#and idk if the transfer papers are only one each or if they were supposed to come with more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peaches-writes · 4 years ago

Text

naturally

description: there’s something about bang chan, even if he’s not some senior crush you’ve pined over from the very beginning or a friend you’ve known forever, that just makes realizing that you’re in love with him as something that feels right member: chan genre: fluff, slice of life, high school au, college au, friends to lovers au, sports au (off season universe), campus dj au (if u squint), slow burn (?), fem reader word count: 12k wtf warning: explicit language, alcohol, a plot that makes zero sense note: idk what this is it’s so messy anw + @skzwriternet

Chan came in your life quite late—both literally and figuratively.

The two of you were in the 12th grade when you met, at a time when all everyone cared about were getting into their respective dream universities and establishing a solid group of friends to call back once they’re already on their separate ways. He got stuck in traffic that day and wasn’t allowed entry past the school gates at first because he didn’t get his uniform on time while you and your group of friends were on time in class, completely unexpecting of a new addition to the group as you all worried about the upcoming entrance exams.

“Oh, look at that, new kid.” Minho nudged your elbow and whispered loudly close to you that day, gesturing to the spaces between the curtains of the window facing the hallway. Outside, Chan was being ushered to the faculty room at the other end of the hall by a teacher, head hung low in embarrassment that he stood out with his black hoodie and sweatpants. “And no uniform on the first day—I feel like we should adopt him!”

You didn’t pay much attention to it at first, shrugging before returning to your messy Homeroom notes. An election was to be held at the end of the week and maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about it. “A bit risky, don’t you think? Right before the exams.” You mused out loud, more to the classroom elections than to the transferee.

“Do you think we’ll get him?” Minho asked anyway despite the lack of interest in your tone, leaning on your side of the shared table with a propped up elbow. “Or will Dahyun and Bam’s class next door?”

The answer was given to Minho over five minutes later, when the gentle sound of your Homeroom adviser’s voice was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Excuse me, good morning, Ms. Park!” The faculty head, Mrs. Liu, peered in your room that day with Chan trailing behind with curious eyes. “I’m so sorry for the interruption but your transfer student is now here!”

In front of the classroom, Ms. Park welcomed Chan with a smile and clasped hands. “Ah yes, Bang Chan, finally! Come on in!”

Chan introduced himself in awkward giggles and a slight miscalculated step when he didn’t immediately see the elevated area separating the black board and the first row of desks. “Hi, I’m eighteen-year-old student Bang Chan and I moved here from Sydney, Australia! Please take care of me!” You remembered him introducing himself at Ms. Park’s request before being seated right next to Hansol on the other end of the fourth row.

Minho, who eyed the boy curiously the entire time, sat up properly after and told you, “I’m gonna ambush him at recess. You wanna come with?”

You knew even then that you didn’t have to answer the question because as the bell rang for recess time, Minho had dragged you over to Hansol and Chan’s table as soon as he saw you pick up your wallet.

“Hi, I’m Minho and this is Y/N and we’re about to kidnap you!” Minho exclaimed as the two of you approached the unexpecting boy, earning you wide eyes from him. “If you want to, of course. Y/N’s gonna be class president again by Friday and I’m gonna be fighting Moonbin to the death for basketball captain so we’re clearly overqualified to show you around.”

You remember Hansol toppling over in laughter while you turned away in embarrassment. Not that it was uncommon for the most nonsense things to come out of Minho’s mouth then—in fact, it was quite the opposite.

Fortunately, Chan was easily persuaded. “Uh...sure, why not?” He grinned with relief, pushing his chair away from his desk and picking up his own wallet before following you and Minho downstairs to the cafeteria.

You ended up helping him buy snacks from the cafeteria and showing him around what you deemed as the most important areas of the campus within the thirty-minute recess. Because of the short time, he met your other friends belatedly at lunch.

Chan came in your life quite late—both literally and figuratively—but you suppose it’s not that bad because you’ve been friends ever since.

Minho was ‘disappointed but not surprised’ when Chan tried out for the swim team instead of his basketball team—his words not yours.

Club Week was not actually a week but a week and a half, giving everyone time to either succeed or fail in the clubs they signed up for and move on to the next. Since you were elected Class President, you decided on sticking only to what you considered your most important clubs for senior year: Volleyball and the school paper. Minho, on the other hand, unfortunately lost his ‘fight to the death’ with Moonbin over the team captain title but he kept insisting that it was because he really was fated to be the cheer dance team’s captain instead.

“At least, it’s one less sweaty kid I have to worry about.” You jokingly assured Minho once Club Week was over. You and your group of friends were huddled on your usual table that lunch break, comparing training and review center schedules.

“Ya, what does that mean?”

“It means you’re in two sports clubs and you never shower after any one of them!” Dahyun points out for you across the table, earning her ‘ooh’s and high-fives from everyone. “You should be embarrassed, Mingyu’s on three teams and he literally showers on Febreze.”

“But I do shower, just not as religiously as everyone.”

“Why not?”

“Climate change!”

You turned to Chan amidst the playful chaos, shaking your head in feigned disapproval. “Sorry, they’re five.”

The boy only chuckled. “It’s okay.”

“I’m glad you joined the school paper too, by the way.” You made sure to add, hinting that you saw him at your club assembly the week prior despite the large turn-out of people. “I heard from Jihyo at our last council meeting. Broadcasting, right?”

“Yep,” He nodded with pursed lips and an eye smile. “so you guys will hear me DJ for the rest of the year too.”

“Can’t wait.”

Chan’s first gig as the school radio’s DJ was the Friday that followed, in the middle of your student council meeting. He sounded nervous at first, which made you, Jihyo, and Seungkwan laugh while you were presenting your batch’s initiatives for the whole school year, but he made it out alive—and even included a shout out for you.

“Also, shoutout to Y/N! Thank you for showing me the ropes this month.” His voice echoed faintly through the hallways at lunch break. A pause then followed, what you assumed was Changbin and Jisung scolding him, before he snickered and said, “I guess Minho and Hansol, too! See you tomorrow, you guys!”

Ever since the 7th grade, you’ve made sure to follow each and every one of your closest friends’ extracurricular activies. From Dahyun’s and Jihyo’s recitals to Bam Bam’s and Minho’s competitions and meets, you were always there: half as a volunteer for the school paper and the other half as a cheering friend. It’s your way of looking out for your friends, by standing in the sidelines for support.

So naturally, with the addition of Chan to your friend group, you always came to his swim meets with a camera, a write-up outline, and a tarpaulin you’re quite sure Minho and Bam Bam didn’t make while sober the night before.

“Like the slogan, dolphin boy?” Bam Bam snickered at Chan as he sat on his designated waiting area right in front of your bleacher. It was the final tournament for the semester and your two other friends have decided on a lazy ‘Let’s go Dolphin Boy!’ decorated in glitters and a Photoshopped photo of Chan’s head in a dolphin. “When are you going on?”

Chan turned to your group and immediately slapped a hand to his face in embarrassment. “Oh my God...”

“To set the record straight, Jihyo and I were studying together last night and Dahyun was at piano lessons.” You held your hands up in self-defense to an eyeroll from Minho. “The poster’s all on Bam and Minho.”

“I know.” Chan mumbled behind his hand, removing it slowly after. “I’m on in five minutes. And what happens when I do get a place on the stands?”

“Then we’ll stand up and wave this harder!” Minho answered this time, aggressively waving the cartolina and causing a few glitters to scatter on your jeans.

“Minho!”

Chan competed in 1500 m I.M. and all the butterfly relays on that day and only then did you notice that he liked competing in them more than the other categories. You took photos and noted the important details with Bam Bam’s agile typing on your phone throughout the event, up until Chan received his mostly gold medals—when Bam Bam and Minho did kept to their word and ambushed the poor boy by throwing the slogan over his head when he asked for a group photo with everyone.

“This is like the Avengers of extended friend groups!” Dahyun joked once the chaos has died down and you’ve managed to get everyone to prepare for a couple of group photos. “Now I’m even more excited for dinner!”

A couple of Chan’s childhood friends also came that day—Younghyun, Somi, Sana, Lisa, and Matthew whom you befriended after over dinner that was Chan’s treat. It looked more like a weird family reunion to you than what Dahyun thought but you laughed anyway as you adjusted your camera settings.

“Okay, you guys ready?” You asked the group once everyone’s settled down, arms slung over each other and bright smiles ready to be taken for Instagram updates. “One, two—“

At the center of the photo, with a big bouquet of roses and several medals, Chan suddenly shifted in his position under Matthew’s and Younghyun’s arms and asked you, “Wait, wait, wait...Y/N aren’t you joining?”

You shook your head, making everyone erupt in protest. “Ya, then who’s gonna take the photo?”

Minho doesn’t exaggerate it one bit whenever he recalls this that Chan literally bolted out of the group to pull in his nearest teammate to take the photo, quickly tugging you to him afterwards and positioning you right in front of him once the group photos were taken. You ended up with his arms and his bouquet draped over you in all of the photos.

With the college entrance exams fast approaching over a month later, you found yourself juggling your academics, cram school, Volleyball training, student council, and the school paper all at once. It was manageable at times, with the help of your teammates and clubmates, but of course there would be days when you would almost fall asleep on the spot at Saturday cram school, in particular.

Chan was no better as he balanced academics and cram school with his own swim training, the school radio, and preparing a portfolio for his talent exams at the Departments of Music for every university he applied to.

Fortunately, you both went to the same cram school with everyone else. Seated next to each other, you bought Chan coffee while he passed you candies and chocolate he would get from his mom through the mail.

“You, uh...” Chan nudged your knuckles with his softly one time, alternating his gaze between your open notes and the formulas being discussed on the white board two rows ahead. “The answer’s 2.”

“Hm?” You hummed tiredly, free hand supporting your cheek as you tried so hard to pay attention and follow along. The day prior was meetings upon meetings that lasted until 8:30 PM, pushing all of your time allotted for homework to midnight since you had to take the bus home. To say you were so tempted to fall asleep then was an understatement.

Knowing this, you saw Chan take the liberty of writing the correct answer on your notes through your half-lidded eyes, poking your knuckles with the end of his mechanical pencil after. “You have the whole solution down but the final answer is 2, silly.” He chuckled softly, discreetly passing you another gummy bear from under the table. “Do you even know what you’ve been writing?”

You nodded even though your brain was barely processing anything, receiving the gummy bear after. “I think so?” You mused out loud, making him laugh.

“We’ll just have to go through this again later. You should’ve stayed at home and rested if you’re so tired.”

You found out later, when you were much awake to have lunch at a nearby cafe with Chan, that the boy took down the notes for you in a fashion similar to your note-taking technique for you to copy—and that he drew a small dinosaur on the margins of your notebook with a text bubble that said, “You can do it!”

Chan has made it a habit to bring you an extra thermos of coffee and drew little animals on your notebook whenever the two of you were bored ever since.

You showed up at Chan’s doorstep on his first Christmas Day in Korea, not really expecting to see his mom with his aunt on the other side of the door.

“Hi.” Chan mustered up a rather confused smile, growing even bigger and less shy right in front of you the longer he gazed at your own wide eyes and long travel coat. “Y/N, hi.”

“I thought you were—“ You unconsciously gestured to his extended family running around the hallways behind him, furrowing your brows. “Hi, um, should I just—should I just go?”

Chan furrowed his brows, instinctively pulling you closer to the doorway by your arm once he noticed the snow falling harder behind you. “What? Why?” He asked at the sudden proximity. “What’s up?”

His unintentionally blunt tone with the question definitely had you caught off-guard and flustered. “O-Oh, I just thought—I thought you wouldn’t be with your parents and siblings for Christmas so I came over.” You cringed internally at your truthful but rather cheesy answer. “Everyone’s skating at the mall today and I thought of inviting you because I assumed that you’d be lonely here with just your uncle and auntie...”

Another smile, an amused one, settled on his lips as you talked. “Really?” He mused out loud to which you nodded absentmindedly at. “We could go right now, if you want. My mom would probably tell me to bring Hannah and Lucas along, though, if that’s okay.”

Your eyes widened for the second time that afternoon. “W-We can, yeah.” You nodded slowly to both questions, breaking into your own smile.

“Okay, come on in first, then, it’s cold out.” Chan then took you by the same hand inside, closing the door behind him and leading you to the shoe rack for your boots. “My mom’s been looking for you and everyone else since they landed here too! You should be able to stop her from fussing over dinner so much.”

You met Chan’s parents and siblings that day, almost getting stuck in his aunt and uncle’s house because of his mom’s excitement at meeting one of her son’s friends in Korea until Chan smoothly brought up your offer of going to the skating rink with his siblings. You eventually left the house with him and his younger siblings right before Minho could text you that you were taking too long.

“You do know how to skate, right, Chan?” Minho asked when you arrived. He sat between you and the boy in question to rest his feet from racing with Dahyun, removing his skates and stretching his legs forward. “Y/N and Jihyo suck at explaining things she’s already good at and Bam Bam’s a deer walking for the first time so the choices for teacher aren’t really looking so well for you right now.”

When you looked over at him from Minho’s shoulder, he simply shrugged. “Shouldn’t be that hard. It’s just ice and blades, right?”

But it ended up being very much so, at least for him as he ended up reaching for yours and Jihyo’s hands before you could even run off to join Minho and Dahyun on their race. “Okay, okay, I was wrong!” He exclaimed dramatically, gloved hand meeting your own when Jihyo jokingly moved her hand away. “I’m going to fall over!”

“You’re doing fine.” You rolled your eyes in feigned exasperation, holding his hand anyway as you slowed your pace. His siblings then passed by the two of you, giggling over their eldest brother tripping on ice. "Look, even your siblings are doing fine and you came from the same place as those two.”

“Chan, you’re being dramatic.” Jihyo added to tease him further, gracefully sliding away from the two of you. “‘It’s just ice and blades, right?’ You’ll get used to it!”

Then, as if for unintentional emphasis, Chan almost tripped at this and instinctively held your hand tighter. “I really am going to fall if I let go.” He pouted, linking your arms together instead. “Can’t you really teach me?”

You unlink your arms, catching his hand again. “Fine, I’ll try but don’t cling to me too much.” You pointed out, laughing when he interlocks your fingers together. “You swim in deep ass Olympic pools back and forth like it’s nothing, ice shouldn’t be that scary to you, you know.”

With that, you spent the rest of the afternoon teaching Chan how to balance himself on his skates (and getting him out of Minho and Dahyun’s way as the two circled the rink like two roller derby players). He perfected his balance at the end of the day but he still wouldn’t let go of your hand so naturally, you came back next year.

And next year eventually turned into an annual tradition between the two of you.

The exam results then came in the middle of your final Volleyball game which was probably not good for your adrenaline levels but everyone found it amusing.

Your team was leading in the final set, 23-22, and you could tell as you delivered volley after volley that your opponent was already losing hope. On the sidelines of the open gymnasium, Bam Bam and Minho held up the ugliest orange cartolina ever with ‘HAIKYUU THAT SHIT Y/N!’ in mismatched marker colors while Jihyo, Dahyun, Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan screamed their lungs out for your team.

You’re quite certain the cartolina got confiscated by your coach after for inappropriate language, you’re not quite sure even at present because you never saw it again, especially when it was dropped to the ground the moment everyone’s phones started ringing because of an e-mail from school.

You noticed it from the sidelines, even as you and another teammate delivered the final volley that lead to your victory. Chan held your phone with a bright smile on his face, directing it to you after as you and your team huddled for a group hug and greeted the opposite team for the last time.

“Congratulations!” He greeted you as soon as you’ve celebrated enough with your teammates, waving your phone in front of you as he approached with everyone jumping not far behind him. “On both!”

“Both what?”

Before Chan could even answer you properly, you were engulfed in a big hug by Jihyo, Seungkwan, and Dahyun. “You did it!” They exclaimed in unison. “You passed all of the uni’s you applied to! We all did!”

Immediately, your widened eyes and agape mouth sought Chan for confirmation, to which he simply nodded with a laugh and a thumbs up. “No way...” You muttered in disbelief, gaining feeling back in your frozen legs after to jump along with everyone in your group hug. “No shit, no way! Congratulations, guys!”

“Congrats to you too, dude! You won twice today!” Jihyo pointed out, making everyone laugh. “We’re still on for BBQ, right?”

“Well, I can’t be the only one paying now since we all passed the exam!”

You got hugs from the others as well (and an extra one with a high-five from Seungkwan because he was just so hyped about your volleyball game), receiving from Chan last since he wanted a photo with you after.

“We could do a group photo, you know.” You tried suggesting as you held your Finals tournament trophy in between the two of you. Hansol has both of your phones side by side in front of him, adjusting the settings a little before taking the photo.

“We could but that’s for later. I need a new contact photo for you!” Chan insisted. Before you could comment on his ridiculous excuse, however, Hansol was already taking photos of the two of you.

Chan did set a photo of you from that day as your contact photo—specifically the one where you were pretending to dump invisible water from the trophy over him. It’s ridiculous and it still makes everyone laugh whenever Chan’s phone lights up with this photo.

Graduation celebrations naturally came after, as soon as Spring Break was over. Bam Bam threw a house party for your batch that was anything but sober and civil, the clubs each had send-off parties, and the student council planned a Graduation Ball which was mostly just yours, Jihyo’s, and Seungkwan’s excuse to dress semi-fancy and have Chan invite Younghyun to invite his band, Day6, to perform a whole set of their new songs.

You came with your friend group, or at least you and Jihyo convinced yourselves that you did since no one bothered to look for dates. It had been your finals before the Saturday of the graduation ball and, on top of that, the two of you were busy ‘student council-ing’ as Minho worded it, organizing the event with the school faculty and a few parents.

You did dance with everyone by the end of the night too, Minho pulling you along by the hand in a group hug as you yelled out the lyrics to Days Gone By��one of the last songs of the evening. “Finally you can join us!” He exclaimed dramatically, pressing a kiss on top of your head as he slung an arm over your shoulder. He didn’t actually need to worry about spending time with you since you’re all staying in the hotel for the night anyway. “Loosen up, will you?!”

On your other side, you could only hear Chan laugh as Bam Bam proceeded into the center of your big circle to dance, challenging an unexpecting Yugyeom nearby after. He stole glances over to you occasionally, a fond smile on his lips whenever you’d catch him in the act. He actually wanted to ask you to dance but decided against it last minute, growing too shy at noticing that the crowds are mostly dancing in friend groups rather than pairs until it was ultimately time to retreat into your hotel rooms.

“Goodnight and happy graduation, Seoul High!”

Fortunately, however, Chan made up for this by waiting on you after the dance. You stayed behind with Jihyo and Seungkwan for an hour more once the students have either gone back to their hotel rooms or migrated to the hotel lobby to wait for their rides home; Chan was more than happy to lend an extra helping hand as you thanked the staff and made sure that the packing up was done orderly.

“You did well tonight,” He complimented you sheepishly as the two of you carefully packed up the stage’s sound equipment. The microphone he was trying to remove from the stands was still on then, making his voice echo faintly through the hall. “organizing the event and all.”

Your face heated up against the now softer stage lights as you moved the guitar and music stands from the center to the side where a staff member was waiting for you. “T-Thanks, Chan. Did you have fun?”

He simply nodded this time with a sheepish giggle, passing you the microphones after making sure they were properly turned off.

After this, Chan politely walked you and Jihyo back to your shared room with Dahyun just two floors above the one all the boys in your class reserved for themselves

“Night, Chan! Make sure you’re not being too loud with the boys downstairs, okay?” Jihyo bid him goodbye quickly with a small yawn and a mischievous smile as she opened the heavy door to your room with ease. “I’m pretty sure Bam brought that wireless microphone with him again—and it’s probably Mingyu or Seokmin’s idea again.”

