#blackoutorbackout🍻

[itsbeeble]

NO BITCHES?

SUMMARY: When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.

GENRE: smut, fluff, crack, mild angst

PAIRING: Eric Sohn x afab!reader (ft hak, sunwoo, sunwoo's gf, and sangyeon)

WC: 10.5k (there go my plans of proving Ally wrong)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: um... okay so virgin!eric, kinda dom!reader, eric's a fucking loser, reader kinda makes fun of him at first for being a virgin, reader kinda teaches eric about everything from kissing to uh...yeah, dry humping, kissing, making out, oral (m and f receiving), eric cums in his pants, eric plays fnaf, um...public making out? public fingering?, multiple orgasms, eric goes from little virgin boy to I TOLD YOU WE NEEDED MORE GLITTER real fast, sunwoo slander, sunwoo's annoying in this idk, eric's a dumb gamer boy who needs desperate help from the boy who concussed his gf (cough sunwoo), slight bit of miscommunication?, eric cries (ummmm dacryphilia?), reader also cries (again...dacryphilia?), edging el oh el, sunwoo and. reader know the importance of CONSENT, i think that's all the important stuff

A/N: I'm never gonna beat the allegations... ally will always think i bias eric. Anyway, happy birthday to my little munchkin princess eric sohn 🥰🥰

Eric was practically shaking as he approached you. Scratch that, he was definitely shaking but he could blame the ripples covering the drinks in his hand on the pumping base. It thrummed in his veins, or maybe that was his pulse steadily increasing when he locked eyes with you.

You. His gorgeous, intelligent, perfect…

Lab partner. You were his lab partner and at that very moment, nothing more. At least, not in your eyes. Eric, though? He was enamored by you. The way you laugh, the teasing grin when he does something wrong and you scold him, the way your body looks in that dress—

“Hi.” You look away from your friends and face him, a curious look on your face. He’s starting to feel warm. Was it warm in here? He thinks he’s starting to sweat, and can feel something drip down the back of his neck.

“Hi…?” Your hands are empty, and Eric forces himself not to jump up and down with glee that he doesn’t have to make the excuse of having two drinks for himself. 

“I’m— Do you—” He stutters, and heat begins to spread from his neck to his cheeks as your friends giggle. You just smile. A kind smile that has his body slowly relaxing the more he looks at your face. “Do you wanna drink— I mean— fuck, I meant do you want a drink. Not— not do you wanna drink— I mean that could—  that is also a question, but—”

More laughter from your friends and Eric suddenly thinks he’s gonna throw up all over you, your dress, and his nice white button-up shirt that he’d forced Sangyeon to iron for him. 

“Thank you, Eric.” You say, reaching for the cup in his left hand. Your fingers brush against his, and his knees begin to wobble visibly. Your smile disappears into a concerned frown, and suddenly Eric’s attention is on your lips. He isn’t paying attention to his surroundings anymore. Can’t find himself caring that your friends are still laughing at the scenario, nor that you shoo them away. 

“Eric?” Your hand waves in front of his face, effectively catching the boy’s attention. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah!” Eric says it far too quickly, knowing immediately that you don’t believe him. Fortunately, one of his many charms is that he’s very good at lying to people. “I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?” 

You giggle, and it’s the sweetest sound that he’s ever heard.

“You just— you seem a little uncomfortable right now.” You lean close to him, scanning his face under the flashing lights. You can hardly make out his features under the colors. Blue, purple, red, white, green, yellow. All the colors under the rainbow covered his face and changed every few seconds. When they flashed white, you swear you can see a flush in his cheeks. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” He leans toward you with a sudden surge of confidence that has your heart pounded a bit. “Why would I ever be uncomfortable around the most beautiful girl in the building?”

And there it is, folks, you think. Your eye twitches, something so subtle that Eric fails to catch it. The irritation, the disappointment. 

“Ah, I see.” You grimace, and Eric begins to panic again. 

“What— did I upset you?” He asks, and you roll your eyes. 

“Eric, if you wanna get into my pants you’re gonna have to try better than that.” 

Eric’s heart drops to the floor, his face flushing even more as he begins to panic. He stutters, he tries to backtrack, he tries to explain himself. You, however, are hearing none of it. Not a single word that comes out of his mouth reaches your ears. 

“Stop, Eric.” You snap and his mouth snaps shut. “Just…Just stop.” 

You set the cup he’d given you down on the table, and he stares at it dumbly while you storm away to find your friends again. The amber liquid in the cup sloshes with the base echoing around it and the loud noise of partygoers around him. 

He watches it spill over the lip of the cup, and then sets his own cup down next to it, turning around to return to the party but the weight of crushing rejection sits uncomfortably on his chest. 

It’s two days later when you see Eric again. Monday morning, an 8AM Physics lecture that no one wants to be in. Two weeks into the semester, and almost twenty people had already dropped the class. He walks in with a black hat covering his head, and a white tee shirt covering his torso. It’s certainly not clothing suitable for the cold air of early February, but he’d been unable to do his laundry over the weekend due to the parties on Friday and Saturday and the neverending clean-up that occurred on Sunday. 

He spots you, tucked well into the second row, and his eyes light up. Yours, on the other hand, narrow. You keep your gaze on him while he makes his way up to you as quickly as possible, hoping to have a chance to talk to you before the lecture begins. 

“Hey,” he grins at you, gently setting his bag on the chair to his left and turning to face you. Your eyes are still narrowed with suspicion. “How was your weekend?” 

How was your weekend? It’s as if the both of you hated that question; one of you cringing with something close to disgust, the other with something like horror. Is he stupid?

“It was fine,” you tell him curtly. Eric frowns, leaning back in his chair when you turn your gaze to the front. 

“Did I do something wrong?” He blurts out, and your shoulders sag. Was that the wrong thing to ask? Did he do something wrong?

“Did you seriously just ask me that?” You hiss out, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He opens his mouth to speak, but he has a hard time finding the words. What is he even supposed to say? What if you think he’s an asshole for not knowing what was wrong? What if you never smile at him again?

“I— honestly I really don’t know!” You scoff and Eric sits up, leaning forward on the table to get a better view of your face. You can see the pout, see the way his eyebrows knit together in what you can only assume is faux confusion. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he did.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” You look at him fully now and watch the way his body recoils from the words. Hurt, confusion. No anger. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Eric Sohn angry in the two years you’d shared classes with him. 

“What— what did I even do?” The professor walks in, and he hushes his voice. “I can’t fix things if I don’t know what I did wrong!”

“That’s your own damn fault then, isn’t it?” You click your pen, and Eric shuts up. You almost feel bad, carefully watching as he takes out his own notebook to begin taking notes. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the lecture, and you feel a pang of regret in your chest. Maybe he really doesn’t know what he did wrong, you think, nibbling on your lip in thought. No, there’s no way he doesn’t know. He’s the smartest guy in the room, no way does he not know what— 

You glance at Eric again, this time turning your head to fully look at him. His blond hair falls over his eyes, even with the hat covering his head. His shoulders are hunched, his hand moving so quickly over the lined paper so that he can at least try to keep up with your professor. For a moment, you think about Eric Sohn. About the frat boy who had been nothing but kind to you since the day you met. About the boy who once gave you notes far more detailed than you’d ever written during the week you were sick. About the boy who—

No, you shake your head and begin to write down more equations you know you’re going to have to ask Eric about later. He’s a frat boy. All he wants is a good fuck and then he’s gone. 

But why did he seem so hurt when you spoke to him so rudely? When you turned him away not once, but twice within the past three days. 

You liked him, you really did! He was kind, thoughtful, and he was always helping anyone he could. He never refused to help anyone, even if it was a subject that he didn’t know that well. Had you gotten it wrong? Was he just trying to talk to you and you had responded—

Your pen clicks again as you give up on the notes, and you lean back in your chair to squint at the whiteboard in front of you. 

Talking with Eric Sohn was inevitable, but it was only a matter of how long you could avoid the topic—

“I want all of you to pair up. These will be your partners for the midterm project.”

Eric’s gaze turns to you uneasily, tilting his head in question. You bite down hard on your tongue, fighting every urge inside of you to turn around and ask the girl behind you to be partners. 

Fuck, how could you say no to those eyes?

Your room is brighter than Eric thought it would be. When you originally invited him over to study that night, he had been terrified. Was your apartment going to be almost falling apart? What if it was really nice and he broke something? What if you killed him and stuffed him into a dumpster?

Fortunately, none of those things were necessarily true. Your building wasn’t falling apart, thankfully, although it was arguably nicer than any other off-campus apartments and you could still choose to kill him. 

It was nice, though. It was a two-bedroom apartment that you shared with your friend Eunseung, one full bathroom and another half-bathroom, a decent kitchen, and a nice-sized living space. According to what you told him in the last semester, the rent wasn’t too awful either. 

The walls of your bedroom were yellow, but not an ugly shade of yellow. It was pastel, not quite bright enough to be harsh on the eyes but not dark enough to make it hard to see. You’d lined bookshelves up to the wall, most filled with books but some with photos and plants and music albums. You had a small desk in the corner, and your bed was aligned with the center of the back wall, a light green comforter covering white sheets. 

“I’m surprised we’ve never studied here.” You hum, but your tone is distant. Eric laughs dryly and sets his bag down on the ground next to your bedframe. 

“You prefer the library,” he points out. “The lighting is easier for your eyes.” 

For a moment, you pause in your motions. How did he—

“How did you know that?” You ask, turning to face him. You can see the flush in your partner’s cheeks, and he ducks his head so that the baseball cap on his head covers his eyes. 

“I just— you would always squint when we studied at the library or— or at the TBZ house. I just…I figured that was the reason.” I pay attention. That’s what you knew he meant. 

Why does a boy who only wants to get into your pants care so much about you?

“Oh.” You dig your laptop out of your bag and take a seat on your bed, leaning against your pillows with your legs straight out in front of you. Eric joins you, sitting crosslegged at the other end of the bed. He’s careful not to get too close, shifting away from you when you adjust your position. Your skirt flares out to the side, ruffled by the blanket and exposing your thighs a bit more. Eric has to force his eyes to remain on his laptop. You notice, but there’s no anger with it. You choose to not even acknowledge it. 

“So what do we wanna do for our project?” His eyes flick over to you, and you shrug. 

“We could build something?” You suggest. “Maybe, like, a paper airplane launcher?” 

He hums, tilting his head back and wrinkling his nose in thought. 

“What about something with electromagnetism?” You nod slowly. 

“That could be good. We could keep with the idea of building something and make an electric motor with things people have lying around their houses?” 

Eric grins at you. “Now we’re thinking. We’ll have this done in no time at all.”

Eric was right. 

The brainstorming and research portion of the project had been completed within a few hours, and the two of you had cast your laptops to the side to search your apartment for things to use. Paper clips, some sort of copper wire (you had no idea why anyone would have a copper wire hanging around their house. Eric, however, said that there were several around the frat house), wood, some batteries. Anything that the two of you could use. The only thing neither of you had was a staple gun.

“It’s getting late,” Eric notes with a quick glance toward your living room window. You hum in response, lying back on your couch with your phone in your hand. “I should get going soon.”

Your eyes flick to him, but he isn’t looking at you. “Do you wanna stay the night?” 

Silence. A long moment of silence, and then Eric looks at you with a look nearing scandalized. 

“What?” You sit up, draping your arms over the back of your couch and getting a better look at him. 

“You heard me.” His face is bright red, similar to the night of the party. 

“Why would— why would I want— I mean th— thank you for the offer but— but I can’t stay the night. Why would— where would I even sleep? I don’t have clothes to sleep in!” He throws every excuse he could possibly think of at you, adding to your amusement. He had no clothes, where would he sleep, you had classes earlier in the morning than him, it would be weird if he stayed the night. It was cute. 

You’ll admit it, Eric was cute. The puppy-like look in his eyes, the pout on his lips. Everything about him was cute. It almost shocked you how fast you were able to get over the anger that he only wanted to sleep with you. In fact, you weren’t sure that’s what he even wanted from you. Only one way to find out, right?

“Eric,” you finally cut off his rambling and his voice stops, leaving your apartment oddly quiet. “Come here.” 

He listens, slowly slinking toward you. Eric is nervous, you can tell. Every step he takes, every twitch when you shift your body. It fills you with pride, or maybe some other emotion. 

Eric stops when he’s right in front of you, just a few steps from the back of the couch and both of you (really just him) are all too aware of how his crotch is level with your mouth. 

“I wanna tell you something,” you beckon him toward you with one finger and he slowly, albeit a bit awkwardly as well, bends down so that his face is just above yours. Heat radiates off his face, so hot that you may start sweating soon. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands gripping the couch for dear life, short nails digging into the cheap fabric. 

“Sure.” Eric’s voice is hoarse, and it makes you smile. 

“I kinda like you, Eric.” 

Your lips press gently against his. Entirely experimental, just enough to see what he would do. His body seizes up, his breath hitching in his throat. He doesn’t move against you, doesn’t tilt his head or part his lips. He sits there like the lead in a lame drama where the main characters seem like they couldn’t be less into each other. You begin to pull away from him, fearing you’d made him a bit uncomfortable, but a whine is pulled from his throat when your lips part from his. 

You look at him, but he’s already looking at you with wide, bulging eyes. 

“Eric…” You have a sneaking suspicion that you know why he didn’t kiss you. “Have you…has no one ever kissed you before?”

���What?” The boy’s voice is shrill, and you know the answer. “Of— of course, I’ve been kissed? What kind of question is that?” 

Your lips quirk up. “Are you sure? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you know.”

“What— why would I be embarrassed?” His frustration and denial are cute. Adorable, really. 

“Because you’re a sophomore in college and have been kissed once— by your physics partner, no less.” You smirk playfully and then gasp, pushing up and toward him suddenly. He reels back, nearly falling backward with the suddenness of the motion. “Eric Sohn! Are you a virgin?”

Eric looks like he’s about to cry from embarrassment, and he turns away from you completely. You grimace briefly and climb off the couch to come around and stand in front of him. He avoids your gaze by looking above you, around you, at the floor and the walls. 

“Eric,” your voice is gentle now. He doesn’t move, nor does he make any noise. He’s like a deer in headlights. “Eric, can you look at me.”

“No,” he denies, crossing his arms over his chest. You feel a bubble of amusement rising in your stomach. “You’re just gonna make fun of me.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” You promise, your hand grazing his forearm. Eric’s eyes lock with yours, and for once you choose to hold his gaze. “Now, can you tell me the truth so I can help you?” 

“Help me,” he echoes with an air of offense. “I don’t need help!”

“Eric, you’re a sophomore in college who’s in the most popular frat on the campus. Add onto that your personality and your good looks, you should be getting bitches left and right.” You say pointedly and the tips of his ears flush red. Or, rather, as red as they can when his whole face is burning up from your prior insinuations. 

“What if I’m just waiting for marriage?” He counters. “Or— or the right person?” Your lips draw into a thin line, knowing that statement was bullshit. 

“We both know you wouldn’t be hard as a rock right now if that was the case.”

Eric’s heart plummets to the ground, his eyes following it to check for himself. To his complete and utter dismay, you weren’t lying. Pressing against the front of his cargo pants was the solid outline of his member, straining against the seam and begging to be released. 

“I— I am so— so sorry,” he stammers, his hands yanking the edge of his sweatshirt down to cover himself, his hands remaining carefully placed over his crotch but he knows it’s too late. “I didn’t— I don’t— oh my god I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, holding tightly onto his sleeve so he can’t run for the door. “I knew you wanted to sleep with me, it was kind of obvious.”

“No I— I don’t want—” Eric frantically shakes his head. “I don’t— I can’t— I don’t wanna sleep with you— I mean I do, I really really do, but not— not like this—”

The hand on his sleeve comes up to grab his cheeks, squeezing them together until his lips are pushed out and he can’t speak anymore. 

“You can admit it, Eric.” You hum, and with your hand still on his face, you begin to walk him back and around to the side of the couch. He yelps when you push him back, letting go of his face and watching him fall over the arm and land with an oof on the cushions. “You can admit that you wanted to fuck me from the moment you saw me.”

“But I—” He choked on spit before he could finish talking, eyes widening into saucers when you climbed onto the couch, crawling up to sit on his lap. He’s sitting up straight now, but the risk of falling back again is high with nothing to support his spine. Your hands just rest on his shoulders, not digging in or moving to grasp anything else. They stay there, waiting for him to make the first move. 

“Tell me if you don’t want me to continue, Eric.” His hands are trembling, his pulse higher than it’s ever been. He slowly rotates his body, placing his feet firmly on the ground and resting his spine against the back of the couch so that he doesn’t hurt either of you. 

“I want—” his voice cracks. 

“What do you want?” Your lips are on his neck, featherlight kisses being left in your wake and knocking the breath out of him. He’d never felt like this, he’d never been touched like this save for his own hand in the darkness of his room with an animated video on loop on his laptop screen. At his lack of response, you pull your lips back from his neck. Eric lets out a loud whine at this, his left hand coming to the back of your head to lightly try and push you back into him. 

“Keep doing that,” he gasps out, and you smile. 

“Don’t you want me to kiss you?” You ask him, and another whine tumbles from his lips.

“I— fuck, I do— god, why are you doing this to me?”

“I just wanna know what you want, Eric,” you’re teasing him and you know it, but you’re pretty sure Eric might fall to pieces if you don’t give him something soon. “Can’t you tell me what you want?” 

“Just—” he leans his head back, and you watch the rapid bobbing of his throat as he tries to swallow and take in air and do anything to calm himself down. “Just do something.”

“What’s the magic word?” He raises his head, gasping when he finds your lips suddenly inches from his own. 

“Ple— please?” Your lips quirk up.

“Actually, it was—”

You don’t get the chance to tease him anymore. He crushes your lips together with so much force that it almost hurts. There’s nothing coherent about the way he kisses you, although you could hardly call it a kiss at all. It was more him putting his mouth against yours, tilting his head, and squeezing his eyes shut. It’s clear from the moment it started that he’s never been kissed before and that knowledge has you squirming in his lap. 

“Eric,” you’ve barely pulled back and he’s chasing your lips as if you’re a glass of his favorite wine. “Eric, hold on.”

“Why?” His eyes flutter open and you have to force yourself not to kiss him senseless, even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

“Just—” You inhale deeply and the scent of his cologne begins to overwhelm your senses, practically intoxicating you. “You’ve never kissed anyone before.” 

He nods, his previous embarrassment returning when you say that. “I mean…Yeah, I— I haven’t. But I—I’ve used WikiHow—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off and choose to ignore the comment about WikiHow, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Just follow my lead.” 

When he nods, you press your lips against his again. This time, it’s more fluid. It’s easier for you to kiss him when he’s copying your movements. It’s still awkward, your teeth smacking together painfully, but you can tell he’s getting used to the feeling. You’re able to part your lips against his, to open your mouth just enough for your tongue to slip out and brush against his lower lip. His whole body jolts, his hands digging into the fabric of your skirt hard enough that your skin would be bruised the next day. His hips roll up against yours, drawing a heady moan out of you. 

When Eric parts from you, his eyes are hazy. “Did— did you like when I did that?” 

“Yes,” you groan and begin to roll your hips down into his, watching the way his eyes roll into the back of his head and his back arches off the couch. 

“F-Fuck, okay,” He screws his eyes shut again, lips completely parted as the two of you begin to hump into each other like some damn animals. Your lips meld together again, and you let your tongue slither into his mouth. It’s obvious that Eric has no idea what to do with his tongue— pushing against yours aggressively, shoving it to the side, and trying to push his into your mouth— but as the minutes pass, he begins to understand what to do. He begins to understand what makes your body react positively and what has you unintentionally cringing away from him. 

Your lips part from his one more time but you hardly give him time to complain before you place a kiss on his cheek, then the corner of his jaw, and then right below his ear. He emits a nearly wild moan at this, his hips jerking up into yours in such a way that his bulge presses against your clit and punches a moan out of you. Being the quick learner that he is, Eric adjusts his position and rolls his hips up again and again and again, addicted to the way you sound and feel against him. 

“Eric,” you whine, parting from his neck. “Eric, oh my god.” 

He just huffs into your collarbone, licking and sucking and trying desperately to not cum too soon, but you just feel so good against him that he just can’t help it. 

His hips stutter against yours, and he moans so loud you fear that the neighbors hear it. You let him continue to grind into you, to work himself through his orgasm as your slips back and escapes you. It doesn’t matter, you’d get yourself when he leaves—

“You didn’t cum.” 

“What?” You blink dumbly at him, and Eric begins to pout. 

“You didn’t— you didn’t cum. You should’ve told me. I would’ve held off!” You knew that wasn’t true. He could barely hold himself together from a few kisses, what made him think he’d be able to hold himself off until you came? 

“It’s fine, Eric.” You reassure him, but he’s having none of it. You can’t stop him from lifting you off his hips and settling you against the couch cushions. Well…you probably could, but you wanted to see where this went. 

You watch as he unceremoniously yanks down your panties, not bothering with your skirt whether out of impatience or because he liked seeing you in it. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Eric peers up at you, a boyish smile on his face. 

“Can’t be that hard, right?” You laugh, choosing not to argue with him. You’d tell him, when it came time, where your clit is but for now? You’d let him work things out for himself. 

Your body shudders when Eric takes his first taste, licking from the bottom to the top of your pussy. You’re amazed that he didn’t accidentally go too far down like most (slightly more experienced) men have. It’s almost impressive how much attention he pays to your quivering body, and you flip your skirt up so you can see his face buried into you. Every lick draws out a moan from both of you, and you can see him starting to roll his hips down onto the couch. 

“Fuck,” his words are muffled by your cunt, and vile slurping noises accompany him. “Could get addicted to the taste of you.”

“Mm, feels good, Eric.” Your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands slipping down to tangle in his blonde strands of hair and tugging him up slightly. Your other hand taps at your clit lightly, making your body jolt a bit. “Here. This— fuck— feels good here.”

“That’s it?” He drops his head down again, swatting your hand out of the way to replace it with his own. His touch is much rougher than yours, his hands thick and calloused compared to your delicate ones. “Right here?” 

You whine for him, and he has to bite on his tongue to not cum again so fast. He’s quick to attach his mouth to your clit, sucking violently and swiping his tongue against it. If you weren’t impressed by him before, you most certainly were now. It hadn’t taken him long at all to figure out what felt good for you. Reading your mind and body was almost second nature to him, it seemed, and it became abundantly clear when your orgasm began to rise again.

“Close, Eric!” You gasped out, “I’m close!”

He groans against you, catching your hips in his hands when they begin to roll into his face. Eric wanted to drown in you. He wanted to feel you shake around him for the rest of his damn life. He wanted to hear you screaming his name until your throat was raw and your voice was gone. 

And the sight of you cumming on his face, your essence soaking his chin and dripping onto his sweatshirt? 

If he could stay glued to you for the rest of his life, he fucking would.

Becoming a habit came easy for you and Eric. You’re not dating, but you’re unsure of whether the puppy-like boy cares or not. You discovered very quickly that he would do anything for you, would learn anything for you. You’d successfully taught him how to kiss a girl without looking like a dumbass (i.e. the straight-face-to-sudden-kiss scenario you’d faced too many times to count), how to finger you and hit all the right spots, where not to put his mouth and fingers unless explicitly told otherwise. There was, of course, your next problem.

Eric refused to put his dick in you.

You knew he was clean, both of you had gotten tested when you originally began screwing around. You knew he liked you, that much was obvious. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, he told you how much he loved you every time you gave him head. He just…never went farther than that. Was he scared? Did he not want you as bad as you (very clearly) wanted him? It made you nauseous to think about, but it was getting frustrating how all you two did was make out, grind on each other like teenagers, and give each other head every time you saw each other. Shit— he was even fine with fingering you underneath the table in your lecture the other day! 

That’s why you developed a plan. Here you were, standing outside of the Tau Beta Zeta frat house under the guise of needing to work on your project (which wasn’t necessarily a lie) but really planning on getting him to finally fuck you. Yes, you were aware of the fact that he was a virgin but it was obvious from the start that he didn’t give a shit about that.

Unless he did. Your hand pauses just inches from the door, but you shake your head to clear the anxious thought and you knock on the door. 

One, two, three…one, two three…one—

On the third round of knocks, a boy swings the door open. His eyes are wide, his hair in disarray. 

“Hi.” You wave your hand with a smile, but the boy just stands there with a dumb look on his face. Were all the TBZ boys like this? 

“…Hi?” He says it in the form of a question, which draws a laugh out of you. 

“I’m Y/N.”

“…Sunwoo…” 

“Oh, the star soccer player, right?” He nods and you grin. “I saw your last game, the one where your girlfriend— I’m assuming girlfriend— knocked some sense into you. You really killed it out there!”

“Thank you…uh…can— can I help you?” You rock back and forth on your heels, biting at your lip in thought. The idea of wearing a skirt is choosing to bite you in the ass as a cold breeze picks up. 

“I’m here for Eric, actually. Um…Eric Sohn? I think he lives here, right?” Sunwoo’s jaw drops, his head dipping down as well and he steps to the side to let you in. You smile, using your feet to pull your shoes off as you step into the entryway. You see a pile of shoes to your left, the larger men’s pairs shoved into a large pile while some smaller women’s shoes sit neatly. You can’t help but wonder if it was the girlfriends that did this or if one of the frat members cares a bit more about them than the others. 

“He’s…he’s on the second floor, third door on the left…” You thank Sunwoo, ignoring how he follows you with obvious confusion and awe. Another boy passes by you, staring in confusion but ends up in the same state as the soccer player when he explains the situation. 

You knock before you enter Eric’s room, rocking on your heels again as you wait for some sort of response. You get none, and when you go to interrupt him, the second boy stops you. 

“Hi, um, I’m Haknyeon— you can call me Hak, though— Eric’s— he’s— he’s gaming. You can just go in because there’s no way you’re gonna get his attention by— by, um— yeah.” He stumbles over his words in an almost incomprehensible way, but you get the basic idea. 

“Thanks, Hak,” you dip your head and twist the doorknob. Sunwoo and Hak both watch you enter the room, only snapping out of their daze when you shut the door tightly behind you. 

“You…you saw that too, right?” Haknyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder with a grin on his face.

“My best friend…” Sunwoo’s voice is quiet with confusion. “He’s…he’s getting bitches?”

“What did I say about saying that,” his girlfriend pops around the corner with a scowl on her face. Sunwoo’s face lights up, but it disappears at the scolding gaze she gives him.

“Sorry, baby,” he pouts and she rolls her eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Give them some damn privacy,” she clicks her tongue, eyeing the door. “Lord knows they’re probably gonna need it.”

Eric is facing a large gaming setup when you enter the room. You can see the dark polo sweater which is partially unzipped to reveal some of his chest, the beige hat, and the khaki combo he had, unfortunately, chosen to wear today (you’re going to have to update his closet soon, whether you date him or not. You have to save the next girl he’s with). The lights, shockingly, are purple rather than the red you had expected. You can see expensive monitors and a keyboard, all of which are cleaner than any other gamer’s setup that you’d seen. In fact, his whole room is so much cleaner than you had ever given him credit for. You’d expected to see something absolutely filthy, but Eric never fails to shock you.

What doesn’t shock you, however?

Five Nights At Freddy’s playing on the screens.

You clear your throat, and he barely even spares a glance at you. You wonder if he even recognized that it was you—

“Yo, Y/N!” Oh god, this might not go as planned. “You’re early!” 

“Figured I’d come by to hang out before we got started on the paper.” You come up behind him, dropping your bag and jacket by the edge of the bed, revealing the black sheer top you’d chosen to go with your white skirt. You’d also chosen the perfume you know gets his attention the most, the one that always has him practically gluing his face to your neck. 

That doesn’t happen this time. He stays glued to his game, his legs spread wide open and tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips. 

“Feel— fuck!” His body jerks when an animatronic (Foxy, maybe?) comes out of a vent and gives him barely enough time to start protecting himself. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable, I might take a while.”

You hum, not moving from your spot. Your hands are on the back of his gaming chair, your eyes focused on the screen with fake intrigue. He doesn’t acknowledge you, so you let your hands begin to sink onto his shoulders. His chin tilts toward you a bit, but he corrects himself and goes back to ignoring you even when your nails graze the skin of his collarbone. 

“What are you doing?” Eric asks, but it’s more dismissive than anything. 

“Just watching you play,” you reply with a sly grin. Another jumpscare appears, and he grunts when you intentionally dig your nails into him (something you’ve learned he loves over the past two weeks). 

Part two of your scheme begins when you sink to your knees beside Eric and slip under his desk. This grabs his attention. Eric watches as you get comfortable, no longer paying attention to the screens in front of him when you run your hands up his thighs, grazing the button of his khaki pants. 

“Y/N, this—” his breath catches in his throat when you finally undo the button and pull the zipper down. You can see his member already hardening, twitching in his boxers. “You don’t have to— I don’t— why—”

“Jus’ play your game, baby.” You purr, your fingers hooking under the band of his boxers to tug them and his pants down at the same time. His jaw is hanging open, eyes wide with awe, but you stop your movements. “Play your game, Eric, or I’m leaving.”

His response is immediate, sliding his chair closer to you and lifting his hips to let you work. Your smirk is wide, and you yank his clothing down in one go, letting them rest around his ankles. Eric’s knee begins to bounce, and you rest your hand on top of it to steady him. His member, in just a few moments, has completely hardened. You can see the slick precum beginning to leak from his tip, and you lower your mouth to catch each drop on his tongue. 

The moan he emits is loud, and you pull your mouth back just an inch to dig your nails into his thigh.

“Stay quiet and don’t cum unless I say so.” He whimpers in response, and you bring your mouth back onto him. You begin by suckling at his tip, letting your tongue swirl around him like a lollypop, and listening to his barely restrained moans. You hear clicking and tapping on his keyboard, as well as random noises from the game

You take him a little deeper and his thighs tense, but he’s good at staying quiet. He’s good even when his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. Even when you take him so deep that you’re choking on him and spit is dripping from your mouth and onto his skin. Even when you begin hollowing your mouth and bobbing your head, and swallowing around him a few times when you take him all the way down so your nose is against his pelvis. 

Another jumpscare and his hips jerk and force him farther down your throat. You moan around him, your eyes rolling back at the feeling, and that elicits a whine from him.

“Y/N,” he pleads. “I’ve been s-so good for yo—you right? Haven’t— Haven’t I been good? Ple—please let me cum. Jus’ wanna cum, please?” 

Eric sees you look up at him through your eyelashes, and just the sight of you slobbering all over him has his eyes rolling back in his head.

Then you pull off him completely, leaving his dick twitching and lonely against his stomach. 

“Why did— why did you pull off?” His eyes are dazed, and you flash a coy smile at him. 

“I told you to pay attention to the game, didn’t I?” 

“I— yeah, you did but— but I just— you—” Eric is tearing up as you begin to push your body out from under the desk to stand in front of him. 

“Poor baby,” you cup his cheek and your stomach churns when he leans into your palm with a sigh. “Should’ve just paid attention and beat the night, then, hm?” 

“Please,” he whines, leaving little kisses on your palm and working his way to your wrist, your forearm, your elbow, and then he’s pulling you onto his lap so you’re nearly sitting on his dick. You can feel it pulsing against your core, and you can’t help the tiny rolls of your hips to gain some sort of friction. “Please, just— I’ll…I’ll do anything you want. I’ll— I’ll eat you out, I’ll finger you, fuck, I’ll— I’ll let you sit on my face if that’s what you want.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against his chest in thought. “What if I want you to fuck me?” 

His body tenses and his cheeks begin to flush, his eyes refusing to meet yours. 

“Eric,” you say softly, moving your hand to his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Eric, talk to me.”

“I— I don’t—”

“I’m not gonna force you to do anything, Eric,” you reassure him, stopping the ministrations of your hips and bringing your free hand to the side of his neck. “I just want to know why. I want to understand. Do you— do you not want me? Do you wanna save yourself for another girl?” 

“No!” He snaps, his voice a bit harsher than he’d intended for it to come out but it has you flinching away from him. In a moment of panic, he brings his hands to your waist and tugs you closer to him. “I— sorry. It’s not— it’s not that at all.”

“Then why?” Your hands are playing with the ends of his blonde hair, and Eric swallows once. Twice. And then he tucks his head into your shoulder. 

“I…I don’t know.” 

You nod, disappointment filling you, but you don’t let it show. 

“Let’s work on the project.” You slide off his lap, ignoring the somewhat heartbroken gaze he shoots you. “The paper is due in a couple of days, so I grabbed a few sources and drafted an outline.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just tucks his member back into his pants and comes to join you on his bed. The air is tense and you know he wants to say something. You wait for him to say it. 

He doesn’t.

“Eric, you’re fucking stupid.” Sunwoo throws himself onto his best friend’s bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of Eric hitting his head on his desk.

“I know…”

“I mean, we already knew this from previous incidents. Ahem, giving my then-crush-now-girlfriend a concussion. But holy shit I thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse than that.”

“I know!” Eric whines, sitting heavily on the gaming chair he’d gotten head on almost four hours ago, and could have gotten laid in had he not been a damn moron.

“I mean, you’ve been trying to get laid by this chick for how long? And you cockblocked yourself because…” Sunwoo trails off, his eyebrows knitting together as he sits up. “Wait, why did you cockblock yourself?”

“I don’t know, man!” Eric huffs and leans his head back. “Fuck, she was so nice about it too. Too nice. I know damn well she’s pissed at me but she’s too fucking nice to say anything.”

“Well yeah,” Sunwoo shrugs. “Sex 101— don’t force yourself onto anyone. Hello? Why would she do that to you?”

Eric crosses his arms over his chest, using his feet to spin his chair back and forth lightly. You had been really sweet about everything. You could’ve gotten mad at him, especially since this wasn’t the first time this had happened, but you didn’t. You wanted him to be ready. 

And he was. He was so ready! He just— he gets nervous around you! What if he’s a disappointment? What if he’s so bad that you have to fake an orgasm? What if he doesn’t fit? What if he hurts you?

“Eric,” Sunwoo claps his hands together to snap Eric out of his thoughts. “Stop getting distracted while I’m trying to help you in a way that won’t lead to injuries.” 

The poor, self-cockblocked boy lifts his head with a pout. 

“There’s a party this weekend, right?” 

“Yeah…” Eric tilts his head.

“Make sure she’s there. Use whatever excuse you need to, and make sure she shows up. Then, ask her to talk. Go somewhere private, talk to her, tell her you’re ready, and then fuck until the sun comes up.” Sunwoo claps again, throwing his out to the side in a cocky I just made the best plan ever manner. “First of all, gets you laid, second of all— free revenge on Sangyeon.”

Eric drums his fingers against his legs in thought. The plan was good, he’d admit that. Of course, not out loud. No, he would never let Sunwoo know that he was right about something.

“Fine,” Eric agrees. “But if shit goes south, it’s your fault.”

“Deal,” Sunwoo grins mischievously. “And if shit goes right, you owe me and my girlfriend dinner.”

“Deal.”

Eric doesn’t see you at all that week, something that has him nearly crying on the ground in Sangyeon’s bedroom. He’d texted you, asked if you were okay, sent you notes, told you about the party but didn’t outright invite you. Nothing. No sign of you in lectures, no texts from you aside from a confirmation that you’d submit your written portion of the midterm.

“Take a damn breath.” Sangyeon rolls his eyes and tugs a formfitting black mock-neck shirt over his head, sliding a silver chain around his neck afterward. “She’s probably busy.”

“But she never goes this long without texting me! Or being in a lecture!” The youngest member of the frat holds his head in his hands, staring down at the white buttondown shirt that hung somewhat loosely on his body. 

“Maybe she hates you, I don’t know!” Sangyeon exclaims. “Stop bothering me about it!” Eric pouts up at the TBZ president.

“But you know how to handle these things!”

“Not when you’re on my ass about it all day every day for a week straight.” Sangyeon’s lip curls and Eric huffs, laying back on the hardwood floor. “Dude, just be patient. Who knows, maybe she was sick? Maybe she’ll show up today and you’ll get laid. Just. Be. Patient.”

And patient he was. 

He lurked around the party, a drink in his hand and a ripped red baseball cap covering his head and shielding his red-rimmed eyes from the public. They didn’t need to know he’d cried over his two-year-long crush ghosting him. 

“Who pissed in your cheerios?” He turns his body slowly, ready to crack a corny joke, and walk away from whoever yelled in his ear, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. You’re in another tiny little black skirt and a black bralette that was used as a poor excuse for a shirt with a leather jacket thrown over it. He nearly crumbles in front of you, ready to worship you and the ground you walk on, ready to take you in front of all these people so they know that he’s yours.

“Oh my god.” 

You laugh at the dumbstruck look in his eyes, at the way his eyes are stuck on your chest, and the way your bralette pushes your boobs up just enough to catch attention. 

“You okay, Eric?” Your hand is on his arm, and in an instant his cup is thrown to the side and his lips are on yours, his tongue shoved into your mouth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, and, really, the suddenness of it all, but you don’t complain. You love how frantic he is for you, love how he’s ready to risk it all after just a week of not seeing you. 

When he parts from you, there’s a string of spit connecting your lips that only breaks when you swipe your thumb across his lip. 

“How’s that for a hello?” You say just loud enough for him to hear it. 

“We need to talk.”

“We do.” You confirm, but his lips are on yours again, and you’re so glad that everyone is distracted by a game of beer pong on the other side of the room. You let your eyes flutter shut, moaning into his mouth when he pushes his tongue against yours. They dance together, swirling around each other but not fighting for dominance. No, this kiss isn’t about that. This is two people being addicted to the taste of each other, two people who could never get enough of what the other has to offer. 

You have to force yourself to part from him, turning away so you can find somewhere more private— preferably his bedroom. He doesn’t stray from you, gluing his lips to the side of your neck as you try to weave through the crowd. It’s not easy, especially with Eric on you and refusing to let go, but you don’t mind. 

Not when he shoves you against his dresser as soon as his bedroom door is shut and locked. 

The handles of the drawers dig against your spine, but you’re too distracted by Eric’s lips on your chest to care. His hat is missing, likely somewhere on the staircase. Your jacket has been thrown to the opposite side of the room, the straps of your bralette shoved down and both breasts freed from its confines so Eric can lick and suck and bite at the soft mounds. 

“Eric,” you moan out, arching your back into his hunched form. He groans against you, sucking hard at your nipple and eliciting a loud moan from you. “Eric, pick me up.” 

Without even pulling away, he does, plopping you unceremoniously onto his dresser and moving his lips to the other breast, replacing his mouth with his hand. Your hand comes to the back of his head, and you find yourself smiling at the desperation your lover shows. 

“Missed me that much, huh?” Your composure is crumbling, but you don’t care. “Might have to disappear more often.”

He rips away from your chest, eyes narrowed into a glare. “Don’t even joke about that. I thought you died.”

You kiss him again, both hands holding his face to yours, and your legs wrap around his waist. Eric’s hands find your thighs and he lifts you off the dresser. He sucks on your tongue, biting on your lip when you start to pull away and you whimper at the sting of pain. 

