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lovieku · 2 months ago

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TRUE LOVE ⋆ 정국

when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

⋆⁺₊❅. 5/6 from christmas & chill

pairing tattoo artist!jk x fem reader

genre fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l

warnings jk 24 | oc 24, jk thinks he’s too cool for love, oc suffers from a chronic case of “i can fix him”, she eventually does, oc simps HARDDD and jk only pretends to be unaffected, yea he’s a bit of a dick sometimes but he’s also Very funny, brief description of panic attacks, male masturbation, kissing, idk what else to add i just rly rly love them and will think of them for the entirety of xmas season

word count 10.2k

author’s note hi lovies 🩷 it’s my last time with c&c 🙁 i’m kinda emotional omg… it’s been such a fun, warm and lovely week, and i love each one of you for showing endless support to this project <33 i’ll keep trying to not disappoint… please tell me if you like this!!! thank u always and always 🩷 luv u <3

banner by the gorgeous @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

On the first day of December, your path crosses with thee Jeon Jeongguk’s after enough years for your brain to trip slightly before recognising him. But it would have been impossible not to—there’s likely a whole, well-preserved section of your thinking organ dedicated to that mortifying phase of high school, when your hormones turned life into an endless internal tug-of-war.

The moment your eyes widen at having him stand in front of you, you’re yanked unceremoniously into the past, brought back to buried, locked and left to gather dust feelings that have your teenage self’s screams echoing within you in a chorus of delight and cringe.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is simply following his duties as a tattoo artist. When he catches sight of you next to his appointed client on such a breezy day, the cold December air starting to find its space even in the confines of his studio, he only nods his chin upward at you in slow recognition.

It’s awkward, at first. Only because you make it.

You’d volunteered to accompany Eunbi, your best friend, to get her first tattoo as an early Christmas self-gift. Your mission was clear: support her, hold her hand if the pain became unbearable (though you’re probably the least dependable person when it comes to making clarity in situations of panic, as seen right now), and be the first to bask in her excitement as she finally sees what she’s always pictured to be inked on the skin of her forearm. A blue whale tattoo, large enough to make you wince just thinking about the needlework.

You’d never go through something like that. Never.

And that’s exactly what’s showing on your face when you’re met with Jeongguk’s full sleeve of tattoos, leaving you rooted to the spot.

You’d always known him to be the different kid, the quiet one with forced sharp eyes that canonically listened to alternative rock and glared at anyone who dared approach, whether to tease him or befriend him. He’d convinced himself that no one could ever understand him.

See, you’d instead fooled yourself into thinking you were the exception. That you did understand him.

Fourteen-year-old you had gone through some weird phases, and the one that resurfaces now at the vision of his adult self is the one centered entirely around him. You unashamedly had the biggest crush on Jeongguk. To you, he was mysterious and edgy—in an effortlessly cool way.

You’d tried everything. Offered him your lunch more times than you were left with any for yourself. Even cut your bangs to have them fall over your eyes to mimic his fringe, dyed a strand in blue, overhauled your wardrobe to align with his back-and-grey one. None of it worked. He never noticed.

But, thinking of it now, there’s no way he didn't. He definitely did. How could any boy turn a blind eye to a lovesick girl’s heartfelt Valentine’s letter, a hopeless romantic girl who almost cried on the spot when she got rejected? Jeongguk just chose to willingly ignore it.

These are all valid reasons as to why your functions seem to slow down in his unexpected presence. And you’re not going to deny nor fake that his calm, almost detached demeanor doesn’t flow through your body and right to your left eye, making it twitch with a slight tremor.

Yet, you must also admit that your teenage self was onto something. Jeongguk has changed drastically but he’s also stayed the same. You think fourteen-year-old him would be proud of where he is right now. Two piercings on his lower lip and one on his eyebrow, intricate ink tracing up his muscled arm, his… muscled arms. Wow. And then, his studio. His own studio, a place for him and his passion, one that he made into his job. That’s undeniably cool.

Maybe just not cool enough for you to be gaping like an idiot as he moves with purpose, adjusting your friend’s arm to position the stencil he had prepared, perfectly fitting in the space she had chosen. His muscles flex with every shift, and it’s impossible for you to go past that with the way the black beater he’s wearing is loose on his torso, but still clinging on his chest.

Eunbi notices, of course. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed and in return she doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when your usual chatter dries up entirely, only gulping obnoxiously noisily and alternating that with nervous silences. Jeongguk, too, catches on.

He’d always known you as obnoxious and noisy. In, huh, a good way. Or whatever.

Jeongguk just agrees that you were (and probably still are, if the pastel yellow skirt softly flowing down your legs paired with a cozy cream sweater and the full toothed grin you shoot at your friend are any indicators) the pinpoint embodiment of his opposite. You’ve always been talkative, smiley, and friendly, eager to help and to receive help, not in the slightest ever turning down the opportunity to blabber on, and on, and on.

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t think he ever truly listened to a single word of your rambling back in the day, especially during those times when you’d bounce up to him and launch into enthusiastic rants about obscure alternative bands he himself hadn’t even heard of. He respected the hustle, though. He’d always wondered where you found the time and energy to immerse yourself in music like that.

He much preferred when you were less trying so hard to be him and mirror his tastes, more when you gave up on impressing him and simply stayed true to yourself, the girl whose heart belonged to Justin Bieber and One Direction. Truthfully, he fucked with them. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. His quiet, brooding image wouldn’t survive that revelation.

What he respected the most was your resilience. After all the times he rejected you and your awkward blurts of confessions, you still didn’t think it was enough of a reason for your villain origin story to take off, and instead remained the same frustratingly positive ray of sunshine you’d always been.

Now, as Jeongguk works on the tattoo in front of him, the very design that caused all these long-buried memories to rise back, his dark eyes flick toward you sitting on a stool in a near corner every now and then, a hint of confusion in his expression each time you take more than five seconds to reply to his small talk.

It’s just, you’re a bit taken aback. Since when does he do small talk? The foreign smoothness with which Jeongguk handles interactions is so far removed from the sullen boy you used to know. You’re not prepared for this version of him. It’s disarming, to say the least.

Enough time has passed for you to settle into the odd scenario, your current best friend and your long-standing high school crush in the same room. Slowly but surely, your curiosity sparkles again, and the signature tendency to let thoughts tumble out of your mouth unchecked returns to you naturally.

“Ouch, that looks painful.”

Jeongguk snorts, eyes trained on Eunbi’s arm as he glides the tattoo needle with precise strokes that have his brows pinching and the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, a habit you remember from the past but one you’ve never found quite so distracting before.

Still, he multitasks and responds without missing a beat, “Wanna try?”

Wow. This is, like, the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him. It spurs you on to do anything it takes to hear more of his voice, the sound of it definitely deeper than the shy tones you struggled to coax out of him ten years ago.

That is probably why you literally lie, “Hm. Maybe. I was thinking of getting one actually. In the future.”

Eunbi chokes on her spit, her chest coughing with the sudden, blatantly fake revelation, and Jeongguk promptly pauses, lifting the needle from her skin as his tattooist reflexes kick in. While your friend apologizes between a clearing of her throat and sinks back into the chair, she doesn’t keep from glaring at you, her expression screaming What the hell are you doing?

You deadpan. You’ll explain everything later and it’ll all make sense. And you know this will inevitably end up being added to the list of the many embarrassing facts she knows about you and threatens you with when she wants to go clubbing and you don’t.

Jeongguk uses the brief interruption to glance up at where you’re perched in the corner of his peripheral vision, just to square you up and down with a skeptical arch of his brow, “Really?”

You scoff, smoothing out the creases on your skirt as if the fabric is somehow responsible for the lie you just told, “Is that shocking?”

He hums, returning to his work with the buzz of the needle filling the studio again, his voice padded the more he gets closer to Eunbi’s forearm, “I just find it hard to believe such a princess like you could handle any pain.”

You gulp.

What you’re getting from this conversation is that Jeongguk has always had an idea of who you are in his mind all along. That he’s always perceived you in some way. As much as your inner fourteen-year-old is swooning at the attention, gobbling up each of the tiny crumbles he’s giving you, it doesn’t sit right with you. What exactly does he think of you?

“Test me.”

He shrugs, eyes fixated on the shade he’s perfectioning with black ink, “Busy now.”

“I’ll go pay for mine. I saw you have one last free spot today,” you announce, the words tumbling out with more confidence than you feel. You’re already on your feet before the sentence is fully formed, betraying the fact that your nosy tendencies had gotten the better of you earlier. You’d discreetly glanced at his appointment book when Jeongguk and Eunbi were finalizing her tattoo details and negotiating the final price at the desk.

He hums, head tilting slightly, “And I wanted to spend it bumming around.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to postpone that.”

You walked into this studio swearing you’d never let a needle even brush you.

Now you’re stretched out on a leather bench, Jeongguk leaning over you with a stencil in hand, gloved fingers moving with careful precision.

The design you’d chosen came from his portfolio—a delicate illustration of two butterflies in motion, their soft threads intertwining. You’d flipped through countless pages of bold skulls and intricate linework before settling on this.

The spot you’d chosen for the tattoo was the flat, firm plane between your breasts. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a place you’d always liked. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nature hadn’t exactly blessed you in the cleavage department. Subconsciously, perhaps, you thought that adding something there might give the illusion of more.

“Tehe,” you can’t stop the breathy giggle that escapes as the cool paper brushes against your skin. Your hand is pressed to your bra, holding it in place as best you can, though the situation feels so surreal it’s hard to focus on anything but the ridiculousness of it all.

Jeongguk glances up at you with a glare that’s more exasperated than angry before returning to the delicate task at hand, “What’s funny?”

Your voice wobbles, “I just— I tend to laugh during serious moments.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Sorry.”

With a small sigh, he smooths the stencil, and once it’s transferred he hands you a square mirror, waiting for your approval. You nod, the butterflies now perfectly poised in their eternal dance, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste a moment.

The buzz of the needle fills the room as he leans closer, one gloved hand resting on the upper part of your chest to steady himself. He’s mere seconds from beginning the inking process when another laugh bubbles out of you.

Jeongguk sits back abruptly, dropping his pen onto the metal tray with an audible clink. Tilting his head, he levels you with a look of thinly veiled irritation. “I really can’t work if your chest keeps moving.”

“Sorry,” you blurt again, turning your head to face the wall. You clamp your lips together tightly, mentally scrolling through every sad memory you can conjure. Think of something awful. Your childhood dog dying. Okay, maybe not that sad—

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Always smiling like you live surrounded by flowers and rainbows,” Jeongguk’s mutter vibrates against your chest, warm breath fanning over the cold skin, distracting you from your no-giggling mission.

The unexpected observation has your brows furrowing in a mildly offended frown, and banter is ready on your tongue. “You’re just the same too, Gguk. The emo boy who thinks he’s too cool for a smile.”

“I’m not an emo boy. The fuck,” he scoffs, kissing his teeth and murmuring more of his indignation under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. I can teach you.”

The whirring needle glides across your skin with a slightly firmer touch, making you hiss softly under your breath. He seems unbothered by the reaction, and instead bothered by your words, “Teach me what.”

“How to smile a bit more,” you reply, your voice laced with mockery as you keep your gaze firmly fixed on the wall. The smirk playing on your lips is triumphant; he walked right into your little jab, hehe.

Your mind is already racing, piecing together the beginning of a sarcastic rant about how his perpetual scowl probably contributed to his mysterious high school persona. For the sake of his ego, you won’t add how it worked in his favor, how more than one girl (your own self) found his untouchable vibe completely irresistible.

Even though, thinking back, he looked ridiculous. His big, round, slightly scared-of-the-world eyes truly didn’t belong with the heavy black eyeliner.

But before you can get a single word out, Jeongguk straightens his posture, pulling away from your chest. With a practiced motion, he tosses one of his gloves onto the counter behind him, his expression cool and indifferent. “It’s done.”

“Done?!” you exclaim, tilting your chin down to look at your chest. You go slightly cross-eyed trying to catch a glimpse of the design now inked onto your skin. Forever.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even feel it.”

Jeongguk seems equally done with small talk, transitioning into a professional explanation of the tattoo’s aftercare step. His tone is calm but clipped, and you can’t tell if it’s his usual demeanor or just reserved for you. He also hands you a small tube of cream of which you’re not sure the use of, too enthralled by the vision of his colored sleeve this up close.

And still laying on the leather bed, you almost reach to trace one of the many lines with your finger before he interrupts, “You can pay with Yoongi at the entrance.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt as Jeongguk turns his back to you, his focus already back on cleaning his tools. You still are not over, “Thank you, Jeongguk. Can I— huh. Can I get your number?”

