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sttoru · 1 year ago

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[ 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 ]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the king of curses cannot fight off his primal urges and thus you suffer the consequences.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, angst (w/ comfort), p.orn with mostly plot. mäting press. choking. rough like.. condescendingly rough. objectification. toxic relationship? yes. small hint of creampiē. double cawks. reader gets called ‘slut, girl, woman’ wc: 3.9k

“look at that slutty cunt takin’ my cock. think i wanna try fitting both at once in that lil’ hole. keh,” sukuna grunts as he looks down at you from above. your legs are burning from being folded in half—matter of fact—your entire body is aching.

any normal person would call out their safeword in a situation like this. you’re overwhelmed to the point that your brain doesn’t know what to do. you’re experiencing euphoria, yet feel like your doom is right around the corner.

you’re playing with fire whenever you’re intimate with the king of curses.

it’s too addictive to stop. being his favorite concubine has given you enough motivation to push through any difficulties. any discomfort your body feels, is automatically discarded and replaced with drowning pleasure. it’s like sukuna has put a spell on you; one that’s unbreakable.

“fffnghh—my lord,” you gasp for air as one of his big hands wrap tightly around your throat. your airway is blocked, nearly crushed by sukuna’s immense force. you get a flashback to the last time he’s choked you, how sukuna nearly lost control of his own strength.

your eyes are watery as your insides follow each thrust. back and forth, in and out. it is a simple rhythm, but you cannot get enough. the harsh and sticky echoes of skin slapping against skin are nearly ear deafening. his heavy balls bounce against the plush flesh of your ass with every move, ready to unload everything they’ve stored.

“shut up,” sukuna spits, looking down at you like you’re but a mere insect. perhaps you were exactly that to him in the heat of the moment. his red eyes show that he’s losing himself. that cruel yet greedy look only intensifies with the second, “you only speak when y’re spoken to—or did y’ forget your damn place?”

you swallow your words and resort to simple moaning after you apologise, “i’m sorry, m’lord.” your blurry vision creates a trippy illusion, giving sukuna eight arms and eyes. not only are you seeing double, the feeling of ecstasy is twice as strong. you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside.

you can’t speak about it. you’re not allowed to open your mouth unless it’s to moan or breathe. perhaps even the latter is too much to ask. your fingers shake as they wrap around sukuna’s wrist. you try to tug at the hand that is wrapped around your throat, but your strength is gone.

your body is shaking violently with each thrust. you can’t keep up with anything that’s happening. you’re unable to process the feeling of sukuna’s second cock trying to prod its way into your cunt as well. you’re going to break — he’s going to break you.

you want to speak up and tell him you can’t take both in the same hole at once. it’s an impossible task; one can’t even fit that easily. he’s girthy and got an immense length, an inhuman one you’ve never seen before. you swear you can feel him in your tummy. the tip feeling like it's nestled right underneath your belly button.

sukuna scoffs as you tighten up around his lower cock. you’re weak; a weak human who he can’t seem to get out of his mind. he wants to exploit that obedience of yours today—to ruin you mentally and physically.

he can’t ignore those urges to ruin that what causes him weakness. he wishes to regain the power over himself again. that can only be done by consuming you, removing you from existence.

“i can’t fuckin’ stand you,” sukuna growls, his eyes darkening beyond imagination, “y’re always in the way.” you’re scared of the king of curses, which rarely happens. the last time you were afraid of his monstrous aura was during your first encounter in the woods. his manly hand squeezes your throat until you’re genuinely struggling to breathe.

there’s an unmistakable sense of danger boiling in your guts. this is the real nature of the curse named ryomen sukuna. the man above you, who’s drilling his cock into you while you’re suffering, is the real deal.

the true face of the man you thought you knew.

“i’m gonna get rid of you, y’hear? after this, y’re nothing,” sukuna pants, sweat droplets falling onto your cheeks from above. he looks like he’s internally fighting with himself. the expression on his face tells you enough. you want to reach a hand out towards his cheek and hold it.

he looks beautiful, even when he spews such serious threats at you. your cunt is burning and holding tightly onto his cock, even when you realise it may break you.

you’ve stayed for so long with him, even when you know you’ll one day die at his side or by his hands.

locks of his pink hair stick to his forehead. sweat rolls down those black tattoos. all four red eyes are burning with a carnal desire to claim you as his property—to destroy you like his property. as is his right. that’s the only way to satiate that overwhelming feeling inside of sukuna.

whenever you’re around him, he finds himself drawn by your presence. he wants you to stay by his side all day, and if you aren’t, it’s like gravity is pulling him towards you. sukuna despises it—he craves to possess you, yet also get rid of your entire being. that way he can return to his normal self. the monster he's known as.

“i’ll throw ya away—gonna get a new toy to spend more time with,” the king of curses digs his nails into the back of your knees. the tip of his upper cock glides back and forth over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until it’s burning. you’re losing yourself in both pleasure and pain.

the hurtful words don’t seem to affect you. you still look up at him like he’s your everything—like he’s the reason you exist. sukuna turns furious the moment he notices that his threats don’t seem to work. you’re impossible and he hates that which he cannot control.

he cuts off any air that may enter your lungs. your eyes widen and your fingers tug at his wrist so he’d let loose, but alas. you’re going to lose consciousness without a doubt. tears stream down your cheeks, though not because of the hopelessness you’re feeling.

“i do not need you anymore,” sukuna says gruffly, trying to convince himself of that statement as well. he never needed anyone else during his entire lifetime, so why would he need you? he can replace you with any another woman.

your body goes limp. sukuna’s voice is muffled as you enter a state of half consciousness. you’re at the bridge between life and death. your eyes catch a glimpse of the faint struggle in his eyes.

he looks like a monster through and through, visibly acting like one too. though you’re able to catch a glimpse of an underlying vulnerability. that part of him that always shows itself when you two are alone—making you feel special because you’re the only one allowed to witness it.

you crack a faint, weak smile. even if you perish right then and there, it’s going to be at the hands of the man you’ve learnt to love. the sorcerer who’s made you feel on top of the world, without him realising it. you’ll forever be thankful for the moments you’ve spent together.

you’ll never forget the times where sukuna has made you feel safe in those same arms that will now be your death.

a tear slides down your temple. you look sukuna in the eyes while you’re seconds away from meeting your end. you show no signs of struggle as he gives you your final command;

“die.”

you close your eyes. your fingers loosen their grip around sukuna’s wrist before you let your hand fall at your side. you’ve accepted your fate with a weary smile, honored to have sukuna be the last thing you see, “understood, my lord.”

you’ve lost feeling in all limbs and your eyelids droop. all you can do is await for death to come collect your soul. it’s dark and you can’t hear a thing anymore. you’re confused when the burning sensation in your lungs returns.

your eyes fly open the moment some oxygen is able to reach your airway again. the harsh fingers around your neck have disappeared, though not without leaving aching marks. you clutch your chest as it hurts to breathe after not being able to for the longest time.

you gasp and cough uncontrollably. you wince and blink the tears away from your eyes, refocusing your vision on the large stature detaching from your side. you’re bewildered to say the least—not realising the reason behind sukuna’s sudden change of heart. he’s sworn to get rid of you, didn’t he?

he told you to die and yet he let you live.

“fuck,” the king of curses groans after he snapped out of the dangerous state he was in. he’s panting snd staring at the hand that was once wrapped around your throat. he’s not looking at you at all.

you feel him pull out which makes you hiss. you sit up, the adrenaline helping your tired body move itself. sukuna is silent, with no emotions apparent on his face. however one thing you can conclude for sure is that he’s caught off guard by his own actions.

he can’t get it out of his head. the vision of you laying beneath him, accepting your doom as told. even on the brink of death, you oblige. you accept his every word. why? sukuna’s head is filled with unanswered questions.

you’re an enigma that he cannot solve.

“out of the way, girl,” sukuna easily shoves you to the side with one hand. he’s still not looking you in the eyes. he refuses to look in the eyes of the one woman whom he tried to kill. the sole woman who seems to accept him for who he is.

you’re the only one who’s able to understand him and yet he tried to get rid of you. perhaps he’s afraid of being understood and accepted. sukuna is fine on his own—there’s no need for anyone by his side.

you manage to get your breathing under control after a couple seconds. you’re still hyperventilating, but it’s getting better. your body shakes as you cover yourself with the sheets, your hair messily covering your vision. you reach a hand out to sukuna, curious about what’s gotten into him, “i’m, ngh- are you okay, m—”

“i said, get out,” the man raises his voice before harshly grabbing your wrist. sukuna pushes you towards the exit of his chambers. you stumble forward and manage to catch yourself by grabbing onto the nearest wall. everything is happening so fast.

you simply nod and grab your robes from the floor. you hurriedly cover yourself before stepping out of the room. you fall to your knees not two steps away into the hallway. your hand flies up to your neck, touching it as if making sure that you’re still alive.

you can’t believe sukuna spared you. if he changed his mind one second later than he originally had, you’d be a lost cause.

tears well up in your eyes as the gravity of the situation settles in. you may have accepted your fate in the heat of the moment, but now that it’s over, you’re left trembling on your own. you can’t shake off that intense look in sukuna’s eyes as he pounded you into the mattress.

he was hungry for your soul. to consume you and not leave any of your bones—to get rid of you so you’re out of his sight and mind.

you sniffle and can’t bring yourself to stand up. you’ve lost strength in your legs because the adrenaline levels in your body have dropped. you slowly crawl over the floor and hope that no one catches you in a pitiful state like this.

you manage to get a couple metres away, though soon find yourself staring at a pair of socks that come into view. you lift your head and the owner of the tabi eventually appears in sight.

“uraume,” your voice is hoarse. you make eye contact with sukuna’s personal chef as they stand before you, their expression unreadable.

the sigh they let out tells you that they’ve expected such an outcome since long ago. without a word, they reach a hand out and help you up.

. . .

it’s been a week since then. uraume has helped you recover from that unfortunate experience. the other concubines didn’t dare talk to you. they’ve noticed the change in sukuna’s behavior after that night he spent with you.

he’s gone on more rampages than he usually does. he’s been killing innocent servants who walked past him while on duty, and visiting nearby villages only to commit mass destruction. his emotions are uncontrollable at this point and no one has a clue on what to do.

the best option is to stay out of sukuna’s sight. and not to mess with you, just in case.

you’ve personally tried to approach him a couple times, but either chicken out or get totally ignored. you really want to talk it out, though it may seem impossible. you’ve evaded death once, you’re not sure if you can do that twice.

you’re currently sitting on a bench in the courtyard as uraume is applying an ointment to your throat. your neck still hurts with every move you make. the strength of sukuna’s hand is not to be underestimated, you know that.

you flinch as they rub the cold liquid over your achy skin. it helps numbing the pain, which is god sent for when you want to sleep. you can easily rest without having to suffer the unbearable discomfort in your neck muscles.

it’s a bit quiet in the garden. it isn’t unusual for uraume to be silent, but you’re aching to talk about what’s bothering you. of course, the oh-so-important subject includes no one other than the king of curses.

you sigh and start rambling about your failed attempts to reconcile your relationship with sukuna. you’re getting frustrated and sad at the situation. you want nothing more than to go back to how things were—with you receiving special treatment.

you miss his voice, his touches, his hair, his skin, his muscles, his eyes, his hugs. . . it’s all too much to bear with. you want the sukuna you know back. you don’t care if he tried to get rid of you. you’ve long understood that it was his primal, unspoken urges that had taken over his brain.

“i don’t know.. he doesn’t want to talk to me nor see me,” you shrug and pout. uraume nods and tilts your chin back gently to get the ointment in every little cranny. you stare up at the bright blue sky, the gentle breeze being comforting, both mentally and physically.

your ears pick up on footsteps behind you. heavy footsteps which you recognise as sukuna’s. you whip your head to the side, perhaps a bit too fast, causing the pain in your neck muscles to return. you hear uraume sigh as they see their hard work go to waste in under a split second.

your eyes are focused on sukuna’s large stature filling out the layout of the garden. uraume politely bows at their master after taking a few steps away from you. they don’t lift their head as sukuna walks past you both.

he doesn’t spare you a glance. it’s like you’re not there at all. you frown and pout, though know better than to make a fool out of yourself and speak up. you watch the man walk into the main building of the estate, his sharp eyes focused on the path ahead, his hands resting inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

once sukuna disappears from your vision, you sigh and slump back against the bench. you look at uraume as they move close to you again, taking a glance at your neck. you huff and cock your head to the entrance of the building, “see! that’s what i mean!”

you’re clearly fed up. you just want to make up. you don’t care about the fact that he nearly killed you in that moment. you simply desire to feel that connection between the two of you again. a complicated relationship with its many ups and downs. it may be toxic, but you crave it.

uraume hums at your worries. they radiate a sense of peace that inevitably calms you down as well. they take a quick glance at the direction where sukuna was last seen. they’ve been serving him ever since decennia back—way before you became his concubine.

they’ve never seen him this conflicted, but they don’t tell you that. uraume looks back at you with a simple nod, trusting that you’ll be fine. if your life has been spared when sukuna was in such an indescribable irrational state of mind, then there’s nothing to worry about.

you’re the only one who’s ever escaped death by his hands. that is an incredible feat by itself.

uraume rubs the oil over your neck again, getting the last spots as they reassure you with one simple sentence; “i’m sure lord sukuna simply requires some time alone.”

. . .

you take uraume’s comment seriously. if sukuna needed time, you’ll give him as much space as possible. and thus it’s been another week ever since then.

it’s a sunday night and you can’t sleep. you get up from your futon and wrap a simple blanket around your body. you can’t be bothered to brush your hair or look proper. no one will be up during this ungodly hour anyway.

you sneak out of your chambers and walk down the long hallways. you slide the door to the courtyard open and step out onto the pavement after putting on your geta. it’s a chilly night with a full moon, perfect weather to take a breather.

you walk around the familiar scenery and crouch down near a patch of flowers. they’re your favorites. sukuna had personally ordered his servants to plant them in the garden after he found out you like them. the memory brings a fond smile to your face.

such small yet meaningful actions never fail to melt your heart. it’s another reason why you want to make up with sukuna. you want to help with whatever he’s struggling with, however you know that man will never accept the aid.

you wish to support him at the very least. you want to show your devotion to him, if that already wasn’t clear to him.

you sigh and stand up. you’re caught up in your own thoughts to realise that someone’s been watching you the entire time. you walk straight forward until you reach the koi pond. you stare at the fish as they float in the clear water.

you wish you could be as carefree as them. you turn around to walk back to your room after it’s getting a bit too cold. you did not expect to bump your head against a hard surface. “ow,” you rub your forehead and look up.

there he stands; the man you’ve been dying to see and speak to. sukuna stares down at you without uttering a word, his sharp eyes finally looking into yours.

“ry— my lord,” you stammer, switching to a more polite stance. you’re thrilled, but the excitement quickly dies down as you remember uraume’s words; he needs time. you don’t want to disturb him, as much as you want to jump into his arms. you bow your head at him, “have a good night.”

your heart hurts as you force yourself away from sukuna. you step away from him and look at the ground as you walk. simply seeing him from up close again has been enough for now. though, your body yearns for more.

a simple touch will suffice. . .

you’re surprised when you feel a tug at the blanket around your shoulders. you stumble back and nearly fall on your bum if it wasn’t for sukuna holding you up. you feel an arm sneak around your waist from behind, surprisingly gentle. much gentle than ever before.

sukuna lowers his head to whisper in your ear. he lets his wet tongue slide over the shell, nibbling at the skin as if reminding himself of your taste, “stay.”

it’s an order, that you can tell. you’re weak for him and thus you obey without a single sign of protest. you feel a sudden sharp sting on the side of your neck which makes you remember what caused it. sukuna seems to notice the same thing.

it’s been getting better, but you still randomly get tingles near your neck area when you move it around too much. you silently push through the pain, which only lasts about a few seconds.

sukuna doesn’t comment on it, but takes a mental note of the sight. he’s recalling that time when you’ve nearly died at his hands. his eyes darken at the memory. he’s been trying to process the fact that he’s lost control over himself. those dark urges had taken over his mind and body, nearly consuming him whole.

they’re still hidden inside him—the desires to possess you, crush you, consume and devour your heart, body and soul. they intensify when you’re with him. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

sukuna still cannot comprehend why you. what does that feeling in his stomach mean whenever he’s with you? it’s irritating, because it confuses him. confusing things which he doesn’t hold the answer over, annoy the king of curses.

an urge to claim someone as his forever, going as far as to want to consume them, is a new feeling to sukuna. it’s an unhealthy obsession that’s started because of you.

is that what humans call love?

he’s thought about it. perhaps, that is the case. but it must be a different type of love—one that’s so overwhelming that it’s dangerous. for both parties involved.

sukuna sighs. thinking about emotions and feelings isn’t his forte—it never really was. it’s stupid and foolish. and yet sukuna feels like a true king whenever you’re with him. your devotion to him sends shivers down his spine in a good way.

it showed two weeks ago. he saw how you accepted your position; your death. it turns him on to see you so submissive and obedient. maybe that’s also a reason why he nearly lost his mind that day.

lust is a scary thing.

sukuna’s lips avoid your neck. he rests his forehead on top of your shoulder, simply standing still against you from behind. the chilly breeze is long forgotten as his large stature protects you from the cold air. you don’t even need your blanket anymore.

you smile in content as you finally get what you want. you don’t even need an apology. hell—you don’t even need any words. this moment is more than enough to rebuild your relationship with the man behind you.