“Thought I died, hm?” You brush back the blonde strands of hair covering his sweaty forehead and smirk. “It’s a good thing I didn’t then, hm? What would you have done? Fucked your fist for the rest of your life?” 

A muscle in his jaw feathers and he throws you down on his bed. You yelp, eyes widening at the personality change. A week ago, he would’ve been begging you for any touch, would’ve been falling apart just for one look at your dripping pussy. But now?

Now he looks like a starved animal, and you’re the first helpless creature he’s seen in weeks. 

“Eric,” you warn, watching him unbutton his shirt. “Remember what I said.” 

He eyes you, smirking at the way your jaw drops when his shirt hits the floor. It’s odd, isn’t it? You’d probably been bare in front of him countless times but you’d hardly seen him with his pants down.

“Holy fuck.” You stare at his torso, at the chiseled abs and biceps, at the veins in his arms, at the trail of hair leading down to his dick. “You’re— you’re fucking shredded.”

“Shredded?” He quirks an eyebrow, undoing his belt and the button of his pants so he can push them down and kick them to the side. “That’s the first word you thought of?”

“Well—” you clear your throat and turn your gaze away from him. “I mean— you are.”

“Cute,” He coos and crawls over you, hooking his fingers into the hem of your skirt. “May I?”

“You may,” you look at him again, then down his body and swallow hard at the sight of him. You’ve seen him many times. You’ve held him in your hand, in your mouth. You know what to expect.

So why does it make you so nervous now?

“You’re getting distracted,” Eric kisses his teeth, lowering his face to yours but not kissing you. He traces his nose across your cheek, light kisses from his lips going with it. His nose nudges against your jaw, urging you to tilt your jaw up so he can kiss you there. You do, and his lips feel like fire against your skin. “I thought you liked it when people pay attention?”

“I— I do!” You gasp out, and Eric laughs against your skin. Where the fuck is all this confidence coming from? 

“Then why aren’t you paying attention to me?” His fingers press against your sopping-wet entrance and you lift your hips in a weak attempt to get them inside of you. 

“I am!” Tears are welling in your eyes. “I am paying attention to you, Eric, please!”

He juts out his lip in a mocking pout, using the hand that’s not against your heat to wipe the tears away. 

“Okay baby,” he says softly, sinking two thick, calloused fingers into you. “Don’t cry, not yet.” 

The intrusion has you crying out and Eric does his best to hush you, to soothe you, and then he’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. Your fingers cling to his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and shift with every movement of his arm. Eric grins when your eyes finally flutter shut, when you finally give in to him. He praises you when he slips a third finger into your core, and then a fourth. He praises you as he works you through the sting, curling his fingers gently to search for the spot he knows would have you falling to pieces under him. 

Eric finds it easily and is oh so pleased by your wail of his name. He grins almost maliciously, when you begin to shake, when your body begins to thrash, and your nails dig into his shoulders and drag down his back. 

“Always so easy for me,” he hums, staring in awe at the wrinkle between your eyebrows and how your tongue practically hangs out of your mouth. When he knows you’re about to cum, he crushes his lips against yours again and begins to move his hand faster. You’re sobbing into his mouth, unable to kiss him back between your cries and moans, but Eric doesn’t mind. 

He lets you grind against his hand until you’re not shaking anymore. Then, and only then, does he pull his fingers out of you, watching with curious satisfaction as your cum drips from his fingers and onto the blanket below you. 

“Don’t— don’t sit there staring at that shit.” you hiss, but Eric just smiles. 

“So you can speak coherently now?” 

“Shut up and fuck me already, or do you need me to teach you how to do that too?” 

Eric’s gaze hardens, his tongue pushing against his cheek. You push yourself to sit up, but Eric pushes you right back down and uses his hands to push your legs apart. 

“I don’t need you to teach me anything,” he grunts, lining his member up with your entrance. 

“Really? That’s not what it looked like three weeks ag—oh fuck!” Your back arches off the bed when he suddenly sinks into you. Four fingers seem to have been just barely enough, the sting fading just as fast as it came. Or maybe you just like the pain so much it turned into pleasure. Whatever the reason, you’re quick to tell Eric to pick up the pace. 

You’re both shocked and impressed by the movement of his hips. He alternates between smooth, sharp rolls and harsh, pointed thrusts that have your body forced up the bed and the headboard knocking against the wall.

“You think I need your help?” Eric growls, digging his hands into your thighs and spreading them farther apart, lifting the lower half of your body a bit to change the angle. This brings a new pleasure to both of you. Something that you’ve never felt before, and has your mind reeling. “I didn’t need you. I wanted you. I wanted every part of you. I craved you, craved your taste. It was pure fucking luck that you wanted me too.”

“Eric,” You gasp out, sinking your teeth into the side of his neck to leave another mark on his skin. “Eric, feels so good, god it feels so good please, please don’t stop. Don’t stop, oh my god!”

“Look at you,” he yanks your head out of his neck by your hair, staring down at your fucked out face as he continues to plow into you with no remorse. “All fucked out for me. I did this. Your little virgin boy. Isn’t it embarrassing?” 

You whine in response but apparently, that isn’t what he’s looking for because he slows down at your lack of response. 

“Answer me,” he hisses.

“I— I don’t— Eric I don’t—” You don’t even know what he’s trying to ask. You stopped listening as soon as he pulled your hair, the sting of it feeling too good. Eric laughs, picking up his pace again and dropping your head back down onto his pillows. 

“What? Too fucked out to answer me? Who would’ve thought that I was the virgin and not you? What would people think if they walked in here and saw me fucking you like this?” He doesn’t expect an answer this time, not that you’d be able to give him one anyway. 

Your legs draw tightly around his slim waist, holding him close as your orgasm approaches again, but Eric doesn’t seem to be even close to cumming. Even when your second orgasm washes over you, and then your third. He fucks you through each one, sweat dripping from his hair and down his torso until his body is sliding against yours. Your body feels numb, but at the same time, you can feel everything. Every drag of his length against your walls, every punch of his tip against your cervix. Your arms curl around his neck, but your grip is loose. 

When Eric’s hips finally begin to stutter, you’re about four orgasms in, the fifth about to wash over you. Your voice is hoarse, a puddle of drool on the pillow under your head. You can’t find it in you to make any more noise, just gasping breathes and quiet whines. You cum together, and the feeling of his cum filling you has your back arching again. This time, Eric catches you and holds your body against his. He kisses you gently, uncaring that you can barely breathe let alone kiss him. 

“That— that was a good talk,” he jokes, and you say nothing at first. “Um…are— are you okay?” 

“You just—” you clear your throat, but it does nothing. “You just fucked me within an inch of my life, as a completely inexperienced virgin, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” 

Eric frowns, settling down on top of you, but careful not to lay his full weight onto your obviously aching body. He can see the bruises he’d left all over you— on your chest, your neck, your hips. Anywhere his lips or hands touched, there was a bruise left in his wake. He imagines, however, that he looks no different. He can feel the scratches you left on his back, marring every inch of his skin and likely drawing a bit of blood, he can see a hickey on his arm that you left at some point and can imagine how the front of his body looks.

“So…so you’re not okay?” He tries and you huff, throwing an arm over your eyes. 

“Eric, I love you, but you’re such a dumbass.” You groan, shoving him off your body so you can breathe properly. “Go draw a bath. I’m gonna need one after that shit.”

“Before I do, can you answer one question?” You pry your eyes open to scowl at him and his damn puppy-like eyes. 

“What?” 

“Are we— are we dating now?” 

“We won’t be for long if you don’t get that fucking bath going.” 

“Aw, yeah!” Eric cheers, jumping off the bed and running to the bathroom to start the bath like you asked. “Guess who isn’t single anymore, Sunwoo!”

“What’s your problem?” Haknyeon peers at Sangyeon over the lip of his mug. The frat president is glaring at you and Eric with something murderous in his eyes, which seem to have dark bags under them.

“My bedroom is right next to Eric’s.” Haknyeon raises an eyebrow, and Sangyeon clears his throat. “My bedroom is next to Eric’s.”

“Okay…oh. OH. Oh, shit man, I’m sorry.” Haknyeon turns his gaze to the two of you, grimacing at the thought of how long Sangyeon could have been kept up, but smiling when he sees how the two of you are cuddled on the couch. The grimace returns when he sees the state of your necks, neither of you having bothered to hide what you did to each other. 

“I mean,” Sunwoo sits on the counter, a bowl of cereal in his hand. “You kinda deserved it after what you did to him.”

“What the fuck— what did I do to him?” Sangyeon exclaims, and Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow. 

“You fucked your girlfriend for, what, seven rounds straight? The poor man didn’t get any sleep that night. Be glad you were able to rest after that.”

Haknyeon raises his cup, and the three frat boys return to “subtly” watching the two of you.

“Do you at least know if he was good? You know, for a virgin.”

“Oh my fucking god, Sunwoo, shut up.”

“You shut up, Hak! It was just a question!”

“You two are fucking nasty,” Sangyeon’s lip curls into a sneer, trying to block out the memories of last night. “But I’m gonna need a shit ton of bleach if I wanna forget that bullshit.”

“Hot.”

“Sunwoo, shut UP!”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[juyeonszn]

EXCITEMENT

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 6.22k

GENRES smut ﹒angst ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, best friends to lovers, numerous mentions of the female orgasm, ji changmin is a bit of a manwhore, mentions of alcohol, insane tension my b, intense making out x2, oral (m! and f! receiving), multiple orgasms, couch sex but missionary, unprotected sex (wrap before u fucking tap -_-), creampie, changmin is lowkey very whipped and very pussy drunk in this, also forewarning for every fic in this collab— there is lots of foreshadowing and references to the other fics since they all fall within the same timeline/universe!

SUMMARY you know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. what you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.

MORE i hope u jichang lovers are strapped in and ready for this… kinda went crazy with it 😭😭 um anyway?? first fic of the black out or back out collab?? crazy!! this fic actually ruined me. it used up all my brain power so if every other one sucks u can’t blame me!! it’s the law!! also, i’d like to take a moment to wish my boyz a very happy 6th anniversary <3 so so proud of all they’ve accomplished these past 6 years and i can’t wait to see what they do in the next 6. in this deobi shit 4L frfr 🙏🙏

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel

TAGLIST @millksea

“No fucking way.”

You blink at Soyeon. It wasn’t that hard to believe. In fact, it was pretty easy to believe. You set down the bowl of popcorn on your lap and nod slowly.

“Uh, yeah. Yes fucking way,” a nervous laugh escapes your lips. “I’ve had to fake it with every guy I’ve ever been with. I don’t know what it is. Maybe something’s wrong with me.”

Men were… incompetent at certain things. And apparently your pleasure was one of those. Every dude you’ve ever slept with failed to make you finish. It was at the point that you felt that you were the problem. It would be understandable if it had been a couple guys, but every single one? Your luck had to be complete ass.

The only reason the topic had been brought up was because Soyeon had mentioned something about her last fling during your movie night. She was talking about how that had been the best sex she's ever had and it spurred you into making your confession. The last guy you’d been with had probably been the worst.

“Never?” Jiwon’s jaw drops, elbows resting on her knees. “How are you still alive, girl? How do you get your fix?”

“My hand, my vibrator, my pillow sometimes,” you shrug, picking at a loose thread on your blanket. “I’ve learned to make do with my situation, I guess. If I can’t get it elsewhere, I’ll just do it myself, y’know?”

Your girl friends look at you with pouts on their lips, as if they were the ones experiencing your misfortunes. You hadn’t even expected it to be such a big deal. You’d thought this was a normal, common occurrence. Boys usually sucked at things when it came to girls. But they all took this as a personal hit, like you were a fallen soldier in battle.

Perhaps the female orgasm was far more important than you assumed it to be.

“Considering who your best friend is, you’d think you were getting good dick left and right,” Dahyun snorts into her glass of wine. “This is actually kinda insane.”

You guess she had a point, despite you both leading very different lives. Changmin, your best friend, was known as one of the many heartthrobs on campus. He was in a fraternity, played on the school’s baseball team, and he even played with other things. Namely the hearts of practically every other girl at your university.

You’d think it would bother you to be so close to a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck about those of the same sex as you. But for some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to care. It’s not like he was bragging about the bitches he bagged on a regular basis. Though you were his best friend, he understood boundaries. He knew what was appropriate to talk about with you and respected that.

Your friends laugh at her observation, but drop the conversation after that, resuming the movie you were watching. However, it’s not that easy for you.

You can’t stop wondering if something really *is wrong with you. Why was it that everyone and their mom was capable of finishing and you weren’t? It was more unlikely that every single man you’ve been with sexually was that mediocre. Were you really that unlucky?

It bothers you so much that you find yourself still thinking about it well into the following week.

With the start of the new semester, came the adjustment of new classes. Even though you were a Communications major, you made the grave mistake of taking Lifespan Growth and Development with Changmin for the extra credit. He was an Early Childhood Education major, so it was a requirement for him, but not for you. (Honestly, he only forced you to take it with him so you had at least one lecture together. He was afraid your friendship might start to fade if you didn’t see each other often.)

Imagine how horrified you felt when your professor began to talk about babies and their circadian rhythm, but the only thing in your head was the fact that you’d never orgasmed because of a man. You felt like you were going crazy at this point. Really, the thought should’ve been long forgotten by now. But you couldn’t help yourself from dwelling on it, especially after your friends made jokes at your expense.

As you’re walking out of the lecture hall side by side with Changmin, you keep your focus on the ground, your hearing going in and out. His voice is staticy, your brain only registering words here and there. You’re a little pissed off that this has become such an issue.

He notices your lack of response and stops walking, eyebrows furrowed. You pause in your tracks along with him. “Are you good? You’ve been spacing out all morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shake your head as if that would rid of these stupid thoughts. “I’m just a little tired, I guess. I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

“Well, you better fix that. We’re expecting this weekend’s party to be one of the bigger ones this semester. Juyeon’s passing those fliers around like it’s his job,” Changmin purses his lips with a snort, ruffling your hair. “I need my beer pong partner to be in tip-top shape.”

You scratch the back of your neck. Half of you was kind of hesitant to go to this weekend’s TBZ party considering that was where you met the dude who started this whole downward spiral. He made an offhand comment about seeing you again, but you were actually hoping that would never happen. And with your fortune, the probability of running into him was pretty high.

“You see…“ You begin, but Changmin interrupts you with a distressed groan before you can continue.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of flaking,” his arms fall to his sides as his head tips back dramatically. “Y/N, I really need you there. How else am I gonna smoke everyone? I need— I mean we need to keep our title.”

Sometimes you wish Ji Changmin took anything else as seriously as he takes beer pong. You suppose it came with being a fraternity brother or something. They all drank alcohol like it was fucking water. You’re still sort of surprised none of them (Sunwoo) has gotten alcohol poisoning yet.

“I’m just… trying to avoid someone. And they’ll probably be there.” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers. Your best friend gives you an unreadable look that flashes across his face only for a moment.

“Tell me who it is. I’ll make sure they’re not allowed in. I’d much rather have you there than some rando who��s bugging you.” He says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

“That’s really unne—“

“Yo, Changmin! Aren’t you going with us to Cobie’s?”

You both turn towards the sudden intrusion, the voice belonging to Eric Sohn. He’s around 50 feet away from where you’re standing, joined by Kim Sunwoo and Ju Haknyeon. Changmin yells out his answer and spins back to you, an apologetic smile on his face. Somehow, you’re a little grateful for the interruption.

“We’ll finish this later, okay?” He nods at you, heading backwards in their direction. “You’re going, Y/N.”

You really should’ve listened to your instincts when they told you to skip out on the party.

You’re well aware that every attendee was crucial for the TBZ boys and their stupid rivalry with the KAT girls. So maybe you understood why Changmin needed you there so badly, aside from the obvious beer pong thing. However, you were starting to regret showing up.

First of all, Ji Changmin was nowhere to be found. Second of all, Jeon Soyeon was hounding you all night about the secret you so idiotically shared with your gal pals.

She was dead set on finding you a solution. (Basically, she was scanning the crowd of partygoers for a suitable man to satisfy your overdue needs. And she was proving devastatingly unsuccessful.)

You were too anxious to drink, also. Your feet were bouncing from where you sat on the couch, and your fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting. The antsiness was getting annoying at this point and you were hoping your knight in shining armor (Ji Changmin) revealed himself soon. Lest he wanted to lose out on his beloved beer pong partner.

It appears that your years of honing in on your manifestation powers have finally come to fruition when you spot Younghoon and Juyeon hauling the beer pong table into the living room. Where one of those tables are stationed, you know you’re guaranteed to find your best friend. The shorter of the two gentle giants cups his hands around his mouth and announces the first round of tonight’s tournament.

You stand from your seat, grabbing the opportunity to break free of Soyeon’s efforts to pimp you out. You’re ready to confirm you and Changmin’s spot in the tournament, when you see that you’ve already been beaten to it. It takes absolutely everything in you not to let your jaw drop and your eyes to tear up.

Some girl who happens to be in your Lifespan Growth and Dev class (you think her name is Iseul) is draped over Changmin’s arm, signing them up for the first round. He doesn’t look like he wants to, but makes no effort to refuse her.

You don’t know why it irks you. It shouldn’t irk you.

You’ve never cared about who he spends his free time with in the past. It’s been so easy for you to let his behavior slide, brushing it under the rug like it was no biggie. But this time, you care a whole lot. You chalk it up to the fact that he was seemingly replacing you as his beer pong partner, even though that was the entire reason why he wanted you to come to the party.

Yeah. That’s why.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips just as Hyunjae passes by, no doubtedly heading to the beer pong table. You catch the sleeve of his polo and force him to halt in his steps. You’re not even sure why the hell he’s wearing a polo in the first place, his outfit embodying the stereotypical frat boy perfectly. This looked nothing like his usual wardrobe.

“Oh, hey Y/N, what’s up?” He smiles that award-winning Hyunjae smile, the one that manages to charm every girl in the room every single time he pulls it out. He brings the brim of his red solo cup up to his lips and finishes whatever’s left in it with one swig. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Do you wanna be my beer pong partner?” Okay, well now you’ve said it so there’s no going back.

His eyebrow shoots up in a mixture of shock and pleasant surprise. “Me? You’re not gonna ask Changmin?”

“He’s…” Your eyes flitter over to where he stands with Iseul(?), Hyunjae’s following. No. You’re okay. This isn’t getting to your head at all. Everything’s cool and peachy. “He’s too preoccupied.”

Hyunjae chooses not to say anything, instead nudging you over to the opposite end of the table. Changmin’s eyes widen when he sees the two of you, even having the audacity to look scandalized. God, maybe that was his biggest fault. He was so entitled.

So, it was just fine for him to bail on you in favor of some girl he didn’t even know, but the second you talk to one of his frat brothers, it’s off the table? What a fucking hypocrite. The whole ordeal was actually beginning to get on your nerves now. All you wanted to do was win this stupid beer pong game to show him that he’ll never find a partner as good as you.

Woah. Holy shit, Y/N. You need to dial it back a bit with the possessiveness. That was a lot, especially for you.

Juyeon narrows his eyes at you and then glances over to Changmin, the cogs turning in his head slowly. You’re not sure if that’s because he’s so used to seeing you both on the same side of the beer pong table, or because his vision was so shitty. Either way, it has you cowering behind Hyunjae a little as he dips the ping pong ball into the cup of water in the center.

“Okay, you know the rules. Let’s have a healthy, friendly game,” Younghoon says, tapping the table with a smile. “No playing dirty. I’m looking at you, Hyunjae.”

The brunette raises his hands in surrender, doing a quick bout of rock, paper, scissors with Changmin to determine which team went first. He wins with a quirk of his lips, sauntering back over to you. After rolling his neck around and popping his fingers, he tosses the ball right into Changmin and Iseul’s center cup.

You hate to admit it, but Hyunjae’s actually pretty good at this. You’ve never really paid attention to anyone else’s beer pong skills considering you’ve only ever played with Changmin as your partner. Who knows, maybe you’ll switch over permanently after this. At least, you might if he keeps up whatever it is that he’s doing.

Your best friend’s jaw tightens as he grabs the red solo cup, chugging what’s inside. He huffs and takes his turn, nearly missing with the way the ball circles around the rim. He sighs in relief at the same time you grimace. You still hadn’t had anything to drink all night and starting with fucking beer was probably the worst idea.

The game probably would’ve been a bit more competitive had Iseul been decent at beer pong, but she sucked. So Hyunjae and yourself always kept your lead by one cup or more. Karma is a dish best served cold, or however the saying goes. And karma certainly presented itself in the form of Ji Changmin’s first ever TBZ beer pong tournament loss.

Hyunjae high fives you with a cheesy grin, lacing your fingers together and shaking them around. He presses a kiss to your temple and guides you away from the table as Juyeon and Younghoon clear it for the second round. It wasn’t odd for any of the TBZ boys to show you affection since you were like a sister to most of them, but this felt… kind of weird. You can’t pinpoint exactly why, but it made you feel off.

“You’re my secret weapon,” he laughs, hands burying into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “I’m gonna steal you as my partner permanently.”

As much as you joked around in your head, the truth of the matter was that you could never actually replace Changmin. In spite of him acting like a complete dumbass tonight, he was still your best friend. Not even the biggest of fights would change that fact.

Before you can dismiss him, Changmin is stalking over to you with a slight scowl. His nostrils flare a bit as he asks, “Can we talk?”

You barely nod and then he’s fisting the material of your top at the small of your back, urging you away from the living room. Your feet keep tripping over themselves while you attempt to match his pace but he’s too determined to reach his destination in mind to even notice. No one even bats an eye as you get ushered to your demise.

You’re coaxed into a nearby bathroom without a word, your best friend standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. Because you hadn’t seen him a majority of the night, you hadn’t gotten the chance to get a good look at him. He was wearing a long sleeve striped polo and some baggy jeans, which probably would look basic on anyone else. But this is Ji Changmin. Girls flocked after him for a reason.

“Why would you play with Hyunjae? You know the type of guy he is. Now he thinks he has a shot with you or something.” As soon as he opens his mouth, you remember the type of guy he is.

“What does it matter to you? You were too busy giggling with your flavor of the week. Of course I wasn’t gonna wait around for you.” You bite back, mirroring his stance.

“Flavor of the—?” His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and then everything settles in. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you laugh humorlessly. “Don’t act all hypocritical with me, Changmin. I can’t believe I even came to this fucking party for you when you didn’t even bother giving me the same energy. Best friend, my ass.”

A scoff brushes past your lips and you turn to exit the bathroom, but he grabs your wrist. His grip isn’t too harsh, but it’s tight enough to stop you from going anywhere. “Wait. Don’t leave.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” Your eyes flick back and forth between his and the fingers wrapped around your forearm. And you know, you really should’ve predicted what would happen after that. The nature of your words were provocative in their own right, not to mention the tension brewing in the midst of your argument.

From one second to the next, Changmin’s mouth is on your own, your back pressed to the bathroom door. His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at once; digging into your sides, running through your hair, caressing your face. You feel insane. Your head feels empty, no coherent thoughts running through it as his lips move against yours.

They migrate along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking wherever they feel fit. Everything is moving way too fast for you to comprehend what’s happening. His lips feel so good on your skin, you’re having trouble finding the strength in you to stop him. But you know you have to. This was your best friend, for god’s sake. And besides, you didn’t want to deal with the disappointment you’ve faced time and time again when it came to men. You couldn’t handle feeling that way toward him.

Your palm presses against his chest and you try your hardest to ignore the sensation of his heart thumping beneath it. Your eyes squeeze shut as you push him off of you gently. Not expecting the sudden disruption, he stumbles backwards slightly. He’s a little dazed, like he, too, has not a single thought in that brain of his.

“I can’t— we can’t—“ You’re breathless, heaving up and down as if you’d just ran a damn marathon. “I have to go.”

You don’t give Changmin any freedom to react, escaping the bathroom exasperated. There’s too much going through your mind to search for Soyeon, leaving the party as quickly as you can. The moment your foot steps out of the front door, it’s like you’re given some clarity. The fresh air feels cool on your warm skin while you take the walk back to your apartment, not in the mood to sit in a stuffy car with anyone else. You needed to think clearly and vulnerably, and someone being there would just hinder that.

But first, you had to figure out where to go from here.

It’s been a couple days since the last TBZ party and you were still avoiding Ji Changmin like he was the plague.

You were definitely wishful thinking when you decided to just ignore things until you had class together. And even then, you were planning on pretending like nothing even happened. Fucking up your friendship with him was something you couldn’t stand emotionally. Or physically. It would be akin to the pain of having your heart ripped straight from your chest.

Meeting Changmin when you did was almost like a blessing in disguise. His attitude about life was exactly what you needed coming into university. You were shy and scared of your new surroundings. You had no friends, you were far from your family, and your imposter syndrome was through the roof. But then he swooped in and made everything better somehow. As much as it was a snooze fest, you’ll eternally be a little bit grateful for sharing that First Year Seminar class with him.

Deep down, a piece of you has always belonged to Changmin. From that first day of freshman year to now, you’ve always held him to a different standard than everyone else. You liked to believe it was because he was your best friend, the one person who sought you out even when it felt like no one ever would. And until very recently, you kept trying to convince yourself that was the case.

If you slept together that might be worse. What if he ended up like every other guy you’ve landed in bed with? What if he couldn’t satisfy you? It would make it even more strained. You didn’t want to end up like every other girl who’s vied for his heart and failed miserably. He wasn’t a relationship person.

Falling for him alone would complicate everything. If he didn’t feel the same, it would be weird between you and your friendship would never go back to normal. Yet as you lay here, body bundled in your comforter and drowning in one of the many sweatshirts he’s left over at your apartment, scrolling through his feed, you realize that there’s no return from this point. Now that you’ve contemplated the idea, you’re too far in.

You know, the universe had funny ways of rewarding you. (Or rather, punishing you.)

There’s a knock at your front door. You’re not entirely sure who it could be since you weren’t expecting anyone, but one glance through the peephole and it’s all over for you. You consider stepping away, running and cowering in your bedroom until he disappears so you can go back to dissimulating that your entire life wasn’t crumbling to your feet.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up, please, we need to talk.”

You curse under your breath but unlock the door anyway, maneuvering so he can come inside with ease. Changmin stares at you with an unreadable expression for a minute, vision raking over your figure. Maybe you’re imagining it, but it’s something similar to how men have looked at you before, like they were undressing you with their eyes. That’s when you remember that you were wearing his sweatshirt.

Without pants underneath…

The wind knocks out of him in an instant, something primal coming over him when his gaze lands on you in his clothing. He knows he shouldn’t think about you the way he does. He shouldn’t think of how pretty you are when your pen is caught in your teeth, attempting to make sense of whatever your professor was talking about. He shouldn’t think of the way your cheeks flush when you’ve had too much alcohol at one of the TBZ parties. He shouldn’t think of kissing you, or pressing up against you like a dog in heat. He shouldn’t be thinking of the kiss you shared Friday night.

You’re his best friend, the one person in the world who has ever understood him. The one who’s always glued to his side even when he may be in the wrong. Why would he ever want something different? How could he ask for more when he should be thankful for what he was already given?

“Why are you pushing me away? Why are you ignoring me?” Is what he finally asks after the silence has become unbearable.

“Changmin,” you swallow thickly, hesitative with what you say next. “Friends don’t kiss— we don’t kiss.”

He takes a step forward, and then another, and then another until he’s only arms’ length from you. “But, we could.”

You release a shuddery breath, reaching out to stop him from coming any closer. “P-Please. We can’t do this— I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He pushes. He knows he’s tiptoeing the edge of something else. There’s a fine line between what you have now, and what he’s wanted for so long. It’s always been a matter of if you wanted that too. “Is it because you just don’t want to?”

You’re not even sure how to respond to him. Of course you want this. It isn’t that you don’t want him. You’re more scared than anything. You’re scared of becoming just another victim of Ji Changmin’s charms, of giving into him and it leading to another let down. Your resistance is evident on your face, and you’re not all that taken aback when he sighs.

“I’ve wanted you since that first day of First Year Seminar, Y/N. No one has ever compared to you and no one ever will,” he confesses, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I sleep with random girls to get you off my mind, to forget that I’m pretty fucking in love with my best friend.”

Then it all clicks.

It’s like you’ve come to the biggest realization of your life, an epiphany striking you suddenly with the weight of a freight train. It all trickles into place, the reason why you’ve never enjoyed yourself during sex. The reason why you’ve never finished at the hands of any man you’ve been with intimately.

None of them were Ji Changmin. None of them were the best friend that your heart has belonged to since your freshman year.

You press your lips to his without any warning, nearly colliding into him with the force of your impatience. He reciprocates immediately, fingers tangling in your hair and holding you closer than physically possible. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, tongue dragging along his lower lip. Years of repressed longing and pining find themselves surfacing in this one kiss.

Changmin’s hands travel to your waist, burrowing into the fabric of his sweatshirt as he yanks you toward the couch. He falls to a sitting position when the backs of his knees hit the edge, your knees resting on either side of his lap. You don’t break apart once, not even to gasp for air as he grinds you down onto him. Through the material of his cargos you can feel him. He’s just as throbbing as you are, your core pulsing with a need unlike any other.

His fingers reach for the hem of the sweatshirt and that’s when you pause him, your nerves getting the best of you. He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” admitting this a second time isn’t easier. “I’ve never— nobody’s ever made me… you know…”

The corners of his lips curl up, thumbs rubbing the backs of your thighs. “You’ve never came before, baby?”

Your breathing stutters in your chest, the smugness of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. You should’ve fully expected him to be a master at pillowtalk, what with the whole Sex-God persona and all that jazz, but it still catches you off guard. You shake your head shyly, arms hooked around his neck. His mouth attaches to the spot behind your ear, sucking the skin tenderly.

“I’ll make sure you’re ruined for anyone else,” his voice is no louder than a whisper, but sounds deafening to the cotton stuffing the place where your brain should be. “I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t think twice about who you belong to.”

A small whine emits from your throat, hips gyrating themselves onto his crotch. He bucks up into you instinctively, keeping you still on his lap. The sheer possessiveness of his tone is driving you up the wall. That seemed to be something you had in common with each other. You’re lightheaded, too many layers of clothing blocking the space between you. Changmin connects your lips again, sliding his hands beneath the sweatshirt so his fingers can hook into the waistband of your panties.

He helps you out of them and your top, baring your entire body to him. The way his cock twitches makes him feel like a goddamn teenager. You paw at the zipper of his pants as he pulls off his t-shirt, tugging the cargos down his legs so you can kneel between them. If he thought he wasn’t going to last before, he’s certain of it now. He wraps your hair around his fist in a makeshift ponytail, watching you with hooded eyes as you kiss his tip.

“You look so gorgeous like this,” his voice is wavering, his composure drifting off.

That encourages you to take him into the wet heat of your mouth, tongue twirling around the tip. You run it along his slit, tasting the precum that had formed there. His head falls back onto the sofa cushions, jerking his hand back a bit and tugging your hair just enough for it to sting. You moan around his dick, the pain providing more pleasure than its intended purpose.

He bucks up into your mouth yet again, his length gliding down your throat. Not prepared for the intrusion, you gag, pulling off of his cock with a string of saliva bridging your lips to the tip. Tears prick at your eyes for a second, and then you’re going back in.

This time you manage to relax your throat, fitting more than you could prior. Changmin’s eyes are half lidded, not once daring to look anywhere that wasn’t you. The sight of you so eager to please, so desperate to reward him in spite of you being the one who’s never orgasmed before, was clouding his thinking.

The image of you on your knees, sucking him off like your life depended on it, would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. (Not that he minded. You lived there practically rent free, anyways.)

Your attention stays on the tip of his cock, tongue repeatedly alternating with dragging under the head and the slit on top. He could die happily, actually, the fear that he may never have you in this way finally dissipating into thin air. Want could only take a man so far.

He doesn’t stay sentimental for very long, remembering that you were currently between his legs and the inner monologue could wait for later. Though, he makes the grave mistake of making direct eye contact with you and it’s game over after that point.

Changmin finishes with a groan, his cum painting your chest with milky white ropes. He cups both sides of your face, bringing you up to kiss you messily. He doesn’t care that he can taste himself in your mouth, nipping your bottom lip to pry it open. The two of you swap spots, with him now on the floor and you on the couch. He pushes up your knees, spreading them to gain access to your cunt, glistening with your slick.

He presses a soft kiss to your clit, glancing up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction. He not only had a reputation to defend, but he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was going to be the first man to make you cum. But it wasn’t sufficient to just fuck you, he needed to do more than that. He needed to flood your senses and show you exactly what you’ve been missing out on.

His tongue circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his ring and middle fingers going counter-clockwise on your entrance. He can hear the laboring of your breathing, the sharp exhale through your nostrils when he experimentally slides one of them inside of you. He starts to pump it slowly, building up the pace until he adds the other finger, curling them.

You whine when Changmin’s lips envelope your clit, suckling like a man starved. His fingers south don’t halt their assault, the palm of his other hand flattening on your lower stomach. You reach down to card through his hair, clutching the strands for support. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations contributing to the knot growing tighter in your abdomen.

He switches his tongue and fingers a moment later, lapping at your hole and swiping at your clit in a close ovular pattern with his thumb. You’re dizzy, lids fluttering shut and back arching off the cushions in a weak attempt to minimize the space between you. Changmin pins down your hips with his forearm, continuing making out with your cunt.

He flips the stimulation once more, mouth on your clit and fingers buried deep inside of you in an instant. He keeps his eyes on you, focused on every scrunch of your face and slacking of your jaw. The sudden difference in sensations has a loud moan ripping from your vocal cords, that knot coming undone almost too quickly for it being your first time in this position. You feel his lips turn up in a smile, like he’s proud of himself for doing the impossible.

Changmin pulls back slightly, his fingers still working you down from your peak. When he thinks you’ve calmed, he’s up and kissing you, petting your hair gently. “You did so well for me, baby.”

“I’ve made myself cum so many times before, but never like that— holy shit, Changmin…” You’re a little stunned and he finds it cute, despite you both being in such a compromising situation.

“I need you to give me one more, is that okay?” He lays you on your back, hovering over you. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock.”

You pull him down for another kiss, pecking the side of his neck with a hum. “Want you to fill me up, too.”

The groan that leaves him is guttural, his forehead falling onto your collarbone. Dreams really do come true. He hikes up one of your legs, lining himself up with you. He guides his cock into you and watches you for any moves of discomfort. A whimper bubbles past as he slips in, bottoming out smoothly. Half of you still couldn’t believe this was happening. No fucking way was Ji Changmin on top of you right now, dick compressed in your cunt to the hilt.

He holds your knee to your chest as he begins to thrust his hips, driving his cock deep from the get go. Each motion jostles you further up the sofa, but you’re too gone to care. Your eyes have started to roll to the back of your head and you already feel that pressure rising in the pit of your stomach.

At this rate, you’re not sure you’ll last very long. You’re still extremely sensitive from your first orgasm and Changmin’s plowing into you like he might never get the chance to do it again.

“You’re so— fuck— you’re so tight, baby… Squeezing me in like you don’t wanna let me go,” he rasps, trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and carrying them down your jugular.

You moan something about how deep he is, about how you can feel him everywhere. It’s too much. It’s not enough. And despite him giving you everything he has to offer, you crave more. You’re yearning for more.

Something in you snaps and you’re cradling his face in your hands. “Love you so much, Changmin. Wanna be with you forever.”

His eyes widen at your off-kilter confession, but he doesn’t cease once. If anything, his speed increases as he kisses you passionately, noses bumping but so far on the spectrum from the others. This one is more emotional, more meaningful. It’s not long before he’s spilling into you, moaning against your lips. You follow closely behind, your second orgasm cresting like a tidal wave.

You stay like that for a minute, both of you soaking it all in. Your chests meet in the middle with each breath you take.

Changmin pulls out of you carefully, laying so you can rest comfortably on top of him. A smile inches across his feature, like he was on the inside of a joke you weren’t. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What…”

“Nothing, it’s just,” he brushes some of your hair from your forehead to leave a smooch there. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you how I felt for a while now. I just wanted to assure that you wouldn’t scream in my face and run the opposite direction. But you went ahead and beat me to it.”

“You meant what you said about the other girls?” You nibble at the skin of your cheek, nervous. “You slept with them to distract yourself from me? Even Iseul?”

He nods, albeit a little shamefully. “Not my proudest moment, I’ll say. I could’ve gone about it a million other ways. But yeah, I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you just because I couldn’t get my feelings in check.”

“You’re stupid,” you laugh, cuddling further into him. “It’s a good thing I’m kind of into that.”

“Kind of?” He quirks a brow at you. “I don’t know, you were saying something about loving me so much and wanting to be with me forever earlier…”

You smack his chest playfully. “Shut up. That was a moment of weakness or whatever.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles at you fondly, as if you were the reason that the sun shone so brightly. “I love you, too. And I wouldn’t mind being with you forever.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[itsbeeble]

SEEING STARS

SUMMARY: It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of schoolwork for you.

GENRE: smut, fluff, mild angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Sunwoo x afab!reader (ft. Hoshi, Dino, Sangyeon, Kevin, Eric, Yuta, and Jay (Enhypen))

WC: 9.4k (you'd think i was doing this on purpose)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: mentions of injuries (concussions, Sunwoo gets sucker punched), Eric slander, Sunwoo slander, Hoshi stirring up trouble, Sunwoo being stupid, car sex/public sex, p in v sex, fingering, mentions of face fucking, marking, hair pulling, attempts at dirty talk kinda? idk if you can even call it that but wtv, i think that's really it

A/N: Part 3 of the collab is out! If you haven't checked out Try Hard or Excitement (written by my beloved Fawn) please do! Otherwise, please enjoy this. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

In Sunwoo’s defense, everything that happened was Eric’s fault. It was definitely not Sunwoo’s fault that he believed his best friend when he told him that he should absolutely kick a ball at the girl of his dreams so she could bring it back to him and she would fall for him too and then they could live happily ever after. It also wasn’t Sunwoo’s fault that he forgot that he was their university’s star soccer player and that he had really strong legs. 

At least, this is what he tells himself while sitting in the ambulance with you, who is currently passed out with a lump the size of a clementine on your forehead. He’s nervously gnawing at his fingernails, chewing them to nubs with his eyebrows furrowed. The EMTs said that you’re stable, that you just have a mild concussion but they want to take you in and get you checked out to be sure. 

“Are you her…friend? Boyfriend?” One of the EMTs looks at Sunwoo with a curious look in his eye. 

“Friend, just a friend,” he says, but there’s a dark cloud hovering above his head that anyone could see if they tried hard enough. 

“Is there anyone that we can call? Anyone else that we should inform?” Sunwoo shrugs.

“Not that I know of. Her family is across the country so they wouldn’t be any help right now, right?”

“Right,” the EMT agrees. “I suppose you’ll be helping her out the next couple of weeks, making sure no one else is hitting her in the head with soccer balls?” Sunwoo grimaces and nods. 

You’re never gonna like me at this rate, he thinks to himself. God, why did he ever listen to Eric in the first place? What made him think that Eric, the man who spends 90% of his time completely bitchless and watching hentai, would give him good advice about women? 

