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2hightocare · 8 months

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NO NUT NOVEMBER.

Synopsis: Jungkook didn’t think stuff through when he made a bet for “No Nut November” he seemed to forget that he can’t say no to you.

Pairings: dilf!jungkook x fem!reader

Warnings— SMUT! cussing, kind of drunk sex?, dirty talk, anal, squirting, spanking, size kink!!!!, jk is pussy whipped, jk eating you out, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!) rough sex!!, crying from pleasure, hair pulling, fluff at the very end,

a/n: someone lock me the fuck up… this is in the KUWTB universe, jus wanted to get into jk and oc sex life more… enjoy🥹🤍

m.list

“I am not betting a thousand on Jungkook for no nut; November be fucking for real; he’s going to lose twenty minutes in.” Namjoon says knowing his friend and knowing how you have him wrapped around your pinky will have him losing money.

“I can go a whole month without sex, motherfuckers.” Jungkook gasps, running a hand through his wet hair from his previous shower.

It was Halloween night, and the boys just came back from accompanying Iseul and Ye Joon trick or treating down the neighborhood.

“I’m taking my baby to the rich neighborhoods so she can get the full-size candy bars.” Jungkook squeezes Iseul's cheeks, trying to avoid the cute bunny face paint you had drawn on. Your husband, without thinking twice, matched her outfit with the big fluffy bunny ears on the top of his head, bobbing on his head whenever he would move around.

"You literally live in a rich neighborhood.” Ari scolds, sending Jungkook's arm flying up in his defense.

"Trust, I won’t fuck up!” Jungkook defends himself while the boys have a hard time believing him; the boys only sighed before agreeing.

…

Jungkook couldn’t do it; his dick immediately hardened as he saw you walking down the stairs in your playboy bunny costume, the small black leather skirt that barely covers your ass, and your black thong visible to everyone. The black long-sleeve crop top and the bunny ears had him stressing and wishing he wouldn’t have made that bet.

“Fuck, you look beautiful, baby." Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in possessively. His hand lowered to your ass before giving a soft squeeze; you didn’t even bat an eye.

“Thank you, my love.” You give him a quick peck before looking down at his all-black outfit. “You look handsome, daddy,” you wink before walking to the kitchen where Eunbi and Jia were.

You had taken a new habit of calling Jungkook Daddy a joke, and he knew that, but right now the word just worsened the hard problem he has in his pants.

It’s around three in the morning now, and the house is a mess. Iseul is staying with your mother-in-law, who volunteered to take care of her for the night. You were definitely drunk; Ari and Lora came in the house already fucked up, and them being bad influences made you and all the girls take shot after shot, so here you were dancing in your living room as the guys sat on the couch watching you all.

“I think I might owe you all a thousand." Jungkook sighs at his friends. Who’s head snaps at him in shock? “You fucking lost already; are you serious? It's been like three hours!?” Seokjin gasps, and Jimin giggles beside him.

That’s when everyone pulls their wallets and drops wads of cash in Jimin's hands. “I fucking told you he wouldn’t last." Jimin snickers as he counts the money in his hands.

“You guys have no faith in me! I haven’t done anything."Jungkook whispers the last part, "Oh." Jimin says he is disappointed before handing the money back to the corresponding boys.

“Then why do you say that?" Hoseok sighs, putting the hundred back in his wallet before tucking it in his back pocket.

“She’s dressed as a playboy bunny!! A sexy ass playboy bunny.” Jungkook whispers, “Please come on; you would fuck y/n in a garbage bag.” Yoongi says, before sending a signal to Eunbi to stop drinking, to which she only nods 'no', making Yoongi stand up and march her way.

“She would look good in anything—better without anything, actually.” Jungkook says as he sees you down, another shot making him shoot up his seat.

“No more alcohol for you, baby.” He takes the shot glass out of your hands, putting his arm around your waist to keep you stabilized. "Babyyy,” you pout, looking up at him, fisting his shirt, and pulling him closer to your face.

“What princess?” He says softly, your faces almost touching each other; he can smell the alcohol. “I’m so drunk.” You slur with a goofy smile on your face, gripping onto his shoulders, raising your legs behind you, and reaching for your heel, making you stumble backwards just for Yoongi and Jungkook to stabilize you.

"Yeah, we’re leaving,” Yoongi says as he holds onto Eunbi, who’s slurring a bunch of nonsense, “but I don’t want to leave!" Eunbi whines as Yoongi chuckles as he drags her to the front door.

“We should leave too, then,” all the boys say, standing up and wishing everyone goodbye. “Let’s go, my love,” Taehyung tells Ari, who’s lying on the ground, her police officer outfit long gone, replaced with the big t-shirt you had handed her earlier.

"Nooo, I want to stay with y/n!” She gets picked up by Taehyung, who shushes her with a kiss. “You reek like alcohol,” he chuckles before giving Jungkook a head nod and walking out, Jimin and Namjoon following behind them, being the last ones out, the rest long gone.

Jungkook lays you on the couch, kneeling down, unstrapping your heels, and taking them off before kissing the top of your shin. Making you moan in relief.

“My feet hurt so bad!” You whine loudly before bringing your feet into your chest, making your skirt ride up, giving Jungkook a perfect view of your covered pussy.

He wanted nothing to open your legs, put your panties aside, and eat you out at that moment, but one, you were drunk, and two, the stupid bet he made yesterday. So instead of doing all that, he stood up and made his way to the main door, locking it before making his way back to you, taking his dirty shirt off in the process.

“You are so hot... Could you maybe have my baby?” You pout, looking up at him, who’s hovering over you with a smile on his face. “You already had my baby, princess.” He chuckles at you, making grabby hands up at him.

“Then another one?” You slur with the goofiest smile on your face as he picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his torso as your arms wrap around his neck. “You would slap yourself if you heard yourself right now, baby.” He laughs as you snuggle your face into his neck.

“If it’s a girl, what would we name her?” You slur your words as Jungkook starts making his way upstairs to your guy's room. “I don’t know, princess, do you know?” He asks you, taking one step at a time.

“I like Nabi," you giggle. “I like Nabi.” Jungkook repeats after you, giving your puffed-out cheek a wet kiss. “And if it’s a boy, we can name it Junior.” Jungkook suggests entering your guys room.

“Ew no!” You shake your head, sticking your tongue out like you just ate something disgusting. “That’s offensive; you don’t like my name?” Jungkook puts you gently on the bed, crossing his arms in front of him, making his muscles flex as he watches you bite your lip while you look up to him.

“Of course I do. It’s just that’s the name I scream out when I’m getting railed. I don’t want my son to have that name." You shiver from the thought, leaving Jungkook speechless from your boldness.

“Y/n!” He chokes out, "What? I’m being honest!” You slur, trying to put your shirt over your head, only to get stuck with your hands up in the air. “Help me!" you whine.

Your husband laughs immediately, helping you take your shirt off before throwing it somewhere in the room. He watches you struggle to reach behind you to unclip your bra.

“Turn around, baby; let me help.” He orders, and who are you to say no?

“Mkay,” you say, turning around and letting Jungkook unclip it with his hand, making your bra drop onto the bed. And with that, you fall face-first into the bed. "Yeah, no, get up. We need to brush your teeth and take your makeup off. Come on.” Jungkook picks up your frame as you whine loudly.

As Jungkook drags you to your guy's shared bathroom in only your skirt, Jungkook sets you up on the sink, and you bring your knees up against you again, making Jungkook want to run into a wall.

Seeing you with your smudge eyeliner and mascara has his thoughts running wild. You are topless, and the tiniest skirt he has ever seen you wear has him imagining how he could bend you over, lift your skirt up, and fuck you raw.

He shakes his thoughts off, getting your light pink toothbrush and lathering it with toothpaste before passing it to you. You lazily brush your teeth with your eyes closed, making small sounds at random times as Jungkook brushes his teeth as well.

“I'm dizzy.. My head is spinning.” You giggle as toothpaste is still in your mouth before spitting it out. Jungkook makes a little bowl with his hand, putting his palm underneath the water and accumulating a good amount before bringing it into your mouth, which you then swish around your mouth before spitting it out into the sink.

“All done," you clap your hands, trying to get off the counter.

“You need to take your makeup off; where are your makeup wipes?” Jungkook asks as he goes through all your skincare and makeup.

“How the fuck do you know what a makeup wipe is?" You slur, your brows furrowing, as you wrap your arms around your legs and up your chest. “Baby what?” Jungkook laughs at your question, knowing he has taken off your makeup countless times before this one.

“I'm mad now.” You pout, pushing your husband's hands off your knees. "Baby, please, I have only taken your makeup off. I promise." Jungkook raises his pinky, which you only glare at.

“Did you fuck her in the legs-up position? Because that’s our position.” You slur once again, making Jungkook chuckle in front of you.

“Baby, trust me, I would not fuck anyone in any position that isn’t you,” he reassures as you stare at his pinky that’s still in the air. “Okay,” you pout in defeat, interlocking your pinky with his.

“You can’t be lying because that’s a pinky promise,” you warn. “Of course, baby,” he says, giving you a kiss on your forehead before opening the small packet. “Be gentle," you whine as you stare at your shirtless boyfriend, who takes a wipeout.

He only nods, holding your neck like a necklace to keep your head straight, and starts taking off your makeup. “I’m hungry,” you say as your eyes flutter closed.

“It’s three in the morning, princess; there's nothing open right now.” Jungkook smiles at your scrunched-up expression. “Did you eat all the cookies?" You peek your eye open. “Maybe..” Jungkook whispers, dropping the dirty wipe in the trash can beside him.

“What! You don’t even share with me anymore.” You mumble as Jungkook picks you up and makes his way to your shared bed, dropping you on it. “I share everything with you, baby,” he says as he undoes his pants to slide into bed with you.

You stare at your husband through your eyelashes as you struggle to take off your skirt. “Need help?” Jungkook chuckles under breath as his pants fall to the ground, leaving him in only a pair of black boxers, his print clearly visible.

