a moan as his fingers curl into you, brushing against a spot that makes your whole body tense.

“oh,” jisung breathes, his movements pausing for a second before he adjusts his angle, pressing into that spot again with tentative strokes. “is that— does that feel good?”

“yeah,” you gasp, nodding helplessly. you’re clinging to him as you feel your mind turn foggy, not being able to form a thought, the only thing you can process is the way his fingers feel inside of you.

now that he figured out what you like, his lips brush against yours slowly again as his fingers pick up a rhythm. your legs tremble as the pressure builds. you don’t even notice the desperate noises spilling from your lips until jisung mutters, “baby, you’re so—“

he’s not able to finish his sentence, because your hips arched against his hand instead, he swallows the rest of the sentence in a kiss.

his fingers press deeper, curling just right, and it makes you overwhelmed by the pleasure. the way his face is so close to you, his lips brushing yours, giving you small kisses, it’s almost too romantic.

though, you can tell he’s still hesitating, but the heat pooling low in your stomach makes you want to beg for more. each movement makes you tremble beneath him, clutching on his hoodie like it helps you regain composure, but it still felt like everything else was blurring.

“tell me if i’m… if it’s too much,” he says, his voice soft. his free hand shifts to your waist, his thumb brushing against your cold skin.

“it’s not,” you manage to answer, your mind still foggy. you watch as his brows furrow and his lips part, unsure of what he said.

he shifts his angle slightly, trying something new again, and it feels so good that you bite your lip to stifle a whimper (unsuccessfully). it’s almost like he’s surprised at the way you react, but it doesn’t make him stop. he picks up a faster pace, which draws sounds that you never knew you were capable of making. you can barely think, or even form any thoughts. all you know is how jisung feels, how patient, careful, and focused he is.

he’s watching you attentively, like your every reaction is fascinating, like he wants to memorise what makes you squirm and shake beneath him. “does this feel good?” he stammered.

you nod desperately, gripping his clothes tighter, your body curling as that tight and burning pressure inside you slowly starts building up. “it does,” you gasp, unable to stop the way your hips shift, almost matching his rhythm. “jisung, it— i—“ your eyes roll back in pleasure as you moan his name out.

you don’t realise how close you are until you feel the heat overtaking you completely, the sharp pull in your stomach snapping. you tremble under him, the rush of release washing over you in waves. the way you cry out makes jisung freeze before he slows down, guiding you through it, he somehow knows exactly what to do.

when you finally come down, he stops, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his face is flushed, his pupils blown wide, but there’s something behind his expression, it’s so soft that it makes your chest ache. you don’t even want to imagine how you look like right now.

you blink up at him, still catching your breath, somehow still managing to smile. “that…” your words trail off, and your face burns hotter than before.

jisung looks down at you his fingers still lightly resting against your skin, “did i do okay?” he asks timidly, as though he’s genuinely unsure, despite the way your body feels like it’s still floating.

you let out a small laugh, nodding as you reach up to cup his cheek. your voice is quieter than you expect when you reply, "yeah, jisung. you did... really okay."

the blush that overtakes his face is so red that it makes you laugh again. he collapses onto the bed next to you with a groan, flopping onto his back. his arm is draped lightly over your stomach, like he can’t quite bring himself to let go completely.

for a minute, neither of you says anything, the only sound in the room being your breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner. your cheeks still feel hot, no, your entire body feels hot, but you can’t stop the small, breathless laugh that bubbles out of you. jisung turns his head, “what’s so funny?”

you glance at him, catching the faint pink on his ears and the way his messy hair sticks up at odd angles. he looks so much like his usual dorky self that you almost forget what just happened. almost.

“i just…” you trail off, biting your lip to hide another laugh before finally giving in. “i can’t believe you used to help me with building sandcastles, but this is what we’re doing now.”

jisung stares at you for a beat, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh too, but then he snorts loudly, the sound bursting out of him before he can stop it.

“oh my god, y/n.” he covers his face with one hand, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “why would you say that?”

“because it’s true!” you answer, grinning now, the tension in your chest unraveling as the laughter overtakes you both. “like… think about it. you used to help me build those stupid towers with the little flags, and now you’ve got your fingers, like—”

“stop, stop, stop,” his voice cracks as he rolls over, burying his face in his pillow. “don’t finish that sentence.”

you’re both laughing so hard now that tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you don’t even care how ridiculous you sound. it’s stupid and awkward and so perfectly the two of you.

jisung finally lifts his head, still grinning like an idiot, and nudges you lightly with his elbow. “okay, but really, sandcastles were way easier. i didn’t have to worry about… ruining anything.” his voice dips at the end, quieter, and you blink at the sudden shift, your laughter fading just a bit.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” you say softly, bumping your shoulder against his. “i mean… i think you were so amazing, actually.”

jisung’s ears turn red again, and he scrambles to sit up, looking everywhere but at you. “don’t say stuff like that,” he mutters, tugging on the strings of his hoodie like they might save him from combusting. “you’re gonna make this weird.”

“weirder than it already is?” you tease, tilting your head with a smirk.

he groans, hiding his face in his hands. “god, i hate you.”

but there’s no edge to his words, and when you sit up too, nudging your knee against his, he glances at you through his fingers with a shy smile.

“i’m serious,” you say quietly. “thank you. for, y’know… helping me.”

jisung drops his hands, his gaze softening. “yeah. of course.” then he grins, all nervous energy again. “but i am never going to be able to look at a sandcastle without losing it now.”

you shove him lightly, laughing again, and he catches your hand before you can pull away, holding onto it. he shifts closer on the bed, his hand still holding yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “so…” his voice is low and nervous, “did the practice, like, actually help?”

you look at him, your cheeks flushing when you realised just how much ‘practice’ you had gone through. “um… yeah” you say nervously while intertwining your fingers with his, “it definitely helped me,”

he smiles a little at your response, but his gaze was flickering on your lips. the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter in ways it shouldn’t.

“…this isn’t practice anymore, is it?” he says quietly as his lips brush yours.

this isn’t about jaehyun anymore. actually, it hasn’t been for a while now. you were fully aware of that, and judging by his words, and actions, he knows it too. “no,” you whisper back, tilting your face up to him, “it’s not.”

the kiss that follows up is different. it’s not hesitant like before, but it perfectly conveys the desperation of you. jisungs hand cups your face as his lips move against yours and he pulls you closer to him. you softly sigh into the kiss and let your hands slide up and tangle in his hair.

his weight shifts, gently easing you down onto the mattress, “baby,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you with his flushed face, “is this okay? like, are you sure about it?”

“yes,” you reply, though your voice was trembling a bit. “it’s okay.”

as you answer, his lips find yours again, his hands start smoothing over your sides and he settles between your thighs. you arch into him as he shifts his hips against yours, the pressure sending pleasure through your entire body.

jisung hesitates for a moment before reaching down to tug at the hem of his hoodie. his hands fumbled slightly as the fabric caught on his wrists, but you didn’t care. all you could do was watch as his pale skin was revealed inch by inch until he pulled the hoodie over his head and let it drop to the floor beside him.

you don’t realise you’re tugging at your own hoodie until his hands shift closer to you to help you with it. as the hoodie slips off your shoulders, he tosses it to the side. he glances at you like he’s about to say something but isn’t sure if he should.

“stop staring at me like that,” your face was burning, you couldn’t even look at him.

“sorry, it’s just…” he pauses, his hand brushing your waist as his hands were slightly trembling, “you’re so… pretty.”

the vulnerability in his voice makes your heartbeat faster than it already was. you’re not even sure how to respond, so instead you reach for him, sliding your hands over his skin.

you arch up slightly, your lips meeting his again in a kiss, and his hands rest on your waist. your hands slide down his chest before moving to the waistband of his sweatpants. you hesitate for a moment, biting your lips as you look up at him for permission. jisung swallows hard, his blush more prominent as he nods. “i mean, if you’re sure,” he says quickly, his voice almost cracking. “i’m sure,” you reassure him.

tugging down at the fabric of his sweatpants was so messy, both of you were fumbling with nervous hands, a quiet giggle breaking through the tension when the elastic got stuck on his knee. “this is nothing like it seems in movies,” jisung says with your laugh following up soon after.

“you’re fine,” you answered, pushing him onto his back so you could help slide the fabric off completely. his boxers remain, for now.

your clothes follow soon after, first your jeans, which jisung awkwardly helped you get out of, and then, with his encouragement, your panties.

there’s a moment of silence as you lay back beneath him. he hovers above you, his lips slightly parted as his eyes undress you once again.

“you’re so… beautiful, y/n,” he says while his gaze stays fixed on you.

“stop,” you mumble, looking away, you don’t want him to see how red your cheeks are.

“i mean it,” he insists, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your collarbone. he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, glancing down at you as if he’s making sure you’re ready.

when you nod, his hands move carefully as he slides the last barrier away. your heart skips a beat when you realise what is about to happen.

he hovers over you again, his hand slipping down to your waist as he shifts closer, positioning himself. “if i, um… if something feels wrong, just tell me,” he whispers, his face not leaving yours, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

you nod, your heart softening at his caring tone, “i will, ji, don’t worry.”

he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again, it’s so slow and sweet, there’s so much affection in it. after letting nervous giggles out, he finally presses in you. he pauses immediately, his face scanning yours as his brows furrow.

“does it hurt?” he asks, his voice containing worry.

it does, a little, but it’s not unbearable, you shake your head quickly, forcing a small smile, “it’s fine, just… go slow?”

he exhales, nodding as he leans in again to press a kiss to your temple, “yeah, slow, okay,” the way he’s so patient and gentle almost breaks you. his hands find yours and laces your fingers together as he moves slowly, giving you time to adjust. every time you tense, or your breath changes, he stops immediately, waiting for your breath to settle before continuing.

"you're doing so good," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "just tell me what you need, okay?"

it's overwhelming in the best way. the soft way he speaks to you, the warmth of his hand squeezing yours when he feels you clench around him, the way his kisses linger against your neck like he's trying to reassure you without words.

"jisung," you say, your voice shaky yet enough to cut through his concentration.

he glances down at you quickly, "what? am i hurting you?”

"no," you say quickly, tightening your grip on his hand. “you’re just… so attractive.”

his face flushes immediately, and he lets out a soft, nervous laugh, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder. "oh my god, don't say that, i’ll mess it all up if you keep saying stuff like that."

"you're not gonna mess anything up," you reply, your free hand sliding into his hair. "you're perfect."

his movements falter for just a moment before he lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unknown. then, he leans down and kisses you again, but harder this time.

everything about the moment feels impossibly close, his warmth, his voice murmuring your name, the way he doesn't let go of your hand even for a second.

your bodies move together, you're still holding jisungs hand, your fingers gripping his. "you're doing so good," he murmurs again, his voice uneven as he dips his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

the sincerity in his tone makes your chest feel too tight, and you're sure he can feel the way your heartbeat thuds erratically under his touch.

"jisung," you breathe, his name slipping past your lips.

he looks at you, his eyes wide, "i'm here," he whispers, his free hand brushing softly against your waist. "i've got you."

every shift, every deepening stroke sends another wave of heat through you, drawing you closer and closer to a breaking point you didn't realise you were this close to.

his movements grow shakier, his breaths coming in sharp, unsteady bursts against your neck. you can tell he's right there too, holding on just as tightly as you are.

"i can't—“ your voice cuts off into a soft gasp as your body tenses beneath him, your grip on his hand tightening. “jisung, i—“

"it's okay," he says quickly, his words coming out quiet as his own body trembles. "i've got you. just... let go, baby. i'm right here."

his voice is all it takes for you to finish. your whole body tenses, the heat unfurling in an overwhelming wave that leaves you breathless, trembling beneath him. the sounds that escape your lips are ones you've never heard before, they’re so soft and broken.

jisungs movements become less controlled as the tension in his body builds. the little sounds he's making, soft gasps and quiet groans are etched into your memory already, the closeness of it all making your chest tighten.

his lips are on your neck, brushing against your skin in a way that feels comforting, as though he's using you to keep himself grounded. his free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his touch delicate.

"y/n," he whispers, his voice shaking as he presses deeper, his breath hot against your ear. "i’m— god, i can't— where—“

you understand immediately, the frantic edge in his voice mirroring the way your own body still feels like it's vibrating from release.

"it's okay," you whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders, "you can—“ you pause, your words catching in your throat before you nod softly, pulling him even closer. "inside, jisung. it's okay."

his whole body shudders at your words, and he lets out a soft, broken moan as his rhythm stutters. his grip on your hip tightens slightly, his fingers trembling as his forehead drops to your shoulder.

"are you— are you sure?" he asks, his voice is tight, strained with the effort it's taking him to hold on just a moment longer.

"i'm sure," you whisper, your breath catching as his hips press flush against yours. "it's okay. i want you to."

it must be his breaking point. with one last deep thrust, jisung lets go completely, his body collapsing against yours as he spills inside you. the sounds he makes are low and muffled against your shoulder, his breathing uneven and shallow as his fingers curl into your waist like he's clinging to you for dear life.

you can feel the heat of him inside you, and the realization sends another wave of warmth through your body, leaving you breathless.

for a moment, neither of you move. he’s still holding you, still pressing kisses to your shoulder, and your hand reaches up to run your hand through his messy hair. jisung hasn’t moved much, still pressed close against you as both of you work to catch your breath. his hand rests gently on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.

“you good?” he asks softly, tilting his head to glance at you. his cheeks are still flushed, a faint pink lingering on the tips of his ears, and his hair is a mess, but his expression is serious.

“yeah,” you reply, your voice a little hoarse. you manage a small smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “are you good?”

he huffs out a laugh, his lips curling into a grin. “i mean… i think so? unless i, like, accidentally broke you or something.”

you snort, swatting his shoulder lightly. “you didn’t break me, dumbass.”

“just making sure,” he says, grinning a little wider now.

he sits up then, careful not to disturb you too much as he grabs a spare hoodie from his chair and offers it to you without a word. you tug it on, your cheeks heating at how impossibly jisung it smells. he pulls on his own clothes clumsily, his movements shaky, but he recovers quickly, turning back to you as he rubs a hand through his hair.

“do you, uh, need anything?” he asks, looking slightly nervous as his gaze flickers around the room, like he’s wondering if he’s supposed to have some plan.

“water might be nice?” you suggest, smiling faintly.

“got it,” he says quickly, almost tripping over his own feet as he heads to the kitchen. you bite your lip, fighting back a giggle at how adorably confused he still looks.

when he returns with a water bottle in hand, you sit up and take it from him, mumbling a quiet “thanks” as you sip. he flops down beside you again, a sigh leaving his lips as he rests his head against the headboard.

the silence is nice, comforting even, but it doesn’t last long before jisung shifts, glancing at you with a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“so,” he starts, drawing out the word in that dramatic way he always does when he’s trying to annoy you. “you think jaehyun could’ve done it better?”

you nearly choke on your water, whacking him in the chest as he laughs. “shut up!”

“i’m just saying!” he protests, holding up his hands in surrender. “if this was, like, a whole competition, i think i deserve at least a nine out of ten. maybe a ten, if you’re feeling generous.”

“oh my god.” you roll your eyes, but you’re laughing too now, clutching at your sides as his dramatic pout melts into his usual grin. “you’re so full of yourself.”

“i’m practical,” jisung corrects, poking your cheek lightly.

“and annoying,” you shoot back, though the love in your voice is impossible to hide.

you both get lost in giggles again, the ease of your friendship slipping back into place.

it isn’t until the laughter fades that the unspoken feelings creep back in, settling between you. jisung clears his throat softly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“so, uh… are we still…” he hesitates, his voice faltering slightly. “you know. best friends? after, uh… this?” your heart tightens at the vulnerability in his voice, and you reach over, squeezing his hand.

“yeah,” you say, smiling at him even as your cheeks heat up again. “we’re still best friends.”

jisung visibly relaxes at your words, his lips quirking into a relieved smile.

“okay,” he says softly, then after a second, “but, uh… does this mean we’re, like, best friends who, y’know…” he gestures vaguely, his ears turning bright red. “do this stuff now?”

you blink at him, then burst out laughing, the sound spilling out before you can stop it. jisung groans, hiding his face in the pillow again.

“stop laughing! i’m being serious!”

“you’re not real,” you manage between breaths, leaning over to press a light, teasing kiss to his temple. “but yeah… i think we’ll figure it out.”

jisung laughs again, the sound is so warm, so yours.

“i love you, y/n,” he says softly, his voice quiet.

your breath catches, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, your heart feeling like it’s about to burst.

“i love you too, you’re everything to me.” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his lips.

in this moment, nothing else matters but him, jisung, your best friend, or should i say your boyfriend, and how stupid you were for not realising how in love you were with him.

and the way he looks at you now? you know your feelings are reciprocated.

[plateofmud]

⠀   ⠀ ── ִֶָ ᡴꪫㅤㅤwhen a guy calls you

mdni. library.

“get rid of him.” jeno had exhausted his patience when the phone rang again. he's been calling all night and it was starting to irritate him. you were lost in the clouds, eyes full of tears and pretty face cortorted with pleasure. holding out the phone to you and staring roughly, his gaze soften when he looks at you through the haze, trying to hold back from thrusting you when you pick up the call and your voice sounds exactly how he wanted it to sound: like you're being fucked hard.

“wanna answer this?” your stomach churns with a shudder as haechan suggests to stop the friction of his length filling you. the sweet, vicious sensation barely gives you anything to think about, and the constant swaying every time he goes in and out stimulates you to the brim. knowing that you won't be able to string words together, you still shake your head and whine a no as your hands awkwardly push him further into you. he laughs shortly, “d'you get that? don't call again.”

“guess you're not cumming soon.” when mark reaches out to your phone, you notice that he's fed up. you see —between your lashes and half-closed eyes— as he leaves the mobile next to the pillow that you've been biting for a long time. he changes the pace for the th time and start to rock in and out torturously slow and hard you almost let out a whimper knowing that the more they call, the more mark is going to drive you into limbo and leave you there if he keeps edging you as a punishment.

“she's busy.” chenle lowers his gaze to you where he caresses your puffy cheek. his face twitches with raw pleasure as he pushes his pelvis in, filling your mouth with his masculinity. a few more thrusts, his mouth opens and your stomach tightens in terror thinking he's going to let out a groan while cumming. his head pulls back as his load imbues your tongue with him just as he sneers, “well, she can't talk right now. see ya.”

“i dare you, pretty.” jaemin buries himself more in you, making you arch when he has clearly seen you take your phone to see who's calling you so much. your fingers instinctively go to his hair when you feel him eating you with tongue and lips. his finger twirl inside while fingering you, enticing whiny moans out of you and your narrowed eyes see him look at you with intense palpable possessiveness, challenging you to answer.

“yes?” your stomach tenses and jisung lets out a curse when you slow down on top of him. he leans back to keep you out of reach while he has a conversation with the person on the other end while his long hand pinches one of your breast before resting on your waist, urging you to keep riding him. he's trying so hard not to moan that it's tempting you to go all the way down on him. “sure thing, ma'am... —” your stomach tightens in fright when you finally realize, making him grin. “i'll give her your message.”

“answer.” renjun holds out the phone and wants you to pick up while he doesn't stop for you to do so. in fact, the movements intensify and further liquefy your mind. you try to restrain yourself enough to sound sane, when the reality is that your voice sounds pasty and shaky by the constant rocking of his thrusts readjusting your guts. and the cruel grin on his face only makes it worse when he obviously notices that clearly, you can't. “go on. talk.”

[plateofmud]

[fruit punch] taesan x f!reader | 11.4k words enemies to lovers, also idiots to lovers, college au, alcohol consumption, mutual pining, smut (making out, fingering f. receiving, handjobs, vaginal sex, protected sex, oral sex), dom!taesan if you squint, y/n is lowkey evil sometimes, they're both just confused and dumb note. ty to the anon for sending this request! i had sm fun writing this~~ sorry it took so long i started uni again and lost all of my free time. hope everyone enjoys broody and grumpy taesan hehe. @onedoornet :P

taesan swears he can feel his blood pumping in his ears every time he sees you. he's come to loathe the feeling, the way his stomach flips and twitches when he hears your voice. his senses heighten and his vision tunnels on you, as if a curtain has been draped over everyone and everything else. his whole body is attuned to you, like he's your fucking puppet.

it's sick, he hates how much he unconsciously worships you. he's reminded of it every time he hears your voice around the corner or your name in conversations.

the reason he despises his affinity for you is because he knows you don't feel the same -- he's almost certain he doesn't even occupy a sliver of your mind.

he knows you're lively and expressive in conversation, at least that's what he's heard. every time he come around and joins conversation with your mutual friends, you suddenly have no words left on your tongue and no thoughts left in your mind. taesan can probably count the amount of times you've spoken to him directly on one hand.

taesan doesn't know what he's done, or what he's doing to put you off of him, but he's been done with your little hate boner against him for a while now. no matter how stuffy his lungs get or how tight his pants get when you seep into his vision or his mind, taesan couldn't care less, not anymore. he rolls his eyes and spins on a heel when he sees you or hears your pretty voice; or he sighs and falls face first onto his pillow when you creep in his solitary thoughts.

he feels like your fucking dog, drooling and falling over you while you can't even look him in the eye.

taesan would say he has a strong resolve and sense of self, and it disgusts him to no end how you weaken and crumble his walls with a simple half-smile, all while ignoring him entirely like he's gum on your shoes.

on top of everything, he had the unfortunate experience of witnessing you verbally confirm your distaste for the boy.

taesan was sifting through the library's aisles, looking for a book to use for his music theory paper. around the corner, you happened to be sitting at one of the study tables, chatting with your friends carelessly, not realizing the topic of your conversation was standing less than 10 feet away.

it wasn't the boy's intent to eavesdrop, but he was in earshot and couldn't escape your conversation if he wanted to. and he wished he did, after hearing the next words that came out of you and your friends mouths.

"formal's coming up soon, who are you taking, y/n?"

"ugh, i don't know who to ask." to his dismay, his ears perked at the sound of your voice.

"what about taesan?" the boy tensed at the sound of his name rolling off your friend, giselle's, tongue. the giggle that left her mouth after made his stomach twist and jolt.

"are you crazy? jesus, giselle. no way!" taesan felt his already bruised heart drop to his ass. you sounded appalled, and your tone only rubbed salt on the boy's already open wound.

there wasn't much left to hear, taesan wasn't keen on sticking around to listen to you guys keep talking shit about him. he spun on his heel and left the library as fast as he could without running. his paper would just have to wait a few hours.

it was a sour memory that made him wince, and it was a scene that he replayed in his head every time he felt his heart race around you.

today was no exception, as taesan walked into the lobby of his apartment complex -- which is unfortunately the same complex that you lived in -- he caught a glance of you in his peripheral, you were studying with friends in one of the lobby's booths, smiling like your usual joyous self. not that taesan would even know; your bubbly side isn't something he's familiar with in the slightest.

once again, to his dismay, the boy felt his heart jolt in his ribcage, the solid thumping a bit more noticeable than before. and like a routine that was ingrained in him, he quelled his outburst of excitement before it could fully bubble to the surface.

forget it, she hates you.

turning his attention to his phone, taesan lazily walked over to the mailroom to pick up a package he ordered a while ago. he then made his way over to the elevator, still paying no mind to his surroundings, scrolling through his friends' recent text messages and posts on instagram. it wasn’t until the elevator doors opened, he walked in, and punched his floor's button that he looked away from his phone; he opted to stare at his shoe instead, back slumping against the wall behind him.

the elevator doors started closing before they suddenly halted and reopened. taesan heard heavy breathing, like someone was running to catch the doors. when his gaze shifted upward curiously, he felt his entire being tense, fingers suddenly digging into the sides of the cardboard box he was holding.

it was you; your hair was fluttering around your face and your backpack was hanging haphazardly off one shoulder, still half unzipped. your cheeks were red and flushed from your hasty entrance and your lips were parted slightly, drawing in soft breaths as your eyes locked with his.

taesan was horrified, and he gave you a quick nod of acknowledgement to avoid having to speak to you. he hoped to god his disdain didn't show across his face -- he was barely confident that he even managed to nod without his neck twitching. in the time it took him to blink, you slipped into the elevator and were now standing 3 feet to his left.

suddenly, it was as if the ceiling of the elevator was the most interesting thing the boy had ever seen, and taesan stared at the patterns in the ceiling tile like his life depended on it, trying to pretend he didn't want to bash his own head in against the wall.

he heard a small beep, likely from you pressing the button for your floor. taesan wouldn't know that for sure though, he was staring so hard in any direction that wasn't yours. he would genuinely rather the floor open up and swallow him whole than glance to his left and be reminded that the girl of his dreams and nightmares was in such close proximity to him.

taesan couldn't tell you how long he's wanted you even if he tried. sometimes he thinks that if the circumstances weren’t so dire between the two of you, that you might be his soulmate.

deep down, it saddened taesan to no end to be in this predicament. here you were, right in front of him with no one else around, and he was frozen like a deer in headlights. taesan wished so dearly that things could be different between the two of you, so that in a moment like this, he could reach out and actually talk to you, get to know you, hold you, rather than cowering in the corner.

and as if some all knowing force heard his thoughts, the elevator suddenly jolted to a stop. taesan didn't even notice until he heard you speak.

"what the fuck?" snapping out of his mental tirade, taesan looked up at the dial above the buttons.

great, it's in between floors. we're fucked.

taesan decided it was time to grow a fucking pair and speak to you for the first time in probably two years.

"we should call emergency services." he wished there was any way for those words to come out his mouth less stupidly. he still hadn't turned to look at you, setting his package and his backpack on the floor and stepping forward to hit the emergency call button.

unceremoniously, the button lit up, followed by absolutely nothing else. sighing, taesan finally turned to look at you. your cheeks were flushed and you looked fearful, taesan wasn't sure if it was because of the elevator or just being stuck with him. if it was the latter he think he might actually just kill himself.

"the line might be busy, i think we're gonna be here for a minute." he sighed out, and your eyes softened.

"it's okay, there's nothing else we can do i guess." you finally spoke, and taesan felt like the sun was beaming directly on him. your attention on him like a spotlight, he felt like he could finally die happy.

"yeah." taesan's lip curled up into a half smile that made your cheeks grow redder, and you watched, still frozen, as he went to sit on the floor next to his stuff. as taesan settled himself into the small corner, crossing his legs, you took it as your cue to place your stuff next to you, sinking down to the floor in defeat.

taesan couldn't say he wasn't confused by you in this moment. for someone stuck in an elevator with someone they avoid like the plague and hate more than anything, you sure did blush a lot. so much, that taesan was starting to think it was his brain messing with him, and that your cheeks weren't truly as flushed and reddened as they looked.

do people blush around people they hate? better yet, am i just fucking delusional? the thoughts ran laps around his brain, making him want to bang his head against the silver elevator doors.

the boy decided that he probably had better and more concerning things to pay his attention to right now, like quelling his increasingly fast heartbeat and his rapid breaths. his heart was beating so loud he thought he can hear the sound reverberating and bouncing on the walls of the small elevator, a space that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller by the minute.

his hands were clammy and shiny and he hoped you didn't notice as he tried to discreetly wipe them against his pants when he reached for his phone from his back pocket.

"i'm gonna call my friend and see if he can get ahold of the front desk." you nodded in agreement, and listened quietly as the line rings.

before either of you could even begin to get your hopes up, the line cut, and a message displayed across the top of taesan's phone screen.

call failed. taesan cursed under his breath.

"fuck, i don't think i have any service in here. sorry." taesan didn't know why he apologized, it's not like he has any control over the building's spotty reception. he didn't look at you as he speaks.

gaze focused on the ground, the boy didn't expect to hear your soft voice chime in the air.