Now he’s gonna have to deal with student loan debt, lawyer debt, and being single for the rest of his life. 

The first thing you see when you wake up is white. Not, like, a white ceiling. No, your vision is pure white for a few moments, and then you swear that you’re seeing stars. You can faintly, over the pounding of your head, hear someone speaking. The voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place it over the ringing in your ears. 

“…Eric, I swear to fucking god if I ever see you again, I will shove my foot so far up your ass— I don’t care if you thought it would be a good idea! I concussed the richest girl in school, the girl of my dreams mind you, because you thought it would be a fantastic idea to kick a ball at her!” 

You blink a few times, clearing your vision, and you can see a boy to the right of you. He’s wearing a soccer uniform, the same uniform your university’s team wears. You blink again, and now he’s facing you with a nervous smile plastered onto his face. 

“Hi,” he breathes out and you smile at him. 

“Hi…Woo…sung?” You wince at the poor attempt. Of course, you know who he is. Anyone would recognize the star soccer player. Maybe you weren’t positive about what his name was, but you knew him. 

He laughs, but it’s a humorless one that has both of you cringing after.

“Close,” he tells you with a smile. “Sunwoo.”

“Right,” you nod, but the action causes a painful throb to run through your skull. “Fuck, why does my head hurt so much?” 

Sunwoo laughs again, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and avoiding your gaze.

“About that…” his hand combs through his hair, pushing it out of his face despite it not being there in the first place. “I…may or may not have kicked a ball in your general direction, which may or may not have proceeded to hit you in the head and give you a concussion.” 

You kiss your teeth, eyebrows knitting together as you look at him. He begins to ramble, talking about how it’s his friend’s fault, and he really never meant for it to hit you. It’s cute, really, the way he practically falls to his knees and begs you to not sue him. 

“Sunwoo,” you try to interrupt, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you. He’s speaking too fast, too frantic, and you’re pretty sure he’ll faint if he doesn’t pause for air soon.

“I— I will do anything you want, I swear! I’ll— I’ll carry your stuff around campus for you. I’ll take all your notes so you don’t have to look at the screens. Fuck— I swear, I—”

“Sunwoo,” You reach your arm forward, wrapping your fingers around his forearm and his pacing jerks to a stop, his words caught on the tip of his tongue when you lock eyes. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

“You’re—” his voice cracks, “you’re not?”

“No,” you laugh and wince when your head begins to throb again. “Although, I wouldn’t mind if you helped me out with my schoolwork.” 

“I…” he trails off, his heart sinking to his stomach. “Yeah, yeah of course I’ll help you. But— but you really aren’t going to sue me? Because— because I wouldn’t mind if you were that mad at me but I think I would really rather you just have me arrested at that point, you know?”

“I promise, Sunwoo.” You squeeze his forearm, and his cheeks begin to darken with a tinge of pink. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

As it turns out, having the star soccer player around to do anything and everything you want him to is rather convenient. Sunwoo picks you up every day for your first class in his old, beat-up Toyota Corolla. He opens the door for you, hands you a fresh go-cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite cafe (which you aren’t sure how he knows, to be honest), and brings you to each and every one of your classes. It’s almost weird how you’ve gotten used to having him around.

“By the way,” you look up at Sunwoo as you’re getting into his car after your last class of the day. Sunwoo looks down at you, smiling brightly and you can feel yourself starting to melt at the puppy-like look in his eye. “Are you even taking classes this semester?”

Sunwoo tilts his head. “I mean…yeah? I kinda have to, you know, to play soccer.”

“But…you’re always with me these days. Are you not missing your own assignments? Your own exams?” 

“I don’t have any exams during your classes,” he informs you and then shuts the passenger-side door, gently to not hurt your head. You let your body rest against the tattered fabric seat you’re in, waiting for Sunwoo to get to his side of the car. “Plus, I have friends in my classes that send me shit when I’m not there.”

“You skip your classes often?” Your lips curl into a sly smile, one that he returns quickly.

“You know it, babe.” 

Your body tenses just slightly, not enough for him to notice. It was likely instinctive for him to say that, and you would never admit to anyone how the words had butterflies forming in your stomach, pushing against your flesh, and threatening to tumble out of you if he made one wrong move. 

Sunwoo slams the door of the frat shut and presses his back against it as soon as he enters the building. His eyes are squeezed shut, so tightly that he can see stars and it starts to hurt. 

“You alright?” Eric is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees with a Nintendo controller in his hands. He isn’t looking at Sunwoo, his eyes trained on the fourth Five Nights At Freddy’s game being displayed on the TV in front of him.

“I don’t even want to talk about it.” Sunwoo dismisses, dropping his bag on the floor and tossing his keys into the bowl to his right. “Especially not with you.”

“The fuck did I do?” Eric’s eyebrows knit together, and Sunwoo scoffs as he walks behind the couch to get to the kitchen. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you were part of the reason that Y/N L/N is now concussed and probably hates my guts so I’m trying to fix it by helping her out with all of her school work, which is hard as shit, by the way. Did you know that she’s a mechanical engineering major?”

“No shit?” Eric’s eyes flick away from the TV screen for just long enough for him to nearly miss an animatronic approaching him. “I wonder if she’s in any of my classes.”

“Probably not,” Sunwoo sighs, grabbing a glass from the shelf and pouring himself some water. “She’s in Sangyeon’s year so her classes are a bit more advanced than yours.”

“Ah,” Eric bobs his head, tongue wedged between his otherwise tightly sealed lips. Sunwoo watches him play for a moment, wincing at a few jumpscares while he downs his water. “What’s that gotta do with me, anyway? Isn’t this, like, bonding time for you two? Finally land your girl?”

“Well, would’ve been perfect if, a) she hadn’t hated me and b) I didn’t call her babe in the car today.” 

Silence from Eric, and Sunwoo briefly wonders if his best friend had even heard him. 

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Eric pauses the game and tosses his controller onto the couch next to him as he turns around. 

“It was an accident!” Sunwoo defends. “It just kinda…slipped out while I was talking to her. A reflex!”

“You called the girl you concussed babe on reflex?” Eric exclaims in disbelief. “Are you stupid?”

“Says the one who suggested kicking the ball at her!”

“Yeah, well at least I didn’t give the girl of my dreams a concussion!”

“It was your fault!” Sunwoo yells, and Eric scoffs.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better.” 

“He called me babe, Soonyoung,” you’re laying face down on your friend’s bed, kicking your feet in the air behind you with his tiger plushie tucked under your arms. 

“Mhm,” he’s not paying attention, instead focusing on the tiger Lego set that you had given him for his birthday. “Very nice.”

“Ugh, and he’s so sweet too.” You continue to ramble, grinning like a mad woman when you recall the notes he had diligently taken for you despite not knowing a damn thing about Applied Measurements. “Did I tell you about the notes he took for me the other day? The ones that he—”

“—Color-coded and annotated for you?” Soonyoung interrupts, finally slamming down the little pieces of plastic in his hand. You flinch at the noise. “Left little notes about things he found interesting or didn’t quite understand but tried to explain anyway? Yeah, you told me.”

You duck your head, trying to ignore the throbbing. It had mostly gone away, but occasionally loud noises would spike pain through your skull. 

“Sorry…” you mumble, letting your legs fall flat on the mattress. Soonyoung turns to face you, pursing his lips. 

“Y/N, if you like this kid so much then why not ask him out?”

“It’s not like that!” You protest, but a sharp look from your best friend makes you backtrack. “At least, not for him. He’s just doing this because he feels bad for me! And besides, I’m a few years older than him, so wouldn’t it be weird?”

“How is that weird?” Soonyoung inquires, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “He’s of age, isn’t he?”

“Of age,” you scoff and make air quotes. “What is this, the 1600s?” 

Soonyoung glares at you and sits back in his chair. “I don’t care if you’re concussed, I’ll make that lump in your skull bigger if you push me.” 

At his warning, you huff.

“Okay, fine, yes, he is. But it’s weird for me! I’m a senior in college, about to enter the work force if I can get my senior project proposal done, and he’s just a sophomore! He’s the university’s star soccer player, he’s just starting to get ahead. I don’t want to, like, stunt that for him.” 

“Y/N,” Soonyoung rolls his chair toward you with a sympathetic smile on his face. “I can almost guarantee that Sunwoo will not care if you’re a few years older than him. I don’t think he’ll care if he’s just starting college. If I’m being honest, he finds that all the more reason to be attracted to you. Young men love older women— but you aren’t old!” He quickly backtracks before you can cut him off. “You’re not old, and believe me when I tell you that not a single person in the world would be doing this for someone that they weren’t attracted to.”

“Are you sure?” You sit up, wrapping your whole body around the tiger plushie, and Soonyoung nods.

“I promise.”

“Then…how do I get him to know that I…that I’m also attracted to him?” 

Soonyoung grins and you feel your heart drop. 

“Boy, do I have some ideas for you.”

Sunwoo is getting worried. The last four days have been ridiculously quiet for him, his days empty and dragging on without you around him. 

You were avoiding him, he could tell. Whenever he showed up to pick you up from your dorm, someone else was already there. A man, your age and clearly friends with you if the wide smile on your face said anything. You would lock eyes with him, your smile falling when you saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes. You would turn your gaze away and the man would get your door for you, laughing about something you said. 

Then there was the avoidance of his texts. He would ask if everything was okay, how your head was doing, random jokes or comments about things he saw on campus. Things that he would tell you had you been with him during the day. It wasn’t like it was unusual for the two of you to text now. In fact, it was weird when you weren’t messaging each other about something but now…

It’s like you’re trying to block out his existence. 

“I’m telling you,” Kevin hands Sunwoo a case of beer, cutting into the younger man’s frantic rambling. “She’s probably just busy, dude.”

“Then why wouldn’t she tell me?” Sunwoo pouts, carrying the case into the house. Kevin follows with a case of his own.

“Hell if I now,” he scoffs. “You think I have time to psychoanalyze everything rich girls do?”

“I mean…isn’t that your whole thing?” Sangyeon chimes in. “Psychoanalyzing everything about everyone?”

“That’s not the point,” Kevin waves his hand in the air and huffs. “I’m busy enough with my own classes and practices, I can only do so many things at once.”

“Sunwoo,” Sangyeon turns to the soccer player with a stern look in his eye. “This is gonna be one of our biggest parties yet, I need you on top of your game to make sure people are enjoying themselves.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Kim Sunwoo,” Sangyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulders with an exasperated look on his face. “If I hear you ranting about the girl you concussed one more time I might just lose it. I’m putting you on door duty for the night.”

“What the fuck do you mean door duty?” 

Sangyeon scans the room for a moment before his eyes land on a metal detector stick that Hyunjae had bought as a part of his last Halloween costume. 

“Here,” He tosses it to Sunwoo and smiles sarcastically. “Use this, make sure people aren’t bringing weapons in or whatever.” 

Sunwoo looks down at the metal detector in his hands, eyebrows knitting together. 

“You’re serious?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Are you sure that your plan worked?” You’re peering up at Soonyoung with a nervous look in your eye when you roll up to the TBZ party. “You’re sure he’s—”

“I’m positive, my dear.” Your best friend pats the top of your head, squinting at the frat house down the road. “I didn’t think this many people were gonna be here tonight.” 

“Sunwoo mentioned that it was gonna be a big one,” you murmur. Soonyoung turns his gaze to you and sighs at the pout on your lips. You look pitiful, to be honest. At least in attitude, that is. 

“Y/N,” you look at him again, “if Sunwoo doesn’t fall head over heels at this party and fuck you until you literally cannot walk then I give you full permission to give me a concussion, just like he did to you. Look at you! You look absolutely stunning!” 

You find yourself smiling at Soonyoung’s words. He’s not wrong, you do look stunning. A loose, short black dress that dips down at your chest to reveal just enough cleavage. The straps are jeweled, glittering under the lights and highlighting the jewelry around your neck. The dress itself stops just low enough that it covers everything but shows enough to tease, and you’re wearing sleek black pumps with an ankle strap so your feet don’t fly out of them (you’d made that mistake before. Never again…). 

“Now,” He claps his hands together and grins. “Let’s go get you your man, and get me a drink.” 

In hindsight, you probably should have known that the party would not have been good for your head. Loud noises had never particularly been something you enjoyed. A lot of people assumed you loved parties due to your financial status, but that wasn’t true. In fact, you were a bit of a recluse. You had only a few friends, though you were nice to nearly everyone you met. Sunwoo happened to be an exception. 

He wiggled his way into your life with that soccer ball, and you truly don’t think you can see a future without him in it, even if he just stays a friend.

The second you walk up the driveway, your head begins to pound, your vision flashing with stars, and you squeeze Soonyoung’s arm tightly to keep yourself from wobbling on your feet. 

Then you see Sunwoo at the door, a large bucket to his right, and a hand-held metal detector in his hand. You can see him scanning people, waving girls in, and then stopping men and pointing at the bucket. You feel a lump forming in his throat when you take in the sight of him. His hair is a mess of curls, the same curls you’d come to love since he gave you a concussion. He’s dressed in a tight-fitting black tee shirt and baggy jeans, nothing fancy but it brings the butterflies back to your stomach in full force. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” The man in front of you scoffs at something Sunwoo said, and you blink yourself back to reality. 

“$5 at the door,” Sunwoo shrugs, “sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

“It’s your frat!” The man yells. Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah…do I look like the president or something?” The man stays silent and Sunwoo sighs. “Look, I don’t have the time to deal with you. Are you in or not? There’s a line of people behind you, and all of them wanna get in so you should probably pick fast.”

The student huffs, digging into his pocket for a dirty $5 bill, tossing it into the bucket, and shoving past Sunwoo. The soccer player just rolls his eyes and sighs again. 

“Who’s up next—” he chokes on his words when he sees you, his eyes widening and his jaw-dropping. You smile nervously, raising your hand in a tiny wave while Soonyoung throws a few ones into the bucket. 

“I’ll see you in there,” your friend says to you. “Text me if you need me.” Soonyoung squeezes your hand and nods at Sunwoo before walking into the house. You step to the side, letting people move past you but keeping a little bit of distance between you and the frat boy who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. 

“You’re here,” Sunwoo says, not even looking at the continuous line of people walking into the house without paying. “You’re— why are you here?” 

A sheepish smile crawls onto your face. “Do you…not want me here?” Sunwoo panics, shaking his head rapidly and grabbing your hand in his. 

“That’s not— that’s not what I meant.” He tells you, and you can’t help the warmth in your cheeks. “I just— your head. This can’t be good for your concussion, can it?” 

You kiss your teeth, nodding slowly. “Yeah…Kinda got a little bit of a migraine right now.” You don’t tell him that the concussion has completely healed.

“Let’s— let’s get you someplace quieter, ba— Y/N.” He tugs at your hand, pushing you in front of him and covering your ears with your hand. He leans in close to you, his lips brushing the shell of one ear and you feel your breathing hitch in your throat. 

“Cover your eyes a bit and look down, I can’t block your vision but I can shield your ears a bit, babe.” He lets it slip out this time, and you do as he says. 

Sunwoo walks you forward, and you can see feet shuffling around the two of you. His hands do more than you expected, the sounds around you fairly muffled and dulling the throb in your skull. His body is so close to yours, his legs bumping into you with every step, but he keeps the two of you steady. Someone knocks into you, and Sunwoo says something to them, something harsh that you can’t make out over the noise of the party. He stops walking for a brief moment, now talking to someone else. You faintly hear a name, Chang-something, and then he’s fleeing the scene, knocking into you on his way out. 

Sunwoo steps to your side when you reach a staircase, talking into your ear so you know exactly where each step is. Another person bumps into you, and Sunwoo takes a hand off your ear to wrap it around your waist.

“You can drop your hand,” he tells you. “The lights aren’t flashing over here.” You nod, and you feel his hand drop at the same time yours does. You’re still walking up the stairs and even though you don’t need help anymore, his hand stays on your waist, the touch sending electric shocks throughout your body. 

Sunwoo feels like he’s going to throw up.

Scratch that. Sunwoo is going to throw up. 

He really hadn’t expected to see you here. In fact, he hadn’t expected to see you at all for the rest of his college days. Had you finally decided to sue him? Are you serving him? He hadn’t seen any documents with you, but maybe—

“I’m not suing you, Sunwoo,” you sit on his bed with one leg crossed over the other. Your dress rides up your thighs, something Sunwoo tries desperately to ignore but he just can’t. “You can relax.” 

You can relax, he repeats the words in his head over and over and over again, but he can’t. In fact, his body just grows more tense with the time that passes. Sunwoo tries to look at you, and then he tries not to look at you. There’s a heat in your gaze, and he can’t tell what the emotion behind it is. He hopes it’s not anger, he prays that you haven’t gotten angry with him. 

“Are you—” he clears his throat. “Who was the guy you were with?” You tilt your head and he clarifies his question. “I just— I’ve seen him with you a lot these days so I was just— I just thought—”

“Who, Soonyoung? He’s not my boyfriend,” you tell him and laugh when he visibly deflates with relief. 

“Good. I— I mean that’s— I just—” his face feels like it’s on fire, his stomach churning when you continue to laugh at him. When you wince and bring your hand up, he practically trips over himself to find an unopened bottle of water for you. 

“How’s your head?” Sunwoo asks you, quietly now. You shrug and slide over so he can sit next to you on the edge of his bed.

“Concussion is better, just can’t do loud noises.” Sunwoo nods and you continue. “At the last check-up, my doctor said that I might get some headaches here and there though, at least for a little while.”

“Then why are you here? At a party?” 

“I…guess I just wanted to see you?” You had this all planned out with Soonyoung. Why are you so nervous?

Sunwoo’s eyebrows knit together. “Why would you want to see me?” 

“You’re joking, right?” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips, regretting letting it out when Sunwoo flinches and looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just…there’s no way that you don’t know by now.”

“Know what?” He presses, hoping that you’re saying what he’s been dreaming of you saying since he saw you on his first day at this university. You’re so close to him now, mere inches from him, and he fights every instinct inside of him that says to close that distance. He wants to hear everything you have to say.

You open your mouth to speak again, and there’s a knock on the door. Both of your heads whip around as it swings open, and Sunwoo’s heart sinks when he sees Soonyoung, the man you had entered the building with. He almost looked distraught that he’d entered the room. 

“Hi, so sorry to interrupt. Um…” he looks at you with a grimace. “We gotta go.”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrow. “Why? I was talking with Sunwoo—”

“Yeah, sorry again, but we gotta go.” Sunwoo watches you get up, albeit reluctantly, and you turn to him. 

“I’ll…we’ll talk later, okay?” You smile at Sunwoo, but you turn away before he can say anything to you. 

“Promise?” He calls out, but the door is already shutting behind you.

You really did intend on texting Sunwoo after, to continue your conversation, but ‘after’ turns into two days, and then four, and then it’s been a week, and suddenly it’s almost finals. You know that Sunwoo’s game is today. The last game of the season. He’d raved about it a few times while studying with you. You knew how excited for it he was, knew how hard he was practicing to make sure he was in his best shape. 

“What do you mean he’s about to be taken off the field?” You snap into your phone, scanning the lot around you for somewhere to park. It’s dark out, the lights in the lot hardly working so it makes it difficult to see any free spots. “Fuck, why is it always so fucking busy at these games?”

“He’s missed every shot— DAMN YOU DECELIS. YUTA GET THAT DAMN BALL—” You pull the phone away from your ear when Soonyoung starts to yell, hearing the crowd in the stadium erupt into cheers. “Another point to Decelis Uni. Anyway, no he’s been like…really off in his games, the only reason he isn’t off already is because of Lee Chan.”

“Thank god for him,” you sigh as you put your car into park. “Listen, I just parked, so just give me five minutes to get in there. Maybe he needs a good luck charm or something. Fuck it’s cold out here. Why did I wear a skirt to this damn game?”

“Did you just call yourself his good luck charm?”

“No, I just—” you huff.

“No, you’re right. I think you are because when you guys were talking, he’d been playing better than ever. Things went to shit after my plan.”

“Yeah, thanks for that by the way.”

“Any time, best friend. Get here soon. Maybe there will be a time out and you can kiss him or something.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

You shove your phone into your pocket, running toward the stadium as the crowd erupts into cheers again.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Lee Chan grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder when half-time is called. Both boys are dripping with sweat, exhausted from the game. There had been so much back and forth between the two teams, keeping them tied almost constantly for the past 45 minutes. “You’ve been playing like shit for three games in a row, Kim Sunwoo. This isn’t like you. I’m not afraid to get Coach to bench you if you don’t get your shit together.”

Sunwoo huffs, grabbing his water bottle from the bench and ignoring his teammate so he can hydrate. 

“I’m fine, just not feeling great.” He dismisses. Chan’s lip curls into a sneer. 

“If we lose this game because of you, I swear to fucking god I will get you kicked from the team.” 

“You wouldn’t do that,” Sunwoo rises to his feet and glares down at the team captain. He may be the star player, but it takes more than skill to hold a team together. Lee Chan has that ability. Morals, respect from his teammates, he has everything. That’s why Sunwoo backs down when Chan straightens his posture. 

“You think I fucking won’t? Remember who got you on this team in the fucking first place.”

Sunwoo’s ears start to ring, and he can hear someone yelling his name. It sounds distant, and he swears he’s imagining it so he ignores it. 

It happens again, louder this time and grabbing Chan’s attention as well. Both players whip their heads toward the crowd, and Sunwoo’s stomach drops. 

There you are, shoving your way through the crowd to get to the barrier. People yell at you, and you say something that shuts them up. He’s in awe, staring at you and the distressed look on your face. You wave your hands to get his attention, and Chan shoves him again.

“If she’s why you aren’t on top of your game, you better fix shit right now. I’m not losing this one, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Yeah, got it.” It’s like he’s running on autopilot, walking toward you and then running. There are three minutes left in half-time, so he needs to make this fast. 

“What are you doing here?” Sunwoo grabs onto the barricade and hauls himself up so he’s face-to-face with you, ignoring the people yelling around the two of you. 

You grin at him, a mischievous look in your eye. 

“You don’t want me here?” The panic in his eyes makes you laugh, and you lean toward him. He smells of sweat and grass and your nose wrinkles. 

“I don’t— you know that isn’t what I meant.” He snaps, but you know he isn’t mad at you. 

“Soonyoung said you were playing like shit, figured I’d find out why.” You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you so he can’t leave before you talk to him.

“I’m just distracted today.” You scoff and he narrows his eyes at you. “What?”

“You’ve been practicing for this game for weeks now, Kim Sunwoo. What could possibly have you so distracted today?” 

He hesitates, and you already know his answer. 

“I don’t have time to talk right now, Y/N.” He’s biting his lip, anxiously flicking his eyes to the clock behind him. You roll your eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t answer you. You knew he wouldn’t give you a straight answer, knew he was too nervous between the game and having you right in front of him to fully focus. 

“Then I’ll make this fast.”

“Make what—” your lips are on his, your hand on the back of his neck to hold him close while you kiss him. His body stiffens and then relaxes, and then his hand comes to your arm to keep himself stable. His face slides against yours, transferring his sweat to your body and you pull back.

“Win this game,” you look into his eyes, but it’s like he can’t focus on you. He looks like he’s in a daze, and you tug at the strands of his hair to get his attention.

“I— yeah, I’ll win.” He promises but he sounds far away. The buzzer goes off. “I— what was—”

“If you win this game, you can take me on a date.” You grin and let go of him. Chan yells Sunwoo’s name and the boy pulls back from you reluctantly. 

“Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere.”

“Promise?” His eyes are shining when he looks at you. You smile, placing another gentle kiss on his plush lips.

“I promise.”

He’s running away from you now, a new lightness in his feet that had been missing the past two weeks. There’s fresh energy in his muscles, in his bones, and that overconfident attitude that his teammates and opponents despised returns in full force.

“I take it I’m not gonna have to pull you off the field?” The Coach eyes Sunwoo as he jogs by. Sunwoo slows and turns back with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Not a chance in hell, Coach.”

“Can’t believe you kissed him.” Soonyoung nudges you with a grin, and you roll your eyes.

“Why? Didn’t think I had it in me?”

“No, it’s not that,” he shakes his head and lets out a sharp whistle when Sunwoo steals the ball from the opposing team. “He was covered in sweat and grass. Don’t you hate that shit?”

“Worth it,” Soonyoung snorts when you smile at him. 

Since the start of the second half, Sunwoo had already brought their team into the lead by two points. You’d never seen him play before, but everything you’d heard was true. He was fast, agile, and strong. He was a beast on the field, keeping himself just out of reach of all the other players. You can tell the other team is starting to get agitated, starting the get rough with your school’s team. 

You bite at your thumb as you watch the game proceed. Two minutes left in the game, and they’re tied again. You can see all the players getting tired, everyone slowing down. Sunwoo seems to be the only one with the energy to keep going, but even he seems to struggle. 

30 seconds and Sunwoo has the ball again. The stadium has gone quiet and you could swear that you hear the ticking of the clock. 

10 seconds and Sunwoo is almost to the goal, you stand from your seat, and people around you rise as well. Anticipation. Tension. The stadium is filled with it. People start cheering again, the other school starts yelling at their team to move their asses. 

5 seconds and the crowd goes silent. Sunwoo is on the ground, a player from the other team on top of him. Players from all sides are running over, trying to see what happened. The announcers say that the opposing player, Park Jongseong, tackled Sunwoo, his hand unintentionally jamming the star player’s nose. A medic rushes over, but Sunwoo waves them away. You can’t see his face very well, but you can tell by his posture that he’s agitated.

Jongseong is penalized, and his coach takes him off the field for a moment. Sunwoo is set in front of the center of the goal, pacing while he waits for the ‘ok’ from the referee. He glances up at the crowd, and for a moment you swear that he looks at you. For a moment, you swear that you can see him smiling at you, through the throbbing in his face and the ache in his body. You could swear that he’s telling you I’m gonna win this. Trust me.

Jongseong is back on the field, the clock is set. The referee raises his hand, an indirect kick. Sunwoo rolls his neck, jogging backwards to get a headstart. Yuta and Chan are both ready to receive a pass. 

The clock starts.

5

Sunwoo is running. You and the rest of the crowd are yelling at him to run faster. He does.

4

The ball is sailing through the air, Chan and Yuta and all the other players on the field are running for the ball. Yuta gets there first.

3

Yuta kicks the ball, but another player knocks it out of the air. Sunwoo is already waiting, stealing the ball and moving to an open space.

2

Sunwoo kicks the ball and watches it sail through the air. He doesn’t stop running, not when there’s still time on the clock

1

The crowd erupts into cheers, deafening you and you feel Soonyoung grab your shoulders, shaking you and yelling just as loud as everybody else. You feel a yell building in your chest.

0

They’ve won. Sunwoo is being hauled into the air by his teammates, The other team is sulking by their coach. You can’t go to him. Not yet. The crowd is beginning to clear, some people moving from the stands to leave the stadium and chat with their friends, to wait for the team to come out. 

“You coming?” Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow at you but you know that he already knows the answer. A shake of your head confirms his suspicions and he grins. “Go get your man. I won’t interrupt this time.” He makes his way down the stands to the parking lot, and you smile while walking down to the field. The teams have dispersed now, done with talking to their coaches and making their way to the locker room. Sunwoo hangs back, talking with Chan as you walk across the turf. Your heart is pounding in your chest, so hard you fear it’ll burst from behind your ribcage. 

Chan sees you first, jerking his head in your direction and clapping Sunwoo on the shoulder. Sunwoo turns as he walks away, and you can see the way his eyes light up when he recognizes you. 

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He grins at you when you get closer, but you don’t respond. You’re only a few steps from him now, and you take a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Your face is bruised…” you have to force yourself not to jump his bones right there, instead focusing on the blooming bruise on his right cheek. Your fingers brush over it and he doesn’t even flinch.

“It’s nothing,” he reassures you, resting his hands on your waist. “It’ll be gone in a week, I promise. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.” 

You smile back at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. 

“You think my head is pretty?” 

“I think everything about you is pretty, babe.” Your cheeks heat up and he presses a kiss to your lips. It’s gentle, far less frantic than the one you gave him on the bleachers. Your hand trails from his cheek to the side of his neck, holding him close to you. Your lips part against his, your head tilting to give a better angle to kiss him at and he inhales sharply. Your body is on fire everywhere he’s touching you. Your waist, your lips, your neck. It feels electric and it pains you when he forces himself to separate from you, his nose brushing against yours. 

“All that for winning a game?” he breathes out, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I should win more often if this is gonna be my reward from now on.”

Your lips curl into a smirk. “I’ll give you more than just a kiss if you want, Kim Sunwoo.” 

It takes him a moment to process what you said. Sunwoo stares at you, eyes wide and jaw hanging open for so long that you almost consider taking back what you said. 

“You’re— what happened to take me to dinner? What happened to hello, how are you?” His grip on your waist tightens and you shrug. 

“I have more important things in mind.” Sunwoo’s whole body is tense, so tense that you feel like he’ll combust on the spot if you aren’t careful.

“I’m covered in dirt and sweat.” He tries as an excuse but you scoff. “I don’t think you wanna fuck me while I’m like this, right?” 

“Do you really care about that?” He takes a deep breath.

“Me? No. I just…If I go with you right now I swear to god I’ll cum in my pants and I really don’t want that to happen during our first time together—”

“Sunwoo,” You grab his chin between two fingers and he snaps his mouth shut. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about you. I want you, whether or not you’re covered in sweat.” You reach one of your hands up, pushing his soaking wet hair out of his face and his features soften. 

“You really…you like me, don’t you?”

“I figured it was obvious when I kissed you in front of the whole stadium, Sunwoo.” You kiss your teeth and step away from him. His grip loosens on you and eventually falls when you continue to back away from him, that sly grin still on your face. 

“Where are you going?” He trails after you like a lost puppy but you just shrug. 

“Come with me if you wanna find out.”

You silently thank god when you find the parking lot already half empty. Sunwoo’s car is a distance from most other cars, tucked under some trees that cast shadows over that old Toyota Corolla. 

“You’re—” Sunwoo is cut off when you open the door to his back seat and shove him in. You hear some people behind you howling, briefly turning your head to see his teammates cheering him on. 

“Get some, Kim Sunwoo!” Lee Chan screams and you laugh before crawling into the car behind Sunwoo. 

You turn just enough to slam the car door shut, and then you’re on top of Sunwoo. He tugs you onto his lap, your skirt riding up enough to expose your thighs to him, but you give him no time to process anything, your lips already crushed against his. It’s sloppy, but the whine he emits just from the pressure behind it has heat curling in your stomach again. Your tongue dips into his open mouth, and he pushes against you with more force that you had anticipated. He curls his tongue around yours, sucking and licking at it, and your body begins to shudder against his. 

Sunwoo drags your hips down against his own, groaning at the feeling of your heat against his growing member. 

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he hisses when he pulls away, moving his lips down to attach to your throat and sucking harsh marks into your skin. You whine at his statement, grinding against him of your own will once he’d set the rhythm. He feels so good against you, pressing against your clit in just the right way to have you curling against him with broken whines spilling from your lips. Sunwoo moves one of your hands to your hair, jerking your head to the side to expose more of your skin to him, and you know he grows impatient when your shirt gets in the way. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks you, his eyes glittering when he looks up at you.

“Really think I’d say no to you?” You smile, reaching your hands down and pulling your shirt off and tossing it somewhere in the front seat. Sunwoo looks like he’s in heaven when you unclip your bra and throw it back with your shirt, baring your breasts for him.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, cupping one in his hand and brushing his thumb over your nipple. You force yourself to keep your breathing steady, to let him do what he wants. “You’re so pretty, baby. Wanna drown in your pretty tits.” 

“Yeah?” You ask, your voice breathy. “Who’s stopping you, then?” He looks up at you like you’re his goddess, like he’d worship you every day and every night if you’d let him.

“Really?” He hardly waits for a response before he’s shoving his face into your tits, laving at the valley between them before ultimately choosing one to focus on with his mouth. He sucks at the nipple, tugging at it between his teeth and listening to the delicate whines you let out. The other breast doesn’t go unnoticed, one of his hands palming at it and tweaking the nipple for a few minutes before he switches sides to give each of your breasts the same treatment. 

You haven’t stopped grinding on him in this time, your eyelids fluttering shut while your roll your hips over Sunwoo’s. You can feel his dick twitching in his soccer shorts, can feel him fighting the urge to jerk his hips into yours. 

“Sunwoo,” you choke out, tugging at the strands of his hair. It doesn’t stop him, in fact you could swear that the action makes him suck harder on your tits and your voice breaks into a moan. “Sunwoo,” 

This time when you speak, you yank his head back. He whines, his neck now at an awkward angle as he tries to sink back into your chest. 

“Whyyyy,” he drawls with a pout. His lips are puffy and covered in spit, similar to your chest and you already know he’s sucked marks into your skin that’ll be visible for days after this. 

“Wanna fuck you, baby.” You plead. “Wanna fuck you so bad.” 

His eyes roll into the back of his head at your tone, and he pushes you off of him just long enough to shove his clothing off. You do the same, noting the way your panties stick to your slick cunt. With a smirk, you discreetly tuck them into the center console while his back is still somewhat turned to you. 

By the time he’s turned back around, you’ve stripped yourself of all your clothing and sunk your fingers into your core. Your eyes have fluttered shut with two fingers inside of you and your thumb rubbing circles into your clit. 

“What are— what—” Sunwoo sounds like he’s going to cry, and you force your eyes open. He’s staring at your glistening folds with a look of pure hunger and you can only assume heartbreak as you finger yourself. “Why are you—”

“Gotta get myself ready for you,” you tell him with a pout. “Don’t—f-fuck— wanna make sure you fit i-inside of me.” Your back arches off the door and Sunwoo lunges for you, yanking your hand away from your pussy. The suddenness of the action makes you yelp, your eyes fly open again when Sunwoo sinks your fingers into his mouth. You can’t tell if the moan he lets out is genuine or if it’s for show, but it’s guttural and has your walls clenching around absolutely nothing. His tongue laves over your fingers, sucking them as far into his mouth as he can, getting as much of your taste off of your fingers as humanly possible before pulling them from his mouth and lowering your hand back to your side.

“That’s my job,” Sunwoo hisses, and then he’s lowering his body down so he can be level with your pussy. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance, and your hips jerk toward him against your well. He clicks his tongue when he sinks them into you. “Loosened your little cunt up a little bit already, hm? Gotta stretch you out even more though if I wanna fit inside you.” 

You can only whine when he sinks a third finger into you, scissoring them inside of them and curling them into that sweet spot inside of you. The stretch begins to sting, ever so slowly ebbing away and being replaced by pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

“Oh god, Sunwoo.” You gasp out, your hand wrapping around his wrist but you can’t exactly figure out why. To slow him down? To force him to go faster? “Feels so fucking good, please.” You feel a coil beginning to tighten in your stomach as his fingers punch into that spot time and time again, his thumb rubbing harsh circles into your clit similar to how you were. Fast learner.

Sunwoo grins at the way your face twists and contorts with pleasure, the way you try to control how your hips buck against his hand, the guttural moans you emit. 

“Gonna cum, babe?” He knows the answer. He knows by the way you clench against him, the way your cunt tries to force his hand out.

“Yes,” you whine out, “yes, gonna c-cum. Sun-Sunwoo, please.”

“Please what, babe?” He coos. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.” Just to tease you, he slows down. “Do you want me to stop?”

“NO,” you cry out, taking matters into your own hands and fucking down onto his hand. “Ple-please let me cum!”

“Ohhh, I see.” He hums and drives his fingers into you faster, harder. Your whines and whimpers have become broken little sobs. “Fuck, babe, it’s like no one’s ever made you feel like this.” He can’t help but laugh when you clench down on him again. 

“G-Gonna cum, Sunwoo!” He just hums, watching as you clench down once, twice, and then your body is jerking against his hand. Your cunt tries to force him out one more time but he continues to drive into you and work you through your first orgasm of the night. 

When your body has stopped shuddering, Sunwoo finally pulls his fingers out of you. He raises them up a bit, just enough for you to see the way the mix of your arousal and your cum. 

“Look at all this, baby.” He holds his fingers out to you with a broad grin on his face. “Have you ever tasted yourself?” Your eyes come back to focus when he prods his fingers against your lips. You let him sink his fingers into your mouth, nearly gagging when they hit the back of your throat. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?” 

You swallow around his fingers, taking in the bittersweet taste on your tongue. Sunwoo watches you with hazy eyes when you take hold of his wrist again, holding his hand close to you while your tongue swirls around his fingers. You know exactly what he’s thinking, know exactly what’s going on behind those hazy eyes of his, and have to force yourself to pull off of his fingers when you know you’ve cleaned him off completely. 

“Fucking minx,” he growls and grips your hips tightly in his hands, flipping you over so you’re on your hands and knees. “Did that on purpose, didn’t you? Knew I’d think of you sucking my cock, think of you gagging on it as I fuck your pretty little face?” You don’t have a response this time, only moaning when he shoves his cock into you with one harsh thrust. 

He gives you no time to adjust, gives you no time to work through the sting it brings you but you don’t mind. Not when the stretch feels so good. Not when his cock is fucking into at a pace so harsh it has your body sliding across the seats. Your arm reaches out, hand desperately trying to find purchase on something, anything to hold you steady against the roughness of his hips slapping against yours. 

His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair and yanking on it to pull you against him. Your moans become louder, harsher until they’ve turned into screams and cries of his name. You can feel the fabric of his car’s seats digging into your knees, feel the old Toyota Corolla rocking back and forth while the windows fog up with the heat of your sinful behavior. 

One of Sunwoo’s legs slips down to the floor of the car, but he doesn’t slow as he adjusts his position. It gives him a new angle, new strength to fuck into you harder and faster, bruising your insides as he practically punches into your cervix from the force of his thrusts. 

“How does this feel, hm?” He coos into your ear, his breathing heavy from overexhertion. “Does this feel good? Am I fucking you good, baby?”

“S-so good!” You cry out. “Fuckin’ me s’good, Sunwoo!”

“Yeah?” He bends you over again, this time hunching over your body and humping into you like a dog in heat. Your back arches into him, your body shaking with seemingly neverending pleasure. “Gonan cum f’me?” Sunwoo’s arms are all over you, pinching at your nipples, squeezing your waist, gripping your ass. His lips place firm kisses onto your spinal cord, sucking hickies into your skin that no one but him will see.

“YES!” Your voice breaks and you cum again, squeezing so tightly around his cock that he emits a moan so loud and sharp that you fear you’ve broken him. 

Sunwoo pumps white hot cum into you in thick ropes that spill out while he continues to fuck you, overstimulating you both. The mixture of your cum drips down your legs and onto the fabric seats, and you pray that whoever sits back here after you doesn’t notice the white stain in the middle seat, doesn’t think to ask about this mystery stain and that Sunwoo refuses to give them an answer.

When his hips finally slow, when his dick finally softens inside of you and he slips out, you let your body sag against the seat. Sunwoo grimaces at the sight of you, dark marks littering your skin. He hopes that Soonyoung doesn’t ask questions about the way you limp into your classes the next few days. You hope he knows better by now than to question it. 