"Mhm," you nod, biting your lip as you tilt your head to the side to get a better view in between his pants as he reaches for the zipper on your skirt, pulling it down. "Up, baby,” he orders. You do as he says and raise your bottom up, letting him pull your skirt off, leaving you in your thong.

Jungkook drops the skirt on the floor as he watches you lying on the bed with nothing but the black piece of clothing covering your center. His breath rises as he watches you reach between your legs and move your panties to the side, giving him a perfect view of you.

“I’m so wet, baby, help me,” you whine as you run a finger through your drenched slit. "Baby, I can’t,” he hushes as his dick twitches in his briefs.

“I’m not that drunk anymore, I promise.” You mumble, giving your pussy a little slap. “Fuck,” you moan.

Jungkook very much wanted nothing but to slam into you in this exact moment, but did he really not have self-control when it came to you? He thought to himself.

"Please... if not, I’ll just fuck myself with my fingers.” You giggled, bringing your index and middle fingers up to your mouth, sucking and twirling your tongue on the tips, all while remaining eye contact with your husband, who’s fighting with himself whenever he wants to control himself or fuck you into the mattress.

But when Jungkook saw you insert a finger, he realized he didn’t have self-control when it came to you, and actually, he could give zero fucks about it, plus one thousand was nothing compared to you.

“Fuck it!” Jungkook grabbed a hold of your hands before pinning them up to your head, making you giggle loudly. “Hi.” You giggle as his face is just a few inches away from yours, and his eyes scan your face. “Hi.” He chuckles and smashes his lips against yours.

You moan softly as he wastes no time inserting his tongue into your mouth. His tongue glides along yours, making noise each time you part apart to breathe. Jungkook abandons your lips, moving to your neck, licking, sucking, and blowing.

“I want to eat you out,” he mumbles into your neck between sucking, leaving purplish red marks. He slowly makes his way down your body, all while remaining in eye contact with you. You use your elbows to prop yourself up, getting a clear view of your husband between your legs.

He chuckles, blowing a kiss to your clit making your hips buck forward, a choked moan leaves your mouth. “You’re dripping for me." He runs a finger through your puffy slit, spreading your arousal all over your pussy.

You feel your wetness ooze down to your puckered hole and maybe even to the gray sheets underneath you. Jungkook tauntingly hovered over your aching center. “Please, fuck,” you buck your hips up again, making him pin you down.

Jungkook gives your cunt a long and slow lick, “shit.” You whine, your legs squeezing around his face, as he starts lapping on your clit, swirling and sucking. His saliva and your juices mixing together.

He pushes your legs up, spreading your pussy more for him. As he continues to suck harshly on your clit your fingers rake in his hair, pulling roughly whenever he would non-stop flick his tongue on your bud, making you shake. "Fuck, you’re going to make cum.” Your eyes roll back into your head.

Jungkooks cock is painfully hard in his briefs; he shifts from his position in hope to relieve some of the pressure, but it only twitches in return. Your husband brings his tattooed fingers in front of your face and says, "Suck.” He orders, and he doesn't have to ask twice.

You grab ahold of his hand and insert his three large fingers into your mouth, twirling your tongue on the tip and sucking like you would if you were on your knees in front of him.

A rush of blood rushes to his cock as he watches you suck on his fingers. You pop his fingers out of your mouth.

He tugs on your clit one last time before rubbing your sensitive bud slowly. You choke out a moan.

Jungkook inserts one of his finger pumping it in and out of your gummy walls, sending you back into the mattress. “Fuck yes,” you cry. He inserts a second finger, pumping them out quickly, curling them inside you, and hitting your spot each time. You grip tightly onto the sheet as you start to feel dizzy. “I’m coming, shit shit shit,” you cry out. You try to push Jungkook off you as he slides his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, with his tongue flicking your clit sending you over the edge.

Your mouth hangs open as your body shakes uncontrollably. Your pussy clenches around Jungkook's fingers. A rush of fluid squirts out of you, leaving you shaking and gasping for air.

“pretty.” Jungkook chuckles under his breath, giving your pussy a small slap and making you whine from the overstimulation.

Jungkook stands up, watching you squeeze your legs together with your eyes closed and chest heaving. “You good, baby?” He leans over, kissing your face over and over again until you peek your eyes open, and you giggle nonstop.

“Fuck!” You giggle, making Jungkook raise an eyebrow. “So good,” you giggle, “yeah?” He smirks, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Mhm.” You nod, kissing him back. “Let me return the favor.” You reach for his huge hard on, squeezing.

“Let me just fuck you.” He whispers into your mouth as you giggle in response.

“Okay.” You nod. Jungkook slowly stands up from the bed as you watch him push down his briefs, letting his cock spring free. He grabs ahold of the base, giving it a squeeze, and runs his thumb along his aching red slit before walking closer to you. You bite your lip in anticipation, and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

He spits down, letting his saliva drip down onto his cock before giving it two pumps, “legs up. ” He taps your thigh for you to do as he says.

You giggle, pushing your legs up, giving your husband an amazing view of your drenched spread out, dripping core.

“Fuck,” he says, aligning himself with your hole and slapping his cock on your pussy multiple times. "Shit, ah,” you moan, digging your nails into your thighs.

Jungkook watches as you clench your pussy over nothing, making his cock twitch. He runs his length over your slit before sliding into you. “Oh shit.” You gasp, biting your lip harshly.

Jungkook has always been too big for you, always stretching you out deliciously every time you had sex. Your pussy always took him so well.

"Shit, shit, shit,” you say, closing your eyes as you feel the burn of him sliding deeper into you. “You can take it, baby.” He hushes, pushing in deeper, and he rubs your clit with his thumb, trying to ease you.

You can feel him all the way into your belly as he finally is all the way in you. “You take me so well, fuck, baby.” Jungkook groans as you clench non-stop around him.

"Move, fuck, ah,” you cry. You didn’t have to ask twice, as he started sliding out of your hole before slamming back in. Your nails dig into your thighs, leaving marks as he continues to slide in and out of you repeatedly.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he slams roughly into you. His hands push your legs down to your chest as he fucks into you, his cock spreading your walls and his tip hitting your g-spot with each thrust.

Jungkook watches his cock disappear into your messy wet cunt; he watches how you spasm every time he pounds into you; your pussy squirts every time he pulls out; but he doesn’t stop; he continues to slam back in.

Tears stream down your face from the immense pleasure in your core as you reach between your legs, rubbing your clit furiously. “Such a good fucking girl, taking my cock so well.” Jungkook says between gritted teeth, as you only reply with a moan.

“Look at you squirting all over my cock.” He pulls out, spurs of liquid come rushing out of you, and your legs shake as your pussy convulses from each spurt. “Ahh fuck.” You moan as Jungkook rubs your pussy; your hands reach for his, trying to push him away, but failing as you orgasm with a long, loud moan.

“Good girl.” He groans.

“I can't... fuck,” you choke out, trying to catch your breath. "Yes, you can." Jungkook flips you over to your stomach. “Ass up.” He demands giving your ass a spank.

You bring your ass up in the air, leaving your upper body laying on the bed totally spent. “Fuck pussy, so messy." Jungkook runs his cock through your pussy before sliding back in.

"Shit, this angle fucks me up,” he groans, getting ahold of your waist and squeezing roughly, probably leaving marks, as he slams into you. You dig your head into the mattress, biting onto the sheets, silencing your screams. The wet sound of him pounding into you and your screams are the only things being heard in the room.

“You love being fucked like this, huh?” He moans, pounding into you from behind. You don’t reply.

He pulls out and pulls your hair up. “Answer me. You love being fucked like this, huh?” He whispers into your ear, your back arched against him.

“Yes.” You cry, and tears stream down your face. “Yes what? Baby.” He chuckles from your disheveled state, “I love being fucked like this.” You stutter over your words; the only thing your brain can comprehend is that you wanted to come again for the third time.

And with that, he lets you go. As you fall back down onto the bed, Jungkook spreads your ass cheeks, watching your pussy and asshole clench over nothing. “Spread open.” He orders you.

Jungkook watches how you do as he says and spread yourself open for him. He takes the base of his cock and aligns himself with your other hole. He rubs over some of your arousal to your asshole, inserting the tip of his cock before pushing the rest of his length inside you, “Fuckk.” You moan loudly, "Relax, baby.” He groans loudly at how tight it is.

This is not the first time Jungkook has fucked your ass, but the stretch of his cock always feels like the first time. He stays for a few moments, still waiting for you to adjust. "Go," you whimper. A green light for him to thrust.

He spreads you open more, watching his cock slip out of your hole before thrusting back in slowly. You moan under him, and you reach under him, rubbing your clit softly as tears run down your cheeks.

“Such a good fucking girl.” Jungkook moans, squeezing your ass and restraining himself from pounding into you at that very moment.

You insert two of your fingers into your pussy, sliding them in and out as Jungkook slides his cock into your ass. "Faster, please,” you whine, fucking your fingers into you as Jungkook speeds up his movements.

Your legs shake barely holding up as he pounds into roughly moaning loudly each time you clench, “You fucking like that?” He chokes out each slam he thrusts into you. “Keep taking it, baby.” His balls slam into your pussy, which each push.

“Fuck so good.” He moans, not stopping his movements. Both of you are sweating as you bite down on the gray sheets, feeling your pussy spasms with liquid with each thrust. “I’m coming.” You shriek,

“Go ahead, baby.” Jungkook's eyes roll to the back of his head, watching you shake underneath him. His body locks up, and black and white spots fill his vision as his dick twitches in you before spilling his seed into you with a loud groan.

“Oh fuck.” Jungkook pants as he slides out of your ass, his come oozing out of you. You fall onto the bed, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you whimper softly from the outstanding orgasm you just went through.

"Fuck, are you okay, baby?” Jungkook makes his way to you, flipping you over to be able to see your face. You whimper softly with your hands covering your face. "Shit, baby, did I hurt you?” He panics, shooting straight up and taking your hands off your face.

He sees the tears streaming down your face, and that sends a blow to his heart. "Baby, where does it hurt?” He scans your body and tries to soothe your shaking legs, rubbing his palms up and down your thighs.