He pauses mid-motion, just long enough for the silence to stretch thin and taut. Turning around to study your features, he stares you up and down with knitted brows and a hostile kind of confusion painting his expression. “… For what exactly?”

“In case anything happens with the tattoo.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, eyes narrowing slightly, then turns back to what’s keeping him so occupied with a noncommittal grunt, “Huh. Sure. Yoongi has my business cards at the desk. You can ask him. Have a good day.”

With Eunbi practically dragging you out of the room, you don’t have the chance to say anything more, though your chest burns with indignation. It’s not that you expect him to fall over himself at the chance to catch up, but the sheer indifference is maddening.

Should you pretend you don’t care either? You could. But really, who are you fooling? You still have those old diaries buried somewhere in your closet, their pages crammed with his name written in looping, lovesick cursive. That little girl in you never truly died.

On the fourth day of December, you finally text him. It’s about your tattoo, of course. There’s not much else to say to him, but when his only reply to your picture of the healing process is a yellow thumbs up, you find your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Words start forming before you’ve fully processed them, and before you know it, you hit send.

You [3:39 p.m]: btw u still friends with kim tae?

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: Yes

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: He’s my best friend

You [3:43 p.m.]: ohhh, cool

jeongguk [3:45 p.m.]: You want his number?

You [3:46 p.m.]: no… i’m good with yours ☺️

You can’t help but giggle at how his typing bubbles appear and then fade for a whole minute, biting your lower lip with a sheepish grin, savoring the silent victory. You’re doing this for your fourteen-year-old self, who would’ve squealed at the thought of making Jeon Jeongguk flustered. But you’re a different girl now. You’ve changed. No man could ever reject—

jeongguk [3:48 p.m.]: If there’s nothing else about the tattoo then 👋

“Hmph,” your frown is so pronounced that you feel your chin aching and your wrinkles prematurely deepening. Well, this is not the first time you come face first with his sour antics. Only now, you’re prepared.

You [3:48 p.m.]: yall hanging out soon? let me join

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: Why lol

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: He barely even remembers you probs

You [3:50 p.m.]: who would not remember me

jeongguk [3:50 p.m.]: The only thing i’m now remembering about you is how I couldn’t stand your ass

You gasp, hand coming up to brush against your parted lips. With a huff, you hastily click at your keyboard, “Mean. Sent. Ugh.”

On the sixth day of December, your persistence pays off, and you find yourself at a random bar you’d never been to before, seated with both Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Between Jeongguk’s cigarette breaks—forcing the three of you to brave the cold outside—and brief moments in corners of the cramped place where the music feels muffled against the walls, you manage to catch up with Taehyung. The rest of the time though, the noise inside is so deafening that it makes any kind of meaningful conversation impossible.

Even more when a random girl slides into the booth next to him, capturing his attention entirely, leaving you and Jeongguk in paradoxical silence.

The tattoo artist has been glued to his phone with his head down for the last 20 minutes, and now you alternate between observing his side profile, roughened by the piercings and a more defined jawline, and analysing the weird dynamic that is beginning to form between Taehyung and the girl, sitting in front of you.

Alone with your thoughts and, well, the pulsating music, you feel yourself getting unreasonably closer to symptoms you know all too well, that threaten to have you spiraling. You shake your head, forcing it to stop. There’s no reason for anxiety to visit you at such an inconvenient time.

But of course, the little voice in your head starts listing all the totally valid motives why this is indeed the perfect time for it to visit you.

The bar feels suffocating on your skin.

Your dress clings too tightly.

The couple facing you is shamelessly close to making out.

Jeongguk sighs in visible boredom.

You shouldn’t have come. Hell, you shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. A smarter version of yourself would have brought Eunbi for balance, for comfort. But in your foolishness, you thought this could be an opportunity for you and Jeongguk to catch up. Instead, you feel foreign to him, foreign to this pub booth, and the air begins to feel foreign to your lungs. You’ve never liked bars, clubs, or places with loud music.

You sniffle, looking down at your lap. Then up at the ceiling. Then around the room. It keeps spinning and booming with volume that only adds to the feeling of helplessness. Quick, quick, quick.

What are five things that you can see?

Five. Your gaze falls on Taehyung and the girl, their lips and tongues clumsily entangled as they laugh between sloppy kisses. No help there. The air catches harder in your throat.

Four. Your empty glass, its smudged rim a reminder of the single drink you had, now sitting uncomfortably in your stomach.

Three. Your scuffed heels, their tips worn to the nub despite your best efforts to hide it with a marker.

Two. The swirling lights above the bar, dizzying as they flash brighter and brighter.

One. Jeongguk’s tattooed hand on your thigh.

His fingers dig into the skin, shaking you alarmedly, with a force you’ve never known from him, not even when it came to stopping your shaking stomach as you were laying on the studio’s leather bed.

Head snapping up to face him, you’re met with a perfect resemblance of how you must look right now. Wide eyes, knitted brows, nose flaring and exhaling, and you try to follow the movements of his mouth, but they jumble together annoyingly in your brain. You lean closer, narrowed orbs still fixated on his lips to try and read them. Are… you… ok—

“___, you’re scaring me. Hey, hello? Are you okay?”

Jeongguk moves from your thigh to your shoulders, jolting you gently but firmly from the fog that is threatening to cloud up your brain. The sudden clarity hits you, but you still stumble forward, your weight toppling over his chest. With it, your head dips rapidly, hurtling toward the sharp edge of the table, and before Jeongguk knows it his instinct snaps and he catches you promptly.

The next steps blur together. You vaguely register the boy next to you standing up and pulling you along with him, his broad shoulders supporting one of your arms while his inked one secures around the small of your waist, holding you firmly against him.

Then, it’s nothing but brief flashes. Jeongguk pressing a water bottle to your lips. Sitting you down on the stairs outside the pub. Holding your hair back as you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. Cracking a smile to make you laugh, showing off his tattoos in exaggerated detail like it’s the grandest tour of your life. Opening the door to his car and gently easing you into the passenger seat, ensuring the seatbelt clicks into place.

Inside his car, you slowly feel your senses come back to you.

At a redlight that you recognise as the one near your apartment complex, you muster a small and hoarse thank you. Jeongguk only hums low, eyes fixated on the road and fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

Before a sheepish smile can make its way on your lips and spread across your face, your head twitches back as your brows furrow. Your thoughts suddenly catch up with you, “Hey, how do you know the way to my flat?”

His gaze briefly flicks toward you in annoyance, then back to the road. “You literally just told me.”

“Oh.” A beat passes before you giggle softly. “Don’t remember.”

Jeongguk mutters something intelligible under his breath, and next thing you know he’s turning down your street and slowing in front of the building that matches the number you gave him. Given your current state, he begins to question if that is even the right one.

“This one!” You point at the tall front gate with an almost childlike excitement, back shifting slightly from the seat as your grin stretches wide. Jeongguk grimaces. Why the fuck do you look like you’ve been reuinted with your home after years apart, as if you weren’t there just a couple hours ago?

“Right. Huh, you good with going back on your own?”

“Yes. I’d hate to bother you further. I’m sorry for this, I… was getting better, I guess.”

The sad confession doesn’t land with the weight it should, softened by the smile painted on your lips and the chuckle you let out as if it were nothing. Jeongguk’s eyelid twitches, unsettled by the unnecessary happiness that always seems to drip from you, even when it doesn’t belong.

“‘S okay. Have a good night,” he awkwardly bows his head, waiting for you to exit the car. When you stay still, he clears his throat, adding just to fill the silence, and perhaps because he means it, “Huh, and make sure to rest a lot.”

You take a moment, maybe longer than you should, to study his features up this close. You particularly fixate on the way his eyes dart everywhere but never land on yours. Then, with your signature toothy grin, you bow back and open the car door, leaving with a string of thank yous, and get home safe, and I’ll text you, and please, reply to me, and bye.

Jeongguk has to fight a smile of his own.

On the tenth day of December, you realise you want him. Even more badly than your fourteen-year-old self ever did. Which is frankly insane.

You don’t know if it was the natural way he looked after you during your episode, or his dry sarcasm as he actually started replying to your random updates throughout the day.

But no, it was definitely the selfie he sent you after what he said was a long day. Messy hair, tired eyes, a hint of a smile. You’d struggled to even gulp down your saliva when the picture popped up in your chat, and maniacally stared at it with eyes glued to the bright screen before sending one of your own. He had replied with Cute. followed by Your hair pin is cute.

That is why you find yourself facing… Yoongi? If you remember correctly. The guy at the front desk of Jeongguk’s studio.

You beam at him, and what you’re met with instead is a confused stare. You inhale, “Hi. Is Jeongguk in?”

Yoongi scratches his head, muttering, “He’s busy with a client.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” you wave off his concern. “Can I wait here?”

The boy hesitates, looks unsure the more your interaction develops, and he glances between you and the empty waiting area. He relents with furrowed brows, “Sure… Huh, It’s a back tattoo, so it’ll take him a while.”

You shrug and plop yourself onto the leather sofa, seemingly unfazed, “I like waiting.”

Crossing your legs, you take in the studio’s atmosphere, eyes drifting to the dark walls lined with framed artwork and certificates. You spot Jeongguk’s name on many of those.

For the next fifteen minutes, you try distracting yourself by flipping through the stack of tattoo magazines on the coffee table. You wince at inked heads, faces, butts, and even… more private parts. Deciding this world is definitely not for you, you slam the book shut.

By the time an hour passes, you’re fighting a battle with your lack of sleep. The third yawn you manage to stifle, but the fourth escapes before you can stop it. Yoongi, seated at the desk, doesn’t bother hiding his unimpressed stare. Still, he’s polite enough to offer you a glass of water, a coffee, or even a chance to join him for a cigarette break.

You decline all of it, though your throat does feel dry.

Maybe you should have planned this with a bit of rationality. Or at least gotten more sleep. Now, your every blink is slower, eyelids batting to shut and taking longer to flutter open again. Hm, this feels nice. You’ll just let them rest for a bit longer. And longer. And a bit more.

The next time you open your eyes, Jeongguk’s face is inches away, his warm hand resting firmly on your arm. You jolt upright with a startled yelp.

“Jeongguk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an unmistakably mocking smirk. “Hey. You don’t have a bed?”

You sit up, forcing Jeongguk to step back and straighten to his full height. Your neck cranes upward to glare at him, brows furrowed in what you hope is an intimidating glare, though you sport a pout that is all but menacing, “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue, turning back to round the desk and fiddle with the appointment book, clearly unbothered. You take the moment to rub your eyes—only to remember, too late, that you’d worn makeup. A quick glance around reveals how much has changed since you last let your eyelids flutter open. The lights in the studio are dim, the hallway is dark, and every door is shut. Yoongi is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of you in the deathly quiet space.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your parted lips, “Did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry. I was probably really tired from yesterday.”

Jeongguk hums, focus still locked on the book in front of him, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t ask why you came here in the first place, and doesn’t acknowledge your apology. Ugh. This is humiliating.

Before you can stand, you feel something heavy draped over your body. It’s a jacket. Definitely not yours, since you never took it off. At least not consciously. No, this is a worn black leather one on which his scent lingers. You tug it closer, puzzled, and then look up at him, holding it out. “Did I steal this in my sleep?”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose, “Ew, are you a sleepwalker?” Locking the till, he strolls over to you and plucks the jacket from you, casually slipping it on. “No, I put it on you. Wanted to see how long someone could feel safe enough to pass out in my studio. Thinking of turning this place into a daycare. I’ll have you play in the morning, get some lunch, nap time...”

There’s a beat of silence in which his sarcasm lingers in the air, and you stare at him, unamused. He shrugs, smirk unwavering.

You huff, “I regret coming here.”

“Yeah, why did you come here?”

Smoothing down your pink wool sweater, you stand up to stretch with zero shame. Then, fluttering your lashes at him, you assert with a smile, “You’re coming with me to the Christmas markets. This Sunday.”

Jeongguk groans like the idea physically pains him, “Oh, I would fucking hate that.”

Ignoring him, you zip up your puffer jacket and rock on your toes, “Pick me up at seven, okay?”

He glares, unimpressed at your excitement, before heading toward the entrance and pulling a hefty set of keys from his pocket, “I don’t even remember where you live.”

You hurry after him, following him outside and shuffling closer in your coat at the cold air hitting you. Watching as he locks the door and pulls down the rolling shutter with its red-and-black skull graffiti, you chirp, “You’ll have to text me for that.”

Jeongguk rises up again, giving you a slow once-over. He seems distracted by your hair before snorting, “You’re talking like I’m the one who spent their afternoon napping in my studio just to drop this bomb and leave. Couldn’t you just text me this?”

