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minisugakoobies · 9 months

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Hideaway | KHJ

Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Word Count: 7.1K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.

A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!

ATZ Masterlist 🍃 Main Masterlist

One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no?

Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye.

You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate.

San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.

However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb.

It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide.

Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch.

Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.

As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.

The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that.

Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.

“No one’s supposed to be out here.”

“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through.

There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light.

Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do.

He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.

You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“It’s kind of unsaid.”

“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.”

“I live here.”

“So that’s fine, then?”

He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?”

“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?”

Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall.

You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard.

You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky.

The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.

“Not into parties?”

You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon.

“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.”

“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?”

You nod. The stranger hums.

“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.”

It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?”

He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”

“Do I need to remind you?”

“Fair.”

Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off.

But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?”

He raises an eyebrow, nods.

Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks.

You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.

“So… do you have a name?”

“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”

His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.”

Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.

“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.”

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.”

“Thanks for the tokes.”

He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute -

“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”

One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong.

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?”

The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”

“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative.

“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.”

“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.”

“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.”

Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.”

“And I need that?”

The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window.

Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away.

The minutes tick by.

When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner.

Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to.

“Again?”

Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight.

“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages.

“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.”

You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick.

“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”

“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”

The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?”

Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?”

“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way.

It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!”

San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.”

And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.

Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San.

The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in.

Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace.

“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.”

“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares.

Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his.

You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.

Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?”

While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts -

Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door.

“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag.

Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?”

“A brownie.”

His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?”

You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door.

“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half.

“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite.

Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to.

“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?”

“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.”

“And where is your roommate now?”

You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.”

Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.”

“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now.

“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.”

“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat?

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.”

Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”

“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.”

“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.”

Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”

Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof.

He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him?

“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?”

His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.”

You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment.

“That’s cheating!”

“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.”

“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.

“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.”

Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you.

“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.

You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before.

Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation.

That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong.

“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle.

Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.

Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”

“Is that a long list?”

His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.

“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.”

Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation.

When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.

Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again.

It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used.

“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.

“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit.

Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again.

Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it.

Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark.

“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire.

“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips.

As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?”

“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.

“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”

“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul.

“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss.

A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.

Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out.

Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.

“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!”

A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell.

“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”

You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady.

Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “

“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”

If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks.

You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides.

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”

“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad.

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”

“Get out!”

Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly.

“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.

He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before.

Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away.

“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative.

“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly.

His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back.

Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core.

“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights.

You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know.

“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.”

He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble. “As soon as you tell me your name.”

His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!”

“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time.

The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting.

“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure.

His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then -

He stops.

You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch.

“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!”

“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.”

If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it?

He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs.

“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist.

“What?”

“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?”

“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin.

Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.

You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.”

“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.”

His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary:

Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.

Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.

Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.

You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over.

When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth.

“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly.

He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”

“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.”

He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word.

Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name.

He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan.

Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face.

“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.”

Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth.

His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.

Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.”

He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”

Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while.

“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.

It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more.

Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was.

“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?”

Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.”

Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile.

“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?”

“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”

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#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #kim hongjoong fanfic #fic: hideaway

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shuadotcom · 6 months

Text

In Case You Didn’t Know (M)

Pairing: Lee Chan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chan has always been just one of your step-brother’s best friends. He’s also been in love with you for as long as everyone remembers, but you never paid him much mind - that is until you decide to return home after many years away and you see the man he’s become. He goes from being your little brother’s best friend to being the perfect man for you in a matter of months. Now the questions are who wants who more and will either of you do anything about your feelings?

Genres: Fluff, romance, smut, a little angst | AUs: Brother’s best friend au, roommates au, 90s au

Rating: 18+(MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED) | Words: 28.8k 🥴

Warnings: Profanity, alcohol use, will-they-won’t-they tension, a scene of reader x Lee Minhyuk (suggestive) and reader x Joshua (romantic) | Smut Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering (f.receiving), oral (f.receiving), thigh riding, praise, dirty talk, pet names (baby, babygirl, good boy), service top!Chan

Note: Written for the Now That’s 90s collab hosted by @beomcoups & @mingsolo ! I wanted to get this out for Christmas but my brain had other plans. I wanted to invoke a kind of cheesy Christmas romance movie feel to this while still keeping it 90s so that’s the vibe we’re going for! Thank you to the always amazing @wongyuseokie for the lovely banner 💙 And thank you @wooahaeproductions for beta reading my word vomit and helping me come up with this title! I love and appreciate you very much my beta/fic title queen! 💖 Also, I want to give giant sappy thank yous, hugs, and kisses to Bee, @horanghater, @onlymingyus, and @the-boy-meets-evil for all giving me pep talks and offering support throughout the process of this fic coming to exist. It’s my longest fic ever and I wanted to start over so many more times than I did so I appreciate and love y’all v much!! 🥹💞🫶🏽

“Miss? We’re here,” The taxi driver's voice wakes you, bleary eyes focusing on the apartment building outside the car window. You hadn’t been sleeping that long, but it was long enough to make you tired after your fifteen-hour flight to Seoul. That, coupled with the heat of the taxi made you cozy enough to nap, but you’re finally looking forward to being out of a moving vehicle.

As the taxi driver unloads your suitcases from the trunk, you step out into the cold September air, and triple-check the address of the apartment building, comparing the number on the building in front of you to what’s written in your planner in hand. You had verified the address with your step-brother each time the two of you spoke on the phone leading up to your flight to Korea.

When you originally told Hansol that you decided that you were ready to quit your flight attendant career and move back home, your original plan was to move back in with your parents. Going into it, you knew well enough that the move would be annoying. You loved your mom and stepdad, but your mom was a bit of a helicopter mom growing up, so you can only imagine what living under her roof again would be like.

Luckily, you and your brother have always gotten along and been close, so instead of subjecting you to moving back home, he offered to let you move in with him and his roommate. Their third roommate was planning on moving out to live with his partner, so his room would be open for the taking.

“It’d be so much easier than putting an ad in the paper or online and interviewing strangers. You and Chan are cool right?” Hansol had asked, referring to his other roommate. Lee Chan was one of his best friends since you all were kids. Other than his very loud and very obvious crush on you, you had no problem with Chan and gladly accepted the room offer.

After you and your brother made a plan for you to move in, you contacted your oldest and closest friend who had offered you job opportunities before, citing if you ever wanted to move back to South Korea, she would do her damndest to get you something. Needless to say, she was thrilled to hear your voice when you finally called and broke the news.

The planning to get here seemed like it took forever, but now that you’re back with your feet on Seoul soil, you were happy. The journey of closing this chapter of your life was wrapping up. Now you will have a chance at doing something different for the next part of your life.

With both full-to-the-brim suitcases in hand, you roll them behind you into the building and to the elevator. The ride to the third floor is short and the walk to your brother’s apartment is even shorter.

Just as he had instructed, you lift the welcome mat to find a key waiting for you and use it to let yourself in.

“Han?” You call your brother’s name once inside but don’t get a response. You can hear water running down the hall and see shoes by the door so he’s obviously home.

Your eyes sweep over the living room as you take off your coat and boots. You’re surprised at just how clean the apartment is with two men in their mid-twenties living in it. The couch is a simple black fabric three-seater with a matching chair off to the side. A brown wood coffee table sits in front of both with a few magazines and two remotes on it. Presumably, for the TV and VCR sitting across the room from the seating.

You had half expected to see clothes and movies strewn across the floor and furniture, but there’s none of that in sight.

After hanging your coat on the rack by the door and leaving your boots with the other pair, you leave your suitcases in the foyer and start down the hallway, heading for what you assume is the bathroom. You’re not sure which room is Hansol’s, but he mentioned that he’d be home when you got in, so you plan on poking your head into each door until you find the one that so obviously screams Chwe Hansol.

The water cuts off in the bathroom as your socked feet pad across the carpet and you make a pitstop at the bathroom, figuring you’ll just meet your brother there instead.

“Hansol?” You raise a hand to knock on the door at the same time that it swings open. It is most certainly not your brother on the other side.

Out of the bathroom, clad in only a fluffy white towel slung low on his hips, steps your brother’s roommate and best friend Lee Chan.

The same Lee Chan that you’ve known since he was in grade school when his hair was spiked, his eyes were too far apart and his head was too big for his body. The same one that’s been hopelessly in love with you since he and his family moved in next door to you and Hansol when he was ten. You of course have had to turn him down all of your life. Other than the fact that he’s a few years younger than you, he was always just your brother’s awkward but sweet best friend. You remember exactly how he looked and how he acted - like a kid.

This Lee Chan though is different. This Lee Chan very clearly works out. His arms are muscular and buff. He has defined pecs and abs that are still covered in flecks of water that are dripping down his built body. Dripping down to the light dusting of hair leading from his belly button and underneath the towel.

This Lee Chan has a strong jaw, pouty lips, and dark hair that hangs in his eyes. This Lee Chan is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life - and a man he most certainly is. Your eyes unabashedly sweep over his mouth-watering frame until you meet his brown eyes and you remember instantly that this is still the Lee Chan that you should absolutely not be looking at like this.

“Oh! Y/n!” His voice is much deeper than you remember and it sits heavy in the pit of your stomach.

“Chan! Sorry, I thought you were Hansol! He said he’d be home when I got in.” You clear your throat, trying to get a grip on yourself.

“Oh yeah, he got called into work at the last minute. He left you a note on the fridge.”

“Oh, okay.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, neither of you speaking.

“Well uh, let me get dressed and then I can give you a tour of the apartment and your room. I’m heading out soon to meet up with some friends, but I have time.”

“Only if you want to! I don't want to hold you up!”

“You won’t, promise! Just give me a few minutes.”

Chan flashes you a smile that fills up his whole face and you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks.

You nod and scurry to the opposite side of the hallway, realizing that you’re still trapping him in the doorway of the bathroom. You watch him walk into what you can only assume is his room and go back into the living room, waiting for him on the couch.

You’re thankful for him needing to take a few minutes because you need some time yourself as well. The fact that this man is the same boy that you grew up alongside is a lot to wrap your head around.

The two of you have always gotten along. He was a sweet kid even though all he did was follow you around at any moment he could. He was funny and probably one of Hansol’s most respectful friends which you appreciate, given that his friend group was all just a bunch of rowdy boys, but you’ve never thought about him like that in all the time that you knew him.

Over the years, there have been a few times where you’d see him in pictures your mom would email or mail to you whenever you were somewhere for a long period of time. The last time you’d come home for the holidays was three years ago and you saw Chan briefly, but from what you recall, he just looked like some guy to you when you had seen him. He did not look like this then and he certainly hadn’t been this good-looking growing up or maybe you would have entertained something with him.

That thought is only fleeting and you have to calm your heart (and your pussy) from reacting to seeing him like this. He’s still your little brother’s best friend and he’s now your roommate, and in no way can anything happen. That is messy on so many levels.

This sudden onslaught of want has to be because you’re just that desperate for a romantic connection with someone. Or you just need to get laid. Trying to maintain any semblance of a relationship in your line of work proved to be harder than you’d think.

For the past almost 10 years of working in the sky, you’ve had your fair share of hookups here and there. Your last was a fun, albeit messy, fling with a new pilot you were often on the same flights with named Kevin. He was handsome and funny and easy to get along with, but that didn’t end well, seeing how he got right to work hooking up with all the other flight attendants on his flights. You weren’t sure if commitment in the form of officially being boyfriend and girlfriend was what you wanted with him, but you had gone out of your way to make sure you weren’t sleeping around or seeing other people when the two of you got together. He didn’t agree with that.

Before Kevin, there was another flight attendant you were often on the same flights as. Krystal was sweet and the two of you had grown close, but she wanted to keep your relationship a secret from everyone all of the time. You had known going into it that you were still in a time where people were weird about queer people, but you also didn’t care that much. She did though, and ended up calling it off mostly due to paranoia.

Then there was the wealthy businessman, Jacob. He was an amazing guy and an even more amazing lay, but he wanted you to quit your job and move to Canada with him. This was a bit earlier in your career so you were nowhere near ready to abandon it all. He didn’t like that and would get into huge fights with you about it until you finally broke it off.

There were other tries and fails, but the moral of the story is that dating was damn near impossible for you for most of your adult life. Now that you’re planning on finally settling somewhere, you need to get back onto the dating scene and stop lusting over someone you should not be drooling over.

Chan comes out of his room then, dressed and hair styled. He’s clad in denim jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt and somehow your eyes still sweep over him as if he’s still standing in front of you in a towel.

He doesn’t seem to notice your ogling since he simply flashes you a wide smile and beckons you to follow him into the next room.

“So, the apartment isn’t anything too fancy. We’ve got the kitchen around the corner here; if you go through that door, that’s the balcony. There’s a couple of chairs and a drying rack out there - nothing very interesting.” He points around the simple kitchen, gesturing to the sliding door next to the fridge leading to the balcony. Chan walks in front of you again to lead you back out into the living room and you can’t help but catch a whiff of his cologne. The warm, woodsy scent makes you groan internally, and yet again, you need to check yourself.

He gestures to the living room, mentioning the entertainment center and their VHS collection. He mentions that your brother made a space for you under the sink in the bathroom for you to put some of your things. Chan points out the small closet next to the bathroom where they keep extra towels and linens and the washing machine which sits in a small nook next to that closet.

The room directly across from the bathroom belongs to Hansol, and when looking inside you see that’s obvious. Posters line the walls and CDs and books are piled on the dark wood desk in the corner. Clothes are strewn about on the floor along with a few pairs of sneakers. Since the rest of the apartment is cleaned up, clearly Hansol reserves the mess for his own space.

The second room next to Hansol’s is Chan’s. He lets you poke your head in and you’re surprised at how neat it is, much like the main area of the apartment. It’s safe to assume that Chan must be in charge of keeping things neat or at least keeping your notoriously messy brother in line.

The last room at the end of the hall is yours. It previously belonged to Seungkwan, another one of Hansol’s best friends and their former roommate. It’s clean and neat, with a desk against the wall on one side and a made-up bed on the other. A dresser sits near the closet next to a full-length mirror. Otherwise, there’s not much else in it.

“Oh! Let me grab your bags! I should’ve offered.” Chan ignores your protest telling him not to worry about it and goes to get your suitcases anyway.

He wheels them down the hall and into your room as you grab your backpack and purse and follow behind him.

“Thanks, Chan.” He leaves your luggage by the door and smiles at you again.

“No worries, Y/n,” Chan checks his watch before announcing that he’s about to leave. “ If you need anything, Hansol should be back later this afternoon and I know he keeps the number to his work line on the fridge. I’ll probably be home in the evening, but otherwise, the apartment is yours since you live here now.” Chan waves at you as he leaves your room and you take a seat on the chair in front of the desk, listening as he collects his things and shouts another goodbye, closing, and locking the front door behind him.

The apartment is quiet when it’s just you and the temptation to sprawl out onto the bed and take a nap is so real, but instead, you force yourself up and out into the living room. You know that you should call your mom and let her know you’ve landed, but you also know she’ll talk your ear off if she answers, and you’re not really in the mood for that.

Instead, you pick up the phone on the side table and call your childhood best friend Jinah, intending to coordinate a time to meet and catch up. When she doesn’t answer you leave a message, letting her know this phone number and that you’ve made it to Seoul. There are a few other friends you need to connect with, but that can wait until later.

For now, you decide that a hot shower is calling you. Admittedly, it takes a few minutes for you to figure out how the shower works, but when you do, you’re more than thankful for the opportunity to clear your head and finally relax. You’ve been frazzled and stressed for months leading up to quitting your career and moving back home, but now that it’s done and you’re here, you feel as though you get a little bit of breathing room.

You still have the matter of getting a new job, which Jinah will be helping you with, and eventually, you need to figure out where you’ll move after you’re back on your feet since you don’t plan on making staying with your brother permanent, but for now, the biggest hurdle of moving back across the globe has been crossed.

After your shower, you make note of how your stomach growls, but decide to get a little unpacking done first. You already know that if you don’t at least start, your suitcases may sit in this room for days until you have the willpower to put things away. After digging your discman out of your backpack, you pop in an Aaliyah CD and get to work.

You only get as far as folding your underwear and bras and putting those in the dresser before you’re stretching out on the bed and telling yourself you’ll only close your eyes for a moment before resuming.

Your head feels groggy when you open your eyes, sit up, and take in your surroundings. For a moment, you forget where you are, until you remember you’re in your new room in Seoul. Sun shines through the curtains covering your window and you spot your discman on the nightstand next to your head.

When you poke your head out of your room, you can hear soft sounds from the TV in the living room, but before you investigate, you take a detour to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

“Look who’s returned to the land of the living!” Hansol greets you when you finally make your way into the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, watching a variety show, but quickly gets up to pull you into a hug.

“Hey, Sol. What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“In the morning?!” You blink at the window with the curtains drawn open, frowning at the sunlight coming into the room. “I got in at noon yesterday!”

Hansol chuckles as you plop onto the couch next to him. “Yep. I tried to wake you when I got home yesterday, but you just grumbled at me and turned back over. I put your discman on the nightstand so you wouldn’t knock it off or anything so you’re welcome.”

“Damn, guess I was just that tired.”

“Yeah, Chan tried to get you up too, but you didn’t budge. He brought dinner home but not even food could get you up.” Hansol laughs, thankfully not noticing the way his words fluster you. The thought of Chan seeing you sprawled out on your bed, mouth likely open as you slept is embarrassing. You quickly have to remind yourself that he is your roommate so he’s bound to see you sleeping and to get over it.

“That explains why it feels like there’s a gaping hole in the pit of my stomach.”

“Don’t worry, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge for you. And I’m sure there’s some other stuff to tide you over until later.”

“Where’s Chan now?”

“Work. Same place I’m about to go. It’s my turn for dinner tonight so I’ll bring chicken home with me.”

“Ugh, I haven’t had good fried chicken since I was in the States and we landed in Atlanta, Georgia for a while.”

“I got you. There’s a really good place not far from the apartment.”

“You’re the best, Sol.”

“I know,” your brother boasts, getting off the couch to stretch.

“Oh! Mom called last night for you. She’s pissed you didn’t call her when you got here.”

Letting out a groan, you roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. I just didn’t have it in me to listen to her tell me a story that I’ve probably already heard ten times. I’ll call her later after I finish unpacking. I already know she’s gonna want me to come over.”

“Oh, she does. She wants us both over tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! She didn’t even ask if that works!”

“She didn’t, but that’s because she knows I’m off work tomorrow and in her words, ‘it’s not like your sister has any obligations yet, so you can come over close to lunch.’”

Hansol’s recounting of your mom’s words forces another eye roll out of you, but you’ll both be there and you already know it.

“I’m running to the bathroom then I’ll get ready to head out. Here, have fun.” He hands you the TV remote before disappearing into the bathroom.

Before you can get comfortable, you pull your tired body from the couch to grab leftovers and eat before your mom calls again, inevitably nagging you about not calling her earlier.

As expected when you settle back down to call, your mom picks up the phone on the first ring and spends the next ten minutes chastising you for not calling her when you landed. You apologize multiple times, assuring her that both you and Hansol will visit her tomorrow.

Also as expected she talks your ear off for about twenty minutes, giving you updates that you know she’ll tell you about again tomorrow. Thankfully, the mailman shows up in the middle of another story about the neighbor she’s been having a holiday decoration war with for the last three years in a row so she lets you go, saying she’s happy to see you tomorrow.

Jinah is next on your call list and she also picks up after a few rings, cheering as soon as she hears your voice, celebrating your arrival in Seoul.

“I’m so happy we’re in the same timezone again!”

“Me too. I don’t even remember the last time we got to sit and chat.”

“I want to say it was when we were both in Spain last year. You had that day-long layover and I was out there for Fashion Week.”

“Oh, you’re right! You met that guy at that mall we went to.”

“Mmm, Ricky! He was so sweet. He still calls me sometimes. I don’t always answer, but he tries.” Jinah giggles, no doubt at some memory of her and the model she easily picked up that day.

She shifts around on the other line. “Oh damn, as much as I want to catch up with you babe, I’m about to head out for a meeting. Can we meet up tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if you can do it late in the afternoon? My mom wants me and Hansol to come over tomorrow. She already chewed my head off for not calling her when I got in.”

“Oh, Mrs. Chwe. Well, after you’re done with family time, let’s meet up! There’s a new bakery that opened in Hongdae that I haven’t tried yet. We can go together since it’s not too far from your parents’ place.”

“Please! I am craving a croissant actually.” Jinah tells you the address which you quickly write down, agreeing to meet tomorrow afternoon.

With that call over, you decide to finally bite the bullet and finish unpacking your things so you can stop thinking about it. It doesn’t take very long, seeing how your whole life was packed away in two suitcases, a backpack, and a purse. You make a mental note to do some decoration shopping for your room once you have the funds and decide to reward yourself with TV time.

You didn’t get to catch up on many shows always being on the go, so you plan to spend your time now getting in the know and watching as many reruns as you can catch. Among other things, not being in the sky for 90% of your time will offer you the opportunity to take things much slower. You’re used to always either being on a plane, spending a few nights in hotels or short-term rental places, or rushing between all of these destinations, so you plan on doing the complete opposite with your new schedule now.

You’re stretched out on the couch, enjoying an episode of one of the new dramas everyone around you has mentioned when you fall asleep again, your eyelids unable to concentrate for long.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you feel yourself being slightly shaken, your eyes cracking open to see Chan staring down at you. When your eyes finally adjust you get a better look at him and note how handsome he looks in his leather jacket and beanie. Why is that even the first thing you thought?

“Hey, sleepyhead. We’re home and we have dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, fried chicken!” You sit up, groggily rubbing your eyes and you see Hansol coming into the living room, bag in hand.

You step away to freshen up, fixing your hair and splashing some water on your face. Your brother and Chan have already set up the chicken and beer on the coffee table, taking their seats on the floor around the table as Hansol flips through TV channels.

Plopping on the floor across from Chan, Hansol pulls a can of soda out of the bag next to you, sliding it over your way. You eagerly open it, thanking him for remembering your lack of enthusiasm about drinking, and grab a piece of chicken.

“So, Y/n,” Chan starts, his full attention on you. “What brought you back to Seoul? When we talked about you moving in, Hansol told me you wanted to quit and move home, but I didn’t ask why.”

“I was just ready for something more stable, is all. Traveling the world is fun and I didn’t hate my job - I met a ton of new and interesting people - but at some point, I just got tired of never having a true place that is mine. I mean, I’ve been doing this since I was twenty. There are only so many hotels and rental places a person can do until they get tired of the constant movement.”

“That makes sense. When I went abroad during my first year of college I got super homesick so I ended up coming back. Some of our friends said I was lame for coming back, but I don’t know, I’ve always loved Korea you know? It’s where I grew up and I feel safe and secure here. I guess I just needed time away to decide what I wanted to do.”

You nod along, understanding what he means. You didn’t know too much about Chan after you graduated and left Korea, so it was nice to learn a little more about him.

“I get that, I mean we see I’m back now after all these years. Some people just gravitate back to where they came from.”

“Yeah, I was just surprised when Hansol mentioned you coming back. I remember you being so excited after graduation because you knew what you wanted to do already and I know you just wanted to see something else other than here.” Chan smiles at you gently. The fact that he remembers how you were feeling after graduation is sweet to you.

“I was excited and I don’t regret what I chose to do. It was fun but ended up not being my end-all-be-all, which is okay. But anyway, enough about me! Hansol told me that you own a dance studio?”

“Oh, yeah. I took over my dad’s dance studio. He’s still around, but I own it. We’re talking about expanding and making it an actual dance company. People from all over Korea come to the studio, so if we can find more spaces and good instructors we can open another here and even abroad.”

“That’s amazing, Chan! You always loved to dance. I’m glad you’re able to do it full-time.” The tips of Chan’s ears redden at your compliment and he takes a long swig of his beer.

“Thanks, Y/n.”

“Of course. I only hope that now that I’m back I can find the next thing that I want to do. My friend Jinah, I don’t know if you guys remember her, but she’s going to get me a job at the modeling agency she works at. It’ll probably just be something in the office until I find something else or figure out my next move.”

“Well, you’ve always been really smart and ambitious so I’m sure you’ll find something you’re good at now that you’re back.”

“Thank you, Chan.” You feel your face heat up at his words.

The two of you seem to share a moment where you both glance down at your food, then back up at each other every few minutes.

Hansol suddenly clears his throat as if reminding you both that he’s sitting right in between you.

“Things at my job are going well thanks for asking.”

You both snap out of whatever that moment was and recover by asking Hansol how he likes his new responsibilities, recalling the raise he got recently at work. Hansol’s worked for the same newspaper company for the past four years and you know he’s done his best to gain a good reputation at the company and that he works hard.

You do your best to avoid the questioning look he’s passing between the two of you and instead take a big bite of the chicken wing in front of you.

“It’s good. I write movie reviews now which is cool. I get to see a bunch of movies that come out before the general public for free. It’s much better than the random articles they had me working on before this promotion.”

“I’m proud of you, Sol.” You reach over to ruffle his hair with the hand not touching your food, ignoring the groan he lets out at the action. “Maybe one day you can bring your big sister to one of these early movie showings?”

“Tch, good luck. He won’t even bring me,” Chan mumbles, taking another sip of beer.

“I’m watching movies for work, thank you very much.” Hansol rolls his eyes at the way that Chan sticks his tongue out at him playfully. “Speaking of work, Y/n, make sure you let me know soon if Jinah can’t get you into her company. We have some openings that popped up recently and I’m sure I can get you in if you need it.”

“I will. We’re gonna hang out tomorrow after we see Mom and Dad and I’ll ask her more about it then.”

The three of you spend the rest of dinner watching TV and spend more time catching up. Hansol talks about some upcoming articles he has to work on, Chan goes over more plans for expanding his father’s dance studio, and the men both question you about all the places you’ve traveled to and everything you did as a flight attendant.

After dinner, you help clean up the trash before deciding to go to bed. Your internal clock is still readjusting to a semi-normal schedule, so you need at least a few more days before you can stay up later than 9 PM.

“Goodnight, guys,” You wave at the boys, heading down the hall into your room. You’ll take a shower in the morning - for now, you just want to rest.

Once you’re in your room, the door shut, Hansol eyes Chan as the man casts a few glimpses down the hall. He chuckles, getting his best friend’s attention.

“What?”

“Your crush is still showing, you know.”

Frowning, Chan looks between Hansol and the hallway before fixing his gaze on the TV.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hansol scoffs at him but drops it. He knows Chan well enough to know when he’s lying through his teeth, but he won’t press it.

“Whatever you say, dude.” Hansol shrugs, announcing that he’s going to get ready for bed too. Chan stays in the living room, staring at the TV for a little while longer, but not taking in the show.

All he can think about is the fact that he is very much still into you and he’s never actually stopped. When Hansol brought up you moving in with them, he had no problem with it. You’re his best friend’s sister who needs help, of course, he wouldn’t say no. Chan figured that it would be nice to get to know you more as an adult since all of the knowledge he has of you is the person you were from middle school to high school and the things he hears Hansol or the Chwes say about what you are doing or where you are.

He knew it would be nice to catch up and spend time with you because you’ve always gotten along and you were always nice to him. He hadn’t expected his decade-old crush to creep back into his heart the moment he laid eyes on you, but it did. Chan doesn’t know what to do with these feelings so for now, he’ll squash them down the same way he has since he was ten. He’s more than used to it by now.

“My Y/n!”

It’s the first thing out of your mom’s mouth when she opens the front door, sweeping you up into a hug. She rocks you back and forth telling you how much she missed you.

“Wow, she never hugs me like that,” Hansol murmurs behind you as he steps inside and starts taking his shoes off.

“Oh, hush Sollie! I saw you two weeks ago. I haven’t seen your sister in two years!”

She does end up reaching over to pull Hansol into a hug of his own, once she decides you can breathe again. Your stepdad follows a minute after, hugging you for a much more normal amount of time, but also makes sure to let you know he’s personally offended that you haven’t been home in so long.

As anticipated, your mom has a full spread of food waiting on the table and ushers you and Hansol to sit and eat. Also as expected, she gives you the third degree, wanting to know about your work, your plans, and everything in between, which includes your nonexistent love life. You appease her and keep it short and simple: you’re hearing from Jinah soon about a position, you plan on doing that for at least the next year or two to save up enough money to move into a place of your own, and you’re single and have been for months.

This turns into an almost two-hour visit. If your parents aren’t asking you about your travels or asking Hansol about his job, they’re circling back to you and the fact that ‘now that you’re home and getting situated, you can think about eventually settling down. Since you’re almost thirty.’

You keep to yourself that you have had pretty lackluster luck when it comes to dating overall, but your mom still finds opportunities to sprinkle in that she could ask around to her friends about whose sons may be single, and you tell her you don’t need the help (even though you know she’ll likely do it anyway).

Eventually, you manage to get your parents to talk about themselves and get them to update you on things in the house they’re fixing up, how your dad is doing at work, and some new crochet projects your mom is working on.

Even though they can smother you at times, you know they both do what they do out of love - especially your mom. You did miss your parents at the end of the day and they mean well. They love you and Hansol and have missed you terribly - the latter a fact that your mom made sure to reiterate over and over again.

Before you leave, your mom repeats how happy she is that you’re back home, especially in time for the holidays, and truthfully, so are you. You love holidays because you love decorating and you love all of the themed things that come with holidays. Hansol mentions that he and Chan have never really worried about decorating their apartment, which you immediately informed him will change this year. You plan on decorating the apartment for Halloween and will turn it into a winter wonderland come November. Your brother knows you well enough not to argue and simply laughs, shrugging and telling you to go crazy.

After you finally manage to escape from your parents’ house, you and Hansol split up. He’s going to meet up with some friends and will meet you at home later, he says. You take a cab for the short ride to the coffee shop you and Jinah are meeting at and you notice you’ve arrived first when you don’t see anyone that resembles her.

You’ve only sat down for less than a minute when she sweeps into the shop with her long coat, big sunglasses, and beanie. She slips the sunglasses down her nose and peers around before meeting your eyes. A smile breaks out across her red-painted lips and she rushes over to you. She looks as pretty as she did growing up and it warms your heart. It makes complete sense that she’s such a prolific model now.

“Y/n!” She says your name when making it to the table and pulling you into a hug.

“Hey, Jinah! It’s so good to see you!”

“You too! It’s been too long and I hate it.” She pouts at you as she moves to her seat, shedding her coat, and hanging it on the back of her chair.

“I know, I know. But I’m here now.”

“You are and you’re gonna get sick of seeing me so much! Especially, if you get a spot at the company! I’m still waiting for my boss to get back to me about your resume.”

“Ugh, I hope it’s soon. I’m not picky about what’s open honestly, I just need something.”

“Well you know I’ll call you as soon as I get some info. I’m sure they’ll hire you. I’m noted as your referral and everyone loves me there!”

Before you dive into more chit chat, you pause the conversation, wanting to order coffee. Jinah takes your order and goes to the counter herself, quickly coming back with two hot cups of caffeine.

“Okay, so no more work talk. How is it living with a couple of twenty-something boys after jetsetting all around the world?”

“Not so bad really. The apartment is surprisingly clean and put together. Me and Hansol have always been close, you know so it’s good so far. And Chan is cool - we’ve always gotten along. He was always around growing up so I’m used to having him in my space anyway. He’s different now of course, but uh, yeah you know.”

You stumble, just slightly on your last sentence and something flashes in Jinah’s eyes, her perfectly waxed brows rising almost immediately. You forgot about the fact that no matter how long you two spend apart, she’s still your best friend and she knows you almost as well as she knows herself.

“He’s different?” There��s a tilt in her voice that you don’t recall having in your words.

“I didn’t say it like that!”

“Yes, the hell you did! He’s different how? All I remember about your brother’s best friend is some skinny, big-headed kid that followed us around at school and whenever I was over your house.”

You bite your lip, assessing Jinah and if there’s any way you can steer the conversation elsewhere.

No such luck arrives for you though as she sits there, unwavering as she patiently waits for you to tell her the truth. You already know she won’t leave it alone if you don’t.

Begrudgingly, you give in, letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine, whatever, he’s fucking hot now, okay?! I’ve only been there like three days and any time I run into him he’s nothing but polite and considerate. He’s always been nice but he’s mature now. It’s just so different.”

“Hmph. So, you think he’s mature and polite and hot now? Got it.” She nods, taking a sip of her coffee, and swallowing slowly before speaking. “So do you think you’ll finally give him a chance?”

“Absolutely not! He’s younger than me and not only my brother’s best fucking friend but we’re roommates now. The level of messiness went from 80% to 180% if something goes wrong between us.”

“Yeah, but the chances of things going well also go from 80% to 180% too, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“But you’re both adults! What does it matter? Do you think Hansol will care?”