“I’m okay.” You whimper between cries.

“Then why are you crying, my love?” He pulls you up into a sitting position before kissing your tear-stained cheeks. "felt so good.” You cry. A wave of relief hits Jungkook. "Baby," he chuckles, giving you kisses all over your face.

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” You cry as he laughs softly while standing up, finding his briefs on the ground before stepping into them. He goes into your guys' shared closet looking for a pair of underwear for you and one of his shirts.

"Here, baby, let me help you.” He makes his way to you; he sits beside you as he helps you put on your panties and his shirt.

“Do you need anything?” Jungkook asks, putting your hair behind your ear. “No, I'm super tired; I want to cuddle.” You say snuggling under the covers with a big smile on your face, and Jungkook follows in beside you.

…

The next morning, Jungkook called in for an emergency meeting as he was waiting for the boys to come in. Taehyung arrives first with a guilty expression on his face, and before Jungkook could ask what’s up, Hoseok and Namjoon come striding in. And not long after all the boys started striding in.

“So..” Jungkook starts, “I fucked up.” And with that, he drops a thousand on the table in front of the boys. Nobody moves, and nobody says anything until,

"Oh, thank God, and I thought it was going to be just me." Taehyung drops a wad of cash, with the rest of the boys following along, dropping cash on the table.

“Are you fucking serious!?” Namjoon stares at his friends with his jaw wide open. “Am I the only one who took this seriously?” Namjoon shook his head at his friends.

“Honestly, I don't regret it at all.” Jungkook shrugs.

7K notes · View notes

chlix · 18 days

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juno

bf! minho x fem! reader: you have baby fever. your boyfriend wants to be with you forever. turns out you can kill 2 birds with 1 stone

genre: fluff, crack, suggestive (MDNI, explicit dialogue)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: pregnancy scare, jokes about a breeding kink, marriage proposal, y/n is a little spoiled i gotta admit, this one is all over the place ya'll

a/n: minho's fic in my album series! this one is based on "juno". y/n is a LOT in this one but i found it way more fun and fitting to the song to write her that way rather than actually being down to earth and reasonable lol

You’re out at a mall with your friend Jia, having a lazy day shopping and eating overpriced food from the shops in the central plaza. It's been a while since you had time to bum around with her, and your boyfriend, Minho, had said he'd drive you there and take care of his own errands while he waited. He'd even handed you his second credit card and told you to get whatever you wanted, much to Jia's amusement. You wish you were more put off by him flaunting his money, but unfortunately you passed that point long ago. It's also due to the fact that his money is much appreciated at this point in your life. Currently, you’re a bit of a NEET; after you had to quit your last job, you’ve been doing little except sitting at home, attempting TikTok recipes, doing housework and fantasizing about having things like hobbies and life goals aside from marrying your boyfriend.

“That’s nothing new for you, though,” your friend Jia says. “You inherited the suburban princess aesthetic from your mother.”

“You say that as if we weren't raised on the same street” you say, words thick around the spoon of froyo in your mouth. “We’re both suburban princesses.”

Your eyes roam around the mall, people watching as you often do. Next to the frozen yogurt place you had just visited, there is a mother with her small toddler at the counter. The mother is stylishly dressed, in cute jeans and a red sweater, and her daughter matches perfectly in a tiny little red turtleneck and a corduroy pinafore press. She’s wearing little charms in her hair and has a backpack with a bunch of dangly charms that jingle as she fidgets. She is eyeing the froyo on the counter with big eyes as she waits for her mother to pay for it, ever so patient and polite. The cashier waves at her and the toddler waves back.

“Stopppp, look at them. Isn’t that girl so cute?”

Jia follows your eyeline to the mother and daughter at the froyo counter.

“She is. I love how her and mom are matching.”

“I can’t wait to have a little mini-me that I can wear matching outfits with.”

“You and I wear matching outfits all the time.”

“Yes, but I want to do it with someone cute.”

Jia’s eyes roll so hard that you know it must’ve hurt.

“Since when do you want kids, y/n?”

“Since always. Or I don’t know. Maybe I just was worried that it would be difficult? Or that I’d never find the right guy? But I think Minho would be a good father, so it’s kind of made me think about it again.”

“He seems like he’d be good with kids.”

“When we babysit my nephew, he’s really good with him. And he’s always been so attentive to me in everything, so I just know he would double down during pregnancy. He’d take bullets for me. He’d protect me, he’d bring me all my favorite foods he’d take care of me-”

“He really should be doing that all the time, not just when you’re pregnant. Like, what kind of cavewoman logic is this? Are you in heat or something?”

You take another bite of your froyo and savor it.

You’ve known Jia forever, and at this point her comments to you about your love life just go in one ear and out the other. She’s the one who introduced you to Minho, actually, so you’d thought maybe she’d spare you the lectures, but she seems to think your impulsivity would overrule Minho’s common sense. This isn’t you being impulsive, though. You’ve actually thought about it an embarrassing amount- the concept of Minho fathering your children. It’s not just some passing fancy.

When you’re thoroughly done enjoying your vanilla-passion fruit swirl, you deign to answer her.

“First of all, shut the fuck up. Second of all, no I’m not in heat. Is it so wrong to dream of motherhood? To yearn for something to care for?”

“You have three cats and seven potted plants.”

“I mean something that can love me back.”

“I’m telling Dori you said that.”

You ignore her, already lost in your little domestic fantasy. You could already imagine it. You could have a little girl who looked exactly like you. Or maybe just like you with Minho’s pretty eyes. You’ll develop all the “mom skills”, like sewing and kissing boo-boos and making baking soda volcanoes. And Minho would be there, giving her piggyback rides and pushing her on swing sets. He’d call both of you his “princesses” and you could take cute family photos for Christmas and mail them all your relatives. A perfect domestic life.

“Hello? Earth to y/n?”

You blink. Jia is looking at you with an exasperated expression.

“I’d ask you what you’re thinking about, but I already know.”

“Oh, really.”

“You only get that stupid expression on your face when you think about Minho.” Jia crumples up her trash and reaches behind her to throw it in a trash can. “Does he know you are having delusions of domesticity?”

“It’s not delusional. We’ve been together for like two years. We’ve talked about the future.”

“So he wants kids?”

“He wants whatever I want,” you say, and you can hear the lovesickness in your voice even before Jia lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Go ask him to get you pregnant right now then. He seems like the type to think that’s really hot.”

“Everything I do is hot. I’m a catch. I’d look extra hot pregnant. Working so hard even when I’m just sitting around all day.”

“Your favorite activity.”

You wink cheekily. “Of course. You should give it a try sometime.”

“Give what a try?”

A familiar voice from behind you makes you perk up. You whip around to see your boyfriend in the flesh, coming up behind you. He’s finally arrived. His presence improves your mood by approximately one thousand percent. You can sit up straighter and breathe deeper. The sun shines brighter on your face. His pace is so leisurely that it’s driving you mad. You want to stand up and drag him closer to you, so that as much of you is touching you as possible. The meter between you feels like a nautical mile.

Christ, maybe you are in heat. You think it’s possible you’ve been permanently ovulating since you met Minho. Just seeing him coming has you contemplating breaking several civil laws.

Jia rats you out immediately. “We’re talking about pregnancy.”

“Oh.” Minho stops where he is, as if blocked by an invisible wall. “Is someone you know expecting?”

“Not yet,” Jia says.

“Jia,” you hiss.

Jia ignores you, revenge for forcing her to listen to you for the past half hour.

“Y/n thinks that pregnancy suits her lifestyle. She thinks she’d look hot pregnant. What’s your opinion on the topic?”

“Don’t answer that,” you tell him. “Jia, come on.”

Jia shrugs. “I don’t think it’s that crazy of a question. Your boyfriend should think you look hot all the time.”

“And I do,” Minho interjects, smiling slyly. “Especially right now, as you’re staring daggers at me.”

Jia leans up and stage whispers to Minho, eyes still trained on you. “She specifically said ‘extra hot’, just so you know.”

“I struggle to think she could get any hotter,” Minho says in answering stage whisper. “She’d look equally pretty frozen solid, or zombified.”

“You know the saying is ‘until death do us part?’ You don’t have to keep loving her as a zombie.”

You try to be annoyed but you’re too busy cheesing for it to have any effect. “Okay haha fun’s over. Take me home now.”

Jia boos you as Minho grabs your hand to help you off the bench.

“As you wish,” he says, and kisses your hand with a flourish.

“I’ve gotta get going too. See you later, y/n.” She stands up and grabs her bag, then pauses and turns back. “If you’re pregnant the next time I see you, I will kill you.”

“You seriously give me no credit.”

Jia gives you an absolutely withering look and walks off.

“I shouldn’t have even brought it up,” you say mournfully. “She’s gonna start keeping tabs on me.”

“We’ll lock our doors and windows,” Minho says, and presses a kiss to your hair. “Home?”

Later that night, you’re lying on the couch searching up pictures of baby clothes. You have an entire Pinterest board for your future baby, and today’s scene at the park has inspired you to add to the collection. You scroll through little images of kids in duck outfits and Hello Kitty themed socks, of cute little barrettes to put in their wispy bangs. Your kids are going to be so well-dressed. They’ll make the other toddlers at the daycare jealous, and maybe even the moms too.

That’s good, though. It’s important to learn how to deal with adversity from a young age.

Your daughter is gonna be so well socialized and assertive and thick-skinned, just like her parents. She’ll get such good grades and be very polite. And you’ll get to show up to parent teacher conferences as the hottest mom in the entire class, which will be good for your ego, and then you can pass that confidence down to your child. It’ll be perfect. Your life will be perfect. You can see it in such clear and vivid detail.

Minho passes by you on the way back from the bathroom and glances down at your phone.

“Baby clothes?”

You blink up at him. You’re not embarrassed at being caught, but you are a little annoyed that he’s interrupted your daydreaming with one of his gateway questions.

“Yes. Our future child has to be up on fashion trends.”

“The fashion trends will have changed by the time you have a baby to dress up.”

To your own surprise, your heart actually stutters with the reminder that you are currently not, in fact, with child.

