#bigbang x reader smut

[nnnaaahhhiiiaaa]

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 - ham dae-gil

Summary | You and Dae-gil have known each other since you were kids, but due to your parents' work, you were separated. Until you meet again at a gambling house, along with those hidden feelings resurfacing.

Pairing | ham dae-gil x fem!reader.

Genre |  romance, erotic literature.

Warnings | fluff, romance, smut.

Author's note | English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

"Here..." little Dae-gil gently opened your small hand, placing something in it. He looked at you with a mix of tenderness and a bit of insecurity, as if the gesture was bigger than words could express. You didn’t know what it was, but the weight of his gaze made you feel it wasn’t just anything.

"What is it?" you asked, your voice trembling from the mix of confusion and the small knot forming in your throat. You were about to open your palm, but he quickly closed it again, his small finger stopping your curiosity from taking over.

"Open it when you get to Japan, okay?" his smile was warm, but there was something in his eyes, a strange gleam—as if he wanted to say more, but couldn’t.

You nodded silently, head lowered and heart pounding loudly in your chest. You didn’t want to leave.

It had been a difficult year, but everything was worth it when he was around. Dae-gil had been the only person to treat you with such pure kindness, expecting nothing in return. He had been your friend, your confidant. And somehow, even at just eleven years old, you knew—he was your first love, even if you didn’t fully understand what that meant.

"I’m going to miss you so much, Dae-dae..." the words slipped out, and soon you felt tears starting to fill your eyes. You couldn’t stop them. He looked at you, wide-eyed and serious, and with a tenderness you never forgot, reached out to wipe your tears, so gently it felt like time paused for that brief moment.

"You can be sure that when I grow up, I’ll come visit you, Y/n." his words were a promise—one you didn’t know if it would ever come true, but that gave you a flicker of hope. His smile was a safe haven, and you blushed. Despite the pain, you smiled back, even if only faintly.

"Y/n! It’s time to go!" your mother called from the car, her tone impatient, but her face also showed a mix of love and concern. You shouted back that you were coming, though the weight of the goodbye had frozen you in place for a moment.

On impulse, with your heart racing, you leaned in and gave Dae-gil a small kiss on the cheek. He blushed, his eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing. He only looked at you, his face reflecting an emotion he didn’t dare put into words.

"I’ll think of you every day..." you said, the words coming out with more strength than you felt. And without waiting for a reply, you turned and ran toward the car, your friend’s gift still clutched tightly in your hand.

Your heart was torn between the excitement of knowing you’d someday open what he had given you, and the deep sadness of leaving behind the only person who had ever made you feel truly special. You ran, tears falling silently, but with a tiny spark of hope that would stay with you through every step of the new journey waiting for you in Japan.

As soon as the plane landed and your feet touched Japanese soil, the first thing you did was open the palm of your hand. Throughout the entire flight, you had kept it closed, as if by doing so, you could hold onto a final piece of him with you. You felt that if you opened it too soon, something inside you would break.

You held your breath as you slowly spread your fingers, as if unwrapping a secret. When your eyes fell upon the small object lying in the center of your hand, a sharp pang pierced your chest.

It was a ring. A small gold ring, worn at some edges but still shining faintly under the dim light of the airport. You recognized it immediately. Dae-gil had told you about it once, with a proud smile that he could barely conceal. He had won it in a childhood bet against an older boy, whose mother worked at a luxury jewelry store. He treated it like a treasure, like proof that, although small, he could achieve great things.

And now he had given it to you.

Your lips trembled before curling into a pout, and without being able to stop it, tears began to roll down your cheeks. You didn’t know if you were crying because of the sadness of having left him behind, because of the tenderness of the gesture, or because of the weight of understanding that he had given you something valuable... something that meant far more than the object itself.

Even with your cheeks wet, you smiled. You gently stroked the surface of the ring, as if with that touch you could feel Dae-gil’s hand once again, his warmth, his promise.

"We will see each other again," you thought firmly, holding onto that illusion as if it were the only thing keeping you standing.

And you waited. With all your heart, you waited.

Poor naive girl.

You didn’t even know that, somewhere in the corner of time, he had already forgotten you. While you carried him in your heart like a constant flame, he got lost among new faces, new promises, and new lives, leaving behind what had been eternal to you.

More than ten years had passed since that farewell. Japan had shaped you, hardened you, but it had also taught you how to survive with elegance. The ring Dae-gil had given you still hung from a fine chain resting on your chest, invisible to the world, yet burning like a memory that refused to fade.

Korea... you hadn’t been back since then.

But now, your steps were taking you back, not out of nostalgia, but for work. Letters were no longer just a pastime. You had learned to read faces, to calculate probabilities, to move like a shadow between traps and temptations. You had become someone who didn’t let herself be easily deceived, yet a part of you still sought something that neither chance nor money could give you.

The gambling house where you had been summoned was hidden among rarely traveled streets in Seoul, in a building with no sign, guarded by two men in suits who spoke more with their eyes than with words. You descended the stairs with a steady step, knowing perfectly where you were going, though inside, something thudded in your chest.

Dim lights, cigarette smoke, laughter from false friends. The atmosphere was thick, humid, laden with tension. And you fit right in.

You approached the main table, where the most experienced players shuffled the cards with the precision of a surgeon. You weren’t there to watch. You were there to win.

With elegance, you slid into one of the empty chairs, crossing your legs naturally as you placed your arms on your lap. The red velvet of the dress molded to your figure like a second skin, the subtle neckline accentuating a silhouette impossible to ignore. The dim lighting of the room highlighted the crimson of your dress and the glow of your skin, as if you were part of a carefully calculated scene.

And it was. Everything you did now had purpose.

Male gazes fell upon you with desire disguised as interest. The women, however, pierced you with eyes full of judgment and curiosity. But you weren’t looking for those glances. You were looking for one in particular.

And you found it.

He wasn’t looking at you like the others. His gaze didn’t linger on your cleavage, nor on your lips, nor the way you played with a lock of your hair. No. His eyes were fixed on the small ring hanging from your neck, suspended by a fine chain that barely brushed your skin.

That ring.

His expression became distant. As if a memory had pierced his chest suddenly. As if the world around him blurred, and only a hazy image remained, buried beneath the years and the lies.

You noticed it immediately. That look. That confusion.

And you smiled. Not with mockery, nor with arrogance. You smiled with that sweet venom hidden in the honey of silent revenge.

Because you knew who he was.

How could you forget those brown eyes, that angelic face that, as a child, hid a charming mischief. Now his face was harder, more weathered by life. But his eyes... those hadn’t changed. And although you recognized him immediately, he still hadn’t tied the pieces together.

Until he stood up.

With slow but determined steps, he left his table and walked toward yours. He sat right across from you, with the expression of someone who feels like something doesn’t quite fit, but still doesn’t know what it is.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

And as if the universe were conspiring in favor of the tension, more players gathered. The dealer shuffled the cards with practiced movements, and a new game of seotda began.

The table was a battlefield disguised in velvet and smoke. He didn’t stop staring at you, and you… you knew the real game was just beginning.

The dealer began to deal the cards with precision. The soft click of each card on the green felt mixed with the murmur of the expectant crowd, held breaths, and the faint clinking of chips stacked to the side.

You didn’t look directly at him, but you felt it. His gaze scanned you insistently, not like a player trying to read his opponent, but as someone searching for an answer buried in memory.

He took his cards without tearing his eyes away from you. You did the same, as if this were just another game.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, finally, his voice deeper than you remembered, but with an unsettlingly familiar tone.

"No." You played with the chain around your neck, allowing the ring to shine for a moment under the light. "Let’s say... I had unfinished business in Korea."

His eyebrow arched. For an instant, a spark of confusion crossed his face. You saw him struggle with the idea, as if something inside him screamed that he had seen you before, but he couldn’t quite place you. Years, distance, and the harshness of time had done their work.

You looked down at your cards. You didn’t need to press him. He would get there on his own. And you wanted to see how long it would take.

The first round passed. You played like an expert, without hesitation, withdrawing when necessary and betting just enough to provoke. You didn’t want to win right away. You wanted him to remember you.

In the second round, his gaze returned to the ring. This time, he said nothing. But his jaw tightened.

"Nice pendant." He commented with feigned indifference.

You took it between your fingers and raised it slightly.

"Oh, this? A friend gave it to me many years ago. As a farewell."

And there it was. The slight tremor in his hand as he took the chip. The exact moment his eyes opened just a little wider than usual. As if a rusted door had cracked open in his mind.

"And... did you see him again?" He asked, almost without thinking, as if his own words had surprised him.

You held his gaze for the first time since he sat down across from you. You smiled, softly, but with a hidden edge.

"Not yet."

The air between you thickened. You were no longer just an opponent. You had crossed an invisible line that he still didn’t fully understand, but felt with every cell of his body.

The tension at the table was so thick you could cut it with a card. The laughter had died down. Even the loudest gamblers at the back fell silent, watching as the game turned more personal, more raw.

Last round.

The dealer shuffled once more, at a slower pace. As if even he knew this wasn’t just a game.

You received your cards and looked at them calmly, without changing a hint of your expression. What you held in your hand was enough to take down everyone at the table. But especially him.

Your fingers played with a chip before tossing it into the center.

"I raise the stakes," you said, your voice soft, almost like a poisonous caress.

He looked at you, defiant. His instinct told him not to follow your lead. But something stronger, deeper, pushed him to stay. To find out what that knot in his stomach was, what that buzz on the back of his neck meant.

"I accept," he replied, pushing his chips forward.

And one by one, the other players withdrew. They no longer wanted to face that silent war.

It was just the two of you now.

Face to face. Past against present.

The dealer signaled.

"Cards."

You placed them on the table with a slight flick of your wrist. 38 light. Nearly unbeatable. And you knew he knew it.

He slowly lowered his cards. 18 light.

He lost.

The table went silent.

"Well..." he murmured, staring at the cards as if they had betrayed him. "You’re good... Y/n."

Your smile faded instantly, as if the very air had torn it from your lips.

So, at last… he knew who you were.

"I see you’ve remembered now... Then there’s no reason for me to stay." You murmured coldly, standing just as the dealer packed the money into a metal briefcase and handed it to you with reverence.

Your heels clicked firmly against the marble floor as you headed for the exit, the red dress billowing with each step, like a final provocation.

But you didn’t get far.

A strong hand closed around your wrist, warm, familiar. You stopped dead.

"Y/n... wait." His voice came from behind you, low, trembling. Almost pleading.

You didn’t turn around. You only lowered your head slightly, as if those three letters had weighed too much when they fell on your shoulders.

"No, Dae-gil..." Your voice came out tense, contained, pained. "I’m not in the mood to talk to you. Not after what you did... or rather, what you didn’t do, so many years ago."

He didn’t respond immediately. He gently squeezed your wrist, not hurting you, but not letting you go. As if the mere contact could stop time, as if that would be enough to hold you back.

"Please... listen to me."

You closed your eyes. For a long, bitter second.

You didn’t want to hear him. You didn’t want to feel how his voice stirred everything you had buried with so much effort. But it was useless. Your emotions had awakened the moment you saw him. Since his eyes, even changed, searched for you without knowing.

With a resigned sigh, you turned your face toward him. You looked directly at him, as if your gaze were a judgment.

"To my apartment." You said firmly, raising your finger at him. "But listen carefully, Dae-gil. You’ll only have one chance to explain yourself."

And with that, you let go of his hand, turned around, and began to walk, confident, elegant, pained... but determined.

He followed you without saying a word. As if he knew this was his only chance to reclaim something he didn’t know he had lost… until he saw it hanging from your neck.

The silence in the car was thick, loaded with unspoken words. Only the soft hum of the engine and the persistent beating in your chest accompanied you as you gazed out the window, watching the lights of Seoul pass by like blurry memories.

Dae-gil drove, not daring to break the dense air between you. Not like that boy who once promised to visit you when he grew up. That boy had been gone a long time. What remained in front of you was a man with knuckles marked by life, with a gaze hardened by gambling and a past that chased him.

And you were part of that past.

When the car stopped in front of your building, you grabbed your suitcase without waiting for him to say anything.

"Follow me." you said, without looking at him.

He obeyed silently.

You rode the elevator together. The reflection in the metal walls showed you as two strangers sharing the same fate. Yet the ring hanging around your neck still shone, as if it didn’t recognize the passing of time.

When you reached the door of your apartment, you opened it with confidence. The place was elegant yet understated. Muted colors, a half-empty wine glass on the kitchen bar, and a small photo frame on a shelf, where you, as a child, smiled with a missing tooth, next to a sweet-faced boy: him.

Dae-gil saw it when he entered. He said nothing.

You took off your heels with a sigh of relief and went straight to the bar, pouring yourself a glass. Then you turned toward him, crossing your arms while the red dress still clung to every curve.

"Well, you're here. Speak."

He stood for a few seconds, as if he still didn’t know where to begin. As if he couldn’t piece together what you two once were.

"I didn’t know it was you until I saw the ring." he finally said, his voice low. "That ring… I thought I lost it forever. Just like I lost you."

"You didn’t lose it." you replied with a bitter smile. "You simply forgot. Just like you forgot me."

"I didn’t..." he paused, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn’t that simple. When you left, I tried to find you. Really. But you were just a kid and I… I was nobody. Then, my life became what it is now. Gambling, debts, betrayals... I didn’t allow myself to think about you."

"And now?" you asked sarcastically, slowly moving closer. "Now am I a memory worth remembering?"

He looked at you with narrowed eyes. Not with anger, but with pain.

"Now, you're the only thing I can’t get out of my head since I saw you tonight. And that scares me more than any bet I’ve ever made in my life."

Your eyes softened, just barely.

You moved closer. Close enough for him to see the ring up close. You lifted it between your fingers.

"Do you remember what you told me before giving it to me?"

"That I should open it when I arrived in Japan..." he whispered.

"And that you would come for me." you added, looking at him directly.

The silence returned, laden with regret.

Your fingers slowly let go of the ring, letting it fall against your chest, right in the middle of the cleavage of your red dress. The silence continued to weigh on the air, but you had regained control. That control he thought he had ever since you entered the gambling hall.

You walked to the small coffee table in the living room, crouched gracefully, and pulled a Seotda deck from a discreet drawer. Your movements were feline, calculated, almost theatrical. You turned to look at him, with a half-smile that mixed challenge, mischief… and something darker.

"You know what? Let’s settle this like the adults we are. Our way."

"What do you mean?" Dae-gil asked, slightly furrowing his brow.

You sat on the floor, crossing your legs, and placed the deck in the center of the table. Your eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint.

"Strip Seotda. If you win, I’ll give you a chance. To start over, for whatever you think is still between us."

You paused, letting the air grow thicker between you.

"But if I win… you leave. No questions, no complaints. You disappear from my life forever, just like you did once. Deal?"

He looked at you with surprise. He didn’t seem sure if you were serious… but when he saw you hold his gaze without hesitation, he understood that you weren’t playing. At least not with feelings.

"And the 'strip' part?" he said, half-smiling, with that sly arrogance he was so good at using at the tables.

You shrugged, amused.

"Each round, whoever loses takes something off. Don’t be a coward. After all, you’re the one who wanted to talk to me, right?"

He hesitated for a second. But then he saw the way you held the cards. He recognized it. That confidence, that look that said "I’m going to beat you, even if you think you're invincible." You were just like him. Maybe even worse. And that fired him up.

"Deal." He immediately took off his jacket and sat in front of you. "But don’t underestimate me, Y/n."

"I won’t. I’ve learned from my mistakes."

You shuffled the cards with skill. Both of your eyes met as you split the deck.

The first round began. And as the cards turned and the clothes fell one by one, it wasn’t just the bodies that were undressing… but the emotions, the wounds, the memories that never went away.

The battle had just begun.

The tension had reached its peak.

Clothes scattered on the floor, glances that could no longer be contained, breathing that grew heavier with each round won. The atmosphere was charged, electric. And for the first time in years, you felt the game wasn't just in the cards… but in every touch of fingers, every unspoken word, every glance that burned more than any defeat.

Both of you were left with just enough. He was shirtless, you in your underwear. The ring still hanging around your neck, shining like a beacon of the past.

Last round. All or nothing.

You dealt the cards with a mixture of rage and adrenaline. You looked at yours… good game. But not the best. You looked into his eyes as he looked at yours. And then you knew.

You had lost.

He calmly laid his cards on the table. One hand on his leg, the other arranging the deck of cards as if that didn't already seal your fate.

"You won…" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Yes…" he replied, but he didn't sound arrogant. His voice was low, thick with suppressed emotion. "But I'm not here for a victory, Y/n."

He approached slowly, running his hand down your cheek, caressing your jawline as if he still didn't believe you were real. Your lips parted at the warmth of his palm against your skin.

"I'm here because I never stopped thinking about you," he murmured, and without giving you time to respond, his lips crashed against yours.

It was an intense, wild, and desperate kiss, as if he were trying to reclaim everything time had stolen from them. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he leaned over you, gently pushing you down onto the carpeted floor of the apartment.

"Dae-gil…" you whispered between gasps, as his lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of fire.

"Don't leave again," he said against your skin, like a plea disguised as desire.

Your legs tangled with his, your nails raking his back as he positioned himself over you. Everything you'd repressed for years now surfaced, in muffled moans, shallow breaths, and trembling caresses.

He looked at you once more, his eyes burning with emotion.

"I promised I'd come see you… but I never knew how to find you. I thought you'd disappeared forever. And now you're here…"

"And now I'm here," you said, kissing him hard. "So take me. Make me feel like this wait was worth it."

The temperature in the apartment had risen, not because of the weather, but because of the tension between you. Dae-gil had you cornered against the wall, his bare chest brushing against yours, your breaths mingling. You could feel his racing heartbeat through the contact between your bodies.

His hand slowly moved up your thigh, gliding gently over your skin as if memorizing it, as if every curve and every tremor were sacred. Your lips parted in a sigh as his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear, only to pause, tease, tease you.

"Dae-gil…" you whispered with a tremor of anxiety and desire.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice husky against your ear. "And I will."

But you didn't want him to stop.

Your hands desperately pushed him toward the couch, making him sit down. Then you straddled him, your body pressing against his as your lips found his neck and your hips moved slowly over his, seeking friction, seeking more.

He moaned against your mouth as you kissed him again, deep, hungry. Your fingers tangled in his hair, while his hands caressed your back, your hips, your sides, tracing paths of fire on your skin.

"You don't know how many times I've dreamed about this," he said between kisses. You broke away for just a second to look at him, your eyes shining.

"Then stop dreaming… and touch me like you'd never left."

He lifted you easily, carrying you to the bed. He laid you down gently, as if you were something precious he needed to take care of. Then he settled on top of you, his lips exploring your collarbone, descending with torturous slowness.

Your legs wrapped around him, your body arched beneath his, and in that moment, when you finally joined, it was as if time had stopped. It wasn't just skin against skin. It was history, it was reunion, it was forgiveness.

Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, your lips sought his between gasps, and his movements inside you were slow at first, full of pause, as if he wanted to savor every second. But then, the passion pent up for years erupted like wildfire, and your bodies met again and again, in a wild back-and-forth that overflowed with desire and tenderness.

That night they didn't just make love.

That night they finally found each other.

Taglist: @soshortygirl57 @selenepsyche @raynamorono23 @forevervibezzzz1 @sherrayyyyy @i-might-be-vanny

[loveesiren]

Choi Seunghyun x reader virgin🤭 (if you are comfortable)

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎

Choi Seung-hyun (T.O.P) x virgin!reader

synopsis: Y/n decides her boyfriend, Seunghyun, should be her first

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, fluffy goodness

wc: 3.7k+

Lazy days like today were your favorite. There was something so blissful about having no obligations, no responsibilities pulling either of you away. It was your day off, and for once, Seunghyun didn’t have to be at the studio or in rehearsal. After months of back-to-back shows and endless travel, BigBang had finally wrapped up their tour, and all he wanted was to spend every possible second with you.

You still remembered the night you met him like it was yesterday. A year ago, you had been working a shift at the event center, slinging drinks for excited fans after the concert. He had walked up to the bar, all confidence and charisma, ordering a glass of wine with that signature smirk of his. What was supposed to be a quick drink turned into an hour-and-a-half-long conversation, laughter weaving between you like an unspoken connection. His manager had practically dragged him away, but not before he scribbled his number on a napkin and told you to call him. And now, a year later, three months into your official relationship, you had never been happier.

Both of you were private people, and that suited you just fine. There had been rumors, of course—whispers in fan circles, pictures snapped of the two of you together—but neither of you had confirmed nor denied anything. Instead, you lived in your own little world, undisturbed by outside noise. Seunghyun treated you like royalty, taking you to lavish restaurants, surprising you with bouquets of flowers and little gifts, constantly reminding you of how beautiful you were. He never pushed, never made you uncomfortable, always the perfect gentleman. It was almost too good to be true.

Today has been nothing short of perfect. The two of you curled up together on the couch, legs tangled, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. The rain drummed steadily against the massive windows of Seunghyun’s apartment, casting soft, gray light over the room. Takeout containers littered the coffee table and a movie played in the background, its dialogue little more than a hum beneath the rhythm of the rain.

A particularly spicy scene flickered across the screen, and you shifted slightly, your mind drifting to thoughts that had been plaguing you for weeks. Since being with Seunghyun, something inside you had ignited, a desire unlike anything you had ever felt before. The late-night thoughts, the lingering heat pooling between your thighs—it was all because of him. Pleasuring yourself in the shower, like you had done for years, no longer satisfied you. You craved something more. Something real.

Seunghyun knew you were a virgin, and he respected that, never pushing for more than what you were comfortable with. But you wanted him. Needed him. Weeks ago, you had made up your mind—you were ready. You had been extra flirty, touching him more, giving him subtle hints, but he never took the bait. At first, you thought maybe he didn’t notice. Now, you were convinced he was holding back on purpose.

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, and you decided enough was enough.

Slowly, you shifted, turning to straddle his lap. His dark eyes flickered with surprise, but he didn’t move, watching you carefully. You cupped his face, pulling him into a deep, lingering kiss. He responded instantly, his hands finding your hips, his lips moving in sync with yours. When his tongue slid against yours, you let out a soft moan, pressing down against his thigh, seeking friction where you needed it most.

His grip on you tightened. “What are you doing, baby?” he murmured between kisses, his voice low, strained.

“I want you…” you whispered, trailing your lips down the column of his throat. You felt him tense beneath you, his breathing growing uneven, and when you shifted again, his arousal pressed against you, hot and hard even through his sweats. A satisfied smile tugged at your lips before you crashed your mouth back onto his.

Seunghyun groaned against your lips before suddenly pulling back, his hands gripping your waist to still your movements. “Mmm, fuck… baby, stop…”

You frowned, your brows knitting together in confusion. “Why?”

He let out a breathy chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Because, you’re really turning me on right now.”

“That’s the point,” you countered, tilting your head slightly, eyes locked onto his.

His expression softened, but there was something else there, something deeper—conflict. “Baby…”

“I’m ready, Se,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I want it to be you.”

He leaned back into the couch, his hands still resting on your hips. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find any hesitation, any doubt. But there was none. All he saw was you—flushed, eager, beautiful. And in that moment, every unholy thought he had been suppressing came rushing to the surface.

He exhaled deeply, his grip tightening just slightly. “You don’t know how hard it is for me to hold back with you.”

“Then don’t.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The rain outside continued to fall, the movie long forgotten in the background. It was just you and him, the heat between you threatening to consume everything in its path.

And then, finally, he pulled you down, crashing his lips to yours, surrendering to the inevitable.

You smiled, pressing your body flush against his, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his clothes. His lips moved against yours with an intoxicating rhythm, tongues tangling in a slow, deliberate dance. Your hands, desperate and trembling with need, flew to his waistband, fingers fumbling with the fabric in an attempt to rid him of it.

"Settle, baby," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "Let me take care of you first, yeah? Gotta get you ready…" He punctuated his words with a sharp nip at your neck, making you shudder beneath him.

"Okay…" you panted, breathless, your body already pulsing with anticipation.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, his fingers tracing over the damp heat between your thighs. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as his middle finger ran teasingly through your slick folds, barely pressing against you. Your body trembled at the sensation.

"You tell me if you want me to stop, okay? At any point," he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

"O-okay…" you stammered, barely able to form words. "Keep going, please."

Your plea was all he needed. His finger moved slowly, collecting your arousal before pressing inside your aching core. A sweet moan spilled from your lips, your head tilting back as pleasure consumed you.

"Shit… you're so fucking wet," he groaned, his voice dripping with restraint as he fought to control himself.

His finger pumped in and out at a torturously slow pace, the cool metal of his ring adding a delicious contrast to the heat pooling between your thighs. His free hand trailed up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips before pressing inside.

"Suck, baby," he instructed, his gaze locked onto you, dark and hooded with desire.

You obeyed without hesitation, wrapping your lips around his thumb and swirling your tongue over the pad. His eyes darkened further, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he watched you with a mix of hunger and adoration.

As his fingers worked you open, your hips instinctively moved to match his rhythm, rolling against his touch in slow, desperate motions.

"I'm gonna add another finger, stretch you out a bit, okay?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"Mhmm," you moaned, nodding eagerly.

He slipped another finger inside, curling them slightly, and you gasped, gripping his shoulders as your walls clenched around him. The initial discomfort melted into pleasure, and soon, you were rocking against his hand, chasing the overwhelming heat building deep within you.

"This okay?" he asked, his gaze searching your face, his voice softer now, filled with concern despite the raw desire consuming him.

You nodded, relaxing against him. "Feels so good…" you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder.

He angled his fingers just right, pressing against that perfect spot, and your body jerked in response. A whimper escaped your lips, sending a rush of satisfaction through him. His thumb found your swollen clit, circling it in slow, tantalizing strokes, building you up higher, faster.

The tension coiled in your stomach, your breaths growing shorter, panting his name like a prayer.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he coaxed, his lips tracing the curve of your jaw. "Cum for me like a good girl…"

His words were your undoing. The knot in your core unraveled, pleasure washing over you in waves as your body trembled on top of him. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into his shoulders as you let go with a cry of bliss.

"Fuck!" you gasped, your body pulsing against him, shuddering as he helped you ride out your high.

"That's my girl…" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, watching you with dark, lust-blown eyes.

As your body relaxed against him, he slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips. His tongue darted out, tasting you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"That was amazing…" you panted, a lazy, sated smile tugging at your lips. "I want more."

Seunghyun exhaled a shaky breath, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You sure?"

You nodded eagerly. "Please. I want to have sex with you."

A deep, guttural groan rumbled from his chest as his hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. "Fuuckkk…" he exhaled, his head dropping to your shoulder for a moment before lifting to meet your gaze. His hands slid down to palm your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Then, with effortless strength, he lifted you into his arms. You gasped, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Where are we going?" you asked, your voice soft, innocent despite the fire still burning between your thighs.

He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before whispering, "Your first time is not going to happen on the couch. I’m going to make love to you properly. In our bed."

Your heart swelled at the possessiveness in his tone, at the way he said "our bed" like it had always been yours, like you belonged there—with him.

Smiling, you tightened your hold around him, letting him carry you away, excitement building at your core once again.

Seunghyun’s lips molded to yours, slow and deep, before he gently pushed you back onto the bed. A surprised giggle bubbled from your lips as you bounced against the soft mattress, your breath catching when you looked up at him. The way he stood there, dark eyes locked onto yours, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths—it sent heat rushing through your veins.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, he peeled his shirt over his head.

Your lips parted slightly as you took him in, the golden glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows over the defined ridges of his body. He was tan, toned, every inch of him sculpted like a masterpiece. You’d seen him like this before, but something about this moment felt entirely different—maybe because you knew you were about to experience all of him. No barriers, no teasing restraint. Just raw, unfiltered desire.

A shiver ran down your spine as he leaned down, hovering over you, his warmth seeping into your skin. His hand cupped your cheek, fingers tracing along your jawline with an almost reverent touch before he guided your lips back to his. His kiss was slow, intoxicating, his tongue gliding against yours in a way that made your head spin.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your body arching instinctively toward him. Sure, you’d kissed Seunghyun plenty of times before. But not like this. Not with this kind of hunger—like he was trying to memorize the taste of you, like he needed you to breathe.

His hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingertips featherlight as they traced over your stomach, your ribs, before settling on your breast. A sharp gasp left your lips as he massaged the soft flesh, his thumb grazing over your nipple before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation made your breath hitch, your thighs pressing together in anticipation.

“That feel good, baby?” His voice was husky, dripping with desire, his lips brushing against your neck, tracing a path down to your shoulder.

“Mhmm…” you whimpered, barely able to form words. “S’good…”

Seunghyun sat up slightly, his fingers curling around the hem of your shirt—well, his shirt, the one you’d been lounging in all day. He tugged it up and over your head, tossing it to the side. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you beneath him, bare and vulnerable, but entirely unafraid.

“You’re so fucking beautiful…” he murmured, his fingers ghosting over your skin as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

Warmth bloomed in your chest at his words. You believed him when he told you that. With him, you never had to second-guess, never had to doubt.

Still, you couldn’t help but tease him, arching your back slightly as you looked up at him through your lashes. “I wanna be sexy,” you murmured, lips curling into a playful smirk.

Seunghyun groaned, dropping his forehead against yours. “God, you are so. fucking. sexy.” His voice was strained, thick with want, before he crashed his lips onto yours again—this time, rougher, more desperate. His kiss left you breathless, lips swollen, body aching for more.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think I didn’t notice how flirty you’ve been the past few weeks?” His hand trailed down your stomach, slow and teasing, before slipping under the waistband of your sweatpants. “Wearing those tiny shorts around the house… giving me those innocent little looks with those big, pretty eyes…” His fingers dipped lower, grazing over the growing heat between your thighs. “Pressing your tits together just to see me react.”

You gasped as he slid a single finger into you, your body jolting at the sensation.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy,” he growled, watching your reaction intently, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep you still.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

His smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with something dark and knowing. “Yeah,” he murmured, slipping his finger out only to circle your entrance, teasing, taunting.

You let out a needy whimper, your body straining toward him. “So, what are you gonna do about it?” 

He sat back, hooking his fingers into your sweatpants and dragging them down your legs with a slow, torturous precision. He tossed them to the side without a care, his gaze locked onto you, devouring you whole. And then, with a wicked grin, he settled between your thighs. “Guess you’re about to find out.”

You barely processed his words before his tongue found your clit, swirling over your sensitive bud with a slow, devastating precision. A shuddering gasp left your lips as pleasure shot through you like a live wire, your fingers clawing at the sheets, searching for something—anything—to anchor yourself.

“Oh, fuck! Seunghyun!” Your voice was wrecked, desperate, a plea wrapped in pleasure.

Your hands found his hair, threading your fingers through it, tugging just enough to feel him groan against you. The vibration sent another sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He devoured you like a man starved, every stroke of his tongue possessive, every flick of his lips insatiable.

“God, you taste so fucking good…” he murmured, voice thick with lust before diving back in, his tongue lapping at you like he couldn't get enough.

Your thighs trembled, the telltale knot in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter, seconds away from snapping. It was overwhelming, his mouth, his hands gripping your hips like he owned you, the heat pooling in your lower belly—

“Oh, God, I’m close—Seunghyun, stop!”