“Don’t worry we won’t, I’ll make sure.” Chan nodded sheepishly before waving goodbye to her. Once she’s inside, he then turned to you and said, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You nodded slowly at him, a little hesitant. When he raised his eyebrows at this, you then suggested, “Um...I know this is sudden and it’s like 1 AM but you don’t happen to be in the mood for McDonald’s, right?”

“Seriously? At this time?”

“I’ll buy you an iced coffee if you want.”

So you ended up at the McDonald’s two blocks from the hotel where your graduation ball was held, wrinkled dress suits and all. You talked for what seemed like an hour more, played with the Powerpuff Girls happy meal toy he bought on a whim, and got scolded through calls and text from your friends because you didn’t invite them. Since this day, the two of you have been buying each other’s coffee from McDonald’s.

Bam Bam and Minho both moved further West in the city, the latter sharing his uncle’s old apartment with another friend of his, while Jihyo dorms with Mina, another friend of yours from another school, up North. Besides these, no one made a drastic change to move houses or dormitories from the area your parents considered near since everyone else attended universities relatively near. At university, especially on your first year, you, Chan, and Dahyun mostly stuck with each other; just now with the addition of Lisa who ended up attending the same university and Jacob whom Chan befriended in his classes.

Sometime towards the end of your first semester, when Bam Bam and Minho skipped school to crash one of your semi-finals Volleyball game, your now larger group of friends decided that Chan would ‘take one for the team’ and get a driver’s license for all of your travelling needs. He lost against Jacob and Dahyun of all people in the most intense game of rock-paper-scissors you’ve ever seen.

Because of this, for the two weeks leading up to finals week, you ended up risking your life accompanying Chan to practice in his aunt’s old SUV. During this time period, he either took you to and from university as well or from your neighborhood to the bar and grill you started frequenting with him and the rest of your friend group. It’s not that he’s bad at driving, his parking skills were just initially a cause of worry for you whenever he was driving in crowded places.

“Am I close?” Chan asked you on your first day of finals, leaning over your side of the car to check the side mirror. You had your reviewers for your Communications class glued to your face throughout the entire twenty-minute ride but that didn’t stop you from simultaneously being anxious of hitting someone else’s car right in front of your college building. “Can you check?”

You opened the window and briefly peeked your head out, turning to Chan after and almost jumping at how close he’s gotten. “It doesn’t even look like you tried.” You laughed through your immediate flustered expression, making him lean back in frustration as he prepares to move the car again. “How long have we been here? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Chan pouted, keeping a hand on your head rest as he now carefully re-attempts to parallel park. “Just five minutes.” He mumbles, alternating his gaze quickly between the front and back of the car. “So that means you’ve been studying well this entire time.”

“Your driving is already good I could even sleep in, it’s just the parking that’s worrying.” You pointed out teasingly, leaning on his hand to glance back at the situation behind you and poking on his new arm bands. “Speaking of, you do know that you don’t even have to park, right? It’s not like you’re going to wait for me.”

“But I’ll wait for you.” Your eyes met belatedly as Chan finally parks the car. “It’s just 30 minutes, right?”

“It’s two hours, Chan...” You quirked a brow. “Didn’t I text you that?”

“Really? Ah, well...I’ll just...” Chan chuckled sheepishly, clearly realizing his mistake at the last minute. “I can totally just hang around, I guess.”

But the problem was, Dahyun didn’t have class that day, Lisa was organizing a club party, and Jacob was in his own volleyball training. Chan ended up loitering around the swim team for a while and impulsively buying you lunch because he didn’t want to waste gas.

You bought him lunch when he passed his driver’s license in return.

“You probably need glasses now.” You pointed out to him as you happily ate your Burger King inside his car. The nearest branch to the driving school he attended had a relatively big parking lot, making the two of you sigh in relief that he didn’t have to parallel park this time. “I’m pretty sure I texted you that my exam was from 10 to 12.”

Next to you, Chan had his seat reclined and the windows fully open as he sipped on his Cola and munched on fries. “No, I checked it again the other day and you texted 10 to 11.”

“What?!” When you do check your phones, only then do you find out that you did mistakenly text him 10 to 11 instead of 10 to 12. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Should I buy you another burger?”

Chan simply shook his head and snatched the ice cream cup you’ve been saving. “I’ll just take this, thank you!”

“Ya!”

The first time the driver’s license actually came in handy was on your first volleyball game as a university student. Chan went on a round trip around the major universities in Seoul to pick up all of your friends which almost caused you to be late to the game but you could barely care then—you were too pumped over the idea of all of your friends coming together to watch you.

Besides, Chan volunteered to be a courtside reporter for the game so you weren’t scolded by your coach alone.

“Good luck out there!” Chan nudged your side with a wink as the two of you prepared to enter the arena with your team. He made sure that he had his microphone off twice this time. “I’d really love to interview you when you win.”

“When have I ever lost in front of you, hm?” You teased with a grin of your own, just as the backstage doors opened to the cheers and drums of your university.

And, true to your word, you win the game a little over an hour and a half later. With a small trophy passed around from your teammates and the promise of a day-off from your coach, Chan was the first of your friends to approach you.

“And here we also have SNU women’s volleyball team newest recruits, Y/N and Chaeyeon!” Chan introduced you and your teammate in front of the cameras. In the distance, you could see your friends then: Jihyo, Dahyun, Mina, and Lisa holding balloons in the color of your university, Bam Bam and Minho holding their usual embarrassing slogan, and Jacob jumping up and down excitedly over your game’s turn-out. “This is your first game and first win of the season, congrats! How does it feel, you two?”

Your eyes met Chaeyeon’s instinctively to your right, making the two of you giggle shyly. After a mini game of passing the microphones between each other, you eventually ended up answering, “Um, we’re very grateful that our first game gave us our first win as new members as well and we hope that we’ll continue doing even better in the semi-finals!”

“Yes! Everyone’s hoping so too, especially after watching your play today!” Chan commented, clearly going off-topic then by the way you noticed how his mini crew of fellow students looked surprise and even checked their own cue cards.

Once the interviews were over, you were then whisked away by Minho and Jacob—the former to catch up with you while the latter was so excited talking to you about your game.

“Dude you were so good out there! Like that serve on the first set that really riled up the opposing team’s captain? And and that over the net move you did with Chaeyeon! We should have a practice game sometime!” Jacob always talked a million times per second over things that excited him but you didn’t mind, at least now Minho had someone to compete with over who could say the weirder thing.

The interaction placed a rather childish pout on Chan throughout the ride to your promised Korean BBQ dinner, no one but Lisa paid it too much mind.

“Stop pouting you look ugly.” She said to the poor boy with a feigned judgmental face, switching seats with you earlier for the ride to dinner so you can discuss volleyball with Jihyo and Jacob. “Why are you even pouting? Something on your mind?”

“Nothing.” Chan only furrowed his brows and frowned, glancing over to you on the rear view mirror to see you laughing along to a video Minho was showing everyone on his phone.

it’s not Minho that bothered him, everyone with eyes and a braincell have always known that he’s in love with his current roommate.

Jacob, though...you play the same sport and are both equally passionate over it! It definitely made Chan think.

“Nothing looks like she’s having fun, huh?” Lisa mumbled under her breath in response after a moment, breaking out into a laugh when Chan finally glances over at her with a confused look. “Nothing!”

Lisa made sure you sat next to Chan after, dragging Minho and Jacob by the ears to the other side of the table.

On your second year, your favorite junior from your previous school finally entered college. Seungmin was also on the student council, school paper, as well as in the high school baseball team who often practiced with your volleyball team so you basically considered him your ‘child,’ much to his annoyance. Though he attended a university that was nearer to Bam Bam’s and Minho’s, you pestered Chan into driving you almost once a month to his dorm to visit, anyway.

Chan would’ve said no every time given his own busy schedule but you promised him every time that Felix, a friend of Seungmin’s who happened to come from Australia as well, and Jeongin, another junior you unofficially ‘adopted’ in high school, would also be there.

“Chan, I need to go to Seungmin’s, it’s an emergency.” You greeted Chan one day right after your afternoon classes. You found him in the library, studying for second semester midterms with Lisa and Jacob which did made you feel bad but you really couldn’t wait for the next bus anymore.

“What kind of emergency?” Lisa asked, prompting you to shake your head.

“The kids said it’s very bad...” You continued shaking your head frantically and that was enough for Chan to pack up his things and lead you outside to his car.

When the two of you arrived at Seungmin and Jeongin’s shared dorm, Chan was more than confused at seeing the former sprawled out on the common area carpet with his arms folded over his chest like a vampire while the latter and Jeongin hovered over him with worried looks and mini fans.

“Is Seungmin dying?” Chan asked you with genuine worry as you approached, which would’ve made you laugh with the choice of words had you not just been vaguely called on short notice to deal with the situation.

You didn’t get to answer him at first as your first instinct was to sit down next to Seungmin and ask Felix, “We came here as fast as we could. What’s wrong?”

In front of you, Seungmin groaned in pain and rolled over on his stomach, hiding his reddening cheeks from you. “Y/N, why are you here?” He whined, bringing his arms up to his head to hide his face further. “Did these two call you?”

“Yeah they did.” You answered firmly, rolling the boy on his back again that prompted more complaints from him. “Now, what’s wrong? School? Sports? Friends? Are you okay?”

It took a moment for Seungmin to remove his arms over his face and answer you and it undeniably made you and Chan nervous. When he did answered, it was what you least expected from him as he said, “Y/N, I think I have a crush...”

A pause then followed as everyone simply stared back at Seungmin who immediately hid in his hoodie once again.

“Oh for the love of God, Kim Seungmin! Are you kidding me right now?! I came all the way here for this?” You smacked him in the arm once you’ve recovered, finally breaking out into laughs as the other boys toppled over in laughter. Turning to Jeongin and Felix, you then asked, “So why did you call me? You could’ve called Minho, he literally lives three blocks away.”

Felix and Jeongin glanced over at each other and shrugged. “He said he’s having love problems,” Jeongin pointed to Seungmin innocently before turning to you. “So I thought of calling you. Aren’t you and Chan a thing?”

This time, it was you and Chan looking at each other and laughing. “No, no, we’re not a thing.” He clarified for you with a dismissive wave. “Y/N’s married in a poly relationship with academics and extracurriculars.”

“And Chan’s secretly a merman so it’s a hard pass.” You finished his thought jokingly, looking over at Seungmin after.

“You guys, I’m still in a situation here!” Seungmin frowned, lifting his head up to place on your lap. “I’m fucked, basically.”

“Well, since we came all the way here and gas is expensive, do you want to talk about it? Lix and I can cook dinner.”

With that (and a few more words to get Seungmin off of the floor), you managed to drag the lovestruck boy into the kitchen and cooked him tonkatsu with Felix and Jeongin on your tail. Chan kept him company the entire time, peering over his shoulder as he narrated the story of a certain figure skater he met at his Freshman welcome assembly. “We’ve been friends for a while and I really like them but they’re always getting into trouble!” Seungmin mostly rambled, making you, Jeongin, and Felix snicker with your backs turned.

“All the more reasons to see them often, then?” You suggested, much to Seungmin’s annoyance.

“Won’t I be too obvious? Or too doting? Maybe they don’t like that as much since they’re so independent. Agh, what do I do?!”

“Play it cool like you always do, kid.” You answered simply, patting his head affectionately as you passed by his spot to retrieve a basket of condiments “What do you think, Chan?”

You clearly caught him off-guard then by the way his eyes slowly widened and he instinctively sat up straight. “O-Oh, u-um—yeah, what you said...” He eventually agreed with a nonchalant shrug to cover up his shaky actions. “Don’t overthink it or else nothing happens.”

You re-joined Jeongin and Felix across the kitchenette with a chuckle, nudging Jeongin with your elbow after. “You kids are growing up! Ah, but it still kinda feels like yesterday when you two were just messing around back in high school.”

“We’re a year below you, what are you talking about?” Jeongin pouted, eyes not leaving the side dishes he was preparing. When you don’t tease him further about it with another side comment, he then adds, “Sorry for assuming you and Chan were dating by the way. That wasn’t weird, right?”

You shook your head reassuringly. “No, it’s cool! I’m just curious where you’d get that from.”

“Minho said—“ And that was enough for you to give your aforementioned friend an earful the next time you saw him after.

“So, Chan’s not dating?” Felix asked next to which you nodded at. “Oh, cool!”

“Why? Do you have someone for him?”

Though Felix didn’t say anything more specific after that, Chan was then coerced into a friendly blind date to the movies a week after, you heard it at his new sideline podcast with Changbin and Jisung of all places.

“I—“ Seungmin’s first reaction was to clasp his hands together while the two of you were listening to the podcast episode in YouTube. “I spill out my heart to you guys and over tonkatsu then I find out that this happened right under my nose that night?”

It was a month since his dramatic confession and a little over two weeks since Chan went on the blind date and you’ve been taking the bus with Dahyun to visit the kids ever since. Chan thought he did something wrong but you’ve assured him multiple times that you’re just trying to be considerate of him since he now has an additional person on his plate.

Dahyun also wanted to visit Jihyo and Mina so you decided on commuting with her in particular.

“Ah, well, that’s life—or college...or maybe both.” You shrugged. You often studied in their dorm living room to pass the time if Minho wasn’t up for being bothered with in his apartment—you found out throughout this that studying with a Legal Management major like Seungmin motivates you to go through your rigorous readings. “How’s your crush by the way? Any progress?”

“They want to try speed skating! Do you know how dangerous that is? Not to mention, the legality of it all...”

“This person seems like they get you up on your toes. I like it! Makes things a bit more exciting, don’t you think?”

“It just makes my head hurt.” Seungmin sighed, rubbing his temples dramatically for emphasis. “I can’t help but worry...”

“I think you’re sweet looking out for them like this.” You assured. “But it’s not sports if you don’t get hurt and we both know that.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Just look out for them. I’m pretty sure they’re not all that clumsy as you make them out to be—you said they’re an athlete, right?—but it’s still important to be there for support and help when they really need it.” You half-shrugged, not really knowing what else to say. “But not just as someone who has a crush. Be a friend first and foremost—I mean, obviously, since you’re not dating, you’re just friends, hopefully for now. Yeah, that’s it! Don’t overthink it, you’re friends not married!”

A thought then seemed to pass Seungmin as a small smile formed on his lips. He then pulled his knees close to his chest and leaned back on the sofa behind him. “So, is that how you are with Chan?”

“What?!”

“I mean he’s sort of dating right now but don’t you have a crush on him?” The younger boy asked in genuine curiosity. “Honestly, I was surprised that you let him go on that blind date with the Soyeon girl Felix recommended, much less a second date this weekend.”

“No—I mean no, I don’t have a crush on him.” You refused calmly though your voice clearly shook a little but not for the reason Seungmin thought it was. “We’re just friends. You’re going off-topic!”

Seungmin’s eyes lit up in interest. “Well, I thought about it so we’re talking about it now! Have you seriously never thought about it?”

“No, but I am now because you brought it up!” You shook your head back truthfully before smacking his arm with your reviewers, making him pout and wince at you. “Don’t do that! You’re like—you’re trying to brainwash me into having feelings or something!”

Seungmin instinctively held his hands up, filled with his own lecture notes, and shook his head at the accusation. “No I’m not!” He pouted at you to no avail. “I’m just saying that I’ve always thought there was something, with how you two are so close.”

“You and I are close, Minho and I are close,” You argued back with a small pout, crossing your arms. “Heck, Bam Bam and I are close and we grew up together since the 4th grade.”

Again, the boy shook his head stubbornly. “Yeah, we’re all different kinds of close, especially Chan,” He claimed with so much conviction. “You look out for me, Minho, and Bam Bam but Chan looks out for you as much as you do for him, if that makes sense.”

“See you can’t even reason out properly and you’re in Legal Management.” You scoffed playfully. “I look out for everyone the same way, Chan’s not that kind of special for me. Also, it’s basic human decency, Seungmin. I can’t believe you don’t look out for me back, to be honest.”

Though you came off as perfectly unbothered by this, there was a period when things started became awkward on your end and it frustrated you until the end of your second year.

Seungmin teased you to no end for it to make up for your equally endless questions about the person he’s taken interest in, Minho kept bringing it up whenever the two of you met or hung out in his apartment, and Dahyun only confronted you about it when it started becoming inconvenient for her as yours and Chan’s mutual friend.

“Chan keeps texting me if we want a ride to Minho’s but I already told him that we’re on the bus right now.” Dahyun showed you her phone on another one of your many commutes to Minho’s side of the city. By this time, it has been two months and three dates for Chan, with your time spend with said boy having reduced significantly. “Are you guys okay? Have you been talking lately?”

You furrowed your brows and nodded in genuine confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“It feels like he wants to ask me about you but he won’t say it directly.” Dahyun shrugged, leaning back on the seats. “It kinda gives me the impression that you guys fought or something.”

“We didn’t fight.” You assured with a small frown. “Nothing happened, really.”

“Then what is it?”

It took you a moment to answer as your mind instinctively went to the conversation you previously had with Seungmin. “I...you know when someone points something out to you in a different light and then it makes you think of a lot of things?” When you saw Dahyun nod slowly, you then took it as your cue to admit, “It’s something like that, I guess.”

And like you, it also took a moment for Dahyun to answer. “Well, how do you feel about it?” She asked back as a response. “I think I know what this is about but you don’t have to tell me if you’re uneasy telling me about it.”

And you were uneasy and confused, very much so. “I don’t think I’m feeling anything special about it, really.” You admitted in a smaller voice, finding your attention flitting down to your hands on your lap. “I feel like I’m just thinking too much on what that someone said and how they said it.”

“Then it’s probably nothing, easy as that. Don’t let people’s words get into your head too much, especially on things like this—if we are thinking of the same thing—or else it’s gonna feel like you’re being forced into having different feelings or think differently.” Dahyun shrugged with a reassuring smile. “If otherwise, even then don’t overthink it too much. Just let things happen as they are.”

When you didn’t respond immediately, she then took your silence to quickly add, “Anyway, bottom line is, whatever it really is that you’re feeling or thinking, don’t ignore Chan for it. Talk to him about it specifically if it helps just don’t make him feel left out just because you’re on a one-sided awkward situation.”

It was a tough love kind of advice but Dahyun pestered you about it until she saw you approach Chan first over a week later, when you personally asked him to carpool to Bam Bam’s place for a year-end party.

You’ve never seen Chan’s face light up as much as it did on that day at the campus library.

“R-Really?” He stuttered out in disbelief and suddenly, all hints of drowsiness had disappeared on his expression. “I mean, c-cool! Uh, what time should I pick you and Dahyun up?”

“Ah, well, what time should you pick up Soyeon if she’s going to carpool with us?” You asked slowly, rubbing your nape awkwardly as you stood next to his table.

His eyes widened in surprise before an equally awkward chuckle came out of his lips. “Soyeon’s not carpooling with us.”

“Hm?”

“She’s going with her own friends since they’re nearer to her place.” Chan nodded absentmindedly, pulling a chair for you to sit down. You took the place without hesitation, neck heating up in embarrassment over the thought that you seemed too eager. “We’re not actually dating anymore.”

“Oh?” You furrowed your brows as quickly as your expression almost lit up. “I mean, since when, if it’s okay to ask?”

“Since last week. I don’t know, we agreed that it’s really...not happening between us.” Chan shrugged nonchalantly, going back to his lecture notes. “It’s cool, though, we’re studying together next week at the new study hall near Itaewon.”

You nodded, exhaling a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding until then. “At least it’s not awkward or anything.”

“What about us?”

You immediately looked up at this, meeting Chan’s somewhat hopeful gaze that had you unexpectedly stammering, “W-what do you mean?”

“Did I do something wrong?” He pursed his lips nervously, voice growing smaller with each other. “It’s just that we haven’t talked a lot lately—or maybe I’m just overthinking it...”

You were quick to shake your head, mustering up a small smile. “No, you didn’t do anything.” You assured him gently. “I’ve just been—it’s nothing.”

“Really?”

You nodded, breathing in another sigh of relief. “Yeah, I just had a lot of things going on then. It’s okay now.”

And it really was okay then. Talking to Chan again assured you at the time that you liked him as a friend. You really really liked him at the time as a friend.

Third year meant preparing for your senior year and going on your Junior Year internship which is probably why Bam Bam scheduled a trip to his hometown in Bangkok in the summer before this. It was just him, you, Chan, Dahyun, Jihyo, and Minho as a kind of mini high school reunion—the small kind of gathering everyone naturally hopes for with the pacing of university life.

You stayed at his family’s house where his parents offered you the entire expanse of the living room to have a movie night and sleepover in on your first night, right before the overwhelming itinerary Bam Bam planned for the next five days.

“Rock-paper-scissors for the beds!” Bam Bam announced after your sixth movie of the night. The Meg really wasn’t that amazing in your collective opinion but that didn’t stop you from putting it at the bottom of your To-Watch list just to throw as much nonsensical comments as you can on it. “The expandable couch goes to first, second, and third; the smaller one goes to fourth, and fifth and sixth get the air bag!”

Unsurprisingly, you and Chan had to share the grey air bag because you simply were just unlucky that night (you accidentally got a Pringles bag that had more air on it than chips prior) and Chan was so sleepy right next to Minho from cramming a passion project with Changbin and Jisung on call. Not that you minded, you were actually glad you didn’t have to put up with Bam Bam kicking you in his sleep or Minho waking you up with his cuss-filled sleep talking.

“Are you okay with this, sharing an air bed, I mean.” Chan had asked you as you prepared to sleep some time at 3 AM. He was hunched over on the side of the mattress that wasn’t pushed to the wall, laptop perched on top of his area as he continued fighting sleep and finishing his project. Everyone else had gone to sleep earlier. “I can totally just ask Bam for a sleeping bag if you want me to.”

“It’s okay.” You assured him as you spread the blanket over the entire expanse of the small air bed before sliding in and taking your phone out from under your pillow. “Aren’t you slidi—tucking in too, though?”

His face lit up in genuine surprise, slowly shifting into appreciation and fondness right in front of you as he caught the concern in your own face despite the phone blocking his view. “In a bit...I’m just making a few adjustments with this.”

Changbin and Jisung erupted into yells on the three-way video call, their voices bursting so suddenly on Chan’s headphones that he immediately muted them before you could ask or even notice.

Fortunately, you didn’t. “Oh, then don’t stay up too late, Chan.” You pointed out in even more concern. You knew how he could get whenever he pulled all-nighters, you realized. “We have to start really early tomorrow—or later.”

He hummed absentmindedly with a small nod as he continued nodding, glancing back up at you again after a moment. “Then you should go to sleep already, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

“Who said I’m waiting up for you? I’m scrolling through my Instagram.” But despite your teasing tone, you still ended up scrolling through your phone until he finished his project, bidding Changbin and Jisung a quick good morning before ending the call and sliding in under his share of the covers.

“Okay now go to sleep.” He chuckled tiredly as he gazed down on you, hand accidentally brushing against your own in the small gap between the two of you as he placed it right next to his head.

“But you’re watching me,” You frowned disapprovingly. “turn around or something.”

“I sleep better like this and what if I closed my eyes and you took pictures even with my back turned?” He feigned a pout, bringing his hand under the pillow as he shifted more comfortably in place. “You sleep first.”

“You’re so childish.” You giggled, shaking your head stubbornly. “I won’t do that.”

“As if you aren’t too right now. You’re probably thinking about it.”

“On three, then? One—”

“Two—“

“Three.” With your cue, the two of you then closed your eyes at the same time, only to peek one each right after. “Ya!”

You eventually managed to fall asleep at the same time half an hour later with Chan reluctantly turning around for you once you had your eyes closed. He’d only see your sleeping expression a little bit later, when he woke up to use the bathroom at 7 AM and came back to check up on you sleeping comfortably and move more of the blanket to your shoulders.

“Look at these eyebags, you could carry souvenirs in them later.” Minho chuckled next to you on the ride to your first trip destination after, laughing even more when you swatted his index finger that moved up in an attempt to poke your eyes. “Nightmare? The Meg wasn’t even about ghosts, Y/N.”

“No, I just slept late.” You sighed, leaning back on your seat. “Chan and I stayed up a little longer.”

At this, Minho’s eyes visibly lit up and he wiggled his eyebrows mischievously at you, prompting a disgusted look on your face. “Ooh, did something spicy finally happen between you two?”

“No—and please never do that again, it’s disgusting!”

“It’s my eyebrows!”

Minho ended up teasing you throughout the whole trip, anyway, as you and Chan repeated almost the exact same routine every night.

You had your Junior Year Internship at a media network across the city and though Chan insisted multiple times that he can drive you to work before going to his own at an entertainment company in the opposite direction, you managed to convince him that you really can commute this time and spend the night at Minho’s if you went overtime. No hard feelings this time.

So with what his presence in your life suddenly lacked in being your everyday transportation, he made up for by spamming you constantly online.

“This place has Tim Tams in their cafeteria!” He’d send you the most random photos and videos of his day-to-day working in song production at the entertainment company, from actual work-related matters like sophisticated equipment he was allowed to use to the small things like the extensive cafeteria food and his boss’ pet Labrador. “What are you having for lunch?”

Being a P.A. at a media network, however, was much more fast-paced and required you to be running everywhere on your work hours. Chan understood, of course (hence the sudden influx of dog photos during a particular period that had you working overtime almost every day), but it still made you feel bad for replying so late because, whether you admitted it or not, his constant updates alleviated your stress.

More often than not, his spams would be responded with photos of you on the subway and video clips of Minho and his roommate who are always practicing cheer dance moves in their living room. “I had three Snickers today but I drank a lot of water so that should count for something!” You often replied, following with a clip of Minho falling on his butt after tiredly trying to land a flip. “This is your Minho update of the day. He’s getting there! I think he’s going to try out for cheer dance captain this year!”

At the end of the semester, Chan was more than happy seeing you again, so much so that he treated you with lunch and even offered you ice cream after. “You’re going to make up for all the full meals you’ve missed this semester!” He insisted as he picked you up from Minho’s place. The two of you ended up at a ramen house which was a far jump from your usual fast food dates—something you thought about the entire time.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” You laughed but you let him order you food anyway since it was free. “Extra nori and eggs, please!”

You exchanged internship stories throughout the entirety of your lunch, laughing along to his stories of falling asleep in the middle of work and hearing his endless teasing over you getting starstruck with assisting your favorite artists on the job. You didn’t actually miss out on a lot of his shenanigans (that’s how heavily he spammed you) but you stayed in the ramen house for more than two hours, unconsciously drifting off to different topics and gossiping about your friends until the slight embarrassment of overstaying creeped in.

“Speaking of friends, I haven’t seen everyone else lately too.” Chan mused on your ride back home. He had his CD he secretly produced over his internship period playing on the radio as well as one hand on the steering while while the other fought you over the air conditioning. “I just know that you and Jacob train for volleyball together on weekends, Lisa’s busy with club duties, Bam Bam’s on an exchange student thing and Jihyo recently introduced us to the person she’s dating now.”

You leaned back in your seat and shrugged, finally giving up on the air conditioning to open the windows instead and admire the Han river on your side of the road. “Well, you know how Minho’s been doing with my updates and I haven’t seen Dahyun in a while too since she’s taking the most classes this semester.” You explained, extending your hand outside to feel the gentle Autumn breeze. Chan, despite being the swimmer between the two of you, thinks you’re crazy for liking the cold better. “As for many many other people I know, they’re either studying really hard or starting work now. Time flies and friends come and go, I guess...”

When you glanced over at him again, you saw his face scrunched up in thought as his hands blindly found the gear stick to slow down at an intersection. Once you reach the red light, he then meets your gaze, uncertainty in his expression that he tried playing off with a shrug. “Yeah but...is it weird if I said I don’t want that to happen with us?”

“N-No?” You found yourself answering before you could fully comprehend the question. Clearing your throat, you tried joking it off, “I think you might’ve taken the ‘I’m class president let me show you around’ thing back in high school, Chan.”

He shrugged, smiling as well at this. “Maybe I did, who knows? I like spending time with you.”

“I force you, you’re my ride around the city.” You teased, hints of sincerity coming through your tone of voice.

“But that’s because I like you, isn’t that what people do with people they like?” He said it with so much nonchalance but you couldn’t help but feel flustered at this, a reaction you immediately hid by laughing.

“You like me too much, it’s going to cause a traffic with all this sentimental stuff,” You pointed out, the cars behind you suddenly honking annoyedly as if on cue. “See? Even the people behind us agree.”

Chan wasn’t offended, however, not one bit as he continued rambling about liking you all the way to your dorm after. It flustered you at first, especially with how casual he was being, but, as you neared the turn to your dorm outside of university, you eventually caught up with teasing him back about it.

When you thought about it on your own once he left, you realized that you somehow liked it. It felt very natural—as if it’s something that’s always felt right hearing from him.

“I like Chan.”

“Yeah no shit.” Minho agrees absentmindedly, Seungmin and Jeongin nodding along while emptying their take-out boxes. You carpooled with Chan today as he drove Felix and Jisung somewhere to help them finish their term research paper. You were only supposed to hang out with Seungmin and Jeongin but Minho decided to ambush the three of you with Jihyo and Mina on their way to join your group at the younger boys’ dorm. “What else is new, Y/N? We haven’t met up like this in a while so I was expecting something spicier!”

“No, I mean—” You roll your eyes at him, smacking him with your rolled up lecture notes but to no avail. The boy simply opened his phone to check his messages, frowning when he then comes across a message from Jihyo and Mina informing him that they’re stuck in traffic. “I really like Chan.”

“Okay, and then?”

“I’m telling you I actually like someone then you dismiss me.”

“And I mean that took you a record-breaking three years to say.” Minho points out, finally closing his phone and propping an elbow up on the table to face you properly. “What has you sharing this to us on this fine Saturday, hm? Did you get jealous over someone again and got so insecure that you realize your feelings? Did you get stuck in a really small space, admired his face a bit then realize that you think he’s cute? Which trope is it?”

You shake your head disapprovingly at him, briefly glaring at Seungmin and Jeongin when the two start snickering next to you before answering, “Nothing, just...we talked lately and I thought that I really like talking to him.”

“So you don’t like talking to us?” It’s Jeongin teasing you this time as he sipped on his juice box, earning him a crumpled ball of paper on the head. “I thought it’d be more grand like in those K-Dramas.”

“You flood your crush with Pepero boxes and now you’re talking big with K-Drama confessions.” Seungmin points out, making the other boy in question roll his eyes.

You open your mouth to speak but Jeongin beats you to it. “Talk to me when you’ve confessed to that figure skater at your university, baseball boy.” He says before turning to you again, placing a hand over Seungmin’s face and dramatically pushing him away by his head. “Anyway, back on topic! So, will you ask him out?”

“I don’t know, should I?” You frown, leaning back on the sofa behind you with your arms crossed. “Wouldn’t it be weird?”

Minho shakes his head. “It’s 2020 so go wild, my friend. Anyway, if it doesn’t work out I already got my driver’s license—though I will tax you since you live far away.”

You roll your eyes, hitting him again. When his roommate passes by, half-asleep and dragging their feet towards the kitchen, you hear them request another smack on Minho’s head on their behalf as if on instinct. “I mean, do you just go for it? What if you don’t feel enough for people for it to work out?”

A pause then follows in the room, even Minho’s roommate momentarily stopped gulping down water from across the open common area. Seungmin and Minho sigh while Jeongin only raises an eyebrow with the same curiosity.

“Yes, Y/N.” Minho answers after a moment, tsking at you as he does so. This time, you gather the energy to smack him for the fourth time as quickly. “It’s dating not marriage, just see what works and what doesn’t.”

Seungmin opens his mouth to say something else, probably to comment on how Minho doesn’t apply the sentiments to his own love life, but he nods in agrement anyway. “I think it’s like you always tell me: don’t overthink it.” He adds instead, briefly turning his head to Minho after. “But I’m going to pretend you didn’t bring it up first, hyung.”

Don’t overthink it. Even Jihyo and Mina agreed when they arrived, pestering you into going over your entire rant and dilemma again once they arrived with beer and convenience store food. Dahyun too, but only a little later when Jihyo puts her on FaceTime.

“Just wing it,” She even added to assure you, glitching a bit on video because public library wi-fi has never been better than that.. “it’s just Chan, what could go wrong?”

And really, with Chan, nothing ever does feels like it’s going to go wrong even when the situation has your heart on the line.

“Chan, give me your hand.” You extend your hand out to his side of the car with your palms facing upwards, chuckling when he glances over to you with wide eyes. “I won’t tickle you this time, promise.”

“So what are you going to do?” He asks as he reluctantly moves his hand from the steering wheel to your hand, alternating his gaze between the road and you on his side in long intervals. “I’ll have you know that we’re about to turn to a narrower road so don’t try anything funny.”

“Like I said, I’ll just hold your hand.” You feign a pout, bringing your hands down on the compartment in between your seats. “There.”

You won’t tell it to his face right now, of course, but holding his hand is comforting to you.

He invited you to a small film festival for today, a thirty-minute ride to a place he only heard of on the poster for it that he showed you at the start of the week. “Bam Bam’s too busy to come with so I thought I’d invite you since you’re free this week!” He explained over the phone and you knew Bam Bam is really busy when it’s you who Chan is inviting to these kinds of everyday. “They have lots of animated movies on the line-up too so I immediately thought of you!”

“Your hands are so small.” Chan comments after a moment, shaking your intertwined fingers gently as the car stops at traffic.

You poke on his knuckles in response. “You just have really big hands.”

“Your hands are clammy too.” He points out next with a laugh. “Are you okay?”

“Because you won’t turn the air conditioning up, dumbass.” You roll your eyes, scoffing when he doesn’t move his hand anyway. “So why don’t you let go?”

“Because I like holding your hand.” He shrugs, biting down a small smile. The traffic still won’t move and he takes this as an opportunity to look at you as much as he can. “I like you a lot—even with your clammy hands.”

“I—” You freeze with your mouth hanging open, finally catching onto his smile. “Ya, what’s with the smile? Did you...did Minho say something?”

“What? No. I can’t smile now?” And it’s the truth, you find out much later when Chan calls Minho for you and puts him on loud speaker to disprove your suspicions. “Why? What am I supposed to not know until now?”

You squint your eyes suspiciously at him, shifting your hands around his but to no avail. “That I—I was going to say it first today. I like you too—a lot.” You sigh in defeat, leaning back on your seat and twisting your body to face him properly. The traffic is slowly starting to move again and Chan briefly turns away to move the car, turning to you as soon as traffic permits him again. “It’s a bit embarrassing to say right now, my hands are so clammy and you’re holding onto them the entire time.”

“It’s not because you’re nervous, right?” He asks with the smallest glint of teasing in his eyes which you shake your head at immediately. “It’s just us.”

“I told you, it’s because the air conditioning’s too low.” You chuckle, finally relaxing your shoulders in relief. Chan then lifts your hands up to the air conditioning unit jokingly, turning up the level with his knuckles. “And it’s exactly why I’m not nervous, because it’s just us.”

“Me too, to be honest. I’d be freaking out right now if Minho or Lisa or just anyone else peered over our shoulders.” You hear him mumble under his breath in a sheepish giggle. A thought then crosses his mind as he glances over to you, the traffic now moving much more smoothly. “So, I can still ask you if this is a date, right? The cinema’s still five minutes away with this traffic.”

You pretend to purse your lips in thought, bringing your hands back down once they’ve dried with the sudden rise in temperature. “Isn’t this too last minute even for you?” You tease, making him frown. “Ah, well, better late than never I guess.”

“I’ll make it up to you on the second date, promise.” He assures you, turning right to your destination. “Jus don’t back out on this being a date now, okay?”

“Of course not.”

“So boring.” It’s Bam Bam teasing you this time, Minho agreeing on the side. The one time he’s actually free to hang out and he sasses you throughout the entire night. “I expected more from you two.”

“It’s...two people dating in college, not a romcom, Bam.” You deadpan before taking a sip of your soju.

He shrugs from across the table anyway, passing you another bottle. “I guess being in love makes you a little boring. I don’t blame you.”

You slap a hand up to your forehead while Chan is practically drunk and dying next to you in embarrassment. “Oh God...”

387 notes · View notes

tsukifanbase · 5 years ago

Text

Obey Me! Brothers Realize They Don’t Want M/C to Leave Devildom

Authors Note: aaaaaa not much to say here except.... enjoy!

Warnings: fluffffyyyy, lil bit angsty but like so is all of my writing hehe, nothin too bad

-----------------------------------------------

Lucifer:

- idk i feel like luci already kinda suspected he had fallen head over heels for you

- i alsoo feel like he probably tried to push you away after he noticed you had stolen his heart

- never fear though, dear (m/c)! because lucifer didn’t quite account for how difficult it would be distance himself, either because you kept popping up at just the right time or because he subconsciously missed you :)

- anywhosie roll the tape lol

- lucifer vaguely wondered where all the time had gone

- just a few moments before, he was grinding through a ton of paperwork for your return to the human realm, and it hit him like a ton of bricks

- you were leaving

- it stunned luci, sure, he had known you were leaving at some point, and he was literally signing papers confirming that very fact, but it hadn’t quite clicked for him yet

- for a moment, he felt no sadness about your leaving, only shock and confusion

- not about how fast the past year had moved, more so, luci found himself hating the thought of not having you by his side

- it stunned him, keep in mind, all this time luci thought he was keeping you at a distance, when in reality, maybe you were so easy to love that he hadn’t even noticed when he let you get closer

- lucifer snapped out of it, and glanced around his office, his eyes landing back on the paperwork that he had abandoned

- the date printed across the paper was the same one he had memorized so long ago, the day you were leaving

- luci pushed himself away from his desk, and practically ran walked quickly to your bedroom

- you didn’t notice when he walked into the room, you were distracted, staring at a framed photo of the brothers and you at some event you went to in the past

- you were smiling, and lucifer felt himself melt when he saw that

- and in that moment, it didn’t matter that luci used to see you as a distraction

- because he realized that he loved you

- and with that new knowledge, his next move came easily

- after all, lucifer would never allow someone he loved so dearly to ever slip through his fingers, ever again

- “lucifer?”, your voice broke his train of thought, he was smirking at you, you weren’t quite sure when he had begun observing you, it wasn’t that you really minded though

-”is something troubling you?”, although he had that flippin gorgeous smile spread across his lips, you always had a knack at knowing when something was wrong

- lucifer didn’t stop smirking, but he made his way over to you

- “may i?”, luci gestured for you to hand him the photo, which you did pretty much immediately

- luci lifted the photo up closer so he could see you better, and then he chuckled as he handed the item back to you

- he pointed at mammon, “i seem to recall having to pour my drink on him that day”, lucifer chuckled to himself

- you looked surprised for a second, then squinted your eyes at mammon in the photo, his shirt was half drenched in an unknown, red liquid

- “i always wondered how he got soaked!”, luci smiled at you, then crossed his arms knowingly

- “do you want to know why?”, lucifer’s eyes remained glued on you, you were seemingly caught off guard, you then nodded

- “why?”, you asked, tilting your head slightly

- “he planned to ask you to dinner with him that evening”, luci seemed embarrassed for a moment, then his smirk returned

- “so why did that warrant getting a drink poured on him?”, you questioned, and lucifer took him eyes off you for the first time since he had entered the room, he sighed, then brought his gaze back to yours

- “because i recognized how much i hated sharing someone that was mine”, he chuckled, a light pink spreading across his cheeks, “especially with mammon”

- now i wish i could say you looked shocked, you didn’t, you looked smug as hell lolol

- “i don’t want you to return to the human realm”, lucifer lightly picked up your hand that wasn’t holding the photograph, he figured he would be straightforward

- you grinned at him

- “then i guess i’m not going back to the human realm”

Mammon:

- okay okay so lets be real here we all flippin knew mammon had a crush on you

- that included mammon actually

- he didn’t suppress his feelings like luci, in fact mammon had always been pretty open about the fact that he liked you, a lot

- mammon also realized you were leaving soon

- and that put faze one of his plan into action

- his logic was pretty flawed on this one y’all, but mammon figured, you couldn’t leave if hypothetically your transfer papers weren’t signed, or you were late for school that day, orrrr... i think you can see where i’m going with this

- mammon was determined, he would not let you leave devildom that day

- and that brings us to you, an hour late for school already, because your alarm hadn’t gone off

- you pulled on your uniform, and double checked that all your bags were packed, before making a mad dash out of the house of lamenation

- you checked your watch as you ran to the school, yes, you had definitely missed most of first period, but as long as you were in the school by the end of the day, you would be returning to the human realm without an issue

- or so you thought, turns out mammon had a million different things planned to keep you by his side indefinitely

- he had bribed your first period teacher to give you detention for being tardy, since he knew the teacher probably would have let you off the hook, seeing as it was your last day

- and yes, mammon spending his money on someone other than himself was usually unheard of, but who can say? desperate times call for desperate measures

- sometime before lunch hour, you wandered into the bathroom, making sure you looked decent, after all, you hadn’t really been able to check your appearance that morning

- in the mirror behind you, you saw three lower class demons wander into the restroom, giving you an evil smile that you just knew meant you would be late to your next period

- it was then that you realized something abnormal was clearly wrong

- the demons that had entered after you hadn’t said anything, nor made any more to hurt you, they simply stood by the door, knowing you weren’t going to take any chances with trying to get past

- they were keeping you in there, so what was their motivation?