"it's okay, we can just wait it out, we don't have any other choice anyway." you finished your sentence off with a soft giggle. pink blush was still creeping up your neck and tinting your face softly.

accepting his fate of being stuck in the elevator, taesan decided he should at least make use of his time. reaching into his backpack, he grabbed his laptop and a pair of wired earbuds, opening up his current project for his composition class.

he kept one earbud in his left ear, while the other dangled in midair. as the beats played in his ear and reverberated through his skull, taesan finally felt a bit at peace, attention tunnelling in on his laptop screen.

what he didn't notice is the way you curiously watch him work. he typed away at his laptop and mouse pad softly and his focused expression and the unfamiliar contents on his screen piqued your interest.

but what piqued your interest more was taesan. his fluffy hair that moves with him as he nods along to the music that you can't hear, the way his face scrunches up cutely when he squints at the screen to read the tiny font, the way his pink lips fall into a small pout amidst his concentration.

what started out as short side glances that you snuck in from time to time turns into full on staring. being this close to him, your gaze was pulled to him like paper clips to a magnet.

contrary to taesan's belief, you do not hate taesan. while your friends do tease you about him, it's not because you have some weird secret hate boner for him.

in reality, it's because you literally cannot think straight around the raven haired boy. it's embarrassing how quickly your cheeks heat up at a single sight of taesan, heart pumping so fast you think you're going to give yourself an arrhythmia.

you’ve never been the shy type. not that you were constantly bouncing off the walls or anything, but you’ve always thought of yourself as being sociable and having a big personality. you’ve never shied away from strangers and new experiences, feeding off of the energy from the conversation and laughter you elicit through witty jokes and quips.

that alone makes your yearning all the more pathetic. y/n, the girl who could make exciting conversation in a room full of introverted bookworms, getting sweaty palms over some random music major?

it's a feeling you couldn't bear, which is why you avoided it at all costs, especially around your friends. you've also learned the hard way that your friends will not let you hear the end of it when they witness the way you melt around the boy, and you quite enjoy not having to talk about your affinity for taesan 24/7. that's the reason you haven't spoken to him either, you don't even want to begin to imagine your friends' reaction to that.

after a particular incident where belle and shinyu were teasing you about taesan and kim leehan walked by, you were so spooked that you decided the only solution was simply avoid or ignore him at all costs. you could not risk your blabber mouthed friends revealing the fact that you like taesan, especially since you had no idea if he liked you back, or even remembered your name, for that matter.

plus, it helped you avoid the embarrassing experience of going completely nonverbal.

you'd been telling yourself that you'd make a move at some point, but the mere thought of trying to progress things any further makes your stomach twist on itself and makes your chest start to constrict.

but now, with the boy sitting an arms length away and no one else around, you felt like it was fate. yes, there were definitely assignments waiting for you to get around to, but right now you couldn't be more thankful that the elevator is broken.

after staring at taesan and hyping yourself up for a solid 20 minutes, you decided that you can't pass up this chance.

"what are you working on?" your voice was so soft and shaky at first that taesan almost didn't hear you, but you knew he did based on the fact that his fingers halted their swift typing. you watched him move to pause the stream of audio in his ear.

"me?" taesan replied. the second the words leave his lips he regretted it. who the fuck asks that in a room with only two people?

apparently my dumbass.

"who else?" you didn't seem to mind though, giggling at his aloofness. his eyes were wide like a deer caught in headlights, and you wanted to reach over and tug at his hair to feel it underneath your fingertips.

"oh um, just a project for my comp class." he responded, suddenly feeling shy. he felt the familiar speeding of his heartbeat again. why were you suddenly feeling conversive? was he hallucinating again?

"can i see?" you scooted over slightly and lean towards him, pretending to look at his laptop screen. truly, you just wanted to be closer to him, and to keep hearing his voice. you had no idea what he even meant by "comp," but you'd gladly let him ramble about his work if it meant you could hear his low voice again.

"oh, uh sure!" taesan moved slightly closer to you, turning his laptop in your direction so you could see his screen. you knew nothing about the program he's using, but the way taesan's eyes lit up as he began to explain the different sections of the screen made your heart swell.

contrary to you, taesan is more on the quieter side, opting to listen in conversations rather than lead them. however, when it comes to his music, taesan thinks he could ramble on about it for hours. the excitement of talking about his work calmed his nerves, and he found himself eagerly explaining all the different components of his project without stuttering or fumbling with his words.

you nodded along, in a trance at the sound of his voice filling your ears so pleasantly. it got even worse when you looked away from his screen to look at his face. his hands moved animatedly as he pointed at various sections of his composition, but you didn't catch a word, staring at the slope of his nose and the way his lips stayed in a cute little pout even when he was talking so much.

at one point, taesan asked you a question, noticing your slightly dazed look. your head shook slightly as you regained focus on his voice, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

"sorry, what did you say?" you tried to keep your composure but the way taesan was looking at you was driving you insane.

"nevermind, do you wanna just listen to it?" he said with an easy smile, chuckling at your flushed appearance. you were so adorable, he didn't think he could take it. grabbing the free earbud, he offered it to you gently. you slowly grabbed it, scooching even closer to taesan so the two of you could listen to it together. placing the earbud in your ear, you tried not to think about the space, or lack thereof, between the two of you.

your thigh was pressed against taesan's and the faint smell of his cologne was dizzying. you wanted nothing more than to grab his hand that was resting on the laptop's keyboard and intertwine your fingers together.

as taesan hit play, the sound of various instrumentals and beats filled your ears. even though there were no lyrics, you felt the emotion that taesan had drawn out of him to put into this. he was more than talented, and you were in awe of how well everything came together. as the track came to an end, taesan looked at your face, curious. your lips were parted slightly as you looked at him.

"taesan, that was amazing." you breathed out, turning your face slightly toward him excitedly.

"really? it's still a little rough around the edges, but i think i wanna keep working on it after i turn it in." he explained.

"the project only requires an instrumental, but i really like how this track is going, i've been thinking of adding lyrics and making it a proper song."

"you should, it's really really good." you spoke with a low voice, facing taesan, you were once again reminded of his close proximity and your brain was starting to short circuit again. looking into his eyes, you found yourself spiraling deeper and deeper, not wanting the moment to end. helplessly, your eyes darted down at his lips quickly, so quick that taesan almost missed it.

after watching your gaze jump down to his mouth a third time, taesan decided enough was enough.

“y/n.” he said your name in chillingly low voice. the sound of it rolling off his tongue sent shivers down your spine, and you only leaned into him further. reaching out, he brought his hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, waiting for your reaction. you looked up at him with a hooded gaze as you delicately leaned into his touch.

as his hand fully cupped your cheek, your eyes slipped shut, head tilting further into his palm as you waited for him to close the gap.

taesan wanted to burn the sight of you into his memory forever. your long lashes laid gently on the apples of your reddened cheeks, your pink tinted lips slightly parted and calling for him. your cheek squished slightly against his hand and the softness of your skin against his made him feel like he was dreaming.

as he shut his eyes and leaned in, hovering his lips gently over yours, a loud creaking noise abruptly cut through the air.

the elevator suddenly thrummed to life, causing your eyes to shoot open. you let out a yelp as elevator dinged and the doors suddenly opened, your body practically flying across the small room. 

the two of you looked up to see two firemen looking down at the two of you confusedly.

"everyone ok in here?" one of the men asked gruffly, and you nodded your head hurriedly before grabbing your stuff and jumping to your feet.

yep, that was about enough bravery and ambition from you today. reality was setting in quicker than the reddening of your cheeks. 

you and han taesan were about to kiss. and got interrupted by the fucking fire rescue squad. you had to get the fuck out of here.

taesan could barely blink before you rushed out of the confined space, cheeks bright red as you muttered a quick thank you to the firemen.

hitting his head against the back of the wall in frustration, taesan tossed his laptop into his bag and grabbed his package, standing up and frowning at the firemen before walking past them.

"what the fuck was his deal?" the other firemen asked once taesan was out of earshot.

...

it had been a few days since the elevator incident, and while all taesan wanted to do was scream into his pillow while blasting his radiohead playlist on repeat, he was unfortunately a university student with work to do. life goes on, to his dismay.

the only person taesan told what happened was his roommate, kim leehan, who taesan begrudgingly complained to after being asked why his face was so red and why he was grumbling so much. he couldn’t help his grumpiness, could you blame him? he almost kissed the girl of his dreams and was interrupted by a fucking firefighter. 

leehan tried (as he claims, taesan doesn’t believe it for one second) and failed to hold in his laughter at taesan’s conundrum, holding a hand over his mouth as his shoulders shook with amusement. meanwhile, taesan was crashing the absolute fuck out, head in his hands while he crouched on the floor. 

“who did i murder in my last life seriously …” he whined into his hands pathetically as leehan shook his head in disbelief, still biting back his laughter. 

“i dunno, but someone’s having a fantastic time fucking with you.” leehan’s amused reply only egged taesan’s grumpiness and despair on further, and he laid in bed for the rest of the afternoon replaying the scene in his mind.

the more times he re-remembered the catastrophic chain of events, the more anguished he became. he’s definitely sighed at least 30 times in the past hour.

you were fucking with him. there was no other explanation. ignoring him constantly and then jumping him the second the two of you were alone? 

maybe you were a sadist, and you and that one friend from the library were currently laughing and joking about the raven haired boy’s demise. 

unfortunately, the thought turns him on more than anything, and he can feel himself getting a hard on thinking about the completely hypothetical situation he’s making up in his scattered mind.

he sighed angrily and slapped his hand against his cold cheek. he was so done with this. with you.

the devil on his shoulder laughed as he vowed to get over you. granted, he had a better chance of winning the lottery then forgetting about you at his will, but he felt like he had no other choice.

as humorous as the situation was, taesan felt his heart ache and his face crumple when he remembered the way you rushed out of the space as the door opened. like he was poison. 

taesan hated the ugly green feeling that was swirling in his gut, eating away at his sanity. he hated that it had to be you making him feel this way. you’ve always been the one who makes him get like this. 

but at the same time, he can’t forget how entranced he was, like a magnetic force pulled his hand to your cheek.

the vision of you, eyes closed, cheeks red, waiting for you to place his lips on yours, is permanently seared in his mind. 

how does someone just fake that? you’re either satan’s reincarnation or taesan is seriously missing something.

taesan clutches his chest in agony, the internal tug of war making him want to throw himself out his bedroom window.

after letting himself toss and turn in despair for about 2 hours, taesan drearily got out of bed to finish his music theory paper. sliding into his desk chair, he opened up his laptop to see his comp project still open, the very one he’d played for you hours earlier. 

he sighed again. the university and its students were going to be the death of him.

...

while taesan was moping in bed, you were taking up space in yours as well, laying across it face down while giselle sat at your desk, scrolling through her phone.

she could tell something is up, considering the fact that you’re not talking her fucking ears off and just laying face down in silence like a corpse.

“so, are you gonna fess up? what happened?” giselle asked, unamused. after bursting into your apartment following the Great Elevator Escape, your frantically doom-texted giselle, leading to her showing up at your front door.

you’ve been laying on your bed trying to not scream out of excitement as you told her. hearing her clear her throat, you finally rolled over so your voice wouldn’t be muffled.

“we almost kissed, aeri.” you sighed out, slapping your hands over your face.

“we? who is we?” giselle, who was evidently not a mind reader, tilted her head in confusion, moving to sit on the bed next to you, laying her legs over yours.

“me and taesan” you mumbled, watching through a crack of space between your fingers as she immediately shot up from her slumped position against yours headboard. you could’ve sworn you got whiplash just from watching her. 

“WHAT?” her voice squealed in excitement, nearly blowing out your eardrum. you laughed, glad that someone else understood how bubbly and happy you felt. 

“I KNOW” you screamed back, grabbing her hand and squeezing it as you smiled so big you thought your face was going to break.

“wait, explain everything now, you sly bitch!” with that, you walked her through the whole scene. 

reciting it to your friend made your stomach flip, all the emotions from the moment coming back to you. absentmindedly, your brought a hand up to feel the stop on your cheek where taesan’s palm pressed into you, smiling dazedly.

“you’re so down, y/n, this is crazy!” aeri laughed at your lovesick state, giving you a playful shove. she wasn't wrong, and the acknowledgment only made your cheeks burn even more.

“shut up! can a girl not yearn for her man anymore?” you smiled giddily.

“usually i’d call you delusional but he actually wants you so bad.” you moved to sit up, turning to her excitedly.

smiling wickedly, you looked at your friend with a plan. there was no going back now, taesan wanted you without question.

“what’s that look? are we plotting?” giselle asked curiously after a beat of silence.

“you know me so well, aeri.” you pulled out your phone to text the your friends' groupchat, filling them in as you and giselle discussed further.

the feeling of his lips ghosting over yours was fresh in your mind. bringing a finger to your bottom lip, you felt warmth bloom in your chest at the memory. 

han taesan had no idea what was coming for him.

...

“hello? earth to y/n.” shinyu shook your shoulder as myungjae called to you across the table, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“huh?” jaehyun rolled his eyes at you.

“i’m throwing friday night, you coming?” you smiled in excitement, making eye contact with giselle, who had the same mischievous glint in her eye.

yeah, the two of your were thinking the exact same thing.

“what’s that look ... what am i missing?” belle looked between the two of you, very used to your antics.

“oh nothing…” aeri mused. “just getting y/n a date to formal.”

...

“i think i’m gonna stay in tonight, dude.” taesan sighed as he sunk onto the couch. it was friday afternoon and taesan was sufficiently worn out from the past week.

he had an exam this morning that he was almost late to because he got lost and then he didn’t have time to eat lunch because he had to go to a project meeting.

on top of everything, he got a glimpse of you laughing with giselle, ningning, and sohee on his way back from his meeting. now, he was just left with a sinking feeling in his stomach and a desire to suffocate himself under his covers for the rest of the night.

“you can’t miss jaehyun’s dude, he’s gonna kill you” as leehan replied, the ominious text their friend had sent him this morning flashed in his mind.

myungjae [9:43 a.m.]: make sure taesan comes tonight. 

leehan [9:46 a.m.]: what

“today has been the worst, i need to sulk.” taesan whined into the couch cushions, eliciting a punch in the shoulder from leehan.

“c’mon, that’s why you need to come out. get wasted and forget about your shitty week.” taesan frowned but didn’t respond.

maybe his roommate was right. plus, he had a sneaking suspicion leehan would drag him out of the apartment by his hair if he tried to stay in bed. groaning loudly, taesan got up.

“fine, i’m taking a nap first, though.” 

...

liquid courage was surging through you, not that you really needed it. you were still riding the high of your almost-kiss from earlier this week. the light fluffy feeling the alcohol was giving you was just a bonus.

standing in front of the mirror in jaehyun's bathroom, you gave yourself a once over as ningning fixed her eyeliner next to you. you were absentmindedly fixing the ends of your hair and adjusting the straps of your cami as she looked over at you with a smile.

"you look amazing, y/n. his jaw is going to be on the floor." she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. smiling softly, you thanked her. looking back at yourself in the mirror, you felt the anticipation coursing through your veins.

the dull echo of jaehyun's house playlist pulsed through the walls and only heightened the excitement you felt under your skin. hearing your phone buzz, you looked over at the phone screen, a certain text message catching your attention.

myungjae [10:58 p.m.]: he just walked in.

you made eye contact with ningning as you clicked your phone shut and slipped it in the back pocket of your shorts.

"it's go time." she laughed, wishing your luck as she pushed you towards the bathroom door. turning open the doorknob, you stepped out into the living room, colored lights dancing across the walls.

...

taesan was pulled towards the kitchen by his roommate, barely getting a glimpse of the rest of the party before a shot was being pushed into his hand.

"you need a drink, dude." leehan demanded, turning around and looking for myungjae in the sea of people and waving him over. their friend smiled and pushed through a couple people to get into the kitchen, giving taesan and leehan a fist bump.

"hey, you guys made it!" he smiled, accepting the shot leehan handed him.

the three of them clinked their glasses and downed the clear liquid together. taesan's face scrunched at the burning in his throat, coughing roughly.

"do you have punch or something?" jaehyun nodded and walked away to get some jungle juice.

looking around, taesan took in his surroundings. jaehyun had a nice apartment, and he'd been a few times. it looked completely different than it did during the day, furniture pushed to the walls to make room for people to dance. the apartment was completely dark except for the colored led lights, giving the room a blueish glow.

looking into the living room, taesan scanned the crowd for anyone else he knew. he caught a glimpse of sungho and riwoo, his old roommates, talking to the dj, some guy he didn't recognize.

his eyes widened when he saw giselle near the dj's booth as well, chatting with some tall guy he didn't recognize.

were you here too? even though he knew you were friends with jaehyun, he somehow failed to consider the fact you might be at this party as well.

turning back to leehan, he spoke hurriedly.

"i need another shot."

...

a couple shots and a cup of jungle juice (that was probably 80% booze) later, he finally stepped out of the kitchen.

"i'm gonna go say hi to someone really quick, i'll be back in a bit." taesan nodded and waved as leehan stepped away. he felt a little looser, shoulders finally relaxing a bit as he walked over to sungho and riwoo.

they chatted for a bit, and he sipped on another glass of spiked fruit punch as he laughed along with them. riwoo was complaining about his choreography class animatedly and sungho was gushing about some junior, kim woonhak, he'd just befriended.

"it's official, guys. i'm a single dad now." taesan rolled his eyes at his friends, a small smile painting his face.

after a beat, the boy noticed his friends glancing behind him. tilting his head in confusion, he turned around to see what they were looking at so curiously. forgetting how drunk he was and the fact that he had a drink in his hand, he swung around a bit faster and more clumsily than he wanted to.

"is there something beh-" he began, before he felt himself promptly bump into someone, their head hitting his chest. suddenly the front of his shirt was damp, his cup of punch getting caught between him and the mystery stranger and spilling on him.

"shit my bad are you oka-" taesan's concerned voice abruptly cut off as the person in front of him came into focus. lo and behold, you were standing in front of him, the front of your top now boasting a growing wet spot from taesan's drink.

there's actually no fucking way. taesan didn't think he's ever wished for the ground to swallow him whole more than that very moment.

"taesan, hey! it's you again." you smiled easily, as if you didn't notice the sticky beverage now spilled across your shirt and chest. taesan could've sworn he saw you bat your eyelashes.

"i'm so sorry about your shirt, i didn't mean to be so clumsy." taesan almost stumbled over his words as the apologies spilled from his lips. his stomach was simultaneously flipping and twisting at the sight of you looking up at him.

you looked down as if you were seeing the stain on your shirt for the first time as well, smiling and shrugging.

"don't worry about it, i'm sorry! you got wet too." you gestured slightly to his shirt as well, giggling. you had definitely had a few drinks as well, taesan wasn't sure if you were as drunk as him.

"don't worry about it either, it was my bad." you waved away his admission of guilt, your gaze suddenly darkening slightly.

"guess we're even then! would you mind if i asked for a favor though?" taesan hummed in acknowledgement and nodded, beckoning you to continue.

"help me clean up?"

as taesan's face turned into a look of shock and surprise, you giggled again, blinking up at him slowly. snapping out of his drunken daze, he nodded quickly and waved goodbye to his friends. grabbing your wrist, he wove through the crowd, his fingers wrapped tight around your arm. his hand was warm, and you had to put in an effort to peel your eyes away from his grip on you, heartbeat speeding up.

looking away from his back, you made eye contact with giselle and belle across the small apartment. you smiled as they gave you thumbs up from the other side of the room as taesan whisked you away.

jackpot.

...

it's you who shuts the bathroom door behind the two of you. taesan finally turns back around to look at you, trying to ignoring his racing heartbeat.

in the lighting of the bathroom he can finally see you. you look better than that fateful day in the elevator, even in your basic cami and denim shorts. the stain on your shirt is small, which taesan is thankful for. unfortunately, some of his drink spilled on the exposed skin of your chest, it's sticky residue making your chest all shiny.

you look so perfect, taesan thinks he might actually faint. he almost feels the air leave his lungs as you smile up at him.

when you step towards him he freezes, only letting his shoulders relax when he realizes you're reaching past him to turn on the sink's faucet. your hair brushes his arm and your shoulder bumps his, and taesan can smell your fruity perfume.

you smell like berries and some sort of flower, and taesan almost gets lost in it, in you. the sound of the faucet running helps to clear his mind a little, but he loses his cool all over again when you grab his shoulder to turn him to face you.

"sorry, is it okay if i touch you?" taesan's sure he's red as a cherry as he nods, his movements stuttering slightly. truly, he has no fucking clue what you're about to do, but god he could not care less.

you grab a small towel hanging nearby and dip it under the running water before bringing it to taesan's chest, where the offending stain has dried up into his shirt.

gently, you rub the wet fabric across his shirt. your other hand is splayed on his shoulder, taesan isn't sure if it's for stability or because you want him to pass out and die on the spot. from his view, he can see your long lashes flutter as you squint at his chest in concentration.

he's trying to focus on anything but your heavy gaze on him. the boy opts to look at the ceiling, tilting his head up and not giving his eyes any chance of stealing a glance at you.

every once in a while, your fingers brush against his chest lightly and he feels his skin burn underneath your touch. despite how drunk he is, he's suddenly so aware of everything.

he wonders if you can hear his heartbeat, if you can feel how his breaths and his lungs stutter when you rub the towel on him. your proximity alone is making his head spin more than the alcohol he drank.

the way you're doting on him is making his stomach burn with some type of desire, taesan doesn't think he's ever felt a need like this before. his racing thoughts are distracted by the sound of a huff below him.

he looks down at you as you scrub a bit more on his shirt before pulling away slowly.

"that should be good en-" you don't get to finish your sentence, interrupted by taesan's hand grabbing your wrist.

before you can even think, taesan's lips are on yours. you drop the towel in shock, and it makes a soft noise as it hits the floor.

neither of you seem to care all too much, though. your eyes flutter shut as taesan's other hand slides into your hair, tilting your head slightly.

the kiss is soft and timid as first, but after a moment taesan decides he's done playing games. he knows you want this as much as he does, he can tell by the way your hands are crumpling his damp shirt and pulling him closer to you.

taesan's lips are soft and plump as they slide menacingly slow against yours. his warm tongue presses against your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open. he notices how pliant you are in his hold, lips falling open so his tongue can explore the wet walls of your mouth and throat. his hand hovers near your throat, fingers gently wrapping around your neck. you whimper as he gives it an experimental squeeze, your hands pulling him closer by his firm shoulders.

the feeling of his tongue filling your mouth makes your moan, the sound muffled and quiet. taesan doesn't miss it though, the noise only egging him on further. he bites your bottom lip before dragging his tongue over it soothingly.

it's hot and wet and messy, and spit trails down both of your chins with every smack of your lips against each other.

at some point, your arms wrapped around taesan's neck, his settling in the curve of your waist. your bodies fit perfectly together, your chest molding to his in a way that makes your head spin.

you can barely form a thought when taesan sucks on your tongue. you've never felt this way before, heat pooling in your stomach as his hands push into the small of your back.

at some point, he turns the two of you so you're pressed against the counter. his hands press your hips into the ceramic surface as his mouth dips down to press open mouthed kisses to the curve of your neck.

his teeth drag and brush against your delicate skin and his velvety tongue licks stripes across the bruises that you're sure he's leaving.

his lips are warm and wet as they suck your skin, traveling down your neck and shoulder. he bites your collarbone and you whimper again, a single hand threading into his hair hurriedly.

he finally gets you sitting on the countertop, and your legs wrap around him greedily, pulling him even closer. he licks the stickyness of his spilled drink from your chest, the sugary taste of the punch spreading on his tongue.

it's obscene, the things he wants to do to you. what's worse is that you look like you'd let him do anything to do you, melting under the attention of his hands and mouth.

the boy feels you tug at his hair, pulling him face back up so your lips can meet his in a bruising kiss. his brain almost goes into overdrive when you suck on his bottom lip, and he groans into your mouth.

hot and bothered, your hands slide across his firm shoulders, trailing down his chest and abdomen wickedly slow. your fingers tease the hem of his tshirt, twisting and tugging it as you lips move against his roughly.

the first touch of your fingers against his bare skin almost makes taesan dissolve into air. your skin is electrifying against his, leaving a burning path as it travels up his torso. you appreciate his toned form with your hands and the small noises coming from your mouth.

it feels like you've been making out for hours. taesan is honestly surprised that neither of you have run out of breath. you don't seem like anywhere near ready to let go of the boy, palms grasping for any of his skin that you can reach. slowly but steadily, your hands drift lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of taesan's jeans.

he pulls away hesistantly, watching a string of saliva stretch between the two of you. his eyes almost roll into the back of his head when he sees you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes starry and glazed over.

"let's get out of here." you say it before he can, one hand still grasping his jeans.

"my place." taesan says pointedly.

taesan helps you off the counter and helps you smooth down your hair. you intertwine your fingers with his as he twists open the doorknob. the two of you are out of the apartment before either of you can bid your friends goodbye. you'll just have to text them in the morning.

right now, the only thing on both of your minds is getting back to taesan's apartment. everything else is going to have to wait.

...

for the second time, the two of you found yourselves in the same damn elevator together. the irony wasn't lost on either of you, and taesan smirked as he pulled you into his chest the moment the doors closed.

"seems like we have some unfinished business in here huh?" he mumbled before laying his lips back on yours. they were cold from being outside, but his tongue was warm as it pushed back into your mouth. he was leaning lazily against the wall, arms wrapped around your waist as he held you against him.

you whimpered as his hands ghosted over your ass, not quite applying the pressure you were aching for. the ding of the elevator sounded far away; he pulled away slowly, gesturing behind you at the open doors. you didn't hesitate to step towards the hall, closer to your destination.

taesan kept one of your hands tight in his hold as he fumbled with his keys. he sighed in relief as he finally pushed the door open, pulling you in with him. in a moment's time your mouth was back on his, the two of you kicking off your shoes as taesan led the two of backwards to his room. your skin was hot everywhere he touched you, and you moaned in anticipation as he pushed you backwards onto his bed.

the sight of you sitting on his bed and looking up at him with doe eyes, was something straight out of taesan's dreams. your chest rose and fell erratically and your eyes were round and glassed over. his eyes fixated on your red, swollen lips, glossy from yours and taesan's saliva.

"you're so beautiful." taesan breathed out as he tilted your chin up, cupping your jaw and leaning down to catch your plump lips with his. you didn't miss a beat, hands catching the front of his shirt. taesan laid you down, not breaking your kiss for a second.

your back pressed into the soft mattress, and you groaned at the feeling of taesan's firm chest pressed against yours. his hands landed at your hips, rubbing slow circles as they slid under your shirt gingerly. his fingers were cold, making your abdomen tense as they grazed over your soft skin.

it was hot and filthy, the way he licked into your mouth with fervor. your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as his tongue slid against yours roughly. you felt like hot lava, overheating faster and faster by the second.

your teeth nipped at his bottom lip, fingers greedily tugging at the ends of his shirt. taesan got the message immediately, breaking away from you slowly. standing on his knees, he pulled his shirt over his head. propping yourself up on your elbows, you admired the sight of his in front of you. his hair was slightly ruffled by the shirt and his lips were puffy and shiny.

you couldn't help the way your gaze drifted south. taesan's arousal was undeniable, bulge heavy in his pants. you licked your lips at the sight, eliciting a groan from the boy in front of you. heat pooled low in your belly at the noise, and you felt the impatience within you grow.

you reached out and curled a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him into a bruising kiss. taesan held himself up with his arms, tilting his face down to dip his tongue into your mouth. you let your hand roam downwards, fingers grazing over the tent in the boy's pants menacingly.