“I don’t know. But again, the main problem is if Chan and I only end up being a hookup or one of us wants something that the other doesn’t then living with the man will be incredibly awkward, and once again, he and my brother are best friends. Things won’t only be awkward for us, but I don’t want to drag Sol into that mess either. So it’s in everyone’s best interest that I keep my mouth and my legs closed and don’t even think about trying anything with Chan.”

Jinah hums and clearly disagrees but she doesn’t press it. Not that she has to because just like she knows you, you know her, and you know she has so many objections rattling around in her head.

“Anyway, time to hear about you! Tell me about your love life! Is it busy? Are you seeing anyone? Are you sleeping with anyone? I want to know everything about Im Jinah’s romantic endeavors.”

Your best friend clicks her tongue at you, noticing the obvious conversation redirect, but she obliges. She talks about a guy she’s mentioned to you before that she works with that she’s been on a few dates with. As an aside, she mentions that there are plenty of hot, single people at her company that you’ll run into, but you wave that part off.

She mentions that she needs to go shopping this upcoming weekend for a Halloween costume for a party a friend of hers is throwing at the end of October. She also addsthat you too, will be going to said party with her.

“I am?”

“You are. So, this weekend we’ll be getting costumes. A guy I’ve done a ton of ads and shoots with has a party every year and you’ll be my plus one! He’s super nice and pretty wealthy so his place is really nice.”

You do love Halloween and you haven’t really gotten to do much to celebrate it the last handful of years, so you agree to go, even though you knew she would’ve hounded you about going for days anyway. You saved both of you some trouble.

On the topic of Christmas, the two of you get caught up in talking about needing to figure out what to get people and when to go shopping to get ahead of it. You easily fall into conversation with your best friend, your subject changing every few minutes as you laugh and properly get caught up until you’ve both got two empty coffee cups each.

Eventually, Jinah glances at her watch and curses.

“Damn, I’ve got another meeting to run to. My manager and I have been meeting with a few magazines for some last-minute holiday ads they want to shoot for. “I’ll be sure to badger her about any news on your resume okay?”

You and Jinah exchange your goodbyes and you promise to chat in a few days if you don’t hear from her sooner. Even though she’s busy, she cites she’ll still be sure to make time for the two of you to hang out more. You both walk out of the shop together and with a goodbye hug, you both go your separate ways. Her to grab a taxi and you to the train station to head back home.

Chan really thought he was done with big life revelations. His last and biggest was deciding that college and a traditional degree weren’t what he wanted. After that, a bunch of smaller decisions hit him but no combination of realizations, big or small, could’ve prepared him for the fact that he’s still hopelessly in love with the same girl for the last almost fifteen years.

But seeing you again was like someone doused him with a gallon of cold water to the face. Shocking and jarring and nothing could’ve prepared him. Not for the way his eyes almost bugged out of his head upon seeing you again after what felt like far too long or the way his palms got sweaty just being close to you, even though he had just finished a shower before seeing you.

Chan was so sure that he was over you. He’s had plenty of partners over the years. Some serious and some not so much, but he doesn’t think he’s ever compared any of those people to you. It’s been years so surely he isn’t still hung up on his best friend’s older sister.

Unfortunately for him, that is exactly what he is and he’s not sure what to do with this information. A tiny voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him he’s a loser for not being over his childhood crush who has never reciprocated the feelings anyway. Never once have you made any indication that you thought of Chan the same, so it’s not as though you’re going to magically do it now…right?

His mind is so wrapped up in you that he keeps fumbling with the moves he practices at work in preparation for a dance class in a few days. He lets out another frustrated huff as he watches himself in the mirror trip over his feet yet again.

Chan’s close friend and co-choreographer at the studio walks over to the boombox at the side of the room, cutting off the music and staring him down.

“Okay, where’s your head, Chan?” Soonyoung looks at him pointedly. “You’ve been distracted since you get here and keep fucking up.” He waits for an answer, hands on his hips.

Chan hesitates for a moment, wondering if he wants to repeat his early years - where he would tell anyone who would listen that he was in love with Y/n Chwe. This is different though, this is his friend checking on him so he decides to tell Soonyoung.

“The girl I’ve loved since I was ten is back in town.”

“Okay?”

“And I still love her.”

“And? You’re both adults now so you can do something about it right?”

“And she’s living with me. We’re roommates now.”

“And?” Soonyoung rolls his eyes, still not seeing too much of an issue with this.

“She, uh, she’s Hansol’s sister.”

Soonyoung cocks his head to the side in thought. “Okay…well what’s the problem? Hansol is super chill. Do you think he’ll be mad about it?”

“I don’t know. I know Hansol more than almost anybody, but for some reason, I’m still really stressed about how he’ll react.”

“You could always ask him?” Soonyoung tries, offering Chan a bottle of water from the cooler across the room.

“I don’t know. I mean, even if I do and he’s okay with it, what if I ask her out and she says no? She had never liked me like that when we were young. I was always just her brother’s snot-nosed best friend.”

“I get being worried about that, but you’re grown now. Maybe things can be different?”

“Yeah, but if she turns me down, I don’t want to make things awkward for us all living together. And even if I am in some bizarre universe where she is into me too, I could very well fuck this up and she’ll want nothing to do with me and we’ll break up and it’ll still be awkward and then Hansol could not want to be my friend anymore or want me to move out and then what?” Chan ends his rant with a grunt, sliding against the mirror until he plops onto the hardwood floor. Soonyoung comes over and joins him, sitting cross-legged next to his friend.

“This has really been on your mind huh?”

“Hard for it not to be when she is as beautiful as always and sleeping in the room right next to me now.”

“Well, even though I’ve never been through something like this, my advice? Maybe try to just take it slow. Hang out with her more, test the waters, and see if she reciprocates. If so, then either keep getting closer or ask her out and go from there. What’s the point in constant what-ifs you know? Maybe you’re getting a second chance now that you’re both adults and in good places in your life. And sure you might fuck it up, but you also might not. You’ll never know if you don’t try.” Soonyoung shrugs, taking a gulp of water.

Chan side-eyes his friend, genuinely surprised at his words.

“Since when did you turn into a relationship expert with actual good advice?”

Soonyoung chokes on his water, coughing loudly to recover. “What do you mean actual good advice?! I give good advice all the time!”

“Tsk, just like that so-called, good advice you gave me that one time we went to the club and you told me I should start a dance battle with that girl that was flirting with me?”

The man looks genuinely offended, hand flying to his chest in surprise.

“First of all, I was drunk! Second of all, that was a good idea. She said she liked dancers!”

“Yeah, but I think she meant slow, sensual dancing like we had been doing all night before you swooped in with your so-called, good advice.”

“Whatever! Don’t take my advice and pine over this woman for another decade. Just decide so you can stop fucking up this dance!” Soonyoung pushes him over, making him land on his side, but the push is more playful than anything.

While Soonyoung may not have a great track record of steering Chan in the right direction, he mulls it over for the rest of the day after getting back to practicing. He ultimately decides that maybe Soonyoung is right. He won’t do anything weird or out of the ordinary. He’ll just be himself and try to spend more time with you and hopefully be able to show you the real him. The him that’s a mid-twenties career man with a plan and a future, who’s much more mature than from when you used to know him.

If he’s lucky, he won’t make a fool out of himself and if you’re not into him still, you’ll at least let him down gently. If he’s super lucky, you’ll feel the same way about him and he’ll finally get to call you his.

He’s not going to hold his breath, but he’ll regret it once again if he doesn’t at least try with you, unlike he failed to do when he was young and dumb.

Getting the call three days later from Jinah that you got a job at her agency was the best news you’ve gotten in a very long time. Her boss manages to get you a role in their travel department. You’d be working with the assistants of the models to help get their travel booked, manage their transportation, and help arrange all things travel related. While you don’t have any office experience, your flight attendant experience seems to be enough to get you into the role and you weren’t about to argue with that.

As soon as you start, you consider yourself lucky that you seem to fall into the team you’re on easily. It’s not difficult to get comfortable and find your place which makes getting settled all that much simpler. Plus, the pay is decent, and even a little more than what you previously made, so you can’t complain about that.

Jinah uses the Halloween party she told you about as an excuse to go out with you again and an excuse to celebrate your job. Hansol and Chan had already gotten you a small cake to celebrate which was extremely sweet, so you don’t mind celebrating with Jinah.

The cake, you learn in passing from Hansol, was Chan’s idea. It’s only one thing on the long list of ways that Chan has succeeded in getting closer to you over the weeks that it takes you to get settled in. You’ve spent time with Chan as a kid when he was around all the time, but you really get the chance to know him now that you’re adults living together.

You learn most, if not all of his likes and dislikes. His favorite colors, favorite foods, movies he likes, and celebrities he can’t stand (his one-sided rivalry with Lee Byunghun is especially funny to you since he also compliments his acting whenever one of his movies is on). He’s constantly making you laugh, always asking how your day was when you see each other in the evenings, and he always says good morning and asks how you slept when you get up for the day. On nights when he has to get dinner for you all, he always asks if there’s any food you're craving because he promises he’ll pick it up or make it (and he always does every time).

On the weekends, when you’re home relaxing and sleeping in, and if he works, he has started to call home often and ask if you need him to grab anything on the way home, be it medicine, food, a video rental, or anything in between. Chan makes it a habit to check in with you even more than your brother, which Hansol calls out one night over dinner. Chan’s cheeks go red and he throws a wayward shrimp at his best friend but doesn’t deny it, citing that he just wants to help you be comfortable.

If he isn’t checking on you or buying you small things, he’s making sure your laundry is washed if he’s doing his and that your favorite mug (the yellow one with the fried eggs print all over it) is always washed. He makes sure your favorite snacks are in the apartment and that you’re never without anything you need - even finding out your preferred brand of tampons and pads and wordlessly getting them for you.

By the time the end of October rolls around, you’ve been living with Chan and your brother for a month and your feelings for Chan are only growing, much to your utter dismay. You don’t want to like him, for the multitude of reasons you’ve already outlined in your head and to Jinah, but he makes it damn near impossible. If he’s not being the most sweet and polite man you’ve ever been around, he’s walking around the apartment shirtless from time to time or coming back from the gym or work sweaty and flushed with his arms on display.

He constantly treats you like a true gentleman would, carrying groceries for you and doing any heavy lifting around the apartment that comes up. It may be the bare minimum, but Chan treats you better as someone you’re not dating than anyone you actually have dated. You’re in a constant battle between your coochie and your heart about your array of feelings for Lee Chan and it’s only serving to drive you crazier each day.

On the night of Halloween, when Jinah is in your room with you getting ready for her friend’s party, she teases that Chan may not be able to hold himself back when he sees you.

“I don’t know, Y/n. Your ass does look really good in this jumpsuit.” You admire your figure in your mirror, admiring how the soft yet clingy fabric does, in fact, do your ass justice.

You and Jinah decided to go with a theme for your costumes. She’s going as an angel, complete with a white mini-dress, wings, and a halo. You went with a devil, the red, clingy jumpsuit you wear hugs every part of your body that you’d wanna show off and the zipper in the front is open just enough to accentuate your cleavage. The horns attached to the headband on your head sit comfortably and are the finishing touch.

Yes, you’re not supposed to want Chan to like you because it’ll make it that much harder for you, but you don’t mind the idea of him looking.

“Ready?” You ask when you’re finally done with your makeup, making sure your red lipstick is perfect.

“Yep! Let me call a car for us!” You and Jinah leave your room and she fishes her Nokia from her white bag.

When you step into the living room, you nearly trip over your feet upon seeing Chan lounging on the couch, flipping through TV channels. You know he and Hansol are also going out tonight to their friend Junhui’s Halloween party, but you hadn’t discussed your costumes.

His black t-shirt is as tight as your jumpsuit is and displays every muscle and ripple in his arms and chest and you even swear you can make out the faint outline of his abs. The black pants he wears are baggy since he’s dressed as a firefighter, but the fabric stretches over his thighs as he spreads his legs, and the suspenders that keep those pants up stir something feral within you. It takes every ounce of willpower not to go over and mount yourself in his lap right then and there.

Chan notices you both come in and hurries to sit up, making room on the couch for you. He seems to take notice of your costume and you watch as his eyes sweep over you from head to toe, unabashed and almost forgetting (or uncaring) that you can see him checking you out.

“Hey! You, uh, you look amazing.” He blurts, eyes still locked onto you. Jinah clears her voice from next to you and Chan seems to then remember that someone else is in the room. “Er, ah, you both do!” He adds, eyes flickering to your best friend who just snorts.

“Thanks, Chan. Our ride is here though, so I do have to steal her away now.”

“Ah, okay. Sure. I’ll see you later tonight, Y/n. Have fun and you both stay safe, okay?”

You nod, telling him to do the same. You catch sight of your brother as you and Jinah are on your way to the door. His Ghostface robe drags on the carpet as he comes down the hall.

Once you and Jinah slide into the car, and she gives the driver the address, she gives you a look.

“Don’t,” you say, stopping her before she can say what you already know she will.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what? That Chan got real-time tunnel vision checking you out in your costume and that he forgot I was even in the room.”

“Yes, that! Don’t say that!”

She shrugs, reaching into her bag and pulling out her compact to check her reflection.

“Okay. I won’t say it. I don’t really need to since you know.”

You did, of course, you did. You could feel the heat in his gaze when he looked at you, but you remind yourself that you can’t do anything more than look. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone at this party can distract you.

Truth be told, when you longed for someone at this party to distract you from Chan, you were only putting it into the universe and just keeping your fingers crossed. You didn’t think you’d actually find someone else to catch your interest. You didn’t anticipate that Jinah’s model friend that owns the large, expertly decorated house would take an interest in you, and yet he did the moment you met him.

“Minhyuk, this is my best friend, Y/n! Y/n, this is Lee Minhyuk. Y/n just moved back to Seoul after traveling for work.”

Minhyuk wastes no time in bowing to you before grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on the top of it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. Any friend of Jinah is a friend of mine.” The handsome man smiles widely at you, making you swoon on the spot. “Especially a friend as stunning as you.”

One look at this buff, beautiful man with perfect hair, perfect teeth, and a perfect face and you’re not surprised in the slightest that he’s a model. You’re sure he can get any woman that he wants and that his charms work on anyone he flashes a brilliant smile to. You’re annoyed that he’s having the same effect on you the more he talks to you and stays by your side for the first hour of the party. You chalk it up to having been single for so long and on your repressed desire for Chan, but you let Minhyuk flirt with you and drape his arm over your shoulder as he asks you about your flight attendant days.

Jinah stays with you both for a while after introducing you, but when it seems obvious that Minhyuk is making heart eyes at you, she excuses the two of you momentarily, pulling you aside.

“Hey, are you okay?!” She says as best as she can in your ear. The music from the sound system in the next room is quieter in the dining room you’re standing in, but is still turned up to a booming volume.

“Yeah, I’m good!”

“You sure? He’s hitting on you pretty hard. He’s a good guy but say the word and we’re out of here.” You mull your next words and decisions over, ultimately deciding to stay and see where things go with Minhyuk. You had asked the universe for a distraction on your way and here it is so why pass it up?

“I’m sure. If I need you or want out, I’ll tell you.” Jinah gives you another firm look before relenting and going with you back to Minhyuk’s side.

An hour later Minhyuk offers to show you around his house. Jinah stares at you, trying to gauge your reaction. You’re sure this will end up with the two of you somewhere in this house, presumably naked, but you decide that’s exactly what you need.

Minhyuk keeps his arm draped over your shoulders as she gives you a tour of his house, avoiding all of the drunken party goers and horny couples making out as you go. Almost every room in his house has people packed into it. His den, his game room, his second living room, and all four of his guest rooms. The only room that has no one else in it is his bedroom which is where you ultimately end up.

“Your house is very fancy,” you compliment, looking around his bedroom. The bed is bigger than even some of the hotel beds you’ve slept in. The duvet is soft under your palms as you sit on the edge and lean back on your hands. Art hangs on the walls and he has two dressers that you can see. You can’t see into the bathroom across the room, but the tub you catch sight of has to be able to fit at least four people.

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it. How’s the bed?” Minhyuk smirks at you from across the room, leaning against a tall dresser. The scrubs of his doctor costume are standard, save for the fact that the top is sleeveless. He crosses his arms and you see how every muscle flexes and twitches under his tan skin

“Mmm, it’s pretty soft. Your duvet is nice.” You cross and uncross your legs, watching as the model follows your movements with his eyes.

“Yeah? The sheets are even better.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yeah. They’re real silk. And temperature controlled so they’re the perfect coolness and won’t make you hot.” As he speaks he stalks towards you, tossing aside the surgical mask that has been hanging under his chin since you met him.

“Oh? They sound expensive.”

“They are. And they feel like a cloud. Wanna feel them?” Minhyuk is standing in front of you now, his knee resting against the edge of the bed between your legs, waiting for your next words.

You don’t leave him waiting for long, as you breathe out an “I’d love to,” and he immediately bends forward, hands grabbing your face to pull you into a heated kiss. Your hands reach out to grasp at his arms, nails lightly digging into the firm flesh.

Minhyuk grunts into your mouth, fully climbing onto the bed to hover over your body. One hand stays on your cheek while the other travels down your body, grabbing and squeezing as he settles on your hip.

His tongue slips into your mouth when you separate your lips to take in a breath. Your bodies move together as you shuffle backward up the bed a little, giving him more room to drape his body over yours and kneel between your legs. He presses his pelvis forward, the movement causing him to brush against you, the clothed tip of his hardening length grazing your crotch.

The sensation makes him groan and pause for a moment, his tongue and body stilling. A jolt of confidence rushes over you, making you shift underneath him and flip him onto his side. You quickly push him all the way onto his back and crawl into his lap.

“Mmm maybe I like this view more than you under me,” he mumbles, admiring the new position. He only gets a moment to take it in before you’re leaning down to kiss him again, your fingers brushing through his dark hair. Minhyuk’s hands move down your back to grip your ass.

Your make out session lasts for a few minutes, your mind finally slipping away from everything else that has been tumbling around in your brain. At some point, Minhyuk pulls away with a gasp and quickly peels his top off, tossing it aside before leaning back and letting you ogle him.

Your mouth drops at the sight of him, all chiseled muscle and rippling abs. You gawk for only a moment before your brain decides to remind you of the way that Chan looks without a shirt. He’s also muscular but in a much softer way. Chan’s abs are lightly defined and his pecs are still visible. You also always find your way back to thinking of that day when he had just gotten out of the shower, of the small happy trail that runs down, down, down to where you can’t see. You wonder how soft that dusting of hair is.

Minhyuk momentarily pushes away your Chan imagery when he reaches up to grab your face to pull you back down to kiss him again. Your hands stretch out to steady yourself, finding purchase on his biceps. The hard muscles twitch under your fingers and you squeeze in return. Immediately, you’re reminded of how soft Chan’s biceps and arms are.

A week ago the two of you had run into each other in the hallway of the apartment. You were leaving when he was rounding the corner, coming back from the gym. He had a tank top on and when he appeared in front of you, you both jumped, yelping in surprise. You had reached your hands out by instinct, with the intention of doing what you’re not sure, but when you noticed it was Chan at the last minute your hands unfurled from fists and gripped his arms to steady yourself.

His arms were built, but still so soft and smooth under your hands. That feeling has stayed with you even now as you think about Chan and his arms while another man is kissing your neck.

All of a sudden, you wonder what it would feel like if Chan was the one that was under you and if he was the one whose lips were pressing kisses on your throat instead.

Minhyuk’s fingers walk their way to the front of your jumpsuit and he flicks at the zipper that keeps your outfit secure. Before he has a chance to unzip it, his bedroom door bursts open and a woman stands in the doorway, yelling his name angrily.

The intrusion makes you jump, jerking too far back and toppling backward onto the floor.

“Shit, Y/n! You okay?!” Minhyuk jumps up and offers you his hand, being nice enough to at least check on you.

“Minhyuk, what the fuck?!” The woman screeches again, stomping over to him and shoving his chest. “I’ve been walking around this stupid party looking for you for like half an hour! You invited me tonight just to run off and fuck someone else?!”

“Hyoseong, I’m sorry, I-” Hyoseong cuts him off by shoving him backward, making him lose his balance and fall back onto the bed. He’s too close to the corner of the bed though, because he keeps going and falls back off the side, yelping the whole time.

Hyoseong smirks, satisfied as she watches him before turning her gaze to you still standing there awkwardly. The flame in her eyes diminishes and is replaced with concern.

“He’s not worth it, I promise. All he knows how to do is fuck every girl he looks at and lead you on!” She screams that last part at him before turning and storming back out of the room.

Embarrassment is written all over Minhyuk’s face as he scrambles up and gives you a sheepish smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but you speak first.

“Don’t even try it.” You stick your palm out at him, stopping him from responding.

He listens, not saying anything as you leave the room and beeline back downstairs in search of Jinah. You find her in the kitchen talking to a few other girls and when she sees you, she immediately rushes over to you, worry written all over her face. You reassure her that you’re okay and tell her about Hyoseong and she gasps.

“Fuck, I thought they broke up! Ugh, Y/n, I’m so sorry. I’ll go kick his ass right now!” She looks over your shoulder for him, but you stop her. This is clearly a story you’ll have to ask her about on another day. Right now, all you want to do is go home, shower, and flop into bed.

She doesn’t let you convince her to stay and have fun and is already calling a car for you both. You ride together and you tell her what was going through your head when you were hooking up with Minhyuk and she just nods, letting you pour out your garbled thoughts.

Of course, her response is to act on these feelings, but you quickly shut that down, reminding her of the list of reasons that you cannot act on said feelings. As she’s gotten accustomed to doing, she rolls her eyes and tells you that you’re thinking too much into this.

The conversation dies when you pull up at home, thanking her for the ride and hurrying out before she can keep bringing it up.

Chan is fucked. That’s all he thinks when he and Hansol get to Junhui’s party. Ever since you left, all that his brain plays on a loop is you in that red jumpsuit. It is long sleeved and the bottom of the pants are flared, but the fabric hugs you in every way imaginable. The only things he wanted to look at was the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, and the way it framed your ass as you left.

He knows that the image of you in that costume is all he’ll think about for not only the rest of the night but quite possibly for the rest of his life. He did his very best not to make it obvious he was checking you out, but in his defense, he swears he also saw your eyes stay too long on his chest and his thighs.

As the month has ticked by living with you, Chan has only fallen for you even more than he thought was possible. Everything you do and say makes his heart race. Every time he sees you, he wants to hold and kiss you, no matter what time of day it is. You look just as beautiful waking up as you do going to sleep.

He’s whipped and he hasn’t even told you that he’s still in love with you.

He knows he only has eyes for you because he spends the first hour of the party talking with his friends and sipping on a drink, but he still keeps going back to you in his mind. He knows he is especially hopeless when a cute girl approaches him and asks him to dance. He forgets her name as soon as she says it (Yerim maybe?) and even though she looks incredibly sexy in her little black dress and cat ears, the only thing Chan can see is you when he closes his eyes.

Even when she drags him to the living room to dance and presses her body close to his, he wishes it was you that was rubbing your ass against his crotch. Chan wonders what you’re doing right now and if you’re dancing with someone else just like this. He beats himself up at the thought, chiding himself for not asking you to come to this party instead or even to stop by after the one you’re at now. Even though Jinah asked you to her friend’s party first, he still should’ve brought it up, but he was too nervous you’d turn him down. He hates the idea of you looking that stunning and having other people look at you or touch you. He wants you so bad, in any way you’ll have him, and he doesn’t care how pathetic that sounds.

The cat girl seems to take notice that Chan is distracted as his arms lay limp on her hips. She turns around, draping her arms around his neck and pressing her tits against his chest. Her wide brown eyes blink up at him and her black painted lips curl up in a smile. She’s really cute, Chan can admit - like really cute - but she’s also not you. Before he can think anymore, she’s on her tiptoes, placing a kiss on his lips.

Any other time, he doesn’t think he’d turn down a cute girl that is so obviously into him and he certainly wouldn’t turn away from a kiss, but this time is different. This time, Chan only thinks of you and wishes this was you. That’s why he doesn’t make much effort to kiss her back. Not a single spark pops between him and the cat girl. She quickly gets tired of his lack of enthusiasm, soon pulling away and turning in a huff to leave him standing in the middle of the living room.

Chan watches her go, his eyes looking around the room and it hits him how much he doesn’t actually want to be here. He’d much rather be back at home, sitting on the couch with you watching late night sitcoms like the two of you have fallen into the habit of doing.

He’s only at the party for a couple of hours, before he finds Hansol in the kitchen, letting him know that he doesn’t feel very party-like anymore and decides to go home. Hansol is right in the middle of racing with their friend Seokmin, trying to shotgun a beer faster than him, but when he wins, he gives Chan his attention.

“Are you sure? You want me to go with you?”

“Nah, I’m good. Stay. I’m just gonna shower and probably chill.”

“Alright, dude. Can you just keep an eye out for Y/n when you get back?”

Hansol doesn’t have to ask twice. Even if he hadn’t asked once, Chan would’ve looked out for you anyway. It’s why after he’s showered and gotten a snack, he goes to the couch instead of his bed. He assumes you won’t be home until it’s late, but if he’s lucky he’ll catch a glimpse of you before you go to bed and will make sure you’re safe.

He’ll also get one more look at your costume which isn’t as important as making sure you’re safe, but it’s absolutely something he’s looking forward to.

When you get home, you’re surprised to see that the TV in the living room is on. When you round the corner you see Chan sitting on the couch, under a blanket with popcorn in hand and eyes wide in surprise at seeing you.

“Hey, Y/n! You’re home early.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t really feeling like being at a party anymore. Too people-y. I’m surprised you’re here though.”

Chan shrugs, “I guess I wasn’t feeling like being at a party either.”

You hum, glancing at the space on the couch he makes for you. “I’m gonna shower and put on my pajamas. Mind if I hang out here with you when I’m done? I’m not that tired yet.”

“Yeah! I mean, uh, yeah of course you can.” He clears his throat, eyes still flickering between you and the TV.

“Great. I’ll be quick and then we can watch a movie?” Chan nods and shamelessly watches you go when you hurry down the hall and into the bathroom.

You remove your makeup and shower faster than you think you ever have, eager to spend the evening with Chan.

Once your most comfortable pajamas are on, you join him, plopping next to him on the couch.

“So, what’re we watching?”

“Scream?”

“Oh, yes! Both of them?”

“Sure.”

Chan starts the movie already in the VCR and passes you the bowl in his hands which you eagerly accept. As the movie goes on, you both start on your respective sides of the couch. It isn’t until you’re halfway through the first movie that you have half a mind to notice that your leg brushes against Chan’s each time you adjust. At first, you jump at the contact, and he seems to as well, both of you shifting away embarrassedly.

That only lasts for a small amount of time though, because by the end of the movie, you’re both close again and the bowl of popcorn you’ve been sharing is empty. After Chan gets up and puts in the second movie, he comes back to the couch and sits down, this time close enough that your thighs touch and neither of you moves.

You continue to stay close to one another as you watch the movie and eventually, you’re so close that you’re practically cuddling. You’re not, but you may as well. Seeing how at some point, you end up falling asleep with your head on Chan’s shoulder and his arm draped around your waist.

You only know this to be the case when you’re woken up sometime later, Hansol’s voice rousing you out of your sleep. When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Ghostface staring down at you, causing you to scream, jolting into Chan’s lap and making the man jolt awake too. His eyes meet Ghostface standing in front of you both, also making him shriek and grasp onto you for protection.

Hansol lets out a chuckle, and lifts the mask, taking in the terror written on his roommates’ faces.

“It’s just me.”

“Jesus, Sol! You could’ve taken the damn mask off before you scared the shit out of us.”

You toss a pillow at him, hitting him in the gut, but he doesn't flinch.

“Nah this was more fun.” He dodges the second pillow that Chan tries to smack him with and says goodnight to you both as he sprints down the hall.

Once he’s gone, you both realize that you’re still partially in Chan’s lap and he still has an arm around you. You sit up quickly, sharing an awkward laugh with him as you get up, announcing that you’ll start to clean up. Chan helps and you tidy up the living room and cut the TV off, refolding the blanket you shared and saying goodnight before you go your separate ways to your rooms.

Your words are awkward, but neither of you can get over how warm and right it felt being so close. You tell yourself to forget it as you get into bed, reminding yourself that you can’t do that again.

Meanwhile, Chan can’t help but wonder if you’re thinking about him too, just like he’s thinking about you and the way you smell and how much he wants to hold you like that again one day.

He’s not sure if that’ll be a reality for him, but he can only hope so.

November is halfway over when you think that maybe you can finally, fully and unabashedly admit that you like Lee Chan. After Halloween night when you fell asleep together, you’ve only been spending more time with him and getting to know more about him. The problem is, the more you get to know Chan, the more you’re unable to ignore the rapidly growing crush on him.

You want to date him and have sex with him and kiss him. You want to hold his hand when you're grocery shopping or if you’re both in the same room. You want to hug him when you’re sitting next to each other on the couch or on the floor. You want to sleep in the same bed with him, cuddle against his chest, and wake up next to him the following morning.

You admit this to Jinah one day over lunch and she isn’t the least bit surprised. She’s stopped being so enthusiastic about you admitting your feelings for and to Chan, but you already know that’s what she wants to tell you to do whenever you talk about him or she sees you looking at him if you’re all in the same room.

It gets worse when you and Chan spend a day together decorating the apartment for Christmas. He helps you get the tree - a small plastic, realistic looking one since none of you want to deal with the work of a real one - decorate it, and hang up other decorations around the apartment. It all feels so incredibly domestic, similar to all of the cheesy rom coms you’ve had to watch on long flights around this time of year. Of course Hansol is there helping too, but he doesn’t seem to get in between the two of you when you stand too close or reach for the same ornaments.

Well, it’s more likely that he literally doesn’t even notice, but it’s still very cozy and special nonetheless.

Either way, Chan only continues to prove himself as the sweetest, most caring man you’ve ever been around and it’s only serving to stoke the fire that is your feelings for him. It was getting harder and harder to separate those feelings until you simply can’t deny them anymore.

You’re not alone in this want and desire. Every day that Chan has to see you and spend time with you, he only falls for you more. He thought his feelings were rough to grapple with when he was a kid, but this is different. Now that he’s spent so much time with you as adults, getting to know any and everything about you, it only cements his love for you into his heart.

This only makes things harder for him. He’s been trying to take Soonyoung’s advice and show more of the true him to you and he can’t tell if it’s working or not. You seem to enjoy being around him and he knows that at times he’s seen your eyes stray over his body. It’s not enough to make him brave enough to make any moves yet, but he thinks about it constantly. What if he’s reading the signals wrong? What if you’re just really nice and a good roommate and you don’t feel anything remotely romantic for him?

It’s that doubt and fear that has him keeping his mouth shut. Instead, he just constantly thinks about every part of you that he likes (which is everything, to be honest). He thinks about how pretty you are and how soft your skin is. He’s been lucky enough to accidentally knock into you or brush arms or thighs on occasion and every time he feels electricity throughout his body. He constantly thinks about how good you smell and how he can rank a list of all of his favorite outfits that you own. He thinks about your smile and your laugh and the way your expressions change when you experience different emotions.

Lee Chan is in love with you. Always has been and at this rate, probably always will be. He wants to be with you in every way possible. You’re always on his mind, but when he’s in bed, with only a single wall separating you both, he can’t help but think of other things that he likes about you.

Like how pretty your lips are when he sees you wrap them around a bottle or lick stray food from your fingers. Or how tempting your legs look when the heat in the apartment is a little too warm and you wear small sleep shorts. Or even the sound of your voice when you talk to him. He can imagine so easily how soft and breathy your voice could sound while you say his name if he was between your legs in either your bed or his.

Chan thinks about all of these things so much more when he wraps his hand around his aching cock and jerks off, wishing that it was your hand, or mouth, or pussy around him instead. He thinks about how much he’d love to watch you fall apart for him and only him.

When he cums all over himself with a whisper of your name on his lips, he starts to feel a little guilty for thinking of you like this but reminds himself that it’s just fantasies and he’s not acting on anything.

Little does he know that you want him to act on all of those things and more. He’s on your mind most nights too and you can’t help but slip your fingers between your legs. You think about his laugh and his wonderful smile and how high pitched his moans probably are and how stunning you know he’d look under you while you ride him. When your fingers are buried inside of yourself knuckle deep, you want so badly for it to be him and his fingers or his cock.

You have similar conflicting feelings after you fall apart, biting down on your lip to stop from crying his name. Guilt washes over you after the orgasm haze lifts and you scold yourself for thinking of him like this when you specifically tell yourself not to. That lasts for a bit until you remind yourself that it’s not like you can act on any of these fantasies so they’re better off as just that.

It's Thursday when snow starts to fall and cover the city of Seoul. You don’t mind too much. You can’t remember the last time you were in a place where you’d have the potential of a snowy Christmas, so you weren’t complaining too much.