“y’re not going anywhere, yeah?” sukuna says in a low and possessive tone. it’s another command you follow without hesitation. he’s never going to tell you directly, but the lack of your presence has definitely been felt. now that he has you, his favorite concubine, he’s not going to lose you again. he won’t allow it.

you nod at sukuna’s words with a chuckle. you’re happy to be back in his warm embrace. you know that sukuna isn’t one to talk about his own inner turmoil, so you don’t push it.

those dark urges of his are to be discussed another day, if sukuna allows it. for now, this fleeting moment is more than enough. you reply to his order as you always do, to any command that leaves his lips;

“understood, my lord.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk angst #sukuna angst

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shuaflix · 3 months ago

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the xu minghao dilemma

❝ i was having more fun talking about how objectively and subjectively good i look. ❞

PAIRING ▸ xu minghao x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor, suggestive, coffee shop au, college au, childhood friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, slow burn, weed consumption, tooth-rotting fluff, lowkey jeongcheol and verkwan if you squint, everyone being whipped for minghao, a somewhat heated makeout scene, friend group antics as per usual, minghao being the living embodiment of a green flag, ft. yooyeon from triples

SUMMARY ▸ like most film students, you find yourself experiencing the worst creative block of your life when you're tasked to film a documentary for your final project. enter: your old childhood best friend turned stranger, xu minghao—an (incredibly handsome) ex-dancer and barista who just might be the spark of inspiration you need to make the best film of your academic career. on the flip side, minghao needs this film to win him the scholarship that lets him dance again. despite all, your circumstances don't stop your old, repressed feelings for minghao from resurfacing.

PLAYLIST ▸ insomnia by zerobaseone • kidult by seventeen • meme by &team • heart surf by kep1er • glue song by beabadoobee

WORD COUNT ▸ 20,606 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is for user junyangis my favorite bot

“THE TIGER: ICONIC SYMBOL OF THE WILD, AND AN APEX PREDATOR THAT WE FEAR AND ADMIRE.”

You panned your camera to focus on Yoon Jeonghan, who was currently sifting through the mess of papers and notebooks across his desk. All of the drawers were turned out with their contents scattered across the carpet. His frantic search for his missing vape had been going on for the past twenty minutes, and you were certain this was his fifth time going through his belongings again.

Normal people, such as yourself, would’ve given up within the first five minutes, but your best friend’s resilience was admirable. His unwavering persistence was exactly the sort of character you wanted to showcase in your films. Without the context of the vape addiction, of course.

“And here,” you continued in the best David Attenborough impression you could conjure up, “we see a tiger in the wild.”

“Go to hell, dude,” Jeonghan snapped back. You squinted at him through your viewfinder to catch him carding a frustrated hand through his hair. “My Circadian rhythm needs flavored air to function.”

The tiny red light flickered once, then vanished as you stopped recording. “Try regular air. It’s good for you—and free.”

“Yeah? Then maybe this is my calling to get sober.”

(It was important to note that Jeonghan tended to say this very frequently.)

He finally rose from the corner of his dorm room where he had strewn the contents of his drawer all over the floor. Jeonghan crossed over to where you were sitting—on his bed, leaning against the wall with his Doraemon pillow—and plopped down beside you. His eyes, glazed-over and half-lidded, were fixed on the ceiling, as if he was going over each groove in the drywall.

For the past two hours, you had been agonizing over ideas for your documentary. Jeonghan was typically great when it came to bouncing ideas off each other, so you often pestered him until inspiration struck. Today didn’t seem like a particularly stimulating day for either of you, though. Your best friend paid attention for maybe half an hour, but even he started running out of ideas for potential documentary content.

“By the way,” he added, still stuck in a faraway trance, “do not use whatever you just recorded for your film project. I don’t consent to being exploited for views.”

It had been weeks since you came to terms with the fact that Jeonghan didn’t want to be the subject of your documentary. You had a semester to complete this project for your documentary class, and although you still had a decent amount of time left, you were starting to get worried because most of your classmates already started outlining their ideas. You hadn’t even found your main character yet.

There were quite a few reasons why you wouldn’t have chosen Jeonghan in the first place; it didn’t just chalk down to his disinterest in being filmed. You wanted to capture someone with a story—a progression or growth that tugged at the heartstrings of your audience—and using someone you weren’t already close with would help you film more objectively.

You raised a brow at your friend. “You? I was clearly filming a wild animal in its natural habitat.”

“Recording without two-party consent is tasteless,” he reminded. “And just for that, I’m not telling you the incredible, brilliant idea I just had.”

“You haven’t exactly shared that many incredible, brilliant ideas for me to feel disappointed about that.”

“No, trust me. It’s really good.” He used his elbows to prop himself up, shooting you a wide grin. His resolve to withhold his proposition crumbled within seconds of his excitement. “It’s the best idea I’ve had since that one time I stole Seungcheol’s towel and t-shirt while he was showering.”

You glanced at him through the corner of your eyes. “All you did was make him walk around shirtless.”

“Exactly.” Jeonghan returned your look with far more judgment than you had given him. “That was the best part.”

The memory was hard to forget. During your freshman year, you were living in the dorms where your RA was Choi Seungcheol. It was safe to say that a solid majority of the people on your floor had eyes for the dreamy Resident Advisor. Jeonghan only contributed to the noble cause of fan service by ensuring that Seungcheol would end up having to walk through the hallway with his glorious abs on display, his chiseled body beaded with water droplets.

“So what’s your idea? Ask Seungcheol if I can film a strip tease?”

“No, it’s—wait, that’s so good. If we can get that greenlit, you should totally—”

“Nope, definitely not doing that,” you interjected with a firm shake of your head. You were not going to present a half-naked Seungcheol as your final project. “Give me something more PG-13.”

“Boring, but fine.” After mocking a pout, Jeonghan’s lips immediately curled up in a smirk. “Xu Minghao.”

The very mention of his name made you straighten up. You hadn’t spoken to Minghao in years, and although your friends would tease you about being his childhood friend, you didn’t see your past with him as anything worth mentioning. After all, being close friends during middle school was nothing compared to the plethora of memories you made after the two of you grew distant.

“Huh?”

“Xu Minghao,” he repeated. “Streets are saying he’s quit dancing.”

You frowned. “Minghao quit dancing?”

That couldn’t be right. Minghao? The same Xu Minghao who snuck out of his house to practice for hours in dance studios? The same one who took eight trains, walked fifteen miles, and hitchhiked to get to dance camp on his own? The same one who shed tears when he won his first dance competition?

Dance was Minghao’s life; it came as naturally as breathing to him. You so clearly remembered his overwhelming passion that drove him to practice tirelessly for years. Just watching him move to the beat made you feel like he was born to express himself that way. You couldn’t imagine your childhood friend, who had been dancing his entire life, to just throw away all his hard work and talent on a whim.

“Streets also mentioned he hurt his foot real bad. Poor guy can’t compete at nationals anymore.”

“Streets?”

“I’m protecting anonymity, okay?” After you peered at him for a moment, Jeonghan caved under the pressure of your stare and added, “Fine. It was Seungkwan.”

You scoffed. All credibility of the rumor vanished like a wisp of smoke.

“Seungkwan also claimed Vernon needed to go to the emergency room when he got a paper cut,” you replied, unimpressed.

“No, I think it really is serious this time. You can check it out for yourself, if you want,” Jeonghan said. “He’s working at the café like, every day now.”

“His mom’s café?”

“Mmhm. He stopped for a while ‘cause of school, but he just picked up his shifts again.”

“And you think that’s what I should do for my documentary? Minghao quitting the one thing that could be worth filming?”

“I don’t think he actually wanted to quit,” Jeonghan said, looking down at his intertwined hands in his lap with a puzzled expression, as if the Xu Minghao Dilemma™ had been keeping him up at night. “I don’t know what it is. Seungkwan said he seemed kind of off when he was talking about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, and Jeonghan continued, “You also find it weird, don’t you? It doesn’t make sense that he’d just quit like that.”

“I mean, if something’s really going on with him, then I don’t think it’s right for me to ask if I can turn that into a documentary,” you said.

“I’m not saying that, but…” He trailed off before shrugging. “I just think it wouldn’t hurt to check in on him.”

You arched a brow at him. “Why don’t you check in on him? Aren’t you two friends?”

“We’re bros,” he corrected. Cue a dramatic groan from you, which was promptly ignored as Jeonghan elaborated, “our way of showing that we’re there for each other is by queueing up on League together or talking about the Roman Empire.”

“Jeonghan, you have never once mentioned the Roman Empire.”

“Jokes on you, I did a research project on it in middle school.” He shut his eyes to wave off the tangent he started going off on. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that you’re a girl—a woman. Women get to the point. They get things done.” He gave you a resolute nod, and you were starting to wonder if he was simply trying to use flattery against you. “Hence why I think you can figure out what’s going on with Minghao.”

You sighed. “But Minghao and I haven’t even spoken in so long. I don’t want to overstep.”

“Look, I’ve texted Hao—even met up with him in person—but the guy won’t budge. He just gives me that customer service smile of his and says he’s fine.”

“And what makes you think I’ll be able to do anything?”

“I’m not saying you will, but I think he’ll turn around when he realizes more people are concerned about him.”

On one hand, you didn’t exactly have any sort of relationship with Xu Minghao that gave you a reason to visit him. Did he even remember your name? You could only imagine the confusion drawing his brows together upon seeing you after years of silence. Or perhaps he wouldn’t care at all. The two of you could probably pass by each other as complete strangers, and he wouldn’t experience the same flicker of old memories that made your heart ache.

On the other hand, you truly were curious. And it wouldn’t hurt to visit the old café, either.

Plus, you would never admit it out loud, but part of you had been waiting for an excuse to talk to your old friend again.

You felt utterly stupid as you stood at the entrance of the café.

First, your heart was beating unbelievably fast for something that shouldn’t have been this difficult of a feat. It was a coffee shop, for crying out loud. All you had to do was walk inside and order something without making a fool out of yourself. Couldn’t be that hard, right?

Second, it was hard to pretend like you were only here for coffee when your only intention was to check up on Minghao. Now you were wondering if you should’ve texted him first, but that probably would’ve taken you a few days to work up the courage to send.

And the cherry on top of your miserable cake was that you didn’t even like coffee. Maybe you could get something to eat, but you weren’t big on pastries, either. You just had to force yourself to get whatever seemed the most appetizing and hope that Minghao took notice of you.

That was another thing; you didn’t even know what hours he worked. Your plan was to work in the corner of the café until you saw him coming in. Knowing your luck, he probably didn’t even have a shift scheduled for today. Still, you were determined to wait it out since you had come this far already.

With a shaky breath, you pushed open the door and were immediately greeted by a rush of warmth. You instinctively tugged your cardigan tighter around your frame as you scanned the space. It had been years since you stepped into the café, but everything was about the same; almost all the tables were occupied with teenagers or lone adults who came to get work done, the back wall had a space reserved for people to leave cute notes and drawings, and a familiar barista was eyeing you from the get-go.

There he was, watching you from the counter. Clusters of stars encased in two midnight pools.

Xu Minghao, who you skillfully managed to avoid interacting with for the past six years, was looking at you with the same familiarity that stirred in your chest.

Your first reaction was to flee, but you would’ve looked ridiculous running out of the shop, so you walked to the nearest empty table first. Did people look for tables before they even ordered? You were starting to forget how to normally function as you set your bag down on the smooth oak wood.

“Sample?” a gentle voice called from behind you as you were fumbling with getting your laptop out of your bag. You looked over your shoulder to see Minghao with a tray of bite-sized slices of cheesecake with toothpicks sticking out of the top. A warm smile graced his features, so dazzling to the point where it was blinding. “It’s one of our signature desserts here.”

“Oh,” was all you could say at first, disoriented as you picked up one of the cheesecake bites. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be at the front whenever you’re ready to order.”

He left before you could get another word out, and you shoved the cube of cheesecake in your mouth so that you didn’t look completely frozen (which you were). Minghao probably went around giving samples to every customer, but surely he recognized you, right? It wasn’t like the two of you were completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Minghao had to know you two had mutual friends from the Instagram stories and posts you were featured in.

Moreover, his leg seemed fine. Boo Seungkwan had once again proven to be an untrustworthy source.

You worked up the courage to walk to the register after going over the menu about twenty times, finally deciding on getting a mango fruit tea. As soon as you were in front of Minghao, though, your predetermined order disappeared from your head and the menu looked like a blur of words.

Your mind went completely blank.

“Uh…” You were floundering for something to say—anything. Coffee was the only drink coming to mind, but you weren’t sure the caffeine would be good for your nerves. “I'll have, uh…”

This was so stupid. You waited for minutes on end to decide on your order and ended up looking like a complete fool in front of Minghao.

“Would you like a recommendation?” he offered smoothly, as if this was a routine response for him. You wondered how many other customers lost their train of thought upon seeing his face.

“Yes, please.”

“I know it's chilly outside, but our fruit teas are pretty popular. And, if I remember correctly, you've always been a fan of mango,” he said. You swore he was trying to avert his gaze now, although he had been maintaining proper eye contact up until this moment. “Injeolmi toast is a favorite here, too. I know you like injeolmi, unless your tastes have changed…”

Wow. Maybe you were off the mark all along. Minghao clearly hadn't forgotten you; in fact, he remembered more of you than you could even recall yourself.

“Mango fruit tea—that’s right. That’s what I wanted to order.” You let out an awkward laugh, brushing your hair over your shoulder to distract yourself from how hot your chest felt. “Then I’ll order both. I’ve never had injeolmi toast, but I do still like injeolmi.”

His face broke into a bright smile—the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Oh, good. I was worried I didn't remember correctly,” he admitted sheepishly. After entering your order into the tablet, he turned the screen around for you to pay. You were so focused on tipping that Minghao startled you when he asked, “How’ve you been?”

When you looked up, his gaze was sincere. A torrent of warmth rushed through your body.

“Good. I mean—college, you know?” Everything you wanted to say sounded garbled in your head. You didn’t even know where to begin. “I barely have any free time these days outside of assignments and working on sets.”

“Oh, right. You’re in film, huh? How’s that been for you?”

“It’s been good so far. I’m actually getting ready to film a documentary right now.”

He looked up at you with wide eyes, gleaming with genuine interest. Since Minghao had been no more than a stranger to you these past several years, you hadn’t expected to see such sincerity in his enthusiasm.

Your heart must have skipped a beat or two.

“A documentary? About what?” But then his attention was lost, his eyes unfocusing to glance at the customer waiting impatiently behind you. You immediately felt guilty for taking up so much time, but then Minghao said, “I get off in an hour. Are you still gonna be around?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Great. Save a chair for me.” He flashed one of his shining, award-winning smiles again. “Your order will be out in a few minutes, Y/N.”

The injeolmi toast was cold.

It tasted good enough for you to not mind, but when you saw someone else carrying a tray of the steaming bread, you figured that Minghao simply forgot to heat yours up. You were disheartened that you were doomed to eat cold, chewy injeolmi, but the sweet and nutty flavor was so delectable that you ended up scarfing it down within minutes anyway. The café seemed rather busy around this time, so you didn’t put it past Minghao to rush your order.

The mango fruit tea was incredible, though. By far the best fruit tea you’ve had. It was compelling enough for you to download Yelp to leave a glowing five-star review.

When you opened Café du Soleil’s page, you noticed that your dear friend Seungkwan (credentials: Yelp Elite Squad) had already left a review mentioning the same drink.

★★★★★ Nov 7, 2024 Incredible customer service. I love Xu Minghao. The mango fruit tea changed my life for the better.

You left a review about the mango fruit tea and injeolmi toast (conveniently leaving out the fact that yours wasn’t warmed up). A much more comprehensive review than Seungkwan’s, you would say.

Your nerves were still buzzing from your conversation with Minghao. It had been years since you two had spoken to each other, and now you were waiting for him to get off his shift to catch up with you. If you maintained a friendship with him all these years, then maybe all of this would feel natural. Maybe this would’ve been your designated table to wait for Minghao after his shift, spending time with him after work and walking home together.

An hour passed by faster than you thought it would. The first ten minutes felt agonizing, watching the minutes tick by painfully slow, but once you were consumed in a discussion post for your Narrative Production class, Minghao was making his way over to you before you knew it.

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted, pulling out the chair across from you to sit down in. Your eyes followed the slice of cheesecake he brought over on a plate before he nodded toward the empty plate on your tray. “What’d you think of the toast?”