"please, tae, need you." you mumbled against his lips, pressure from your palm increasing with each pleading syllable that rolled off your tongue. taesan hummed in response, and before you knew it he was pushing your hand away and lowering his bottom half so his hips were flush against yours, bulge pushing against your clothed heat.

you moaned loudly at the pressure, and taesan only rolled his hips more, satisfied with the way you were writhing underneath him. his hands dug into your hips, holding you down whenever you tried to buck your hips up to match his pace. the way he so easily overpowered you only furthered your arousal, and you felt it in your tensed abdomen as his dick pressed against you again.

taesan's hot mouth moved down your jaw and neck, licking a stripe near your collarbone. he bit and nipped at your skin, and you could already feel the bruises blooming on your sensitive skin.

his hands cupped your boobs over your shirt, the pressure making your arch your back into him. he was addicted to the way your body moved and responded to him. it seemed almost unconscious, the way you were attuned to every graze of his skin against yours.

pulling back slightly, you watched with a hooded gaze as taesan's eyes dragged over your body. you looked like an angel, hair fanned out on the comforter, neck already blooming purple, lips red and shiny, and the straps of your cami falling off your shoulders. taesan finally had you all to himself and he wanted to savor every moment you were pressed against him.

your breathing was erratic as his hand slid under your shirt, fingertips leaving a blazing trail on the skin of your stomach. he rubbed the hem of your cami in between his fingertips, looking you in the eyes as he did.

"can i take this off?" he asked in a low voice that almost made your legs shake. you nodded hurriedly, sitting up so he could pull it over your head.

you unbuttoned your shorts as well, placing his hands on your waistband so he'd slide them off for you. he did, without hesitation, deliberately dragging his fingertips down the skin of your thighs as he pulled the clothing off. he sucked in a breath through his teeth at the sight of you in just your bra and panties, and you could've sworn that you watched his dick twitch.

taesan wanted to know all of you, inside and out. he watched as you curled into a ball, shy under his heavy gaze. he unbuttoned his pants, kicking them off his legs before placing his hands on your knees, pushing them down so he could crawl over you.

you laid back, head against his pillow as taesan hovered over you, hands on their side of your head. he dropped his hips so his clothed dick brushed against you, reveling in the way your eyes shut as you drowned in the pleasure and anticipation. a finger was dragged down the center of your chest, tracing the line where your bra pressed your breasts against each other.

taesan tilted himself down to press hot, open-mouthed, kisses along the edge of your bra, lips teasing your skin torturously. your back arched as you grabbed his hand, placing it on the clasp of your bra.

"don't they usually unclip in the back?" taesan mumbled curiously, voice low as his eyes met yours. you smiled wickedly, and he instantly knew that you planned this.

"not all of them." you said lightly, shrugging slightly and feigning a fake innocence that made taesan's eyes darken. within moments the garment was snapped open and tugged off your body, and taesan's rough fingertips were kneading into the plush skin of your chest.

his gaze laid heavily on you, its weight pushing down and making you forget how to breathe. you decided you couldn't keep looking at him, your eyes screwing shut and head pressing back into his pillow as hot lips sucked and licked at your skin, trailing down your chest and abdomen. your head was spinning and a slight sound of disapproval cut through the noise, cold fingers tapping the side of your head.

"look at me, y/n" you huffed, opening your eyes and propping yourself on your elbows to make pointed eye contact with him. taesan's face was hovering over your stomach, fingers rubbing circles into the side of your hips. the smile on his face sent chills down your neck and a warm gush between your legs.

"there you go. keep watching me, ok?" your stubborn gaze softened in seconds and you weakly nodded, watching him lower his mouth to tongue at the soft skin of your thighs. your ears were ringing, the rush of blood drowning out the good girl he was mumbling into your skin.

your senses felt heightened, all of your nerves lighting up at the sensation of taesan's hot, rough tongue licking and teasing your inner thighs. he was in no rush it seemed, decorating the skin with purple bruises and wet saliva. he ran his hands up and down your sides, letting the tips of his fingers catch the fabric of your underwear.

he was teasing you mercilessly, the anticipation nearly eating you alive.

"taesan, please." you whined as you felt him run a finger over your clothed slit. your underwear stuck to you painfully, the fabric soaked with your arousal. he made eye contact with you as he wet his middle finger with his mouth before pulling your panties to the side.

the wet finger pushed into your gushing entrance, slowly making room for itself within you. you sucked in a shaky breath when he fully sheathed his finger within you.

"you're so wet, y/n." he groaned. before you could even think of responding, he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, pulling a loud moan from you.

his lips wrapped around your clit gingerly as he added another finger. it was like his hands and mouth were made for you, fingers crooking just right and hitting the spongy spot that made your eyes roll into the back of your head.

your surroundings slowly disappeared as you drowned in the feeling of taesan on you, in you. you felt electric, sparks flying through your body with every swipe of his tongue and every flick of his wrist. you planted your feet against the bed and your hips weakly jerked upwards to meet the thrusts of his fingers into you.

you couldn't even understand the sounds you were making, broken moans and cries spilling out of you. taesan chuckled against you, mouth still hot against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"stop squirming." his voice only made you wetter, and another moan tore from your throat as you fisted taesan's sheets.

"you wanted this, didn't you?" taesan's thumb rubbed circles into your clit, replacing his lips, and he continued pumping his fingers into you mercilessly. you felt him all around you, drowning in his touch, his voice. the words falling off his tongue dripped with venom, and it only fanned the flames in your lower half.

"always teasing and playing with me. i didn't know what you wanted from me then, but i get it now." taesan mumbled against your hips, where he dragging his lips and teeth on your soft skin, leaving even more marks. you couldn't even answer him, jolts of pleasure making your thoughts go haywire. he smiled against your skin, enjoying the fucked out look on your face.

"you're usually so mouthy, what happened, y/n?" taesan watched you writhe underneath him, tears welling in your shut eyes. the sight of you falling apart had him painfully hard, dick straining in his boxers helplessly.

"f-fuck, tae." you cried out as he hit that spot inside you again, heat pooling in your stomach and threatening to spill out of you. "gonna cu- fuck!"

"go ahead, i got you." taesan didn't let up, fingers pounding into you. the room was filled with your whimpers and the wet noises of your arousal. with one more snap of his wrist, the coil in your stomach snapped, and your entire body shook as you came. you could feel your walls fluttering uncontrollably around taesan's fingers as he fucked you through your orgasm.

your back slumped as you came down from your high, barely registering the feeling of taesan's fingers lazily stroking in and out of you until the twinges of overstimulation started to settle in. you pushed his hands away from you with a whine, opening your eyes slowly. as your surroundings came back to you, you were greeted with the sight of taesan leaning over you, licking your juices off his fingers.

your voice was soft and delicate as you cursed at the sight, legs wrapping around his waist so you could pull him into a bruising kiss. his wet hand gripped your sides hard enough to leave bruises as you sucked on his tongue gingerly.

his hardened length grinded against you as he licked into your mouth, and the fabric of his boxers rubbing against your clit made you hiss in pleasure. you let your splayed hand on his chest drag downwards, fingers teasing the waistband of his underwear. taesan sighed into your mouth as it slipped underneath, your hand wrapping around his dick.

it was heavy in your hand, and you could feel the way the tip bulged in comparison to the rest of his length. you squeezed him experimentally, smiling in satisfaction at the pretty noises he was making and the way he was biting your lip helplessly.

your grip was hot and tight around him and you smeared the precum leaking from the tip along his length, making your fist glide smoother along the veiny skin.

"you feel so ... mmmh fuck so good" taesan's face was pressed into your neck, soft pants filling your ears deliciously. you jerked him slow, forcing him to savor the drag of your soft fingers on his dick. your hands were so much softer than his, and they felt like heaven wrapped around him. his hips rutted against your hand as he fucked your fist, and the room filled with sounds of skin sliding against each other and soft moans.

taesan could feel the knot in his stomach ready to burst and, with the most willpower he's even had, he grabbed your wrist and tugged your hand out of his boxers.

"i don't wanna cum from your hand." he said breathlessly, slipping his boxers off. you giggled as he reached over you to pull open the top drawer of his nightstand, fishing out a condom. you kicked off your ruined underwear, tossing them somewhere on taesan's bedroom floor.

"it'd be a nice ego boost for me." you teased, running a finger up his length as he ripped open the foil package. he rolled his eyes, smacking your wrist away as he slid the rubber on himself.

"i think that's the last thing you need, actually." his voice was low and breathy as he spoke, hands running up your torso and gripping your face. he pushed his lips against yours, tongue dipping between your lips. you pulled him closer by his shoulders, skin burning in anticipation as you felt his length rest against your stomach.

you were aching to feel him inside you, walls pulsing around nothing. you wanted him so bad it hurt, nails digging into his soft skin.

"please, just put it in." you barely got the words out in between kisses. you could feel taesan smile against you. he debated ignoring your pleas, swallowing your whimpers in between his lips and making you beg a bit longer. but taesan was feeling a bit impatient, not to mention painfully hard, today as well; he'd save the begging for another night.

he broke your kiss, letting his lips hover over yours. your breaths mingled together as his heavy gaze met yours. looking down between you, he wrapped a hand around his length, sliding the tip between your folds. the sounds were obscene, your wetness coating his tip generously.

you whined again, trying to tilt your hips upward to slip part of him inside you. your efforts were fruitless, taesan's wrist moved from his length to hold your hips down as he tutted in disapproval. when you finally stopped squirming, he moved his hips forward, pushing the tip into you slowly.

"ngh -- fuck." you moaned as he sank into you slowly. even after taking his fingers, you still felt a stretch as your body made room for him inside you. the burn was delicious, and your hands reached for him, any part of him. one of taesan's hands moved from your hip to hold your empty hand, fingers intertwining as he finally bottomed out.

"are you okay?" it was only after he asked the question that you realized you were panting, breaths short and fast.

"mmm uhm -- yea i'm just, shit, so full." taesan's eyes darkened as he took in your words, pride swelling at the way his dick took the words out of your brain. he pressed his lips to yours, coaxing your body to adjust to the newfound fullness.

you felt like you were falling, and his touch was the only thing keeping you from disintegrating into thin air. you unconsciously clenched around him, and he gasped into your mouth.

"you're so -- shit so tight." he mumbled into your neck before licking a stripe up to your jaw. "can i move?"

you nodded, grinding your hips upwards slightly. taesan's first thrusts were slow, letting the two of your savor the drag of his veiny skin against your warm walls. with each thrust, the slight discomfort of his intrusion faded, and warm pleasure pooled in your abdomen, making you whine and grasp his shoulder.

"ngh faster, please." your words were broken, and taesan reveled in the effect he had on you. he angled his hips upward and began moving in and out of you faster, tip brushing your g-spot with every thrust.

the room filled with wet squelching noises as he fucked into you, his skin slapping against yours obscenely. the sight of his face above you was everything, bangs sweaty as they clung to his forehead and eyes scrunched in concentration as he tried to keep a steady rhythm. the bed creaked loudly, and you were sure any of his neighbors could definitely hear.

nothing mattered to you though, nothing but the sweet sensation of him filling you up, dick sliding inside you and making your eyes roll back.

a rough hand landed on your clit, fingers rubbing tight circles against the soft bud with vigor. the sensation was almost too much, and you nearly screamed when he somehow angled his hips even higher. every stroke inside sent jolts of pleasure down your limbs; your skin felt electric.

"so-o good, tae." your words were punched out, brain foggy as taesan fucked all coherent thoughts out of you. he groaned and bit down on your shoulder as you lifted your hips to meet his movements.

"you're too good to me, baby." he cooed at you, voice all too pleasant compared to the way he was pounding into you. "so warm inside. all for me."

his sweet words only made you hurtle even faster towards your climax. you couldn't tell where your body ended and his began. you looked between your bodies to see where the two of you connected, letting out a broken whine at the sight of his length sliding in and out of you.

his hand left your clit and slid low on your abdomen, pressing in slightly. the pressure sent waves of warm pleasure through you.

"i can see myself. right here." you looked down to see where his hand was. it rested on a small bulge in your stomach, one that moved with his thrusts into you. taesan ran his thumb over it and you let out a weak sob at the sight, burying your face into his neck.

"fuck ..." you sighed as his dick carved into you. taesan grabbed your hair, pulling your face out of the crook in his shoulder.

"fuck, y/n, say you're mine." he groaned, eyes piercing into you. his hand hovered over your clit again, fingers ghosting over the sensitive nub as he spoke again. "say it."

"i'm shit-- i'm yours, taesan. only yours." you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulder blades as you held onto him. he fucked deep into you, long fingers rubbing into your clit vigorously.

you didn't even tell him when your orgasm hit you, capturing his lips with yours instead. it washed over you like a tidal wave, soaking your whole body in hot bliss. taesan groaned as your walls squeezed him, mumbling an i'm cumming against your lips softly.

even through the condom, you could feel his release, the feeling of the hot liquid making you moan loudly. taesan fucked you through both of your highs, stroking in and out of you as you came back down to earth.

he pressed his forehead to yours when he broke your kiss, warm breath fanning on your cheeks. his movements slowed to a stop as his body slumped on top of you, dick softening inside of you as he pressed his face into your neck.

"you're gonna crush me, tae." you wheezed out, chest squeezing underneath him. your hands balled into fists as they flailed against his back, and you were laughing. taesan chuckled, pushing himself up by his arms to pull himself out of you. he rolled off the bed, tossing the condom. he disappeared into his closet, walking out in a pair of fresh boxers. you smiled shyly as he handed you a big tshirt and a pair of his boxers for you to sleep in, slipping them on before sliding back onto the bed.

you turned onto your side to face him when he crawled back to join you and pulled a blanket over the two of you, your hand coming up to run though his hair. his eyes closed as he leaned into your touch, rubbing against your hand like a cat.

"what are you thinking about?" his voice was low and smooth as he opened his eyes to look at you, making your cheeks burn.

"you." you whispered. a hand wrapped around your arm and he pulled you into his chest, his other hand cupping the back of your head. you tilted your head up so you could kiss him, slow and soft. your legs tangled with his as you tilted your face to brush your tongue against his lightly.

"hmm ... good answer." he smiled against your mouth, planting another kiss on your cheek. you closed your eyes as he squeezed you against him, peppering kisses across your face. you hid your face in the crook of his neck and let his warm body encase you, falling asleep to the feeling on his face nuzzling into your hair.

...

two weeks had passed since the fateful party, and taesan was now your boyfriend. both of you were sitting with your friend group at lunch, laughing over some dumb argument between myungjae and sohee.

"y/n, you agree with me, right?" jaehyun looked at you pleadingly at you as you shook your head, laughing. you were eating some fries with taesan's arm draped around your shoulder, periodically feeding him some.

"you're crazy, jae." his offended look only egged your laughter on further, your shoulders shaking slightly.

"and to think i helped you plot on my friend. i never would've expected you of all people to betray me." he gasped dramatically, falling into his seat with a pout. your jaw dropped as he sat down, cheeks reddening as you reached over to smack him on the back of the head. you heard a chuckle from your boyfriend, making your cheeks blush furiously.

"wow, i can't believe i was all stressed worrying that you hated me while you were preying on me." taesan laughed as he pulled you away before you properly jumped on jaehyun.

"it wasn't like tha-" he cut you off with a swift kiss, lips swallowing your rebuttal.

a chorus of gross! and ew's and not again's could be heard across the table, and suddenly everyone was chastising myungjae for provoking the two of you.

"now i have to bleach my eyes, jesus." giselle mumbled.

[plateofmud]

𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ──── [𝐋.𝐃𝐇] 𓈒  𓈒  𓈒 

( 이동혁 ) ; 𝐟𝐞𝗺!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝗼𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐜𝐤

──── in which your parents had always told you to stay away from boys like haechan. boys with cocky smirks, black eye liner, bruised knuckles, and a reputation that came with warning labels. you never had a reason to listen until you were assigned to tutor him after school. it should have been simple. help him pass, get it over with. but there’s something about him that drew you in, and you didn’t want to pull away.

✦ drama, fluff/angst, slow burn(ish). forbidden love? ; tags. goodgirl!reader x badboy!haechan, suggestive, your parents are literal jerks, swearing, mentions of fighting, kissing !!, protective!haechan, corruption? but not really, lmk if i missed any ! ;

𓂃 w.c [ 15.3k / 22.7k ]

!! not proofread !!

▸ j.note ; i hadn’t planned on making this fic so long but emo haechan does something to me i guess. also pls pls give feedback i want to improve my writings in the best way possible and i know my writing needs a lot of work, so constructive criticism is encouraged.

▸ this is part one of two and part two can be found here .ᐟ

© kiszjuli 2025 ⟳ likes & reblogs are appreciated

you had never been the type to chase trouble.

your life had always been structured, predictable, mapped out like a perfectly folded brochure of all the things you were supposed to be. the good daughter. the responsible student. the girl who never gave anyone a reason to worry.

your parents raised you with expectations as solid as the fence that surrounded your house. good grades, early curfews, polite smiles at dinners. you were the kind of girl who double-checked her answers before turning in a test, who texted home before she was even late, who never spoke back even when she wanted to.

it wasn’t that you minded. not really.

your life was safe—comfortable.

weekends were spent with the same close friends, at the same coffee shop on the corner, drinking the same latte every time and reviewing notes for exams that were still weeks away. after school, you went straight home, sometimes stopping by the bookstore if you had extra time, flipping through pages of novels where the main characters lived lives far more reckless than your own.

and you liked it that way. you liked knowing where you belonged, knowing exactly what came next.

because trouble was for other people. rule-breakers, risk-takers. the kind of people who never thought twice about consequences. people who didn’t care.

the kind of people like him. lee donghyuck—or as he preferred to be called, haechan.

lee donghyuck had always been a name whispered in the hallways, wrapped in either amusement or warning. he was the boy who skipped class but somehow still seemed to do well, the boy who wore silver rings on his fingers, black eyeliner and bruises on his knuckles, the boy who flirted with everyone but never let anyone close.

he was reckless in a way that made people watch him like a fire they couldn’t look away from.

and you? you were the girl who had spent her whole life avoiding flames.

—

science had always been your best subject.

there was something reassuring about it—formulas that always worked, reactions that could be predicted, rules that never changed. if you followed the steps, you got the right answer. it was logical. reliable.

but not everyone saw it that way.

from the back of the classroom, haechan let out a quiet sigh, loud enough that a few students glanced his way. he was slouched over his desk, barely pretending to take notes, the end of his pen tapping lazily against his open textbook.

“can anyone explain why increasing the concentration of reactants speeds up a chemical reaction?” the teacher asked.

your hand went up without hesitation.

“because a higher concentration means more particles in the same space,” you answered. “so there’s a greater chance of collisions between them.”

“correct,” your teacher said, nodding approvingly.

from the corner of your eye, you caught movement. haechan had lifted his head just enough to glance in your direction, his gaze slow and assessing. when you turned to meet it, he didn’t look away, but just studied you, the corner of his lips twitching like he was in on some joke you weren’t part of.

your teacher moved on, scribbling equations across the board, but haechan didn’t so much as pretend to care. he stretched, tipping his chair back onto two legs, hands folded lazily over his stomach, like he was just waiting for the bell to save him from all of this.

you turned back toward the front, exhaling through your nose. it annoyed you, yet you didn’t know why.

it didn’t matter, it had nothing to do with you.

he didn’t matter.

or at least, that’s what you had always thought until today.

—

you were halfway through packing your books when you heard your name.

“could you stay back for a moment,” your teacher said, just as the last bell rang.

you paused, glancing up as students shuffled past your desk, their conversations blending into white noise. you couldn’t think of a single reason you’d need to stay—your grades were perfect, your assignments were always on time, and you definitely didn’t cause any trouble.

but then the teacher said another name.

“donghyuck, you too.” you heard him correct the teacher of his name under his breath.

your fingers curled around the thick textbook you were shoving in your bag.

he was slouched at his desk, twirling a silver ring around his finger, eyes half-lidded like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. it took him a second to react, but when he did, it was with an exaggerated sigh, dragging himself upright like even this was too much effort.

the classroom emptied around you until it was just the three of you, the weight of the silence settling in as the teacher folded her arms over her desk.

“haechan,” she started, “you’re failing. if you don’t pass your next exam, you’re going to have to repeat this class. and you know what that means.”

he leaned back on the closest desk to the teacher’s, completely unfazed, crossing his arms. “that i get the pleasure of spending another semester with you?”

your teacher didn’t so much as blink. “it means you will not graduate with your class. you need this credit.”

that got a reaction. his arms uncrossed as haechan’s smirk slipped, just slightly.

“which is why,” she continued, turning to you, “you’re going to tutor him.”

your mouth parted slightly. “wait—”

“you’re the top of this class,” she cut in, before you could protest. “if anyone can help him pass, it’s you.”

you swallowed. the request made sense—on paper. but logic didn’t stop the heat of his gaze as it flickered toward you, as he finally seemed to take you in.

slowly, he let his eyes drag up and down, taking his time.

your unwrinkled clothes. your neatly done hair. the way you clutched your bag like it was a lifeline.

his lips curled at the edges, something amused, something almost lazy, and yet, you felt it. the weight of being looked at like that.

“seriously?” he drawled, tilting his head, eyes still on you. “her?”

your spine straightened. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he smiled like he’d already won. “nothing, sweetheart.”

your teacher exhaled sharply, already tired of him. “this isn’t optional. you’ll meet and study together, and if i hear that you’ve skipped even once, i will not hesitate to let you keep your failing grade. understood?”

haechan sighed, tipping his head back like this was the greatest inconvenience of his life. then, with the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips, he muttered, “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”

you could already tell. this was going to be impossible.

—

you walk out of the classroom first, stepping a little harder than intended. this wasn’t how you planned to spend your semester. tutoring some guy who didn’t even try, who slouched in his seat like he was too good for all of it, who looked at you like you were something to be amused by.

the hallway was mostly empty now, students already heading home or to their next activities. you were almost free, when a voice called out behind you.

“so, tutor, when do we start?”

you didn’t stop walking. “the library. after school tomorrow.”

haechan caught up easily, his pace unhurried, like this was all some joke to him. “ugh, the library?” he groaned. “how predictable.”

you glanced at him, unimpressed. “where else are we supposed to study? a convenience store?”

“actually, yeah.” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shooting you a smirk. “sounds more fun. we could get snacks. maybe a drink. aren’t tutors supposed to motivate their students?”

you exhaled sharply. he’s messing with you. you knew it, and yet, somehow, he still got under your skin.

“you don’t need motivation,” you said flatly. “you just need to study.”

“eh, debatable,” he mused. “i think what i need is a tutor who’s a little more flexible. less ‘strict teacher,’ more ‘cute classmate who wants to help me succeed.’”

you stopped walking.

haechan took a few more steps before realizing you weren’t next to him anymore. he turned, an eyebrow raised, just as you crossed your arms.

“okay, let’s get something straight,” you said, voice firm. “this isn’t a favor. i don’t want to tutor you, but i have to. and i don’t care if you think it’s boring or predictable, because it’s either this or you fail. so if you actually want my help, show up tomorrow. on time. otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

for a second, he just looked at you, head tilted like he was reevaluating something.

then, instead of answering, he let his gaze drag over you, slowly, like he was seeing you for the first time.

you stiffened under the weight of it, but refused to look away.

after a beat, he grinned.

“damn,” he murmured, almost to himself. “you’ve got a little fire under all that perfection, huh?”

you huffed, turning on your heel. “just be there.”

“yes, ma’am.”

you ignored him.

but as you walked away, you could still feel his smirk and stare burning into your back.

—

you barely stepped through the front door before your mom called out from the kitchen.

“you’re home later than usual.”

you set your bag down by the entryway, slipping off your shoes. “the teacher kept me after class.”

that was enough to get both of your parents’ attention. your dad looked up from where he sat on the couch, while your mom leaned against the counter, a slight crease forming between her brows.

“for what?” she asked, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

you exhaled, already bracing yourself. “she assigned me to tutor someone. he’s failing, and she thinks I can help him pass.”

your dad hummed approvingly. “well, that’s nice of you. who is it?”

you hesitated for half a second.

“haechan.”

the shift in the room was immediate. your mom stilled, and your dad turned completely this time, exchanging a glance with her before turning back to you.

“him?” your mom repeated, her voice careful.

“yes, him.” you folded your arms. “why does it sound like you already know who he is?”

your dad sighed, setting the paper aside. “people talk, sweetheart. he’s got a reputation.”

you rolled your eyes. “so what? he slacks off in class?”

your mom pursed her lips. “it’s more than that. skipping school, getting into trouble, hanging around the wrong crowds…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “just—be careful around him, honey.”

there it was. the warning.

and, of course, the assumption that you couldn’t think for yourself.

you sighed, rubbing your temple. “i’m not hanging out with him. i’m tutoring him. in the library. with textbooks.” you glanced between them. “pretty sure that’s not a crime.”

your mom didn’t look convinced, and your dad only leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable.

“just don’t let him pull you into anything,” he said. “kids like that don’t change.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, a flicker of irritation curling in your chest.

they made it sound like you were helpless. like the second you spent time with him, you’d suddenly throw your whole life away. everything you’ve built for yourself.

you shook your head. “it’s not that serious.”

and before either of them could say anything else, you grabbed your bag and headed for your room, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.

they were overreacting.

they didn’t know him.

and neither did you.

—

session one - monday february 23rd

the school day dragged.

it wasn’t any different from usual; classes, notes, the occasional group discussion, but today, there was a lingering awareness hanging over you. a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down to the inevitable.

you weren’t looking forward to tutoring haechan. but you had a job to do, and if he didn’t show, well… that was his problem, not yours.

by the time the final bell rang, you had already secured a table in the library, setting out your textbook, notebook, and a few highlighters. everything was neatly arranged. you had a plan, a structured breakdown of the material he needed to catch up on.

and yet, fifteen minutes passed.

then twenty.

you checked your phone, tapping your pen against your notes.

was he seriously going to ditch on the first day?

finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and then a familiar voice, drawling, “damn. you’re really taking this seriously, huh?”

you glanced up to see haechan standing there, hands in his pockets, looking completely unfazed. like he hadn’t just wasted almost half an hour of your time.

you exhaled sharply. “you’re late.”

“fashionably,” he corrected, dropping into the chair across from you.

you leveled him with a stare. “i don’t think that applies to studying.”

he shrugged. “guess we’ll find out.”

already, your patience was wearing thin. you pushed the textbook toward him, flipping to the section you had marked. “let’s start with reaction rates. you need to understand how—”

he wasn’t listening.

instead of looking at the notes, he was looking at you, head tilted slightly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“you always sit this straight?” he mused, tapping his pen against the table.

you blinked, looking up from the textbook. “what?”

“just saying. you’re sitting like you’re taking an exam or something.” he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “relax. tutoring’s not life or death.”

you ignored the heat creeping up your neck and flipped open your notebook instead. “can we focus?”

he hummed, like he was considering it. then, before you could continue, he leaned forward slightly, eyeing your arrangement of highlighters and pens.

“bet you highlight in, like, five different colors.”

you clenched your jaw. four, actually, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of being right.

when you didn’t respond, he grinned, undeterred. “does tutoring me ruin your whole ‘perfect student’ reputation?”

you inhaled slowly, gripping your pen a little tighter. “only if you fail,” you said flatly.

he let out a soft laugh, finally glancing at the textbook. “alright, alright. hit me with the science.”

you exhaled, pushing past your irritation. this was going to be a long session.

but one way or another, you were getting through to him.

—

the next hour closed and you left the library still irritated—but more at yourself than him.

why had your heartbeat picked up when he had leaned in? why had his teasing stuck in your head longer than necessary?

get a grip.

the school hallways were mostly empty by now, just a few stragglers grabbing things from their lockers or heading to practice. you stopped by your own locker, swapping out your books for what you needed, then headed outside.

the late afternoon air was crisp, the sky shifting into a soft orange glow. you walked home, already thinking about how you’d explain the session to your parents.

(you wouldn’t. you’d just tell them it happened and leave it at that.)

continuing your walk, barely making it past the school you hear a voice from behind you.