You shrug innocently. He sighs, reaching out for you, “Do you need a ride hom—”

“Bye!”

You spin on your heel and skip off in the opposite direction before he can let his own greeting out, waving a gloved hand behind you. Jeongguk stays where he is, arm still held out.

Do you even have a car? He hopes so—it’s freezing out.

With another sigh, he shakes his head and tugs his jacket tighter around himself. Why are you so fucking weird?

On the fourteenth day of December, your arm is looped tightly through Jeongguk’s as you stroll through the Christmas markets, burying your face further in your scarf to shield against the icy air, and with each few step you gasp at things that the boy next to you finds utterly unimpressive.

You stop at nearly every stand, eyes glowing with the warm Christmas fairy lights strung all around, effortlessly picking up conversations with the vendors and melting even the most stoic faces with the scrunching of your nose at every grin and the exaggerated nods following descriptions of their crafts.

Through all of it, Jeongguk remains put at your side, his arm linked with yours and a subtle pout on his lips. When you tease him about it, he simply shrugs, and you figure it’s just his natural expression. You find that oddly endearing.

He still humors your enthusiasm, offering low hums or murmured praise whenever you exclaim you’ve finally found what you’ve been searching for everywhere, and he offers to pay every time, the gesture so casual that he doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

When you bow to the nth seller, clutching yet another bag of sweet treats tightly to your chest, Jeongguk exhales and resumes slow walking beside you, “I don't like these places.”

You glance up at him, fluffy hat almost slipping off before he promptly secures it back on your head with a gesture so smooth you hardly notice it. You instead wonder, “Then why are we here now?”

He slips his hand into his pocket, “Because you threatened me.”

“With a really good time.”

“If this is your version of a good time, you might as well kick me in the balls. That probably feels better.”

You gasp, halting in your tracks to glare at him. When he lets a small chuckle topple out of him, you think you might forgive him. No, you’re more than sure with the way his smile lingers. You sheepishly look away, muttering, “Don’t tempt me, emo boy.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh yes, you are,” you interrupt, snapping your face back to his. Clearing your throat, you prepare your best imitation of him, exaggerating a frown and lowering your voice, “I’m so different, I hate Christmas.”

Jeongguk scoffs, pulling you tighter to him when a scooter unexpectedly zips past you. You yelp, instinctively shuffling closer to his arm. He continues the conversation casually, unaffected, “That’s the worst impression of me I’ve ever heard. And also, I never said that.”

Releasing the breath you held for a moment too long, you uncertainly keep your slow stroll going, only narrowing your orbs at him, “It’s written all over your face.”

“I love Christmas.”

The admission is small, his voice soft and almost reluctant, like it pains him to reveal something so simple and obvious as loving Christmas. When you lean your chin on the puffed arm of his jacket, he doesn’t look down at you, his gaze fixed ahead, guiding the two of you through the chaos of the busy street.

You chirp, your steps stumbling, “Really?

Only then he shifts his attention to you, steadying you with his other arm wrapping around your figure in what seems like a hug, before he lifts you up by the neck of your coat and retreats just enough to face you. His lips press into a straight line as he nods, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes the more he stares in yours, “Yeah, really. I just don’t like… crowded spaces.”

You can’t help but think back to what happened just a week ago. The exact reason why the spirals in your brain wouldn’t stop twisting and tangling is now slipping from his lips in a voice that quietens as he seems to grasp the delicacy of his own confession.

He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. Drawn-up brows over wide and sparkling eyes—the only part of your face visible beneath your scarf—stare at him with something too tender, too focused, that makes him uneasy. He turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears red not only from the cold, and pulls you along toward another stand, an almost nervous distraction.

It’s your turn to frown. Maybe the one that’s permanently plastered on his face tonight isn’t just a reflection of his usual sullen demeanor. With a knot tightening in your chest, you can’t help but feel like you dragged him into something he truly hated, and that he wasn’t just pretending to.

What if this isn’t just your evil inner voice talking? What if this isn’t just overthinking, but the factual truth of your current reality? He’s hating every second of this but still enduring it because— you catch your breath with a long and strained inhale, because—

“Hey, dimples. You okay?”

Jeongguk moves to stand in front of you, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, a stance eerily reminiscent of that night you were just thinking back to. He nods at you, “Breathe with me, hm?”

You find yourself quickly adjusting to his comforting aura, drawn in by the reassurance in his eyes trained on you, never wavering, watching closely as you begin to mirror the measured rise and fall of his chest, your breathing gradually syncing with his until the tightness in your chest starts to ease.

When you feel your feet touching the ground again, you offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just…” You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes landing on a colorful stand, “Wait here a second, okay?”

Jeongguk lets you slip away, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He takes a few hesitant steps closer, careful not to crowd you but unable to tear his eyes away from your next actions, how your grin comes back on your lips with unpracticed ease, lighting up your face as easy talk flows between you and the seller. A few coins trade hands, and soon you’re holding two churros, their chocolate-dipped ends threatening to drip onto the ground.

You don’t hesitate, biting into one of them before it has the chance to make a mess, and with a quick nod of your head you motion for Jeongguk to follow. He does so, only after taking the churros from your hands, and letting you seek his warmth again with an arm snaking under his. He’s only letting you do this because it’s fucking cold, no other reason.

You walk, and walk, guiding him along until you find a quieter corner, away from the bustle, where you two stand isolated from the rest. The dim lighting casts a softer glow, and the distant hum of chatter and music fades into a gentle background noise.

Glancing up at him, you flash a playful smile before leaning in to bite another chunk of the churro he’s holding, your laughter spilling out as he grimaces in exaggerated disgust and pulls the sweet out of your reach. You settle onto a nearby bench, patting the empty spot beside you invitingly.

Jeongguk is unsure of what this means. He takes slow steps towards you, handing you your churro—which you take eagerly, already chewing on it—before tilting his head back in mild confusion, “But… you wanted to visit the markets.”

You shake your head, your bug eyes meeting his as you speak around a mouthful of sugar and chocolate, “There’s no point if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

The look you’re giving him is one he’s seen countless times before—familiar, and annoyingly reminiscent of ten years ago. It’s the same look that, he’s convinced, is solely responsible for making his knees weak and his fingers jittery, no longer something he can blame on the cold. You’re unbelievably frustrating.

He clicks his tongue, looking away, “You’re fucking weird.”

You giggle, humming, “If weird is a synonym for whipped, then sure.”

He has to fight the twitch of his lips. Fakes a gag instead. You chuckle louder. Only then, he hints at a smile, “C’mon. Let’s go check out some other stuff.”

“But—”

He interrupts, pulling you up by your forearm, “I’m hungry.”

The next hour you spend wandering around is made of Jeongguk’s small, imperceptible ways of cracking: his pout less prominent, more replaced by lips pulled into a tight line or in a mildly pursued scowl as you ask him which beanie looks better—the pink or purple one; his so evident sarcasm as he comments on how the old vendor was totally flirting with you, or when he mockingly adds to your over-the-top excitement every time you spot a dog. All in all, he’s more relaxed. More himself.

You then find yourself standing in front of the churros stall from earlier, the warm scent tugging you closer. Without hesitation, you ask the lady behind the counter for another four churros—this time with extra sugar. You add two thank yous.

To fill the waiting, you pick up casual conversation with the woman, until she pauses mid-sentence, wrinkled hand coming to rest over her heart as her gaze flits between you and Jeongguk, her crinkled eyes lighting with a sudden fondness and a quiet, content smile finds its space on her chapped lips, “You two look perfect together.”

Jeongguk snorts, “Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you, auntie!” You chirp, and your grin is so wide it squeezes your eyes into crescents. You accept the first churro she hands over, biting into it and talking through it, “These are delicious. Is the recipe a secret or can you share it with me?”

The woman laughs, clearly flustered by your energy, and leans in with a conspiratorial expression, though she gives in pretty soon, “It is a secret, but… Oh, c’mon. A pretty lady like you deserves to know.”

You burst into chuckles, joined by auntie’s own rolling and carrying a contrasting warmth to the cold air. Jeongguk, for his part, stands slightly to the side, observing. You still cling to his arm, even as the vendor reaches over to gently smooth her fingers through your curls, complimenting the way they frame your face. You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation, but there’s a dimpled smile stretching on your cheeks that gives you away.

Before you leave, the lady points to Jeongguk, voice growing earnest, “You, handsome. I can see you’re a good guy, so you probably don’t need my advice. But treat her right, yes?”

Jeongguk stills for a second and stumbles over an awkward nod, managing to force a smile that has you stifling a laugh under your scarf. You tug him away with a cheerful wave to your new friend, promising her you’ll come visit again before Christmas.

Once you’re at a safe distance, he mutters, “Why did you not tell her that we’re not together?”

You tilt your head considering his question, “It’s not like she knows us. She looked like she adored you. I didn’t want to ruin that for her. Maybe seeing a young couple like us really means a lot to her.”

Jeongguk observes how the more you explain, the more you’re convincing yourself as much as him, eventually solidifying your reasoning as you nod, muttering some more under your breath. He scoffs, looking away to hide his lips twitching.

When he turns back he’s frowning, though it doesn’t quite match the way he lets you hook arms again, your pastel pink bag hanging from his shoulders. Still, he sulks as though the mere thought of your observation has him shivering, and not with the cold, “We’re not a couple.”

Jeongguk barely gets to let his unnecessarily petty comment out before you drag him with an unusual strength over to another stand, his voice not even touching your ears, “Oh, let’s go over there, Gguk!”

On the twenty-first day or December, you send him a picture of your tattoo.

You had been talking non-stop ever since your… date? Or was it just a hangout? Whatever it was, it’s been a week, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling at a fucking screen too many times a day for his linking. It’s irritating. Even brings his phone with him to the bathroom in case you text him. Not because he cares. No, it’s practical. What if you ever had an emergency and he was the only one who could help?

Most of the time it’s just you sending TikToks, but he clicks on the links with the same urgency he’d reply to a genuine plea for help. He doesn’t really want to think of the reason why.

Now, this picture—it catches Jeongguk off guard.

It doesn’t even look like it’s about the tattoo. Not really. It feels like an excuse, a flimsy pretext for you to show yourself to him. The tattoo—the one he himself inked—is there, yes. But it’s not at all the main focus of the photo that tightens his grip on his phone.

You’re wearing a thin, pink tank top with delicate lace trim, the straps barely clinging to your shoulders. Your fingers hook under the neckline, tugging it down just enough to expose the tattoo nestled between the soft curve of your breasts. The angle of the shot is deliberate, he can tell. Your back arches slightly off what he assumes is your bed, and your face is cropped out, save for your glossed lips, full and slightly parted, catching the dim light.

Jeongguk blinks, hard. Then again. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, the low light of his phone screen doing little to soften the image burning itself into his mind. His eyes dart upward, scanning his surroundings, just to make sure everything is in place. The shop is empty, the door is closed, the hum of quiet settles over the space.

Looking down, the picture still stares back at him paired with a single message.

Annoying [11:39 p.m.]: do you think it’s healed? idk about this stuff, need your help 🥺

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what this is. He alternates between the photo and your words, jaw ticking and tightening more with the seconds flowing.

It’s almost cruel, the way you’re testing him like this. He tries to push the feeling down, to reject the buzz of heat pooling low in his stomach. You know him well enough to be aware that he won’t reply to something like this. A stupid, unnecessary message. The tattoo is healed—he told you that a week ago, clear as day. There’s no reason for you to ask again.

What’s the purpose of this?

He gets a distorted idea when he shifts uncomfortably in place, the dull ache tightening his pants almost unbearable now.

Jeongguk groans and locks his phone, tossing it onto the counter as if that will put an end to this. He tries to refocus on his tasks, the last ones before he clocks off. Cleaning needles, tossing used stencils.

But his heavy balls keep sending desperate, silent prayers to his brain, to please let them have this. Just this once.

It’s been a bad day. Two of his appointments canceled last minute, leaving him to sit around bored. The last client showed up drunk and wouldn’t stop trying to flirt with him. His coworkers were loud and distracting, and to top it all off, the heater broke, leaving the studio freezing cold.

It’s been such a bad day.

So, would there be any harm? It’s not like anyone will know. Not you, not his friends. He’s the only one that will. And he’s far more willing to live with this dirty secret rather than with his hard dick straining achingly in its confines.

Jeongguk abruptly snatches up his phone again, unlocking it to the same picture that caused him to brush the device aside just minutes ago. He lets out a shaky breath, thumb hovering over the screen. You won’t get no reply to him. But if you knew what he was up to right now, you would probably geek. Tease him, with your warm smile that digs dimples in your cheek, hopping on your toes to poke at his chest playfully, with those perfectly manicured hands of yours.

“Shit,” his free hand is already pushing the jeans down along with his boxers, and he drops his weight onto the nearest stool as he grips at the base of his thick cock, eyes devouring the image of you in the empty chat.

He doesn’t zoom in. That would feel too shameless. But he finds it oddly better like this. Is it weird that your text, so innocently worded, is turning him on? That the simple idea of you needing his help is enough to have his hips jerking?

What could you possibly need his help for? Fuck. The different ideas that pool his mind have him squeezing harder at his stinging tip.

Jeongguk focuses on your dainty hand, slim pointer finger snaking under the collar of your flimsy shirt to show yourself to him, and your small boobs spill from the sides with a delicious, soft swell. He hisses when he pictures that same hand working on him instead, his warm mouth stuffed with your stiff nipples, visible through the sheer material.

He can’t help the loud groan leaving his lips, wrist flickering up and down in a motion that feels sloppy way too soon, hips jutting up to fuck into his tight fist. Throwing his head back, he sees you even behind closed eyelids.

He pictures your delicate figure sprawled on his bed, long lashes batting up at him as you sheepishly hide with your cheek to your shoulder. Can clearly make out how you’d sit on his lap instead, unsteady breath fanning over his lips, using his long shaft to make yourself cum. The whole time, he sees the tattoo on your chest, the one that is forever on you, eternally a reminder of him.

When he lets his head topple forward again, his bright screen still stares at him, only because a new message pops up in the chat. He startles, and his cock throbs in his hand.

Annoying [11:52 p.m.]: oh, and i miss you.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse is strained through a loud whine, and only followed by more of his full moans filling the room. His brows knit as his hand moves rapidly, palm collecting the precum spreading embarrassingly fast on his tip and rolling it down his length.

He focuses on your parted lips, the soft curve of your breast, your hard nipples begging to be sucked and spit on. Your last text has flashes of your bug-like eyes staring up at him seizing his mind.

That’s what undoes him. He’s delirious as he lets out his every sound, freely, unchecked, not caring about how loud he is, whimpering as he gets closer to his climax. When he thinks of those eyes locking with his, kneeling before him, eager and willing to swallow his every drop, he cums. Hard.

Jeongguk pumps everything he can out of him, and it’s messy—spilling over his hand, staining his clothes, pooling on the floor. His chest heaves with the effort, and the sensation of abandon he feels is so pleasurable, energy drained but leaving him with a lightness that threatens to make his cock hard again.

Fuck. He can’t afford that happening if you’re not the one attending his needs. This won’t be enough, not until it’s you. He’s insatiable.

Jeongguk needs to hear your voice.

It’s an instinct, and he bends to it. He’s careful, making sure not to tap on the FaceTime option, because if you were to see him right now it’d be glaringly obvious.

When he looks to the side, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the long mirror, and he visibly grimaces at the way his cheeks are flushed, the pearls of sweat coating his forehead causing his bangs to stick uncomfortably to the skin.

Guilty doesn’t even begin to cover it.

With the phone to his ear beeping to eternity, he hesitates, contemplates ending the call before you can answer. But just then, you do.

“Jeongguk! Is everything okay?”

Your voice is familiarly soft, but there’s a trace of concern. Blinking, he brings the device closer again and gulps thickly when he can make out your panting breaths. He clears his throat and puts on his best nonchalant act, “Huh— Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… You just never call. Or text first. This is weird. You sure you’re okay?”

Oh. Is that really what it is like?

Jeongguk never realized this was how he came across—so detached that a simple phone call feels out of character. Your naive honesty hits him square in the chest. God, he needs to get better at this. The irony stings: he just fucking jerked off to your picture and the simple thought of you, while you’re on the other side thinking he’s just a careless piece of shit who doesn’t even know how to call.

The long stretch of silence registers in his brain, and he coughs to buy time, “Yes, I’m sure. I— huh,” he thinks of stuff you usually ask to keep the conversation flowing. Not out of courtesy, but out of genuine interest, the curiosity that makes people want to open up. He’s still not used to that. Still finds it weird.

“How… How was your day?”

It must be equally weird for you because it takes you a longer beat to reply. In that quiet moment, he clenches his eyes shut and feels his jaw tick with shame. And embarrassment. And this icky feeling that makes him feel too mushy for his liking. Hell, what is he doing? He’s never been like this, he’s not supposed to be like this.

But you recover quickly, as you always do, and you smooth over the moment. Fix it all for him like you were born to be just that. Make him feel like he fits in ways that have him exhaling shakily.

Jeongguk senses a foreign drumming in his stomach, and it’s warm but odd, and he loves it but he doesn’t want to.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, cheekily under a mistletoe, Jeongguk realizes he wants you. There’s parts of him that probably knew way sooner. But the parts of him that didn’t, fighting tooth and nail to suppress the mere thought, are just now finally surrendering.

Jeongguk has always found you admirable, back in high school. You had this determination to you. Not only when it came to him. It shone particularly when you catered to others, always finding ways to help, to mend, to offer yourself with nothing less than a fully toothed smile.

But he’s also always thought you two were—and still are—too different to work. He can’t be what you want, let alone what you deserve: someone who can match your enthusiasm and unwavering smiles, your frustrating positivity; someone who sees the world the way you do. No black, no grey, no shades in between. Just bright, hopeful white. Blinding white.

It’s the white making him dizzy, shifting his perspective, having him believing the opposite of what he’s always known. Pushing to be a little more egoistical, deceiving himself that he’s right for you. Because he wants to be. He oh, so selfishly wants people to know he’s the one who finally gets to have you, the one gifted with such a light, unfairly deserving of all the love you carry into every room you walk into.

Just a few days ago, during another one of your increasingly frequent phone calls, you asked him what he was doing for Christmas. He could have lied, come up with something on the spot.

But with how you so easily, and always coax the truth out of him, he let it slip. He told you he’d be alone, words subtly heavy. But they didn’t have the chance to even drop their weight before you were already inviting him to your friend’s party, insisting that he would be the most welcome.

And he’s here, and he sits beside you, and every time you laugh you lean your weight over him, and the room vibrates with the energy you fill it with, and each one of your friends is so enamoured with you, and for reasons he can’t fully understand it fills him with a sense of pride that shouldn’t belong to him. But it does, and it comes with so many other feelings.

You don’t push him to talk. You never force him into the spotlight when he takes a step back, quietly observing, choosing to stay in the background. Because you read him like it’s in your nature to do so, your soul seems to intuitively melt with his, and it intertwines in such a tight knot that he feels it constrict his throat. He knows he’s still alive because his heart is beating, just a little faster with each time you flash your dimples at him.

“Dimples. What are you doing, hm?”

Now, he’s in front of you, a small smile on his lips as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to dangle the mistletoe over both your heads. You’re struggling just a little, your hand unable to reach high enough, and the fake plant awkwardly brushes his hair, the tickling sensation causing his nose to scrunch. You laugh.

Looking up at your swinging movements, you lose your balance for the slightest second. Jeongguk’s hands move instinctively, catching you promptly by the waist to steady your body. But even after that, he doesn’t shift, his warm palms stilling. And when you face him, he’s closer and his chest brushes against yours. From this proximity, he witnesses the Christmas lights painting a galaxy of their own in your orbs.

You beam, “What does it look like? We have to kiss now.”

Jeongguk stares in your expectant eyes, brows wiggling and all. The more his mouth keeps in a straight line, the more the wiggling slows. You eventually come down from your tiptoes, letting the mistletoe fall to the side, tilting your head.

He snorts, looking away briefly to hide an embarrassingly wide grin behind his hand. When he turns back to you, your pout is enough to have him scrambling to meet your gaze.

“On one condition, though.”

You chirp, “Yeah?”

He licks his teeth, reserving you with a smug look, “Admit that you were scared to get your tattoo.”

Your smile vanishes in an instant, your expression falling into mock offense. With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel, pretending to walk away from him. Pretending, only because you know he won’t let you. And you’re proven right when his fingers wrap around your arm, tugging you back with enough force to spin you into him. Suddenly, you’re pressed so close you can feel the heat radiating from him. Your chin nearly touches his chest as you glare up at him, narrowed eyes meeting the mischievous glint in his.

He bites a smile, lips twitching, “C’mon, princess. You wanted to act all tough and shit, but I could feel you shaking.”

Your scoff is loud and incredulous, “You’re such a bitch.”

He only shrugs, “You want my kiss, no?”

“Oh my god,” groaning, it’s your turn to face the side to hide a grin, “Are you always this cocky?”

His chin tilts upward slightly, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, “Say it.”

You whip back around to meet him with a seriousness he hardly ever sees on you, and you even clear your throat, channeling every ounce of the determination he knows you for, every drop of resolve that makes you you. “Yes. I was scared shitless, Jeongguk.”

Foreign excitement brims out of him, not before his eyes widen just a fraction, and his nose scrunches the more he leans closer to you, inches from you, swinging side to side with exaggerated mockery and a grin splitting his face, “See! I knew—hmph.”

There’s no other second to waste.

The condition has been met, and now all the requirements for you to claim what you were promised, your reward, are there. Even more when kissing him means catching him mid-taunt and silencing whatever teasing remark he had ready.

Your lips touch his in effortless ease, breaking the air as they press together. It’s tentative at first, almost uncertain as you feel Jeongguk remain still.

But it doesn’t take him longer to move, mouth molding against yours in a sickeningly sweet hug, tasting each other with quiet curiosity, taking your time to adjust and melt, instructing your bodies to imitate the dance.

Your arms lock around his neck, his stronger and tattooed ones circle your waist, and the way you click together feels so right, almost too perfect, so perfect it scares you. When you arch yourself further into him, even the non-existent space between you unbearable, he accompanies the motion with his wide palms gliding along your back, squeezing you into him, feeling the curve of your hips.

The soft whine that scratches your throat and vibrates against his lips betrays you, along with the useless effort to contain the intensity of what you’re feeling. The emotion disarms you, the sound gasping in your chest, but in Jeongguk’s arms it feels safe to let go.

On Christmas day, you crown a youthful fantasy, the kind you’ll look back to even when you’re older. Jeongguk feels like he’d be the right person to stand by you to do so.

When he reluctantly detaches from you, his face keeps at a safe distance that’d allow him to go back and taste you, not before resting his forehead on yours and whispering, “Merry Christmas.”

You giggle. “Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

2K notes · View notes

sooniebby · 4 months ago

Note

Hey Danny!

A lot of people are asking for another Ito Yuki fic, and you mentioned you don't have any ideas. This isn't really a request, rather a suggestion...

Is Ito Yuki the jealous type? If he is...

So male reader is known as a player, right?. And basically, the idea is that his past conquests confront him, "why do I still see you with Ito Yuki when it's been more than a week?" And all that was happening. People also happen to continually confess to reader... This kinda builds up and leads to jealous sex, I guess? Oh, and you mentioned Ito Yuki also getting confessions, so maybe reader gets jealous, or Ito Yuki is trying to get reader jealous...

Idk, all this revolves around jealousy lol

It's all up to you-

Sorry if this isn't appealing in any way to you, just ignore me!

-♠️

ఌ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘

w.c › 9.1k

warning › This is an OC. His first post. Reader last name is Yoshida. Slut shamming. Homophobia. Decided to make jealousy more angsty/sad

plot › It’s been a month since you’ve been dating Ito Yuki, it’s great but you soon find out everyone in school isn’t exactly happy about that.

kinks › praise, manhandling, semi-public sex, marking, creampie

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“You’re joking. No way in hell you’re no longer single!”

You smiled smugly, puffing out your chest.

That’s right, you, resident playboy, was officially taken. Your friends, Sana and Ryun stared at you for a moment before they began to laugh. You frowned as they continued laughing, obviously not believing you.

“It’s true!” You whined, pouting your lips. “It—Yuki even said he’s been into me since our freshman year!”

“Why would he be into you?” Ryun asked, wiping at a stray tear from his face. It couldn’t be that funny!

Sana sighed, rubbing at her chest. “Yeah, no offense, Yoshida-Kun, but you aren’t exactly relationship material!”

“I can be relationship material.” You muttered, mainly to yourself. Usually you never felt attacked by Ryun and Sana’s words but this time you couldn’t help feeling oddly offended.

Were you really not relationship material?

A knock on the door caused you to turn your attention to the front of the classroom. Everyone in the classroom got ready to sit as the teacher began to start the lesson.

But you couldn’t pay attention. Well it’s not like you ever do.

All you could think about was Sana and Ryun’s words.

When it was finally lunch, you shot up from your desk, startling Ryun and Sana. You grabbed your bento box and sent them a playful wink.

“I got a date! Enjoy lunch without me, losers!” You teased, rushing out of the classroom. Your feet pattered against the ground as you practically dodged every student who got in your way.

A wide grin spread on your lips when you came face to face with your date: Ito Yuki. He was standing by the stairs, looking down at his phone when he heard your loud footsteps.

He glanced up to see you sprinting to him with the widest smile ever. Your cheeks hurt as you waved excitedly. Yuki only lifted his hand slightly to wave before you skid to a stop right in front of him. Well, tried to. It was hard to stop on recently mopped floors.

“Watch out!” You cried out, anyone in your path quickly moving to the side.

Just as you were ready to tumble down the stairs, Yuki easily caught you by the collar of your sweater. You let out a sigh of relief as he tugged you back up. Yuki raised an eyebrow as you gave him a thankful grin.

“Aw~ You saved me!” You giggled, teasingly poking his cheek. To anyone else, Yuki must’ve looked annoyed but for the whole month you two have been dating, you could see the slight smile on his lips.

“You can’t run in the halls,” he said, spoken like a true student council president. You only gave him an apologetic smile. You’d run in the halls again.

“Rooftop?”

“Mhm.”

You grabbed Yuki’s wrist and began tugging him up the stairs to the rooftop. He followed right behind you, occasionally telling you to slow down or you’d trip. The rooftop wasn’t empty with a few other students eating there but you didn’t care.

As you glanced around, trying to decide a perfect spot, Yuki subtly grasped your hand. You looked over as he guided you to a more secluded area. It was on the side of the entrance. Everyone else sat more to the middle of the rooftop.

You plopped down onto the ground as Yuki knelt down beside you. The two of you didn’t say anything for the first few minutes as you ate in silence.

With anyone else, you would’ve felt odd.

But with Yuki, sitting in silence was calming.

“Ah.” You hummed, swallowing a big bite you took of your onigiri. “What do you want to do when we reach our six month anniversary?”

“Hm. I’ll think about it.” Yuki said, reaching over to wipe something off your cheek. “You eat like a child. How did you get some people to sleep with you.”

You grinned, using your free hand to tug down your sweater to show off your collarbone. “With my sexy looks~”

“Cover up or I’ll fuck you right here.”

“Yuki!” You blushed. It was hard getting used to the fact Yuki was more perverted than he let on. You’d think being a playboy would meant you’d have a higher sex drive but it honestly felt like Yuki was insatiable.

“The school festival is in four days. What is your class doing?” Yuki asked, changing the subject. You fixed your sweater before stealing an egg roll from Yuki’s bento box. He only smacked your hand away when you tried to reach for another one.

“We’re doing a monster themed cafe! I’m going to be a werewolf barista.” You said, grinning.

“Will you wear a maid outfit?”

“Pervert… No. I’m a barista! I’ll be in pants.”

Yuki looked disappointed. You only shook your head. The two of you continued eating lunch talking about random things before the warning bell rang. You mentioned skipping to Yuki and he practically stared at you as if you said you wanted to kill his mother.

When you two walked downstairs, you were about to walk away to your classroom when Yuki gripped your arm. You hummed, looking back to ask what was wrong when lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes widen as you stared at him, unable to kiss back. He pulled away and his usual slight smile pulled on his lips.

“Wait for me by the school gate after classes. I’ll walk you home.” He said.

“Don’t you…”

“I’ll skip.”

You watched as he walked away, entering his classroom. You would’ve stayed standing there until the bell rang again. That was your cue to quickly get to class.

Though you only thought about Yuki the entire time. You two weren’t exactly hiding your relationship but Yuki was heavily against public affection and you weren’t going to push it. The most he did was hold your hand.

That was the first time he ever kissed you in public, even if the hallway was empty when he did. The fact he did made you giddy.

To think you were missing out on the little things by only being with people for just a week.

You had previously feared you’d get tired of Yuki but you didn’t want to leave him at all.

Ito Yuki had your heart at this point.

You absentmindedly doodled little hearts on your workbook, not noticing sharp eyes watching you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Hey, ready to walk home?” Ryun asked.

You shook your head, a giddy smile on your face as you clutched your school bag close to your chest. “No can do! I’m going home with Yuki. See ya!” You didn’t wait for him or Sana to answer, rushing out of the classroom.

There was a pep in your step as you changed your school shoes to your sneakers, humming to yourself. You closed the shoe locker shut, turning around only to gasp to see someone behind you.

“Holy!!! Katori..?” You whispered, staring at the boy in shock. A nervous smile pulled on your lips as you bowed your head in a polite greeting.

Katori was one of your former dates. It lasted the usual week back in your second year. Though it had gotten a bit awkward when he ended up being in your class this year. Always so awkward when that unfortunately happened.

He was handsome, that’s why you had sought him out. Tanned skin from playing baseball. An average height of 175 cm (nothing compared to Yuki’s 183 cm). Spiky black hair and sharp eyes.

You and Katori haven’t exactly talked. Well you usually never talked to any of your past dates. Too awkward. Katori’s face looked slightly angry? His eyebrows were furrowed while his jaw was clenched.

“Are you okay…?” You asked, tilting your head.

“I saw you with Ito Yuki.” Was all he said, his gaze narrowed in on you.

“Really?” You muttered, confusion written on your face. “What—?”

“—He kissed you. It’s been over a month since you asked him out.”

“You saw that?”

“It was out in the open.” Katori looked at you as if you were an idiot. “Besides that, why are you and Ito still together? Didn’t you tell me you don’t date?”

You frowned. “What? Why does that matter now? I told you that last year. I can change.”

The sound of banging caused your body to freeze up as Katori slammed his fist against the shoe lockers behind you. You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling the remaining students look at the outburst in shock.

“Someone like you changing? Listen here, I don’t know if you know this, but Ito is a friend of mine. I don’t want you leading him on when all you’ve ever been was the school’s resident slut, got it?”

A friend? Yuki was friends with Katori? You never noticed. You were a bit self-centered at times but Yuki never really mentioned his friends to you. Ryun and Sana had other friends that you don’t remember the faces of.

“Resident slut..?” You whispered. You knew your reputation wasn’t exactly the best but was that what everyone thought of you? The fact no one was even helping, just staring at you was telling enough.

Did even Sana and Ryun feel that way about you?

“Katori.” A voice called out, catching everyone’s attention. Everyone looked over to see Yuki walking over. You could see Sana and Ryun right behind him, a shocked look on their faces.

You almost felt embarrassed.

Katori pulled away from you. “Ito—”

“—Just because schools over doesn’t mean you can’t get in trouble for fighting.” Yuki said, moving to stand in front of you. A thankful sigh left you as you felt safe with Yuki acting like a barrier.

“Seriously?” Katori rolled his eyes. “Are you dating him, Ito?”

“Yes.” Gasps rung through the students. You couldn’t help but grin. Yuki didn’t even hesitate.

“I never thought you’d fall for his nonsense. Sleeping around with everyone in the school, he probably has diseases by now.” Katori shook his head. A few snickers were heard. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stared down at your sneakers.

“Yet you slept with him during your second year, having known his reputation. I’m not childish enough to care.”

Katori looked up at Yuki in shock. “Are you—? Are you seriously defending him?”

“He’s my boyfriend. You were my friend.” Yuki reached behind himself and grabbed your hand, tugging you forward. He reached down and kissed your forehead. “Mind your own business next time, Katori-San.”

With that, Yuki opened his shoe locker and changed into his outdoor shoes. He didn’t even spare anyone else a glance as he dragged you out the school’s front door. It took a moment before you began to keep up with his brisk pace.

The walk home was silent but somehow still comfortable.

It wasn’t until you were only a minute away from your home that Yuki finally said something.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry he embarrassed you.”

You hummed. “It’s okay… I’m guessing he saw you kiss me in the hallway. I hope I don’t bring down your reputation.”

“I don’t care about my reputation if it comes with the cost of hurting you.”

Your eyes widen as you glanced up at Yuki, your cheeks feeling warm. Yuki was staring straight ahead, his hand tightening its’ grip on yours.

The rest of the walk home was quiet—you couldn’t say anything. You reached your house just a second later. Just before you walked inside, you leaned on your toes to press a kiss on Yuki’s lips before rushing inside.

It felt as if your heart was beating out of your chest after kissing him. You felt happy.

But despite his reassurance, you couldn’t help but think about what happened earlier.

Did.. everyone really view you with such disgust..?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

The school festival was in two days. Your class was excitedly getting ready for the monster themed cafe. You were helping a classmate pick out what sweets he should get to sell when Sana tapped you on the shoulder.

You excused yourself, following her out of the classroom. Ryun was standing there as well, a frown on his face. This couldn’t be good.

You three haven’t exactly been on talking terms.

It was childish to not talk it out with them but you weren’t exactly in the mood. Or at the very least you wanted some time to gather your thoughts before bringing it up to them.

Looks like you’d get your chance.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Sana said bluntly, crossing her arms across her chest. “What gives?”

“Yeah, are you embarrassed about what happened on Monday with Katori? It’s nothing new.” Ryun sighed. Sana quickly glared at him as you tilted your head.

“Nothing new..? What do you mean?”

Sana shook her head. “People have been talking behind your back since second year.” She admitted. “No one has ever said it out loud to your face before though.”

“You guys knew and didn’t tell me?”

Ryun shrugged. “It wasn’t like it was rumors. It was only things that were true. Besides, Sana and I always tease you about being a slut anyway.”

Your jaw clenched as you glared at them. “You two are my friends! They are strangers! You were really allowing them to say those things without defending me?”

“What would we say, Yoshida?” Sana asked. “You were sleeping around and everyone was curious to how you somehow hadn’t had any STDs.”

“I practice safe sex!” You whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract a crowd. “Did you not think that it would hurt my feelings to learn that almost everyone in this school had a problem with me?”

“Well what did you expect?!” Ryun suddenly cut in. “You’re a playboy, how is everyone supposed to think about you? Sleeping with a new person each week since first year is insane, Yoshida!”

“Is that really the only reason you haven’t been talking to us?” Sana asked. “Because Katori hurt your feelings?”

“Hurt—? I’d like you to be able to be called a slut in front of everyone else and just bounce back with ease!” You didn’t notice a few of your classmates beginning to pay attention to the little spat in the hallway. “You’re my friends, I shouldn’t have to explain that to you!”

“Are we really your friends? Because you won’t even allow us to call you by your first name. But Ito Yuki can after only talking to you for a month. What’s with that, huh?” Ryun spat out, inching close to you.

You frowned. “I told you before! Hearing my first name is weird! Not even my parents call me by my first name. I only recently started getting used to hearing it because of Yuki.”

“It’s like you’re ditching us for your new plaything.” Sana sighed, shaking her head. “What? Is he that good in bed? We’ve always been there for you, what happened, huh? Did sleeping around cause your brain to turn into jelly?”

“I doubt your relationship with him will last long,” Ryun cut in. “You’ll get bored soon and find a new shiny tool. You told us before, sticking with the same person gets boring. A slut like you needs new engagement all the time.

“Will you really cling so hardly on Ito when even he can drop you at any time? He has girls always chasing after him. Who’s to say he won’t get uncomfortable about how everyone talks about you?”

Sana nodded. “It was getting hard being your friend. The rumors were beginning to spread onto us. Sluts hang out together, that’s what they were saying. Ito Yuki is too good for you, do you really want to drag him down with you like you dragged us down?”

You stared at Sana and Ryun in shock, their words beginning to tune out. It felt like a tsunami had passed through you. Was this how they fault all this time? When they were joking around with you—was it how they truly felt this entire time?

It was too much. Your eyes flickered over to your classroom door to see your classmates staring at you. Katori there as well, staring at you with a wide smirk. You looked down at your shoes, your breathing getting heavy.

“Oi!” A voice suddenly yelled, catching everyone’s attention. The classmate you were speaking to earlier about what sweets to buy was suddenly standing in front of you.

He glared at Sana and Ryun before turning his attention over to your nosy classmates. “Mind your own business!! You guys haven’t finished decorating!” He yelled. The students quickly rushed back into the classroom.

Sana blinked. “Suzuki-San?”

Suzuki looked back over at you three. “If you wanted to have a private conversation with Yoshida, you shouldn’t have done it in the fucking hallway! Scram, I gotta talk to Yoshida about actual important stuff, like our school festival that is on Friday!” He glared at them before they reluctantly walked back into the classroom.

You kept your gaze down as Suzuki patted you on the back.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

“It was nothing. Living in a small town makes them hungry for any sort of drama,” Suzuki laughed. “You’re the only interesting person in this whole school.”

Your gaze flicked up to Suzuki as you stared at his face. “Have I…?”

“No, no! I’m straight.”

“Oh. Why did you defend me?”

“What you do in the bedroom is none of my business. Besides, you wouldn’t be a playboy if no one took you up on your offers.” Suzuki gave you a smile. “Everyone who got with you knew who you were. I’ve seen people that slept with you even call you a slut. I think they’re just jealous you never wanted to date them.”

“Jealous?”

“Mhm. At first it was only a few people who constantly talked behind your back but ever since you and Ito-San started dating it’s gotten worse. A few of your exes are jealous they didn’t get to ‘tame’ you.”

“Tame?!” You gasped, the stray tears in your eyes being blinked away.

“Yeah.” Suzuki hummed. “Some people that slept with you had the goal of becoming your partner. I always wanted to tell you but I had no proof, only word of mouth. Add in with that it’s Ito Yuki, student council president who had a recent ‘glow-up’ in the eyes of the girls, everyone has a reason to be mad.”

You were shocked for the most part. People wanted to tame you? Gross. You shook your head at the thought. But your worst fear was true. Yuki’s reputation was being dragged down because of you.

“Have they been talking bad about Yuki?”

“Mhm. Especially Katori after Ito’s fight with him. Mainly people waiting until you give him a STD or you cheat on him. A few girls are upset that he’s gay, saying that you turned him… Whatever that means.”

Great. Absolutely great. You had knew that Yuki still got confessed to before he made it public that you were dating. Those girls never gave up even when Yuki turned them without a second thought. It wasn’t like you thought he’d cheat on you.

It was more so that maybe of those girls would be better for him.

“Thanks, Suzuki.” You whispered, wanting to just lay down.

“It’s nothing. I couldn’t be a bystander anymore.” Suzuki admitted. “You should get some water, I’ll tell the teacher when she comes back.”

You hummed and walked away, ready to chug some water from the water fountain. As you walked past some classrooms, you skid to stop in front of Yuki’s classroom.

You were curious to what they were doing for the school fair when you noticed some giggling. Your eyes landed in on a girl walking up to Yuki with a shy smile on her face. She was clutching a note to her chest as her friends practically pushed her to Yuki.

The girl would’ve fell had Yuki not caught her. He helped her to her feet and was about to turn his attention back to the board when she tugged on his sleeves. You could only watch as the other students began to coo and giggle, watching the girl get ready to confess.

You wanted to stop it but your feet felt glued to the ground. The girls friends began chanting “confess” over and over again before the girl finally blurted out her confession.

She was cute, typical girl next door. The boys beside Yuki began to cheer Yuki on, patting him on the back. Did.. Did they not know you were his fucking boyfriend? That Ito Yuki had a boyfriend?

Someone said something that you couldn’t hear properly. A few whispers ensue. You strained to hear them properly.

“Well, it’s not like Yoshida is known for staying with his partners for long.”

“Yeah, he’s probably just using Ito-Kun anyway.”

“Yoshida is so disgusting,” one of her friends laughed. “Why wouldn’t someone want Kaede-Chan! She isn’t infested with 1,000 STDs! Right, Ito-San?”

“Uhm, Ito-Kun… Are you really in love with Yoshida..?” Kaede whispered, her doe eyes staring up at Yuki. “I’ve had a crush on you since first year, I doubt Yoshida has liked you as long as I have. He probably doesn’t even know you like—”

You couldn’t hear anymore. You sprinted away.

Tears were streaming down your face as you ran up the stairs to the rooftop. You just wanted this cruel day to end. To think all these three years your school has viewed you as parasite the entire time. Your own friends was getting tired being your friend.

And you might lose your boyfriend to a girl that was better for him in the eye of the school hierarchy.

You bursted through the rooftop door and crashed into the walled fence. Your fingers gripped at it as you rest your forehead against the cool metal. Heavy hiccups left you as you tried to calm down.

Maybe if you had been normal.

If only you weren’t a playboy.

No matter, you’d set Ito Yuki free.

Even if you didn’t want to.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You clutched your school bag to your chest as you stood by the school gate. It had been two hours after school, you were waiting for Yuki to finish with his council president duties. He had texted you to go home but you hadn’t responded.

This needed to end.

“(Name)-Chan?”

Your heart fluttered as you looked back to see Yuki. He had his usual slight grin as he walked over to you. But it quickly dropped when he took in your puffy red eyes.

“What happened?” He asked, his hand reaching out to touch you but you quickly stepped away. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you. “Are you okay?”

You only nodded. “Yeah, I just. Uhm. We should break up.”

It was silent before Yuki let out a laugh. “Funny. What really happened?”

“No. We should break up.” You said louder, standing up straight.

Yuki’s fox like eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “What the hell are talking about? You want to break up?”

“Yea, we aren’t compatible. We don’t even really know each other.”

“We were getting to know each other. Don’t give me bullshit reasons.”

“We just shouldn’t be together!”

“Why?!”

“Because I’m the school’s resident slut and you deserve someone like Kaede!” You yelled, feeling your eyes water as you quickly looked away. “Besides I’m… I’m bored. I’m used to having a new partner each week! I can’t.. I can’t stay with one guy.”

“Kaede—? Did you see the confession? I rejected her.”

“I knew you would…”

“Then what? You think that I really believe you can’t stay faithful? Who’s been feeding this bullshit to you?”

“It’s true! I’ve practically fucked everyone in this damn school, you were just another week. I.. I even talked about how virgins are the best partners!”

You looked back at Yuki, wanting to get this over with. But to your shock, Yuki almost looked hurt at your words. Fuck, you couldn’t just break things off easily, could you? You mentally cursed yourself for telling that when a grin pulled on Yuki’s lips.

It wasn’t a grin that reached his eyes.

“You act like I don’t know what type of person you were before I said yes. I even knew your fucking catchphrase! You think I didn’t know what you usually liked in a partner? Yoshida (Name), I’ve liked you since our first year, I only ever wanted you. I don’t care what everyone else thinks.”

You looked away, shaking your head. “We wouldn’t last anyway! I’m not the type of partner you would want to bring to your parents! I’m known as a slut by every student in this school, who’s to say no one else knows?! We’re not that big of a town!”

“(Name)…”

“Just let me break up with you before I drag you down with me.”

“You’re so childish.”

You bristled, biting your lip. “Whatever. We’re over.” You quickly walked away, not looking back even as Yuki called your name.

This was for the best, even if you didn’t want it to be.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Who pissed in your cereal?”

You glanced up from your pillow to see your mother staring at you with a bowl of noodles. She gently placed them on your desk and sat down on the chair, turning it to face you.

“What happened, Plum? You look miserable.”

You only whimpered, shaking your head. “I found out… that I’m the school’s resident slut..”

A slight laugh left your mother. “So? So was I.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Mhm. I slept with almost every boy in my grade level. They were pretty bad for the most part. I didn’t stop until I met your dad in college.” Your mom said, sighing at the mention of your father. “A hunk. Great in bed—ah well you don’t need to know that.

“Wait, have they been bullying you? Do I need to visit the school?!” She asked, a frown on her face.

“No. That would be even more embarrassing.”

She sighed. “If you say so. But that can’t be the only reason.”

“I found out Sana and Ryun were spreading the rumors behind my back.”

“Excuse me?” A look of anger spread on her face as her upper lip turned up into a snarl. “I need to get their keys back. How dare they hurt my baby behind his back! Did anything else happen?!”

“I broke up with my boyfriend to protect his reputation.”

“Well that’s a bit dumb.”

You frowned, looking over at her. “What do you mean?”

“What I said. That’s dumb. Who cares about high school reputation? Was your boyfriend bothered by you being called the school’s slut?”

“No…”

“Then what makes you the one who gets to decide that the relationship ends?”

“I…”

Your mother gave you a smile. “You tried to do the right thing even if it was a bit silly. If your boyfriend wasn’t bothered by it, you can’t just decide he was. What it really was is that you were probably jealous or even scared that he would think he could do better than you. So you wanted to end it before he could hurt you.”

Why did your mother have to be so smart?

She got up and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Try to make up with him, if he was really upset about the breakup, he’d want you back quickly.” With that, she left the room, letting you wallow in your thoughts.

Maybe you really did screw up.

Shit, would Yuki even forgive you if you came crawling back?

You groaned. You just wanted to sleep.

If only you just talked it out with him.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Sorry, this is all we have. Someone forgot to buy fake hair.”

Suzuki helped you tied the fluffy tail to your waist. You slipped on the headband with furry ears as you glanced at the mirror. It was the school festival. You were dressed as the werewolf barista though you looked more like a dog. You wore a white button up with black slacks.

You glanced over at Suzuki to see him dressed as a vampire. He was dressed similar to you but with fake fangs and a bit of blood on his face.

“It’s so hard to talk with these fangs.” Suzuki groaned, slipping them back on. You only grinned as you placed the food on the table. Your eyes glanced around the classroom that was turned into a spooky cafe. Everyone was dressed up as some sort of monster.

You didn’t pay any mind to Sana and Ryun, not wanting to talk to them. They also made no effort to speak to you. Your mom really did get the spare keys she gave them back, basically banning them from your house.

It still hurt, realizing you lost two childhood friends.

Though you technically gained Suzuki. He was cool and didn’t talk badly about you behind your back.

Small victories.

The festival finally began at 5:00 pm. Everyone in town was welcomed. At first your class’s cafe wasn’t gaining much attention. Suzuki looked a bit worried so you tried to come up with an idea.

You walked out of the classroom, looking at the groups of people attending the other classes. As someone passed by you grabbed their arm. The person was a girl, one of your past dates, Kazuha.

Kazuha flinched, probably shocked before she saw it was just you who grabbed her. She grinned. “Yoshida-Kun! Ah you look so cute! Lemme take a picture.” She pulled out her camera and quickly snapped a couple of pictures before you could even attempt to pose.

You forgot she was apart of the photography club.

“Anyway, what’s up?” She asked, giving you a kind smile.

“Ah, my classes cafe isn’t gaining enough of attention… Could you help us gain some traction? I don’t know what to do.”

Kazuha hummed, nodding her head. “Lucky for you, I still find you cute.” She teased. “Leave it to me, Yoshi!” With that, she sprinted off before you could even ask what her plan was.

She was only gone for a few minutes before coming back with a pep in her step. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’ll be kissing whoever spends over five dollars at the cafe! Just a kiss on the cheek, don’t worry.” She said, a smug smile on her face.

You almost complained that you were taken before remembering that no, you weren’t. “I doubt anyone would be that interested in kissing me.” You said, frowning.

Turns out you were wrong.

It didn’t take long before a group of students came over, looked to be the volleyball team. They practically bought everything. Suzuki had to tell a classmate to bring out the extra food they had stored.

“Can we also take a picture?” One of the boys said, a shy smile on his face. You only mutely nodded, taking a few selfies with them. There wasn’t anyone on the volleyball team you had dated, they were mostly filled with first years.

You gave each boy a quick peck on the cheeks, every single one practically giggling excitedly when you pulled away. After they left, a group of girls came in. They quickly bought some food before rushing over to you.

“You’re so cute! Can I take a picture instead of the kiss??”

“You should be an idol! So cute.”

“Ah, thanks.” You blushed, taking a quick selfie with each girl. “Are you…?”

“We’re first years!” One girl answered. “I heard so many weird rumors about you but you’re so shy in person!” She said, giggling.

“I’ve only heard third years talk bad about you.”

“Ah, right! So homophobic too,” the one with bangs rolled her eyes. “Don’t let them bother you. They’re just jealous you’re cute. Are you supposed to be a dog?”

“A werewolf.”

“Well it’s a good attempt!”

“Ahah, thanks. Please recommends us to any friends!”

It seemed like first years either didn’t care or possibly didn’t know about your reputation. It made sense, you didn’t attempt to sleep with any first years. You mainly stuck to people in your year, only a few second years ever got the chance with you.

Well that was good, only third years hate you.

A few more people came in after. Again, mostly first and second years. The food was almost out before it even reached 7 pm.

“Everyone’s going to be kissing your feet after this,” Suzuki grinned. “We would’ve been screwed without you.”

Kazuha hummed, “and without me! I was the one who came up with the plan.”

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have your own class to bother?” Suzuki rolled his eyes while Kazuha just sent a smug grin.

“I’m mainly surprised people really wanted a kiss from me.”

“Well you are attractive.” Suzuki said bluntly. “In my personal opinion, you’re the school’s heartthrob, not Ito Yuki.”

Kazuha nodded in agreement. “I mean, it wasn’t like you ever ran out of people to date.”

“Mhm.” You glanced around the makeshift cafe, everyone beginning to wine down. A few students even taking off their costumes now. You fixed your tail, popping open two buttons of your shirt to get cool. “Looks like we might have to close up early, there’s only two sweets left.”

“Oh! Let me have them for free!” Kazuha grinned.

“No way! Pay like everyone else!” Suzuki glared at her. He took out his fake fangs and sighed in relief, tossing them in the trash. “I’m never wearing that thing again. I think it scraped my gums.”

“Really? Let me check.” You leaned in, motioning for Suzuki to open his mouth. He complied and leaned down so you could get a clear view. There did look to be a small little wound on the right side of his gum. “Ah, it looks like it irritated the right side. Nothing cut open though.”

“Oh that’s good.” Suzuki hummed. “Anything else?” You leaned in even closer, reaching up to gently grasp Suzuki’s jaw so you could tilt his head down.

“Uh… Yoshi… Suzuki. We have a customer.” Kazuha whispered, her voice weirdly quiet. You glanced over at her, confused on why she was sounding like that. Plus it wasn’t like your other classmates couldn’t handle the customer.

Suzuki pulled away from you, no longer blocking your view of the front door of the classroom.

Your breathing hitched at who was at the door.

Ito Yuki.

And he didn’t look happy at all. His hair was slicked back with gel, a singular strand pulled over his face. Dressed in a suit and tie, you couldn’t help but be memorize at how handsome he looked.

He walked into the classroom, heading straight towards you. He practically ignored Suzuki’s greeting and grabbed the last two sweets left on the main table.

“Are these two together over five dollars?” He asked, his gaze only on you.

“Yeah.” Suzuki answered before you could. “Are you going to take up our offer—”

Suzuki didn’t get to finish when Yuki tossed the sweets back on the table and stepped right up to you. His hands gripped your waist, one sliding up to cup your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss.

Your eyes widen as you could only grip at his shirt in shock. His eyes narrowed in on yours as he pressed your body against his. A strangled moan left you as he bit your bottom lip, easily turning the peck into a hungry kiss. His tongue immediately slipped into your mouth as you felt your legs turn into jelly.

It almost felt hard to breathe as he kissed you breathlessly. He chased your mouth when you attempted to pull away for some air. His tongue was exploring your mouth as if he was hungry and he wouldn’t survive without the taste of you.

The fact your classmates were still in the classroom wasn’t lost on you. Sure, you weren’t particularly shy about asking out people in public or shamelessly flirting with PDA, this was brand new. Especially when Yuki wasn’t into public affection.

Your moans were hardly muffled by Yuki’s mouth, though it seemed to spur him on. His grip on your waist slipped down before grabbing a handful of your ass. A shameful squeak left your lips when he finally decided to pull away.

The only sound that could be heard was your heavy breathing. Yuki only stared down at you before moving to grab your hand instead of your ass.

Kazuha and Suzuki looked shocked to say the least. Though Kazuha gave you a thumb ups with a smile, nodding her head. Suzuki looked mostly traumatized at the sudden make out sesh. A few of your classmates were whispering but you couldn’t hear them properly. You could feel Sana and Ryun staring at you.

Katori looked pissed but that only made you happy.

“You can clean up without him,” Yuki simply said, looking at Suzuki.

Suzuki only let out a soft ‘huh’ as Kazuha quickly nodded, a grin on her lips. “Of course, of course!! Go have fun you too! Be safe!”

Yuki hummed and began dragging you out of the classroom, not waiting for you to even attempt to refuse. As they walked out, Suzuki glanced back at the two sweets left on the table.

“He didn’t pay…”

You had to pick up the pace to keep with Yuki’s long strides. Though finally out of your classroom, you got to see what the other classes did for the festival. When you passed Yuki’s classroom, it looked like their theme was mad scientist cake decorating.

You wondered where his lab coat was but didn’t think he’d be in the mood to answer such a question right now. He finally came to stop when he reached the student council’s room and pulled you inside. The door closed with a slam as he turned the lock.

Now that you two were alone, it suddenly dawned on you that you were broken up for only two days. When it almost felt weeks. Wow, you were a simp for him at this point.

“What was that?” He asked, his jaw tense.

“What was what?”

“Seriously? You break up with me two days ago and suddenly allowing everyone to kiss you for a school festival?”

“I didn’t come up with it… Kazuha thought it would be good to help us with sales. I didn’t even think people would be interested in kissing me.”

“You have such low self esteem for being a playboy,” Yuki said, letting out a joyless laugh. “You think people slept with you so easily for only week without being physically attracted to you?”

“I…” You shook your head. “Anyway what was that?! You just kissed me in front of everyone! You told me you don’t like public affection.”

“I had to make sure no one got the idea that you were suddenly single.” Yuki easily confessed. “Your class seems to be the one spreading most of the rumors around school, they’ll let everyone know that you’re mine.”

“But… I’m not yours. I ended the relationship.”

“Yeah, without my feelings being taken into consideration. I thought about it, we’re not breaking up. You can’t just end things.”

“Yuki, I’m not good for you. I don’t want to bring you down.”

“(Name), it’s fucking high school. Who gives a shit what they think? Do I have to fuck you brainless to make you understand that I want you no matter what they think?”

You blushed, looking away in embarrassment.

Yuki let out a laugh. “That’s all you need.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you close, his free hand reaching up to cradle your face. “I’ll fuck you until you understand you’re never leaving me. I’ve waited so long for you—I’m not letting other people’s jealousy take you away from me.”

His hands grabbed your button up and easily tore it open, buttons popping loose. You gasped as you tried to salvage the shirt but he easily pulled it off. The room’s cool air brushed against your skin.

You looked up at Yuki, eyes wide. “In here?!” You whispered, remembering the third floor wasn’t exactly empty.

“Mhm.” Yuki took off his glasses, placing them on your face. Your vision was blurred from the prescription. When you attempted to take them off he gripped your wrist. “Keep them on. I’m still angry at you.”

A gulp left your throat as you watched a blurry image of Yuki. You could still make out what he was doing but could no longer see his face clearly. Cold hands pressed against your stomach, causing you to tense up. He slowly pushed you back until you laid down on the table.

“Do you know why I like you?” He suddenly asked. You only let out a confused hum. “When I moved to this town, I was pissed. From Tokyo to something so minuscule. Besides, I was a new kid coming to a high school where the kids knew each other since elementary.”

Wet lips pressed against your stomach. You gasped, looking down to see but Yuki reached up and gripped your face. He pushed your head back to rest on the table before pulling away.

“I didn’t think anything of you until I saw you in that maid outfit. Then I noticed how you portrayed this persona of yourself: the smooth talking playboy but deep down you were cute when you thought no one was looking.”

You clamped your hands against your mouth to muffle the surprised moan that left your throat. Yuki’s teeth sunk into your stomach as he bit hard on your soft flesh. He left two more marks, each harder than the first.

“You were more sensitive than you let on. I noticed whenever your dates didn’t go through the full week with you that you would get sad. Pouty and moping around the halls until you find a new person.”

His hands grasped your waist. His thumbs gently digging into your skin. Soft kisses pressed against your stomach, his tongue teasing your belly button. He unbuckled your tail, letting it lay dejected on the floor. But then his teeth bit into your skin, earning a loud squeak from you.

“Anyone who even looked at you wrong made you upset. I only watched you from afar, you never made an attempt to ask me out. But I always watched you ask out other people. That stupid catchphrase of yours got on my nerves.”

The sound of fabric tearing caused your hips to flinch as cool air conditioner teased your now bare thighs. His mouth immediately bit at your inner thigh. His hands held your hips down to stop you from bucking away from his touch.

“I wondered all the time if you would just stay that way. Asking out people and leaving them after the week. How could that be satisfying to you? But during our summer break after our first year, I came across you at the park. I saw you crying your eyes out.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at the mention of that incident. His glasses slid down your nose from your constant movement. Yuki moved to your left thigh, biting hard on the skin. You whimpered, one hand reaching down to grip his hair.

“I wanted to talk you but your friends ended up coming over. All I could think was that I never wanted to see you cry like that again. The thought of you frowning made me angry. Those feelings towards you might’ve just been infatuation but I knew I wanted you in my arms.”

“Yuki…” You moved to sit up when his hand immediately pushed you back into the table. You grunted in surprise, his glasses falling off your face from the force. It toppled to the ground, one of the lenses cracking from the force.

You looked back up to quickly apologize for not protecting his glasses when you finally got a good look at Yuki. His eyes were red. He was.. crying?

“I didn’t say you could speak.” He said, his voice harsh. If you hadn’t seen his face—you wouldn’t have thought he was crying. “I was ready back then to just watch you from afar. You didn’t seem to want a permanent relationship and I wasn’t going to force myself on you. But then you asked me out…”

He looked down at your thighs, his hands moving to your hips as his fingers teased your boxers.

“At that moment, I knew I couldn’t admire you from afar anymore. You were within my grasps and I needed to make you mine. Make you obsessed so you won’t want anyone else.” He let out a joyless laugh. “I knew exactly what you were saying when you mentioned the week being over. But I wasn’t going to allow you to leave me.”

His hand grasped your boxers as he glanced up at your face. He didn’t say anything as he slowly began to tear the fabric open. You blushed, your body suddenly feeling hot at the sight.

“You know, Yoshida (Name).” He whispered, a grin on his face. “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met. And I’m so fucking angry that you decided to end our relationship without thinking about me. But it’s okay, you just don’t see yourself the way I see you.

“Hit me three times if you need to stop.” Was all he said. He grabbed the torn fabric of your shirt and used it to blindfold you. You whimpered, gripping at his arm just to make sure he didn’t disappear. “You can’t be loud, the festival is still going on. Though I don’t mind if everyone learns how good I fuck you.”

You bit your lip as his hand grasped your cock. His thumb rubbed against your slit, teasing it slowly as you withered beneath him. Now having your sight gone made the feeling more intense for some reason. You wouldn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his touch.

His hand released your cock, letting it plop against your stomach. Your body twitched as you waited for him to touch you again. When you didn’t feel anything you began to whine.

Your hips twitched when something wet teased your hole. “W..What was that?!”

“Shh, it’s lube.”

“You carried lube to school?!” Two fingers rubbed against your hole, spreading the cool lube. A gasp left your throat when Yuki slowly pushed in two fingers at once. The burn was strong as your back arched against the table.

“I didn’t. A friend gave it to me.”

“You..You’re friends—ngh… friends with someone who brings lube to school?!”

“Mhm. It’s good to have friends with different interests.”

“Different interests… ah!”

The squelching of the lube filled the room as you bit your lip, trying to muffle your whimpers. You could hear people walking past the room. It should’ve made you anxious but honestly you felt so horny.

Yuki curled his fingers, rubbing right against your prostate. A wet cry left your lips. Your hands digging into the table for some form of purchase.

Before you could reach your high, his fingers pulled out. It was silent for a moment—only the sounds of people walking past. You briefly wondered if he left when something pressed against your ass.

His hands gripped your waist, keeping you still as he slowly thrusted into your hole. You clamped your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan from the stretch.

“I wanted to mess with you more but we can’t stay in here for too long.”

Your vision blurred—the soft blues of the moonlight stabilizing your sight. Yuki tossed your makeshift blindfold onto the pile of torn clothes. You gazed up at him, finally able to properly take him in once more.

His hair was messy. The sleekness gone. Bangs threatening to fall over his face as he ran his hand through his strands. His eyes were still puffy and red.

“Yuki… I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Yuki’s eyes widen, just a bit as he stared down at you. It was still hard to really tell what he was feeling through expression alone. You wanted him to say something, to say if he forgave you or not.

“You’re still not off the hook.” He finally said, a slight smile on his lips. “I’ll punish you properly another time. For now, I’ll show you just how much I love you.” His hands reached up and grasped your waist, pulling you to the end of the table.

A shuddered gasp left your lips as he slowly thrusted in deeper. Your hands gripped at his bicep, body gently moving at his rhythmic thrusts.

Yuki leaned down and pressed a kiss to your neck. His mouth kissed down to your collarbone as he bit at your skin. You whimpered—his hips picking up in pace.

The sound of skin slapping bled into the room with your raising pitch in moans. Your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him in even closer.

“I like you.” Yuki suddenly whispered, lips pressed against the underneath of your chin. He slammed his hips against your ass, earning a loud cry from you. You quickly bit your lip to try and muffle yourself as he kept a faster pace.

“I like your smile.” His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips. “I like your laugh. I like your eyes.” Hips slammed into you, holding its position as his cock grazed your prostate. “That smile you have whenever you’re going to be a menace.”

Your nails dug into his back as small gasps left you. His cock was now repeatedly rubbing against your prostate. Your toes curling from the pleasure as you had to fight everything fiber of your being to not scream out.

“(Name)-Chan.” Yuki whispered, grunting when you involuntarily tightened around his cock. He let out a chuckle. “(Name)-Chan, I love you.” His voice soft and sweet, a stark contrast to his harsh thrusts.

You were going to say something but Yuki didn’t allow you. He kissed you, pressing his body against yours as he was unforgiving in his pace. His hips slammed into your ass as the sound is skin slapping filled the room.

You didn’t even attempt to muffle your moans. Your prostate constantly rubbed and pressed against with his animalistic thrusting. Yuki greedily swallowed your moans as you pulled him closer.

It didn’t take long before you reached your high, your back arching as you came. Yuki didn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm. Your hands trailed up to tangle in his hair as you felt his cock begin to twitch.

Yuki pulled away from the kiss, your mouths barely touching as you took deep breaths. His hips stuttered as he let out a low groan, gripping your hips as he slammed deep inside. Something warm coated your walls as you let out a whimper.

You couldn’t be mad about him not using a condom. At least not right now. You quickly kissed him again. It was a slow kiss, the previous hunger finally satiated.

“I… I love you too.” You whispered, pulling away from the kiss to look him in the eye. “What… should we do for our sixth month anniversary?”

Yuki raised an eyebrow as he let out a laugh. “So suddenly?” He leaned in, his nose rubbing against yours. “It’s actually our first day together as a couple, since we just got back together.”

“Really?” You asked. “But you didn’t ask me out yet.”

Yuki pulled away as he stared down at you. He reached down and gently cradled your face, his thumb rubbing against your lips.

“Hey, do you wanna make out?”

It took a moment before it fully registered. Your lips quivered as you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Shit… It sounds so stupid when you say it back.” You sighed, a bit embarrassed that the sentence was your catch phrase for so long.

“Do you?” Yuki simply asked.

You looked up at him and grinned. Your eyes felt teary as you whispered,“Mhm. Let’s make out.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I’ve had a crush on you since first year, I doubt Yoshida has liked you as long as I have. He probably doesn’t even know you like—”

“—Are you guys done?” Yuki cut her off, brushing off a hand that touched his shoulder. He glanced around the room before sighing. “1,000 STDs? Are you all five? Yoshida (Name) is my boyfriend.”

Kaede stared up at Yuki in shock. “But—”

“—But nothing. This class is supposedly filled with students who test the best, so I assumed you wouldn’t be so childish. Speaking such nasty language about my boyfriend in front of me is insane. Get it through your head, I’m dating Yoshida (Name), and I won’t ever date someone like you, Kaede. Now everyone get back to planning.”

The room was silent as Yuki’s classmates slowly began to get back to their assigned tasks. Yuki paid Kaede and her friends no mind as they consoled the girl. A snicker left the girl beside Yuki.

“Shit, Yuki! That was crueler than normal. I thought you were going to punch someone!” Maki laughed, “You’re really serious about Yoshida-San, huh?”

Yuki glanced over at Maki. “Course I am. He’s my first and only boyfriend.”

“Only..? Like you won’t.. date men after Yoshida-San?”

“No. (Name) is the only person I’ll date ever. We’re never breaking up.”

Maki only laughed before awkwardly stopping when she noticed Yuki’s serious face. “You’re weird sometimes, Yuki.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You’re… cute.. as a maid…”

Yuki felt as if he was going to pass out. You stood in front of him, dressed as a maid for the first year’s class festival. He was shorter back then, thick square glasses that did nothing for his looks. You didn’t have to look up at him like you do now.

You tilted your head at him, the long hair of your wig moving in tandem. A slight grin pulled on your lips as you gripped the edge of your dress, teasingly pulling it up to show a sliver of skin not covered by your stockings.

“I know~ But I can be sexy too.” You dropped your dress, giggling as if you didn’t just sexually tease Yuki. “Thanks, Ito~” You skipped away to your friends, your skirt swishing with your movement.

Yuki learned three things that day.

He has a thing for cute things

You looked good in feminine outfits

He reacts like a Victorian man at the sliver of skin

As well as another thing, staying as your admirer was proving harder each day.

He just didn’t know how lucky he would get in his third year.

Had to put in some last minute feminization because that’s literally Yuki’s whole kink. Just didn’t fit into this chapter well. Anyway, love exploring angst and fluff! Excited to write chapter 3 cuz it’ll be graduation time!!

Tag list: @omgplsletmeread @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @chill-guy-but-cooler @smellwell @euthymiko @love-kha1 @star-3214 @tomoeroi @cherry-blossoms-187 @remdayz @iwishtobeacrow @mello-life25 @ofclyde @kiiyoooo @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #oc x reader #mlm ns/fw #male bottom reader #original character

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brainddeadd · 10 months ago

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Hi love, hope you're doing good. I was thinking if you could write a headcannon or reactions kinda thing, skz reaction to their s/o crying during-after sex because they feel overwhelmed, loved and safe. Not because of pleasure but purely because of love, because of how much they love them. Maybe Chan and Jisung would themselves burst into tears knowing that their s/o loves them just so much. Please? Btw I'm ✨Anon if that's okay?

Stray Kids react to you crying (out of love) during sex

smut, fluff

warnings: fem!reader, crying, panicked members, mentions of safeword (Minho), cum mentioned, jisung's is funny, mentions of dying (not literal)

Chan

Channie panics the first time you cry during sex and it's not been caused by him eating you out until you cum three times.

When he's sees you have tears pooling in your eyes and spilling over, when all he's done is kiss you tenderly and make love to you softly, he's panicked.

"Baby, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He's pulled out of you, is kneeling over your body, his eyes scouring every inch of you looking for a physical sign of pain. You just cry harder.

"Channie Channie, come back. Need you, Channie, please Channie-" he's confused but lowers himself to you and you wrap your legs around him, bucking your hips blindly to try ans catch his cock. He holds you still by the hip.

"Baby, why are you crying?"

"Jus' love you Channie feel so loved so good need more love you channie-"

His face flushes red, and his own eyes tear up when he realises that you're crying out of the.. love you feel?

"You're crying because you feel loved?" His voice is choked by his own emotion, and you nod your head, some more tears falling.

"Makingnme feel so loved Channie."

Chan kisses you again, and slides his cock back inside you, groaning at the way you hum happily against his mouth.

Minho

Minho is rough with you in bed. That's why he had you choose a safeword and makes sure you know that you must use it if you're uncomfortable with anything.

That's why he's so alarmed when he sees you crying when he comes back from the bathroom after a session (he tied you up and worshiped every inch of your skin, making you cum multiple times and filling you with two loads of his cum).

"Baby!" His voice is shrill and he drops everything in favour of rushing over to you, panic on his face. "What happened? Baby what do you need?"

"Hold me!" You appear distraught and he yanks you into his arms.

"Baby, talk to me," he's being gentle, but he really needs an answer.

"I love you!" You cried out and he froze in confusion, his eyebrow raising as he forced you to look him in the eye.

"You're crying.. because you love me?"

"And you love me!" You're making no sense to him. "You make me feel so loved."

He keeps his wide eyes on you as you stand and more towards the bathroom, the marks he's left on you barely visible in the low light, and his cum dripping down your thighs.

"You coming?"

Changbin

Binnie, oh Binnie. He damn near loses his mind when he sees you crying before he even really gets started with you.

He's got you on your back, legs spread and your eyes blindfolded when your chest heaves with a sob.

Oh, he's got the bilndfold off and you sitting in his lap before you can blink.

"Bunny, you ok?" He's pushing your hair back, wiping your tears away and caressing you back softly, looking at you with wide eyes, and a concerned expression on his face.

"I'm amazing Binnie." He's so confused.

"What?"

"I just-" You take in a deep breath and then it all comes rushing out. "I just trust you so much and you always make me feels so good and not even only in the bedroom, although you are a fucking god at fucking me and I just love you so much that I got overwhelmed by the love for you in my chest."

He blinks at you. Then his face crumbles and suddenly he's sobbing.

"Binnie!" Now you're concerned.

"You cried because of how much you love me and now I'm crying because of how much I love you and fuck we're a mess." He tries to laugh, but it comes out choked.

You stay like that for a while, you in his lap, holding each other closely until all the tears are dry.

"So.. I fuck you like a god, huh?"

Hyunjin

Hyunjin doesn't realise you're crying out of anything other than pleasure until he's filled you up with his cum and you just won't stop crying.

"Muse, I'm so sorry." His heart is in his ass.

"I love you so much Jinnie. Feel so good. Fuck Jinnie, I can feel your cum dripping out of me, don't let it Jinnie, please-" You're babbling away and Hyunjin can't focus on anything, not even the cum dripping from your pussy - which normally you have to forbid him from touching again.

"Muse-"

"Jinnie please, please, more, need more, give me more." You're begging, but he's not sure what you want.

"What do you need baby?"

"Cum-" His brain must be making things up.

"You want to cum again?" He refuses to move until you say so.

"No, Jinnie, want your cum, love you so much, want your cum-"

And really, how can he refuse when you ask him so nicely?

Jisung

Jisung does NOT know what to do.

You're crying, covered in his cum, sitting in the bath and he's at a loss.

The sound of his phone calling out to someone catches your attention and then he speaks.

"Chan hyung! She's crying-"

"HAN JISUNG!" Chan can hear your screech on the other end of the phone. "HANG UP!"

"BUT YOU'RE CRYING!"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU AND YOU JUST FUCKED ME SO GOOD I CAN'T WALK!"

Chan hangs up.

"WHAT?!"

"You fucked me so good, and for some god-forsaken reason, I love you, pabo!" That really doesn't clear anything up for him, but he clambers into the bath with you and holds you close.

"You're ok?" He sounds scared.

"I'm ok." You confirm. "Just.. really love you. And was overwhelmed by it for a moment."

"I love you."

Felix

Firm believer that Felix cries when he's overwhelmed with the pleasure.

Felix has you on top of him, your tits bouncing as you ride his cock, and he just can't help himself.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful. I love you so much." He doesn't expect you to cry, but he knows from the way you lean down to clutch him to your chest and the way your pussy squeezes around him tighter, that you're about to cum.

"Love you Lixie, love you love you-"

"Love you baby, love you-"

You cum together, tears on your faces from the pleasure and the overwhelming love you feel, and he doesn't remove his cock from you after you've both cum, just lets it plug up your hole as he holds you close.

"I'm meant to be the one crying, baby." He whispers and you move to kiss him, his still hard cock shifting in your pussy and cum dripping down his cock and pooling on his balls.

You rock your hips as you kiss him, moaning when his tip hits that spot deep in your pussy.

"We can both cry, Lixie."

Seungmin

Seungmin freezes the second he sees tears on your face, despite being so so close to filling you with his cum.

"Pup?"

"Don't stop, please-" you beg him, but he stays still, dragging a whine from your lips. "Minnie-"

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not-" You stop when you feel the wetness on your cheeks and flush red. "I-"

You buck your hips into his, searching for pleasure and managing to keep his orgasm approaching.

"Pup, why are you crying?"

"I just feel so safe in your arms and-"

Seungmin doesn't let you finish your sentence, just pushes his cock into your pussy as far as he can, his cum flowing out of his tip and filling you up, leaking out around the base of his cock. He groans and shudders, his face falling to your neck.

"I'm sorry-" He's cut off by you clenching around his cock, head falling back as you cum on his cock.

"Fuck pup-" he grunts at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him and moves his hips to help you ride out your high.

He lets his weight rest on you for a moment before he pulls back to look at you.

"I love you pup." He kisses you gently. "I'm glad you feel safe with me."

Jeongin

You've never cried during sex before.

He's fingering you, his tongue circling your clit and puffy lips sucking when you let out a cry that's just not a sound he's used to from you.

He looks up and finds you with tears on your face.

Instant soft dick.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He's next to you before he can get his question out.

"Innie, if you don't fuck me like you love me right now, I'll die."

"Uh- What?"

"Make love to me, Jeongin." That he can do.

"But, you're crying!"

"It's just- fuck I love you."

Jeongin is so confused, but you've got your hand on his hardening again dick, and he's finding it hard to concentrate.

"You're crying because you love me, and you want me to fuck you like I love you?"

"Yes."

"But I do love you!"

"I know!"

"Do I not tell you enough?!" He's spiralling, thinking of all the times he's thought about telling you those words, and chickened out or missed his opportunity, or forgotten because he's busy.

"Jeongin, I know you love me. I want you to make love to me."

He moves to hover over you and kisses you slowly, his hands running over your sides, thigh pressing into your still dripping pussy.

"I love you, I love you, I love you-" It's all he can say, all he can think, as he thrusts his cock in your pussy and fills you with him cum.

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