Saturday is when the snow stops and sits on the ground like a fresh blanket. Your original plan is to lounge around the apartment and enjoy a day of nothing, the book you’ve been meaning to finish in hand when the phone rings. Your plans are rerouted when Hansol announces that you’re all going ice skating. Seungkwan and his partner want to go to the new outdoor skating rink that recently opened, but they want to invite all of you. You’re prepared to turn down the invitation because you’re cozy and you don’t even know how to skate, until Chan, who’s on the couch next to you playing his Game Boy, looks up and nods. He gives you a sidelong glance to see what your answer will be. The excited look on his face is enough for you to agree.

Half an hour later the three of you are in Hansol’s car and driving to the rink. Seungkwan and his partner are there when you arrive along with their other friend Seokmin who you recognize a little but from high school. Everyone eagerly lines up at the booth to get their rental skates and you lag behind. Chan notices and moves to stand next to you, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m fine I just, I don’t actually know how to skate.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

You shrug, taking a step as the line moves. “I don’t know. Everyone seemed excited to come so I didn’t wanna ruin it.” That’s partially true. You also just wanted to spend time with him, but you keep that to yourself.

“Well don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

“Ah, you don’t have to-”

“Nope. I wasn’t asking! I’m telling you that I’ll help.” He gives you a wide smile that makes you melt just as fast as the snow piled under your feet.

When it’s finally your turn for your skates, you ask for your size and Chan insists on paying for your rental with his, ignoring how many times you object. He leads you both to a bench on the side of the rink and helps you lace up your skates. Once they’re on and secure, you adjust your scarf and gloves and wait for him to finish putting his on.

Chan stands first and offers you his gloved hand which you take without much thought. Slowly, he leads you to the entrance of the rink, letting you slowly step out as he skates backward. As soon as your foot makes contact with the ice you almost feel your balance give out, but Chan keeps a strong grip on your hands, helping keep you upright.

“I won’t let you fall. Promise.” He smiles at you again, this time soft and warm and the gesture feels like a comforting hug.

You and Chan do an entire lap around the rink, albeit slowly, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Hansol has already passed you both numerous times, as has Seungkwan, but Chan doesn’t pay them any mind. All of his attention is locked on you and only you.

You manage to do a few more laps, your legs feeling more confident each time. Chan keeps skating backwards with his hands on you, the two of you falling into conversation and laughing the more comfortable you get with him ferrying you around the ice.

Things are going well. Your time with him feels so incredibly right. He seems to be enjoying it too because at some point he shortens the gap between both of you and moves his hands from around yours to your forearms, your biceps, and eventually, his hands are around your waist and yours are draped over his shoulder. The closeness is not exactly normal for two roommates who are not romantically involved, but neither of you moves away.

Your cheeks, nose, and lips are so cold that eventually, you’re ready to call for a break, but then you notice how close Chan is and how red his lips are. He looks cold too and you wonder what will happen if you lean forward and close the already lessening gap.

Chan’s eyes flicker up from your feet to your eyes, and then your lips. You hold your breath in that moment and look between his lips and his eyes. Something between the two of you stirs and you swear you see him inching his face closer and closer.

Before you can finally kiss Chan like you’ve been daydreaming about for the past 2 and a half months, you shift on your left foot which proves to be a horrible idea. You’re falling backward faster than you and Chan can register. You attempt to put your hands back to break your fall which helps because you don’t fall on your ass but you do land on your left wrist with more force than you thought. A sharp, shooting pain runs from your wrist to your elbow making you yelp in pain.

“Y/n!” Chan drops to his knees to check on you and Hansol is at your side in seconds.

“I’m okay, I think I fucked up my wrist though.” They both help you up, each man on either side of you to get you off of the ice. They sit you on a bench and Chan takes off your skates, then his before sprinting to the bench you both started at that still has your boots.

The rest of your group joins you to check in and you notice a few other skaters looking in your direction. In between the pain in your wrist, you feel utter mortification at all of the attention and the way that you busted your ass in front of everyone. Especially given the fact that you swear that you were so close to kissing Chan.

When he comes back with your boots, Chan helps you stand up and announces that he and Hansol will take you to the hospital. You try to object, but they don't want to hear it.

So, you end your day sitting in the hospital getting a wrist brace put on. The doctor says it’s only a mild sprain and all you need to do is wear your brace and use your wrist as little as possible for at least two weeks and you should be just fine.

Even though Chan is in the room when the words “mild sprain” leave the doctor’s mouth, he still treats you as if you have two broken legs and a concussion. He insists on helping you out of the hospital and car and into the apartment. When you sit on the couch he makes sure to prop the throw pillows up under your arm to keep your wrist elevated.

“Chan, my arm won’t fall off.”

“I know, but the doctor recommended keeping it elevated, remember? Now are you hungry? I think we have some leftovers, or if you want me to go out and grab something I can.” He stares at you concerned, waiting for your next order.

Shaking your head you slide over on the couch and gesture to the cushion. “Chan, I promise I’m fine. All I need is for you to sit down and just relax. I ruined skating so try and enjoy the rest of your Saturday.”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything! It was an accident. I’m just happy you’re okay.” Chan’s hand lifts and hovers over your good hand sitting on the cushion between the two of you. It’s only for a second because he seems to rather quickly decide against it, letting his hand land in his lap.

He doesn’t think you notice, but you do and it stings, just a little.

Despite the awkwardness that lingers now and again between you and Chan over the next week, he still insists on taking care of you. He ignores your protests for the first two days, so you end up just giving in. You let him do any simple lifting around the apartment, even going as far as to carry your food for you at mealtimes. He’s already been doing a lot of small favors and nice things for you, but he does it even more as your wrist heals. It’s both overwhelming and the most flattering thing anyone has ever done for you.

It’s not helping your emotional battle with your feelings for him in the slightest, but you’re ready to give up and accept it. You’re not sure if he feels the same or not. He was the first to initiate what you truly thought was about to be a kiss at the skating rink, but since that failed spectacularly, you feel like he’s also pulling away a little bit. To you, your relationship has only deepened since you moved in and you two were becoming closer and closer. Now though, even though he practically waits on you hand and foot, he still does it in the most platonic way possible, if that’s even possible. So, feelings you harbor for him aside, you’re stuck holding them to yourself in a vice grip.

Working with your wrist sprained is annoying, to say the least. Your role involves computer and phone usage which isn’t impossible, it just makes you a little slower at doing your day to day since everything has to be done with one hand.

When you hit the middle of your second week in the brace, you feel like your wrist will heal closer to the two weeks. That means that if you’re lucky, you only have three days left to suffer in the brace. You wonder if that means things between you and Chan will continue to change even further, but do your best to fight the spiral you’re about to go on. You’re just happy work is done for the day and you can relax.

“Sol!” When you walk into the apartment it’s the first thing you yell out, waiting for your brother to answer.

“Yeah?”

“Did I get a package today?!” Your very first set of business cards that your boss ordered for you a few weeks ago were supposed to arrive today. Hansol stayed home due to a stomach bug, so he was responsible for getting the mail. It wasn’t anything particularly fun, but you were still excited for your own business cards nonetheless.

“That depends; did you pick up the medicine I asked you to get?” He calls back. You roll your eyes as you kick your shoes off and gently remove your crossbody bag.

“And what if I said I didn’t? What’re you gonna do? Hold my package for ransom in your room?”

“Maybe. Or I hid it somewhere in the apartment and now you have to play hide and seek for it.” He chuckles.

“Hansol Vernon Chwe, if you don’t give me my mail, I will literally take your Game Boy and shove it up my - oh.” Your threat to Hansol vanishes the second you turn the corner into the living room and see a man on your couch that you don’t know. A handsome man at that.

A very handsome man.

“What was that?” Your brother teases you, seeing the way you blink back wordlessly at his friend.

“Nothing, shut up. Here’s your medicine, nerd.” You snap out of it and toss the paper bag at your brother on the couch.

“Thanks. Your package is in your room on your desk.”

“Thanks,” you nod, your eyes shifting back to the man on the couch who’s just been smiling politely at you since you entered, chuckling at your sibling spat.

“This is Joshua, by the way.” Hansol finally says, gesturing to the man next to him. “Josh, this is my sister I told you about.”

“Yeah, I remember her. Hey, Y/n,” Joshua waves at you, his smile lowering but you still notice the way the corners of his lips quirk.

“You remember me?” You ask as you try and wrack your brain for any Joshuas from your past. “Oh! Joshua Hong?!” The minute you remember him, you’re even more shocked at how good looking he is. The once lanky, awkward looking transfer student that your brother befriended in his first year of high school even though Joshua is older than him, is now so much different. He’s filled out more, the t-shirt he’s wearing hugging his torso in the most distracting way possible. His jaw is defined, his hair longer and a soft shade of reddish-brown. He looks like a completely different person in your eyes.

What the fuck is going on with all of your brother’s friends? Why were they all suddenly so goddamn hot?!

“That’s me. It’s been a while, huh?”

“I mean yeah, try almost a decade?” You sit on the couch on the other side of Hansol to catch up. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing much. I’m finishing my last year of school. I’m getting my bachelor of medicine right now.”

“You’re going to be a doctor?!” You’re surprised, to say the least. From your memory, you can’t remember Joshua being interested in the medical field, but at the same time, you didn’t really know Joshua well enough to recall too much about him.

He lets out a sheepish laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I’ll be doing pediatrics. I didn’t anticipate that I’d get into pediatric medicine initially, it’s just what I fell into and I love it.” God, he’s incredibly fine and he’s going to be a doctor? You’ve completely forgotten what you were planning on doing when you get home.

The front door opens then, Chan arriving home from work too. When he comes into the living room he freezes, surprised at the third person on the couch.

“Shua hyung?”

“Hey, Chan!”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Ah, my apartment building is being exterminated and I need to be out for two days and Hansol is gracious enough to let me crash on your couch till it’s done.”

Chan nods, not minding too much until his eyes flicker to you. He immediately notices the way you look at Joshua. He looks at you enough to know most of your facial expressions and the way your eyes inspect Joshua makes it clear you’re looking at him in the complete opposite of a platonic way.

Chan feels something unpleasant stirring in the pit of his stomach that he can’t shake.

It turns out Joshua is much more than just a doctor-to-be with a pretty face the more you talk with him. It should’ve been a little more awkward getting to know him, but it really wasn’t. You have a lot in common and he’s incredibly interesting and charming. He’s easier to get along with than you had anticipated. The two of you end up spending time together while he’s staying over and he also insists on helping you when he can even though, as you remind all of the men in the house, it’s just a minor wrist sprain.

You are lucky that he’s studying medicine because he inspects your wrist while he’s staying with you and reaffirms what the doctor at the hospital said. It’s not that serious and you should be free by the end of the week. Joshua’s hands are so much bigger than yours and they’re so very warm. The way he cradles your injured wrist is delicate and he handles you like the smallest flower. His sweet gestures make you feel warm all over anytime he says something kind to you or helps you.

He’s only on your couch for two days, but it’s long enough that you’re drawn to him. It helps that he is probably one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen, but his personality makes him almost too good to be true. Or you’re just incredibly desperate for someone to give you attention since it seems like Chan has taken a step back from being your nurse or growing closer to you. It hurts a bit, but having Joshua around feels nice and makes you feel a little more cared for.

When it’s the day that Joshua is supposed to be leaving, you both get back from work at the same time. You chat with him while he puts the pillowcase and blanket he used in the laundry and goes into the bathroom to make sure he’s packed all of his toiletries.

As you walk him to the door he thanks you again for letting him stay. Before he leaves though, he stops and takes a few seconds before turning back to you, surprising you.

“Hey, Y/n, I know this will seem completely out of nowhere, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but would you let me take you out sometime?”

You blink back at him, mouth opening into a surprised ‘o.’

“No pressure of course! And I won’t be upset if you say no. You’ve only really been getting to know me for two days, so I wouldn’t blame you at all if it’s a no.”

Even though Joshua seems like an absolute gentleman and has been nothing but nice to you, you still can’t help but pause. Your track record with dating has historically not been very good. Hell, even your last attempt at a hookup failed miserably. Plus, Joshua is another one of your brother’s friends. He’s only a couple of years younger than you, and sure, he doesn’t live with you, but you’d hate to be the reason that any of Hansol’s friendships get ruined.

“Joshua, you’re really sweet, but I’m Hansol’s older sister. I don’t know how he’d feel about that.”

“Okay, that’s a very fair hesitation, but if it helps, I asked Hansol this morning if I could ask you out and he said, and I quote, ‘Sure, whatever. Just make sure you don’t hurt her or I’ll tell Seungcheol.’” Joshua laughs, shrugging at you. You recognize that name as being Hansol’s oldest friend. You didn’t talk much when you were in school, but you remember him being mildly popular and feared by many.

You return his laugh and can’t help but wonder if Hansol would feel the same if you and Chan dated.

Shaking your head, you brush the thought away. One date can’t hurt - it’s not like Joshua is asking you to be his girlfriend. You and Chan are still in an odd place right now anyway. You’re not really sure how to gauge him right now, and he isn’t making any moves to change that. Sure you don’t know Joshua very well but that’s what dates are for right?

“Okay,” you finally say. “But after I get this stupid brace off. I will see my doctor tomorrow afternoon and I should get an all clear.”

The smile Joshua gives you is lethal and makes your palms sweaty. “Of course. After you take your brace off. I’d want you to be feeling completely better so you can enjoy yourself.” His words make your face heat up, suddenly feeling shy. “What do you say I pick you up tomorrow at six?”

“Sure, that works for me.”

“It’s a date then,” Joshua offers you one more look before he’s out the door and on his way.

Once he’s gone, you bring your hands to your cheeks, cursing yourself for getting so flustered around a guy you barely know, no matter how perfect he looks. To get your mind off of Joshua, you shower and get ready for the evening before deciding you’ll order a pizza and call Jinah to tell her about your date tomorrow.

“So how’s it going with Y/n?” Soonyoung asks Chan as they clean up and prepare to lock up the dance studio at the end of the day.

“It’s…going I guess.”

“I assume this means it’s going absolutely nowhere?” Chan narrows his eyes at Soonyoung, ignoring the way his friend laughs at him.

“It was going somewhere. And then I made her break her wrist and now everything is weird.”

“Oh yeah I remember you said that, but you also said that she was about to reciprocate when you almost kissed, was she not?”

“I mean, yeah I think so, but she’s also been flirting with Joshua since he got here and he’s definitely been flirting back. What if I’m wrong and she wasn’t actually going to kiss me back?”

Soonyoung lets out a sigh behind Chan, watching as his younger friend visibly agonizes over his thoughts and self-doubt.

“Chan, listen, I’m going to be honest with you okay?”

“Why am I worried…”

“Because I’m about to tell you the truth!” Soonyoung waits for Chan to lock the studio door and turns to look at him. “You need to decide what you want to do. Either you’ll keep doing this weird will-they-won’t-they with her and not tell her how you feel and probably stress over her for the rest of your life or you tell her and see what happens. I know you’re worried about what she’ll say or how she’ll react, but is that better or worse than letting this eat you up forever?”

Chan scoffs, both options are terrible and he hates them equally, but at the same time, he really has to decide. Either option makes him uncomfortable and unhappy, but Soonyoung has a point, he’s just not sure which is the lesser of the two evils.

“I don’t know…”

“Well, I think you should think about it again and figure it out. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with flirting unless she actually becomes his girlfriend or something, right?”

Chan mumbles something that even he finds unintelligible, but Soonyoung doesn’t press him to repeat himself. They walk the short distance to the parking lot on the side of the studio and bid each other goodbye, Soonyoung wishing him luck again.

Chan spends the entire drive home in silence, weighing the pros and cons of telling you how he feels versus not telling you. He’s had this internal battle with himself since you moved in and it’s always the same in each category.

You may hate him. He’ll make living with you awkward. He’ll fuck up his friendship with Hansol.

All the same negative scenarios play on repeat. The only pro (and the biggest, to be clear), would be that you feel the same for him or you’ll at least want to give him a chance. For Chan, it comes down to how much of a risk he wants to take here.

He’s not much of a risk taker usually, but he also can’t help but tell himself that you’re more than worth the risk. If he can get over his fear of the cons that is.

Chan is still deep in thought when he gets home. When he walks into the apartment, he can hear you talking in your room. The dock for the cordless phone sits empty on the side table next to the couch which tells him you’re using it.

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, truly he doesn’t, but as he’s walking down the hall to his room, he overhears you mention Joshua’s name and the word ‘date.’ Chan freezes in his tracks, his heart beating rapidly at the implication. He knows he should go into his room and wait until you’re done to ask what the plan for dinner is.

Instead, he tiptoes to your room, the door ajar enough for him to listen without being seen.

“I’m not sure where he’s taking me. He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I want to be surprised.” You chuckle and there’s a beat of silence as the person, who Chan assumes is Jinah, speaks. “I’m telling you, he looks so different now. Like, fuck I can’t even describe how good looking he is! And hello, he’s going to be a doctor!” More silence. “I mean, let’s not get crazy. We’re not eloping or anything, it’s just one date.” You stop talking before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

Chan takes this as his sign to slink away, trudging to his bedroom to wallow. He tries to remind himself that you don’t even know how he feels, he’s never even told you about his feelings, so what right does he have to be upset about this?

Absolutely none, logically speaking. That doesn’t make the twinge of pain in his chest feel any more bearable.

It’s ten minutes to six when you’re putting the finishing touches on your hair and fastening your jewelry. You called Joshua earlier in the day to let him know that your doctor gave you the okay to take off your brace and that your wrist is feeling much better. You also asked if you should wear anything special for tonight. He advised that you didn’t need anything fancy, just whatever makes you feel good and some comfortable shoes. To be safe, you were going with thermal leggings and a nice sweater to stay warm and comfy.

With your bag and boots in hand, you leave your room and head down the hallway, intending to wait in the living room. The apartment is quiet with Hansol out for the night and Chan presumably in his room. You haven’t seen him much since he got home from work last night. He took his pizza into his room to eat it and you only saw him briefly this morning when he was coming back from the gym. You want to ask him if he’s okay, but you can’t seem to get a moment with him to do so.

As you reach the end of the hallway, Chan rounds the corner suddenly and you both let out a yelp, running into each other.

“Shit, sorry!” Chan steadies you when your shoes and bag fall out of your hand along with the book that had been in his. He quickly bends down to pick up your things and gingerly hands them over to you.

“Thanks,” you smile at him, forcing your eyes up to his face and not down to the black tank top that hugs his torso.

“Of course,” Chan smiles back, neither of you moving. He’s blocking the entryway into the living room, you tell yourself, so he has to move first.

He doesn’t and instead looks above your head, chuckling nervously.

“Huh?” You look up and catch sight of the mistletoe hanging above your heads. Who the fuck even put that there?

The two of you look from the mistletoe to each other, and then back up again.

“You don’t have to,” Chan starts, his neck turning a deep shade of red.

“I - I mean you neither, if you don’t want to. But if you do, since you know it’s tradition or whatever, we can. Only if you want!” You’re stammering at this point, hand gripping the strap of your bag so hard your knuckles hurt.

Your mind goes back to the ice skating rink and the moment the two of you shared. Chan’s reaction now might just reaffirm your thoughts from that day, but you try not to get too emotionally attached as you wait for his next words.

He doesn’t say anything, and instead, he answers with his movements. He looks into your eyes, so intensely you feel yourself squirm under his gaze. He starts to lean forward then, his face coming closer and closer to yours.

There’s your answer.

Nothing comes from the moment though, when the doorbell rings, making both you and Chan spring apart with wide eyes. Clearing your throat, you apologize to Chan as you shuffle past him and into the living room.

“One minute!” You call out to the door, assuming it’s Joshua. You fish your compact out of your bag to give yourself one more once over before you rush to the door and sure enough, you see Joshua through the peephole.

“Hi. You look beautiful,” are the first words out of his mouth when he sees you, eyes sweeping over your frame appreciatively.

“Thank you. You look very handsome. And are those for me?” You gesture to the large bouquet in his hands and accept it when he holds it out to you.

“Thank you. And yes they are. I couldn’t just show up empty handed.” You thank him again and step back into the apartment to find somewhere to put your flowers. Chan is gone when you enter the living room again and you don’t see him as you find a vase in the kitchen and fill it with water, placing the bouquet in them before joining Joshua again and leaving with him.

Your date with Joshua is as normal as a date can get, but you don’t mind one bit. As he drives you to your destination, you fall into easy conversation as you ask him about his job. Right now, he’s working at his friend’s office until he’s done with school. Since he’s still getting his degree, he can’t legally do much medical wise, but he does volunteer at the hospital when he can to visit the kids and keep them company between surgeries and procedures.

He tells you stories from the hospital and you can tell just in the way he talks about the patients he’s spent time with that it’s something he really enjoys and is looking forward to doing full time. It’s admirable to see someone so in love with what they do and recall it in such a positive way. You know that when you recount stories from your time in the air and in different countries, it’s always with bittersweet words. There was so much you loved about being a flight attendant and so much you disliked, but Joshua talks about medicine with nothing but love.

Similar to how Chan speaks about dancing.

You push that thought away as soon as it conjures in your brain, refocusing back on your date.

Joshua takes you to a fancy looking Japanese restaurant and does everything right that you would expect. He makes sure to open your car door for you and the door of the restaurant. He pulls out your chair and tells you to order whatever you want, making it clear that he’ll be paying and brushing you off when you try to convince him to split the bill.

“Okay, Doctor Hong, you win. You’re more stubborn than me,” you joke after you both order.

He laughs, shrugging and making eye contact with you. “I asked you out, so I’ll pay. Simple as that. Maybe next time you can arrange the next date and you can pay.”

The idea of another date with Joshua hadn’t even crossed your mind. You’re comfortable with him and are enjoying talking with him and getting to know him more, but you feel like there’s something missing that you can’t quite put your finger on.

That feeling persists during dinner, even through the shared laughter and the jokes and it sticks when you’re back in the car after dessert. It lingers as you chat on the way to the second, secret destination he has on the itinerary.

When Joshua eventually parks on the curb of a neighborhood you don’t recognize, you see a bunch of other cars parked and can see bright lights in the distance.

“Where exactly are we?” You try to read street signs around but don’t recognize them. Joshua offers his hand as he opens your door and you hesitantly take it, letting him escort you out. He doesn’t let your hand go as you walk down the sidewalk and get closer to all of the lights.

“I know you’re really into Christmas and decorations so I wanted to take you here,” As you walk closer to the lights, you finally start to notice that they’re Christmas decorations. It’s a whole street of houses adorned with bright lights and flashy decorations. “There aren’t too many people who go all out with the decorations here, but I happened upon this street when I got lost once and they do this every year. It reminds me of the way people back home in L.A. decorate their houses for the holidays.”

You nod, eyes taking in a house with sparking blue and white lights wrapped around every inch of their house. “Yeah, whenever we had layovers or rest periods in the U.S. for the holidays it was nice to see all the decorations out there. It’s why I made Hansol and Chan decorate the apartment. It makes the holidays feel more fun for me.” You laugh, sticking the hand not in Joshua’s in your coat pocket. “I don’t know, maybe that’s silly.”

“It’s not,” he insists, squeezing your hand. “I think it’s very cute and sweet.” Looking over at him out of the corner of your eye, he smiles warmly at you. Joshua is so good at making you flustered it’s almost illegal.

You keep your hand in his as you walk down the sidewalk, pointing out different decorations and your favorite houses. There are other people around you taking in the decorations, all other couples from what you can see. There’s one house that you get to towards the end of the street that’s the most dramatic looking of all. Twinkling, multicolored lights cover the house and an army of snowmen litter the yard, all draped in winter clothes with lights on them as accessories. Various blow-up decorations dot the yard, one of them even playing instrumental versions of classic Christmas carols. Paired with the December snow on the ground, the yard resembles a true winter wonderland and for a moment, you just focus on that and not the fact that your brain keeps wanting you to imagine taking all of this in with Chan.

You’re so focused on the wonder in front of you that you don’t notice the way Joshua admires your profile, smiling at the way your eyes sparkle as you admire the lights and decorations. Joshua takes the moment, turning to you and placing his fingers under your chin to turn your head towards him. The gesture catches you off guard, as does the kiss he leans down to place on your lips.

Joshua’s lips are plush against yours and so incredibly soft. He almost doesn’t feel real. His lips move against yours and you reciprocate, but that earlier, nagging feeling you’ve had since the restaurant comes back. The insistence that something here is missing and it’s even louder now that Joshua is kissing you. It’s especially hard to enjoy kissing him when your mind only wants to focus on your second almost-kiss with Chan earlier. You yearn so badly to feel his lips on yours and daydream about if they feel as soft as they look. You also can’t help but wonder if kissing Chan would make you feel things like fireworks. That consideration alone makes you notice the severe lack of them now. Guilt occupies your mind along with your thoughts of Chan and you notice just how little you feel from kissing Joshua.

As if he feels it too, he pulls away slowly, eyes immediately scanning your face.

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“It’s just that, well I mean, you’ve seemed like your mind is only half here all night. I could feel it just now. Did I do something? I should’ve asked you before kissing you, I’m sorry.”

“No! No, Joshua it’s fine! You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise! You’re a great kisser anyway,” you mumble the last part, truly meaning it. Joshua chuckles and thanks you, but his expression gets serious again.

“I appreciate that and you are too, but I still feel like something is wrong.” He stares at you as if trying to read your mind and it makes you feel shy.

“It’s just…fuck, listen, Joshua, I have had a lot of fun tonight, okay? You’re easy to talk to and laugh with and I like hanging out with you, but I think maybe…there’s a spark between us that’s missing? I’m really sorry.” You gnaw on your bottom lip as you get your words out, worrying about how he’ll react.

Thankfully, he doesn’t make any indication that he’s upset at you. Instead, Joshua just nods and if anything, looks a little disappointed.

“Thank you for being honest with me. I’ve had a really fun time too. Even though I do genuinely like you, I’m not going to try and make you return my feelings. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to at least stay friends? I promise I can get over my crush.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad that I had you take me out like this and it was for nothing.”

“Hey, it wasn’t for nothing! I’m a little disappointed we can’t be more, but I still got to know you more. I mean it when I say let’s stay friends. It’s comfortable and nice hanging out with you. I promise I won’t make this weird. If you’re okay with it. Otherwise, when I take you home, I’ll drop you off and fuck off forever.”

You huff out a laugh, mostly in relief at how normal he’s taking your lack of interest. You study him for a moment, sincerity is easy to read in his expression.

Your shoulders relax as you nod, telling Joshua that you’ll gladly still be friends. This seems to put him at ease as well, letting out a sigh of relief. In your friendship travels, finding a dependable guy friend has been near impossible, so the idea of finally finding one means you can't just let the friendship slip away. You did genuinely enjoy spending time with him too.

You and Joshua finish the walk and any awkwardness you felt when the night started leaves now that the air is a bit clearer. Joshua doesn’t hold your hand, but he stays close and you appreciate that he genuinely meant he didn’t want you to feel weird around him.

After going around the block and taking a few selfies together (at Joshua’s request), you walk back to his car and he still holds the door open for you.

“What? Just because we’re friends this is still a date right?” He shoots you a smirk and you roll your eyes but laugh, nodding at his words. “Exactly. Now let’s get you home.”

Once back in the car, Joshua turns up the heat, both of you thawing as he starts the drive back to your apartment building.

At one point in your chatter as he takes you home, you compliment his gentlemanly behavior all night, telling him it’s honestly some of the most you’ve been wooed out of most other guys you’ve been with. Joshua frowns, citing how fucked up that is and how much guys fucking suck. You can’t help but laugh, noting that his level-headedness just adds to the fact that he’s the perfect guy for most women.

You voice this, adding: “If you’re still looking for someone special, my best friend just might fall in love with you if she meets you.” Joshua laughs, shooting you a brief look that you catch. “Yeah okay. I’ll tell her about you and let you know what she says.” You giggle.

“Sorry!” He winces, regretting his obvious expression. “Was that weird? Did I make it weird?”

“No, no! I don’t mind! I do think you’re a great guy and I love her and want her to be with a great guy. I don’t have a problem with you two going out. I’m just a little relieved to know you wanna talk to someone else so quickly. Makes me feel less bad about everything.”

“Hey, for real, don’t feel bad! I told you I’m going to be okay.”

“Ugh I know, I just feel bad because you paid for that fancy sushi and walked out in the cold and I’m curbing you.”

“Y/n, I’m not going to go home and write in my journal that you broke my heart. It was just a date, okay?”

Sighing, you finally accept his answer, deciding to let it drop, but still let him know you’re going to talk to Jinah about him.

“If you guys do go out and fall in love, try not to treat me like a third wheel, yeah?”

Chuckling, Joshua rolls his eyes at you as the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “She doesn’t even know my name yet, Y/n.”

“Yeah well, what I said still stands.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Mmhmm.” Joshua shakes his head at you and your triumphant sounding rebuttal. “Just make sure you don’t forget about your friends whenever you find someone.”

Frowning, you shake your head. “Oh, absolutely not. I’ve never even entertained abandoning my friends for a relationship. I’ll divide my time evenly between you guys and Ch-” Your lips clamp together like your mouth has been sewn shut, halting your words immediately.

Unfortunately, Joshua catches it, his eyebrows raising so high they almost disappear into his hairline. “Us and who?”

“No one.”

“That's obviously a lie. You were totally about to say someone’s name.”

“Huh? What makes you think that?”

You hit another red light and Joshua fixes you with a blank expression. “Really? You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Hey, this is still a date, remember?! What kind of date would I be if I talked about another guy?”

Joshua narrows his eyes once more before focusing back on the road as he accelerates and drops it, a suspicious look still on his face. You steer the conversation back to Joshua, getting him to tell you about his family back home a little more. He surely knows you’re deflecting but he doesn’t press you further.

The conversation leads you right to a parking spot in your complex near the building entrance. Joshua, ever the gentleman, opens your door for you and walks you inside.

When reaching the third floor, Joshua walks you to the door. He pulls you into a hug, saying again that he had a good time hanging out with you regardless of the outcome. He says that he’ll look forward to your call about Jinah and about hanging out again soon.

Things with Joshua may not have gone as intended, but you’re grateful that he’s understanding and not mad at the fact that you ended up not being interested.

“I will, promise. Get home safe!”

“I will. Have a good night.” He waves at you as he starts to go, but turns quickly to look at you with a glint in his eyes. “And good luck with Chan.” He caps his sentence off with a wink and the moment leaves you flabbergasted. Did he just say Chan?!

“I - what about Chan?!” You can only hope you don’t look as panicked as you feel. Joshua doesn’t address your question, or what he said as he gets to the elevator, offering you a final wave and laughing as the door closes.

How the hell did he know that’s who you were talking about? You’ve never done anything to make someone think you like Chan, but clearly the response lets you know that maybe you’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. Has Chan noticed anything from you that would clue him in on your feelings for him being more than platonic? If so, you can only hope Hansol has been too… Hansol to notice it himself.

Chan’s lost count of how many times he’s paced the living room. He keeps trying to sit or do something else other than obsess over you, but nothing seems to be working. All he can think about is you out on a date, having fun, and developing feelings for someone other than him. He even called out of work tonight, telling Soonyoung he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t a complete lie.

Seeing the way Joshua just swept in after so long and snatched you up, just-like-that, legitimately made his head and stomach hurt. Chan knows for sure he is absolutely in love with you and the other almost-kiss he nearly shared with you proves it. He still didn’t recall where the mistletoe came from, but because of it, even if it wasn’t the proper result, he’s not exactly complaining. Well, not about the fact that you very clearly almost kissed him back.

He just feels like an idiot because he let you leave and is watching you slip away from him again and this time it’s to one of his friends. A friend that has more guts than him to step up and ask you out and tell you that he’s into you.

Chan hasn’t been brave enough to approach you and finally, finally try asking you out. The time when he was fourteen didn’t count because he was still a kid and you never saw him as anything other than your little brother’s annoying best friend that followed you around. Of course, you wouldn't have ever gone out with him.

But it’s different now. You’re both adults and you’re closer than that already. You seem to actually enjoy spending time with Chan and being around him for the first time in the entire time that he has known you and maybe, just maybe, he’d have a real chance with you.

His own cowardice stopped him from speaking up and allowed his older, much more confident hyung to do what he’s been too afraid to. It fucking sucked.

After you left, the only thing he’s done is stay up and stare at the TV, jealousy chipping away at him. Jealous that Joshua got to you before he could do it. Jealousy eats him up so much that he can’t feel relaxed no matter what he does. So, the only thing he thinks to do is sit up and wait for you.

As you enter the apartment, you expect the room to be dark, but you’re surprised to instead see Chan pacing around the living room with the TV playing a commercial.

When he turns upon hearing the door, you both freeze, his expression reading a deer in headlights.

“Y/n.”

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Are you okay?”

His eyes are wide as he watches you slip your shoes off.