“yo, tutor.”

your head snapped up.

haechan. again.

he was leaning against a lamppost a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, the same knowing smirk playing at his lips.

“we should celebrate.”

you frowned. “celebrate what?”

“me actually getting an answer right, obviously.” he straightened, stretching his arms behind his head. “c’mon, don’t be boring. you never just—i don’t know—do something on a whim?”

you had remembered the question he got right—which was simply the question you had answered yesterday in class. you narrowed your eyes. “if this is your way of trying to get out of studying next time—”

“relax.” he chuckled. “just messing with you. see you at our very serious study session next time, tutor.”

and with that, he strolled off like he hadn’t just left you standing there, your thoughts an even bigger mess than before.

—

session two - wednesday the 25th

you told yourself you wouldn’t get annoyed this time. you even mentally prepared for his usual antics before heading to the library.

it didn’t work.

haechan was late again. this time only by ten minutes, but still. he strolled in with an iced coffee in one hand, a lazy grin on his face like he hadn’t kept you waiting.

“you get extra credit for showing up on time, you know.”

“damn, should’ve known,” he drawled, sliding into the seat across from you. “maybe next time.”

you sighed, pushing the textbook toward him. “no distractions today.”

“that’s asking a lot.”

“it’s not.”

to your surprise, he actually made an effort. at least at first. he followed along as you explained reaction mechanisms, even nodded a few times like he understood. but the second things got even slightly complicated, he leaned back and groaned.

“why do i even need this? it’s not like i’m gonna be a scientist.”

“you need it to pass.”

“passing is overrated.”

“says the guy who’s literally failing.”

he just grinned, spinning his ring around his finger. “touché, sunshine.”

the nickname caught you off guard, making your stomach flip in a way that was foreign to you. whether he noticed your shift or not, he continued to use the name anytime he talked to you.

progress was slow, but you managed to get through two topics before he started messing around again, twirling his pen, asking dumb hypothetical questions that had nothing to do with chemistry.

“if i fail, do you fail too? since you’re my tutor?”

“no.”

“damn. no stakes for you then, huh?”

“just the overwhelming frustration of having to deal with you.”

“you wound me.” he clutched his chest dramatically, then smirked. “you sure you’re not starting to like our little sessions, though?”

you rolled your eyes. “go home, haechan.”

he laughed as he stood up, giving you a lazy salute before walking off.

session three - friday the 27th

miraculously, haechan was on time. but that didn’t mean he behaved.

“don’t look so shocked, tutor.” he plopped into his usual seat. “i can be responsible when i wanna be.”

“so, you just choose not to be?”

“exactly.”

today, he actually put in a little more effort, asking questions instead of just guessing his way through answers. you started to think, maybe this tutoring thing wouldn’t be a total waste of time.

and then, halfway through, he got bored.

“okay, pop quiz,” he said, snapping his book shut. “if you had to get a tattoo, what would it be?”

you blinked. “we are not doing this.”

“come on, humor me.”

“fine,” you muttered, flipping through your notes. “something small. simple. maybe a quote.”

“predictable,” he teased. “what if i said i’d get your name tattooed?”

you shot him a deadpan look. “then i’d question all of your life choices.”

he laughed, drumming his fingers against the table. “nah, i’d get something cool. a dragon or something. or maybe—” he wiggled his brows. “a chemical equation, just for you.”

“how generous.”

“i try.”

somehow, even with the distractions, he managed to retain at least some of what you covered. as you packed up, he tapped his pen against the table.

“hey, sunshine.”

you glanced up, not missing his smirk at your responding to the name.

“don’t miss me too much over the weekend.”

“leave.”

he laughed all the way out the door.

session four - monday march 2nd

you were already exhausted from the start of the new week, and haechan wasn’t helping.

“mondays shouldn’t exist,” he grumbled, dropping into his chair.

while you agreed, you had to keep him focused. “you still have to study.”

“brutal.”

you launched straight into the material, ignoring his dramatic sighs and complaints about how unfair school was. surprisingly, he focused for a solid thirty minutes—until he caught you tapping your foot.

“you’re impatient today,” he observed, tilting his head.

“or maybe i just want you to actually learn something.”

“i am learning. look,” he pointed at an equation. “i even remember this one.”

you checked. he was right.

“wow,” you deadpanned. “you have a functioning brain after all.”

“careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

despite yourself, you bit back a smile.

the session ended with him actually completing the assigned questions, granted, after a lot of coaxing. as you packed up, he tapped the table again, just like last time.

“see you wednesday, sunshine.”

this time, you didn’t tell him to leave.

you did however, roll your eyes as he walked away, still grinning.

—

session five – wednesday the 4th

it was one of those days.

haechan was late—again. not by much, but enough to make you grit your teeth when he finally strolled in, a bag of chips in one hand, looking like he had nowhere better to be.

“don’t look at me like that, sunshine.” he smirked as he slid into his seat. “traffic was brutal.”

“you walk here.”

“damn. caught me.”

you inhaled sharply through your nose, pushing the worksheet toward him. “just start.”

he did. kind of.

five minutes in, he was tapping his pen against the table. ten minutes in, he was spinning his rings. fifteen minutes in, he was leaning back in his chair with a yawn.

“haechan,” you warned.

“hmm?”

“can you at least pretend to care?”

he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “depends. does it bother you?”

you shook your head. “whatever.”

“relax, sunshine.” he tilted his head. “you’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

you ignored the way heat crept up your neck. “just answer the question.”

he glanced at it. “mm… ‘catalyst slows down a reaction.’”

you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply. “no. it speeds up a reaction—”

“eh, close enough.”

“no, it’s not—” you cut yourself off, exhaling sharply. “are you even trying?”

“nah.”

that was it.

“then why the hell are we even doing this?”

he blinked at you, momentarily caught off guard. but you were already pushing back your chair, stuffing your notes into your bag with sharp, deliberate movements.

“if you fail, that’s your problem. not mine.”

you didn’t wait for a response. just walked out, leaving him sitting there—still smirking, but something in his expression had shifted.

session seven – monday the 9th

the session was supposed to be like any other. you’d prepared the material, you had everything set up, and you were expecting the usual. you didn’t expect haechan to show up on time—or at least not to show up with an actual sense of purpose.

he slung his bag over the chair and slumped down. his usual cocky grin wasn’t there.

“what’s wrong with you?” you asked, surprised at how… serious he seemed.

he didn’t answer right away, instead just staring at the notes in front of him with furrowed brows.

“this is dumb,” he muttered under his breath.

you raised an eyebrow. “what’s dumb? the concept? the subject? or… you?”

he flicked his eyes to you, but there was no usual smirk, just irritation. “all of it.”

you frowned. “this isn’t the usual ‘i don’t care’ routine. what’s going on?”

he didn’t meet your eyes, instead flicking through the textbook like he was hoping to find a way out of this.

“i just don’t get it,” he said, voice tight.

you sat back, eyeing him carefully. you were so used to him breezing through everything, acting like he didn’t care, so this sudden frustration was… different. it threw you off.

“you’ve got this. we’ve gone over it before.”

“yeah, well, it’s not clicking today,” he shot back, rubbing his temples like he was battling a headache.

you leaned forward, speaking more gently than usual. “haechan, this stuff isn’t hard. you just have to stop shutting down every time it gets tough.”

he looked at you for a long moment, eyes soft but frustrated. he clearly didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe, you were right.

“i don’t shut down,” he muttered. “it’s just… everything else is easier. this? it feels like i’m failing at something i can’t even explain.”

you blinked, taken aback. haechan never let anything get to him, at least not this much.

“okay,” you said, shifting your tone to something a little more reassuring. “we can take it slow. i’ll help you through it.”

but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t just about the chemistry. there was something deeper in his frustration—something he wasn’t saying.

he sat back in his chair, massaging his temples. “maybe i just don’t get it because i’m not supposed to. i’m not like you, sunshine.”

“no, you’re not,” you said softly. “but i know you can get it. you have to try.”

there was a long silence between you, and for the first time in a while, you realized that your usual teasing, quick comebacks wouldn’t fix this.

haechan’s eyes met yours for a fleeting second, something raw in them. then, he sighed.

“this is stupid,” he muttered, but there was a softness to his voice. “i’ll try.”

and for once, you believed him.

—

days later, sunday dinner was quiet, just the soft clinking of utensils against plates and the low hum of the tv in the background. your parents had been giving you a look all evening. the kind that meant they had something to say but were waiting for the right moment.

you didn’t have to wait long.

“so,” your mom started, too casually. “how’s tutoring going?”

you didn’t even glance up from your plate. “fine.”

“fine?” your dad echoed. “that’s it?”

you shrugged, poking at your food. “what else is there to say?”

your mom set down her fork. “is he at least putting in effort?”

you huffed. “define effort.”

they exchanged a glance, the kind that made you feel like a kid again, like they already knew exactly what was going on.

“we just want to make sure he’s not wasting your time,” your dad said. “if he’s not serious about learning, you don’t have to keep doing this.”

“he’s… getting better,” you admitted, though you weren’t sure if it was entirely true. he was trying, in his own way, but it was a slow process.

your mom still looked unconvinced. “just be careful, sweetheart.”

you frowned. “careful?”

“boys like him…” she hesitated, choosing her words. “they can be a distraction.”

“he’s not a distraction,” you said immediately, but the way she raised an eyebrow made your stomach twist.

and then— “you’re not getting a crush on him, are you?”

you nearly choked. “what? no. why would you even—?”

“because it happens,” your dad cut in, giving you a pointed look. “you spend enough time with someone, and next thing you know, you start making excuses for them.”

“i’m not making excuses.” you leaned back in your chair, suddenly desperate to get out of this conversation. “and i definitely don’t have a crush on him. it’s just tutoring. that’s it.”

they didn’t argue, but the look in their eyes said enough.

—

session ten – monday the 16th

you weren’t sure why your parents’ question was still echoing in your head. it was ridiculous, really. you didn’t have a crush on him. just because he was annoying, and cocky, and had that stupid smirk that made your stomach flip sometimes—no. not sometimes. never. it didn’t matter.

but still, as you walked into the library, setting your bag down at the usual table, you felt weirdly… off. distracted.

you pulled out your notes, trying to shake the thought, but haechan just had to say something.

“damn, sunshine. you look tense. bad day?”

you jumped slightly at his voice. he was standing next to you now, one hand gripping the chair as he spun it lazily before sitting down. he was late, as usual, but this time you hadn’t even noticed.

“fine,” you said quickly, focusing on your notes.

“you sure?” he tilted his head, leaning forward on the table. “you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

you did. but there was no way in hell you were going to tell him what.

“it’s nothing,” you said, too quickly. “let’s just get started.”

but as the session went on, you found yourself more distracted than usual. every time he leaned in, every time he ran a hand through his hair, every time he smirked at something that wasn’t even funny, you thought of your parents’ voices in your head.

“you’re not getting a crush on him, are you?”

no. you weren’t. you refused to.

but then he tapped his pen against the table, glancing at you through his lashes. “you’re really off today, sunshine. what’s up?”

and maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was the fact that you hated how observant he could be, but you snapped.

“you. you’re up. why do you talk so much?”

he blinked, clearly not expecting that. then, he grinned. “because you like it.”

“i don’t.”

“liar.”

you groaned, running a hand down your face. this session was going to be impossible.

—

session twelve - friday the 20th

you had a feeling he wasn’t going to show up.

maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t texted all day—not that he ever really did, but usually, there was something. some offhand comment about how he was so tired or how he was mentally preparing for another “brutal” study session. but today? nothing.

still, you sat at the usual table, notes spread out, waiting.

and waiting.

and waiting.

until finally, you checked the time and realized it had been forty-five minutes.

you scoffed, shoving your notes back into your bag with more force than necessary. of course he wouldn’t show up. of course, he’d waste your time like this.

this was exactly why you didn’t like him.

not that you had to remind yourself. but things like this. his impulsiveness, his lack of reliability, the way he did whatever he wanted without considering anyone else, made it so much easier to not like him.

except, if that were really true, you wouldn’t be this pissed off.

you stormed out of the library, typing out a single text before shoving your phone deep into your pocket.

“seriously?”

no greeting. no unnecessary words. just that.

and when he didn’t respond, you told yourself you didn’t care.

even though, somehow, he was all you could think about for the rest of the night.

—

the weekend was quite eventful.

saturday -

you weren’t mad.

at least, that’s what you told yourself as you pulled out your laptop that morning, trying to focus on the essay you’d been putting off. it had nothing to do with him. nothing to do with the fact that he’d completely wasted your time yesterday. it wasn’t like you cared.

but when your phone lit up beside you, your heart jumped a little too fast. you grabbed it instinctively. only to see a notification from your bank about your spending this month.

you exhaled sharply, tossing your phone aside. see? you weren’t waiting for a text. because you weren’t expecting one. because you didn’t care.

still, you had to physically stop yourself from checking your messages every hour, and by the time the afternoon rolled around, you were in a terrible mood.

saturday night -

“so let me get this straight,” your friend, karina said, stirring her drink lazily. “he didn’t show up. didn’t text. and…now you’re mad about it.”

you scowled, leaning back in your chair. “i’m not mad.”

she raised an eyebrow. “you sure? cause you seem pretty mad.”

you crossed your arms. “i just don’t like when people waste my time. it’s inconsiderate.”

“right.” karina smirked, tilting her head. “but it’s weird, isn’t it? because you weren’t even this mad when you thought he wasn’t taking tutoring seriously. but now? now he misses one session, and suddenly, it’s a big deal?”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “that’s not the point.”

“mhm.” she sipped her drink, clearly unconvinced.

you refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but as you stared down at your untouched food, a thought crept into your mind.

was she right?

sunday afternoon -

you spotted him before he saw you.

standing by the counter at the campus café, looking as unbothered as ever. hoodie slightly loose around his shoulders, rings glinting under the dim lighting as he scrolled through his phone.

he wasn’t avoiding you, then. because avoiding would at least mean he knew he did something wrong.

the irritation that had been simmering all weekend bubbled over. before you could think twice, you were already walking toward him.

“oh, hey, sunshine.” he glanced up as you stopped beside him, smiling like nothing had happened. “you look cute when you’re brooding.”

you didn’t waste time. “you didn’t show up.”

he shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. “yeah. something came up.”

“something came up?” your voice was sharper than intended, but you didn’t care. “you could’ve at least said something.”

he leaned against the counter, studying you with an amused tilt of his head. “why? you miss me?”

your fingers curled into fists at your sides. because he was doing this on purpose. pushing, testing, waiting to see how much you’d react. and you hated that it was working.

“you’re unbelievable.” the words came out in a breath, laced with frustration.

and then you turned on your heel and walked away before you could say anything else you’d regret.

but the worst part? the absolute worst part?

he was still in your head, and you didn’t know how to make it stop.

—

session thirteen - monday the 23rd

for the next two weeks, you and haechan had to change locations as club was having their meetings in the library. you moved to a classroom near the library.

monday’s session wasn’t a disaster. in fact, it was almost… normal.

he showed up—five minutes late, but that was practically on time for him. he didn’t ignore the notes you laid out, didn’t spend the whole time spinning his rings or making dumb comments. he even answered a few questions correctly, which honestly shocked you.

“so you do pay attention sometimes,” you muttered when he got one right.

“wow, sunshine.” he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “say that again. maybe i’ll start believing you actually like having me around.”

you scoffed, underlining something in your notebook just to avoid looking at him. “don’t push it.”

he chuckled but didn’t push. and for the first time since this whole tutoring arrangement started, things actually felt… okay. he was still distracting, still teasing you every chance he got, still doing that infuriating thing where he leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. but at least he was trying.

and that was enough.

for now.

later that week, things changed.

session fifteen- friday the 25th

you were still in one of the school’s empty classrooms, finishing up some notes for yourself. it was already late when you heard the classroom door creak open.

too late for a tutoring session. too late for him to be here at all.

you looked up, expecting a janitor, maybe a teacher. instead, you saw him.

“oh my god.” your breath caught when you finally glanced up. “what happened to you?”

he looked…rough. a split lip, a bruise already blooming on his cheekbone, dried blood crusted near his eyebrow. his knuckles were bruising and stained with a little blood, like he’d been swinging at something—or someone.

“nothin’.” his voice was quieter than usual, the usual cockiness dulled by exhaustion. “just a bad night.”

“bad night? you look like you got your ass kicked.” you frowned, already standing. “who—why—”

“doesn’t matter.” he waved a hand, like he wanted to brush it off, but even that small movement made him wince.

you sighed, shaking your head as you grabbed your bag. “stay here.”

he didn’t argue as you left, and when you came back a few minutes later, first aid kit in hand, he still hadn’t moved. just sat there, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh, like he was waiting for the fight to start back up again.

but when you stood in front of him, tilting his face up slightly so you could dab at the cut on his lip, he stilled.

“you don’t have to do this,” he murmured.

“you don’t have to get into fights.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.

when you knelt beside him and took his hand in yours, he barely reacted, letting you clean the dried blood from his knuckles. his skin was warm under your touch, but you ignored that. just like you ignored the way his eyes were fixed on you, dark and unreadable.

for a while, there was only silence. the soft press of gauze against his skin, the quiet scrape of your nails as you brushed away the dried blood. and through it all, he just watched you.

like he didn’t understand why you cared.

“you’re not supposed to fix me, sunshine,” he said eventually, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “just tutor me.”

you didn’t look at his eyes. “maybe i just don’t want to watch you fall apart.”

his breath hitched slightly. and maybe you imagined it, but for the first time, the fight in his eyes flickered. just for a second.

he didn’t say anything else. but something shifted in that moment.

because later, when he went home, he touched the bandage you had carefully pressed onto his skin, fingers lingering there longer than necessary.

and even though he would never admit it. maybe not even to himself, that was the moment he started falling for you.

—

after that night, things feel different. you tell yourself they’re not, that nothing’s changed, that you’re just imagining the way your chest tightens when you catch him looking at you in the middle of a study session. but it’s there, lingering in the spaces between words, in the silence that lasts too long, in the way his teasing remarks don’t land the same way anymore.

the next session, he actually tries.

not in an obvious way—he’s still late, still sighs dramatically when you hand him a practice problem, still taps his pen against the table like he’s counting down the minutes until he can leave. but when you ask him a question, he answers. when he gets something wrong, he listens when you explain instead of brushing it off.

session sixteen - monday the 28th

“so, what, you’re suddenly serious about passing?” you ask, watching as he leans forward, elbows braced against the table.

he tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “maybe i just like seeing you all impressed when i get something right.”

you roll your eyes. “trust me, you’d have to try way harder for that to happen.”

but you don’t mean it. because when he mutters the right answer under his breath, brow furrowed like he’s actually thinking, something twists in your stomach. you shove the feeling down before it can take root.

—

then, he starts showing up.

not just to your tutoring sessions—those are still scheduled, still predictable, still something you can control—but to other places. places he shouldn’t be.

like when you’re sitting outside between classes, notebook open in your lap, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the pavement.

“wow,” his voice cuts through the quiet, lazy and amused. “you really do study all the time, huh?”

you glance up, frowning as he drops into the seat across from you. “what are you doing here?”

he shrugs, peeling the label off his drink. “nowhere else to be.”

he stays. doesn’t do much—just picks at his rings, tosses casual comments your way, complains about the weather. at first, it’s just once. then it happens again. and again.

“you know you don’t have to sit here, right?” you say one day, not looking up from your laptop.

“i know.”

he doesn’t leave. and you don’t tell him to. maybe that’s your first mistake.

—

the evening air is crisp, biting at your skin as you step out of the library. you tug your jacket tighter around yourself, putting your earbuds in as you start down the quiet path leading off campus. most of the streetlights flicker on as it got darker.

you don’t hear him at first.

not until he falls into step beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.

“hey, sunshine.”

you nearly trip, ripping an earbud out as you whip your head to the side. “what the—why are you here?”

he doesn’t look at you, just keeps walking like this is the most natural thing in the world. “walking.” he motions in front of him.

“walking where?” you press, your suspicion growing.

he exhales, tilting his head toward the sky as if debating whether to answer. finally, he shrugs. “just making sure you get home okay.”

you slow your steps. something about the way he says it, like it’s just a fact, like it’s obvious, throws you off balance.

“i don’t need a bodyguard,” you mutter.

“yeah, i know.”

“so why—”

“just shut up and keep walking.”

the words should annoy you. they do annoy you. but something in his casual but firm tone, like he’s already decided he’s doing this whether you like it or not, leaves no room for argument. so you walk, stealing glances at him every so often, watching the way he shifts his weight, the way his fingers flex like he’s holding back something he’ll never say out loud.

“this isn’t a habit now, is it?” you ask after a few minutes.

“depends.”

“on what?”

“on whether or not i feel like doing it again.”

you roll your eyes but don’t push.

when you finally reach your place, you stop at the fence, hesitating. you should say goodnight. you should say thanks, maybe. but before you can decide, he’s already a few steps away, hands still buried in his pockets, gaze fixed ahead.

“see you later, sunshine.”

he doesn’t look back. doesn’t wait for a response.

but for some reason, you watch him walk away anyway.

—

you should be asleep.

but you’re not.

instead, you’re lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the walk home in your head like a movie you can’t turn off. like the flickering streetlights, the cold air, the steady sound of footsteps beside you—his footsteps—are all burned into your mind.

you shift onto your side, pulling your blanket up to your chin. it’s stupid. he didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything that should be lingering like this. all he did was show up. all he did was walk.

but still.

“just making sure you get home okay.”

he’d said it like it was nothing. like it wasn’t a thing.

but it was. wasn’t it?

you sigh, rolling onto your back again. your phone sits on your nightstand, screen dark, no notifications. not that you expected any. he’s not the kind of guy to text. but still, some stupid part of you wonders if he’s thinking about it, too.

not about you. just—about anything.

maybe he’s already asleep, completely unbothered, already moved on. maybe it meant nothing to him.

but then again—

“depends.”

“on what?”

“on whether or not i feel like doing it again.”

you close your eyes, exhaling slowly.

you don’t know what’s worse. the fact that he might actually do it again.

or the fact that you kind of want him to.

—

session nineteen - monday april 4th

you check the time again.

ten minutes late.

with an annoyed sigh, you tap your pen against the open notebook in front of you, debating whether to give up and leave. it’s not like he hasn’t done this before. showing up whenever he feels like it, acting like he’s doing you a favor by even bothering. but this time, it’s grating more than usual. maybe because things have been different lately—less antagonistic, more… whatever this weird tension is that neither of you have acknowledged.

and then, just as you’re about to slap your notebook shut, a chair scrapes against the floor.

“took you long enough,” you mutter without looking up.

“miss me?”

the smirk is there—you can hear it in his voice even before you meet his gaze. he leans back in his chair, stretching out like he has all the time in the world. no apology, no excuse. just him, always testing your patience.

you roll your eyes and push his notebook toward him. “just open your book.”

the session starts off okay, at first. he’s actually trying—not a lot, but enough. he answers a few questions, gets some right, listens when you explain the ones he gets wrong. but there’s something off about him today.

he’s restless. more than usual.

his fingers tap against the table, his rings clicking against each other in a way that makes your nerves buzz. he sighs every time you correct him, leans back so far in his chair that you’re convinced he’s seconds away from tipping over. but most of all, he’s not looking at you.

not in the usual way, at least. he usually stares—lazy, smug, like he’s waiting for you to snap. but today, it’s like he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. like he’s somewhere else.

“what is wrong with you today?” the words slip out before you can stop them.

haechan raises an eyebrow, finally meeting your eyes. “me? nothing. maybe you’re just extra grumpy today.”

you glare. “maybe i wouldn’t be if you were actually focused.”

he clicks his tongue, shutting his notebook with a dull thud. “yeah? and what if i don’t feel like it?”

your patience snaps. “then why are you even here, haechan?”

silence.

his expression shifts—just barely, but enough for you to see it. the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looks away.

and then he speaks so quiet, almost to himself.

“good question.”

your breath catches. because suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re talking about tutoring anymore.

neither of you speak after that.

the rest of the session is stiff, words clipped and movements sharp. when it ends, he doesn’t throw a smug remark over his shoulder, doesn’t tease you like he usually does. he just stands, slings his bag over his shoulder, and walks out without looking back.

you stay sitting there long after he’s gone, staring at the empty chair next to you.

heart pounding for reasons you don’t want to think about.

—

session twenty - wednesday the 6th

wednesday’s session is quieter than usual. it’s like there’s a wall between the two of you—still the same awkwardness, but with more… space.

haechan is more focused than before, but there’s a distance in the way he engages with the material. no smart comments, no teasing, just a steady silence as he works through the problems. every time your fingers brush over his paper to point out a mistake, there’s a brief, electric pause. neither of you comment on it, but it lingers, like a promise neither of you are ready to make.

but by the end of it, he’s gone without a word. not a smile, not a look. just the door shutting quietly behind him.

—

session twenty one - friday the 8th

friday’s session is different.

when he walks in, there’s a heaviness about him, something off—his face is bruised again, his lip split like last time, hair slightly tousled, and there’s a subtle tremble in his step like he’s not sure whether to be here or not. his eyes avoid yours as he slides into the chair across from yours, too close to be casual but too distant to be comfortable.

the silence between you is charged from the start, but it’s not the playful tension you’re used to. it’s thick, raw, almost uncomfortable.

you can’t help but stare at the bruise blooming across his jaw, the scrape on his chin, and the other cuts scattered across his arms. the anger and adrenaline radiate off him in waves, but there’s something deeper underneath all of it—a tiredness.

you try not to let your voice crack, but the concern breaks through anyway. “what happened?”

haechan doesn’t meet your gaze. his eyes are dark, like he’s trying to bury something under all that nonchalance. “it’s nothing.”

you don’t believe him. obviously. not looking like that. “haechan, don’t lie.”

finally, he looks at you, and there’s something in his expression that makes you freeze—raw vulnerability laced with a bitterness you can’t quite place. “someone said something about you,” he says quietly. “something i didn’t like.”

you feel the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no hiding the unease creeping into your tone.

he’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table as he thinks about how to phrase it. then, he just blurts it out: “i fought over you.”

it takes you a second to process. “what?”

he looks at you, this time, eyes searching yours like he’s looking for something. “they were talking about you. bad stuff. i couldn’t just sit there. i—” his words falter, like he’s not sure why he’s even explaining this to you.

you don’t know what to say. your heart beats harder, faster. “so you just…?”

“i lost it.” he’s not ashamed, not exactly, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel like he’s letting go of more than just the fight. “i couldn’t stand it. i had to do something.”

and that’s when it hits you—the depth of everything he’s been hiding behind those sharp smirks and sarcastic comments.

without thinking, your fingers move—just a soft brush against his darkening knuckles, like it’s the only thing you can do to make sense of all this. you feel the heat of his skin underneath your fingertips, and the contact burns, even though it’s so small.

haechan’s breath catches. there’s a moment of complete silence, and then he slowly, so slowly, moves his fingers that were under yours.

you hold your breath, fingers trembling just a little. and then, as if testing the waters, he slides his fingers up to rest his hand against yours. you found your hand opening up, as your palms touched slightly. his finger tips grazing your with a ghost-like touch. for a second, neither of you moves. there’s a fragile, delicate tension that seems to freeze the room in place.

and then, without saying a word, he lets his fingers gently curl around yours.

it’s slow, tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but when you don’t, when you let him, he doesn’t hesitate. his grip tightens just enough, not too much—just enough to say this matters.

your heart races, and your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

you let your fingers slip into the spaces between his, moving carefully, slowly.

there’s no hurry. just the quiet sound of your breaths mingling with the subtle click of his rings as his fingers settle between yours.

his eyes drop to your hands, studying the way you fit together, the way your fingers slide against his, perfectly and effortlessly. it’s intimate in a way that makes everything around you disappear. there’s only the soft warmth of his hand in yours, the quiet thrum of something unspoken growing louder between you.

he leans forward slightly, his voice quiet, almost like a confession. “i fought because of you,” he says, the weight of his words settling between you two like a secret you didn’t expect.

you want to say something, want to ask why, but the words don’t come. your chest feels tight. why would he do that for you?

his thumb strokes the back of your hand, the motion slow and careful, and you feel the heat of his touch seep through you. “i couldn’t just let them say shit about you,” he murmurs, his voice raw. “no one talks about you like that and gets away with it.”

you finally meet his gaze, your chest tight with something you can’t name. he holds your hand gently, but there’s a possessiveness in his touch, something protective that you can’t quite ignore.

the air between you is thick, filled with the weight of everything unsaid. he doesn’t let go of your hand, doesn’t move away, and neither do you.

you’re not sure how long you sit there, fingers entwined, the world outside of this moment fading away. but somehow, it feels like everything has changed between you two in that quiet, intimate touch. Something that didn’t need to be spoken but felt.

neither of you moves, not yet. not until it’s time.