The words left you in a breathless rush, and instantly, he pulled away, his head snapping up in alarm. His lips were slick with you, his eyes wide with concern.

“What? I’m sorry!” His reaction was immediate, panicked, as if he’d done something wrong.

A breathless giggle bubbled from your lips as you reached for him, your fingers tilting his chin up. “No, it’s okay,” you reassured him, still panting. “I just want to cum on your dick.”

His pupils darkened, his lips parting slightly at your words. A slow, sinful smile spread across his face as he crawled up your body, his hands trailing reverently over your curves, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was softer now, hesitant. His biggest fear wasn’t the moment—it was making you feel anything less than cherished.

Your hands framed his face, your thumb stroking over his cheek. “I do, Se. I love you. And I trust you.”

Something shifted in his gaze, something deeper, something sacred. His entire body seemed to melt at your confession, and he captured your lips in a kiss so slow and tender it stole the breath from your lungs.

“I love you, too.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was raw, unfiltered, filled with emotion.

He sat back just enough to rid himself of his sweatpants and boxers, his gaze never leaving yours. Your heart raced in anticipation as he settled between your thighs, his tip teasing your entrance, running through your slick folds.

Your breath hitched, every nerve ending in your body alive with anticipation. This was it—a moment you had dreamed about, wondered about, and now, it was happening.

He pressed into you slowly, his thick length stretching you inch by inch. The pleasure was laced with a sharp sting, your body adjusting to the new intrusion. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you gasped.

“Shit…” you breathed, trying to relax around him.

His brows furrowed immediately. “Want me to stop?” His voice was urgent, worried.

You shook your head. “No, no. Keep going. Just…slow…”

He nodded, placing a grounding hand on your hip as he continued to push in, giving you time to adjust. His breath came out in a shudder when he bottomed out, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” he groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fought to stay still.

You let out a shaky chuckle, the initial discomfort giving way to something warmer, something deeper.

“Feel okay?” he asked, his lips brushing over your jaw, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“Yeah…” you whispered, your body finally accommodating him. “Just…God, you’re big…”

A low, amused laugh rumbled from his chest, and he kissed you softly. “Just try to relax, okay? We can stay just like this if you need to.”

You took a slow breath, allowing your body to mold around him, to welcome him. His lips trailed featherlight kisses across your face, his patience endless.

Then, finally—

“Okay,” you breathed, meeting his gaze. “You can move.”

He searched your face for any uncertainty, but when he found none, he gave you a slow, deep kiss and pulled out just enough before thrusting back in. The motion sent a delicious spark through you, the pleasure beginning to eclipse the ache.

His movements were deliberate, slow and steady, giving you time to adjust, to feel every inch of him. And then, the pain was gone—replaced by something so intoxicating it had you gasping his name.

“You feel so good…” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck as his pace increased just slightly.

“Go faster, please,” you begged, your voice breathless, needy.

He groaned at your words and obeyed, his hips moving with more urgency, more purpose, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. A strangled moan escaped your lips, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Oh my God…” you panted, pleasure coursing through you in waves.

“Fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last long…” Seunghyun admitted, his voice strained, his control slipping.

“Me either,” you whined, eyes shut tight, the build-up sending you dangerously close to the edge. “I’m on the pill.”

His movements faltered for half a second, his eyes flicking to yours in shock. “What?”

A breathless smirk played on your lips. “Told you I was ready.”

Something snapped in him at that. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and he grabbed your leg, pushing it back just enough to hit even deeper.

“I fucking love you, Y/N,” he groaned before pounding into you with newfound intensity, his thrusts deep, desperate, perfect.

The coil in your stomach twisted tighter and tighter, your moans turning into cries of ecstasy as it finally snapped.

“Oh, Seunghyun!” You shattered around him, clinging to him as your body trembled through the waves of pleasure.

His thrusts became erratic, his breath ragged as he chased his own release. A strangled moan left his lips as he spilled into you, his entire body tensing before collapsing onto you, spent and breathless.

The world felt hazy, your bodies tangled together, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing and the faint pounding of your heart.

Slowly, he pulled out, rolling onto his side and immediately pulling you into his arms. His lips pressed to your temple, warm and reverent.

“Was that okay?” he murmured against your skin. “Did I hurt you?”

You smiled sleepily, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “That was fucking amazing, Seunghyun. Thank you.”

He exhaled, as if relieved, and wrapped you tighter in his arms, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s take a shower, and then I’ll make you dinner, okay?”

“Mmm, can’t move,” you teased, your limbs still boneless from pleasure.

“Then I’ll just have to carry you,” he chuckled, standing up and scooping you into his arms effortlessly.

You giggled, curling into his warmth.

That night, as he cleaned you up, cooked for you, and held you close, Seunghyun couldn’t stop thinking about how much he loved you. And as you finally fell asleep in his lap, his heart full, he realized something—

One day, he was going to marry you.

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[atomicfoxx]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jittering, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos-

[inhogf]

pool sloppy ft seunghyun.

· contains: seunghyun deepthroats you under the pool. face fucking. hair pulling. infantilization kink. porn no plot.

“is this— mmf— a good idea-?“ bubbles float to the surface of the warm pool as your boyfriend, seunghyun, fucks your pretty mouth beneath it, head in the clouds as his dick flexes and unflexes, your suctioning mouth and curling tongue blinding him into a spellbound blur— muffled whines from him being heard as your puffy lips sealed him tightly and your throat hugged the tip of his cock.

you gag around the length of him, air beginning to run out of your system leaving your hands trembling as a chill prickles up your arms and across the nape of your neck, your breath hitching in your throat. you tap thrice on his thigh.

“you're being so good f’me, baby..“ seunghyun pulled your head up by your wet hair with one arm, while the other laid spread on the edge of the pool, effectively drawing out a gasp from you. he slapped your cheek a few times lightly, sweet barely-audible praises spilling from his mouth as he eyes you up & down, not caring to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face. it turned you sooo on though.

“d-daddy, i don’.. feel right,” you hiccup, your voice barely above a whisper, fractured and uneven. the world around you blurs and tilts, your vision splitting in two as dizziness takes hold— and before you knew it, seunghyun was pushing your head down into the water with a chuckle and shoving your mouth onto his dick again again.

you oblige, lips parting as you slip his dick into your cushy mouth again, tongue flattening to deepthroat him. the narrow grip of your throat is enough to make him see stars; he loosens his grip around your hair, causing you to sink further toward the base of dick until your face is quite literally flush with his thighs. you bob your head up and down setting a decent pace & seunghyun was feral; eyes rolling back into his skull and his mouth falling open. you were being so good for him and he was such a fuckin’ dick; not caring about your pleasure. (no surprise but he gets off to it)

seunghyun snaps his hips forward, fucking his cock into you, movements slowed down by the water yet still so harsh. you hollowed your cheeks, encouraging him to come undone. and just as you start to tap his thigh again, signalling you need to come up for some much needed air, he spurts a thick load of cum into your mouth, pumping back and forth making sure to empty his balls as you swallow his seed whole. he pulls your head up, this time by your neck, panting more than you are when you gasp, lungs starving of oxygen. his chest is heaving, and you can’t tell if it’s wet from his sweat or the hot tub.

he grabs you again, his hands tight on your hips this time, marking crescents on the plush meat.

“ride me.“

you’re still gasping for air, spit framing the corners of your mouth whilst tears cascade from your eyes. “what?” you shudder feeling your cunt drool at his words, trembling when he manhandles you to hover over his strong thighs.

“ride me, little girl.” he pulls your thong aside once you’re positioned over his tent. he just needs to make sure he finishes in your tight little pussy. “now.”

cr @inhogf dont steal

[kwoniele]

thanos headcanons (n)sfw ۶ৎ

warnings: smut, jealousy, sensory deprivation, bdsm mention (they don’t actually perform anything of the sort), fingering, oral (f receiving), public fingering lol, tease, edging, overstimulation, manhandling aaanndd thats all!

𖦹 really unpopular opinion (or so bc i’ve never seen anyone really talk about it) but i feel like he’d be really protective 😭 for example; if you two were on a date, rather than sitting across from you, he’d be next to you so it’s more obvious you two are together etc.

—

𖦹 in the games, he’s very silly and childish and that doesn’t change with you at all. he’s the same goofy person you know, but he will always make sure he gets babied by you lol it’s like healing his inner child.

—

𖦹 will absolutely spoil you if ever he finally voted x (which he would never do but its a headcanon) he’d buy you luxury bags, limited edition jewelry… literally everything you’d look absolutely gorgeous in.

“baby what about this one? this looks cute on you!”

“subong-ah.. that’s $350.?”

—

𖦹 never lets his friends near you lmao 😭😭 nam-gyu would just be talking to you for help with something and he’d butt in and give him advice instead LOOL

“hey, so i was thinking maybe this color would look nicer—”

“looks like shit. absolutely not. go away.”

—

𖦹 definitely the “i know you can, but let me” kind of guy. you could be baking a cake for se-mi’s birthday and then suddenly you look beside you and thanos is putting on a purple apron and cracking eggs for him to whisk up afterward.

“thanos, i can do it myself—”

“i know, but i want to do it with you. so teach me how to do this so next time i can help you better.”

—

𖦹 okay so he’s a very unserious person, but if you were in a vulnerable state, he will always be there to embrace you. he’d rock you in his arms and let you get his shirt all wet bc he loves you and he can’t stand seeing you cry ☹️

“shh, it’s okay. i’m here. i’ll always be here for you.”

—

𖦹 an absolute sweetheart to you in public, fucks you like you’re his slut in private. the things he would do to you oh my goodness 😭 definitely the type to manhandle you, esp when ure being bratty

—

𖦹 loves to edge & overstimulate you lmfao he thinks you squriming and moaning for him is absolutely theatrical 😭

“fuck. subong—”

“what’s wrong baby? need to cum that bad?”

—

𖦹 isn’t the biggest fan of bdsm bc you’re his princess and he’d never want you to feel otherwise BUT this man would def be into sensory deprivation 😭 if you’re asking to be fucked HARD, he won’t hold back and will make sure a blindfold is on and your hands are tied to the bed frame so you can’t touch him at all

“you’re so pretty like this, baby. i could listen to your moans all night. yeah? you want that? want me to fuck your cute pussy until morning? hmm?”

—

𖦹 thanos can be both a soft dom or a hard dom. it just really depends on his mood. if you managed to piss him off by flirting with other guys to pique his jealousy? you won’t be seeing the light of day. if you’re both exhausted and in need of relief? he’ll take care of you so well.

—

𖦹 the absolute MASTER of fingering & eating u out. you are an independent, iconic woman and yet you become the biggest pillow princess around that man. if you were at a restaurant? best believe his hands are on your thigh, slowly hiking up towards your core until he slips in a few fingers into your hole.

“they’re going to hear you, love. wouldn’t want that do we? or do you want them to know how i’m making you feel so good?”

—

𖦹 if you and thanos were living with nam-gyu, min-su, se-mi, gyeong-su … etc they will absolutely tease the both of you bc of how loud you guys are during sex 😭 it’s so bad that they would probably have to move out bc u keep disturbing them at night LOOOLL

“subong-ssi was not holding back last night, huh?”

“se-mi! what the fuck??”

[bangchanwifey]

‘stuck with me’ - choi su-bong (thanos) / player 230 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

not proofread! read at your own risk!! i wanted to put my own spin on thanos bc everyone makes him so mean and aggressive so i hope i did this justice !!

pairing(s): ex bf!choi su-bong (thanos) x female!reader

warnings: femme reader, language, smut, fingering (r!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, normal squid game gore

summary: what happens when you reunite with your ex who did you dirty in a game where everyone is fighting to survive?

it has been almost a year since you and your ex boyfriend choi su-bong had broken up. you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him practically everyday since then. but the two of you ended things for a reason and you knew you shouldn’t want him in the way you still do but you can’t help it.

su-bong had gotten caught up in some sort of crypto scam and he made you believe it in so much that he even convinced you to pitch your own money into it. of course it didn’t end up working out so that’s how you got where you are today almost 2 million won in debt.

you hated him for dragging you into this but you hated yourself more for trusting him and getting screwed over yet again.

you had been going about a normal day about to head back home for the night when a strange but attractive looking man approached you with an odd looking briefcase by his side. he made a promise to you that if you could beat him in a couple rounds of a silly game he would simply pay you. you were desperate so you played multiple rounds with him until you were fed up with him slapping you for losing. when you finished the man handed you a strange looking business card that you shoved in your pocket until you made it home.

so that’s how you ended up in a room with 455 other strangers. you were awoken by loud music blaring and lights coming on to see your surroundings. you looked down to see you had been changed into a green tracksuit with a small number ‘240’ in the corner of the jacket.

you had sat in your bunk for a while not sure what to do until finally a herd of guards with masks and pink outfits came through the doors. they had explained the rules to everyone and made you line up to go take photos for whatever reason before the first game begun.

“señorita? oh my god! is that really you?” you heard from a distance. you could recognize that voice anywhere. you turned around so fast you were surprise you didn’t get whiplash. there he was just a couple feet away from you, your ex boyfriend, choi su-bong.

you stared in shock as you took him in. he looked the same except he had gotten more tattoos and had freshly purple hair. you couldn’t deny that he looked good even in that ugly green tracksuit.

“what the the hell are you doing here?” you ask looking him up and down. he does the same back to you, “i could ask you the same.” he replied making you roll your eyes.

“well i’m actually here because someone made me lose all my fucking money for a scam.” you said sending him a glare before looking down at the ground. seeing him again after all this time had you feeling all sorts of emotions at once, especially anger.

“oh baby cmon! you’re really still mad about that?” he asked moving closer to you to get a better look. you hesitantly looked back up meeting his eyes once again. “of course I am! do you not understand that you made me go broke? i had to move back in with my parents for fucks sake!”

he just stared at you not knowing what to say next. you took that as an opportunity to get away from him, getting in line to take your photo. you posed for the camera giving a slight smile and throwing up your middle finger. you watched how su-bong practically did the same thing making you remember just how similar the two of you were.

once everyone had finished you were now all walking into a large field that looked like it was outside. the first thing everyone noticed was a giant creepy looking doll on the other side staring back at you.

you heard an automated voice call out to you and explain that you were going to be playing red light, green light. it explained the rules before everyone lined up in front of the starting line. it seemed simple enough. right?

before the game started you all watched how a man with the number ’456’ on his jacket screamed about how if you moved after red light was called you were going to be shot. he had to be crazy right? but his words stuck with you and once the game started and the voice finally called red light you stayed stiller than you ever have before.

everything seemed to be going just fine for a while as the man was guiding everyone and telling us when to go and stop. that was until the woman standing right next to you had a bee land on her neck. you heard her scream and before you could even process what was happening she had been shot, just like the man at the beginning had said.

when the voice called out green light yet again you stayed in your spot too taken aback to even move. you heard su-bong yell out to you, “hey you have to keep going. stay behind me.” so you did just that staying close behind him till you both reached the end.

once the game had concluded you found yourself back in the same bed from before laying down and staring at the ceiling. you had so many thoughts running through your mind. you knew you shouldn’t have come here in the first place. you knew there had to be some sort of catch, and now your life was all the line just to win some fucking money.

you heard footsteps approaching but you didn’t have to look to know who it was. “hey babe. you alright?” you looked over at su-bong wanting to ignore him but instead you sat up and faced him.

“don’t call me that su-bong.” you replied bluntly as you felt his gaze on you. he put his hands up in defense before sitting down next to you. “please stick next to me in here, i wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happened to you and i didn’t help.” you heard him say.

it made you smile a little. despite how much you hated his ass you knew deep down he still and always would care for you. he noticed this and it made him smile too. “also i would really like if you called me thanos.”

you scoffed and looked at him with a shocked face realizing that’s why he had the purple hair and colored nails. “you’re serious..? that’s the dumbest fucking rapper name i’ve ever heard.”

he laughed at your response noticing how you did a little too. “oh come on you know you love it.” you just stared at him not really knowing what to say but you honestly loved how he always came up with dumb shit like that and it suited him perfectly.

you two sat there for a while trying to catch up before you were interrupted by the guards once again. they had come in to congratulate the players who were still alive and said we would be holding a vote to stay or leave and split the money that had been accumulated so far.

you watched as the others voted one by one and when it was finally your turn you pressed the red ‘x’ with no hesitation. you watched thanos go shortly after you and to your surprise he had voted to stay. you watched him walk to the other side sighing as he smiled like it was no big deal.

as the voting was nearing an end you were sure you were going to make it out of there until the final voter, player ’001’ had pressed the blue ‘o.’

you stood there in disbelief for a minute before heading back to your bunk not wanting to be apart of the arguments that were already starting. you noticed thanos following close behind and you felt him grab your wrist.

you stared at him and his hand lingered on your arm not wanting to let go. “why did you do that?” you asked gesturing to the blue patch on his jacket. he looked at with an almost hurt expression. “oh come on baby you know i need the money. you do too. if we work through this together we can get that shit and get out of here safely.”

you just rolled your eyes at him trying to explain how putting your lives at risk wasn’t worth it but he didn’t seem to care. instead he pulled you to the bathrooms before you could stop him.

he pulled the two of you into the women’s restroom making you confused. “what the hell are you doing?!” you yelled trying to get out of his grip but he held on stronger.

“baby.. i’ve missed you so fucking much. i hate myself everyday for what i did to you and i know you do too. will you please work through this with me? we only have to do one more game and i promise i will make it up to you when we get that money and get out of here.” you heard him confess.

you wanted to scream at him for what he said. you wanted to tell him no and that he was wrong and you knew he was lying. but you didn’t. no, you couldn’t. instead you found yourself moving closer to him and before you knew it your lips were meeting his for the first time in almost a year.

the feeling made both of you let out soft moans and when you felt him move his hands lower onto your back you couldn’t help the noise that slipped out of you.

you pulled away for a second, your forehead still touching his and looking him in the eyes. “please don’t make me regret this. i want to trust you.” you whispered as he stared at you.

“i promise sweetheart. i want to make it up to you and i want to make you the happiest girl in the world. i will never stop feeling that way.” his words made the two of you smile before your lips met once again.

before you knew it the kiss was becoming more intense and full of need. thanos decided to pull you into a stall just incase someone had decided to walk in on the two of you.

you giggled as you felt him pick you up as if it was nothing. your lips never left his as he pushed you up against the door while holding you. “god i’ve missed this..” he whispered into your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“me too su-bong.” you let out as you felt him start to place kisses down your neck. this made you tilt your head back allowing him more access as you ran your fingers through his purple locks.

“can i take this off?” he asked holding onto your jacket while looking up at you. you nodded quickly and he practically ripped off your jacket as well as the t-shirt underneath.

you moaned softly as he placed kisses to your chest before ripping off your bra as well. he cupped one of your tits in his hand before placing his mouth around the other one.

“please don’t tease me baby.” you whispered which made him only suck harder on your nipple. you could already feel how wet you were becoming as you saw him smirk at your words.

“just wanna take my time with you sweets.” he said before trailing kisses down your stomach. when he got to the waistband of your pants he slipped them off in a matter of seconds leaving you in just your underwear.

“you’re so fucking beautiful.” he moaned as he took in the sight of you that was in front of him. you smiled at him before removing his own shirt and pants so you were now both in the same position. your mouth practically dropped at how good he looked and he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction.

he removed his boxers before removing your own underwear leaving the two of you naked. it had been so long since you saw each other like this and it made the both of you blush slightly.

he moved closer and placed your lips together yet again. the feeling of your tits pressed up against his bare chest made the two of you moan, aching for more. you felt his hand trail down to your already soaking wet pussy and he stuck a finger in without warning making you moan again.

he kept his eyes on yours as he watched your reaction to his fingers. before you knew it he was adding another before moving his mouth to your tits again. the pleasure was staring to become overwhelming as it had been too long since someone had you like this.

your moans became louder and you knew if anyone walked into the bathroom they would know exactly what was going on. but to be honest, you didn’t care. you yelled out as you felt him pick up his speed encouraging you to cum on his fingers.

you did just that making him smirk at you again before he picked you up once more. he held a firm grip on your sides letting you know he wasn’t going to drop you.

“i love you so much su-bong.. i’m sorry for leaving.” you admitted to him looking into his eyes. “don’t apologize my girl. you had every right to do what you did. i was so shitty to you but i really hope you can forgive me. i just want to move forward with you and give you what you deserve. i love you.” he confessed.

you kissed him again this time a little more aggressive not wanting this moment to end. he held you tight and you could feel his erection against your stomach making you feel even wetter than before. “i need you baby…” you moaned out while looking up at him.

he wasted no time lining his cock up with your entrance. you both moaned before he pushed his length inside of you causing you to throw your head back. he held onto you as he trusted himself up into you never letting go once.

“fuck! you feel so good baby.” he moaned into your ear, resting his head on your shoulder. your nails met his back scratching lightly as he thrusted into you over and over again.

“faster thanos please!” you yelled out wanting more of him. he did what you said thrusting into you even quicker. he would be lying if he said you calling him his nickname didn’t turn on even more. he absolutely loved the effect you had on him.

the speed of his thrusts and the sounds of his soft whimpers in your ear was enough to send you over the edge. you were close and you knew he was too.

“‘m so close baby.” he whispered slamming into you even harder than before.

he wrapped a hand around your throat knowing how much it turned you on. you moaned louder than before at the feeling and you knew you were done for. “i’m gonna cum!” you yelled feeling your orgasm getting closer.

“that’s it baby let it out, cum all over my cock.” he said causing you to do just that. not long after he was releasing inside of you painting your insides white with one last thrust into you.

he pulled out of you before cleaning the two of you up carefully. when the two of you were dressed again you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “what?” he asked looking at you confused. “i can’t believe we just did that here.” you replied smiling big at him causing him to do the same.

“i’d do that with you anywhere!” he said causing you to lightly smack him on the arm. you rolled your eyes before giving him another quick kiss. “i love you.” he said.

“i love you too su-bong.” you replied as you felt him kiss your forehead before opening the stall door for the two of you. he grabbed your hand before heading back to the others.

little did you know what was coming your way.

⇾ be sure to checkout my masterlist if you enjoyed! any type of interaction is appreciated :,)

⇾ thank you for reading all the way through <3 so excited to be posting my first thanos fic!! i want to write for more squid game characters so pls send me requests if you have any!!! i love y’all 💝💝

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ GDRAGON AS YOUR HUSBAND!

୨ৎ pairing: husband!jiyong x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! mild smut! & more fluff

୨ৎ from myeong: hi! thank you for requesting and I’ve been so excited to get this done for you! hope you can enjoy it x

ʚɞ GDRAGON VS JIYONG?

of course there’s a small difference here and there.. we are speaking about the gdragon himself! but he is still your caring, thoughtful, loving, affectionate, and kind man that you decided to marry hoping to spend the rest of your life with—which you will bc there is no way that he’s letting you go. never ever.

he’s the sweetest man. takes such good care of you and makes it his mission to get you whatever it is that you want or need—don’t even have to ask! if he knows you’re wanting something? you’ll have it.

will learn how to make your favorite dishes in an instant! say he’s not the best at cooking or maybe it’s just this particular meal? will go as far as taking a class just to learn how to make it the perfect way.

absolutely adores when you’re able to watch him on stage and no not just on the television he’ll want you at every concert or show he does. that’s when the king of k-pop comes out! but when the show is finished and his eyes find you? oh there is your cute and sweet jiyong again that’ll do anything for you.

a very touchy man he is—especially in the morning he’ll need to be wrapped around you. either his arm is wrapped around your waist or he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulder pulling you closer to his warm chest, hearing the soft sound of his calm heartbeat that he always says “beats just for you.”

even when he’s in public with you and he is the gdragon himself.. he’s still your sweet husband and will always take care of you. he enjoys pushing his fingers through your hair and pulling you closer to him by your waist and looking down at you with a cute goofy smile on his face. nothing about this man changes just because you’re in public.

writes so many songs about you. the majority of them he won’t release and waits until he thinks they’re perfect to show you and he’ll call you into the studio for you to hear while you sit on his lap. he’ll stare up at you the whole time wanting to see your reaction and how you genuinely feel about it.

“what do you think, baby? I worked so hard on it and I just.. wanted to make it perfect for you—us.” his hand will be resting on your lower back and he’ll smile up at you from time to time just seeing how flustered you get from all of this. he loves that part.

not sure if this sounds weird! but I think it’s sweet and he’ll think it’s even sweeter but he enjoys slow dancing with you in the living room. picking out the perfect slow older korean song and grabbing you gently by the waist and slowly dancing with you even if you’re both not that good at it. it’ll be both a very romantic gesture and funny memory.

sometimes… you get gdragon in bed. he’s more rough with you but will always ask if this is okay first before he proceeds. sometimes he can’t help himself and craves you so badly that he becomes like a desperate animal in heat. his kisses are rough, hot, and messy against your lips while his hands roam your perfectly crafted body.

“fuck—you look so good underneath me like this. you always do.. such a perfect girl for me, hm? you like this don’t you? like it when I’m rough with you.”

he can go a few rounds. a few breaks in between to check on you and make sure you’re okay before he wants to go at it again. morning sex is also quite popular with him. he enjoys slow, romantic, and sweet morning sex. sometimes he’s a bit rough but he’ll apologize and ask if you’re doing okay.

you’re his passenger princess!! he’ll take you all over the place and rest his hand on your thigh, or grab at your hand and hold it like he’s never held it before and place soft pecks to your fingers. when stopped at stop lights he’ll take pictures of you before handing the phone over to you and asking to take pictures of him. he calls these ‘cute memories’

if you two get into an argument it won’t last. he doesn’t think it’s right to stay mad at you especially if the argument is such a petty one. he’ll break first and apologize and ask what he could do to make things better for the both of you. he enjoys being mature about it and handling things with care.

loves sharing his art with you and he eventually takes his art to another level and makes it all about you. pieces that he’s either worked on or just bought are strictly for you and he’ll wait for the perfect moment to show you and tell you about each piece and what it means for the both of you.

[thanosscross]

HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

--

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@corrdelia

@ag022123

[lexalith]

FRIENDS || Choi Su-Bong (Thanos)

summary: after late-night sexting with your best friend, everything changes. the bond you thought was purely platonic starts to feel deeper. were these feelings always there, hidden beneath the surface? or did something just… click? is this the start of something real, or the beginning of a mistake that could ruin everything?

warnings: aged up female reader (they’re both in their late twenties) (MDNI), smut (masturbation, fingering, public sex, p in v, oral sex (f and m), sexting, edging, praising, unprotected sex (don’t be silly)) semi and minsu are victims of the reader’s and subong’s freakiness, angst (name calling, miscommunication, pushing, throwing things, lying, deception, fear of commitment, reader refuses to help him at some point, slapping, slutshame remarks), overuse of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘fucking’ (lmaoo), subong should be a warning himself, fwb dynamic, reader uses someone to forget subong, drug use and addiction.

a/n: i’ve never ever written anything here on tumblr before, so i don’t really know what i’m doing, help. also, english isn’t my first language, so mistakes should be present!! lowercase is intentional. this is an au with no games. text messages are in different colors (orange for the reader, purple for subong). the reader’s dialogue is in bold. mind you, this is LOOOONG (it’s a whole fic)

songs that inspired me to write this: friends — chase atlantic || back to friends — sombr || heartbeat — childish gambino || casual — chappell roan

this fic was also inspired by @jedisupernova ‘s writing, check out her page and fics!!! (they’re soooo good)

you’re still thinking about what that guy said. it wasn’t even a big deal, not really. just some random jerk at the club who’d had a few too many drinks and decided to share his unfiltered thoughts about your body. “you’re not really my type,” he’d said, like you’d asked. then he’d laughed and added, “not many guys would go for that.”

it shouldn’t bother you. you know it shouldn’t. but now, a few nights later, it’s stuck in your head, looping like a song you can’t turn off. so, lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly, you do what you always do when something’s bugging you—you text him. your best friend.

subong. are you awake?

yes ma’am. why?

i got a random question. but like, it’s not that deep

???

do you think i’m attractive?

you fire it off without overthinking, like it’s no big deal. it’s not weird to ask your best friend something like this. right?

it takes him a few minutes to reply.

what kind of question is that?

just answer

i’m too high for this shit, bro

you’re not high🙄 liar

i wish i were

omfg can you just say yes or no? please? but be honest, i promise i won’t get mad

yeah, i think u are

really?

sure thinggg, u’re hot mama

dude quit playing, i’m being serious over here

i’m not fucking playing

okay you think i’m attractive but like… what kind of attractive? cute attractive? like awwww. or i’d-fuck-you-raw attractive?

what are we even talking about

why can’t you just answer?😭

what is this for?

for my knowledge

tf is that supposed to mean?

you stare at the screen, mentally deciding whether you should tell him about what happened or not. you hadn’t told him before, not wanting to give it more attention. but this time, you decide to.

ugh, remember i went clubbing the other day? well this dude was being an asshole to me and he said some stuff and i can’t stop thinking about it so just be fucking honest and answer my question

some stuff? what stuff?

he said, and i quote ‘not many guys would go for that’. ‘that’ is me, btw💀

who tf is this dude?

bruh idk, some random guy, it doesn’t matter

it does?

are you gonna answer my question or no?

yeah. i think u r both kinds.

good, good, you think to yourself. his reply makes you relax a little, the knot in your stomach loosening. he thinks you’re attractive. of course he does—he’s your best friend, and best friends are supposed to hype you up.

for a moment, you stare at your phone, chewing on your bottom lip. you know you should leave it there, let it go. but something keeps tugging at you.

so, hypothetically, would you… yk, with me?

the second you hit send, panic sets in. your pulse skyrockets, and you almost want to throw your phone across the room. why did you do that? why couldn’t you just shut up? but you don’t have time to spiral, because the dots appear almost immediately.

are u serious?

and you freeze. your fingers hover over the screen, but you can’t bring yourself to type anything back. what kind of answer is that?

alr, imma be honest. yeah i would

your heart stops. you blink at the message, reading it again and again, like the words might change if you look long enough. you weren’t prepared for this.

subong’s typing…

would u? with me?

you want to lie, to brush it off, but your fingers move before your brain can stop them.

maybe

the dots pop up again. then disappear. then pop up again.

maybe?? that means yes. cmon i’m hot as hell, baby, u know it. u’ve probably touched yourself thinking about me at least once

wtf bro you’re giving me the biggest ick rn 💀

but have u?

and you? i bet you jerk off to my insta photos, perv. don’t even start lmaoo

can’t help it when u look that good💯

you stare at his message, your mind scrambling to process it. you feel your breath catch in your throat. the shock should be overwhelming, but instead, you feel a strange warmth spread through you.

you didn’t expect this. the idea that he’s been thinking about you like that… it sends a shiver down your spine. you should probably tell him to stop, tell him it’s too much, but instead, you feel yourself leaning in, pulled toward this conversation in a way you didn’t think you would be.

i may or may not have done the same with your insta pics

i knew itttt señorita 🙏🏼

shut up

how many times?

why do you wanna know?🤨

i answered ur stupid ass questions, now u answer mine

maybe like idk, two?

no fucking way, just two????????

you think it’s not enough or what???? how many times have you done it?