- someone must’ve put them up to it

- eventually you were able to leave, the demons seemingly lost interest, you sighed and made your way to detention- it took place during lunch hour

- you took your seat in detention, and after a bit, you heard your teacher, that was supposed to be monitoring you, leave the room

- the teacher didn’t return, and the bell for your next class rung

- you walked over to the door, and attempted to open it

- the door was jammed

- because of course it was

- instead of yelling for help, you sighed and pulled out your phone

- you had a pretty good idea of who could’ve been behind all the bad things that had happened to you that day

- your phone barely rang once, before mammon picked up

- “hey, (m/c), what’s up?”, you could almost feel the nervousness dripping off his voice

- “mammon, why am i locked in a classroom right now?”, you replied, and just as you could hear mammon’s nerves, he could nearly hear the absolutely terrifying, ‘im gonna kill you’, smile that you had on your face

- mammon chuckled nervously, “sorry (m/c)! it’s for your own good!”, then he hung up

- you scowled at your phone, then went to call levi to tell him to come let you out

- it was pretty clear that mammon didn’t expect to see you sitting in your last class of the day, one of the classes the two of you shared

- he walked in with a big, smug smile on his face, which very quickly turned to a look of surprise, then fear

- mammon nearly walked out of the classroom, luckily the teacher was there to drag him back in by his jacket

- he sat down next to you, and attempted to pretend like nothing was wrong

- “hiya (m/c)! how’s my favorite human’s day been?”, you stared at him blankly

- the teacher still hadn’t started the lecture yet, so it gave mammon time to finally admit and explain his master plan to you

- he was sheepishly glancing away from you by the time he was done whisper rambling, he mumbled out a quick and quiet, “’m sorry, okay?”

- the teacher finally started lecturing the class about devildom history of something, when you broke out into a fit of quiet laughter

- mammon completely disregarded the teacher, blushing furiously, he thought you were laughing at him

- “hey it’s not that funny”, he pouted a bit before you seized your laughter, and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself

- “you know you could’ve just asked right?”, you giggled a bit after you whispered that to him

- “huh?”, that caught mammon off guard

- “you could’ve just asked me to stay here with you”, pink dusted your cheeks, “i like you too mammon”

- you just killed him good job

Leviathan:

- ok ok ok levi is bb

- it took a little while for levi to actually trust you

- cos we all know that it takes a while for babe to warm up to people

- but hun when he finally does start wanting to be around you, you can bet that you’re his new bff

- it’s so cute like

- by the end of your stay in the devildom, you’re hanging out with levi pretty much every day (i say pretty much bc he is an introvert, he likes his alone time, so while you spend most of your time together, expect that he’s gonna want to be by himself sometimes)

- anyways

- you two got to know each other really well through hanging out so much, and levi caught feelings really quickly

- you were the first real person to ever show interest in the things he liked, and the first person to really listen to him

- you were kind to him, and also assured him that you enjoyed your time spend together, even when levi tried to insist you would never want to hang out with a yucky otaku

- so that brings us to the day you had to leave

- you had spent the morning in levi’s room, and had noticed that he was being clingier than usual (although ‘clingier than usual’ for levi literally just means that he was sitting like an inch closer to you than usual lol)

- the two of you were just about to beat the final boss in your favorite video game

- you hadn’t really noticed how much levi was staring at you, after all, your focus was completely trained on something else

- but i assure you, levi found himself glancing at you every few seconds, almost like he was trying to make sure you were still there

- it flustered him, and levi found himself blushing at the thought, but he cared for you more then he ever could have imagined

- remember, levi hadn’t ever really had a true friend, other than henry, of course

- he had been lonely for so long, and now that he had someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life beside, who could blame him for not wanting to let you out of his sight?

- and while that could’ve been deemed as possessive, it seemed levi was just acting out of fear

- he was afraid, because he really didn’t want to see you go

- you dealt the final blow to the boss, causing the credits for the game to roll, and you let out a sigh of relief

- you turned to grin at levi, and give him a high five in celebration, you lowered your hand when you noticed that levi was already staring at you

- his expression not quite blank, levi looked sad

- “levi?”, you tilted your head at him curiously, that seemed to snap him back to reality, and caused a deep red blush to settle on his face

- you smiled briefly before standing up to put the controller on a side table

- “is something wrong, levi?”, you turned back towards him to ask your question, “you’re not exactly as happy as i thought you would be after beating that boss”, you giggled to yourself when levi covered his blush with his hand, he was probably embarrassed that you had noticed

- “no, nothing’s wrong”, you could barely hear him, he was mumbling

- you went back over to where levi was sitting, kneeling so you were at his level

- “you’re sure that nothing is wrong?”, you placed a hand on levi’s knee in a soothing manner, his blush deepened, any physical contact usually did that to him

- levi was covering his face with both his hands now, then he said something, his speech was muffled by his hands, you couldn’t make out what he said

- he huffed, then dropped his hands from his face to cross his arms across his chest

- “could you stay with me?”, levi whispered, “please?”, this time you heard him clearly, and you smiled in a way that made him go fuzzy

- you carefully raised one of your hands up to levi’s cheek, cupping his face, then you pressed a kiss to his other cheek

- “i thought you’d never ask”

Satan:

- okay so pretty much here’s the run down

- satan typically wasn’t one to share his reading time with anyone else

- while it was extremely easy to ignore outside distractions while he was concentrating on a book, satan still preferred to read in isolation

- something about the calming atmosphere, no other care in the world but his book, it was satan’s getaway from the hectic life he lived

- he never was willing to share that getaway until he found you reading in the library about a week into your stay in the devildom

- it was the first time that he wasn’t even remotely annoyed by another person’s presence during his reading session

- of course you weren’t silent, but he found himself comforted by your being there

- ever since that point, it was pretty common to find the two of you reading in the library together

- although satan found himself drawn to you even when neither of you were reading, sometimes he would find himself sitting on the edge of your bed, doing his schoolwork while you played a game on your d.d.d.

- if satan was being honest with himself, you were probably the first person he had never gotten angry with

- you never gave him any reason to get upset, and he adored that about you

- you were like a breath of fresh air

- that brings us to the evening before your departure

- you had slipped into satan’s room while he was sitting at his desk doing schoolwork, he noticed you entered, but it was so normal for the two of you to seek each other that he really didn’t feel the need to comment on it

- you settled yourself on his bed, and quickly lost yourself in your book, not noticing when satan would occasionally peer back at you over his shoulder

- it was probably about an hour after you had entered the room that satan finished up the paper he was writing

- he glanced over at the clock, internally sighing at how late it had gotten, then he turned in his chair to look over at you

- you had your head propped up on your hands, but your eyes were closed, and your breathing steady- you were asleep

- satan walked over to where you were lying on his bed, lightly taking your book from you and placing it on the bedside table, before he pulled the covers over you

- satan sat down on the bed beside you, carefully, so he wouldn’t wake you

- he smiled when you mumbled something in your sleep, and moved a strand of your hair from your face

- “i wish you wouldn’t leave me yet, my dear”, satan turned away from you to turn the lamp off, allowing the room to be engulfed in darkness

- “so who do i ask to rip up my transfer papers?”

Asmodeus:

- hmmm well we all know that asmo adored you in every way

- he finally had someone to go shopping with! someone who wouldn’t eat his things or steal everything once he paid

- the two of you were pretty much inseparable, it was cuttteee

- you were a regular on his social media, and all his fans loved you just as much as he did

- asmo insisted on helping you do your makeup and choose your outfit one day early in your stay, and from that day on, it was pretty normal for him to burst into your room each morning to help your fashion game

- and pretty soon he was taking you to all his favorite shops and treating you to delightful food (he wanted to take pictures of it for his fans)

- the day you were supposed to leave the devildom, asmo woke you early, as if this were just any other day

- he decided to treat you to a special going away shopping trip, and said that anything you desired was as good as yours

- let’s get to the scene!

- asmo was holding up a shirt that was exactly your style, he had always been good at picking things you liked

- needless to say, you weren’t really focused on the shirt, and asmo would’ve been delighted to know that he was clouding your mind

- you didn’t want to leave the devildom, not only because you had come to see the brothers as family, but because you didn’t want to leave asmo

- all the time you had spent together had made you realize just how much you cared for him, and you were pretty much just waiting for asmo to ask you to stay

- “hmm? what’s this? my dear (m/c) you’re not getting distracted by my beauty, are you?”, he teased, glancing over the shirt before placing it back on the clothing rack.

- pink spread across your cheeks, and you shook your head, before going to look through the accessories

- you were close enough that you heard what he said next

- asmo let out a deep sigh, “i just can’t seem to focus today, knowing that i won’t be able to shop with my dear anymore”

- you turned to face him quickly, speaking before either of you really recognized what you said, “then why don’t i stay?”, you covered your mouth after those words slipped past your lips

- you looked up at asmo nervously, and found him staring back at you with utter awe, then it turned to joy

- asmo dropped whatever clothing he was holding and ran over to hug you, his grin brightening the room

- “do you really mean it?”, asmo asked hopefully, to which you nodded, and he squeezed you into another hug, you sunk into his embrace

- “i’m so glad”

Beelzebub:

- ok other than asmo, i think beel was probably the fastest to warm up to you

- although that could’ve been because of your talent with cooking (honestly you could just be making box mac and cheese and beel would still love that you were cooking for him XD)

- it was probably a few days into your stay when beel was casually complaining about being hungry, he was usually ignored by his brothers when his stomach rumbled, so needless to say, he was a little bit surprised when you offered to make him something

- he nodded, followed you to the kitchen, and boom you got yourself a lovable, hungry boy as your new bff

- from then beel pretty much came to you ever time he was hungry between meals, because while he could make himself food, he enjoyed your company and honestly just liked it when you cooked for him

- that means we talkin about midnight snacks, brunch like every day, afternoon meal, you and beel were spending a lot of time together

- beel started coming to you not only because he was hungry, but because he wanted to see you

- you would tell him stories about the human world and about your life while you made cooked, and beel started to love the faraway look in your eye as you reminisced

- he found himself drawn to you, your familiarity, something about you felt like home, although he wouldn’t have put it that way

- beel only realized that he liked being around you, and when he found out you would be leaving him soon, he only seeking you out more

- you guys were sitting in the kitchen, it was early in the morning, before breakfast

- you were making pancakes, still rubbing the traces of sleep from your eyes

- little did you know, that was probably the first time ever that beel didn’t really feel like eating, and he zoned out staring at a pancake thinking about that very fact

- if he wasn’t hungry, then why did he ask you to cook for him? why did he seek you out, and wake up early to go ask you to do something that wasn’t necessary?

- “beel?”, you asked, noticing that the pancake you had set in front of him a few minutes prior was still untouched

- you walked over to where beel was sitting and placed a hand on his shoulder gently, he felt himself relax into your touch, “are you okay?”, you asked him quietly, you were just a tad bit concerned that he wasn’t eating, you had never seen a piece of food survive in front of him for more than three seconds before

- and just like that, beel spoke before he even truly realized what plaguing his mind himself

- “can you stay in the devildom?”

- you stared at him in brief surprise before your face broke into a smile

- “sure, if you eat the pancakes i made you”

Belphegor:

- ok ok ok ok so we all know that belphie had some trouble with humans when he first met you

- butttt as soon as you two became friends, he started noticing all the things he used to love about humans, all within you

- you found joy in little things, lived your life taking on every new challenge, one after the other gracefully

- you were empathetic, and it always stunned him, but you never got angry with belphie after he tricked you

- if anything, you treated belphie with more kindness than he deserved, because you recognized that he tricked you, and kinda sorta tried to kill you, because he was in pain

- because he needed to blame someone else for his sister’s demise, so it wouldn’t break him

- anyways, once belphie began trusting you, he wanted to be around you constantly which you were totally okay with haha

- you reminded him of someone who was dear to him once, and it made him want to stay by your side forever

- okkkk so needless to say, belphie was 1000% a bad influence on you haaa

- like he was clever enough to get away with things he shouldn’t have gotten away with

- for example, lazy boyo was lazy, so he would show up to class late pretty much every day

- however, unlike other students, belphie would just kinda appear in his seat at some point during the class

- it made the teacher question if they were going crazy or if belphie had just been there all along and they hadn’t noticed

- like the teacher would literally do a double take, like they’re scanning the room to ask someone a question and their eyes land on belphie, and they just go, ‘hang on’

- you rarely saw belphie doing his school work, yet he would always have perfect grades

- anyways back to the original point

- belphie had curious ways of getting what he wanted, and that was no different the day you were scheduled to leave

- the two of you were sleeping, it was nearly noon, and you had been contemplating your escape from belphie’s arms for the past hour

- you had to be at RAD by the end of the school day, and at that rate, you would have missed the goodbye ceremony completely

- so it was either risk upsetting diavolo, prince of the devildom, or your sweet, sleepy boy

- you decided to take your chances with the one you knew better, and began the process of removing yourself from belphie’s grasp

- you took a deep breath of relief once you were out of bed

- it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy cuddling with belphie, deep down you probably wished you could stay curled up with him forever, but you knew that you had to leave

- you wandered into the bathroom connect to belphie’s room, and started brushing your teeth

- when you finished brushing, you turned back towards the bathroom door, where belphie was leaning, rubbing his eyes and yawning

- you froze, and then you gave belphie a guilty smile, “good morning, bel”

- belphie crossed his arms, “where do you think you’re going?”, he never liked being woken up early, it always put him in a bad mood

- you looked at belphie curiously for a second, had he forgotten you were leaving? now that you thought about it, he really hadn’t ever acknowledged that you would be returning home, not once had you ever talking about it

- “i-”, you started, unable to finish your train of thought, as bel interrupted you

- “you’re leaving?”, he asked, but instead of sounding angry like you expected, his tone with playful, and you finally noticed a folded slip of paper bel was holding between his fingers

- you tilted your head at him, “bel?”, he smirked at you and stepped closer, holding out the paper for you to take

- you took the paper from him carefully and unfolded it, scanning over the printed words

- it was a document, one regarding your residence in the devildom, and at the bottom of the paper, was lucifer’s signature

- “bel? what is this?”, you glanced up at him, he was staring at you in the most loving way you could imagine

- “the paperwork that means you can stay”, belphie said carefully, picking up your hand and playing with your fingers

- you stared at him in disbelief before pulling him into a hug, “thank you, bel”

601 notes · View notes

sevlgi · 5 years ago

Text

foreigner

requested: no

group: (g)i-dle

pairing: soojin x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: foreigner!soojin, airport meet-cute. [29/33]

warnings: none

synopsis: The last person you expect to meet at the airport is a cute foreigner girl.

a/n: uhh i rewrote this like 8 times idk why i still hate it.. for this piece, italicized dialogue is in english! anything else is in korean. ALSO this is not meant to mock foreigners in any way!! i just saw this on a drama and thought it’d be cute :)

word count: 1k

Soojin sort of resented her friends for leaving her hanging.

Only sort of, though; she knew that Yuqi and Minnie had their own lives and things to attend to in those lives. It was just a bit annoying that she had to visit America without either of her English-speaking friends, only armed with a mediocre translating app and any remaining foreign language skills left behind from school.

The airport in Korea was a breeze, but Soojin was worried out of her mind for the entire flight. It wasn’t as simple as just getting to the airport and convincing a taxi driver to take her to her hotel, either- there were 2 different train stations and several taxi rides to get through before she could even arrive in the right city.

To sum it all up; the scariest thing of her life.

Still, she didn’t expect her first crisis to come just after getting off the plane. Panting and clutching her printed-out destinations in hand, Soojin raced through the lobby, suitcase shaking over the bumpy floor.

The doors slid open for her, and she sped up to reach the shuttles in time, but she wasn’t quick enough to stop running before she crashed into someone else. “Oh-”

“I’m so sorry!” Her mind barely registered that she was being spoken to in English, Soojin’s eyes widening at the sight of a hand being extended to her. “Are you okay?”

"I... I am okay.” She accepted your hand to stand up, cheeks flushing when she was nearly face-to-face with you and your gorgeous smile. “So sorry for... for hitting you.”

You shrugged, picking her suitcase up for her. “No, it’s fine! It’s really my fault. Where are you headed?”

Soojin’s frown seemed to be enough to cue to you that she didn’t understand you at the speed you were speaking, realization dawning on your face. “I’m going a little fast, right? Where are you going?”

She extended the paper in her hand lamely, hoping that the half-legible notes amidst the Korean on it were enough for you to decipher as she couldn’t pronounce the name of the town. “Ah! Are you Korean?” you suddenly asked, turning to her.

“Yes,” she tested out, smiling when you seemed to understand. “Do you speak it?”

“Not much,” you laughed in response, handing the paper back and starting to walk out towards where the buses were parked. “But I can usually understand it, if you speak slowly. Let’s go together, we’re on the same bus.”

“Ah, really? That’s great,” Soojin grinned, following you to the shuttle. “I’m Soojin, by the way.”

Turning back as your ticket was scanned, you replied, “Y/N. Are you on a trip alone in America?”

The brunette shrugged as her own ticket was scanned, scanning the interior of the bus for seats. “Yeah. I was supposed to come with my friends who speak English, but they were delayed at the last minute. Are you headed to the same train station too?”

“I’m actually going the same route as you to the same town,” you answered, raising an eyebrow with a matching quirk of your lip. Your Korean was a little bit haltering and spoken in fragments, but it was easily understandable to the other girl. “Coincidence or fate?”

Soojin even surprised herself by reaching out to swat your arm lightly. Your knee brushed up against hers as you sat opposite of her. “Aish, Y/N. So greasy, I can see that you’re American.”

“Not all Americans are as pretty as me, though,” you pouted, reaching up to cup your face. The brunette couldn’t help the shy smile on her face, turning to the window as the bus started up and the driver shouted something. “So, Soojin, tell me about yourself. It’s going to be a long ride, and we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

Conversation flowed surprisingly easily considering the language gap; both of you sometimes had to repeat yourselves for the other to understand, but Soojin found herself constantly smiling at the little jokes you made. Sometimes, you tried your best to speak in Korean, though it seemed to be enough just to understand each other.

With conversation, time flowed past, and the two of you got through all 2 train station transfers without incident. You were perfectly sweet, carrying her luggage and opening doors, walking ahead of her when you descended the stairs.

It was stupid how much Soojin enjoyed being with you.

When it came time for you to part ways on different taxis, she kept one leg outside the taxi to say her goodbyes. “So, Y/N, will we be seeing each other again?”

“Depends,” you smiled, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yuqi and Minnie arrive tomorrow,” the brunette explained, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulder. “But I can squeeze some time in before then, if you want.”

The grin that split across your face beamed like sunlight in the mostly cloudy day as you backed away from the taxi. “Great! I know where you live, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Don’t say it like that, it’s creepy,” Soojin laughed, hand lingering on the door. “See you, Y/N.”

You stayed on the curb even as the car pulled away, fading into a tiny waving figure. Once she couldn’t see you anymore, Soojin pulled out her phone to respond to the messages her friends had sent.

yuqi [4:51] unnie how was your flight?

minnie [4:57] R u alive??

soojin [5:08] I’m alive, stop it

minnie [5:09] ok good!

minnie [5:09] did u make it through the trains okay?

yuqi [5:10] sorry we couldn’t be with you!

soojin [5:11] I was fine, I found someone to help me :)

As her phone started vibrating faster with messages, Soojin smiled again, finding a new text from you too.

Y/N [5:08] see you tomorrow, foreigner girl

Tomorrow, indeed.

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bibliosophist · 4 years ago

Text

Soft as Bread, Sweet as Honey, Chapter... Idk, 4?

Hi folx! I guess there is more to this story. I’m working on what will be chapter 4 on here, and chapter 2 on AO3. You can read it below the break if you want to, or you can hop on over there and just read the whole thing properly. Beelzebub x Female Reader

Cooking duty is one of the chores at the House of Lamentation that you mind the least. You’ll certainly take it over cleaning the common room. It never ceases to amaze you how much of a mess fully grown men- demons- whatever- can make. Like all chores in the house, everyone takes turns cooking. Unlike other chores, people usually double up on cooking duty on account of there being so many mouths to feed-- especially when one of those mouths belongs to Beelzebub. Your cooking partner this semester is Levi, and though he does more talking than cooking, you’re generally fine with that. His constant stream of anime and game related chatter puts you at ease as you cook.

It had taken some time for you to get familiar with some of the more exotic Devildom ingredients, but you had found many that bore a close resemblance to food you were familiar with from the human world, and whatever you were unfamiliar with you were pretty good at researching on your DDD. You’d found a few Devildom dishes that you were comfortable cooking, but most often you ended up making food inspired by things you’d loved eating in the human world. Tonight you have decided to make okonomiyaki, a personal favourite. It would be easy enough to prepare a large quantity of, and allowed for enough customization of toppings that everyone would end up happy. Plus, you figured, Levi probably wouldn’t mind actually helping-- his fondness for everything Japanese outweighing his innate laziness.

When you enter the spacious kitchen, Levi is nowhere in sight. No matter, you think. You’ll start without him. You busy yourself washing vegetables and preparing a large pan of Covetous Cod fillets to bake. The mild fish, you think, will pair well with the tangy sauce.

You’ve almost finished peeling a pile of yams when you hear a voice behind you.

“Uh, hi.”

That is most certainly not Levi’s voice. Slowly you turn around, meeting Beel’s eyes from where he stands, large frame taking up most of the doorway.

“Hi,” you say back, your stomach fluttering.

This is the first time you’ve been alone together since the incident in the alleyway a few days ago. Between your project with Sibyl and his brothers’ constant presence, you haven’t been able to say two words to each other in private, and thanks to another one of Mammon’s pranks backfiring, the brothers’ texting privileges have once again been temporarily revoked. You briefly considered texting him anyway, but shuddered at the thought of Lucifer finding out and reading your messages. Though you haven’t had any alone time, it hasn’t stopped him from holding your hand under the table when nobody's looking, or smiling at you in the halls.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” A rosy tinge crept into his cheeks. “I got Levi to switch with me, but, uh, I got hungry on the way home and stopped for a few doughnuts.”

You can feel a grin spreading over your face. “You got Levi to switch. How did you manage that?”

“It wasn’t hard. He doesn’t like making anything more complicated than instant noodles.”

You laugh, running the peeler over the yam you’re holding. “So I’ve come to realize. But why did you ask him in the first place? Isn’t this just more work for you? Are you that tired of Ruri-chan Ramen?”

“Instant ramen is good, but I like variety in my meals. I get a little bit bored with just one flavor. Not,” he says, panic on his face, “that your cooking is boring. I like your cooking very much...” he trails off, cheeks on fire.

Your grin widens and you turn back to your task, beginning to grate the yam into fine strips. “I agree. It’s better when there are different, complimenting flavours.” If he doesn’t have a problem with your cooking, could he have come here just to see you? Your heart beats a little bit faster.

“Are you okay with my plan of making okonomiyaki? It’s a human world dish, but it’s really versatile. I think it will work well with the ingredients we have here.”

“Ah, yeah, I’ve had that before when I visited up there,” he says, pointing at the ceiling.

“Is it really “up” from here? Like, if I sprouted wings and flew straight up, would I get to the human world eventually?”

“I’m not sure,” he laughs, “I don’t know if anyone has ever tried getting there without using a portal.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” you say, gathering the grated yam into a bowl and beginning to thinly slice cabbage. “The cod is already baking. It should be done in a few minutes. Do you want to start on the batter for the pancakes?”

He nods, coming to stand beside you at the counter. “I can do that. Can you tell me how?”

“I actually wrote the instructions out over here,” you say, gesturing to a piece of paper.

“So...” you trail off, keenly aware of how close he’s standing to you. “What kinds of things do you like cooking?”

“Oh, um. I don’t think anybody has ever asked me that before. Usually they only ask me what I want to eat,” he says. When you glance over at him, he’s got a finger in his mouth. You suspect he’s just dipped it in the flour. You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips again, or the memory of how his skin tasted. Thankfully you don’t think he’s noticed you peering at him, because he keeps talking. “I guess I like grilling best. It’s pretty quick, and you get to watch the whole thing. It’s not like baking. That’s frustrating.”

“I don’t have the patience for baking either,” you say, resting your hip against the island as you watch Beel begin to crack eggs into his bowl. “One wrong measurement and the whole thing is ruined. Oh, hang on, you’ve got an eggshell in your batter.” You reach over, plucking the tiny fragment of shell out and wiping it on a teatowel.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s completely fine, it happens. That looks good, now just stir it all together.”

“Is it supposed to be kind of... runny?”

“Sure,” you say, carrying over the bowls of vegetables, “if it’s too thick, it won’t cook through properly. Here,” you reach into the bowl, transferring handfuls of cabbage and yam into the batter. “Make sure the vegetables get well coated. I’m going to take the fish out.”

“Thank you for letting me help,” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sliding protective mitts over your hands before opening the oven. It smells incredible, and your stomach rumbles. Normally you’d cut off a big chunk and snack on it while you finished cooking-- Levi had usually wandered off by this point in the process-- but you’re acutely aware that it’s not Levi standing behind you.

“Well, usually my cooking partner is Lucifer. He likes things the way he likes them. And...” he trails off, bringing the batter over to the stove. He looks a little dazed, eyes locked on the pan of cod. “That smells incredible.”

“Thanks. I hope it tastes as good as it smells. Wait- no!” Your warning comes too late, he’s already reached out to pinch off a corner of the flakey flesh. He hisses in pain, pulling his fingers back, shaking them vigorously.

“That’s another reason he doesn’t like me in the kitchen with him,” he says bashfully.

“Come here,” you say, taking his other hand and leading him across the room to the faucet. You turn the cold tap on and test it with your own hand before taking his injured one and running it under the chilly water. “Is that better?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he mumbles, cheeks pinker than his fingers. “I have a hard time controlling myself. It’s like I know better, but I forget when there’s food around.”

You chuckle, rotating his hand under the stream. “I get that. Normally I snack while I cook. I don’t like waiting either. Then I end up eating way more than I should.”

He nods along with your words. “I do the same thing. There’s this one soup that Belphie really loves, but every time I try to make it for him, I end up eating it all before it’s ready and have to start all over again.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you say, turning the tap off. You gently dab his hand dry with a clean teatowel. “I’m going to go get the first aid kit from my bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“No, wait,” he says, catching your arm as you turn away from him. “Stay here with me.”

“But your fingers-”

“Already feel much better,” he says, drawing you back to him. Now his eyes are glazed with something other than hunger. He cuts off your protest with a kiss. His lips are so soft and warm; you melt right into him. When your lips move against his he scoops you up in his arms, sitting you on the counter, bringing your face level with his. “I missed you,” he whispers, pulling back to kiss your nose.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back, resting one leg on either side of his hips. You wrap your arms around his neck and your mouth back to his. His hands find your waist and he holds you tight as your tongues explore each other’s mouths. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted to touch him these past few days, and now that you are you can’t get enough. Your hands find their way under the collar of his jacket, fingers running over his broad shoulders. You’re in the process of sliding his jacket down his arms when a familiar voice cuts through your haze.

“- getting hungry, do you need any help in- oh.” Breaking apart, you look to the source of the interruption to find Satan standing in the doorway, one hand on his hip and a smirk on his face. “So dinner will be quite late, then.” he says.

“Beel burned his finger,” you blurt.

“Uh-huh,” Satan nods. “And to sooth it he had to stick his tongue down your thro-”

“Get out,” Beel yells, seizing a nearby piece of fruit and throwing it in his brother’s general direction.

Satan steps to the side, smoothly avoiding it. He chuckles. “I’ll tell the others dinner will be a bit late.”

Face absolutely on fire, you hop off of the counter and cross back to the stove. “I’ll just heat up some oil,” you say.

Beel follows after a moment, resting his hands on your hips as you begin cooking the pancakes. “Can we finish that kiss after dinner?” he asks

It takes all your willpower to continue spooning batter in the pan. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

#Obey Me #Shall We Date: Obey Me #om! beel #om! beelzebub

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youreacowgirllikeme · 4 years ago

Text

After Class

note: so, I wasn’t really able to get that image of Jake as a college/university professor out of my head and this kind of happened, idk if it qualifies as an AU but anyway, here is Professor!Jake for you

(sorry for the grammar, non-native speaker here)

warnings: professor-student relationship, swearing, smut (fingering, oral), nsfw

“Shit, shit , shit.”

You ran through the empty hallways towards the lecture hall, the old clock on the wall telling you what you already knew: you were late, almost 20 minutes. And just because you overslept after working on that essay for your political history class till 4 am last night.

Professor Tapper would be so mad, he absolutely hated unpunctuality. Just the thought of him being angry or disappointed with you made you quicken your step even more, because Jacob Tapper was the very man you desperately tried to impress more than anyone else.

He usually worked as the lead political correspondent for CNN down in Washington DC, but, as he stated at the start of his first lecture, decided to take a sabbatical after the 2020 election, using the time to teach at his alma mater as a guest Professor.

He was brilliant, a walking history encyclopedia and was considered to be one of the sharpest political minds of the generation. His lectures were the perfect mix of both of those subjects, and he was throwing in a lot of his journalistic expertise as well. You admired him and truly enjoyed having him as your Professor. And you would’ve loved nothing more than to take in every single brilliant thing he said. But there was one tiny problem.

Because above all, he was hot. Like, please-bend-me-over-your-desk-after-class-hot. That very fact was often making it incredibly hard for you to pay attention to what he was saying, so you spent your lessons staring at his back, his hands, his face from the last row, letting his deep, smooth voice wash over you.

Even if he was more than 20 years older than you, you really had it bad for him, which was one of the reasons you lost sleep every night. That, and his very demanding curriculum.

Out of breath, you finally arrived at the doors of the lecture hall, opening them as quietly as possible, trying to sneak into the room without anyone taking notice of you.

“How nice of you to finally join us, Ms. Y/L/N“

Shit. He had noticed you.

And as you looked to where he was standing in front of the class you could see a deep frown on his handsome face.

He was, as usually, impeccably dressed, wearing a dark blue suit and his glasses, which were a personal weakness of yours.

It took a small cough from one of your classmates for you to stop staring at Professor Tapper and actually addressing him instead of undressing him with your eyes.

“I am so sorry for being late, Sir, it certainly won’t happen again.“ you stammered, feeling like you might faint from the embarrassment of the situation.

"I will certainly hold you to that. Still, come and see me after class to discuss this, please.“ he said, his stern voice and intense stare making your heart almost burst out of your chest.

He turned to the blackboard again, continuing to talk about McCarthyism, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the lecture hall.

You were still beyond embarrassed that he called you out like that, and even more so because it was very likely that he caught you staring at him. You hastily made your way to the nearest free seat, fortunately this was a Dartmouth senior class and not Highschool, so there were no snickers or silly comments, you didn’t draw much attention.

You spent the remainder of the lesson trying to focus on the actual topic instead of how broad your professors shoulders looked in that tailored suit jacket, or how perfectly styled his grey hair was. Unsurprisingly, you had no success as your mind wandered even further down the dangerous path of attraction you had for Professor Tapper, thinking about the things those long, elegant fingers holding the chalk could do to you or what dirty words he could whisper against your skin with this sinful voice of his.

You were so caught up in your inappropriate daydreaming that you totally missed your Professor ending the lecture and dismissing your classmates.

You heard your name being called, and looked up, startled. Professor Tapper was standing right in front of your desk, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring down at you with an unreadable expression.

“We definetly need to talk about your attitude regarding this class, Ms. Y/L/N. Not only have you been late for the fourth time this month, your participation is severely lacking, to put it mildly. I...I don’t get it.” He said, his voice staring to get louder. He ran his hand through his hair, looking exasperated.

“Your submitted papers are extraordinarily good, your analysis is always spot on, and you find a way of comprehending the topics that no one of your classmates seem to grasp. And yet you spend each one of my lessons not paying attention, you’re not able to awnser any questions and you never partake in discussions. What is the matter? Am I boring you?“

He grew more agitated with each sentence, now leaning onto your desk with both arms and staring directly at you. If he only knew how far from bored you were in his class.

You felt like you were frozen, held in place by the way his eyes were looking straight into yours. His fingers were gripping the edge of your desk now, it took everything in you not to stare at the veins on the back of his hand. And, worst of all, you felt a blush starting to creep up your neck. You couldn’t get a single word out.

“I asked you a question, Ms. Y/L/N.” there was sincere anger evident in his voice now.

„I’m...I’m so sorry, Professor Tapper. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It doesn’t come from a place of disrespect, because I have nothing but admiration for you...” you stopped yourself before saying something you might regret. You could feel your blush intensifying.

A look of realization flashed over your Professors face.

“Oh, so thats what this is all about, I see.” he murmured, and turned around, walking towards his own desk in the front of the classroom.

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements to get you transferred to Professor Coopers class. This situation is highly inappropriate and it can’t interfere with your academial career, I won’t allow it.”

You were shocked.

Quitting Professor Tappers class? Never having another lecture with him again seemed like an impossible thing to even imagine. Before you could stop yourself, you began to speak again.

“No, Sir, please don’t do this. I’ll get a grip on it, I promise. It’s a silly crush, I won’t act on it, ever. I’ll never be late again, and I’ll participate, I’ll respond to every single question you give me, just please don’t make me quit your class.” you pleaded.

Your professor didn’t answer, so you got up from your chair and made your way over to him, coming to a halt in front of his desk. He was looking at you, eyes dark, an almost pained expression on his face. You took the paper you spent all night finishing out of your bag, putting it on his desk.

“This is my latest assignment, please read it before you make your decision. I am really putting so much effort into my work for this class, and I can’t imagine going to another professor with my questions. Please don’t send me away.” You were almost begging now, desperation evident in your voice.

Professor Tapper sighed and took of his glasses, the motion making your heart go fast you felt arousal starting to burn in your lower stomach. He was too attractive for his own good. You realized, too late, that you said the last part out loud.

“Sorry.” you whispered, not daring to meet his eye.

“Ms...Y/N” he said, addressing you by your first name for the first time ever.

You looked up to him.

“What you don’t understand is that I can’t allow myself to teach you anymore, considering this new...development. I just can’t do it.”

He took another deep breath, looking as if he was under an immense amount of stress. His shoulders were tense, and the crease between his eyebrows was more prominent then ever.

“But why?” you cried, “we can act like this whole conversation never happened. Nothing has to change, I’ll do better, I promise!”

He slammed his palm onto the table, the loud noise echoing through the empty lecture hall.

“Because it takes every damn ounce of my self control not to throw you over this desk right now and have my way with you, so how the hell am I supposed to teach you every day knowing that this is exactly what you want me to do? Staring at me like you’re doing it right now? I can’t do it!”

he was almost shouting now, breathing heavily. He was leaning over his desk so that his face was just inches apart from yours, close enough for you to see the small wrinkles around his eyes and how his lips were slightly parted.

And then you just leaned over and kissed him. His lips were soft but unmoving under yours. He was absolutely rigid for a second. Then he groaned against your mouth, and one of his hands reached out to cup your jaw and pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

A moan escaped your lips, and he broke free, taking several steps back from you. He was breathing hard and you could see a bulge beginning to form in his suit pants.

“Y/N, you have to leave. Now. We can’t do this.”

But there was no chance you were throwing away this opportunity. You’ve wanted this man for months, and this was your shot. So you slowly circled the desk and stopped right in front of Professor Tapper.

Gathering all your courage, you put one of your hands on his arm...and let the other one brush against his tight, close to his crotch. He let out a hiss, but didn’t make an attempt to remove your hands. His body was tense, but his eyes were dark and full of desire. He clearly wanted this as much as you did.

“No one needs to know. “ you whispered. “We obviously both want this, we’re both adults and you’re not even responsible for my final exam. You’re a guest professor, plus my graduation is only two months away anyway. I’ve wanted this, you, since I first stepped into your class.”

This broke his last resolve, he surged forward and started kissing you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your back, going downwards and squeezing your ass through your skirt as he pressed you against the hardening bulge in his trousers. "Fuck...are you sure you want to do this?“ he groaned into your ear. You just managed a breathy „Oh my god, yes.“

He instantly grabbed your hair to tilt your head back and cover your exposed neck with kisses and nibbles, making your skin break out in goosebumps and heat coiling in your lower stomach. You could feel yourself starting to get wet, and grinded your core against his erection again, your hands fisted into the lapels of his suit jacket. You moved against him, causing him to groan again, the deep, rumbling sound only fueling your arousal.

Your hands were shaking as you started working on his fly, opening the zipper and palming his cock through his boxer briefs.

While he continued to kiss your neck, his hands found their way under your skirt and he quickly pulled your panties down. As soon as your hot center was exposed, one of his long fingers parted your folds, gathering wetness.

Two of his digits entered you in a swift motion and the feeling of his fingers stretching you was like heaven. He was stroking that special spot deep inside you with every move as he plunged in and out of your wet pussy.

You buried you head in Jacobs (yes, you started thinking of him as Jacob, which was fair enough considering he had his fingers buried inside you) shoulder, muffling your increasing moans as you felt your orgasm approaching. The familiar tingling started low in your belly and slowly spread into every part of your body as Jake continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you faster and faster, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit in the most delicious way.

"I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, feel you come apart under me. Come on, darling, come on my fingers.“ he growled into your ear and bit your earlobe. That was the last straw and you came with a cry, your walls clenching around his fingers as pleasure surged through you.

Your knees were weak as you slowly removed your head from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. His blown pupils and heavy breathing were making it obvious that this was affecting him just as much as you, which was also evident from the very prominent erection that was tenting his boxer briefs through the open fly. He carefully withdrew his fingers and quickly wiped them on his pants.

"Wow“ you said, still trying to find your breath. "That was...amazing“

Your head was still spinning a bit from the intensity of your orgasm, but you were already thinking about how to repay him for making you feel so good.

You reached out your hand to palm his erection again, making him utter a low groan. Leaning forward, you whispered into his ear.

"Let me reciprocate, please.”

"You don’t have to-"

You broke him off with a small smirk.

"Please, I insist.”

Without hesitation, you dropped to your knees in front of him. He watched you intensely, sucking in a sharp breath as you looked up to him from under your lashes while you slowly pulled down his briefs along with his trousers. His erection sprung free, and you wasted no time, putting your hand around the base and slowly started taking the head into your mouth. You could feel his cock heavy on your tongue as you slowly sucked him deeper. One of his hands fisted into your hair and he started thrusting in and out of your mouth.

You put your hands onto his thighs for leverage, softly scraping you nails across his skin, which only seemed to spur him on, his thrusts starting to become deeper.

“God, Y/N, your mouth feels absolutely fantastic. You look so beautiful on your knees, sucking me off, taking my cock between your pretty lips.”

You almost couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your usually so eloquent Professors mouth. Who would’ve known he could talk so dirty.

It turned you on, immensely, and you increased your efforts, taking him even deeper into your mouth. You could feel his thrusts starting to quicken, and even if it was getting harder for you not to gag, you were enjoying this slightly rough treatment.

"Shit, I’m- I’m going to come, Y/N.” he gasped, locking eyes with you.

You nodded your head as far as it was possible, signaling him to not stop. Instead, you wrapped your hands around his legs and swallowed his cock deeper until it was hitting the back of your throat. He let out a deep, guttural moan and tightened his grip on your hair almost painfully as he came inside your mouth.

You released him, wiping the spit from your lips and looked up at your Professor. He was a sight to behold, dark eyes, tousled hair, leaning against his desk as he was slowly coming down from his high. You spoke first, getting up from the floor.

“I...liked that.” you said, unsure of what to say exactly.

He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand across his face.

“It was absolutely amazing. But we shouldn’t have done it. The very last thing I want is to take advantage of you. You deserve to be treated right.” he said in a low voice as he was readjusting his clothing. Hearing him say those things made a warm, happy feeling spread inside your chest. He cared. This hasn’t been just some quick way to blow off steam.

“You treated me exactly right, please dont worry...Jacob” you said, testing out the unfamiliar first name. He just nodded, and then his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug as he pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

“Thank you so much. But if you want this to continue, I must insist that you transfer into Professor Coopers class. Please, Y/N.”

his voice was heavy with emotion and he released you from the embrace to look directly at you.

“I agree. And I very much want this to continue, so I’m gonna transfer. It’s only for a few more weeks anyway. But, and this is my condition, you have to take me out for dinner this weekend.”

“Fair enough. I’d love to take you out properly. And please, call me Jake.”

#jake tapper #jake tapper fic #jake tapper x reader #fanfiction #smut #cnn anchors

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jksangelic · 6 years ago

Text

peaches & piercings (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: punk!jimin, e2l, college au, very explicit smut, one-shot, jimin is a whole asshole

↳ pairing: cheerleader!reader x punk!jimin

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, sub/dom themes, casual sex, be t r ay a l, alcohol (and weed? idk) consumption, oral sex (male receiving), squirting, thigh-fucking, kind of exhibitionism?, jimin is pierced (that’s all i’ll say), just expect the worst from me tbh

↳ summary: jimin, dipped in hair-dye and pierced in so many places that you just couldn’t keep track, doesn’t think you’re his “type”. you call bullshit.

↳ note: i reallyreallyreally hated this fic. loved the idea, hated how i wrote it. i’ve had this bad boy sitting in my archives for months and months and months and couldn’t gather the courage to post it until NOW! partially because this is an apology fic for my inactivity and more so because i just think i’ve read it too many times that at this point, i’m just being nit-picky and need to move on.

a special thanks to the lovely @14statelier whomst unwillingly received dong pics for the sake of this fic. i’m so glad i found someone as sweet as you to beta for me + become an even better galpal! love u always xx

also thanks to my gal @jungshookz, i’m pretty sure (78% positive) i sent her my idea via snapchat and was probably inspired by her in some way, per usual.

OKAY i’m done you can read now hehehe

↳ words: 11.6k

↳ parts: one | two (complete)

“Jungkook, if you’re not going to throw it then get your grabby hands off my waist,” you warn, eyeing him as he stands behind you and delays in one-manning you into an extension or ogling your ass in your skirt.

“You’re just so wobbly today, I’m waiting for you to chill out a bit,” he lies with a smirk. You smack his hand but exhale deeply as you firmly grasp his wrists and count.

“1, 2!” With mutual timing, Jungkook dips down with you before heaving your body above, squatting to catch your heels mid-air, and pumping back up into an extended position. He’s right, you wobble a bit, calling out, “Bail!” and feeling his hands disappear beneath to re-catch your thighs and bring you down safely on your toes. You curse silently under your breath but pat Jungkook’s shoulder as a symbolic “thank you”.

“It’s too fucking early for this, I’m tired,” you say, only making excuses for yourself.

“Well, liven up. The doors are going to open soon and no freshmen want to join a failure of a cheer team.”

“Hey, stop bickering,” the captain, Suzy, orders, “Y/N, you’re fine to just handle the flyers, I’ll stunt with Jungkook.” You squish her into an exhausted hug.

“This is why you’re captain,” you coo.

With that, some of the staff open the gym doors, welcoming an intimidatingly large group of people in with smiles. You fake one yourself, ready to get this over with as soon as possible so you can go back to your dorm and sleep. Within ten minutes, you had a group of girls and a handful of brawny guys already watching Suzy and Jungkook’s exhibition, a mixture of oohs and ahs being rewarded. You handed each of them a thin, poorly-made flyer with pixelated clipart of a girl doing a toe-touch before they scrambled.

After a while, most of the initial commotion dies down and you people-watch each clueless face, thinking how adorable they are, so young and so lost, as if it weren’t you only a few months ago. You’re only a sophomore, but in your head that gives you enough authority to judge the freshmen.

You snap out of your daze upon boots clicking in the distance, soon revealing a man seemingly darting through the crowds to exit across the other side. You would’ve ignored him if it wasn’t for his peachy-tinted hair, long and slicked back atop and close-shaven near his neck, his thin but fit stature dressed in all-black, and the glint of metal, that you soon realized was a septum piercing, in his nose. He has a dark sleeve consuming his right arm and you wonder what eighteen or nineteen year old has a fully-developed sleeve.

Although his eyes were covered with chunky black sunglasses (in the gym, at that), the rest of his appearance sent your pierced-and-tatted-hot-boy alarm berserk. Suddenly awake, you wait for him to head closer to your booth before hopping next to him.

“Hi there, freshie. Care to take a tryout flyer for this year’s cheer team?” you ask with a pitch that’s much higher than your own, kindly handing him one of the shitty-looking papers. He mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch but speaks before you can ask him to clarify.

“Not a freshman. Do I look like someone who cheers? I’m just looking for the counseling center to turn in my transfer papers.

“Also, can you, like, give me some personal space?” he continues in a mock valley-girl tone.

You jump back, completely caught off guard with his sudden hostility and attempting to regain your composure by clearing your throat. Someone must’ve shoved a stick up his ass this morning.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Once you leave the gym, you head right, pass two sets of restrooms, head left, and it’s behind the big statue where the foyer is.” Your voice sounds much better.

His eyebrows rocket upwards over his glasses, completely frazzled by the number of directions you gave him, “Shit, okay. That’s a lot.”

“Here, I’ll just walk you,” you say, not giving him any time for him to probably decline. You don’t even question if he’s following you or not, the obvious clunkclunkclunk of his boots giving it away.

Unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t try to talk to you on the way to the counseling center. At most, he walks side-by-side, at least three meters between you for good measure. And even though it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk, you ring him out a little more anyway.

“So, you’re not a freshman. Underclassman or upperclassman? And you’re a transfer? From where?”

Pass two sets of restrooms and head left.

“Senior. From Busan.” He doesn’t even show a hint of feeling. Emotion. Does this guy even breathe?

Straight until the statue in the foyer.

“Great. Well, it was nice to meet you, senior from Busan. I’m Y/N. If you ever need help or anything, feel free to ask me,” you deadpan, swiveling on your feet to salute him.

He leans on one hip, taking a hand with an incredible amount of rings on it and pushing his sunglasses over his hair like a headband. You certainly weren’t expecting a reveal of the kindest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He almost looks permanently sleepy—eyes drooping flat on the lid. Your trance distracted you from his brief once-over, unpredictably impressed by your looks, if he had to admit it.

“It’s Jimin. Jimin, senior from Busan. See you around, cheerleader,” he says with a sly tilt of his lips before swinging the door open and slithering into the office. Past all the glitter and bright colors that poured out of that hideous uniform of yours, Jimin found you really cute.

Jimin waits patiently for the front desk to call him up, lounging in one of the hard, black plastic chairs that never failed to give his ass cramps. Though he didn’t seem like it to new faces around the campus, he was ecstatic to be starting college again in a whole new atmosphere. He even got to room with another male originally from Korea, Min Yoongi, in a small condo not too far a walk from the area.

He could even prospect cuties like you during his year, undoubtedly positive he could busy himself judging by the attention he’s attracted so far. All it would take is a hungry stare, a lick of his lips, an all-knowing smirk. It was easier here than it was back home, if not child’s play. He could have you in three hours flat. But then he thinks of you choosing the obnoxious cliché of college cheerleader and cringes at the idea of associating himself with such… American-ness. He could at least go for some sort of indifferent, grunge hipster that might actually have some thought to her. Yeah, more his style.

The woman at the front finally calls for him, so he arranges his papers and shoos away any daydream of hooking up with the girl in a tight skirt and ankle socks.

Taking the long route back to the gym, your imagination sputters through all the possible reasons why you should hate that guy, bad-guy radar ringing and shrieking and threatening to punch you square in the eye if you even think about it. Eventually, it comes to the conclusion that he was just new, he was probably having a rough moving-in, and you shouldn’t judge a transfer by their hair. Book by its binding? You don’t really remember how the saying goes in this situation.

“Hey, good job on snaking yourself out of flyer duty. What, did you bang Asian Hot Topic on your way?” Jungkook snickers.

“And did Cait break up with you because you can’t dom for shit? Hand me my jacket.”

He guffaws, practically throwing the clothing at your face, “We didn’t break up, asswipe. How am I supposed to act when she suddenly calls me ‘daddy’ without previous warning? I’m not ready to be a father.”

“Kook, you’re dumb as shit. Maybe I should bang Asian Hot Topic and give you pointers of how a real dom works their magic.”

Jungkook crosses his arms in denial, “Pfft, you don’t even know him. He could be a receiver for all you know.”

One, two, three seconds. You both chortle at the impracticality.

You take one final look in the body mirror, adjusting the slinky grey dress and hanging an oversized burnt-orange corduroy jacket over your shoulders for that final touch of unnecessary, but fashionably-adept, garnish to your outfit cupcake. Not having enough time to do your hair, you sweep it over to one side and leave it as is.

“You look fine and you’re ten minutes late so get out already,” your roommate, Sara, whines. She practically pushes you out, slamming and locking the door for emphasis.

Waving off your discombobulated roommate, you start your trek to the humanities building (which is so far away) with a skip in your step. A new school year meant new people, new classes, more lunchtimes with subpar food and occasional parties that could potentially lead to you getting arrested. Who knows!

A new school year, however, didn’t mean that you would know your way to your new class apparently. Bummer.

It’s only by your fourth circle and a glance at your phone that you panic, fifteen minutes somehow passing in the midst of your scrambling. Pace quickening, you pull out your paper with sloppily written notes of what class room number was at which time, simultaneously half-jogging past classrooms and—

“Oof!”

You land straight on your ass.

“Ow, watch where you’re going stu—oh, it’s you.”

You look up groggily, pain stinging through your legs from the brunt of your fall and lazily making eye contact with a pair of puppy dog eyes. Jimin stands above you, rubbing his chin where, you suppose, your forehead made rough contact with and indiscreetly staring at your bright blue panties where your dress failed to cover.

Hopping up and dusting yourself off, you pick up your fallen bag and paper before glaring at him, “Sorry, I got lost and wasn’t paying attention.”

He scoffs, “Aren’t you the cheerleader? You’re supposed to be, like, the girl scout of the school, right? You shouldn’t be lost.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well. I am,” you mutter to yourself, “I don’t even think there’s a 207 in this building…”

“Oh, 207? Intro to psych, right? That’s where I’m going too,” he admits, eyes blown wide. Welp, certainly not the highlight of your morning.

“Great. By the looks of the current time, we’re both lost and,” you wave around the empty corridor, “there’s no one who’s going to help us.”

“I’m not lost. I just woke up late,” he answers nonchalantly, a warm glow to his face like he couldn’t give two damns about his class.

“W-What? Then let’s go! Where is it?”

Jimin twirls and walks a different direction, mumbling, “I’m not your escort, rich girl.”

You prattle at his comment but follow him anyway. When you find the correct lecture hall, you groan at the fact that you already passed it several times. He opens the door quietly, not even bothering to hold it for you as you scramble to catch it. A couple of the back rows look back at you two, annoyed by the minor inconvenience.

“Well. Welcome to my 10AM psychology class at,” the professor booms through the hall and peeks at his wristwatch, “10:36. Go ahead and take these two free seats.”

Jimin shrugs and walks towards the front of the room, a quiet and embarrassed you tiptoeing behind him. Being this late and having to sit next to this ass wasn’t how you wanted your first day to go at all.

For the remainder of the 24 minutes until the first break, you skim over the contents that you missed in the syllabus and want to ram your head into the closest wall. Participation and attendance by themselves are 30% of your grade, homework and assignments (thank god) being a measly 20%, and the final plus tests and quizzes a hunking remainder of 50%. What even was this system?

During your ten minute break, you silently scroll through your phone notifications, setting it down irritatingly when the hall refused to grant you enough service to respond to any of them.

“Don’t have LTE, princess? Might as well watch paint dry without your phone to entertain you,” Jimin snickers beside you. You scowl menacingly at him and he giggles more.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but back off, Jimin. Sorry I don’t, like, play the electric guitar in my free time or whatever.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, still smiling and blowing bubbles with his gum, popping them quite obnoxiously, and quite intentionally.

“What, do you think I play the electric guitar? Are you stereotyping me as some sort of garage band drop-out punk?” he jesters.

“And do you take me for some sort of pink fuzzy consumerist? You don’t know me. Buzz off.”

Jimin had definitely tucked you into his mental folder of “tough gals”; his aloof tactic of flirting not seeming to penetrate that pretty skull of yours. He could just take the path of least resistance and approach you normally, but where was the fun in that? You were too interesting a specimen to just use-and-discard.

Jimin suddenly thinks you look attractive with furrowed brows and pouted lips. It was most definitely working for you, so he lets it slide for now. When class ends, you all but bolt before Jimin can even look your way, sure he’d find another surface flaw to pick at.

You suddenly think of what all of the adults in your life have said during your upbringing: people that went out of their way to bully you were either jealous or had an embarrassingly crushing “thing” for you. Jimin, on the other hand, was just annoying.

Of course, to your dismay, class isn’t the only time you ever saw him. You weren’t totally stupid. The campus didn’t stretch for miles and you were bound to see him sometime and have to deal with the efforts of avoiding the man at all costs but fuck were you praying to whoever controls your Sim above that they would grant you some mercy.

“Just tell him to fuck off if he’s so far up your ass,” Jungkook argues, crushing his juice box in one gulp and biting his massive cafeteria burrito.

“You don’t get it, Kook. I have. So many times, in so many different instances. Did I tell you about the time I thought he was helping me get a textbook from a tall shelf but he ended up taking that last one for himself?” You angrily rip a bite from your limp sandwich. You really did hate Turkey Thursdays.

“Eh, first come, first serve. Maybe he didn’t know you were trying to grab that one.”

“My ass, Jungkook. He claimed that if I really wanted it, I would ‘do something in fair exchange’ for it. I’m not looking to going into prostitution anytime soon.”

“Respect sex workers,” Jungkook criticizes.

“Oh, no, totally. Sex work just isn’t my forte.” Kook shrugs.

“Okay,” you continue, “how about the time I went to IKEA to buy that ceiling lamp and was obviously struggling to one-trip everything from my car? The dumbfuck passed by and asked if I needed help, so I was like, ‘Yeah! Sure, it would definitely make up for the time you asked for sex in lieu of my psych book,’ but instead of helping me carry anything he took my coffee, drank some, and left.” Jungkook starts a rebuttal but you cut him off short, “Then he showed up to my work the other day, god knows how he even saw me in there, and started taking a video of me when I wasn’t paying attention!”

“What the hell,” your friend sports a face of disgust, “like, he’s stalking you?”

You scratch the back of your neck, “Well, not exactly? I think he was just maybe—see, A$AP Rocky may or may have not been playing on the speakers, and I didn’t know anyone was in the shop! So. I don’t know. I started—”

“Started rapping with a rolled up poster as your microphone,” he deadpans. Finishing your horrid sandwich, you crumple the saran wrap and chuck it at his eye, satisfied when we wails exaggeratingly.

“Maybe that’s just his way of flirting with you, he’ll get bored eventually.”

“I think he just hates my guts and thinks of me as an equal to the gum under his thick, goth boots,” you mumble.

“Does it matter? So what if Danny Phantom doesn’t like you?”

“He’s causing a problem though. Besides, everyone cares if someone doesn’t like them. It’s bullshit if they tell you otherwise; bullshit or a lack of sympathy.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Because I’m totally your friend and all but I don’t necessarily want to hear about your boy problems all the time.” You harrumph at his negligence and slump back into your seat.

There really wasn’t anything you could do about it; it wasn’t bad enough to the point of distressing tyranny. You simply couldn’t befriend the guy, it was obvious he didn’t want that. You would just have to pray to all things good that he would eventually lose interest, stop harassing you out of kindness, or have a change of heart and treat you like the saint you were.

If only it were that easy.

Sylly-week kicked ass, to say the least. Even two days prior the hectic week from hell, your body aches from partying while your wallet cries from all the textbooks and supplies you paid for.

Sara slept beside you, forehead stuck to the desk with her laptop stuck on some sort of half-assed document and you couldn’t fathom a better picture to represent college.

Although it was already around 11, you hop out of bed and throw on your windbreaker from cheer and some spandex, shuffling into a pair of your sneakers and bolting out of your room with your bag. The amount of sodium and sugar you consumed from Cup-O-Noodles and off-brand cookie dough bites made you feel disgusting, and you know running a quick mile at the gym would get your blood pumping enough to make you: 1) feel better about yourself and 2) put your ass to sleep.

The walk is short, the air still a little heavy with heat but cool enough for you to be comfortable in a long-sleeve. Some tired students exit the library, really the only other people you see at this hour. You would’ve thought it creepy if the campus wasn’t so well-lit and played background music through the announcement speakers. If you died or got kidnapped, at least it was to some groovy jazz.

You swipe your card across the sensor beside the athletic building door, waiting for that subtle beep before the gears clank and allow you to heave the door open. Immediately, the smell of sweat poorly masked with air freshener fill your nostrils and your adrenaline builds. You’re no body builder, but a run certainly sounded nice right about now.

You practically skip through the halls, rounding a corner to enter the weight room before you stop in your tracks to see someone in the room across. You squint suspiciously, peachy hair striking a very strong familiarity to…

“Jimin?” you whisper to yourself. You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at the gym, but you are because he isn’t. He’s in the dance studio. Before you bolt, your eyes glue to his sensual movements, legs gliding across the floor and body free-flowing alongside the bass-filled music. No previous bias could deny that he looks like an angel in his room, dancing smooth as meringue and practically skating across the floor despite those clunky black boots of his; and powerful, hitting every note and beat with intention and vigor. You’ve never seen anyone dance like this.

After a few seconds, you render that you’re spying on him and continue walking, nervously scuffing your sneakers down the linoleum and immediately, and unfortunately, catching his attention.

He first sees you in the mirror. Ignores you. Then realizes it’s you and turns into the most ungraceful bag-of-bones as he scurries to pause the music and chases you down the hall.

“Hey!” he yells, grabbing your elbow.

“Don’t touch me,” you strike back, jerking your elbow out of his grasp and staring him down.

He looks apologetic, genuinely worried for a second before he breathes deep and tries again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. Um, why are you here?”

“Um, because I can be? I was going to go to the gym, dickwad.”

It takes all of his patience not to insult you, “Okay. You’re right. Were you… were you watching me?”

You give him a sickeningly-sweet smile, “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just passing by.”

He nods solemnly, straightening his tank as if it wasn’t already wrinkled and damp with sweat, “Okay. Okay, cool.” He starts to turn before he keeps going in a 360.

“Can you keep this between me and you? That I was here? That I was here and I was—”

“Dancing?” you ask quizzically, “Why does it matter?”

His eyebrows stitch together in frustration, “Y/N, do I look like I’m a dancer?” He gestures to his piercings and his sleeve, waving his hands about in so many different places that your lewd curiosity wonders what he looks like naked—for the sake of knowing how many piercings and tattoos he has though, obviously.

“I think you look like a dancer. Just not a contemporary dancer. Did you take ballet?” you half-tease, crossing your arms and beaming slyly at him.

Jimin huffs, impatient, “Will you just keep it locked somewhere in that airhead of yours?”

“What’s in it for me, Jiminie,” you pout, “what do I get as reward for keeping your secret?”

He falters a moment, licking his plump lips and walking dangerously close, “You want a reward? I don’t take you as that kind of girl, Y/N.”

He must be delirious, eyeing him so and shoving him away, “Ew, no. I just meant, like, be nice to me from now on. And help me with psychology. That class is nothing but a memory test.”

He blinks dumbly from your rejection; who ever rejected him? He waves it off.

“Okay. I can be compliant. I won’t treat you like the rich bitch you are, and I tutor you on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Deal?”

“I’m not a rich bitch. I have student loans like the rest of the student population, thank you very much. Deal.”

You smile at each other devilishly, ready to part ways before bursting out with an instant, “Wait!”

Jimin looks over his shoulder curiously. Damn, you could really see how toned his shoulders were in that shirt.

“There’re dance majors here, is that what you transferred for?”

He turns all the way, leaning sideways against the wall and sighing, “Honestly, yes. But my family thinks I’m transferring to finish my business degree and that I would have better opportunities here. I really did it because there’s some great studios in the area but—” he catches himself rambling, “I don’t know how they would feel about my grand decision.”

You shrug, “You’re a great dancer, Jimin. Honestly, you could open your own studio here if you wanted to. You do have great opportunities.”

His sleepy eyes stare you down, a half-smile drawing itself out before he can take it back. “Give me your phone,” he orders.

You don’t know why but you do.

He dials into it with his overly-accessorized fingers, giving you a moment to get a closer look at his septum and the abundance of ear-piercings he sports before he hands it back. You’re pretty sure one of them is Gucci and you bite back a chuckle. Rich bitch.

“That’s my number. Text me when you’re free on study days.”

And with that, he re-enters his room and resumes the music.

The first time Park Jimin meets with you at a Starbucks on a Tuesday, like he instructed, you thought you somehow managed to get yourself stuck in the Twilight Zone.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. My last class ends at 3 on both days and there’s already a quiz this Friday. Help.”

You sent the text without emojis. He didn’t deserve any.

You had barely got to Instagram before he texted you back. With multiple messages.

“u text like a gramma”

“but ok”

“starbucks at 330? i’ll buy”

You giggled to yourself at his joke, sending a single “(:” and putting your phone to sleep.

To your disbelief, he really did buy you a cheese danish and a tall, iced, caramel macchiato. You sip it gingerly while he pulls his things out of his bag: a couple mechanical pencils (the industrial, expensive ones), a 1-inch binder organized by subject with dividers, and notecards. You grab them and hold them up like it’s evidence from a leading murder case.

“Notecards? You are way too organized and functional.”

He snags your pastry before you can grab it and takes a huge bite, “Yeah, but ih’s gonna het you a bedder ghrade.”

Whining, you get it back after his second bite, somehow only half remaining.

“Okay. Let’s get started. It should only be a vocab check because that’s really all he’s asked us to study so far. We’ll start with my wonderful notecards,” he waves them in the air for effect, “and see which ones you do and don’t know.”

You nod, waiting for the chaos to begin. Who were you to tell him that you haven’t actually studied any of the vocab yet? He holds the first one up. Abductive reasoning.

“Uhh… is that like, something detectives use on kidnapping cases?”

“Wh-What? No. Well—are you thinking of ‘abductions’? Abductive reasoning is being able to use the two states of induction and deduction alongside your intuition to reach a conclusion,” he pauses and tilts his head a little, “ I guess the best analogy is giving out a verdict on a criminal case. Without being 100% sure, they use the evidence to tie together as many different points as they can to come to a conclusion. So, I mean, you got it wrong, but you can easily remember the definition with that.”

You’ll take what you get (majority of his reasoning went through one ear and out the other, anyway), wiggling your eyebrows in justified approval. Jimin laughs at you, eyes squinting to slits and shaking his head. He takes notice that you aren’t wearing much makeup today, your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a tad red with irritation and a bit dry where the sun burnt and eyes daintier without so much eyeliner on them. You threw on a tank and some workout shorts and look like the epitome of… comfortable, in your head. Jimin thinks you look effortless.

“Park?” you wave your hand in front of him.

He catches himself staring and jumps out of his seat, chair screeching across the tile.

“Sorry,” he coughs, “I’m going to take a whiz.” Stupid. He practically trips over himself to get to the restroom.

You watch him hurry to the back. He probably had much better things to do than help you study in the middle of the afternoon. A couple of younger girls watch him as he passes, giggling like a pack of fangirls and combing their hair out of their faces. If they only knew.

Did he even have a girlfriend? Most likely not, right? He only just transferred here and despite his well-endowed looks, he was still intimidating. Like a giant “don’t touch, I bite” sign constantly hung around his neck.

He comes back shortly, and before you can deduct that you would rather save the embarrassment than to quench your curiosity, you ask, “Are you dating anyone?”

“Because you get a lot of followers,” you reason, shamelessly pointing out the girls who ogle his tattooed biceps. They giggle again when he looks their way. God, so many giggles.

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and that intrigues you, “No, I’m not dating anyone. I think if it weren’t for my… accessories? And the fact that I’m foreign, girls wouldn’t like me as much.” You find tiny comfort that he’s single but squish the thought away.

“How ‘bout you? Dating that guy on your team?” he retorts.

“Who, Jungkook?” you snort, “No. He has a girlfriend and he’s all brawn over brain. I’m not dating anyone, actually. I don’t like guys that are so competitive to win females strictly for the points, and there’s a lot of that here. S’gross; we’re not animals.”

“We kinda are,” he argues, but smiles understandingly.

“Okay, but not in the way where your possible significant other has to perform an instinctual mating dance?”

He juts up an eyebrow, “Really? Because I could easily arrange that.”

For the first time, you both laugh. At the same thing. Who knew that Jimin could dance of all things? And pay for your food? And actually be a nice guy who’s really smart? Thinking about it, today has gone so polar-opposite of what you expected that you contemplate if this is Jimin’s identical twin that just happens to have the same piercings and ink that bully-Jimin has.

Twilight Zone.

“Okay, let’s continue,” he says, resuming the queue of notecards.

“Define abulia.”

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Jimin waved a hand in your face.

“Hm? Sorry, say it again.”

Jimin packed up his supplies, then grabs yours and tucks them into your bag, “I said, ‘Are we going to your place right now?’ You said you picked up Black Panther on DVD so I want to watch it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Cats and shit.”

You both stand up and stretch, the rest of the students in the lecture hall slowly filing out. Midterms were already approaching, which meant that you and Jimin had known each other for quite some time now. His tutoring was ditched weeks ago after you were finally comfortable with the material and able to comprehend what the professor was saying without Jimin to interpret. At first, meeting up stopped completely. You two would talk occasionally during class break and that’s all, and after a while, you just figured your deal was completed and Jimin finished his case and you both separated onto your different ways.

But then Jimin had asked if you wanted coffee at the same Starbucks you had first studied at, but for no specific reason. Just to hang out. So, you did.

Hanging out once or twice for coffee turned into twice getting lunch turned into four or five times lazing about your dorm, and now, you were just completely, wholesomely, friends. It was hard not to be on edge at the contrast of current Jimin to hell-on-earth Jimin, but you took what you could get.

“Is something on your mind? You’ve been spacing out for a long time,” he prods, taking your bag himself and throwing it over the same shoulder his own bag was on. The

walk to your dorm building was short but you could feel your feet dragging from sudden exhaustion.

“I think I’m just tired? I’m fine. Ready to Black Panther it up and all that jazz,” you chuckle. He takes the hint and resorts to quietly humming to your room rather than talking. That’s one thing you liked about him, he always knew when your mind just needed simple white noise.

Unlocking the door and jostling it out of its stickiness, you make a running jump to faceplant onto your bed. The mattress dips next to you when Jimin sits.

“I know you like cheer and all, but I think you need to take a break,” he says.

“Easier said than done. And I have mandatory captain conditioning in 3 hours,” you groan, propping your head on the palm of your hand to watch Jimin as he eats a stale bag of chips that he found on your nightstand. His face contorts in repulsion and throws the bag away.

“Okay, well, you’re not going. Tell them you’re sick. Let’s watch some DC movies and eat popcorn and have, like, a girl sleepover but I’m not a girl and I don’t want to spend the night,” he says, counting each point on his fingers.

“First of all, you lunatic, it’s Marvel not DC. Second, I don’t have popcorn. I can’t just skip conditioning because if I gain one pound Jungkook will sense it with his nose or something and attack me.”

“What,” he says in disbelief, grabbing your waist with one hand and squeezing a little, “you’re fine. You’re not going today and that’s final.” It’s not very often he touches you and as much as you try not to show it, you feel your face heat and mouth gape open and closed, ready to combust. You don’t particularly know why; guys touch you all the time (not in that way, thank you very much) but when it was Jimin, it was like you had been raised feral and failed to receive any means of human interaction.

He notices, taking his hand away as quick as he placed it and looking at the floor. Despite your lack of proper reaction, you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little twinge of disappointment. God, you’re so confusing to yourself.

“How about you? Your vampire ass won’t dance in sunlight so you must be tired too. How long do you normally dance for when you’re in the studio?”

“Well,” he lays flat on his back and stares at your popcorn ceiling (your dorm building was extremely outdated), “I try to workout at the actual gym in the morning before I get ready for class, and then I dance from 11 to whenever I feel is enough during the weeknights. That is, if no one’s there.”

“Why do you even follow this whole path of disliking mainstream trends and ‘rebelling against the world’? Isn’t that tiring? Aside from dance, do you, like, make your own skateboards and go to secret underground bars or something?” you tease. He rolls his head towards you in annoyance and mouths a “ha ha”.

“No, I just. I don’t know. I don’t like people telling me what to do or where to go or how to look,” he showcases his tatted arm. “This is all mine. I don’t want to be another puppet controlled my whole life to consume and work off a never-ending debt just so I can only live comfortably when I’m old but too old to actually live.”

“Wow, bro. That’s deep,” you pretend to smoke a pretzel stick. He continues anyway.

“Recently I made some friends that are in one of my labs. They’re from Korea too. If I’m not studying or working or hanging out with you, I’m probably with them. Partying or something,” he says, stealing away your “cigarette” and crunching on it loudly.

“Woah, you work? How do you find the time to do that?”

“Kinda. Nothing official, I just tutor people sometimes. Charge them by the hour and make some decent pocket change for food or whatever.”

You contemplate. How come he’s never charged you for your tutoring before? You ask him, studying his side profile and admiring his jawline when he talks. Flexing then easing; taut then relaxed.

“Because we had a deal. We agreed that I would help you in psych as long as you kept my secret, in which you did, so I figured that was good enough. Besides, you’re too cute to charge. I look like a bad boy but I’m not evil.” You giggle, resembling a middle-school fangirl and exaggerating a flattered stature.

Jimin laughs again, light and refreshing staccato notes that you could honestly listen to all day. It was therapeutic in its own crackhead way.

You’ve been unintentionally staring at him more and more often, Jimin finally taking notice within the last few minutes. He knew how to read a girl; how revealing they make themselves to impress him or how their eyes dim in any sort of suggestion that his hands should somehow find place on their body. But with you, he has no idea what that stare means. For the most part, you carry yourself so independently to the point of being standoffish and Jimin just can’t figure you out. He sought the day you would give in and beg for a night with him just like most of the other girls in his classes did, and when you didn’t, he wanted to know why. Not out of inflated ego or need to get into your pants—okay maybe because of that initially—but even more so that he just needed to dissect you. Know how to get you going, what kind of person you really are, which was completely different from what he originally imagined.

You were talking amidst his thoughts, not paying attention to the strings of sentences that fell out of your lips and before he knew it, he held himself directly above you, hands on each side of your head and staring right down into your disordered doe eyes.

“What makes you so different?” he asks aloud, more to himself than you. Puzzled and not under the impression that it was a rhetorical question, you shake your head.

“I don’t u-understand. What are you doing, Ji—”

He tucks a loose strand of yours out of your face, causing you to hiccup. “I feel like when I think I know you, I’m actually far from it.”

You don’t particularly know what you’re supposed to say to that.

“You didn’t ever need to get to know me. You just needed to make sure I kept your secret,” you play along. Knowing it wasn’t really the whole case, your own statement stings a little. If it weren’t to save his own ass, would he even be here right now?

Like he read your mind, he answers, “Why would I be here? I haven’t needed to help you in weeks. I’m with you all the time because I want to be. Because I—”

“Because you…?” you trail on, heart beating so hard you swear he can hear it. You wanted him to say it, maybe that’s what was keeping you from confirming your feelings. You needed validation; that this wasn’t just you or that this was some one-sided longing because you doubted someone like him could ever like someone like you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks instead, so hesitant and delicate and worrisome all in one question and you ponder if this is the same boy you first met at orientation.

“Please.”

He dips down slowly, eyes half-closed in anticipation of what your face looks like so close, pausing an inch away when you shut your own. You feel his warmth near your mouth, waiting for that first touch, any contact, until it seems like it’s been far too long. When you peek, you see nothing but his perfect… cheekbone? He stares, jaw stuck open and eyes fluttering, at the intruder in the door before swinging himself off the bed and coughing awkwardly.

“Oh, Sara. I didn’t know you were coming home so early today,” you squeak out. You sit up yourself, brushing off nonexistent dust from the bed and watching Jimin gather his things in a rush and squeezing past a concerned Sara in the doorway. He doesn’t even turn back, ears stinging red and peeping a quick, havetogotextyoulater. Great, the asshole left you to face your roommate alone.

“Was that Jimin? Park Jimin? The fucking transfer student?”

“Oh my god, Sara, what’re you freaking out about?”

Dropping her stuff in the middle of the room, she shrieks annoyingly and grabs your shoulders, “Are you seriously fucking with the Park Jimin? Y/N. Nuh-uh. No way. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Chill out! We’re just friends. He tutors me sometimes.” Not quite a lie.

She eyes you and deadpans, “Yeah, I didn’t know tutoring also included a one-on-one session of how to have sexual intercourse.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you remove her hands, which were digging crescents into your skin, and pretend to arrange your bed, “we haven’t even kissed. You just walked in at an inconvenient time.”

Sara sighs, rubbing her temples and sitting on your bed, “Look, babe. Just be careful. I’ve been to parties with him and have heard some awful things. Shit you expect from a movie where the girl gets fucked over because the guy doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. I just want the best for you, okay? He’s not as sweet as you might think he is.”

He isn’t sweet at all, you said internally. But still, your heart clenches at her words. Sure, he acts like a dick, and you shouldn’t be surprised if he really does get around as much as Sara suspects; but there was just some sort of denial that lingered. If he really was such a player, why would he have stuck around with you for as long as he has, as platonic as it has been until now?

“I… I didn’t know that. I’ll be careful,” you assure her.

All it took was a squinty-eyed smile and a tiny caress to the small of your back on the way into the lecture hall for you to completely melt into his hands. You were simply putty, magically molding into some gross, odd-smelling ball of love just because of the almost-incident yesterday. You can practically feel the radiating disappointment from Sara if she knew how easily you gave yourself up for him.

His face reoccurs in your daydreams for days, all the way up until the weekend comes up from behind and smacks you on the ass.

“Focus,” Jungkook taps you through you skirt again. Oh, or maybe it was Jungkook.

The stadium speakers blared with announcements and you’re brought back to the world of clashing helmets, captain’s orders and Jungkook’s strong hands residing on your waist for partner stunts.

You didn’t need to be reminded, you were much more stable than you were weeks ago. He throws you in the air during the signaling note of the band and catches your right foot with ease above him, keeping you stable as you pull a heel stretch and present a pretty smile. The crowd roars along, inspiring the team and singing along with the cheers.

By the end of the game, you’re exhausted, tearing down paper signs from the concrete walls and shuffling your poms into your bag in a hurry.

“Hey, are you going to the feed after? Everyone’s going, I could give you a ride,” Jungkook offers, but you shake your head.

“I’m pretty beat. I’ll go next time.” He shrugs, finding more interest in catching up to someone who is interested than trying to convince you otherwise. By the time your clean-up is done, most of the fans are gone, the stadium a comparable difference of quiet than how it was only twenty minutes ago.

“You’re sure taking forever,” a sudden voice pipes up. Outside the gate stands Jimin, all-black tank and jeans, per usual. “You looked great out there.”

You smile, suddenly awake and jogging towards him, “What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t like football.” During all your rushing do you realize that you relax around Park, time always seeming to slow down in his presence and you dissolve into his effect.

“I don’t. Such an American moneymaker. They’re all cons.” He takes your bag like he always does, leaning against the gate and looking excited, “Mind if we stop by my place? I have something to show you. It’s not far, probably only a 5 minute walk from here.”

You nod before he even mentions how long it takes to get there, heart palpitating at the thought that he’s inviting you over. You’re sure you smelled from cheer and you probably looked like the opposing team warmed up suicide runs over your sweaty body, but you nod.

“Were you here the whole time? Or just towards the end?” you ask, slightly insecure towards the fact that he could’ve been watching you cheer.