—

saturday -

saturday morning arrives with the lingering weight of haechan’s words from the previous session. “maybe we could grab a coffee or something. no tutoring… just…”

his voice still echoes in your mind as you get ready. you don’t know why it’s making you nervous. you’ve spent hours with him tutoring, in tight spaces, talking about everything under the sun, but this feels different. it’s not about grades or chemistry anymore. it’s about you and him—just two people.

when your parents asked where you were off to, you brushed them off with a simple. “studying at the café,”.

at 2 p.m., you arrive at the cafe a little early. your heart beats louder in your chest as you stand outside, looking at the door, unsure whether you should go in first or wait. but before you can make up your mind, haechan appears. he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans. his messy hair adds to the vibe—relaxed, but there’s an intensity in the way he walks towards you.

“hey,” he greets with that familiar teasing smile, but it’s less playful today, more reserved. he watches you for a beat, like he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling.

“hey,” you respond, your voice steady but your insides twist with something unfamiliar.

the conversation starts easy, like a continuation of your tutoring sessions, but it quickly morphs into something more personal. you laugh at his jokes, and he cracks a few of his usual sarcastic comments. but this time, they don’t feel so cutting—they feel like an invitation, an effort to connect.

you tell him about your favorite subjects, and he talks about his struggle with science (which he completely tries to play off like he doesn’t care about). somehow, you both end up talking about your childhoods, your families, and some awkward high school moments. the more you talk, the more the layers fall away, and you realize this is more real than you expected. he really wasn’t some monster that everyone seemed to paint him as.

as you finish your drinks, there’s an uneasy silence between you two. haechan runs a hand through his hair, and you shift in your seat, unsure of what to do next. the energy between you both is charged now—unspoken words hang thick in the air, and it’s almost unbearable.

“well, sunshine,” he says, his voice softer than usual, “i guess I’ll see you on monday?”

you nod, too quickly, almost relieved to escape the pressure of the moment. “yeah, monday.”

you both stand, and as you turn to walk away, you feel his eyes on you. you can’t tell if it’s admiration or something else, but the way he watches you feels different now.

sunday -

sunday passes quietly, but the space between you and haechan feels wider, even though you just saw him the day before. you try not to think about the little moments—the way he looked at you, how close you both were, how much you wanted him to say more. but that’s the problem, isn’t it? you both left so much unsaid, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

he doesn’t text you at all. the silence is deafening. you tell yourself it’s probably a good thing; after all, you don’t need to overanalyze everything, right? but then again, why does it feel so heavy?

you end up spending the day at home, alone with your thoughts. the weekend was supposed to be simple, a break from the usual, but now you can’t shake the feeling that it’s more complicated than that. haechan has always been complicated, but now you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something, not sure whether to jump or step back.

session twenty two - monday the 11th

by the time monday rolls around, you’re feeling restless. there’s a shift in your mood. a nervous energy that you can’t shake off, and when you step into school, it feels like you’re waiting for something to happen. you can’t decide if it’s anticipation or dread, but either way, you’re drawn back to the tutoring session.

when haechan finally walks into the classroom, you can’t tell if he’s acting like everything is normal or if he’s pretending. he gives you a short wave, but it’s not his usual playful smile. it’s different now. there’s something more cautious in his movements.

you both settle into your usual rhythm—he’s late, of course, but he’s quieter today. you’re not sure if that’s because of the weekend or if it’s something else entirely.

the session goes well, mostly. it’s like before, in the sense that you both get through the work, but there’s an added tension. he looks at you a little longer than he usually does, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s trying to understand something. the usual teasing is absent today, replaced by a different energy—more subtle, more cautious.

by the end of the session, you can’t help but feel like you’re caught in this strange, unspoken limbo between what you both were and what you might be. you still don’t know where it’s going, but you’re both standing at the edge, unsure whether to jump or wait to see what the next step will be.

—

session twenty three - wednesday the 13th

it’s the final session before the break, and everything feels different. the air feels thicker, charged with something neither of you are saying but both know is there. you both sit at the desk, the tension palpable, but neither of you are focused on the notes in front of you. it’s like the classroom walls are closing in, and neither of you can breathe easily.

you keep glancing over at him, trying to stick to the lesson, but he’s just… there, too close, too present. the words he’s saying are just noise in the background as his eyes flicker over you every time you speak, his gaze heavy, simmering. you know it’s not just the subject anymore. something has shifted.

“you’re not listening,” you say, your voice sharper than you intend.

he looks at you, not surprised, but not unaffected either. “neither are you,” he replies, and there’s something in his voice that’s too calm. too knowing.

you press your lips together, trying to keep your composure. “well, you’re not even trying.”

he smirks, leaning back in his chair slightly. “again, neither are you.”

there’s a challenge in his voice, and it sets something off inside you. something snaps. you stand up more abrupt than you anticipate, trying to collect your thoughts but only feeling more overwhelmed by the space between you two. you feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of the tension, like there’s something about to break, and you don’t know if you want to stop it or let it happen.

you cross your arms, pacing around the small desk, trying to cool the heat you feel flooding your chest.

“why are you so difficult?” you murmur, more to yourself than him.

“because you make it easy,” he says, voice low, leaning forward, his eyes locked on you in a way that makes your knees weak.

he stands up slowly, the movement purposeful, and your heart skips a beat. the space between you is closing, and before you can make sense of what’s happening, he’s there, standing right in front of you.

his hand brushes against yours, and you feel it like a spark, his fingers just grazing yours before he holds your wrist lightly, tugging you closer to him. you can’t move, rooted in place by something deeper than just attraction.

and then he kisses you.

it’s a kiss that’s full of everything you’ve been holding back. the anger, the frustration, the need for something more that you don’t know how to name. it’s messy, urgent, like both of you are desperate to see how far you can go without letting go. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing against him as you kiss him back, just as hungry, just as eager.

you feel his grip on your wrist tighten, pulling you closer as his other hand slides to your waist. the kiss deepens, and the world around you disappears. it’s just you and him, the heat of his lips against yours, the press of his body against yours.

you can’t help but give in, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, your breath coming faster as the intensity builds.

and then, just as suddenly, it breaks.

you pull back, hands trembling, and you stare at him, your heart pounding against your ribs.

you feel guilty.

you glance away, trying to catch your breath, but all you can hear are the voices from the past—the warnings your parents gave you, the things they said about boys like him.

“boys like him are trouble.”

the words echo in your mind like a warning. trouble.

you can’t ignore it. your heart sinks, and a cold wave of uncertainty washes over you. this is trouble.

you step back, trying to create some distance, trying to make sense of it all. “this isn’t… supposed to happen.”

he stays silent for a beat, his expression unreadable. then, quietly, he says, “i don’t want to stop.”

you shake your head, backing away, but you can’t seem to find the words. everything’s spinning in your head. he’s trouble, but you want him.

“haechan,” you whisper, feeling a rush of heat rise to your cheeks, “i—this was a mistake.”

he doesn’t say anything, just watches you as you grab your things, your heart heavy in your chest.

you don’t know how to fix this, don’t know how to untangle the mess you’ve just made of your feelings. you only know that walking away is the only thing you can do right now, even if every step you take feels like it’s pulling you away from him and yet dragging you closer at the same time.

you leave without another word, but as you walk down the hall, your mind is still stuck on him.

this isn’t what i signed up for… but then again, maybe it was.

—

the following night is unusually still, and you lie awake, mind tangled in the events of the past week. your thoughts keep drifting back to him—the kiss, the way he pulled away, and the uncertainty that followed. you toss and turn, trying to shake off the feeling, but it’s like something’s pulling you in. just as you start to think you’re finally starting to calm down, a soft knock at your window breaks through the silence.

your heart jumps in your chest, and for a second, you freeze. there’s no mistaking who it is. haechan.

you rush to the window, heart racing, but you pause for a brief moment to glance at your door—your parents are just down the hall. still, curiosity outweighs caution, and you push the blinds up quietly, barely believing your eyes.

there he is, his silhouette framed against the dim streetlights outside, standing on the roof near your window with that familiar, confident smirk that sends a strange rush through you.

“how’d you get up here?” you whisper after opening the window, your voice shaky, heart still pounding in your ears.

he shrugs as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, but you can’t ignore the way his arm strains as he grips the window sill, his veins flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt. your eyes flicker down to his arms, and for a moment, you forget to breathe, your gaze catching on the way the muscles ripple as he pulls himself up with a small thud.

you wince, then immediately shush him, raising a finger to your lips in an exaggerated, playful gesture. “my parents are gonna hear you!”

he flashes that trademark grin, but it’s softer this time—almost sheepish, like he wasn’t expecting this much resistance. “sorry,” he whispers, giving you a quick, apologetic wink before pulling himself through the window with a bit more flair than necessary. you can feel the heat radiating off him as he steps inside, and for a brief second, you both just stand there in the quiet of the room.

there’s an awkward pause as he dusts himself off, glancing around your room as if trying to find a reason for being here, but then his eyes land on you. his expression softens just a little, that familiar cockiness fading away for a second.

“didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but… figured i’d take a risk. can’t sleep, you know?”

you laugh softly, a little nervously, though you can’t quite explain why. there’s something about him being here, standing in your room in the dead of night, that’s thrilling in a way you’re not ready to admit. “did you…climb the tree?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“yeah,” he grins, his tone light, almost teasing. “it’s not that hard. plus, i thought i’d get your attention somehow.” he shrugs as if this is a totally reasonable thing to do. but when his eyes meet yours, there’s something behind them. something vulnerable, something unspoken.

“you’re crazy,” you mutter, but there’s no malice behind it. instead, your voice is soft, fond. you step back instinctively as he moves toward you, not sure if you want to step away or let him close the gap. you should be more concerned that he was here. if your parents found out, you have no idea what kind of reaction they’d have.

he looks at you for a moment, his gaze flickering over your face like he’s studying every detail. you can feel the tension building between the two of you, and even though you know you should step back again, you stay rooted to the spot. there’s a pull between you that neither of you can ignore.

“i just… couldn’t stop thinking about everything. about you,” he admits, the words coming out quieter than usual. he doesn’t sound like the usual confident haechan; there’s a vulnerability in his voice now, something raw that you’ve never heard before.

you blink, caught off guard. the air feels thick with unspoken words, and for a second, you’re at a loss for how to respond. your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you move a little closer to him.

his eyes widen slightly when you step forward, but he doesn’t move away. instead, he reaches for your hand slowly, almost hesitantly. his fingers brush over yours, the lightest touch that sends a jolt through you. it’s so quiet, so soft, but it feels like the whole world has paused. you glance down at his hand—his fingers are rough, the veins on his arms standing out against his skin.

you look back up at him, meeting his eyes, and he squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, almost intimate motion. there’s a quiet understanding between the two of you, a silent acknowledgment of everything that’s been building between you.

“you’re here,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, but it feels like it carries the weight of everything you haven’t been able to say.

he gives a small, lopsided grin, his thumb still moving over your hand. “yeah. i guess i am.”

and then, without another word, he leans in, and this time, when your lips meet, it’s not chaotic. it’s slow, deliberate, like the two of you are finally giving in to something you’ve been avoiding. his hand slides up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as if he’s memorizing the feel of you.

the kiss is soft at first, tentative, but it deepens as the moments stretch on, his other hand moving to gently to him by your back, pulling you closer. everything else fades away. the hesitation, the uncertainty and you lose yourself in it.

when you finally pull back, both of you are breathing a little heavier, the space between you still charged with the emotions neither of you knew how to express. you glance at the door again, your mind briefly flashing to the consequences of this. but for a moment, you don’t care.

“this is… insane,” you whisper, your voice trembling just slightly.

he leans his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i know. but i don’t think i can stay away.”

for a moment, you both just stand there, breathless, sharing the same quiet understanding. you’ve crossed a line you never thought you would, and for the first time, you’re not sure what comes next. but you know this: you can’t go back. not now.

—

after that night, everything changes. things between you and haechan aren’t just charged—they’re different. there’s no more pretending that what happened didn’t mean something.

friday the 15th

the next day at school, he’s there—leaning against his locker like usual, surrounded by his close group of friends, but his eyes are on you the second you walk in. it’s not just a glance this time. it’s intentional, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll look at him, if you’ll acknowledge what happened between you the night before.

your heart races, but you force yourself to act normal. your parents had been none the wiser about his late-night visit, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still thinking about it. thinking about him. you take a deep breath and head toward your first class, but just as you pass him, his fingers catch your wrist. it’s subtle, barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“you’re not gonna ignore me now, are you?” his voice is low, teasing, but there’s something real underneath it.

“not here,” you murmur, pulling your hand away, your face heating up as you disappear into the crowd.

you glance around—people are watching. of course they are. it was unusual for a student like and a student like him to interact. let alone lee haechan and you.

but you can feel his gaze on you for the rest of the day.

after school -

he catches up to you before you can leave, cutting you off near the entrance. “so, sunshine, are we gonna talk about last night? or are you just gonna pretend i didn’t climb a damn tree for you?”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you could’ve fallen.”

“but i didn’t,” he grins, stepping closer, dropping his voice so only you can hear. “what, you worried about me?”

you are, but you won’t admit that. you sigh. “i don’t know what you expect me to say.”

his smirk fades just slightly, a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “say it wasn’t nothing.”

you hesitate, because you can’t say that. you won’t lie. but you also don’t know what this is.

before you can respond, a voice calls your name from behind. one of your classmates. someone who shouldn’t be seeing you with him like this.

“i have to go,” you say quickly, stepping away.

he doesn’t stop you, but as you walk away, you hear him call out, just loud enough for you to hear—

“i’ll see you later, sunshine.”

and you know you will.

saturday night -

you get a text from him.

haechan: come outside

your heart leaps into your throat. you glance at your bedroom door, listening carefully. your parents are still awake. sneaking out has never been something you’ve even considered before, but now…

your fingers hover over your phone.

you: are you insane?

haechan: probably. but i wanna see you.

you hesitate. but only for a second.

and then, for the first time, you take the risk.

—

the door clicks softly behind you as you step onto the porch, the night air brushing cool against your skin. you shiver slightly, but you ignore it, your pulse already picking up when you spot haechan waiting just beyond the porch light’s glow, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

he steps forward as you approach, but then—he stops.

his eyes flicker down, lingering.

you suddenly realize what you’re wearing—silk shorts, the kind with delicate lace at the hem, barely brushing mid-thigh. paired with a thin, loose sweater, it’s nothing that scandalous, but under his gaze, you feel the heat creeping up your neck.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he exhales, tilting his head. “damn, sunshine. if i knew sneaking into your thoughts at night got me this kind of welcome, i would’ve done it sooner.”

you cross your arms, giving him an unimpressed look despite the warmth spreading in your chest. “i wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

he hums, taking another step closer. “yeah? so you just wear this to bed every night?” his voice dips lower, teasing, but there’s something else there.

you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the way your stomach tightens. “are you done staring?”

his smirk deepens. “not even close.”

“why are you even here?” you sigh, trying to steer the conversation before you combust under his gaze.

his expression shifts slightly, something more serious flickering beneath the teasing. “couldn’t sleep.” he shrugs, eyes still on you but softer now. “kept thinking about you.”

your breath hitches. you weren’t expecting that.

you hesitate, shifting on your feet. “and what exactly were you thinking about?”

he doesn’t hesitate. “that kiss. both of them.”

you inhale sharply, your heart picking up speed.

he watches you carefully, stepping just close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “tell me i’m the only one who’s been losing sleep over it,” he murmurs. “tell me you don’t think about it too.”

you should brush it off. should laugh, roll your eyes, push him away like you always do.

but you don’t.

“…maybe a little.”

his lips quirk, but it’s not his usual cocky smirk—it’s softer. more real.

“thought so.”

before you can even react, his fingers find yours, brushing over your knuckles before lacing them together. it’s slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting for you to pull away.

you don’t.

he exhales a quiet laugh. “you’re in trouble, sunshine.”

you swallow. “why?”

his thumb traces over the back of your hand, and when he looks at you, there’s something almost fond in his eyes.

“’cause now that i’ve got you like this,” he murmurs, “i don’t think i can let go.”

—

you should go back inside. your parents are asleep just down the hall, and this is the kind of thing they warned you about. sneaking out into the night with a boy like him, hand in hand, heart racing in ways it shouldn’t.

but you don’t let go.

“come on,” he says, his grip tightening just slightly, like he’s afraid you might change your mind. “let’s go somewhere.”

“what? where?” you ask, but you’re already following him down the steps, his hand warm against yours.

he smirks, eyes glinting in the dim light. “trust me.”

and for some reason, you do.

—

the night air is crisp, cool against your skin as the two of you walk through the quiet streets. neither of you say much at first, just the soft scuff of your footsteps on the pavement, the occasional flickering of a streetlight overhead. it’s reckless, it’s stupid, but for some reason, it feels right.

he leads you toward a small park a few blocks away, one you haven’t been to in years. it looks different at night—emptier, quieter, like a hidden world that only the two of you know about.

“seriously?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “you dragged me out of bed for a playground?”

haechan grins, tugging you toward the swings. “come on, sunshine. live a little.”

you huff, but you sit anyway, the chains creaking slightly as you lean back. he takes the swing next to yours, feet planted on the ground, arms draped lazily over the chains.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the city hums softly in the distance, a car passing now and then, but here, in this little forgotten space, it feels like you’re in your own world.

then he breaks the silence.

“so,” he says, voice quieter now. “are you gonna tell me why you kissed me back?”

your fingers tighten around the swing’s chains.

you should lie. should brush it off, make a joke, something.

but instead, you glance at him, finding him already watching you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight.

“…i don’t know,” you admit.

he exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “wrong answer, sunshine.”

you frown. “oh? and what’s the right one?”

he leans in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him even in the cool night air. his voice drops, teasing but serious all at once.

“that you can’t get me out of your head, either.”

your breath catches.

you could argue. you could deny it. but instead, you just look at him, your heart pounding, and realize—maybe you don’t want to.

—

the morning after sneaking out with haechan, everything feels different.

your room is the same, the sun filtering through your curtains, casting warm streaks of light across your sheets. your parents are in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast drifting down the hall like any other saturday morning. nothing has changed.

except it has.

because your mind won’t stop replaying the night before. his voice, his hands, the way he looked at you under the dim glow of the streetlights, with that same dark eyeliner you’ve grown to like. the way he leaned in just close enough that you thought he might kiss you again but never did. the way your heart had pounded the entire walk back home, fingers still tingling from where he had held them, warm and steady.

and the worst part?

you didn’t want it to end.

you go through the day pretending everything is normal.

you do your chores, respond to messages, attempt to start your homework—but it all feels distant, like your mind is somewhere else entirely. every time your phone lights up, you half expect it to be him. but it never is.

and then, just when you think you might be going crazy, your mom’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“you’ve been distracted all morning.”

you blink, looking up from your untouched notebook at the kitchen table. your parents are sitting across from you, your dad flipping through the newspaper, your mom watching you with knowing eyes.

“i’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

she hums, not convinced. “it’s not about that boy, is it?”

your heart stops. “what?”

your dad turns a page in the newspaper, not looking up. “the one you’ve been tutoring,” he says simply. “you know, the one we told you to be careful around.”

your pulse stutters. “it’s—no, of course not.”

your mom raises an eyebrow. “really? because ever since those sessions started, you’ve been acting a little… different.”

“and now you’re all spaced out,” your dad adds, still not looking up. “not getting a crush on him, are you?”

you scoff, forcing out a laugh that sounds almost believable. “as if.”

your mom exhales, satisfied for now. “good. boys like that, they’re nothing but trouble.”

your chest tightens. they don’t know anything. “so you’ve told me.” you sigh.

but instead of arguing, you just nod, mumbling something about needing to study before quickly escaping back to your room.

and the moment the door clicks shut behind you, your phone finally buzzes.

haechan: you up, sunshine?

you hesitate for half a second, holding back the small tug at your lips before responding.

you: yeah, why?

his reply comes instantly.

haechan: meet me? same spot.

your heart skips. you don’t even hesitate.

you: be there in 10.

—

the air feels heavier, like the wind is carrying something unspoken between you. you spot him before he sees you—leaning against the swing set, hoodie pulled over his head, one hand twisting a silver ring around his finger. he looks lost in thought, gaze fixed on the ground until he hears your footsteps.

his head lifts, and when he sees you, his lips twitch into a smirk—lazy, like he knew you’d come.

“thought maybe you wouldn’t show,” he says, rocking back on his heels.

you cross your arms, standing a few steps away. “why?”

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “figured maybe you started listening to your parents.”

you raise a brow. “you’re eavesdropping now?”

nah,” he says easily, stepping closer. “just know how people see me.”

you don’t respond. instead, you take a step closer, letting the silence settle between you.

“so,” you say after a beat, “why’d you call me out here?”

he exhales, tilting his head as he watches you. “needed to see you.”

the words come so easily, like he didn’t even have to think about them. like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your pulse stutters, but you keep your expression even. “and now that you have?”

he grins, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between you. “now?” his voice drops lower, eyes flickering over your face. “now i wanna know why you came.”

you swallow. why did you?

you should have ignored his message, should have listened to every warning sign telling you to stay away.

but standing here, heart pounding, heat rolling off him in waves—

you realize you don’t regret a damn thing.

“i wanted to see you too.” you say lowly.

—

after that night, something shifts.

it starts slow—an unspoken understanding, a magnetic pull that neither of you acknowledge but never fight.

one night turns into another. and then another.

sometimes, he climbs through your window just to talk, arms crossed against your windowsill, voice hushed as he tells you about his day. other times, he doesn’t talk at all, just pulls you close and kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

and maybe you should be afraid too—afraid of how easy it is to let this happen, to want more. but you’re not.

—

you find yourself around him more at school, too.

it’s not obvious, not at first—just stolen glances across the hallway, his shoulder brushing yours when he passes by, the flicker of a smirk when he catches you looking.

but then he starts waiting for you after class, hands stuffed in his pockets, always acting like he just happened to be there. like it wasn’t intentional.

and you let him.

because somehow, being near him feels natural now. even with the tutoring sessions over. he seemed to be doing pretty well in science now anyway.

—

the nights are different. the nights are yours.

sneaking out is reckless, dangerous, a risk you wouldn’t have taken before. but now? now it’s routine.

sometimes, you meet at the park, swinging lazily under the glow of the streetlights. sometimes, he drags you into the city, leading you through neon-lit streets, hands brushing in the dark.

and sometimes—most nights, actually—he’s at your window.

it always starts the same way: a faint rustling, the quiet scrape of sneakers against bark, and then, moments later, his head poking through the window frame with a grin.

“you’ve got to stop leaving this unlocked, sunshine,” he teases, even though you both know you won’t.

and every time, without fail, you roll your eyes, but you don’t stop him when he pulls himself inside, muscles flexing, veins prominent under his skin as he steadies himself.

the first few times, you told yourself this was temporary—just a phase, just him being him.

but then there’s a night where he doesn’t just talk, doesn’t just steal a few kisses before leaving.

there’s a night where he lingers.

where his hands settle on your waist, where he backs you up against your wall, where the air between you is thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.

where he kisses you deeper, hands tracing slow patterns against your skin, like he’s memorizing you.

where you let him.

because at some point, you stopped trying to fight this. stopped trying to pretend you didn’t want it.

because at some point, you stopped caring that he was the kind of boy your parents warned you about.

—

it was one of the nights he had skipped into your room, you greeted him with a smile and things went from there.

his breath is warm against your lips, hands gripping your waist as he backs you into the wall.

he’s been teasing all night—touching you just enough to leave you wanting more, murmuring things in that low, rough voice that made your pulse stutter. but now? now there’s no space left between you, and neither of you are trying to fight it.

his fingers press into your sides, slow and steady, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him take. his lips brush yours once, twice—just enough to make you chase him before he finally kisses you like he means it.

and you let yourself fall into it.

your hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, tugging just enough to draw a quiet groan from his throat. his body presses closer, chest rising and falling against yours, the heat between you dizzying.

“you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your lips, voice thick, almost strained.

you don’t even get the chance to answer before he kisses you again, harder this time, like he’s losing whatever little patience he had left.

his hands slip under your shirt, fingertips skimming your skin, sending shivers up your spine. and you should stop this, should put some distance between you before it’s too late—

but then his hands tighten on your hips, and you feel the way his heart is racing just as fast as yours, and god—

you don’t want to stop.

“tell me to leave,” he murmurs, lips trailing along your jaw, down to the hollow of your throat.

you swallow hard, tilting your head back as he presses closer, as his hands continue their slow exploration.

“tell me you don’t want this,” he says again, but there’s no teasing in his voice this time—just something raw, something vulnerable, something almost pleading.

and you should. you should.

instead, your grip tightens in his hair, and you whisper back, “i don’t want you to.”

his response is immediate—his hands slide lower, pulling you flush against him, and he groans against your lips like he’s just lost whatever last shred of control he had.

“fuck,” he exhales, forehead resting against yours. “you’re really gonna be the end of me, sunshine.”

but he doesn’t stop.

and neither do you.

—

when you finally pull your mouth from his, his lips are swollen, breath uneven as he leans into you, hands still firm on your waist like he can’t bring himself to let go just yet.

you don’t want him to.

but somewhere between the heat of his touch and the way his body presses against yours, reality creeps back in.

your parents are just down the hall.

he shouldn’t even be here.

“we should stop,” you murmur, though the words barely make it out, still breathless from the way he just kissed you.

he exhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he tilts his head back to look at you. his pupils are blown wide, jaw tight like he’s forcing himself to pull back.

“yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “yeah, we should.”

but neither of you move.

his thumb brushes against your side, like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

“sunshine,” he says softly, like a warning.

you know you have to let him go.

but when he leans in one last time, mouth hovering just over yours, you don’t stop him.

“just one more?” he murmurs, but it’s a lie.

one more turns into two, then three, then a lingering kiss pressed to the corner of your lips, like he’s reluctant to leave you at all.

but eventually, he does.

he steps back first, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to ground himself, like he’s trying to pull himself together before he does something you’ll both regret.

“guess i should go before i completely fuck this up, huh?” he says, forcing a smirk, but you see the hesitation in his eyes.

you nod, but you don’t trust yourself to say anything.

he moves toward the window, but just before climbing out, he looks back, gaze flickering over you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your fingers are still trembling just slightly.

and then, instead of saying goodbye, he just grins.

“try not to miss me too much,” he teases, but there’s something softer beneath the words. something real.

and with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the night like he was never there at all.

except—he was.

you press your fingers against your lips, as if you can still feel him there, and then, you smile.

it’s embarrassing, the way your stomach flutters, the way your cheeks heat up, the way you actually giggle like some lovesick schoolgirl.

you should not be this giddy over a boy like him.

but you are.

and you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore.

—

it was another saturday night, around 12am, your parents long gone to bed.

his hands are warm against your skin, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer.

you’re not even thinking anymore—just moving, just feeling. stumbling over your own feet as he walks you back, laughing quietly when you almost trip over a pile of books.