more than u wanna know

how bad are we talking?

so bad i’ve lost count. u really want me to get into details?

maybe i do

bro, let’s just say that everytime u post i’m over here fighting a battle

you do realize i’m your bestfriend right?

yeah, so?

so aren’t there any girls to jerk off to instead of me???

yeah but they don’t make me as hard

you stare at the screen, your heart pounding, your legs squeezing together instinctively. what the hell is happening right now? and then another message comes through.

even saying this shit is getting me worked up

what???😭 you’re hard??

yeah bro, what's a guy supposed to do when his best friend asks if he would fuck her?

it was hypothetical

hypothetically speaking, if a guy was attracted to his best friend, he'd probably be rock fucking hard right now. so yeah, i'm fucking hard, girl

your stomach flips at the bluntness of his words. you can feel the blood rushing to your face as you stare at the message.

too much info, subong

nahhh, u asked. u wanted details, so here they are

okay… should i leave you to it?

fuck no

damn alr, suffer then🙄

could u help me out?

help you out?????????????

with a pic of u or smth

boy whatttttttttt

what?

i’m not sending you fucking nudes wtf 💀💀

no one asked for that, stupid. just a pic of u

just a pic of you. the request feels so simple. he’s your bestfriend—it’s not that big of a deal, right? especially after everything you’ve both just confessed to each other.

your eyes flick toward the mirror in your room. you’re in your pajamas. no bra. you know how it looks. it’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t think twice about wearing around him in person, but now, with this conversation, it feels different. your legs carry you to the mirror almost on autopilot. you pick up your phone and angle it toward your reflection. you shouldn’t even be entertaining this. but instead, you snap the picture. you stare at it for a moment, biting your lip. it’s not explicit—it’s just you. but still… you know exactly how he’ll see it.

your thumb hovers over the send button, hesitation gripping you. a hundred reasons not to do this race through your head, but one single thought drowns them all out: you want to know how he’ll react. before you can second-guess yourself, you hit send. the moment it delivers, your stomach drops, a mix of adrenaline and regret washing over you. you sit down on the edge of your bed, staring at the screen, waiting for his response, your heart pounding louder with every passing second.

hoooooooooly shitttttttttt

it’s just a pic

yeah, a pic of u looking like that

im just in my pajamas

and i’m hornier now, if that’s even possible

subong you can’t just say stuff like that

why not? we always tell each other everything

i should’ve thrown on a hoodie

i’d still be thinking of what’s underneath

well, glad i could help your horny ass🫡 enjoy or whatever

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

you watch the dots—flickering like they're mocking you. you can't help but wonder what he's typing—or if he's second-guessing whatever bold thing he's about to say. but then, they disappear. nothing. you frown, staring at the screen, waiting a few more seconds. still nothing. you realize exactly what he's probably doing. you bite your lip, heat creeping up your neck as the image forms in your mind: him, sitting there, hand wrapped around his dick, staring at the picture you sent.

you feel like you need to do something—anything—to distract yourself. you toss your phone onto the bed and reach for the remote, flipping on a random tv show. you let the noise fill the silence, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. it's a few minutes later when your phone dings. the sound cuts through the room like a knife, and you hesitate for a moment, staring at the screen, before finally reaching for it.

it's him. he sent a picture.

these are my pajamas. now we’re even, baby

him, standing in front of the mirror, shirtless and wearing only a pair of tight black briefs. the way he's posing is so over the top... he's trying way too hard. his expression is almost comical, like he's not really sure if he's pulling it off but is hoping you'll think he is. you can't help it—you stifle a laugh. but then your eyes drop, and that laughter dies in your throat. the bulge is so obvious, pushing against the fabric in a way that's impossible to ignore. it's not just visible, it's big. big enough that your pulse spikes, and you forget to breathe for a second. that laughter you were holding back? gone. you glance back at his goofy grin in the mirror, but it's no longer funny. shit. you’re wet.

you don't even know how it happens. one moment, you're staring at his picture, then a teasing comment here, a bold reply there—and before you know it, you're lying on your bed, your phone clutched in one hand and your other slipping between your thighs, pressed against the growing ache he's stoked with every message. you've never gone this far with him before—always ignoring his obvious flirting. but you can’t stop now. and he isn’t shy about it either, telling you with detail everything he would do to you.

u'd look soooo fucking good begging under me, baby

and what if i don’t?

then i'd make u

mhmmm, how?

fuck, i’d bury my face between those thighs and eat u out until u can’t take it anymore

a soft gasp escapes your lips as you read, your body reacting to the vivid images his words paint in your mind. you know you shouldn't be doing this—not with him—but the way he's describing everything makes you forget about all the reasons why. you’re far past the point of feeling shy too. you bite your lip, barely believing yourself as you hit send.

i wish you could feel how wet i am just thinking about you fucking me from behind

god damn girl, i’d stretch that pussy so good my dick is the only thing u’d think about for weeks

and then, it's not just texting anymore—you're sending pictures, even though you swore you wouldn't. the first one is a close-up of your fingers, glistening with your juices. his reply comes almost instantly, not as a text but as a voice message. “shit, baby, you're f-fucking killing me... mhmm... look at that. you're so fucking wet f’me, I can almost taste it through the screen... fuck...” his voice is low and rough, broken by soft, shaky breaths. you can hear him stroking himself, moans slipping out between words. you're losing your damn mind over it, replaying the voice message again and again—fingers curling inside of you as you push them in and out, wishing it were his fingers instead of yours.

he sends a pic too. this time, he leaves nothing to the imagination. it’s a selfie, his face barely visible at the corner. the center of attention is his hard dick, hand wrapped around it, tip leaking precum. and the only thing that comes to your mind right there and then is just how badly you want to take him in your mouth.

one picture leads to another, the messages growing dirtier with every exchange. his words are filthy, his photos even filthier, and the way he talks about your body—what he'd do to it, what he's imagining—fucking hell. your breathing quickens, your body burning with need, and before you know it, that familiar tension starts to coil low in your stomach.

shit, subong… i’m close

u’re gonna cum for me? cmon pretty girl, let me hear you

you hit record just as your orgasm crashes over you, moaning his name loudly as you cum on your fingers. after a few minutes, he sends a voice message back “you sound so fucking good… shit, look what you’ve done t-to me… mmm… fuck, fuck, fuck… i’m gonna cum thinking about fucking you, baby. i’m gonna cum thinking about you making those… s-sounds while i fucking pound into you.”

the next few days are a blur. he hasn’t texted, and you haven’t either. but no matter what you do, you can’t stop thinking about what happened. no matter how hard you try to shake it off, it’s there. his voice, the way he sounded saying your name, the damn nudes, the way your heart raced as you typed those things to him.

you don’t know how to feel about it. on one hand, you can’t deny how much you wanted it in the moment. but now? now you’re not sure. did you cross a line? did he? part of you regrets it, wishes you could just rewind and stop yourself before things spiraled. but another part—one you’re trying to ignore—remembers how good it felt, how right it seemed in the moment.

and then there’s the friendship. years of it. he’s been your best friend for a few years now. he knows things about you no one else does and he’s seen you at your absolute worst. like that night you showed up at his door after a horrible breakup. mascara streaked down your cheeks, and he didn’t say a word—just handed you a blanket, put on your favorite movie, and sat there with you until you fell asleep on his shoulder.

but it wasn’t always serious. like the time he tried rapping one of his freestyles for you, all cocky, and you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. or like the time you tripped over absolutely nothing at the mall, and he laughed so hard he cried, then spent weeks reenacting it whenever you were around. or when he clogged your toilet and tried to fix it himself instead of just telling you. or when he picked a fight with some guy at a club because the guy bumped into you and didn’t apologize. he got all puffed up and said, “you got a problem, man?” like he was some kind of action movie hero. but the guy was huge, like, rugby player huge, and before you could drag subong away, he swung and missed, and the dude took him down in one hit. he spent the rest of the night with a bloody nose and ice pressed to his face, grumbling, “he got lucky.” you still remind him of how he ‘lost a fight in one punch,’ and it always makes him groan.

you’ve got a thousand stupid inside jokes that no one else would understand, like how you always text each other ‘don’t die’ instead of ‘goodnight’ because of some dumb horror movie you watched together. or the fact that he nicknamed you ‘señorita’ when you said you wanted to visit spain one day.

he’s a walking disaster, an endless source of secondhand embarrassment, and somehow, that’s what makes subong… subong. being around him has always felt easy, like slipping into your favorite hoodie—comfortable, familiar, safe.

but friends don’t do… that. what if it’s never the same again? you’ve always been comfortable with him, never overthinking what you said or did around him. now, you can’t imagine looking him in the eye without thinking about what you two did together. you keep telling yourself that things will go back to normal, but deep down, you’re scared they won’t. because you’re not sure you can go back—not after knowing what it felt like to be wanted by him in that way. not after letting yourself want him back.

one day, out of the blue, he texts you like nothing happened. just casually, like you didn't have your hand between your thighs while listening to him moan your name a few nights ago.

yoooo, wanna hop on call and play videogames? i’m bored

at first, you stare at the text, because... what does this mean? is this his way of brushing it under the rug? of pretending nothing ever happened? still, you say yes. because what else can you do? you hop into the call, and there he is—joking, laughing, completely normal. like the two of you didn't cross every possible line. he's so good at acting like nothing's changed, it almost convinces you. you match his energy, responding with the same casual ease. maybe this is fine. maybe you're fine.

then the group chat lights up a few days later: a cinema meet-up. everyone's throwing out ideas for what movie to watch, talking about snacks, debating over showtimes. he's there, throwing in jokes about popcorn sizes and his infamous sweet tooth, and you're sitting there trying to decide if you can handle seeing him face to face. you hesitate, debating if you should just make up an excuse not to go. but then he replies to the chat, tagging you specifically.

u better be there señorita

i will🙃

the day arrives faster than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing outside the cinema, stomach flipping as you spot namgyu, minsu, gyeongsu, and semi waving at you. you force a smile and walk over, doing your best to focus on their chatter and ignore the nerves crawling up your spine. but then you see him—subong, leaning against the wall, vape in hand. and when his eyes land on you, he smirks. he knows damn well. he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he’s not going to make this easy for you. “finally,” he says when you’re close enough. “i was starting to doubt you’d come.” “why wouldn’t i?” you reply. he shrugs, taking a puff from his vape “thought you might’ve had better things to do.” the way he says it feels loaded, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, turning his attention to namgyu instead.

when it’s time to head into the cinema, you try to position yourself far from him, making a beeline for a seat between minsu and semi. you settle in, thinking you’re safe, but of course, subong has other plans. “yo, minsu, my boy,” he says as he walks down the aisle, stopping directly in front of you. “mind scooting over? i’ll sit here.” “uh, sure,” minsu says, shifting down without hesitation. you open your mouth to object, but before you can say anything, subong is sliding into the seat next to you, drink in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. “hope you don’t mind,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer than necessary. you grit your teeth, keeping your gaze locked on the screen as the previews start. “not at all,” you mutter under your breath.

you think that’s it. but, of course, it doesn’t end there. he shifts in his seat, his arm brushing against yours every now and then, like he’s waiting for you to react. you swear you catch him smirking out of the corner of your eye multiple times. you try to focus on the movie, but it’s impossible when his presence is so loud. every little movement, every tiny glance, has your nerves on edge. and he knows it.

then, you feel it. his hand—light at first— rests on your bare thigh, the heat of his palm sending a jolt through you. you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. what the hell is he doing? his fingers trace a soft line along your skin, caressing just above your knee. you stay still, unsure of what to do, but your body betrays you, not pulling away.

his touch grows bolder, creeping higher up your leg, slipping under your skirt. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. he's still watching the movie, acting like nothing is happening, like his hand isn't inches away from your clothed pussy. “what are you doing?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns his head toward you, looking innocent, like he's just minding his own business. “nothing.” “subong—” “i'll stop if you want me to.” you don't answer, torn between wanting to push him away and not wanting him to stop at all. “do you want me to stop? be honest,” he says, still waiting for your response. “no,” you reply, looking away with embarrassment. he chuckles softly—hand rubbing the inside of your thigh.

you drape the thin jacket you brought over your legs, a flimsy attempt to shield his hand from semi’s view. every nerve in your body screams that you shouldn’t be letting this happen, but you don’t stop him. he spreads your legs with his hand for better access, and soon you feel two of his fingers pressing against your clit over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches, and you try not to move—not even a sound escapes you—but your lips part at the feeling of his touch. he moves them slow—too slow—in a way that has you shifting against him, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more. and he gives it to you. his hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and a low chuckle leaves him when he feels just how wet you are.

subong knows what he is doing. he rubs your clit in circles, gently but with enough pressure to have you biting your bottom lip. and god, his fingers feel so much better than you ever imagined. when he quickens the pace, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth, pretending to be focused on the screen. but the rapid rise and fall of your chest betrays your so-called calm. before you can collect yourself, semi leans in. “are you okay?” “mhm,” you nod quickly, forcing a smile. “yeah, don't worry, i—” your words falter when his fingers move faster. you bite your lip, trying to hold it together, but he's clearly enjoying watching you struggle. “i-i'm fine,” you manage to stutter. semi raises an eyebrow. “you sure?” “yeah,” you nod. “alright,” semi says before shrugging and turning her attention back to the screen.

you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. your head snaps toward subong, eyes narrowing in a glare that’s meant to convey exactly how ridiculous he’s being right now. you dig your nails into his wrist, “are you crazy?” but he only pauses for a second, leaning in close enough to whisper, “relax, girl. no one noticed.” the audacity of him sends heat rushing to your face. but he doesn’t back down, his fingers resuming their slow, torturous movements. and just as you’re about to reach your orgasm… he stops. your body jerks in frustration, and you whip your head toward him, confused. his smirk only deepens as he pulls his hand from under your skirt, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean. “what the fuck?” you whisper, a soft groan escaping at the loss of his touch. “what?” he whispers back, feigning innocence. “you know what.” “i don't. you'll have to spell it out for me.” “subong—” “tell me what you want.” the frustration wells up in your chest. to him, this is probably hilarious—you being so desperate. but for you? it's humiliating. pathetic. begging your best friend for something like this. still, the need outweighs your pride. you lean in, your lips almost brushing his ear, “i wanna... i wanna cum. please, make me cum.” “yeah? be fucking quiet, then.”

his fingers slip back under your skirt. your breath catches, and you press your lips together, your body already trembling from how close you were before—gripping the armrest, barely able to keep still. every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire, and when his fingers circle just right, you're done. the release hits hard, and you muffle your moans by biting down on your lip so hard it stings.

the days after are... strange. again. no texting, no acknowledgment, no teasing, nothing. it's like it never happened. and when he does text again, it's so casual it throws you off. he sends a random picture, a meme he has found on instagram.

this shit is so funny bro loooololol

i fear your humor is broken😐

naahhh u just don’t get ittt babyy

you reply like everything's fine because, well, isn't it? you don’t even know at this point.

another day, he messages the group chat:

pentagon this weekend?🔥

the replies come fast. namgyu’s working that night. semi has plans with her girlfriend. gyeongsu says he’s too exhausted for it. minsu doesn’t even reply. everyone has an excuse, and eventually, the chat goes dead. then, a private message from subong popps up.

wbu? still down to go?

you and subong had gone clubbing together hundreds of times. hell, most nights it was just the two of you, dancing until your legs gave out, taking blurry selfies, and laughing over cheap drinks. it was normal. so, you type:

yeah, sureee

bet. see u saturday, señorita

when the night comes, your phone buzzes as you’re double-checking your look in the mirror.

outside

outsideeee

outsideeeeeeeee

hellooooooooooooooooooo

one minute, let me grab my jacket

i’m freezing man

one minute my ass

patience is a virtue ❤️

cmooooooooon

u knitting the jacket or what

girl i just hit retirement age waiting for u

you’re so dramatic

and u r so slow, balance baby

you grab your jacket and head out, the bass from his car already thudding through the air when you step outside. you see him leaning against the passenger door, dressed in his usual baggy style—a loose graphic tee, cargo pants, and sneakers that probably cost more than your entire outfit (the only damn thing he saves up for…)—vape dangling lazily from his fingers. when he sees you, his eyes trail over you for a second too long. “you’re overdressed,” he teases with a smile. “you’re underdressed,” you shoot back.

the drive to club pentagon is easy, filled with a mix of rap tracks and subong’s singing. when you finally pull up, the line’s already stretching down the block, but subong doesn’t even blink. “namgyu’s working, right?” he asks, sliding out of the car. you nod. “yeah, he’ll let us in.” inside, the music is already pulsing, bass heavy enough to shake the floors. subong grabs your wrist. “drinks first?” “obviously,” you answer. you follow subong to the bar, the pounding music buzzing in your ears. “what are we starting with?” he asks, leaning against the bar. “shots,” you say, already reaching into your bag. he raises an eyebrow. “you’re paying?” “you’re broke,” you remind him, rolling your eyes before ordering four shots of tequila. when the glasses arrive, he grabs two and hands you one. “guess i’ll owe you,” he says, clinking his glass against yours. “you already do,” you reply, downing the first shot without hesitation. the familiar burn of tequila trails down your throat, and you chase it with a quick breath.

you can feel his eyes on you as you throw back the second shot. you don’t meet his gaze, but you can feel it—the weight of it, the way it makes your stomach flutter. shaking it off, you slam your glass on the counter and signal for one more round. “last one,” you say, mostly to yourself, pulling out more cash. he doesn’t argue, just picks up his shot, watching you as you pick up yours. you both toss back the final shot, and the alcohol is just enough to loosen the knot in your chest. but the way his gaze lingers as he sets his glass down makes it tighten again. “dancing?” you ask. he nods. you push through the crowd till you find a spot on the dance floor. the techno track thuds through your chest as you sway to the rhythm. subong moves with you, not particularly in sync with the beat, but in his own way that somehow works. every now and then, his eyes catch yours, and you have to force yourself to look away.

the music builds, and you let yourself get lost in it, the alcohol buzzing through your veins and the tension from earlier slowly dissolving into the haze of the moment. after a while, he stops moving and pulls his phone from his pocket. you glance at him, curious, as he squints at the screen. whatever he sees makes him smile faintly before he shoves the phone back into his pocket. “i need to hit the bathroom!” he says, leaning close so you can hear. you blink at him, confused. “right now?” he nods, gesturing for you to follow. you don’t argue—it’s not exactly safe to hang around the dance floor by yourself. reluctantly, you let him lead you off the floor.

he disappears into the men’s room, leaving you standing against the wall, arms crossed. you tap your foot, watching drunk strangers stumble past. a few minutes later, the door swings open, and subong walks out, a small smirk playing on his lips. “what took you so long?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. instead of answering, he holds up a small plastic bag between his fingers. your stomach flips when you see the little colorful pills inside. “what the hell is that?” you ask, but you already know. he grins, tilting his head. “new stuff.” your brows furrow. “what?” “my plug got these,” he says, holding up the bag slightly. “said they hit different. figured i’d try.” he slides one pill between his fingers, studying it like it’s no big deal. then he brings it to his mouth, about to toss it back. “wait,” you say, grabbing his wrist. he scoffs. “what? you want it instead?” you glare at him. “no, subong. what are you even doing? you don’t need that!” he rolls his eyes, freeing his wrist from your grip. “come on, it’s nothing. we’ve had worse.” “worse?” you scoff. “you’re really gonna compare getting blackout drunk and smoking pot to this?” “you’re fucking overthinking it. it’s just one pill. just tonight. trust me.” he says.

you glance at the bag again, at the little pills that seem so harmless yet scream bad idea. “subong…” you start, but your voice trails off. “look,” he cuts in, his voice softer now. “we’re having a good fucking time, yeah? it’ll be just this once, okay? i promise.” “okay,” you say suddenly, lifting your chin. “but if you do one, i’ll do one.” his smirk falters for half a second. “no.” you frown. “what do you mean, no?” “i mean no. you’re not taking one.” “but you can?” you challenge, crossing your arms.“yeah.” you scoff. “that’s bullshit.” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “this isn’t your thing, señorita.” “since when it’s yours?” you snap. “if you’re gonna do it, then so am i.”

he looks at you, really looks at you. then, with an exasperated groan, he reaches into the bag. “fucking stubborn,” he mutters, pulling out another pill. “just this once.” he holds it delicately between his fingers before stepping closer. “open up,” he says, his voice dropping a notch. you hesitate for a second but eventually part your lips, sticking out your tongue. he places the pill gently on it. “there you go,” he says, stepping back and popping his own pill. you swallow it quickly, trying not to think about what you’ve just decided to do.

you move back onto the dance floor, the pill's effects creeping in like a warm wave washing over you. the flashing lights seem brighter now and everything blurs together—colors, sounds, the heat of the crowd—but it feels good. better than it should. your limbs feel lighter, like you're floating, and the energy buzzing inside you pushes you to move. subong is right there beside you, dancing with his hand raised, and you can't stop staring at him. his messy hair sticks to his forehead, sweat glistening on his tanned skin.

before you know it, your arms are around his neck, pulling him in like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. his eyes burn into yours for half a second, like he’s daring you to close the distance. then his hands are on your waist, rough fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and he drags you closer until you’re pressed against him. the music is pounding, but it feels distant—like the only rhythm you can hear now is the way your bodies move together, hips rolling in time, every brush of his skin against yours making you burn.

his breath fans across your lips, hot and tasting of tequila and something bitter—maybe the pill he took earlier—and it makes your head spin. then your mouth crashes into his. there’s nothing soft about it. it’s messy and sloppy, urgent—like you’re both too far gone to think about anything but this. his lips part against yours immediately, and your tongues meet in a dizzying clash of heat and need. his hands slide up your back, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

you tilt your head, chasing the kiss even deeper. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth against your bottom lip, a bite that makes you whimper before he soothes it with his tongue. the sound you make pushes him further—he groans into your mouth, his other hand gripping your jaw, tilting your face exactly how he wants it.

you’re not sure where the desperation is coming from, but it feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll shatter. your fingers clutch at his shirt, twisting the fabric as you grind just a little closer, a little harder. he’s breathing just as heavy as you are, lips red and swollen from kissing you like he never wants to stop.

you’ve kissed people before but nothing’s ever felt like this. nothing’s ever felt this fucking good. the two of you stumble out of the club. your legs feel like jelly as you hold onto subong, and his arm wraps around your waist to steady you. his car is parked a few streets over, tucked away in a dark, hidden corner under some trees. “thank god for this spot,” he mutters as he unlocks the doors.

you barely make it into the backseat before he’s on you again—his lips crashing into yours like he’s been waiting for this forever. his hands are all over you, rough and desperate, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. but you’re not going anywhere. his fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you into his lap, and the second you straddle him, you feel it—hard and thick, pressing right against the heat between your legs. a soft gasp slips out of you, but he swallows it with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. fuck, he’s good.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling as your hips start to move, grinding down on him. his grip tightens immediately, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he guides your movements, rocking you against him harder. the friction creates a delicious, aching pressure that makes you whimper against his lips. “fuck,” he breathes, breaking the kiss just long enough to let his head fall back against the seat. his fingers squeeze your ass, dragging you down against him rougher. “keep doing that.” so you do. you roll your hips, slow at first, letting yourself feel everything. you’re already soaked, already throbbing for more, and from the way his hands are gripping you, the way his breathing is getting heavier, you know he feels it too. “i need to eat you out,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck. “want you to cum on my tongue.” you do exactly what he wants—legs spread wide, thighs trembling as his head dips between them. his breath is hot against your soaked pussy, teasing, before his tongue finally makes contact—slow at first, a long, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit that makes your whole body jolt.

you gasp at the feeling, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard, but it only makes him groan against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure straight through you. he doesn’t hold back. he devours you, eating you out like a man starved, his tongue flicking against your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. and when two of his fingers slip inside you, curling deep, pressing against that perfect spot, you swear you see stars. “you taste so fucking good,” he groans against you, his lips slick with your arousal before he flattens his tongue and laps up every drop. the way he’s working you—his mouth, his fingers, the filthy sounds coming from between your legs—it’s too much, too good, and your whole body is trembling, hips rolling against his face, chasing more. “shit—subong!” your voice breaks as the pleasure crashes over you all at once. your thighs clamp around his head, your body arching off the seat as you cum hard against his mouth. but he doesn’t stop—his tongue keeps moving, drinking you in, dragging out your release until you’re shaking.

when he comes back up to kiss you—chin shining with the evidence of your release— your hand instinctively moves to rub him through his pants, the hard outline of his dick impossible to miss. he hisses at the contact, his hips bucking eagerly against your touch. “you got a condom?” you ask. he pauses. “yeah, hold on.” reluctantly, he pulls away and starts patting his pockets. his brows furrow in concentration as he checks one side, then the other. finally, with a relieved grin, he pulls a condom out and holds it up. “got it,” he says before kissing the wrapper, making you chuckle.

he looks so fucking hot as he rolls the condom onto his cock, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. but nothing gets him off more than watching you climb back onto his lap, your soaked folds teasing the head of his dick as you line yourself up. his breath stutters, his hands gripping your thighs, barely holding himself back. “fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, voice tight with restraint. then, slowly you sink down onto him. inch by inch, he stretches you open, filling you up until there’s no space left between your bodies. “shit,” he hisses, watching as your slick coats him, making every movement easy, effortless—like your body was made to take him. and when you start moving, lifting your hips before sliding back down, a broken moan escapes his lips. “fuck, baby,” he breathes, hands roaming up your back, gripping your ass, anything to ground himself as you ride him. “you feel so f-fucking good—look at you, taking me so… mmm… so fucking well.” his voice is needy, and when you slam down harder, his hips jerk up to meet yours, pushing even deeper. “oh my—fuck, subong!” you cry out, your walls clenching around him so tight it makes his whole body tense beneath you.

he almost fucking loses it the second he feels you clench around him, his face twisting in pleasure, jaw going slack. his hands grip your hips, guiding you—faster, rougher—eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. he forces himself to meet your gaze, even though his eyes keep threatening to roll back. “fuck, if i’d known how fucking good this pussy is… i would’ve f-fucked you sooner.” he moans as you move faster, bouncing on his cock—every thrust making obscene, slick sounds that only turn him on more. his eyes drop to your tits, bouncing perfectly in time with your movements, and fuck, he can’t decide what he wants more—to keep watching you ride him like this or to flip you over and ruin you.

but then you tighten around him, your rhythm stuttering as you throw your head back, moaning so loud he swears the whole damn neighborhood can hear you. “fuck— i’m gonna—! i-i’m gonna cum!” you cry out, your whole body trembling, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. and that’s it. that’s all it takes to break him. “shit—ngh!” his body jerks beneath you, his abs tensing as he spills into the condom, his head falling back, mouth open.

his hands are still gripping you, holding you down against him as he rides out every last pulse of his release, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. and fuck—you’re still wrapped around him, warm and wet and perfect. you end up laughing for a solid twenty minutes after that, still too high to fully process what the fuck just happened between you two. but even in your haze, every single detail stays with you the next day.

fucking your best friend while high as fuck one night might’ve been an accident. but then it happens again. and again. and again. and you can’t call it an accident anymore.

it happens everywhere.

in his car, where the windows are always fogged up, your moans echoing in the tight space. in your apartment, where he barely gets the door shut before he’s got you pinned against it, hands rough and greedy, yanking your clothes off like he’s been waiting all fucking day for this. sometimes he doesn’t even make it past the kitchen—he just lifts you onto the counter, knocking over whatever’s in his way, too impatient to care as his mouth moves down your neck. in his bed, where the sheets are always a mess, tangled from how hard he fucks you into the mattress, his hands gripping your wrists, pinning them above your head. even in a club bathroom, right after he gives a show, still high off the energy, sweat dripping down his temple. you’re barely inside before he’s got you bent over the sink, hiking your dress up, shoving your panties to the side, fucking into you so deep you have to bite your hand to keep from screaming his name.

wherever. the second you’re alone, it’s happening. it becomes a thing. a need.

you always figured subong would fuck good. he never shut up about the girls he’s been with, the shit he’s done, bragging like he was the best lay any of them ever had. and every time he talked about it, you’d feel heat pool between your thighs, wondering if he was really that good or just full of shit.

now you knew. and fuck, he wasn’t lying.

he’s rough and passionate—the kind of lover who takes without hesitation but gives just as much, maybe even more. he loves watching you squirm, loves the way your body responds to him like it was made for this. like it needs this. his fingers trail down your skin, barely touching, making you shiver before he finally gives you what you want. and fuck, he lives for it—the way you gasp when he finally presses his mouth between your legs, the way your back arches when he fills you up, stretching you wide, making you take every inch.

some days, he drags it out, torturing you with slow touches, lazy kisses, making you beg before he finally gives in. he’ll tease you until you’re trembling, hands gripping at him desperately, “please, subong… need you so bad.” and then, maybe then, he’ll give you what you’re begging for. other days? he doesn’t bother waiting. before you can say a word, he’s got you pinned to the mattress, yanking your legs apart, pressing himself against you, making you feel just how hard he is. “been thinking about this all fucking day.” then he’s inside you, fucking you like he’s been starving for it.

it’s been months now—this thing between you and subong. but you don’t talk about it. not once. there’s no late-night confessions, no whispered ‘what are we?’ between tangled sheets. he doesn’t ask who else you’re seeing, and you sure as hell don’t ask him. but the uncertainty lingers. because he’s still your best friend. you still laugh at his dumb ass jokes, roll your eyes when he’s being his cocky self, and feel that weird, warm twist in your stomach when you catch him watching you from across the room.

and yet, there are a bunch of little things that scream something more. like that time you sat on his rumpled bed while he was writing a song, and you helped him hammer out stupid-ass verses—even when he swore they’d never work. you teased him for his cheesy lines and then watched his face light up like he’d just discovered a new fucking world. hell, he even calls you his muse sometimes, and you hate how damn proud that makes you feel.

or that stormy night. the rain was lashing against the windows, and you two were locked in his tiny studio apartment. one minute you were laughing, taking silly pictures of him with a digital camera while he smoked, and the next, he had your face pressed against the wooden table as he fucked you from behind—your ass cheeks burning from his vigorous spanking. after, he pulled you close, running his fingers through your hair as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

that one night he showed up at your door at 2 a.m., high off his ass, slurring your name with that cocky grin, his knuckles tapping too fast against the wood. “couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, leaning against the doorframe. “fucking missed you.” you should’ve told him to fuck off, should’ve rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face because he promised he wouldn’t do that shit again. instead, you let him in, let him collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh, pulling you down with him. his arms caged you in, the scent of his cheap cologne filling your senses.

then there was the time you caught him staring at you while you were getting ready. you were fixing your hair in his mirror, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, and when you turned around, he was just standing there—arms crossed. “what?” you asked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. he just shook his head, smirking a little. “nothing,” he said. “you just—you look good in my clothes, mama.”

and when you called him crying after a shitty day at work, voice shaking so bad he could barely understand you. you didn’t even have to ask—he just showed up, no questions. drove way too fucking fast to get to you, and pulled you into his chest so tight it felt like he was trying to hold you together. “who do i need to punch?” he asked, half-joking, half-dead serious. and you laughed, even through your tears, because that was him—always trying to make you smile. he let you cry into his hoodie, let you hold onto him like a fucking lifeline, and then, when you finally calmed down, he kissed your forehead like it was second nature. “you’re okay, baby” he murmured. “i got you.” he always had you.