“Really good,” you gushed. You opted to leave out the part where your bread was cold. “I was almost about to go up to order again.”

“Ah, right.” He pushed the plate in your direction. “This is for you.”

“Oh,” you answered, startled. “How much was it? I can pay—”

“No, don’t worry. It’s on me,” Minghao cut in smoothly, signaling his objection with a wave of his hand. “I forgot to ask you if you liked the sample earlier, but I ended up bringing it over anyway.”

Just as you remembered, he was always thinking about others first. Minghao was so earnest in his words and actions that it was hard for you to grasp that he was real. Even in his adolescence, you remembered he had a different air of maturity from the other boys just because of how kind he was. You wanted to pick him apart and dissect his brain to figure out if he was just biologically wired to be perfect.

He was so different now—not completely different but just enough to set you on edge. Minghao had grown into his features so beautifully and still spoke in that calm and soft voice, but there was this newfound confidence he carried that seemed almost unshakeable.

With the way he was staring at you so intently, you felt pressured to give your opinion on the cheesecake right away. You forked a sliver of the cake into your mouth, hand hovering over your mouth as you chewed. Mostly because you were trying to swallow as fast as possible so that Minghao would stop being so laser-focused on you.

“It’s good,” you mused. “I should come by more often.”

He perked up at your words, and soon Minghao was enthusiastically asking you to give him a recap on everything that was going on in your life. You hardly knew where to begin—or, rather, where to pick up after the two of you stopped being close.

You told him about how your parents disapproved of your film major, how it took months of convincing and begging until they realized that you were serious about your passion for filmmaking. He listened intently as you talked about all the short films you made on your own to persuade your parents, and he even watched one of them on your phone, giving you nods of acknowledgement and an impressed hum.

The conversation bled into different aspects of your life, and Minghao was able to join in while you two talked about how you met your mutual friends. You explained how you met Jeonghan and Wonwoo at a party, somehow hitting it off so well that you two ended up hanging out the morning after. Minghao met Jeonghan when they were placed in the same orientation group, and you thought about how funny it was that the world was small enough for you two to have grown apart and still ended up with mutual friends.

It was getting dark outside by the time Minghao was giving you the rundown of how he met Seungkwan, detailing the encounter in a way that made Seungkwan seem a little insane. Apparently, Minghao had gotten Seungkwan’s number at a dance workshop and the younger boy spammed him with texts one night until Minghao agreed to hang out. Thankfully, Minghao found Seungkwan’s persistence to be charming. A stark contrast from how you went home early during your first time hanging out with Seungkwan because you were so overstimulated.

When Minghao started talking about going to a dance workshop with Jeonghan, you realized this was your opening.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, feigning a casual tone, “Jeonghan mentioned that you were quitting dance?”

A sad smile dawned on his face. “At least until I finish college. I just needed to take some time off to focus on school.”

“That makes sense, I guess. But weren’t you supposed to have a competition at the end of the year?”

“Nationals,” he clarified. “I’ve been pushing back my withdrawal, but I’m gonna have to do it soon.”

You noticed his gloomy expression, and it was making you remember Jeonghan’s words about how Minghao probably didn’t actually want to quit. If he really wanted to drop out of the competition, then you were certain the corners of his mouth wouldn’t be tugging down, nor would the light in his eyes dim.

The Minghao you once knew was honest about his feelings. He unapologetically wore his emotions on his sleeve, and he prepared himself for every possible outcome so that he could keep a strong front. You always admired how he was able to stay so calm and collected as the world weighed on his shoulders.

Now, the Minghao before you looked like a kettle sputtering water from its spout, a whistle away from overflowing completely.

It was a bold question for someone you weren’t close with anymore, but you asked, “You don’t want to withdraw, right?”

With his mouth set in a grim line, Minghao shook his head. “If it was up to me, I’d still be dancing.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“It’s just… complicated,” he said. “Our café’s been doing decently, but it’s not enough for it to stay up and running. We were barely keeping up with rent and now they’ve upped the prices, but…” He moved his leg from under the table so that it was stretched out to the side. “I tore my meniscus around four months ago. It’s a lot better now—still sore sometimes—but we had to pay for physical therapy on top of everything. I’ve had to pick up shifts here because we’re so understaffed now, so there isn’t really enough time for me to focus on dancing.”

“If we had enough money to cushion our rent for the next three months, I think this place would be saved,” he continued, “but if I’m gonna make that happen, I have to dedicate all my time here.”

Oh. You sent Boo Seungkwan a mental apology for ever doubting him about Minghao’s injury. Perhaps he wasn’t as unreliable of a source as you assumed he would be.

You knew that the situation must have been serious for him to quit dancing, but you didn’t expect the café to be at stake. Of course, you had zero knowledge on what it took to be a dancer at a national level, but you just couldn’t wrap your head around Minghao giving up this easily.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s my decision.”

You asked, “Are you okay with that, though? Not dancing?”

“It is what it is.” He shrugged. “Our studio’s tuition on top of competition fees, private lesson fees, and workshop fees… it’s just not feasible for me to be able to keep doing this right now. Of course I could just practice on my own in the studio, but we just don’t have enough people to cover every shift here.”

You nodded along. He really sounded as defeated as his explanation made you feel, and you realized you were going to have to recount this to Jeonghan to get him to give up. This situation was far too nuanced for either of you to push Minghao to keep dancing out of pure passion. Sometimes that just wasn’t enough.

Minghao eventually had to go to close up the shop, and you had to turn down his insistent offers to give you more food until he basically shoved a bunch of pastries into your arms before you left. As you walked back to your apartment, braving the icy bite of the wind, one thing was for certain: you were most definitely not making a documentary out of Xu Minghao’s tragic story.

“I’m running a survey,” you declared, “because this is a democracy and I value all of your opinions.”

You had called for an emergency meeting the day after you met up with Minghao. Your friends were all sitting haphazardly around your room; Seungkwan had his legs up against the wall and his body sprawled across your bed, Jeonghan was right next to Seungkwan, Junhui was sitting on top of your laundry basket despite being scolded about crushing it, Vernon was on top of your desk, and Wonwoo was the only one sensible enough to be sitting in a proper chair.

Jeonghan scoffed. “She just doesn’t want to do the Minghao documentary.”

“There is no Minghao documentary,” you said. “There was never a Minghao documentary.”

“There was”—Jeonghan paused for long enough for the rest of them to think he had finished talking—“to me.”

Junhui leaned forward, nearly toppling over the laundry basket. Vernon was able to hold it down with his foot in time, although Junhui hardly even noticed his friend’s silent efforts to save him.

“What’s the Minghao documentary?” he asked, his eyes bigger than ever. “Like, Xu Minghao?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan answered. “Wouldn't you watch a Xu Minghao documentary?”

“I’d pay to watch a Xu Minghao documentary,” Junhui said, reaching over to high-five Jeonghan, who was extremely pleased that someone else supported his cause. “What can I say? He's a beautiful man.”

“Okay, there is no Xu Minghao documentary,” you repeated. “It's more of a… Xu Minghao dilemma.”

“So you called us here because of Xu Minghao,” Vernon chimed in.

“No,” you replied pointedly, “I called you here because I really value your guys’ opinions and want to hear your suggestions about what I should include in my documentary.”

“Xu Minghao,” Jeonghan supplied.

“Except for Jeonghan. I don’t value his opinion.”

“I think someone should die,” said Junhui with bright, sparkling eyes. “Something super tragic.”

“Or we can all live,” Seungkwan said.

Vernon offered, “Or how about something more sentimental—”

“—where everyone dies,” finished Junhui.

“Okay, that wasn't what I was getting at,” Vernon said with mild concern crossing his features. “You scare me.”

Seungkwan, distressed at this point, spoke up louder to rehash, “Why don’t we all just live?”

You let out a resigned sigh. “Jun, let’s keep in mind that I’m filming a documentary for a college film class, not a Marvel movie.”

This was going nowhere. Clearly, you misjudged when you decided your friends were the people to go to for serious inquiries. At this point, you were considering following up on the email you sent to the local ice skating rink a month ago, outright begging them for the chance to film their team practicing. (Spoiler: They ghosted you.)

“How about the geology department?” Wonwoo suggested, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re researching crustal processes during the Hadean geological period right now. Exciting stuff.”

Because Jeon Wonwoo was an incredibly persuasive man (mostly because of his lethal attractiveness), you were immediately swayed by the idea. “Wait, that’s an incredible idea, Wonwoo.”

“That is the worst idea I’ve heard in my life,” Seungkwan blurted out. “If you make a documentary about the geology department, I will personally come to the screening of your film myself just to throw tomatoes at you.”

As much as you hated to admit it (or, rather, hated to admit it in the presence of Wonwoo), Seungkwan had a fair point. Presenting a documentary about crustal formations was probably categorized as a form of social suicide. You had no true interest in the topic to make it sound interesting, and the only selling point would be geology major Jeon Wonwoo and his face of the century. The lackluster content coupled with your indifference toward rocks was a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe you could make geology sound interesting. You entertained the idea for a few seconds before recollecting the time when Wonwoo got four shots deep and started rattling off about the demand for lithium in China. Your freshman year self was almost charmed before those beguiling minutes stretched into long, torturous hours of Wonwoo breaking down geopolitics until you blacked out.

No, you could not make geology sound interesting.

“Thank you for that visual, Seungkwan,” you said. “Now that I’ve returned to my senses, I’ll accept ideas that aren’t about Xu Minghao or rocks.”

“What’s wrong with the geology department?” Wonwoo spoke up, his hand shooting up in the air to get the room’s attention.

Jeonghan snorted. “Dude, what’s she gonna film? Planet Earth?”

Wonwoo accepted his defeat wordlessly as his arm slowly retreated back to his side.

“Not that I don’t think you can come up with better ideas,” Vernon started carefully, “but why are you so against making a documentary about Minghao?”

“I’m not against it,” you clarified. “It’s simply out of the question. He doesn’t even have time to dance right now because of how busy he is with the café.”

“If that’s the issue, I can literally ask around to see who’s interested in working there,” Jeonghan said.

“Minghao’s going through a lot right now. I personally think it’s insensitive to push him to do something when he’s got so much on his plate.”

The men finally quieted down at your words, and you came to the realization that your girl friends would have probably been more useful for this sort of conversation. Maybe it was because the guys were all on good terms with Xu Minghao that they were pushing for you to ask him to work with you. It was the only conclusion you could come to with how insistent they were on you choosing Minghao.

Then, Jeonghan spoke up, “Didn’t you say you wanted to make an impact with your documentary? What if you could really help him out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just think about it.”

Your forehead creased. He clearly did have something in mind and just wanted to complicate matters for you, but you held your tongue instead of pressing Jeonghan further.

Later that night, while you were laying in your bed with your laptop warm on your stomach, you could only think about Xu Minghao and his sad smile when he talked about quitting dance. He didn’t really want to quit, but there was just too much going on for him to juggle that along with the countless other balls being thrown at him.

But was it right for him to just quietly let go of his dream? A passion that he had chased his whole life?

If you were in his shoes and you had to give up your dream of film, you weren’t sure you could go down without a fight. Even when your parents were against film school, even when everyone around you questioned your abilities, you pushed yourself to take on every opportunity that came your way. Your situation had never been as dire as Minghao’s, but you could imagine how he must have felt for his dream to crumble in the palm of his hands. With the right amount of support, you believed he could mold that dream together again.

In the still hours of twilight, you opened up a Word document and started typing away like your life depended on it.

“You look like shit.” Kim Yooyeon’s eyes were wide when she watched you walk out of your room right when she was about to leave for her 8:00 a.m. lecture. She was in the middle of her bowl of cereal when you crossed her on your way to the couch. “Did you even sleep?”

Your hand flew up to gently prod at the tender skin under your eyes. “Do I really look that tired?”

You all but fell against the couch, sinking into the cushions like it was quicksand. Normally, you could pour yourself a cup of coffee and get through the day, but you had accumulated enough sleep debt over the past few weeks to reach your breaking point.

Your roommate snorted. “Remember when you stayed up for three days straight during finals week last year? You look exactly like how you did back then.”

Thanks to Jeonghan’s cryptic words, you ended up spending the entire night researching and planning ways for you to help Minghao—or, at least, what you thought would help Minghao. Your document spanned almost forty pages, and you weren’t even sure if you would be using any of it. Your intention was to share your proposals with Minghao in hopes that he would find at least one of them to possibly work out.

The problem was: you were seconds away from falling asleep on the spot and your eyes felt sore every time you blinked. There was no way you could make it to Minghao’s coffee shop and deliver your pitch in this state.

“I stayed up all night working on something for Minghao.”

Yooyeon’s spoon clattered against the bowl. “Xu Minghao?”

You gave her the same rundown you gave your friends yesterday—a much more vague one because you didn't want to get into the nitty gritty details of Minghao’s life, especially when Yooyeon probably didn’t even care. Plus, you were too tired to get into the specifics. By the time you were finishing up your story, your mouth was hardly moving in time with your brain and your eyelids were drooping. You weren't even sure if you were speaking coherent sentences.

Yooyeon had her bag slung over her shoulder and was asking you something. You couldn't quite tell what it was because you were hanging by a thread at that point, but you definitely heard Jeonghan’s name at some point—maybe. All you could muster was a noncommittal sound before you drifted into a slumber.

A flash of red behind your eyelids roused you from your dreamless sleep, but you didn’t have time to squint before the nuisance of a light source was instantly blocked. You opened your eyes to see Xu Minghao sitting by your feet, using his hand to block the ray of light that shone through the window and landed directly on your face.

Perhaps you overreacted, but you were sure anyone would scream at the sight.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Minghao stood up, alarmed.

Clearly.

You scrambled to sit up while he awkwardly shifted to the middle of your living room.

“No, Minghao, I was just warming up my vocal cords,” you deadpanned. “I don’t think it’s weird at all that you’re inside my apartment while I’m asleep.”

“Oh.” Minghao went still for a second. You watched the puzzled look on his face morph into one of dread once he seemed to understand how odd the situation looked. “Oh.”

After a few more moments of gawking at you, he started again, “This looks pretty bad.”

“Yeah, just a little.”

“I swear it’s not as creepy as it looks. Jeonghan said you wanted to see me, and then your roommate let me in. She told me to just wake you up, but I felt bad after a while. That’s why I just let you sleep.”

That must have been what Yooyeon was asking you while you were half-conscious, and you probably stupidly agreed despite not catching anything she said. This wasn’t how you wanted to talk to him; you needed time to mentally prepare yourself to meet Minghao—preferably in an outdoor setting where you were appropriately dressed—but now he had caught you completely off-guard.

It looked like he had just gotten back from the gym with his flushed cheeks and the sleeveless top that showed off his toned arms. When he raised his arm, you could even catch a glimpse of the infinity tattoo inked across his shoulder blade.

“I can leave,” he suggested, unsure.

“No, stay,” you said. “It’s just that I was gonna go see you on my own. How long have you been waiting here for, anyway?”

“Maybe ten minutes? I tried calling your name, but you asked me to let you sleep a little longer.”

You flushed, mortified. On top of accidentally inviting Minghao over to wait for you to wake up, you were sleep-talking in front of him too? Any semblance of professionalism you had was crashing and burning before you.

“I think I was sleep-talking with my roommate, too. That’s probably why she thought I needed to see you now,” you explained with a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Sorry about that.”

Minghao laughed and took a seat once he realized you weren’t going to shoo him out of the apartment anymore—or perhaps now he felt less guilty about showing up unexpectedly.

“So we’re even, right? Your stalking is forgiven,” you said, “but not forgotten.”

His eyes went wide with mock surprise, feigning a gasp. “Stalking? I could sue you for defamation of character.”

“Then sue me,” you challenged. “I have an outfit that I’ve been dying to wear in a courtroom.” Minghao raised his eyebrows with mild interest before you reached for your laptop on the coffee table. “Anyway, I wanted to show you something that could probably make you rethink that defamation lawsuit.”

You then turned to face him and clasped your hands together out of sheer desperation. “Please let me make you the star of my documentary.”

Minghao blinked at you for a few seconds before asking, “The documentary for your class? You want me in it?”

You nodded eagerly. “It’ll be all about you—your dancing, the café—everything that shows how hard you’ve worked for your dreams.”

“I don’t know, Y/N…” He looked slightly uneasy at the prospect. “I might not have the time for this. I already have shifts at the café every day.”

“I think I have a solution for that, too.”

“That’s great and all, but either way, I don’t even know how much longer we’re gonna be able to keep the café running.”

“But Minghao, listen, I have it all planned out.” You scooted closer until your knees were bumping against his, and you angled your laptop for him to see the screen. “There’s a scholarship offering twenty thousand dollars, and they’re asking for a video submission on what success means to you. It’s specifically for the arts—something you’re passionate about.”

“You mean…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on the screen.

“I say we kill two birds with one stone; I film the documentary for my final project while you use it to win that cash prize.”

Minghao looked from you, to the screen, and to you again. There was a suspension of fear across his face that was coupled with a sparkle of hope in his eyes. It looked as if stardust had scattered across his irises and lit them up.