“Y/n,” he rushes over to you, grabbing your hands when you step into the room. The gesture is the most contact you’ve had in a week and it lights up all of your senses. He guides you into the room, but the two of you stay standing. “I have some stuff I want to say, okay? It might sound weird and you might hate me and I might fuck up everything, but I’m going to explode if I keep this to myself anymore.”

“Okay…” Your hesitance is obvious, but you don’t walk away to take your hands out of his hold, so he takes this as a sign to continue.

“I, fuck I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it, but Y/n, the truth is that I’m still in love with you. It’s different from when I was a dumb kid. That was me being captivated by my best friend’s big sister who was so much cooler and more mature than me and was the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. When you left for college and your career, it hurt, but I told myself to get over it. That it was just my first crush and first crushes eventually go away.

And I thought that was true until you moved back and I realized, ‘oh shit, I’m still into her,’ only now it’s worse because I got to know you, like really know you, and realized that you’re still that intelligent, mature, amazing girl, but now you’re a woman and you’re still the woman of my dreams. I’ve been trying so hard to show you that I still care for you without actually saying it because I was worried that you’d turn me down and I didn’t know if I could handle that, but seeing you go out with Joshua and potentially slip away from me for good again has been killing me all night and I can’t hold back anymore.

If you don’t like me back that is completely okay! I know Joshua hyung is handsome and smart and he’s going to be a doctor so like whatever, yeah I get it. I won’t make living with you weird at all! I’ll even steer clear of certain areas when you’re around if that makes you feel better. Just, you know, whatever you want. But okay, I’m done. Too many words.”

Chan wants the floor to open up right at this moment and swallow him given the way you’re looking at him. Wide-eyed and mouth in a firm line as you absorb his words.

“Dammit, Chan!”

“What?! Sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry I suck I-”

“Huh? No! I didn’t mean it like that! I said that because, well, I think that you succeeded in showing me how much you care for me because I’ve fallen for you over the past three months.” Chan’s eyes widen almost comically, but he doesn’t say anything. “ I tried to fight it given one, you’re my brother’s best friend, two we live together, and three, you’re younger than me and four, I just didn’t want to make things weird with all of us living together, but knowing you like me just makes me want to stop being so cautious.”

“Really?”

“Really. Spending time with you and getting to know you has only made me like you more. Being around you, spending time with you, talking with you, everything just feels so right when we’re together. It’s scary because I have never felt like this, but I want it. I want you, Chan. In every sense of the word.”

The shell shocked man across from you has to let your words sit in his brain for a bit before he fully registers what you’ve said. You like him too. You’ve fallen for him. Being with him feels right. You want him.

If this is a cruel dream, Chan would really appreciate it if he could wake up right now. He closes his eyes tightly, counting to three before opening again. Sure enough, you’re still standing in front of him, looking at him with expectant eyes, anticipating his next words.

“Sorry, I’m just letting this all sink in. I don’t think I thought you’d actually say you feel the same.”

You shrug, shooting him a small smile. “Me neither honestly. I thought for sure you had gotten over your crush on me and moved on to actual women who returned your feelings.”

“Me too, at first I mean. But like I said, just seeing you again had all of those feelings rushing back to me.”

“Well I’m extremely lucky then it seems.”

“So am I.” You both stand there, grinning at each other, unsure what to do next. You think about maybe kissing Chan, finally, but you wonder if that’s too fast and too presumptuous of you.

As if he can read your mind, Chan clears his throat, making eye contact for a few seconds before looking away and taking a breath.

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” He blurts out, but you still hear him.

“Please do!” You answer immediately, encouraged by the knowledge that he wants the same as you.

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice, immediately rushing over to you before you have too much time to think. Your back hits the wall in an effort to keep your weak knees from giving out. When Chan stops, right in front of you, you’re almost chest to chest. He’s so close that you feel the warmth that radiates from him.

His arm rests above your head, keeping you trapped, but leaving his other arm down, allowing you a way out if you wanted. Neither of you speak for a moment, both blinking at the other. You each need to decide what will happen next.

You both make that decision at the exact same time. Chan’s eyes stay locked on yours as he lowers his face. At the same time, your eyes flutter closed as you crane your neck up, allowing your lips to meet somewhere in the middle.

Your lips are still a little cold, Chan notes as your arms reach out in the tiny space between the two of you, and grasp the front of his t-shirt to pull him close, his body pressing you completely against the wall. He squeezes his eyes closed hard enough to hurt a few times in an effort to wake himself up from the dream that he feels like he’s having. He’s had more dreams than he can count about kissing you for as long as he can remember, so surely this is another one of those?

That thought is only sent away when your arms slip up his body and around his neck, fingers weaving into the sensitive hairs on the back of his neck and tugging. The action is like lightning through his body and helps keep him in the very real moment.

Kissing Chan feels the way that you think they describe in movies. They always describe it as feeling like the world around you fades away in a haze and your head feels fuzzy. All of the sounds you hear are like white noise or turn into muffled background noise. It’s cliché and something you don’t think you’ve ever felt until this moment. Kissing Chan feels right and you don’t think you ever want to kiss anyone else for a long time, if ever again.

His strong arms wrap around your waist as you melt into him, your lips moving together in perfect sync. Your hands move down to his biceps to steady yourself, fingers wrapping around as much of him as you can, which isn’t much but you try.

You stay like that longer than you think you can count. Both of you clinging to one another, making out against the wall like lovestruck, horny teenagers, even if that’s exactly what you feel like. Your heart hammers against your chest and your thighs squeeze together as the kiss ignites not only something in your chest, but in your panties too.

The kiss turns from soft and sentimental to heated quicker than either of you are brave enough to admit, but you’re not complaining. You’ve wanted each other for months (years for Chan) and are finally getting what you’ve dreamt of. Chan’s thick, muscled thigh wedges its way between yours. Your leggings may have been thick enough to avoid the cold, but they aren’t thick enough to keep you away from feeling him brush against your tender folds.

What sounds like a whimper slips out of you and gets swept away by Chan’s tongue and into his mouth. He swallows down sound after sound as he makes sure to nudge your pussy again and again and soon enough, you’re grinding down on him, sloppily riding his thigh as his lips stay connected to yours.

When you finally pull away, the first sound out of your mouth is a deep moan. Chan flexes his thigh in a way that tenses the muscles and he hits your clothed clit in the most delicious way.

“Fuck,” Chan pants as he holds your hips. His knee rests between your legs and against the wall to stay steady. You grind over Chan’s sweatpants again and with each sweet sound that slips out of your mouth, he feels himself getting painfully harder.

“Ch-Chan,” you manage out.

“Hmm?”

“I need more.”

“More? More what, baby girl?”

The pet name rolls off his tongue so easily, too easily, and your pussy throbs even harder. Riding his thigh feels fucking amazing and you know you can cum just like this, but you don’t want to just yet. You’d much rather cum around his cock. The playful part of you also wants him to be just as needy as you.

“More of you. Please, baby,” You lean up to place kisses on his neck. When you get to his jawline, you flatten your tongue right on the side of his chin, dragging it up his jaw, and landing on his ear lobe. Chan makes the prettiest, breathy whines as you tease him and it only makes you clench even more. When you stop and your teeth nibble on the shell of his ear, capping it off with a whisper of, “Please Channie,” Chan feels like he could explode, right then and there.

“Anything. Fucking anything for you” Chan mumbles his words before diving down to lavish your neck in kisses of his own, the tip of his tongue darting out occasionally to lap at your skin. He leaves sloppy kisses on your skin as he descends down to your chest, stopping briefly where your nipples sit behind layers of clothes.

He drops to his knees as he goes and doesn’t stop until he reaches your waist.

“Chan?” You’re surprised that this is how he wants you first. You expected him to finger you before anything, but he clearly wants to start elsewhere.

His hands move to grasp at your waistband, stopping before he actually undresses you. His eyes meet yours, fingertips meeting your bare skin underneath your sweater.

“Can I? I need to get my mouth on you so badly.”

“Fuck, yes. You better,” you demand in response, not even flinching at his request. The two of you easily slip your leggings and your panties down and off of you in one go.

Chan lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing your thighs apart. His eyes widen at the sight of you bare and wet in front of him. His mouth waters at the glistening arousal he sees coating your lower lips and he almost gets lightheaded at the heady scent of you. Chan could die right here before even tasting you and even that would be okay with him.

“Chan, please I need you!” You beg, feeling self conscious under his stare. He doesn’t make you wait any longer and instantly dives between your folds, his tongue lapping at you harshly.

Your knees nearly buckle at the suction, a loud cry ringing out. He doesn’t hesitate at all, his tongue immediately plunging into your wet hole. Your head hits the wall with a thunk as Chan begins eating you out as if his life depended on it. He fucks you with his tongue with obvious vigor, his nose bumping into your clit with each turn of his head.

His hands cup your ass, pulling you closer to his face so he can reach deeper in you, damn near making out with your cunt. Chan grunts and groans into you as he slurps, the wet sounds echoing through the room.

“Fuck, Chan. Fuck you’re t-too fucking good,” Your fingers are in his hair again, knotting into his strands to hold his face against you. The action makes him dizzy, his cock painfully hard and begging to be released from the confines of his sweatpants.

When you cum, which isn’t very long from when he started devouring you, you think you almost pass out. Your vision whites out and your body feels like gelatin, almost falling forward. Chan keeps his grip on your ass, not stopping until you start to yank him away from your pussy.

“I am going to pass out if you keep eating me out like that!”

“Fucking hell, Y/n, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you,” he’s breathless when he speaks, licking his lips in the most obscene manner.

“Did I live up to your expectations?” You tease, getting wet all over again as you observe the way his face glistens with your juices and his blown out pupils.

“You have no idea. But we’re not done yet, beautiful.”

Another simple pet name has you shivering and Chan notices, and he loves the way you react to him. He stands upright again and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as he leads you to his bedroom. When he gets you in the room he brings you to his bed, pushing you and watching you bounce gently on his quilt. You start to undress what you had left on, keeping your eyes trained on him as you pull your sweater over your head and unhook your bra, tossing it somewhere in the room.

This is just like so many wet dreams he’s had, but this time it’s real life and almost too good to be true.

“You gonna just stand there and ogle me or are you going to get naked and come over here and kiss me?” You tease him, widening your legs to make room for him.

Chan’s eyes are glued to your pussy, still wet and shining for him, and he all but tears his clothes from his body and scrambles onto the bed without another thought.

“Sorry,” he says between kisses. “I was just admiring the goddess waiting for me on my bed,” You’re ready to tease him again, but he cuts you off when he lowers his head and his mouth suctions around one of your nipples, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off of the bed.

Eager lips lavish over the sensitive bud as his hand finds its way between your legs. He circles your entrance with a finger and repeats the motion a few more times before kissing his way over to your other nipple to give it the same amount of attention.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your skin. Your fingers tangle in his dark hair as he covers your chest in bites, licks, and kisses, his finger still teasing you.

As if sensing you about to complain, he finally lets your nipple go, kissing his way down your body until he’s face to face with your pussy again.

“Chan…” you sigh, feeling his tongue dart out to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He takes the time to spend extra attention on your nub, stiffening his tongue and flicking at it at what feels like an inhumane speed.

Chan relishes the gorgeous sound of your cries for him, noises of pleasure mixed in with huffs of his name and whispers of curse words. He loves that these sounds are all for him and because of him. He already knew he’d get addicted to you if he ever was able to get you into his bed and this settles that. He needs to hear you like this for him until he passes away. Even then, he wants to be buried with a recording of your moans and whines.

He shifts on his stomach to get closer to your core and plunges his tongue into you, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue again. The angle allows him room to grind against his quilt, pretending that it’s you he’s rutting against. His eyes slip closed as your thighs do the same around his head and he loses himself as he eats you out with a sense of excitement that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt about anything else.

Chan moves as if he didn’t do the same thing not even ten minutes ago and he only serves in pushing you so much closer to the edge faster than the first time. You call this out to him, tugging at his hair and it only spurs him on. He burrows between your legs even further, letting out more determined grunts that you feel throughout your entire body.

“Ch-Chan, fuck, I’m cumming! Right there, right there - I - fuck!” Your hands keep Chan trapped as you let go, legs spasming as he keeps at it, happily lapping up your release that covers his chin.

Out of breath, your body sags against the bed and you pry your legs open to let him up. “Shit, Chan enough. Come up here and fuck me already.”

“Yes ma’am.” His face is covered in you and his use of yes ma’am sends molten heat up your spine and between your legs again.

He leans over to his nightstand to fish out a condom, but you stop him, shaking your head.

“I’m on the pill, just pull out?”

Your words could’ve very well been a spell with the way they make him dizzy, but he doesn’t question it and only breathes out a yes and positions himself between your legs.

“Are you okay? Tell me to stop at any time and I will, okay?” He checks your face to make sure you’re comfortable and when he sees you nod he starts to ease himself into you slowly.

When his bulbous tip slips in first, you’re instantly letting out small mewls that only intensify with each inch that Chan fills you with.

“Oh my fuck, Y/n, you feel incredible. Shit!” Chan grits his teeth as he takes his time entering you. When he’s finally filled you up to the hilt, he has to take a second and take a deep breath. He’s never felt so close to cumming this quickly since he was in high school. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you truly feel like nothing and no one he’s ever felt. Your soft velvet walls cradle him perfectly, clenching every now and again making him even weaker.

“Move, Channie,” you breathe out, lifting your hips a little to get him going. Chan sits up on his knees, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grabs a hold of your hips.

He starts slow as he fucks you, finding a pace that works for him. Once he gets it, which he does rather quickly, he’s relentless. His hips drive into yours at breakneck speed, balls hitting your ass which each thrust forward.

“Fuck, Y/n, baby, you feel like a fucking dream!” His compliment comes out high pitched as he says it, the sound of his hips slapping against yours almost drowning out his words, but you hear him.

“Yeah, fuck, you feel so good Channie. Fucking me so, so good!” Tears collect at the corners of your eyes as Chan bullies into you over and over again, shoving you further up the bed. “You’re such a good boy for m-me, aren’t you?”

Chan’s eyes cross at your praise, biting his lip so hard he nearly draws blood just to keep himself from bursting inside of you at that moment. He nods like a madman, taking deep breaths to push back his orgasm. He’s so terribly close, but he refuses to cum without you.

He pants above you, eyes darting between your fucked out expression with your eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open, your tits that bounce with each force of his body, to between your legs as he catches sight of himself disappearing into your heat. He catches sight of the white ring of arousal you coat around his dick and he feels himself getting closer and closer.

He’s dizzy with lust for you but still manages to check in with you, forcing out coherent words to ask how you’re doing. You reassure him you’re okay, praising him once again about how good he feels.

“H-harder, Channie. Fuck me harder!”

As with anything else Chan does for you, he doesn’t need you to ask twice as he readjusts his knees before leaning forward to bend at the waist, making sure your legs are still secure around his waist. He leans down, his hands on either side of your head as kisses you, the new angle allowing him to thrust into you at a harder pace.

“Just like that, Chan! Fuck me like that!” Your words tumble out of you in a garbled mess, but he hears you loud and clear. The sensation of your nails digging into his back as you hold him closer sends him into a frenzy as he continues his brutal pace. His new position also allows his pelvis to brush against your clit hard enough to send you over the edge all the way.

“I’m - Y/n, I’m so close. I’m -”

“Me too, Channie, me too. Want you to cum. Wanna see you and hear you,” you cry out, each word almost cut off with a moan.

When you cum, your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and your eyes squeeze shut, stars erupting behind your lids as your body almost convulses underneath him. Your muscles hurt with how hard your body stiffens and your brain only focuses on the drag of Chan’s cock against your hyper-sensitive walls.

The sight alone and your chant of Chan’s name has him cumming next. He pulls out, desperately jerking himself off over you before he panics.

“Wh-where can I?”

“Anywhere, baby! Anywhere you want,” As soon as the last word leaves your lips, Chan yells out your name, his warm seed spurting out and landing on your stomach, some of it even hitting right under your breasts as he milks himself over your body. If you weren’t so tired you’d suck him off to overstimulate him, but for now, you just admire how stunning Chan looks. Skin flushed and chiseled jaw clenched as he empties himself onto your sweaty body.

As he cums, Chan tears up a little because holy shit you’re the best feeling he’s ever felt, and being inside of you is like an out of body experience. He’s no virgin, but this is the first time he’s slept with someone who he has such a strong emotional connection with. It’s the best thing he’s ever experienced in his life, he thinks.

Once he’s released everything he possibly can, Chan rolls off of you and flops next to your spent body.

“Holy shit,” you mumble, taking a deep breath. “I think my soul has officially left the building.”

“Oh, I know mine is gone. It was gone the moment you let me kiss you.” Giggling, you glance over at Chan who’s already looking at you.

“I’ll always let you kiss me now. How can I not?” Chan grins wide enough at you that you think his mouth should probably hurt. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh.

Chan tilts his head at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just admiring how cute you are,” As if not expecting that answer, Chan gets a little shy, eyes looking away from you as you see the tips of his ears reddening. You can’t help but lean up and place a kiss on his ear and he jumps at the light peck. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get cleaned up and ready for bed. You can sleep in my room tonight and we’ll wash your sheets tomorrow. Sound good?”

Chan nods so aggressively, that you almost question how his neck is feeling. He reaches for his tissues on the side table and wipes the cooling cum from your body. He then helps you up from the bed and tosses you one of his towels, wrapping one around his waist.

When you have the towel covering yourself, you both step into the hallway only to freeze when seeing Hansol coming down the hall, and he stops too. He takes notice of the two of you, standing there holding towels over yourselves, and lets out a laugh. He takes his headphones off and lets them drape about his neck, the sound of “All the Small Things” filling the silence between the three of you.

“I take it the mistletoe worked?”

You and Chan share an incredulous look before turning back to your brother.

“You put the mistletoe up?!” You gasp. You had just accepted the fact that you put it up and forgot, but it’s nice to know you aren't going completely insane.

“Well, it was Soonyoung’s idea. He called earlier and told me to put it up somewhere both of you would end up. I wasn’t sure at first, but it looks like it worked.”

“I mean…kind of. But I have so many questions.”

“Ask them later. I’ve been home for a little while but didn’t wanna come into the hallway and uh, interrupt.” Hansol frowns and continues on to his room. Your brother halts his steps before going in and fixes you both with a look. “Oh, and I only have two things to say. One, Chan, if you hurt my sister I will kick your ass. And I’m telling Cheol hyung,” Chan lets out a small squeak and salutes Hansol, promising he’ll treat you like a queen. Hansol nods and then continues. “And two, can y’all like, I don’t know, leave a sock or something on your doors when you’re gonna do this? I came in and heard some noises I never want to hear my sister and best friend making ever again so just give me a chance to put my headphones on.”

“Ugh, sorry,” you grunt, your face heating up in mortification.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Glad you guys can stop trying but failing not to flirt in front of me. Now goodnight and please keep it down for the night, I’m begging you.”

You and Chan promise your brother that you’ll be considerate and he thanks you before shuffling into his room for the night.

“He took that better than expected,” you observe as you and Chan move into the bathroom.

“Yeah. Honestly, I was expecting him either to be grossed out or do something very out of character and hit me or something.”

You snort, turning on the shower water and hanging up the towel you’ve been holding against your body. “Hansol hasn’t swung on anyone or anything since he was at least seven and that was at our old neighbor’s bird because it tried to land on his head.”

Chan cackles at the thought, but it’s quickly replaced with a low sigh as he watches you tuck your hair into a shower cap to keep it from getting wet. Watching you stand in front of him, naked and just existing comfortably makes both his heart beat out of his chest and his dick uncomfortably hard.

You at least can notice the latter, eyes playfully observing his length between his legs. “Someone has an impressive bounce back period.”

“I can’t help it. I have a beautiful, sexy woman standing naked in front of me. What do you want me to do?”

The bathroom isn’t that big so when you brush past Chan, it’s not hard to brush against him. Your thigh grazes his erection and he groans louder than intended, slapping his hand over his mouth when the sound comes out. You can’t help but giggle as you slip into the shower watching him still stand there and gawk at you.

“What you can do is, come join me in this shower and fuck me against this wall, but only if you can be way quieter than you just were.”

The sentence doesn’t even have a chance to finish completely before Chan is practically leaping into the shower, body crowding yours against the tile wall.

“Anything for you, Y/n.” He peppers your neck and shoulder with kisses, biting the skin as he goes.

“Mmm, you have got to stop saying that to me, Channie. You’ll spoil me.”

Chan pulls away, eyes meeting yours with the most serious expression you’ve seen from him since he confessed his feelings for you earlier this evening.

“Good. I want to spoil you and I will until I physically can’t anymore.” Chan rests his forehead against yours, taking a moment to enjoy being close to you as the shower water warms your skin.

“Only if you let me do the same to you, baby.” His eyes flutter at the pet name and you love the way it seems to make his skin flush more.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know, existing? Making me the luckiest man in the world? All of the above?” It’s your turn to get sheepish at his words, playfully pushing against his firm chest.

“Thank you, Chan. You treat me differently from so many other people I’ve been with and you make me feel special.” You hope he understands just how true your words are. The way he’s treated you since you moved in has been with nothing but care and affection, even before knowing he still likes you. Chan is a truly amazing guy and you consider yourself lucky that he wants you in his life like this.

“You are special and you should feel that way. I’ll make sure to keep doing it. And I’ll make sure you feel amazing and special in every way.” Warm hands slide down your body and slip between your legs to rub gentle circles against your clit. The whiplash from the tender moment to the not-so-tender startles you for only a moment before it’s replaced with want as Chan works you up.

Chan’s dancer hips are something to be studied and worshiped with the way in which he drills into you under the spray. You had teased him with being quiet, but you’re the one that needs to sink your teeth into the thick skin of his shoulder to stop from yelling his name.

He laughs between thrusts, but when you clench around him in retaliation, his pace falters and he pouts down at you. You kiss his pout away, keeping your lips together as you both cum, swallowing the possible noise complaints you’d have received otherwise.

Even if Hansol had lectured you both about your noise level, it’d be worth it, especially when you see the blissful look on Chan’s face as he gazes at you. Eyes full of wonder, tiredness, and above all else, love. Even though it hasn’t been long at all, you’ll be surprised if he can’t see the same shining back up at him.

Time seems to fly by, and Christmas suddenly creeps up on you. Thankfully, you finish your shopping before the last minute and get everything you need to, done. You and Chan spend the time leading up to it doing as many cute, coupley things that you can think of while Hansol does his best to not be a third wheel. He rarely ever is, but you’re thankful for the support from your brother nonetheless.

On Christmas morning, Chan is up first, already wide awake and looking at you when you open your eyes. It’s cute if not a little surprising at first. He at least lets you brush your teeth and make yourself decent before ushering you into the hallway. He knocks loudly on Hansol’s door as he passes, telling him it’s time for presents.

His excitement is incredibly endearing and it warms your heart to see him so eager to sit you down on the couch and present you with your first gift from under the Christmas tree. The first box is a small square, secured with a red sparkly ribbon. When you take the lid off, a CD looks back at you in a red, jewel tone case. You smile as you take it out and turn it over, seeing a note on the back along with the tracklist.

Songs for the only woman who’s ever owned my heart. Merry Christmas, Y/n. Love, Your Channie

Tears prick your eyes at the gesture. It’s a small gift, but it’s personal. You don’t think you’ve had anyone make you a mixtape and yet again, it just proves how sweet Lee Chan is.

“Thank you Channie,” you pucker your lips and he eagerly leans down to kiss you, almost tripping into your lap in the process. “Oh!” He jumps up, running back to the tree for another box, this one wrapped in white ribbons. Inside is another rectangle box, but in that is the gift.

“Chan?!”

“You like it?” He asks, taking the bracelet out of the box before you can answer. He gestures to your wrist and you present it, letting him clip the shiny, diamond tennis bracelet. “The sales lady said they’re really popular for the “special ladies in your life” this year and I thought you’d like it since you like pretty jewelry.” You give Chan a watery smile, stopping yourself again from nearly crying. Instead, you get up and pull him into a hug, squeezing his waist hard.

“I love it, thank you Chan,” When you pull away, it’s your turn to go to the tree to retrieve his gifts.

“But I’ve already gotten the greatest gift I’ve ever wanted in my life,” he gestures to you with a flourish, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Guess that means I should return these presents then huh?” You dangle both boxes in the air, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean…you already bought them and wrapped them though so you may as well just…” he makes grabby hands at the boxes and you can’t help but laugh, handing over both gifts to him.

The first one he opens has a shiny silver watch in it that you saw in the mall with Jinah weeks ago and thought of him. It’s your turn to help him as you put it on his wrist, both of you admiring it. He mentions that it’s the nicest watch he’s ever owned and that he’ll never take it off.

When he gets to the other small box, he opens it to see an envelope sitting in the middle of the tissue paper. Curiously, Chan opens it pulling out what’s inside and he nearly passes out.

“Michael Jackson tickets?!”

“Yeah! I heard people at work talk about it like two months ago. He’s going to be in Seoul this summer! I was getting them for you whether we ended up together or not because I know how much you love him. You deserve it!” You beam at him and watch as tears well in his eyes this time. “Aw, Channie!”

Chan jumps from the couch to pull you into a bear hug at the same time that Hansol comes into the living room.

“Hyung, I have to tell you now, but I’m going to marry your sister,” he says in a serious tone.

“Chan!” Laughing, you squeeze his arms, trying to wriggle from his grasp.

“Fine as long as you still stick by my rules.”

“Hansol!” Both men purposely ignore you as they discuss your fictional wedding and Chan brags about his concert tickets. The whole moment fills you with an indescribable warmth, even when Chan finally releases you and lets you sit on the couch.

You didn’t anticipate that you’d end up here when you first thought about leaving your career, but you’re glad you did. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else other than here on Christmas with your two favorite men.

“The ball is going to drop soon!” Seungkwan announces to your group. He turns the volume of the TV up as the countdown shows on the screen.

It’s New Year’s Eve and your large group of friends is huddled in Jinah’s living room to ring in the New Year. You hadn’t known where you’d be ringing in the year 2000 initially and had anticipated it’d be at home, but with Jinah and Joshua dating and being almost inseparable for the last two weeks, she found herself hanging around the rest of the guys as much as you have and since her apartment is the biggest, she had everyone come here.

You’re sitting next to Chan on her couch as you pull your drinks closer. Seungkwan and his partner sit together holding hands, nervously checking the clock on the wall and looking back at the TV. The two of them, Seokmin, and one of their other friends named Mingyu all found out about Y2K around the same time and have been preparing for it leading up to tonight. No matter how many times you, Hansol, and Joshua try to tell them you’ll all be fine, you let the group of conspiracy theorists have their beliefs, knowing once the new year rolls in, they’ll be fine.

Chan often makes fun of them, but you also never miss the way his eyes widen when they talk about the computers exploding and the world ending.

“Three…two…one, happy new year!” Everyone’s voices echo throughout the room as you count down to the new year together, noisemakers and cheers following.

Chan turns towards you, his lips meeting yours as you share your first kiss of the new year. His hands cradle your face, tilting your head back just the slightest to deepen the short yet sensual kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.” He says against your lips.

“Happy New Year, Chan.”

Around the room, the rest of your friends are pouring more champagne and you catch sight of Seungkwan and his partner still sharing their New Year’s kiss, both smiling, likely in relief. Joshua and Jinah are on the other side of the room, her head resting on his shoulder as they watch the fireworks on TV. Chan redirects your attention back to him to kiss you once more, this one quicker yet just as sweet.

And just like that the world doesn’t end, much to Seokmin, Mingyu, Seungkwan’s (and Chan’s) relief, but your new world with Chan in it has just begun. You’re looking forward to what the new millennia and life with Chan will bring.

Net tags: @kflixnet @kbookshelf | Taglist: @aaniag

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 7 months

Note

ok im an absolute sucker for the “only one bed” trope, so….

could i please request a reader x ethan fic where there has already been a lot of mutual pining (maybe they were childhood best friends that have had feelings for the longest time ✋😩) and the final straw to all that sexual tension is possibly there being an argument or some angst and then having to share that room, being in such close proximity. Ends in smut please (been loving the switch!ethan btw)!

please and thank you 😩🙏

Jesus, this is a long one and I'm SO SORRY if that isn't what you wanted. I've literally tried to rewrite this 3 times but I had to build up the little angsty moments and all that stuff.

The Best Thing - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You and your friends go to a cabin for a week-long summer vacation. When plans change and you overhear that Ethan's upset about sharing a bed with you, it causes some issues in your friendship.

Contains: fluff, mutual-pining, angst, oral - both m and f receiving, p in v, unprotected-ish sex(reader's on birth control and pull out game is strong), kinda-rough sex, dom-ish Ethan. idk where the fuck I was going with this🥴

A/N: I'd like to apologize to those of you that like to read my stuff but don't like them to be super long. This is 7.6k words, so my bad🙃

For summer break, you and your friends decided to take a trip to the mountains, wanting fresh air and a calm environment in comparison to the current busy city you were in. After weeks of looking into cabins, you went with a cute 3-bedroom with a hot tub on the balcony that had a perfect view of the mountain line.

You were surprised that Sam was okay with Tara going without her, but the anxiety was apparent on the older sister’s face as she walked out of her bedroom in her pajamas carrying a taser in one hand and pepper spray in the other.

“I don’t like that you’re going without me, but I’ll feel a little better if you take these,” Sam said, dropping them into Tara’s purse.

“We’re just six teenagers going to the mountains to relax. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Tara asked, as Mindy and Anika walked in.

“Have you ever watched a horror movie?” Mindy questioned, making Sam roll her eyes at the comment before looking back to Tara.

“You aren’t helping, Mindy,” Tara said, before directing her attention to Sam. “We’ll be safe, I promise.”

“You won’t have cell service up there…Fuck, please just find a way to call me every now and then so I know you’re okay,” Sam said, the stress obvious in her voice. “Please remind her,” she said to you, as she started to head back to her room.

“I will,” you promised, as Sam looked back to you and nodded.

After Sam closed her bedroom door, Tara started to whisper-yell at Mindy.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Mindy sighed, “The guys are outside by the way.” You soon heard the front door open, and listened to Ethan’s groggy voice as he complained about having to get up at six in the morning. “Well, they were outside.”

“Are you guys coming? We need to stop for coffee, or energy drinks. I don’t care, I just need caffeine,” Chad said, before glancing at you and Tara’s bags on the ground. “You know we’re only going for a week, right?”

“Hey, it’s not that much stuff,” she smiled, walking over to kiss him. “We were hoping you two wouldn’t mind helping us carry our bags down.”

“Anything for you, babe,” Chad said, as Mindy made a fake-gag noise.

“Don’t act like you and Anika aren’t going to be acting all sweet and shit with each other,” you laughed, looking towards Ethan, “We are the fifth and sixth wheels on this trip.”

“As long as have you so I won’t be bored, that’s all that matters,” Ethan said, a sleepy smile playing on his lips. “I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Thanks,” you said, as he lifted your bag and walked towards the door.

You grabbed your pillow and blanket off the couch before you followed him, desperate to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep on the drive. Fortunately, Chad’s SUV had third-row seating, so you didn’t have to take two separate cars. You decided the back row was the perfect place for you as Ethan loaded your stuff. He crawled in the back with you, waiting for the rest of your friends to come down.

“Are you sleepy?” he asked, as you laid your pillow against the back window and snuggled up.

“Mhm,” you responded, as he started to laugh.

“Chad made this obnoxious road trip playlist. You’re not going to be getting any sleep.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, “I guess I can nap when we get there.”

“Yeah, like you won’t be wired after the coffee,” Ethan said, his knowing smile making you roll your eyes.

You’d been friends with Ethan since you were toddlers. He knew you better than anyone else, and it could get a little annoying at times. He always seemed to know what your exact reaction would be to everything. He knew all your secrets, and you knew all of his. Well, almost all of them. He’d had feelings for you for years, but the possibility of rejection and damage to the friendship has helped him keep that secret tucked away.

“Hey,” Anika smiled as she crawled in the second row as you and Ethan gave a small wave. Mindy slid in beside her, as Chad struggled to load Tara’s stuff in the back with everyone else’s.

“Seriously, babe. Why do you need all of this?” he huffed, adjusting the bags that were already put away like some complicated game of Tetris.

“You never know when you might need extra clothes,” Tara laughed, leaving him to figure it out.

“Ethan, can I put one of these bags back there with you guys?” Chad asked, after a few minutes of him trying to make everything fit.

“Yeah,” he responded, before looking over to you. “It looks like we’ll be really close on this five-hour drive.”

“I could just sit on your lap,” you suggested, as his eyes went wide. “I’m kidding, Ethan.”

He almost wished you weren’t kidding, wanting to be as close to you as he possibly could. Your random little sweet touches here and there had him constantly craving more, constantly craving you.