“For a sophomore,” you wheeze out while you roll over. Sunwoo runs his hands up and down your thighs, smiling thoughtfully. “You sure seem to have lots of experience.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, babe.” He squeezes just above your knee, running his tongue across his lips when he sees more cum dripping out of you. You catch the fiery look in his eye and groan while you squeeze your legs shut. He groans when you use one foot to kick him back against the door opposite you. 

“No,” you scold him. He looks like a kicked puppy.

“Whyyyy,” he reaches for your legs again and you push him back even more. 

“I’m tired, Sunwoo.” You say but he just crawls on top of you with a mischievous grin.

“You won’t have to do anything,” he bargains. “Jus’ wanna taste you a little. That’s all!” You glare at him.

“One time.” His eyes light up and he pries your legs open again. “You get one more from me tonight, Kim Sunwoo. You hear me?”

“Mhm!” He dives straight into you, knowing that this was far from the last time he’d get you to cum in his car tonight.

“I still think that you should be thanking me,” Eric shuts the door of Sunwoo’s car with a sly grin. 

“For what?” Sunwoo asks exasperatedly. 

It had been less than 24 hours since Sunwoo had fucked you in his car and officially made you his after a long year and a half of pining. He was tired. His body was tired. He didn’t have the energy to deal with his best friend this early in the morning, or at all really. 

“For getting you guys together! It was my idea, anyway.” Eric clicks his seatbelt into place and runs a hand through his dyed red hair. “Where are your car gummy worms?” 

“Center console,” Sunwoo puts the car in drive and has barely begun to ease his foot off the brake when Eric lets a gasp so violent and loud that he slams his foot back down again. “What, what happened?” He slams the car back into park, his face going white when he sees what his best friend is dangling between two dainty fingers. 

Black lace panties. 

Your black lace panties. 

“Sunwoo…you didn’t…” Eric chokes out with a mix of disgust and heartbreak on his face. Sunwoo rips the panties out of his best friend’s hands and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans. His face feels like it’s on fire, his heart pounding out of his chest. 

“Do not ever speak of this to anybody. Ever.”

“You fucking FREAK!”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[itsbeeble]

"FRIENDLY" COMPETITION

SUMMARY: The TBZ frat had always had a rivalry with the KAT sorority. At least, they did when you and Sangyeon became the presidents three years ago. What happens when you mix a little friendly competition into this rivalry of yours?

GENRE: smut, fluff, angst

PAIRING: Lee Sangyeon x afab!reader

WC: 7.6k

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: the enemies to we fuckin genre makes a return, mentions of alcohol, eric is a cockblock FR, cops are called oops, making out ig, HEAVY marking but it's more biting each other than anything else, mentions of bets, insults (sexual and non sexual), degredation kinda, choking kinda, hairpulling, overstimulation, face fucking, hate sex, begging, Sangyeon is mean in this oops, idk there's like 3.5k words of smut in here, Sangyeon is really possessive, brat!reader x brattamer!sangyeon, unprotected sex, this is actually kinda nasty i'm so sorry yall

A/N: um...anywayyyyy....i didn't expect to write this much for Sangyeon's fic but uhhh yeah. I hope y'all enjoy whatever...this....is

“Killer party,” your painted red lips are curled into a sly smirk, your phone dangling in your hand. Sangyeon’s eyes narrow at you, his arms crossed over his chest while he towers over you. Flashing red and blue lights surround the TBZ house, and most partygoers have scattered and disappeared into the night. He vaguely remembers seeing Sunwoo and his girlfriend taking off in his Toyota Corolla, Haknyeon getting dragged off by some girl he can’t be bothered to remember the name of. 

Of course, it was you who called the cops on him. It’s always you, ever since the two of you started the stupid bet at the beginning of the semester.

“It was,” he agrees, not wanting you to know he’s agitated. “It’ll be good for your sorority, no?”

Juyeon stands across the road from him, near the door of the frat house, chatting with a few officers. The other boys are scattered across the lawn, some watching Sangyeon’s interaction and some talking with each other. 

“Mhm, thanks for bringing us some guests, Sangie.” you chirp, spinning on your heel and beginning to walk to the street to your sleek black car. Your hips sway as you walk, your skirt rising up just a little bit and Sangyeon forces himself to look at the back of your head. He knows you’re doing that on purpose. You always do, ever since you started this rivalry. 

Keyword: you.

You were the one who almost ran him over on his first day of freshman year at IST University, yelling at him to get out of your way, that you were going to be late because he was a stupid frat boy who could never do anything right. Being hot doesn’t get you everywhere in life. It's ironic, isn’t it, considering that was how you’d been getting everything since that day.

You were the one who blew up at him at the very first frat party he’d ever hosted as a sophomore, claiming that he purposefully picked that night to host his frat’s biggest party ever. The same night that you were supposed to host your own party. You claimed he did it on purpose, to get back at you for freshman year.

It was you who’d started the bet in the first place. You who got so fed up with his know-it-all attitude, looking down at you all the time with that damn smirk of his. He thought he was everything— the king of the world. 

“Too bad the cops got called on you,” he calls out. His voice echoes in the area, over the distant whooping of college boys and the sound of police chatter and doors shutting. You whip around, stomping back over to him. The cop cars are beginning to pull away upon seeing a list of guests— all of whom were over 21. Sangyeon had been prepared for this, knew you would try something like this. 

“What did you just say?” You hiss out. Sangyeon can practically see the steam rolling out of your ears and cracks a grin.

“You didn’t hear?” Your eyebrows are knit together, and Sangyeon watches the blue and red lights flicker in your eyes. 

“Hear what, Lee Sangyeon?” you get closer to him, and he can smell the cheap perfume you wear every day. 

“Someone at your party narced as well. I heard it’s being shut down as we speak.” 

“I don’t understand why you two hate each other so much,” Saebyeol picks at the corner of one of her textbook pages, watching you type an angry message to the frat president you claimed to hate so much. For the life of her, Saebyeol couldn’t figure out why you always seemed to be texting him. 

“It’s complicated,” you tell her and she rolls her eyes.

“Clearly.”

Your phone hits the mattress and you turn your scowl to her. She’s smart enough to not look at you, knowing better than to push your buttons too much. 

Everyone knew this. Everyone in your sorority, everyone in the TBZ frat, everyone who you shared classes with. You were the class pet, but you knew exactly how to get what you wanted from anyone and everyone you wanted. Some people called you a raging bitch, some called you a spitfire, and some admired you for not being afraid. 

Lee Sangyeon, though? He did none of those things and you hated him for it. You hated that he didn’t give you the time of day after nearly running him over, claiming that it was no big deal. Even from day one, you already held the firm belief that you were hot shit and you needed everyone to know that. Sangyeon gave you no response to…anything, really. You mocked him in classes, argued with him every chance you got, even called the fucking cops on his party but nothing got his attention. Nothing got you what you wanted. He hardly spared you a glance, always having an alternate solution to any problems you created for him. He would just send you that seductive smirk of his and—

Wait, no. 

Not seductive. 

Annoying. Yes. That annoyingly sexy stupid smirk of his. 

“Y/N.” Saebyeol snaps her fingers in front of your face and huffs at the dazed look in your eyes. “Thinking about your mortal enemy again?”

“Why would I be thinking of him?” You knit your eyebrows together and Saebyeol stares blankly for a moment.

“You’re— you’re kidding, right?” Saebyeol slides her textbook off her lap and scoots toward you on your bed. “Like, this is a joke?”

“Why would I be joking about this?” You fold your arms over your chest and your sorority sister huffs. 

“Y/N, my sweet sweet Y/N, you have done nothing but talk about Lee Sangyeon since day one of our college career,” Saebyeol says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s always Sangyeon this, Sangyeon that, Sangyeon did blah blah blah today and ugh I wanna slap that stupid smirk off his face.” She raises the pitch in her voice, openly mocking you and you can feel your cheeks beginning to heat up with embarrassment and frustration. 

“I do not sound like that. And I don’t always talk about him!”

“If you hadn’t told me so often that you hate his guts, I would think you want him to fuck you sideways into next Wednesday. In fact,” Saebyeol grins at you, “I think you really do want him to fuck you like that.” 

Now your cheeks are on fire, blazing red so bright that she can see it even behind the curtain of your hair. 

“I do not!” You practically shriek, but your sorority sister continues. 

“I’ve heard that he’s really good, just like all the other TBZ boys,” she sighs dramatically as if swooning over him. “Really big, too.” 

Your breath catches in your throat, and your mind is suddenly stuck on the image of him drilling into you for hours and hours. Until the sun comes up until you can’t feel your legs and you’re dripping a mix of his and your cum. 

“I don’t need to hear this right now,” you wave Saebyeol away. She purses her lips. “Get out, scram.”

“Alright,” she concedes, raising her hands in defense. “Don’t come crying to me when we have to attend his party and you guys end up fucking all night.” 

Your head snaps up.

“What do you mean we have to attend his party?” A wicked grin appears on Saebyeol’s face.

“Didn’t you hear? We lost the bet.”

Sangyeon doesn’t expect to hear your shriek of his name and to see you barreling down the hall at 8AM on a Monday, steam once again pouring out of your ears. He doesn’t expect you to grab him by the collar of his shirt and half-drag-half-walk him into the nearest empty classroom and slam the door shut, shoving him against the wall immediately after. He won’t deny that he finds this side of you attractive, especially when you press up against him. 

“How did you do it,” you practically spit out. He arches one of his perfect eyebrows, a playful grin on his lips. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, princess.” A lie. Of course, Sangyeon knows what you’re talking about. It’s all his brothers had been raving about since the party that got shut down. 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Your eyes are narrowed, but Sangyeon swears he sees another emotion in them. No, he tells himself, it couldn’t be. You would never. 

“Why not? Isn’t that what you are?” He sees it. The most subtle weight shift, the tiniest press of your thighs together. The shaky breath that you try to keep steady, but he knows you. Four years of debates, competitions, and arguments and he had never once seen your breathing unsteady. Wavered from lack of air, sure. He’d seen that one plenty of times. 

Unsteady, however? That was a whole different ball game that he could use to his advantage. 

Had you asked any of the Tau Beta Zeta boys or any student at IST Uni, they would tell you that this competition, this rivalry that you so vehemently claimed existed was entirely one-sided. Anyone could tell you that Sangyeon was just entertaining you, using it as a way to stay close to you in hopes that one day you would cave for him. 

Not for him to win. No, he couldn’t care less about winning (you’d never guess it from his winning streak). He cares about you. He’d wanted you desperately since day one, but he knew you hated everything about him. 

Or, at least, so you told everyone around you.

“I’m not,” you try to sound angry, to keep your voice rough, but every word that spills out of your mouth comes out in a whine that takes Sangyeon’s breath away. “Don’t call me that!”

“Are you sure?” He takes a step forward, and you’re forced to back up until he has you pressed against one of the rows of tables. “You don’t really seem to be putting up too much of a fight about that do you, princess?”

Your breathing hitches and Sangyeon cages you in with an arm on either side of the table behind you. His eyes bore into yours, and you catch the brief swipe of his tongue across his lip. Your eyes flick down, and then back up, and then Sangyeon’s lips are on yours. 

They’re softer than you thought they’d be (not that you’d thought about it). They’re soft, but he presses them against you with such fervor that you feel like the shape of them would be scorched into your skin. You try to keep pace with him, but his hand is in your hair, yanking on the strands to tilt your head back and you find yourself lost in a daze of pleasure. Sangyeon pulls back for just a few moments when your body shudders against his, a whimper forcing its way out of you. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He yanks on the strands again, your jaw dropping open and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “You dirty bitch.” His lips attach to the skin of your cheek, your jaw, your neck. You lift yourself onto the table, your hands all over him. You put them under his shirt, scraping at his back as he sucks dark marks into your skin that you know will take too much product to cover up. Your nails scrape at his back, digging into the muscles that you know good and well he’d worked hard for. The image of him in the gym, sweat dripping from his shirtless body presses to the front of your mind and you find yourself pushing the fabric up his torso.

Sangyeon doesn’t let you get a good look at his body, however. His hands come down on you, forcing you to lay back on the table. He drags you toward him, your hips sliding against his while he hovers over you. 

“So quiet now,” he hums. “What happened to that mouthy little princess from earlier?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss, and to your complete surprise, he listens.

In your lust-filled daze, you reach your body up, connecting your spit-slicked lips once more. Sangyeon groans quietly, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight to him. Your back is arched, your neck pressed into an awkward angle but you don’t seem to care. Not when he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth with so much desperation you would think this was his last day to live. 

He raises you back up into a sitting position but finds that that isn’t quite enough for him and slides his hands under your butt to haul you off the table, walking twenty feet to press you against the wall instead. 

Your lips detach from his, slipping down to his neck to lick and suck and bite at the skin there. You aren’t gentle with each other, not now. Four years of pent-up…anger? Frustration? Hate? Sangyeon isn’t quite sure what to call it, and frankly neither are you, but it fuels the kisses you’re giving each other. It fuels him every time he changes your position. It fuels to grinding of his hips into yours and forcing little whines out of you. Your core pulses every time his bulge slides against you, and you swear you would let him kiss you like this for hours—

The door slams shut, and Sangyeon practically drops you to the ground. A boy is standing there, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open as he stares at you and Sangyeon.

“Um,” the boy starts to speak but Sangyeon cuts him off, his eyes still boring into yours.

“Get the hell out, Eric.” The boy— Eric nods dumbly, starting for the door but you stop him. You’re suddenly all too aware of the position you were just in, of what exactly you just did and a numb feeling fills your stomach.

“It’s fine,” your voice is hoarse and Sangyeon turns his eyes back to you. They’re screaming at you, those eyes of his. Screaming at you to stay, to talk. “I’ve gotta go anyway.”

“Y/N—” Sangyeon starts but you cut him off. 

“Don’t.” Your voice shakes and so does your hand as you push him away from you. His face contorts for a moment, but you turn your back on him before anything else can be said. “Just…just stay away from me, Lee Sangyeon.”

You wish the bet had never happened. You wish that Lee Sangyeon didn’t make an appearance in your life. 

You wish that he would stop staring at you as you help decorate his frat house. Which, by the way, isn’t as gross as you had imagined it to be. That’s not the point, though.

The point is that you’ve felt his eyes on you the entire time you’ve been there. You felt his eyes on you whenever you stopped to talk with one of the boys in the house, ask where something should go or what alcohol they want. 

“Sangyeon can’t take his eyes off you,” Hyunjae comments as you pass by with one of the last boxes. You freeze where you stand, your cheeks immediately beginning to flush a deep shade of scarlet. “Any idea why, Miss President?”

“No idea.” You tell him, but the nerves seep into your every word and you can’t help but wonder if you’d covered the marks on your neck well enough. You wondered if the scratches you’d dug into Sangyeon’s skin had been revealed to his brothers or if Eric had snitched. You doubt that he had, though, based on the glares that Sangyeon shoots toward him and the way he ducks his head and scurries off to do something far away from the two of you.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Hyunjae sing-songs and you roll your eyes. “You wanna know what I think?”

“Not really.”

“I think that you finally let loose a little bit and things got a little…frisky.” Hyunjae taps the side of his neck and your breathing hitches. So you didn’t cover them entirely. Shit.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t ask what you thought, then, right?” He grins at your statement and steps to the side so you can shove past him. 

“Hit it right on the nose, didn’t I?” He trails after you with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lee Hyunjae.” You tell him over your shoulder. “And stop following me around.”

“Why would I do that?” he counters. “It’s getting on Sangyeon’s nerves. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Isn’t it? Honestly, you weren’t so sure anymore. You could still feel his lips on yours, feel the way he burned the imprint of his lips into the column of your throat, feel the size of him as he ground his hips into you. 

“Usually, yes.” You smile, but it might be more of a grimace at this point. “I tend to get on his nerves.” 

Saebyeol eyes you from ten feet away, watching the way Hyunjae practically corners you in this conversation. You can see the curiosity burning in her gaze, but then your eyes turn to Sangyeon, and a swirl of heat pools in your gut. He looks pissed, but you can’t figure out why. What could he possibly be pissed about?

“I have a few ways we can piss him off,” Hyunjae leans toward you, and suddenly he’s being yanked back with a yelp. “What— dude what the fuck?” 

Sangyeon just scoffs. 

“Stay away from her, Hyunjae.” He says with a little sneer. The heat in your stomach is replaced with an uneasy churning. 

“I was just talking to her!” The younger man protests, but you can see the glint in his eyes. He’s enjoying every second of this confrontation. “Right, Y/N?”

“Didn’t particularly look like she was enjoying your conversation,” Sangyeon shrugs. 

“And you’d know that really well, wouldn’t you?”

You aren’t sure why you chose that moment to step in, but the way Sangyeon flinches at your statement makes you want to backtrack. For the first time in your life, you’re beginning to regret some of the things you’ve said to Sangyeon. 

For the first time in your life, when Sangyeon starts to walk away from you, you want to run after him. To apologize. To grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness. 

You don’t. Instead, like always, you watch him walk away from you with a distraught look on your face. 

“I can’t believe you’re willingly going to talk to him,” Saebyeol practically yells into your ear over the loud music. The party is loud. So loud, and packed with more people than you’d ever seen at KAT or TBZ parties. It very nearly deafens you, but tonight you’re on a mission. 

“What can I say,” you shrug. “It bothers me when he’s the one walking away ticked off. Plus, I need to have the last word without the emotional guilt” 

Sabyeol laughs loudly before tipping her cup back to empty the contents into her mouth. You’d wager that the contents are terrible considering that the “bartenders” of the night are Chanmi and Hayoung from your sorority. Those two are notorious for never being allowed on bartending duty at your parties after the Hennessy Incident of 2021. You’d been more than happy to let them bartend for this party, however, knowing that they’d make everyone so fucked up that it would be easy for you to convince them they never saw you and Sangyeon together. 

“You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the way you came back to the house the other day looking like someone tried to eat you?” Saebyeol smirks and you scoff. 

“So everyone knows, then?”

“That you and Sangyeon made out in an empty classroom?” You nod. “Yeah. Eric told everybody.”

“Fantastic.” For a moment, you see sympathy on your sorority sister’s face. 

“Y/N, I promise you that wanting him is not as bad as you think. If it makes you feel better, one look at you and he’ll be crawling on the ground begging for just a taste.”

“It’s not even that, though!” You say and grimace at the last part of her statement, but she’s not listening. She’s focused on something behind you, her eyes practically bugging out of her head. “What? What are you staring at?” 

“I— turn—” she cuts herself off, grabbing you and whipping you around. She uses her other hand to grab your chin and point you exactly where she wants you to look and your stomach drops. 

“Holy shit.” 

Lee Sangyeon, in all his glory, is walking toward you with a determined look. And you…you feel that arousal from a few days ago coming back when you see him. It’s not as if he’s dressed in an overwhelmingly attractive way. A white baseball cap that shields his eyes, a black tank top with an unzipped leopard-print jacket over it, and some dark jeans paired with those old Converse of his. A chain that you’d never seen before (not that you’d been paying attention, that is) glittered under the lights that you had set up earlier that day. 

When he finally stops in front of you, every word that you’d planned on saying to him is swept out of your brain. 

“Y/N.” He says, and you half expect him to whip out that stupid smirk. Saebyeol pats you on the shoulder and slips away from you, pushing her way through the party to find someone to talk to. 

“Sangyeon,” you keep your voice curt and do your damn best to keep your gaze anywhere except on his eyes. 

“I think it’s time we had a little chat, don’t you?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“Do you now?” 

“Mhm.”

“And what would we possibly have to talk about?” You ask, already knowing the answer he’s going to give you. He laughs airily, taking a brief glance around the room before he reaches for you. You do your best to not flinch or react in any way when he pushes a strand of hair back over your shoulder. 

Unfortunately, you can’t stop the whine that bubbles out of you when he tightens his hand in your hair and yanks your face toward his. You mentally curse yourself for being into something like this, knowing that he’ll never let you hear the end of it if this goes too far. 

Sangyeon lowers his lips to your ear, speaking at a level that only you can hear over the noise surrounding you. 

“You know exactly what we need to talk about, pretty girl.”

“Always got so much to say,” Sangyeon slams your body against the wall of what you assume is his bedroom as soon as the lock clicks into place. Your breathing is already wavered, your hands shaking as you clutch at his shirt, laving over the skin of his neck with your tongue and biting harshly to the point that you nearly draw blood. “Always have to get the last word until I get my hands on you, don’t you baby?” 

“Just shut the fuck up already,” You snap and Sangyeon scoffs. His hand slides around your body and he grabs a handful of your ass, pulling your hips against his while he lets you leave your marks. While he lets you have your fun. He has you exactly where he wants you, and both of you know it. 

“What about a safe word?” You glare up at him when he continues to press you with questions and quickly spit one out so you can go back to biting marking him.

He doesn’t know if you notice that he hasn’t kissed you yet, that he’s just been standing above you, rolling his hips into yours, and letting you practically eat his neck. He does know that you’re fumbling. You’re losing yourself, suddenly all too desperate to have him that your body is shaking. Sangyeon loves it.

“What would your sorority sisters say if they saw you like this, hm?” Sangyeon drags a hand up your spine and grabs your hair again, this time just tight enough to get your attention. You pull away from him, your lipstick smeared across your lips and cheek, and your eyes narrow into a dangerous glare. 

“It’s a good thing they aren’t here, then, isn’t it?” You shoot right back, pulling him down by the neck to crush your lips against his. The way you two are kissing is entirely different. He kisses you with an agitating slowness, smiling against your lips. You are kissing him like you’d been in the desert for a week and he was the first glass of water you’d seen since your escape. Your force your tongue into his mouth, licking and sucking at his own. It pisses you off how disinterested he seems to be when he was the one who wanted you to come up here with him. Was Sangyeon mocking you?

Anger swirls in your stomach and you shove Sangyeon back to the edge of his bed. He stares up at you with nothing but pure amusement while you strip him. He does absolutely nothing to help you. Not yet. He’s biding his time and you don’t even know it yet. 

Or, maybe, you do. Maybe you know exactly what’s going on in his mind as you begin to strip yourself of your own clothes, trying to gauge his reactions but he does nothing but stare at you with belittling amusement.

Sangyeon lets you push him down on his bed, leaning back on his elbows, and watches as you crawl over him with your cunt hovering barely a centimeter over his hardened member. That is the only acknowledgment you get that tells you he wants this just as much as you do. He feels the heat radiate off of it, and can feel your arousal beginning to slip down and create a puddle between the two of you. 

Not yet, he tells himself. But it’s getting harder and harder with every one of your movements.

You kiss your way down his body. Well, more like bite. 

“You really like biting me,” he comments, his voice mildly unsteady. “It’s kinda hot.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?” You retort, letting your lips kiss the trail of hair leading to his pelvis. Sangyeon watches you lower your body to the floor, your small hands wrapping around his member and giving it a sharp tug. His throat closes as he fights back a groan. 

“You— fuck me,” His eyes roll into the back of his head and he trails off with a load groan when you suddenly wrap your lips around him. “Fuck, couldn’t you warn me?” 

You hum, the vibrations sending sparks down his cock and he sucks in a sharp breath. He can only watch as you begin to take him deeper and deeper, and he can feel his tip hit the back of your throat, can hear you starting to gag on him, but you don’t stop until you physically cannot breathe anymore. Until your nose is almost pressed against his pelvis. You stay there for a moment, your hand on his bare hip and digging your nails in to focus on something other than the fact that you are quite literally about to choke on his cock.

Then you swallow around him and Sangyeon’s body twitches. You pull your mouth off him and lick gently at his tip before you take him all the way down, as far as you can, and do it again. Sangyeon caves.

Now.

You practically fall backward at the rate Sangyeon moves. He slips out of your mouth, a string of spit loosely connecting you to his tip. He kicks you backward, his foot connecting with the back of your thigh and shoving you as far he can until he’s able to comfortably stand over you and you’re the one leaning on your elbows for support. 

“What the fuck was that?” You snap, trying to push yourself up but Sangyeon just kneels over you, shoving you down with one hand only to grab the back of your head with the other and hold you in place. “Lee Sangyeon, let me fucking go—”

“Too late for that, princess.” He coos, and he brushes his thumb of the hand in your hair across your cheekbone. “Open that pretty little mouth for me, will you?” You almost don’t listen to him, but a part of you knows that if you don’t, he won’t hesitate to tie you up and leave you here for anyone to find. 

Your mouth slowly drops open and for a moment, you think he’ll be gentle with you. For a brief, naive moment you believe that he won’t be rough. 

Those thoughts are gone when he suddenly thrusts into your waiting mouth, forcing you to take all of him. You immediately start gagging at the force of his thrusts, your hands clawing at his waist and scrambling for something to hold. He seems to have no problem, however, holding you in place with one hand. It’s so messy, an overwhelming amount of spit that forms in your mouth being the only lubricant he needs to punch into your throat. 

“Look at you,” He hisses out with half-lidded eyes. “Slobbering all over my big dick like the good little bitch that you are.” You try to whine, try to make some sort of noise but you’re having a hard enough time breathing with his erratic thrusting. Your jaw aches, straining against his girth and tears are gushing down your cheeks. Your lungs are burning, but you have no way of telling him to stop. “Fuck, feels so good around me baby.” 

Your thighs are rubbing together, and you manage to find it in you to slip a hand down to play with your clit, rubbing harsh circles into the little nub. Sangyeon sees this, and he lets out a breathless laugh. 

“Fucking slut,” he sneers, fucking your face harsher than he was before. He can feel himself getting closer every time you gag around him, every time you try to take a breath and choke on it. “Can’t even sit still while I’m fucking your face, huh? Have to be a little slut and touch yourself too?” 

You’re able to whine out this time, and the vibration makes him slow down enough for you to start sucking at him like a lollypop. You can’t move your head at all, not with the grip he has on your hair, but you’re able to give long, hard sucks and you’re able to swallow around him enough to draw loud moans out. Your body quivers under all of the sensations you’re feeling. The tears running down your cheeks, the massive dick that’s bruising the back of your throat, the spit running down your chin and dripping down to your chest, the feeling of your slender fingers pushing into your sopping wet cunt over and over again. 

It’s getting to be all too much for you, and thankfully it seems to be too much for Sangyeon too. 

Like he knew you were about to reach your peak (and he probably did with the way you were moaning like a mad woman around him), he rips his cock out of your mouth and lunges for your hand to pull it away. 

“Not a fucking chance,” he grinds out, his heavy eyes trained on the way you practically sob and beg for your release. 

“Was s’close,” you reach a hand up, brushing the back of his neck. He scoffs at your words. “Please, Sangie, please. Jus’ wanna cum! Jus’ wanna be ready for you!” His dick twitches, still hard and leaking precum from the release he’d forced himself to hold back from. 

“Such a thoughtful little bitch,” he coos and lets your hair slip from his fingertips. You whine, pawing at his leg as some sort of way to get him to be kind to you, just this once. “I’ll make you feel good, baby. Don’t worry, I promise.” Another sob from your mouth as Sangyeon slips three thick fingers into you without any warning, without prepping you at all for any of them. 

You moan in protest as he starts to thrust them in and out of you, but your back arches into him when he curls them and brushes ever so slightly against a spot inside of you that you didn’t even know was there. Your eyes have rolled into the back of your head, more drool spilling out the side of your mouth. 

Your orgasm catches back up to you quickly and your body shakes against Sangyeon, a wild moan escaping your bruised throat. He watches you with careful eyes and his tongue poking out of the corner of his lips. He works you through that first orgasm quickly, and you expect him to pull his fingers out and replace them with his dick.

He doesn’t. 

In fact, as the overstimulation starts to hit you and you try to push him away from you, he just smiles coyly. 

“Thought you wanted to cum, princess?” He pouts mockingly and you whine in protest. The sounds coming from your pussy are disgustingly wet, your arousal and cum spilling out of you in neverending waves. “Why are you asking me to stop? Don’t you wanna cum?”

“‘M sensitive,” you whine into his shoulder and he clicks his tongue. 

“Poor baby,” he runs his hand down your spine, pulling you up to sit in his lap while he pulls his fingers out of you. Your body sags in relief, but that doesn’t last long before he’s flipping you over to lay face down on the floor. 

“Need me to slow down?” His hand is on the back of your neck, forcing the upper half of your body to lay on the hardwood floor. It’s uncomfortable, but you don’t complain. Not to him. “Need me to stop for a minute? Give you time to rest?”

“Yes— I mean— Fuck, I meant no,” you gasp out and Sangyeon scoffs.

“It sounds to me like you’re confused, baby. So which is it? Do you need to stop or do you want me to fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow? Until you’re lying on the floor dripping with my cum and just waiting for me to fuck one more load into this little pussy?” 

When you just whine and push your hips back into him, he knows he’s won. Knows he’s fucked the brat out of you and he hasn’t even stuck his dick in you yet. 

“Can’t believe you made me wait four years for this, princess,” Sangyeon presses his hand down on the center of your spine, forcing you to arch your back even more as he slides into you. 

“Fuck,” you hiss out with your words slightly slurred from being pressed into the ground, curling your fingers into your palm and digging your nails in. Your walls are fluttering around Sangyeon, contracting and expanding in weak attempts to open up and take all of him. “Why the fuck are you so big?” 

Sangyeon spits out a laugh, falling still with just over three-quarters of him inside of you. He has to take that breath, has to let himself slow down. If he doesn’t, he might cum without even being able to fuck you properly, and he can’t have that. 

“That might be the first compliment you’ve ever given me, princess.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” your voice breaks at the end when he shoves the rest of his length into you. “I fucking hate you, Lee Sangyeon.” 

“No you don’t,” he grins maliciously down at you, knowing that you won’t be able to see it. “You love me.”

At the moment, you can’t argue that. Not when he draws his hips back and slams them back in. You yelp when your body slides forward on his hardwood floor, trying to find purchase on something, anything around you, but Sangyeon doesn’t give you the chance. He sets the pace fast and hard, his grip on your waist being the only thing to keep you from falling completely to the ground. 

You don’t realize how warm your body has gotten until his grip starts slipping due to your combined sweat. Until his body is suddenly hunched over yours, his sweaty chest sliding against your back every time he ruts into you like a dog. He’s panting into your ear, letting out little grunts and groans every time you squeeze around him. You’re no better. In fact, you may be worse with the way you practically scream his name, little wails forced out of you every time he sheathes his length into you. 

“What a sight,” Sangyeon grunts out, pulling himself off you just enough to see your body in full again. His hair is damp, hanging over his face in sweaty strands. “The IST University Spitfire crumbling into pieces for the one person she swore never to touch. Isn’t that something?”

“Sh— shut—” you grind your teeth together, struggling to barely get a word out between every moan and whine and sob you emit. “Your— your fu—fucking mouth.”

“See, I would,” Sangyeon says and you feel him twitch inside of you. “But it’s just so much fun to see you like this.” 

Part of you wants to curse him. Part of you wants to shove him off you and give him a piece of your mind before leaving him to jack off like a high schooler. Unfortunately, the larger part of you that just wants him harder, faster deeper, more more more wins. 

He goes quiet after that, though, and the two of you are left in silence. The “silence”, in this case, being the sound of the party raging downstairs, the sensation of your knees scraping the ground and likely forming bruises, the gasping breaths that you take, the wet sound of his hips against yours, and the scandalous noises that you couldn’t be bothered to restrain. You couldn’t care less if you’re fueling his ego right now. Couldn’t care less that he’ll likely never let you live this down. You only care about the orgasm that’s slowly climbing and climbing and climbing. You know Sangyeon is close too. The build from him fucking your throat for god knows how long and then abruptly tearing his orgasm away from himself, the tightness of your walls around him. He has to be close to cumming. You know he is. 

Sangyeon nearly falters when you grab his free hand, your fingers shaking as they wrap around it and drag him toward your clit. He laughs in mocking disbelief.

“You want me to help you?” He asks and, in your naivety, you expect him to bend at your every whim just like everyone else. As if you’d forgotten the past four years in your fucked out state. 

“Please,” you drag out the e sounds, and Sangyeon clicks his tongue. 

“If you want me to help you, you’re gonna have to put in more effort than that, princess.” He snaps his hips into you, enjoying the way you cry out and scramble to stabilize your body again. “I’ve already made you cum once, and I’m about to do it again. If you want me to help you more than I am, you’re gonna have to beg for it.” 

You gnaw on your lower lip, fighting back more tears. As if that would do anything, anyway. Your makeup was already ruined— dark streaks of mascara dried into your cheeks, smeared lipstick on your chin, smudged eyeliner. Anyone who took one look at you would know exactly what happened. Didn’t matter if they were drunk or not. They’d know who did this to you.

“Please, Sangyeon,” you moan pitifully but you know that won’t be enough. “I’ll be so good, I promise. Please please please lemme cum, Sangyeon please.”

“You’ll be good?” He echoes you and laughs. “Little princess, you’ve been nothing but a little brat since the day we met. What makes you think I’m gonna believe you?” 

A hiccuped sob escapes you. “‘M sorry Sangie, I’m sorry! I pro—promise I’ll be good from now o—on. I’ll b—be good for you!”

“You will?” He asks, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see him smirking down at you. “You’ll be good for me?”

“Just for you! Just for you, Sangie! Please, please, please lemme cum! I promise I’ll be good!” 

“Okay, princess,” he says and swats your hand away from his. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

The wail you let out when he picks up his pace again is desperate and carnal. His thumb rubs harshly at your clit, and the stimulation is just enough for you to be thrown over the edge again, your walls squeezing around his member so tightly he’s forced to slow down with a long, drawn-out groan. His body shudders above yours as you continue to pulse around him, forcing him closer and closer to his orgasm.

“D-don’t cum inside,” you manage to hiss out through the overwhelming pleasure. Sangyeon scoffs. 

“As if I’d wanna risk anything with you.” 

Sangyeon squeezes his eyes shut as he forces himself to pull away from you, already missing the warmth of your pussy when the air (cold in comparison) hits him. He wastes no time in wrapping his hand around his length, furiously pumping up and down as he draws closer and closer. You try to sit up, to turn around and watch, but Sangyeon forces you back down with a hand on the back of your neck (which you’re starting to think he has a thing for). 

You don’t put up a fight against him, knowing you don’t stand a damn chance with how exhausted you are. Instead, you opt to crane your neck as best you can, watching in awe (which you would never admit, amongst a handful of other things) as he tilts his head back and lets his jaw hang open, tongue prodding at the side of his mouth. You can only watch as warm ropes of white cum spurt from his tip, coating your ass and lower back. Part of you wants to reach back and swipe some of it, just for a little taste. 

When Sangyeon finally lets you up, you turn toward him with heavy eyes. For a moment, the two of you kneel there in front of each other, sweaty, covered in each other’s cum, and in some sort of daze. You watch his abs tense with every exhale, watch him brush a few strands of hair out of his face. Then you stand up, taking a few steps toward him on shaky legs, and tilt his head up to look at you in the eye. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?” Your hoarse voice comes out in a purr that’s steadier than either of you thought it would, and Sangyeon grins wildly at you.

“You really think you’re gonna have any control over me?” He slaps your hand away from his face, getting to his feet faster than you’d expected him to, and grabs you, his hands squeezing your cheeks. “You’re my bitch now, princess. No changing that. You said it yourself, didn’t you?”

“I said a lot of things, Lee Sangyeon.” You sneer, but it comes out muffled and Sangyeon rolls his eyes.

“Guess I didn’t fuck you hard enough if you’re still talking back, hm?” Your stomach drops, heat rolling in your stomach again. Sangyeon pushes you back toward the bed and that malicious grin returns. You’re starting to miss that smirk he always had on. 

“It’s fine. We have all night, anyway.”

By the time Sangyeon’s had enough of you, by the time both of you are entirely worn out and satiated for the time being, the party downstairs has died down and you’re covered in bruises, aching all over. You didn’t bother to move when he brought a washcloth over and began to wipe you clean, removing any traces of his or your release. 

“Never thought you’d actually cave in.” He tells you when he finally lays down. You don’t look at him, choosing to lie face down with your face stuffed into the pillows. 

“I didn’t cave in,” you say, but even you know that’s a lie. “Maybe I just needed a good fuck before finals.”

“So you admit that I was a good fuck?” Sangyeon teases, sliding closer to you and ignoring the way you groan and try to kick him back. 

“Shut up already. I need to rest.” 

A fist hits the wall behind your head and you gasp loudly, sitting straight up when you hear Eric yelling from the room next door. 

“Is this some sort of revenge? WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME? WHY NOT HYUNJAE? WHY NOT SUNWOO? WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?”

Your eyes narrow at Sangyeon who just lays there laughing, one hand thrown over his eyes.

“You knew he went to sleep while we were fucking?”

“Of course I did,” he says through his laughter. Your lips try to twitch up but you force them back down. 

“You’re such an asshole.” You lay back down and let him drag you over to rest on his chest. 

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Keep thinking that, pretty girl. I’ll convince you one of these days.”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[juyeonszn]

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.58k

GENRES smut ﹒angst ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, strangers to fwb to lovers, a few timeskips here and there, hyunjae is a manwhore but what else is new, he’s also a criminal justice major so, mentions of alcohol, mentions of roblox? idk, reader is lowkey horny as hell 😭, handjob, oral (m!receiving), mentions of sex in various places, hyunjae is an emotionally constipated idiot, juyeon appearance crowd cheered, also cha eunwoo appearance but crowd did not cheer, hyunjae goes through the five stages of grief, no foreplay but what can u do about it, marking, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap u know the drill), cowgirl position yeehaw, creampie yeehaw, little bit of cockwarming st the end ngl

SUMMARY becoming friends with lee hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. also not on your bingo card? waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

MORE bruh. first of all. i’m so sorry this is so late. 😭 second of all, NOT ONLY IS IT A DAY LATE, BUT ITS ALSO LIKE AN HOUR AND A HALF LATE 😭 my time management was not all there this past weekend, and also due to some unfortunate decisions on my part, this fic was delayed a bunch but WE ARE SO BACK pls. i hope u all enjoy this bc i kinda hate it and im sad bc i was so excited for it and its nothing like how i wanted it to be… pls rb if u liked it 😿 also this is lowkey for izzy bc we’re both going through insane hyunjae brainrot rn..

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea @from-izzy

In Hyunjae’s defense, he didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

When the two of you first met, he really was just trying to be a gentleman. He’d always been raised as someone who should do the right thing without expecting anything in return. He prided himself on sticking by his mother’s lifelong wisdom.

Okay sure, he might’ve had a few slip ups here and there in the form of random girls he’s hooked up with, but could you blame him? He was a university criminal justice major after all. There’s no harm in a little one-night-stand fun. Learning the ins and outs of the world of law and order was soul-draining enough without the freedom to stress-relieve whenever he felt fit.

Right. Back to you.

Your first encounter took place at the Tau Beta Zeta end of semester party. The fraternity had been working towards securing their victory against the KAT sorority just so they could host the damn thing. Hyunjae had yet to find a girl to entice him for the night, instead bothering some of his frat brothers. For example, Jacob Bae, who had just won the IST University boys’ volleyball team a championship title.