“Don’t remind me,” you whine, rolling over to hide your face in the cushions. “Jia already lectured me today.”

“Lectured?”

You partially roll back over to look up at him. “She says that I’m being delusional for wanting a baby so badly.”

“How is wanting to be a mother delusional?”

“Right? And I told her like what are you talking about, we’ve already talked about the future, and we’re gonna have kids, and she just gave me this look.”

“Jia’s just looking out for you. She doesn’t want you to rush into things.”

“Jia is a cynic and a skeptic. She thinks we’re too young to have a baby.”

“Well, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” Your visions of being a MILF dance through your head. “I think having kids young would be cute.”

Now Minho looks skeptical. “Really? Since when.”

“Since I had a paradigm shift. I always knew I wanted them, in a vague sense. But now I know that I want to have them with you, specifically, so it’s been on my mind a lot more.”

“You want to have my kids?”

You bristle. “Well they’d be my kids, too, y’know.”

“I know that-”

“And who else’s kids would they be? Do you envision us breaking up?”

“Absolutely not,” Minho says. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

“Right. So then eventually I’ll be having your kids. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

Minho sits down next to you on the couch. “That’s really what you want?”

“Yes?” A single pang of doubt flashes across your chest. “Do you not want that?”

“No, I do, baby. I’d love to have a family with you. I just want to be sure we’re on the same page, and we’ve thought it through.”

“Well, like you said, we’re still young.” Jia’s admonishment of not being married flashes through your mind. “But sometimes I see little kids in public, or on TV, and I think, God, I want a baby so bad. Y’know? I want to be pregnant. I want to glow like that, and everything.”

Something complicated passes over his face. A lightbulb goes off in your head. It’s the same expression that he had when Jia had mentioned to him the topic of your conversation.

“Oh my god. You actually do think I’d look hot pregnant.”

“Didn’t I say that at the mall?”

“No, you were teasing me. But now you’re being for real. You want to knock me up.”

Minho says nothing, but the tips of his ears redden. You shoot upright, delighted at the turn of events.

“Oh my god, you actually want to knock me up!”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No! Of course not. I want to be the only girl you want, and I want you to want me in every way.”

“Well you are, and I do,” he says flatly. “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations is right,” you say. You’re giddy with energy. “Have you thought about it a bunch? Is that why you wanted me on the pill? So you could cum in me and indulge your breeding kink?”

“I don’t have a breeding kink.I just love you. There’s a difference.”

“You’ve said at least five times today you think I’d be hot while I’m pregnant,” you remind him. “Seems kind of breeding kink-ish to me.”

“You have spent the entire day fantasizing about having my kids. That’s the definition of a breeding kink.” Minho leans further into your space, and though his words are teasing, his tone is decidedly not. You feel heat start to run through you, and not from embarrassment. You scoot closer to him, pulled by magnetic forces beyond your comprehension.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just life planning. I’m making vision boards.” The lie is so flimsy your lips trip as you try to say it.

“Uh-huh. Right. Because you normally start breathing heavy when you make vision boards.”

“This is unfair. Of course I’ll get turned on when you start talking like this.”

“Like what?” he says, leaning even closer. You can feel his breath on your face, and a shiver goes down your spine.

“Like you’re going to fucking breed me.”

His smile is absolutely feline. “That can be arranged.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Baby, I want whatever you want.”

You grab onto his shoulders, tight. “Then take me to bed, hot stuff.”

His eyes darken. A hand comes up to your face, and he kisses you gently. He grabs you by the hand…

and of course, he gives you what you want.

Your period is a week late.

It’s actually Minho who notices and points it out, which causes you to freak out and call Jia, who freaks out worse than you and demands that you go to the store immediately and buy a test. You get three different brands, and also an entire chocolate cake which will either be for congratulations or for emotional support.

Minho waits outside the bathroom door, an encouraging presence as you try to calm yourself down enough to read the labels.

“Whatever happens, I’m here,” he tells you. You can’t tell whether he wants it to be positive or negative. You aren’t even sure what you want. Yes, you want a baby, yes, babymaking sex is hot and you want to keep having it whether it gets you knocked up or not, but you’re both still young, and he has a career, and your apartment doesn’t have a third bedroom so there’d be nowhere for the nursery that you’ve already meticulously planned out in your mind-

The timer goes off. You open your eyes and look down.

“Negative,” you say, loud enough for Minho to hear outside the door. “All of them.”

Minho doesn’t say anything. You let out a deep breath, tension falling out of you, and open the door. Minho is on the other side, expression cautious.

“Is it bad that I’m a little disappointed?” he says, and his tone is joking but the words stick in your chest because you agree. The relief you expected to feel is nowhere to be found.

“I hope not, because that makes two of us.”

He draws you into a hug, and you sink into him, processing all the events of the last hour.

“And I was all ready to start building a crib.”

You snort. “Picking up carpentry as a hobby?”

“A real father should work with their hands. I need thick, callused hands to hold my baby with, so they feel smaller and daintier by comparison.”

“Wild thing to say, honestly.”

“It works on you.”

You break free and shove him playfully. “You’re ridiculous. You’d be a good father even with your soft city boy hands.”

“You think so?” he says, his tone heavier than before. You don’t even hesitate.

“Yes. Any child would be lucky to have you as a father.” You sigh dramatically. “Unfortunately it seems my uterus didn’t pull through this time.”

Minho is silent for a moment. “Well. We could…try again.”

You stare at him. “Sorry?”

“I mean, you said I’d be a good father. You said you wished the test was positive. I want that too. Just because it didn’t work this time doesn’t mean that-”

“Wait. Wait wait wait wait. Are you serious?” You’re gob smacked. You can’t believe that your usually cautious boyfriend is proposing you have a baby right now.

“I’m serious,” he confirms. “You’d be such a good mom. And I know how much you want this.”

“And you think I’d look hot pregnant.”

“Obviously,” he says, without a hint of jest.

“But I’m- we’re so young, and I’m unemployed, and-”

“Sorry, were you planning on getting a job any time soon?”

Your cheeks heat up. “Oh shut up.”

“No, it’s perfect. You can be a loving stay-at-home mom. I’ll be the breadwinner.”

“Stop it. Stop talking this way. You’re- do you know how pissed my friends would be? What would I tell Jia? She almost bit my head off over the phone earlier, did you hear her? She was so pissed that I was thinking of motherhood instead of marriage-”

“Then let’s get married.”

“Don’t start.”

“Y/n, I’m not joking.”

You actually think you’re going to faint. Your heart is racing and you’re breaking out in a sweat. Is it hot in here? Did you forget to pay the AC bill this month?”

“Are you proposing to me right now?” You’re trying to joke but you’re breathless. “You’re proposing to me as a gimmick to get me to bear your children?”

Minho cringes. “Saying it like that makes me sound manipulative.”

“It’s kinda manipulative.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to be married before having kids. And I want to do both of those things with you eventually, so why not now?”

Your vision is blurring. For a moment you worry you actually are fainting, but then you realize that you’re crying instead.

“Stop playing with me, Minho, I’m so serious.”

“I’m not playing with you. I actually already bought a ring, but I didn’t know if the timing was right. Like you said, we’re young, and I didn’t know how you felt about getting married so soon. So I thought I’d ask eventually but-”

You lunge forward and kiss him. If you’d felt stressed earlier while taking the test, that’s nothing compared to the depth of emotion you’re feeling now as you hold each other. It’s like joy is filling you up so much that you don’t know where your body behind and ends.

When you finally separate, Minho asks,

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re not proposing to me in our living room,” you tell him. “You have to ask me again. Later. Don’t even show me the ring. Wait, what color is it? You know I only wear gold.”

“You think I’d forget something like that? I’m going to be your husband. I know what jewelry you wear.”

If he wasn’t holding you up, you think you’d actually collapse to the ground from the way you absolutely swoon.

“Propose to me again and I’ll say yes. Right now, I need you to put a baby in me.”

“You want to walk down the aisle pregnant? Your dream wedding dress has a corset.”

“Oh my god, we’ll do it before I start showing, just fuck me, please!”

Minho doesn’t make you ask a third time.

#skz x reader #skz x you #skz imagines #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know imagines #another one under posts that are only funny to me lmfaoooo but this was SO fun to write #short n sweet album series

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 2)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 1, Part 3

summary: Your new roommate has... interesting habits.

warnings: sexually suggestive, nothing explicit.

a/n: i think i've realised miggy in this fic is a combo of his movie and comic counterpart. Miguel O'Hara: part-time whore lmfaooo

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lady death, at the cradle of a babe.

You've decided: if Miguel's the Sun, then you're a black hole. Cold and dark where he was warm, to seemingly everyone else but you. Even then, the metaphor didn't carry, and O'Hara wasn't quite the shining centre of the universe you had first thought him to be.

In the dim gloom of a little lamp on your bedside table, you’re left squinting at a crisp white document. Blank; save for a thousand tabs open, and the blue links of a half-hearted bibliography. You’ve got the bare bones of an assignment; left too late, as usual. The rest lies at the tip of your tongue; nips at the ends of your fingers like the heat of cigarette butts, and as fleeting as wispy smoke in an ashtray. To get yourself through it, you’ve resorted to romanticising it all, pretending you're a wistful poet dipping the feathered end of a quill into ink. Writing something… revolutionary; as opposed to the mish-mash of articles and studies you’ve crammed within the last hour and a half. There’s a pounding at your skull: the dull beginnings of a migraine, most likely. You squeeze at your temples, eyes shut – and the thrum matches the thud at your thin walls. Rhythmic, obscene, and it creates a cruel staccato; shaking the flimsy plasterboard that separates your room from your roommate’s.

He’s fucking someone. Loud, like it can’t be heard by half the complex. It's the third girl he’s had over in as many weeks. Not that you were keeping count. For a supposed tutor, you hadn’t seen much studying - despite the bright eyed young women that seemed to be at your doorstep most days. Perhaps you're being dramatic, but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the kind of pupils Miguel had had the privilege to “teach”.