Chad passed Mindy the extra suitcase, then she struggled to pass it back to Ethan. He took it from her, the space it was taking up making him scoot even closer to you.

“Sorry,” he said, “I can always move up to Mindy and Anika’s row if you need the space.”

“Then who’s going to show me memes on the way there?” you asked, as he slid his phone out of his pocket.

“I saved so many good ones to show you.”

Once you hit the road, Chad wanted to stop by Starbucks. He planned to go through the drive thru, but after Tara mentioned how complicated and potentially messy it would be to pass coffee back to everyone in his spotless car, he decided to park so everyone could go in.

After you ordered and were about to pay for your stuff, Ethan pulled his card out.

“I got it,” he said, putting his card into the reader.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you smiled, “You don’t want anything?”

“I don’t need to. I’ll just steal sips of whatever the iced or frozen thing you ordered,” he said, as the barista handed you a cake pop. “You’re eating that for breakfast?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, like it was the most obvious answer.

“I think I’m hungry, too. Maybe I should order something,” he said, glancing at the menu.

You held your cake pop closer to him as he smiled and took a bite. You giggled at the crumbs on his bottom lip as he chewed, reaching up to wipe them off with your thumb. The sweet action made his eyes flutter, but he tried to play it off.

“This is so good,” he said, “I’m sorry for judging your breakfast choice.”

“Just make out already,” Mindy said, smirking at the two of you.

“What, I can’t share with my best friend?” you asked, grabbing your drink off the counter as your name was called.

“Best friend my ass,” she said, as she noticed Ethan’s cheeks start to turn pink. “You just wiped his mouth for him. That isn’t really a friend thing.”

“It is for us,” you smiled, taking a sip of your drink.

Ethan was getting uncomfortable under Mindy’s knowing gaze. It was almost like she had the ability in that moment to read his mind and know how he actually felt. He quickly tried to change the subject.

“So, what are we going to do while we’re up there?” he asked, you and Mindy both responding “Relax” at the same time.

“Is that it? You guys don’t want to explore or anything?”

You started to shake your head, “Between the bears, snakes, and whatever the fuck else is out there…I don’t think so.”

“I’d protect you,” he smiled, playfully wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You know I’ve been going to the gym with Chad, I think I could take on a bear.”

“For someone that’s so smart, your common sense isn’t really there, is it?” Mindy asked, making you laugh.

“You guys are mean. I’m going to the car,” Ethan said, snatching your drink out of your hand before walking away.

“Hey!” you said, chasing after him.

The rest of the friend group walked up to Mindy, watching you try to take your coffee back from Ethan as you walked out.

“I think this vacation is about to be interesting,” Anika said, as Tara started to smile.

“I hope so. You remember the Halloween party where she drank a little too much? She told me she’s had the biggest crush on him for years,” she said, as Chad started to freak out.

“What?! Why didn’t you ever tell me she said that? He thinks he’s in the friend zone.”

“He’s definitely not. They’re practically already together,” Tara shook her head as she laughed, grabbing her drink off the counter. “Don’t say anything, though. Let them figure it out.”

Chad nodded, as the rest of the drinks were called out, “Let’s hit the road.”

After a couple hours of driving, you started to tune out the music, and felt like you could take a short nap. The coffee wasn’t helping as much as you expected it to, probably because Ethan drank half of it. You struggled to get comfortable against the window, until Ethan finally spoke up.

“You could always lay on me, if you want to,” he suggested, as you sleepily turned your body and snuggled up against him. Your head rested against his chest as he slouched in the seat, trying to make you more comfortable. He had a sweet smile on his lips as he looked down at you, studying your peaceful face as you slept.

His smile dropped when he noticed Mindy and Anika had turned around, looking at him questioningly. He held his finger up to his mouth, not wanting them to say anything to wake you up.

It didn’t matter though, because when Chad started to play ‘Life Is a Highway’ for the third time in the drive, you stirred awake and pulled away from Ethan.

“Chad, I swear if you don’t change that song, I’ll throw your phone out the window,” you said, as he started to laugh.

“Someone’s grumpy,” he said, changing the song. “Hey guys, were stopping at the next exit.”

He soon pulled into the gas station, and everyone started to pile out of the car. Before you could walk into the store, a number Tara didn’t recognize popped up on the screen.

“Hello?” she asked, before she started to smile. “Oh, hey. Yeah, we’ll be there soon…wait, what happened?”

You exchanged glances with everyone, unsure of what was going on.

“Does that one still have a good view? And all the things the other cabin had?”

Chad started to shake his head, realizing that the vacation wasn’t going to go as expected. When Tara hung up, all eyes were on her as they waited for her to say what was going on.

“Okay, uh, the cabin we were supposed to stay in got trashed by last night’s guests. The only cabin they had left has three rooms, but they all have one bed.”

Ethan’s heart started to thump in his chest as he listened to her speak. As much as he wanted to share a bed with you, and wanted to be close to you, it was hard for him to hold back, especially when you liked to sleep in the shortest pajama shorts that the bottom of your ass would hang out of. Sometimes he felt like you knew you had the effect on him, the teasing seeming almost intentional at times.

“You okay?” you asked, as he still stood there, deep in thought as the rest of your friends had started to walk away.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he smiled, “Let’s get some snacks.”

Ethan walked towards Chad once you made it inside, and you noticed that he was stressed. You tried to listen but couldn’t really hear anything at first. Then Ethan started to speak a little louder, “I can’t sleep with her. We have to figure something else out. It’d be torture to share a bed with her.” Chad suggested that one of you sleep on the couch, and at that point, you were starting to feel a little hurt. The thoughts of ‘Do I make him uncomfortable?’ and ‘Why can’t he just talk to me about it instead of Chad?’ floating around your head.

You went to Tara, Mindy, and Anika as they grabbed their snacks for the rest of the drive.

“Do you guys mind if I sit with you the rest of the way there?” you asked Mindy, as a confused expression appeared on all of their faces. “I think I’m annoying Ethan.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Anika said, “But I highly doubt you are.”

“Then why was he just talking to Chad about not wanting to sleep in the same bed with me?”

Tara glanced over to the two boys as Mindy shrugged, “That’s a little weird…but once we get there, you should ask him about it.”

You nodded, before heading to the counter to pay for your stuff. You weren’t sure what Ethan’s problem was. He was okay with you snuggling up to him in the car, but the idea of him sharing a king-sized bed with you was something he didn’t want to do.

When you made it back to the car, Ethan got in first. He was confused when you sat in the second row with Mindy and Anika.

“You’re just going to leave me back here by myself?” he joked, but he was a little sad about it.

“Yeah, girl talk.”

He nodded at your short response, relaxing back into the seat and putting his seatbelt on. Chad gave him a look in the rearview mirror once he noticed the new seating arrangement. Ethan just shrugged, not knowing what was going on.

Chad leaned over to Tara and started to whisper, “What’s their deal?”

“She heard Ethan say he didn’t want to share a bed with her,” she whispered back, as Chad pulled away and sighed.

“You sure we can’t just…I don’t know, interfere a little?” he asked, as Tara shook her head.

“They need to figure it out on their own,” she said, glancing back to you.

“Okay, no more stops. We’ll be there in a little over two hours,” Chad announced, as he pulled back out onto the road.

You could feel Ethan’s eyes on the back of your head as you talked with Mindy and Anika. You felt bad for being a little cold to him, but your feelings were hurt. It’s not something he expected you to hear, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how he felt all the time whenever you’d be too close. But if that was the case, why would he suggest that you could sleep on him earlier?

Once you made it to the cabin and everyone started to get out, you looked around as you stretched. You saw another cabin off in the distance but couldn’t see a whole lot from where you were standing other than the trees. When you walked inside, your jaw dropped at the panoramic view out of the huge windows that lined the side of the cabin.

“This is gorgeous!” you said, walking over to the door that led to the deck. It was huge, stretching along the side of the house. There was a table, some rocking chairs, and a hot tub on the end of it.

“Too bad we have to hunt for our own food,” Chad said, as you looked over at him, “Just kidding. There’s a small grocery store not far from here. After we get all the stuff unloaded, we’re going to get what we need.”

Tara soon walked in, standing beside Chad as he put his arm around her.

“Are you mad at Ethan?” she asked, as you shook your head, not wanting to go into detail in front of Chad. “He seemed a little upset.”

“I guess I better go talk to him,” you groaned. You searched the house, seeing Mindy and Anika, but no Ethan. You finally looked outside to see him leaning against the car. He was deep in thought as you walked up to him.

“You should see the view. It’s beautiful,” you said, pulling him out of his thoughts as he looked at you.

“It’s kind of hard to even care about that when my best friend is mad at me,” he said, looking back down to the ground.

“I’m not mad,” you said, the cheeriness of your voice sounding fake.

“So, you’re mad and you’re lying to me. Cool,” he mumbled, pushing himself off the car and heading towards the back of it.

You followed after him, “I just thought we were getting a little too cozy.”

He scoffed at your words, “You’ve never cared about that before.”

“Okay, I’m going back inside. You can’t be mad at me for giving you the space you seem to want.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he questioned, but you ignored him as you walked back into the cabin.

Chad soon joined him outside to help him carry in the stuff. He noticed Ethan’s mood, and started to feel bad that he knew you had your feelings, and if he’d just say something, the whole issue would be fixed.

“You okay, dude?” Chad asked, as Ethan started to walk towards the door with some of the luggage.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

As the day progressed, you brought up sleeping on the couch before Ethan could say anything. He argued that he should, but you eventually won the argument. The tension seemed to resolve a little. Your feelings were still hurt, but he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to spend the vacation mad at him.

When Chad talked about going to the store to get food again, you decided to stay at the cabin. The sun was starting to set, and the slight chill from the higher altitude made you really want to get in the hot tub. Ethan stayed with you, not feeling comfortable leaving you there by yourself. He sat in one of the rocking chairs as you walked out in your swimsuit with a towel in hand.

“You going to make me get in by myself?” you asked, smiling at him. He was trying so hard to not stare at your body, so he maintained eye contact.

“Fine, give me a minute,” he sighed, walking inside to change.

You eased into the hot water, sitting where you had the perfect view of the sunset over the mountain line. Ethan soon walked out and hung his towel over the side of the deck before climbing in to sit beside you.

“This is so beautiful,” you said, taking in the pink and orange hue in the sky. It was making your skin glow when Ethan looked at you.

“Yeah, beautiful,” he said, as you looked over to him and smiled. You sat in silence for a few minutes, before he spoke up, “What was with you earlier?”

You sighed, not wanting to say that you heard him talking to Chad, “I just, I don’t know. Maybe we’re getting a little too close.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“I don’t feel like talking about it right now,” you said, before Ethan started to scoot away. “What?” you asked, looking over to him.

“If you think we’re getting too close, I’m giving you your space,” he said, before getting out.

“You’re going to get mad at me if I don’t feel like telling you what’s wrong?” you questioned, as he started to get mad.

“You tell me everything. Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong right now so we can move past it?”

“Because you don’t like to be open about what’s bothering you,” you snapped, climbing out as well. You slipped a little, almost falling on the deck before Ethan caught you. “Thanks, I got it.” You pulled away from him and walked inside to change into dry clothes.

Ethan didn’t know what you meant, because other than his feelings towards you, he was completely open. He knew you hadn’t figured that out, so he decided to pull Tara outside to the deck after your friends got back from the store.

“What’s up with her?” he nervously asked, “What did I do?”

“I’m not getting in the middle of this, so all I’m going to say is that you both just need to open your eyes,” she said, as he looked at her, still just as confused as he was before the conversation even started. “She’s your best friend. You know her better than anyone. You can figure this out.”

“It’d be so much easier if you just told me, though,” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “She thinks we’re too close. What’s that about?”

“Fuck, I’m not telling you anything else other than this, but she overheard you and Chad talking earlier about you not wanting to sleep in the same bed with her. She didn’t say what else was said, but her feelings were hurt. Now, go fix it,” she said, walking away from him.

He started to think back to the things he said, but there was no way he could just come out and apologize for making you feel bad without explaining why he said what he said. He was worried about ruining the friendship, but with the current state of it, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to finally just tell you. You’ve never been in an argument, and you’ve never even gotten mad at each other, so it was all just so confusing for him as he tried to decide on the right thing to do.

When he walked back inside, he started to look for you. He asked Chad where you were before he pointed to you, asleep on the couch.

“I need advice, because I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing right now,” Ethan whispered to Chad, “She overheard our conversation earlier.”

Chad started to nod, as Ethan’s eyes went wide.

“You knew she heard it? Fuck, dude,” he sighed, “How do I tell her that the problem with us sharing a bed isn’t because I don’t want to be around her, but it’s because I won’t be able to keep my hands off her?”

“Wow, uh, I didn’t know things were that hard for you,” Chad laughed, as Ethan rolled his eyes.

“I just…I’m so fucking attracted to her, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable,” he said, looking over to you to make sure you were still asleep. “I want to be affectionate with her, it’s hard enough when we aren’t trying to sleep in the same bed.”

“Maybe she wants the same thing,” Chad suggested, as Ethan shook his head.

“There’s no way. She would’ve shown me hints by now.”

“Just open your eyes,” Chad said, making Ethan a little irritated.

“That’s what Tara said. What does that even mean?” Ethan asked, as Chad shrugged.

“You’ll figure it out, I’m going to bed.”

Ethan decided to head to bed, hoping a good night’s sleep would help him come up with the answers he needed, but he couldn’t get comfortable. He just kept tossing and turning and couldn’t stop thinking about you.

You started to stir awake, noticing a sound coming from outside the front door. Once you heard the doorknob move the slightest bit, you jumped up and ran to Ethan’s room.

“Hey, something’s outside,” you said, as he slowly sat up and laughed a little.

“We are out in the middle of nowhere right now. I’m sure there is something outside.”

“The doorknob wiggled, Ethan. I can’t sleep out there by myself like that…unless you want to check it out for me,” you sighed, as he stood up.

From the moonlight that was flowing through the window, you noticed that he was shirtless, and that his workouts with Chad seemed to really be paying off. Not that it mattered, because you’d think he was attractive regardless. Then you noticed how low his sweatpants were hanging on his hips, and felt your mouth start to water.

Ethan took in your appearance, the shorts he fully expected you to wear snugly hugging your hips and your hard nipples from the cold air in the cabin showing through the thin material of your shirt. He wanted to just tell you to sleep in the bed with him, but he couldn’t. He’d gotten so used to all the little affectionate things you’d regularly do, things he chalked up to the friendship being so close, but it was still so hard for him to push his thoughts about you to the side.

“You don’t have to go out with me,” he said, walking towards the cabin door with you closely behind him.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” you said, making him laugh.

“Then why did you ask me to see what was out here?”

He slowly opened the door, the both of you jumping when a large raccoon scurried away.

“You’re worried about that cute little guy breaking in and snuggling with you on the couch?” he asked, as you rolled your eyes. “I’m kidding. Let’s make sure there’s nothing else out here.”

He pulled out his phone, turning the flashlight on and looking around to make sure there wasn’t anything else you needed to be concerned about. You noticed something along the tree line, it’s glowing eyes lit up by the light.

“What is that?” you asked, as it started to step a little closer.

“I think we should go inside,” he said, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the door.

That’s when the animal started to run, the fear coursing through your veins making you cling to Ethan.

“It’s a fucking deer,” he laughed, trying to catch his breath. You were still attached to him when he tried to pull away from you. “You’re safe, let’s go back inside.”

Once you made it back to your spot on the couch, he stood in the middle of the living room, starting to feel a little bad that he had that huge bed to himself. He noticed that you still seemed a little nervous from what’d just happened, and he let out a big sigh before he started to speak.

“Do you want to sleep in the room with me?”

“Not if it’s going to be ‘torture’ for you,” you said, as he started to get irritated.

“You don’t get it,” he said, walking back towards the room. You were really starting to get sick of all the conversations you’d had within the last day ending in one of you walking away, so you followed him.

“What don’t I get?” you asked, as he sat down on the side of the bed and looked at the floor. You walked around to stand in front of him, waiting for him to answer you. “I don’t want this entire week to be this way. Just fucking talk to me!”

He sighed, before looking up to you, “What you heard earlier isn’t as bad as you think it is…the torture thing you were talking about, just look at what you’re fucking wearing.”

You looked down at your choice of sleepwear and started to feel a little self-conscious. You tried to pull your shorts down a little, noticing how much they’d ridden up in your sleep. He watched you as you tried to cover your body.

“Hey,” he said softly, as your eyes connected with his, “I didn’t mean that in a bad way…Just…get in the bed, okay?”

“Tell me how you mean it then, Ethan. I can’t read your mind,” you said, walking back around to the other side of the bed.

“I will in the morning. I just need you to stay on your side of the bed,” he sighed, looking over to you.

“Fine,” you said, pulling the blanket over you as you settled into the bed. He lay on his side, his back towards you.

After a few minutes, he rolled over to face you. He couldn’t take it anymore, and he needed to know if you felt the same about him. “You know you mean a lot to me, right?”

“You mean a lot to me, too,” you smiled, as he moved closer towards you. “So I have to stay on my side, but you don’t?”

Your breathing started to get heavy when you noticed how close he was getting, his eyes looking into yours. He didn’t say anything as he leaned in, his lips gently kissing yours. You were so surprised by it that you didn’t kiss him back. You wanted to, but he pulled away before you had the chance for your brain to process everything.

He scooted back to his side, laying on his back as he started to think about how he’d just ruined the friendship.

“Ethan?” you asked, looking over to him.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry,” he sighed, as you started to smirk. You knew that this was your opportunity to finally tell him how you felt now that he’d opened the door for it to happen.

“Ethan, are you interested in me?” you asked, as he nodded.

“It doesn’t have to be weird now, does it? You didn’t kiss me back, and that’s fine. It sucks, but I’ll get over it,” he said, as you sat up and inched closer to him.

“What if I don’t want you to get over it?” you asked, leaning down to kiss him.

The kiss was so needy, both of you craving each other as you moved to straddle him. His hands held your hips as yours went to his hair. After a few minutes, you pulled away, the both of you panting as his hands rubbed your hips. The way he was looking at you made you wet, as your hips started to grind against him.

“Shit,” he quietly groaned, not wanting your friends to hear him.

“You okay?” you asked, looking down at him. He nodded, desperate for you to make another move. You reached down to grab the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, his eyes going wide as he stared at your chest. His hands reached up to massage your breasts, the feeling making your eyes flutter, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You kept grinding against him as whimpers started to slip past your lips from the friction against your clit and the feeling of his fingers pinching at your nipples.

“You have to be quiet,” he whispered, moving his hands back to your hips to make you move faster.

“Wait,” you mumbled, your hips coming to a stop. You started to move off him, noticing the wet spot on his sweatpants from where your wetness had soaked through your panties and the thin shorts. “Can I suck your cock?”

He felt like he could cum from those words alone as he nodded his head. “I need you to tell me, baby. Use your words,” you teased, rubbing your hand over his hard cock.

“Please,” he whimpered, the sound making you cock your eyebrow as you smiled at him. He adjusted his hips so it was easier your you to slide his sweatpants and boxers down, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d tried to imagine what your mouth would feel like before, but as soon as he actually felt it, it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. Your tongue licked up the underside of his cock and swirled around the tip. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, before you took him in your mouth. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

You’d barely done anything to him yet, and he was already being so vocal. Your core was throbbing as you took him as far as you could, the gagging feeling making him gasp. His hand went to the back of your head, gently encouraging you to keep going.

You knew he was getting close when the light grip he had on your hair got tighter, his actions making you moan around him as you started to move faster. His bottom lip was in between his teeth as he watched you, trying so hard not to be loud. It only took your throat tightening around him a few more times before he finally let his whimpers out again.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said, his eyes fluttering and his jaw falling open as he started to release in your mouth. You got him through it, before sitting up and smiling at him. “There’s no way that just happened,” he sighed in disbelief as he caught his breath. “That was amazing.”

“Well, it definitely did happen. I can still taste your cum.”

He groaned at your words before he flipped you over and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped out, his tongue swirling against you as he sucked. He moved to the other side, looking up at you as his teeth grazed against your nipple. Your hand reached down to rub yourself over your shorts, the throbbing in your core starting to hurt.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” he said, kissing down your tummy. He stopped at the top of your pajama shorts and looked up at you before sliding them down. “This is okay?”

“Mhm,” you got out, as your fingers started to run through his hair. He leaned his head into it, loving the feeling of your nails against his scalp.

His fingers went under the waistband of your shorts as he started to pull them down. With how tight they were, he was struggling to get them over your ass. You started to giggle, lifting your hips a little so he could get them off of you easier. He leaned back a little to pull them down your legs before he leaned back down to where you needed him.

“Can you put your hands back in my hair?”

You nodded, your fingers tangling in his curls as he licked a stripe up your clit.

“Shit,” you gasped, as he really started to get into it. He kept alternating between swirling his tongue against your clit and dipping it inside of you. You started to whimper a little louder than he wanted you to, so he pulled away. The lack of contact made you whine as a hushed laugh slipped past his lips and he shook his head.

“I want to make you feel good, but you need to be quiet, baby,” he said, his eyes looking into yours. You nodded, knowing how hard it was going to be for you.

His head went back to his place in between your thighs, placing gentle licks to your clit as he started to push one of his fingers into you. You tried to muffle your moans with your bottom lip, but once he added a second finger and started to move it against that spongy spot inside of you, you had to cover your mouth with your hand.

His eyes looked up into yours as you started to tug harder on his hair. He was proud of himself, so happy that he was the one that was making you feel so good that you were struggling to keep your sounds in.

“Keep moving your fingers just like that,” you whined, before covering your mouth again.

He inched you closer and closer to your orgasm, your toes curling against the sheets as the grip on his hair made him groan against you. The feeling of your pussy starting to flutter around his fingers made him groan even louder as he thought about how amazing it would feel around his cock. Your body started to shake as he used his free arm to pin your hips down so he could work you through it. Once your pussy stopped clenching, your grip on his hair relaxed, a goofy smile on your lips as he looked back up at you.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, as you started to make grabby hands at him.

He hovered over you and looked into your eyes as your arms wrapped around him. You felt his hard cock press against you as you started to wiggle your hips a little underneath him.

“I don’t have a condom,” he said, as you rolled your eyes.

“Just pull out,” you said with a smirk, his eyes going wide at the suggestion. “I’m on birth control, it’s fine.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, as he reached in between the two of you to line up with your entrance.

He slowly slid inside of you and stilled to give you time to adjust to his size. He started to kiss you as you grew impatient.

“Please,” you mumbled against his lips as he smiled.

“Please what?” he questioned, not moving until he heard what you wanted.

“Please fuck me,” you said, your words dripping with lust as you pleaded.

He started to move as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He watched the faces you were making with each thrust, not wanting to miss a single one.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hips moving a little faster.

He started to drill into your g-spot as your fingernails drug across his back. You were trying to be quiet, but it was getting harder with each deep thrust.

“Quiet, baby,” he warned, his hips slowing a little. “You’re going to wake everybody up.”

“Make me be quiet,” you said sweetly, an almost animalistic look appearing in Ethan’s eyes at your words.

He leaned in to kiss you as he sped back up, his mouth catching all your moans. You reached in between his body and yours to rub quick circles on your clit. When your moans turned into high-pitch whimpers, he pulled his mouth away from yours and replaced it with his hand as he mercilessly pounded into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the faint tapping of the headboard against the wall filling the room.

“That’s it, baby. You can take it,” he whispered, as your eyebrows started to furrow, and your pussy started to clench. “You’re doing such a good job for me.”

He was sure he was going to have scratches all over his back as your nails just kept digging, but he didn’t let up.

“You gonna cum?” he asked, as you quickly nodded your head. “Cum for me, baby.”

That’s all it took for you to start shaking underneath him. The way your pussy spasmed around him felt so good that his own orgasm was quickly approaching.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, pulling out and shooting his hot cum all over your stomach.

He sat on his knees as he caught his breath. Your sleepy smile made him smirk as he started to get up.

“Do you want to take a shower with me? At least to get this off you?”

You nodded, as he slid off the side of the bed. He tried to help you up, your legs wobbling as soon as your feet touched the floor.

“You okay?” he asked with a small laugh as you walked in front of him.

“Yeah, that was…wow,” you said, your brain still clouded with the post-orgasm haze.

“Shh, we need to be quick. I don’t want anyone to see us naked,” he whispered, leading you down the dark hall to the bathroom.

You grabbed some of the complimentary body wash off the counter as Ethan cut the shower on. He stepped inside as you followed, the water flow washing his cum off you. You stayed silent for the most part, other than the occasional small laughs slipping out as you’d thought about what you’d just done with your best friend.

Once you stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off, Ethan’s hands wrapped around your waist as he kissed your wet shoulder.

“If I would’ve known that was going to happen, I would’ve kissed you sooner,” he said, pulling away to dry himself off. When he turned around, you noticed the bright red marks that ran front his shoulder blades to the middle of his back.

“Uhm, it looks like you’re going to be wearing a shirt for the rest of this trip,” you said, as he turned around to look at it in the mirror.

“Damn, I look like I was mauled,” he laughed, as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him.

“Let’s go to bed,” you mumbled, as the two of you walked out on your towels.

When you made it back to the room, you started to grab clothes to put on when Ethan stopped you.

“Can we just sleep naked?” he asked, smiling as you nodded.

You crawled back into the bed scooting to the middle as he laid down beside you. Your head went to his chest as his fingers traced patterns on your back, the soothing motion soon putting you to sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, Ethan was starting to stir awake, too, hearing the voices of your friends as they talked in the kitchen.

“I guess we should get up,” you said, as you started to pull away. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him.

“How do you feel about lazy morning sex?” he asked, as you smirked at him.

“Last night wasn’t enough for you?” you questioned. He shook his head in response.

You glanced down and noticed that the blanket was halfway down his thighs, his hard cock on display.

“Can you be quiet though?” he asked, as you shrugged.

“Probably not, but let’s try it,” you said, “How do you want to do this?”

“Roll over onto your side.”

You did as he said, his hands immediately starting to roam from your thigh, up your side and to your breast.

“Do you need me to eat you out first?” he asked, sitting up a little to look at you. “Because I really don’t mind doing that again.”

You giggled at his eagerness before shaking your head. “I’m already wet, and we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Fine,” he sighed, adjusting your hips to slide into you.

His thrusts were slow as his hand held onto your hip. Sweet kisses were placed along your shoulder as you started to move your hips back to meet his.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered, “and your skin is just so soft, and your just so beautiful.”

You smiled as he kept saying sweet things to you, his thrusts starting to speed up.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered out, as the tip of his cock kept hitting that special spot inside you. “That feels so good.”

“Shhh,” he whispered, as his hips moved faster. You were struggling to meet his thrusts, the tiredness from only a few hours of sleep catching up to you. “It’s okay, babe. I’ll do all the work.”

He kept hitting that spot as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“I don’t think I can be quiet,” you said, the nervousness evident in your voice. You were tensing up, not wanting to cum because you didn’t know what would come out of your mouth.

“You’re almost there, baby. Just relax,” he cooed, as his hand went from your thigh to cover your mouth again.

You were whimpering into his hand as the euphoric feeling started to wash over you, your pussy tightening around him as he tried to fuck you through it. It got harder for him the tighter you squeezed.

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” he said, pulling out and painting your lower back with his release.

In that moment, you heard a light knock on the door.

“Fuck,” Ethan whispered, pulling the blanket back up to cover the both of you.

You both closed your eyes as the door eased open, trying to make it seem like you were still asleep. Chad peaked in, before quickly backing away and closing the door.

You started to giggle as Ethan pulled away, “I need to get this off of you before it gets all over me and the bed.”

He grabbed a few tissues out of the box on the nightstand and cleaned your back for you. You rolled over as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Let’s get dressed. I’m starving,” you said, as he pulled away.

He nodded as you slid off the bed, watching you as you walked to the other side of the room to grab your clothes. He hated to watch you put them back on, wishing the two of you could just stay naked in bed together all day.

“I guess this friendship isn’t so innocent anymore,” he said, sliding his shirt on over his head.

“Friendship? After last night and this morning this is still just a friendship?” you questioned, as he walked over to wrap his arms around your waist.

“You’re right, it’s way more than that,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss you.

“You better not say we’re just fuck buddies, either. I’ll drown you in the hot tub,” you said with a smirk, as you got ready to walk out to join your friends.

“You’re way more than that, babe.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #scream

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comfortless · 6 months

Note

Hello! This is the Frankenstein anon back with more praise and another prompt that you might like. Again you are amazing and everyone you come out with stuff, I weep for joy! Please continue what you are doing because it is absolute art✨

Okay onto the prompt. So lately tiktok has been putting onto this telenova drama called Hilda Furcão which is pretty much this priest and prostitute fall in love but due to societal pressures, cannot be together. The YEARNING in this show is amazing and I can’t help but think of Priest Konig in this situation. Imagine he falls in love with reader who works at a brothel but because he’s a churchly man, he’s fighting demons in his head (and down yonder) cuz he YEARNS for her but the lord says no🥴

Please keep doing what you’re doing and I’m constantly cheering you on with your work! ❤️

In the Arms of Flowers

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. pining, lots of talk of religion/silly metaphors, fluff, ridiculous attempts at courtship from both, dark (if you squint), implied cyber stalking, violence/murder, minor character death, some angst, sexual violence (not done by König), König becomes horribly obsessed and reader is fine with it, virgin!König-> oral (both receiving) piv smut.

wc: 11k.

There’s a garden in the churchyard, one that’s always been, even before his vows were taken and the cassock was pulled around his shoulders.

It’s the very place that the arching den window in the clergy house faces out towards, and the very place that an angel descends from Heaven to stalk through night after night.

Even when the thunder clamors and rolls to light up the sky above, the pretty thing is there, kneeling amongst the blooming lilies. A listless sort of purity swallows over her, bathes her in the white of petals and the bright illumination of each bolt of lightning above, arcs a halo over her head like a proper mirage.

The whole town knows these doors remain open, but never does she even look toward the church or the home of holy men at all: only the flowers. The lilies and carnations seemed to be her favorite to haunt, weaving through the petals as they sway for her in breezes like whispers from the pouting lips of cherubim.

He’s prayed for this lost soul many times already; clutched the rosary between his fingers and whispered to the Lord to protect her, to heal whatever aches, to bring her wandering feet into the chapel one of these days. But as most lilies, this one’s beauty is gone away by mid-morning.

Tonight, he wills himself to bring her in for prayer and refuge from the coming rain. Its been a long time coming, and regrettably he’s hesitated at every other opportunity. Nothing’s changed, the scene was so commonplace even the others have commented on it prior.

Maybe he hallucinates her holiness; the halo has become made up of fallen petals now as they arch over the crown of her head where she’s found sprawled out amongst them. She raises herself to sit upright, dusts the dirt from her knees and offers a wary glance with each step he takes until his soles halt in soil that would soon be mire.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” the angel breathes out with her eyes darting from his collar down to rest at the expanse of short blades of grass between them. “I don’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

She doesn’t meet the concern in his eyes, and König is no stranger to sin. To the shame and grief that he’s absolved from far worse than her in the stuffy wooden confessional.

“You’re welcome to stay.” A silent prayer rests there in his breath — please stay, though even he wasn’t certain as to why there’s a demand stirring in the pit of his stomach for this woman clad in a dirtied white dress.

She smiles then, gazes right up at him in such a way that immediately sparks something misplaced, something tucked away beneath studying scripture and kneeling before the wooden altar. A sin of the flesh, a heated poker jabbing at both his heart and his loins.

“No, I’m okay,” she assures with a slight dip of her head, already taking steps back to dart away, back to whichever gilded little nest of baubles and starlight she took flight from. “I was just heading home.”

And that’s it. He doesn’t plead for her to come inside, the offer has been laid out already. It’s not his job to force a belief that one doesn’t want, only lend a kindness and a cushioned pew, advice for the lost and a choir for bleating lambs.

He bids her goodbye and walks back to the clergy house, ignoring the strange looks of his peers as they all prepare to bed down after a nightly prayer. It’s rare to smile here, when sacred words are passed from the wrinkled, cracked lips of his seniors. But König does smile, the grin is as bright as the seconds of white lighting up the sky in intervals as he silently thanks God for such a sweet vision amidst such darkness.

The fixation does not falter for the following three nights. She doesn’t return to the churchyard to whisper secrets to the blooms, but the angel weighs on his mind so heavily that König finds himself convinced that she must have been his calling, a soul that he would assuredly save.

His sermons now lack their passion. The parishioners come to him with weighty hearts and misery in their eyes, but bless him all the same, even when he’s distant. Away with the fairies, some would say. He can’t help but wonder when one such service rolls to a closing prayer if whoever conjured such words had also been in the presence of a seraph.