“shh,” you whisper, barely suppressing a giggle.

he grins against your lips. “that was you.”

“doesn’t matter,” you breathe, fingers curling into his shirt, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath the fabric. “just be quiet.”

he hums in amusement, hands sliding up your sides, his touch slow, deliberate, testing. “you always tell me what to do, sunshine?”

“someone has to.”

“mm,” he leans in, lips brushing your jaw, hands slipping beneath your shirt, pushing the fabric up just slightly—waiting for permission.

you exhale, whispering a word of approval.

he doesn’t hesitate. he tugs your shirt up, just enough to expose more of your skin—

knock.

the door swings open.

“what are you doing—?”

you freeze.

haechan freezes.

your mom stands in the doorway, eyes locking onto the scene in front of her—haechan’s hands still on you, his hoodie discarded on the floor, your shirt lifted just enough to make it painfully obvious what was happening.

for a second, no one moves.

no one breathes.

haechan is the first to react, stepping back so fast he almost knocks over your chair. he runs a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to play it cool, like there’s any coming back from this.

you don’t dare turn around.

your heart pounds in your chest, face burning hotter than ever before. this time not with the same heat.

your mom inhales sharply, voice eerily calm.

“downstairs. now.”

the finality in her tone sends a chill down your spine.

haechan glances at you, expression unreadable, but you can’t look at him.

because this time, you’re really in trouble.

—

▸ j.note ; finally releasing this lmao it’s been in the sm basement for quite some time now

[plateofmud]

PAS DE PUNK ╱ h.taesan

you and taesan go together like classical music and rock: not at all. but similar to the way taesan keeps getting piercings, there’s something about the way he gets under your skin that you kind of like— and you’re too proud to admit why you keep coming back for more.

pair ; punk!taesan x ballerina!reader

genre ; smut (with plot), fluff?, rock band au, enemies to lovers

warnings ; fem!reader, taesan has piercings (including tongue), arguing (flirting), some jealousy, ‘make me shut up’ kiss, confessing of feelings, petnames (mostly princess), lots of mentions of taesan’s hands & rings, dom!taesan, bratty/sub!reader, thigh riding, praise, degr*dation, bre*st play, begging, a little sp*nking, no prep, piv

wc ; 8k

playlist ; smells like teen spirit by nirvana / sugar we’re goin down by fall out boy / a little death by the neighbourhood / punk rock princess by something corporate / she’s kinda hot by 5sos / good girl by thomas larosa / s*xtape by deftones / closer by nine inch nails / all i really want is you by the marías

✉️ 𓂃 ₊˚⊹ note ; happy new year!! idk if it’s unhinged to make a playlist for a smut fic but i couldn’t help myself ><. i avoided using lesser-known ballet terms for non-dancers to understand (aka me), but also tried to make it enjoyable for dancers to read. hopefully i was successful lol.

! . . . COPYRIGHT OF IHANGELIC

dancing along with the music of l’oiseau bleu is practically impossible when it sounds like a rock concert is taking place in the room just across from you.

lowering to stand flat footed in your pointe shoes, you raise your hands to your face, pinching your nose bridge in frustration as you try and resist the growing urge to pull your hair out.

the obnoxious sound of drums, a bass’s low rumble, and an electric guitar’s higher tune rings in your ears— drowning out any of your more rational thoughts until you’re left with only rage.

you try your best to block it out, to take a moment to breathe and try to get a controlled hold over your emotions— and you think it may work after you cover your ears with your own hands, the sound of the instruments still audible but sounding more distant. then the teeth gritting noise of a cymbal pierces through the barrier of your hands and it’s almost like it’s a sound effect for the way your train of thought shatters, letting out a sigh that sounds much more like an animalistic scream before stomping over to your phone and turning off the music.

power walking out of the dance studio and to the very unfortunately placed neighboring rental space, you don’t even have to turn the knob as you look through the glass door. the raging bitch face you wear is absolutely effortless as you mean-mug all three ‘problems’ in the room; ‘problems’ that drip in leather, distressed or patched fabric, spikes, and way too oversized jeans. you’re about to feel acquainted with the three men as this situation seems to occur more and more often.

foam panels are stuck to the walls; black cords are neatly coiled or in squiggly lines across the floor; and of course there’s guitars, a drum set, and microphones everywhere.

finally you catch the eyes of the long, blond haired drummer— and that gives you enough incentive to open the door and barge in like you own the place.

“could you be any louder?” you rhetorically ask, but it goes unheard as two of the men sing passionately into their microphones, eyes closed and hands working the strings of their guitars while the drummer keeps playing his drums— all while staring at you with a relaxed, barely inquisitive face.

“could you be any louder!” you shout, the end of the sentence awkwardly fading in volume when there's a screech from one of the guitars and everything goes quiet.

the two seeming vocalists turn their heads to look at you, all three men now staring while you stand, clearly bothered as your hands are on both sides of your hips and your chest heaves with deep breaths of frustration.

“well…” the dark haired, taller one begins— and your expression only sours more as you’re already familiar with how snarky and full of himself he can be. “you’re the one yelling.”

you let out an appalled scoff, unable to help the way your eyes roll as you’re angered even more by how that only seems to make the man smirk.

“if someone has to yell just for you to hear them that means you’re the loud one.”

“you sure about that, princess?” he asks, quirking a pierced brow. your impending explosive response must be visible as the shorter statured one interrupts for damage control.

“w— we’re sorry!” he starts, speaking on his friends behalves. the blond’s expression never changes as he stares at your fuming face, while the darker haired looks like he’s about to protest— but the other continues before he has the chance. “look..we got off on the wrong foot and…”

the way his hands float in front of him, bass hanging against his chest by the strap— it only adds to how lost he looks on what to do, and it makes you feel kind of bad. (for him at least.)

you’re about to start apologizing when he’s suddenly reaching his hand out towards you.

“i’m riwoo.” he introduces, then gestures over to the other two men. “this is taesan and leehan.”

“…y/n” you say somewhat sheepishly, a bit of your shame coming back at the politeness of the bassist you now know as riwoo.

previously you’d only knock aggressively at their door to ask them to shut up, a few times popping your head in when that didn’t work to snappily ask them to please try and keep it down at least a little. you’ve never actually had a full conversation with them before— or an argument...whatever this exchange of words could be classified as.

“unfortunately we can’t really be any quieter. we have to practice for a gig we got coming up—“

“isn’t your little dance school supposed to be closed now anyway?” taesan abruptly interrupts, yet again grinding your gears with the snarky way he says the words ‘dance school’.

“it’s closed for classes, but the rooms can be used for practice up until eleven pm.” you provide smartly, catching yourself before you scrunch your nose in disgust at him.

“we try to keep the noise at a minimum if we’re here at prime hours,” riwoo cuts in again, attempting to explain gently. “but past that…” he trails off, shoulders shrugging as he gives you a sympathetic look.

you process his words, how he really is seemingly trying to help you out here, before sighing softly as your hand raises to press into your increasingly aching temple.

“do you have to use your amps?” you ask, raising a hand to point at one.

“did you not hear him? we have a show to do, we need to practice as best as we can. so yes, we have to use our amps.” taesan firmly states, over enunciating like you can’t hear. his brows are slightly furrowed as his previous amusement is completely gone, a flame of annoyance now in his eyes.

you let your hand defeatedly fall and slap against your bare thigh, taesan’s eyes glancing down at your leg for the smallest of moments before looking back up to glare at you.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you bite at him, sick of his selfish attitude as you turn your body fully in his direction, crossing your arms.

“wxnder.” he dryly states, making your head tilt in confusion and absolute impatience.

“huh?”

“wonder— but like, with an ‘x’. that’s our band name.” leehan provides, throwing you off as you’re momentarily sidetracked by how deep and smooth his voice is. (are all these men vocalists? also, with an ‘x’— how cheesy can they be?)

“you should come watch us perform.” he smiles widely, eyes creasing and everything. you’re yet again thrown off as he speaks to you with such casual friendliness as though you haven’t practically yelled at all of them and continue to seethe at his guitarist like you want to rip his throat out.

“uh, i…”

“i’m sure miss priss has other things she’d rather do, like dance to swan lake in a feather tutu or something.” taesan finishes your sentence for you, conjuring a string of curses to lace your tongue.

“shut the f—“

“bye, twinkle toes.” he waves you off dismissively, grabbing the neck of his guitar by his multiple ringed fingers as he directs his attention back to his instrument and mic.

“it was nice meeting you, y/n.” riwoo adds somewhat shyly, adjusting the strap of his instrument as well— though much more apologetically.

“see ya’, y/n!” leehan calls before picking up his drumsticks and twirling them in his hands, looking up to taesan for his cue. you watch him cock his chin, the sudden rhythmic pounding of leehan’s drums making you flinch before taesan and riwoo start playing their strings again.

riwoo’s voice starts out soft before slowly raising in volume and you’re shocked by his melodic vocals that contrast so satisfyingly well with the rock instrumentals.

still disgruntled but more off put than anything, you don’t know what more to do than shuffle out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you stare at the air in front of you.

well, guess it’s time to find some earbuds that are sound and pirouette proof.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you got it. you got the lead role.

all the extra (maybe slightly excessive) practicing, late nights and frustration (which would be a lot less if there wasn’t a band next door) paid off.

you’re playing as princess aurora for your dance studio’s performance of ‘the sleeping beauty’, which will be showing at a local theatre next month.

jaehyun, your good friend and fellow dancer who’s always making you smile and lightening sullen moments during classes— is your dance partner, playing as prince désiré.

the second the both of you found out you got lead roles, jaehyun was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, insisting that you go out tonight to celebrate.

which is why you find yourself by jaehyun’s side at ‘sundown lounge’, your favorite bar and hang out spot.

“you look good, by the way!” jaehyun attempts to speak over the loud karaoke, leaning a little closer to your ear as you weave through the crowd.

“thanks!” you turn your head to smile at him over your shoulder, hoping your iridescent eyeshadow twinkles under the lights how you wanted it to.

“you do too.” you compliment before someone’s elbow is jabbed into your stomach, squishing yourself against the wall as you and jaehyun try to make it to the bar to order some drinks. “why is it so busy tonight?”

“i don’t know, maybe it’s happy hour!” jaehyun suggests hopefully, but when you finally reach the counter his theory is proven wrong when you’re told everything’s its original price. regardless, you sip on a strawberry margarita while jaehyun holds a glass of something that looks like muddy water before deciding where to sit.

“wanna go there, near the stage?” he asks, pointing over to a table that’s very near the performance area. you’d rather not have to hear a drunk girl sloppily sing a britney spears song right in your ears but jaehyun finds it hilarious, often unable to resist curling in on himself while giggling uncontrollably— and that always makes you laugh. so you nod your head, jaehyun grabbing your hand to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the crowd before leading you to the table.

there’s only two more songs played before the dj hops on the stage, speaking into the mic. “karaoke will be ending as it’s time for the band of tonight to take the stage. give us a few minutes while the performers are setting up!”

some people in the crowd hoot and holler excitedly as jaehyun turns his head to you. “i wonder what type of band will be playing tonight, last weeks was pretty good.”

“it’s punk rock!” a girl excitedly butts in from the table right next to yours, having accidentally overheard your conversation.

“a rock band?” you ask, somewhat groaned in annoyance as you now have a personal vendetta against the genre. but your tone goes completely unnoticed by the girl as her eyes continue to sparkle with enthusiasm.

“yeah! their music’s really good and they’re all super hot, my favorite one plays the electric guitar.”

“what’s their name?” jaehyun asks, curiosity evidently sparked.

“wxnder!” she answers, and your brows furrow with the familiarity of it. where have you heard that name before?

the girl’s head turns at a sound and her mouth drops open, a small uproar caused as some people in the crowd shriek and cheer. the unexpected noise has you flinching before looking towards the stage— and your jaw drops too, but not in a good way.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” you say to yourself in shock, watching as riwoo sits down his amp and plugs it into the wall.

“what?…what!” jaehyun whisper-yells, grabbing onto your arm to try and get your attention.

leehan appears next, sitting down behind the drum set that’s already on stage and wagging his head to adjust his hair, causing another small wave of squeals.

then a broad back covered by a black leather jacket abstracts your view, and he doesn’t even need to turn around for you to know who he is— but he does anyway. the way taesan almost immediately catches your gaze amongst the crowd is infuriating, smirking while glancing down at how close your table is to the stage before looking teasingly into your eyes again.

and it makes you pissed, unbelievably so— yet you feel your cheeks burn as you can’t help but think about how hot he looks, the stage lights glinting off his lip ring and drawing your eyes towards them.

have his lips always been so…plump?

taesan winks at you before looking down to tune his guitar, hands gripping the neck of it. veins pop out from the contours of his knuckles; long, thick fingers adorned with silver rings picking at the strings.

fuck…

“y/n?” jaehyun tries again, and you finally respond with the shake of your head, downing the remainder of your drink like it’s a shot.

“it’s nothing.” you insist.

after a few minutes of setting up, tuning, and making sure everything’s in order; taesan introduces the group (not that he exactly needs to, since it seems the bar is full of their fans), saying that their opening song will be ‘take my tears’, a song he wrote himself.

usually you and jaehyun talk throughout a band's live performance, as they’ll be playing all night— but you can’t seem to look away as you listen to the lyrics and how they perform.

it’s entrancing— much different than when you’re trying to ignore them through the studio walls. the song is somewhat emotional, beautiful; yet it also has such a fun and freeing feel. or maybe it’s just the way they sing it— how taesan sings it, his body grooving and head nodding to the beat of their sound. the lyrics aren’t what you’d expect from him— the guy you thought he was, and it leaves you wondering what more there is to him that you wouldn’t expect.

your heart skips a beat, and you’re not sure if it’s just the thrill of the rock music or if it’s because of him; the annoying, pompous punk who suddenly looks so sexy when he’s performing. (and never any other time. definitely not.)

you’ve just finished your second margarita and are a little buzzed by the time their set is finished, the night passing faster than you realized.

jaehyun is eating on a basket of fries, yapping away so fervently that he doesn’t even notice how you’ve gotten up from the table and are approaching taesan— who again locks eyes with you as he walks down the steps of the stage to meet you halfway.

“so, what did you think?” he asks, a little out of breath from the long performance, having had no breaks in between songs.

he stands closely so you can hear him— and it’s enough for you to smell his cologne; to see the way sweat clings to the skin of his neck; deep breaths coming out in puffs as his chest expands. something about it all has an effect on you— or maybe it’s something in the air, because taesan doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes rake over your body, admiring your legs in your denim mini skirt.

“you..you guys were amazing.” you compliment, sounding a little out of breath yourself.

taesan makes a ‘hm’ sound, faintly smiling at you while biting his lip— and you swear you see the glint of metal on his tongue.

your body heats up as you wonder if his tongue is pierced too, what kind of things he could do to you with it, what it would feel like against your skin— before you frantically try and dismiss the increasingly dirty thoughts, reminding yourself that the man you’re fantasizing about is right in front of you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come.” taesan says, speaking in a teasing tone that you swear seems flirty paired with the slight quirk of his brow.

“how’d you even know we’d be here? did you stalk us, princess?”

okay, surely that was flirting, right?

you’re about to playfully roll your eyes, paired with a smart little comment and deny that’d you’d ever be interested enough to ‘stalk’ them— until the girl that spoke to you about wxnder earlier suddenly appears, putting herself between you and taesan.

“you were absolutely amazing, taesan.” the girl croons, confidently placing her hand on his forearm as she leans all up in his personal space.

and you expect him to shrug her off, either politely or not-so politely establish some distance between them. but again, he surprises you— in a way you absolutely hate.

he smirks at her, in just the same way he did to you just moments ago— and leans even closer to her face, unneededly close.

“aren’t you sweet. thank you so much.”

“no problem.” the girl smiles cattily, clearly enjoying the attention.

something in your heart burns, and that familiar feeling of uncontrollable annoyance comes back even worse than before.

“do you think i could get your autograph?”

“sure, princess.” taesan answers lowly— and that does it.

without even feeling the urge to look back and see that girl all over him, you’re gone, picking up a drunk jaehyun by his arm.

“wh— where are we going?” jaehyun drunkenly slurs, eyes glossed over as they look at you.

“to get an uber home.” you answer firmly, eyes hard as you once again weave through the crowd.

you feel eyes on your back, but you ignore it until you get to the door, turning your head as jaehyun leans half of his body weight against you. even amongst all the faces, you and taesan’s eyes meet easily, his arm now slung around the girl’s waist as she whispers something in his ear.

his lips are in that same smirk— like he’s taunting you, and you scoff, dragging jaehyun and yourself out of the bar.

you can’t believe you were actually feeling into him— but you surely don’t have to worry about that now.

he’s just confirmed that he is in fact what you thought he was: an absolute ass and a cocky player who sings on stage to get girls in his bed.

well, fuck him. he can get his dick wet with anyone he wants but it sure as hell won’t be you.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the very next day you’re back at the dance studio, rehearsing for the upcoming performance.

jaehyun whines the whole day, saying that it’s somehow your fault that he got drunk off his ass— but despite that, he does incredibly well during class. you do also, but unbeknownst to you, your friend wonders why you seem so tense— like something has been bothering you all day.

“shouldn’t you go home and rest, y/n?” jaehyun asks you at the end of class hours. everyone else is packing up their totes and leaving, yet you’re stood at the ballet barre doing leg exercises.

“i’ll be fine. practice makes perfect.” you insist, keeping your eyes on your form in the mirrored wall.

“well..just don’t overwork yourself, okay?” jaehyun sweetly tells you, and you flash him a thankful smile through the mirror.

“don’t worry, yunie, i wont. see you tomorrow.”

if it weren’t for the absolute beast you’re known to be in the studio, jaehyun would force you out of your pointe shoes and drag you home himself— but you don’t seem even a little bit tired, and it appears as though you have some steam to blow off.

so jaehyun and you exchange goodbyes before he leaves you in the empty classroom. (yes, completely empty— aside from the lady at the front desk. no one is as obsessive as you to want to stay even another second practicing when you already have for the whole day— on a saturday night, no less.)

you spend the next thirty minutes going over the steps you learned today that you don’t have down perfectly yet, having small cool downs in the form of stretching in between.

‘entrée d’aurore’ is still playing on your phone when you hear the distant voices of what must be the front desk lady and someone else speaking. you wonder if somebody has returned to get some extra practice in as well, and as you hear footsteps approaching, you remain sitting on the floor doing toe touches.

the door to the classroom opens, echoing slightly in the big, empty space— you lift your head to see someone who definitely is not a part of the sleeping beauty cast.

“y/n?” taesan says somewhat quietly, eyes looking around the big room that only holds one ballerina, who looks small in comparison to the high ceilings and vacant space.

your eyebrows furrow, somewhat irritated to see him while also being surprised— not only by his presence but by the unfamiliar way he almost looks sheepish: barely taking a few steps inside the classroom, looking around like he expects someone or yourself to scold him and kick him out.

“…don’t tell me you auditioned.” you joke, although it’s said casually. your eyes only scrutinize him for a second before you look back down to your own hands as you stretch them across your straightened legs and to your toes.

taesan has seen you a handful of times when you’re in your casual practice wear, but what you’re clad in for an official performance class is a little different. you’re wearing a black leotard with a little mesh skirt, a cropped shirt overtop, tights, and black leg warmers.

you look..really cute. even when you’re pretending to ignore him.

“no. the lady at the front desk said you were in here.” he explains lamely, all his usual snarky remarks not coming to his thoughts as he watches you in your element.

“good. i don’t want to see you in tights anyway. not your aesthetic.”

“sure you don’t.”

your head snaps to look at him before you can think not to react, cheeks heating up as you see the twinkle in his eyes and the small smile he tries to conceal by pressing down his lips.

you sigh as though you’re bothered— because you are— obviously…and get up from your floor stretches to walk over to the ballet barre again. taesan follows you.

“i don’t know why you’re here but i’m practicing. you should leave.”

“who was that with you at the bar last night?”

your cold indifference is broken at the unexpected question, your expression clearly confused as you look at the man standing beside you in the mirrored wall.

“what, jaehyun? he’s my friend. he wanted to go out to celebrate our castings. y’know, for the performance i’m trying to practice for right now?”

“so it was a date.” taesan remarks, eyes hardening right in front of you— and there’s that angered burn in your chest again, your hands squeaking from how tightly they hold onto the barre as your expression turns sour.

“who i date isn’t any of your business to speculate. i haven’t asked you what you and that fangirl got up to last night, have i?” you snap, raising a challenging brow at him— but it only makes him shake his head in unbelief, staring at you like you’re an absolute idiot.

“what? y/n, i don’t even know her name.”

“yes, well, i’m not surprised over that. i’m guessing it’s not very important for you to learn a girl’s name— as long as you’re in between her legs by the end of the night.”

his hand is on your shoulder, turning you around to face him abruptly as he stands closely, right in front of you.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? you think i fucked her?”

“i don’t want to know what you di—“

“shut the fuck up.” taesan orders, his fingers curling over your wrists making you wonder when they got there in the first place.

“make me.” someone (you?) says, and then you feel the cold press of taesan’s lip ring against your mouth.

it’s firm at first: the way his lips slam into yours, how both of your expressions still look pissed off at each other, even with both of your eyes closed. but eventually you seem to realize that taesan is actually kissing you— and then you’re melting into him, sighing as you feel his touch soften in response.

his kiss quickly turns demanding, lips moving against yours in pursuit of your taste. you squeak when his teeth bite at your bottom lip, not knowing you’ve fallen right into his trap until his tongue has already seized the opportunity and invaded your mouth. turns out you weren’t wrong when you thought you spotted a ball stud piercing on taesan’s tongue, you can most definitely feel it when he brushes it against your own appendage.

your head is pushed against the mirror from his vigor and you whimper, never having felt so dominated simply by a man’s kiss; taesan explores your mouth like he owns it, like it’s his, and it makes your core pulse, a flicker of neediness growing.

the rough groan he lets out as his hands move to roam and grasp at your waist hints at his possessiveness, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin material of your leotard.

“didn’t fuck her. didn’t want to.” he murmurs between the eager movements of his lips. “just wanted to make you jealous.”

“wh— why?” you manage breathily, taesan pressing his body against yours as your hands move to brace yourself on the barre.

“because i like you, y/n.” he smiles and huffs in disbelief at your denseness.

“i want to take you on a date— whether you let me between your legs or not.” he smirks, referring to your earlier harsh remark and making you cringe at the reference.

“i…i’d like that.” you say shyly, looking at him through your lashes. “the date— and..and the other thing too.”

“the other thing?” taesan repeats, confused as you only avoid his gaze, not further explaining— but funnily enough, your sudden bashful attitude is what makes it click in his mind.

“princess?” he experimentally calls, pleased when you automatically lift your head to look at him. his tongue unconsciously peaks out to play with his lip ring as he cockily grins, hand creeping up from your waist to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“why don’t you be a big girl and tell me what you mean?”

your nose crinkles, a pathetic attempt at defiance amidst your embarrassment. taesan’s other hand pinches the tender skin of your thigh, causing you to flinch and whimper at the slight pain as he makes a disapproving sound under his breath.

“come on, y/n. be good or i won’t give you what you want.”

“i— i want you...i meant—”

taesan does anything but go easy on you, eyes dark with mischief as he lowers his head to nibble at your neck. you squeeze your thighs together, looking for relief from the way your pussy now pulses prominently.

his hands move in tandem, one cradling along your jawline while the other brushes up and down your thigh, making you annoyed at your tights with how they keep you from feeling the cold brush of his rings against your skin.

you want them off. you want taesan to take them off. so you admit it.

“want you to fuck me. please, taesan.”

“awe,” he coos. “aren’t you a sweet one.”

you swear the tone in which he says those words turn you into goo, your hands releasing the barre to desperately hold onto his shirt.

“please.” you beg, finding yourself only wanting more praise— more of him— just anything he’s willing to give you.

taesan is able to identify the look in your eyes, staring at your lips and leaning down so slowly, making you whine at his teasing until he finally grants you mercy and kisses you again.

it’s dirtier than before: a lot more spit, moans, and movement from both of your tongues. taesan’s leg leans against the wall between your thighs, and whether it was his purpose to give you relief or not, you take the opportunity and hesitantly grind your core against his ripped jeans.

the pleasure is immediate, sending a tingle up your spine that has you arching against his chest, forgetting any shame as you begin to earnestly grind your hips against him. the thin layers covering your core paired with the roughness of taesan’s denim creates a wonderful friction, feeling how wet you’ve become in your panties.

“shit, you’re such a slut for it.” taesan remarks in genuine awe after breaking the kiss to watch the little show you’re putting on. his eyes take in every movement, from the way you rock against him to how your eyes squeeze shut and you tilt your head back.

the previous song playing on your phone has long since finished as some other tune now plays from your playlist— taesan suddenly becoming aware of it and that he has a girl whimpering and riding his thigh in the middle of a dance classroom.

he abruptly pulls away, the presence between your legs disappearing as you conjure a bratty sound from your throat.

“y/n,” taesan scolds in a harsh whisper. “did you forget where we are?”

“thought you said you’d fuck me if i was good?” you argue, flashing him a defiant expression.

“you think using my thigh to get yourself off without my permission is being good?”

your eyes widen, not expecting him to call you out on it.

looking to the floor and hearing taesan’s responding laugh at your childishness, it only makes the desire to act out against him stronger— you’re just not sure how you can do it in this moment.

“get your things. we can go to my place.” taesan offers, your stomach fluttering at the idea as you do what he says— moving to grab your phone, bag, and change out of your ballet wear.

your heart is pounding out of your chest and what’s between your legs hasn’t calmed down at all either by the time you walk out of the dance studio and sit in the passenger seat of taesan’s car.

and the drive is just as excruciating.

the man seems hellbent on teasing you by not giving you a drop of attention, keeping his eyes on the road while some rock song plays through the speakers. and you know he knows what he’s doing, how you can’t keep his eyes off of him, because the corner of his mouth is subtly turned.

you see no reason to hide it since he’s already aware, so you stare at him— once again admiring how hot his hands look wrapped around the steering wheel, the contours of his jawline and perfect side profile illuminated by the low hanging sun.

your eyes keep wandering— down, down, down until you get to his lap, where you see the large bulge tenting his pants.

your mouth waters and your hands twitch, wondering if he’s really as big as he looks and hoping you’ll get to find out by the end of tonight.

then you’re struck with an idea, recognizing the perfect opportunity you have right now— and you reach your hand out confidently to grope him over his pants.

you’re so proud at the way it makes taesan softly gasp under his breath, back stiffening at the unexpected touch. you mold your hand over his clothed dick, rubbing and gently squeezing— in all the right ways apparently, as you feel him twitch in your hands— even through the thick denim fabric.

“y/n, stop it.” taesan grits, and you hear the squeak of what you guess is his hands gripping tightly around the steering wheel. you don’t look at him until after you’ve located the head of his cock, rubbing over it with your thumb and meeting his fiery glare with a teasing bite to your lip— clearly pleased with yourself.

taesan is visibly pissed at your blatant act of defiance, but he gives you one more chance in the form of a threat.

“you’re not very patient, are you, princess? keep touching my dick like that and you won’t even get to see it out of my pants.”

your hand immediately stills— the man releasing a huff of disbelief when you pull your hand away completely to lay both of your hands on your lap, avoiding his gaze as you stare ahead.

not another word is shared, taesan enjoying the way you nervously squirm in your seat as he finally pulls into his apartment’s parking lot.