You remember the first time the true weight of Jia’s words became clear: whilst banging on the front door after a draining day of lectures.

You’d forgotten your keys after rushing out the morning of, and arrived to a locked door in the afternoon. You had been starving, insides churning with the thought of takeout you’d saved the night before; a greasy bag nestled in the corner of your shelf in the fridge. So maybe you'd been antsy, irritable at a stretch; fist on the door like a divorce lawyer, hungry in more ways than one.

Wasn’t Miguel already home? He had to be, you can hear the low tones of his voice leaking from the gaps at the sides of the door. And.. rustling, the shift of fabric tousled and pillows hitting the floor. It’s then that you hear another voice, higher pitched; gentle and soft where his is baritone. If you’re not mistaken; and something at the pit of your stomach hopes you are, for some reason; he’s laughing, speaking in hushed tones, whilst she giggles at something he said. You bang at the door even harder, hoping the sharp rap-rap-rap interrupts him. It feels like you’ve had half of your college’s senior cohort in the city in and out of your apartment - or, at the very least, the pretty ones. For some reason, this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back; and your knuckles sting against the lacquered wood. You’ve half a mind to shout into the keyhole, to tell him to hurry the fuck up, or else–

Miguel opens, brow tight, and wiping something from his lips with the back of his hand. It’s suspicious; he looks carefully flushed, lips plump and cheeks slightly ruddy. You notice the way his head flops onto the lip of the open door; slightly out of breath like he’s done a dozen push ups. And with the way his biceps flex and tense under his open button up; paired with some slacks in a pitiful attempt to look less slutty; he might have. The image makes you purse your lips to stop inappropriate laughter: Miguel on the floor, brows kneaded in concentration as the woman in your apartment looks on, entranced. It feels more plausible than the reality; making out on your couch, whilst her hands travel to undo the button at his waistband.

What doesn’t help, is the look he gives you; like you’ve interrupted something important.

“Oh.” He says, clearly deflated. “It’s… you.”

You flash him a sarcastic smile and push past into the front room. You’ve seen her before: the girl on your couch. Sarah, a pretty thing in Miguel’s advanced Math class, you’d learned from the last few weeks. It’s not the first time she’d been over, but she doesn’t usually stay; rather, she’d drop something off at the door and twirl her hair whilst she waited. You’d answer, because of course he was never home at the right times, and she’d crane her head in for a glimpse of him. The first time; you were struck by the effortlessness of her beauty. And on your sofa, she seemed hardly fazed; the gentle curve of her stomach and thighs spilling onto the tattered cushions, donned in a patterned sundress. Her lips are pert, curved into a knowing smile as she giggles at the scene you and Miguel make at the door.

“Hey, Sarah.” You give her a small wave as you make your way into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. However, you don’t have the energy to dignify Miguel with a response – so you stay silent. He bristles.

“You don’t have a key, or something?” You’re digging through the shelves as he calls out to you, hands on his hips like you’re in the wrong. You can’t help but hiss under your breath. He’s got an attitude, when only one of you had been left outside the door; starved and exhausted. And the other: getting off on your sofa. Poor Miguel, left with a limp dick and full balls.

"Forgot." Your answer is curt, and you don't even bother to look up. You can hear him scoff, incredulous - as if the mere idea was so offensive. It makes anger bubble up at your gut, head still buried behind the fridge door.

"That's convenient." You can't hear the words that come out after, but you're sure it's not exactly glowing praise. You lob a hypothetical grenade over the lip of the fridge door: a middle finger, crisp and clear.

Takeout in hand, and a bag over your shoulder that feels like a concrete block; you drag yourself to your room, without giving Miguel so much as a second glance. When the door slams, you're hit with the full weight of Jia's words; a moment that seems so long ago. Miguel's probably picky about who he tutors for the same reason people swipe left and right on dating apps: he's an unrepentant whore.

The thought had seemed somewhat premature, at the time. You had had little to no evidence: a string of pretty women in your apartment did not a slut make, after all. It wasn't quite enough, just a knee-jerk reaction after a bad day. The most charitable interpretations tell you that by all means, your roommate is an upstanding guy. A model student; who left his undergrad with honours and a disgustingly high GPA, head of half a dozen clubs and societies, and currently getting his masters sponsored by a prestigious biotech company in the city. He’s a chronic overachiever, more or less. All things you've learnt from the people he’s tutored, small talk in between sessions (and they’ve all been nice enough). It seems a little more than convenient that the prettiest ones end up in your apartment - in his bed. And yet, you can’t get a straight answer from the man himself. Favours for a couple of friends, he says every time you complain.

With the noises you hear from the room over, you wonder how he treats the friends he really likes.

You think he’s doing it on purpose. That’s the only explanation you’re left with as you massage your temples in desperation. A steady pounding, that makes the shared wall shudder. Interspersed with graphic moans, the higher pitched panting of his partner; Yes Miguel and Just like that; seems to blend with his groans. Sleep pulls at your eyes, and you want to scream into the pillows. It’s muffled, but you can make out his voice beyond the wall; low, hushed tones that makes desire pool at the base of your stomach. And you’d rather die than admit it; but you zone out for a moment, a little lost in the haze of a daydream. God, his stamina. It feels like they’ve been going for hours, obscene grunts and groans spilling into your room. The wide span of his shoulders, the way light is cut at his jawline - and you wonder what he’d look like on top, or the sounds he’d make underneath.

Shaking your head, you try to convince yourself: it's the lack of sleep that makes you think of the way his hands would feel on your waist.

~~~

The honeymoon stage, if there ever was one, was well and truly over.

In the morning, you’re woken up by the thud of the front door. Laptop cracked open on the covers, you shift to wipe the drool crusted on the side of your mouth. The good news: you remember getting down a couple thousand words before fitful sleep. Not to a great standard, of course, but as your deadline approaches, you’re grateful for whatever you can scrape together. Stretching, your back creaks with the memory of last night: hunched over your laptop, barely able to concentrate. Still in pyjamas from last night, you pad into the front room, looking for water to satisfy your dry mouth.

The bad news: you’re met with Miguel on the sofa, splayed out on the cushions lazily. There’s a mug of something on a side table, which he’s clearly neglected; eyes closed, and an arm drawn upwards to expose the tan skin of his chest. He’s wearing nothing but loose plaid pants, hair a mess and frustratingly peaceful. For once, he’s not wearing the perpetual frown you’ve been subjected to for the past few weeks, and he looks five years younger as a result. You tilt your head to the side – like a mere 90 degrees would make him look any different – and you can’t believe this was the man who was terrorising you the night before. He looks… cute. Innocent, almost.

The sight makes you scoff. You snatch a glass from the cupboard with a clink-clink, and he stirs. You watch him stretch as you fill it; a mop of brown peeking over the back of the couch. He peers over, groggy and seemingly confused.

"....When did you get back?" His voice is gravelly, heavy with last night's sleep – or lack thereof. You ignore the feelings it stirs up; pleasant and comfortable and domestic.

"Good morning to you too, " You say it under your breath but he hears; catches it and holds it at his chest like a songbird. One hand over his heart, he smiles, wide; a lazy, sarcastic grin, but it still makes your face heat up. It's too damn early for this, you think. "I wasn't… for fuck's sake… I came back last night."

"Oh." He frowns, sweeping into the kitchen, and opening up the cupboard.

"I couldn't sleep." Miguel's not stupid, and you wait for him to take the hint. "There was… too much noise last night."

"So that's why you're up early." He clicks his tongue. "You don't have a lecture to be late for?"

"You don't have another girl to fuck and ignore?" Without missing a beat, you snap at him – too tired and annoyed to entertain it.

"Ouch." It's blaise, thrown over his shoulder without a second thought. He doesn't even look at you, head buried and eyes scanning the shelves – looking for his morning coffee, no doubt. He finds it, opening the packet and elbowing you in the process, and you give him a glare. Did he have to do that right next to you?

You catch the ghost of a smile on his face.

"...Miguel?" You say; quietly, because you can't quite find your next words.

"Hmm?" He hums, fiddling around with the machine; a ritual you've only caught glimpses of.

How do you tell your roommate you can hear him have obnoxious sex through thin walls? Well, probably by opening your mouth and saying it, but anything resembling your true feelings dies in your throat.

He doesn't prompt you to finish the question, choosing to let the silence wash over you both. The clattering of a spoon against ceramic is the only noise in the little kitchen. It's not something you hear too often - never waking up at the same time as Miguel through a combination of coincidence and sheer willpower. Naturally, your routines are asynchronous - a half step, half-hearted jig to crashing music. That is to say: if you and your roommate were partners in a… ballroom, perhaps: you’d be stepped-on-toes and two-left-feet on the dancefloor. Disastrous, to say the least.

And yet, half-asleep, you watch as he pads around the kitchen; poking into cupboards and bringing out the ingredients to a hearty breakfast. Eggs and chorizo and tortillas; your stomach rumbles at the thought of a proper cooked meal. Ever the stereotypical college student, your usual food has mostly been instant noodles and leftovers. Maybe you’re just tired, but he makes the drawers and fridge shelves seem bottomless. It’s clear Miguel eats and he eats well – because of course he does.

“Could you…” You jump a bit when he places a gentle hand at your waist, moving you to the side as he reaches for a chopping board on the counter. “Sorry. Do you mind?”

It’s brief, but the fleeting touch fucks with your head as he cooks. Flashes of the night before run up your spine, electric. You watch his deft fingers fly on the chopping board; slender, a wide palm covering the span of a large pepper. How would they feel on your waist – properly – at the crook of your back, or at your thighs? Sighing, you chew the inside of your cheek and lean your head back against the wall. You feel the whispers of another headache. It's much too early for this.

He puts a pan on the stove. Shirtless, despite the heat of the spitting oil, and he pops a piece of a bell pepper in his mouth with a little smile that makes you roll your eyes. It's smug, somehow, like he knows something you don't – like he knows exactly what he did yesterday (or rather, who) and he’s enjoying your reaction.

Except: you’re exhausted, and he’s giggling like you’ve caught a kid with cookie crumbs on their face, empty jar in hand.

It’s a quiet he sits with, comfortable; moving around the space with the kind of familiarity that comes with time. It makes you wonder just how long he's been here, which other roommates he’s terrorised over the years. Maybe, Miguel’s got a reputation, and there’s a Yelp review sitting somewhere you’ve neglected to read.

“Did you see her leave?” He still doesn’t look at you. Instead, his eyes are trained at the eggs on the pan, onions and veg making a lopsided smile in the runny yolk. Even his food seems smug.

“Her?” You frown, not quite following.

“...Katie?” He says it like it’s obvious, as if her name alone should set off half a dozen bells in your head. It’s Katie, this time - not Jia, or Sita, or the slew of other girls he’s been fucking in the past few weeks alone.

Your eye twitches. Involuntarily, of course, but it feels like your body is physically rejecting his bullshit.

“I didn’t know she stayed the night.” A lie, obviously. You heard her well enough through the walls, not even a couple of hours ago.

“S’okay,” He shakes his head, nonchalant. You trace the curve of his shoulders and gentle slope of his plump lips. “I would’ve called her an Uber, or something.”

“You’re a gentleman, Miguel.”

And he laughs, a deep rumble that rings off the tiles. Admittedly, you like the way it sounds, and the way his eyes crinkle up into crows feet. He’s pretty, you think. In an annoying kind of way.

Oh, fuck him. You get closer, and stick a fingertip into the rich red of the pan. Wrapping your lips around it, with the heat of Miguel at your back, and yes, it's fine. Okay, fucking incredible – you know, nothing you haven’t tasted before.

Making eye contact, you watch him blink in surprise. It’s the first time you’ve seen him unsure of himself; not dripping with the arrogance of a few minutes ago. Not wanting to give anything away, you keep your face steady.

"Needs salt, I think."

The spell is broken and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I've seen the crap you shovel into that big mouth of yours… ¿mi mamá no me enseñó a cocinar para que vengas a decirme que sabe mal…?"

[My mom didn't teach me how to cook so you can come here and tell me it tastes bad…?]

It's your turn to smile at the sweet taste of revenge. Not enough to fuel the next couple hours of essay writing, but a small victory nonetheless. You flash him pink tongue, and watch as his gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second.

"More salt?" He scoffs. "You wouldn't know good food if it bit you on the ass."

It's childish, but he chucks a tea towel at your head; and you narrowly miss it.

"Asshole." You spit out, frustrated. Your stomach grumbles, loud, and you watch his face crack, amused.

His lips curve into a shit-eating grin. "Idiot."

Face tight, you storm out of the kitchen.

You're holed up in your room for the rest of the day; only leaving for snack and toilet breaks. Luckily, Miguel doesn't disturb you, except for a full plate left outside your doorstep in the morning. It tastes delicious; warm and homely, but you'd rather pull your teeth out than see that stupid fucking grin on his face. Instead, you give him a grudging thanks, shrugging as if to say: it was somewhat edible.

And when you hit send on your essay, with a whole 11 minutes to spare, you sigh in relief. You got through it, eventually; even though your roommate is trying to kill you, your new apartment is falling apart and you're failing half your classes already. But you're through the day, and approaching the end of the week with minimal emotional damage. Key word: minimal.

In the warmth under the covers of your bed, it makes you think. It can't get any worse, right? It won't – it can't.

Something shifts. Like a rip in the space time continuum or a malevolent god, the universe snatches up that thought; ripe and ready to spit you back out onto the fire.

~~~

You wake up and something feels off, already. For one, light streams in through the blinds, a slight chill from the open window. It’s peaceful, and the first thing you hear is the song of morning birds just beyond the glass, instead of cars and clattering garbage trucks.

But it’s a Friday, and you’ve got that 9:00am; the one you were insane enough to sign up for at the beginning of the semester. What you should be hearing is the call-for-war of your alarm; the one that slaps you square across the face and wakes you the fuck up. On time, of course, but still the kind of sound that strikes fear into the hearts of grown men. Groggy, you wipe the sleep from your eyes. And then you frown. The lilting chirp of songbirds (well-fed pigeons that shit all over your windowsill, large enough to be classed as biological weapons), instead of your alarm…?

Your hands go cold, and dread creeps in. Reaching for your phone, you click it on and it shuts off just as quickly. You’re met with the red icon of a dead battery. Fuck.

Leaping out of bed, you rush into the hallway. From there, you see Miguel; out of his workout clothes and flitting in and out the kitchen. Except usually, at this time he’s just coming back from his run and banging at the door to hurry you out of the shower. He spots you and furrows his brow in confusion.

“Aren’t you meant to be…?”

You don't let him finish, and call out. “–What’s the time?”

He looks at his watch. “Uhhh… quarter past 8?”

“Fuck!” It erupts out of you, and you bite down the rest; opting to dart back into your room.

Miguel gets closer, pops his head towards your door; in the careful kind of way someone might approach a sleeping bear.

“Are you–”

When you open it in a robe and toiletries bag in hand, he’s there; tentative, and slow, and in your way. A beat passes and your eyes widen, incredulous. Like a fucking lump of coal, he’s slow on the uptake.

“...Move.”

You push past him into the bathroom and he throws his hand up to surrender. You’re the oddest person he’s had the pleasure (?) of sharing an apartment with, he thinks. Mostly harmless, but hard to read.

The shower sputters to life, changing from hot to ice cold in a second. You grit down a scream, powering through it until the suds wash off. Sheer resolve makes you towel off and change in record time.

You’re grabbing your bag and chucking whatever you can find in the fridge onto bread. Whilst making a crude sandwich, you’re distracted – going through the calculations in your head. You’ve got a train to catch in about 20 minutes, and if you keep a brisk pace you can make the walk in 15. When you switch subway lines to get across town, it’ll be tight, but you can make it up by cutting across the barriers and keeping those elbows sharp on the stairs. God forbid you miss the transfer, because you’ll have to wait another 15 minutes for the next one and–

Miguel watches by the doorway, a little amused. So caught up in your own world, you don’t notice. He takes a sip of a mug of hot coffee, and you look up. Your face, cute and all scrunched up as you concentrate; but he can’t help but enjoy the flash of displeasure on your face.

“Don’t want to hear it.” You’re spreading butter aggressively, if there was ever such a thing.

He shrugs. “...I didn’t say anything.”

“I can hear it, Miguel. You’re thinking out loud, and…” Wrapping up your meal in tinfoil, you stuff it into your bag. “...I don’t have the time to tell you to fuck off.”

With a little gasp, he clutches at hypothetical pearls. He gives you a sarcastic grin before you’re off – slamming the front door in your wake.

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #eventual smut #angst #kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼

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miss-disfunctional-nerd · 2 years

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#Match made in heaven by chance #maybe meant to be #Jin Mincheol #Han Jia #Rat

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idiswhadidis · 4 months

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୨ৎ 🇼🇭🇦🇹 🇹🇪🇦🇸🇪🇸, 🇱🇴🇻🇪🇸 🇪🇦🇨🇭 🇴🇹🇭🇪🇷 ୨ৎ

having to sit with your enemy at the engagement dinner of your brother couldn't be that bad right? besides you should give your mother credits.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ prince Jungwon x female.reader princess ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ sim jake and jungwons sister i choose to name her Jia

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ historical: prince, princess, queen, king etc. fluff, jungwon is in readers opinion the enemy, actually pretty romantic?, jungwon is full on a gentleman (get me a man like him), friends/enemies to?, i would say jungwon is a bit possessive ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ 1,8K

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ i didn't know that i would update a fiction this quickly but after the long ass pause i had, this is overdue lol, i actually wanted to include some angst but i couldn't bring myself to (my heart is too soft)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I just know this day will suck the energy out of me, who even decided that I have to come along just to see my brother getting engaged, like happy for him but not really my business” you say irritated sitting in the carriage that drives in the direction of the Yangs, your mother listening to your little tantrum,

“Honey, the only reason you don’t want to go is because of Prince Jung-”, widening your eyes at her, cupping your ears preventing from hearing the name of the boy “don’t say his name, it literally brings bad luck” making your mother laugh,

“Prince Jungwon is literally the sweetest soul I’ve ever met, he presents perfectly his mother the Queen, so please get along with him just for today” pouting at her, making her eyebrows raise a bit so you sigh and nod slumping down, the dress you’re wearing making it a bit difficult tho. “But you know…” your mother starts, “what teases, loves each other.” “Mother!”

As the carriage comes to a halt, and the chauffeur opens the door making you aware that you’re in the Yang’s residence. Breathing in and out switching from your goofy personality to your “Princess of Sim” personality, though life.

Setting foot on the ground straightening the wrinkles on your dress amazed by how the dress compliments your curves.

“Welcome Queen and Princess of Sim” the Queen herself aka Jungwons mother, greets you both smiling widely, your mother and the Queen have been friends for decades plus your father and his father so it’s literally perfect having a son (your brother) and a daughter (Jungwons sister) marrying each other, perfect match as they call it.

“Dear, how long was it? you have grown to a gorgeous lady Y/n”, blushing at her words, even tho you’ve seen her 3 months ago on the masquerade ball, you don’t think your appearance has changed that much since then, but like you will never shut down a compliment so you thank her slightly bowing down and complimenting her as well.

“I have to agree, Mother,” making your eyes roll “indeed absolutely gorgeous,” says the boy next to the Queen, her son Yang Jungwon, the boy who makes your (love) life hard.

Making your mom stab your ribs with her elbow intending for you to say something nice, side-eyeing her, you muster a smile turning to him- “Thanks Jungwon, you look handsome as well” having him laugh at your response making you want to punch him.

“Lets get inside, everything is already prepared.”

As the Queens go their own way catching up to each other's life leaving you alone on the stairs with Jungwon, “Missed me Princess?” making you scoff as if, “I was taught not to lie” walking past him, making him smile a bit, following you to the venue where the engagement dinner will be held.

Stepping foot in to the venue having your mouth wide open, the servants did a great job everything is perfectly decorated in beige and brown, flowers are literally hanging down the ceiling like wow, every dinner table is completely full you didn’t thought that everyone in this fucking country would be invited.