or the night he took you to some shitty underground concert, knowing damn well you didn’t even like the band. “it’s not about the music,” he told you, grinning like an idiot. “it’s about the experience.” you rolled your eyes, but you still let him pull you into the crowd, still let him wrap an arm around you when the pit got too wild, still let him hold your hand. afterward, sweaty and breathless, you sat on the curb outside, sharing a cigarette while he rambled about how sick the show was. “you should play up there one day,” you told him, nudging his shoulder. “your songs have gotten better.” “you think?” “yeah. you’re good, bong-bong.” the nickname made him laugh. a week later, he showed you something he wrote. something raw and messy and fucking beautiful. he let you hear a part of him no one else ever did.

you even helped him rebrand himself. it started with him pacing his room, muttering to himself, stopping every few seconds like he was about to say something, then changing his mind. eventually, you sighed, rolling onto your stomach while watching him from his bed. “are you having a breakdown or just being dramatic?” he ignored you, still pacing. and then, out of nowhere, he stopped. snapped his fingers. looked at you like he just discovered the secret to life itself. “i’m gonna dye my hair purple.” you stared at him for a long second, waiting for him to laugh or tell you he was joking. but he just stood there, completely serious, shoulders squared like he was about to go to war.

within twenty minutes, you were in his bathroom, gloves on, a box of purple dye sitting between you. you didn’t even ask how he got it so fast. knowing him, he’d probably been sitting on this idea for weeks, just waiting for the right moment to drag you into it. he sat on the closed toilet lid, legs spread, while you stood over him, parting his hair and working the dye through. up close, he looked smug as hell, like he knew he was onto something. the whole rap game was about standing out, and he was done waiting for people to notice him.

the name ‘thanos’ caught on faster than you expected. at first, it was a joke—you called him that to be annoying, and then he used it in a song, and suddenly, people were saying it back to him. dms started piling up. more people started listening. before you knew it, subong wasn’t just some guy making music in his bedroom—he was thanos. and, of course, he acted like he knew it was gonna work all along.

and fuck, the time he brought you home to meet his family. his mom fussed over you like you were the perfect daughter-in-law, laying on your favorite dish and insisting you have seconds. then, saying, “he talks about you a lot”, making subong choke on his food while his sister goaded him about how he treats you like his damn girlfriend. you felt so out-of-place and yet so damn loved by the way he proudly introduced you to everyone, as if you were the missing piece in his fucked-up puzzle. he even opened up to you about his dad—how he never gave a shit about him, never looked at him unless it was to point out everything he did wrong. maybe that was why he kept stealing glances at you like he was trying to make sense of it—of being wanted, of being next to someone who actually cared.

and later that night, when you were both lying on his couch, full and sleepy, he nudged your knee with his. “thanks for coming, señorita,” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded. “they liked you.” you turned your head to look at him, saying, “of course they did. i’m fucking amazing.” he smirked, but it faded quick, his gaze lingering on you a little too long. “yeah,” he murmured. “you are.”

nights that weren’t about sex at all. the ones where he just wanted you close, his hands resting on your back, his lips pressed to your shoulder, his voice low and sleepy in the dark. “you’re warm,” he’d mumble, pulling you closer. “don’t leave.” “i work tomorrow, baby,” you’d say. “i’ll drive you… stay with me,” he’d always replied.

and you did. every single time.

and there were the nights he fucked you like he meant it. not just like you were some girl he was hooking up with, but like you were the only one who had ever mattered. like he was trying to prove something with every touch, every kiss, every time he pressed his sweaty forehead to yours and whispered your name like a prayer.

like he loved you. but he never said it. and neither did you.

so instead, you settled for the quiet moments—for the way he always pulled you into his lap at parties, his hands resting lazily on your thighs; for the way he let you pick the music when you drove anywhere, even though he always bitched about your taste; for the way he let you steal his fries, let you doodle on his lyrics notebook, let you wear his hoodies even when you didn’t ask; for the way he texted you ‘good morning, baby❤️,’ and it made you smile for no damn reason; for the way you woke up to find him still asleep beside you, hair a damn mess on the pillow, and traced lazy circles on his chest while he mumbled some half-remembered melody. for the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

you can’t help but hope that one day you’ll both just say the damn words and finally admit that all these little moments mean something. you hope that maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll stop wondering if you’re more than just friends with benefits.

are u busy?

no, why?

good, i’ll be there in 10

i’m on my period

who gives a shitttt, i sure as hell don’t, mama

subong.

yeah?🙏🏼

not in the mood❤️

oh

alr cool👍🏼💯

can i still come over tho? we could watch a movie or something

yeah okayyy, bring snacks (or else i won’t let you in)

i’m the only snack u need, girl

you don’t expect him to show up with anything, but when you open the door, subong’s standing there, hands full—one holding a plastic bag, the other gripping a bottle of soda. “what’s all this?” you ask, raising a brow. he steps inside without waiting for an invite, kicking off his shoes. “you said ‘bring snacks’, didn’t you?” he says, dropping the bag onto your coffee table. “figured you’d want something sweet.” you peek inside—chocolate bars, a pack of strawberry pocky, even a container of sliced fruit. your chest tightens at the thought of him actually remembering the little things you like.“what, no painkillers?” you tease, flopping onto the couch. he scoffs, collapsing next to you, way too comfortable in your space. “what do i look like, a pharmacy?”

you give him a knowing look, and his lips twitch, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. grabbing the remote, you ask, “so, what are we watching?” “something i won’t fall asleep to,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “which means no boring indie shit.” you nudge his thigh with your foot. “first of all, my movie taste is elite. second, if you fall asleep, i’m taking pictures.” he grins, lazy and cocky. “yeah? what will you use them for?” heat rushes to your face, and you smack his arm without thinking. “shut up.”

the movie plays, and for a while, it’s normal. easy. you snack on the pocky while subong steals pieces of fruit from the container, acting like he’s doing you a favor by eating the ones you don’t like. he stretches out on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. goddamn.

it's barely been a few minutes when you find yourself on your knees in front of the couch, his strong hand fisting in your hair as you hungrily suck his dick like your life depends on it. you couldn’t help it. he just looked too fucking good. you take him deep, your nose pressing against his abs, gagging slightly but refusing to back off. he lets out a groan as you take him, the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your head up and down. “fuck, just like that baby... show me how much you love this dick.” his hips thrust forward, making you gag slightly. “you're so f-fucking good for me... mmm such a pretty little mouth, choking on my cock.”

drool slips down your chin as you struggle to breathe but maintain eye contact, wanting him to see how much you love taking him in your mouth. the wet, obscene sounds of you slurping and gagging fill the room. he watches you intently, pupils blown wide with lust, his dick throbbing against your tongue. moaning around him, the vibrations make his thighs quake. "shit... you’re gonna make me fucking c-cum," he breathes out. “you gonna… you gonna let me cum in that s-sweet mouth of yours, hm?” “mhmm,” you purr around his length, looking up at him with hooded eyes. you double your efforts, sucking him hard and fast, your hand pumping what you can’t reach. he holds your head in place as he comes, making you to swallow every last drop. you take a moment to catch your breath, wiping your mouth before sitting back up.

the bathroom lights hum to life as you rinse your mouth and splash cool water on your face, trying to shake off the heat thrumming through you. you press your palms against the sink, inhaling deep in an attempt to look less flustered. the movie’s still on when you come back. you get comfortable, leaning into subong just slightly. he doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm and lets you settle in against his side. the warmth of him seeps into you, and you rest your head on his shoulder. subong smiles at you before kissing your forehead, something that shouldn’t mean anything but somehow does.

you shift slightly, but he just pulls you in closer, his body solid and warm against yours. your heart stutters in your chest, and the thought of what you are—what you actually mean to him—becomes impossible to ignore. the longer you sit there, the harder it is to pretend this is normal. your heart is beating too fast, your mind racing with thoughts you’ve been shoving down for months. finally, you tilt your head to glance up. “subong,” you start, your voice quieter than you mean it to be. he hums, eyes still on the screen, but you can tell he’s listening. you swallow, suddenly nervous. “what… what are we doing?” that gets his attention. “what do you mean?” you sit up a little, putting some space between you—enough to see him clearly. “this. us. it’s been months, and we’ve never talked about it.” “what’s there to talk?” “i mean, is this just sex to you?”

he doesn’t answer right away. his jaw tenses, his eyes flicking away for a second like he’s weighing his words. “does it feel like just sex to you?” he finally asks. your chest tightens. “no.” his lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily. like maybe he’s been trying to convince himself of something different. “right. it’s not just sex, we’re friends, too,” he says. “then why are we acting like this?” you push. he rubs a hand over his face. “i don’t know.” he leans forward, elbows on his knees. the silence stretches thick between you, but you refuse to let it suffocate you. you need to know. “what do you want this to be?”

subong exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. he looks frustrated, like he doesn’t even want to have this conversation. like you’re ruining something by asking. “why do we have to call it something?” he says finally, and your stomach twists. you blink, sitting up a little. “because it’s been months, subong. because we’re not—we’re not just fucking and then going our separate ways. because we’re sitting here, cuddling, watching a damn movie, and it feels like more.” his jaw clenches, his fingers tightening around his knee. “it doesn’t have to mean anything.” that stings. worse than you were expecting. you swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “it does to me.” his face twists, like he hates hearing that. “shit, don’t fucking do this,” he mutters, shaking his head. “why can’t we just keep things the way they are?” “because i’m tired of pretending this is casual when it’s not,” you snap, your voice cracking. “not for me, at least.”

he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s trying to hold something back. when he looks at you again, his expression is unreadable, but his next words hit like a punch to the gut. “then maybe you shouldn’t have let it get this fucking far.” you feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. “what?” “i never promised you shit.” the words cut deep, sharper than anything he’s ever said to you before. you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. because he’s right. he never did. but the way he touched you, the way he held you after—none of that felt like nothing. you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he hesitates for a second too long. and that’s all you need to know. you force yourself to nod, pressing your lips together. “okay.” his brows furrow, like he wasn’t expecting you to take it like that, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything else. you grab the remote, press stop on the movie, and push yourself off the couch. “you should go.” “are you fucking serious?” you cross your arms over your chest, fighting to keep your composure. “yeah, i’m serious. get the fuck out.” “we have one fucking shitty conversation, and now you don’t want me here?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “what the fuck do you want from me, subong?” your voice shakes, and you can feel it crack, but you force it out. “sit here and pretend like i didn’t just fucking tell you how i feel? pretend i’m not fucking hurt because you—” you stop yourself, biting your lip so hard it almost bleeds. his jaw clenches. “what?” you let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “because you don’t fucking care.” “i never said i don’t care.” “you might as well have,” you snap, voice breaking with frustration. “you just don’t give a shit enough to do anything about it.” he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, breathing hard through his nose. “just because i care doesn’t mean we have to slap a fucking label on it!” “and i just have to be okay with that?!” you snap, your voice rising. “i have to sit here like a dumbass and pretend this is fine when it’s not?”

he throws his hands up, his face twisting in frustration. “for fuck’s sake, why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” “difficult?!” you let out a humorless laugh. “you’re the one acting like a fucking idiot, subong! you want to fuck me, cuddle me, act like i’m your fucking girlfriend, but the second i ask you to be honest about what this is, suddenly i’m the problem?! you even introduced me to your damn family!” he freezes for half a second when the words leave your mouth, then he stands up, jabbing a finger in your face. “what the fuck did you just call me?!” you swat his hand away, your glare burning into him. “don’t fucking point at me like that!” his jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare like he’s barely keeping himself from snapping. “you wanna talk about being a fucking idiot?! look in the fucking mirror!” he spits. “you’re the one acting like some needy little bitch because i won’t say what you wanna hear.” “fuck you, subong!” you don’t say anything else. you just turn on your heel and walk out of the living room, heading straight for the kitchen. your hands are shaking, your chest tight, and you just need to put some distance between you and him before you completely fall apart. behind you, you hear him scoff. “seriously? you’re just gonna walk away mid-fucking-conversation?”

you grip the edge of the counter, squeezing your eyes shut. maybe if you stay quiet, he’ll take the fucking hint and leave. but of course, he doesn’t. you hear his footsteps as he follows you in. “you always do this shit,” he mutters, his voice dripping with irritation. “running off the second things don’t go your way.” you whirl around, your eyes burning. “what should i do, then? hm? get on my knees and suck your fucking dick again?!” he clenches his fists at his sides, his mouth opening like he’s about to argue—but then he hesitates. because the truth is, you do mean something to him. he just doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it. subong has never done this before—never been in something that wasn’t just fucking around, never had to deal with real feelings, real expectations. and the idea of fucking it up? it scares the shit out of him. but instead of admitting that, instead of being honest for once in his life, he just does what he does best—pushes, lashes out. it seems easier than dealing with what he feels when he’s around you.

“why do you care so fucking much about not calling it something?” you ask, your voice softer now. “if we’re not seeing other people, if we’re always together, if you do care about me, then why?” his throat bobs as he swallows hard. and then—because he’s a fucking coward—he lies. “who says i’m not seeing other people?” you freeze. his face is unreadable, but you can see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he already regrets saying it. “you’re lying.” your voice is quiet. he just shrugs, “i’ve been seeing this girl.” “who?” you raise your voice, taking a step closer as tears start falling down your face. “who?!” “i’m not fucking telling you!” “are you serious?! aren’t we supposed to be friends too?! we used to tell each other everything!”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a second—just a second—something flashes in them. something like guilt. but then he shuts it down, scoffing as he shakes his head. you continue, “but we’re not even friends anymore, are we?” “don’t say that.” “why not? it’s true, isn’t it? friends don’t do what we do,” you wipe at your face, even though the tears won’t stop fucking falling. he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, pressing it against the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to hold something back. but then he just shrugs again, voice flat. “guess we’re not fucking friends either, then.”

your vision blurs as you cry, no matter how hard you try to keep it together. “get the fuck out, subong.” your voice breaks on the last word, and you hate how fucking weak you sound, how pathetic. and the second the first real sob rips out of your throat, something in him shifts. “fuck. no, i—” he exhales, raking a hand through his hair, his voice softer now, like he’s realizing he went too far. “i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry—i’m sorry, baby.” “don’t fucking call me that!” “you gotta listen to me!” you shake your head, taking a step back, your whole body trembling. “no. i’m done listening to your fucking bullshit.” “baby, please.” his voice cracks, and his hands reach for you—hesitant, like he doesn’t know if you’ll let him touch you. “please.” you slap them away instantly. “don’t fucking touch me.” “you’re really just gonna shut me out like this?!” “you shut me out first!” “i fucking care about you!” “not enough!” his breath catches in his throat, and for a second, he just stares at you. “you’re being fucking dramatic.” “get the fuck out of my house, subong.” “why are you being such a fucking—” “say it.” your voice is a challenge, daring him to go there. he doesn’t hesitate. “bitch. a fucking bitch. you—you’re acting like a bitch.”

you’ve had enough. without thinking, you shove him—hard. he stumbles back a step, caught off guard, but you don't stop. you shove him again, your palms flat against his chest. “you’re a fucking asshole! fuck you! get out! get the fuck out!” his jaw tightens, like he wants to argue, like he wants to throw something else back at you, but you're already stepping forward again, grabbing his arm and shoving him toward the front door. subong wrenches his arm away, but you don't let it stop you. you push him again, shoving him past the threshold. but he’s not moving, so you grab the nearest thing—his damn sneakers—and chuck them at him, one after the other. the first one bounces off his chest, the second one catches him square in the shoulder. “what the fuck, man?!” subong barks, flinching back, his face twisting in irritation. he barely catches the second shoe before it can hit the ground. “you’re a crazy bitch!”

“fuck off!” your voice cracks again, but you don’t care. you’re already stepping forward, already reaching for the door—and you slam it in his face. the sound echoing through the room. for a moment, silence. a long, awful pause where your breath hitches, where your chest tightens so much it feels like you’re suffocating. then—“open the door. c’mon, open—open the fucking door!” he slams his fist against the wood. “stop being so fucking childish!” “you’re calling me childish?! grow up, subong! you’re twenty six, you don’t know what you want and you still dress like a fucking kid!” he bangs the door. “you’re one to talk, girl! always dressed like a damn slut!”

you squeeze your eyes shut and stumble to your room until your knees hit the bed, and then you’re collapsing onto it. the first sob breaks out of you before you can stop it, and then another, and another. you curl into yourself, pulling the blanket over your head, pressing your hands against your ears. but it doesn’t block him out. “fucking talk to me!” another bang. you hear the doorknob rattle. “baby, please! i’m sorry, okay?! c’mon, don’t do this! we’re fucking friends!” your voice is muffled when it finally comes, thick with tears, but loud enough for him to hear you. “go away!” “not fucking happening! open the damn door!” “go away or i’m calling the fucking cops, motherfucker!” that seems to work. you curl tighter, press your face into the pillow, and sob until the sound of his fists against the door fades away. he did this. he made you feel this way. and he fucking hates himself for it. but it’s too late.

the next few days are absolute shit. you barely leave your bed at first. your body feels too heavy, your chest too tight, your eyes too sore from crying. when you do finally move, it’s only to go through the motions—brushing your teeth, pulling on the same oversized hoodie, forcing down a few bites of food even when everything tastes like nothing, and going to work. you don’t check your phone at first. you can’t. but eventually, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who it is. subong. you let it ring. he calls again. and again. when it finally stops, the texts start.

pick up the fucking phone

cmon baby please

i fucking miss u

don’t do this shit to me

u make me so fucking angry

bro istfg

please

you turn the phone face down. but he doesn’t stop. every time you glance at your screen, his name is there.

i know u r reading these

don’t fucking ignore me bro

at least tell me u r okay

minsu asked why u didn’t come with us today

just fucking answer

is it that hard?

years and years of friendship man and u throw it all away like that?

u r fucking selfish

i hope u know that

the texts keep coming. always at random times. but the worst ones come at night. one day, at 4:12 a.m., your phone buzzes against your nightstand. you try to ignore it, try to pretend you’re asleep, but something tells you to look.

im highhg as fuvckk bro

look whatu vdone to me

fukcing bittvhhh

its urA fault

i mis uu

u r myybhaby❤️❤️❤️❤️

its fucking 4am. i wake up at 6 to go to work, stfu and leave me alone

can i cone over? plewaasse

answer bitchj

fuck you, subong. i don’t want to see you again

come bsck

i loveyouy

you block him, roll over, and squeeze your eyes shut. but sleep doesn’t come easy. not when the last words he sent are still glowing behind your eyelids, burning into your brain.

blocking him should have brought peace. should have been the final step, the clean break. but it doesn’t feel like that. instead, it feels like holding your breath underwater, waiting to resurface, except there’s no hand to pull you up this time. the first few days, you keep checking your phone out of habit. unlocking it without thinking. but there’s nothing. you still reach for him in small ways—almost texting him when something funny happens, almost turning to tell him about your day. but you can’t do that. you won’t do that. so you keep yourself busy. you pick up a book, let your eyes scan the words without really absorbing them. go on long walks, let the cold air bite at your skin, hoping it shocks you out of your thoughts. start journaling, writing down everything except his name, except the way your chest still feels hollow. you even try new things—take a yoga class with a friend, bake cookies at 2 a.m., cut your hair just to feel something different. but memories of him are stitched into the fabric of your life.

you hear his voice on the radio sometimes now, when they play a song of his that went viral. see him in the reflection of dark car windows, like he’s just a step behind you. hear a joke and immediately think about how he’d laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkling at the edges. you tell yourself that eventually, you’ll forget. but some nights, you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’s staring at his too. if he’s thinking about you. and the ache doesn’t go away.

your phone rings one night, when you’re already in bed. you almost don’t answer, but when you see semi’s name flash across the screen, you pick up. “hello?” your voice is groggy, tired. “hey,” semi says. “sorry, did i wake you?” “no,” you lie. “what’s up?” there’s a pause. hesitation. then, “it’s subong.” your stomach drops. “we’re worried about him.” she rushes the words out, like she’s been holding them in for too long. “he’s been acting weird lately—worse than usual.” you close your eyes, already knowing where this is going. already knowing what she’s about to say before she even says it. “he’s been taking those pills,” she continues. “the ones he used to mess with sometimes, but now he’s on them all the time. it’s like he’s not even—shit. he was out,” she says, frantic. “namgyu couldn’t wake him up at first, it was fucking bad, dude. and now he’s still high as hell, barely making sense, and he keeps—” she hesitates. you frown. “he keeps what?” “he keeps mumbling your name.” you feel like you’ve been punched in the chest. you press your fingers to your temple, trying to stop the pounding in your head. “fuck.” “he’s not okay,” she says. “he’s barely sleeping, barely eating. he looks like shit. well, he always does, but you know what i mean. and when he does talk, it’s like he’s—like he’s not there.”

you take a shaky breath. you shouldn’t care. you don’t care. he’s not your problem anymore. but your stomach still twists at the thought of him like that. “maybe you could talk to him?” semi says, hopeful. “when he feels better. i think he’d listen to you. gyeongsu is gonna take us to the hospital in a few minutes, maybe you could come too? we’ll pick you up. we’re at namgyu’s apartment, we had to take him—” “we’re not friends anymore, semi,” you cut off, swallowing down the lump in your throat. silence. “what?” she says. “what do you mean?” “he hasn’t told you?” “told us what?” “it doesn’t matter,” you say finally, letting out a heavy sigh. “i can’t help him.” “but—” “i can’t, semi.” the words come out sharper than you mean them to. she falls quiet. after a long moment, she sighs. “alright, okay,” she says, voice heavy with disappointment. “i just… i didn’t know.”

and even though you tell yourself it’s not your problem, even though you tell yourself you did the right thing—you don’t sleep that night. maybe you’re the most horrible person ever. for not helping him. that’s what you think to yourself as the days go by. you don’t go to see him. you don’t text semi back. you tell yourself that there’s nothing you could have done, that he made his choices, that you’re not responsible for saving him. but the guilt sticks to your ribs.

you keep moving forward. and then, somewhere along the way, you meet him. he’s nothing like subong. not really. but sometimes, in the way he leans back in his chair, in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, in the way he laughs when he’s had one too many drinks—he almost is. (he even likes rap!) and maybe that’s why you let him take you out. why you let him kiss you. why you let him press his hands against your skin and pretend it feels right. it doesn’t. but you let it happen anyway. because it’s easier. because when you close your eyes, you can almost pretend it’s subong. it’s fucked up. you know it’s fucked up. but you tell yourself it’s fine. that it doesn’t matter. that this is what moving on is supposed to look like. but it’s not fair. you know you shouldn’t be doing this. and when he asks what’s wrong, why you get quiet sometimes, why you look at him like you’re seeing someone else—you just smile. shake your head. press a kiss to his lips and hope he never realizes that you don’t mean it. hope he never realizes that no matter how hard you try—subong is still the only one you see.

he invites you to a show one night, says it’ll be fun. you don’t really know much about it—just that it’s some rap battle tournament called ‘rap battlegrounds’—but you’re bored, and it’s something to do. you don’t ask too many questions because, honestly, you don’t care that much. he picks you up, and you follow him through the neon-lit streets to a club you’ve never seen before, the bass already thumping from inside. he leads you through the crowd to a small corner of the club. it’s dark, gritty, with exposed brick walls and dim, flickering lights that barely cut through the haze of smoke hanging in the air. the floor is sticky. it’s the kind of place you usually avoid, but tonight, you let it slide.

you're barely paying attention, your eyes drifting over the crowd, the noise just background filler. the battles blur together, the hype not really doing anything for you. you're zoning out, tapping your foot to the rhythm of the beat, hoping this night will pass quickly—regretting all your life choices when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. when suddenly, a voice crackles through the mic, cutting through the noise. “yo, yo, yo, we got a real one up next! fresh off that new heat, straight killin’ the game—make some noise for ‘thanos’!” you freeze, snapping your head to the stage as the crowd cheers. “…and he’s goin’ up against the beast, the local legend, the one and only jace ‘the hammer!’”

there’s no way. you blink, trying to process it, but everything’s too dark, shadows everywhere, making you second-guess yourself. but then, you hear it—his voice. your stomach sinks. this is real. subong is here. for a second, you think you might pass out. he’s standing there, center stage, all cocky confidence, rapping like he owns the room. you wish you could ignore it, wish you could pretend he’s just another guy on stage, but he isn’t. and you can’t. and then it happens. his eyes sweep across the crowd, like he’s eating up the attention, and then they land on you. he freezes. just for a second—just long enough for his flow to falter, the words dying on his tongue. the beat keeps going, but he doesn’t, and the guy he’s battling jumps in, taking advantage of the opening. subong blinks, shakes his head, tries to recover—but it’s too late. he’s lost the rhythm, lost the momentum, and the battle ends with subong’s opponent eating up the win. the crowd erupts, but subong doesn’t hear any of it. he stands there for a second, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe it—like he can’t believe he actually lost. then, without another word, he shoves the mic into someone’s hand and disappears behind the stage.

someone else takes the spotlight almost immediately, the next rappers stepping up, music booming through the speakers again. you turn to the guy beside you, grabbing his wrist. “i wanna leave.” he frowns. “what? why?” you glance toward the side of the stage, your stomach twisting. subong won’t just leave it alone—you know him. “i’m just—i’m kinda tired.” the nervousness in your voice alarms him. “are you okay? what’s wrong?” “nothing. i just don’t wanna be here right now.” he studies you, and you can tell the exact moment he realizes how tense you are, how your shoulders are stiff, how you haven’t stopped glancing over your shoulder. his expression softens, just a little. “hey,” he says, voice quieter now. “it’s okay. i’ll take you home.” “yeah?” “of course.” you don’t move when he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. and it feels like… nothing. just lips on lips, a fleeting warmth that barely registers. your chest feels tight, like you need to shake something off, drown something out. so you kiss him back, harder this time, pressing in, searching for something. maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the way seeing subong on that stage messed with your head, knocked you off center. maybe you just want to prove to yourself that you can feel that rush with someone else. but you don’t. no matter how deep the kiss goes, no matter how much you try to lose yourself in it, there’s nothing there.

and just a second later, he’s ripped away from you—shoved back so hard he stumbles, nearly knocking into the bar behind him. and when you look up, you already know. subong stands there, shoulders tense, and his eyes locked on you. “what the fuck are you doing?!” “me?! what the fuck are you doing, subong?!” the guy composes himself and goes back next to you with a strained expression, one of his hands caressing his side. “what’s your problem, man?!” “who the fuck is this?” subong demands, his eyes never leaving yours. you exhale sharply. “just leave me alone.” disbelief flashes across his face like you’ve just insulted him. “nah, what the fuck is this?” he gestures vaguely between you and the guy. “this who you’re with now?” the guy straightens up. “is there a problem?” subong laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “yeah, there’s a fucking problem. who the fuck are you?” “just go, subong.” you cut in quickly. “no. i’m not fucking leaving.”

the guy beside you steps in, placing himself between you and subong. “you know this asshole?” he asks you. you sigh, “he’s… we used to be friends,” you reply. “yeah, and i’ve probably fucked her more times than you have, bro,” subong adds, a smirk on his face. “don’t listen to him,” you tell the guy before redirecting your attention to subong. “you’re being more than ridiculous right now. stop it. leave us alone.” he just stares, like he didn’t even hear you. like you didn’t just tell him to fuck off. “ridiculous?” he repeats, like the word itself it’s funny to him. “you wanna know what’s fucking ridiculous? you showing up here with—” he finally looks at the guy, eyes dragging over him like he’s barely worth acknowledging “—this.” “enough! i said… leave us alone.” “no, we need need to talk.” “she told you to leave, man.” the guy interrupts. wrong move. subong’s lips curl into something mean. “and who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” he sizes him up, scoffing. the guy doesn’t back down. he squares his shoulders, keeping himself between you and subong like he actually thinks that’ll stop him. subong steps closer, just enough to invade his space. you step forward, grabbing the guy’s arm. “seriously, let’s just go—”

subong’s hand shoots out, grabbing his collar. the guy shoves him back instantly, and that’s all it takes. subong’s always been quick to anger, and now he’s pissed. “relax,” the guy says, lifting his hands like he’s trying to de-escalate, but subong’s past that. “relax? you want me to relax when you’re out here kissing my girl?” the guy exhales through his nose. “you wanna fight me over her that bad?” he shakes his head. “man, you already lost once tonight.” subong’s expression shifts in an instant. his shoulders go tense, his nostrils flare, and his jaw locks so tight you swear you can hear his teeth grind. he snaps, swinging first. it’s fast, a punch aimed straight for the guy’s jaw, but he dodges, stepping back just in time. the guy doesn’t waste time. he drives forward, ramming his shoulder into subong’s chest, sending him stumbling back. for a second, you think it might end there—but of course, it doesn’t. subong recovers quick, too quick. he surges forward, grabbing the guy’s shirt and yanking him down just to throw a knee into his ribs. the guy grunts, shoving him off, and then they’re both swinging. fists connect, curses fly, and you can barely keep up. the guy tries to hold his own, landing a few hits, but subong barely flinches. he’s fueled by something else, and he’s not stopping. one punch lands hard against the guy’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. another follows, a brutal hit to his jaw that makes him stumble. then another. and another. the guy grunts, arms coming up to shield himself, but subong doesn’t let up. he grabs the front of his shirt, yanking him forward just to slam his fist into his face again.

blood splatters. and that’s when you snap out of it. “subong, stop!” he doesn’t hear you. “subong!” he pulls back for another hit, and you move before you even think. you grab him by his shirt, using all your strength to shove him back. he stumbles, losing his grip on the guy, his eyes wild when they snap to yours. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, chest heaving. subong’s nostrils flare, hands still clenched into fists like he’s seconds away from going back for more. the guy groans, wiping blood from his face. “you broke my fucking nose, man! you’re insane!” he yells. “shut the fuck up,” subong spits, but before he can go at him again, you shove him harder. “leave him alone!” his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark, burning into yours. for a second, you think he might listen, that the fight might finally be over. but then, in one swift movement, he grabs your wrist. “what are you—” you barely get the words out before he pulls you with him, dragging you through the crowd, past the stage. “let go of me!” you struggle against his grip, but he doesn’t stop. people turn to look, but no one moves to intervene. they just watch. before you know it, you’re backstage, away from the lights, away from the eyes—trapped in a space that feels too small.

subong finally stops, shoving you back against the wall. you barely have a second to catch your breath before you’re shoving him off. “what the fuck is wrong with you?! what the fuck was all of that about?! huh?!” you slam your hands against his chest, but he barely moves. his jaw clenches, and when he speaks, his voice is rough. “what the fuck is wrong with me?! you’re really asking me that?! when you’re the one out there acting like a desperate fucking slut?!” your head jerks back, a bitter laugh ripping from your throat. “are you fucking serious right now?! you just beat the shit out of him, and you’re mad at me?! for what?! for moving the fuck on?!” “yeah, i fucking am!” he snaps. before you can react, he steps in, closing the space between you in an instant. his hands come up, slamming against the wall on either side of your head. your whole body tenses. he’s seething, breath ragged and reeking of cheap liquor and god knows what else. “why?!” “because you’re mine!” “yours?! fuck off!” you shove at him again, hard. “and take a goddamn shower while you’re at it. you smell like a fucking alleyway.”

his nostrils flare. “yeah? well, you smell like a cheap whore.” rage flares hot in your chest. “right, because you’d fucking know, wouldn’t you?” you sneer. his head tilts, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “at least i don’t pretend to have fucking standards. what’s his name, huh?” your stomach turns, but you don’t let it show. instead, you smile. “why? you jealous? go cry about it, asshole.” he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “you know he’s just using you, right? you’re nothing but a warm hole to him.” your hand flies up before you can think better of it, shoving his face away. “yeah. like that wasn’t exactly what i was to you too, motherfucker.” he stumbles back a step, running a hand over his jaw. “we never talked about what the fuck we wanted, or what we expected from each other. so don’t—don’t—” “that’s what you tell yourself? that you didn’t lead me on? that you didn’t fuck with my head for months?!” you cut him off. “you’re a fucking coward, subong. too fucking scared to admit you wanted me, but the second i move on, suddenly you give a shit?” “move on? to who? that fucking loser? you think he actually gives a shit about you?” “and you do?” “you can’t just act like we never fucking happened!” “we didn’t happen, that’s the thing!” you shoot back. “you didn’t want to be with me like that,” your voice wavers, but you force yourself to hold your ground. “so you don’t get to fucking act like this. you don’t get to be jealous, you don’t get to start fights over me, and you sure as hell don’t get to drag me back here like you own me.”

his throat bobs as he swallows. he looks away for a second, like if he doesn’t meet your eyes, this won’t sting as much. like he can pretend this isn’t hitting him the way it is. his fingers twitch at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s trying to hold onto something—maybe the last shred of whatever this used to be. his breath comes sharp through his nose, the kind that’s meant to steady him but doesn’t do a damn thing. “i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, voice rough around the edges. “i don’t—i don’t own you.” but there’s something bitter in the way he says it, like he hates that it’s true. like he hates that he ever let it get to this point. you’re not his anymore. you never were, really. “then stop acting like it! don’t try to ruin everything just because you can’t handle the fact that i moved the fuck on!” for a second, he doesn’t say anything. his eyes flick over your face, tongue running over his teeth like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something worse. but then— “if you had, you wouldn’t have let that motherfucker shove his tongue down your throat right in front of me.” you scoff. “you think i did that on purpose?” he steps in, too close, and you instinctively take a step back. “fuck yeah, you did. you wanted me to see it. you wanted to fucking piss me off.” “you piss yourself off, subong! newsflash! not everything is about you! get over yourself.” “get over myself? you made me look like a fucking idiot out there!” “what the fuck are you talking about?” his eyes flash. “you made me lose the fucking battle, man!” you blink, caught off guard for half a second, then roll your eyes. “first of all, i’m not a man. second of all, don’t blame that shit on me.” “right. it’s never your fucking fault, huh?” he shakes his head. “you just get to do whatever the fuck you want and act like it doesn’t affect me.” you throw your hands up. “if you weren’t such a fucking asshole, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!” “yeah?!” “yeah!”

and then there’s silence. thick, heavy silence. his breathing is still ragged, his hands still curled into fists at his sides. your heart is pounding, your own fists clenched just as tight. then subong scoffs, shaking his head. “you’re so fucking full of shit.” “excuse me?” “you wanna talk about me being an asshole when you’ve been ignoring me for months? like i didn’t fucking exist.” the pain in his voice is evident and it catches you off guard. “i wasn’t—i didn’t ignore you. i was trying to heal. you’re seriously throwing that in my face right now?” “yeah, i am. don’t act like you’re the only one who got hurt.” “don’t do that.” “do what? tell the truth? you fucking blocked me, girl!” “no! don’t—don’t twist shit around just to make yourself feel better,” you snap. “you know exactly why i did it. don’t act like you’re the fucking victim.” “who is it then? you?” he scoffs. “oh, eat shit, subong! you never fucking came to see me!” you throw your arms out, exasperated. “not once! you could’ve fixed this, but you didn’t.” his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look away. “you think i didn’t want to?” “i don’t know what the fuck you wanted!” your voice cracks, but you don’t care. “i called! and texted you every single fucking day!” “and you think that’s enough?! after everything?!” "i almost fucking overdosed!" he yells. "i was at my fucking lowest, and you—" he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "you weren't there." you shake your head, anger bubbling in your chest. "don't put that on me, subong. you did that to yourself," you snap, voice sharp. "don't fucking guilt trip me with that." "are you serious?" “what do you want me to say? did you expect me to just forget everything and come back to you like nothing happened? you promised me—how many times?—that you weren’t gonna do that shit anymore, and here we are! and not only are you trying to make me feel like a fucking piece of shit for it, but you’re also acting like this—all of this—is my fault? when you were the one who decided i wasn’t good enough to be anything more than a fuck buddy?”

his expression falters—just a flash of something almost guilty—but then he scoffs, masking it with anger. “you’re really trying to act like you didn’t fucking replace me the second i was gone?” “replace you?” you repeat, incredulous. “you can’t be serious right now. i wasn’t the one fucking other people when we were…. whatever we were!” he freezes, his face draining of color for a split second. “don’t bring that shit up.” “oh, I’ll bring it up, alright. because you can’t say that shit to me when you were too busy screwing around while i was waiting for you to call me your fucking girlfriend.” he opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a group of people walk past, glancing over at the scene. a couple of them whisper, eyes flicking nervously from you to subong. his face hardens, irritation flashing across his features, and without warning, he grabs your wrist. “what the fuck are you looking at?” he snaps at them. the group quickly averts their gazes, pretending they weren’t just watching him. he yanks you away and you struggle for a moment, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he doesn’t let go. you’re too caught up in the heat of the moment to really think about where he’s taking you. before you know it, you’re being shoved through a door into a dimly lit room backstage, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that echoes in the silence. the room is small, cluttered with his belongings—bags, jackets, and scattered items. a mirror with round vanity lights casts a dull glow over the space, reflecting the mess on the counter: a half-empty water bottle, energy drink cans, his vape, a lighter, a bunch of candy wrappers and a few crumpled papers.

“you need to stop doing that!” you snap. “dragging me around like i’m—i don’t know—like i’m some puppet!” he ignores your words. “listen,” he says, “i tried to make it right, okay? i did.” “calling me? texting me?” you scoff, disbelief laced in your voice. “that’s what you think making it right looks like? all you ever did was send bullshit messages—half insults, half nothing at all.” you shake your head. “if you actually meant it, you would’ve come to me. you know where i live, where i work—you had every chance to show up, to prove that you actually gave a damn. but you didn’t.” his voice shakes now. “i thought… i thought you didn’t fucking need me anymore! i thought you’d be better off without me!” “better off without you?! that’s the dumbest excuse i’ve ever heard!” before you can stop yourself, you shove him, hard enough that he stumbles back a step. “you were my fucking best friend, you idiot!” your voice cracks as a tear rolls down your cheek, and you have to look away. “and i…” the words tangle in your throat. you swallow hard, forcing them out. “i fucking loved you.”

the words hit him like a fist to the gut. he swallows, his throat suddenly dry. because he knows. he knows exactly how that feels. he’s loved you too—probably longer than he even realized. but he’s never said it. not properly. not in a way that mattered anyway. and now? now it sounds like it’s too fucking late. “loved,” he repeats. “past tense?” you don’t answer. “you don’t—you don’t love me anymore?” the words slip out before he can stop them, and he hates how pathetic they sound, how fucking vulnerable they make him. “subong i—i’m sorry, i can’t… i can’t do this,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “answer me,” he presses, stepping closer, his pulse thundering in his ears. “please.” “i’m not talking about this,” you say firmly, reaching for the door. but he moves faster, pressing his hand against it, keeping you trapped in the small room with him. you squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling sharply. “i don’t want to see you again, subong.” “i do.” “well, i don’t.” “why not?” “because it fucking hurts!” the words barely leave your lips before the weight of everything crashes down on you all at once. “it… it hurts.” your throat burns, and suddenly, you can’t hold it back anymore. a choked sob rips through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying.

subong’s eyes widen for half a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with the sight of you breaking down in front of him. but then, without hesitation, he reaches for you. “i know,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “i know, baby.” the warmth of him, the familiarity, the way he holds you…it all feels too fucking good. too safe. too much like home. you sob into his shirt, fists clutching at the fabric, body shaking as months’ worth of pain and anger pour out of you. he holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other resting firm against your waist. “i’m sorry,” he breathes.

you suck in a sharp breath, realization slamming into you. and just like that, the warmth turns suffocating. “no,” you whisper, pushing against his chest. he stiffens. “what—” “get off me.” he hesitates, grip loosening slightly, but you shove harder, forcing space between you. “fuck, subong, what the hell am i doing?” he looks at you, confused, almost dazed, like he doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly pulling away. “baby—” “don’t call me that,” you cut him off. “i can’t—i can’t do this with you.” his jaw tightens. “you don’t mean that. you know you don’t.” “i do! because you fucking broke me!” you yell, hands trembling. “and i hate that you still make me feel like this!” you pause, trying to catch your breath, wiping at your face furiously. you hate the way the tears cling to your skin. you hate even more that he’s standing there, watching you cry. you force yourself to steady your voice. “i’m leaving.” “no, you’re not.” he’s there—blocking the door. you let out a frustrated breath, shoving at him again, but he doesn’t move an inch. “subong, move.” nothing. he doesn’t even blink. “is he your boyfriend?” the question throws you off balance. your brows furrow, and for a moment, the anger is eclipsed by confusion. “what?” “that guy. is he your boyfriend?” you exhale sharply, shaking your head as you glare at him. “jesus christ, subong, really?” “is he?” “it’s none of your business,” the words are clipped, laced with venom. his eyes darken. “none of my—?” he drags a hand through his hair, like he’s barely keeping himself together. for a second, it looks like he might actually lose it. “seriously? you can’t even say no?” “why does it matter?!” you snap. “it fucking matters to me!” your heart pounds. you don’t know why it’s so hard to answer, why the words feel like they’re lodged in your throat. his patience wears thin. “fucking hell, just—” “no!” you cut him off. “he’s not my boyfriend, okay?!” you shake your head. “did you fuck him?” “are you serious right now?” “answer the fucking question,” he demands, stepping closer. you scoff, shaking your head. “you’re actually insane.” “fucking answer!” “yes!” the word rips out of you before you can stop it. “yeah, i did. happy now?”

for a moment, he doesn’t react. he just stares at you, like the air has been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenches, his nostrils flare. but nothing can stop the thought from sinking its claws into him—someone else touching you, having you, getting what he let slip through his fingers. it makes him sick. and it’s his own damn fault. he knows he has no right to be angry. no right to feel this way. but the jealousy curdles in his stomach, and before he can stop himself, the words tear from his mouth like a whip. “you’re a fucking whore.” the second he says it, he hates himself for it. but he doesn’t take it back. your fury is instant, white-hot.“fuck you! don’t call me that!” “i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want!” he snaps. he needs to hurt you, to make you feel even a fraction of what he’s feeling. “you really don’t see how fucking pathetic that is? spreading your legs for some guy who doesn’t even matter?” the words taste like acid in his mouth, but he spits them out anyway. he doesn’t know how else to deal with the anger, the self-hatred he feels. it’s easier to take it out on you than to admit the truth—that he ruined everything, that he’s the reason you were with someone else.

your vision goes red. before you can think, before you can stop yourself, your hand swings up and smacks across his face. his head jerks to the side from the impact, and for a moment, everything is dead silent except for the sharp sound of your ragged breathing. then, slowly, he turns back to you, his jaw tightening, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek like he’s tasting the sting of your palm. “did you just hit me?” his voice is low. oh, he’s angry. “yeah, i fucking did,” you say, your hands trembling. “because you’re a fucking piece of shit!” “you’ve got some fucking nerve!” he seethes, shoving your forehead with two of his fingers, forcing your head back slightly. you slap his hand away, your own anger doubling at the touch. “do that again, and i’ll break your fucking fingers, motherfucker,” you warn. “you just slapped me!” “and you called me a whore twice, subong! i wonder how the fuck i was ever friends with you! you’re a hypocrite!” he steps closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “don’t fucking talk to me like that!” “and i told you many times not to fucking point your finger at me!” you yell, shoving his hand away harder this time. so hard his arm jerks back. “who the fuck do you think you are?! you can’t fucking judge me when you’re the one who—”

his patience snaps. he grabs a nearby chair and hurls it at the wall. it hits with a loud crack, rattling from the impact before toppling over. you flinch, but you don't back down. “real fucking mature.” “you don’t fucking get it.” “why do you even care, huh? you have plenty of other girls to fuck, don’t you?” you spit. “so why the fuck does it matter who i’m with? why is it a problem when you do the exact same shit?” he doesn’t say anything. fine. you’re done here. you reach for the door again, shoving past him. “i’m leaving—” “i lied.” his voice stops you cold. slowly, you turn back, brows furrowing. “what?” he swallows hard. “i lied about it. there was never another girl.” you stare at him in disbelief. “i just—i said that shit to piss you off. to make you hate me. but i never—” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “i never touched anyone else when i was with you.”

your mind spins, struggling to piece together what he’s saying. he’s lying again. he has to be. “you expect me to believe that?” your voice is defensive. “i don’t give a fuck if you believe me,” he snaps back. “it’s the truth.” your throat tightens. there’s something in his eyes, something desperate, something you’re not used to seeing. “why?” he hesitates. his lips part, then press into a thin line. “because i—” he exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before forcing himself to look at you again. “because i love you. i’ve—” “don’t fucking lie to me, subong.” frustration flashes across his face. “i’m not lying, okay?! i’ve—” “sure as hell you aren’t.” “jesus—can i fucking talk?!” you huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. your jaw aches from how hard you’re clenching it. but you don’t interrupt again. you let him speak. “i’ve loved you for so fucking long, and it scared the shit out of me. you were my best friend and i didn’t—i didn’t know how to do it. how to be with you without fucking it all up.” you shake your head, gripping your arms tighter. “you can’t just say this shit and think it fixes everything,” you whisper, voice trembling. “you loved me, and you never told me. you preferred this… this shit between us rather than just… being fucking honest. you—” your breath shudders and you stop to breathe for a moment. “you’re confusing me, subong.”

he sighs. you can see it in his eyes—the regret, the pain, the anger at himself. then, he steps closer. his hands find your face, fingers gentle as they cup your cheeks. his thumbs move carefully, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized were still falling. his touch is soft—so fucking soft it almost breaks you. you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing against the lump in your throat. you shouldn’t let him do this. shouldn’t let him hold you like this, shouldn’t let yourself sink into the warmth of his hands. but you do. because it’s him. “i’m sorry, baby” he murmurs, his breath warm against your face. “fuck, i’m so sorry.” his voice is lower now, and when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you—his brows furrowed. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continues, his hands steady on your face. “i swear to god, i didn’t.” “but you did.” “i know,” he whispers. “i was a fucking idiot.” his thumbs still trace slow paths along your skin, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feel of you. you try to look away, but he won’t let you. his grip isn’t forceful, but it’s firm—just enough to keep you there. “i can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his brows furrowing deeper, like it physically hurts him to admit it. “no matter what i do—it’s always you.” “don’t—” “it’s the truth,” he cuts in, his hands sliding down to your jaw, his fingers just barely brushing your neck. “i wake up thinking about you. i fall asleep thinking about you. every fucking song i write is about you. every stupid little thing reminds me of you.” you shake your head, blinking back tears. “stop it.” “i can’t,” he breathes. “i don’t know how.”

he leans in slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours. “tell me you don’t feel the same, and i’ll go.” your heart pounds so hard it hurts. he’s so close… and the way he’s looking at you, like he’s daring you to push him away, makes something snap inside you. before he can say another word, you grab his shirt and yank him down, crashing your lips against his. subong freezes for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting it, but then he groans into your mouth, his hands gripping at your waist as he kisses you back just as hard. he barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s backing you up, walking you straight into the wall. the impact makes a sharp gasp escape you, but he swallows it down, one hand threading into your hair, tilting your head back as his mouth moves against yours.

then it happens—your breath catches, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. he stops. his lips hover just over yours, his chest rising and falling against you, and he pulls back just enough to look at you. “are you okay?” you don’t answer. instead, you pull him back in, your fingers curling around the back of his neck. you kiss him harder, and he lets you—lets you take what you need, lets you pour everything you can’t say into this. his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to pull your head back before pressing his forehead to yours. “tell me what’s wrong,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips. in a broken whisper, you finally say it. “i need you.” he’s been waiting to hear that. for months, it’s been the only thing on his mind—you. every time he got high, every time he tried to flirt with someone else, every time he told himself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter. but it was all a lie. because you did. you always did. and now you’re here, in his arms, needing him. and he’s so fucking mad at himself for wasting all this time, for pushing you away, for pretending he didn’t want this when you’ve been the only thing he’s wanted.

that’s all it takes. he’s on you in an instant, his hands gripping your waist as his mouth crashes against yours. he walks with you, never breaking the kiss, his fingers pressing into your sides, guiding you until your legs bump against the edge of a small table. before you can steady yourself, his hands move to your hips, helping you up until you’re perched on top of it. his lips leave yours, dragging along your jaw and your neck. one hand slides up, fingers curving over your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. the touch alone makes a soft moan slip past your lips. he swallows the sound with another kiss, deep and greedy, before tugging your shirt up, his palms skimming your skin as he pulls it over your head. his other hand moves with purpose, working the clasp of your bra. the second it falls away, his mouth is on you. you gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple, your head falling back as pleasure shoots through you. “gonna make you feel good, baby,” he promises, his breath hot on your skin as he switches to your other breast, his teeth grazing your nipple just enough to make you squirm. his free hand slides down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants with practiced ease before slipping between your thighs. you spread them instinctively, your breath hitching when his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your panties. “you’re so wet for me already,” he says, pulling back to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

subong takes his time peeling your pants off, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your knees, your ankles. once they’re gone, he hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down at the same agonizing pace, his lips following their path. he tosses them aside without a second thought. then he’s on his knees, hands spreading your thighs wider as the cool air hits your skin, making you shiver. “let me show you how sorry i am, yeah?” you nod slowly in response. subong leans in, his breath hot against you, and you bite your lip, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach. and then his tongue is on you, licking a long stripe up your center, parting your delicate folds, exploring your wetness. you gasp when it finds your clit, your hands flying to his purple hair as his tongue swirls around it in slow circles. “f-fuck, yeah, right there,” you whimper, and he hums against you in approval.

he focuses all his attention on it, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub before sucking it gently into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out as he applies gentle pressure. you feel one of his fingers slide inside you, then two, curling them upwards and hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. his tongue never leaves your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with his fingers, and you can feel that familiar pressure building in your lower stomach. your hand travels to the side of his face, your thumb caressing his cheek as he works you. moans grow louder, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face. “subong—” you try to speak, but the words die in your throat—the pleasure too strong. he smirks, feeling you tightening around his fingers. “that’s it, baby” his voice is muffled against you. “cum for me.” and you do, your back arching, knuckles white from gripping the side of the table, a cry tearing from your throat as you fall apart. his mouth never stops, drawing every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re boneless, panting.

you try to catch your breath as he stands, pulling you into him, his mouth claiming yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. your fingers tremble slightly as they find the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric. he shudders under your touch, muscles tensing before he exhales, letting you lift the shirt over his head. it falls somewhere behind him as your hands roam his chest. this isn’t like before. like the other times you’ve had sex. there’s something different in the way his fingers brush your skin, in the way he watches you like he’s afraid to blink, afraid to miss a second of this. you reach for his waistband, tugging at it, and he lets you, his breathing uneven as he watches your hands work him free. his pants and boxers slip to the floor, and he steps out of them, never once breaking contact.

“do you… do you have a condom?” you ask quietly. he stills, his hands resting on your hips as he looks at you. his brows pull together slightly. “no,” he admits, then asks, “do you?” you shake your head. “no.” “shit,” he exhales, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you can tell he’s frustrated—not at you, but at the situation. “it’s… it’s okay. we don’t need one,” you add softly. his head snaps back up. “you sure?” he asks, and you nod. “i want to feel you.” your words are the confirmation he needs. he grabs your thighs before pulling you closer to the edge of the table, spreading them apart to find room between them. his raw tip presses against your clit and you take a deep breath when he starts grinding against you, his stiff dick sliding across your wet slit. you both moan at the feeling, but nothing compares to the gasp that escapes both of your lips the moment he slides inside of you.

he’s slow at first, letting you adjust to the feeling, his hands holding you in place as he sinks in deeper, stretching you around him. you try to steady yourself, holding onto the side of the table with one of your hands again. his breath is uneven, and each slow, measured thrust makes you ache for more. but then his pace shifts. his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls back and thrusts in harder and faster. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space between you, mixed with your breathless moans and his ragged groans. when you meet his gaze, his brows are furrowed, his lips parted. you can see it all written on his face: how much he’s wanted this, how long he’s been waiting, how badly he’s yearned for you. he looks like he’s barely holding himself together, like he’s afraid he won’t last because you feel too fucking good. “fuck,” he grits out, voice strained, his fingers flexing against your hips. “i missed you s-so fucking much…” his words cut off in a groan, his head dropping forward, forehead pressing to yours as he fucks you like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time. “i missed this… mmm… missed this pretty pussy of y-yours.” he drives into you harder, like he’s trying to claim you, like he’s trying to erase every trace of anyone else who’s ever touched you—muttering curses under his breath like he’s punishing himself as much as he’s fucking you. your nails scrape down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake, and he groans at the sting, at the way you cling to him. “fuck, baby—” he gasps, voice rough. “was he better than me? tell me,” he demands, his thrusts turning brutal, each one punctuating his words. “did he—did he fuck you like this? mmh? shit… did he make you cum like i-i do?” there’s anger in his voice. not at you—at himself. for waiting too long, for not telling you the truth when he had the chance, for letting someone else have you. you shake your head in response. his hand grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “answer me.” “n-no!” you whimper “he… he didn’t, baby. only you—mmph!—only you make me f-feel this good.”

his grip on your chin tightens for a second before he releases you, his hand sliding down to wrap around your throat instead. not squeezing, just holding—just feeling you. his pace doesn’t slow, if anything, it gets rougher, like your answer wasn’t enough to satisfy the anger. “that’s right,” he grits out, sweat slicking his skin. “he could never…he could never fuck you like this.” his other hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise as he slams into you, making you cry out. you hold onto him, and he loves it—loves feeling you claim him the way he’s claiming you now. and fuck, he needs this, needs to remind himself that you’re here, wrapped around him—that you’re his. “look,” he mutters, commanding. “look how fucking g-good you’re taking me.” your breath hitches as your eyes drop, and fuck—seeing it is different. watching the way his dick disappears inside you, the way your body clenches around him, the way he’s completely buried in you, over and over again… “see that?” he pants. “you were made for me. this was fucking made for me.” his hand moves again, sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, precise circles. “shit—subong!” you let out a broken moan. “y-yeah… fuck, yeah, just like that!” a whimper slips from your lips when subong fists your hair, tugging your head back up until your eyes meet his again. “say it,” he practically pleads. “say that you're mine.” “i-i'm yours!" you gasp, your voice shaking, your whole body trembling from the intensity of him. “i'm fucking yours…mmm… always been.” “i’m yours too, baby.”

his thrusts grow frantic and his breath comes in harsh, uneven bursts. all he can hear is the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperate, breathless moans. he swears he’s never heard something as beautiful. you can tell he is close, holding you in place as he leans over you, his forehead pressing against yours. your body tenses, your gummy walls clenching around him, his fingers still pressed on your clit as he pounds into you, making it impossible for you to hold back. your body tenses, and your free hand clings to the back of his neck with desperation as you kiss him, trying to muffle your whimpering. “gonna cum for me, b-baby?” he whispers, pulling away for a moment. “gonna—mmh! gonna cum on my cock?” you can’t even nod. his words are like a spark, and you can’t hold it back anymore. your body snaps, the pleasure flooding you. “subong!” you cry out, legs shaking. he watches you, his name on your lips, and the sight of you completely undone drives him to the edge. with a final, deep thrust, he follows you, quickly pulling out, his release spilling into your lower stomach. his face contorts, a strangled gasp escaping him as he rides out his own climax. he stays there for a moment, his body pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily, sweat-slicked skin sticking together. “i love you,” you whisper, hands running through his messy hair. “i love you too, señorita,” he smirks, his hand cupping your cheek before leaning in to give you a small peck on the lips. “i missed you.”

subong is a good boyfriend. or at least he tries to be. he still messes up sometimes, still says things without thinking, still gets into fights he shouldn’t, but he’s trying. you see it in the way he waits for you after work, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to play it cool, but you know he’s been standing there for a while. in the way he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, even though you never asked him to. you see it in the way he always grabs an extra drink when he stops by the convenience store, handing it to you without a word, like he just knew you’d want one. in the way he texts you did you eat? before he even says hello. in the way he always grumbles about carrying your bag when it looks too heavy, but takes it anyway. in the way he lets you steal his hoodies, rolling his eyes when you show up wearing one but never actually asking for it back. you see it in the way he lets you mess with his hair, even when he pretends to hate it. in the way he looks at you, like he still can’t believe you’re his. in the way he says your name, soft around the edges. in the way he tells you he loves you—not just with words, but in a hundred different ways, every single day.

there’s no confusion anymore. no second-guessing, no wondering where you stand with each other. he wants you, and he’s not afraid to say it. he tells you all the time, in every way he knows how. sometimes it’s casual, like when he looks at you in the middle of a conversation, something soft in his eyes, and says, “you know i love you, right?” like he just needs you to know. and then there are times when he’s shameless about it. like the time he made it his entire mission to embarrass you in front of both of your friends, throwing an arm around your shoulders and grinning as he declared, “isn’t my girlfriend the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen? no offense to you, semi.” there’s a beat of silence before half of them go “what?!” while the others just exchange knowing looks. “wait—dude, since when?!” namgyu asks. “oh, come on,” semi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “like we didn’t all see this coming.” subong just smirks, pulling you a little closer, dropping a kiss to your cheek. he’s here, and he’s yours, and he makes sure you know it.

you’re still best friends. you still laugh until your stomach hurts, still steal food off each other’s plates, still shove at each other like you’re kids. except now he kisses you after. or before. or sometimes instead of shoving you back. he’s still stubborn, still gets on your nerves more than anyone else. he’s not perfect, but he never pretends to be. and maybe that’s what makes it feel so easy. there’s nothing to prove, nothing to question. just the two of you, exactly as you are, exactly as you’ve always been. just you and him.

if you’ve read this far, i love you, let’s get married pookie ong

[jedisupernova]

old school love with choi seunghyun

notes minors dni contains fem reader, non idol au, seunghyun and reader are in their early twenties, always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the late 2000s (hence the mention of specific phones, references to certain media, songs linked throughout, and party culture,) awkward yet cute first meeting, this very much slice of life, slight angst (a silly misunderstanding during the meet cute, reader brings up insecurities from not being experienced), tooth rotting fluff, a few appearances from jiyong because yes!, mentions of smoking and drinking, reader is inexperienced (never been kissed, never been confessed to; seunghyun is her first love), reader has strict parents which leads to seunghyun and reader having to sneak around, seunghyun and reader are down bad, smut (over the phone, in the car, oral f receiving, dirty talk, foreplay, p in v), and some inevitable typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! this was initially inspired by the mention of old school love in this song by zayn. i've always heard of the concept, and this is my take on it, told through vignettes of gentle young love. please request something if you'd like, and don't hesitate to check my pinned post. i love this man tenderly. please tell me you see the vision. enjoy!

new year's eve 2007. there's still three hours to midnight, and seunghyun's wondering why he chose to wear a hoodie with long sleeves underneath to a crowded house party. luckily he's got his own corner of the compact living room, standing between two friends he hitched a ride with there—his third being the host—so he aptly distracted himself from how hot it was with their banter as best he could, laughing into his red solo cup before taking a swig of whatever concoction his friend mixed for him in the kitchen earlier tonight. he hid his soured expression over the taste well, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. seunghyun remembers asking for a rum and coke, and he can definitely taste the latter ... but he'd know his enemy smirnoff anywhere ... it was way too stuffy to move, so he humbly took the loss.

"there you fuckin' are!" seunghyun looked up to see jiyong, the one hosting who already looked as if the night had taken its toll. "holy shit, man. i've been looking everywhere for you guys!" seunghyun had to squint to hear him over the loud music. the fact there wasn't much lighting besides a few lamps and multi-colored rotating disco party lights didn't help either. "c'mon. she just got here—in the kitchen." jiyong motioned his head to the left, the trio following him into the crowd. the kitchen was much more well lit and slightly less congested, but seunghyun nonetheless had to put his weight against the fridge to grant enough room to stand comfortably. he offered a polite grin and wave to the friend group mainly comprised of women his age in front of him, the one in the middle introduced as jiyong's girlfriend. you were closest to the counter, the left of everyone, cracking open a hard seltzer you picked from the cooler stationed beside the sink. you grimaced after taking a sip, bringing the can to your eyes to see the flavor that wronged you: lime. "christ, that's horrible." you shook your head, expression soured.

seunghyun didn't overhear, because he was too busy looking over his shoulder in amazement upon hearing one of his suggestions for the party mixtape blare throughout the house. reverting his attention back with a smug grin on his face, his eyes fluttered past you tugging at the collar of your sweater, pulling at it repeatedly for what looked to be air flow. seunghyun wondered if the party felt like an oven to you, too, and if you overdressed like him, because he started fanning himself without realizing.

an hour later, he couldn't take it anymore. "be right back, i'm going out for a smoke." he told a friend sat beside him on the couch. he could not have cared less that it was below freezing outside, or that the leftovers from the snow storm three weeks ago had probably frozen over into patches of black ice littering the deck—he needed to cool off. he closed the sliding door with a relieved huff, the party now muffled. the feet of his sneakers crunched against the snow, hands pushing his hood off his head, fingers brushing through his sweaty hair. "holy shit." he muttered to himself, pulling his sleeves up to his elbows. seunghyun could see his breath when he exhaled, and goosebumps rose along his bare arms, but as far as he was concerned, he would stay out here to ring in the new year if it meant he wouldn't have to suffer a heatstroke inside. he walked to a spot behind the wooden railing framing the entirety of the deck, his hand reaching into his pocket for his marlboros. he took out a cigarette, hanging it between his lips, searching for his lighter next. it was then he looked up and saw you standing at your own spot along the railing some feet away, having looked over your shoulder to see who else had come outside.

it was too late to ignore, or act like you didn't see each other, so he did the favor of making things less awkward. or trying to, as any twenty-something year old hopes: seunghyun took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. "hi," he spoke uncharacteristically quietly. "you're—" thank the universe he remembered her name, because the irrational nerves over making conversation were mounting quickly. "—friend, right?" you nodded. "you're jiyong's?" you asked. he smiled, nodding too. "i'm seunghyun. we met earlier, in the kitchen?" his tone asked if you remembered, his hand gesturing to the sliding door. "yes!" you responded a bit more enthusiastically than you intended to in your head, internally cringing. "i remember, i remember." you said, nodding. you didn't know what else to do. seunghyun must've felt the same, because he nodded at nothing.

you looked away from him, feeling flustered. he mimicked, hands balled up in his pockets. "you—" he cleared his throat. "you liking the party?" "hm?" you didn't expect him to continue the conversation. "yeah!" here you went again, sounding animated to the point that even he, a complete stranger, could tell you were over-compensating. "i mean," you let out a breath, shrugging your shoulders. "its okay. i don't really go to parties often, so i guess i could say i misjudged how hot it'd be to show up in a sweater with a thermal underneath." seunghyun exhaled through his nose, an upside down grin tugging at his lips. "i know." he agreed. "hot as shit in there, bro." you chuckled. "hot as shit indeed."

silence brewed. seunghyun didn't turn away, so you took it as your turn to fill the air. you pulled out the only card you had (bringing up a mutual friend,) even if he'd done so already: "how long have you—" the sudden dryness of your throat was certainly a sign from the universe to shut up, but it was too late to cut yourself off completely. you swallowed, continuing: "how long have you known jiyong?" "since we were kids. middle school, i think." seunghyun doesn't know why he implied he didn't know, because he certainly did. he also wondered why he nodded, again, at nothing. who boldfaced lied when they said your preteen years were the most awkward? because he wanted to curl into a ball right the fuck now. he was usually fine at making small talk, what was the difference now? why couldn't he stop nodding?? "how about you?" oh, great. now his voice was a noticeable octave higher, clearing his throat.

you knew what he meant. "we met each other our freshman year. she was in my first year seminar, and we kind of just clicked." "you go to school around here?" "mhm," you nodded. "the university that everyone we know goes to, it feels like." you quipped, making that upside down grin appear on his face again. "how about you?" "the community college that no one goes to." he answered, voice back to normal. "but i'm in the middle of transferring there, funnily enough." then ushered in another characteristically young adult conversation: your studies. it was standard and harmless. even so, you came across a different reason to break a sweat despite the bitter cold beginning to numb your cheeks, or the sharp, quick breaths through your periodically chattering teeth. seunghyun took a step closer to you in the midst telling an anecdote about the last exam he had before the holiday break, inadvertently putting himself in your direct line of view. you realized not only oh, wow. he's pretty tall, to yourself, lifting your head a little to look at him, but also oh, wow. he's pretty cute, when your eyes met. or when he continued looking at you, because he finished saying his piece some seconds ago, yet you hadn't said anything. the fleeting silence only made you become more flustered, really coming to terms with just how fine he is; all clashing with how you have no idea how to talk to someone this attractive.

"yeah, that sounds fucked up." you attempted to mask the fact that you did not process a word of what he just said with a chuckle, gaze lowering momentarily to your hands, tugging at your sleeves to shield them from the cold, or just to do something. the words felt foreign in your mouth—your inner monologue making you feel like you were trying too hard—though you weren't allergic to profanity whatsoever. seunghyun smirked to himself, his own gaze falling to the snowy deck, until you spoke: "i had, like, three exams all in one day—the day before break." you said, glancing up at him before chickening out, reverting back to your hands which were completely engulfed by your knit sweater. your thumb poked out of the sleeve, nail picking at a fraying thread. "i guess i'm still feeling the repercussions of it." the volume of your voice dwindled somewhat coupled your shy grin, your shoulders shrugging, looking up at him. even through his chuckle with a smile making the corners of his eyes kiss, or his affirming "its brutal. i get that.," you mentally berated yourself: holy shit, is that the best i can do? just continue talking about school? get yourself together!

the next bout of silence lasted for at most ten seconds, but with how you were scrambling, it felt like years; working against an invisible timer. unbeknownst to him, this was seunghyun's turn to look at you. the only word coming to mind was sweet. he was smart enough to put two-and-two together as to why you were, admittedly, visibly nervous as he's had a girlfriend before. he wasn't the type to use that to inflate his ego, but found it charming nonetheless. seeing the curvature of your cheeks when you looked down made his heart soften—his lips molding into that damn knowing grin—and it could've very well been the minute gust of wind, but the glint in your eyes when you looked at him, nodding politely ... he was a little taken aback. you were devastatingly adorable.

your eye caught the cigarette in his hand. "you smoke?" you blurted out without an iota of a thought, so quick that your tone was almost bland—a moment where the subconscious beat rationale. oh my god. you momentarily closed your eyes, shocked at yourself. are you kidding me? seunghyun held in a laugh, trying his best to wipe his smile off his face when you opened your eyes. you mistook it as a sign of second-hand embarrassment. "oh my god. i'm so sorry, i don't know why i said—" "—it's okay, you're good." seunghyun shook his head as further affirmation, waving his free hand. he had completely forgotten he was still holding the cigarette, anyway. "but, yeah. i do. sometimes." his face started to feel warm. not because he felt shamed, or belittled, or judged, but because he caught sight of your eyes again. he could've sworn they'd grown in the last fifteen seconds. "d—do you?" he suddenly became very aware of how deep his voice is. "my voice has always sounded like this." he explained, gesturing to his throat. he knew he was being irrational, but like you before, it was too late to cut himself off. "i'm not like—uh—dying, or anything." he brushed off with an animated chuckle.

you felt like the worst person in the world. the nervous smile on your face didn't move a millimeter. "i don't." you shook your head. "and it's okay! i didn't mean to—i like your voice." your eyes widened. seunghyun raised his eyebrows. "you do?" he couldn't hide his smile. he returned the boldness, even if yours was a slip of the mouth. "i like your face." he meant it. there isn't a timeline out there where that wouldn't be the truth. your surprised expression made him exhale through his nose, an admiring grin on his face. oh, he wanted you. flashes ran through his head: squishing what looked to be the softest cheeks in the world between his palms, pulling you close to his chest to help you warm up; pressing his cheek against yours as a makeshift heater since you've truly made him that flustered, and how you'd react upon him calling you "my girl." sure, he was moving a little quickly, considering he's just realized he never asked for your name, but that's what just crushes do. seunghyun could not help the dream-like state he entered, placing his hand on the railing, the unlit cigarette slipping from his fingers, lost in the grass below. you, on the other hand, were speechless. never before have you ever been flirted with—this was flirting, right? like, you weren't misreading anything, or making shit up? "you ... you do?"

before seunghyun could answer, the sliding door opened, the ruckus of the party no longer blocked out. "seunghyun!" it was jiyong. "it's thirty minutes 'til the ball drop. i need help setting up the champagne." jiyong saw you, nearly cowering at seunghyun's scathing look reading are you fucking serious? "m-my bad, you guys." jiyong laughed awkwardly, putting a hand up in surrender. "seunghyun, just come in whenever." the door closed, leaving you two alone again. you were sheepish out of your goddamn mind, unable to look at seunghyun, content with the fact that your eyes may just stay on the deck forever. "i meant it, by the way." you looked up. "hm?" "i like your face." seunghyun repeated. your full smile that appeared ... his knees might have buckled. "oh," a giggle left your lips. yeah, he was a goner. "thank you. i ... i like your face, too." your voice was gentle. it felt indescribable, flirting back. you weren't sure if you were doing it right, considering you were suddenly really interested in the shape of your pointer finger's nail bed right about now, thwarting this fire-pit of feelings in your chest ... to be desired, chatted up, or pursued like this ... by a fine ass man nonetheless ... after being sidelined for your whole life, watching your friends experience something you wanted so badly too. oh my goodness—maybe your friends weren't just trying to make you feel better when they told you ad nauseam that it comes when you least expect it. because out of everything, and you mean everything you expected to happen tonight, this wasn't even in the realm of the realm of the utmost realm of possibilities.

you warded off wanting to hold his hand by interlacing your fingers together. seunghyun couldn't stop the stupidly big smile stretching across his face if he tried. "cool," he said, nodding. "that's .... that's cool." his hand came up, scratching the back of his neck. "listen, i .. uh—" he gestured to the door. "i gotta go back inside and help jiyong with the—with the champagne. could i get your number? i'll call you tomorrow, if that's okay with you." "yes!" your heart stammered over how he smiled so big his eyes smiled with him. seunghyun gave you his nokia flip phone, letting you type your number in. "call yourself so you can have my number, too." said seunghyun, pulling his sleeves back down. you did so, satisfied hearing your phone ring, pulling it out of your pocket to end the call. "i never got your name." he said, putting his phone back into his pocket. when you told him, he didn't stop his inner monologue from adding his surname. call it a random impulsive thought or whatever, but he was being serious. "i'll see you inside?" he asked, halfway through walking to the door. "mhm!" you responded. "see you inside." seunghyun smiled, disappearing back into the party. you missed his fine ass already . . .

so there you were, the next evening, repeatedly glancing at your phone. you felt fine for a majority of the day; sleeping in after coming home late the night previous, treating your hovering hangover with plentiful amounts of water and falling asleep yet again, but within the first hour of fellowship of the ring (it was your first time in recent years defying your self-made new year's tradition), and hurriedly bringing your phone within eyesight if it did so much as beep. you wondered if seunghyun would actually call . . . it all seemed too good to be true . . . and you hoped that he'd just magically show up, looking over your shoulder and out the living room window for his car (did he even have one?) and walk up to your door (he hasn't the faintest clue where you live) with a bouquet of roses (he doesn't know they're your favorites. well, at least not yet) to profess his undying love to you (working on that too. the to do list is in your head). so when your phone rang after dinner, your hair still very much wet from your shower; the towel having just been thrown behind your desk chair, you momentarily froze. you grabbed your phone from your desk, confused by the unknown number. but then you recognized the area code as your own, realising that in the midst of your yearning, you completely forgot to save his number.

you pressed the answer button, bringing your phone to your ear. "hello?" "hey!" my goodness, it wasn't too good to be true. "happy new year! i wasn't able to find you after the ball dropped. so, yeah. here's me wishing you." he descended into a short, slightly nervous chuckle. he was looking for me!? oh my god!? "happy new year," you said back, closing your bedroom door. "you were looking for me? i left at around two, i think. how about you?" "five, maybe." seunghyun dodged the other question, his face already feeling warm not even a full minute in. "jiyong needed help cleaning up, and kicking people out." "five!?" you exclaimed, sitting on the edge of your bed. "and here i was, fighting sleep all day, whereas you sound unscathed." seunghyun laughed heartily. "i slept in until, like, two today. so i wouldn't say i was completely unaffected." "that's fair." you nodded, despite him not being able to see.

"how about you, hm?" he asked, voice smooth and low, even over the grainy audio. "did you sleep good?" "i did. better than usual." seunghyun smirked, fingers toying with the drawstring cords of his sweatpants. "how about you?" he heard your sweet voice ask. "i slept good, too. knowing i'd be talking to you the next day." you hid your eyes behind your palm, elbow resting atop your thigh. how you were able to get words out, you had no idea. "seunghyun," he could hear that on a loop for the rest of his life and he would die a happy man. "you can't just say shit like that." "why not?" the gentle, yet teasing lilt to his words made you feel dizzy. it was as if the universe finally aligned in your favor. what he would do to see the look on your face right now . . . "what? have you never been flirted with, or something?" he quipped playfully without much thought. "i haven't, no." you answered truthfully. "but you still can't say shit like that, seunghyun. i need a warning or something. it's like my mind stops working." you chuckled, pressing your phone to your ear like its the last thing you'll ever do.

seunghyun's eyebrows flinched in and out of a furrow. "no one's ever flirted with you? what do you mean?" the question aired out before thinking. the realised insensitivity of his words coupled with the unintended belittling tone made him backtrack almost immediately: "that was low of me to say. i'm sorry, that's my bad completely." he shook his head completely. "it's okay!" you shook your head, too. "you didn't know. it's fine." you took a breath. "but if we're being honest . . . no. i've never done anything like that before. i'm more used to seeing it happen to other people than experiencing it, if that makes sense." "it does." seunghyun was quick to affirm, nodding whilst he listening to your words carefully. "yeah," your palm slid up and down your thigh, subconsciously trying to self-sooth. "so . . . last night, when we were talking . . . i thought you were making fun of me. or pulling my leg. but then i realised my brain just wasn't letting me accept that . . . oh, this guy might think i'm cute, too." "i do. i do think that." seunghyun sat up in his bed, determined. "i would never do that. i'm not that type of guy. i don't know who you've met, or made you feel like this, but know i'm not like that."

there was a brief moment of silence from your end of the call. "are you sure you're not just saying that to me to be nice?" "of course not." he said sincerely, tone soft. "of course i'm not saying it to be nice. i mean it. i'll be honest, when i met you last night, you have some of the most kissable cheeks i've ever fucking seen." he pulled his legs up to sit criss-cross. this was serious to him. "how about when you casually mentioned you won an award for a policy paper you wrote about education? i didn't know i'd be at the same party as the future president." "oh my god!" you laughed, face feeling as if it was ablaze. "you're crazy." "look, people have decided to miss out on you, but i won't. are you free on friday? no—scratch that, we're on break until next week. are you free tomorrow?"

for the first time in your life, you didn't feel the need to convince yourself you were worthy of romance, because the universe rooted for you, too. "i am. all day." you said. "i'll take you to dinner. do you want to see a movie?" "i like them, yeah. but . . . i mean, i was watching fellowship of the ring earlier today." just say it. he's right there, on the other side of the line. just say it. ". . . but, i like talking to you. i'd—" you cleared your throat. "i'd rather do that then wait two hours to—uh—do so, if that makes sense." your palm started soothing your thigh again. seunghyun had the stupidest smile on his face. he refrained from hiding his head underneath his pillow. "but we can watch a movie! next time! if that's . . . if that's what you want!" your eyes closed in defeat, hiding your face from no one. "oh god, i'm digging myself into a hole here. i have no idea how to do this." "you're doing really well." said seunghyun. "enough to make my face feel like i have the highest fever ever." "you too." you responded sheepishly. "we'll finish fellowship of the ring on our second date. it's my favorite after return of the king, anyway." you hit the jackpot. "okay," you responded, how fucking sweet you sounded made his heart palpitate. "sounds good, seunghyun. i can't wait."

three months later, you beginning to feel those love songs you've heard all your life were onto something. something you come to terms with would pass you by as a way to cope—but here he was now, bending down onto his knee in the middle of a busy bookstore to tie your shoelace; buying the cds of your favorite artists that you mention either intentionally or off-the-cuff, downloading them to his ipod to listen in between lectures, doing coursework, or storing them into his cd wallet in the center console of his car to listen on his way to pick you up; or spending a lot of his time kissing those precious cheeks ("you're so sweet, you know that? so pretty, too." "seunghyun . . ." "see, that's what i mean.") he's a very smooth talker, doting, and affectionate. primarily because he cannot get enough of the look on your face whenever he makes a move, but also because you breath more life into him when he does so. to seunghyun's fault, however, he can get a little ahead of himself, and forget how shy you can be. so when the tension had been brewing throughout the entirety of your third date, you two sat in bashful silence in his car, him parked some feet away from your house. the music had since been lowered; one of the many cds he's bought since you started dating. seunghyun leaned over the center console towards you, only to retract somewhat when he heard a small gasp. "i'm sorry," he said. "did i—was that too quick?" "no, no. it's okay." you nodded in reassurance. "i just . . . i've just never kissed anyone before. sorry, i know that probably sounds really annoying by now." your hands were in your lap, thumb running over your knuckles to thwart the warmth traveling up your neck.

seunghyun shook his head. "its not. i told you its not." he said sincerely. its true, he has told you that it is and will never be a problem. how he giggles over the phone and presses kisses onto the back of your hand whenever he holds it serves as testament, but that voice in your head can be a bit louder. "i want to." you tell him, eyes meeting with his. seunghyun looked so fine it was almost offensive; his grown out black hair and choppy bangs messily framing his face albeit with effortless charm. he's told you he thinks it makes him look weird, hence how often he wears beanies and puts his hood up, but the moment you muttered "i think it makes you look really handsome," over the phone two nights ago, he showed up tonight letting it breath no problem. "but i don't know how." you told him, shaking your head. "its okay, baby," seunghyun reassured tenderly. it was the first time he called you that pet name, but he didn't think twice as it felt akin to natural instinct to call you that. you, on the other hand, were struggling to keep it together in the passenger's seat. i only have so much strength as a woman . . . you thought to yourself.

"we'll take it slow. just close your eyes and take a breath for me, okay? the rest'll come naturally. i promise." "okay." you nodded, trusting him. seunghyun leaned in again. you saw his eyes glance at your lips before returning to yours, your lids darkening your vision only when his nose brushed against yours. his lips were soft and wet as he had licked them before kissing you. yours were so fucking warm against seunghyun's, making him want to kiss you all the more harder, but he steadied himself, reconnecting gently. the side of his nose nestled against yours. "how was that?" he whispered. the cd had finished playing, so the car was quiet besides you and him. "good." you whispered back. "how did i . . . how did i do?" "good," he nodded, glancing at your lips again. "just . . . try kissing me back. don't think about it," your felt his hair tickle your forehead as he shook his head. "i know you'll be good."

to his delight, you were the one that closed the small gap between you. the kiss was so soft, almost nurturing; all the more intoxicating. you reconnected the kiss, pressing your lips onto his in a way that made his arms feel like tv static. "a little softer." he murmured, half-talking to you, but more-so to himself to come down. seunghyun went to kiss you again, but his lips landed on the corner of your opened mouth. "i-i'm sorry." "no, no. it's okay, baby," he tutted softly. christ, that fucking voice of his was going to end you one day. "come here. come here, baby." he got your lips back on his, but you broke it again, obscenely flustered. your heartbeat was in your temples, your palms sweaty in your lap. "seunghyun," you pleaded in that voice he would go to fucking war for. "you can't just call me that." "i can, and i will." he said. "now, come here, baby."

his hand reached over, holding both of yours beneath his palm. you brought a hand up to his jaw when he kissed you, feeling him hum against your lips in encouragement. seunghyun tilted his head a little to the left, deepening the kiss but not by too much, monitoring your reaction. his muscles relaxed upon feeling your exhale through your nose brush along his cheeks. the kiss ceased after a few moments by you once again, only this time to catch your breath. he rested his forehead against yours, breathless himself. "you're really good at this." he said, heartbeat stuttering when he heard your quiet "thank you." seunghyun blurted out this next question without much thought or reason, since he imagined the moment where he asked this to be more romantic, but he simply could not hold himself back: "can i—can i be your boyfriend?"

"yes, yes you can." you responded. both of your hands now held either side of his face, feeling his hand squeeze your thigh a little. "you can be my boyfriend, seunghyun." a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "i'll—i'll get you flowers and card, and ask you more properly next time." "its okay, its fine." you nodded against his forehead. your thumb traced his bottom lip, "just kiss me right now. i—i need—" you did not need to tell him twice. seunghyun reunited your lips, hand gripping your thigh when your fingers slipped into his hair.

even though you were well over the appropriate age to start dating, you just knew your parents would freak out if they knew you were running around with a boy. you didn't even think to employ the thought; it just wasn't an option. it would be something about distracting yourself from your studies (your grades were nowhere near subpar), or moving too quickly (hey! you're in college, by the way), or being subject to the ongoing mass, unreasonable hysteria over teen pregnancy perpetuated by national news editorials and shitty reality shows, making parents believe by standing near the opposite sex their daughters will somehow be with child (again, you're in your twenties and in college, and its also not your fault parents around the country treat mtv like its the second coming of the satanic panic of the eighties)—so you saved yourself the trouble. seunghyun understood wholeheartedly and took no issue with it, but that doesn't mean he didn't dare go against the grain.

a week before your two month anniversary, your ringtone rang, slightly muffled atop your duvet. you got up from your desk chair, leaving your coursework behind and walked to your bed, clicking the green call button. "hi seunghyun," your voice was soft. "everything okay?" "hey baby," he said. "i'm good, i'm good." he stuffed his free hand into the pocket of his puffer jacket, shivering. "how was your day, hm? i missed you." "fine," you answered, keeping your phone to your ear by raising your shoulder, flipping your textbook to the next chapter you needed to read to complete an assignment. "just a lot of work to do. you know how sundays are. i missed you, too." "i know, baby." his hand left his pocket, using the side of his thumb to wipe his nose. "you know, i'm happy to hear that you missed me, because i'm outside." you raised your head, alarmed, eyebrows knit in confusion. "what do you mean you're outside?" "i mean that i'm outside." "outside where?" "your window." his laugh was masked with a cough. "shit—it's really cold out here, baby." he muttered, looking around at the street lamps, his car parked some distance away. your room was on the lower floor of your family's home; the window on the side of the house and had some height to it, but not enough to ward off seunghyun's idea. so here he was, acting on it.

you hurriedly closed your bedroom door. "are you crazy!?" you whispered. "it's freezing outside! how long have you been out there?" "about ten minutes," seunghyun's tone was calm, as if it was just another day. "there isn't that much distance between your house and the street, but it took a while because i had to avoid the frozen over snow." "you're insane." you muttered. he smiled even wider. "let me see you, baby. c'mon. i miss you." you hung up the call. seunghyun watched the window before him, his upside down grin showing proudly when the curtains opened, revealing you. the snow crunched crisply underneath his feet, walking up when you unlocked and opened the window. "you're utterly insane," you said, resting your elbows on the windowsill, hearing him laugh. "its almost midnight. we both have class early tomorrow, and my parents could wake up at any moment!" you voice descended into a loud whisper. seunghyun waved his hand dismissively. "what did i tell you the other night? i'll drive you. you don't need to take the bus anymore." he spoke quietly, understanding the circumstance, even if he enjoyed teasing you. "you know what else you did the other night that you could've done now? call me." you retorted, but it was really hard to act upset. "you don't like my gesture?" he asked, not hiding his knowing smirk. "i'm saying you saw me two days ago, and you're seeing me every day before our anniversary." "i'd see you every hour in between, if i could."

you didn't have anything smart to say, so you succumbed to your flustered state. seunghyun, looking so princely in his puffer jacket with no beanie in sight, the distant cast of your nightside table lamp weakly illuminating his slightly reddened cheeks from the bitter cold, stepped closer. "give me a kiss and i'll go, baby. just needed to see you." your knees nestled onto the carpeted floors, your torso leaning out the window. seunghyun grabbed onto the ledge, hoisting himself onto the tips of his toes. it was enough for his head to be leveled with your bedroom, but not for long as his eyes fluttered closed to the feeling of your palms holding his face, bringing your lips to his in a tender, sweet kiss. his chin brushed against the ledge, tightening his grip when he re-connected the kiss, feeling his mouth thaw from the cold and ignoring how his under arms were beginning to burn. "can't last twelve hours without you." he murmured against your lips. "learn to." you whispered, kissing him back. "don't wanna." seunghyun took a quick breath when you kissed him one last time, the soft squeak of your lips parting making him feel light-headed.

he watched you in a daze when you returned to resting your elbows against the windowsill; you were as beautiful as a deity, so effortless with your allure. a content smile appeared on his face, eyes twinkling. "thank you, baby." his voice was smooth, turning his head to kiss your palm upon your fingers fixing his hair. he slowly let go of the ledge, paying no mind to how his palms ached. he glanced below him, "i'm sure if i bring a step stool big enough, it'll be no problem next time—" "—next time?" seunghyun looked up. "what? you don't want there to be a next time?" he asked, that goddamn teasing lilt in his voice. "i . . . i do." you spoke so sweetly, he thought he could muster the strength to jump inside. "but at least tell me ahead of time so you won't freeze to near fucking death."

seunghyun kept his word, because the night after your anniversary, he was back outside your window equipped with a step stool. thus began your very risky sneaking around: his arrival at your window at around 10 pm (or thirty minutes later if you went on a date, giving you enough time to return home without suspicion over where you've been, shower, and get ready for bed; either way, he was waiting for your signal of opening the curtains), speed walking to your window after locking his car, step stool in the other hand, climbing into your room after you opened your window, and settling beside you in bed. you spoke in the quietest of whispers, giggled into each other's shoulders, and shared delicate kisses. other times, you brought out your portable dvd player, snuggling into his chest whilst his arms wrapped around you. "my baby. my beautiful girl." he murmured into your supple skin before planting kisses on your forehead, laying his head atop yours. you two read the subtitles in peaceful silence—not daring to raise the volume—either fighting sleep or keeping awake with each other's lips.

he usually left at around one, but one night on the cusp of four months together, both of you fell asleep. you stirred awake, feeling the dvd player lodged uncomfortably underneath your thigh, gradually turning onto your side. seunghyun was in sound slumber, breaths coming in quiet, but curt whistles. your room wasn't completely dark, squinting at the lamp you forgot to turn off next to your bedside digital clock. you jolted awake upon seeing the time: 4:17 AM. "oh my god—" you murmured to yourself, yanking the duvet off of you and getting up in a panic. you turned to seunghyun's sleeping state in utmost dread, remembering he's a deep sleeper, and its a battle to wake him up. "fuck!" you whispered. you tried to think of something, lifting to the duvet further, spotting his ipod and wired headphones. you grabbed it, seeing it there was still half charge. you turned seunghyun's head upright, lodging the headphones in his ears. you scrolled through his library briefly, turning the dial to amp up the volume. "i'm sorry." you whispered apologetically, clicking play.

he stirred awake, sitting up on his elbows, headphones falling out of his ears. "whhaa—" "seunghyun? seunghyun, baby? its four in the morning." you whispered. he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. "its four am?" he mumbled, voice riddled with slumber, sounding lower than usual. "yes, baby," you whispered, the bed dipping next to him as you sat. "we fell asleep. i—i don't think my parents came in. but you have to go home." "i know. i know, baby." seunghyun mumbled, pushing the duvet off his jeans. "just—just give me a moment." "thank you." your hand lay on his cheek, bringing the closer one to your lips. seunghyun puckered his lips, still lost in his lingering sleep, humming lowly in satisfaction when he felt your chaste kiss. he climbed out of bed, leaving his ipod behind, stuffing his feet into his shoes by the window. you unlocked it, hearing him yawn, his palm covering his mouth. "i'll come back at ten." he told you, more awake than before. "okay." you spoke softly, entering his usual embrace, your arms wrapping around one another. "i'll see you then. call me when you get home." "i will, my beautiful girl." his breath was hot against your temple—your height only barely reaching his shoulder—pressing a kiss onto your skin before you lifted your head, bringing your lips to his. his thumb kept your chin in place, kissing you back. "i love you, baby." "i love you too, seunghyunie." with that, he climbed out of your window. he grabbed the step stool, walking to his car. the sunrise peered over your neighborhood, only to be shunned out with the closing of your window and drapes. it wasn't until you tucked the dvd player and his ipod away in your nightside drawer did you realize . . . wait . . . we just said i love you.

weekends are typically reserved for dates which largely consist of getting coffee, taking the train into the city to visit museums (and seunghyun nudging his forehead into your temple shyly whenever you lock your arm with his), or passing time walking throughout the mall; looking through various shops and boutiques with your hand in his (and him keeping his gaze on the kay jewelers for a little longer than he intended), sitting next to you as opposed to across during dinner, and ending the night by making out in the backseat of his car. your hand on his cheek, his on your thigh; tongues in fair play. you broke the kiss to look at the small analog clock on his dashboard, biting your bottom lip when his lips found their usual spot on your neck, barely hiding your whimper. "fuck." he muttered, moving to the other side of your neck. his hands rested on either of your hips, humming in content upon feeling your fingers find his hair. "s-seunghyun," you fought to keep your eyes open. "it's 11:10. i have to go inside." "your parents can wait five more minutes." he said. the feeling of his voice vibrating against your skin made your eyes roll back, thighs rubbing together. a small gasp reverberated through the car when seunghyun started running his tongue repeatedly over a spot of your warm skin, sucking and popping off of it. "i really have to go inside—" "—at least let me finish this, baby. the last one healed too quickly." "o-okay," you let out a shaky breath, holding the back of his head, letting your eyes flutter closed. "don't make it too big." "i won't."

sundays were spent at the university library. you two are in your own worlds, sharing a spacious table with various pieces of coursework, required readings, and notebooks sprawled out in a way that only makes sense to your respective minds—seunghyun with his hood up, wired headphones in and reading glasses on. your pen cap between your teeth whilst you read the third of five passages for an upcoming essay you had due; back and forth between taking notes and highlighting lines. you didn't study together much during the week since your lectures did not align most days. but on the mornings where it did, neither of you having classes until the afternoon, seunghyun came over no matter the time he slept or if he was there the night previous, but neither of you studied. he meant it when he said he would spend every hour with you if he could, because he wakes up early just to be with you. it doesn't matter if its to fall right back asleep in your bed after your parents left for work at nine, he was there.

his personal favorites were early saturday afternoons (bonus points if you were going to a party later that night): him laying on top of you, his temple against your chest, taking a nap. he would fall asleep to the sound of you turning the pages of your book, coupled with the steady rise and fall of your chest. by the sound of his quiet snores, you started to feel sleepy by proxy. you would give in after nearly dropping the paperback book on his head, putting it aside on your bedside table. your hand reached down your side for his hand, fishing it out of the warm duvet to set an hour timer on his watch. you brought the pads of his fingers to your lips, kissing them softly before nestling in for your own nap, holding your baby close to you.

you loved and trusted each other to the point of peaceful co-existence. you and seunghyun were alone in the house one saturday evening; him in your room, you in the bathroom down the hall. you were going to a mutual friend's party to dually celebrate both her birthday and the end of finals week that night. your bedroom door was wide open, seunghyun overhearing the rustling of your makeup bag as his eyes looked through your shelf of cds. songs in a minor, alicia keys .... everyone else is doing it, so why can't we?, the cranberries .... b'day, beyoncé .... parachutes, coldplay .... his copy of pink floyd's dark side of the moon that he lent you a couple weeks ago .... grace, jeff buckley .... until he came across the miseducation of lauryn hill towards the front of the shelf, carefully pulling it out and opening the case. he placed the cd in your player on the shelf below, closing the lid and pressing play. he skipped to track 4, lowering the volume to have it blend seamlessly into the background, feeling content.

"seunghyun?" "yeah, baby?" he called back. he turned around, seeing you at the doorway, holding two eyeliner pencils in your hand. "which one: black or dark brown?" he walked over, taking the pencils from your hands, looking them over his palm. "hm. . ." he pondered with genuine thought. "this one is metallic," you pointed to the dark brown liner. "so it has a little shine to it." "i remember," seunghyun nodded. "you wore this one when we went for brunch a couple weeks ago. it looked really pretty." "thank you." you said quietly, glancing down at the carpet. you still felt flustered receiving his compliments, even nearly half a year into your relationship. "so the brown liner, then?" "mhm." "okay. thank you, my love." your hands reached up to his face, bringing him in for a quick kiss. "anything for you, my beautiful girl." said seunghyun, placing purposeful kisses onto your temple and cheek.

you took the liners from him, your sweet laughter ringing in his ears as his arms made residence around your waist, pulling you close to him. your arms took in his shoulders, giggling at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing a part of your exposed shoulder from the loose collar of your shirt. "my beautiful, beautiful girl." he murmured into your soft skin, kissing your lips once more. you loved how clingy he could be . . . though he would look like a deer in headlights, melting into a puddle of his own pride if it was pointed out. he loved being called seunghyunie. better yet, add "my" in front of that, and he'll have to take laps around the room. he's buried his head into your neck on many nights he snuck over, or even in his own bed, hiding his bashful state with incoherent mutterings of anything from "i'm going to go into heart failure early in my life" to "you make me lose all reason, and i love it."

you kissed him back, feeling his tongue collide with yours. seunghyun went in again, but you parted your lips, turning your head as a smile stretched across your face, his lips finding the corner of your mouth. "you're my big baby." you said sweetly, looking up at him. "my big, tall baby, seunghyunie. how's that, hm?" you erupted into a fit of giggles when seunghyun's forehead fell against your temple—a tell-tale sign that you hit the right bashful nerve—that, as far as seunghyun was concerned, sounded a whole lot like wedding bells. "baby . . ." he elongated his last syllable, voice so low it took a moment to understand. "see? you're already living up to the name." you said. your arms slid off the back of his shoulders, hands resting atop them as best they could whilst you held the liners, briefly standing on your toes to kiss his lips. "i have to go get ready." seunghyun's arms left your waist, resting on your hips. "i like the nickname." he admitted in a murmur. "i know." you nodded. "and i love you, too." "i love you so much." seunghyun couldn't help himself, lips peppering kisses onto the supple skin of your cheek, planting a final one on your lips.

one thing about seunghyun is he loves parties, but none more than being able to show you off. so when he's sat on one of the stools lining the host's kitchen island, you stood between his legs, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his are tenderly around your waist; hands traveling your lower back—he feels like the hottest shit because he's got the hottest fucking girl. he will unabashedly pepper sweet kisses onto your neck and cheek if you're talking to somebody, or press his cheek against yours as you people watch together from your spot in the kitchen; giggling amongst yourselves in a way that would make even a pessimist's heart begin to thaw. it tugs at his heartstrings even more-so when you find him later in the night after catching up with your friends, a little tipsy with your red solo cup in hand, making residence on his thigh. seunghyun carefully took the cup out of your hand after the drink sloshed around in the midst of your abrupt movement, setting it on the coffee table before his hands dotingly rubbed the side of your thigh, looking up at the love of his life. he's long past the point of caring when his friends are around seeing you squish his cheeks together, kissing the pout that forms on his lips with an extra loud "muah!" that can be heard in the few seconds between songs. he's actually the one pulling you into the small crowd of people dancing in the living room, swaying together to the music.

to seunghyun, he might have looked awkward dancing—but to anyone else who caught a glimpse either from squeezing their way through the crowd to get to the other side of the room, or if they just looked up: you and seunghyun looked smooth; complementary; on the same wavelength. it was one of those moments they would recall to your mini-me twenty years down the line, opening the anecdote with "i remember when your parents . . ." he brought his forehead to yours—earning him the flustered laugh he could get drunk on—bringing his lips to yours when you pulled him in by the rims of his beanie. you turned around afterward, pressing your ass against him, starting to dance again. seunghyun got the message. he followed your movements, arm wrapping around the front of your waist, leaning down to kiss your cheek upon feeling your hand reach back for his hair.

seunghyun played a large hand in improving your confidence, especially when it came to intimacy of any kind. you've come a long way from your posture stiffening when he put his arm around you in the movie theater; your ghost of a returned grip when he held your hand; or backing out mid-makeout on his couch because your face felt so hot, the movie paused and long-forgotten about, the dvd logo bouncing from one side of the tv to the other ("i-i'm sorry—" "—it's okay. come back here, you were doing so good.") it wasn't as if you were a brand new person, but he nurtured a different side of you to come out; honored he was the one deemed worthy enough to witness it. he fucking loved it when you were stood in your own corner at a party, feeling dizzy whenever yours hands traveled underneath the hem of his shirt and around his waist . . . holy fuck . . . and the way you kissed him afterward, so soft and slow, deliberate . . . you might as well make him a father right there.

the tension brewed over time. you may be learning things as you go, but you would be remised to not pick up on seunghyun's not-so-subtle ways. every time he readjusted his position in your bed, arms holding you, you felt his hand traveled just a little lower down your hip. his lips kissed your cheek before returning his attention to space documentary he picked up from blockbuster before sneaking over, reading the captions on the portable dvd player propped up atop the duvet. he thought he was being slick. but when the documentary inevitably ended, and you inevitably pulled him into your lips to make him stay longer, his hand slipped underneath, squeezing your right globe. he'll never forget your sharp inhale, or how hard you kissed him in return.

or when you were stood in line at the mall food court (yes, you read that correctly), his fingers holding yours. he was being so sweet and flirtatious, looking at you with an admiring grin whilst you read the menu. he went back and forth between laying his hoodie-clad head atop yours, kissing your cheek, or leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. you saw in your periphery how he would stare and stare both longingly and knowingly. you didn't give in, until you couldn't hold it in anymore, failing horrendously at hiding your upside-down grin. "what?" you nudged his bicep with your shoulder, hearing him chuckle. "i'm just looking." he responded, voice smooth. you tsked, shaking your head. "you don't make any sense." his kiss to your temple brought your gaze back to him, looking up when he rested his forehead against yours. "that's because you take all of it from me." seunghyun lined the side of his nose with yours, bringing his lips to yours. he's done this countless times before, but it was how his lips lingered for a second or two that made all the difference . . . how they parted so slowly and deliberately . . . it made you think oh . . . this man may very well want me to have his baby! it wouldn't be far-fetched either, since on your four month anniversary, he told you he was ready to introduce you to his parents after your third date.

then came those saturday mornings . . . or mornings where neither of you had class until the afternoon . . . when you got up from bed, and he sees your shorts have ridden completely up your thighs in your sleep . . . how fucking delectable they look. your back is turned to him as you stretch your arms out and yawn, but seunghyun's stare is unabashed and hard. it starts as a sideways glance, like he doesn't want to get caught. but then he sees how they jiggle with every minute movement . . . he's enamored. he turns onto his side fully, studying how your cellulite adorns your skin so specifically . . . then his palms start to tingle, wanting to reach out and feel you in his hands. but all he does is cast his hand against your crisp bed sheets, wrinkled where you laid just moments ago. seunghyun then notices the slight sheen of your skin when you step into the sunlight pouring in from the window; the remnants of your moisturizer you apply before you sleep, he was sure. this is what makes his teeth rake against his bottom lip, quickly glancing up to see if you were still turned around, which you were. then came those imperfections he wanted so badly to kiss, to linger his tongue over: the small, translucent forever-bruise on the side of your left thigh that never healed; standing in a crowded train after spending the day with each other in the city, temporarily squished against the arm rest of a seat to make room for incoming passengers. your fucking tan line from your go-to denim shorts you wore during the summer jesus christ . . . and how some of your stomach spilled over your shorts, the thick curvature of your body akin to a fucking goddess's. what he would do to be trapped between them . . .

"i'll be right back." your voice took him out of his trance, seunghyun looking up to see you opening the bedroom door, walking to the bathroom down the hall. "okay, baby." his voice was gravely, clearing his throat afterward. seunghyun turned onto his back. he lifted the duvet, peeking underneath to see the bulge in his sweats. he let out a disbelieving huff, running his hands over his face. it's not even ten am yet. he thought to himself. it should be no surprise that when you came back into bed, his lips made residence on yours, hand slipping by your hip and grabbing your ass. seunghyun stopped periodically to place kisses on your chest, or moving the strap of your cami to trace the tip of his tongue along your stretch marks lining your shoulder before kissing them, too. "wanna try something new, baby." he murmured against your skin. "okay," you said, fingers brushing his hair back, watching as his lips returned to your chest. "what is it, seunghyun?" "wanna put these in my mouth—'nd taste you."

you nodded, hair rubbing against your pillowcase. "o-okay," your voice fell to a whisper, the birds chirping outside rivaling your volume. "go ahead, seunghyun." he lifted his head, kissing you. "tell me if it's too much, okay?" "i will." you said, kissing him. a shallow breath left your chest as his lips traveled down your chest. he's fondled your breasts before—in the backseat of his car, and when the portable dvd player is mere background noise, but nothing could have prepared him for now your left breast recoiled when he tugged that side of your cami down. it was so perky, so cute; happy to see him. he captured your areola in his mouth, running his warm tongue over it slowly. he's never heard you gasp like that before. "s—seunghyun!" you barely breathed, shuddering oxygen in and out. he quickly detached—"is it too much—" "—no, no! keep—keep going!" you whimpered, pushing the back of his head back down. he sucked with bliss, readjusting himself when you arched your back, his other hand kneading your right breast. he tugged that side of your cami down, showing that nipple less mercy than the other. "f-fuck!" you gasped, hand coming up to your mouth. "yes, yes! oh my god, seunghyun!" your body squirmed, thighs enclosing around his waist. he needed to move on. if he didn't, he was going to ruin his sweatpants.

he popped off of your hardened nipple gently, bringing his lips to yours. you latched onto him with needy fervor, kissing him quickly. "i'm gonna eat your pussy, okay baby?" he spoke against your lips. you whimpered into his mouth, eyebrows turning upward in desperation, hands holding onto the back of his shoulders. "gonna take care of you. tell me if you want to stop." "o—ngh!—okay." seunghyun pushed the duvet off the both of you, making his way down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. he stood on his knees as he pulled your shorts and underwear off, discarding them on his usual side of the bed. his hand slid down your left thigh, fingers running over that small bruise. he leaned down, pressing a kiss. he moved a couple of inches down the bed, settling his knees onto the carpeted floor, propping the upper-half of his body up with his elbows. you separated your legs. his tongue ran over his bottom lip, mouth watering.

he kissed the inner parts of your thighs, trailing where you needed him most. seunghyun wasted no time after that, plunging his tongue between your puffy folds. oh . . . you tasted good. the sensation was indescribable for you—a curt gasp all you could muster those first few seconds, palm covering your mouth as you devoured the unbelievable sight below you. your eyebrows were so deeply furrowed; a choked moan leaving your diaphragm as his tongue explored your divine essence. seunghyun separated your lips with his pointer and middle finger, trying to find that sweet bundle of nerves. he placed his tongue higher than before, taking note of your gasp. he pushed his head in deeper, knowing he was coming closer when your thighs brushed against his ears. seunghyun hit the jackpot when he pushed in a little deeper, arms quickly wrapping around your waist to keep you as still as he could when your body jolted, thighs closing in on him, effectively putting him in a still-moveable headlock. "o—oh m-my god—ngh! hngh!" you moaned helplessly. "s-seunghyun!" you cried, fingers disappearing into his hair, tugging. "feel good, baby? that feel good?" he asked quickly, voice muffled, not liking going mere seconds without you on his tongue. "y-yes! keep—keep—"

you couldn't finish your sentence, but he needed no further instruction. he nursed your clit unabashedly, his hand reaching up and kneading your right breast. "s-seunghyun, i'm gonna—i feel—" your breathing was heavy, eyes squeezed shut. "cum in my mouth." was all seunghyun said. your legs opened abruptly, back arching higher than before as your orgasm washed over your entire body. seunghyun kept working your clit, popping off of your sweet pussy through your delicate moans and mewls. he swallowed whatever you gave him, humming into you in satisfaction, relishing in how you breathily whined his name. he gradually latched off with tongue-led kisses, palming himself through his sweatpants. he left your pussy swiftly when he felt a wet patch, looking down to see that he, indeed, ruined his sweatpants.

then came a week later, when you made love for the first time at eleven am on a fucking tuesday morning. "breath for me." he told you gently, positioning his condom wrapped tip between your soft, puffy lips. "in," he inhaled through his nostrils, you mimicking. "and out." you exhaled together. he kissed your divine lips, hand coming up and holding your cheek. "my beautiful girl," he whispered. "i love you so much." "i love you too." your hands held the back of his neck, kissing him back. "this might hurt a little. we have all the time in the world. we'll take it easy." his lips pressed against your cheek, hearing your gentle "okay." he slowly pushed himself in, stopping halfway when you held tightly onto his shoulders. "f-fuck, ngh! it . . . it hurts." you whispered. "i know, i know baby." he low voice cooed, his hand holding your cheek, bringing the one closest to him to his lips. "keep going. slowly." "i will."

he thrusted slowly with half of his cock inside of you, listening to your every breath. "any better?" he whispered. he sucked in a tight breath, feeling how tight you are. "a . . . a little. try adding more each time." "anything for you." he kissed your temple, following your words. silence filled the room, nothing but the slight creak of your bed frame, shaky breaths, and rustling of the duvet against the linen. seunghyun's ears perked up when he heard a quiet moan, feeling your nails starting to dig into his bare shoulder. "s-seunghyun . . . m-more." "which one? faster or deeper, baby?" "deeper." you said, voice breathy. your eyebrows twitched as you were mostly adjusted, bottom lip captured between your teeth as he stretched you out. "mmf!" you yelped. "does—f-fuck—that feel g-good?" seunghyun was losing himself in you, struggling to keep his mind clear. "y-yes!" you moaned. "g-go faster, seunghyunie. p-please." "god fucking damn—f-fuck, baby!" he mewled, moaning into your ear. "you feel so fucking g-good, oh my god!" the rest of that morning was a haze of grunts, sweat, and chanting each other's names like prayers. to think you were in your intro to international democracies lecture not even four hours later was obscene.

neither of you trusted yourselves to keep quiet when he came over, but that doesn't mean you at least tried . . . albeit, over the phone. "you drive me fucking crazy, baby—fuck!" his phone fell from his ear, his free hand quickly grabbing it, his other showing little mercy to himself. you could hear the wet, slick sounds of his cock from your side of the line, your thighs trapping your wrist between your legs. "the—the way you—hngh!—l-looked at me from over your shoulder, the way you sounded when i fucked you from b-behind." he spoke into the phone lowly. "you looked so beautiful, and felt so f-fucking good. did it feel good baby, hm? did it feel good when i pounded that sweet pussy?" "s-seunghyun—" you sounded so delicate, so fragile. "i—ngh!—i n-need you so bad. i can't take it anymore." he heard your shaky gasp, sure you were close. "tell me, baby. i know you're close, i can hear it." he moaned hearing you whimper at his words, feeling the knot in his abdomen begin to unravel. "t-tell me—s-shit!—i-i'm, i'm close t-too. tell me, baby. you know you can tell your seunghyunie anything, right?"

when that wasn't enough (it never was), you took it to the backseat of his car. it was an unspoken rule; nonverbal pattern of events when he was to drop you home, but that something was in the air and could not go unaddressed—like the night of your friend's birthday party. he unlocked his trunk, folding the backseats forward to allow enough room for you to lay on your back. in your defense, you tried to keep quiet. you really did . . . considering it was well past one in the morning, your house was one measly block away, and your neighborhood was very much a quiet suburb. but the car was shaking, your toes pressed against the rear windshield, and his hand was slipping off the steaming window. if anyone walked by—universe help your neighbor that worked late shifts and walked his dog at this hour—a vague, passive aggressive memo in the neighborhood newsletter would certainly find you.

the torn condom wrapper fell between the seats, lost in a reach-less nook of the car as seunghyun fucked you deep and good. the sound was wet and mind-numbing, the heel of your left foot resting on his lower back whilst he pummeled you. "f-fuck! just like that, just like that!" you gasped, your moan sounding intoxicatingly needy, fingers rummaging aimlessly through his hair. seunghyun was a sweaty mess, his hair sticking to his forehead as he boiled in his long sleeve. but he could not have given less of a fuck. you felt fucking divine. he needed this, every last second, every last drop. your gummy walls and puffy lips were a blessing he would thank whatever higher force that existed out there for the rest of his life. "just like that? yeah?" he grunted, looking down at the scene, watching his cock disappear and reappear. "s-such f-fucking good pussy—fuck!"

there's a digital camera you both share (he bought it for you for your one year anniversary), housing the archive of your relationship. there's tons of photos on numerous sd cards: a photo of you two kissing in front of a mirror, the camera covering your mouths even after seunghyun's hilariously laborious attempts at angling it correctly, photos of you looking so effortlessly beautiful in your bed; elbow propped on your pillow, palm holding your cheek, the glow of the portable dvd player evident on your face, or one you took of him in his bed after you imitated his low laugh which made him laugh even harder, photos of seunghyun climbing through your window with a shy, unexpected smile on your face or looking cool driving his car, lots of photos with friends, and at parties; one in particular of him pretending to eat your cheek and your wide smile, drink in hand. he can hear your laughter whenever he looks at it.

several months after your two year anniversary, seunghyun found himself at the mall. he was free for the rest of the day whilst you were in for another two lectures. but, of course, he was picking you up for dinner that evening. he perused for your graduation gift; settling for a perfume, a book by your favorite author, and two cds of musicians you loved. like clockwork, his eyes found and stayed on kay jewelers. but unlike before, he walked in. he found the engagement rings with ease, even going as far as to tell the consultant that he was thinking about getting married. however, seunghyun didn't walk out with a ring. he figured well, we should graduate first . . . get jobs . . . move in together . . . and then talk about marriage. he's been locked in since your first kiss, but that's besides the point. but there's no harm in starting to save up for that ring, is there . . .

honey's taglist! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf, @infinetlyforgotten

[sangwookisser]

WICKED GAMES | THANOS

cw: manager! reader, rapper! thanos, fwb but thanos wants you real bad, pre-squid game! au, flirting, teasing, suggestive comments and innuendo, female reader, no use of y/n, oral sex, unprotected sex, thanos cums in his pants, 18+, MDNI

synopsis: thanos never meant to catch feelings for his cold, no-nonsense manager he’s been hooking up with.

You were sat beside Thanos at his kitchen island, your fingers scrolling on your iPad as you flitted through your calendar, which included all of his important appointments for the month as well as your own.

Your posture was as rigid and straight as your tone as you spoke about his upcoming tour. For work.

That’s what tonight was. Work.

You scheduled a dinner date with him, which he suggested take place at his luxury home, hoping that it would be intimate and personal, and yet like always, you'd gone straight to business from the moment you sat down at the countertop.

He watched your lips move as you spoke, barely processing the words leaving your mouth. He was more focused on the softness, the fullness of your lips. How they looked stained red from the wine you were drinking.

He had kissed them before. And you had let him. More than once.

His fingers curled against the glass. "…so if you want to switch up the setlist—are you even listening?" He blinked, tilting his head.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm listening."

You gave him a sharp look, unimpressed. "Then tell me what I just said."

His mouth quirked. You were always like this. So put-together, so untouchable, so fucking cold; except for the nights you weren’t.

The nights where you let him press you into the walls of hotel rooms and penthouses just like this, where you gasped against his mouth and dug your nails into his back and let him ruin you.

You'd let him fuck you stupid on his cock until you were an incoherent mess, your neat hair spread out under you and your lipstick smudged onto your chin, with the remainder of it on his mouth.

Then, in the morning, you always pretended it never happened. Always leaving first without a single word, even when it was in your apartment.

He was too busy imagining the different positions he could put you in if you just loosened up for two seconds to notice that you were still waiting for a response. Thanos exhaled through his nose, smiling innocently.

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head before taking another sip of wine, your throat working as you swallowed. His fingers tightened around his glass.

"You never focus," you sighed, shifting in your chair. "If you actually paid attention instead of zoning out...

"Maybe I wouldn’t zone out if you weren’t so fucking boring," he cut in, his voice lazy, rough.

That got a reaction. Your expression barely shifted, but he caught the faintest flicker in your eyes, annoyance.

Good. He liked when he got to you.

"I'm not boring. I just know how to organize my priorities. In case you haven't noticed, your life would be a mess without me." You say, your voice clipped.

"You're right about that, actually." He grinned, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "Who else could fuck me as good as you? I can't find a replacement for your pussy."

He saw the flicker of your gaze, the way your throat worked as you swallowed, the subtle shift in your breathing. Your cheeks were a blazing pink with anger and embarrassment. He liked when you weren't being a robot for two seconds and felt something for him.

Whether it was want and anticipation for your next time in bed together, or a flicker of care, like back when he had gotten sick after a show in Busan.

When you had been the one hovering in his doorway, your eyes softened and your brows furrowed together in quiet concern. When you had sat next to him and dabbed sweat off his forehead with a warm towel and held his hand.

He had never brought it up.

You would have denied it anyway.

"Anyway." He broke the silence, leaning closer to you. "You were talking about stage lights?" You scoff and shake your head, staring at him disbelievingly.

"I wasn't talking about stage lights, Su bong." You snap at him, getting annoyed at him by this point.

You lean back slightly so he's not in your face, and the movement causes your breasts to bounce in a way he can't look away from.

Thanos’ smirk widened as he shamelessly stared, his dark eyes fixed on your chest before trailing up to your lips again. He shifted his hand up to your knee.

"You lean back like that again," he murmured, his fingers sliding up the fabric of your skirt just a little, barely touching the skin of your thigh, "and I might think you’re trying to play games with me."

You inhaled sharply, your spine straightening at the contact, but you didn’t push him away. You never did, and that’s why he kept testing you. Kept touching you, kept pushing just a little further every time.

You gave him a sharp look, clearly unimpressed. "Watch it."

"And you're a delusional little tease," he shot back immediately, grinning as his fingers curled against your thigh, kneading the soft flesh. "Seriously, you ever get tired of pretending you don’t want me? 'Cause it’s getting a little old, princess."

You scoffed and shifted in your seat, but that only made his grip tighten. His other hand slid under your stool, pulling you in much closer.

"Enough, Su. You always do this," you said with exasperation, grabbing both his wrists and setting them on his lap. He merely laughed and grabbed your waist once more with his big hands.

"Do what?" he grinned, leaning in so his lips brushed against your ear. "Tell you how sexy you are? My sweet little manager. Sometimes I think you might hate me."

"Don't be ridiculous." You shot back, pushing some hair out of your eyes and shaking your head with frustration. "Now, can we please foc-"

"I'm ridiculous? You're the one who gets onto me every time we're alone and let me fuck your sloppy little pussy." His fingers flexed against your waist, voice dropping into that flirtatious tone that he knew made your stomach tighten.

"Stop it." You repeat, your face too warm for your liking. You hate the way you can't seem to control yourself around him. You wanted him to shut up so you could focus and finally accomplish something without ending up bouncing on his cock.

Ever since you'd indulged him for the first time, it feels impossible for you two to be around each other without this happening.

His hand slid from your waist up to your jaw, fingers tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away from him. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, his eyes flickering down to your mouth, full of heat and intent.

"You think about it, don’t you?" he continued. "When you’re alone at night. You touch yourself and think about me, huh?"

Your nails dug into your palm, lips pressing together. He liked your little pouts. They were so cute. He liked to catch you off guard and press your lips against his quite often when you were sulking, and you were afraid he'd do it now. "Stop it now, Su-bong. I won't ask again."

He only grinned wider. "Ohhh, you do." He squeezed your thigh again, mocking you now. His free hand pushed his thumb firmer on your lips. "Knew it."

You jerked your head away, pushing at his stupid, handsome face. That seemed to goad him on, however, and his hands hooked around your waist, tugging you forward so your knees hit his. Your balance wavered, and your hands landed flat on his chest. You could feel his heart pounding.

His fingers trailed up the curve of your spine, slow and deliberate, until they tangled into the hair at the nape of your neck. He grinned as he gave it a slight tug, forcing your head back just enough for him to drop his mouth closer to yours.

Your breath fanned against his lips, warm and quick.

"You always leave me hanging, pretty baby," he said softly, slotting his mouth over yours but not kissing you just yet. And he called you the tease. "Why don’t you stick around this time?"

Your lips parted. For a split second, he thought you’d let him win. But then you blinked, your expression shuttering. Your hands flattened against his chest, firm now, pushing him back.

Thanos let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "You're impossible, you know that?"

You scowled, slamming a hand down on the counter to shut him up. "Do you even understand how important this tour is? You do this every time. You don’t take anything seriously until the last second, and then I’m the one running around fixing your mess. And you think it’s funny-"

He cuts you off by groaning loudly and picking you up by your waist, lifting you onto the counter in one smooth motion.

Your breath hitched in shock, your hands gripping his shoulders as your thighs instinctively parted to accommodate the space he took up between them.

Your heart was pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. It felt like it was echoing through your whole body. He got right in your face, his hands gripping your hips, holding you there. His breath was warm against your lips, his voice low and strained.

"God, you are so fucking bossy."

You blinked, thrown off for just a second. But then your hands pushed against his chest, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. "Excuse me?"

"Bossy. Annoying. Nagging." His nose scrunched up, his fingers pressing into your waist. "So fucking uptight. All you ever do is bark orders at me."

"Because you never listen!"

He frowned, beginning to unbutton your blouse. You couldn't find it in yourself to stop him. "Shut up." He muttered, his hands hooking around your body to take off your bra as well, letting your tits spill out. He sighed out loud and marveled at them, big hand grabbing onto the mounds and squeezing. he flicked your left nipple with the pad of his thumb.

"Mm!" You choke out, squirming against his wandering hand. "Su, l-listen," You mewled out his name desperately, writhing as his free hand palmed at your clothed pussy under your skirt.

“You can take it, princess,” he murmured. “Open your legs.”

You obliged, and his eyes lit up at the soft, damp patch forming on your panties. He groaned and tugged your panties down your legs, pressing open mouthed kisses to the column of your throat to distract you from him stuffing them into his pocket.

His mouth traveled lower, licking at your nipple sucking on the soft bud before transitioning to the other, his lips hot on the soft, plump flesh of your breast.

He's sure to kiss around the nipple and suck on your skin enough to leave marks, his teeth indenting your skin just hard enough for you to cry out.

"Ngh, s-stop m-messing around," you warned.

"Why should I? That's not how we work, princess. You're not in charge right now."

You frowned, squirming slightly. You're unable to keep your moans at bay, and you can't help but find the sounds he's making while sucking on your tits embarrassing. However, he didn't stop.

His hands kneaded your breasts, thumbs and fingers sinking into the pliant mounds as he lavished attention on each nipple in turn. He licked and sucked, his tongue tracing the curve of your areola, his teeth nipping at the tender skin. Your back arched, pressing your chest further into his eager mouth, craving more of his touch, his heat.

Moaning softly, he continued his assault on your breasts, the obscene sound of his suckling and slurping filling the room. His fingers tugged and rolled your nipples, the dual sensations of pain and pleasure blending into a heady mix that made your head spin.

As he finally released your spit-slick nipples, he kissed a trail down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel. He licked and tasted every inch of your exposed skin, his hands mapping the curves of your waist and hips, the flare of your thighs. Your skin burned under his touch, your body aching and eager for his caress.

He got on his knees, reaching the apex of your thighs. Thanos hesitated momentarily, his breath hot against your pussy. He inhaled deeply, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. "Fuck, you smell amazing," he kissed your inner thigh. "Been waiting to see her weeks now. You keep ignoring me and playing hard to get, princess. I'm tired of it."

He nipped at your thigh, and you squealed when he bit down on the pudgy flesh, smoothing his tongue over the blossoming red welt on your skin.

Not wasting any time, Thanos dove in, his mouth covering your pussy in a broad stroke. His tongue parted your folds, delving into your slick heat, tasting your essence. He groaned against your flesh, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider, opening you further to his greedy mouth. He licked and sucked, his tongue circling your clit before flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked, seeking more of his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.

"S-slow down!" You cry out as his nose bumps against your clit, and he shoves his face fully into your cunt, lapping at your folds so eagerly that he started to drool. His cock strained against his pants with excitement, and he growled lowly into your pussy. "Hold still, stupid," He murmured, grabbing your thighs and spreading them as far as they could go.

You pant, your head lolling back. He slides one of his hands into yours to keep you upright, while his other moves between your legs as he sucks on the sopping folds of your pussy, shoving a finger deep inside.

With a scream, your legs begin to shake and you try to move back so you dont gush all over his face, but he drags you forward by your hip, his finger gliding easily through your slick arousal. "Stop running away from me. Stay put or ill get the ropes," He threatened, pushing his finger up against your sweet spot.

"N-no! Ngh... I'm cumming! Please, it's too much," Your begging comes with soft whines as your eyes fill with shiny tears, and he moans against your pussy, rutting his fat, drooling cock against the leg of one of the stools desperately.

Your walls clenched around his invading finger, gripping the thick digit tightly.

Pleasure coiled taut in your tummy, your body wound tight like a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment. Drool dripped down his chin as he ate you out almost reverently, the obscene sound of his suckling and slurping filling the kitchen.

The counter beneath you grew slick with your juices, a testament to your overwhelming arousal. He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, your breath coming in sharp gasps and pants as he pushed you closer and closer to your peak.

You weakly cry out his name while leaning back and dropping your body onto the countertop, your orgasm coming crashing down hard as he continued to eat your pussy through it. That was all it took for him to finish in his pants, cumming in his boxers hard.

Your vision went white, stars exploding behind your eyelids as pure, unadulterated bliss consumed your every sense, until finally, with a shuddering sigh, your body went limp and pliant against the countertop.

He leaned back, his chin covered in your juices. He didn't bother to wipe his chin, standing up and pulling down the zipper of his soaked pants. "Look what you made me do, princess," he tutted.

You lifted your head just enough to see his cock slap against his chest as he tugs off his shirt, though your vision was hazy. He gently pushed you back, one hand going around your throat loosely as he positioned his flushed, swollen tip with your sopping pussy.

You're hypersensitive from your recent orgasm, and as the hot, hard flesh of his cock sears into your tender pussy, you try to sit up. He pushes you back down immediately, causing your lashes to flutter and your head to reel. "Su, ungh, please." He coos at your cries, his grip on your throat tightening to give you a minor distraction from the feeling of him beginning to stretch out your gummy walls.

You sob weakly, scratching at his wrist lightly with your nails. He hisses lightly, pushing into you some more. It felt like his length was never ending. It was just him pushing... pushing... pushing... he dragged you back to him by your neck so your ass was right against his pelvis, and he stared down at your fucked out expression as you squeezed his wrist.

"What, princess? Tapping out so soon? Thats not fair. I earned this." He thrusted forwards, and you moan out, your back arching off the counter.

You could feel his mushroom tip pressing flat against your soft cervix from how close you were and how far deep he was inside you.

You were gone, on the other hand. Eyes drenched with tears, drool running down your chin, and your face burning hotly. "You wanna know why, beautiful?"

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, his cock kissing your cervix. "Y-you, anh... keep acting like you're too good for me. Like... fuck," he almost trailed off, getting caught up in how hot and tight and soaked you were inside, but he shook his head and tried to focus.

He wanted you to understand how he felt.

"Haah, y-you always... f-fuckin' ignore me and act like I don't mean anything to you." he rocks into you deeper, his hand tight around your throat, keeping you dizzy and dazed, but not enough for it to be uncomfortable.

He dragged his hips back slowly, leaving you momentarily empty, before he quickly thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you in one swift, hard stroke. A cry tore from your throat at the sudden, intense sensation of being so utterly filled, stretched wide around his girth. 

"S-shit, mmh, y-you show up, you..." He swallows, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "...you wreck me, and then you just leave. Like it’s nothing."

He began to move more consistently, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you, before slamming forward again, burying himself balls-deep in your clutching heat.

Each thrust pushed you up the counter, your breasts bouncing obscenely. "Su, s-su!" You scream, your pussy tight around his cock. He grunted, setting a hard, driving rhythm, the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the kitchen.