“Was here since halftime. Got Yoongs to watch with me at the gate where I was before for the most part. He left halfway through fourth quarter though, said he got tired from seeing others exert themselves so much,” he chuckles at the thought, eyes squinting and crooked tooth visible from the side. Your heart swooned, you were even starting to notice the little things. How he acted. His habits. What he did and didn’t like.

You were in fucking deep.

“I did get to see you cheer though,” he answers your unspoken inquiry, “you looked pretty, Y/N. It’s like watching a whole ‘nother person compared to how you act outside of uniform.” You’re still stuck on the word “pretty” and nod along like you’re listening.

“You should see how people look at you,” he draws on, “like they’re entranced. Even when you were just relaxing on the sideline, not doing anything, you stand out.”

“Oh my god, Jimin, where is this even coming from? One more compliment and the world might explode from the paradox you’re creating.”

He shoves your shoulder lightly, laughing at your tomato-red face, “What do you mean? I can’t compliment you?”

“No that’s not—I just mean. You know. You used to hate me and now you shower me with praise like I’m the best person in the world. It’s just crazy how much our relationship has changed. And… And yesterday—”

“Yo, can’t believe you really stayed for the rest of the game,” a raspy voice outbursts. You just realize that Jimin stopped you in front of a house, presumably his house, as a mint-haired ball sits on the porch. He inhales from his cigarette and exhales through his nose before throwing it underneath his boot.

“Hey, Yoongs. This is Y/N. Y/N, Min Yoongi, my roommate. Has a bad smoking habit and have only recently gotten him to smoke outside.” Jimin snickers, offering a hand to lift Yoongi off the step and welcome him into some bro-hug.

“You smoke too, bastard. Just did it ‘cause I knew you were bringing someone home tonight,” Yoongi retaliates, eyeing your figure. Shivers run down your spine at the comment.

Jimin coughs unexpectedly, then anxiously laughs as he pulls your arm behind him and into the house, “We’ll be in the living room. Go sleep or something.” Yoongi only clicks his tongue in response.

“Sorry,” he says once your inside, “he can be a little too personal sometimes. He’s really nice once you get to know him.” You shake your head, giving him a comforting smile that eases the tension in his shoulders.

He settles you on the couch, host-like politeness apparent when he asks if you want anything to drink, tells you where the bathroom is, and hands you the tv remote before disappearing to find his laptop. His home was cozy, minimalist furniture often in gray, black, and an occasional blue spread throughout the rooms. You weren’t sure if the boys were attempting to be modern or if college tuition only allowed them this sort of set-up, but nonetheless, it was way nicer than you expected.

“Back,” Jimin plops onto the couch right next to you, Apple laptop unlocked to a default background. He looks to you briefly before setting up some page on Google, “Have you signed up for your classes for next quarter yet?”

He looks different, your eyes scanning over his face to figure out just what it is, “Basically, just gotta confirm and pay and whatnot. Have you, Jimin?”

It’s his septum, you discover, that he’s taken out. He looks handsome either way. Propping the laptop suddenly on your lap, he beams, “Yeah, go ahead and take a look.”

You scroll through the page, humming to yourself, “Mhm… Mhm… Accounting, business 101, contemporary repertory… God, you’re going to hate sociology with Doyard, she’s a complete psycho!” You trail, giggling at his misfortune. Once you’re done, you meet his discontent face.

It takes a few takes from his face to the screen, back to his face, until oh shit!

“Wait does ‘contemporary repertory’ mean something important?” you squeal in rushed excitement. “Is that a dance thing? Are you taking a dance class here?” Before he can even explain, you shut the laptop and safely place it on the coffee table before tackling the man, withdrawing an oof from his lips.

“Easy, girl. Please don’t break me before I even get to show up on the first day.”

“Jimin, this is amazing. You’re finally doing something you want to do, during regular hours, at that!” You nuzzle into his warm chest, “I’m so happy for you, Jimin. I hope you have fun.” His heart clenches at that; how could you be so fucking caring about him? He knew you’d be surprised, but not genuinely happy for him. His hand glides over the skin between your midriff and skirt, an inkling of a gasp floating out of your throat.

“Sorry,” he whispers, moving his hand higher and locking eyes with yours. Time is always slow with him but now, it’s like it was screaming at you to take the opportunity. Unwinding one of your arms from around his neck, you smooth his hair up so you can see those prepossessing eyes.

“You can touch me,” you confirm just as softly. His features harden and you hope you didn’t read the situation wrong.

“I… I never got to kiss you that night.”

“Then you can kiss me now, if you’d like,” you say, pleading in your voice and it’s all he needs to hear before he burns his lips into yours. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted this,” he pants between suckles to your bottom lip. He kisses like he dances: powerful and in perfect control with his body, molding it to yours and massaging the skin he just apologized for touching only seconds ago.

You cup his face and look down at him with sultry prowess, “I want you, Jimin. I’ve always thought about this, hoping you would just make a move, idiot.” You dive back into him, his moans prominent when you lick and nip at his lip. He lowers his grip to your ass, squeezing and pushing his hips into your own.

“Well, I’ve always thought about fucking you in this cursed uniform,” he growls, forcing a giggle out of you. Grinding down into him for effect, your mouth travels to his ear so you can state a small confirmation.

“I’m flexible, babe. I’m all yours.”

He hums his praise, latching his mouth onto your neck, laving and peppering blues into your skin before he carries you off the couch. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, “Where are you taking me?”

Heading into a hallway and taking a sharp left, he kicks his door open, “I don’t know about you, hot stuff, but Yoongs doesn’t need to see you getting dicked down in our living room,” he jests. When he lays you back onto the foot of his bed, you briefly scan his room and find it hard to believe that it’s relatively clean, the posters on his walls the only thing that seemed cluttered. This guy was your high school self’s wet dream. Scanning him promiscuously, you chuckle.

“I can be into it,” you drawl playfully.

Earning an unimpressed scoff, he fingers the hem of his shirt, “You’re mine,” he sheds it in a swift pull and throws it to the side cockily. Marveling at each detailed divot and curve of muscle, you can’t help but bite your lip in frustrated anticipation. “Unless, you don’t want me,” he finishes with a tilt of his head. He knew what he was doing, simulating innocence to draw you out of your transfixed stupor to hear those three words string from your mouth. You reach out to touch his abs, tracing over linework of ink and watching him shiver from your touch. Knowing exactly what he wants to hear, you gaze into oblique eyes and mouth the words, “I do want you”.

Goading him on, you lay back and extend your legs above you, shuffling your spandex tantalizingly slow over your skin. Jimin whistles at your show, staring at the white g-string you sported under your skirt and wandering his hands over the supple skin you expose.

“Jesus, you fucking tease. Leave the skirt.” Tittering at his request, you dig your heels into his back to propel him down towards you, his ringed hands keeping himself afloat and a winning smile winking down at you. Bless your heart you didn’t faint right then and there.

He kisses you like a man starved, lips burning hot with desire and aching to be bit—so you give him that. Sinking your teeth gently into the flesh, he punishes such action with a slap to the underneath of your thigh, then holding it close to the side of his abdomen and rolling over with you on top. Practically suffocating from lack of air, you dislodge yourself, quite reluctantly, from his mouth and soothe his complaints with brief kisses to his thick neck.

“Why didn’t we do this—ah, before?” he pants. Sucking a particularly tender spot of his jugular, he moans out and bucks into your hips. You continue your way down, leaving no inch of skin untouched until you reach where his skin ends and the nuisance of clothing began.

“You don’t make things very easy for me. Can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, don’t ask. Just do it. Turn around, though, I’ll finger you at the same time,” he offers, propping himself up on his elbows as you readjust yourself with your head towards his bulge and your ass facing him, knees keeping you up on one side of his torso. “Perfect,” he commends.

Unbuckling his ridiculously tight jeans, you hook your thumbs under the denim and whisper a quick, “Up,” to pull them off when his hips lift off the mattress. Your pride inflates at the sight of his bulge resting in the crook of his thigh, adorned by simple black boxers that hugged him in all the right spots. All but drooling at the member, you place a loving kiss where you know his head resides, mouthing at it gingerly and soaking the material with your saliva.

He ruts into your face as he watches such indecency, “You know, I should probably tell you something,” he says rather seriously, shuffling your skirt up above your ass and mischievously prodding at your sex with his thumb.

“Hmm,” you mumble, sliding his boxers down enough to suck at the pink tip that oozed of precum and spreading the liquid around with your tongue. The bitterness that came with it was all welcomed, slightly sweeter than others you’ve ever tasted and you appreciated it much more when a man this good-looking was laid out before you.

He groans, “Ever heard of a Jacob’s Ladder? Fuck, right there, underneath a bit…” You suck and nip at the skin of his frenulum, knowing he was bound to like small dosages of pain mixed with his pleasure—a guess all too correct when he cries out in ecstasy and gives your ass a light spank.

“A Jacob’s what?”

“Just—just look at it. If you don’t like it then I can just take them out,” he sighs, all too impatient to give you a rundown of whatever a Jacob’s hoo-ha entailed. You perk a brow at his vocabulary, halting your mouth and sliding his boxers the rest of the way down.

If you weren’t riled up before, you were hot, ready, and willing to beg on your knees to be stuffed with Jimin and his… accessories. You understand the term “ladder” now, three rungs of metal pierced on the underside of his shaft and glinting up at you with intimidation. You hope Jimin can’t see the now overflowing amount of arousal oozing out of your pussy, squeezing thighs together in a useless attempt of hiding yourself.

“Fuck, didn’t that hurt?” you question, hovering fingers over the balls of silver that protruded on each side in complete awe.

“Of course it did, honey. It’s all worth it, though. It’ll make you feel good too. Need me to take them out?” You shake your head a little too vigorously, earning a chuckle and his middle finger to slide in between your folds unexpectedly. Yiping at the sudden entrance, you cast a glare over his shoulder with his only response being the curve of his digit.

“C-Can I lick it? Can it get infected if you don’t use a condom?” you bombard him with questions, entirely unfamiliar with the subject and entirely enamored by it.

“It’s all healed up, baby. You can do whatever your little heart desires with it. And I would oh so much prefer going bare,” he confirms, and your heart flips at his pet name for you. That, and the thought of his thick, pierced cock penetrating you condom-less.

You wrap your lips around him once more, unafraid to take more and more of his length until you feel the cold metal—your stopping point. Call it your lack of experience, but you prefer not to catch your teeth on those piercings today. You make up for it by sliding a hand back under his scrunched boxers, fondling his balls as you bob diligently. He curses and struggles to keep his body still, digging another digit between your legs to slow your own ministrations. When it works and you moan around his cock, Jimin can’t help but want to play a little game.

“Should I give you a challenge, babe? It’s super simple. Whoever makes the other cum first gets to request something. Anything. Deal?”

“Deahl,” you muffle, swirling your tongue lavishly around his crown. Everything with Jimin was much more… intriguing. Even your first time having sex was turned into some lusty escapade of unexpected metallic embellishments and cheeky gambles. It made you feel something in your veins, wanting more and more of whatever poison Jimin was.

Taking a breath, you lick broadly over his entire shaft and scarcely taste the titanium—more than anything, it was just cold. Jimin shudders at the feeling, punishing you with a third and final finger and pushing downdowndown into a spot all too sensitive for you to focus.

Try as you might, your now pathetic attempts of sucking him off is all forgotten in your own haze of chasing your orgasm. Instead, you rest your head on his hip and writhe against his hand, fucking back onto it while he simultaneously prods your g-spot over and over again until you see stars.

“Giving up already? You were doing so well for a while, you could’ve won,” he lilts.

“Jimin, please make me cum. Oh god,” you wail, legs straining for just that final push…

“Is this what you want?” He slides his thumb across, swiping whatever he could collect and using it to knead at your neglected clit. It’s all you need, pleasure washing over you in tandem of near oversensitivity, a near scream tearing through your lungs that only comes out in ragged whines against his leg.

“Beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re ruining my sheets over here,” he criticizes, removing his hand with an obscene squelch and moving around in the bed.

The torpor you caught yourself in didn’t render what he was saying, just letting him move you about so your head rests on his pillows while he places himself between your legs.

“Jiminie,” you babble, “fuck me.” He strokes your hair away from your face and smiles, that cute puppy smile that turns his eyes into crescents. The rest of him, though, is purely sinful. Hair sweaty and pieced to perfection as his body taunted you with toned muscles.

“I don’t think you’re ready, honey,” he answers, “even though you’re dripping in your own cum.” He leans back and stares at your pussy without embarrassment, pulling your knees together and watching the juices flow even more. “I should put it to use.”

You peer up at him, curious as to whatever the hell he’s dreaming of over there and inexplicably stunned when you see his dick between your legs. “J-Jimin, what are you doing?”

“Shh, just keep them closed tight,” he orders, fucking himself between the lips of your heat and the warm skin of your thighs. You can’t help but ravish the sight of him as he slicks himself up, eyeing you down as his hips roll into you agonizingly slow. His piercings graze against your nub occasionally, warmth once again growing in your stomach.

“Fuck, you’re so soft and so wet. Who did this to you, hm?” You moan maniacally, angling your hips as to catch him and push inside, but he only laughs degradingly and intentionally misses.

“You think I’m going to fuck you if you can’t even answer this simple question?” he sneers. “Answer like a good girl, then I’ll fuck you into oblivion.”

You scramble for words, initially incoherent and struggling. “Jimin! Shit, Jimin. You made me this way. Ah, you m-make me so wet, so please put it in, put it in and—ha, aah!”

He shoves his length in like it’s all he knew what to do, your ankles to his shoulders so he can drink up your moans with his reddened lips. He was right—the piercings didn’t feel like any dick you’ve received before, it was so much better. This was pornographic, it was so good. He all but pistols into you, his cock grazing places previously untouched. Indulging in his heaven sent strokes, you cry and groan at each relentless thrust.

“Hush, baby, Yoongi’s going to hear your pretty self,” he warns, but you don’t give a shit. If anything, you moan louder with a know-all glint in your eye, testing Jimin’s patience. “Brat,” he spits.

He pounds into you repeatedly, completely removing himself before filling you up again and again and again. Between the pressure to your g-spot and the added stimulation from his Jacob’s Ladder—your stomach heaves, an unfamiliar feeling washing over your abdomen contrary to anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh, Jimin, wait!” you sob, halting his hips from another brutal shove a little too late. The second he pulls out, your second orgasm (and first ever untouched orgasm) of the night reigns over, briefly showering his lower stomach in your own wet arousal.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot. Did you just… squirt on me?” he growls, not taking the time to hear your answer as he lifts you into his lap, legs wrapped around his muscular back and arms gripping around his shoulders for dear life.

He sinks back into you deliciously, filling you to the brim with your added weight and rutting up into you to chase his own release. Everything is soaked and sticky, Jimin’s ragged breathing and groans so close to your ear that you’re sure it’ll be engrained into your memory forever, his thrusts so deep inside you wail once more.

Consequently, the banging on the wall next to you comes as no surprise, Yoongi’s angry, “Shut the fuck up!” clear as day. Jimin waves it off.

“Don’t listen baby. Moan louder for me. Tell me where you want my cum.”

The slaps of skin become louder; it wouldn’t be long before Jimin came. “Inside, Jiminie, please. Cum inside me, pump me full,” you squeal, lust sparking inside you knowing that his roommate could hear you getting fucked senseless.

One, two, three more aching pounds before he spills into you, his pretty moans music to your ears. You flop back as soon as he takes himself out, suddenly aching all over from how much he stretched your legs and groaning at the pain.

You slap his eager hand away when he fingers his cum back into your abused lips, “That hurts, idiot.” He smiles and sucks your intermingled cum off his fingers with a pop.

“We taste good together,” he husks. Fuck. “By the way. You came first. Stay the night?”

You oblige with or without the pressure of the bet, dog-tired from your beating and not even fathoming the trek back to your own room. Jimin takes charge in your state of haziness, washing you off in his shower, replacing your uniform with a t-shirt of his own and laying you beside him on his mattress (sheets replaced and refreshed).

“You have piercings in your dick,” you state in the middle of the quiet.

Jimin snorts at the outburst, looping an arm around your side and melding his body to yours, “Yeah, is it weird?”

“… Robot dick,” you whisper, words cracking at the face of your laughter.

“Oh my god.”

“So, when you’re going through metal detectors at airports and whatever, do you have to tell them that the metal’s in your penis? Do they have to check?” Titters are awarded with light jabs to your side, which are then led to screams and kicks to his legs.

Yoongi bursts through Jimin’s door, brows stitched together in heated anger parallel to the flames of hell, “I swear to fucking god, if you two don’t quiet down I’ll mount your heads on my wall, it’ll make a great decoration.”

“What the hell, what if we were naked? Don’t just go busting through—”

“Yeah because you obviously care if I know you two are fucking. ‘Don’t listen, baby! Tell me where you want my cum, baby!’” Yoongi mocks. Pillows are flying and insults are thrown as you watch them bicker sleepily, all fading into white noise as you begin to drift off.

Sleep itself feels like a blink, so exhausted that you don’t dream. Waking in the same position that you were last conscious in, the only difference in picture is the fact that: A) the sun is shining through Jimin’s skylight and B) Jimin is no longer in bed with you.

But before you can even question where he’s run off to, his sly self sneaks back into the bedroom, shirtless and face clean from washing up just now. You don’t even hide the fact that you look down to check out his tight briefs, metal detector in your brain trying to scope it out.

“You’re awake. Sorry if I was loud,” he smiles, crawling on top of you as you stretch out like a mangled cat. You shake your head, combing his hair back with your nails as he dips down into your chest. “I like when you wear my shirts.”

“That’s pretty stereotypical,” you whisper out, voice low and raspy from your slumber. This isn’t fair, you think, he got to brush his teeth already.

He sits up and gives you A Look, making you giggle and giving you the leverage to feel up his abs as he flexes haughtily.

“I can get used to this,” you purr.

“I bet you could,” he mumbles into your neck, nipping at the places he already marked last night. He doesn’t push, just relishes in your warmth and fondles you carefully as you continue to wake up and it makes you shiver.

“I wish you would’ve done this a long time ago,” you sigh.

“You hated me.”

“You didn’t make it easy for me to like you,” you retort, gasping when he bites your collarbone, “Now—Now I like you.”

He stops abruptly and pulls away, landing on his side with an elbow and tilting his head towards you, “Well, I hope you don’t start liking me too much.”

You squint, “W-Why? Don’t tell me this was just a one night stand or anything.”

“No! I mean, not just one night or whatever. I just—this is just casual, right?”

You all but bite your tongue to keep from lashing out, “What do you mean ‘casual’? You didn’t say anything about ‘casual’.”

“Oh, Y/N, c’mon. Did you really think we should date? Look at us, baby. We’re just not… each other’s types, you know?”

It’s about time you get up, shoving aside his warm blankets and grabbing your soiled uniform from the floor, “No, Jimin. I don’t know. I thought you were being genuine with me.”

“Hey, no, don’t leave,” he grabs your arm before you leave his bedroom, “Okay, there was some miscommunication. I’m not trying to be mean. Can I just… I don’t know, think about it? I’m just not used to this.”

Looking into his eyes for some sort of confirmation, your tensions subside. “I’m not a toy. If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.” The hurt he feels in your tone breaks his heart, for once. Would he really be willing to try something he knows won’t work?

For you, maybe.

“I do like you, Y/N. Just give me some time.” He pulls your arm once more, hoping you’ll stay. But you draw the line and pry his hand off politely.

“Of course I’ll give you time. I’ll see you later, okay?” He nods understandingly. He can’t feel butthurt when he’s the one putting you on ice, he knows that. So Jimin watches you leave in his shirt, mind clouded more so than when you arrived.

a/n: yay! you made it through the first part! if you liked it, feel free to let me know or ask any questions to the characters! xx, selene

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