“Let's go” Jungwon says, having his hand hovering on your back guiding you to the main table where your families sit, seeing your brother and his fiance,

and also noticing that the only two seats left are next to each other, sighing in disbelief, you wouldn’t be surprised that your mothers planned this.

Having Jungwon bring out the chair as a sign to help you sit down makes you look at him “what is your agenda today, why so nice?” him laughing out a breath “I’m always nice to you, you just refuse to see it.” having his hand on your waist bringing you to sit down, looking at him stunned as he sits down himself.

Looking around the table, seeing some familiar faces, like your favorite cousin who is already waving excitedly at you, sticking the tip of your tongue playfully out and giving him the peace sign.

Hearing the sound of something clanking against glass has your head turn to the left to see your mothers trying to get the attention from everyone.

“Welcome everyone, I’m happy that everyone could make it, today we will celebrate the engagement of Prince Sim Jake and Princess Yang Jia.” Jungwon’s mother turns to your mother letting her know to continue “Let’s have fun and cherish our both childrens luck.” Having everybody clap in happiness, looking at your brother and Jia feeling happy for them knowing your brother had a crush since childhood for her.

“Now, dinner is about to be served. Eat as much as you want, our chefs would be disappointed if there are any leftovers.” Making your stomach grumble ready to devour food.

“Did you know that Jia always had a crush on your brother?” Jungwon breaks you out of your thoughts, looking at him with wide eyes. Those are actually news to you “Wait really? I knew that Jake had a crush on her but this makes it even more cute that both had a crush.” your lips pouting- “that reminds me of someone” he says, having direct eye contact, looking at him confused “who?”, “you will know” blinking at him, question marks dancing around your head.

After you have eaten your dress has gotten much tighter, once again a reminder that you hate dresses, standing up wanting to go to the restroom to re-tighten it so that you are not on the brink of death. Problem is, it takes two persons to tie a dress so who? Looking at the persons who you would trust are completely busy with eating or conversations. The only one who’s free is the boy next to you, shaking your head not in hell, you can do this by yourself.

“If someone asks, I’m in the restroom real quick” you say quickly to him making him nod, standing up and dashing to the restroom trying to untie the dress at the back. God damn it who thought a dress that tight would be okay for an occasion which includes food. Looking into the mirror to see your back, seeing that the strings of the bow are literally tucked into the nest of other strings, great what now.

Hearing the door crack makes you look at it praying it would be a polite girl who could help you, instead you got a man to be specific, Jungwon.

“The fuck are you doing here? in the girl washroom to be specific”, “Figured you would need help retightening that dress”, “what? how did you know-”,

“I knew by your expression that you were uncomfortable, then I saw how your hand was sitting on your belly probably trying to breathe properly and then you tried to open the strings while dashing away.”

Blinking at him feeling suddenly butterflies in your stomach, “wow sherlock, didn’t know you know me that well'', “don't act so surprised princess'' he says walking to your standing figure, making you gulp a bit harder than you intended.

Him standing behind you looking at you through the mirror “May I?”, making you nod mumbling out a tiny “yes”, propping your hands on the counter of the sink for better support.

It was silent as he reached for the strings untightening the bow and step by step he untightened all strings, making you finally breathe out in a satisfied sigh “you know when I agreed with my mother I truly meant it.”

making your brows furrow what does he mean-

oh-

OH.

Looking up to the mirror seeing him already looking at you makes you flustered, wtf? Where does this come from now? you’re supposed to dislike him. He is the reason why your love life does not exist, having him always ruin your dates just because he doesn’t want to see you happy, the masquerade ball for example your date literally ditched you after he talked to Jungwon.

looking back down hiding the blush on your face, fuck are you supposed to say something back? I mean you weren't lying either he is really handsome especially in the tuxedo he wears complimanting his body perfectly-

feeling the strings of your dress being put back in a bow letting you know he’s done, suddenly feeling both of his hands on each side of your waist turning your around still looking down avoiding his eyes, since when are you shy around him? this didn’t suit you trying to move, his grip tightens. still looking not at him, has him lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger making you look at him unwillingly.

him moving closer to your face “what are you doing?” you whisper as you glance at his lips “something i should have done way earlier” he said barely closing the gap between your lips “is this okay?” he asks so politely, fuck why is he so perfect? you don't answer so you crash your lips against his, making him squeeze your waist trying to push you more onto him cradling your neck into his hand deepening the kiss having you bring your hand as well onto his neck going through his fluffy hair pulling slightly on it making him moan.

he slips away from your lips kissing down your chin to your throat finding your sweet spot making you moan out gripping a bit harder onto his hair “fuck j-jung-” making him nibble on it more leaving a tiny mark, kissing back up to your lips making you sigh in comfort.

“God I wish I could do this everyday” he says between kisses breaking you out of your trance making you break the kiss, you look at him catching your breath your eyes blown out, “what just happened” you say whispering touching your lips noticing that they are a bit swollen. Him holding one of your cheek “I don't know if this was prove enough but I’ve been wanting to tell you that I'm madly in love with you Y/n”

You think for a second, connecting dots looking at him suspiciously “Is that why you tried to ruin every date I’ve ever had?” him smiling sheepishly at you “I’m sorry I had to, I was terrified that someone would steal my girls heart” making your heart melt my god what's happening to you,

"Your girl?”

“I called you my girl since forever nothing will change that-”

“-so will you let me take you out on a date, which I will not sabotage?”

“When you ask me so nicely then I don’t have a choice besides to say yes” making him smile catching your lips again.

As you both head out of the restroom, hands intertwined, both of your lips still a bit swollen, the first person to catch you both is of course.. who else.. your mother. Wiggling her eyebrows playfully, she knew this day would come like she said “what teases, loves each other.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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harmonicakai · 4 months

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Midas Touch

Part 2 of the "Somebody Else" series

Pairing: Soobin x Reader, Yeonjun x Reader

Summary: As you and Soobin work on becoming a more believable fake couple, you both realize your initial impressions of each other aren't as accurate as you thought.

Tropes: love triangle, unrequited love, fake dating, frat boy!yeonjun, nerd!soobin, roommates, college AU, childhood best friends

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: sexual TENSION (mdni!), swearing, yj is an asshole, mentions of masturbation and sex

A/N: Yeonjun is barely in this sorry guys :-(

"The look of you when I open my eyes So bright that I couldn’t dare to approach My heart that wants to be like you Gets colored, filled with you" —New, Yves

Your room is much nicer than Soobin’s, albeit messier. There’s clothes scattered all across the floor, and your twin sized bed is covered in stuffed animals.

“Sorry,” you apologize, piling things onto your desk chair. “I didn’t think anybody would actually be coming over tonight. I mean, not like anybody is here any other night, either.”

“That’s okay,” Soobin reassures you. He’s relieved to hear that you don’t tend to have any late night visitors. You grab one of your favorite throw blankets and chuck it at him.

“Hope you’re okay with the floor,” you say. “If this actually becomes a regular thing, I’ll work out a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.”

“I’m good with whatever,” he says. Really, he thinks that if you let him sleep in your bed with you, he’d probably explode, so this is a good thing.

“Here,” you say, handing him a spare toothbrush. “Let’s get unready.”

Soobin is mesmerized at watching your nighttime routine, but he’s especially interested in the way you remove your makeup and layer on a complex combination of skincare products. You’re even nice enough to share and guide him through each step.

“This one brightens your face,” you explain, “And this one helps with texture.”

Soobin’s never considered any of these issues before. He kind of just rinses his face with water and things work out okay for him.

You watch him to make sure he goes in the right order, and he can’t help but notice how you’re equally as beautiful without makeup. You’ve got a silly plush headband pushing your hair out of your face, and you’ve given him one to match.

It all feels a bit too real standing at the bathroom sink together.

“All done?” you ask, snapping him out of his daydream. He nods, and you lead him back to your bedroom.

When you get back, your roommate, Jia, is sitting in the common room eating a tub of ice cream and watching TV. She’s cool with you bringing Yeonjun around all the time, but isn’t used to seeing new faces pop up.

“Hi,” you greet her, before gesturing to your guest. “This is Soobin. Soobin, this is my roommate, Jia.”

“Hi,” he says, giving an awkward wave. Jia gives a half grin, her mouth full, before waving and shooting you a look that says she’s going to need every detail later.

“We’ll be in my room,” you say, grabbing Soobin’s hand and dragging him along.

While things felt blissfully domestic in the bathroom, they’re as awkward as can be in the bedroom. The two of you really know nothing about each other, except for maybe the classes you take.

Soobin wonders if you’re just tired or you just don’t want to talk to him. For his sake, he decides on the former, watching as you switch the lamp off and turn to face the wall.

“Goodnight, Soobin,” you say, hoping he’s comfortable enough on your floor.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replies. His heartbeat is still racing, and he spends a good portion of the night listening to the way your breathing becomes slow and steady, willing himself to match its pace. That night, all he dreams about is you.

—————-

If things were awkward right before bed, they’re even worse when you and Soobin wake up to a fire alarm.

“Soobin,” you say, crawling out of bed and shaking him. He must be a heavy sleeper. “Soobin, get up.”

His eyes flutter open and he’s got a dopey smile when he sees you. “Huh? What time is it?”

“It’s only six, but there’s a fire alarm. We have to go outside.” You offer a hand to help him up, but he looks at you funny. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t get up,” he gulps, glancing at his crotch. “Morning wood.”

“Nobody will care,” you huff, covering your ears in an attempt to dampen the siren. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t stand loud noises.”

A little embarrassment is nothing compared to making sure you’re comfortable. In an instant, Soobin is up, your blanket wrapped around him like a cape as you file into the crowd of evacuating students.

“Hold my hand,” you whisper, and he doesn’t need anymore convincing before lacing his fingers into yours. To everybody, you look like a real couple. People mostly know you around campus as Yeonjun’s friend, so hopefully they’ll start to talk when they see you with another guy for once.

Soobin notices how you’re shivering in just a t-shirt and sleep shorts and wraps the blanket around you too, pulling you in to share his body heat. He’s so cozy, and his chest feels more solid than you expected.

“Thank you,” you say, peering up at him, your arms finding their way around his waist. His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, but it somehow works for him. He smiles back at you, and you note his dimples and the way his eyes light up.

Choi Soobin is cute. He might not be your type, but any girl would be lucky to have him.

Even though he doesn’t really want to, Soobin heads back to his own room after the fire alarm is over. It was really sweet of him to keep you company while you waited, you think to yourself.

When Soobin gets back, Yeonjun is sitting in the kitchen, nursing his hangover with a huge spread of breakfast.

“Look who’s back,” Yeonjun slurs, wearing sunglasses indoors. “Have fun with Y/N?”

“I did, actually. She showed me her skincare routine.”

“Is that all she showed you?” He’s lifted his sunglasses up now.

“Yes.” Soobin knows if he says more, it’ll be too obvious the relationship is fake.

“So the girl of your dreams took you to her bedroom and you didn’t hook up with her?”

“It’s not like that between us,” Soobin asserts. “I want to take my time. Treat her right.”

“Soob,” Yeonjun starts, a grin plastered on his face. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?”

“I knew it!” Yeonjun leans into the couch, clapping.

“I’m going to shower,” Soobin says, walking towards the bathroom.

“Don’t take too long jacking off to Y/N,” his roommate calls after him.

“You’re gross!”

“Maybe, but I’m right, aren’t I?”

Yeonjun is right. As soon as Soobin steps under the hot water, he can’t get you off of his mind. The way your fingers felt laced through his hair, or the taste of your lip gloss. Your cute moles that your foundation usually covers up and the way you snuggled into him to keep warm.

He’s got it bad, finishing after he’s barely even touched himself. That’s the kind of effect you have on him, and he knows that if he’s going to be around you more and more, he’s going to have to learn to control himself.

When he gets out of the shower, you’re sitting on the couch, looking as beautiful as ever. Soobin stops dead in his tracks, blinking back the water that’s dripping from his hair. In an attempt to cover up his bare chest, he almost drops the towel from around his waist.

“Y/N! Hi–hey!” he stutters, his eyes wide. What were you doing here and why were you so dressed up?

“Hi, Soobie,” you smile at him, standing up and hugging him. “Ooh, bad idea. You’re getting me all wet.”

“That’s probably the only way he can,” Yeonjun chuckles. You turn and shoot him a dirty look.

“Hurry up and put some clothes on,” you tell Soobin. “I don’t want to lose our reservation.”

“Right, yes. Sorry,” he says, walking past you and into his room.

“Please tell me you’re not just messing with that poor boy,” Yeonjun sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think he’d ever recover.”

“No, Yeonjun,” you cross your arms. “Unlike some people, it matters who I bring home with me.”

“So, you actually like him?”

“He’s sweet,” you reason, refusing to elaborate any further.

“Am I not?” You couldn’t tell if you could sense a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

“Why don’t you ask one of the other girls you kissed the other night and get back to me?” Your anger catches both you and him off guard. Usually, you’re Yeonjun’s doormat.

You stare at each other in silence before finally looking away. It feels like hours before Soobin comes back out of his room, wearing his glasses and a white button down. It’s nerdy, but in a cute way. It’s quintessentially him.

“Ready?” you ask, holding out your hand for him.

“Yeah, ready,” he says, lacing his fingers into yours. “Bye, Yeonjun. We’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” he mutters, eyes locked on his phone screen. “Have fun.”

You close the door behind you without a word.

—————-

“This isn’t what I was expecting when you said we had a reservation,” Soobin says, eyeing the study room in the library that you’ve rented out for the next couple of hours. “I could’ve at least brought some homework to do.”

“This isn’t a study date,” you clarify. “Well, technically it is, except we’re studying each other. If we’re going to be a couple, we need to look and act like one.”

“Agreed.” Soobin’s palms are already starting to sweat. He had always thought of you as quiet and sweet around Yeonjun, but you seem so confident when it’s just you and him.

“I brought a game for us to play to get to know each other better,” you say, opening up your tote bag and digging out a deck of cards. “We’ll start with level one. What was the first thing you noticed about me?”

“You’re beautiful,” Soobin blurts out. His wording sticks in your head. Usually, people call you cute or pretty, but beautiful has a whole other meaning to it.

“Thank you,” you say, hoping he can’t see you blush. “I noticed how nice you were.”

“Or you didn’t notice me at all,” he says, staring at the floor.

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.

“We’ve technically met twice. You were drunk the first time, and you didn’t really remember, so the second time we met, you thought it was the first. I had to reintroduce myself.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.” He thought you were beautiful even when you were blackout drunk.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “It gave me a second chance to make a good first impression.”

“And you did,” you assure him. “All of Yeonjun’s friends are dicks, so it was really nice to meet one who isn’t.”

“I don’t think me and Yeonjun are friends,” he mutters.

“You don’t?” It had never occurred to you that Soobin didn’t like Yeonjun.

“Does it seem like we’re friends?”

“Well… no, I guess not,” you say, looking back at the deck in your hands.

“He’s kind of an asshole,” Soobin laughs. He’s right, you think to yourself, but it’s not something you’ve ever been willing to accept.

“He wasn’t always like that,” you quip back. “He used to be really sweet. I don’t know. Something just changed between highschool and college. He wanted to be cool and went on this whole journey to reinvent himself.”

“So, he’s completely different, but you’re still in love with him?”

You have no idea how to answer that question. Soobin knows he shouldn’t have asked it.

“Let’s skip to level two,” you change the subject, digging through the cards. “What's the most attractive thing I do without realizing it?”

Soobin swallows hard. He thinks everything you do is attractive. Even the way you’re looking at him right now, the corners of your mouth slightly upturned, makes his heart beat faster. He weighs his options. “You’re bossy.”

“You like that?” you laugh. There were so many other things he could have picked about you.

“Yes. You know exactly what you want and you aren’t afraid to tell me. It’s–it’s very attractive.”

“Fair enough.” You lean back in your chair, eyeing him up and down. “You have nice hands.”

“Really?” he says, looking at them. “Nobody’s ever told me that.”

“Dude,” you say, taking one into your grasp and comparing it to yours. “They’re huge. It’s hot.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, pulling his hand away and hiding his face.

“Did I say something wrong?” you ask him. He looks up at you, surprised.

“No! I’m just, I’m not used to being complimented. Especially not on my appearance.” It’s never occurred to you that some people don’t get showered with comments on how good they look all the time, especially someone as handsome as Soobin.

“Soobin,” you say, locking eyes with him. “You are very attractive. From one pretty person to another, okay?”

“Okay,” he laughs awkwardly. “It’s hard to argue with that.”

“You know what?” You set the deck of cards down on the table. “Fuck the game. Let’s do something more fun.”

“Like what?”

“Kissing lessons,” you grin.

“What!?” Soobin looks terrified. He checks behind his shoulder to make sure the room’s blinds are shut.

“If we want to make Yeonjun jealous, you’re going to have to look like you can kiss me better than he can. That’ll really get on his nerves.”

“Was I… bad at kissing the other night?”

“No, but you were a little desperate,” you explain.

“Sorry.” He’s looking away again.

“Stop apologizing to me. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Oh. Then why do I need lessons?”

“Listen, I’m all for my fake boyfriend seeming obsessed with me, but if you keep kissing me like it’s the end of the world, it’s not going to seem like we do it on the regular.”

“Makes sense.”

“Exactly. So, let’s practice. We’ll start easy with cheek kisses. Don’t flinch.” You lean over and place a quick kiss on Soobin’s cheek, and he does his best to stay still. “See, was that so hard?”

“I guess not,” he breathes out.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You guess?”

“It wasn’t,” he clarifies. “What’s next?”

You grab both of his hands and pull him to his feet. “Hug me like you missed me.”

He doesn’t need much more instruction, wrapping his arms around your waist until there’s no space between the two of you. “Now what?”

“Kiss the top of my head.” Soobin places a gentle kiss at the crown of your head, your shampoo smelling like citrus. You look up at him with a smile.

“Good job,” you say. “Now my forehead, and then my cheek, and then my nose.”

One of his hands moves to cup your face, following your instructions carefully. Once he’s placed a kiss on the tip of your nose, he doesn’t pull away. “And your mouth?”

You nod, leaning in until your lips connect. He’s more cautious this time, making sure it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to swallow you whole.

“How was that?” he asks, breaking away.

“It was nice,” you say. “Maybe a little too gentle.”

Instead of replying, Soobin pulls you into another kiss, his grip on your waist tightening and his mouth open. “Better?”

“Better,” you affirm before kissing him again. Your hands slip into his hair, tugging on it slightly. Soobin leans further into you until you’re pressed against the blackboard.

His tongue finds its way into your mouth and to your surprise, you whimper. And just like that, Soobin is hard, all of his nervousness melting away to focus on pleasing you. He pulls away, his lips kissing their way down your jaw and onto your neck.

“Does this feel good?” he asks you, sucking on the sensitive skin. The best answer you can give him is a strained moan. You pray he doesn’t leave a mark.

“You—you’re a fast learner,” you stammer. One of his hands brushes the hemline of your shirt, prompting you to snap into reality and push him away. “That was good. You did good.”

Soobin steps back, his body no longer keeping you upright. You both do your best to regain your composure, wiping your lips dry and fixing your hair.

“I have a good teacher,” he says, suddenly feeling awkward again. He prays you don’t notice his hard on, even though it was just pressed up against you. Except it’s all you can think about.

If it were anybody else, you’d probably laugh and tease them about it, but not Soobin. You had no idea how much you’d enjoy this. Sure, kissing him while drunk and heartbroken at the party was fun, but this was different.

“Well, I think we’ve had a successful day,” you say, quickly gathering the cards off the table and shoving them into your bag. “I have to run. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” he smiles, his stupid dimples showing. “I’ll see you later, Y/N!”

And with that, you’ve slammed the study room’s door behind you, willing yourself to think about literally anything or anyone else on the way back to your dorm.

—————-

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