“stay.” he simply orders once he’s parked, and you’re left confused as he exits the car, only to watch him come around and open your door for you— even going as far to unbuckle your seatbelt and keep a firm hold around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs of his building. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach yet your insides twist with nervous anticipation— because he does it all with the same stern eyes he spoke to you with as he threatened not to fuck you.

when the key is twisted and his front door lightly squeaks open— his residence somehow looks exactly how you thought; dark, moody, vintage rock posters and memorabilia hanging on the walls.

you expect him to be cheesy and press you against his door the moment it’s closed, but he doesn’t— instead walking over leisurely to his couch and sitting down, legs widely spread in an oddly commanding and powerful way.

your eyes widen at the arousing image, feeling yourself become sheepish as taesan lets his eyes roam over your form without shame.

“why do you look so shy now? you were such a disobedient little slut in the car.”

you swallow, hardly able but trying to hold eye contact with him as your face heats up in a delicious sort of shame.

taesan sighs as though he’s annoyed with your silence, patting one thigh with his hand.

“come here.”

“…h— huh?”

“don’t make me say it again, y/n.” he orders— and next thing you know, your body is moving to straddle the leg he’s directed you to sit on.

“there we go. guess princesses can take orders sometimes, hm?” he rhetorically asks, but you’re nodding your head anyway.

taesan just stares at you for a bit, admiring how pretty you look sitting and waiting for what he’ll do next, so different from the bratty attitude you had during the car ride.

then his hands rest on your bare waist, giving him easy access as you had disregarded your leotard before leaving the studio, now only wearing your cropped shirt and athletic shorts.

you’re unable to conceal the shuddered inhale you take as taesan’s hands creep upward, seeing him smirk at the sound before his hands slip under your shirt and reach your tits.

“no bra?” he teases, biting his lip as his fingers pinch at your hard nipples.

“n— no,” you struggle out, flinching lightly as taesan plays with your tits without any restraint, like your body is his toy. the contrast of his cool rings against your heated skin causes goosebumps to rise on the surface of your arms, chest pushing further into his hands. “didn’t think there was any p—..point.”

you watch as taesan shakes his head like he’s disappointed, yet he’s smiling darkly.

“dirty girl.” he remarks, giving a firmer pinched tug to your hard bud and forcing a whimper to escape from between your lips. “just take everything off then.”

you’re quicker to do what he says this time, only letting your sudden shy attitude make you hesitate for a moment before getting up from his lap to discard your clothing to his floor, keeping eye contact with taesan as best as you can manage— as he seems pleased when you do. he lets out a hungry exhale when you take off your shirt and your tits are revealed to his eyes, hand leisurely jerking himself off over his pants by the time your shorts are removed— leaving you only in your underwear.

“is that a thong, princess?” taesan asks breathily, eyes slightly widening in what you think might be surprise.

“yeah? it’s…it’s what i always wear underneath my leotard.” you confirm, somewhat confused— until taesan speaks again, hand moving up and down his dick faster.

“fuck, just— just didn’t expect such a prissy girl like you to— shit, i don’t know. you’re so hot.”

you smile— and it’s equally sexy and cute in a way that makes taesan feel like he’s going to go insane if you don’t get back on his lap right away. your fingers slip beneath the band of your panties to tug them off, but he stops you before you can.

“don’t. keep them on, wanna see you make a mess in them for me.”

a part of you— the bratty side— wants to say you already have, the dark spot from your leaking arousal evidence of it. but you don’t, the desire to listen actually winning over as you remove your hands from your hips and straddle his thigh again. you hover this time, not fully sitting down as you’re embarrassed for him to feel your wetness directly against his bare skin, which are revealed through the large holes in his jeans.

but taesan catches on immediately, tutting fondly as his hands squeeze at your hips.

“all the way.” he drawls, like he’s giving a ditzy dog a command they’re struggling to understand— and it makes your stomach flip, hurrying to do as he says.

you know he feels it, how your panties clinging to your wet pussy lips press against his thigh— and as he bites at his lip, drawing your eyes to his twinkling piercing yet again— your face burns as you’re sure he’s probably looking at the glistening residue you’ve surely left on his skin.

“good girl.” he mutters roughly, you whining in response as your hands fist into the material of his shirt.

you feel like such a slut, sitting on a man’s lap almost completely bare while he’s fully clothed, your needy pussy slowly drenching his thigh in your juices; and you sound like one too as taesan leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

you gasp and stutter— unsure of what you’re even trying to say as taesan chuckles around your bud, continuing to flick and roll his pierced tongue over you. the contrast of his warm appendage and the occasional brush of round metal against your skin makes you sensitive, hole clenching around nothing with every other swipe of his tongue.

“like that?” he whispers before switching to give your other breast attention.

“yes,” you quietly moan, wrapping your arms around to grip and play with the hair at the nape of his neck, subsequently pushing his face deeper into your tits.

he likes that— if his responding groan is anything to judge by, his hands pulling your hips forward and drawing a more unabashed sound from your lips at the movement.

“use me. get your little pussy off on my thigh.”

“fuck— yes,” you obey, rocking your hips and finding a rhythm.

“shit. that’s it, baby.” he coos, his hand suddenly reigning down against your ass a contrast to his soft tone as it leaves your skin tingling with heat. “just a few little touches is all it takes to get the brat out of you, huh?”

you scoff at that— though it’s interrupted by a moan when taesan flexes his thigh. shame burns your skin and his little remark makes you want to act out again, but all you can do is grind your pussy against him, gasping and going faster whenever your covered clit gets brushed over just right.

your hands that are still tangled in his hair pull to disconnect his mouth from your tits, leaning down to kiss him instead. taesan doesn’t scold you for the demanding gesture— but he does lift a hand to grasp it over your throat. he doesn’t squeeze, but the simple act makes you feel so good and dominated— and his other hand which gropes at your ass and snaps the string waistband of your thong has you falling further into delirium.

“please— please, tae. wanna cum.”

“then cum.” he says simply, and when you finally open your squeezed shut eyes, he’s staring at your desperate face with amusement— and just like that, you’re pissed.

“taesan! i can’t! not— not enough!” you whine, not even able to think about how pathetic you sound.

“you’re cumming by my thigh or not at all. this is what you get for acting like a fucking whore while i was driving.”

you whisper out a sigh, and it’s so broken and helpless as you rock your hips earnestly against him that he almost feels bad— but the bigger part of him is proud; proud in a dark and twisted way at how he’s dwindled the ballerina down to nothing but a mindless slut that’s practically crying with the need to cum.

another spank is delivered to your ass and you flinch, taesan’s hand around your neck getting a little firmer as he forces your teary eyes to look up at him— and you feel like a dog in heat as your hips never stop their efforts to bring you to release.

“please.” you beg, and taesan’s eyes turn hazey at the beautiful sound.

“come on, princess. i know you can do it for me.” he encourages— and turns out that’s all you needed.

taesan gets an up close view as your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth dropping open in a silent cry as he feels you ruin your panties even further.

his thigh is dripping as you keep rutting your hips against him, letting out small whimpers as you work yourself through your high. taesan grants you mercy at the very end, helping you grind your hips before eventually slowing you to a stop.

then he’s picking you up and carrying you into what you can only assume is his bedroom— because in the next moment he’s laying you down on a black comforter-covered mattress and stripping off his clothes.

you’re panting, still catching your breath— but you still manage to make a somewhat teasing comment as the man’s bare chest is revealed to you.

“no tattoos?”

taesan looks up at you right after pulling his shirt over his head, black hair disheveled and brushing over his eyes as he smirks silently at you and combs it out of his face.

“i thought all emo’s had tattoos.” you tack on— and that gets him to respond.

“emo?! i’m not emo, i’m fucking punk!” he argues, somewhat offended but mostly amused as he works on removing his jeans.

“emo, punk, metalhead. it’s all the same thing.” you offhandedly say.

“…i’m about to go soft.” taesan threatens.

“kidding!” you laugh, sitting up on your elbows— and the smile is completely wiped off your face when taesan removes his boxers and his dick is finally freed, slapping against his abs.

“shit..” you whisper to yourself, watching as taesan rolls a condom on before climbing on the bed and caging you underneath him with his body.

“need me to stretch you first, princess?” taesan sweetly asks after peeling off your drenched panties, hand brushing up and down your hip soothingly.

as much as you want his sexy fingers in your cunt— you can’t wait any longer, spreading your legs for him as you flash him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“no. please just fuck me, taesanie. need you.”

“god…” taesan sighs, not making you wait anymore as he lines his head to your entrance before pushing in slowly. “oh, fuck. you’re so tight, princess.”

your chest heaves as he pushes into the hilt, your hands gripping against the sheets.

“move. fuck me hard, please. want it rough.”

you think you hear taesan mutter something about you being a dream before his pulling out till just the tip is stretching your hole— and slamming back inside.

you both turn a little animalistic and desperate, learning how the other feels and bodies being taken over by the pleasure of it. taesan’s cock stretches you out so good— he fucks you so good. the rocking of his bed frame hits against his wall, and you have a fleeting thought about if the walls are thin and if he’ll get a noise complaint— before all that is forgotten as taesan takes hold of one of your thighs and bends it against your chest.

“feel it, baby? feel how fucking bad i want you?” taesan groans between his teeth, hand squeezing tightly around your leg unconsciously— and you secretly hope it leaves mark indentations from his rings; tiny bruises from his fingers you can admire the next day.

you only can respond so his deeply uttered words with a broken moan, and taesan only fucks you harder.

“that’s it, princess got what she wanted.” he coos, eyes surprising you by how they turn a little soft— though the movement of his hips certainly never do. “always give my princess what she wants.”

you whine at that, grabbing him by the shoulders to ask for a kiss.

“fuck, you drive me crazy, y/n.” he breathes before leaning down to yet again give you what you ask for.

“but i like that about you.” he finishes between kisses.

your thighs are trembling in pleasure, sweat is lining your hairline and glistening from taesan’s chest— and you can’t take it anymore, wrapping your legs around taesan’s waist as your nails dig into his back.

“can i come, please? oh, fff— please?”

“such a good fucking slut when you got a cock in you, huh? can’t believe my princess likes it rough.”

his hand manages to squeeze between your bodies despite how tightly you cling to him, his fingers finding your clit and tracing shapes over it.

“cum, baby. get it all over my sheets.”

your body going stiff before trembling uncontrollably against him, all while your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock— it brings taesan to release as well, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow each other's cries of pleasure.

the come down is slow, taesan rolling over and pulling your body on top of his so he doesn’t accidentally fall against you in exhaustion.

your deep breaths puff warmly against his neck as he cradles you on his chest, hands swirling patterns over your back absentmindedly.

“that was…amazing.” you say around a sigh, enjoying the comforting aroma of taesan’s cologne imbedded into his sheets.

“yeah…are you done?” taesan asks, still breathy yet curious— and you raise your head to look at his face.

“you want to go again?”

“well,” taesan starts, somewhat sheepishly— yet his eyes hold that constant playful sparkle. “just thought you might be curious what it feels like to get eaten out with a piercing.”

your eyes widen, clearly shocked by not only the question but at how correct he is.

“come on, princess. you’re not slick. don’t think i didn’t notice you staring at it when we were at the bar. plus, you did say you wanted me between your legs—“

“can you stop bringing that up!?”

note ; and for anyone wondering, yes, taesan went to reader’s ballet performance. (and yes, he got jealous watching her and jaehyun dancing on stage together…part two material?🤭)

all taglists (perm/fluff/smut) are open if anyone would like to be added! age must be in bio/somewhere on pinned post if you want to be tagged in perm/smut taglist.

[plateofmud]

 ✶ ˖  ࣪  📹 .  ぅ

lee donghyuck enemies to lovers fic ideas (all fics are haechan × reader)

haechan who is your rival coworker + secretly deadpool

for the sake of this story, lets assume deadpool does hide his identity. he works at a tech company and is constantly beefing with his coworker that he's lowkey attracted to. and the plot could maybe be something like you accidentally finding out his identity and then using that information to slightly/ kind of/ in a non-toxic way blackmail him. eg: making him run errands for you, asking to tag along on his quests as deadpool. then the pair gets closer through all the time they spend together etc etc.

✶ note : hyuck HAS to be the sassiest, funniest, most sarcastic, cocky human being ever. also include some spidermark maybe

haechan as the prince of the neighbouring kingdom

historical au. very basic ik but hear me out. your kingdom's glory and power is gradually draining and it's threatened by multiple rivaling kingdoms. that is when your mother, the queen, tells you there is no choice but to turn to hyuck's kingdom for help. you hate the idea but you know everyone's counting on you so you go through with it anyways. (this is historical so there could be a very cool scene of the reader riding on a horse in battle armour to neighbouring kingdom's palace themself but whatever). they're good, kind people so they agree to help you. they send over a part of their military along with some weapons and of course haechan himself, their most prized possession who, like you, is skilled with a sword and is a wise leader. there's lots of quarrels between the both of you when it comes to the topic of which one has more power over the other and about who should be leading the troops. but you soon put your animosity aside when you realize that you have to work as a team to win. (insert dramatic battle sequence with swords and arrows flying around. at one point, you and haechan lock eyes and suddenly he drops to the ground. the world starts to blur around you when you realize he's been stabbed in his back. you frantically rush to his aid but he falls limp in your arms. its now upto the writer to kill him there itself and end the story. very angsty, i love. or they could also save him somehow and give main characters the happy ending they deserve).

 ✶ note : sloooooowwwww buuuurn. i mean this should be a long ass series with 7k+ words per chapter. should be so heavy on the angst and the hate that it makes you wonder if they do actually end up loving each other in the end. please include sword fighting scenes with sexual tension i beg you. (im big on bollywood, can u tell).

haechan as a stranger/ tour guide you meet on a family trip

you've just gotten out of a 3 year long relationship after your boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend. things get worse when your family, unaware of your breakup, forces you on a 2 week trip to *insert destination of choice" . here you meet the annoying, sarcastic, a-little-too-happy-for-his-own-good donghyuck. he is with the group your family is touring with (him being the tour guide is a pretty cute plot too but it could kind of complicate things later) and instantly wins everyone over with his charm, except you of course. in classic hyuck fashion, he tries to keep getting your attention and eventually succeeds. his company helps ease the pain of the heartbreak he didn't even know about. its bittersweet when it's time to part ways. you realise after you come back to your college dorm that you never exchanged phone numbers and you fail to find him on social media as well. but fate has strange ways of bringing people together. which is why you cant stop smiling when crash into a certain someone during a regular grocery run.

✶ note : more on the fluff and less on the angst for this one. and maybe a dash of slice of life as well.

haechan as captain of the football team.

there is no actual plot for this other than the fact that you're a cheerleader and also his academic rival (there is no trope i love more than this). my vision for this is very 2000s romcom. ik this isn't a lot to work with but there could be some sub trope like fake dating mostly.

✶ note: nothing much just make it cute

+i have a few more ideas, will probably make a part 2

++if in the future, by some miracle, people do find these interesting enough to use, please dont forget to credit me!!

[plateofmud]

(minors dni)

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

It is raining pitchforks. Water splashes as you run on the sidewalk, footsteps slippery and attire ruined. You are soaked to your bones and in a desperate need for shelter. That is why you don't think twice and let your feet guide you to the one person you swore you'll never involve yourself with.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He opens the door, countenance unpleasant and hair messy, headphones hung around his neck. The faint buzz of television is audible inside the house. Donghyuck is only wearing a pair of black sweats, his nipples staring back at you in all their perked glory. You try not to stare. You might be pathetically failing.

His lips part in surprise at the sight of your drenched figure. You are shivering, legs weak and the chatter of your teeth resonating loudly in your ears. A warm palm wraps around your elbow and ushers you in.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He deliberately gets your coffee order wrong all the time. He doesn't laugh at your jokes and throws passive aggressive comments at every given opportunity. He flashes all thirty-two of his teeth whenever Karina drops by to say hi, but his jaw locks like a saltwater crocodile the moment he spots you.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He forces you to sit on a chair, drying your hair with a fluffy white towel. His oversized shirt sits just above your knees; you shut your thighs together to cover your bare parts. Your eyes are heavy with sleep as he rubs the towel on your head, so you lean against his (toned) abdomen and close your eyes. He lets you be.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He's waking you up, shaking your shoulder gently. His face is inches away from yours. You pretend you don't notice the way his eyes flick down for a fraction of a second; it might be your sleep muddled brain making things up.

He offers you a hot mug of coffee. He is seated on the other end of the couch, body facing you, seemingly concerned about your state. He is still shirtless, his nipples are still staring back at you, and you aren't able to think straight anymore.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

But you think it's all pretence when you pull him into a kiss and his passion is unrivalled as he kisses back. His hands come to settle on your waist and neck, head tilting to get as close to you as possible. His hand rubs slow circles on your waist in an attempt to calm the both of you.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

“I don't,” he grunts. He's buried deep inside of you. Droplets of sweat glisten on his forehead.

He's kissing you again. You think he likes it from the way he won't stop doing it. You bet your lips are swollen, because his surely are and he wasn't even on the receiving end of all those bites. He nestles his face on the crook of your neck when he comes undone; you've already got off thrice.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He helps you clean with the gentlest hands, softly spreading his fragrant shower gel all over your body - your chest, stomach, back, thighs - leaving butterfly kisses while he's still there. It somehow goes south from there. Again.

He falls to his knees and grips your thighs to keep them open, tongue working wonders on your throbbing clit. He has little to no self-control is what you interpret. Not that you have any to begin with.

Donghyuck claims to hate you.

He insists you stay over, he'll sleep on the couch if it’ll make you comfortable. When you suggest he take the bed and yo- you don't ever get to complete the sentence because no, he'll never let you do that. You pretend your heart doesn't swell with a little something at that; what were you even pretending for anyway?

Because even though Donghyuck claimed to hate you, he isn't pretending anymore when he tucks you in his chest and cards his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep. His hands are holding your head like you mean the world to him. You smell like him too, and it's the most at rest you've been in a long time.

Maybe you aren't pretending anymore too. From the way you are nuzzling into the warm expanse of his (still shirtless) chest to the way your hand absent-mindedly pats his back, you don't think it's an act of cat and mouse.

But you'll not think about it now, you'll save it for when the morning comes. Now, you'll fall into a deep slumber in the embrace of the man whom you've loved forever.

(He's loved you for longer, but you don't know that just yet.)

-

Note

My inbox is open! You can send in your thoughts/requests for any of the dreamies!

[plateofmud]

pairing. agent!reader x agent!haechan | genre. enemies to lovers | wc. 2.2k | warnings. none except mentions of gunshots | requested. here

You always thought Haechan was more of a problem than a solution.

From the moment you were paired together as partners in the agency, you had clashed. Where you were precise and calculated, he was reckless and unpredictable. He had a smirk that could infuriate you within seconds and a habit of throwing out snide comments at the worst possible moments.

He was everything you despised in a partner. Every mission with him felt like a battle—except instead of fighting the enemy, you were fighting the urge to throttle him.

For three years, you’d been stuck with him—on every mission, in every briefing, and in every shared debriefing room. Every single time, he managed to both annoy and outperform you. And you hated it.

No, you hated him. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The truth was harder to face. Haechan wasn’t just annoying—he was good. Too good. He was brilliant under pressure, and no matter how much he mocked you or teased you, he always had your back when it counted. That might have been the most infuriating thing about him.

But liking him? Admitting that you admired him, even for a second? That would never happen. Not if you could help it.

He thrived on pushing your buttons, from his arrogant smirks to his snide remarks. It didn’t matter how high-stakes the mission was; Haechan always found a way to get under your skin. And yet, for some reason, your superiors kept pairing you together. You balance each other out, they’d said. Your focus and his resourcefulness make you an excellent team.

You didn’t see it that way. To you, Haechan was a liability. A walking, talking headache.

But tonight? Tonight was going to test every boundary you had.

The mission was supposed to be straightforward: infiltrate a secure facility, retrieve classified intel, and get out undetected. Simple. Clean. A mission you could’ve completed on your own if the agency didn’t insist on sending Haechan with you.

The two of you had argued in the car on the way there, as usual.“You’re not taking point,” you said firmly, checking your weapon.

“Why not?” Haechan leaned back in his seat, his legs spread lazily as if the mission was just another stroll through the park. “Because you’re reckless,” you snapped. “And you’re uptight,” he shot back, grinning. “We’re a perfect match.” Your jaw clenched. “You’ll follow my lead, or I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, leaning closer. “Yell at me again? Go ahead. It’s kind of hot when you talk back.” You glared at him, your heart pounding for reasons you didn’t want to examine. “Inform Jaemin to be ready with the car at the end of the third alley.” You muttered getting out of the car and Haechan just smirked following your suit. “Already did Princess” 

God! You absolutely hated him.

The facility’s interior was cold and sterile, the hum of machinery filling the silence as the two of you navigated the dimly lit hallways. Your footsteps were soft, your breaths measured as you scanned for signs of movement.

“The server room should be up ahead,” you whispered, glancing at the map on your wrist display.

Haechan nodded, his eyes darting around as he took in the surroundings. Despite his constant teasing, you couldn’t deny that he was good at what he did. His movements were fluid, his reflexes sharp, and his ability to stay calm under pressure was something you begrudgingly admired.

As you approached the server room, you stopped, holding up a hand to signal him to halt. A security camera was mounted on the wall, its lens sweeping back and forth.

“Wait for it,” you murmured, your heart pounding as you timed its movement. The moment the lens turned away, you darted forward, disabling the camera with a quick tap on your wrist display.

“Impressive,” Haechan said as he followed. “Almost like you know what you’re doing.” You ignored him, walking ahead.

“I don’t like this,” Haechan said, his gaze darting down the hallway. “You don’t like anything,” you shot back. “Yeah, well, something’s off,” he said, his voice tighter now.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the sound of boots echoed in the distance. Haechan stiffened yanking you back. You stumbled into him, your back colliding with his chest.

“Get behind me,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

“What—”

“Get. Behind. Me.”

Something in his tone made you obey without question.

A group of guards appeared at the end of the hallway, their weapons raised. Before you could even process what was happening, Haechan stepped forward, his gun already aimed.

The next few seconds were a blur of gunfire and movement. Haechan was quick, his aim precise as he took down each guard with terrifying efficiency. You watched, frozen, as he moved with the kind of confidence and control you rarely saw in the field.

When the last guard fell, he turned to you, his breathing heavy. “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

You nodded, your throat dry. “I’m fine.”He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “Don’t scare me like that again.” You blinked, taken aback by the raw emotion in his voice. “I—”

“Let’s go,” he said, cutting you off as he grabbed your hand again.

You thought you were safe when you reached the control room, but the moment you stepped inside, you knew something was wrong. It felt quite too easy to retrieve the intel. The server room was small and unassuming, its walls lined with blinking lights and rows of humming machinery. You worked quickly, plugging in your device to extract the intel.

Haechan stood by the door, his weapon drawn, his body tense as he kept watch. The playful smirk he usually wore was gone, replaced by a look of intense focus.

“How much longer?” he asked, his voice low. “Two minutes,” you replied, your eyes glued to the screen. “That’s two minutes too long,” he muttered.

You ignored him, your fingers flying over the keyboard. The progress bar crawled forward agonizingly slowly, each second feeling like an eternity. The moment there was green ‘completed’ pop up on the screen you smiled quickly removing your device as you whispered to Haechan “Done.” He nodded and carefully stepped out of the server room.

Then there was it…

The first shot rang out, shattering the silence and kicking your instincts into overdrive. Haechan moved like he was made for chaos, his body a blur of precision and control. He fired with deadly accuracy, each shot taking down another guard as you covered his back. But there were too many.

“Go left!” he shouted, shoving you toward an open corridor. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, his smirk returning despite the gunfire. “Just don’t slow me down.”

You didn’t have time to argue. You sprinted down the corridor, your heart hammering in your chest. But you didn’t get far.

A guard stepped out of the shadows, grabbing you from behind and slamming you against the wall. Your gun clattered to the ground as his grip tightened around your arm.

“Touch her, and you’re dead,” Haechan’s voice rang out, sharp and furious. The guard hesitated, and in that split second, Haechan took the shot. The man crumpled to the floor, his grip on you loosening as you stumbled forward.

“You okay?” Haechan asked, his hands steadying you. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice shaking. “You don’t look fine,” he said, his gaze scanning you for injuries.

“Can we save the commentary for later?” you snapped, stepping away from him.

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Stay close,” he said again, his tone leaving no room for argument. Haechan’s grip on your wrist was firm as he led you through the labyrinth of hallways, dodging guards and weaving between crates and machinery. Your heart was pounding so loudly you could barely hear the shouts behind you. Suddenly you saw more guards marching in your direction. Haechan shoved you behind a pillar, his body shielding yours as he fired back. The heat of him against you, the sheer intensity in his gaze as he protected you—it made your breath hitch in a way that had nothing to do with fear. “Stay behind me,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos.“No,” you said, your own weapon raised. “I can handle myself.”

“Damn it, Y/N!” he snapped, his eyes blazing. “Why can’t you just let me protect you for once?”

“Because I don’t need you to!” you shouted back. “Yell at me again,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “and I’ll give you a real reason to scream.”

The tension between you was palpable, even in the midst of the fight. But there was no time to dwell on it. As he took the guards down you both moved ahead finding a potential exit. The two of you burst through a set of double doors and onto the roof, the cool night air hitting you like a slap in the face. The city lights stretched out below, a dizzying reminder of how high up you were. “This was your plan?” you asked, your voice tinged with panic as you looked around. “There’s no way down from here!”

“Relax,” Haechan said, pulling a grappling device from his belt. “I’ve got it covered.”

“You’re kidding,” you said, eyeing the device warily. He smirked, his confidence infuriating as always. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” Before you could argue, the sound of footsteps echoed behind you. You spun around, your weapon raised, as more guards spilled onto the roof.

“We’re out of time,” Haechan said, tossing you the grappling hook. “What am I supposed to do with this?” you demanded, your voice rising. “Use it to get out of here,” he said, firing at the advancing guards. “And leave you behind?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he promised. You attached the hook to the edge of the roof, your heart pounding as you prepared to rappel down the side of the building. he drop was dizzying, the ground far below illuminated by the glow of streetlights.

The sounds of gunfire faded as you neared the ground, replaced by the rush of blood in your ears. When your feet finally touched solid ground, you looked up, your chest tightening as you saw Haechan still on the roof, firing at the remaining guards.

“Haechan!” you shouted, your voice breaking. Moments later, he secured his own grappling hook and leapt off the roof, the rope unspooling as he descended rapidly.

Your breath caught as he landed beside you, his chest heaving, his face streaked with sweat and dirt.

“Miss me?” he asked, flashing you a tired grin. “Shut Up” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of relief and anger.

The two of you didn’t stop running until you were several blocks away, getting inside the car Jaemin had already parked. Without wasting a second Haechan drove off, getting away from the chasing guards as soon as he could. The car ride was silent, as he drove to the secret headquarters of the security agency. You gave your superior the intel you both somehow managed to retrieve. “I can’t believe this,” you muttered, breaking the silence as you turned around the corner and into an empty hallway after exiting your superior’s office.

“Believe what?” he asked, leaning against a crate. “This,” you said, gesturing around the room. “Every mission with you turns into a disaster. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to work with someone who doesn’t take anything seriously?”

He frowned, his playful demeanor fading. “You think I don’t take this seriously?”

“Obviously not,” you said, turning to face him. “All you ever do is joke around and make everything harder for everyone else.” His jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. “You think this is easy for me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to stand next to you every day, knowing you hate me?”

You froze, his words catching you off guard. “What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice softer now. He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Forget it,” he said, turning away.

“No,” you said, stepping closer. “What do you mean?” He exhaled sharply, his shoulders tense. “Do you hate me?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You hesitated, your heart pounding. “I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. “All I’ve ever wanted,” he said quietly, “is for you to trust me. To look at me the way you look at anyone else. All I want is for you to see me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the vulnerability in his voice breaking through every wall you’d built between you.

“Haechan…”

Before you could finish, he stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fiery, desperate, filled with all the anger, frustration, and unspoken emotion that had been simmering between you for so long. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as you tangled your fingers in his hair, giving as good as you got.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

“This changes everything,” you whispered. “Maybe,” he said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “But at least now, we’re on the same side.”

The mission might have been a disaster, but for the first time, you didn’t mind.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv navigation.

[plateofmud]

i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to fuck you | l.mk

“you are the girl that i’ve been dreaming of”

📀now playing: i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you by black kids

❯ summary: Asking your best friend to take your virginity because you have a crush on someone else and want experience is totally normal, right? Mark doesn’t think so. If he’s taking your virginity, it’s not for practice—it’s for him. He’s nobody’s wingman—especially not when it comes to you.

❯ pairings: mark x virgin fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, friends to lovers

❯ words: 5.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, corruption kink, loss of virginity, nipple play, fingering, hand jobs, praising, body worship, protected sex, back scratching, brief possessiveness, pet names, reader uses she/her pronouns, swearing, love confessions, just fluffy smut because it’s what i do best lol.

Mark swears he’s a good listener. Considering he’s been friends with Zhong Chenle for years, the world’s most dedicated yapper, he doesn’t really have a choice. He has to be a good listener. But Mark almost does a double take when he hears the words ‘my virginity’ and ‘you’ come out of your mouth.

His best friend. With the biggest, prettiest, most innocent eyes and sweet little mouth that could barely stammer through conversations about flirting—asking him about sex. No. Not just asking. Wanting him.

After nearly choking on his own spit, Mark tries to regain his composure—but fails miserably. Especially when your cheeks flush, and you start chewing on your bottom lip. It’s a crime. No, worse. It’s sin in human form. You’re sin in human form. Looking this cute, blushing like a maniac, like you didn’t just drop that question on him.

“You want me to take your virginity, Y/N?”

You cringe the second he repeats your question back to you. It sounded a lot better in your head—practical, reasonable, totally fine. But now, with his brows furrowed and that ‘are you insane?’ look on his face, you’re starting to think maybe you are insane.

But when you came up with this plan last night, none of that crossed your mind. All you knew was that Mark never says no to you. Ever. Not when you asked him to be your first kiss in middle school. Not when you made him take you to your first frat party. Not even when you guilt-tripped him into helping with your dissertation.

"Look, forget it—" you say, pushing to your feet, desperate to escape your shared living room that suddenly feels way too hot under Mark’s stare. "I totally crossed a line by asking. I’m sure I can find someone on Tinder—"

"No."

You blink. "No?"

Mark wants to curse himself for the hasty reply, but who could blame him? There’s just no way he’s letting you swipe right on some douche bag looking for a quick fuck—some guy who’ll take you to a lousy bar, probably make you pay for your own drinks, and then expect to take your virginity like it’s nothing.

It’s ridiculous. It’s not happening.

Not when you just handed him the opportunity on a silver platter.

“What I meant to say was,” Mark rubs the back of his neck, “Don’t you want to lose your virginity to someone you trust—someone you love?”

You nod without hesitation. “That’s why I asked you. There’s not a single man I trust more than you. And I love you—platonically, yeah, but it’s still love.”

Platonic. 

If Mark could rip that word out of the dictionary, set it on fire, and launch the ashes into space, he would. Anything to stop you from thinking whatever he feels towards you is platonic. Was it platonic when he kissed you when you were eleven? No. Was it platonic when he drove ten miles just for your favourite snack on your birthday? No. Was it platonic when he worked on your final thesis at the same time as his own? No.

And if he’s going to be the first one to have you, it sure as hell won’t be platonic. That’s for damn sure.

His eyes squeeze shut as he sits forward, clammy hands rubbing up and down his jeans. "Okay, so you want me, your best friend, to take your virginity? Why?"

You chew your lip. This was the part of the scenario that kept you up at night—explaining why. How the hell are you supposed to tell someone you want them to take your virginity just so you can be ready for someone else? There’s no handbook, no online forum, for this kind of thing.

So you settle for:

“It’s stupid. A dumb reason. Don’t even worry about it. Will you do it or not?”

Mark gives you a knowing look, exactly like you knew he would. He’s one of those perspective fuckers, especially when it comes to you. Normally, you love it. Right now, not so much.

“Y/N,” he draws out your name, “What happened to me being one of the most trusted men you know? Tell me.” 

You suck in a breath, trying to steady yourself. After all, it’s just Mark. Sweet, kind, nonjudgmental, Mark. 

“I have a crush on my co-worker, Xiaojun,” you blurt out. Mark just blinks, completely still, like he’s trying to process. You, on the other hand, keep rambling. “And there’s rumours that he’s amazing in bed, and he asked me out for drinks this Friday, and I just feel really…unprepared.”

Mark feels his blood pressure spike—because fuck your co-worker, fuck those rumours and fuck that little date your planning to gone on this Friday night. Look, he’s not a prude or anything. Mark knows people fuck on a first date—but not you. At least not you with some asshole making you think you need to be prepared for him.

"If that asshole makes you feel less than just because you're a virgin, Y/N, he’s not worth your time."

You narrow your eyes. "I don’t think your opinion holds any weight here, considering you don’t think any guy is worth my time."

Mark relaxes slightly and smiles at that—because it’s true. No man deserves to talk to you, touch you, kiss you—no one but him.

“Besides,” you perk up again, trying to sound more confident. “This isn’t about what Xiaojun or any other guy thinks. This is about me… being comfortable having sex with someone that isn’t myself.” You chew your lower lip. “I want to be comfortable having sex with other men.”

Mark almost growls, a caveman-like urge pounding in his chest at the thought of you wanting to be comfortable with other men. He’s changed his mind. He’d take the word platonic any day over hearing other men leave your mouth.

“Let me get this straight—you want me to teach you how to fuck, to please other men?”

Your cheeks flush, not just because the idea sounds so ridiculous when he puts it like that, but because it’s the first time you've ever heard him talk like that. Mark is always so careful, so delicate with you, keeping his foul mouth and sex life locked away. But hearing the phrase "how to fuck" leave his mouth in that deep, husky drawl,  sends a pulse right through you, straight to your clit.

You chew your lip again, hesitating. “I don’t know… I just wanna be good... at it… at sex.”

Mark’s head tilts back as he stares at the ceiling, a string of mumbled curses slipping out before his Adam’s apple starts bobbing against his throat. He pauses to think—and so do you. You can’t figure out why he’s interrogating you like this. The proposition is a lot, yes, but if you’d crossed a line and made him uncomfortable, he could’ve just said so, you wouldn’t have taken it personally. There’s no reason for him to poke and prod like this.

Just as you're about to squash this whole thing, Mark speaks again. He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, his brows furrowed like he's still deep in thought, but his eyes, dark and blown wide, pin you in place.

"I'll teach you, Y/N," he says, standing up slowly. "I'll fuck you if that's what you want and if that’s what you're asking me for," he continues, moving closer until he's right in your personal space. "But I won't fuck you just to get you ready for someone else."

"Mark—"

"No, Y/N, I’m talking," he cuts you off, his long, tantalizing finger tracing from your cheek down to your neck before he whispers, "I don’t mind teaching you how to be good at sex with me, angel, but I’m sure as fuck am not teaching you how to be good at it for someone else. If I finally get to fuck you, I’m gonna teach you how to be good for me."

Your mouth parts in a soft gasp, just from his words and that innocent touch alone. Mark’s eyes track the movement, and his irises darken with something you can’t quite name—want, lust, need... you don’t know. All you know is that it’s fucking hot, and it almost makes you miss what he just said.

"Finally?" you breathe out.

The corner of Mark's mouth twitches into a smile, and a low, silky laugh slips from him. "Don't pretend like you don't know I want you." His finger slides to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re too fucking smart to be playing dumb with me, Y/N. You know you could have me on my knees if you just asked. I’d do anything if you just asked.”

You always knew you had Mark wrapped around your little finger, but you never realized it was because he wanted you the same way you’ve wanted him. Yes, you’d only asked him to help you with this plan because you know he struggles to say no to you; but a small, twisted part of you wanted Mark to be the one to take your virginity. Because he’s him—hot, lean, experienced, sweet, loyal Mark. Your Mark. 

It’s all too much. His breath is too warm on your skin, his words too heated, his proximity too hot—he’s too hot. You whimper, and you watch as his pupils soften in response.

“Y/N,” he says softly now. “I need you to use your words to tell me what you want. If you don’t want to do this anymore—because, to me, it’s more than just practice—that’s fine. But if we do... this, us, it becomes real.”

Your mind goes fuzzy. Words? He thinks you have words after just confessing that this—that you—are something he wants? Almost like he senses your hesitation, he nuzzles deeper into your neck, his lips feather-light, dusting over your skin in a way that sets your nerves alight. It’s erotic, it’s intimate, it’s so damn sexy. 

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His voice is soft, breath scorching against your skin, thumb grazing over your collarbone like he’s memorizing you. “I’ve imagined you—craved you—for years. If you want me to take your virginity, I’ll do it. Happily. But I’ll be your first and your last—not Xiaojun.”

The mention of your coworker feels irrelevant now—a distant, meaningless fantasy compared to this. The stupid office daydream you’d clung to seems laughable because the man you thought only saw you as a friend is standing right here, offering himself to you. Completely. Utterly asking to be yours. And who are you to deny him?

“I want this—”

Mark doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t let you finish your sentence—because he’s wasted too much damn time already. Too much time waiting, hoping, aching to hear you want him. Not just need him for something, but actually want him. Crave him. Desire him.

He has to kiss you. Now.

It starts slow, soft, and sweet. Both your mouths take their time exploring one another as his hand tenderly cups your face, holding you to him. But in no time at all, the heat builds, kisses stretching longer, deeper, until it’s not enough for him. Not nearly enough for you. A hum of approval slips from you the moment his tongue grazes yours, and he takes it as permission, sweeping in and taking control.

“I have fucking dreamed about this,” he pants against your lips. “About kissing you. About touching you. Tell me to stop if it’s too much, Y/N.”

Stop? He’s out of his damn mind if he thinks you want to stop. You shake your head against his lips, legs winding around his, and he takes the hint without hesitation. His hands find your waist, lifting you with ease until you’re resting around his hips. His eyes are fully dark now, black, and locked onto you. They never waver as he carries you both to his bedroom.

Mark lays you down carefully, like you’d break if he was any rougher, but his gaze tells a different story—intense, burning, desperate. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, and he just stares, eyes roaming every inch of you like he’s savouring the moment before he ruins you completely. 

You’ve never been this intimate with a man before. Sure, you’re no stranger to your own fingers, to vibrators, and okay—maybe you don’t mind the occasional steamy make out session at a party. But this? In his room, under his stare, is different. You’re not even naked yet, and somehow, you already feel so bare, so exposed. 

“I want to take my time with you, Y/N,” Mark murmurs, as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He gently pushes you back so you’re lying flat, his body hovering over yours. “I want to savour every inch of this pretty little body of yours... and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you pant, nodding at the same time, and Mark smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips.

His hands slide up your legs, gliding over the fabric of your sweatpants, until they reach the hem. His eyes search yours, silently asking for confirmation, and you nod, breath catching in your throat. He tugs at your pants, so slow, so deliberate, and when they finally slip off, he lets out a low, groggy "fuck" at the sight of the pink lacy panties you’d chosen for this—for him.

You suddenly feel self-conscious, heat creeping up your chest.

"Knew I'd say yes, huh?" Mark coos, his hand tracing the band of your panties as he looks over your body, studying it because it's the first time he’s seeing you like this. Displayed for him.

You blush, squirming beneath him, overwhelmed by how new, how unfamiliar this all feels. Mark senses your discomfort and smiles softly.

"Don’t go shy on me now, pretty girl," he murmurs, "I’m losing my shit knowing you wore this with me."

His hands graze over your hip bone, fingers brushing gently, soothing as they explore the small hint of flesh you're revealing to him. The softness of his touch, of him, makes you ease up just a little.

“I wore the matching bra too,” you say on an exhaled breath.

Mark groans, his eyes closing as he takes in a slow, intentional breath of his own, nostrils flaring slightly. “Did you? Can I see, baby? Please?”

You nod, and those exploring hands of his glide up your stomach, fingers brush over your skin as he tugs the tight fabric of your tank top over your head. When it falls away, you're left in nothing but the matching set. The pink bralette, almost see-through, giving him a clear, vivid view of your pebbled nipples.

"So fucking beautiful, Y/N," he says, his voice strained, almost painfully. "Can you take it off for me?"

You smile, teasing, as your hands find the clasp at the back. "After I went through all this effort to put it on for you?"

He shakes his head with a small scoff of laughter, the sound easing your nerves a bit. That familiar banter, the playful back-and-forth, reminds you why you asked him—why you wanted him to do this in the first place. You trust him. 

“Is this the part where I learn that you’re a fucking brat?” he mutters, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“I can be, if you want me to be.”

Something flashes in his eyes—dark, predatory—and he leans in closer, his tone dropping an octave. “Take the bra off. Now, Y/N.”

And you do, the flimsy fabric slipping from your breasts and meeting the same fate as your sweats and tank. You feel so exposed, which is ridiculous considering how little modesty the bralette was offering in the first place. Still, your hands instinctively cross over your chest. 

"Hey, don’t," Mark murmurs, his hand gently reaching up to move yours, his thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles around your wrist to reassure you. "You don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me, Y/N. If you want to stop—”

"No," you interrupt. "I mean, please... I want this... I want you, Mark. I’m just nervous."

His eyes soften at your words, and he licks his lips. "Can I touch you?"

You nod, and his hands steadily, gently travel up and down your stomach, hovering around your sternum before they rest beneath your breasts. You suck in a breath as his touch lingers. "Can I touch you here?" he asks, and again, you nod. 

Mark’s hands gently cup your chest, the softness and weight of your tits filling his palms. The pad of his thumb teases over one of your nipples (pretty peaked nipples that are practically begging for his mouth) in a steady rhythm that has you arching into him. He continues, flicking over the sensitive bud until he elicits the reaction he wants: quiet, breathless whimpers and tiny darling moans from your mouth.

“You’re so damn perfect, Y/N,” he mutters, his eyes glued to your body as he tests his touches, watching in awe as your eyes flutter, roll, or widen. “So damn perfect for me.”

You moan, and his head dips to the valley between your breasts, his tongue flicking out to trail a slow, heated path up your skin. His mouth, warm and wet, captures your pebbled nipple, sucking and licking with a hunger that makes your body shiver. It’s then that you remember why Mark is perfect for this—he’s experienced. 

“Pretty fucking tits,” he groans, “I’ll fuck these one day. Promise.”

He focuses entirely on your nipples, squeezing your breasts, and you swear you're already on the verge of coming undone for him, writhing beneath him. Terrified it’ll end too soon, your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him away from your chest to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. 

His chest hovers over you, so close to you, but still hidden beneath layers of fabric. His jeans, too tight, too impeding. You want to feel him—skin to skin. It’s not fair. You’re lying here in nothing but your underwear, exposed and vulnerable, while he’s still fully dressed—his clothes a frustrating barrier that keeps you from feeling him the way you need to. You can’t stand it anymore.

Your fingers dig into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, desperate to rip it off and close the damn distance. "Mark," you breathe. "Take it off. Please."

“You want it off, huh?” He teases. 

You’re beyond patience now, body aching for him. “Yes. I do.”

Mark’s eyes darken at the desperation in your voice. He sits up slightly, pulling away from you just enough to shed his shirt, the fabric tugging over his head and revealing the toned muscles of his chest. You can’t help but watch, your eyes glued to the way his hands move, but he’s taking his damn time. Frustrated, you reach for his belt, but he stops you, his hand brushing yours as he undoes it himself. The sound of it unbuckling makes your breath hitch. 

Finally, his jeans slip down, revealing the taut curve of his thighs before he kicks them aside, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers. His bulge is prominent, straining against the tight material, and you swear you can’t take it any longer.

But before you can pounce, before you can touch him and feel him the way you want to, he’s hovering back over you, his body pinning you down, forcing your back flat against the bed.

“So eager, pretty girl,” he muses with a teasing smirk. “But you asked me to teach you, didn’t you? I’m in charge.”

He’s so controlled, so assertive, it sends a flood of need coursing through your body. His hands are back on you, gliding over your now fully exposed body. Well, not entirely exposed—his fingers toy at the edge of your panties, tracing, testing, taunting, as if waiting for your permission. And you’d give him it immediately, only he wants to ride this out, prolong it. 

His fingers move to dip just beneath the fabric, but then he stops.

“I know you said you wanted to be good at this, Y/N,” he hums. “But I want to be good for you. Tell me what you like. Tell me how to touch this pretty pussy.”

Heat floods your cheeks and pools between your legs. From the way Mark smiles, and the fact that he’s cupping you through your underwear, you know he can feel it too.

“I-um—”

“I already told you to stop being shy with me, Y/N,” he says. “Don’t think I overlooked that comment about you getting yourself off. You wanna learn, so do I. Let me be a good boy for you.”

Your eyes lock onto his, and you can see the seriousness. He wants to know what makes you tick, what works for you, what gets you off—wants to be the one to do it. His breath hitches as he studies you, chest contracting with focus. 

“I-I start with my clit,” you instruct, and his fingers follow suit, finally dipping under the fabric he’s been teasing for the last ten minutes right to the spot. You want to feel embarrassed telling him all the dirty ways you play with yourself, but you can’t. He won’t let you feel that way, because, like you said, he’s him—sweet, loyal Mark.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re dripping for me,” he groans, voice thick with need. “Aching for me, aren’t you, baby?” You nod pathetically. “Then tell me, what do you do to your clit? Teach me.”

“I like small circles,” you whisper, your breath shaky.

“Like this?” he asks, his voice low as he carefully follows your instructions. It’s almost too careful. Too slow. You need more—so much more.

“Faster, Mark.”

His fingers speed up, the circles on your clit growing faster, the pressure he applies intensifies with each stroke. You moan, squirming beneath him, your hips shifting in desperate need for more—more of him.

"Can I try a finger, baby?" he asks, and you nod, wanting everything he has to give right now.

Mark shifts his gaze from your face down to where his hands are stuffed inside your panties. He watches as he trails his index finger up and down your slit slowly until it’s circling around your entrance before finally easing it inside. You gasp, feeling the initial stretch, and his eyes lock back onto yours, waiting for the sting to fade and the lust to take its place again. Once it does, he begins to move, his finger sliding in and out, in and out, faster and faster until your breaths come heavier. 

“Mark,” you gasp on a moan, a thrill coursing through you as he picks up the pace. 

Mark adds his thumb back to your clit, the combination of his fingers easing in and out of your drenched pussy and the attention to your sensitive nerves send waves of pleasure crashing over you. Because cumming has never felt like this—so close, so quick, so desperately needed. Mark must sense your closeness too because his lips quirk, devilish and taunting.

“You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl?” he asks, but it’s clearly not a question. The cocky bastard knows you are. “Or should I say finger? Think you could handle two?”

Your mind is incoherent from the pleasure, the foreign stretch of his fingers. Any thoughts you have dissolve into a haze of need, only capable of a frantic nodding at him because you want more, need more, need to cum. He eases in his middle finger, both digits slowing down as you adjust to him. Then, the world around you blurs; all that matters is the rhythm of his fingers and the growing knot forming in your stomach as his pace picks up. Each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, and you can feel the waves of your orgasms building, until it finally, deliciously, crashes over you. 

Your vision blurs, and sounds you didn't even know you could make slip from your lips. All you can hear is Mark's incoherent, muffled praise—telling you how pretty, how perfect, how good you are for him.

When you come down from your high, he’s watching you intently, his hand running through your hair as you refocus back on him with hazy eyes. You’ve never experienced an orgasm like that, and as you notice the strained bulge in his pants, a surge of eagerness wells up in you. You want to return the favour, to please him, to learn how to be good the way you asked him to twach you.

You reach for his boxers, fingers trembling as you strip them off, revealing the thick hard length of him. Your breath catches at the sight of his cock, angry and needy and desperate. Mark looks down at you with his own haze-induced eyes. 

“Please, Y/N.”

The heat radiating from him ignites a fire within you. You take a moment to admire the way he looks at you—hungry, eager. With a newfound confidence, you lean closer, your lips brushing against his skin, ready to give him the pleasure he’s so generously given you. You press soft, delicate kisses to his abdomen, watching as his stomach flexes in response.

You know you probably should suck his cock right now; that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Almost as if he can sense your hesitation, Mark’s fingers clamp around your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to, not yet, not ever if you don’t want to,” he says softly. “But you can touch it. Touch me, Y/N, please.”

That feels more like your speed, so you wrap a firm hand around his cock, giving it a slow, steady long tug. Mark's head rolls back from where he sits on the bed. Your hands tremble with nerves, this is all so new to you, and you desperately want to please him. But before you can overthink it, Mark’s words soothe your insecurities.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “Just like that... so fucking good, Y/N.”

He's like a fucking mind reader, because that one comment, that small ounce of reassurance, has you stroking him faster. Your hand moves in a messy rhythm, feeling the weight of his cock in your palm. 

As you continue to stroke him, you start to experiment with different techniques, trying out gentler touches and firmer grips. Mark's reactions are your guide, and you watch as his face contorts in pleasure, his eyes screwing shut as he lets out low groans. He sounds so sexy, you like it, you want more of him like this. 

You feel a sense of power, knowing that you're the one bringing him to the edge. Your strokes become more insistent, your hand moving faster as Mark's breathing quickens. You can feel his cock throbbing in your hand, the veins standing out as he gets closer.  Mark's body tenses, his muscles straining and that’s when suddenly, his eyes snap open. 

“You gotta stop, Y/N,” he growls, his voice low and husky as he pulls your hands off his length. For a moment, you almost feel scorned, but then he adds, “I want to last until I’m at least inside of you...”

You both laugh, Mark's eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckles, and you feel a flutter in your chest. He gently lies you back on his bed, grabbing a pillow and placing it underneath your hips. As he fumbles with his nightstand, he rips open a condom and slides it along his cock. You can't help but watch, mesmerized by the sight. It’s oddly sexy. Your body responds instinctively, your hips arching upwards as if seeking him out. 

As Mark positions himself between your legs, his head dips down to kiss you. It’s sweet, like the first time, and you think you could get used to them—you want to get used to them. The feeling of his lips on yours, on your cheek, the top of your head. 

When your lips finally break apart, he holds eye contact with you, aligning himself with your pussy. He teases you, brushing against your folds, occasionally grazing your clit—his eyes watching your reaction, a smirk on his lips. Sensitive, he notes. And he has to note because there will be a time for more, a time where he’ll make you work for it. But today isn’t that day. Today is about you and him—together.

“Tap my arm if it’s too much. If you want to stop—”

“Mark,” it’s your turn to be stern now. “Please, just fuck me.”

He smirks, liking this side of you—the impatience, the newfound dirty mouth of yours. Something else to note for next time, he thinks.

Rubbing himself up and down your slit for a final time, Mark presses the head of his cock to your entrance, hips shifting forward to slowly push into you. His nostrils flare, and his teeth clench because he has to be careful, he has to be in control. He cannot—he will not—hurt you any more than he has to. 

So, slowly. Torturously slowly. Mark eases into you, inch by tantalizing inch, until his tip coaxes past the small ring of resistance. You’re so tight—so impossibly tight—that he almost regrets letting you jerk him off before hand,  because he’s already teetering on the edge of cumming from merely the first few inches. He’s waited far too long for this moment; the last thing he wants is to blow his load before he’s even begun to move.

He shifts his focus from his own pleasure to your face, keenly observing for any signs of discomfort. When he catches the slight scrunch of your nose, he leans down to kiss you, wanting to distract you from the sting of you stretching around his cock for the first time.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl. You were made for me.”

He feels your body relax into the mattress at the praise and your hands wrap around his back, pulling him closer. It’s a silent invitation, a clear signal that you’re okay with more—that you need more.

His hips finally press flush against yours, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him, all of him. Your fingers dust up and down his spine as you get used to this, how full you feel, how complete. 

“Move, Mark,” you whisper barely above a whisper. “Please.”

And he does. He rolls his hips, pulling out of you completely before sinking back in, slow and sensual. You moan—right into his ear, because he’s buried in your neck—and he nearly loses the last thread of control he’s holding onto. Mark quickens his pace, keeping his body flush against yours—like he needs to be as close as possible. Needs to consume you the same way you’ve consumed him for years.

“Yes, Mark,” you cry, your nails raking down his back, scratching, digging, marking into his skin.

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good. You have no idea how fucking perfect you are.”

He reaches for your hand, prying it from his back to lace his fingers with yours, pinning them to the mattress. It’s gentle, it’s sweet—it’s so Mark. He fucks you slowly, his hands holding yours as he kisses you. Intimate, tender, and so fucking hot.

You tighten around him, and the squeeze makes something flicker in Mark’s eyes—something determined, something feral.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper between ragged breaths.

“Fuck, yes—please,” he groans. “Cum around my cock, pretty girl. I need it. I want it.”

Hearing him just as desperate, just as needy as you, sends you over the edge. Your lip trembles, your lashes flutter, and then—your second orgasm takes over you, ripping a scream of his name from your throat.

It’s the prettiest thing Mark’s ever seen, ever heard—the best thing he’s ever felt. And he swears this moment will be etched into his memory until the day he dies. He holds you close to his chest as you ride your high, feeling every desperate breath you take, swallowing every moan with wet open mouth kisses. And when he senses you’ve finally come down, he chases his own orgasm—greedy for it, for you.

He becomes ravenous for his own release, his hips pistoning faster, harder, as he drives deeper into you. His breaths come in ragged gasps, his chest contracting as his fingertips anchor your hips in place. With every thrust his cock throbs with an almost unbearable intensity until he lets out a low, guttural groan, his body shuddering with pleasure. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispers your name, over and over again, like a mantra and he spills inside of the condom. 

The room fills with a silence, punctuated only by the sound of your mingled breaths as he comes down. Your hands are still entwined, hearts still racing, and you both can’t do anything but look at each other. Eventually, Mark leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away. He eases out of you, removes the condom, and tosses it into the nearby trash can.

You watch him as he moves, and when he turns back to you—his gaze a mix of awe and satisfaction—you can’t help but smile.

“You know when I said I loved you platonically?” you ask, and his brows knit together. He looks like he’s about to have a full-blown panic attack, so you quickly put him at ease. “I lied. I actually just love you.”

Relief washes over his face before it melts into a smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Good. Because, I love you too. Always have.”

[plateofmud]

r/UberEATS lee haechan smau

u/sakumyaegi・6 hr. ago

i think i'm in love with my uber eats driver :/

⬆ 127 ⬇️ 💬 66

SYNOPSIS⌇when your uber eats driver is as good-looking as he is unpredictable, it's hard not to get curious. one too many oddly charming texts later, and suddenly, you're asking reddit for advice on how to confess to someone who only knows your address and your late-night cravings.

falling for your delivery driver? not on the menu—until now, that is.

PAIRING⌇uber eats driver!haechan x fem!reader

GENRE⌇humour, fluff, college au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS⌇profanities, suggestive/sex jokes, violent jokes, reader loves her younger brother (sakuya) to bits so she talks about him a lot, haechan is kinda mean at first

STATUS⌇COMPLETED

NOTES⌇my first time doing a smau! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ disclaimer, i've Honestly never used uber eats in my LIFE so forgive me if i make any mistakes bhahah...

MASTERLIST

profiles

introduction

001 awfully familiar

002 this u?

003 doordash virgin

004 stfu jisung

005 post nut clarity

006 oh brother...

007 roblox wedding

008 haechan

009 i miss you

010 #thinking

011 i'm sorry

012 my best friend

013 finickydriver141

014 are u a coward

015 bob the builder

016 murk

017 supercute

018 are u serious

019 calico critters

020 live tweeting ynhyuck date

021 fate is real

BONUS

001 haechan's priv (real)