He could’ve gone after Lee Haeun, Jacob’s ex, but he had higher standards than that. There was also the incident earlier that day, while setting up for the party. He tried making a move on the KAT president to piss off Sangyeon, but that ended up failing. Honestly, he didn’t even care much about sleeping with anyone at these things anyways. Usually pretty girls came up to him first, but then ghosted him once they realized he wasn’t looking for anything serious. That was the only reason why his rap sheet was so long. He’d never intended on being the resident fuckboy.

Hyunjae remembers spotting you across the room during one of the numerous rounds of beer pong that night. Rather than Juyeon refereeing with Younghoon like they normally did, he stepped in to let the younger male enjoy the party with his girlfriend. The current match-up was Sunwoo versus Changmin with their respective partners. He had glanced up after witnessing the soccer prodigy miss a cup, making eye contact with you accidentally.

You tucked some hair behind your ear, bringing your drink to your lips and taking a sip before looking away. Your friends had sucked you back into the conversation you were having, effectively blocking Hyunjae’s chance to shoot any shots. He quickly got over it upon witnessing Changmin and Sunwoo arguing over the game, egging them on like the instigator he was.

Most people would’ve thought that was the end of it. Just a fleeting glance at each other, dozens of people standing between you. In hindsight, Hyunjae partially wishes that was where your story ended. You would’ve just been another girl to him, a stranger he saw once and never ran into again.

It’s funny how the universe works in strange ways.

By two in the morning, when over half of the partygoers had left the TBZ house, Hyunjae felt his social battery reach empty. He woke up earlier that morning to study for his Victimology final and felt drained by the time he walked out of the lecture hall. (He knew he aced it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t mentally taxing.) He was just about ready to call it a night when he saw you sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, blubbering into your phone about something.

“What do you mean you left?” You wail, cheeks stained with mascara streaks. “I don’t care about your boyfriend! I’m too drunk to drive home and you were supposed to be my D.D.”

Your words are slightly slurred, a hiccup following your last sentence. Damn, you were cute even when you were crying like a baby. Hyunjae observed as you argued with who he assumed to be your friend over the phone, exasperated by the end of it. Despite not knowing a single thing about you, not even your name, he decided to step in and offer aid.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you saying you’re too drunk to drive yourself, and as a TBZ member I just can’t let that happen,” he extended a hand to you. “I’d be more than willing to let you stay here until the morning, if you’d like. You can have my room and I’ll just crash in one of the others.”

Your lower lip quivered, as if you were on the verge of even more tears. You sniffle when you respond, eyes doe-like and glassy. “R-Really? You would do that f-for me?”

“It’s a better alternative than taking a rideshare home alone while drunk,” he nods. “And I’m definitely not letting you drive anywhere yourself.”

Hyunjae doesn’t know why he felt so protective over you. The thought of some potentially creepy man taking advantage of you because you were under the influence didn’t sit right with him. He poked his cheek with his tongue, hand still outstretched to you. You took it gently, allowing him to guide you to his bedroom. He grabbed some of his clothes so you could be comfier and gave you a washcloth so you wouldn’t go to be with your makeup on. He felt better knowing you were in the safety of his fraternity house rather than anywhere else. It kind of pissed him off that your friends would leave you to fend for yourself like that.

The next morning, you came down the stairs drowning in Hyunjae’s clothes, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. You held the heel of your palm to your temple, wincing from the headache no doubtedly caused by your hangover. It was around 11 AM when you woke up and most, if not all, of his frat brothers had already left to head home for the holidays.

You found your knight in shining armor sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a mug with the default male Roblox face in his grasp. He was scrolling through his phone mindlessly, taking sips of his coffee every now and then until he heard you. He spins around in his chair, offering you a warm smile.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you rest okay?” He asks, getting up to grab you your own mug.

Your cheeks burn up at the nickname. The whole situation is still a bit odd to you. You knew of Lee Hyunjae through the grapevine (every other girl at your school), yes, but you’ve never held an actual conversation with him before. And now here you are, taking shelter in his home and sleeping in his bed. It was sweet of him to be so hospitable, though. He could’ve kicked you out and pretended you didn’t exist.

“That’s probably the best I’ve ever slept in my life,” you laugh to cut through the tension. “Thank you for keeping me alive last night. I feel indebted to you forever.”

“It was no problem, at all. My pleasure, actually,” he grins, passing you a mug filled with fresh coffee. “By the way, I never got your name.”

“It’s Y/N,” you tell him, mouth pulling into a smile at the cup he just gave you, which happened to be the female adjacent to his. “Hyunjae, right?”

He doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed by the fact that you already knew his name or not, but given his previous reputation, he thinks it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. He clears his throat and nods as he drinks more of his coffee. He tries to distract himself from the weird feeling bubbling in his chest with how cute you looked in his clothes.

“Do you not have any plans for the break?” You switch the subject, noticing that the house was empty for the most part.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I’m from here, so it isn’t really much of a drive to visit home. I’ll go over on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years but that’s about it. Other than that, I like to enjoy having the whole house to myself.”

“Woah, me too! My friends are all from out of town though, so I’m usually really lonely. It’s always so odd thinking about how this is just a stepping stone for people’s lives and I’ve been here all of mine.” You stir some cream and sugar into your coffee, pursing your lips. “So, I take it you’re not doing anything today?”

“Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada,” Hyunjae leans back in his chair. “I’ll probably just watch some movies and call it a day. What about you? Any plans for the break since all of your friends are gone?”

“I have just as many as you.” You sip on your beverage.

“Well, the couch space next to me will be unoccupied if you’d like to join me.”

“I think I might take you up on that offer.”

You feel like maybe this was some sort of elaborate scheme to trap you. Your eyes kept flickering from the TV to his profile, entranced by the blue light illuminating his features. You wanted nothing more than to claim your seat on his lap and ride him into the sunset like a gallant steed, which was ironic considering the way the two of you met.

It’s in the middle of the third movie that you finally feel yourself grow restless. No way could you sit beside Lee Hyunjae, spend the whole day with him, and not jump his bones. It was, like, the most obvious thing to do. It was Lee Hyunjae. Did he expect you not to?

He feels you squirming next to him, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. In all honesty, he’s surprised he’s abstained from touching you this long. From the moment he saw you in his clothes this morning, he wanted you underneath him. He doesn’t know how to initiate anything without seeming too forward though.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to make much effort on his part.

You place one of your hands on his thigh, dragging your nail along the seam of his sweatpants. He turns to you with a raised eyebrow. All you can do is bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

“You know, Hyunjae, I never got to properly thank you for your act of nobility last night,” you start, fingers creeping up higher. “And I just thought of something that I think we’ll both like.”

He doesn’t have the strength in him to restrain himself after that, pulling you into a heated kiss. He nips at your lower lip and tangles his tongue with your own, getting easily lost in the spellbinding of your touch. Your lips trail along his jaw and down his neck, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants. You suck deep marks into the skin of his pulse point while simultaneously palming him through his underwear.

You’re moving fast, but you’re on a mission. You’ve been waiting for this all day, you can’t imagine slowing down now. It doesn’t appear that he plans on stopping you either.

Hyunjae throws his head back, hissing when you discard his boxers. The cool air of the house hits his cock at the same time you bite down on the divot where his neck meets his shoulder. Your hand gently wraps around his length, thumb running over the slit to collect the precum that’s formed there. He watches in a trance as you go on your knees between his legs.

You press a sweet kiss to his tip before taking him into your mouth. He groans, twisting your hair around his wrist so he can control your movements. Hyunjae doesn’t think he’s ever wanted head this badly in his life. He’s always been a giving person, always providing the pleasure for the girl he was with. There were only a handful of times that he’s ever been on the receiving end and none of them were memorable. But this time is different.

For some reason, you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him this riled up this quickly. You’re still relatively a stranger to him, and even though he’s had plenty of one night stands, it’s unlike any of the others.

Your throat relaxes so you can swallow more of him, tongue swirling around the tip. He’s the biggest guy you’ve ever been with, making things a little harder for you, but you were never one to back down from a challenge. And getting Lee Hyunjae to cum from the work of your mouth alone was the ultimate reward.

Hyunjae moans when your attention focuses on his sensitive slit. The sound is music to your ears, goading you into continuing your task. You gag around his dick and tears prick at your eyes when he pushes your face down further, your nose brushing the lower part of his abdomen. One of your hands wanders, tracing and scratching his abs as the other jerks him off.

He swipes away some stray tears with his thumb, bucking into your mouth and hand. “Fucking look at you, taking me like a good girl. You’re so filthy.”

You whine, squeezing your thighs together for your own friction. You can wait, though, entirely too focused on getting him to finish. You’re thankful it isn’t that much longer until he does, painting your lips and cheeks with his release when you pull off of him to press a cute kiss on the same spot. He knows he finished too fast for someone of his caliber, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.

“You’re so hot,” he brings you up to connect your lips once again.

It was very easy to fall into a habit after that.

Throughout the entirety of the break, Hyunjae would call you over or vice versa and you’d rock each other’s world’s. It was practically an entire month of fucking nonstop. You’d done it in the TBZ house living room, in his bed, in the kitchen, in the shower and every other surface you could think of. Your own apartment had been christened plenty with your sexcapades also. Both of your cars had seen you naked too. But the most memorable place had to be his childhood bedroom the night of Christmas. He went to his parents’ for a couple days and hit you with that 3 AM “You up?” text when his libido couldn’t quell. That was probably the quietest you’d ever have to be.

Hyunjae had to explain to his mom that no, he hadn’t gotten mauled by a wild animal in his sleep. It was harder coming up with another plausible lie to cover the source of the hickeys on his neck, but he’d rather tell his mother something stupid than the fact that he was an insatiable freak.

When it came time for everyone to return to school for the spring semester, you’d deluded yourself into thinking there could be something real between you and Hyunjae. I mean, what else were you supposed to do? This gorgeous man had spent almost every single day of winter break with you, even if it was mostly for the sex. That wasn’t all you did though. You shared meals together and talked about your life goals. You truly got to know him better than just the hot frat guy who’s made his rounds with girls on campus.

However, Hyunjae did not think he was ready for that level of commitment.

After spending a month with you and learning all of your little quirks, he thought he was going insane. He’d been in situationships in the past and none of them ever ended well, especially because they always caught feelings. He didn’t want the two of you to fall down the same path. But he noticed the linger of your touches and kisses and the way your eyes sparkled when he spoke. He didn’t want to be the one to break your heart.

He just couldn’t see himself getting into a serious relationship. He was preparing to apply for law schools and get his shit together. He didn’t think he couldn’t handle throwing a girlfriend into the mix. Even if it was you. Bold, pretty little you, who had Lee Hyunjae wrapped around her finger without trying.

Things come to a speeding halt for both of you halfway into the second week back.

Hyunjae was walking out of his Crime Mapping II lecture when he saw you chatting up Cha Eunwoo outside of the building, giggling and being all touchy with him. He doesn’t know why he feels so… stuffy… when he sees that. He doesn’t know why it makes him mad. He doesn’t know why it feels like his heart has just been stomped on a handful of times.

He walks over to you and clears his throat, hands shoving into his jacket pockets. He tries to ignore how cute you look in your puffer coat, nose rosy from the cold. You pause in your conversation to say hi to him before resuming whatever you were saying before. It was like he was invisible.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” You tuck some hair behind your ear, smiling at the male.

“For sure. Talk to you later, Y/N.” He says, waving as he takes off.

Hyunjae starts in the opposite direction wordlessly, leaving you to stumble behind him like a newborn deer. He looks upset about something, but you’re not sure if you should ask. When you finally match his pace, you frown, tapping his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Since when were you friends with Cha Eunwoo?” Hyunjae blurts, tone catching you off guard. You blink at his outburst.

“For a while, I guess? We’re in the same department and we’ve had a few classes together. Why? Is that a problem?” You stop your steps, forcing him to do the same.

“No, why would it be? I’m not your boyfriend. You can talk to whoever you want.” He backtracks, realizing the connotation behind his question. Shit, why does he not think before he speaks?

“You could be,” you shrug, gaze casted downward to avoid his stare. “You could be my boyfriend.”

Again, because he’s a stupid boy, he chooses not to use his brain in such a critical situation. “I don’t want to be. You can date him for all I care.”

Hyunjae didn’t want to be the one to break your heart, but he knows he did when he sees the flame in your eyes die out. He thinks he broke his own too, chest constricting when tears well up in the corners. You wipe your runny nose with your gloved hand, sniffling with a scoff.

“Fuck you, Hyunjae,” your voice is surprisingly calm, and that scares him more. “Fuck you and your stupid fucking commitment issues and your lack of empathy. Stay away from me.”

He can’t even think of something quick enough to stop you. Of course, his mind runs at a million miles a minute when it’s the worst time. But when he needs it to work most, it fails on him. That’s exactly his luck.

He just stares as your figure gets smaller and smaller, getting further and further away from his reach. His stomach feels ugly, twisted in a way it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s because he’d considered you a close friend at this point, and now there’s no way you didn’t hate him. He told you things that he hadn’t even told his brothers, things that he hoped would never see the light of day. He’d spoken his insecurities out into the world and you were the one he let see that vulnerable side of him. He had something good going for him finally, and he went and ruined it.

Who could he be mad at but himself?

When Hyunjae sees you again, it’s been at least a week since your argument in the middle of campus.

He’d been beating himself up over the fight the entire time. Numerous what-if scenarios ran through his mind when he should’ve been sleeping. He wonders what he could’ve said to make everything turn out differently. Had he just told you what was bothering him, told you about that icky sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, perhaps you wouldn’t have walked away.

He’s pretty sure you’re doing it on purpose. You avoided him until you knew you’d definitely see him, and then you’d flaunt yourself to purposefully piss him off. Despite only knowing each other for a little over a month, you had Hyunjae read like the back of your hand. You knew he was stubborn and had to be pushed into admitting he was wrong. He’d never outright confess to his mistakes unless you backed him into a corner and forced him to.

So you can imagine his reaction when he saw you walk into that week’s TBZ party with Cha Eunwoo around your shoulders.

If Lee Hyunjae had any faults, it was that he was too prideful. He realizes this when you stroll right past him, ignoring his presence. You giggle at something Eunwoo said as you grab some drinks. There’s no way you aren’t doing this to get on his nerves. Especially not in that outfit.

His grip on his cup is not normal, he knows that. But it’s not subtle if anyone notices and when Juyeon of all people points it out, he knows it even more.

“Yo, dude. Are you good? You look like you might kill somebody if we’d let you.” The younger male pats his back.

“Honestly, no, not really. But there isn’t really anything I can do about it.” Hyunjae huffs, welcoming his defeat with open arms.

“You can talk to me about things. It’s kinda weird but I always feel like getting out your thoughts is better than internalizing and blowing up randomly.” He says after a moment.

“I guess I’m just confused why I’m so jealous of something that isn’t mine.” The heart to heart with his frat brother follows the entire five stages of grief, starting with step one; Denial. He’ll keep denying the real reason he feels the way he does.

“Are you talking about that girl you were messing around with during break?” Juyeon asks, bringing his cup to his mouth. “And the fact that she’s here with Cha Eunwoo?”

Step two; Anger. His cup snaps and the sharp edge of the plastic scratches the inside of his palm. “Why would I be jealous of her being here with him? I could give less of a fuck about that. She’s not my girlfriend, she can do whatever she wants.”

He raises an eyebrow at how defensive his senior gets, lips quirking up. “Sure, Hyunjae. You’re not jealous. But you’re acting like it and you know you are.”

“Well,” step three; bargaining. “I’m not not jealous, I just— I don’t know. I’ve never been on this side of the situation before. Am I even allowed to be mad about it?”

“I mean, it’s a little unconventional, but yeah, I think you are. You spent the better part of a month getting to know this girl. You’ve seen her in ways other people haven’t. Even if you weren’t going into it with the intention to start something, I think it’s hard not to want anything after. Unless you’re completely heartless. But you’re not exactly The Grinch, so.” Juyeon sounds too wise for standing in the middle of a frat party.

“Nothing’s gonna happen now, though. She hates me and wants nothing to do with me because I screwed up.” Step four; Depression.

“You don’t know that unless you make an attempt to fix it,” his junior sighs. “Look, she’s gonna keep projecting how upset you made her if you aren’t gonna do something about it. But there’s a high chance that she’ll forgive you if you’re just real with her.”

And last, but not least, step five. Acceptance. Lee Hyunjae has finally accepted that he’s not an emotionless robot incapable of producing feelings for someone. He takes Juyeon’s advice right then and there, deciding that this is something he has to do immediately. (He also knows how much you can drink at these things and he preferred that you were sober when he spoke to you.)

He thanks his friend and sets off to search for you in the sea of already drunk university students. He’s anxious. He’s never been the type to have serious discussions about anything, really. He assumes that it stems from never seeing that in his own parents. They loved each other, yeah, but they never really talked about difficult topics with each other. Or, in front of him they didn’t.

Hyunjae thinks he might throw up when he finds you in the other room. Cha Eunwoo is still glued to your side, but he’s hardly paying attention to you, talking to his friends. You look bored, like you were waiting for something— or someone— to save you. This was his opportunity.

Your eyes widen when you see him heading straight for you, swallowing thickly. There wasn’t any route of escape so you were stuck having to deal with him. In all honesty, the hurt was still very fresh for you, and you weren’t sure you could handle talking to him yet.

“Can we please talk? I need to tell you something,” he yells over the loud music.

“Why should I listen to what you have to say?” Your tone is shaky, wavering slightly, but you’re grateful that he can’t hear it with how voluminous this party is.

“Y/N,” he pleads almost, eyes communicating what you needed to hear. “This is important.”

You concede, sneaking from Eunwoo and following Hyunjae blindly. You could be getting whisked away to your demise, but the former hardly even notices, too engrossed in whatever he was saying to his friends. You’re a bit apprehensive when Hyunjae takes you into his bedroom, biting your cheek when the memories of what you’ve done in here come flooding back to you.

“Okay, I don’t know how to put this into a coherent thought,” he turns his back to you.

“Can we just get this over with? You don’t want me, remember? I don’t even know why I’m giving you the time of day—“

“Of course I want you,” he exclaims, spinning around and pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, are you blind? It’s so obvious that I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N. I’m just stupid and I fucked everything up, because I was scared that things would change and I’m afraid of change. That’s the reason why I have commitment problems. I don’t want to commit myself to something just for everything to change in the blink of an eye.”

You shut up after that, your heart skipping in your chest. This was what you wanted. You wanted a messy confession. Something that told you it wasn’t all in your head. That you weren’t making things up. That he felt the same way you did.

Your lips collide in a rough, desperate manner. Hyunjae’s never had a way with words, so kissing you with every ounce of longing in his being and holding you like you’d disappear any second was his outlet. This was how he could show you his true feelings. Your heart rate transitions from your pulse point to your ears, amplifying with each suck of your bottom lip between his teeth

You’ve done this so many times before, but it will never be the same as this one. No one could ever make you feel the way Lee Hyunjae does. It might be crazy, but it only took a month for you to realize that there will never be another for you. The conversations that trickled into early hours of the morning following going at it like jackrabbits were perfect to you. They weren’t ideal, but they were enough.

The two of you walk backwards until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, your knees on either side of his lap. You cup his jaw in your hands, grinding down on him every time your lips move together. Hyunjae’s fingers dig into your sides and push up the material of your dress. He’s moving fast, rushed like you might decide you don’t want this and walk out of his room.

You can’t really blame him, your pace disorganized with only one goal in mind. Neither of you could be bothered with the foreplay, too needy and craving the touch of one another as quickly as possible. You part from him to pull off your dress, eyes fluttering shut when he starts leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. He doesn’t want to waste time commenting on the fact that you were braless underneath so he busies himself with pecking the tops of your tits. Your fingers card through his hair with an extended sigh, noticing how long it’s gotten since you first met.

Hyunjae pushes his pants down his legs as you yank his shirt over his head, reconnecting your lips. He uses his ring and middle fingers to shove aside your underwear, discarding his own shortly after. Your mouth nips and bites your favorite places on his neck, ensuring you mark the surface so everyone knows who he belongs to. You were the one who acquired the key to Lee Hyunjae’s heart.

Your teeth sink into his skin the moment he slips inside of you, both of you moaning when he slides right into your cunt like he was meant to be there. You whine when he bottoms out, your sensitive clit bumping into his pelvic bone. You’re so warm and inviting, Hyunjae feels like he’s falling under a spell. Just being inside of you feels like a form of hypnosis. If it was up to him, he’d stay here forever, content to sit with his cock stuffed in you without interruption. But you both yearn for more than that.

He tightens his grip on your hips, bucking upwards into you and watching with heavy eyes as a whine spills from your lips. You look so fucked out despite him doing absolutely nothing to you yet. He thrusts up again experimentally, grinning when your upper half knocks into his.

“Feel good, baby?” He coos into your ear, nipping at the lobe and the area surrounding.

You nod with a whimper when his cock brushes that sweet spot deep inside your pussy. “Mhm, feels so— fuck, Jae, want it harder.”

“Anything for my pretty girl,” he smiles into your skin.

He increases the speed that he fucks into you, pinning down your hips so you can’t move and all you can do is take it. It’s like you can feel him in your abdomen, his cock plunging in you so far. You’d think after a month of fucking practically every day, you’d be used to his size by now. However, that was just not attainable. You don’t think you could ever get used to how big he was, how thick he was.

The force that he drives into you with is unmatched, miles apart from what he’s given you before. It’s like he wants to burn the shape of himself inside you, so you never forget that he’s the one making you feel like this. Nobody but Hyunjae can fuck you this well.

He moves you further up the bed, flattening his feet on the mattress and laying down so he can press deeper, a new angle that has your vision going blank. You don’t think twice about the volume of your cries, letting him know how good he’s giving it to you. You’re encouraging him, wanting him to get cockier so he can keep fucking you into oblivion. Your fingers grasp at the sheets beside his head for support.

Hyunjae’s nails impress crescent shapes into your waist, his mouth returning to your tits so he can leave his own marks all over your chest. It’s when your clit rubs against his lower stomach again that you let go, your orgasm crashing into like a train. It winds you, ripping your breath from your throat and stealing your oxygen. He’s close behind, the feeling of your walls clenching around him in rapid intervals triggering his own.

He fills you up nicely, both of you releasing guttural groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of you. You’re too exhausted to get up, collapsing on top of him. He doesn’t mind, more than happy to stay buried inside of you even if you didn’t do anything.

“So…” You start after a bit of silence, drawing unrecognizable shapes on his chest. “You’ve wanted me for so long, huh?”

“Shut up,” he laughs, eyes closed while he recuperates from using all of his energy on you. “This is still new for me.”

“I know, Mr. Emotionally Constipated And I Don’t Date ‘Cause I’m Going To Be A Big Fancy Hotshot Lawyer,” you tease, pecking his lips and then his nose. “I must be extremely special to be the one who changed your mind.”

“You’ll be the death of me, you know that right?” He shakes his head, brushing some of your hair from your face. You smile down at him with an unfamiliar fondness in your eyes.

“Why else do you think we’ve gotten this far?”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[itsbeeble]

BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT

THE TBZ FRAT HOUSE IS HOSTING THE BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT COLLAB BY @juyeonszn AND @itsbeeble!

YOU'RE INVITED!

PAIRINGS: tbz x f!reader

GENRES: smut, fluff, minimal angst, crack

WARNINGS: smut, minor angst, fluff, mentions of injuries, alcohol, swearing, more warnings to be added to the individual fics 18+ MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

SUMMARY: Have you ever wondered what your favorite frat boyz are up to in their personal lives? If so, then these fics are just for you! Join us as we take a glimpse into the Tau Beta Zeta fraternity and see what they get up to in their free time!

MORE: The way me and Fawn have been planning this for so long omgggg. Me and Fawn are so excited to announce this collab in celebration of my 1 year on tumblr, 6 year anniversary of The Boyz, AND as just a fun little event!! I hope you guys are as excited for this as I am hehe. And please feel free to send an ask or comment on this post if you'd like to be tagged in each part!!

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

FALL SEMESTER

TRY HARD — LEE JUYEON (12/6)

Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)

EXCITEMENT — JI CHANGMIN (12/6)

You know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. What you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.

SEEING STARS — KIM SUNWOO (12/10)

It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of schoolwork for you.

CLUMSY — JU HAKNYEON (12/10)

When Haknyeon ran into you at a TBZ party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. Or literally. Or both simultaneously. But there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

"FRIENDLY" COMPETITION — LEE SANGYEON (12/14)

The TBZ frat had always had a rivalry with the KAT sorority. At least, they did when you and Sangyeon became the presidents three years ago. What happens when you mix a little friendly competition into this rivalry of yours?

JE NE SAIS QUOI — JACOB BAE (12/14)

Jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. So stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. However, after meeting you at one of the TBZ parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.

SPRING SEMESTER

LET LOOSE — KIM YOUNGHOON (12/19)

Younghoon has hated you since the day he met you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED — LEE HYUNJAE (12/19)

Becoming friends with Lee Hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. Also not on your bingo card? Waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

NO BITCHES? — ERIC SOHN (12/22)

When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.

PARTY O'CLOCK — CHOI CHANHEE (12/22)

In spite of being a frat boy himself, Chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. Besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? Enter you and your carefree spirit and Chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER — KEVIN MOON (PT. 1 | PT. 2)

It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

© juyeonszn & itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[juyeonszn]

JE NE SAIS QUOI

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 7.33k

GENRES smut ﹒fluff ﹒itty bitty angst

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, strangers to ?? to lovers, volleyball team captain!jacob (ohhhh ive been waiting for this one..), lots of 97 liner cameos, jacob is an honorary tbz frat member but isn’t actually a member lol, reader is down bad for him, mentions of alcohol, volleyball terms that i learned from haikyuu 😭, an annoying ex girlfriend, AURKAY here we go: bathroom sex, wall sex, bathroom sink counter sex, and mirror sex all in one, doggy style and also missionary? i guess?, NO FOREPLAY BUT FUCK IT WE FALL LIKE SOLDIERS FOR REAL, marking-ish, unprotected sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, and everyone’s favorite! creampie!, a cutesy ending

SUMMARY jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. so stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. however, after meeting you at one of the tbz parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.

MORE HELLAURRRR ok i know this is 45 mins overdue but i barely finished this last night and i worked at 5 am this morning so 😭 ANYWAYYY this fic is actually my favorite so far… idk i just have this natural writing affinity when it comes to jacob which u can tell by the length…. if u enjoyed pls reblog! and don’t forget to check out the other fics in the series!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea

SERIES MASTERLIST

“And there’s another point for the IST U Bears. Wow these boys are on fire tonight.”

The announcer’s voice booms throughout the gymnasium, intertwining with the cheers of the crowd. They all sound like the buzzing of a bee in Jacob’s ears, but that’s a good thing. It pricks at his skin, lighting it on fire and getting his morale going.

The team just needed one more point and they would win this set, sending them on their way to the championship game. This would be the first time in IST history that their boys’ volleyball team would make it this far, and that was all thanks to Jacob becoming captain for his senior year.

Their coach calls for a quick time out, giving Jacob a moment of reprieve before his final serve of the game. He wipes away the sweat on his forehead, shaking the front of his jersey to air it out and cool him down a little. The team’s manager passes him a water bottle. He loves the adrenaline rush that courses through his veins when he’s on the court. It’s unlike any other feeling he’s ever felt in his life.

“Alright, Bae. You’ve got this, right?” Jacob’s coach gives him a pointed look.

“Of course, Coach. There’s no way in hell that we’re losing this game tonight.” He gives him a firm nod, lips curled into a confident smile. There wasn’t a chance that Jacob Bae would go down without a fight. He was securing that championship seat whether anyone liked it or not.

The team heads back out and a referee hands Jacob the volleyball. He blows a raspberry, twirling the ball on his fingertips while waiting for the whistle. As soon as he hears it, he takes a couple steps back. A breeze cuts through his hair when he runs, executing his infamous jump serve with practiced ease. The ball flies past the players of the other team, hitting the court just in front of the line.

His teammates are yelling and throttling his body around before he even realizes that they’ve won. Some of them are riling up the crowd, others are on their knees crying tears of joy. He was anticipating this outcome, but for some reason he’s still shell shocked. Everything around him is static and white noise.

“Holy shit, Jacob. I can’t believe you did that,” Kim Mingyu, the team’s star middle blocker, slaps him on the back. He’s also drenched in sweat, patting his face with a towel.

“You and me both, to be completely honest.” Jacob laughs a bit, collecting his things so he can head to the locker room.

He’s slightly grateful that tonight’s game ended a little early, giving him enough time to get ready before the Tau Beta Zeta party. He wasn’t even that big of a party person. He only went to provide moral support for his friends who happened to all be in the fraternity. Most people would even go as far as assuming he was also in it considering how often he was spotted at that house, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He actually thought fraternities were dumb. In his eyes, they held no purpose.

A bunch of guys living together under the guise of brotherhood when in reality they spent most of their time partying was just stupid. You could do that without the fancy titles or the expected respect from fellow students. He loved his friends, truly, but he didn’t understand the hype.

Jacob showers quickly and changes into a hoodie and some baggy jeans. He ruffles his hair in front of a mirror, grabbing his backpack and swinging it over his shoulder. As he’s preparing to leave, someone calls out to him.

“Yo, Cobie! Are you going to the TBZ party?”

He spins around to find the source, learning it belongs to Jeong Jaehyun. The setter nods, pulling his hood over his head. “Like I always do. Why?”

“I heard through the grapevine that Haeun was going with some friends. I just thought I’d warn you,” he squeezes the shoulder that isn’t hoisting his backpack. “I figured you’d want to take things chill this next week with the championship game on Friday.”

Jacob hums in response and Jaehyun takes that as his cue to be on his way. Of course this would be his luck. Just as he thinks life is getting easier for him, something has to come and throw a curveball at him. This something happened to be his ex-girlfriend, who’d done nothing but terrorize Jacob while they were together. Imagine the most toxic, vile person in the world, then dress her in Jimmy Choo sandals and a designer handbag. That was Haeun.

The only logical reason for her to attend the TBZ party was because his friends were still trying to rack up their numbers. He wouldn’t put it past them if that meant acquiring any and every student on campus. After tonight they would find out who won the stupid competition between them and the KAT sorority, hopefully putting a pin in their godforsaken rivalry once and for all. The winner determined if he was even going to the big end of semester party or not.

Jacob sighs, heading out so he can help out his friends in any way he can. Now that he’s been cursed with the knowledge that he might run into his ex, he’s half tempted to just ditch the whole thing. (He won’t, but the idea is flirting with him.) They’ve been broken up for well over a year now, but somehow she always manages to worm her way back and make him miserable. Quite frankly, he’s tired of it.

When Jacob arrives at the Tau Beta Zeta house, his friends are all over the place. Sangyeon is typing away on his phone, pacing back and forth in the living room. The action from the calm and collected fraternity president makes him kind of nervous. He escapes into the kitchen where Sunwoo and Eric are putting away all of the alcohol. Kevin and Chanhee are complaining about God knows what to each other, and he can faintly hear Hyunjae and Haknyeon upstairs. His juniors start clapping and hollering as soon as they see him enter.

“Woah woah woah, we’ve got a celebrity on our hands guys.” Eric jokes, dapping up the older male.

“Congrats, Cobie,” Sunwoo joins in, fist bumping his senior and handing him a beer bottle. “Do you think you’re gonna win next week?”

“I sure hope so,” Jacob snorts, uncapping the bottle with the opener on the fridge. “I didn’t bring us all this way for nothing.”

Nothing super eventful happens after that, just the guys setting up for the party. They’re projecting that this is the one that secures their victory for the competition. Jacob really couldn’t care less, sitting himself on the couch and scrolling through his phone as he nurses his beer. They all maneuver around him, setting up speakers here, lights there. It’s all pointless in his eyes.

When the party has finally started and the house is packed with partygoers, Jacob hasn’t budged from his spot. The only reason he has a fresh beer is because Eric grabbed one for him in passing. This was what he subjected himself to for hours on end every Friday night. His ass cemented to one of the sofas in the living room and his phone being his main source of entertainment.

It’s as you’re exiting the kitchen with your friends that you notice him. You laugh into your drink at the boredom written all over his face. His extremely handsome face. His hair falls into his eyes and slightly obstructs his vision, but that just accelerates the beating of your heart. You don’t know what it is, but there’s something about him that makes you want to learn his name and everything there is about him.

“Y/N, have you found a nice boy to give you a fun time before hell week?” Haeun asks you, running perfectly manicured fingernails through her hair. “That’s the whole point of being here, isn’t it?”

You didn’t want to tag along, honestly. You were content with staying in tonight and studying for your A&PII exam. You only agreed to get Haeun off your back, because you were well aware of how annoying she could get when she didn’t get what she wanted. She gave the KAT sorority president a run for her money sometimes.

“Uh, no. I’ll just see where the night takes me,” you shrug, keeping a poker face so she doesn’t see who you’re already ogling.

Knowing her, she would make it difficult for you. She would torture you and tease you relentlessly because that was just who she was. Haeun wasn’t satisfied unless she felt good about herself. You didn’t know why you were still friends with her. Maybe it was because she was one of the first people who sought you out after your transfer to IST. Maybe it was because you were afraid of being blacklisted by practically every other student if you dropped her. Her power was insane.

“Boring,” she drags out the vowels, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna see if Cha Eunwoo is here yet.”

You watch as she disappears into the sardine-packed house, looking for the senior. Your other friend, Minjee, just sighs once the dictator is out of earshot— which isn’t even that far considering how loud the music is. She turns to you with a weak smile.

“Don’t let her ruin anything for you. Just go enjoy yourself before she does.”

You don’t need to be told a second time, chugging the contents of your red solo cup for some liquid courage. Your mission was simple; be ten times more fun than the party itself. That would surely catch Couch Boy’s attention. It wasn’t like the Tau Beta Zeta guys didn’t put all their effort into throwing the craziest parties at the school, but clearly this dude wasn’t for it.

Your feet carry you over to the living room, your teeth chewing on your lip nervously. You’d never hit on someone before, let alone at a party. The scariest part was the potential rejection in front of hundreds of your peers. But it was okay! You could do this. You think.

“Hi.”

The word leaves your mouth without your brain even registering it, eyes wide like you’d just done something wrong. He looks up from his phone, mirroring your expression. His tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip and then he’s scooting over to make room for you.

“Hi,” he says after a few seconds.

“I’m Y/n,” you extend your hand awkwardly, but he takes it, shaking it with a firm grip that has you crossing your legs. “I— uh— this is kinda weird, but um— I saw you from over there and thought you were cute.”

You swallow thickly, tucking some hair behind your ear. How did Haeun do this on the regular? He smiles at your fumbling and oh God, you think you might pass out from how attractive he is. You don’t have much alcohol in your system and you’re starting to regret how sober you are.

“I’m Jacob,” he rests an arm on the back of the couch. “Thanks for coming up to me. I would’ve missed your pretty face otherwise.”

Is he flirting with you? Holy shit, he’s flirting with you.

“Do you come to Tau Beta Zeta parties often?” You ask to continue the conversation. He nods.

“I practically live here,” Jacob laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “How about you, Y/N? What are you studying?”

Oh, so he was one of the members. You wouldn’t have guessed with how disinterested he seemed at his own party. It takes you a moment to realize he’s shifted the focus onto you, scanning your features for a response. You purse your lips.

“Not really. I’m more of a homebody. I’m only here to let loose before finals. I actually just transferred to IST U this semester for the exceptional Pre-Med department. I’m still sorta navigating my way around and meeting people.”

So that’s why he’s never seen you on campus. You’re completely new to the school and you’re in a completely different department than he is. Nonetheless, you’re really cute and Jacob hasn’t put himself out there since breaking up with Haeun. He’s been so concentrated on maintaining his grades and putting in the work for volleyball, he hasn’t even had the time to. But now that finals and the championship game are all next week, he supposes he can allot some just this once…

“How are you liking it here so far?” He asks you genuinely. It winds you a little. You’ve never had someone actually care about what you had to say or show interest in you. Even at your old school, no one batted an eye at you. You doubt anyone knew you transferred.

“The campus itself is beautiful. It’s a lot bigger than my previous one. And so far, everyone’s been nothing but kind to me. I wish I would’ve gone with my gut and came here straight out of high school.” You pick at a thread on your skirt.

“We all live and we all learn, that’s a part of life,” Jacob shrugs, nudging your leg with his foot. “Would you like to grab another drink with me?”

“Yeah, that would be great, actually.” You both stand from the couch.

Since sitting with him, the party has grown in size. Fellow students filled every available corner of the house, nearly standing body to body in order to fit everyone in the building. The amount of attendees should be a fire hazard, honestly. Jacob laces your fingers together so he doesn’t lose you in the mass of people blocking the path to the kitchen. There’s a game of Rage Cage going on where there’s usually a round of beer pong and it looks like this one guy is about to die with how many empty cups are in front of him.

“What are you drinking?” Jacob turns to you once you’ve reached the alcohol table. You shake your head.

“Surprise me.”

“You’re playing Russian Roulette here, Y/N,” his lips curl up into a devious smile that most people would run away from, especially when it’s on the face of a stranger. “You’re really trusting me with your life right now.”

Luckily, you’ve always been into that type of thing. Nice guys who looked like they could give you an unforgettable night. And in the short period you’ve known Jacob, he appeared to be just that. All you can do is nip at your lower lip, the fleet of a smile gracing his sight.

He passes you a cup and gestures for you to taste his concoction. It burns the course of your throat, but doesn’t remind you of straight battery acid. You give him a thumbs up of approval and he cheers, fist bumping the air. You giggle at his reaction. Perhaps stepping out of your comfort zone was the best decision you’ve made all night. He knocks his own cup against yours and takes a swig, wincing.

“I might’ve made mine just a bit stronger than usual,” his voice is hoarse and you can’t help but laugh a little harder. “I put all of my expertise into yours.”

“It’s good to know you’re a gentleman and you’re not trying to get me drunk on purpose,” you tease, sipping at the beverage gingerly. “However, that does mean you’ll need to be flashier in your attempts to woo me. I have very high standards.”

Jacob’s smile widens, his teeth peeking from behind his lips. The expression makes you lightheaded. It should be a crime to look as good as he does, without even trying either. “I don’t know… All I’m hearing is that you want me to woo you…”

He’s caught you red-handed, but it isn’t like you were doing much to conceal that fact. You’d like to think you were being very obvious with your intentions on purpose. You glance up at him from the rim of your cup, your lower back leaning on the counter. “Maybe I do… Are you opposed to that, Jacob?”

He takes a step closer to you, and then another until he has you caged between him and the kitchen counter. Really, he couldn’t give any less of a fuck about the clusters of people nearby. When Jacob Bae had a goal in mind, he made damn sure to work for it. His volleyball career could attest to that. His drink slides across the surface, spilling a little on the back of his hand. He leans down to your ear. “Not at all. But I don’t think you’ll be able to handle what happens when I succeed.”