“Do you need prayer?,” one of his fellow priests asks as the flock trickles out, worry clear in the wrinkles laden beneath this eyes and the way his lips draw down before pressing thin. “You don’t seem to be sleeping well.”

And König regrets the words he speaks next, when he describes the woman from the flowers in detail greater than necessary: how her eyes seemed so soft, her smile fragile, and her body language more docile than that of even a lamb. He mentions the dirty dress, the way she seemed to be trying to escape something yet refused the shelter he offered.

The other priest nods and sighs, his eyes squeezing shut in thought, and though König has not feared a scolding since he abandoned home nearly two decades prior, the way the ordinarily calm priest seems so frustrated by this sends a swell of fluttering anxiety beneath his ribcage.

“The woman you describe is a temptress,” his elder explains coldly. His sharp, dark eyes rest on König’s face as though the disparity in their height does not exist at all. “Best to let her be, she does not want our help. Leave it alone.”

“Ja. Verstanden.”

The warning is enough to dull the buzzing in his chest, the mush that’s been made up of his head until he sees her again.

The bakery in town regularly makes donations of pastries and thick loaves of bread for church goingson. It isn’t regular that he’s been asked to pick them up; the eldest of the priests usually does so, some blood relation to the owners that König has never cared enough to ask about. The old man never did well in the summer months, though, far too frail now to bear the heat snaking over his pale skin and leaving burns.

With the mistake of rambling onward about this perturbing fascination still grating at his mind, he doesn’t hesitate to volunteer, to take the old truck and step away from the stained glass and crucifixes for a brief outing. A moment of respite.

There’s a complimentary mug of coffee presented across the expanse of the counter when the cashier greets him with a smile so broad it seems faked.

König’s fingers twitch when he grasps at the handle; the uncertainty was something he had sworn he would outgrow one day with God’s healing, but it never seemed to stray far from him. It rests over the back of his neck like a feeding vampire when he takes his first sip, one that burns his tongue and stings at his eyes when he notices the woman seated at a table in the corner.

It’s her: temptation and fate packaged up in a loose fitting sweater that covers the pulse in her neck and a short skirt.

She holds her phone, not the mug stationed before her, staring down at the thing with the most somber expression he’s ever seen on a lady before. She taps her thumbs at the screen, talking to someone, but there’s a loneliness in her expression apparent like the rust on the old truck parked outside.

Poor little thing.

She glances up when his staring is detected, confusion stripped bare upon her with a pinched brow and a slack jaw. Then, follows realization and she offers the same smile she did that night, some seventy or so hours prior.

“Morning, Father.”

There’s not a fractal within König that wants to make the sweet spirit uncomfortable, but each step he takes towards her table seems to make her shoulders tense. She knows that he knows, sees that sympathetic look in his eye and hates it.

Maybe even hates him for the divinity he wears in the sable cloth pulled over his shoulders.

That doesn’t stop his approach.

König sits across from her with shaking hands and a forced smile like the one the cashier wears, drops his mug onto the table and offers her his hand. Fingers bending to graze the palm as though beckoning a frightened animal when it’s he who feels most afraid.

The angel merely eyes him cautiously for a moment before she takes the cup into both of her hands and gives him a fragile huff, dismissing his attempt to pray for her soul. Again. Yet, the sting he feels is not from a lack of a starved savior complex being satisfied, only… that he has yet to touch her somehow. That sudden thought stifles him in full.

But angels are nothing if not merciful and loving; she picks up on his dejection and speaks again in his place.

“How are the carnations?”

“Hm?”

“The flowers in the garden… the red ones,” she elaborates with a soft laugh, hides it behind the rim of her cup when it’s raised for her to take a sip. Her mouth looks soft, compelling, and he’s staring again. “I like them the most.”

He knows he should stop this, that what’s become of an innocent meeting has left him feeling anything but. There’s a howling chasm in place of the heart of a worthy devotee. She’s nothing like the women who frequent the church — the only other women he sees. Brighter at best and alluring at the worst.

“I thought the lilies were your favorite…” It’s unsuited for a priest and a man so tall and broad to sound so breakable, but his voice only comes in an hurried breath, embarrassed and small.

She shakes her head, tousles her hair in the process. “I like all of them. The ones at your church grow prettiest.”

“I see…”

The woman gives him an expectant look, as if prompting him to speak more, before her phone chimes and the air seems to shift from tentative yet sweet to something vast and cold. She doesn’t seem eager to be interrupted in such a way, either; her expression falls from that subtle playfulness to something akin to a regretful acceptance.

She stands from her seat abruptly and takes a step towards the door. “I have something I need to take care of.”

God gives and takes away.

“I can bring you some,” he offers, winding in the too-small wooden chair to face her. Too late to reel in the flirtatious nature of such an offering, too late to bite his tongue and remember the vows he had taken. The burden upon his heart seems far more pressing than any words from an old book. “Carnations and lilies… some of the others, too.”

The woman almost seems shy when she glances over her shoulder and offers him the most imperceptible nod. “Yeah, sure… I’ll see you around.”

His angel leaves him to rot in thought at that lonely table, in this tiny bakery. He does not think to repent for the way his temperature and pulse spiked in her presence, for the way he takes her empty cup and stuffs it into one of the boxes of baked goods to collect later.

Riding back to the church is dreadful, because she’s already fastened to his heart like a ribbon on a pretty bouquet. He’ll ask the sisters from the cloister to clip flowers for him, tie them up in a lace that will leave her face warmed and lips pouting.

When the people in the church have their fill of sweets and bread, König tells a lie, maybe several.

He claims he doesn’t know why that innocuous porcelain thing is resting where food once had, doesn’t know why the baker would have stuffed that in there too. He takes it to his room and claims that he would return it come morning.

The bed has always felt far too small for him alone, but he pictures her there with him, sat upon his lap when he brings the cup up to his lips with his eyes closed.

It’s cold and hard, difficult to imagine it to be a kiss at all, but he pretends her lips are upon him, eager and willing. It takes only rolling his tongue back to flick over itself, envisioning it being her own, for him to feel his trousers grow too tight. He doesn’t touch himself. He can’t bear the thought of it, not with the cross staring down at him from the far wall.

And finally, regret comes.

Shame, too, because König is aware he’s become a bit of a creep; enchanting himself with second hand kisses whilst his angel takes another man to bed. A man undeserving, but… he could be. He was deserving enough to become a holy man, surely she could see he was worthy of her as well.

The bed is too small even when he curls into himself and pulls the blanket up passed his eyes. Sleep is too skittish to come for him, even when he prays in a whisper to be absolved of his lust.

The dreams are only filled with images of an angel trapped in a rose bush, the thorns sinking into her wings until blood is drawn, but still she smiles. She reaches toward him with shaky limbs, whispers something so dreadfully mournful he knows to his very soul that she is his purpose alone.

It’s what wakes him in a fit, compels him to venture out through the yard with a heart set on seeking guidance. There are moonbeams above and animal calls from the surrounding trees. All of God’s creations are in perfect, dreamy harmony.

Why couldn’t he be the same? Always the outsider in one way or another; always the sore thumb rather than the loving green. Desolation is an art, a skill he’s learned to hide back: clenched teeth to still a wrathful tongue and a layer of muscle to guard that wounded thing in his chest.

There is no better peace than the quiet of the church in the late hour. Moonlight through stained glass and empty, antique seats that would make the worldly whip out their phones to snap pictures in a heartbeat. The doors are always open, for the sinners and the devoted alike, though the confessional is rarely touched when there would be no saint awake set on absolving.

Perhaps that’s why he takes to the booth he needs to make himself smaller to fit into: one shoulder and one foot first, then the next set. He’s never cared for it, left it to the better and smaller. The sound just past the thin partition rattles him. It isn’t the creaking of wood below his feet, but something softer. A weak sniffle. A cry from the other side.

“I’ll leave in a moment,” comes a voice, broken from tears and so horribly sad that the usual script entirely fails him. He recognizes the voice, though a bit warbled now. The voice that would make the choir pause, an angel’s sweet tone.

“Wait… no. You can stay. I’m hiding, too.” A breathy laugh comes forced and misplaced. Priest or not, König has never been the best at consoling anyone, let alone one so far above him.

“I’m not hiding,” she tries to sound braver now. He can imagine her chin tilted forward and that sweet smile trying it’s damndest to paint its way across her face. “But… why are you?”

“Don’t know.”

“Who are you?” The crying seems to have ceased entirely for now. Clearly whatever seemed to ail her could be remedied by her own curiosity. A cute, unorthodox little thing.

“König.” It served well enough as a confirmation name when he could not settle on one of the saints. King of them all, one of the other saved men had said in jest. Ironic, now.

“I like your voice, König,” she murmurs, deliberately testing the pronunciation on her tongue in such an alluring way that a small shiver runs its way down his spine.

“Danke… and you?”

God forgive him, he doesn’t even try. Doesn’t try to bring shame or guilt, read her scripture or pray for her soul. He only listens in silence when she tells him her name, beautiful and charming as he had expected it to be. The woman then tells him of her work, of the motel she ventures to at night… the troubles with money and even vaguely, some of the men she suffers through. This had been a bad night. Strange how a singular hour could have broken someone down to such a desperation to open up, to grasp for what small comfort they could receive.

But she came for him.

She must have hoped to see him.

He thanks his god for that.

— — —

“I bought a phone.”

“I see that.” Her fingers graze over the stems of the flowers, cleanly cut by hands more patient and stable than König’s own.

The angel isn’t looking up at him, not this time. There isn’t even a smile on her face when she cradles the bouquet close to her chest, petting over it where she sits upon the motel bed wearing nothing but some strappy, barely-there lingerie. Pure white with pink lace over the cups of her bra where her breasts swell with each shaky intake of breath.

In this week apart, he’s kept the device hidden in a loose pocket and spent many a night scouring the seediest websites looking for a hint of a body that may belong to her in this very area. Only one seemed to match. The messages exchanged were about hours and pricing, establishing a location, and terms he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t harp on the small details, but finding her messages to be so rigid and dry did surprise him. There were no cute hearts or winking emojis, it all felt horribly transactional.

Priests don’t make a lot of money, it all goes back to the church, but he’s thieved enough from the offering bowls to have a night with her alone. As disheartening as the lack of flirtations seemed, he hoped not to squander whatever opportunity this outing proved to be.

The balaclava covering his face wasn’t purchased with the intention of making her nervous, only… shielding himself from curious stares. The whole town knows his face, his name, the words he speaks so resolutely to his flock. Just as well as they know of who she is, what she does.

Even this knitted shield couldn’t hide himself from her, though. The very moment he entered this drab, modestly decorated room with flowers in hand she had only looked further lost.

“You look very pretty,” he tries as he removes the mask and drops it to the floor, kneels just a hair from where her feet dangle from the bed. “I’m glad that I found you.”

“Thank you.”

The flowers are placed on the side table, petals falling down to the thin carpet below. A cascade of red like blood and white like doves feathers. Purity and a wound in one.

The poor thing looks scorned when she does give him a glance then, but she forces herself into a position that stokes a hellish, unnatural flame within him. Her thighs part as her hands rest on the cups of her bra, pushing the thin fabric down to reveal areola, her soft nipples, sights that he had never seen before.

“You shouldn’t even be here, König,” the lady warns when his gaze sweeps over the innocent flesh laid bare before him. The angel isn’t even wet. Her panties are pristine over her womanhood, and it dawns on him that… she wouldn’t risk what he was even for the generous donation he had given.

“I don’t want to ruin you.”

But she should. Crumble him into salt, cast him away with the wind. Should.

She sees something holy in him too… albeit, not in the way that he would like for her to.

He swallows hard as he rises to his feet and sits next to her. The hands that were so accustomed to being joined in prayer find her breasts now with tentative touches, a curious squeeze, until he wills himself to readjust the fabric and conceal her properly.

“Ja, but… I just wanted to visit you.”

“You don’t need to pay me just to see me.”

The tension in the room finally begins to dissolve. Not by much, but when she sighs something that sounds like amusement, the restless throbbing of his heart does begin to settle.

As much as he would like to take her like some beast in rut, lay some claim to her in bursts of white seed, he doesn’t even know where to begin. Each curve of her body looks as though it would feel like a miracle beneath his palm, under his tongue.

It’s just that nothing is going to happen, not here, not now that he’s brought a prostitute flowers and revealed who he was to her. She sees something pitiful, where he only sees someone to love.

He can’t tell her that he dreams of her, that he views her in the same way he views his god. That would only scare her away, lead her to believe he’s a lunatic rather than a man only just now having his first taste of love.

“Then could I see you every night? So that you don’t have to…” His head dips, because no matter how he tries he knows any word he says is foolish.

This isn’t something she’s doing because it is fun for her; it’s a job just like his own. Flesh or words spoken… did it even matter? And yet, König could feel a malicious, gnawing envy at the thought of a bolder man taking his place tomorrow evening. That man wouldn’t hesitate to peel away her pretty lingerie and fuck her, shove his tongue into her mouth while his cock sat between her legs as if it belonged there.

“König,” she sighs next to him, pityingly.

His jaw tenses as his fingers curl into his palms. The hopelessness of it all crashes down around him as though sung out from the loudest of the choir. He hardly notices when she presses her head against his shoulder, only realizes how close she’s come to him when her hand curls over one of his own.

“You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met.” It’s not a compliment but it feels like one when she laughs like that, airy and soft. “The sweetest one, too.”

He smells her perfume from this close, something scented like fruit or maybe maple, sap-sticky and saccharine. All of her flesh feels warm against the plain t-shirt he wears, a warmth he would give anything to dive into, but not without her explicit command. A powerful seraph in the form of one painfully cute, gentle lady. If anyone could see what he saw now, they too would forsake those holy books and eat from her open palm instead.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confesses, a peculiar bitterness hanging on his tongue.

“How about a walk?”

He pulls the balaclava over his face again when they make their way out into the quiet, darkened street. Hand in hand. It’s not from shame, but a necessity, perhaps, because his pale face has only flowered into a lasting pink since laying eyes upon her on that mattress, sprawled out and waiting. The blush only deepens with every squeeze she blesses him with, every hushed word spoken as she tells him about her favorite places.

She’s dressed in the same white dress they had initially met in, now clean of the dirt from flower beds. Somehow even more radiant at this close, too.

The churchyard and the clergy house are nothing in comparison to the way the rest of the town feels when the moon rises. It’s a world all their own, a place where no one looks at her as if she were a simple harlot, but a queen amongst chipping wood and tarmac. There’s even a skip in her step as she walks ahead of him, her hips swaying beneath her skirt. All because there’s no one here but she and her most loyal and only acolyte.

He wills himself out of her grasp when they cross the threshold into the cemetery. The darkness there is enough to pull him back to earth; thoughts of how easily swayed he’s been linger in the back of his mind. The want doesn’t even begin to reel back its claws, but the guilt does sink its pearly fangs in alongside it.

“I get it. You don’t want to be seen with me,” she says a small step away, drawing her hand up to her chest. It’s the saddest she’s ever looked, and he doesn’t have the words to further explain that he has no god damn idea what he’s doing: here, with her, in the midst of something that feels so normal even though it should not.

“Nein! That’s not—“

“You don’t want to touch me. You barely talk…��

Because the words don’t come easy. Because he’s never felt such an overbearing devotion to anyone, anything apart from what he prays to. How could she… this woman that shared in such loneliness with him not see him for what he was, not see him in the way that he sees her?

“You’re misunderstanding.”

“You just want to… to convert me, is that right?,” she hisses, sounding more shaken up than he had ever hoped to hear.

All hesitation had to be swallowed back.

There was no other option. He could feel her slipping away, a pain he wasn’t prepared to face.

God gives and takes away, but König refuses to let go.

His eyes narrow, his breath halts entirely, and he cups her face in his hands as gently as he can. The distance between them feels like miles as he lowers his head to kiss her through the knit barrier. It’s flighty and petrifying on his side… he feels cold sweat wet his brow when the warmth of her pulls through.

She could hit him, spit her curses like a proper witch, and he would only fall to her feet and kiss her heels. But… she does none of those things. Whatever pain was brewing here is ripped away with the night breeze.

Her hands peel away the balaclava, discard it somewhere into the tall grass where it wouldn’t be found, and she grants him his first, proper kiss.

With only the cracked headstones and cemetery angels watching, what once was tentative becomes a full indulgence. König samples from her mouth as though it weeps honey when the gentle peck graduates to a parting of lips. His hands run down the length of her sides as she grasps at his shirt, they pull her in close until her chest meets his own and two pairs of eyelids flutter.

She feels more heavenly than his imagination could have prepared him for, her tongue hotter and her sounds… the soft sighs and shaky murmurs of approval that fill him with both a maddening love and an urge to burn everything away if only it would keep her safe and near.

The world ceases to be entirely, cast down with Lucifer to the sulfur and smoke. Her lips remain parted when they break apart, a haze over her eyes reflecting the veil clouding his own irises.

Was a kiss really forsaking his vows? Was that really such a painful treachery? No… no it shouldn’t be. The issue remains that he can not see her as just some woman. Something as small as this could consume him entirely.

The night is spent with an abundance of those shared kisses when they return to the motel. Tentative touches, too. He’s never held a woman, not in the way he gets to hold her then. She presses tightly to him, her back to his chest with her hand keeping his own in place over her middle. She’s so soft, swans down plush and smooth as silk ribbon.

There is mint lingering on her breath each time she speaks. No talk of her work, only… she confesses how she had feared him so initially, how she worried that a holy man stepping into her life would only be further condemnation: an angel terrified by a devil that does not exist at all.

He knows he’s lost a part of himself here when he tells her he wishes to meet with her again, that if the church is no longer the place she fancies to walk, he’ll meet her amongst the dead again and again when the old clergymen sleep. Those promises he had reserved solely for God turn on themselves now, when he reveres the idol he shares this bed with.

Though her hips press back against his groin when his fingers crawl up to her sternum, and the desire strikes up within him, his cock remains untouched here. He doesn’t whisper a prayer for forgiveness into her hair when he grows hard, just tucks her in closer and smiles where his head rests atop her own.

It’s the closest to bliss he’s ever felt.

— — —

“You weren’t here for morning prayer.” The voice isn’t accusatory, just observant. The nightly prayers were missed too, though a reprieve is granted by way of those remaining unmentioned.

But the guilt does eat at König when he sees the concern in this man’s eyes, splinters at his very soul until he asks in a fragile voice if he can speak to the old priest in the confessional.

Everything here feels much too small and the booth is more or less the same. The wood closes in around him, bathes him in a blackness that even the glow of candlelight within these walls can not reach. The partition separating them does not help bolster courage, it only leaves him feeling more alone.

The clergyman listens in silence as König confesses that he has become weak. He does not mention the lady of the night, but there’s no need to at all: finding himself so captivated with a woman that he considered breaking every promise to the higher power was bad enough. He does not mention how he’s considered pleasuring himself, touching her too… only that they shared a night together embraced, counts the kisses that were exchanged with each digit of his hands.

There’s a pitying sigh from the other side before the man begins a lengthy prayer that König does join him in. With the “Amen” that follows, he’s told only to rid himself of those thoughts, to bury them with fasting and prayer. No more visits with this temptress, remain on the right path. The very, very simple things he must do to receive God’s forgiveness and favor once more.

“You are not a disappointment,” his elder reminds him with a small pat to his cheek and a smile. It’s more fatherly than the sparse affection he received from his own flesh and blood before coming here.

“Danke… thank you,” he breathes when his eyes bear the burden of tears.

God loves him and so do the sainted men.

But to never see her again would be worse than flagellation.

He chokes down the pain with more water when his stomach roars with hunger, hides the broken heart with smiles and prayer. Holy clothes feel heavier now. The money he stole to spend that night with her is returned to the collection pool in a week's time. The smartphone he had purchased is tossed out with the rest of the garbage in the bins. Even the cup is returned to the bakery after being rinsed in the sink.

Still not a part of him feels absolved from this torturous puppet show.

He thinks of her more than he ponders over his fear of Hell itself. God feels like an old memory as the days pass. He counts them in his daybook, an ‘X’ next to the dates he had gone without seeing her. Ten becomes twenty, and it becomes no less agonizing.

The prayers come easier, at least. He joins with his fellow men, kneels with his hands clasped before him, speaks such heartfelt words now that on more than one occasion he’s shared a healing tear or two with the other clergymen.

God is an old friend, yes, but that title is just a placeholder for the one his prayers are truly for. The little angel of the garden, the woman who has given him nothing at all but stole his heart all the same. Was she not the same as God from that aspect?

After a month, he’s finally given the privilege to stand before the altar and preach to the parishioners again. His sermon is directed by the other clergymen, a subtle admission of his own misdeeds as he guides the flock away from the sins of lust, of worldly pleasures that would steer them away from the right path.

Amidst the men and women crowding the pews sits a new face. She wears a hat, looking uncertain and skittish as a bunny amidst a pack of starved hounds beneath its curved brim. Her coat is tugged tightly around her where her hands grip to keep it closed and snug. No one is out to get her, not here, but there’s a purplish bruise on her neck. A sad stare trails up to meet his gaze when he stammers through the words of scripture.

Then, she smiles and his heart only feels full.

The sermon ends clumsily enough, but she waits for him in the center pew. He ensures the others have cleared out before he takes rigid steps toward her, where he sits a foot or so away on the bench; the feigned friendliness is only a front for the rapid beating of his heart and the way the blush upon his face paints up to his ears.

“I waited to walk with you… like you promised we would,” she says in place of a greeting. There’s no chiding in her tone, just curiosity. Gentle, like she’s speaking to a wounded bird, and perhaps that’s what he’s become: some big, ugly vulture. Holy in its love of everything from the sky to the rot down below.

“I’m sorry. I..,” he laments, grasping for an explanation that does not come.

“No, I understand. It’s alright, König.”

He knows he doesn’t deserve the gift of her redemption with how easily he turned away from her, from the blooming of… something. It was best not to use that word anymore.

“I just didn’t want to wait any longer. I missed you,” she huffs when the silence extends between them, breaks up the tension in the air but not what creeps over her own shoulders.

“Your bruise..” He wants to tell her of his sleepless nights, of how he pictures her in place of any old deity upon a throne in heaven, but settles for where his eyes linger on her neck.

No explanation is provided, but she lets him bring his fingers to it, ghost over where the purple melds to yellow in the shape of thick fingerprints. Add wrath to the ever growing list of his sins, because it’s all he feels amidst the envy and love.

His fingers dig into the plain back trousers when they rest upon his lap again, something foreign buzzes beneath his skin. The thought that any man would be brazen enough to lay hands upon his very own angel.. It’s unbelievable, unforgivable. His thoughts spiral so quickly it’s frightening. Timid things can become vicious, too, when backed into corners.

She manages to keep this growing storm in check when she stands and smooths her skirt, and offers to tidy up the church in an act of ‘repentance’.

The chores are simple and the sisters that linger far past service seem grateful to have her here as she takes up the broom and sweeps away at the dusty floor. They chatter away with her, take her hat and rest their hands over her shoulders when the cleaning winds to an end. His angel closes her eyes in prayer, doesn’t so much as open them to send him a knowing glance when they pray for her to find a good husband, someone who deserves such a lovely, godly woman.

She shares a meal with them while König keeps to himself with scripture in hand, mindlessly roving over the words even when his thoughts drift to the night of their first kiss.

He reasons that it’s only natural when she gives him such a display of acceptance too. It only solidifies what he knows already: this woman is no succubus— she has not crawled from the depths of Hell to drag him back with her, she’s only heavensent. An angel with a broken wing or a gaping wound somewhere… something to care for.

She’s encouraged to return by several fond voices. A few of the women even offer to walk her home, the daylight is dying and it’s dangerous for a lone lady out at night. The angel smiles at him then, sharing in the knowledge that she prefers the dark. Not the wicked things, but the peace and the beauty of the moon.

And she returns when he abstains from her.

She confides in him after each sermon that she does long to see him more often, but she likes the way he speaks of Mary Magdalene and the other women in scripture, pokes fun at the lilt to his voice when he notices her amidst the crowd of others. She says she likes him a lot before they part ways in the evenings, but she doesn’t tempt him with pouts or trailing fingers.

He thanks her for respecting his faith each time - despite being the one who crossed several boundaries initially. Though he keeps his hands to himself now, the looks he gives to her are pleading and soft. If she would pull him into a kiss now, he would let her have all of him. They could run away together, from the church, from her clients…

It’s on one of those cloudy Sundays that he does ask her if she’s stopped. He braves the look she gives him when his question comes as a hushed stutter. The comfort between them no longer feels tentative. It’s just there. Ever-present as the sky above.

“Well, you haven’t,” she whispers in response, propping her elbow up on the back of the pew. It’s as if she believes it could be so simple, but it’s not. Not for either of them.

The spiels of Heaven and Hell won’t reach her, so he doesn’t bother with those. She offers him an invitation with her words and the way she remains so open that it’s difficult not to take.

It’s been months since he touched her last and the love has only seemed to have grown. Strange. Perhaps he is as odd as she’s imagined him to be. There have been weddings in this very church, talks of long years of courtship, and even then what those men must have felt for their brides had to have paled in comparison to this. It had to.

“Tell me how to,” he breathes without any underlying thought. Saints don’t question their gods, they only serve them.

“You’re actually considering it…?”

“I might.”

The silence crowds around the bench while her fingers brush over the pages of a hymnal in repetition and his only inch closer to her clothed knee.

“You could meet me at the cemetery tonight… We could talk more there.”

“At night is probably not the best time.”

“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends don’t kiss. Friends don’t feel the way he feels now, or how he’s felt for the past few months. Platonic arrangements don’t require repentance. But, he bites his tongue and tilts his head back, lets it roll off the shoulder when his hand draws back to his lap. Another time.

Not where the Heavenly Father could see, if he were even watching any longer.

“… Tomorrow morning would be better.”

“Then I’ll come get you. Don’t you dare try and get out of it,” she chirps with the wildest glint of mirth alight in her eyes.

Stay.

If the church caught fire now and the rafters came to sink into the earth not a part of him would or could even care as long as she were just here. But he watches her go without a word of opposition, watches her nod toward the sisters standing out in the yard and clasp her hands in front of her, smiling to herself as though the world were made for just the two of them.

It stings during nightly prayer, and it burns when he lies in bed to wait for the morning. There are cicadas singing and footsteps on old wooden boards to remind him that he isn’t entirely alone, the scent of tobacco drifting from his window when another plaster saint hides beyond the veil of night to smoke. He doesn’t sleep, his eyes remain fixed upon the ceiling until the darkness of the room drifts to a dull gray with the sun’s slow rise.

And König does not wait for her to fetch him. Morning prayer dissolves into a mournful cry because there is no part of him that can fathom or interpret any of this. A trial should not feel like a blessing when he’s faced with it. God must be playing the stupidest game imaginable to test him with someone so lovable, so charming. Where the church leaves him feeling filthy with remorse, she purifies him with only a curl of her lips and starlight dancing in her eyes.

None of it is fair.

The guilt must be something obligatory, summoned up like puffs of dust from the floorboards. Worshiping idols is a sin, but it’s not the angel that feels like one, it’s the attention he pays to the cloud in his head that does. That’s the one that should go.

He grits through prayer with the other men, doesn’t chime in with unnecessary words of devotion this time. The coffee burns his tongue when he downs the mug and forgoes breakfast. There are dark rings beneath his eyes when he ventured to the washroom to brush his teeth, and there are whispers in the halls that the young priest must be either coming under a possession or God is preparing him for something. Something big and exciting. He ignores those and the stern glances from the little nuns in their robes, huffs something of a joke about a momentary sabbatical when he lumbers out of the walls of the church.

There are no new bruises this time, but König has the memory of the last ones stuck in his skull. A clear image of four small marks on the side of her neck, another on its opposite. Larger, more pronounced. Five marks from a hand that never belonged there. Kerosene and a match are what the thoughts running rampant in his head would look like to an outsider.

She tells him on the thin picnic blanket that she’s got a new client, that he gives her enough to where she doesn’t have to consider any others now. The man has a much stranger set of interests, ones she hadn’t delved into before him, but she’s merciful enough to withhold the details that would lead König to make the crucifixion seem a gentle affair.

She tells him because she wants him to be proud that it’s only one now. That she’s making some sort of progress for him. None of it is fair, and he knows without asking that she feels more akin to the way that he does than any of the holy men.

And still he can’t help but ask, “Do you love him?”

“Of course not,” comes her immediate response, and there’s a near imperceptible glare there, judging by the fire in her eyes. It’s cute… and he feels the world's ugliest fool for daring to ask for reassurance as though this relationship was any sort of normal. If it were even a relationship at all.

Their hands touch, reaching for the same flaky pastry in the basket she brought along and Heaven’s bells ring out in his ears when her gaze sweeps over him. Everything is sugared dough and right again. She offers him her lap in place of a pillow for his head when the clouds grow thick and gray above, feeds him from her own hand and runs her fingers across his face with the other.

“How did you get the sky in your eyes?,” she asks him, makes him blush so easily his heart stutters within his chest. He feels like a boy in her presence, and in a way, to her, maybe he even is just some inexperienced whelp nipping at her heels.

The angel does not judge, she softly rakes her nails behind his ear and neck until he shivers in her hold. His hair is next, a victim to her comfort as she tousles it between her fingers, strokes him like the smallest of kittens when he feels anything but.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he mutters, raising a hand to brush at her cheek. Warm as he expected, yet softer. There’s nothing wicked here, only a woman. A woman who loves him as he loves her.

“Your eyes are pretty… sad. I love them,” comes the sweet reply that reduces him to nothing but scattered feathers and a howling ache.

Did he even exist before now? Before her? This woman has filled him with such purpose, breathed new life into a stagnant soul. The church was a safe place for a man scorned by the rest of the world, but that blanket felt unnecessary now. He wanted to feel her hands move over him like this, smell the petals in her perfume, hear her voice speak to him, all of it. Forever.

“I think that I lose myself when I’m with you.”

“Does that hurt you?”

“Nein… I’m happier like this.” It’s the closest to a confession he can whisper.

And he returns to her, morning after morning König rushes through paying his dues to God and his men to return to her like this.

When the graveyard is silent and the dew still sticks to the blades of grass, her voice sounds sweeter somehow beneath the glow of the rising sun. The birds sing around them and often she pushes wildflowers into his hair, clasps her hands around his neck and teaches him to kiss.

Her tongue moves with grace, his is only a thing of greed. Each chaste peck is met with a hunger from somewhere so foggy and forgotten it never had a home at all, not before now. The angel needn’t show him where to rest his hands, they pry at every part of her: gentle brushes against her cheek and neck, kneading at her shoulders, further, further until he does finally starve off any lingering thought of what is good or evil to explore the curve of her lower back.

Most of the time words come in afterthought, once lips are wet and plush from this gentle devouring, after she steels herself from running her hands any further down than his stomach. He tells her in truth that he prays to her, not for. Not anymore.

The shadows cast from the aspens keep them tucked far away from sight, from God and his people alike. A temple for two without four walls to close them in. The only place on this earth that he’s ever found himself in perfect solace.

“I want to try something,” she breathes just when he’s prepared himself to leave. The tree at his back, knees parted, where she remains sat across from him. There’s nervousness there, not the fretful way she looks after a long night, nor the way she looked to him upon their first meetings. “Do you trust me?”

“Ja… more than anyone,” he reassures in a soft tone of voice, tipping her chin up with the tips of two fingers to further accentuate it. Her beauty and her uncertainty always strike a chord within him, a fire that never dwindles. When her eyes search his own, his breath catches.

He doesn’t say a word when she peels away the robes from the front of his trousers. Her hands linger on at the waistband for a moment, takes enough time to offer the gentlest peck to the side of his neck before continuing. It’s another first, being exposed to a woman like this when she lowers the band and has him shimmy backward to free his cock from his pants. Soft with shame or embarrassment, a concoction of other things he could not name, but the moment she looks up at him with pure delight he feels himself grow stiff.

“Wow… You’ve got a perfect cock,” she assesses with a laugh, finger running up the length of it as it twitches to life under her touch.

Scheisse.

He strokes her cheek with reverence as she bends down before him, watching him carefully through her eyelashes. Her warm breath drifts over his manhood and he’s already horribly aware that this would not last long. Another lesson, like the kisses, maybe. She could mold him any way that she likes and he would be pleased to play the role of her Adam.

The tongue isn’t what he anticipated. She flattens it against the tip, breathes a laugh when a keening whine is pulled from his throat. To see such an ugly, vulgar thing pressed to the beautiful mouth he’s kissed a dozen times now. It feels wrong. There’s no hesitation when her lips wrap around him. And then all of it— everything is just right. Every moment spent in this hazy, loving glow with her is right. If Hell were to come from this, then let it.

He can’t tear his eyes away from her, can’t bring himself to speak when he feels the way his cock hits the back of her throat, feels her swallow around him and make such a pleased noise as she wraps her fingers around the expanse she can not take.

Its pitiful, the way he must look: mouth agape, eyes lidded and heavy… He brings a hand to her hair, and runs his fingers through it as if she isn’t letting him fuck her mouth, but rather in the midst of something far holier, softer. Sacrilegious or divine. If God we’re watching, let him.

She pulls back a little, an obscene, wet sound in answer when her mouth is drawn back enough to merely press a kiss the tip, puffy lips glossy with drool. “Is this okay…? Not too much?”

“You are so pretty… it feels… just keep going.” His voice no longer possesses any feigned confidence, it begs like a wounded thing, chanting, “Bitte. Please…”

His hips tilt up when she parts her lips again, all trepidation be damned. This is something, something he’s aches for and never had the chance to feel. All of the ache, the longing to be diminished, to unite with the angel who fled Heaven for him. The cock pushes at her open mouth, smears thick beads of precum over her cheek, before she takes him in again with a delighted, muffled sound. Her soft mouth, the tongue that thoroughly laps at his shaft and follows her movements to wrap and suck at the head. Otherworldly, and… unfathomably bittersweet.

Her lips suction around him, the movements of her wrist only increasing, and with the second roll of his hips he feels his stomach begin to tense as pure heat rolls its way through him. A gentle coursing becomes a blinding inferno in mere seconds, and regrettably, instinctively, that hand so gently combing through her hair comes to snare it instead and force her down further.

His soft grunts and low pleading morph to something choked and almost agonized. It’s the purest rapture, a pleasure so absolute his eyes prick as he bows lower to cover over her as she swallows his devotion by mouth. The angel pants breathlessly when she pulls away with saliva and semen still stringing them together, cleansed by his thumb tracing over her lips, replaced so swiftly by his own mouth. The kiss is so chaste it feels misplaced here, but she nuzzles against him in this comedown from ecstasy, doesn’t even chastise how he lasted a mere two minutes.

And he vows, vows in the sweetness of her comfort and love that no one else will ever have this again.

— — —

Abstaining from meals during a fast is a struggle in and of itself; abstaining from her is some long-forgotten circle of Hell.

It’s not avoidance, but a necessity.

To think that his first sexual encounter would provoke days of concern, a wistful daydream about a future he never would have thought to have had otherwise. There was a desperate, starving desire to repent when he first arrived home after that, but nothing that a bottle of communion wine and a cold shower could not wash away. Repentance has lost its merit to him.

And after seven days, he’s perfectly aware of what he must do. To absolve them both from things where atonement seems far from a necessity at all. He folds his holy robes and leaves them on the bed in the room too small, set neatly next to his Bible. The rosary was the one thing that König could not bear to part with. The beads, red and shimmery, were chosen and strung together with him in mind. It’s slipped into the pocket of his jeans after the plain, black t-shirt is pulled over his head.

There’s a hammer in his gloved hand, and he doesn’t recall where he found it. Lying with its head rusted in the churchyard, perhaps half buried beneath the soil. Some of the other clergymen are talented at fixing things, but König’s never been very good with that. His first rosary was broken with a careless slip of his fingers, and he’s shattered more porcelain than he could count on accident.

Even communion wine can be a bit too strong, sometimes. Or maybe that’s only when the bottle’s been entirely downed. He’ll blame one of his betters when the stock is counted and one turns up missing, if they bother to come seek him out again at all.

The motel is dead at this hour, so late into the night. The few normal visitors have already been accounted for with watchful eyes, and the angel waits in one of the rooms on the second floor. He imagines the laces on her lingerie, the healing bruises on her throat, and that sweet expression upon her face. Or maybe that one was reserved solely for him. He prayed… no, he hoped so.

After tonight, there would be no more mercies for him. Or perhaps there would be an abundance, blessings from the vultures and the wolves and the maggots he would feed. New gods that were still far lesser than the angel who suffers men in sheets, but only looks to him with love.

And he doesn’t have to wait long, because the demon finds his way here with haste. Does he come here every night looking as proud as he does now? His attire even resonates with death, black with those white details, a costume that seems so fitting for one about to meet the very face he wears.

Killing someone isn’t so easy. Cain murdered his brother with a rock, described in such loose detail that one would think a playful throw led to Abel’s end. But it’s not so, not when the victim is hellbent on living.

The demon is smaller, but strong. He’s been in situations like this before, doesn’t have to spit the words to tell König so. They’re felt with each blow, with the sharp edge of the knife this bastard manages to dig into his side. Just barely, before it’s jerked out of his hand and thrown several paces away. The skittering across the tarmac is enough to chant doom.

There’s blood. More with the first strike of the hammer. It seemed so much easier in thought rather than practice. In his imaginings, the head would split with the first fall like an overripe apple, crumple in and the breath would leave the demon in an instant. Instead, it’s dozens. Blow after blow while the smaller man struggles below him.

A strange catharsis comes over him when his soul grows murky, when his hands are slick and the struggle comes to an abrupt end. The sobering only comes when he’s spent an hour driving down the most forested roads to find a place to dump the body. There’s no tact to it, laying a man to rest in shrubbery and dirt. With a head so collapsed it’s hard to think of this as a man at all. A corpse, something no longer simply human.

König does not pray for him when he rests the hammer in the deceased’s hands. Does not offer it more than a passing thought when he peels away back toward home. The deed is done and he’s free of those horrid burdens tainting his heart, keeping him held back on a short leash to divinity.

Like fate, she’s found out in the garden again after the bloodied shirt and stained gloves are discarded. The wound is patched with what he could find available, a hastily tied strip of gauze covers his side. A week or so at best until the gash would heal into an ugly, jagged scar. It seemed even a bastard devil’s blade couldn't be sharp enough to fell a Goliath when he’s caught by surprise and horny.

He feigns merely emptying the garbage into an outside bin, plays off the sting of the gash with a humble, lumbering gait. She beams up at him through lines of tears running down the sides of her face like small, silver streams beneath the darkened sky above.

He’s not a saint anymore, no… a guardian angel. The archangel Michael with his sword set ablaze and divinity scrawled into every scale of his chest plate. Something holy and glowing, unsullied and beautiful.

Like her.

“You’re crying…”

“Sorry… bad night. Client just ghosted me.”

No. This was good, couldn’t she see that? All the sleepless nights, the prayer and the constant, overwhelming longing. Everything he had suffered for her, and still she only comes to him with the thought of that horrible thing in mind.

“He’s dead.” Maybe it was just the fear of a loss of money. He had enough saved up someplace, and the collection pool would be beneficial enough to pivot them towards a new life. No church. No lonely motel. He had to test it, give her a trial and hope that she did not simply break.

The look that crosses her face is one of confusion… Then comes a strange twist of relief. Her mouth falls slightly agape and her arms squeeze slightly around his middle.

“We just spoke a few hours ago. How…?” Finally, suspicion.

Maybe he’s too drunk on playing God now to care, to realize this isn’t how a good man would have handled things. The only thing that holds any weight, that resonated with him any at all is the thought that he loves her, that he will protect her until his dying breath, pray at her feet and anything else she might ask.

That’s what pulls him to press her down against the bed of the truck, to kiss her with every lesson she’s blessed him with in mind. Tongue and teeth, fire and spit, she accepts all of it. She doesn’t beg him for an answer: she’s seen the worst of men, taken cocks far less deserving. Her hands find his hair as they drift away here, gives the strands a sharp tug to usher him closer, roll her tongue against his own.

The sheer tights she wears beneath her skirt are ripped at the seam between her legs by large hands, panties pushed to the side before she finally presses against the broad chest against her to gain some space. Her breath is shallow, face warmed and hair a mess, still the loveliest thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

“Are you afraid?” He tilts his head to the side, curious, as if there were no reason for her deny him of this now after he had just *killed for her*. After he forsook what once was all he knew all for her. He would do it again without question, with no gain at all, but the sting of rejection was not something he could entirely choke back.

But his angel never runs out of mercies, it seems.

“No… just give me a second.”

She slips her hand down between her parted legs, demonstrates for him just how to prepare a woman. He watches, mesmerized, as she circles the bud above her slit, dips her finger downward to spread wetness along her flesh. Dew over petals. A finger slips inside of her, and all at once is shoved aside.

“Let me,” he pleads, already pressing both hands to her inner thighs, tilting her hips upward as his head sinks between them.

“You don’t have to,” she whispers, but grants him his wish with feverish nods that betray her words, allows him to kiss her sex as he shifts himself into a better position.

There’s nothing to go off of but her sounds, the cries of pleasure when his tongue lolls out to lick at the nub where most of her reactions stem from. He mutters against her about her taste, something so ethereal he could not even begin to place. Her scent envelopes him in full, and he’s never felt closer to anything prior. She allows his clumsy licking, moans louder for him when he can’t stifle his own groaning. The pants are too tight around him, and patience is another virtue he finds that he lacks.

She doesn’t reach some fantastical height of pleasure when he presses a finger into her cunt, but her body seems to fit even that like a glove, squeezing around him as he lazily circles her bud with his tongue. She doesn’t come, but she tugs him by the hair to usher him back into another kiss, hands roving down his abdomen to free his manhood from the barriers of fabric. And finally… finally he’s granted entrance to Heaven.

The first thrust leaves him spiraling, lost into a world of silk and honey. And the angel does not give him any time to recover, she writhes beneath him, shifting her hips to pull him in deeper, muffles each whine and groan from his lips with her tongue hungrily lapping over his own.

He’s thought about having a woman many times, but never imagined it could feel this good. To be so complete, every woe or fear cast aside in the act of mindless pleasure.

He doesn’t know where to put his hands, to keep his eyes shut or gaze down at her and cease this assault on his mouth to tell her that he loves her, that she feels like pure fucking paradise and he’s already on the verge of coming undone. He settles for moving, dragging himself in and out of her in slow movements, turning his face away to bite down on her shoulder when the feeling of her walls cinching him like a vise threatens to spur him into finishing on the spot.

“That’s just… god… you’re good at this,” she gasps when a hand is sunk between their bodies, flicking at her clit as he spears her open. Her hands find his back, raking her fingernails down past his shoulder blades. It’s agonizing, trying to fight back the urge to breed her full, watch his come spill out from her perfect cunt until he finds himself hard again. The very thought makes him gasp, grind himself deeper inside of her as her nails dig into his back.

“Mein… this is… you understand…,” he’s babbling, hardly coherent, and she only seems to accept it. The angel chants her agreement amidst the beginning of her rapture.

She cries out for him when she comes, her sex pulsing around him as she shivers that all restraint is immediately lost. She hugs him so tightly, squirms as she hisses a curse into his ear.

It’s a miracle he’s even lasted this long. He halts his pace for a mere second to prop himself up, gaze down at her in absolute reverence before that fire swallows him whole. It’s unceremonious when he comes: a growl and a wail as he buries he face into her neck and pumps every last drop of his seed into her pussy.

He doesn’t want to pull out, doesn’t want to leave such a complete embrace. The world has already ended for him, a long time ago on the very night they met. There’s no need to drag out their ruin with whatever else occurs when she’s out of his grasp.

She strokes over the marks she’s made, gentle, tickling touches of her fingertips and shy giggles when their eyes meet again.

“I thought I would never get to do this with you,” she admits, quiet when her hands drift to cup his jaw instead. “You’re perfect, you know that…?”

He wants to cry, wants to fuck all of his woes away, kneel before her and beg that she find a place where they can never be apart. Steal her away to some cabin up in the Alps, where flowers grow in thick patches on the hillsides, a wild garden of her very own.

“… You should stay with me,” he huffs into her ear, fingers dimpling the flesh of her hips as he tries desperately to force himself closer to her.

“You can’t mean the church,” she giggles. “So where should we go?”

“We can figure that out in the morning, hm?”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

444 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 1 year

Note

can i get an eager, inexperienced gojo? he is probably so silly and loving during sexy time but he still acts like a horndog, not sure where to touch, kinda nerv but tryna cover it up bc he’s the strongest sorcerer, ofc he’s been with so many ladies before!!!! (he hasn’t but he doesn’t want YOU to know that)

love your works as always stay safe💗💗💗

AIN'T NEVER DID THIS BEFORE, NO.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟

NOTE: this made me think of that j. cole song so i looped it while writing all 2.3k of this fic 🥴 i hope u like what i did!! mwaaa smooches!! hope ur well <3

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — Gojo's saved up his virginity ever since he met you, savoring every wet dream through the years until he finally got the real thing in a hotel room in Okinawa.

WARNINGS — fem reader, n.sfw content, profanity, pre-established relationship

SMUT WARNINGS — virginity loss, light dirty talk, nicknames (good girl, sweet girl, daddy), Gojo's so nervous and inexperienced wheee😩💗, protected sex/condoms used, multiple rounds (2), kitty eating, giving him head, fluffy ending scene, lmk if i have missed smth and pls overlook errors i'm slepy asf it's 2am

Wordcount ≈ 2.3k

Playme ♪ wet dreamz

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

You can’t miss the way his Addam’s apple shifts up and down when he swallows, or the way he gawks when you wiggle out of your clothes and toss them off the side of the hotel bed.

Where are my hands supposed to go?

He’s thinking that while haphazardly squeezing a large handful of your hips and hotly kissing your neck.

This has been his long-anticipated dream come true… see, Gojo Satoru met you in high school. And the first thing he thought to himself was I want her to take my virginity. So, he had promised himself that one day, when he was older, he was gonna give it to you.

All his cheeky flirting and dirty jokes got him here, in this room of some dreadfully expensive hotel in Okinawa. Yes, he’s cheesy, as cheesy as he was when he used to lean over his desk during high school to whisper dumb pickup lines into your ear; he requested rose petals and wine. He had the lights dimmed. He laid you down with kisses right on top of those strewn petals.

Crazed, feverish, eager, overwhelmed; he was bursting with a bunch of feelings – predominantly horniness. He’s always had that horny twang about him, he was unashamed about it around you – it’s what got you hot for him in the first place, the fact that he was so bold with his dirty jokes and naughty hints.

But now he’s struggling to find his words. Now that smart mouth is sparsely throwing out witty remarks. Now he was heavily relying on comedy to ease his nervousness and mask his inexperienced movements.

He let you roll on top and savored each kiss that you pressed down his chest – heaving, he was heaving and hot already and all the two of you had done so far was romantic French kissing and tentative touches across each other’s bare skin.

The heat of your flushed cheeks seared his lower abdomen.

How low is she gonna go – oh my god what do I do – play it cool – oh my god is she actually – wow this is really happening.

Such a mess of goofy thoughts passed through his mind when you pressed a testing kiss to his glistening cockhead. Giving the slit a lick made his shoulders scrunch up, and his voice shook a bit, “Shit, baby, you don’t have to do that if you don’t w – want to… oh fuck…”

“But I’ve wanted to suck it so bad, I’ve thought about it so much.” You batted your eyes at him.

His stomach flipped.

“O-okay… ” he breathed. In the back of his mind, he was self-conscious about sounding like a virgin… because he totally was. And he wasn’t masking it very well when you started kissing and licking on his cock.

Feling your tongue swirl circles around his bulbous head, then swiping the underside, nearly made him bust right there. It took every bit of this strong boy’s strength to hold it in. And there was a lot to hold in.

“Oh that’s so fucking good.” He moaned.

You lowered your lips down his slickened cock, the warmth and texture of it delighting your tongue. Taking in his scent, his taste, his sounds – when you hollowed out your cheeks and suctioned your lips around him, he let out an uneasy moan. He was really gonna bust right there in your mouth if he didn’t tell you to ease up.

“B-baby, you’re so good at that – but – but fuckkk – slow down f’me…” he pleaded, big hand coming to the back of your head as you slid off his cock – that also almost made him bust. Oh god, you unknowingly edged him. Maybe you knew that, because you giggled at the way his cock jumped and visibly twitched after popping your lips off of it.

“Sorry, you good?” you asked him sweetly. He looked at you through lust-glazed eyes, his lower lip glistening with a bit of drool.

“ ‘m okay – fuck come here and get on your back. ‘Wanna do that to you too.” He commanded you, eagerly shuffling positions.

He lowered his face between your legs, marvelling at the shiny wet sheen smeared across your inner thigh. A thin web of juice connected from your hole.

“Sorry, I know it’s rude to stare.” He chuckled, joking to lighten his nerves. But earning a laugh from you made his heart flutter before he dove right into it – now here’s where you realized something.

He was inexperienced. Totally. Sweetly so. His tongue flicked and darted around, swiping along your slit, gathering your juices like he was thirsty. The way he licked you up felt like he was some college boy giving his crush head in a lucid dream.

But if there’s one thing you know about Gojo Satoru, it’s that he can do anything he tries. You started out giggling and squirming on his face, and ended up squealing his name and arching your back. Switching between suckling at your clit and lapping at your folds and slipping his buttery tongue into your hole – he was having fun figuring it out.

And my god, he had the biggest, smuggest, most smackable grin on his face when he made you cum.

“W-wipe that grin off your face.” You panted, half-dazed from your orgasm.

His grin only grew wider. Now he was feeling a bit cocky, a little high on a sugar rush of confidence because he just made the girl of his dreams cum from a little amateur tongue-fucking.

“You musta really wanted it bad, huh?” he teased, crawling up to meet your face and pressing a few wet, sloppy kisses to your awaiting lips. You could taste yourself, and he was conscious of that – and it made him almost bust on your tummy. You felt his cock jumping and twitching and throbbing against your skin.

“Don’t get all smug now…” you muttered.

His plumped, flushed lips hovered over your face. “Thanks for the meal.” He whispered jokingly, wiping your juice off his cheek with his thumb and suckling it off.

“Hahaha what!” you broke out laughing. “You’re ridiculous!”

He ran his tongue over his lips to tease you, “Tasted better than in my dreams.”

Now that made you flush hotter underneath him. Because for some reason, it hadn’t occurred to you that he had wet dreams of you. But he did. And he was too embarrassed to admit the number – it was big. He dreamed of you a lot. Especially taking you from the back… so naturally

“Turn around f’me, please?” he asked, “I wanna see you from the back.”

Your lack of hesitation to switch positions for him made his heart thump.

“Good girl…” he muttered under his breath, unsure of how you’d take the nickname. But hearing your giggly hum and seeing your hips wiggle up to his pelvis reassured him that you liked it.

So he engulfed you from behind, “You like that?” he whispered into your ear, big hand smoothing over the curves of your body to get a good feel of it. “Want me to call you a good girl?”

You nodded into the plush pillow, “Yes please. I like it.” You mumbled into the fabric.

“Can’t hear you, speak up.” He smiled against the shell of your ear teasingly. “Daddy’s hard of hearing.” He joked.

You rolled your eyes at his dumb goofiness. For some reason you thought it would switch off in the bedroom, but no – he was just as much as a dumb good in and out of bed.

“ ‘call me your good girl, please. I like it.”

His cock twitched. He’d started rubbing and pressing his cock into you from the back. The way your thighs and plush little pussy hugged him was better than any dream – lucid or not. And he’s had a lot of lucid wet dreams of you. Of this, specifically; taking you from behind. In his dreams, he’s pounding into you so good that you cream and cream and cream all over him. He just hopes he can actually achieve that in reality.

When he lowers his hands and fists his cock a bit before running the head between your folds, a pang of nervousness strikes his chest. That feeling came over him – that realization that oh, I’m gonna have my first time.

“So pretty…” he compliments, one hand soothingly caressing around your pussy.

To you, it almost feels like he might have done this before – you’re not sure – with the way he lightly smacks his cock on your hole, and the way he tests your smallness by slipping his tip in and out, you think he’s probably got at least a bit of experience under his belt.

But no. No, not at all. Not even a little bit. In fact, before you, he only kissed two people – and the first didn’t count to him because he hated it, and the second also didn’t count apparently because he was just practicing with Suguru in anticipation of kissing you one day.

“Fuck me…” he hissed through his gritted teeth when he finally sunk more than his tip through your hole.

“Fucking didn’t expect it to feel this good…” he thought out loud. “Might bust right here… fuck.” He blurted, then proceeded to boyishly blush.

Little hole squeezing on his virgin cock, hips wiggling back to meet his pelvis and take him deeper, you pawed behind you to feel him. “Baby, I-I gotta tell you something.” He begins embarrassedly, the nervous twang in his voice is so unfamiliar that you look back at him. “I’ve never done this before…” after he said that he sucked in a breath through his teeth at the feeling of your hole tightening and untightening.

You blink at him, and he’s worried for a split second before you smile sheepishly and tell him that he’s your first, too. Well, that little fun fact is what made him snap his hips against your ass and start fucking into you like he was some sort of crazed animal. He felt dizzied with the rush of pleasure, so stirred by the feeling of your pussy sucking his cock – there was no comparable thing in the world to him right then. He was definitely gonna become a sex-crazed fiend after this night, he thought. Absolutely. How could he not?

“S’toruuu – right there right there!” you cried out his name with such a pretty, strained voice that it made him want to tell you he loves you.

“Here? You like it here?” he hit that spot harder and harder, the squelching sound so dirty that you almost felt ashamed for a second. “My good girl gonna cum like this? Yeah? F-fuck t-t-tell me when you’re close ‘cause I’m close – really fucking close – fuck fuck fuck ahhh ‘gonna cum!”

He’s driving into that sweet spot while he cums, spilling a warm creamy mess into the condom – completely falling to pieces. Gojo’s always been inclined to obsessing over things, and he knows right then – when he cums with your quivering pussy sucking him in – that he’s gonna be obsessing over sex with you after this.

“Keep goinggg ‘m gonna cum too, please!” you whimpered from underneath him. He heard you, he was attentive even though he was panting and dazed. His thrusts got sloppy and he weighted on your body more heavily, you could feel his heartbeat.

“Good girl – g-good girl, rub your pretty clit. Want me to do it for you? M’kay sweet thing, lemme get you there – ah yeah? That feel good? You like daddy’s fingers toying with this pretty pussy? Oh fuck you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” he breathed all that into your ear and it absolutely destroyed you, especially with how those intense blue eyes piercingly stared down at you from behind.

“Get that relief, pretty girl – cum all over me. Fuck, there we go – oh wow…” he hit another sweet spot, feeling you gush and writhe under his imposing frame got him close again. “Fuck, baby – just a second, j-just a second ‘m gonna get ‘nother condom, n-need to fucking cum in that pussy again.” He pulled out quick, fingers struggling to free his cock of his already filled lil’ rubber. Squeezing into another one was one of the fastest yet most frustrating things he’s done in a while – oh, you just know that he’s gonna ditch the condoms as soon as you give him the green light to do so. Patience, he thought. He’s gonna need patience and a lot of rubbers.

“Ah fuck me! Satoru!” you arched your back when he re-entered.

“ ‘m gonna cum again, baby – fuck – s-sorry is it too much?” he breathed into your neck. Sweat beaded down his torso, down his thighs – both your bodies pricked with just enough sweat to make it erotically uncomfortable.

You barely managed to tell him that it wasn’t too much because of the way he was sloppily hitting his cockhead into your pussy. Feverish, dazed, pussy-drunk and love-drunk, you felt his hot lips nibbling at your shoulder, then he unexpectedly sank his teeth into your skin. It wasn’t sore, but those canines were a bit sharp.

Muffled moans on your skin sent a shiver down your back, one that travelled to your ass and thighs.

Rolling off to the side, panting and laying exhausted and unmoving.

“Fuck.” He muttered as if to say that was mind-blowing.

“Fuck.” You agreed.

“And ya didn’t even tell me you were a virgin!”

“You didn’t tell me, either!” you giggled, rolling into his embrace.

“But it’s hot if the girl is a virgin!”

You laughed with him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

He stayed silent for a little while, pulling you closer and caressing your shoulder. The two of you stared up at the ceiling.

“It’s embarrassing.” He admitted. “There was a time I wanted to lose my virginity just so that when I finally got to you, I’d be able to please you better. But I’m glad I waited…”

“Mmm really?” you hummed, he felt your smile print on his chest.

“…yeah.” You could hear his little smile in his voice. “I’m glad I gave it to you.”

2K notes · View notes

kenslilove · 8 months

Text

᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Who’s Little Sister?! Pt.2

preview: You called him your boyfriend? Why would you do that? Draken isn't sure he's cut out to be the boyfriend to Takemichi's precious little sister...

ft. Ken "Draken" Ryuuguji x fem!reader

wc. 9kish... help 🫠🤪😰😵‍💫🥴🤡

W. NFSW 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (Draken is in his late 20’s and owns the bike shop, reader is in their early 20’s in university), fem reader (takemichi’s little sister), crybaby/bimbo reader, angsty in the middle, Draken is very insecure of his ability to be in a relationship, slight exhibitionism (Draken fucks you while on call), multiple cream pies, messy make-outs, oral (m!receiving), mating press, squirting, lots of praise, aftercare, lots of pet names, it gets soft and passionate at the end 🥹🥹

an. The long-awaited part 2 of “Who’s Little Sister.” I put my heart, soul, and pussy into this piece. I think it's my favourite thing I've ever written in all honesty, it very much encapsulates how I think Draken’s and I’s relationship would start. God, I love him so much. It’s also the first time I've written anything remotely angsty though, and I can’t tell if it's lame or not LMFAO. Please, let me know what you think. I'm so very happy to be reposting this piece on this blog to share with yall, it’s literally so important to me <33 and I’m so so happy this is the fic that is bringing back my writing spark! Part 3 will hopefully be even better than this 🙏🏼🤭 Constructive feedback, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

extra note: Listen to “Nothings gonna hurt you baby.” By Cigarettes After Sex during the last scene. It’s Kenny’s and I’s selfship song and help inspired me for the ending <33

tagging: @enchantedforest-network @eveningatthemoviesnetwork and @shoyosdoll bc you've been such a supporter of this fic hehe <33 i hope you love part 2 as much as part 1 <33

“Draken-Kun, are you coming tonight?”

There was silence on Draken’s end of the phone as all the other males on-call waited for a response. Mikey was the first one to say something back, annoyance clear in his tone as he spoke directly into the receiver, making his voice sound much louder than necessary.

“Oi, Ken-Chin, get off the phone if you’re just gonna ignore us.”

“Sorry–” Draken finally responded, his voice seeming just a bit more… strained than usual. Not enough for the boys to notice until he grunted softly, what seemed to be creaking or something muffled in the background of his audio call.

“You good, dude?” Mitsuya piped up, his own voice a little muffled due to a sewing needle between his lips but nothing like Draken’s.

“Oh yea, fuckin peachy–” Draken breathed in response, his huff coming out as a soft laugh when a bit of sweat started to roll down his temple.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t really paying attention to the call, how could he, when you, Takemichi’s precious little sister was underneath him, sprawled out and trembled as his cock drilled into you at a steady pace. You were biting down on your bottom lip so hard, Draken swore that blood would free itself soon from the delicate flesh, your eyes screwed shut as your pretty chest bounced with each thrust of his hips. You were trying so hard for him to be quiet, just like he instructed as soon as he picked up the phone. The attempt was adorable, considering how vocal you usually were for him.

But Draken was twisted, he knew that deep down, so he just couldn’t help himself when he angled his hips just right so his cock head would jab right into that gummy sweet spot within your walls. You yelped, pleasure shooting up your spine, only for the sound to be cut off by the smack of Draken’s free palm clamping over your mouth.

“Who has a girl over~?” Baji piped up, suddenly very much interested in the conversation. Draken laughed shallowly into his receiver, his hand tightening up along your jaw as he continued to ram into the spot that made you see stars. You couldn’t even control your babbles when he did this, an endless stream of whimpers and sobs being muffled into his palm as you held onto his wrist for dear life.

“Gotta go, Text me what time I needa be there–” Draken didn’t wait for a response from his friends. Instead, he hung up quickly, abandoning the device somewhere on the bed. When he released the hold on your mouth you whined at him, the tears finally spilling from your eyes.

“K-Kenny, Kenny please– Please–!”

“So fuckin loud pretty, all the damn time,” Draken says it with a grin, easily manhandling your thighs over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper. He presses a kiss to your ankle, right beside the anklet he bought you as your pussy flutters so desperately around his cock.

“O-Oh! Please, Ken–!”

“Please what?” Draken grunts, his hips slapping up against yours ruthlessly now as his release comes dangerously close. He knew you weren’t far behind. Had learned your signs very early on. Your toes would curl, your eyes would get foggy, chest stuttering. Your pussy would milk him so tight and leave rings of arousal on his cock.

And he loved every second of it.

“Wanna cum, needa cum again–!” you pleaded with him, nails digging into the muscles of his flexing biceps. He nodded in agreement, his own voice becoming hoarse due to the sheer squeeze of your pussy. Although his pace started to get sloppy he still fucked into you, one hand slithering between your sweaty bodies in order to massage ruthlessly at your clit.

“Go on then, cum, make a fuckin mess f’me gorgeous.” He breathes, licking his lips when you throw your head back with a cry. The mess you make on his cock is breathtaking, arousal squirting from your used hole and dousing his hand, wrist and abs. He swears under his breath at the borderline painful grip your pussy has on his cock when you finish, one final thrust allowing him to spill ropes of cum right up against your cervix.

Draken’s trembling when he falls onto his elbows over you, his breath coming out a bit shaky as his cock still twitches within your walls in the aftermath of both of your highs. He starts pressing wet, opened-mouthed kisses along your neck and face to help you come too, a soft chuckle leaving his lips when you whine softly.

“You okay baby?” His voice is a whisper, and as the energy slowly comes back to you he smooths his palm over your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye to pick up leftover tears. You nod, one of your trembly hands lazily dragging through his black locks of hair. “Mhm, m’good, Kenny. Help me sit up?” He does, one big palm on the back of your neck to help you to sit up against the headboard.

He presses a smooch to your lips before easing himself out of you, both of you wincing softly from the loss of contact. It’s only when he pulls out completely and his softening cock falls against his thigh that he realises just how big of a mess the two of you made of yourself and the sheets. It makes him swell with pride, a grin slowly curling on his lips.

You’ve come a long way, from the sweet girl who was just learning to cream on his cock to the messes you’ve made on his bed on the daily.

“M’gunna get a cloth.” He says, handing you a glass of water and your phone as soon as he stands to keep you occupied. His muscles are still a bit tingly as he stands, arms stretching up and above his head as he heads towards the bathroom.

“Nice butt!” You call out, making him snort softly as he stands before the bathroom mirror. He can’t help but admire the marks you’ve littered across his neck and chest, the cute little bruises reminding him of the shape of your puckered lips. He then examines the nail marks you’ve left along his forearms and shoulders, some of the red pathways breaking in the middle to show little droplets of blood. Lastly, he sighs dreamily at the sheen of your arousal that coats his pelvis, a ring of white still layered at his base.

Man knew he was in heaven.

When he came back to the bedroom after tidying himself a bit, as well as with a cloth in hand you were on the phone with someone, giggling into the receiver and looking up at Draken with a playful glint in your eye.

“I’ll actually meet with you later, m’with my boyfriend right now~” Despite the way your giggling increased and you squealed to your friend about how you’ve mentioned him before with such excitement, Draken was anything but that.

His chest tightened up, crease forming between his brow. Boyfriend? When did that become his title?

“Kennnnnny~” You snapped him out of his thoughts, though his brows stayed furrowed. “Hurry! The mess is only getting bigger over here.”

One hand was planted on the mattress as he gently wiped the dampened towel over your pussy and thighs, your hand coming to cover his, making him pause in your tracks. “Shouldn’t scowl so much, handsome.” You murmur it gently, thumb gently smoothing between his brows in an attempt to fix the crinkles there. “You’ll get wrinkles~”

“You called me your boyfriend–” His voice was blunt, which took you by slight surprise. A little pout formed on your swollen lower lip as you subconsciously squeezed at his wrist.

“Well, yea–”

“We haven’t talked about that.” He was still being blunt as ever, so much so it almost startled you, made you feel much smaller under him as he sat up on his hunched, throwing the soiled cloth into the laundry bin.

“I-I know…” You simply muttered, chest started to feel tight as you watched just how serious his face had become. He was tugging his strands of black hair into a low bun when you sat up a bit more, fingers gently brushing over his chest. “But I just thought, thought that we were together…”

And it wasn’t wrong for you to think that way. Ever since that first night at Draken’s apartment the two of you had been secretly hanging out. You went out to restaurants, and the local arcade took his bike to the mountainside and watched the sunset. The two of you had bought little things for one another, like the gold anklet that sat pretty on your ankle and the hello kitty keychain that was currently attached to his bike keys. You even made sure to turn off your location so Takemichi couldn’t see just how often you were having sleepovers at Draken’s place.

You two did the things that couples did together. You two did the things that you saw Takemichi and Hina do on the regular. Dare you even say, you did things with Draken that he and Emma used to do–

Plus, he was fucking you every chance he got.

“Well, maybe you shoulda thought about talkin to me about it first before you go squealing that I’m your boyfriend.” His tone was harsher than he wanted it to be, a tone he usually used with his friends but never really with you. It had you suck in a soft breath, suddenly feeling very exposed curled up in nothing but his bedsheets.

“You don’t have to be so mean–”

“M’not being mean, I’m being realistic. It ain’t cute to just assume I’m your boyfriend when we haven’t talked about anything official.” He was off the bed now, tugging up his boxers. When you didn’t respond he sighed. “We hang out and fuck around, why do we need to be more than–”

When he turned around again to look you in the eye his own voice caught in his throat. Your eyes had gotten wide, a glossy layer of tears hiding the usual beautiful shine your gaze held. Your lower lip was trembling softly, fingers clutching onto the covers so tightly he noticed how your knuckles turned white.

“Hey–”

“M’gunna go.” You interrupted, the crack in your tone only making his heart plummet harder in his chest. As you got to your feet, his blanket securely wrapped around you he grabbed both your shoulders.

“Hey, don’t be like that (Y/N), you don’t even have a ride–”

“Gunna call Michi.” You slipped out of his grasp by tucking yourself out from under his hands, bending to grab at your clothes scattered across the ground.

“Like hell you are. We’re not telling him about us, remember what happened last time?” Draken could still hear the boy's ruthless comments after that first night, the crack of Baji’s fist against his jaw–

“Don’t care, wanna go home.” Your muttering had gotten softer, ready to slip into the bathroom and shut the door right in his face.

“Would you stop being such a brat?” Draken grabbed at your arm this time, tugging it back towards him. He himself hadn’t expected it to be so forceful, the little squeak you released and the falling of tears instantly making him let go of you. You both stared at each other a little shocked, Draken’s breath froze in his throat and his fingertips went a bit cold as you looked at him.

Teary-eyed, shrunken in. Scared. Were you scared of him?

Without a word, you finally went into the bathroom, and it was only then that Draken let out his frustrated breath, cheeks feeling hot as he clenched his fists up at his sides. Fuck, what the fuck was happening right now. He hated this nonsense, hated just how frustrated he felt, hated that look on your face, hated that he couldn’t even really understand what emotions were running through his head.

Why was he mad anyway? Why was any of this really a big deal?

He used his own phone to call you a cab, knowing you wouldn’t actually call Takemichi to pick you up. You had also gotten an ear full after getting caught, and as much as you trusted your brother, the last thing you needed right now was a lecture. You stayed locked in the bathroom until Draken gave the wood a gentle knock with his knuckles.

“Cabs here…” He murmured. You didn’t look at him when you walked out, eyes bloodshot and downcast and when slipped past him fully clothed. He watched from the ledge of his bed, jaw set rigid as you so casually adjusted your bag over your shoulder, now a little overfilled with the stuff you had started to accumulate in his bathroom. Something slipped from your fingertips onto his kitchen counter before you made a beeline for the door, Draken only getting up when it closed firmly behind you.

He approached slowly, that odd feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach seeming to grow, expanding into his chest as he noticed the subtle twinkle on the countertop. It was the anklet he bought you, dainty, gold, shiny, his initials hanging from the small tag.

“Fuck—!“ His emotions boiled over into anger, face red when his fist connected with the drywall. A crack formed in the white fall, his knuckles taking on a deep purple almost instantly as he pulled his clenched fist back to his side. Instead, he let his forehead rest in the dent he just made, thoughts spiralling, making his heart pound in his chest.

Had he really just done that? Made a big deal over nothing? Put his hands on you? And for what?

You called him your boyfriend… was that really… so wrong?

Was he really so set on “not being a sister fucker”, did he really care so much about what the boys thought, what people said about him, that he was willing to let you go?

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed leaned up against the wall like that, thoughts running wildly through his mind, making it pound. Eventually, when his eyes started to get sore, narrowing down in an attempt to hold back unwanted angry tears he moved back to his room to plop himself down into bed. And he didn’t get up for the rest of the evening.

It had been a week.

One whole week since you had left Draken’s apartment, and the two of you had not spoken since. Day three was when Draken caved and texted you, considering you had turned your location off for him so he couldn’t check up on you from time to time.

“Are you okay? Please, we need to talk.”

Radio silence. The message was left unread by you. He even sent another the day after, just a quick message but a little more firm than the last.

“Don’t shut me out like this.”

And still, nothing. It was killing Draken from the inside out. Each day that passed made him more anxious than the last. Were you okay? Did you hate him now? Were you crying to your brother? Draken couldn’t ask Takemichi about you, cause he didn’t even know you two were a thing in the first place. But every time he saw his black-haired friend his heart would stutter, tightening up in his chest.

You laughed just like he did. Were you laughing right now?

Draken had a bad habit of letting things like this consume him. Almost everything seemed to remind him of you or something the two of you had done and it was driving him a little crazy. And all because you had called him your boyfriend.

All because Draken was afraid to commit to someone again despite his need to do so. All of his friends always thought he was so mature, and yet here he was, working through feelings that were staring him right in the face like some teenage boy.

He kept his headphones in at the shop, his body hunched slightly on the stool he set up beside the bike he was currently repairing. The music was loud, drowning out not only the background noise but his thoughts that seem to repeat themselves over and over. His brows were slightly furrowed when he lifted from the busted engine only a moment, just enough to wipe away excess sweat that built up on his brow.

That’s when he caught a glimpse of you. It made his heart pause mid-beat, breath hitching in his throat. He caught the last bits of you as you rounded the corner that led up the stairs, probably in search of Takemichi But that didn’t matter.

Draken found himself scurrying from his seat, the stool skidding from under him as he was quick to follow suit. With long strides, he made it to the stairs and there you were, hand on the railing, one of those cute little skirts he loved hugging your waist just right. He called out to you, twice actually, quickly pulling his headphones from his ears when you actually turned to look at him.

“Hey–”

“I won’t be long.” You simply responded, voice sounding much too sad for Draken’s liking. He noticed how your hand tensed up on the railing when he approached and it made him frown. “I’m just grabbing something for Michi–”

“I wanna talk to you.” He took another step, a tentative one. He hated how your eyes were already getting a little glassy. “Let’s just talk, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna talk, Ken.” There was that familiar shake in your tone, the one he had become very aware of. You were just like your brother in so many ways.

His sweet little crybaby.

“C’mere…” He was on the step right in front of you now, the levelling allowing him to lean down just a bit so his face could be close to yours. You took your time meeting his gaze, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. “It’s okay baby…”

“You–” He could tell you were trying to gather your bearings, trying so desperately not to crumble and let the tears fall that were already sitting in your lashes. He was patient with you, scared that if he went in too strong you’d just run off from him again. You sucked in a shaky breath before continuing. “You really hurt me, Draken.”

He could have hissed, chest getting a little tight. He hated the way that nickname sounded coming from you.

“I know, I know little love and–”

“Do you not wanna be my boyfriend? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you–”

“Then be my boyfriend.” It had been a bit more firm than he expected, your brows set and a little pout on your lips after you spoke it. Had things been a little different, he would have told you just how proud he was of you for standing your ground like that.

“It’s not, it's just not that simple.” It was his turn to think his words over, lips catching between his teeth as those doubtful thoughts started returning to him. He was right, wasn’t he? It wasn’t that simple because–

“Why not?” You were being blunt again, words bordering on angry as you sniffled. The first few tears finally fell and Draken wanted nothing more than to wipe them away.

“Well to start, there’s your brother–”

“I don’t care what Michi thinks!” You groaned it out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wanna be with you, Ken–”

“But–” He really hated that he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

“What are you so afraid of?”

That really made Draken stop, eyes widening just a bit as he looked back into your teary ones. Your chest was heaving a bit as the silence sat heavily between the two of you. Draken blinked, once, twice, brain reeling over this one simple question.

Draken had been in many fights, grew up in a brothel, seen blood and gore and sex and a lot of things people shouldn’t see. He wasn’t scared any of those times. So, why now? Why was he so scared now as he looked into your eyes that were basically pleading with him for an answer.

“I–” His words were shaky, and finally broke the intense gaze the two of you were sharing as he looked down. “I dunno.”

There was another beat of silence before you continued up the staircase. Draken only looked up when he knew you were at the top, far enough away from him that he didn’t have to feel like your gaze was piercing him. He wished that he didn’t look though, wished that he hadn’t seen that sad smile on your lips.

He never wanted to see that ever again, not on you.

“I hope I’ll still be around when you figure it out.”

Drake wasn’t sure how much time had passed now since he had seen you. The first few days he refused to even think about that interaction on the stairs. That sad smile of yours easily pulls his heart apart and thinking back on it only made him more and more pissed at himself.

So instead of thinking of you, he filled his time with work. He found himself opening and closing the shop, despite Inui trying to make him go back to their balanced schedule. He took on more projects, burying himself under the weight of grease and bolts instead of dealing with the weight that now sat in his chest.

You hadn’t come back to the shop yet either, he had a feeling you’d never come back.

What got Draken out of work early one night was a call from Mitsuya. He called twice before Draken reluctantly picked up the phone, the annoyance clear in his tone as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

“Ya know m’working–”

“Well, you sound just delighted to hear from me~” Mitsuya hummed, chuckling when he heard Draken’s grunt from the other end of the phone. Mitsuya was organising threads by colour when he spoke. “Come over tonight?”

“I don’t feel like partying,” Draken answered back right away. What he meant though was that he didn’t wanna go in case Takemichi was there because then he would only remind him of–

“It’s not gonna be a party doofus, it’ll just be us two.” Draken made a look of disgust, more so at the insult than anything else. “Just come.”

“I have shit to do here–” He was trying his best to get out of this, but if anyone could see through Draken’s bullshit, it was Mitsuya.

“You’ve locked yourself in that damn shop for the past week, I know you can make a little time to go out. Let Inui close tonight.”

“Nah, it’s my night.” It wasn’t.

“Bet you haven’t even showered.”

“Oh fuck off–” Draken grunted, sniffing himself only because Mitsuya wasn’t there to give him the side-eye. He scowled softly to himself when the scent he picked up coming from his overalls was far from pleasant. “Will you quit nagging me if I come, mom?”

“Absolutely buddy.” Mitsuya was chuckling softly, rolling in his chair to pull back up to his sewing table. “See you at 7, doofus.”

Draken wasn’t given the opportunity to snap back with something clever, the phone went dead right away. With a huff Draken resultantly found himself putting his tools away, tucking his overused workbench in its proper corner so he could head off to Mistuya’s.

But not without a shower first.

Draken’s hair was still damp when he headed for Mitsuya’s place. With how fast Draken sped his bike down the freeway, it only took about ten minutes tops. Draken lugged a case of beer with him up to the familiar walkway that belonged to Mitsuya’s townhouse. When he opened the door he still had his work glasses on, a lazy grin tugging on his features when he was met with the sight of Draken’s scowling face.

“Would you look at that, he showered.”

Draken just rolled his eyes, nudging past Mitsuya and making himself at home. The two found themselves quickly situated on the couch, spread out on each end and open beers on coasters. Mitsuya had pulled out his old N64, so the two were currently in a round of Mario kart. The silence had been comfortable between the two, as it usually was until Mitsuay finally decided to speak up.

“So, what's got you fucked up?”

“What?” Draken said with a short laugh, his eyes staying glued to the tv screen.

“You only get all solitary like this when something is really bothering you, so–”

“Nothin’s up, m’good.” Draken simply grunted, which quickly turned into a scowl when Mitusya passed him for first place in the game. “Quit distracting me.”

“Is it Takemichi’s little sister?”

Draken almost choked on his beer, finally looking away from the screen to look at Mitsuya who was still calm as ever. Only after he passed the finish line did he meet Draken’s gaze, one brow lifted up.

“What about her?”

“You were seeing her–”

“I was not.”

Now it was Mitsuya’s turn to laugh, a hearty one too that only made Draken’s brows furrow further. He pulled his glasses from his face, sighing out as he shook his head.

“You think you’re so hard to read, but you’re not.” Mitsuya kept talking before Draken could bark at him. “I know you kept seeing her after that night.”

“Okay, so?” Draken wasn’t sure why he was getting so defensive, maybe it was because it pissed him off that Mitsuya knew him better than he knew himself.

“So, did you two break up?”

“We were never together.” Draken simply stated, going to start another round of Mario kart. But as soon as the words left his lips he hated the way they sounded, and now that they were out there, floating around his head it made him grip his controller a little tighter.

“Oh, you weren’t?” Mitsuya said, that dumb smile of his making Draken shake his head, grit his teeth even. It was Mitsuya’s turn to scoff, tipping his beer back to polish it off. “You are such a fuckin doofus dude.”

“Watch your mouth man–”

“Why are ya doing this to yourself?” Draken sucked in a little breath. The silence hung in the air between them a little and Mitsuya rolled his eyes when he saw how Draken’s head tipped slightly to the side in confusion. He continued as he opened up another beer. “Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? You can do commitment, you’ve done it before.”

Draken felt a little frozen in place, eyes unfocused as he tried to process what Mitsuya had so obviously laid out for him. His heart started to pick up in his chest as he really thought it over, well at least tried to. “Yea, I did it before and look what happened.”

Flashes of his relationship with Emma were impossible to ignore. How things went from wonderful to terrible so quickly. How the two of them became each other's world so fast for it all to crash and burn. The fighting, the lies, how he was so scared after he lost her but to also lose everyone he loved. His found family was all he had, and if they had decided to up and leave–

“Sure, it was a bad breakup,” Mitsuya spoke with a simple shrug of his shoulders, looking at Draken’s pained face over the lip of his bottle. “But it didn’t stay bad, did it?”

“Guess not…” Draken murmured. It didn’t. He didn’t lose his best friends, he didn’t even really lose Emma. After time apart and some growing up, the two had gone back to speaking terms.

“So, let yourself be happy, dude.”

“But she’s another little sister–”

“Yea you have a type.” Mitsuya couldn’t help but laugh, especially after Draken sent his controller flying at him. Mitsuya thankfully caught it, holding a hand up in defence. “Relax! I’m joking… The boys are gonna bug you about it, but Draken, who the fuck cares.”

Draken slowly nodded at that, allowing himself to really think it all over. He had never been the type to care so much about what others thought about him. He was letting himself get in his head for something that was already over and done with. Rubbing his hand over his forehead, he picked up another beer, shaking his head as he twisted the top off to chug some of it down.

“I hate you, you know that?” He mumbled to Mitsuya, which only made him laugh out loud in response. He clinked his bottle up against Draken’s.

“Love you too buddy. You should really make up with her.” Draken eyed Mitsuya over the lip of his beer. “I assume you said some dumb guy shit to her.”

Draken pouted, mumbling something along the lines of “maybe I did” before he took another drink. Looking down the stem of the bottle Draken sighed softly, thinking of that sad smile on your face. It made him scoff at himself. “I just– I’m not sure I’ll be able to treat her right, as her boyfriend.”

“Well, she’s stuck around this long, hasn’t she?” Mitsuya started to set up another game of Mario Kart for the two of them as Draken nodded slowly. “I’m sure if she didn’t think you’d treat her right, she woulda left.”

Those couple words were left lingering in Draken’s head the rest of the evening. Mitsuya didn’t bring it up again, and Draken didn’t dare to. But as he started to pass out on his friend's couch, he had one too many beers to be driving himself home, he really thought over what Mitsuya had said. What he knew was right.

I’m sure if she didn’t think you'd treat her right, she woulda left.

Draken chuckled softly to himself, his palm coming up to slap him right on the forehead. The sting made him hiss to himself, but it's what he deserved. He’d never admit it out loud, but sometimes he wished his brain worked the way Mitsuya’s did.

“I’m such an idiot.” He spoke, and it was Mitsuya sleepy agreeing with him on the couch beside him that had him laughing all over again.

He knew you’d be finishing classes up on campus right now, had picked you up and dropped you off many times before to know that you’d be coming out of the big college building any minute now. He parked right out front, his hands dug deep into his pockets as he watched the door. His eyes scanned over many faces, all different kinds, all of them filtering through, onyx gaze trying to lock onto–

You.

You were in the middle of giggling, those familiar wrinkles showing up around the corners of your eyes, your pretty manicured nails holding the books you had tighter to your chest. The image made him smile fondly, lips upturned just a little when the two of you finally made eye contact.

He was more than grateful that you returned the small smile. The darkest parts of him had conceived him; you'd simply walk right by him, or even turn around in the opposite direction. But instead, you excused yourself from your friends, who all couldn’t help but side-eye the older, imitating dude leaning on a motorcycle, dragon tattoo on full display with his hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. As you approach he speaks, unable to keep his eyes off your own.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Ken.” Just the way you say his name makes his heart flutter a little. He moves to the side, opening up the small compartment on his bike that’ll allow you to put your books inside.

“Come with me?” He asks, and the momentary silence makes him feel more nervous than he had in a long time. You could say no, he could have taken too long. You could have already slipped right out of his fingertips and it would be all his fault–

“Okay.” You simply reply, and your smile doesn’t falter. It stays as you tuck your books away, as he places his helmet on your bread and helps you adjust the straps. You in front of him on the bike just as you had on that first night he picked you up. His hands easily swallowed yours on the handlebars, and before you knew it the two of you were speeding off towards his place. You knew that because the route had become too familiar after the many times he’d whisked you away after school. Your heart was beating fast in your chest like it normally did when you rode on Draken’s bike. It filled you with a type of adrenaline you hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.

That and the fact that his hands seemed to be holding yours tighter than usual.

After a couple of sharp turns and uphill roads, you two made it to Draken’s apartment. He gave you your space as you two headed to his room a couple of floors up, his heart seeming to be in his throat. He needed to relax, he knew exactly what he had to say to you, knew what he had to do, and yet as he fiddled with his keys a bit to find the right one that opened his apartment, the familiar scent of your perfume was making his brain a little foggy.

It was the warmth of your fingers that shook him from whatever haze he was in, the tips of his ears feeling a bit hot as your fingers easily tugged the right key, helped him slip it into the lock. “It’s this one, Ken.” You say it as if your presence alone isn’t making him weak at the knees.

He just nodded, allowing you in first. Shoes were slipped off and the two of you found yourself in his kitchen. You stood right in the middle, your arms tucked neatly behind your back, hands clasped. He missed the way you used to make yourself at home, grabbing something from his fridge or sprawling out on his couch.

He wanted you to be that comfortable again.

“I really needed to see you.” He started, his voice a little hesitant. He cleared his throat, fingers once again in his pockets. He looked everywhere but at you, despite the way he felt your gentle gaze burning into him. “I needed, I just–” He huffed. “I really fucked up–”

There was your familiar warmth again, but instead, you were grabbing at one of his hands. So easily your fingers threaded into his, and suddenly the weight in his tummy didn’t feel all that heavy as he looked down at you, those wide pretty eyes he had missed so fucking much. “You did kinda fuck up–” You murmur, which makes him huff again, this time with a hint of laughter behind it. “I know I did. I know.”

He pulled you in a little closer, and he was so very grateful that you weren't resistant. In fact, you melted into his chest, your face finding that familiar comfortable spot against his peck, cheek pressed up against where you felt his heartbeat, which was currently pounding in his chest. He sucks in another breath, one hand coming to gently pet your head. “I’m sorry, I’m real sorry sweetheart…” He feels the way you start to tremble and it eats at him, brows furrowing up. “Please, don’t babygirl, m’tryna apologise to you–”

“Don’t be dumb like that ever again Ken.” Your voice waves and he knows you’re about to cry, but he doesn't stop you from speaking, if anything, your shaky words only make him hold you tighter, a fond smile coming to his lips. “Don’t leave me like that again!” Your voice cracks and Ken has to chuckle under his breath, but there's no bite to his laughter, only fondness. “Next time, just talk to me. I-I know I’m younger and inexperienced b-but I know what I want and that's you–”

That's when he finally stops you, one big palm cupping your cheek. He tilts your head up, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone before he's pressing a smooch to your lips. You both seem to relax against the embrace, and when he feels a salty tear hit his thumb he swipes it away, lips parting from your just enough so he can murmur against them.

“I know, lil love. I know.” When your lower lip trembles a bit a smile breaks out on his lips. One that makes the corner of his lips twitch, little wrinkles showing up around his eyes. His hands cup your neck so gently, thumbs pressing up against the underside of your jaw. He murmurs again, this time his words slurred along with your breathy, soft whimper. “I want you too…”

This time the kiss is desperate, needy. Your fingers turn white at the knuckles when you grip at his shirt, lips moulding against his own. Draken’s tongue is impatient, slithering into your open mouth and reexploring the warm cavern that is your mouth. He huffs when your chest presses flush to him, and with ease his big hands cup your thighs, scooping you into his embrace. Your legs cling to his waist without a thought, the giddy giggle bubbling from your lips and against his own making a bit of blush rise on his cheeks.

Oh, how he missed that sweet, sweet sound.

Draken tries not to trip over himself as he carries you off to his bedroom, his back hitting up against the door at the same time your teeth playfully tug at his bottom lip. He drops you down and the bounce of your body has both of you a little too excited, Draken’s shirt easily coming off as he tugs it up over his head.

“Lemme show you how badly I want you, baby.” His voice has already gotten deeper, and as his big hand comes to cup the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss he’s a bit surprised when both your palms press against his chest, pushing him away an inch.

Surprised and panicked. Was he moving too fast, did you think he was just using you in your vulnerable moment? Had he really fucked up so soon again–

His breath left him in a huff when his back hit the mattress, your body rolling over him. He blinked a few times as you straddled him, palms pressed against his chest and your face heated. He could tell that a flush was working its way up to your cheeks when you looked down at him, your body slowly scooting down from his waist to his hips.

“No, let me s-show you.” Despite just how nervous you were, Draken could tell by the way you chewed on your lower lip, how your fingers trembled a little, undoing his belt and zipper, his cock still twitched with excitement underneath you an odd sense of pride flowing through him.

You had come a long way, from the virgin he met all those months ago. He had just been the biggest idiot and here he was, pushing his hair from his face so he could watch how your pretty little hands handled his semi-hard cock with such care. How you looked at him first, batted your lashes when you leaned in and pressed the sweetest of kisses right to his tip.

“Oh fuck—“

Yea, he was never letting you go again, ever.

You took a deep breath through your nose before taking his tip between your lips, your eyes never leaving his dilated ones. He propped himself up on an elbow, free hand easing the hair away from your face. It was a sight that would be burned into his mind forever. Wide doe eyes, hand barely wrapped around his fat base, pretty lips suckling away at his tip.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin death of me pretty girl.” Draken chuckles breathlessly, and the little glint in your eyes tells him you would have smiled had your lips not been preoccupied. He kept his hand gentle on the back of your head as you slowly took more of him, your tongue flattening out against his underside. His head tilted back in a groan at your steady pace, the warmth of your mouth making his skin prickle with pleasure. His fingers curled in your hair just a bit, enough to hold him back from jerking his hips into you, make you gag–

He’d save it for another time.

“Atta girl…” He murmured, chest rising and falling a little faster as you gained your rhythm. Your eyes peaked up at him again, before you got back into it, cheeks hollowing as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. You reached about halfway, which Draken noticed made your brows furrow up.

“S’okay, we’ve got plenty of time to make it fit, keep going lil love.” He encouraged, and you listened, head continuing to bob faster, sloppier. Draken could feel your drool dribbling down his shaft and onto his balls and it made him shiver. It didn’t help that your ass was up high, practically swaying like an excited little puppy just to be sucking him off. Swearing under his breath a moment as his balls suddenly felt all too tight, he pulled you off his cock, the pornographic pop of your lips making him grunt, you whine. The string of drool connecting your swollen lips to his cock was thick, and when it snapped onto your chin Draken could feel himself getting lightheaded.

“W-Why did you–” He silenced your whining with another fierce kiss, and without hesitation you were manhandled back into his pillows, flat on your back. He has no problem working your soiled panties off your thighs, deciding to just tuck the extra material of your skirt into the waistband “Felt fucking awesome.” Your panties are tossed right over your shoulder, a cute yelp leaving you when he hauls both your thighs up, over his shoulders. “But I wanna cum in this pretty pussy.”

From this position your pussy was split wide open for him, your clit poking out and throbbing from under the hood. He sighed, content, pausing his previous actions to lean in, pressing the softest of kisses right up against your clit.

“My pretty pussy.” His soft touch is gone, replaced with his burning desire to claim you again. A few rubs of his cock against your slicken folds, along with your drool is enough to get his cock wet enough to slip in. His breathing hitches once his head makes it past the tight ring of your muscles, the squeeze vice-like just from the simple intrusion.

“K-Ken–”

“Shh, I know.” He coos, hunching over you. With your thighs on his shoulders, his shifting has you in a mating press, a position that all too knew and is making your head spin. Your tummy folds the closer he gets to you, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your clit while the other intertwines with the hand you had gripping the sheets close to your head. “S’always gonna be a lil tight, isn’t it babygirl.”

You’re already moaning in a wonton fashion, eyes struggling to stay open as he rocks his cock head in and out, his thumb working at your nub. When your pussy starts fluttering for him he works in a few more inches, needy sounds spilling into each other mouth due to his lips staying inches away from your own. “Gonna take it all f’me? Be my good girl?”

You nod, and when you look at him again your eyes have that familiar glassy sheen he’s grown to love. He kisses you right under the eye before with one good push his cock is all the way inside. The sound you make is downright sinful, something between a cry and a mewl and it has Draken’s cock twitching within the tightness of your cunt. It makes his vision go a little stary, the growl he releases vibrating through his chest.

“Good fucking girl.” The slap of his hips into your ass resounds throughout the room, squelching soon coming from between your bodies. In this position his cock nuzzles your sweet spot, seeming to reach down deep, into parts of you that you didn’t even realise existed, and it quickly has you falling apart, babbles freely spilling from your lips, tears wetting your hot cheeks. Draken is quick to kiss them away, his fingers tightening around yours as he puffs hot pants along your face.

“D-Deep~!” You manage to squeak, and Draken has to crack a grin, his hips suddenly stopping their brutal pace just so he can roll them instead. That had you gasping, drool spilling from your hung lips as you look up at him with a gaze that's already beyond fucked out. “S’real deep baby, s’good though yea?”

You nod, fresh tears on your lashes. “Only the best for my baby.” He utters, hips switching back and forth between rutting and grinding. He’s convinced you’ve already cum on his cock, the amount of slick bubbling around his shaft and the tightness of your walls are his hints, but he keeps going, needing to fill you up after so long. Despite your cries, he brings his hand back to your clit, his rubs becoming sloppy. He only releases your hand to cup the back of your neck instead, keeping your foreheads pressed together.

“Eyes on me, lil love.” You do manage to open your teary eyes, meeting his dilated pupils. “Good, good girl.” His body starts to twitch, broad shoulders rippling and his thighs starting to tremble as his own release quickly builds in his gut. “I– fuck. Baby, I love you, pretty–”

And despite just how dumbed out you were moments before, those words seem to bring some clarity to your eyes. Your fingers tangle into his sweaty hair, gripping it at the roots for your sanity. The pleasant little laugh you let out and breathe against his lips makes his heart jump against his ribcage.

“I love y-you Ken, love you so much, Kenny–”

His climax hits him hard, the full-body chill he experiences making goosebumps rise along his spine as he fills you up. The feeling of his warm, thick cum is enough to have you coming undone right along with him, the sensation being yet another new one when liquid seems to gush past your little hole. It makes Draken’s balls tighten up instantly, the warm splash of your arousal onto his fingers that still gently coax pleasure out of your clit. And he can’t help but grin, a boyish grin that quickly turns into a grunt. “Fuck, fuckin squirtin on me, how cute.”

He doesn’t pull out, he can’t. He needs to be close to you, keep your limp body tucked carefully underneath him. You’re too far in to even notice the mess, your whines and whimpers dwindling down into soft breaths as he turns to his side, keeping you in his chest. His cock slowly softens in your walls, and even then, Draken’s keeps you glued to him as you both come down, tremors and pants still coming over both of you.

“Sweetheart.” He murmurs, face nuzzling up against your temple. When he gets a whine in return he holds you closer, careful to ease your face away from his chest so he can cover your tear-streaked face in kisses. “You’re okay, my baby…”

Draken is usually more responsible than this. Then to let you two doze off without a proper clean-up. But feeling your soft heartbeat against his, your fingers still lost in his hair, your lips pressed right up into the crook of his neck and puffing soft air, he just couldn't bring himself to let go. He didn’t want to let go now, or ever. Keeping you here, wrapped in his embrace, he was certain that you’d be there tomorrow morning too, with that beautiful smile he had fallen stupidly, hopelessly, in love with.

Fuck it. He was taking on the little sister fucker title with pride.

“Kenny, your hand is sweaty.” You murmur, trying to hold back your laughter when he shoots you a glare, pulling his hand away from you and dramatically rubbing it along his jeans.

“Fine, just won’t hold your hand, brat” He grumbles, and that sets you over, wrapping your arms around him mid-walk to press small kisses along his collar bones.

Draken hadn’t felt this nervous ever, in his entire life (this was a lie, he’s just dramatic as ever). The two of you were only steps away from your place, the same place you and Takemichi lived in together. Everyone was there, the entire found family, and you two were now official…

He was getting flashbacks of the group chat, his friend's ruthless behaviour, the way Takemichi hadn’t talked to him for one whole week, and the sweet satisfaction Baji got when he got one free punch to his jaw for Takemichi’s sake.

“Maybe we can tell them next week, or over a call. Whattya think lil love,” Draken murmured, his face hiding in your hairline. Your sweet laughter sent that familiar warmth through his chest, and one good tug on his hand had him reluctantly walking back towards the house. “You’ll be fine.” You say with a smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “We’re gonna do it together.”

When you hopped up onto the front step, Draken’s eyes trailed down to the sweet dangling sound that was the anklet looped around your ankle. The gold one, with his initials, right where it belonged. The sight had him calming a little, brows furrowed in the way they usually did when he became focused. “Right, together.”

“Michi-nii!” You call out once the two of you enter the house, the sound of music and chatter already filling the front entrance. Draken holds your hand a little tighter as if he had been entering a place he’d never been before.

“Living room!” Takemichi calls out, surrounded by founding members of toman, each huddled around the kotatsu table that was covered in snacks, beers, and cards. Oddly enough the chatter died down as Takemichi was dealing out for another round, a laugh leaving his lips.

“You guys gonna take this round seriously–” It was Mikey’s elbow into his ribs that silenced him, a little puff escaping his lungs. He was about to complain when his eyes were brought to what everyone seemed to be staring at.

And that was you, beaming smile and all, with your hand held tightly by Draken’s, who couldn't seem to make eye contact with anyone.

“Hi Michi~ Hi everyone! What are ya–”

“Finally.” Mitsuya was the first to mutter, leaning back further into his spot on the couch. “Chifuyu, you owe me 20 bucks, told you they’d come out today.”

“No fair!” Chifuyu blurted out, grumbling when he reluctantly pulled bills from his pocket. Pah and Peh were the first to start laughing, clinking their beers together.”

“Wait, you knew? How?” Mikey questioned Mitsuya, who triumphantly took the money from Chifuyu with a laugh of his own. Kazutora was even starting to crack up, hiding his smirk behind his beer.

And despite all the commotion, Takemichi sat dumbfounded, eyes glued to yours and Draken’s intertwined hands. When he did finally speak, it only made the group that much rowdier.

“Well, what the fuck is this–”

“Time for another punch,” Baji said with that signature grin of his, basically hoping from his spot on the couch.

“Wait wait!” You said, your pout only stirring the pot further. “No one is punching anyone! We’re–”

“We are dating,” Draken said, eyes a bit narrowed as he spoke. “We’re dating, Takemichi, I wanna date your sister, and I’m gonna.”

There was another round of silence in the room, but it didn’t last, not when Pah mumbled under his breath.

“Classic sister fucker–”

“Well, you could have at least asked first?!” Takemichi was dramatic as ever, tears swelling up in his eyes at the thought of his precious little sister being tarnished by the big, mean, scary man that was Draken. He let go of your hand then, being just as dramatic as Takemichi if not more so “I did ask, I just asked in front of everyone.”

“But you’re already dating, have been a while no…?” Classic Mitsuya, stirring the pot and making everyone act up yet again.

“Now why would you say that you ass–”

“C’mon Michi, I’ll punch him again for you, one good punch like last time–” Baji was punching at the air for emphasis.

“Sister fucker behaviour,” Peh said with a shake of his head, only making Pah laugh harder.

And amidst the bickering and nonsense that always seemed to break out between the boys, you took a seat next to Mikey, taking the Taiyaki he had to offer you with a little huff. He noticed the anklet, observant as ever as you rolled your eyes when Takemichi actually started crying, something about you losing your innocence.

“He’ll treat you right.” You looked at Mikey, who spared you a small smile and a pat on the head. “Draken–”

“I know!” You responded happily, eyeing him as he held Baji back, the nerves he was feeling earlier long gone. You took a bite of the Taiyaki and giggled.

“I can’t wait to be with him, forever!”

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