He kept going, moaning each time his cock impaled you, stretching you so full that you couldn't think. You were getting fucked so dumb, and his hand around your throat wasn't helping. He frowned, fucking you harder. You weren't listening to him, like usual.

He lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “God, I like you.” The words come out in a rush, like they’ve been clawing at his throat, forcing their way free. "I like you so much. You l-let me f-fucking slut you out, but you won't see me."

He angled his hips to hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust, sending bolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. Your pussy clenched and spasmed around his pistoning cock, dripping with your arousal. "I d-do see you, mmh, I l-like you too Su!" You wail, panting. "I d-do, I... ohmygod, ngh, Su, please, f-fuck me,"

He lets out a huff of air through his nose, slapping your cheek lightly to keep you present. He's over the moon with the knowledge that his feelings are reciprocated, and his stomach flutters with happiness. " 'S exactly what I'm doing, stupid." He murmurs, before yanking your hips up, plunging hard into your dripping, puffy cunt.

Gripping your cheeks hard enough to bruise, he shoved his cock back in, driving even deeper into your core than before. "Like you so fucking much, princess, God."

Your pussy gushed and squelched obscenely with each forceful pump of his hips, the wet sounds mixing with your escalating cries as you milk his cock dry. He shoved his lips onto yours, taking your hands into his. His cock jerked and throbbed inside you, coating your insides with ropes of his hot load, his thick cum feeling creamy and heavy as it filled your womb

He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he ground against you, making sure every last drop of his cum was seated deep inside your fluttering hole.

A scream of pure ecstasy tore from your throat, your inner muscles spasming and gushing around him as you came hard. Your vision went white, stars exploding behind your eyelids as wave after wave of pleasure hit you.

He dropped himself on top of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and murmuring how you wouldn't be leaving him in the morning when he was done with you.

[makeitworse]

DANG, IS SHE THAT GOOD?

talking ji-yong through topping you.

nsfw. minors dni. c/w: fem!reader / sub!ji-yong. glimpses of domestic life. age gap. praise. unprotected sex. soft smut. a/n: typed w one hand tbh

ji-yong always found himself under you during sex. that’s just how he liked it best.

he’s a busy man, and he’s not young anymore either. after a long day at work, he just wants to kick his feet up and let you take care of him. and that’s fine by you! you’ve got youthful energy to spend, and there’s not many sights as precious as the king of kpop himself sprawled out beneath you, completely at your mercy.

he finally has the rare chance of some free time with you— a breather amongst his packed schedule during his comeback. actually managing to get him out of bed on his days off was a rarity. but today he’s eager to take you out, dedicate a day to you; make-up for how work’s been demanding most of his focus. you shake your head when he pulls out his black card, but he’s not taking no for an answer.

later that day you found yourselves tangled on the couch in a hot flurry of kisses. he couldn’t keep his hands to himself while you were out; you had to tell him off for being so touchy in public, cameras could be anywhere.

pinning you down was the first thing on his mind once you were back home. your hands are lost in his hair, his are snaked under your top. his knee’s hiked up and digging into your core, and he mumbles a cuss as you rock yourself on his leg. you figure, since you’re already here, you may as well ask:

“ji, baby. would you be on top?”

he’s taken aback. for a beat, he hums and tosses the idea over. it’s certainly been a while since he’s had the energy to take the reins of your intimacy. the imagery of you beneath him gets ji-yong hot— sending a pulse straight to his dick. then, he kisses you with such force that your head cranes back. he’s hungry and his tongue’s on yours and he’s grinding down into your core with a newfound vigour.

you’re fully committed: you’re biting your lip, arching your back. you even encourage him with soft mewls as he sucks at your neck. he’s already panting at the sight of you. you slide a hand between your bodies to palm at him, finding his trousers damp with his arousal. ji-yong trembles over with a moan. on instinct, he’s keeling over for you to take control.

your mouth’s hot on his ear as whine how bad you need him. with that, he practically rips off your bottoms, and is too impatient to tug his own all the way off as they bunch at his knees. your hand is atop his as he guides himself in, his face scrunching as he fills you to the hilt. he stays there for a beat— dick twitching inside of you. you hum:

“fuck me, hun.”

and he obeys. ji-yong sets a gruelling pace, snapping his hips in and out of you like crazy. you egg him on by letting moans slip from your mouth, and he has to bite his lip to muffle his own. you guide his hands all over your body: fondling your breast, squeezing your neck, even tilting your own hips up so each of his thrusts hit the sweet spot.

even though he’s on top, you’re directing ji-yong through his actions: “kiss my neck there again.” “go faster, i can take it.” “put my leg up, honey.” and of course, you reward him with compliments when he follows: “that felt really good, ji.” “you’re doing so well for me baby.” he was hanging on to your every word. the noises spilling from him were diabolical— he sounded like a pornstar.

a little greedy, you tease him with a few pulses of your core. ji-yong’s thrusts turn shallow before he pauses, dick spasming inside of you. as little whines left his mouth. your hands find his pelvis, coaxing him to move, but his body falls onto yours and pins you against the couch.

he shudders, “w-wait, please..”, you can feel his muscles flexing on your bare stomach. he’s begging you to not make him cum. he has to screw his eyes shut and focus, else your naked body’s going to teeter him off the edge. he does a quick snap of his hips— but has to immediately pull out and suck in a breath between his teeth. you soothe him, caressing his sides and pressing reassuring kisses to his nape. he frowns at himself. he’s not usually so quick..

“i want it, ji. c’mon,” he huffs out a sheepish laugh. “if you couldn’t tell..” his dick twitches on time. something cruel stirs in you; you snatch his hips and pull him to thrust back into you. his hands fumble in an attempt to restrain you, and he’s out of breaths to say it with words. you’re undeterred, leading him in and out for your own pleasure, and ji-yong can’t help but take it as you grind onto him. his head’s buried into your shoulder, your ear soaking up all of his cries.

“if you keep, ah,.. i can’t—” “go on, hun.” ji-yong tried to move his own hips between your control. he’s a whimpering mess as he cums, laying lifeless on-top of you as warm ropes shoot inside of you. you hum, pleased with him, drawing lines over his back muscles.

“ah, i don’t have the back for this.” that made you chuckle. “you made me feel so good, baby.” he groans, disagreeing about his performance. “no, i’m sorry. you didn’t cum,” he pressed his sweaty forehead into your neck. “sorry, just give me a minute and i’ll, yeah..” his voice was hoarse, still breathless from his orgasm. but he snakes a shaky palm to your cunt and fidgets for your clit. you giggle, moving his hand off of you with a reassuring peck. he had no idea you were about to roll over and ride him till you came.

💌 | @emmiesoverthemoon @kam0p @gguktro @990002 @captain-ducks-swim-in-the-pond

[wcnderlnds]

sleeping in | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: lazy mornings with seunghyun are always the best. ・❥・word count: 1.8k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. unprotected sex, slight choking kind of, female reader, swearing ・❥・ authors note: this is not the best but listen i tried 😭

Seunghyun couldn’t remember exactly when he’d gave you the key to his penthouse — probably sooner than he should’ve but you had him in a chokehold from the second he met you. At first, it had started out as a friendship, bonding over your shared love of art and music then somewhere along the way things had changed. Stolen glances had turned into lingering touches until that one fateful night, after a BigBang concert when the adrenaline had been coursing through his veins and he’d taken the plunge, finally kissing you. From that moment on, it was hard to tear the two of you apart. Seunghyun wasn’t one for physical touch most of the time but he couldn’t help himself with you. Whether it was an arm thrown over your shoulder when you were hanging out with friends, his hand gently resting atop yours at dinner or your thighs touching as you sat beside each — he had to be connected to you in some way. It grounded him. Made him realise that you were real and you were there. To say he’d fallen fast was an understatement. It had even come as a shock to him that day he’d blurted out his feelings to you after a glass of his favourite wine as you lounged on his couch watching one of your favourite movies. His heart had never felt more full than the moment he’d heard the breathy ‘I love you too’ fall from your lips.

His job often kept him away from you for longer than he’d like. There were days where he couldn’t even see you; those were his least favourite so he had given you a key to his place, telling you to use it whenever you wanted to. It was mostly an excuse for him to come home after a stressful day and hope to see you there. It made his long days worth it. Sure, he could ask you to move in with him but he wasn’t quite ready for such a big step yet. This would have to do.

It had been a long, exhausting day at the studio putting the finishing touches to the album. All he wanted to do was go home, hopefully find you there and spend the night with the only person who could bring him peace. As he stepped into his place, the lights were off which he took to meaning you weren’t there. A heavy sigh passed his lips as he kicked off his shoes, a hand running through his hair as he made his way into the bedroom. His heart soared at the sight before him when he pushed open the door. There you were, cuddled up in bed in one of his shirts, fast asleep. His heart pounded heavily against his chest, a feeling of ease flooding through him as he looked at you. You looked so beautiful, so peaceful.

Seunghyun was usually one to wear a full set of pyjamas to bed but tonight he was too exhausted. He undressed, leaving himself in only his boxers as he climbed in bed next to you. Leaning over, he ever so gently moved a stray piece of your hair off your cheek, pressing his lips to your soft skin. “Sleep well, my heart.”

The first rays of morning light shone through the curtains casting a dim orange glow over the room. Seunghyun was the first to wake, his arms wrapped around your body from behind, nuzzling into your neck. He felt you stir, his lips leaving a lazy trail of wet kisses along your shoulder.

“Hi, baby,” you mumbled, eyes still closed as you tilted your head to give him more access.

“Morning.” His deep voice sounded even sexier than normal thanks to the grogginess of waking up. “Sleep well?”

His lips were now attached to your neck, his hand slowly but surely sliding up your thigh, pushing the hem of his shirt you were wearing up to reveal more of your skin. He nipped at your skin, his tongue running across to soothe it, leaving his mark there for the world to know that you were his.

“Mhm,” you hummed. You reached your hand behind you to tangle in his hair, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. “This is a good wake up call.”

“It’s about to get better,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in your ear. You could feel his hips slightly rocking into you from behind, pulling a breathless sigh from your lips.

His fingers danced along the inside of your thigh until they found their place inside your panties. He teased at first, not quite moving his fingers down where you wanted them knowing how much his fingers alone drove you crazy. There had been one night where you’d gone into great detail about everything you wanted him to do to you with his fingers and he held it against you ever since using it to tease you. Slowly, his fingers rubbed between your slick folds, your hand that was tangled in his hair tugging a groan from his lips as you pulled at the strands gently. It only spurred him on, his hips still rocking against you as he slipped a skilled finger inside your wet heat. He pumped it in slowly at first, opening you up a little before he slid a second finger in. The long drag of his fingers against your walls were like heaven, your breathy moans a sign that he was stoking those flames within you like always.

“You look so fuckin’ hot sprawled out in my bed with just my shirt on, baby. That was a damn sight last night,” he groaned, teeth tugging at your earlobe while he sped up the movement of his fingers. “Wanna come home to that every night.”

As he spoke, your hand had slid from his hair, down his chest and to the prominent tent in his boxers. You palmed him through the fabric, Seunghyun huffing out a sharp breath as he bucked into your hand. “Yeah?” You teased, squeezing his length teasingly. It sent a thrill through you each time you realised you were the only one that could get him this hard, this worked up. “How about next time I don’t wear anything underneath?”

That was all Seunghyun could handle. His patience flew out of the window. He pulled your panties to the side, your own hands fumbled as you tried to push his boxers down from behind you. He helped, pushing them down his legs just enough to free his aching cock. Seunghyun lifted your leg up slightly so he could slide into you. The tip of his cock prodded at your entrance, pushing in only slightly then back out. He was teasing you, driving you crazy. “Beg for it,” he whispered into your ear, repeating his actions.

“Baby, please,” you whined, backing up as if that was going to help. “I need you.”

It was like music to his ears. Happy to oblige, he finally sank into your soaking entrance, pushing himself all the way in, his chest pressed right up against your back. He dragged his hips back, almost pulling all the way out before he slammed back in setting a slow, deep pace. The palm of his free hand tilted your head to the side so he could capture your lips in a heated kiss. His hand then made its journey up your shirt, taking one of your breasts in his hand. He squeezed the supple flesh, enjoying the way they moved with each thrust. His hips still relentless in the hard way he was thrusting into you, your body moving with each thrust. The room was filled with a cacophony of moans and breathless whispers.

“You feel so fucking good. So tight, so perfect,” he panted, his voice strained from pleasure. You loved it when he got like this, when he was vulnerable and losing control. You felt his hand wrap around your throat, not squeezing but just holding it and that only turned you on more. You pushed your hips back, meeting his thrusts each time but you needed more.

“Seunghyun, please. I need more. Fuck, baby, please go faster.” Your words were a garbled, whiny mess and who was he to ignore them?

In one fluid movement, he had pulled out of you, laying you on your back. He parted your legs and pulled your panties off fully, his eyes resting on your slick, swollen folds as he settled himself between them once again. He hooked your legs over his shoulders as he pushed into you but this time he wasted no time. His thrusts were shallow, hard and fast. The bed hitting the wall with the force of them. He grabbed your hands holding them above your head in one of his while the other held your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pounded into you. “This what you wanted, huh, baby?”

No coherent sounds came from you, only loud, high pitched moans of his name as they filled the room joined with the sound of skin slapping against each other. He could tell you were close, could feel it in the way your walls were tightening down around him. His own release was close, too. He could feel himself lingering on the edge but he needed you to come first. “Come on, my love,” he urged, picking up the pace of his hips, his eyes glancing down to where your bodies met. He groaned heavily, throwing his head back at the erotic sight. “”Let go. I’ve got you.”

His lips crashed against yours again in a frenzy of passion. That was what sent you over the edge, your body arching into his, breasts pressing into his chest as your orgasm washed over you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer. The way you cried his name, the way your pussy squeezed the life out of him, it was too much. One more brutal thrust and he hilted himself inside you, spilling his seed into you. “Fuck, yes. I love you.”

He shuddered, his body spent as he emptied himself deep inside you. He collapsed on top of you, releasing your hands that instantly rested on his back, your legs falling to your sides. Seunghyun peppered your face, neck, and collarbone with kisses. “So good for me.”

He rolled off you, pulling you into his arms but this time so you were facing him. His eyes met yours filled with nothing but love and adoration for you. It was enough to make anyone’s heart soar. He brushed the hair from your sweat slicked face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you spoke quietly, tracing his jawline with your index finger. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

It wasn’t often Seunghyun got shy or embarrassed but when you complimented him? Well, all bets were off. His face flushed red as he dipped his head to hide in the crook of your neck like he hadn’t just given you the fucking of a lifetime. “Shutup.” His voice was muffled but you could still hear the amusement behind it.

You giggled. “You gonna make me?”

That made him raise his head, a beautiful smirk appearing on his face which could only mean you were in for one hell of a morning.

taglist: @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @eru-vande

[sluttysnowangel666]

Pentagon - thanos/ choi su bong x reader

request/summary: at your friend nam gyu’s request, you accept an invitation to “black out night” at his club, where he also invited his friend thanos. you both cross paths, leading to an interesting… discussion.

pairings: su bong/thanos x reader

warnings: smut, club hook up, fingering, p in v, unprotected, fwb mentioned with nam gyu, drug use.

use discretion when reading past the line. not responsible for the content you consume. 18+, mdni

———

“You’re such a fake friend!”

“Oh, Jesus, Nam Gyu. Will you grow up? It’s a Wednesday night-“

“But it’s black out Wednesday!” He whines, throwing his head into your pillow.

He’d been begging you to come to his stupid club for weeks, but each time you only responded with a “Maybe. I’ll decide for sure later,” which you never ended up doing. Now, the night before had finally came and you were set in your decision that no, you would not be attending.

“Yeah, which means Thanksgiving is Thursday-“

“What makes you think I give a fuck about some stupid American holiday?” He yells.

“What makes you think I give a fuck about getting black out drunk at your stupid club?!” You yelled back, the words coming out before they could stop. Your hand flew over your mouth, and Nam Gyu’s playful demeanor changed. “Nam Gyu, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Whatever. See you after the holiday, I guess.” He says, grabbing his coat to leave.

“Wait, Nam Gyu, don’t go. We still have to smoke, Nam Gyu!” You called after him, as he quietly closed the door behind him. You sighed.

“Fuck.” you had really done it this time.

You hurt his feelings when all he had wanted to do was spend some time with his friend at his club since you never go out. And now that you had dug yourself into this hole, the only way you could dig yourself out was by going.

You texted and called his phone, but he didn’t answer. And at this point, the only way to get his forgiveness was to just show up.

So, you took an everything shower, laid out one of your few dresses best fit for a club(a cute little short and black strapless dress that wasn’t leaving much up to imagination), and then went to bed.

Of course, you didn’t sleep well. Your mind was racing with thoughts of what tomorrow night would hold, because you weren’t one to make the best decisions when drunk. In fact, you and Nam Gyu had hooked up once or twice after attending his club and getting too hammered. It would probably happen again this time, but you felt like you owed it to him after your outburst.

The night eventually came, and your outfit was was jaw dropping. The second you stepped out of the cab outside Club Pentagon, all eyes were on you.

You stepped inside, the music and bass thumping your whole body. Men were throwing themselves at your feet, but you had a mission. A mission to find Nam Gyu, get wasted on free drinks, and head back to his place to hook up.

You weaved through the crowded dance floor to the VIP area, assuming he’d be in his usual booth.

“You can’t come back here.” The bouncer outside the section says, placing an unnecessary hand on your chest. You stared up at the tall guard, his height towering yours.

“I’m here to see Nam Gyu, I’m his friend.”

“Are you on the list?”

“I don’t think so, he didn’t know I was coming. Just go tell him it’s Y/N.”

The bouncer turns, eyeing Nam Gyu’s usual booth that was covered by a curtain.

“He’s busy.”

“Bullshit, you didn’t even check.” You say, but he ignores you. “Please just let me in, he’s literally my best friend.”

“Then why haven’t I ever seen you before?”

“I don’t come out often. Just come on please?”

He eyes you, saying nothing.

“Pretty please?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

He was just about to fold, when a man walks up beside you.

“How’s it goin’, brother?” The bouncer greets him much more politely than he did you.

“Not too bad. Should be under Thanos.” The man says. The bouncer checks the list before nodding and lifting the red rope. Just before the man crosses, he glances at you. His gaze lingers, squinting as he attempts to put a name to your face.

“Hold up, I know you.” He says, pointing. “Uhh… fuck… I think it’s… Y/N, right? Nam Gyu’s little side piece.”

“We’re just friends, actually.” You respond, a slight hint of venom on your tongue.

He smirks. “Sure.”

You roll your eyes, ready to give up and turn to go to the dance floor, before he stops you.

“Wait, aren’t you coming back here?” He asks.

“Nam Gyu didn’t put me on the list.” You say. He laughs, assuming a deeper meaning than what there actually was. It felt pathetic, appearing as if you were just a little forgotten floozy chasing after Nam Gyu.

“Come on, señorita.” He says, holding his hand out to you. You don’t wanna accept, given his cocky nature, but you also don’t wanna be on the cramped dance floor alone.

You take his hand, and he gives the bouncer a slight nod before pulling you towards Nam Gyu’s booth. He pulls open the curtain, revealing Nam Gyu with his jeans slightly lowered, legs spread, getting what appeared to be one hell of a blowjob.

“Whoa! Get the fuck-Oh, shit! Y/N, my girl, what the hell are you doing here?” He asks, way too happy to see you, given you interrupting him. The girl pulls off him, covering her face in shame. He pulls up his jeans and fixes his belt as the girl runs off.

He leans over the table to hug you. “Ew. Don’t touch me.” You say, holding up your hands and leaning away in disgust.

Thanos laughs, reaching his hand out to dap up Nam Gyu. “How you been, brother?”

“Can’t complain.” Nam Gyu says, giving him a ‘bro hug’ and leaning back into the leather couch. The table in front of him is a wreck, filled with empty glasses and lines of coke just waiting to be snorted.

“Help yourselves.” He says, noticing you staring at the table.

“I think I’m okay.” You say, disdain in your voice.

“Such a priss.” Thanos mumbles, loud enough for you to hear, his voice laced with a challenge.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” You spit at him.

“No.” He says, shaking his head with a grin.

“I didn’t think so.”

He smiles even wider. You roll your eyes, taking the rolled up dollar bill from his hand.

“Whoa, Y/N. Don’t think you need to prove anything to this guy.” Nam Gyu teases.

“Trust me,” You snort a line, then look at Thanos and say, “I know.”

His smile falters, just slightly, knowing you’d won the battle.

But, would you win the war?

As the night begins Nam Gyu orders rounds and rounds of shots for you all, back to back, non stop. You grew more drunk with each shot, and your body fought you to force them out everytime you forced one down.

Thanos inched closer to you as the night progressed, until eventually his thigh was touching yours.

His rough jeans scratched your bare leg, but you were so far gone you hadn’t paid it any mind.

“So, Y/N,” Thanos drags your name on his tongue. “What does someone like you do for a living?”

“Someone like me?” You ask, sipping on your drink.

“Yeah, someone so… uptight.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and setting your drink down. “You’re so insufferable. How does anyone stand to be around you?”

“Usually they’re sitting.” He jokes, nudging your knee with his.

“Hm. Well maybe I should stand then.”

“You never answered the question.”

“Huh?” You ask, already having forgotten it in your drunken state.

“What do you do for a living?” He asks, irritated this time.

“I’m an assistant attorney.” You say.

“Well, maybe you can help me with a crypto problem of mine then.”

“You’re on your own there.” You say. “What do you do for work? That is, if you even work.”

“So mean.” He teases. “I’m a rapper.”

You laugh, so hard that your stomach hurts. You’re leaning over, gripping his arm for support as you try to pull yourself together as best you can. “Oh, my god. It makes so much sense.”

He’s not smiling. In fact, he’s irritated at how unserious you’re taking him.

“Sing to me.” You slur.

“I said rap, not sing. Learn the difference. Since you’re so smart, with your fancy lawyer degree.”

“Aw, okay, don’t get your panties in a twist.” You laugh at him.

“Don’t make me take yours off.” He attempts to tests the waters, but he’s so drunk he just dove straight in. His breath catches as he waits for your response, he knows for sure he scared you off now.

“I’m not wearing any.” You respond, smirking. He smirks back at you, amused by your warm and flushed cheeks. He glances past you at Nam Gyu, dead asleep on the other couch.

“Rap to me.” You pull his attention back to you.

He pulls something out of the air, free styling to the beat of the music that radiates through the club. The words go in one ear and out the other, but you’re still pretending to listen.

You nod and laugh, so drunk. He laughs back, reeling you in with that sweet smile and those pearly white teeth.

He rests his hand on your knee, drawing little circles. He’s waiting, testing, challenging you.

Your hand grabs his, moving it slowly up your thigh, all the while staring into each other’s souls.

Thanos fingers graze your inner thighs, feeling the heat of your cunt through your panties.

“Liar.” He says, his face inching closer to yours.

“Where’d I lie?” You smirk, your fingers grazing up his chest and to his neck.

“You said you weren’t wearing any panties.”

You’re both so close, yet so far.

“Guess I’m just full of surprises, huh?”

“Yes, you are.”

You break, closing the distance between you both as you grab his collar to yank his lips into yours. Your teeth clash together, the kiss rough and drunk and desperate. So desperate, so full of need.

His tongue sneaks pasts your lips, desperate to taste every part of your mouth. You taste so good; your lips the flavor of fruit and vodka.

One hand wraps around your throat, holding you for balance, the other moves your panties to the side to rub your wetness with his fingers.

You break the kiss, moaning.

“Shh. You don’t wanna wake him up now, do you?” He says, looking over at Nam Gyu, who was out like a light.

“Fuck, I-I don’t care. I want you.” You moan. The music was so loud anyway. You should be fine, right?

He slips a finger in you, drawing gasps and moans from your lips. You roll your hips into his fingers, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into you. You moan right in his ear, fueling him to fuck you with his fingers even harder.

He kisses you again, rough and sloppy. You’re too coked out to notice the way your lips are starting to bruise. Your nails dig into his arm, and your moans are trapped in his mouth as you inch closer to your release.

He pulls away, growing even more hard as he hears your whiny moans.

“Beg for me.” He tells you.

“You annoying fuck.” You moan, and he curls his fingers in you. “Fuck, fuck, okay. Please, please, Thanos. I need you to fuck me.”

He urges your finish and you’re a whimpering mess onto his shoulder, a string of curses and his name leaving your lips like a prayer.

He pushes down his jeans, taking off your pink panties and stuffing them in his pocket to keep as a reminder of you. If you had been sober you would’ve fought for them because they were your favorite pair, but unfortunately you were too desperate to be fucked to pay it any mind.

He thrust himself into you, not even wrapping himself first. Your nails dig into his back, moaning in ecstasy. His whispers in your ear are breathless and dirty, an attempt to make you a mess beneath him,

which was succeeding.

Tears pooled in your eyes, and you begged for that man in the most heartbreaking way. He was grinning ear to ear above you.

You, such an uptight little priss, falling apart beneath him.

“Who’s your daddy?” He teases.

“Ew, shut the fuck up.” You say in disgust, but the whine in your voice betrays you. He sucks on your neck, leaving bruised and purple hickeys on every inch. You were gonna be so screwed at work.

“You know you like it.” He groans in your neck. “Little prissy princess.”

You scoffed in response, still moaning. You hated to admit it, but you did kinda like it.

“Say you like it.” He slows his thrusts.

“No.” You moan. He slams into you, hitting your cervix. “Oh, god, I l-love it.”

He smirks, “You love ittt…?”

“Ugh,” you groan. “I love it, daddy.”

“There’s a good gjrl.” He picks his pace back up, fucking you relentlessly. You fingers trail under his shirt, clawing his chest.

“I’m so close.” You whine.

“Come on, then. Give it to me.” He growls. You come undone, screaming in ecstasy, barely even audible over the music.

But he hears it, and it pushes him over the edge. He spills into you, whining just like how you were.

He pulls out, sitting upright and fixing his jeans. The clarity hit him like a train, and he knew he was cooked. He needed to see you again, and you hadn’t even left yet.

He looked over at you, hand on your forehead as you caught your breath, legs spread and pussy on full display to him still.

He glanced over at Nam Gyu, who was laying down staring right back at Thanos. Thanos’ breath hitched slightly, but Nam Gyu just held a finger to his lips and closed his eyes, pretending he hadn’t even stirred in his sleep.

By the time Thanos looked back at you, you had fallen asleep too. He pushed your legs down so your body was straight, then he fixed your dress by tugging it down so far no one could even get an idea. He took off his jacket(his favorite one!) and draped it over your legs.

He got up and left, knowing you were safe with Nam Gyu there…

knowing he had to see you again.

[inhogf]

my glorious king just posted

[kwoniele]

don't let them hear — choi subong

synopsis: lights off meant something a little different between you and the famous choi subong, also known as thanos.

genre: smut and fluff bc theyre js exes who want eo bad LOL. green flag choi subong... say WHAT 💜

warnings: afab reader, tease, fingering, nothing else honestly

author's note: this is the first time i have ever written on this account + since my social media detox so pls bear w me if this isnt exactly up to your standards ha ha ha... ily anyway not proofread! i wrote this when it was 3am leave me be.

"lights will be turned off in ten seconds."

in a moment, the lights will dim and the only thing shedding light in the room would be the giant pig dangling from the ceiling and choi subong's pale skin that's attached to yours. ever since he told you he would be joining you in bed tonight, you couldn't deny the fact you were thrilled. your drug-addict ex boyfriend shouldn't have excited you this much. let alone the fact you were waiting for him. 

"five, four, three, two, one." now, it was fully dark. 

you sighed in disappointment. you turned away from the side subong was and decided to sleep on your own. you knew you shouldn't have trusted him at all, yet you were gullible enough to believe he'd keep his promise. and he didn't. cause if he did, he would be beside you with his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him so that you could warm one another up.

"y/n?," your eyes abruptly opened, "are you still awake?" he actually did it. he actually kept his promise.

he actually came.

you decided to play the stubborn game and not answer. but you knew that he was aware you were definitely up. "don't want me here? okay señorita. i'll leave." his footsteps began to get quieter as he 'left'. you felt guilty and decided to let him explain himself. after all, it hasn't been long since that robot woman announced it was time for bed.

"fuck you." you turned toward him, expecting him to be halfway gone already. yet you met a choi subong sitting down with his arms trapping his knees while replicating footsteps that were leaving. "wow. double fuck you.'

"please, i know you want me here. so move over." he stood up and laid down beside you as his head automatically dug itself into your chest. "i don't give a fuck if you're going to go on some lecture about how i should have been here sooner, so don't waste your time." he pecked your collarbone before adjusting his position. "i'm here with you and that's what matters. okay?"

speechless is an understatement. you couldn't even be mad. you couldn't feel the slightest anger in you because he's right there. you could see his purple hair laying on your neck.

wait. something's wrong. something's missing.

"wait. choi subong. where's the necklace?" you used two fingers to tilt his head up so you could see his eyes. they're still as pretty as ever. fuck him for having such charming eyes. 

"gone. i threw it away when i saw you rave about how you were so much happier when you quit." he stared at you. waiting for you to say something. "what? do you want me to dig my hands into the toilet to retrieve it?"

"did you seriously… get rid of it? for me?" you sat up. tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before holding his hands. you noticed the tattoo he dedicated to you. the little heart with a sun next to it because he said that you were his ray of sunshine.

"of course i did. i meant it when i told you i'd fix myself as long as we crossed paths again, you know. i don't just make promises for the sake of—" shutting him up with your lips was probably your favourite thing to do. you missed this. you missed him. you missed feeling his lips perfectly match yours everytime you leaned in to him. 

"then i meant it when i told you i'd let you fuck me whenever, wherever. hopefully you take that damn opportunity now." he analysed your face before realising you were serious. he didn't even need to say anything. he just held your face by your jaw, kissing you rougher than earlier while gently laying you down on your bed.

he took off your pants and placed it just beside the bed, sliding your panties right after it. "fuck. how long have you been this wet, hm?" his middle finger glided itself from your cunt to your clit, using your slick as lubricant to teasingly insert his finger in your hole. "was it when i told you i quit? or when you kissed me? or better yet, since you saw me?"

"fuck, subong–" his free hand covered your mouth, preventing you from letting a noise out. 

"can you be quiet for me, baby? wouldn't want to let these jackasses know i'm fucking the prettiest girl here, would you?" you shook your head, agreeing that you should be dead silent. 

you didn't even notice that he snuck a second finger, fucking you with his fingers repeatedly until your were squirming and arching your back from the bed. "that's it, baby. do just that." his thumb flicked your clit, causing you to buck your hips on his hand. 

you don't know how he understood, but you mumbled against his hand that you were going to cum. his smirk was evident in the dark room which caused you to be pushed to the edge even more. "are you going to cum? hmm? is my baby finally going to cum for the love of her life?"

all you could do was nod. it was cute to him.

when you finally reached your release, he made sure to lick off all of your juice from his fingers. you watched him slowly suck on his ring finger while intensely staring at you. "i love you. don't leave ever again. i better be the only one you do this to."

"only for you, baby. just you and me. choi subong and future choi y/n. okay?