You feel your cheeks warm, your throat drying, and it’s not because of the effects from the alcohol you’ve just consumed. You’ve known this guy, what, thirty minutes max? And he was already figuring out exactly what it took to get your gears grinding? What a quick fucking leaner. He knows he’s won, too, if the way you’ve gone cotton-mouthed is anything to go by. The ghost of a grin brushes the shell of your ear and it requires the entirety of your strength not to pounce on this stranger in the middle of this goddamn party.

“Everybody who isn’t Tau Beta Zeta, get the fuck out! Someone called the cops!”

A record scratch-like halt puts a pin in the moment, forcing Jacob to step away from you with a groan. This would be just your luck, wouldn’t it? You found a ‘nice boy to give you a fun time before hell week’ and then this stupid party gets raided. It’s annoying, actually. Aggravating, even. Your lips unconsciously form pout out of disappointment and Jacob feels a piece of himself die along with it.

“Shit, you gotta get out of here before they show up and start dragging people out,” he runs a hand through his hair with a hiss.

If it had been a minute earlier, you would’ve fallen to your knees by now. Unfortunately, that was not the case. You needed to find Haeun and Minjee. You do a quick 180° in hopes of spotting either of them.

“Yeah, I need to find my—” You interrupt yourself when you see the former of the two stomping towards you with an indistinguishable look in her eye. “—Friends…”

“Let’s go, Y/N,” her tone is snappy and she glances over at Jacob for a brief moment. You don’t have time to realize what’s happening until her petite fingers are wrapping around your wrist, hauling you out of the kitchen. A yelp escapes your lips as you turn to wave to your… whatever he is to you now.

Initially, you assumed she was just ticked off by the whole cop call thing. At least, that made sense if she’d gotten anywhere with that Cha Eunwoo guy she had been talking about all day leading up to the party. But then Minjee’s driving you back your apartment and she’s whipping around in the passenger seat to give you the nastiest glare you’ve ever been on the receiving end of.

“What the hell is your problem?” She looks two seconds away from bursting a vein in her forehead.

“Wh— huh?” You’re thoroughly confused. What the fuck did you do to her?

“Why were you talking to Jacob Bae? You do know that’s my ex, right?” Her gaze has softened, but could still very much kill you if she wanted to. The wrath of Lee Haeun was more terrifying than that of any horror movie villain to ever exist.

No.

No no no no. The world stops on its axis and it’s like you’ve been told your favorite song was written about a used tissue. You don’t hear anything else she says, feeling like you just had ear muffs placed over your head. This isn’t fair. The universe officially hated you. You were number one on the list of people who deserved the worst possible fate, your name underlined twice with red ink and a star beside it.

You really didn’t have it in you to care about what Haeun thought. If this was the reason you were finally given to stop talking to her, then so be it. What you were worried about was Jacob hating you. He clearly saw that you were friends. Why would he want to pursue anything with one of his ex’s friends? Any sane person would avoid that situation if they could.

Despite not knowing that it was Jacob specifically, you knew the details of their breakup and why things ended so messily. It made sense that she was an authoritarian even in her relationships. That was just in her nature. If she didn’t control every aspect of her life, she would lose her mind. Normally you wouldn’t have batted an eye at that, not nearly enough energy in you to deal with that level of bossiness. But it was starting to bleed into your personal life. And that was a line you weren’t so willing to let her cross.

You could only pray that this was fixable.

Finals week passes by in a breeze, and before he knows it, Jacob is on the court for the championship game. There’s a different aura to him than there usually is when it comes to his volleyball games. He feels ten times more determined. (He would never admit to anyone that it’s because he’s hoping he’ll see you at the end of semester party tonight.)

He actually really enjoyed your presence and your personality. The rate at which his heart beat around you was something he hadn’t felt in a while and it was nice. He liked those little butterflies that came with the start of something new. He liked the jitters and the giggles and everything in between. It reminded him that there was still youth, there was still excitement in his life.

Sure, it was kind of weird that you were friends with his ex-girlfriend. The same ex-girlfriend that he couldn’t stand being in the same room as for more than five minutes at a time. But from your reaction to her dragging you away, Jacob thinks that you didn’t know about him and Haeun. If you did, you wouldn’t have gone up to him in the first place. Unless you knew and just didn’t care, then he didn’t care either. It’s not like he ever plans to allow Haeun to resurface and sink her nails back into him. That’s one mistake he’ll never make again.

Before he knows it, he’s swapping back into the game. He rolls his neck and pops his fingers, getting into position to receive this next serve. Even with this fire lit underneath him, both teams are neck and neck. With every point that IST scored, the opposing team would just catch back up without breaking a sweat. If Jacob wasn’t captain and wasn’t used to being so calm and collected during matches, he’d probably start getting as pissed as Kim Mingyu looks right now.

The referee blows his whistle and the ball is over the net. Jeon Jungkook, the team’s libero, dives for it, the volleyball bouncing off the back of his hand and back up into the air. It’s currently the fourth set and IST has two under their belt. They needed to win this one lest they wanted to go into the fifth. Everyone is on edge, but won’t stop at nothing that isn’t victory. Jacob shifts to set the ball to Jaehyun, who swings his arm back and spikes it to the other side of the court.

One of their players receives it with ease, and they’re back to square one. There’s that back and forth of both teams setting and spiking, only for the other to receive and send it back over. Jacob feels like this game is never gonna end, especially with how agile their libero is and how in tune he is with their setter. But then he makes eye contact with Lee Seokmin, an opposite hitter who’s proven time and time again that he’ll go wherever Jacob needs him to, do whatever Jacob wants him to. And that’s exactly what he does.

Mingyu bumps the ball towards the net and just when they think Jacob’s going to set it, he swaps places with Seokmin. The hitter gets beneath the volleyball and pushes it off the tip of his fingers, watching as Jacob perfectly times his jump to smack it with the palm of his hand. It’s something the two had only ever practiced a handful of times, but knew it would come in handy when everything was right. The entire interaction is flawless, and the captain’s spike lands, scoring that final point that IST needed to win the set and the game.

Just like the previous game, Jacob doesn’t even register the roaring cheers from everyone around him until they’re throwing him and Seokmin up like they themselves were volleyballs. The team is going insane, hyping up the crowd and running around the court like children. A sense of pride swells in Jacob’s chest, a crinkly-eyed smile nestling on his face like the fondness of a father.

They continue the joy-train all the way into the locker room. Jacob showers and throws on some gray cargo pants, pairing them with a black half-zip jacket. Most of the team was going to the end of semester party tonight, treating it as a post-celebratory reward for their big win. It was still so surreal for the captain. All of the pressure that had been riding on him the entire season, the strive for being someone bigger than himself. He’s grateful it paid off.

Meanwhile, you were damn near ripping your hair out, nerves eating away at the edges of your stomach like you were with the skin around your nails. After a taxing week of final exams and the anxiety of wanting to see Jacob Bae again to clear any bad air, you found yourself at the TBZ end of semester party along with Haeun and Minjee. You were thankful that your life was intact, Haeun’s irritation simmering into something a lot more bearable.

Though just a smidge pissed off that you didn’t do your research, she wasn’t as mad about the whole break of girl-code incident. She got off of your back a little too easily, though, so you were still waiting for another strike. You couldn’t help but feel as if she was planning another form of action.

You’d been at this party for at least an hour, and the attendance was double that of last week’s. They weren’t kidding when they said this was the party of all parties at IST University. You were starting to think that maybe Jacob really was going to avoid you like you were the Black Plague or equivalent. Why else would he not be at one of his own parties? Wasn’t it, like, a requirement for fraternity members to make an appearance at the things they hosted?

Being friends with Haeun really screwed everything up for you. Not only did you have to sleep with one eye open, but also keep your distance from just about every male on campus out of fear that she fucked with them, too. Why did it have to be Jacob Bae? Why couldn’t it have been someone more douchey, more up her alley? He was way too sweet, way too cute for someone of her kind. He deserved someone that could hand him the world. (Not that you were insinuating that it was you, but even you knew you were a better person than Lee Haeun.)

And as if a higher being truly existed, your prayers are answered in the form of Jacob Bae walking through the front door. A gaggle of partygoers surround him and the group of guys he’s with, including some of the fraternity brothers. You faintly hear whoops and hollers over the near deafening music, everyone patting them on their backs. Most of the attention is on Jacob and his gorgeous smile, though.

“IST U’s pride and joy! National volleyball champion, Jacob-fucking-Bae,” Lee Hyunjae wolf-whistles, shaking him around like he was maraca.

Jacob laughs, looking down at the floor to shy away from all of the eyes on him. He’s glad everybody is pleased with his accomplishment, but really all he wants to do is find you. He’s still not 100% sure you’re even here, but he has high hopes that maybe you were into him as much as he was with you. Now that he’s free of both volleyball and schoolwork for a while, he can take his time getting to know you better.

You psych yourself up to go over to him once his audience has parted and gone back to whatever it was they were doing prior to his arrival. A grimace consumes your features as you knock back the cup of jungle juice in your hand, blowing a raspberry. Minjee gives you a smile of encouragement, like she knows exactly what you’re about to do.

However, someone beats you to it. You watch with bated breath as Haeun flips her hair over her shoulder, her heels clicking on the wooden floor all the way up to Jacob. The sight of another girl talking to the guy you’re interested in has never made you as ill as it does right now, her glossy lips pouted and her hands clasped behind her back.

“Heard about the big win, Jakey,” she smiles almost evilly, calling him by a nickname that he hasn’t been called in months. “Wanna claim your prize?”

Jacob knows what she’s doing. It’s obvious. Haeun saw the two of you together last week and now she’s pretending that she gives a shit just so she can feel like she’s the one in control. He’s seen this scene too many times to fall for it. He pokes his cheek with his tongue, hands shoving into the front pocket of his jacket.

“Don’t you have someone else that you can bother, tonight? I’m spoken for.” He shrugs, stepping around her. Okay, so perhaps you’d only had one conversation together. That was enough for him. He doesn’t have to search far or wide for you, a grin replacing his deadpan once he sees your face. “Hi.”

“H-Hi,” your voice comes out unsteady. “I— uh— wh— well, I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

His eyebrows quirks up. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m friends with your tyrant of an ex-girlfriend and I’m a horrible person for still wanting you,” you begin to ramble, playing with a strand of your hair. “And then you weren’t here.”

Jacob laughs, pushing your hand down and tucking the same piece behind your ear. “I don’t really care that you’re friends with Haeun. Honestly, no one’s ever *really friends with her. It’s hard to stand a person who’s that insufferable. And I’m on the volleyball team. Tonight was the championship game, which is why I was late.”

“So you don’t hate me and want me to die?”

“I could never.” He shakes his head, taking one of your hands into his.

“If that’s the case, then can you show me how to properly enjoy a frat party?” You trace patterns on his palm.

“I’ll be so real with you, Y/N, even *I don’t know how to do that,” he snorts. “I’m not a Tau Beta Zeta member, so I guess that explains it.”

“Woah what?” You gape at him. “This entire time I thought you were…”

“Nah, I’m just friends with all of the guys here. I might as well be, but I’m not. Frats are stupid to me,” Jacob leads you out of the living room and into the kitchen to get himself a drink. “Though, I don’t think they’re that bad anymore.”

As he’s reaching for an empty cup, a thought crosses your mind. It’s bold, but you don’t have the willpower to force it away. “You know, you didn’t get to show me what would happen if you succeeded in sweeping me off of my feet.”

He pauses what he’s doing, turning to glance at you over his shoulder with dark eyes. Are you saying what he thinks you’re saying?

“And something’s telling me you were extremely successful.”

*Fuck the drink, Jacob thinks to himself, dropping the cup in favor of whisking you away. He pulls you into the nearest empty room, which happens to be the downstairs bathroom. From one second to the next, you’re pinned to the door, both of your wrists firm in his grip. He’s so close that his nose nudges yours, lips only a hair’s breadth from your own.

“Should’ve known you were dangerous from the get go,” he breathes, the distance between you driving you crazy. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

A gasp escapes you, your eyelids fluttering shut. This was pure insanity. Before you can complain about the lack of contact, Jacob’s mouth is on yours, lips moving against yours so skillfully and so roughly. He takes your wrists into one hand, holding them above your head while the other slips beneath your top. His fingertips burn into your skin and you don’t hold back the whine that sneaks out from your chest.

You pull back for air, sighing when his kiss travels down your neck and focuses on your collarbone. It’s not enough, you need to feel him everywhere. Your pulse is racing and you’re sure he can feel it when he leaves a trail of nibbles and kisses along your jawline. They travel south, paving their path on what’s visible of your jugular and sternum.

There’s a haste of fingers roaming and lips exploring. This was uncharted territory for, seeing as you hadn’t been in a situation like this since moving schools. If there was anyone you wanted to get down and dirty with in the bathroom of a frat party, it was Jacob Bae. His free hand wanders under your skirt, a knuckle running along your clothed, but damp, slit. You both hiss.

“Already so wet for me?” He asks you smugly, the curve of his smile carved into the space where your ear meets your neck. You don’t have the patience to power through any teasing.

“Need you so bad, Jacob,” you don’t like the pitchiness of your voice, or how you’re pretty much begging right now. “Wanna skip the foreplay.”

Jacob grins almost wickedly, kissing the tip of your nose. “So ready and so eager for me. Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t waste any time getting you out of your clothes, starting with your top and then shoving your skirt past your thighs. You kick it off and move to help him. His jacket comes off in one fluid motion, giving you the perfect display of his muscular back and toned abdomen. All of years of volleyball came to fruition in the form of his godlike sculpted body.

You drag a nail through the valley of his abs, unbuttoning his cargoes and palming him through his underwear. He curses under his breath, forehead falling to your shoulder. You may very well be the death of him, he decides. When he’s finally had enough, he swats your hand away, removing the briefs so he can give you what you so graciously asked for. He pumps his length a couple times before guiding the tip to your entrance.

Jacob hooks one of your legs around his waist, pushing your panties to the side so he can slip into you carefully. You don’t even stop the moan that breaches your vocal cords, back arching off of the door and your chest pushing into his. The stretch burns slightly, but not nearly enough to interrupt the pleasure coursing throughout your body. There’s a fire in the pit of your stomach that he fans the flames of the deeper he sinks into you, lips imprinted into the skin of your neck.

His fingers burn the skin of your thigh where he holds it up, slowly pressing his cock into cunt and sliding out as soon as he bottoms out. You’re dizzy, so dizzy that stars have begun to form behind your eyelids and he’s only just started. He rocks into you at a meticulous pace, the blunt nails of his other hand digging into your hip to keep himself composed.

He wants to take his time with you first. He wants you to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as your walls squeeze him in. He wants the feeling of the two of you connected to be engraved into your brain, a memory that nothing could erase even if it tried. Your head knocks against the door when you crane it to give him more access to the column of your throat, whining when he sucks marks into the surface.

“F-Fuck, Jacob,” you whimper. “Feel— god— feel so, so stuffed.”

You practically hiccup your words, overstimulated with everything that’s going on at once. It’s too much. The way he nips at your skin. The way he groans every time you clench around him. The way he’s *buried into you like you were the only source of warmth he’ll ever get. It’s too much, but it feels fucking fantastic.

“Yeah, baby? Am I fucking you good? Giving it to you like no one else can?” He exerts himself, his lips slipping on the thin sheen of sweat coating your bodies. All you can do is moan again, bucking your hips into his to minimize the gap between you as much as physically possible.

His cock is just the right balance of girth and length, filling you up and hitting the spots you need him to. Your sanity falls through the cracks with every click of his hips into yours. He *is fucking you good. He *is giving it to you like no one else can. It didn’t even take him long to figure out what you liked, using that knowledge to his advantage so he could ravage you.

You’re too lost in the pleasure to notice the coil in your stomach curling to the point of snapping. With each ram of his dick in your pussy, he winds you up more and more until it breaks in half. You see nothing but white for a few seconds, spots of various colors bleeding into it. A sound so far away from you bursts out from its home in the back of your throat. Your orgasm coaxes out his, painting your walls with milky ropes and a moan of his own.

The two of you pant breathlessly, lips brushing as you attempt to calm down. Jacob pinches your side, kissing you once before pulling out and letting go of your hip. “Do you have the energy to give me one more? I don’t think I’m finished with you just yet.”

You let out a guttural groan, nodding and colliding your mouths in another desperate kiss. Your fingers run through the strands of his hair, tugging at the nape of his neck as he transfers you to sink. He spins you around, bending you over the counter and pecking your shoulder as he eases his cock back into the velvet of your pussy.

You’re both still sensitive, sighing at the feeling of a second intrusion. He grips your hip and presses down on your lower back just as he speeds up the pacing of his thrusts. Instinctively, you hike up a knee onto the counter, wanting him even deeper and even harder than previously. Heat pools in that same spot at the base of your abdomen, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he grunts, throwing his head back and tightening his grasp on your waist. “Want you to watch me fuck you stupid.”

You wail, eyes heavy lidded as you witness Jacob plowing into you from behind. It hurts, the fact that you can’t even convey into sounds how amazing it feels. They’re all trapped in your chest and throat, begging to be set free. You wish they could bounce off of the walls, reverberating in your ears. Your cheeks are wet from the tears that have spilled over. You look like a mess with your makeup smeared and your face puffy. Anyone who saw you after this would know exactly what went down in this bathroom.

Jacob doesn’t slow his assault, instead hovering over and trapping you beneath his broad frame. He drills into you deeper, harder, faster— and oh god you don’t want him to stop. You think he’s making good on his word, fucking you so insanely stupid that not a single thought occupies your mind. All there is, is Jacob Bae and the deliciousness of his cock wedging itself further into your cunt like he wants to live there.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. So so well,” he coos, your back curving into his chest.

Your elbows might give out from supporting your weight and now Jacob’s too, especially with how empty your head is. You don’t really have the consciousness to keep yourself up. It’s at the point where the mirror has started to fog, a blurry image of him abusing your pussy in your line of sight.

He knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm, your walls spasming slightly in warning. He pulls out enough to flip you onto your back, pushing in and resuming where he left off. His thumb sneaks down to your clit, rubbing in precise circles with precise pressure. Despite there being no mirror covered in steam in the shape of your bodies in front of you, your vision is still hazy. You can barely see the expressions Jacob makes, his brows knitting together and lower lip between his teeth.

You pull him down to connect your mouths, whining into him as he continues to fuck into you like there wasn’t a whole party still going on on the side of the door. Your knees are folded to your chest, allowing his cock to kiss all the way inside of you. “I’m— fuck— so close, Cobie.”

“C’mon, baby, you can cum for me,” he goads, applying more pressure to the shape he’s drawing on your clit.

One particularly timed thrust and the bumping of his pelvic bone on the sensitive bundle of nerves tips you off of your peak. Your climax washes over you, tidal waves of pleasure cresting at full force. You moan loudly, the rippling of your walls triggering Jacob’s own release.

He pulls out gently, for the final time. His chest rises and falls rapidly, in sync with yours. You’re both exhausted, spent from going at it like jackrabbits— as if you’d never get the chance to do it again. You meet eyes and then burst into laughter, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks.

“That was… Wow…” You breathe, moving some of his hair from obstructing his eyesight.

“I always follow through with my promises, you know,” he wraps his arms around your waist. “So, what do I get now that I’ve wooed you?”

You press the hints of a kiss to his lips. “An exclusive all-access pass to me, my phone number, and the rights to ask me out on a date whenever you please.”

Jacob smiles that crinkle eye smile of his, knowing full well that he plans on cashing all three of those right now. He may have not been the biggest fan of fraternities or their parties, but he sure as hell loved them at this moment in time.

He thinks he was a winner in more ways than one that night.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[itsbeeble]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (pt 1)

SUMMARY: It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

GENRE: smut, very little fluff, a lot of angst

PAIRING: Kevin Moon x afab!reader

WC: 4.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST PART 2

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez @flwoie

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: insults (nonsexual), mentions of injuries, mentions of what is basically sabotage, kevin is actually really kind of a bad person to y/n yall im sorry, kevin is still stupid (keeping with the trends), kevin is emotionally constipated but so is y/n but she's less emotionally constipated, pining, enemies to lovers, making out, marking, hair pulling, scratching, dry humping, poor attempts at humor, guys i'm actually warning you kevin is a total asshole in this

A/N: Idk why i went the angsty route for this but i'm very very excited to be releasing the final installment of this series. this was supposed to be released on christmas but me and fawn did not give ourselves NEARLY enough time to actually prepare this so we had to push it off. Much love, kiss kiss. Anyway thank you to everyone for reading this collab. This is part 1 of the final installment, so please be on the lookout for part 2 on fawn's page!!

You couldn’t have been more excited to be partnered with Kevin Moon for the end-of-year exhibition. He was kind, he was incredibly talented, he was funny, he—

“You have to be fucking joking.”

— hated your goddamn guts.

You weren’t even sure why. One day the two of you had been just a couple of freshmen, excited to become the best versions of yourselves, and the next…it was like Kevin suddenly decided that he just hated everything about you. He did everything from mocking your solo performances to outright screaming at you for the tiniest of mistakes that not even your professors had picked up on. Your foot was a centimeter too far to the left, your back was arched too much, or your arm looked flimsy. Anything that he could possibly berate you for, he found it. 

“Language, Moon.” Your professor scolded, hovering beside you and gauging both of your reactions. Your thumbnail is wedged between your teeth, and your free hand is wrapped around your waist. Kevin is fuming across from you, staring at the paper with such intensity you fear that it would catch fire. 

“Professor, you can’t possibly expect me to work with her!” Kevin flings his hand out in your direction, and you scoff. 

“You make it sound like this is my fault.” 

“Isn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow, lips curling up into a nasty sneer. “Most things usually are.”

“Oh really?” You drop your hands to your side, taking a small step toward him. 

“Yes!” 

“Like what?” 

You’re inches away from each other now, a palpable tension between the two of you that had your professor shuffling back uncomfortably. A few lingering students glanced at the two of you, whispering amongst each other. 

Do you think they really hate each other?

I think that they’re doing this just for show, just like Sangyeon and his girlfriend.

Maybe they really do hate each other…or, at least, one of them does.

“Like the class performance of Princess and the Pauper last year.” Kevin grins smugly, as if he’d won some sort of competition between the two of you. There’s a flash of anger and hurt in your eyes.

“Let’s not remember that you were the one who dropped me, Kevin.” The smugness dissipates and now your “opponent” is standing uncomfortably before you. 

“I— I know that, but—” You cut him off abruptly, and there are a few tears brimming in your eyes. 

“You know damn fucking well that the performance would’ve been fine had you not intentionally let me fall. It’s your fault that happened, not mine.”

“Y/N,” your professor warns. “Let’s calm down, shall we?” 

Her hand on your shoulder steels you, and your body relaxes. 

“The two of you,” she speaks slowly and calmly but there’s cold authority in her tone, “are going to work together on this performance, and you are going to work nicely. I will not be tolerating arguments this time. If you two cannot prove to me that you can work together as a team then I will fail you, and I will recommend you both be removed from the program. Am I understood?”

You bite on your tongue, eyeing Kevin and waiting for him to respond first. His words dug deep into you. It was easy for you to take the blame for mistakes you made, for starting on the wrong beat. But for him to blame you for his mistake? That was going too far. That was crossing a line that no dancer should ever cross (i know nothing about dancing). 

“Understood,” Kevin mutters after a moment, and you nod your head slowly. 

“Understood.”

“I think we should do Angel by Keshi.”

“And I think that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

Your eyes widen when Kevin says that with his back flat on the ground of the practice room you’d rented. He’s got a stress ball in his hand, throwing it toward the ceiling and waiting for it to fall back down into his hand. For at least an hour, it had been, essentially, a one-sided discussion with you throwing out ideas and Kevin ignoring you as best he could until you threatened to tell the professor he wasn’t being cooperative. He’d proceeded to call you a “stupid snitch” before responding to each suggestion you threw out with something negative.

“If it’s so dumb then how about you give a suggestion for once?” You retort. “Instead of just sitting there moping like a child.” 

“Ooh, good one,” Kevin says mockingly, his eyes narrowing at you after. You know he can see you’re getting frustrated with him. You can see it in the smirk he sends your way as he sits up. “Stings real bad, Y/N.”

“Why are you such a prick?” You grab your crossed ankles, rocking back and forth on your butt. 

“Why are you such a teacher’s pet?”

“I’m…I’m literally not.” Your head tilts and Kevin shrugs.

“Sure you aren’t.” 

“Can you focus please?” Kevin rolls his eyes when you change the subject, leaning back onto the palms of his hands and spreading his legs out in front of him. 

“I’ve been focused, you’re the one who keeps getting distracted by me.” 

Your jaw falls slack. You kept getting distracted? The whole time the two of you had been in this room, he had done absolutely nothing to contribute. You, arguably, were the only one not distracted!

“What if we did—”

“Partition by Beyoncé.” Kevin interrupts you, and you quirk an eyebrow.

“I’m not doing that song with you.”

A smirk, and he leans forward. “Why? Afraid you’ll be seduced by your enemy?” 

It's too late for that. “Nope. I just don’t wanna be that close to you at all. You fucking smell.” 

For the first time ever, Kevin falls silent. His jaw hangs open and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline. Internally, you cheer at how you were likely the first person (as far as you know) to make him shut up for a few moments. 

“I do not smell!” He snaps, finally jolted from his stupor when you clear your throat. 

“You kinda do, Kev,” you pick at something on the ground. “Sorry to be the one that broke it to you.”

“Don’t call me Kev.” 

You look at him, and his nose is wrinkled with disgust. He doesn’t look angry, per se, but he isn’t exactly the most pleased you’ve seen him. 

“Sorry.” 

Kevin goes quiet again, and now both of you are picking at the floor. 

“So we’re doing Angel, right?” You ask, trying to clear the awkward air. Your partner kisses his teeth and shakes his head.

“I really think we should do Partition.”

“Why are you so set on doing such a sexual song?” Your cheeks are warm, but you try to ignore it as best you can. Kevin notices, that smug smile returning to his face.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with it? People love these types of performances.” He has a point, but you’ll die before you let him know it. “They love tension between dancers. Gives them a thrill.”

“It’ll be thrilling when they see my fist in your face,” you mumble so he can’t hear you.

“What?” His eyebrows knit together and you smile coyly.

“What?” Your voice is pitched up to mock him, and a muscle feathers in his jaw. 

“We’re doing Partition.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” 

He kisses his teeth again, returning to leaning on the palms of his hands. You lay flat on your back, fingers splayed across your stomach. 

“You’re annoying. You know that, right?” You hear him shift on the ground, and then his face appears in your periphery  A dry laugh escapes you.

“That’s not what your mom said last night.” 

“Don’t— don’t talk about my mom.” You lift your head off the ground, a lazy grin plastered onto your face when you see Kevin’s lips twitching. “That— that wasn’t funny. Like, at all.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t, Kevin.” You agree, lowering your head back to the ground. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. You aren’t funny.” He stands up, gathering his belongings and keeping his back turned. Had you not seen him fighting a smile just a moment ago, you would have thought he was truly angry with you. Or, perhaps, he was angry with you, but the joke was enough to get him to crack a smile.

“I believe you,” you sat up again, following his lead and grabbing your own items. “Totally. Why wouldn’t I?” 

He turns to look at you again, his expression shockingly dull when he meets your eyes. The tension is back, and you shuffle awkwardly in your spot. In the silence of the practice room, you’re struck with the urge to ask him questions. Why he hates you, why he dropped you during the performance. It had been on your mind for so long, but not once have you had the strength to ask. Now, though, you have an unstoppable urge. 

You clear your throat, dipping your head down for a second and then lifting it to keep your eyes on him. 

“Why d—” 

You’ve barely gotten one word out before Kevin interrupts you again, taking long and heavy steps to the door. It’s as if he’d sensed your questions, your curiosity. His timing certainly made it seem that way.

“I’ll text you when we can start working on the choreography.”

Kevin slams the door of the TBZ house so hard that the walls shake. 

“Why the fuck are you slamming my doors?” Sangyeon yells from his bedroom, his voice muffled by the distance between them. 

“Sorry!” Kevin yells back, but he’s not. He’s not sorry at all, not now at least. Why the fuck did he have to get paired with you? Of all the people in the class, why did the professor think it was a good idea to stick the two people who hate each other the most on a team?

“You’re lucky that Sangyeon’s too busy getting his dick sucked to care that you slammed the door.” Changmin peers at Kevin from the kitchen counter, hunched over with a frog-shaped cup in his hand. The older of the two wrinkles his nose in disgust, making his way to the counter and sinking into a barstool. 

“Didn’t need to know that detail, but thanks anyway.” 

“No problem,” Changmin grins sarcastically, lifting his cup as a sort of toast. “What’s got you so ticked off anyway?”

“Some stupid assignment my professor assigned me.”

“Oh, right. The dance one?” 

“Yeah.” 

Kevin drops his head into his hands, rubbing at his eyes with the base of his palms. Then he raises his head, eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“Wait, how did you know about the assignment?” 

“One of my friends is in that class,” Changmin sets his cup down and leans forward to fold his arms on the granite countertop. “He said he saw you being a dick to Y/N after you found out the two of you were partners for the exhibition.”

“Well, she deserved it,” Kevin grumbles, dropping his hands onto the counter. 

“She always deserves it, according to you.” Changmin kisses his teeth and purses his lips. “Why do you hate her, anyway? She’s a fantastic dancer, she’s super nice, she’s really pretty. She’s got your humor, too, so shouldn’t the two of you, like, get along?”

“Y/N L/N is the spawn of the devil himself, and I’ll die before I get along with her.”

“Okay, I get that, but why?”

Why. Why do you hate her so much? What could she possibly have done to make you drop her in the middle of one of the most important performances of your college career?

“She…” Kevin trails off, his face heating up with embarrassment. “She spilled coffee on me during freshman year.” 

For a few moments, Changmin says nothing and Kevin thinks that the younger man didn’t hear him. Then he speaks, and Kevin wishes he hadn’t said anything at all.

“You…broke a girl’s ankle…and almost ruined her chances at ever dancing again…” Changmin speaks slowly, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of what he’d just heard. “Because…because she spilled coffee on you?”

“It wasn’t just that!” Kevin tries to defend. “She got it all over my expensive shirt, the white one you got me for my birthday back in high school. The stain wouldn’t come out, even with bleach, so I had to toss it!”

“You’re the dumbest person I have ever met, Kevin Moon.” Changmin pushes himself up to stand straight, suddenly radiating anger and startling Kevin. “You don’t fucking drop someone and break their ankle because of a goddamn shirt that I bought you from fucking Target.”

“Wait— it was from Target?” Kevin’s jaw drops.

“Yes? Did you think that I bought a wicked expensive plain white button-down shirt?”

“Well, I mean…” Kevin scratches the back of his head, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. 

“You know what?” Changmin pinches the bridge of his nose, biting down on his tongue briefly. “That’s— that’s not the point of this conversation. The point is that you’re a horrible person. You’re a horrible person and if you don’t get your shit together and apologize to that poor girl, I’m gonna get Sangyeon involved.”

“Why— I’m not a horrible person!” Kevin snaps, and Changmin scoffs.

“I truly wonder what she sees in you.” 

For a brief moment, Kevin stops breathing. In that moment, a series of thoughts run through his mind, thoughts that he can’t even begin to process.

Horrible person.

I wonder what she sees in you.

Who is ‘she?’ Why does Changmin know what she thinks of him?

He couldn’t possibly mean you. You hate him, and he hates you. There was no possible way that you cared about him at all, especially after how cruel he’d been to you. 

Right?

One week.

A whole damn week goes by before Kevin texts you to meet him at practice room 304. To be honest, you would have forgotten about the project had your professor not sent out an email the day prior requesting progress videos to be submitted by Monday morning.

“That leaves us, what, four days to draft at least half of the choreography?” You’re sipping at an iced latte, your back against the mirror as Kevin ties the laces of his sneakers. 

“Something like that.” 

He’s on edge. You can hear it in his voice. Something has him tense and you aren’t entirely sure what to do about it, especially since you aren’t the cause (for once). Part of you wants to ask him what’s wrong, but a much larger part of you is screaming to just leave it alone. For a while, you listen to that larger part. You begin working with Kevin to choreograph the song and while it was a bit awkward for you, you find it much easier to work with him than with previous partners you’d had. You ignore the way your skin burns every time he touches you— correcting your posture, helping you with a movement. You ignore how much you enjoy his hands on your body, however faint his touch is. 

You’d admit that Kevin was right about the tension. The air felt stuffy, the walls closing in on you. It was erotic, the choreography Kevin had created. It was fast, and most of the moves you’d gone through required you to have your body close to his. The audience, however, would love this, just like Kevin said. So, no, you weren’t against admitting when Kevin was right, and you would have told him that at the end of practice. 

Really, you would have!

But then Kevin starts pissing you off. 

Small, quiet comments about how ridiculous you look. Insulting how you do a specific move. Nitpicking every step, every breath, every water break. Sweat is dripping down your neck by the time Kevin officially lets you stop for a while. You can see how tired he is, can see his shoulders slumping and his legs wobbling every time he steps. 

“I think we should call it a day.” You call over to him, and he scoffs.

“Of course you would say that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you set your water bottle down. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kevin spins to face you as you say this, his jaw ticking and his hands clenched into fists. 

“You know exactly what it means, Y/N.” He sneers, standing tall when you take long strides over to him.

“No, actually,” you fold your arms over your chest, “I don’t know what it means.” 

“Then I’ll tell you.” His face is now inches from yours, and you back up a bit. Just enough for your face to not be so close to his. “I think you’re losing your touch. I think that you’re sloppy, that you’re arrogant, you can’t admit when you’re wrong.”

Kevin goes on listing these qualities, these faults, and all the while you can only scoff knowing that those are exactly the same things you would use to describe him. 

“I think that—” he continues, but then you’re interrupting him.

“Shut the fuck up, dude.” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, but it’s not as if you’d planned to hold back anyway. “You think you’re any better than me?”

“Yes, I do.” Kevin tilts his head with a mocking smile. “I think I’m a thousand times better than you.”

“You aren’t,” you tell him, and he bites his tongue when you pretend to pout. “Sorry to burst your egotistical, self-absorbed bubble, but you aren’t better than me. You aren’t a better dancer, a better student, or a better person.” 

Kevin’s gaze hardens, and you don’t notice the step he takes toward you. Or, maybe, you do and choose to ignore it. Maybe it’s exactly what you wanted. 

“You’re full of shit.” He breathes out, and you can feel a few strands of his hair brush against your forehead. The corner of your lips lifts into a lopsided smirk.

“And so aren’t you. We aren’t so different now, are we Moon?” 

A few silent moments. Bated breaths of air. The tension between the two of you is something unlike anything you’d felt before. You take a deep breath, ready to step away from him, and then his lips are crushed against yours in a furious kiss. There’s no love or care for one another behind it, just a fatal mixture of hate and lust for one another. A build-up of tension that could only be dispelled by the two of you.

Kevin’s hands are all over your body— squeezing at your hips, running up and down your waist, brushing over the curve of your ass. Your own hands tear at his clothes, stretching the fabric beyond repair, and your nails sink into his skin, breaking it and making him hiss in pain. Your lips mesh together, your teeth clacking together and your tongues pushing together in more of a fight than a dance of dominance. 

You allow yourself to be backed into the mirror, too caught up in how good his lips feel against yours, and you almost forget how much you supposedly hate him. When his lips fall to your neck and your hands scrape their way up his back, you want to let yourself forget about all the horrible things he’s said to you. His teeth sink into the skin of your neck, listening to the way you groan at the sting, and then his tongue is laving over the spot, his lips sucking at the skin at the same time. He does that over and over again, practically covering every inch of your throat with these marks until it looks like a wild animal got to you.

“I hate you,” Kevin lifts his face from your neck, grabbing your face in one hand and squeezing your cheeks together. His eyes are dark with so many emotions that it has your stomach churning. “I hate you so fucking much.”

You try to respond, but he just squeezes your face tighter and grins maliciously at your desperate whine. He kisses you again, uncaring of the fact that your lips are smushed together and your can’t exactly kiss him back. In fact, it’s almost like that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to struggle against him, wants you desperate and whining. 

“Isn’t this nice?” He teases, his mouth a hairsbreadth from your own. “Finally quiet for me. You’re so much prettier when you aren’t talking back to me. If I let you go, are you gonna stay quiet?” 

He releases you, and you surge forward to connect your lips in another kiss. Your arms are around his neck and his slide down to your legs, haul you up, and press you against the mirror. You wrap your legs around him, clinging tightly and forcing him impossibly closer to you. Something shifts in the way you move against each other, no longer just your lips and hands, but now your hips are grinding together and you’re moaning, and Kevin is breathless against you, throwing his head back and groaning into the open air. You use this as an opportunity to return the favor, marking his neck up in the same way he’d marked yours (if not a bit harsher). 

“Fuck,” Kevin hisses, hands squeezing so hard at your thighs you know they’ll be bruised in the morning. “Always gotta be so harsh, don’t you?”

“You just did the same thing to me,” you snap back, your body shuddering as he continues to rut against you. Your voice is shaking, containing not nearly the amount of malice you’d hoped it would. You sound desperate, you sound like you want him. Which, of course, you do. But you would prefer it if Kevin didn’t know that.

Too late.

His eyes are gleaming as if in a trance and his hands slide to your ass to drag your hips harder against yours. The pleasure continues to build, your eyes rolling back, and your head falling against the mirror. 

“Thought you hated me,” Kevin coos and laughs when you moan out his name. “Poor baby, so desperate for me you can’t even speak.”

“H-Hate you,” you whine. “Hate you s-so much.”

“I’m sure you do, baby.” He hums, watching as your body begins to convulse. He can feel himself getting closer as well, his dick twitching in his sweatpants. “Go ahead, cum all over the man you hate.”

And you do. Your body shudders, back arching off the mirror as you moan and sob against him. Your hips continue to rut into his, and eventually, he drops his head into your chest, laving with his tongue at the skin exposed by your t-shirt. Your hands are in his hair, holding tightly to the strands.

After a moment, you tap at Kevin’s head to get his attention.

And boy, do you get it. 

As if he was hit with a wave of post-nut clarity, he practically drops you to the ground with a crazed look of horror in his eyes. You frown at him, stumbling back to your feet with legs made of jelly.

“You okay?” 

He backs away from you, nearly tripping over his feet. You follow him, but he’s too fast.

“Don’t— don’t fucking come near me.” He snarls, and you flinch. It’s not fear. It’s hurt. You’re not sure why the statement hurt you, but it did and the feeling stabbed into your heart like a golden dagger. “Stay the fuck away from me. This— this was a mistake. You were a mistake.”

It’s become a sort of habit for him, you think, watching as he slams the door to the practice room. You still aren’t quite sure why it hurts, why your throat feels like it’s closing up and your stomach churns with displeasure. You turn to face the mirror, tracing a hand up your neck to touch the marks on your neck and there’s a sad smile plastered on your face.

It can’t be helped when he’s hated you for so long. 

There’s a crack in your heart, and you wonder if it’ll be fixed just like the crack in your bone from the last time he hurt you.