“Twenty thousand dollars,” he started before mouthing the words again in disbelief. “That kind of money could save the café.”

“And pay for nationals,” you added. “I stayed up all night planning this out. If you trust me, I think we can actually make this work.”

“You really think so? But do you really think people would be interested in watching something that’s just about my life?”

“No doubt about it. That face sells,” you deadpanned, which caused the tips of his ears to go an endearing shade of red. “I wouldn’t have done all this work if I didn’t think we could pull it off.”

“This is all assuming I even get selected.”

“I’ll make sure you do. It’ll be my best work yet.”

After Minghao spent a considerable amount of time scanning your document over and over again (you were pretty sure the words were probably burned into his brain by now), the corner of his mouth quirked into a mischievous smile. “So, how good are you?”

“Good at what?”

“Filmmaking. I’ve never seen your work.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “I’ll have you know that I’ve had plenty of experience. I’m just using you for my big break.” You didn’t realize you had stiffened up until you let your body relax. “Do you want to see something I’ve filmed?”

“Can I?”

“Of course. I can’t have you agree to something before you know the standard of quality you’re getting,” you said with a prideful puff of your chest that deflated too quickly when you realized that you would have to show Minghao something so vulnerable. Maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal for him, but you shed your heart and soul into your craft; it was precious to you. You opened the video file and looked at him expectantly. “We don’t have to watch it.”

“No, I want to,” he said in a voice so earnest that you wanted to believe him. He focused on the file name at the top of the video player. “A Bite of Summer—what’s it about?”

“It’s pretty short. I’ll just play it for you.”

You hit play and moved the laptop onto Minghao’s lap instead, watching both the screen and his reaction to your videography. He was so zeroed in on the film that he hardly seemed to notice the way you kept glancing at him.

Summer was sweltering. Growing up, you always spent your summers surrounded by friends and family, whether it was going to the beach or going to the park. Living in the moment was simple back then; you weren’t confined to responsibilities and commitments that kept you from enjoying what life had to offer. In fact, some of your best summer memories were shared with Minghao. The two of you laughed without a care in the world as the warmth of the sun enveloped you.

Once you entered high school, however, summer felt so humid that it was suffocating. You were up to your neck in assignments, exam preparation, and part-time jobs. It became difficult to enjoy your youth when you had countless hours of work to do. Coincidentally, it was your first summer spent without Minghao; you weren’t sure if things would’ve been any different if you two were still friends back then, but maybe it would’ve simmered the ache in your chest.

Your short film, A Bite of Summer, was created amidst your summer blues. The film was about a girl named Rhea who meets her younger self at the beach she once used to frequent during the summer. It represented the relationship the older you had with your younger self; you were excited to grow and move forward as the seasons changed, but summer was always a bittersweet reminder that you had no time to grieve over your childhood. You didn't know what you lost until it was gone, but perhaps that made the memories even more precious.

You were still looking at Minghao, but you could hear your main character, Rhea, asking her younger self, “Are you ever scared of growing up?”

Minghao was watching intently, hanging onto every word. You weren’t sure why you felt so nervous about him watching. In your last year of middle school, you and Minghao began to have long conversations about how terrifying it was to grow up. He would open up about how much pressure he felt from balancing dancing and school, and you would tell him how you felt like you couldn’t breathe in the summer heat. Perhaps he had forgotten by now. Perhaps he wouldn’t connect your film back as being so personal to you.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his reaction during the scene where the younger Rhea reaches for the older Rhea’s hand, gripping tightly even as cold waves started to lap at their feet. Minghao watched quietly, dark eyebrows pulling together as he focused.

“I am,” the younger Rhea answered.

“You are?”

“It sounds exciting, but nothing scares me more.” You watched as Minghao’s lips parted, chestnut eyes glistening when she continued, “Maybe it doesn't feel that way because you don’t have to live through those hard times anymore, but I’m glad the good times stuck. That means this feeling will pass”—their hands dropped to their sides—“and yours will, too.”

And that was when a tear fell from Xu Minghao’s feathery lashes.

You’ve never witnessed anyone cry over the work you created. Sure, it tugged at your own heartstrings since it was so personal to you, but to watch someone else have such strong feelings over your film made tears well up in your eyes.

“Are… are you crying?” you stammered out, a tittering laugh following as Minghao used the pads of his thumbs to smear his tears off his cheeks. It was a pretty sight, like watching wet clay come undone before you.

“It was really good,” he mumbled, giving you the most adorable pout you had ever seen on an adult man before turning his head away to keep wiping at his tears. “I’m serious. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen someone react like that to my work.”

If you were just a little braver, you probably would’ve thanked him first before telling him that you were touched. You would’ve told him that no one had ever peeled back your layers without making it uncomfortable—sometimes even painful—but he handled you with so much delicacy. You would’ve told him that this film was about you, at your core, and perhaps he had already picked up on that, but you would’ve been brave enough to express yourself.

But you weren’t brave, so you just smiled at the lone tears that streaked Minghao’s face before he wiped them with his sleeve.

“Seriously, you’re incredible,” he said, still staring at the paused video on your laptop. The corner of his mouth lifted. “That was so short and it still made me cry.”

You couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched across your face. “You’re actually crying.”

“Well, yeah. Are you having fun watching me suffer?”

Was it borderline psychopathic that you were smiling while Minghao cried? Probably. On the other hand, you were simply glad you didn’t burst into tears alongside him. You nearly felt like you could’ve with the way he got so emotional about your work.

“A little,” you admitted. Surprisingly, that got a smile out of him. “I’m just happy you like it.”

“I do,” he said. A pause, then, “Why’s it called ‘A Bite of Summer,’ by the way?”

You scoffed. Actually, you had your reasons, but no one had ever asked you about that film specifically.

“I hate summer, that’s why,” you told him. “I can’t stand the heat.”

“Really?” His brows lifted. “I think summer’s pretty overrated, too.”

You cracked a grin. “No, you don’t. It’s your favorite season.”

“Hey, I can still acknowledge my favorite season’s overrated.”

He grinned and held the palm of his hand out to you. You were confused before Minghao gently grabbed your wrist and put your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and giving you a firm shake. Your hands were too clammy to be gripping Minghao’s calloused palms, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Use me however you want, director,” he continued, and the sparkle in his eyes was something magnificent. “I’ll be your best star yet.”

“No lawsuit?” you asked.

Minghao laughed. “No lawsuit.”

You were sweating like you had just run a marathon. (You practically did; the distance from your apartment to Jeonghan’s location in the library was a mile and a half, and you were sprinting half the time.)

Since you needed some time to plan out your filming, you exchanged contact information with Minghao and told him that you would contact him when you were ready. Your nerves were buzzing with excitement now that you actually had a subject for your documentary. Conversations with your classmates would no longer make you feel like you were desperately hurrying to catch up with everybody else.

Your friends usually claimed the big table on the third floor. It was positioned at an optimal location next to the bathrooms and the elevator, so you were quite proud of your unassigned-assigned table. Junhui and Wonwoo were normally the ones who spent the most time in the library, whereas Seungkwan and Vernon usually only stopped by if they wanted to mess around.

“You bitch,” you spat, pointing an accusatory finger at Jeonghan, who was trying to frantically wave off clouds of smoke when he coughed in surprise. You collapsed into the chair next to him, catching your breath while Junhui and Wonwoo hardly batted an eye. “You should be prosecuted for vaping in the library, by the way.”

“I know, right?” Junhui frowned disapprovingly. “Take it outside, Jeonghan.”

“Addiction kills,” Wonwoo added, doleful.

“I was gonna ghost it!” Jeonghan cried in defense, lowering his voice toward the end once he realized they were, in fact, still inside the library. He turned back to face you. “Anyway, why am I a bitch again?”

“You invited Minghao into my apartment!”

“Okay, a lot of accusations here. What about a hi? A hello? A congrats-on-finding-your-vape-Jeonghan?”

You fixed him with a glare. “It’s one accusation that has already been confirmed, Jeonghan. Start talking.”

“Yooyeon told me that you needed to see Minghao. All I did was pass along the message,” he explained before a smirk grew on his face. “So what did you need to see him for?”

“Oh, right.” You cleared your throat. “I’ve decided on doing the Minghao documentary.”

Jeonghan’s lips parted in surprise, the corners of his lips twitching upward again. “Oh my god, you’re actually doing it! I mean, I had a feeling after Yooyeon called me, but…”

“Good choice,” Junhui said. “He’s an absurdly attractive man.”

“Phenomenal face for the cameras,” Wonwoo agreed, humming along.

“Okay, since when were you guys the Xu Minghao Fan Club?” You looked around the table and shook your head once you saw Junhui’s dreamy expression. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Point is, the Minghao documentary is in motion and I have a shit-ton to plan.” You turned to face Jeonghan. “You said you’d help out at the café, right? You’ll get paid, of course, but Minghao can’t keep taking shifts every day.”

“They’re still having money problems?” Jeonghan asked.

“Unfortunately, but he said that hiring part-timers is better for them financially.”

He hummed, nodding along to your words. “Well, I didn’t say I’d be helping at the café, but I’ll find you someone.”

“They’ll still have to be interviewed, of course. Oh, and they’ll have to be trained, and—”

“Don’t even worry,” Jeonghan assured. “I have the perfect person in mind. Actually, I think I can find you a few more, too.”

“I’m a little scared.”

“When have I ever let you down?” Before you could point out that there had actually been a few instances, Jeonghan seemed to realize the flaw in his question and added, “Rhetorical question. Anyway, just leave it to me.”

To an extent, you did trust him. Not only was Jeonghan involved in several clubs and organizations on campus, but he was also a freshman orientation leader for two years in a row. This was especially useful in the sense that he had connections to students you had never even seen in your life; when you used to have inquiries on subjects you wanted to film, you always asked Jeonghan for any references, and he almost always had a name in mind.

After a pause, your friend gave you a quizzical look. “Did you run all the way over here just to say that?”

“Uh…”

“You know you could’ve just texted me, right? Or called? Modern technology works wonders, Y/N.”

“Oh—right.”

Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so excited over something that you full-on sprinted to tell your friends. It begged the question of whether you would be this ecstatic if you weren’t filming a certain someone. The ice skating rink surely wouldn’t have gotten this reaction out of you.

You were fairly certain you knew the reason behind your lapse in judgement, and it was becoming clear that Xu Minghao was tangled right in the center of everything.

Filming started the following Monday.

You captured Minghao throughout his everyday life at first, which meant you had to follow him around all day to compile footage. Mentally, you weren’t very prepared for this. Following Minghao from campus, to the café, to his dance studio, and wherever else he decided to venture made you feel as if you were intruding. It was as if you were peaking into a world that you weren’t allowed into.

He wasn’t that great when it came to school as a kid, but now Minghao really tried to study hard, even if that meant dozing off in the middle of reading a page of his textbook. Just a few days ago, he invited you over for a movie, and you were really supposed to be editing your footage, but you caved within minutes of him asking. You remembered Minghao had always been a sucker for coming-of-age movies, but you were dumbfounded when he shed tears during Little Women. (What you wouldn’t dare tell him was how endearing you found him).

You toed the line as someone between a friend and a stranger; perhaps to Minghao you would be considered a friend, but you weren’t quite sure why you couldn’t see yourself fitting in that space again. Still, as you filmed him and shot his interviews, you were so intrigued by the new sides of him that kept coming up, as well as the parts you nearly forgot about. It felt strange to hear such sincere accounts of Minghao from the interviews with his instructors and peers, yet to be the one behind the camera that couldn’t hold onto him before.

Today, he was waiting for you at 11:30 a.m. sharp outside of the Arts building. It had been a little over a month since you and Minghao started working together, but you were more worried about the scholarship deadline than your own assignment’s deadline. Filming was going smoothly, but you still needed to get interviews from his friends and family. Editing the dance footage was going to take the entire night since you were in the studio for hours.

You were overwhelmed, to say the least.

Minghao was finished with classes for the day while you had an annoyingly long gap between your morning and evening classes. You were supposed to shoot some B-roll, but that completely slipped both of your minds as you were well into scarfing down the breakfast wraps you two had bought before sitting on a cold bench.

Dark, gray clouds moved like smoke across the sky. It was getting chillier, and you were suddenly reminded of when you’d wait for the school bus with Minghao in middle school. He was always carrying around hand warmers back then, offering you one without fail whenever you started to shiver. Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder without thinking too deeply about how close you were. Now, with the awkward gap between you two, you wished you could go back to those simpler times.

Maybe you were already considered friends. Maybe you were overthinking all of this.

You rarely analyzed your other friendships this thoroughly.

You would rather shrivel up and die than admit that you missed being the closest to Minghao, but whenever he said something particularly sweet or gave you that gentle smile where his eyes crinkled at the corners, you felt your heart soar just a little higher. Maybe—just maybe—if he pressed enough, he would get it out of you.

“I told my mentor I’m gonna keep practicing for nationals,” he said once he was waiting for you to finish the last few bites of your wrap, “and I told my mom about the scholarship. It took some time trying to convince her that it could actually work.”

“She was against it?”

“At first, yeah. I mean, I don’t blame her. We’re doing this on the off-chance I get selected—nothing’s guaranteed.” He gave you a crooked smile. “But, at the end of the day, it could save our café, so she’s touched that you’re trying.”

You took the last bite of your wrap instead of replying. Of course Minghao meant well, but you couldn’t help but feel your stomach pitted with anxiousness at the mention of how everything was riding on this film. It made you feel even worse because Minghao had more to lose than you did. Nationals and an assignment grade; it was almost ridiculous how high-stakes his situation was compared to yours.

“Jeonghan actually managed to find part-timers for the café,” he continued. “They’re coming by in the afternoon.”

“That’s good news, right? You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. We hardly get people who wanna work there.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s not as convenient as an on-campus job, so most people aren’t willing to walk that far for a part-time job when they can easily find something closer.”

You didn’t mind the commute yourself, but you only visited the café occasionally; it would’ve been a different story if you were heading to work there every single day. You hoped whoever Jeonghan found was actually committed to their job.

Then, Minghao asked, “What’re you gonna be filming today?”

“I was thinking we can get some footage of you training the newbies,” you said. “Speaking of, now that you have more employees, does this mean you won’t have to work at the café as much?”

He grinned brightly. “My shifts are cut down to three days a week now. I’ll have plenty of time to focus on dance. We have other employees to train the new guys, too, so it’s not all on me.” Minghao then leaned in a little closer (making you laser-focused on stepping on every crunchy leaf at your feet to ignore how your brain was spinning) to say, “Jeonghan thinks there'll be a lot more girls coming to the café.”

“Because of the new baristas?”

He shrugged. “They’re good-looking guys.”

You thought back to the demographic of cafégoers when you first visited Café du Soleil. The majority were, in fact, teenage girls. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you discovered that Minghao’s face was the selling point, but to have multiple men like him working there? Not only were you worried that the coffee shop would turn into the Ouran Host Club, but you simply couldn’t picture even more people of the same visual caliber as Xu Minghao.

Before you could reply, Minghao noted your pause and asked, “What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Curious about what?”

When you looked at him, his gaze frantically scattered about before he returned to looking down at his wadded-up wrapper. You wouldn’t have found it weird if you caught him looking at you, but the fact that he looked away so quickly made you feel conscious of how warm you were getting under your jacket.

“Just wondering if they’re really all that. I find it hard to believe that whoever Jeonghan called is gonna bring in more of a crowd than you already do.”

Minghao looked baffled before he chuckled. “I don’t bring in a crowd.”

“There were so many girls when I visited yesterday! Didn’t you notice them giggling after you left their table?”

“They were probably just giggling over whatever teenage girls giggle over.”

Minghao was oblivious by nature. He was also a man, therefore he was stupid.

Coupled together, it was a disastrous combination that resulted in wildly attractive Xu Minghao being utterly useless when it came to recognizing that he was blessed with a first-rate genetic sequence.

“Hao,” you started slowly, “teenage girls giggle over guys.”

“Oh.” He frowned, and you held yourself back from rolling your eyes as you witnessed him take actual offense to what was supposed to be a compliment. You figured he had deeply misunderstood what you were getting at.

“Cute guys,” you corrected.

“Oh.”

You straightened up and stared back at him, bewildered. “You don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Your—” Unable to articulate what you were trying to say (partly because it was far too embarrassing to outrightly call Minghao attractive), you made a dramatic gesture to refer to his face. “That!”

To your horror, he turned incredibly smug. “What, my face? What about it?”

“Uh…”

“Are you trying to say I look good, Y/N?”

This just in: Xu Minghao was a sick and twisted man.

In this very exact, very precise moment, you felt the most vulnerable you had ever been in front of the dancer, and he was using the very opportunity to humiliate you even further.

“I’m speaking objectively,” you said.

“You’re objectively saying I look good.”

“Yes.”

“What about subjectively?”

“Can we circle back to the café instead?” you offered, buffering as if you had to muster up the strength to push the words out through your teeth. “I’d much rather talk about the café.”