Kevin slams the door of his car so harshly he almost fears he broke it. The engine rumbles to life, and tires screech against the ground as he speeds out of the parking lot and gets far, far away from you. 

His hands are shaking, so unsteady that he’s almost afraid he’ll get into an accident. His heart is pounding. Adrenaline, maybe. Fear is more likely. Fear of what he’d just done, what he could have done. It terrifies him, the rush of emotions he’d felt when you looked at him. 

It didn’t make sense to him. You were supposed to hate him, to want him dead. Why did you look at him like that? Like he hung the stars in the sky and painted the moon just for you. Why. Why. You ruined everything. 

A choked sob forces its way up his throat, and he covers his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He doesn’t understand it. Why is he feeling so many emotions from this? He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be feeling this…this…

Kevin doesn’t even understand the emotion he’s feeling, so he decides he won’t bother. 

He’ll ignore you, avoiding you as best he possibly could. You’ll practice alone, that way he won’t have to speak with you. 

Avoid, ignore, hate. Avoid, ignore, hate. 

That was the perfect solution.

Avoid you and the inevitable questions you’ll have.

Ignore you and the looks you’ll send him. The confusion, the anger.

Hate you. Hate the way you make him feel, the way you make him want you.

Hate you.

Hate you 

Love you.

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[itsbeeble]

LET LOOSE

SUMMARY: Younghoon has hated you since the day he met you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

GENRE: smut, fluff, angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Younghoon x afab!reader (ft. eric)

WC: 5.3K

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: Swearing, public sex, floor sex, academic rivals that everyone knows secretly want to fuck, enemies to lovers, missionary (that's a first wow), sexual references, mentions of alcohol, insults (not sexual), arguments, pining, mentions of killing someone as a joke, dry humping for like two seconds, making out, mentions of marking, mentions of oral, guys i think this is the least slutty fic I've written for this series, y/n is stuck in a perpetual state of denial, let me know if I missed anything but i think that's it

A/N: Everyone allow me to introduce Doll's less-slutty cousin!! I can't believe we're over halfway through this collab omg. I'm really glad people are loving this and I hope you guys have been catching the easter eggs me and Fawn have been throwing into our fics 😏

If anyone asked you what you thought of when you thought of local star student, heartthrob, and frat boy Kim Younghoon, you would scoff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“I hate him,” you would say, your lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed until they were practically touching. “I hope his house burns to the fucking ground.” 

One would think this was a gross overreaction, that you probably held a grudge over something stupid, or that he killed your dog or maybe he copied off your essay but made it seem like you were the one who plagiarized. And oh, how that would’ve been much simpler. 

The true story, however, goes all the way back—

“Thinking about me again?” A hand cracks down on the desk in front of you, your mind and body jerking back to reality. 

There he is, you think to yourself, the bane of my fucking existence. Your teeth are already grinding together, your grip tightening around the pencil you’d been using to write your notes and all he’s doing is standing there with a stupid fucking smirk. 

“Why would I be thinking of you?” You bite out and Younghoon places a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Ouch, sweetheart.” Your body stiffens and your face contorts with disgust at the nickname.

“Don’t call me that, douchebag.” Younghoon sighs dramatically, dropping down to be at eye level with you. 

“So cruel to me,” a pout, and then he’s smirking again. “What if I was into that, sweetheart?” 

You might throw up.

“What do you want?” you groan, noting how other students have begun to flood out of the lecture hall while you’re putting your things away. Younghoon shrugs, rising to his feet at the same time as you. Had you been a weaker woman, his height would’ve had your knees wobbling and your panties hitting the ground but, fortunately, you were a strong woman. Some of your friends couldn’t relate to that despite your very clear and very much valid hatred for him. 

“I just wanted to see what you were up to,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back onto his heels. “Considering that we’re now partners for this assignment.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, your eyes widen, and your cheeks are fighting between going pale and burning bright as a tomato.

“What are you— what do you mean we’re partners?” You echo, and his smirk only widens. Your shoulder bashes into his arm while you make your way to the front of the lecture hall where the list of partners is posted. He trails behind you, long legs making it easy to keep pace despite how impossibly fast you seem to walk.

“Aren’t you so excited?” He sounds too excited about this, and you have to physically stop yourself from grabbing him by the neck and choking him where he stands. “We get to work together for the whole semester!”

“I still don’t see how this is a problem,” Dawon tells you her tongue running over her lip as she watches you pace the length of your dorm suite’s lounge area. “Isn’t he, like, super hot? And smart?”

Your lip curls into a sneer and you whip your body around to look at her.

“He is not hot,” your voice has raised in pitch, your arms waving frantically. “He’s— he’s stupid and— and annoying, and he doesn’t know how to shut up, and his face— oh his face is just so— so—”

“Kissable?” Suyeon offers when she makes her way over with a steaming mug of tea. 

“I think rideable is a better word,” Dawon grins at the way your jaw drops at the two of them. 

“He does have a very rideable—”

“Okay, enough!” You snap, your face beginning to burn bright red in anger.

“Ooh she’s blushing!” Suyeon giggles and your face only burns brighter. 

“You both are insufferable,” you throw yourself back onto the couch, your head turned toward the ceiling. “Kim Younghoon is annoying, stuck up, and his face is not kissable or rideable.” 

“So you’re saying you’ve thought about it before?” Suyeon presses and you roll your eyes.

“Hell no. Why would I think about that?”

“Because he’s your mortal enemy and everyone ends up fucking their mortal enemy at some point.”

“Plus he’s a yummy, scrumptious, daddy cupcake.”

“Ugh, so true Dawon.” Suyeon squeezes your roommate’s hand, the two of them grinning deviously at each other.

“That’s— did you just call him— No, that’s not the point. The point is, that’s not true!” You lift your head, eyes wide with horror. “That only happens in books!”

“Not just books,” Suyeon raises her mug to her lips with a hint of a smirk on her face. “Didn’t you hear about the KAT and TBZ presidents?” 

“Oh my god, Eric told me about that!” Dawon gasps. “Apparently they—”

“I don’t need to know the details of their sex lives.” You interrupt again. “God, you two are just…”

“Don’t you just love us?” Dawon winks at you, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“Let’s not go that far.” Her lips twist, and the three of you go quiet for a moment. 

“Why do you even hate him?” 

Ah, there it is. The same question everyone had been asking since the day you started at this school. 

Why do you hate Kim Younghoon? 

“It’s complicated,” you tell them what you always say. You tell them that it’s nothing they should be concerned about. He knows what he did.

“Then uncomplicate it.” Suyeon is much softer than Dawon, her eyes furrowed but not with the mild irritation Dawon has. It’s more…concern than anything else, and for a moment you think about telling them. Think about dropping your petty act, let them know exactly what about Younghoon bothers you so much. 

You open your mouth, and the two girls in front of you lean forward expectantly, practically on the edge of the tiny couch that had been squeezed into the suite.

“I can’t.”

“That isn’t going to work, sweetheart.” Younghoon says, waltzing up to you after your failed attempt to talk your professor into letting you change partners or work alone. Your shoulders are slumped in defeat, something that Younghoon seems to laugh at. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I really hate you, Kim Younghoon.” You lift your head, wanting so desperately to glare at him but you can only find the strength to stare blankly. He kisses his teeth, eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” 

“Who cares? It’s true.” 

You want to scream. You want to throw your body onto the ground and throw a tantrum, to cry and whine, to kick and punch the air—anything to get out of this situation. 

“All this because I got a better grade than you in one class in high school.” Younghoon shakes his head, his hair falling into his face and obscuring his eyes partially. Your heart thuds against your ribcage (because of the memory, obviously). 

“You really think that’s the only reason I hate you?” Hint: he’s right for once. Would you ever tell him that? No. As far as he knows, you have endless reasons to hate him. As long as he lives, that list will grow. In fact, it would be better if he knew that you’d be pissed if he died before you because that means he tried to escape one last competition, but you’d hate it even more if he died after you because that means he would win one last time.

“That’s all I can think of,” he shrugs and you kiss your teeth. 

“Disappointing me again, douchebag.” He scoffs at that.

“Of course I am. When am I not upsetting you about some bullshit?” 

Oddly, this time you don’t answer him. At least you don’t give him an answer to that question. 

“Listen, Kim Younghoon,” you place a hand on your hip, shifting your weight to lean mostly on one leg. He leans toward you a bit, slightly angling his head as if trying to hear you better. “You’re the most annoying, egotistical, snobbish boy I’ve ever met. You always have this, like, need to be better than me— than everyone.” 

Younghoon inhales, his eyebrows knitting together and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. You can see the irritation in his gaze, can see him fighting the urge to snap at you and it has your stomach churning. When he finally responds, it’s not exactly what you expected. You thought he would snap back at you, tell you to go fuck yourself, to call you the same insults you just called him.

He doesn’t.

“Meet me in the library at 4 o’clock.” Your head jerks back, your nose wrinkling with confusion. 

“Excuse me?” Younghoon just smiles coyly, already turning away from you.

“Don’t you wanna get this project done so you don’t have to deal with me?” He can practically see the wheels turning in your brain, contemplating all your options. 

“I mean yeah, but how do you know if I’m even free—”

“You’re always at the cafe at the same time as me,” Younghoon glances down at you, stepping to the side as he pushes open the door of the lecture hall. You say nothing as you push by him. “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not— I would never— how—” You sputter, stumbling over your words and waving your hands in the air while you try to come up with something to say. Something to deny. Younghoon begins to smile again, coy and near-mocking. 

“I don’t hear you actively denying anything.” His eyes widen and he bends forward, lowering his face to be near yours. Your cheeks are heating up, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Words. You need words. Why is nothing coming out?

“Shut the hell up, douchebag.” He laughs and your stomach churns again. Is he laughing at you?

“I’ll see you at 4, sweetheart.” Younghoon starts to reach his hand toward you as he leans up, but thinks better of it and drops it back to his side. 

“Yeah, sure,” you scoff and turn your back to him.

Fucking prick.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You toss a stack of papers onto the table you’re sitting at, glaring at the notes Younghoon wrote on the whiteboard. He’d rented a study room for a few hours, giving you time to start working. 

Or, at least, try to start working. You had made no promises about not trying to kill him and making it so neither of you could get any work done. Although, you had thought about running him over with your car so that you would have an excuse to work on this alone.

The blinds over the door had been shut, blocking anyone from looking in and potentially seeing you try to kill a man. Lucky for you.

“What’s so wrong with what I wrote?” He squints at the board and you push yourself out of the old, creaky chair you’d been sitting in. 

“It’s contradictory!” You complain, reaching around him for the eraser. He grabs your hand before you can do anything, turning on you with a scathing glare. 

“It’s not, though!” 

His grip tightens on your wrist when you pull it away. You narrow your eyes, but he doesn’t waver at all. There’s heat behind his gaze, heat that makes you nervous. You know he won’t hurt you, that’s not who he is. The heat though…that makes you nervous. It’s the same heat you’d felt several times in the past few weeks. 

“Let me go, Kim Younghoon.” He leans his head toward yours and your throat begins to close, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Not until you tell me why it’s contradictory!” He snaps. You swear your ears start to ring, your vision closing in until all you can see is Younghoon. 

“It’s— why does it matter so much to you?” His grip finally loosens and you rip away from him with a huff. 

“Because you’re putting down my work! Again!” He flings his hands into the air and you bite your tongue. “Why do you hate me so much?”

A lump in your throat, tears in your eyes, and Younghoon drops your hand. He looks defeated, his shoulders slumping and his lips set into a deep frown. 

“I just,” Younghoon sits in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. You stand in the middle of the study room, hands by your sides and your eyes flicking around nervously. Your posture is so tense compared to his, your eyes flitting around anxiously. “I’m tired of this shit. Not knowing what the fuck I did wrong. You never give me a reason and, at first, I was fine with it. I liked the casual rivalry. But now I’m just…it’s been four years, and I still don’t know what I did.”

“Choi Yuna.” It comes out fast, the name of your ex-best friend. So fast that Younghoon doesn’t catch it, he just stares at you with a look of pure confusion.

“What?”

You say her name slower this time, tugging at the edge of your shirt. “Choi Yuna, you dated her from freshman year until late sophomore year.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “What does she have to do with this?” 

Your cheeks are burning, and you know he can see it. See how flustered you are.

“She was my best friend.” You bite on your tongue, trying to find the right words. 

“I know,” he said, and you purse your lips. “She talked about you all the time.”

“That’s funny,” you scoff, a spark of anger returning to your tone and to your facial features. “Considering she’s the reason I hated you for so long.”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Younghoon huffs, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. You can tell he’s frustrated, so you speak quicker.

“She— she knew that I liked you.” His eyes snap up, wide and bulging. “She knew that I wanted to ask you out in freshman year, so she made sure to get there first. I— at first I thought that you knew that’s why she did it.”

“You thought that I knew your best friend wanted—” Younghoon huffs and rises to his feet. 

“Just—” You hold up your hands as he begins to step toward you, slowly backing you into the wall. “Just let me talk. I thought you knew, yes. She told me that you asked her out first and that she just— she just agreed. So yeah, I started to hate you. I started arguing with you and every answer you gave in class because I was just so…angry at— at everything, at myself.”

Your back is against the wall now, and you’re slowly curling in on yourself as Younghoon gets closer. 

“And…?” he cocks an eyebrow and your swallow thickly.

“By the time I realized that it was all her….at that point it was just easier to keep hating you. To keep everything at bay.”

“Everything?” He echoes and had you been looking at his face instead of his chest, you would’ve seen the smirk you’d always claimed to hate plastered onto his face. 

“Yes,” you groan and lift your head. Your breathing hitches in your throat, your body pushing even closer to the wall when you finally see just how close Younghoon is to you. 

Just a few inches from your face is his own, his eyes dancing from your eyes to your lips. His breathing is, compared to yours, slow and even. Inhale, hold, exhale. You can see his chest rising and falling with the rhythm. 

“Why—” you clear your throat. “Why are you so close to me, Younghoon?”

“No legal name this time?” He murmurs, one of his hands coming up to rest on the wall beside your head. His head dips down and now his lips are brushing against yours, every breath you take mixing with his. “What happened?”

“I just— you’re a little close to me.” Your hand presses on his chest, but it's as if you aren’t even trying to push him away. “We— we probably shouldn’t.”

Younghoon kisses his teeth, shaking his head at your suggestion. Arguably, it’s a wise choice, but right now he has you exactly where he wants you. If he lets you leave now, who’s to say you won’t pack your bags and take a one-way flight to Brazil?

“I’ve been waiting,” he says and you squeeze the hand on his chest into a fist. “For three years for you to get your head out of your ass. I’m not letting you go now that I have you.”

“Have me?” Your tone shifts into one of challenge rather than the nervous air you’d surrounded yourself with. “If anything, I have you, Kim Younghoon.”

You yank him to you by his shirt, reaching up on your tip toes to place a firm kiss on his plush lips. You hear a groan rumbling in his throat, the hand not on the wall wrapping around your waist and squeezing tightly. Your lips mesh together, but it isn’t messy. It’s slow, calculated just like every move either of you had made against each other. Every argument, every challenge. The build-up. It all led to this, and you’re not letting him go this time. He’s yours and Choi Yuna can’t take him this time. 

With a new fervor, both of your hands come to lace into his thick strands of black hair, effectively trapping his lips against yours. He drops the hand that was on the wall, both hands now on your waist and sipping under the loose fabric of your shirt. You gasp at the cold feeling of his hands on your skin, and he takes that opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth. It’s experimental, the way his tongue caresses yours, pushing gently and letting you suck at the warm muscle. He listens to the pretty little whimper you let out when he does the same thing in return and a shiver runs down his spine. His hand slides up the back of your shirt, emerging from the collar and lacing into the strands of your hair. 

Air. You had to come up for air. You needed to breathe. Your lungs are aching, but fuck his lips are addicting. They’re soft, and warm, and they feel so good against yours. 

Your knees cave slightly, your mind going fuzzy and Younghoon rips away from you to steady your body, his knee shoved between your legs to help keep you upright. 

“Sweetheart,” his tone is lighthearted, but you know he’s scolding you. “You need to learn to breathe. I’m not leaving just because you need some air.” 

A pretty little whine escapes you, but Younghoon is quick to realize that it’s not because you can’t find the words to respond to him. Well, if you think about it, that kind of was the reason. 

Your hips are rolling down on his knee, your hands gripping his shoulder for dear life as you ride his thigh. Your head is rolled to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to find the right pace and the right amount of pleasure to ease your arousal. Younghoon’s jaw drops, and he feels his dick twitch in his pants at the sight of you trying so desperately to relieve yourself on him. Unfortunately for you, he notes, your jeans seem to be in the way of you achieving your pleasure. 

“Sweetheart,” he coos but his voice is shaky and he thanks god that you’re too far gone to notice. “Look at you, trying so hard to get yourself off.” 

You whine, and his breathing hitches when you try to ride him even harder. 

“Is it not enough?” He presses and your eyes fly open with the quick nod of your head. But then you shake it, and his heart clenches at the confused furrow of your brow.

“‘S not!” You whine. “Need more, Hoonie.” 

He smiles when you reach one of your hands down, undoing the button of your jeans and trying desperately to shove them down as far as they can physically go without interrupting your ministrations. To your dismay, they barely get anywhere before Younghoon has to set you down and starts to tug them down your legs gently. 

You never thought you would enjoy watching a man get down on his knees for you, never thought you could have this much of a reaction to it. Younghoon though…the sight of him looking up at you through his lashes, the nearly pathetic look in his eyes when he sees just how soaked your panties are— it’s enough to have you practically crumbling to the ground, your lips crashing against his again and forcing him back to lay on the ground. 

His hands are everywhere— your hair, your hips, your ass, anywhere he can reach. He squeezes the soft flesh of your ass when your lips trail down his neck, sucking little marks into the skin and pulling groans and quiet whimpers from his throat. 

Your hands run under his shirt, and he weakly tries to help you push it over his head to be tossed somewhere else. You shush him, a playful look in your eye as you place a finger on his lips. 

“Gotta be quiet now,” you unbutton his jeans, slowly dragging them and his boxers down and he lifts his hips to help you slide them down to his knees. He doesn’t bother with your shirt but makes quick work of your bra and shoves it up. You’re sliding your panties down your legs when he shoves his hands under your shirt, squeezing and tugging at the soft mounds of flesh on your chest. A quiet moan at the feeling of him tugging at your nipples, and his hands falter momentarily when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teases and you scoff while lining him up with your sopping wet pussy. You know he’s big, both of you do, but you’d never admit that to his face. Never admit that you’re nervous about taking it all in, nervous that you won’t be able to take him at all.

“As if your little dick could possibly hurt me—” your voice catches and he watches with strained amusement as you begin to sink down on him. Your walls are tight around him, practically squeezing the life out of his poor cock while you try so desperately to keep sliding down on him. Younghoon pulls his hands out of your shirt, sliding them down to your hips and gently rubbing them as a means to ease your discomfort.

“What were you saying about my little dick?” Younghoon sneers and you have to fight back the whine that threatens to slip out of you. He’s just over halfway in when you force yourself to give up, the stretch beginning to be too much for you to handle. “I could’ve prepped you, y’know? Made this easier for us both.”

You can only lower your head onto his shoulder, biting harshly into the skin while he flips you around and pushes your legs up toward your chest. 

“Hold these here, sweetheart.” You do as he says, gasping sharply when he begins to sink into you. 

“Fuck, Younghoon!” 

“Shhh,” he kisses you gently while continuing to press into you, using the width of his shoulders to gently spread your legs a bit further apart. “‘M almost there, I promise.”

“‘S too much,” you whimper, a tear slipping out of your eye and dripping onto the carpeted floor below you. “‘S too much, Hoonie.”

“I know sweetheart,” he coos and looks down at where the two of you are connected. He fights the sudden urge to cum when he sees the fluttering of your walls, sees them clenching around him, and trying to force him out. “I’m almost there.” 

Another whine from you and he quickly slides the last three inches into you, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream you release. He stays still for a moment, listening to the sound of you sniffling, and turns his head briefly to look at the door. A shadow passes by and he exhales quietly. 

“And you were worried about me being too loud. Who’s the one with a hand over her mouth, hm?” You can’t don’t respond and Younghoon pulls out entirely, leaving just the tip inside of you, and when you whine and let go of one of your legs to reach out for him, he sinks into you in one harsh thrust. 

The moan you let out behind Younghoon’s hand is guttural, and your back arches off the floor. His thrusts are rapid, yet he doesn’t falter in pattern. He sinks deep inside of you, punching into you so deep that you swear he’s going to hit your cervix. He lets his hand drop from your mouth listening to the way you try to hold back your noises. Every whine, every whimper and moan and cry, you try so hard for him. 

“Such a good girl,” he coos. “Keeping quiet and letting me fuck her real good.” His voice is so quiet, the words practically hissed into your ear and it’s so hot that your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

Your grip on your legs loosens and then your hands drop them entirely, letting them fall onto his sturdy shoulders. He watches as both of your hands disappear under your shirt and he feels a pang of irritation as you begin to play with your nipples. They draw sharper noises out of you, higher in pitch and slightly louder. Although, Younghoon can’t complain when the combined pleasure has your cunt fluttering around him and fresh waves of arousal washing through you to make it easier for him to fuck in and out of you.

“Hoon,” your whine is loud. Too loud. “So close, please!” 

Younghoon hushes you again, his hand running up the side of your leg and squeezing at the flesh of your thigh. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he tells you. “You gotta be quiet f’ me. Gotta be quiet so nobody walks in, okay?” 

“I can’t.” You sob out and Younghoon pushes himself closer to you, practically folding you in half so he can kiss you. You open up immediately, whining and letting him slide his tongue in for you to suck on.

Younghoon’s hips begin to stutter, his body shaking against yours, but you’re closer. Your body spasms, and you nip at his tongue to keep him close to you while you cum. Younghoon grunts at the combined feeling of your bites and the clenching of your walls around his length. It’s all a bit too much and it only takes a few more thrusts before he’s shuddering and collapsing against you, spilling ropes of white hot cum inside of you. 

He can feel the combination of his and your cum beginning to squeeze out of you around the tight fit of his dick inside of you, but he doesn’t have the strength to pull out of you just yet. You’ve stopped biting at him, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth slowly sucking at the warm muscle he continues to provide you. 

Your body is sore, your thighs aching and likely bruised when you walk into your dorm a few hours later. You hadn’t gotten any work done after that, spending the rest of the time making out in a chair and grinding on each other like some damn horny teenagers. You know you’re a disaster, but you’re more than content with that knowing that Younghoon looks the same (if not worse). 

When the door clicks shut, it’s dark in the suite and you silently thank god that Dawon and Suyeon are asle—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

The lights flick on to reveal your two friends at the counter in the suite’s living area. Dawon looks furious, but Suyeon looks like she just wants to go to be. You grimace, dropping your bag off your shoulder and onto the ground next to you. 

“Out.” Your voice is hoarse and you grimace. You imagine your throat is a little bit bruised from…things.

“Doing what.” Dawon snaps.

“Or who, judging by the looks of you.” Suyeon clicks her tongue and rises from the couch. “Look at you! It looks like someone tried to eat you!” 

Dawon squints at you, and you turn your gaze to the floor. 

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” She inquires, but you both already know the answer. 

“Who?” Suyeon frowns. “Who did she fuck?”

Your nose wrinkles, and you turn to her with a look that says I think you know. Suyeon tilts her head, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Oh. OH— OH MY GOD—”

The Tau Beta Zeta frat house isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. At least not party-wise. The moment you and your friends walk in, you’re engulfed in noise, drunk partygoers, and scattered members of the frat. In one corner you can see what looks like two members of the frat making out with their girlfriends. Haknyeon and Changmin, Dawon said, Too bad they couldn’t find a private space. Damn exhibitionists. A smile quirks on your lips just slightly. Oh, if only she knew the truth.

You barely acknowledge her, however, scanning the room for Younghoon. 

“Eric!” You grab the passing boy by the arm and he jerks to a stop, nearly spilling the contents of two cups. 

“Yo!” He grins at you, and you can just faintly see the crinkle of his eyes under the red baseball cap of his. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Younghoon?” Eric purses his lips in thought.

“You aren’t gonna kill him, right?” You laugh and so does he.

“No, not anymore. Or…I might if he doesn’t show up soon—”

“BOO!” Someone’s hands wrap around your waist lifting you off the ground and spinning you as you scream for him to put you down. Eric slips away, casting his eyes behind him to watch you and Younghoon as he approaches a girl in the corner. 

“Kim Younghoon!” You snap, swatting him upside the head. Your boyfriend smirks at you, bending down to try and give you a kiss that you block. “Don’t kiss me, you douche! That wasn’t funny!”

“It was kinda funny,” he laughs, swooping in to give a kiss that you choose not to block this time. It’s deep and slow, and he tilts his head to get a better taste of you when you bring your hand to the back of his neck. 

“Mmm, I think I like it when you don’t hate me.” He murmurs when he pulls back, grinning wickedly when you place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“Do you now?” 

“Mhm.”

“Shouldn’t have scared me then.” You scowl, turning away from him and beginning to stalk away. He scrambles after you, frantically trying to keep up despite the crowd. 

“Where are you going?” He whines, grasping at your fingertips. You turn your head, a coy smile playing on your lips. 

“We gotta let loose, don’t we? We’re a little tense right now.” 

A puddle of drool is practically forming in Younghoon’s mouth and he’s suddenly in front of you, moving with a renewed fervor. 

When the door of the third bedroom on the right of the third floor shuts and clicks locked, nobody questions it. Not the thumping, nor the loud grunts and moans. 

When someone needs to let loose, people know better than to interrupt. Especially when it’s Younghoon and his former-crush-turned-enemy-turned-girlfriend.

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[juyeonszn]

PARTY O’CLOCK

PAIRING choi chanhee x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.39k

GENRES fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, tau beta zeta frat treasurer!chanhee, reader is a stereotypical party girl, she’s also an astronomy major, mentions of alcohol, i’m pretty sure everyone makes a cameo at some point, kevin moon playing matchmaker, we escalate a little fast so, intense making out, marking, vaginal fingering, brat tamer!chanhee, dom!chanhee, lowkey pussy job for like 1 second, nipple play? kinda?, unprotected sex, wall sex, missionary, multiple orgasms, creampie (yk… the usual), overstimulation

SUMMARY in spite of being a frat boy himself, chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? enter you and your carefree spirit and chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.

MORE … don’t yell at me PLEASE. i know this is 2 days overdue. I KNOW I KNOW. i’ve been so busy these past couple days and my time management is ass we already know this. BUT IM HERE AND SHES FINISHED AND ITS CHRISTMAS EVE SO??? 🙏🙏😍 anyways. i hope u guys enjoy i had a fun time writing this. i’m a firm believer in dom chanhee 😋 if u liked this pls don’t forget to reblog!

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea

“Who’s that?”

The question comes out before you can even stop it, eyes focused on a guy sitting on one of the couches in the living room, complete disinterest all over his face. He’s pretty. Prettier than any guy you’ve ever seen. But he also looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than at this party.

“Who?” Your friend Heejin asks, following your gaze.

She finds out pretty quickly, especially because of how intense your stare is. She racks her brain for his name, sure it’s somewhere in her catalog of the student body. Heejin was the kind of person who knew everyone even if she didn’t exactly know them personally. She was both sociable and obsessed with gossip, sticking her nose in the business of those around her.

“Ah! That’s Choi Chanhee,” she nods, index finger tapping her chin. “He’s the Tau Beta Zeta treasurer actually. That’s probably why he looks like he wants to kill himself. Dude doesn’t really want to be here, but fraternity brothers are required to attend every party.”

She’s right, it appears, when you see some of the members you do recognize make their way over to bother him. He definitely does not look like the fraternity type, but you guess it also makes sense in a way. Maybe he needed an extracurricular or something that would be nice on his resume.

It’s hard for you to enjoy yourself for the rest of the night, too concentrated on the treasurer who’s lips stay pressed into a frown the entire time. You try to take shots with Heejin, but your eyes gravitate back to the sofa. Ji Changmin and his girlfriend even convinced the two of you to play them in beer pong. (Worst mistake you’ve ever made. You sucked at beer pong.) You finally draw the line at a game of Rage Cage, when you strategically get placed between Lee Juyeon and Heejin, arguably the best drinkers at the function.

Everyone laughs at you when you take a step back and recall your decision to join. And just as you suspected, you end up back in the living room, right where you wanted. Chanhee hasn’t moved from his spot, occasionally taking sips of whatever he’s drinking and scrolling through his phone.

You remember when that was Jacob Bae’s thing to do, and then he went and got himself a girlfriend. Perhaps that’s what Chanhee needed to do. A girlfriend was a little bit of a stretch, but someone to help him loosen up at these things was plausible. Girls weren’t even trying to hit on him left and right like they usually did with the Tau Beta Zeta boys, which was even more surprising considering most of them had their own partners now. Desperation was an ugly look on the university female, you know.

Which is exactly why you don’t make any moves that night.

Initially, you think you’ll wait a week. You happen to see him on campus a few times. The first time is in the library studying with some headphones on, in his element. The second time is in the cafe on campus, again, doing coursework with the intention of being left alone. Then it’s when you’re leaving your Fundamentals of Astronomy lecture, walking to one of his own classes. In your head, you’re being tested, like a dog with a bone being dangled in front of its face. It’s tortuous, wanting to go up to him and introduce yourself, but you don’t do it.

Heejin “drags” you to another TBZ party the following Friday and you put extra effort into your outfit. You walk in with the hopes to sweep him off of his feet, strutting into the fraternity house with a confidence that throws you off. Just when you’re getting ready to walk up to him, Kim Sunwoo intercepts and you backtrack. That ruins any of the lingering self-assurance in your system. So you push things back another week.

The next time you plan on striking, you and Heejin had said you’d meet at the party since she had something to do prior. You arrive at around 11 PM, prepared to shoot your shot and score. The kitchen is the first place you go, concocting yourself a drink that doesn’t get you trashed, but provides enough liquid courage. Then Heejin texts that her project partners wanted to grab food and she wasn’t going to make it. The thought of being alone without moral support effectively kills your mood, so you only stay for another hour or so before leaving.

It’s annoying, really. Every single time you attempt to set your plan into motion, something has to interrupt and mess things up for you.

This is your dilemma for roughly every weekend for a whole month. By the time you know it, it’s midterm season and you’re too stressed out over exams to think about Choi Chanhee. Divine intervention was a crazy concept, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Maybe this was your sign to just call it quits and give up on your weird fantasy of being the girl who charmed him.

“Do you wanna go to the TBZ party Saturday? We can celebrate finishing these stupid fucking exams and just relax for another couple months before we have to worry about finals.” Heejin asks through a mouthful of instant ramyeon. You sigh.

“Sure, whatever.” Your lips purse, pushing around your own food. She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side in confusion.

“What the hell happened to you? You were jumping for joy when it came to going to them all semester, but now that I want to get shitfaced, you don’t seem all that excited.” She puts her chopsticks down, narrowing her eyes at you from across the table. You shrug.

“I don’t know,” you rest your cheek on your palm, huffing. “I guess I’m not really in the party mood anymore.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffs. “You’re the girl everyone thinks of when they talk about the typical university party girl. There must be a reason you’re suddenly Miss Debbie Downer.”

You could just tell her the truth, tell her about your delusions and the need to be different. As your roommate and best friend, she wasn’t at liberty to judge you. But this was so unlike you, so you knew she would anyway. It was out of character for you to be this enthralled by a man, let alone a stranger you’ve never spoken a word to. In fact it’s even thrown you for a loop, this mental break giving you clarity about your recent actions.

“That time I asked you who Choi Chanhee was,” you start after some silence. “I thought about going up to him and finding out why he’s so uptight. I sorta wanted to be in a ‘not like other girls’ situation. But whenever I wanted to swoop in, something always interfered. And now I’m just over it.”

“Y/N. You cannot be serious,” Heejin gawks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Chanhee’s very picky about the girls he talks to. I could probably name on a hand the ones who’ve successfully snuck their way into his pants. He has specific taste, too; pretty ones who know when to shut their mouths.”

Your jaw drops, because what the fuck? He’s not a raging virgin with that personality? No wonder there wasn’t a line of single ladies attempting to land in his bed. They all knew they didn’t stand a chance. It kind of encourages you to resume your mission. You were never one to back down from a challenge.

“In that case…” A mischievous glint sparkles in your eye.

“Good god,” she rolls her own. “I’m warning you now, I highly doubt this will end in your favor.”

“You know me, Heejin. I never take no for an answer.”

It’s the day before the party and you’re walking out of your last midterm exam, a new light in your eyes now that you’re somewhat free. You step into the quad with your arms stretched above your head, a yawn pushing through your lips. You were long overdue for a good nap.

“Y/N!”

You whip around to find Kevin Moon from your Music Appreciation class stalking towards you. Part of you wants to pretend you’d never heard him and keep walking, drained of energy after that Intro to Astrophysics exam you’d just taken. Your brain felt like mush at this point. But you were kind, and you would’ve just felt bad about ignoring him anyways.

Kevin catches up to you rather quickly, hands hidden inside of his hoodie pockets. He lets out a sigh, both of you watching the puff of air that forms in front of him. “You’re going to the party tomorrow right?”

“I am…” You furrow your eyebrows, narrowing your eyes skeptically just a bit. “Why?”

“I have a huge favor to ask you.” He clasps his hands together, as if he wasn’t above begging on his hands and knees. You’re confused even further, because what could Kevin Moon possibly want from you?

“Okay… What is it?” The suspicion in your tone is so strong, that there’s no doubt he hasn’t noticed it by now. He holds the heel of his palm to his forehead.

“So, I was supposed to go with my friend Chanhee to try out that new outer space themed coffee place just outside of campus later today, but I got put on alcohol duty and I won’t be able to. I know you’re an Astronomy major so I figured that was something you’d like. Do you think you could go in my place?” He bats his eyelashes at you, like doing puppy dog eyes will convince you. You stare at him blankly. He wants you to do what?!

Meeting Choi Chanhee before the party tomorrow was not in your itinerary. Usually you were decent at adapting to changes in your plans, but this? This was more than just something minor that you could acclimate to. You had to psych yourself for hours in order to execute something of this caliber. Was Kevin Moon trying to send you into cardiac arrest?

“W-Wh— I mean— well—” You fumble over your words— something you never do— and Kevin breaks into a wide grin. You’re not sure if the blush across your face is from the cold weather nipping at it, or the thought of being put between a rock and a hard place.

“Perfect! I owe you one! Meet him in like an hour.” He pats your back like you’re one of the homies, not giving you any room for refutation. You actually feel like throwing up. How were you supposed to just show up without qualms?

Did he really expect you to just do this out of the goodness of your heart? No complaints stacked up to be hurled in his direction? You’d known Kevin Moon since freshman year orientation, but you didn’t think you were close enough for him to throw his dirty work at you. You can’t help but stand there dumbly as he walks away, a pep in his step that nearly has tick marks forming on your temple.

Okay, you know what? This is fine. This was totally fine. All you had to do was sip on some coffee, make some small talk, and then you could be on your way. It wasn’t that hard… was it?

You could throw on an act, pretend like you were one of those pretty girls who knew when to shut their mouths just like Heejin said he was into. You could give him a false glimpse into who you were and he wouldn’t know what you were really thinking of doing. The you of tomorrow would be a complete 180° turn around from the you of today, and Choi Chanhee would be the one groveling at your feet.

As soon as you walk into the cafe, your throat feels narrow, like it was closing in on you. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. It’s not like Chanhee knew you. He couldn’t possibly be aware of your existence, much less of your little fascination with him.

You see him sitting at a table for two, the straw of his drink trapped between his lips. He sips leisurely as he scrolls through his phone, likely waiting on Kevin since you’re sure he left his friend in the dark. You pick at a thread on your sweater as you stop in front of him, raising your hand in an awkward wave. Chanhee glances up, confusion in his features at first and then it morphs into something else.

A laugh has to be held back when he chokes on his drink, slapping a hand over his mouth. He stands up quickly, wiping his palms on his pants.

“Hi,” your voice is small, so far off from your usual boldness. “I’m Y/N. Kevin sent me.”

“Fucking Kevin,” he curses underneath his breath, forcing a smile. “Um, please sit.”

You take the seat across from him, eyes flickering around the coffee shop to absorb your surroundings. It’s pretty, the stars and planets painted all over the walls and ceilings. Even the drinks had celestial themed names. Your friend was right, you would love it here. It was right up your alley.

“I— uh— Kevin had texted me and told me what to order for him, but I’m assuming he meant for you, because he never told me you were uh— that you were coming.” He scratches the back of his neck as a server leaves a drink in front of you.

“He stopped me in the quad after my midterm and asked if I could fill in for him. Something came up apparently.” You explain, humming in appreciation when you taste your coffee. “He remembered that I was an Astronomy major and figured I was his best bet I guess.”

Chanhee purses his lips, it’s almost like he knows something you don’t. He nods slowly. “Yeah… I’m sure that’s why…”

The impromptu formal introduction between you goes on without a hitch. It goes so well, that the time flies faster than you’d hoped it would. You get a tiny peek into Choi Chanhee and his life as the TBZ fraternity treasurer, but it’s not enough to satiate that unbearable curiosity that pricks at you.

Thankfully, you have tomorrow to do exactly that.

Heejin and yourself arrive at the Tau Beta Zeta party that Saturday with a goal in mind; Getting Choi Chanhee into bed with you.

Okay. Maybe that wasn’t actually the main objective, but it was definitely a side quest. What you really wanted to do was get him to let his guard down. Like your friend said previously, you were the stereotypical party girl. Had there been a picture beside the term in a dictionary, your pretty little face would be there, a red solo cup in your hand and all. If he wound up being entranced by your womanly witchery, that was on him.

Just like your first go at wooing him, you decided to pull out all the stops. You’d worn your shortest, tightest fitting dress despite the weather not necessarily permitting it. It was a cute black strapless number that you paired with some long heeled boots and a warm fuzzy jacket. You looked hotter than the sun itself, and deep down you’d feel extremely disappointed if he wasn’t falling to his knees for you by the end of the night.

A sense of déjà vu washes over you the moment you step through the front door into the jam packed fraternity house. The bumping early 2000s music and the thrumming of the bass gave you an adrenaline rush like no other. Nothing could waver your confidence this roundabout. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.

Before you sink your claws into the treasurer, you need to grab yourself a drink. You and Heejin take a shot from one of the various liquor bottles on the counter, serving yourselves each a cup of whatever Jacob Bae threw together for the party. It was kind of funny that the resident bartender for these things wasn’t even a member of the frat. You and your friend cheers to the night ahead of you, manifesting that things go your way.

It’s rather easy to catch his eye even in the bustling crowd of drunk college students, glued in his usual spot on one of the living room sofas. His dark hair falls into his eyes when he glances down at his phone to check the time, almost as if he was counting down the hours, the minutes until this party was over. He brushes it out of his face with his index finger at the same time he raises his cup to his mouth, knocking back the contents with a slight wince.