“Really? I was having more fun talking about how objectively and subjectively good I look.”

A groan fell from your lips. “You objectively and subjectively need to shut up.”

Minghao laughed at your reaction before standing up and reaching into his pockets. “C’mon, let’s get going before it gets late,” he said and pulled out a hand warmer from his coat, holding it out to you. “Here.”

You took it from him. “What’s this for?”

“You’ve been shivering this whole time.”

While Minghao chatted your ear off on the way to Café du Soleil, all you could think about was how he surprisingly paid attention to the little details about you that most people would miss. You were formulating a rough theory in your head: Xu Minghao had to be some sort of otherworldly being because there was no other explanation for how perfect he was.

Yoon Jeonghan was going to the deepest circle of Hell.

As soon as you saw Choi Seungcheol in an apron, you knew your insufferable friend had an agenda of his own when he was scouting out potential baristas. To Jeonghan’s credit, the other two baristas he found seemed like they had been objectively scouted (no offense to Seungcheol, but you were 99% sure Jeonghan just wanted a chance to see the man as frequently as possible).

“That’s Chan.” Jeonghan jerked his chin in the direction of the younger guy who was fumbling with the cash register, and then you followed his gaze over to the barista who was fixing an acrylic pin of Elphaba from Wicked to his apron. “And that one’s Seokmin.”

Apparently, Jeonghan met Lee Seokmin through a hiking club. More specifically, Jeonghan met Seokmin at a hiking club party while they were trying to puke their guts out in the same bush.

Lee Chan, on the other hand, was a family friend’s son that Jeonghan adored. You recalled him bringing Chan to a college party once and never again; the high school senior was later given twenty bucks to keep his mouth shut about Jeonghan hitting his vape.

After his eyes lingered on his eye candy (read: Seungcheol) for a ridiculously long amount of time, Jeonghan finally noticed the reproachful look you were giving him. “What?”

“I know damn well you just wanted to get Seungcheol in an apron.”

“No,” Jeonghan sneered, as if he was disgusted by your accusation. “I was trying to see him with his sleeves rolled up. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever, dude. They both boil down to you being a whore.”

“Hey, I mention a hiring notice to the man I want,” Jeonghan started with an air of confidence, leaning back in his seat to take a sip of his latte, “and you turn yours into the star of your film. We’re basically birds of a feather here.”

You nearly choked over your own drink (the mango fruit tea—again), and you were suddenly grateful that Minghao was currently training the newbies behind the counter despite feeling jealous earlier about them getting most of his attention. It was a relief that you two were alone at a table and out of earshot. Jeonghan needed to stay far, far away from Minghao; he was clearly not to be trusted to run his mouth around the dancer.

You gave him an incredulous look, ignoring the burst of heat that exploded within your chest. “First of all, lower your voice before someone hears you and actually takes you seriously. Second of all, what?”

“What’s wrong with me wanting Seung—”

“I’m talking about the other part!”

“I said what I said—and if you think about it, you’re crazier than I am.”

“Excuse me?” Your whisper might as well have been a shout. You quieted down again before speaking, “I’m not crazy, and I don’t want Hao.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jeonghan replied, unconvinced, “So you’re telling me that you didn’t feel any sort of way after he gave you a piggyback ride home from the club last week?”

It would be impossible to forget, even if you were blasted out of your mind. After much persuasion from Seungkwan and Jeonghan, you were convinced to invite Minghao last-minute to your night out. You were already several drinks in when he finally showed up at the club, so your first instinct was to throw yourself into his arms. Not your finest moment. But he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer by the waist, so you couldn’t help but let yourself get carried away.

Several shots later, you found it impossible to walk with how your balance was completely off. Minghao, being the knight in shining armor he was, opted to carry you home on his back while holding onto your heels.

You settled for saying, “He was just being nice.”

“That wasn’t my question, and I don’t think he was just trying to be nice.”

“Is it so hard for you to believe that he’s just a genuinely good guy?”

“Well, he is, but it’s not like you guys just film your little documentary and move on with your lives after,” Jeonghan said. “He hangs out with you, texts you every day, finds literally any excuse to invite you over, and you guys even bought matching pajamas!”

“They were on sale!”

“Lots of things were on sale, Y/N; it was literally Black Friday.”

“It was Cyber Monday,” you corrected in a grumble.

“You specifically chose the pajamas to wear with him.”

“We’re friends,” you insisted, although it sounded like you were more so trying to convince yourself than Jeonghan. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the undercurrent of your emotions tugging at your ankles, but that was not a revelation you were meant to have at Café du Soleil with Minghao in your vicinity. “We’re just doing what friends do.”

Jeonghan slurped his drink in a ridiculously loud manner. You shot him a disapproving look.

“You know what I think?”

You were certain that you didn’t want to hear what Jeonghan thought, but nevertheless, you entertained his attempts to provoke you. “What now?” you snapped.

“I think you’re still hurt by how you two drifted apart—you and Hao,” he said, “and you’re probably thinking it’s gonna happen again. That’s why you’re too scared to admit he’s being a little more than nice to you.”

Bullseye. Jeonghan had watertight intuition when it came to the people he was close with, and you were no exception. His words were so on the mark that you felt vulnerable and exposed, like your skin was suddenly clinging too tight around your bones.

The thing was, you still couldn’t exactly remember how you and Minghao grew distant. You recalled the throng of memories of when you two were friends, but everything leading up to your falling out was hazy. Could you even call it a falling-out if there weren’t necessarily any hard feelings? He certainly hadn’t done anything that made you want to block him out of your memory (it was Xu Minghao, for God’s sake), but you couldn’t imagine why you would be so hurt over growing apart from an old friend.

“You really chose the worst possible time and place for this conversation,” was all you could mutter in response.

“We have air conditioning and cheesecake. What could possibly be better than this?”

Whether Jeonghan was selective about what he chose to be perceptive about or simply didn’t understand the gravity of this situation, you couldn’t tell; you just gave him a dumbfounded stare. “Anywhere else! Anywhere else would’ve been better!”

“You’re so picky.”

“And you can’t read the room.”

“You know what I can read,” he started with a cheeky grin while his eyes focused on something—or someone—else behind you, “Xu Minghao’s name tag.”

“Oh, do you like it? I drew Seungkwan’s dog and Vernon’s cat next to my name,” came a breezy voice from behind you, making your heart plummet to your stomach.

How long had he even been standing there? You thought you could just ignore Minghao, but you found yourself turning around to see his two pets he doodled on his nametag. Unfortunately, they were cute, but you were still too mortified to give him a proper reaction.

“How—how long have you been there for?” you stammered. “Did you hear what we were talking about?”

Minghao raised a brow. “Not long. Why? Is it something I’m not supposed to hear?”

You balked before answering, “No,” but the inflection in your tone made you sound as if you were questioning yourself.

(Jeonghan made direct eye contact with you and mouthed the word pussy. You made a mental note to deal with him later in a potentially homicidal manner.)

“By the way, Jeonghan, the guys you brought in are doing great,” Minghao went on to praise. “I don’t think we even need to train them for that long. Seokmin’s a natural at this.”

Jeonghan let out a wistful sigh. “I knew I recognized his potential.”

“Didn’t you guys meet at a party? How’d he manage to show barista potential?” you asked.

“I was thirsty and he brought me water.”

Nice. That was one way to prove himself, you supposed.

Then, Minghao turned his attention to you. “Were you gonna get some more shots today? Chan says he won’t make a run for it if he sees the camera this time.”

Earlier, you were trying to film Minghao showing Chan the proper technique of steaming milk, which Chan hardly was able to pay attention to because he was too busy gawking at the camera. As soon as Minghao was done talking, the high schooler hurried into the break room.

“I think I got everything I needed,” you answered, tilting your head up to see him smiling fondly down at you. The look in his eyes made you feel like something syrupy was trickling down your throat, as if you were drowning in his endearment. “Why’d you call Jeonghan over here, anyway? He’s pissing me off.”

As expected, your words got a rise out of Jeonghan. “All I did was sit here!”

“And you opened your mouth. That’s basically a misdemeanor.”

“Jeonghan, quit bothering her,” Minghao scolded. (“What? What the hell? What did I do?” Jeonghan went on to complain. “This is going in my Yelp review, by the way—one star for betrayal and terrible customer service.”) He looked back at you with a softened gaze as Jeonghan’s maundering turned into background noise. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

You were about to head out, but your legs suddenly didn’t feel like moving once Minghao looked at you with those warm eyes of his that made your insides feel like they had been doused in kerosene and lit aflame.

Jeonghan, who was hell-bent on his mission to push you and Minghao closer as much as you resisted, appeared to take your hesitation as an opportunity.

“We’re going back to my apartment to smoke,” your friend declared. Although that had never been the plan, you kept your mouth shut to see where Jeonghan was going with this. “You coming, Hao?”

Minghao snuck a glance at you. “Tonight? I don’t know. I might be free.”

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan gushed before Minghao’s words could even properly register in your ears, leaning over the table to put his hand on top of yours. “I should invite Soonyoung. Remember? The guy from our orientation group that you thought was cute?”

Of course you remembered Kwon Soonyoung. How could anyone forget a face like that? But you wanted to reach over the table and strangle Jeonghan for bringing him up in the worst possible context and potentially screwing up your non-existent love life for good. As you fought down your murderous tendencies and glanced nervously between the boys, however, you noticed a muscle in Minghao’s jaw twitch.

You started, “Soonyoung? I mean, sure, but—”

“Actually, I’ll be there,” Minghao cut in, his face void of emotion. “What time?”

Jeonghan simpered, quite pleased with himself. “Eight?”

“Sounds good.”

Without another word, the barista walked off, leaving you in stunned silence. Did you just witness Xu Minghao get jealous? There was no way for you to spin this as anything else; it was pure, unadulterated envy that bled out of him.

As your face grew increasingly hot, you spoke in a frantic, hushed voice, “He cut me off. He cut me off! Have you ever seen Hao that mad? I’ve never seen him that mad.”

But Jeonghan didn’t seem the least bit worried at all. In fact, he looked far too smug. “He’s really mad, isn’t he?”

“What’d you say all that for? I don’t think I can handle Hao and Soonyoung in the same room after this. I haven’t even brought up Soonyoung since last year, you douchebag!”

“Relax,” Jeonghan replied coolly. “I’m not inviting Soonyoung. I just said that to fuck with Hao.” A Cheshire-like grin spread across his face, and he pulled out his phone to start tapping away in front of you. “I’ve never seen him that jealous before. Maybe you should wear something nice and lace—”

“Shut up,” you interrupted with a scowl. “There were never any plans to begin with, were there?”

“Yes, there were—now,” he said, causing you to groan at the end. “I just told the group chat about it. You can thank me later.”

“I am not thanking you for the amount of torment you just put me through,” you said, hesitated, then stiffly added, “but thank you.”

“See? I’m always looking out for you.” He gave you a sincere look. “Now do me a solid and please get Seungcheol to show up.”

“I knew there was a catch.”

yoon jeonghan: smoke sesh at my place @ 9 yoon jeonghan: be there or our friendship’s over

boo seungkwan: i have no weed boo seungkwan: lost my vape too

you: real hustlers would never make excuses

wen junhui: she’s right

vernon chwe: i have your vape seungkwan

boo seungkwan: wtf give it back boo seungkwan: wait my vape with vernon’s saliva 🤤

vernon chwe questioned “wait my vape with vernon’s saliva 🤤”

you: alright chill

boo seungkwan: if i close my eyes i can almost taste him

vernon chwe: um. vernon chwe: i'd like to give it back because it’s yours but idk if i should anymore

jeon wonwoo: Why are we having a smoke sesh on a random ass day jeon wonwoo: I have a midterm tomorrow

boo seungkwan: leave tomorrow’s problems for a Tomorrow You

jeon wonwoo: True jeon wonwoo: Ok see u guys there

yoon jeonghan: i’ll provide the smoke sesh essentials

wen junhui: i have 11 edibles wen junhui: each person gets 1 and fight to the death over the rest

boo seungkwan: pog

you: thanks for that

jeon wonwoo: Amazing

vernon chwe: incredible

You were blasted out of your mind.

True to his word, Jeonghan didn’t invite Soonyoung to his gathering; and true to your word, you roped Minghao into bringing Seungcheol along.

You were initially worried that things would be awkward between you and Minghao, but he seemed to be in a significantly better mood by the time you got to talk to him. He didn’t even know that this whole night had been Jeonghan’s maniacal plot to set you guys up, so Minghao was completely oblivious when Seungkwan ushered him to sit next to you on the couch.

The night started off with Junhui passing out his edibles and auctioning off his last three to whoever did the best animal impression (one went to Minghao, one went to Jeonghan, and one went to Vernon). You were content with your one edible because you never had that strong of a weed tolerance, and halfway into watching Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle, you felt your eyes starting to grow heavy.

There were two types of people when high, though: one was you, who could probably be considered motionless and inanimate; and the other was someone like Seungkwan, whose not-so-wise ideas seemed to increase tenfold.

And, of course, since Harold and Kumar wanted to go to White Castle, Seungkwan and Vernon wanted to go on an adventure, too.

After much planning (which you weren’t part of because your body felt as if it was sinking into the couch cushions), your friends mobilized their efforts to come up with a scheme to bring back food from three different restaurants at once. They split themselves up into teams; Jeonghan and Seungcheol were going to Taco Bell, Seungkwan and Vernon were going to Panera Bread, and Junhui and Wonwoo were going to Chipotle.

If you were sober, you probably would have reminded them that UberEats still existed—or that they should probably look up the closing hours.

Naturally, you and Minghao were left in Jeonghan’s apartment. You didn’t mind because they promised to bring back food, but Jeonghan had definitely orchestrated getting you alone with Minghao. This meant you were probably expected to make a move or do whatever else was deemed entertaining in their eyes.

“Why didn't you go with them?” you asked Minghao. Everything seemed much more amusing to you all of a sudden, like the tuft of his hair that just wouldn't stay down.

“I’d rather stay here.” He shrugged and nudged your arm with his elbow. “Why? Do you want me to go?” he teased.

You reached over and patted down the strands of hair that kept sticking up. “No, stay. I need a witness if Jun’s edibles kill me.”

He laughed. “You’re not gonna die.”

“I am.” You placed a hand against your chest, right where your heartbeat thundered at lightning speed. “Please don’t be mad at me if I flatline.”

“No, you’re fine,” he said, taking your hand and placing it over his heart. His heartbeat was fast but probably not as fast as yours. “See? They’re the same.”

You thought Xu Minghao should’ve done the right thing for your heart and not look so devastatingly good all the time, but he always managed to catch you off-guard with that sickeningly sweet smile of his. He also should’ve been making an effort to not touch you so casually when your heart was already running at a million miles per hour. It wasn’t very fair that you were cursed to control your emotions every time you saw him from a decidedly good angle (which was almost every angle). You needed to bury whatever you were feeling before he entered a dangerous territory of your heart.

On second thought, you weren’t sure you could keep him out.

“No, they’re not,” you said. “I think it’s because of the weed and the fact that you’re very close.”

You swore you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips, but Minghao expertly concealed it by raising a brow at you instead. “Oh? You’re blaming it on me now?”

“Blame is a strong word.”

Even he couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin from appearing on his face as he leaned in closer. “Then why am I such a problem for your heart, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “You just are.”

“Does it have anything to do with me being objectively good-looking?”

You groaned. “You won’t let that one go, will you?”

“Unfortunately for you, I think I like where this is going.”

Something very dangerous was brewing in your chest.

You weren't sure if it was the weed that was making you bolder, but the haze was surely letting down your inhibitions. Instead of feeling like you were sinking deeper into the couch, you felt like you were gravitating closer to Minghao.

“Will you ever give me an answer?” he asked, and your breath caught in your throat when he delicately held your chin with two fingers, turning your head to look at him.

“No, I don’t think so.”

He pouted, and then you mocked his pout in return.

And just when you thought he was done messing with you, Xu Minghao dipped his head to seal his lips over yours, kissing your pout away.

Alarmed, you pulled back immediately, your eyes wide and unblinking as you stared at him in shock. He didn’t seem all that fazed himself, but he pressed his lips together tightly and withdrew his hand slowly. It was a short-lived kiss, but you were so close to getting hooked and losing all semblance of self-control.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

“W-why are you sorry?” you stuttered, pitchy.

“I should’ve asked first.”

“Yes.”

“What?”

You shook your head to clear the mess of tangled thoughts. This was the worst possible conversation to be having while you were both high out of your minds, but you were also feeling a lot more courageous now that you knew that Minghao actually wanted to kiss you.

You wanted to kiss him, too. Now that you had a taste, you couldn’t resist thinking about how his lips would feel against yours again, how he would touch you again with such tenderness.

“Sorry, I thought you were asking,” you said.

“Asking what?”

“To kiss me.”

“Oh.” Minghao went silent for an entire minute. (You counted the seconds.) You watched as he stared blankly into space before the weight of your words seemed to finally register. “Oh.”

Your face felt hot. “Don’t just oh me.”

Minghao chuckled in response. He shifted so that he was turned toward you, one of his hands finding purchase on the back of your neck and the other on your knee. You nearly forgot how to breathe as you were so focused on how his touch burned your skin.

“No, I was just thinking about how cute you are,” he clarified.

“Huh?” You were pretty sure your voice was an octave higher, judging by how Minghao now looked even more amused by you. “Cute?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” His hand started to inch up from your knee, torturously moving up and down. You swallowed thickly. “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You choked out a laugh. “Are you kidding?”

“I’m dead serious,” he insisted, and you could tell he was by the way his eyes darkened and his hand slid higher up your thigh. “You know I’m not a liar, Y/N.”

When you didn’t respond, he lowered his voice and continued, “You know, a big part of dancing is about the finer details.” Minghao’s hand dragged across your skin so slowly that you couldn’t hold in your trembling breath full of want. “I always make sure to pay extra attention, so I think you can trust me when I tell you you’re pretty.”

For a moment, you were floundering for words. You were already feeling dizzy by his mere touch, and then he went on to say something that made you feel even more feverish. Xu Minghao truly was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Here,” he said, “let me just show you.”

He moved the hand on your thigh to grip your chin again, pressing a few tentative, experimental kisses to your lips before finally capturing them in a longer, desperate manner. Your heartbeat was hardly a rhythm anymore, just a steady line of white noise that rushed loudly in your ears. Kissing Minghao was addicting, and as you moved your arms to wrap around his neck, you found yourself losing the last shred of control that was keeping you from him.

By the time Minghao made the daring decision to slide his hand up your shirt, you two had been kissing each other senselessly. Your legs were haphazardly strewn across his lap while he bent you down to kiss you at a better angle.

Part of you was worried that this was moving too fast; the other half was begging you to speed up.

You couldn’t make sense of anything when his tongue slid against yours so languidly, sending delightful shivers up your spine. One of your hands moved up to entangle your fingers in his roots, tugging just enough to have him groaning into the kiss.

Just when you were certain things were going to escalate further—and god, did you want them to escalate—a loud knock at the door had you and Minghao pulling apart like two magnets with opposite poles.

“I don’t have a key!” Junhui’s muffled yell was heard through the door.

You and Minghao exchanged a look before he stood up to get the door. You ran a hand through your hair to look presentable again, even though your half-lidded eyes were a dead giveaway that you were floating elsewhere, high up in the clouds.

With his taste still on your lips, the tangle of an unspoken truth wound itself tighter around your throat.

You used The Kiss™ as an excuse for some space. The excuse you gave Minghao, however, was that you “needed a week for editing.”

This was a (white) lie for two reasons:

Minghao wasn't going to interfere with your editing process to the extent of needing to completely push him away.

You definitely did not need a full week for editing.

The cherry on top of your excellent decision-making was that it only took you a little over a day to start missing Minghao again.

The worst part of it all was that being the sweetest man to grace this planet, Minghao understood you right away and stopped texting you immediately. And, of course, you started to overthink his silence, as if you weren’t the one who needed time.

After you and Minghao had been rudely interrupted by Junhui and Wonwoo, the two of you carried on like nothing happened. Apparently, Jeonghan had been very strategic about where he made everyone go to pick up food: Chipotle was close by, and he claimed it was important that you and Minghao didn’t spend too much time alone in case things got awkward; and the other two were mostly for Jeonghan’s convenience (Panera Bread because he wanted a charged lemonade, and Taco Bell because it was the farthest away and gave him more time to be alone with Seungcheol). There were good intentions, yes, but you were bitter because the only part of Jeonghan’s plan that was supposed to benefit you was the part that ended up cockblocking you.

The guys made it impossible for you to get some alone time with Minghao for the rest of the night. You couldn’t even see him the next day because you ended up sleeping in so late that Minghao was gone by the time you woke up.

Going back to your apartment the next morning felt like The Walk of Shame.

Now, you were sprawled across the couch in your living room, laptop warm on your stomach as you sifted through your camera footage. Yooyeon was sitting on the carpet and doing her nails at the coffee table. Earlier in the morning, when you gave her the rundown of the events from last night, The Kiss™ had her jumping on the couch for so long that you ended up banishing her to the floor.

“After everything you just told me,” Yooyeon said, “I think you should just tell him how you feel. Don’t mince your balls. Just get right to the point.”

“Mince my balls? I don’t think that’s an expression.” You paused for what felt like forever until the appropriate idiom dawned on you. “It’s mince your words, dumbass, not mince your balls.”

“Mince your words, mince your balls—same thing.”

“It’s really not.”

“Okay, but you two have had this weird back-and-forth for, like, a month now,” she said. “It’s not like he’s gonna say no to a date.”

“But what if he does say no?”

Yooyeon rolled her eyes. “You guys literally kissed. Pretty sure that’s a free pass to ask him out.”

You thought back to Jeonghan’s words, how he suggested that you were still hurt by you and Minghao drifting apart in middle school and that you subconsciously thought it could happen again. It was uncharacteristic for you to hold a grudge this long, though, but you really couldn’t remember what was the turning point that made you feel like you had to walk on eggshells around him.

After putting your headphones over your ears, you clicked on the next video file to decide whether you were saving it for the film or not. The thumbnail that popped up was Minghao’s arm around your shoulders while you were trying to record the both of you sharing takoyaki outside. It was one of the videos that you took for fun in the middle of your shoot, but the sight made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ll feed you,” Minghao in the video said, a wide grin on his face as he stabbed a toothpick into a takoyaki ball and inched it closer to your lips. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Your face twisted as soon as the searing hot takoyaki hit your tongue. You remembered how you were about to drop your camera and spit the takoyaki out, but in order to not embarrass yourself in front of Minghao and everyone else around you, it was crucial that you kept your composure.

“I said it was hot!” Minghao exclaimed when you shot him an icy glare.

As you attempted to eat the takoyaki without burning your tongue, some of the batter dribbled down your chin. You let out a muffled yelp when it scalded your skin, pointing frantically at the mess you were making. It looked like your lips were trying to frame the word tissue, but you immediately covered your mouthful of takoyaki with your hand.

Minghao laughed at you, a dimple carving into the corner of his lip. “Stay still. Let me get it for you.”

The video cut right while Minghao was wiping your chin with a spare napkin. You remembered how gentle his hold was on your face, as if you were fine china. The fond smile fixed on his face wasn’t doing your heart any favors. You glanced over at Yooyeon to make sure she was too preoccupied with her nails to catch the growing smile that kept creeping onto your lips.

When you opened the next video file, the thumbnail wasn’t a frame you recognized. Minghao was in his dance studio, facing the camera at the full-length mirror to capture his entire body. You remembered the exact day he must have filmed this because he let you attempt to braid his hair on the bus ride home.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m recording this without your permission,” he started, a mischievous grin playing on his face. “Since you’re out getting snacks, I’ve decided to vlog the choreo I just came up with.”

This time, you realized too late that your face had broken into a smile so affectionate that Cupid may as well have sent an arrow right through your chest. You were seven minutes into watching Minghao trying to master his self-made choreography when it finally hit you that you had spent the entire month with Minghao—laughing, hanging out, watching movies, going on long drives, studying at his café, and getting to know him all over again. All of that was under the pretext of filming your documentary, but now that you were realizing there was no excuse for you to be around him anymore, a strange feeling of apprehension consumed you.

You could say that you and Minghao were friends now, but your life had become so intertwined with his that you weren’t sure how you would feel when things went back to normal.

Your attention snapped back to your laptop screen when Minghao stopped dancing to speak to the camera again.

“I know you’re probably procrastinating on editing this, so you owe me five dollars if you haven’t watched this by the 19th,” he said. You checked the clock to confirm that it was, indeed, past said date and well into the week after. Just as you were about to make a note to send Minghao the money, he lowered his voice and continued, “But, since you watched till the end, I’ll tell you a secret. You can’t tell anyone, though, especially not Jeonghan!”

You noticed his face was flushed a faint shade of pink when he confessed, “Now I’m only telling you this because it’s been bothering me for weeks. You never brought it up, but… I intentionally didn’t warm up your injeolmi toast that day because I wanted you to bring it back so that we could, um… talk, I guess. I still can’t believe you ate the whole thing without realizing.”

Your heart stuttered—tripped, fell over, got up again, repeated the process—and, oh, you were a discombobulated mess on the inside.

Minghao chuckled to himself and started going off on a tangent about the injeolmi toast, but you were unable to move on from what he had said. (“You know it’s supposed to be warmed up, right? I figured you just didn’t know because you’ve never had it… maybe I should’ve given you the wrong drink instead.”)

The answer was jammed in your throat like a pill you couldn’t swallow: you liked Xu Minghao.

And, strangely enough, the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar.

You remembered exactly what it was like to long for the sun. You’d fallen in love with all of Minghao long before. A rush of repressed feelings from your middle school years bubbled to the surface, and perhaps they didn’t make any sense to you in the past, but it was all too clear now. What you felt for Minghao wasn’t anything new; your first love blossomed long ago, and you plucked out all the petals of your feelings before they could grow any further.

You just didn’t nip enough of them in the bud.

If you remembered correctly, you and Minghao started growing apart the day he got his first girlfriend. It wasn’t that you two had a proper argument or fell out, but you safeguarded yourself from the heartbreak by distancing yourself until you were out of each other’s lives. He must have been too caught up in his new relationship to realize it himself, but of course you couldn’t blame him when you were the one who pulled away first.

But things were different now. You were different now.

In the past, you made sure to swallow your feelings down, no matter how painful and thick they were lodged in your throat. Now, however, despite how hard you tried to suppress them, you felt as if you were glowing in the light of reciprocated love. It was maddening—agonizing even—but so wonderful.

“I think I like him, Yooyeon,” you blurted out, only looking in your roommate’s direction when you heard her knocking over her collection of press-on nails. The mess was hardly a concern to her right now, though. “Minghao, I mean.”

“Can I tell Jeonghan?”

You reached around your laptop to grab a throw pillow and whack her over the head with it. “I’m having the most insane revelation of my life and pouring my heart out to you here, and your first instinct is to tell Jeonghan?”

“Okay, damn, I’ll give it a few hours.” Yooyeon set her phone back down and turned around to face you again, her eyes lit up with excitement. “Now tell me everything. Like, everything. I need you to explain from start to finish.”

“That might take a while,” you warned.

She snorted and picked up her nail file. “I think I can make time in my very busy schedule.”

Your interrogation with Yooyeon didn’t take a few hours, as you expected it would; rather, your discussion cut into the late hours of the night, keeping you and your roommate up until dawn. Jeonghan joined over FaceTime at some point and screeched loud enough for you to worry about noise complaints (Wonwoo made a guest appearance, too), but you also learned that your friend group had seen this coming from the beginning. You weren’t sure how you felt being the only one out of the loop, but Jeonghan made sure to point out that you were just completely oblivious.

You didn’t exactly discuss your next steps, though. Yooyeon mentioned asking Minghao out on a date, but you weren’t sure how to do that without acknowledging The Kiss™ first. You had to bring it up somehow, but you kept putting it off to work on editing.

Thinking about Xu Minghao proved to be dangerous for your motivation. It had only been a week but you instinctively kept checking your phone to see if he texted you. (Spoiler: he didn’t.) It took all of your willpower, but you forced yourself to push him out of your head and focus on getting the documentary done.

Editing was torturous. You practically spent all day and night glued to your laptop, whether it was in the dining hall or in your bed. For something that was only supposed to be ten minutes long, there were hours of footage for you to get through, some of which ended up being unusable, much to your frustration.

Finally, though, after long days of tirelessly working, the finished project was in your hands.

Of course, Minghao was the very first person you told. You were so giddy that you called him immediately, your heart soaring when he picked up on the second ring. In under an hour, you found yourself running to Café du Soleil to show him the documentary.

Upon seeing Minghao’s bright face, before you could even get a hi out, he crushed you in his embrace. You breathed in the addicting scent of his cologne—gaiac wood and cedar. It was clear that neither of you wanted to pull away, but you took a step back first.

“Congratulations,” he praised, rubbing small circles on your upper arm with his thumb. “Do I get to watch it now?”

“If you have ten minutes to spare, we can watch it together,” you said, pulling out your laptop once you reached your usual table. “I wanted you to be the first person to see it.”

“I’m off my shift,” he replied, pulling up a chair right next to you, “so I’ve got time to kill.”

You handed him an AirPod to listen along with you. Sound was one of your favorite parts of creating a film—setting the atmosphere, building the tension, playing with senses and emotions—so you really wished you could give Minghao the full experience, but since you were in a public setting, this would have to do.

The documentary opened with Minghao at his dance studio, sweat glistening on his toned muscles as his body moved to the beat. The demanding choreography coupled with his exhaustion didn’t stop him from showcasing an almost flawless performance. There was a brief exchange with his mentor before the scene cut to an interview with Minghao explaining how his passion for dance started and how he had grown into competing in national-level tournaments.

You added a compilation of clips from Minghao’s previous performances, as well as accounts from his peers about how hardworking and motivated he was. His mentor gave a particularly heartwarming speech on how driven Minghao was as a dancer and how he put his all into everything he did. The part you were the proudest of had to be getting Jeonghan to give his two cents on being Minghao’s friend, and you were pleasantly surprised that he took it seriously and said something sweet.

“To me, success is about working hard despite my circumstances,” Minghao said. In his interview clip, he took on a more serious tone. “I don’t have to be the best dancer in the world as long as I’m doing what I’m passionate about. At some point, I think I lost myself for a while… but someone special pulled me out of that slump and pushed me to keep going. I can’t thank her enough, honestly.”

You knew it was coming because you put the clips together yourself, but your face still grew hot regardless. Minghao being right next to you wasn’t exactly helping your case or making you feel any less flustered. Perhaps most people watching your documentary wouldn’t realize who he was referring to, but you knew that he was talking about you.

The film then got into Minghao’s financial struggles with the café, showing segments of his mother talking about Café du Soleil and how much the place meant to her family. You then showed the new part-timers being trained (with extra screen time for Seungcheol, as per Jeonghan’s suggestion—or, well, persuasion), and Seokmin even gushed about how much he looked up to Minghao in his own interview.

The documentary ended with a few words from Minghao, switching back and forth between the dance studio and the café. The screen then faded to black with the bustling sounds of the café gradually fading out.

It was only when your screen was dark enough to see your reflection that you realized there were tears in both yours and Minghao’s eyes. You already watched it about five times yourself, but something was different about watching it alongside the person you worked with for over a month to bring your ideas to life.

And, apparently, you two weren’t the only ones tearing up.

Minghao flinched when he turned his head to see the part-timers sitting at the table behind them and peering at the laptop screen. “Fuck, you guys scared me.”

“Sorry,” Seokmin apologized, hastily wiping at a stray tear. “It was just so beautiful.”

Chan gave you a nod of approval. “The only thing it needed was more screen time from me.”

“You literally ran away every time you were on camera,” you said, swiveling around to look at the two baristas. “Were you two just sitting behind us this whole time?”

“Yes,” Seokmin confirmed. “We appreciated the subtitles.”

Truthfully, you were extremely satisfied with their reactions. Your short film, A Bite of Summer, bringing Minghao to tears was enough to rile you up for days, and now you had two other people who got emotional over a documentary you filmed and produced with your own two hands.

“You really outdid yourself,” Minghao murmured, and when you turned to him, he was looking at you as if no one else was in the café except you. He reached his hand out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

With a shy smile, you said, “It wouldn’t have come together without you.”

Through your periphery, you noticed Seokmin and Chan exchanging a look.

“Alright, they’re having a moment,” Seokmin announced, standing up and gesturing for Chan to follow him. “Let’s get back to work.”

Minghao, whose ears were a bright shade of red now, tried to awkwardly laugh off the embarrassment. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he looked back at you, and you burned up all over again once you remembered how his soft lips felt against yours. Unfortunately, one of the symptoms of having a crush on someone was that your mind often went blank and filled itself up with all things Xu Minghao instead, so you couldn’t exactly think straight right now.

“I’ve finished the application and essay for the scholarship,” he said, “so I guess all there’s left to do is submit.”

“I’m sure no one else had an incredibly talented film major directing and producing their video,” you joked.

“No, you’re right. If I don’t get the scholarship after this, I might take it personally.”

“Oh, please,” you muttered quietly, “you’re too nice.”

“I’m not that nice, Y/N.” To your surprise, Minghao’s eyes hardened. You had never seen such an expression on his face, and it made your stomach instantly sink to your feet, but he bounced right back to his cheery self soon after. “I’ll walk you home after we submit these?”

“Y-yeah.”

Minghao pulled his own laptop out of his bag while you copied the link to your video in Dropbox. You pasted the link into an email, but your finger hovered over the send button for far too long. Once it went through, you were officially done with this project; it no longer tied you to Minghao.

You sucked in a breath and sent him the link.

You could only stare at your Canvas submission page. The link to your documentary was already pasted in; all you had to do was hit submit, but you felt so anxious. Maybe you missed one of the guidelines, or maybe you needed to watch it again, but you knew deep down that you replayed it several times and it was as close to perfection as you wanted it to be.

“Hao, I’m scared. Let’s submit ours at the same time.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have anything to be scared of, but yeah, let’s do that.”

It took another thirty minutes for Minghao to prepare himself, though. He read over his application and essay again, handing it over to you afterward for a second look at it. When Seungcheol eventually entered the café for his shift, Minghao had him take a look at it, too.

Finally, you and Minghao were both ready with your submissions. You both had your cursors hovering over the submit button just before he slipped his free hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Ready?” he asked.

With the heat of a thousand suns burning your cheeks, you nodded eagerly.

You submitted your film.

It felt like a truckload of weight had been lifted off your shoulders, but the feeling of relief didn’t come without the slight unease. You looked over at Minghao, who had just submitted his and was being clapped on the back by Seungcheol, and you felt weird. You felt so incredibly proud of yourself, but another part of you couldn’t accept that it was over now.

“Hey,” Minghao said softly, grinning when your eyes met his. “We really did it.”

You sort of melted under his gaze, the corners of your mouth hitching up into a lovesick smile. “Yeah, we did.”

With that, his hand slipped out of yours to tell his mother about finishing the scholarship application, and you felt cold again.

Minghao offered to walk you home, but you could hardly hold a proper conversation with him; your head was a mess.

Maybe it was wrong for you to feel this way after your week of radio silence, but something about this felt so final. You were scared that once you reached your apartment, you would go back to the life you had before you reconnected with Minghao. As much as you told yourself that you were just overthinking, there was a nagging fear in the back of your head. Maybe it was from the high of submitting your project, but you felt a rush of adrenaline course through you.

You wanted to hold onto Minghao one more time and tell him how you felt.

It had been on your mind ever since you had your revelation yesterday, and sitting next to him in the café and pretending like you weren’t mad for him was nearly impossible. As you two trudged down the cobblestone street, your hands balled into the pockets of your coat, you realized that something along the lines of a confession was ready to burst through your lips. Minghao kept droning on about a holiday-exclusive drink that was coming to the café, but you couldn’t even listen to him properly without your brain screaming at you to tell him how you felt.

It was when he brought the conversation back to your documentary that you found the perfect opportunity to bring up the secret video he filmed.

“We must’ve filmed hours of content,” he was saying, throwing his head back and groaning at the mere thought. “I can’t believe you watched all of it—wait, did you watch all of it?”

“I did watch everything, Hao,” you said quietly.

“Hm? What was that?”

“I knew that the injeolmi toast was supposed to be heated up,” you blurted out. Minghao froze in his tracks and stared at you, wide-eyed, and normally this would’ve made you shy away immediately, but you wanted to be braver. You stopped walking too, and you raised your head to meet his eyes. “I thought you forgot to warm it up by accident, so I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

At your sudden admission, Minghao was speechless, even more so when you continued in a breathless ramble, “And I want you to know that the only reason I chose this subject for my documentary was because of you; and I missed you all of last week because all I could think about was how you kissed me; and I really fucking hate summer, Hao, but you made me fall in love with the sun.”

“And… and I like you,” you confessed. “I liked you back in middle school, and I like you again now.”

Minghao’s jaw went slack as he searched your eyes, as if looking for a lie in your words, as if he could hardly believe that what you were telling him was real.

“Are you serious?” he asked quietly, almost scared that you would say no. He walked closer to you. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Your courage threatened to falter, but you kept his gaze even as he reached out to hold your face with gentle hands. “I’ve never been this honest in my life.”

With a shuddering breath, he said, “You’re telling the truth.”

“Yeah, I—”

“Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?” Although Minghao spoke in a murmur, your words died on your tongue the moment he started talking, especially after his eyes dropped to your lips.

You could only blink back at him in stunned silence.

“You were my first love, too,” he confessed.

His words struck you right in your chest. The winter bite no longer chilled you to the bone; if anything, a wildfire was ripping through your body. For a split second, you wondered if you were actually on fire, so you remained perfectly, unmovingly still until you realized that Minghao was waiting for you to answer.

You swallowed hard. “I was? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I guess I was scared it would ruin our friendship… but I didn’t do a very good job of salvaging it, anyway.” You could see the regret painted on his face, but then he steeled his nerves. “I don’t care if I don’t win the scholarship, Y/N—I mean, I sort of care—but no matter what happens, I’m happy just being with you.”

Your heart beamed.

Even days ago, the mention of your past with Minghao would’ve been a sore spot for you. Now, however, you didn’t want it to keep weighing you down like an anchor buried deep within the sand. Maybe you were both just stupid kids who didn’t know what to do with their feelings.

But all of that hardly mattered now that your souls found each other again. You weren’t ever someone who was big on the idea of destiny, but if there were stars out there that predetermined fate, they must have been shining for you and Minghao.

This time, you initiated. It was almost effortless how your arms found themselves circling around Minghao’s neck, drawing him closer to you. His eyes looked as if they were still in a dream, but after a few seconds, his gentle hands found your waist.

“I’m happy as long as I’m with you, too,” you said, your voice only loud enough for him to hear.

Minghao let out a breathless sort of laugh, almost like he was still in disbelief, and you smiled before pressing your lips to his. Compared to your first kiss, which was charged with lust and intoxication, this one was so loving and calm that you lost yourself in him so easily. He smiled into the kiss, and you couldn’t help yourself either once you felt his lips curve up against yours.

His hand found your chin, pulling away for a brief moment to take a good look at you. Let the high of your reciprocated feelings sink in. Your eyes flitted from Minghao’s lips to his twinkling eyes, your heart doing a series of backflips and spins when you saw his lips curl into a smirk.

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice, “I think I can get used to this.”

And when his lips found yours again, you were sure your souls touched, too.

(“So, are you gonna tell me if I’m objectively good-looking now?”

“Let it go, Hao.”)

EPILOGUE

Vernon scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know if I was tripping out, but I swear they just had us watch Kim Mingyu doing tricks on a skateboard for ten minutes straight.”

“I think that was an actual film.” Seungcheol looked through the pamphlet of student films that were being screened and read, “Kim Mingyu Does a Kickflip—yeah, that’s the one.”

“Whose bright idea was it to make us take Jun’s edibles?” Jeonghan, who was fitted in a formal suit and tie, complained as he slouched deeper in his seat. His eyes were a few shades too close to red to pass as sober, but he was at least able to function on his own. “This shit has to be laced with something.”

“This is your fault, dude,” Seungkwan replied, exasperated. He didn’t seem as faded as Jeonghan was, but he looked more like he had just woken up. “You told us this would be more fun if we got high!”

“Okay, and who listened to me?” He sat up to catch Seungkwan, Vernon, and Wonwoo’s guilty heads hanging shamefully. “Exactly.”

Yooyeon shot you a withering look. “They're stressing me out.”

It was the night of your film’s showcase. After you passed the class with flying colors, your professor recommended your documentary be screened during the showcase for all the film majors in your year. It was an annual event, but only a certain number of films were selected from the students. In short, this was big for you. You invited your friends, of course, although you were starting to regret it now that you had to put Seungcheol and Junhui in charge of babysitting them.

“Jeonghan, you really didn’t have to dress up like that,” you said once you noticed the contrast between his formal attire and Seungkwan’s sweater and jeans ensemble. “This isn’t even a formal event.”

Jeonghan leaned over Seungcheol to tell you, “This is important to me, okay?”

“Aw, Jeong—”

“I have to be the hottest one here.”

Alright, then.

“Jeonghan, remember what we’re actually here for,” Junhui prompted, motioning to the front of the theater.

You put a hand over your chest, touched. “Jun, you’re too sweet, I—”

“To see Minghao’s gorgeous face on the big screen,” he finished.

You decided you were going to let them finish their sentences from now on.

Minghao, who was sitting next to you and gripping your hand, raised your hands to press a kiss to each one of your knuckles. He saved his public displays of affection for rare occasions, such as your grand showcase.

You two had been dating for the past five months at this point. It wasn’t much of a surprise to any of your friends, but what did change was that Minghao spent a lot more time with your friend group now. (Sometimes you worried if they liked him more than you, but you weren’t one to vie for attention.) It was also safe to say that you two weren’t exactly out of the honeymoon phase yet. Your heart still fluttered whenever he did anything particularly sweet, and Minghao still went bright red whenever you were feeling a little bolder.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice tickling your skin. “You said your professor recommended submitting it to a film festival, right?”

“Mhm.” You grinned and used the hand he wasn’t holding to pinch his cheek lightly. “Your face could be seen by thousands.”

He laughed. “It’s really all about you, not—” Minghao paused when his phone buzzed from inside his pocket. You two exchanged a nervous look before he fumbled to pull it out. “I think it’s them.”

A week ago, the announcement of the scholarship recipient was supposed to be sent out. However, there was a complication that led to them postponing the results until today. You and Minghao had been on edge all week, but having to think about the outcome on the same day as your film showcase was nerve-wracking.

“It is them.” Minghao bit his lip when he saw the sender in his notifications. He looked over at you and squeezed your hand tighter. “I’m gonna open it now.”

With suspended breath, you tried to gauge his reaction as he opened the email. (It wasn’t very hard to read Xu Minghao’s expression when he wore his heart on his sleeve.) He took so long that you thought he was reading over each word twice, but then you watched as his expression morphed into one of pure astonishment.

“What is it?” you asked. “What does it say?”

“I…” He swallowed thickly. “I got it.” He turned to you again, mouth twitching into a grin. “I actually got it!”

Your life had been going so smoothly recently that the scholarship results had been plaguing your thoughts for the past few weeks. You didn’t have to worry about your project anymore, so saving the café and getting Minghao his chance to compete had been weighing heavily on your mind.

Now, though, upon hearing those words and seeing his eyes light up, you felt like you were glowing yourself. They selected Minghao, and they watched your film. Your work was going to save his mom’s café. It was going to let him keep chasing his dreams.

You let out a yelp so loud that dozens of heads turned in your direction, but you didn’t mind any of them as soon as you reached over your armrest to tackle Minghao into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I knew they’d pick you,” you told him. “There’s no one else who deserves it more.”

“It’s seriously all because of you,” he said. When you pulled apart, Minghao looked absolutely winded from being so overjoyed. “I have to tell my mom as soon as we get home. She’s gonna be so happy that we get to keep the café running.”

Jeonghan, who was brazenly eavesdropping, patted Seungcheol firmly on the chest. “Hear that? You just got saved from unemployment.” He reached over Seungcheol (again) to dap up Minghao.

You felt someone tap your shoulder from behind, and you craned your neck around to see your professor gesturing for you to go up on stage. That was your cue to introduce your film, and you gulped down the bundle of nerves that rose up your throat.

Yooyeon squeezed your shoulder as you were getting up. Shakily, you straightened up, smiling weakly when your friends started cheering obnoxiously loud for you. Minghao caught your wrist before you walked to the front and gave you a reassuring squeeze that managed to calm your jittery hands.

You recognized a lot of your friends from your classes, so it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be, but you were hopeful that the unfamiliar faces would be cheering for you by the time they saw your documentary.

“We know her!” Jeonghan and Seungkwan were screaming from the top, pointing you out to every stranger in their vicinity. “That’s our friend!”

At the right wing of the stage, you were handed a mic and instructed to walk out to the center. You had never been in front of a crowd this huge, but seeing your friends in the seats melted away whatever fears were holding you back.

“Thank you everyone for coming out today,” you spoke into the mic, smiling when it resounded throughout the grand auditorium. “My name’s Y/N, and I’m so excited to share my documentary: The Xu Minghao Dilemma.”

TAG LIST ▸ if you made it all the way here, thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed xu minghao's dilemma 💗 first and foremost, this was written for @junyangis so shoutout my film major inspo. i tried to emulate the film student experience to the best of my ability so i hope it delivers 🙏 also you might notice the banner has jeonghan as the writer which sort of sounds misleading but it's because he was the one orchestrating everything between mc and minghao, so i thought it was fitting :') first fic of 2025, yay!! i hope to share more of my works with you this year & sending my love to everyone reading this right now ♡ thank you to everyone who asked to be part of the tag list as well !! 🫂

TAG LIST ▸ @jenoentry @wonudazed @aaniag @ily-cuz-i @fancypeacepersona @tokitosun @jeonnyread @reiofsuns2001 @markleeloveletter @dawn-iscozy @fennecnco @kookiedesi @nijisanjigenshin @xylatox @cookiearmy @nightshadeblooming @sillyuin @outrologist @flowerrpwrr @melonacco @sknyuz @enhasrii @skzdesi

#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #minghao fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen #seventeen x reader #xu minghao #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #minghao imagines #minghao scenarios #svt soft hours #seventeen soft hours

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brazilian-vampyra · 10 months ago

Text

♱ NEEDING SOME LOVE? ｡ﾟ ♡

(english)

⋆ ִֶָ ๋ ✮⋆ synopsis: you are a succubus and offers affection after jjk men pass or are in stressful situations.

⋆ ִֶָ ๋ ✮⋆ characters: ryomen sukuna, gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, nanami kento.

⋆ ִֶָ ๋ ✮⋆ warnings: strong language, rough sex, unprotected sex, praising kink, hair pulling, degradation kink, oral (both receiving), fem!dom, male!dom, creampie, nipple play, teasing, love bites, needy behavior.

⭑ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 ⭑

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄 was tired. He was hella tired.

Some time ago, Kento decided to give up his life as an office worker and put into practice everything he had learned at Jujutsu High. Enduring Gojo Satoru shouting in his ear like he did in high school was the worst of the problems, the big "x" of the issue now was dealing with the curses that arrived in the city.

Sukuna's return seemed to have brought a streak of bad luck to everyone else, and it stressed him, God, how it stressed him.

He had fought against a curse called "Mahito". He was all patched up, had blue hair, was tough and very ironic, the kind that brags about their deplorable exploits. His stupid actions meant that Nanami had to spend more time at work, as he was going to finish his shift at 6 p.m., but Mahito was persistent and stupid, forcing him to work overtime.

He left office life so he could stop working like a convict, and now he was forced to work overtime because of this stupid curse?

It's incredibly disrespectful.

He arrived at the apartment tired, just thinking about taking a relaxing shower and sleeping. Maybe this vacation to Malaysia should be brought forward.

He unlocked the main door and when he entered, he turned on the orange lamp next to it, casting dim light across the room. He was already loosening his tie and muttering some swear words when he came across a peculiar figure on the sofa. You were lying on your side, resting your face in your hand, looking at him with a mischievous smile and slightly shaking your tail.

The tail, as well as the horns and wings were part of your real form, but you made them disappear to be more comfortable sometimes.

━━ What are you doing in my house? — the blonde questioned, without paying much attention to you.

━━ You know how it is, no big deal... — you slid onto the couch. ━━ Just checking if my favorite blonde is okay...

━━ I am very well.

You giggled indiscreetly.

━━ You seem stressed to me...

━━ I can ease my stress on my own, I don't need another curse bothering me today.

You got up from the couch, walking over to him with a hand on your chest, pretending to be offended.

━━ Aww, too bad. I'm not a curse, you know this... — you said, making your most fantasy features disappear, looking like a normal human. ━━ Are you going to treat me like that night was nothing?

He grunted, taking off his tie to make himself more comfortable.

━━ It was a dream. A fucking dream.

━━ It wasn't a dream... — you teased. ━━ But I agree with you on the fucking part. Wow, we fucked so much!

You kept remembering about it, with a mischievous smile on your lips.

━━ What did you come for, you devil? Feed? If so, I'm tired, I don't have any energy to give you.

Well, that's the truth. Succubus feeds on a person's vital energy through sex.

━━ Do I look evil, Kento? I'm here to take care of you. You let me feed myself, I think it's fair that I take care of you.

You took a hand to the blonde's defined jaw and slid your fingers over his skin, watching as he shivered.

━━ You'll see... I can wash your hair... — you took one of his hands and brought it to your face, so he could feel your warm cheek. ━━ Kiss your pretty lips and we can explore each other's bodies, so you will sleep very happy afterwards. Don't you think you need some love?

His mischievous smile was a beautiful invitation. And the blonde gave in to the temptation and desire you emanated. You calmly convinced him, and now you were in the bathroom, in the shower, moaning and feeling the warm water slide over your skin. Nanami's strong body hugged yours from behind, while his hands were covered in liquid soap with passion fruit and chamomile essences.

His huge hands slid over your wet skin and went to your breasts, playing with your nipples between his index and middle fingers; giving you an awesome stimulation.

You could feel his hips grinding against your ass and his cock slides through your tight insides, giving you as much pleasure as you were giving him. The blonde's deep moans were close to your ear, making you bite your lower lip. Your hands were on the blue tiled wall, providing you with some support as he delighted in your body.

━━ I told you... you would be happier- ugh, fuck...

━━ I think you're right, I can't resist that fucking pussy... — he kissed your shoulder. ━━ Goddamn, if these curses keep stressing me out I'm going to need you every week...

━━ I'll always be here for you, darling... — you smiled, biting your bottom lip and brought a hand up to his wet blonde hair, while his lips were on your shoulder, tasting your wet skin. ━━ Every time you need... to give you the sweetest dreams ever.

[...]

⭑ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ⭑

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑 can be irritated and stressed, like ordinary people. With Sukuna's return, there were other curses with Kenjaku causing problems, such as a stranger called Jogo. They didn't seem like a big problem, nothing he couldn't handle, but it was certainly something that would irritate him and require more strength and patience.

He had to balance this with his teaching duties and training the host of the king of curses, Yuji Itadori.

Sometimes Satoru fantasizes about what his life would be like without the responsibility of being a special grade sorcerer. Maybe he could be like most who don't have to worry about literally being humanity's last hope if the curses ever want to claim dominance again.

He had lost his best friend a few years ago, and it still hurt him. He had to take care of Yuji, Megumi and Nobara, as well as put up with hearing shit from other elitist sorcerers.

All of this made Satoru frustrated.

This caused erotic dreams to happen with a certain frequency, and the figure that satisfied him was you, a succubus. You're wrong if you think that your relationship with the most powerful sorcerer was just sex, nothing like that, you also talked a few times, flirted and even saw each other in real life.

At that point, you could already consider each other very close.

Now he had arrived home and removed the bandage that covered his vibrant blue eyes.

━━ I know you are here, sweetie.

He hadn't turned on any lights yet, but then you emerged from the shadows when he turned on the yellow lights in the living room. The lights were in a weaker tone, precisely so that he could be more relaxed and rest, providing a cozy atmosphere.

You were wearing a button-down shirt he had. A long-sleeved white shirt that had a few buttons lazily closed. Your thighs were bare, your smooth skin perfectly visible and your seductive scent carried far and wide. Your horns were not visible, nor were your wings or tail.

He went feral just by seeing this.

━━ I can see in those pretty eyes how tired you are... — you walked closer to him, hugging his neck affectionately. ━━ Wanna tell me what happened?

A muffled laugh echoed between you, a laugh coming from him before he slid his tongue across his lower lip gently.

━━ It's amazing how you always come up with the right words, and that lovely voice... — he wrapped his arms around your waist. ━━ It doesn't even feel like you're here with the purpose of sucking me dry.

You laughed at the audacity of the perfect white-haired sorcerer's words.

━━ Do you think I'm a mercenary who only cares about your life energy, Satoru? What we have is special... — you looked at him with your best puppy eyes.

He smiled happily upon hearing this.

━━ Don't you think you're needing some love, handsome?

You looked at him with your pink eyes, like a shining gemstone. Glowing with lust.

Gojo's response was his lips immediately being pressed against yours. His warm tongue slid against yours, allowing you to taste the mint gum he had been chewing all day. His hands held and squeezed your waist, making you moan against his lips, and he bit your lower lip lightly.

When you realized, you were on his bed. Your clothes were making a trail that led from the living room to the bedroom, and your bodies were sweaty on the sheets. You were on your side, with your head on the pillow, feeling one of Satoru's hands squeezing your breasts while the other held your thigh, slightly raised so that he could thrust his hips with precision against you.

The blue-eyed man bit your neck a little between kisses, probably leaving your skin marked, but he liked it. He liked to have the feeling that you were his.

━━ This pussy calms me down in a way... — he moaned, never stopping moving his hips against you, making the sound of your bodies echo throughout the room. ━━ It's like it was made for me...

━━ Take it easy, love... — you gripped the sheets tightly, feeling his body against yours as your vision was clouded with pleasure. ━━ Or you'll get addicted...

━━ Fucking hell, I already am... — hearing him go crazy was priceless. ━━ I need that damn pussy sliding on my cock every night...

[...]

⭑ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 ⭑

𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 that even though it was half a curse, the human feelings of this man who was almost two hundred years old were the strongest. He — who had exhausted eyes — was lost among difficult and confused thoughts.

His current mental state lived up to his appearance. He was as worn out as his eyelids and his dark circles. The physical and mental exhaustion of the blood handler was increasingly evident, he no longer knew what to do. He had constant and massive existential crises, which made his head scream.

Being by Kenjaku's side felt right, but something in him told him that wasn't the only option he had. Halloween was coming, the coup in Shibuya was going to happen and Choso only thought about running out of there and never coming back, evaporating like water in a hot pot of rice. But on the other hand, he must avenge the death of his brothers.

Why did life have to be so difficult?

He entered the room, throwing himself on the bed and burying his face in a pillow as he sighed heavily and tried to clear his thoughts. That was when a shiver ran down his spine and he looked at an armchair next to him.

There you were, with your horns and wings and your tail, slowly swaying back and forth like a cat.

━━ Hi, baby.

You smiled and waved calmly at him.

━━ W-Who are you? What are you doing here?

━━ Oh, don't you know who I am? — You were surprised. ━━ Well, let me put on a friendlier appearance to talk to you then.

In the blink of an eye your mystical features disappeared.

━━ Better, right?

You fixed your hair softly.

━━ I'm a succubus, by the look on your face I can assume you've never met one, right?

He nodded shyly.

━━ Well, Choso... I noticed you're so stressed. So tired, so depressed... — you walked over to the bed, running your hands through his silky hair. ━━ That brought me here.

━━ Can I assume you want to kill me...?

You laughed at the man's naivety.

━━ Kill you? No, no. Why would I kill such an adorable guy like you? — he was so adorable and cute. ━━ All I need is a little bit of your life energy, and don't worry, you'll recover in time.

━━ And how do I give it to you?

━━ You'll have to cum for me.

His pale cheeks turned red like ripe strawberries.

━━ W-What!?

━━ Feeding me during sex is the best option, and the best thing is that it doesn't hurt you either... — your hot pink eyes glowed at him, in a tone of eloquent desire. ━━ Don't you think you need some love, baby?

Yes, Choso had to assume that this was the best option for him at the moment. He might have to give you some of his life energy, but at the same time he would be rewarded for it. He was a bit inexperienced, and he didn't hide it — maybe he couldn't even try to hide it.

While you were kissing, he ended up asking to taste your pussy. That was the most promiscuous and shy request a man had ever made to you, two extremes at once. He accepted, and now he was eating you out with a desire that not even an extremely experienced man had ever eaten. His eyes were closed, his hands were squeezing your thighs and his face was buried between your legs.

The desire left him intoxicated, too focused on making you feel good.

Your legs were draped over his shoulders and you held onto his beautiful dark hair, squeezing it every now and then just out of sheer will, as you let him dictate at his own pace. Kamo's tongue slid inside you and his lips worked together to make you moan more and more.

At that point he couldn't take it anymore. The noticeable erection inside his pants was making that piece of clothing tighter and tighter, and if you kept moaning like that while he tasted you, he would probably end up cumming in his boxers. It had been a long time since he had tasted pussy this sweet, and now he felt like he was being bewitched or something.

━━ Hmm... you're so sweet, hm... — he kept eating.

━━ Such a good boy, you're doing well... — looked down, seeing his lips on your soaked sex. ━━ Don't be shy, rub your face on it...

Without even blinking, he held your thighs tighter and rubbed his face against your pussy, making you moan loudly and grip his hair tighter. That was unexpected, as you didn't expect to be dealing with a man who would obey so much.

Choso Kamo is indeed a good boy.

[...]

⭑ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 ⭑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍 was far from being a bed of roses. Unlike what is shown in movies or comics, it is a sad, strange life with a growing sense of death because at any moment there could be a sniper waiting for you. Or another hitman who was hired to kill you as personal revenge for some of your work.

It was no different for Toji, who had to kill people almost every day.

The smell of iron coming from the blood was no longer something he found strange, as it was like smelling the good smell of a disinfectant or a perfume that was pleasant. Most of his clothes were black, just so he wouldn't worry about blood stains, his house didn't have light-colored carpets, precisely so that he wouldn't have to do such intense cleaning if blood leaked through a trash bag.

He lived in an extremely simple apartment, in a suburban neighborhood where the rent was very cheap.

Perhaps if his gambling addiction hadn't consumed him, he might have been in a better situation, as he was paid very well for his services. It was no surprise, after all Toji is a professional at what he does.

Today he was hired to kill an extremely important man, and he was protected by some very experienced and strong sorcerers, that was a lot of work and Toji got hurt a little. Now he had taken a cold shower and put on black sweatpants, lying down on the double bed in that small room, lit by the orange light from the streetlight that invaded through the window.

You teleported to his bed, laying down next to him.

Upon smelling her sweet scent entering his nostrils, Fushiguro wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

━━ I was already thinking about summoning you, my little devil...

His deep voice shook your bones, reverberating on it.

━━ Missing me, my love? — you teased.

━━ Always, honey.

━━ Had a bad day?

━━ Bad as fuck, but now I have you here.

━━ I think you're needing some love, don't you agree? — you turned to him, smiling mischievously and running a hand over the scar he had on his lip.

━━ I need all the love in the world right now.

And so you started kissing. It was an intense kiss, with a lot of desire and lust as your tongues touched and he grunted against your mouth. His kiss always seemed to take the air out of you, leaving you shocked at how good he felt.

Toji Fushiguro is ridiculously good in bed.

Right now, he was reminding you why he's the best you've ever had. This man was fucking you in a deliciously sinful mating press, holding your thighs as his green eyes were locked on yours and he was thrusting his hips against you like there's no tomorrow.

Fucking looking into the eyes was something so intimate and serious that you had never done with anyone; Toji could consider himself a big important milestone in your centuries-old succubus life.

━━ So fuckin' good f'me... — he was going crazy, just like you.

It felt strangely good, feeling him thrusting while you were stuffed. This man had already come and was still hard and needy for more, so much so that some of his hot cum was dripping down your poor little hole.

━━ You're such a whore, aren't you? This pussy is dripping and you still want more...

You smiled mischievously, biting your bottom lip and looking at him.

━━ What can I do? You're irresistible...

[...]

⭑ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 ⭑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 was not satisfied with his concubines.

Yes, you did not read it wrong. No, that wasn't a doubt, it was an affirmation.

You, like a good succubus, had been watching him from the shadows for a while, because after all, his life seemed to be extremely interesting. Realized from the beginning that he had four concubines, all of them beautiful, with the most different bodies, different shapes. Always dressed in flashy lingerie and wearing jewelry.

But somehow, he no longer looked at them with that hunger and desire he had at first. You wonder why?

The truth is that there was no answer to this notorious question. He had probably just lost interest in them or sex in general for a while because of the problems that were plaguing him. After all, he is the king.

With this in mind, you decided to pay a visit to the lonely king.

You entered his throne room, wearing beautiful red lingerie, adorned with some rubies, which framed your curves very well. Your soft skin was completely exposed and you made a point of letting your perfume emanate far away, as well as your pheromones.

━━ Sukuna... long time no see.

You teased him, laughing softly. You never had to bow to him, he "forgave" your audacity.

━━ Little brat... can I know why are you bothering me?

━━ I came to offer you help.

━━ Help?

━━ I noticed you don't care about your concubines anymore... from afar I feel your dissatisfaction.

He laughed mischievously, in his classic way.

━━ And what did you come here for? Apply to replace one of them?

━━ Sukuna, speaking like that, it seems like you don't know me — you made a subtle gesture with your hand. ━━ I just came here to propose a deal.

━━ What type of deal?

━━ You give me some of your vital energy and I give you pleasure...

He would have said "yes" right away the way he was, but playing hard to get was part of his personality.

━━ What makes you think I would accept this deal?

You smiled mischievously and began to crawl towards him, slowly climbing the steps that led to his throne at the top. Like a cat, it crawls slowly until it reaches the ball of yarn.

━━ Oh, my king... — you knew how to play dirty. ━━ I was watching you the whole time, I can see how frustrated you are.

You rested your head on his thigh, covered by the white kimono.

━━ You're needing some love, my dear...

And he agreed to this deal the right way. You knew you would have to put up with all the brutality of the king of curses, and you were willing to do that, especially because he didn't go beyond the limits, but he really was remarkable.

The white kimono he was wearing was already open, exposing his beautiful body with the marks that were his striking feature. You were kneeling right in front of him, while he held your hair and moaned, with his eyes closed and tilting his head back. Your mouth slid over his huge cock, feeling how his precum slid over your tongue every time you played with his sensitive, pink tip.

Sukuna's moans were as profane as his dark, morbid nature.

But they were truly a pleasure to listen to, and they were so good that it was making your thin panties weat with your desire, which ran down your slits as you used your mouth on him.

━━ F-Fuck... what a good fucking slut you are... — he pulled your hair.

You gagged on his cock a few times. Which was completely acceptable since he was indeed huge.

You were still going to have a lot of fun in that room, you couldn't even imagine that you could fuck in as many positions as he was going to fuck you on that throne.

[...]

⭑ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ⭑

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 was on the verge of going crazy.

Summer was a difficult season, as curses were everywhere and spread like plagues. In fact, the heat was so intense that it could kill the curses on its own, but he, as a sorcerer, had the obligation to act against them.

All that stress was already becoming unbearable, Suguru was already one step away from freaking out and killing everything and everyone in sight — whether it was a curse or not. He no longer cared about anything, and only thought about how complicated his life was and that maybe he wished he could have been born without this gift, so that he could do what "normal people" do.

Fortunately, or unfortunately for the man with long dark hair, you already had an eye on everything. I analyzed him from afar at various times, and thought about when would be the right time to approach him. You heard that he had been having these outbursts since Jujutsu High, now he was an adult and was still trying to control himself for not causing a giant disgrace.

Now he was on the balcony of his bedroom, it was a moonlit, starry and hot night.

His hair was tied up at the top and loose at the bottom, so he felt a little fresher. He was only wearing gray boxers and had picked up a cigarette, when he was about to light it, he noticed that he had lost the lighter.

━━ I always leave it here on the balcony table...

He muttered to himself.

━━ Looking for this?

He heard an unfamiliar female voice behind him and immediately looked to see what it was about. It was you, you were there looking at him like a predator looks at its prey, with your hot pink eyes.

━━ Don't get closer, or I-...

━━ What? Are you gonna eat me? — you teased, while holding his lighter. ━━ I mean, depending on how it goes, I accept it...

━━ Who are you?

You took the cigarette from his hand, politely asking "excuse me", and brought it to your lips, lighting it with the lighter and inhaling the smoke before bringing it to his lips. Suguru should assume that was a very sensual thing to watch, more so than he would like to admit.

You introduced yourself, saying your name to him and offering a gentle smile.

━━ Are you a curse? — he was smoking his cigarette calmly. ━━ I can feel your cursed energy.

━━ Succubus and incubus are not curses, but we have cursed energy.

━━ Then why are you here? I don't think I have anything that interests you, except my skills.

━━ I think your skills are formidable, but I don't want them, don't worry — you leaned over the balcony and took the cigarette from his lips, smoking it before giving it back. ━━ I want something else, and it can help you.

━━ I'm listening.

━━ I want to have sex with you.

Suguru almost choked on his own smoke at that moment. A creature appeared on his bedroom balcony in the middle of a summer night and suddenly said it wanted to have sex with him? That's weird.

━━ Sorry, I'm usually pretty straight to the point, haha.

━━ Can you explain? — he was recovering from his surprised cough.

━━ I feed on vital energy, and I need yours. Don't worry, I won't take everything, and you will recover pretty quickly because of your cursed energy level.

━━ What do I get from that?

━━ I have been watching you during this time, I know you are stressed and exhausted from having to deal with curses. So... I can make you feel good, really good, trust me...

━━ I won't sell myself for lust, not even if... holy shit.

While he was talking, you took off the thin t-shirt you were wearing and left your breasts exposed, leaving now only your denim mini skirt.

━━ C'mon, Suguru... don't you think you deserve some love? — you told him, in your seductive way.

The answer after that was clearly yes, and he buried the cigarette in the ashtray before kissing your lips eagerly and holding you in his arms, dragging you to the bed. Even though you had just met, it wasn't difficult for you to find the harmony between your bodies because somehow, you had the perfect fit.

You told the sorcerer that he just needed to let you ride him so he could be calm and sleep happily. He didn't think twice before accepting the proposal, and now you were there, in his lap.

Geto was lying down, with his eyes closed and moaning slyly while keeping his hands on your hips. You kept your weight on your knees, resting on the mattress as you moved your hips up and down, feeling your pussy milking his cock. His fingerprints would stay on your hot skin for a long time, you never wanted to forget this.

He looked beautiful with his hair messy like that, begging for more and being sensitive.

━━ W-What kind of black magic is this? W-What are you doing to me? — he moaned frantically. ━━ Oh my fucking God... that's so perfect...

You giggled mischievously as you continued moaning and said in your most promiscuous tone:

━━ I put a spell on you... — you brought a hand to his face, sliding it across his lower lip. ━━ Because you're mine...

[...]

۰ ࣪📂 ٬٬ 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: maybe it's a random topic but i was fantasizing about it one day and decided to write :) everything was written by me, don't take it as yours or get inspired without giving credit.

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