He espies your presence immediately after that, raking your figure with an unrecognizable look in his gaze. Though you were shivering upon entering the house, your skin felt hot to the touch now, the burning intensity of his stare melting away any nerves that might’ve been lingering. You pull your jacket off of your shoulders, tossing it over your forearm as you snake through the bodies sardined between the two of you.

“Hi,” you greet once you’re in front of him. “I’m Y/N.”

His lips quirk upwards and he stands so you’re no longer peering down at him. In spite of meeting each other yesterday, he decides to play along. “I’m Chanhee.”

“Well, Chanhee,” you bite your acrylic nail, not bothering to hide the unabashed desire in your expression and drinking in his appearance like a glass of water. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. You looked bored and I was wondering if I could change that. I know how to have a good time.”

Chanhee thinks it’s cute, the amount of effort you’re putting into this little charade. He doesn’t doubt that you knew of his reputation when it came to sleeping with girls. He knows he’s a bit conscientious when it comes to this sort of thing, but that’s only because he doesn’t want to deal with being seen as someone who’s ran-through. (For an example, please see (No) Strings Attached™.)

However, you were different. Chanhee thought you were cute from the very first time he saw you, which happened to be at a Tau Beta Zeta party last semester. He knew you were friends with Kevin, so maybe it was on him for the delay of your union, but he’d grown a little tired of always making the first move. He’s somewhat grateful that you were the type of girl who set her sights on something and never backed down from it. You were headstrong and that was exactly what had him hooked.

Nevertheless, it would be a bit of an issue. The only part of the rumors surrounding the treasurer that was true, was the part about him preferring his partners to be on the quieter side. There was something about them following his every demand, kneeling at his beck and call, that lit a fire underneath him. The mouthier they were, the less he enjoyed himself. But for some reason, he doesn’t think it’ll bother him as much with you. In fact, he thinks he’ll have fun putting you in your place.

“You know, Y/N,” he pushes your hair over your bare shoulder, letting his thumb graze your warm skin with a small but conniving grin. “I’m not too sure you’ll be able to cure this boredom that’s been plaguing me. It depends on what you have in mind.”

You might cry. A strained groan stays stuck in your throat, fighting to inch its way out of you. Fuck this stupid party. Fuck your stupid idea. You had a new mission. You needed him now and you needed him bad.

Your lips are on his in a matter of seconds, rushed and desperate. You don’t have the strength in you to act like you weren’t just about ready to combust. The curve of a smile can be felt through the kiss, his hands coming to rest on your waist and dig into the fabric of your dress. Had this been any other guy, any other day even, you would’ve freaked out over the PDA. Right now, though, you’re too lost in the moment, too absorbed in the high that kissing Choi Chanhee is providing.

His mouth travels along your jaw and neck, finally snapping you back to reality. With shaky breathing and a wavering voice, you step back from him. “Don’t you want— don’t we need some privacy?”

He laughs like he’s on the inside of a joke you’re unaware of. “Oh, so now you care about privacy? You didn’t when you were trying to seduce me ten minutes ago.”

Your cheeks flush impossibly more, cowering into the space where his shoulder meets his collarbone. All that confidence and for what? He really could not wait another second to see you crumble beneath him.

“Too shy for me to fuck you in front of all these people, sweetheart?” He asks in your ear, leaving a gentle kiss on the lobe as he does so.

You’re dizzy, so dizzy you might faint in the middle of this living room. Who would’ve known that such a pretty boy had such a filthy mouth on him? He knows he’s got you right where he wants you when you fist the material of his shirt, the vibrations of a whine on his neck. It’s kind of comical how little it took for you to crack.

He hauls you away to what you assume is his bedroom, fingers caressing the inside of your wrist. You think maybe he’s all talk, that he’s actually a big softie who couldn’t hurt a fly. The way he’s careful with his touch and making sure he doesn’t lose you as you weave through the other party attendees. At least, that’s what you thought.

But then he’s slamming his door shut and pinning you against it face first. His lips return to their prior position, sucking in the plush skin on your throat and your shoulders. You can feel him pressed into your lower back, hard and ready for you. He doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it, instead trailing his fingers down your front and sneaking under your dress.

He bunches it up around your hips, middle and ring digits circling your clit through the lace of your panties. Everything is escalating too quickly for you to comprehend. You whimper into the wood of the door, drool beginning to pool in your mouth. You’re so needy that you’re salivating over the prospects of what’s to come.

“Want more, Chanhee,” your words are muffled, but he understands you nonetheless.

“You want more?” He pouts, a false tone of sympathy in his voice. “Poor you, asking for something you can’t even handle.”

You squirm, raising your leg in an attempt to reach a different angle. The pads of his fingers apply an increased pressure on your clit, the friction caused by your underwear skyrocketing your heart rate. You know he can feel the pulse when his lips reconnect to that sensitive area just under your jaw. Your back arches, still craving and yearning for additional touch.

His fingers slip into the waistband of your thong, collecting your arousal and using it as a lubricant to glide through your folds. He thrusts two of them in and out of your entrance, the heel of his palm rubbing up against your clit. You moan, louder this time. His free hand shoves the top of your dress down, groping and kneading your bare breast. You wanted more, he’ll give you more.

You’re a whining, squirrely mess, humping his hand like a bitch in heat. It’s hilarious, really. The way you wanted him begging, but the tables seemed to have turned, flipping it the other way around. He ensures that he leaves his mark on you, biting your skin with the intent to bruise. He doesn’t care if you looked like you were attacked by a vicious animal. If Chanhee was anything, he was possessive, wanting everyone to know what was his and not to get near it lest they wanted to keep their lives. What better way to stake his claim than on your body, where anyone could see?

He senses that you’re close to your release, your walls clenching around his fingers and sucking them in further. Most people would’ve been generous, making your orgasm smooth sailing. But Choi Chanhee was not like most people. That much is obvious when he adds a third finger, restraining himself from groaning at the feeling of your cunt constricting and contracting. The stretch has your stomach tying in knots, each one growing tighter and tighter until they just about untangle altogether.

You cum with a guttural groan, nearly convulsing in his hold, but he keeps you pressed to the surface of the door. He doesn’t stop his motions, fingers curling and uncurling like he was reaching for something inside of you. You push your ass into his crotch, another whine escaping your lips when you feel his cock impressing into it. He bites his tongue to refrain from evoking a sound.

The poised nature of your regular personality makes a comeback, one of your hands cupping the side of his face. You pant as you speak, rasping slightly after all the moaning you just did. “Can you fuck me for real now?”

Chanhee forces your underwear down your legs roughly, kicking them out of the way once they hit the floor. “You’re such a goddamn brat. Nothing is ever enough for you is it?” You can hear rustling behind you, the unbuttoning of pants and the discarding of his shirt. And then you feel him. God, you might die. He’s flush between your lower lips, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Gonna have to fuck you until you learn your place, don’t I?”

He squeezes your cheeks together with his thumb and forefinger, relishing in the adorable pout it forms. All you can do is nod, eyes fluttering shut when he finally slides inside of you. The weight of him sits heavy in your cunt, the singular drive of his hips causing your clit to bump into the door. It sends a rippled shockwave throughout your body, a voluminous moan breaching past your lips. Chanhee rests his forehead on your shoulder, staying still for a moment to gather himself.

It’s not long before he’s pistoning his cock into your pussy like a sword being sheathed and unsheathed. You claw at the wall as a means of grounding yourself, inconsistently paced cries and mewls of pleasure bouncing around the room. He hikes up your leg higher, palming at your tits so he can override your senses any way he can. You’re so lightheaded and tears have begun to spring at the corners of your eyes. It feels too good.

“O-Oh my god, you’re s-so— f-fuck Chanhee,” you babble, gasping for air as he continuously punches it out of you with every inch his cock buries into you.

He’s enjoying himself too much, loving how fucked out you look. He’s reduced you to an incoherent state of being. You curve your back a bit more for him, allowing the depth at which he slips in you to go further.

Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t take much to wind you back up to that summit from previously. You’re on the brink of your second orgasm, your chest heating up and your abdomen contracting. He doesn’t let up, pinching and thumbing at a peaked nipple to egg on your release. This one feels a lot stronger than the first, your knees nearly giving out on you.

“C’mon sweetheart, that’s it,” he coaxes, stroking your hair from your face.

Chanhee fucks you through it, allotting space for you to recover before he’s knocking you onto his bed. He removes your dress entirely and rubs up and down your thighs. The exhaustion is already beginning to settle in, but you realize that he hasn’t finished not once and you’d be hitting your third at this point. You’re overstimulated and your body aches all over, but you push through.

He finds your entrance again, pressing into your cunt with more ease. You whine, smushing your cheek into the mattress. Your toes curl and you fist at the sheets, eyes all but rolling to the back of your head where you see white spots and stars coating your vision. He grips your hips to hold you still, starting to rock back into your pussy with practiced aggression. He’s carnal with his movements, but it’s careful, almost like he doesn’t really want to hurt you.

“It’s too much—“ you interrupt yourself with a wail, the tears from earlier tracking along the sides of your face.

“I’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t I? Thought I was done with you?” He strains, folding over so he can kiss the skin of your collarbone and trail up to your mouth. His lips brush yours when he talks, teasing you as if he hadn’t already fucked you within an inch of your life. “Do you think I’m having fun yet?”

Your cunt sucks him in like a vacuum, your volume rising the closer you get to what you hope is your last orgasm of the night. What you needed was the best sleep ever after this. Your brain can barely form sentences, and you struggle to give him a proper response. “Y-Yes, Cha-Chanhee— oh god— s-so much fun,”

Your breath catches in your throat when that familiar sensation reappears. Chanhee is in his own world, focused on chasing his own release. His nails dig into the fat of your thighs, thrusts becoming deeper and slower. You reach between the two of you to swipe at your clit with your middle and ring fingers, the extra stimulation tipping you over that sweet edge.

Your orgasm crests upon you with so much intensity that you can’t even make a sound. If you do, it’s so far away from you that you don’t hear it. The uncontrollable fluttering of your walls sets Chanhee’s into action, his hips stuttering with a groan that doesn’t meet your ears. He fills you up with enough cum that it begins to spill out of you in spite of his cock still plugged inside your cunt. You both take a moment to recollect your bearings, chests clashing with each rise and fall from your breathing.

After what feels like forever, he pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you, the back of his hand thrown over his forehead.

“Holy shit— I mean— wow I really— I really didn’t think you were so…” You don’t finish your thought, head still stuck on the actions you’d committed prior.

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Chanhee shrugs, sighing dramatically.

“You are not quiet,” you turn your head to give him a pointed look. “But, I’m not complaining. I got my insides rearranged six ways to Sunday. Who’s the real winner here?”

“Me, actually,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “I’ve had the longer crush.”

“Y-You— huh?!” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head, comically wide like a deer’s caught in headlights. He laughs at your expression.

“I’ve been wanting to make a move on you since last semester,” he admits. “But I was kinda… discouraged? I guess? I feel like I’m the one who puts in too much effort all the time, with everything that I do. I wanted to see if maybe someone would do the same for me. I’m just lucky that it worked out in my favor.”

Your bottom lip juts out and you flip over to peck the tip of his nose tenderly. “Choi Chanhee, you’re extremely lucky. I almost gave up on you, like, a couple days ago.”

Chanhee’s laughter grows and he kisses you softly. “Well, I’m glad that you didn’t. Now I can take you on a real date to that space cafe. Not one that Kevin forced on us.”

“I like the sound of that.” You smile, cuddling into his side.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[juyeonszn]

CLUMSY

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 6.03k

GENRES smut ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader and juhak are bio lab partners, juhak is lowkey a bit of a loser BUT DW HE REDEEMS HIMSELF, mentions of alcohol, a game of rage cage…, he’s down insanely bad, the flirting goes kinda crazy, someone calls the cops, they run from said cops, reader is Nawt wasting any time, pet names (juhak calls reader princess), tbh they’re both switches in some ways, kitchen sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie lol

SUMMARY when haknyeon ran into you at a tbz party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. or literally. or both simultaneously. but there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

MORE andddddd here we go 🫡 second fic of the black out or back out collab 🙏 i forgot to link the masterlist in the last one so im gonna link it in this one in case u wanna read any of the others!! ANYWAY i had such a fun time writing this one, any excuse i get to write for juhak, i will take trust <3 if u enjoyed, don’t forget to reblog! and pls check out the other fics so far!!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel

TAGLIST @millksea

SERIES MASTERLIST

Okay. So maybe trying to secure a girlfriend at a party wasn’t exactly Haknyeon’s best idea.

But, hey. You had to give him some credit. At least he was making an attempt. Most of his other frat brothers weren’t even making an effort. They seemed perfectly satisfied with charming their ways into random girls’ pants every weekend. Unfortunately, or fortunately considering he was a gentleman, Haknyeon wasn’t into that sort of thing.

It was just a little embarrassing that Kim Sunwoo’s love life had more progress than his own. Sunwoo was literally the resident loser bitch boy of the TBZ house. How was he closer to getting a girlfriend than he was? It made absolutely no sense.

Ju Haknyeon thought of himself as a catch. He was pretty neat, his room was cleaner than most guys’ his age. He knew how to cook basic meals, again, more than the average college sophomore. His car wasn’t on its last leg. (Cough cough… Kim Sunwoo, I’m looking at you.) He was a decent dude. He supported women’s rights and wrongs!

Apparently that was not enough these days.

“…And I need you to make sure the fridge is stocked completely. I’m not trying to drink my coffee without cream tomorrow morning because some idiot drank it while they were drunk.” Sangyeon commands, typing something furiously on his phone as some of the other guys move around the furniture.

“Bruh, I was in charge of buying everything last time. Why can’t someone else do it?” Kevin groans. Something else that wasn’t Haknyeon’s best idea? Walking into the kitchen during this very conversation. “What about JuHak? He looks like he has nothing better to do.”

“Yeah, whatever. That’s fine. Hak, I’m airdropping you the list.” Sangyeon waves his hand in dismissal, returning to his extensive presidential duties.

The sophomore deadpans, but doesn’t have the energy to argue back. You know, the usual fraternity was just a bunch of rich guys with more money than the tuition of each TBZ brother combined. However, the Tau Beta Zeta house was not your usual fraternity. It really was just a bunch of normal dudes thrown together. Though, Lee Sangyeon ran it like it was the fucking Navy.

Haknyeon accepts his defeat and grabs his things, heading out to the supermarket to shop for tonight’s party. Alcohol duty sucked more than door duty, in his opinion. You were sent out all alone, tasked with bringing back enough liquor and beer to last until early hours of the morning. It was a near impossible mission, unless you were Kevin Moon and good at practically everything in the world.

He pushes around the shopping cart mindlessly, though he knows he’ll have to make another trip. A long sigh leaves his lips as he enters the alcohol aisle. He fills the bottom of the cart with different cases of beer until he thinks he may drop one, and then starts to place things in the basket. He feels like a dumbass hauling it over to the registers, like everyone can see right through him.

He has to remind himself that this is for a good cause, that it’ll be worth it when everyone is enjoying themselves at the party. His actions won’t be in vain. Even after the second trip with another cart full of beer and various liquor bottles, Haknyeon keeps repeating affirmations in his head. This has to be the party.

In fact, he thinks his thoughts have manifested into reality when he sees you walking into the grocery store at the same time he’s leaving. You’re his pretty Bio lab partner. He’s always too nervous to hold a substantial conversation with you, so he settles for the bare minimum, which is unfulfilling small talk during your labs. It’s never what he needs though. Aside from your name, Haknyeon knows nothing about you.

“Y/N?” What he wants right now, however, is to shoot himself in the foot for sounding so unsure.

You glance up from your phone, a smile lighting up your face when you recognize him. “Haknyeon! Hey! What’s up?”

“Last minute preparations for the TBZ party tonight,” he gestures at his shopping cart with pursed lips. “You?”

“That’s so funny that you say that! My friends and I are going—“ You eye his cart with confusion. “Wait, I didn’t know you were in Tau Beta Zeta.”

“Yeah…” Haknyeon laughs awkwardly. “Surprise!”

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the frat boy type. Then again, TBZ isn’t your average frat so, I guess that kinda adds up.”

Haknyeon’s not sure if he should take that as a compliment or not, but since it’s coming from you, he decides that he will. The realization that you mentioned you’d be attending the party finally sets in at that same moment. “So, I’ll see you later, then?”

You nod, smile widening. “Yeah, I’m just grabbing a bottle for us to bring with. But I’ll be there. Maybe we’ll bump into each other.”

God, he hopes so. This is the perfect opportunity for him to swoop in and learn everything he’s been dying to know about you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know… I’m a busy man. It might be a little hard.”

That cute little laugh of yours makes another appearance. “I’ll be on the lookout, don’t worry. See you tonight, Haknyeon.”

Ju Haknyeon thinks that he must’ve done something monumental in a past life, like saving a dog from a burning building or stopping a world war. How else would the universe reward him this kindly? All he can do is wave as you maneuver around an elderly couple passing by into the store.

Maybe Kevin Moon wasn’t that bad. And maybe Lee Sangyeon wasn’t as big of a tyrant as he made him out to be. He could actually kiss the ground they walked on for forcing him into alcohol duty. If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t have ran into you and he wouldn’t have known you were attending the party. Now he has something to look forward to that isn't getting shitfaced.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Haknyeon looks away from his mirror, Hyunjae standing in the doorway. He has a cringe on his face at the sight of his outfit. It wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever worn, but it was… a bit too much. A black button up and black slacks was admittedly not the best frat party fit. The only good thing he had going for him was his hair that was styled for once, parted so his bangs framed his face nicely.

“This girl I’m kinda into is coming tonight. I need to look irresistible.” The younger explains, arms flailing at his sides.

“Okay, well you won’t accomplish that in this,” Hyunjae snorts, digging through his closet. “If she’s into you too, she won’t care what you’re wearing. Just throw on something you’d normally wear. Like… this! This is nice.”

Hyunjae holds up a black t-shirt and a black-washed denim jacket. Haknyeon hums. It was simple, but also once he put it on he wouldn’t feel like a douchebag, which was the whole goal here. Paired with some khaki cargo pants, he’s found a winner. He begrudgingly thanks his senior for the assistance, shooing him out of his bedroom so he can mentally prepare for the night ahead of him.

He doesn’t even know what to bring up now that he really tosses the idea around in his head. Yeah, he wants to learn more about you and what you’re like outside of your Bio lab, but specifically what he couldn’t say. Haknyeon was starting to feel like a lost cause. He had to clutch up tonight. He had to woo you so much that you had no choice but to fall for his cute face and endearing personality. But how was he meant to do that if he couldn’t even come up with topics to talk with you about?

Maybe he was just thinking too far into things. Perhaps he should just let it all go with the flow. Moving at an au natural pace was probably his best bet in comparison to Sunwoo’s soccer ball plan. (He’s still confused how that worked in his favor.)

Before he knows it, the party is swinging into full effect. This is the first time Haknyeon’s ever been so socially aware of his surroundings. He had a habit of blurring his atmosphere at these things, more interested in getting drunk with his buddies than paying attention to the attendees. As he stands in a corner of the living room, listening to Chanhee complain about treasurer stuff, he watches each and every person who enters the house.

When you finally do walk in, he has to physically stop himself from choking on the beer in his cup, biting the rim of the plastic in a weak attempt to sedate himself. If he thought you were gorgeous before in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, he doesn’t know what to call you now. You’re laughing at something one of your friends said, dolled up in a black mini skirt and a black cropped halter top while hugging a bottle of Pink Whitney to your chest. He could probably pass out right here right now.

He almost does, but then Chanhee is slapping his back aggressively. “Wipe the drool off of your chin. God, am I the only one who still has a brain?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanhee, go cry about your life somewhere else.” Haknyeon dismisses his senior, downing the rest of his drink for some liquid courage. Though he is, he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, so he’s not going up to you this quickly. Instead, he heads into the kitchen to get another drink, rolling his neck like he’s preparing for the biggest win of the century.

It’s as he’s pouring some jungle juice into a fresh cup that you see him. A smile similar to the one from the store graces your features. There was only one person with a back like that, and it was your cute lab partner. You keep an arm wrapped around your bottle, tapping his shoulder lightly. He spins around confusedly, but the expression morphs into pleasant surprise immediately after.

“Pink Whitney? Easy choice,” he points at the bottle in your grasp. “Are you a lightweight, Y/N?”

Your cheeks warm up at the teasing remark. Upon first meeting, Haknyeon’s been an awkward mess around you. You can only assume the confidence stems from the fact that he’s within his element. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were implying that you want me to get you drunk.” He tucks a hand into one of his jacket pockets, the other bringing his cup to his mouth. He’s unconscious of the source of this sudden bravery, but he prays it doesn’t fade off anytime soon.

“Maybe I do…” You bite your lip, undoing the seal of the Pink Whitney bottle to take a sip. It burns your throat slightly. “I’ve never hung out with a frat boy before. I kinda wanna see what the hype is all about.”

Haknyeon thinks he might pass out again, because if he wasn’t so acutely aware of your entire interaction, he would think you’re flirting with him. Friendliness was a double edged sword in this day and age. But who knows, maybe you are flirting. You showed up with your friends but they were nowhere to be found now. He needed to take advantage of the opening.

It’s around this time that Younghoon and Juyeon are bringing out the fated beer pong table, a crowd already beginning to form nearby. He feels sorry for the poor suckers who have to play Changmin and his girlfriend.

“We should play beer pong!” You suggest, watching the pair of taller guys setting up the cups over his shoulder. Haknyeon can sense the color draining from his face. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve shut the idea down insanely fast, but because it was you, he was genuinely contemplating. Those who went up against the infamous TBZ party beer pong champions were in for a rude awakening, but if you wanted to...

“Uh—“ He starts but then he’s interrupted.

“Yo! Who’s down to play Rage Cage?!”

Juyeon’s voice is somehow louder than the music, carrying into the kitchen where the two of you stand. Haknyeon wasn’t the greatest Rage Cage player, but he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than beer pong. Especially when he stood beside people who didn’t understand the concept of the game.

You chug some more Pink Whitney, batting your eyelashes up at Haknyeon. “I’ve never played Rage Cage. Is it fun?”

“If you’re next to the right people it can be, but if you aren’t, then it’s a whole lot of drinking. We haven’t played Rage Cage at a TBZ party in a while, but the last time we did Eric Sohn almost had to get his stomach pumped.” He laughs a little at the memory of his friend spending the rest of his night cuddling with a toilet seat. The mental picture overshadows how enticing you look right now.

“Do you think you can teach me?” You ask sweetly, hoping that he takes the hint. He seemed like the type of guy who wouldn’t make the first move unless you forced him to, so it appeared that you had your work cut out for you.

“You wanna play?” He turns to you with wide eyes, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to show interest in the game. You give him a small nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. The truth of the matter was that you were a fucking liar. You’ve played Rage Cage plenty of times in the past. You were actually pretty decent at it, too. You just needed an excuse to spend the night around him.

“We better head over there now. It looks like the table is filling up.” You jab your pinkie in that general direction. Haknyeon blows a raspberry and leads you that way, his hand resting on the small of your back so he won’t lose you in the pack of people surrounding the table.

“Forewarning, my rap sheet doesn’t really read World Class Rage Cage Champ,” he laughs nervously, the anxiety beginning to eat at him all over again. “But I promise, I won’t let you get stacked.”

When Haknyeon said he wasn’t the worst, but wasn’t good at Rage Cage, you took his word. Except he severely overplayed his own skill. Maybe he was just extremely on edge and it threw off his game, but the amount of times he was stacked on was a little comical. At the very least, he kept his promise. You hadn’t got stacked once, but that was also only because Haknyeon would drink for you every time you almost did.

The room is sort of spinning by the time the first game has finished. Playing a drinking game while he’s trying to get to know you better was probably at the higher portion of his ‘BAD IDEAS!!!’ list. If he wasn’t so eager to please and followed along to each of your suggestions, perhaps he’d be having a different conversation. That was not the case, though.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty for the turn out. All you’d wanted was to flirt with your lab partner, possibly end the night with some making out. As it was looking, that’s not the path you were heading down, but rather towards the kitchen for some water to sober him up some. Your bottle of Pink Whitney is long lost, replaced with a bottle of H2O. You hold his chin, tilting it back slightly to pour some into his mouth.

If he hadn’t already had the fattest crush on you, he definitely did now. Pretty and nice? You were the total package. Here you were, nursing him back to sobriety when you could’ve been out and about enjoying yourself with your friends. Up this close, he gets a detailed look at you. It’s so weird for him to think about how much he’s pined after you since the start of the semester, how much he’s admired the face that’s looking at him with this unfamiliar tenderness. He never thought he stood a chance. You know, that whole ‘nice guys finish last’ pick me boy vibe.

“Y/N—” He’s cut short, Juyeon’s voluminous voice resonating throughout the house again, sans the music.

“Everybody who isn’t Tau Beta Zeta, get the fuck out! Someone called the cops!”

Of course. Nobody ever calls the cops on a TBZ party but of fucking course the one time Haknyeon gets shoot his shot with you, someone narcs. He actually thinks he might die. He might keel over and die in the middle of this party while the cops are raiding the place. Lee Sangyeon is gonna be thrown in the back of a police cruiser for letting people drink underage and then send them his way because he bought all of the alcohol. This was just his luck.

Without a word, you grab his hand and drag him out through the back door. You follow the flock of other party goers escaping the wrath of the police. It’s difficult to run in a mini skirt and strappy heels, but you don’t really have room to whine about it. Haknyeon doesn’t know if there’s ever a right time to tell you that you could’ve just gone up to his room, but figures it’s too late when you're hopping the short fence that goes out to the main street of Greek Row.

One would think that he’d sobered up at this point since he was, you know, on the run from the law. Yet for some reason Ju Haknyeon himself doesn’t even know, he’s still feeling the effects of the alcohol, tripping over that stupid fucking fence and falling flat on his face. Thankfully, he lands on the grassy part just before the sidewalk, but it doesn’t make the situation any less embarrassing.

You don’t give him recovery time, pulling him to his feet. He holds a hand to the side of his face that received the harshest of the impact, expecting to wake up to a nasty bruise tomorrow. He’s also unsure where exactly you’re taking him, but is afraid of asking out of fear that you’ll send his ass back to the frat house and have him arrested or something. (He had a bad habit of over complicating situations and coming up with the worst possible scenarios.)

Once the commotion has died out and there’s no one else around, you slow your pace. You turn to face him with a grin, holding both of his hands in yours as you walk backwards. “Are you cool with staying the night at my place?”

Truly, Haknyeon needs to know what act of nobility he committed in his previous life. He needs to go back in time and thank himself for whatever it was. Even with fumble after fumble, he was somehow bouncing back and receiving major compensation for sticking it out. He swallows thickly, nodding dumbly when he realizes he hasn’t given you a proper response.

“Um… Yeah— I mean— yes. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.” He word-vomits, stumbling over his tongue rather than his feet. Being down bad was one of his strongest personality traits. And being clumsy was second strongest, so you don't even have to imagine how terrible a combination of both would be.

The walk to your apartment knocks any lingering inebriation out of his system. He’s entirely too hyper aware of what’s happening as you guide him in that direction. It’s cooler out, the temperature dropping in the nighttime as the end of the semester approaches. If there was another reason to be grateful for this party, it was because he no longer had to worry about not making a move before your last lab together. As much as he despised Biology, he’d take it every day if it meant getting to see you.

He actually feels like he may throw up as you reach your place, his hands sticking into the pockets of his jacket to hide the clamminess of his palms. His nerves are creeping up on him once more, a dark cloud looming over him. He shouldn’t be this jumpy at this point of the night. He should be composed, prepared to sweep you off your feet after spending so much time with you. Why the hell is he sweating bullets right now?

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you curtsy. “Would you like something to drink? Water, maybe?”

“Th-That would be great,” Haknyeon forces out, waddling behind you into the kitchen like a baby duckling following its mother. “You have a nice apartment.”

“Really? Thank you!” You can’t help but giggle at his jitters and the way he keeps rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. A sense of déjà vu rushes over you when you pass him a cup. “Living alone has its perks, I guess. I like that I don’t have to argue with anyone about how to decorate and things like that.”

“It sounds a lot more enjoyable than living with a bunch of men in their early twenties,” he smiles weakly as he accepts the glass of water from you. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thin the walls are in that house.”

“Do they have sex often?” You ask him bluntly, head cocking to the side almost innocently. He chokes on the water he just sipped, nearly spilling it onto the floor.

“W-What?” He sputters.

“I’m assuming that’s what you’re talking about,” you shrug, facing away from him so you can grab yourself something to drink, also. “We should get back at them.”

You don’t know how many more bones you can throw for him to understand what you're insinuating. Even the frat boy comment you made earlier was intentional. Haknyeon’s mouth goes dry and his eyes widen like a cartoon character’s. What the fuck?

“I’ve never brought a girl back to the house before, because I don’t want them to make fun of me or something— not that I’m saying I would take you back to the house! I mean I just would feel bad if you also got made fun of— not that I’m referring to having sex with you or anything!” The glass in his hands is on the verge of slipping from his grip. “Not that I don’t want to have sex with you— oh my god— um wow, that’s a very lovely fruit bowl you have there I—“

“Hak,” you interject his rambling, wearing a mischievous smile.

The nickname drives him fucking insane. Scratch him possibly dying. If he isn’t dead by the end of the night, he’ll be shocked. Perplexed. Perturbed. Puzzled. Any shock-adjacent synonym you can think of. That will be him. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you shut up and kiss me already?”

Honestly, you don’t have to ask him twice. His lips are on yours in seconds, fingers fisting the material of your skirt at your hips to steel himself. You moan in response to the sheer frenzy behind his actions. It’s so easy to lose yourself in the haste of it; the way you tug at his hair, the blunt edges of his nails digging into your sides, the near clashing of your teeth. He nibbles at your bottom lip, sighing when you allow his tongue to permeate your mouth. He’s content to do nothing but this, kissing you is enough to satiate the desire he’s harbored for you for months. However, with the franticness of your kiss, he knows you want more.

He inches you both backwards until your lower back hits the counter, and then he’s cupping beneath your thighs to hoist you up. His strength sends tidal waves pulsing throughout your whole being, hurriedly pushing the material of his denim jacket off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without a care. Your hands travel south as his lips trail along your jaw and neck, sucking and biting your supple skin wherever he feels fit. He hisses into the dip where your collarbone meets your shoulder when you palm him through his pants.

“Fuck, babe, you want me bad, don’t you?” He mutters into the column of your throat, teeth sinking into the flesh after.

“Mhmm,” you whine, craning your neck to give him more access to the surface. It’s like a switch has flipped in him and it turns you on unbearably. This is what you’ve been trying to coax out of him all night.

Haknyeon pries apart your legs, slotting himself between them so he can sneak his fingers beneath your skirt. His thumb rubs tight circles into your clothed clit, the lace of your underwear damp with your arousal. He connects your lips again, groaning into your kiss when he moves the fabric aside and slides his knuckle through your folds. You buck up your hips, whimpering when he holds them down with his forearm.

“Want more,” you gasp when he applies a bit of pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“‘More’ what? Use your words, princess,” he instructs, tracing your entrance with his ring finger.

You shake your head because you’re not even sure what it is that you want. You just know that this isn’t enough to quell the hunger burning at your chest. It’s not nearly sufficient to fan the flames in the depths of your heart or the ache in the pit of your abdomen. You need him everywhere. It’s beyond him being your cute Bio lab partner now.

He urges you onto your elbows, pecking the plane of your stomach. He pushes up your skirt and discards your panties, baring you to the cool air of your apartment. Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your clit gently. Your head is light and airy and it’s like you’re on cloud nine. Haknyeon hums against you, pulling off to scold you.

“Eyes open, baby,” he nudges his nose on your pelvic bone. “Want you to watch me eat you out.”

The moan you release is strained, like it had been confined in the back of your throat for ages until this moment. He flattens his tongue and licks a line from your hole to your clit, suckling the engorged skin and repeating. Your eyelids are heavy, keeping your intense gaze on him as he all but makes out with your pussy. He focuses his mouth on your clit and slips his middle finger into you. He pumps it in and out languidly, setting a rhythm that matches each swirl of his tongue around your clit.

The whole scene still feels unreal to both of you, like you might wake up from a wet dream or something. How was it possible that Ju Haknyeon was finger fucking you on your kitchen counter? Just a couple days ago, you were sitting side by side in your Biology lab, too nervous to initiate a substantial conversation. You’d think it would be harder to slob on someone’s knob than it would be to talk to them while wearing a fuckass lab coat and goggles.

Haknyeon works his forearm up, pinning down your thighs so your cunt is fully accessible. He adds a second finger to the mix, thrusting them at a higher speed and increasing the unrelenting sucking of your bundle of nerves. He can tell you’re creeping closer towards your climax with the way your walls clench around him and your hips continue to jerk up. And considering the kind of person he was, you figured he would aid you rather than hinder you. But you figured wrong.

He slows his assault, removing his mouth from your clit and leaving the stimulation at just his two fingers. You whine, lip quivering when he looks up into your eyes.

“W-Why are you— what are you doing?” You plead, hating the tone of your voice. The tables have turned, with you sitting beside desperation. This is so unlike you— so unlike the usual domineering aura you exude during sex— your body reacting differently to the power falling through the cracks within your grasp.

“Don’t you wanna savor the moment, princess?” He sounds so cocky, a far cry from the wavering confidence you’d always seen out of him. He kisses the skin of your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the area you need him most, all the while he continues curling and uncurling his fingers.

The precipice of your orgasm is right there, you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. But Haknyeon holds it just out of reach, dangling it in your face like teasing a dog with a chew toy. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, a false sense of hedonism building and building, then slowly ebbing away each time he retracts. You open your mouth, but no sound comes out.

Just when you’ve given up hope, he adds a third finger and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. The sudden and unexpected intrusion snaps that familiar cord in half, blinding you with white hot pleasure. The groan that escapes from the base of your chest is guttural, echoing throughout the kitchen. You don’t have it in you to worry about waking your neighbors, especially not when you feel the curve of a smile against your cunt, such an uncharacteristic response from Haknyeon.

Your legs spasm as the height of your orgasm calms. You pull him down for a wanton kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair. He laughs at the role swap, hands flat on the counter to hold him over you. “Feel good?”

“So good, Hak,” you murmur into his lips. “Think you can fuck me like that next?”

“So impatient,” he snickers, pecking along your jaw once more. “But since you’ve been so good for me, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

You clumsily undo the button and zipper of his cargoes, pushing them down with your foot. He steps out of them and kicks them away while simultaneously removing his t-shirt. You take your top off and shimmy out of your skirt, raising an eyebrow at the narrowed look in his eyes. “What?”

“Do you have a condom?”

“No,” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “But, I don’t care if you wear one. I’d rather feel you raw, anyway.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder. “God, you’re killing me. Okay.”

He shoves down his briefs and you have to stop yourself from gawking at his size. While he wasn’t the biggest, he was definitely bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with. He pumps himself a couple times, guiding his length to your entrance and throwing his head back when the tip presses into you. This was really happening, holy shit. Ju Haknyeon was actually having sex with you.

Your toes curl and you stab your nails into your palms to distract from the stinging stretch. He eases into you with the occasional grunt, minding your expressions for any signs of discomfort. When all he sees is your features contorted to display pleasure, he resumes. By the time he’s bottomed out completely, both of you are moaning messes. You feel so full, stuffed to the brim with the weight of his cock.

“I’ve wanted to be inside of you for so fucking long,” he admits, speaking the words into your sticky skin as he drags himself out only to piston back in. The action throttles you a bit, your eyes tempted to roll to the back of your head from how fucking good it feels. You can’t conjure coherent thoughts to properly convey how many endorphins are coursing through your veins.

Haknyeon sets a pace that combines the perfect amount of speed and depth, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep in your cunt. Your brain is hazy and your vision blurs, hardly able to see anything in front of you. His mouth attaches to the pulse point on your neck, ensuring he bruises the area.

“Y-You’re— fuck— you’re s-so deep, Hak. I can feel you all over,” you wail, bringing one of his hands to tamp your lower stomach. The pressure contributes to the growing tension of your second orgasm, something you know will collide into you with even more exertion than the first.

“Yeah? You’re taking me s-so well, baby. No one else has ever fucked you this good, right?” Sweat beads on his hairline, dripping down his temples with every thrust of his hips and every drive of his cock into your sweet pussy. Even if he really did somehow manage to die tonight, he could do it with integrity. He could go out with the honor of a fallen soldier knowing that he got to experience this at least once in his life.

He hikes one of your knees up to your chest, burying his dick deeper if humanly possible. You arch your back, pushing into his chest to minimize the space between you, antsy at the promise of another release as mind blowing as the last. He brings you to the edge of the counter so you’re now hip to hip. Haknyeon snakes a hand in the middle of your bodies, using his thumb to rub circles into your clit. That stimulation coupled with the depth of his cock encourages the fluttering of your walls, in turn drawing out the state of bliss you’ve been chasing.

Your vision goes blank, stars painting the behinds of your eyelids. A second orgasm crests upon you and evokes a moan so pornographic, it sounds far away from you. It’s a dreamlike euphoria, an almost out of body experience that puts every other orgasm to shame. The surface of your skin is hot to the touch.

“Where do you want me, princess?” Haknyeon asks breathily. In the calamity of your own release, you nearly forgot about his until you register the twitching inside of you. It pauses the static in your ears, returning the volume of the world to its normality.

“Cum inside of me,” you whine, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. He doesn’t need to be told another time, grip tightening on your thigh as he spills into your cunt.

The two of you stay still for a moment, allowing clarity to flow into your brains. You wince when he finally has half the mind to pull out, his nose scrunching up at the sensitivity. He slides his underwear back on, extremely conscious of how naked he is right now. He has an inkling that you were anticipating that this would happen, because why else would you ask him to stay over tonight? But, he is the Ju Haknyeon that you’ve sat next to this entire semester in your Biology lab. So he couldn’t just march forward without a little overthinking and self deprecation.

“Do you still want me to stay?” His voice has reverted back to that small, unsure tone. You sit up quickly, alarmed by the twinge of disappointment underneath it.

“Of course, I do,” you pout, kissing his cheek and lacing your fingers together. “I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of the year, Hak. Sure, maybe I skipped a couple steps in between, but I have wanted this so badly— I have wanted you so badly— for you don’t even know how long.”

He chuckles, tucking some hair behind your ear. He leaves a sweet kiss on your lips, softer and gentler than the ones from earlier that night. He’s intentional with the way he glides them in harmony, like he was following the melody of the most beautiful song. “Oh trust me, I think I have an idea.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[juyeonszn]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed &lt;3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[itsbeeble]

im sorry but did u lace no bitches with crack cocaine i keep thinking abt it

That's exactly what i did omg how did you know

NO BUT ACTUALLY TYSM FOR READING IT????

[itsbeeble]

i cant wait for the next part of me and fawn's collab bc not even she knows what to expect

[juyeonszn]

i’m so excited to read black out or back out

BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT IS EXCITED TO BE READ BY U!!!

[juyeonszn]

BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT ⁉️⁉️SO HYPED

LETS GAURRRR IM SO EXCITED ACTUALLY FRAT!TBZ IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE