#melting ice wc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heeluvv · 3 months ago

Text

HEATWAVE.ᐟ

pairingᝰ.ᐟ ot7 x 8th member reader

warningsᝰ.ᐟ (more porn than plot) overstimulation, oral (f & m), cumplay/creampie, double penetration, praise kink, slight dacryphilia, soft dom enha, etc. (wc 12.401k)

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the air hangs heavy.

not just hot—but thick, suffocating, like breathing through syrup. it clings to your skin, coats your lungs, turns each exhale into something shallow and slow. outside, the city glows white with heat. the windows are shut, but the sun still bleeds through the curtains, stretching long and golden across the floor of the dorm like it’s trying to burn its way in.

inside, it’s unbearable.

the a/c had sputtered out three nights ago with a pitiful mechanical cough and never came back to life. the repair guys were booked out for a week, maybe more, and the seven boys you live with have tried everything—ice packs, wet towels, rigging fans to face every direction, but nothing works for long. the heat always creeps back in, curling into the corners of every room, wrapping itself around your shoulders like a weight you can’t shake off.

you're sprawled across the living room floor now, limbs heavy, skin sticky with sweat, wearing the thinnest clothes you own. a tank top—paper-thin, already damp—and a pair of boyshorts that cling between your thighs. your body feels too much—every inch oversensitive, too warm, flushed from the inside out. breathing is difficult. moving is worse. so you lie there, staring at the ceiling fan that spins uselessly above you, blades barely shifting the air.

around you, the boys are in various states of sweaty disarray.

jake’s shirtless, lying on his back with a pillow shoved under his neck and one arm slung over his eyes. heeseung’s face-down on the couch, tank top rucked up to expose the toned strip of skin above his waistband, a bottle of lukewarm water dangling from his fingertips. ni-ki is sprawled near your feet, wearing nothing but gray sweats that sit low on his hips, his hair damp and curling at the nape of his neck.

“i think i’m dying,” sunoo groans, somewhere behind you.

“no,” jay replies flatly from the kitchen, “you’re just dramatic.”

“i’m melting,” sunoo insists.

“we all are,” sunghoon mutters, tossing a crumpled t-shirt across the room. it hits the floor with a quiet thump, joining the growing pile of abandoned clothes no one has the energy to clean.

jungwon walks in shirtless, a towel around his neck, chest shining with sweat. he carries a bowl of ice cubes, already halfway melted. the sight of his skin—golden and flushed, muscles defined in the summer glow—shouldn’t affect you. it shouldn’t, but it does.

he pauses beside you, crouching low.

“ice?” he asks.

you nod, lips parted, already leaning into the cool promise of relief.

jungwon picks up a cube, wet and slick between his fingers. you brace yourself for the contact, and when it comes—trailing slow down the back of your neck, across the dip between your shoulder blades—you actually moan. softly, involuntarily. just a little noise. but it feels that good.

you don’t realize your eyes had fallen shut until you open them again—and catch them staring.

jake, now peeking out from under his arm. sunghoon, lips slightly parted. ni-ki, gaze stuck to where the cube trails down your spine. jungwon doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look away. he just lets the ice melt against your skin, eyes trained on the shiver that rolls through you in response.

“feels good, huh?” he says softly, voice low, almost amused.

you swallow hard.

“mhm,” you manage.

heeseung sits up slowly, squinting at you through the haze of heat. “you should sit in front of the fan. you look like you’re about to pass out.”

but when you try to move, your body protests. your skin sticks to the floor, to your clothes, to the heat in the air. you groan and collapse again, pressing your cheek to the cool hardwood.

“don’t wanna,” you murmur. “too hot.”

“then stay there,” ni-ki says from beside you, propping himself up on his elbow. “you look good like that.”

your eyes flick toward him. his tone is teasing, casual, but his gaze lingers—on your thighs, your tank top, the way the fabric sticks to your chest. you’re not imagining it. you’re sure you’re not.

you shift slightly, pressing your thighs together. not from discomfort—from something else. something that’s been creeping in alongside the heat.

because it’s not just the weather that’s making your skin feel too tight.

it’s them.

it’s the way they’ve been looking at you these past few days. the way they move around you—closer than before, slower. the way their fingers brush against your arms when they pass by. the way jake murmured “you’re so warm” last night when you accidentally leaned on him during a movie. the way jungwon didn’t move away when you pressed your bare thigh against his under the blanket.

it’s building.

you can feel it.

the heat. the want. the silence that's not really silence at all.

and no one’s saying it—not yet—but it’s there. in every drop of sweat. in every sideways glance. in every breathless pause when your shirt clings a little too tight, when your moan is just a little too soft, when you catch one of them watching you with something more behind their eyes.

you’re all stuck in the same heat. the same space. the same slow-burn pressure that’s starting to boil.

and it’s only a matter of time before something gives.

jay walks into the living room, collapsing beside you with a dramatic huff, his skin glistening under the low golden hue of the lamps. sweat trickles down his temple, catching at the edge of his jaw before dripping to his collarbone. he groans, tossing an arm over his eyes.

“i feel like i’m being cooked alive...” he mutters, his voice slightly breathless, laced with exhaustion and heat.

the room echoes with soft laughter, a ripple of amusement that quickly fades into something heavier—quieter. you rise from the couch without a word, skin sticking slightly to the cushions as you stand. your fingers weave through your damp hair, lifting it away from your neck, twisting it up into a loose, messy bun. your thin tank top clings to your curves, nearly transparent with how soaked it is, nipples pressing unapologetically through the fabric. your shorts have ridden high up your thighs, exposing even more of your flushed skin, but you don’t bother adjusting them.

you can feel the weight of their stares before you even glance up—curious, lingering, hungry. the laughter dies out completely now, swallowed by thick silence and shared tension.

you move toward the kitchen, grabbing a napkin with trembling fingers, and dab at the sweat lining your forehead. when you return, you sink down beside niki, who’s sprawled out across the floor, back pressed against the base of the couch, legs stretched wide and bare.

he looks at you, his lips parting slightly as his eyes scan your face. then, without asking, he reaches out.

“let me help you...” he murmurs, taking the napkin from your hand.

his touch is gentle, slow, almost too intimate. he dabs at your forehead first, then drags the cloth down the curve of your cheek, along your jawline. you hold your breath when he moves lower, wiping away the beads of sweat gathered at your neck, his knuckles grazing your collarbones. his fingers dip lower still, lingering at the top of your chest—just above the valley between your breasts.

you feel everyone watching, feel the air thicken with every soft swipe. and still, you don’t stop him.

niki’s hand stills at the top of your chest, the napkin long forgotten against your thigh. his fingers rest there like he’s holding back, like the tiniest nudge from you would send him spiraling—and truthfully, it would. he’s not even looking at what he’s doing anymore. he’s looking at you, eyes searching your expression for a flicker of permission, a whisper of need. and he finds it—of course he does. you can feel it all over your skin, the way your breath catches in your throat, the way your eyes don’t move away from his, not even for a second. your entire body feels like it’s buzzing, trembling under his touch that still manages to be so gentle, so teasingly patient. it’s maddening. like he’s trying to learn you inch by inch, like every bead of sweat he wipes away is a part of some secret map only he’s allowed to read.

the room behind you feels quieter now, heavier. no one speaks, no one laughs—not like before. the shift is palpable, undeniable, like someone flipped the switch from playful to dangerous without warning. the air is thick, sticky with heat and something heavier than humidity. you don’t even have to look to know the others are watching—watching everything. you can feel it in the way your skin prickles, in the way your body suddenly feels exposed despite your clothes still technically being on.

you feel his fingers trace along the delicate line of your collarbone, slow and featherlight, like he’s memorizing the shape of you. his touch lingers at the strap of your tank top, toying with it absentmindedly, though there’s nothing casual about the way his eyes stay locked on yours. they’re intense—burning, almost—and they don’t waver, not even for a second. the air between you crackles with something electric, something unspoken yet painfully understood. your breath comes out shallow, your lips slightly parted, and you know he sees it. he feels it, too.

the tension in the room grows thicker with every passing second, every shared breath. it coils in your stomach, tight and low, pushing against the walls of your sanity until it blurs the line between fantasy and reality. somewhere, in the fog of your mind, you acknowledge what’s happening—that this pull you’ve been feeling, this dark, magnetic need clawing at your chest… it’s not one-sided. the constant battle you’ve fought with yourself, trying to separate friendship from desire, comfort from craving—it’s unraveling right in front of you. and the truth hits you hard: you were never the only one who felt it.

niki doesn’t speak. he doesn’t have to. the way your body reacts to him—how your breath catches when his fingers graze your skin, how your thighs subconsciously squeeze together, how your eyes grow heavier with lust every time he leans in—tells him everything he needs to know. and when he does move closer, when his breath warms your cheek and his lips press teasing, featherlight kisses there, you don’t pull away. you tilt your head slightly, allowing him more access, and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

his lips trail down the curve of your jaw, lower and lower, until he reaches the damp skin of your neck. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t hold back—his mouth finds purchase just above your collarbone, where he nips gently at first, then sucks harder, tongue flicking over the skin he’s claiming. the sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you can’t help the breathy whine that escapes your lips, high and helpless.

then—another presence.

you feel it before you see it. a new warmth pressing against your back, a body close and commanding. strong hands reach around you, fingers urgent as they tug your damp tank top down in one smooth, deliberate motion. the fabric sticks to your skin, clinging with heat and sweat, but it finally gives—and suddenly, you’re bare. your breasts spill out, nipples hard and flushed, fully exposed to the open air… and to their eyes.

the response is immediate.

groans sound out around you—low, guttural, strained. a few soft curses, a sharp inhale. it’s too much and still not enough. you feel like you’re on display, and somehow, that makes the ache between your legs even worse.

“looks like you’ve been wanting this…” jay’s voice comes from right beside your ear, deep and low, sending a fresh wave of heat flooding through your body. his breath is hot on your skin, his words curling around your spine like smoke. but you can’t form a reply, not when niki’s mouth is back on your neck, sucking harder now, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. he’s not teasing anymore. he’s marking. claiming.

you whimper—soft, breathless—your head falling back slightly against jay’s shoulder. and then his hands are on you, curving around your waist and up to your chest, palms broad and warm as they cup your breasts fully, fingers splaying out like he wants to memorize their weight. he groans under his breath, fingertips rolling your nipples between them, slow and careful, like he’s trying to feel how sensitive they’ve gotten just for him.

your hips buck involuntarily, body trembling under their touch, under their eyes, under the growing tension that’s so thick it feels like it could swallow you whole.

and still, you want more.

your pleading eyes scan over each of them, one by one, heart hammering against your ribcage as the room feels heavier with anticipation. they’ve all moved now—no longer scattered or distant, but gathered directly in front of you. another couch sits across the room, and all of them are seated there, watching you with eyes clouded by lust and hunger.

jake sits at the center, and his gaze is the most desperate of all—dark, intense, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something but can’t form the words. your eyes trail lower, catching the way his shorts are tented obscenely, his bulge straining hard and obvious, pulsing with every breath you take.

beside him, heeseung’s jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed slightly, focused completely on you. his hand is already between his legs, gripping his cock through his sweats, and you notice the way he slowly strokes himself, almost unconsciously, as if he's hypnotized by the small whimper that escaped your lips just moments ago. he doesn’t even seem aware of what he’s doing—like the sound alone was enough to send a rush straight through him.

sunoo is next, and he looks like he’s barely hanging on. his lips are parted, chest rising and falling in rapid waves, each of your soft sounds pulling a helpless whine or breathy moan from him. his thighs are pressed together, tense, like he’s trying so hard not to touch himself, but you can tell it’s getting harder with every second.

sunghoon sits beside him, posture stiff and serious, but the thick bulge in his jeans betrays him completely. he hasn’t said a word, hasn’t made a sound, but the way his eyes devour you says everything. it’s like he’s trying to keep control—to be the composed one—but your bare body is testing the very limits of his restraint.

you notice one of them is missing, a small flicker of confusion settling in for just a moment—until you feel it.

a pair of lips suddenly press against your inner thigh, soft and warm, and your breath catches in your throat. jungwon. of course it’s him. you gasp as his hands slide up your thighs, strong and steady, gently but firmly spreading them apart to make space for himself. his presence is calm but commanding, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

niki shifts beside you, only slightly, adjusting to give jungwon more room. his head turns, eyes locked on you as his lips press right back against your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper again. you feel him smirk against your skin.

"you look so beautiful..." jungwon breathes, the words almost to himself, like he’s not even aware he said them aloud. his eyes stay locked on yours for a beat longer before his hands slide up, cupping your cheeks so gently it almost makes you dizzy. and then he kisses you.

his lips are soft, slow at first, like he’s savoring the taste of you. but the heat flaring across your skin only intensifies—the room already hot, stifling, the broken a/c leaving a heavy, sticky warmth clinging to every surface. your skin is damp, flushed, and burning—not from embarrassment, but from the oppressive summer heat mixing with the feverish touch of each boy around you.

jay’s hands move with purpose now, rougher, needier. he’s behind you, arms wrapped around your body as his palms knead at your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they’re stiff and aching. his breath fans against the back of your neck, his chest pressed to your spine, and each squeeze sends another pulse of heat straight through your core.

you’re surrounded, consumed by them, the heat of the room and their hands melting together into something unbearable—something addictive. every touch is fire, every kiss gasoline, and you're burning for them all.

before you can even think, even breathe, everything shifts in a flash of movement and heat. one second, you're standing on trembling legs, and the next—your world is flipping upside down.

strong arms wrap around your waist, and you're effortlessly lifted off the floor. the room spins for a dizzy second before your back hits the couch with a soft thud, the cushions dipping beneath your weight, catching you like a trap. the warmth of the fabric kisses your bare skin, but you don’t even get a moment to settle before your clothes are being stripped away—ripped, torn, tugged down in one swift, desperate motion.

your boyshorts give first, threads snapping as fingers yank at the waistband with no care for gentleness. your panties follow, the delicate lace shredded away like paper, the soft sound of tearing fabric drowned out by the pounding of your heart in your ears. a gasp escapes your lips—sharp and unfiltered—as the cool air of the room rushes against your now exposed skin.

you’re bare. completely, utterly bare. open in front of all of them. your thighs are spread, your pussy glistening under the low light, wetness clinging to the insides of your legs—dripping, aching, ready.

your eyes lift instinctively, already searching for someone—anyone—to ground you in the chaos. and that’s when you see him.

heeseung.

he’s not on the couch anymore. not lazily jerking himself off like he was moments ago. he’s right there now—kneeling between your legs, already settled into place like he was meant to be there, like this is the only thing he’s ever wanted. his eyes meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze nearly knocks the breath out of you. it’s dark. wild. hungry.

"already so wet, baby?" he says, voice low and dripping with amusement, but there’s something reverent behind it. like he’s in awe of the state you're in—of the way your slick shines in the heat-heavy room, glistening like something sacred. like he can’t believe this is real.

his fingers come next. they trail down slowly, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before finally pressing against your folds. the contact is light, almost maddeningly so, but it still sends a jolt through your entire body. he spreads you open with his fingers, gently at first, slick coating his fingertips as he traces your pussy, spreading the arousal that’s already leaking out of you.

you whimper when he presses closer, his touch deliberate now, spreading your lips apart to expose your soaked entrance. the air hits you harder here, your core pulsing with heat and need, and you watch as heeseung stares—stares—like he’s looking at the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

and then, without warning, he dives in.

his mouth crashes onto your pussy with no hesitation, tongue dragging through your folds like he’s starving for it. a choked moan rips out of your throat as your back arches, every muscle in your body clenching from the sudden, overwhelming sensation. his tongue is hot, wet, relentless—moving with long, deep strokes that make your legs shake around his head.

he grips your thighs tighter, spreading them wider, anchoring you to the couch as he buries his face between your legs. the heat of his mouth is unbearable, and with the room already sweltering, already boiling, you feel like you’re melting beneath him—sweat slicking your skin, your chest rising and falling with every shallow breath.

heeseung moans into your pussy like he means it. like the taste of you is something divine. his tongue curls just right, licking into your entrance before dragging up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth with obscene slurping sounds that echo in your ears and bounce off the walls. you can barely hold still—your hips twitching, instinctively grinding up into his face—but he holds you in place, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you right where he wants you.

he feasts on you like a man possessed, groaning lowly against your pussy with each flick of his tongue, each swallow of your slick. the vibrations of his voice send jolts through your core, and it only makes you wetter, the pressure building with every second that passes. he’s so into it—so deep, so focused, so completely drunk off your taste that it’s like nothing else exists.

his lips move to your clit again, tongue flattening against it and dragging back and forth in slow, torturous strokes. his nose presses into your mound, breath hot and ragged, and you can hear the way he’s panting against you—moaning against you—like just being here, just tasting you, is enough to make him cum untouched.

you glance down, and the sight alone nearly makes you fall apart—his face buried in your pussy, eyes fluttered shut in bliss, hips grinding subtly against the couch as if he’s desperately trying to relieve the pressure in his pants. he’s getting off on it. every moan you let out, every twitch of your body, every droplet of slick he licks up—he’s devouring it like a man in heat.

you throw your head back, a loud, broken sob tearing out of your chest as his tongue circles your clit again, faster this time. the pleasure is unbearable. too much. not enough. your thighs tremble violently, muscles tensing and relaxing all at once, your hands flying down to grip his hair—fingers tangling in the strands, pulling without meaning to, holding him there.

heeseung groans in response, like your reaction only fuels him, like it drives him even deeper into his obsession. he shakes his head slightly, the motion sending his tongue in unpredictable directions, and you cry out again, thighs squeezing around him.

“fuck, heeseung—” you gasp, voice cracked, strained, barely even there.

but he doesn’t stop.

he just keeps licking.

before you can let out another moan—another broken, needy sound—your mouth is suddenly full. your lips stretch wide, a heavy weight pressing onto your tongue before sliding deeper, and your eyes flutter open in shock, the gasp you meant to release now muffled completely.

a low, breathy moan fills the room—but it’s not yours. it’s his.

“fuck…”

you know that voice. the soft, desperate whimper that slips out again, paired with a shaky exhale that makes your throat tighten instinctively. it’s jake. you don’t even need to look to be sure—it’s in the way he sounds completely undone already, his voice dipped in honey and lust, trembling as he slowly begins to thrust into your mouth.

his cock drags across your tongue, thick and hard, the weight of it heavy as it sinks deeper with each roll of his hips. he moves slowly at first, testing, savoring, his pace unsteady like he’s holding back from completely losing control. your lips wrap around him automatically, cheeks hollowing just enough to make his knees buckle slightly, and the noise that slips from him is pure heaven.

“oh fuck, y/n…”

his voice cracks as he tilts his head back, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. you glance up at him through heavy lashes, just in time to see the way his brows draw together, his expression one of blissful torment as he watches himself disappear past your lips.

his hands are on you in the next second—reaching down, greedy and firm, squeezing your breasts in both palms. his thumbs brush over your nipples, circling them roughly before pressing in harder, and the contrast between his soft moans and rough touch makes your body jolt with need. he groans again as his hips rock forward, pushing deeper, your throat tightening around the head of his cock.

you gag slightly, tears instantly welling in your eyes, but you don’t stop. your mouth stretches, your jaw aches, and your tongue presses flat beneath him as he begins to fuck into your throat with shallow thrusts. spit pools at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin as he fucks into you more desperately, the wet sound of it obscene and addictive.

“shit, you feel so fucking good—so warm, so tight…” he rasps, voice nearly broken as he watches his cock vanish between your lips again and again. “fuck, you were made for this.”

you can’t respond, not with your mouth stuffed full of him, but your body gives every answer it needs to. your throat constricts, your tongue curves, and your lips press snug around the base every time he sinks in deep. you moan around him, and the way his body shudders in response makes your core clench hard.

as if he can feel that too, heeseung doubles down between your thighs.

his tongue plunges inside you again, thick and slick and sinful, dragging against your walls in deep, swirling strokes. he groans into your pussy, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine as your hips jerk in response. your walls flutter around him, sucking him in with every movement, squeezing around his tongue so tightly it makes him whine into your cunt.

“fuck, you taste so fucking good…” heeseung pants, his voice muffled against your dripping pussy, and the way he says it—raw, reverent, like he’s never tasted anything sweeter—makes you feel like you’re going to explode.

your body is trembling now, caught between two different kinds of pleasure—your mouth stretched and used by jake’s throbbing cock, your cunt dripping and devoured by heeseung’s skilled tongue. their moans mix with yours, lost in the thick, humid air, the heat of the room making everything feel stickier, hotter, needier.

sunoo is the first to lose control.

his breaths come out shallow, chest visibly rising and falling as he stands frozen for a moment, eyes locked on you like he’s in a trance. there’s a look on his face—wide-eyed, mouth parted, almost like he’s staring at something holy. he can’t look away. he doesn’t even try. the sounds, the sight, the heat of the room all pull at him like a magnet, dragging him under until his self-restraint shatters completely.

his hands move to his waistband, quick and impatient. fingers fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans, so rushed that he nearly stumbles as he kicks them down his legs. his underwear follows in a frantic tug, fabric caught around one knee for a second before he shakes it off entirely. and then he’s bare—exposed and trembling, his cock already flushed and leaking, twitching against his stomach.

precum glistens at the tip, thick and shiny, dribbling down the shaft until it pools faintly at the base. he doesn’t hesitate. one hand wraps around himself immediately, fingers curling tight as he gives his cock a slow, needy stroke. the slickness makes it easy—his hand gliding with little resistance, wrist twisting just slightly at the top in a rhythm that’s far too practiced.

but his eyes. his eyes never leave you.

you’re sprawled out, thighs shaking from the way heeseung is eating you out like a man starved. your fingers tangle in his hair, your hips rolling helplessly against his face, and the filthy sounds he makes—wet and relentless—only echo louder in the hot, stifling air. every time his tongue dips into you, your legs twitch, and sunoo swears he can feel the aftershocks through his own body.

his hand moves faster, slick noises joining the chorus of moans and groans already filling the room. he strokes himself steadily, breath hitching with every wet slurp he hears, every moan that falls from your stuffed mouth. he watches your throat flex as you try to take more of jake’s cock, eyes glassy as you struggle to breathe around the thickness of him.

and jake—he's a mess above you.

his hands are buried in your hair, knuckles white from how tightly he grips. his hips jerk forward in short, shallow thrusts, barely able to hold back as your lips wrap around him. your mouth stretches wide, tongue flattened underneath his shaft, your eyes fluttering as tears gather at the corners. and when you gag softly around him, the tight clench of your throat makes him snap.

his whole body trembles. a loud, broken moan tears from his chest as his hips stutter forward, cock throbbing against your tongue. you feel the first hot spurt of cum hit the back of your throat, then another, and another—each pulse of his cock sending more of him spilling down your throat. he’s panting through it, voice high and breathless, like he can’t believe how good it feels to cum inside you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck—oh my god, y/n…” jake chokes out, head thrown back as his entire body locks up, abs tightening, thighs shaking where they frame your face. his cock stays in your mouth as he rides it out, groaning shamelessly as more cum pours from his slit. thick, salty, warm. you swallow what you can, the rest slipping past your lips and dribbling down your chin in slow, messy rivulets.

and that’s all it takes for sunoo.

his mouth falls open, a soft, broken sound leaving him as his body jerks forward. his hand keeps moving, faster now, desperate, chasing the edge he’s been teetering on for the last several minutes. his eyes stay fixed on the way your spit-slick lips still suck around jake’s softening cock, the way your pussy clenches around heeseung’s tongue, dripping and pulsing like it’s begging for more.

then he cums—hard.

his back arches as a strained, almost whiny moan spills from his lips. “fuck—fuck, i’m cumming—” he gasps, eyes squeezing shut as thick ropes of white shoot from the tip of his cock. it hits his stomach first, warm and wet, then drips down his hand as he strokes himself through it, chasing every last wave of pleasure until his thighs are trembling. his breath stutters in his chest, sweat beading at his temples, and he keeps going even after he’s spent—milking himself for every drop as his head lolls back, completely wrecked.

cum paints his hand, his skin, his chest. sticky and hot, pooling just below his navel as he stands there, cock twitching in his grasp, body slowly coming down from the high.

but even then, even while he pants and shakes and tries to steady himself—he doesn’t stop watching you.

the coil in your stomach tightens fast—too fast. it winds itself tighter with every flick of heeseung’s tongue, every filthy moan that vibrates against your soaked pussy. your thighs are trembling now, uncontrollably, muscles twitching with each wave of pressure that builds low in your core. your breathing is uneven, mouth hanging open, panting like you’ve just run miles, but all that fills your lungs is the thick, heavy heat of the room and the scent of sweat and sex.

your hands shoot down instinctively, fingers weaving into heeseung’s hair. your grip is desperate, nails digging into his scalp as you hold him in place, as if pulling him closer could somehow save you from falling apart. but it only encourages him—drives him deeper.

jake’s cock slips from your lips with a wet, sticky sound, strands of saliva stretching between your swollen mouth and his flushed tip. your jaw aches, your throat sore from how deeply he fucked into it, but the only sound that escapes you now is a hoarse, broken moan. it cracks in the back of your throat, raw and breathless, but it makes heeseung groan into your cunt like it’s the most perfect sound he’s ever heard.

he doesn’t stop. doesn’t pause. he takes your reaction as fuel, tongue moving faster, more frantic now as he chases your orgasm like he needs it to breathe. his mouth finds your clit again, tongue flicking up against it with practiced precision—over and over, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure straight through your body.

and then he seals his lips around it.

he sucks.

hard.

“shit—!” your cry rips through the air like lightning, loud and unrestrained, and your entire body jolts forward, hips bucking off the couch as the orgasm slams into you. it’s not gentle. it’s not slow. it hits—a tidal wave crashing down all at once, flooding your veins with molten heat.

your body shakes, spasms, back arching off the cushions as your climax tears through you. your legs clamp around heeseung’s head, not even consciously, but he doesn’t pull away. he groans into your pussy like he wants it—wants your thighs trembling against his ears, wants to be trapped between them while you fall apart on his tongue.

the coil inside you fully snaps, unravels, breaks into a thousand shattered pieces that ripple through your blood, through your chest, your spine, your fingertips. your vision blurs, your body going rigid before collapsing into trembling pieces as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

your moans dissolve into quiet whimpers, breath stolen, skin flushed and damp, and yet heeseung still doesn’t let up. his tongue slows, gentler now, soothing your oversensitive clit with soft, languid strokes as your body twitches beneath him, still caught in the aftershocks.

you can’t think. can’t breathe. can’t do anything except fall back into the cushions, legs sprawled and chest heaving, heart pounding like a war drum inside your ribs.

heeseung finally lifts his head, his face shining with your slick—lips swollen, chin glistening, eyes blown wide with satisfaction. he smirks at you, cocky and proud, his expression dripping with confidence as he slowly leans back on his heels. he takes his time dragging his tongue across his bottom lip, savoring the last taste of you like it’s something divine.

his hands slide off your thighs with a final, reverent squeeze, leaving behind heat and a tingling ache that lingers as he shifts away.

but you barely have a moment to recover—barely even draw in a full breath—before another shadow takes his place.

sunghoon.

he steps forward, quiet and composed, but there’s a different kind of hunger in his eyes. something deeper. darker. his hand is wrapped firmly around his cock, long fingers stroking slowly as he positions himself in front of you. his tip is flushed, leaking, and when it touches your soaked pussy, your body jolts at the sudden contact.

he doesn’t push in yet.

he teases—rubbing the head in slow, deliberate circles over your swollen folds, smearing your slick around with an agonizing lack of urgency. the contrast between his calm exterior and what he’s doing to you is maddening. you twitch, hips jerking just slightly, needing more, but he just smirks down at you, amused by how wrecked you already look.

then, without a word, his hands come down to your waist. strong. commanding.

and in one smooth motion—he flips you over.

your gasp is sharp as your body is turned and positioned like it’s nothing. your knees dig into the plush cushions of the couch, your palms bracing in front of you, back instinctively arching to balance yourself. your ass is in the air now, completely exposed, dripping and still twitching from your last orgasm.

but the shift isn’t just for sunghoon.

beneath you, there's movement—another presence.

jay.

he slips between the couch cushions, positioning himself directly underneath you. his hands slide up your sides, slow and sensual, until they’re gripping your back and pulling you down. his face is beneath yours now, his mouth just inches away, and without a second thought—he kisses you.

it’s not soft.

his lips crash against yours in a messy, consuming kiss, tongues meeting immediately, teeth clashing. there’s heat behind it—hunger, desperation. you moan into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily, one of his hands coming up to cradle the back of your head while the other stays firm on your lower back, grounding you in place.

sunghoon’s hands grip your waist like he owns it—like it’s his to mold and shape and use however he pleases. his touch is firm, possessive, thumbs pressing into your hips as he guides your body back toward him. behind you, his cock presses into your entrance, thick and pulsing, already slick from teasing you moments ago. you can feel every ridge, every vein, twitching with anticipation as he begins to push forward again, slower now, savoring every inch.

underneath you, jay keeps you anchored. his hands glide over your back, up your spine, as he stares up at your flushed face. his gaze is heavy, intense—like he’s trying to memorize you. memorize every expression, every sound. and then, his cock nudges at your entrance too, slick with precum and already hard, ready. he doesn’t hesitate. he lines himself up alongside sunghoon, and together, they push in.

the stretch is unbearable.

your body seizes, walls fluttering violently as they try to take both of them at once. it feels impossible at first—like your pussy wasn’t meant to hold this much. like your body should be breaking. but then your breath catches, and the heat from the room and the overwhelming fullness melt into each other, creating a sensation that borders on euphoric.

your nails dig into the couch cushions. your eyes screw shut, jaw slack as a strangled cry tears from your throat. jay shushes you softly, his lips brushing over your collarbone, placing light kisses across your skin to soothe you even as he presses deeper inside. sunghoon grits his teeth above you, low groans spilling from his lips as your walls stretch tightly around them both.

“fuck—” sunghoon hisses, his voice thick with arousal. “you’re so fucking tight… can feel him inside you too.”

jay can barely breathe beneath you. “she’s squeezing us both so hard… shit, baby…”

you feel everything.

the press of their cocks rubbing together inside you, the stretch of your walls trying to accommodate the impossible girth of both of them, the way your pussy grips every inch like it’s the only thing it knows how to do. they move slowly, rocking their hips in shallow thrusts, trying to ease you into it, but the stimulation is too much. your head falls forward, resting against jay’s chest, and your entire body trembles.

each thrust feels deeper than the last, their rhythm syncing perfectly—sunghoon pushing in as jay pulls back, only to slide back in together. your pussy is so wet, the obscene sounds of it echo with every movement, the slick, slapping rhythm blending with their groans and your breathless cries.

sunghoon’s grip tightens as he starts to move faster, his thrusts harder now, greedier, making your ass jiggle from the force. every time his hips slam into yours, it sends a ripple of pleasure through your entire body. jay meets the force from below, hips rolling upward, cock dragging against your inner walls as he fills the deepest parts of you.

your vision starts to blur. the pleasure is sharp, molten, setting your nerves on fire. you can feel the way their cocks rub together inside you, the pressure almost painful, but it feels so good—so complete, so consuming.

jay’s arms wrap around your waist, hugging you tight as he fucks up into you, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re taking us so well… so perfect, baby…”

you sob out a broken moan in response, your walls spasming around them as another wave of heat rushes through your bloodstream. the couch creaks beneath you from the force of it all, the room thick with sex, with sweat, with bodies moving in sync under the weight of your shared need.

sunghoon leans over you, chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your neck as he starts pounding into you. no longer holding back. his hands grip your ass, spreading you wider to push deeper, to fit more. jay groans beneath you, fucking up into the space that sunghoon leaves behind with perfect timing, the stretch never easing, the fullness never fading.

their rhythm is brutal. your body bounces between them, trapped in the middle of their overwhelming hunger, your pussy stuffed full, stretched wide, used completely. and you love it. you feel owned, claimed, completely at their mercy—and there’s nothing else you’d rather be.

your moans dissolve into whimpers. your pussy clenches hard around them, sucking them in deeper, so much so that they both groan at the same time, voices rough and strained.

“fuck—gonna cum,” jay gasps, his voice low and shaking. “she’s gonna make me fucking cum—”

“fuck,” sunghoon growls, fucking harder, sweat dripping from his temple. “shit—feels so fucking good—”

your body quakes between them, your second orgasm already creeping up on you, fast and hard. your toes curl into the cushions, arms trembling as you grip onto whatever you can, heart thundering in your chest as you drown in the feeling of being completely, utterly full.

your body convulses where you sit, trembling as jay and sunghoon finally slide out of you. the emptiness is instant and jarring, like you’ve just lost something you weren’t ready to let go of. you twitch where you’re sprawled, thighs sticky with slick and cum, the evidence of everything they gave you now dripping slowly from your swollen pussy. the room is thick with heat and sex, a haze of sweat and heavy breathing filling the space. your body is twitching, too used and too sensitive to move, but the ache between your legs doesn’t ease—it burns. it pulses. it begs for more. your limbs are jelly, your thoughts barely stringing together into anything coherent, and yet the hunger inside you refuses to die down. it builds in your chest, in your core, that desperate desire still flaring to life again like they haven’t already ruined you—like you’re still starving for everything they want to give you.

sunghoon watches the mess between your legs with dark, hooded eyes, sweat dripping from his temple as he drags his fingers down your slit, gathering the thick mix of his and jay’s cum. you whimper, back arching instinctively as the mess is pushed back inside you, two fingers pressing into your raw, stretched pussy without warning. the sensation sends another jolt through your body—sharp and overwhelming, yet somehow, you welcome it. it’s filthy. it’s too much. and you still want more. your breath shudders out of you, your head lolling to the side, too weak to lift it. your mouth is parted, chest rising and falling rapidly, and the second your legs start to tremble again from overstimulation, he finally pulls away.

and then… there’s him.

you barely register jungwon stepping in until you feel the warmth of him in front of you. he kneels slowly, patiently, his expression soft but unreadable as his hands come to rest on your thighs. he’s calm in contrast to the wreckage around him, composed even as his eyes drink in your ruined state. he leans in, placing the softest kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another to your hip, your stomach, your ribs—each one purposeful, almost reverent. he doesn’t rush. every kiss feels like a quiet apology for the ache still rolling through your body. and maybe it is. or maybe it’s just his way of showing that he’s going to ruin you next—but on his terms. his lips brush against your skin like they’re worshiping it, like you’re something precious, fragile, and holy. you look down at him, eyes glossy and half-lidded, and when he speaks, his voice is a low whisper that melts into your ears like warm honey.

“gonna make you feel so good, princess. do you want that?”

you nod before you can even form words, your mouth too dry and your throat too wrecked from moaning. your body leans into him like it recognizes him—like you need him now. your eyes catch his, and it’s like everything else blurs away. the chaos, the overstimulation, the ache—they all fall into the background the second jungwon cups your face and helps you settle into his lap. his movements are slow, tender, like he’s handling you with care, and it makes your chest ache. he slides onto the couch and brings you with him, letting your legs straddle his thighs as he holds you steady. his cock rests against your ass, heavy and leaking, already painfully hard. he wraps one hand around the base, guiding it beneath you, while the other stays planted at the small of your back, anchoring you against him.

he teases you with the tip first, sliding it through your folds, collecting the slick and cum still dripping from earlier. your cunt is flushed, red and glistening, still twitching with every little brush of contact. you can barely handle the teasing, your fingers curling against his shoulders as your hips jerk forward in response to the pressure. he doesn’t push in—not yet. just rubs the head of his cock against your entrance again and again until you’re practically shaking, whining for more with broken breaths.

“just do it, wonnie,” you whisper, voice raw and needy, every nerve screaming for him.

he huffs a breath, a crooked smirk pulling at his lips, though there’s still a softness behind it—an admiration in the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing he wants in the world. “so fucking desperate, aren’t you?” he murmurs, the words dragging along your skin like velvet.

and then finally, finally, he lets you sink down.

the head of his cock pushes inside first, thick and slow and unforgiving. your pussy stretches around him, still puffy and sore, but eager to take him in. the stretch is deep and immediate. you gasp, clutching his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your body trembles from the sheer fullness of it. jungwon groans beneath you, fingers digging into your waist as your heat envelops him, inch by inch, your walls clenching down like you never want to let go. the slide is slow, both of you shaking with the intensity of it, and it feels like your body is molding to fit just him.

“fuck,” he breathes, voice cracking, his head falling back as he bottoms out. “you’re still so fucking tight…”

his hips stay still for a moment, buried deep, letting you adjust. the tip of his cock is pressing against the deepest part of you, and you can feel every throb, every pulse as he twitches inside of you. your walls flutter, wrapping around him like a vice, squeezing him in, and your body is burning again—so overstimulated you’re not sure where the pain ends and the pleasure begins. but you don’t care. you want it. you want him. you want everything, all of it, every drop they have left to give you.

and from the way jungwon’s holding you so tightly, from the way his breath stutters against your shoulder as he presses soft kisses to your skin—you know he’s going to give you everything.

“you’re so fucking good for us, princess…”

his voice drips against your ear like honey laced with poison—warm, slow, addicting. jungwon’s breath is hot against your skin as he holds you flush against him, his cock still buried to the hilt inside your soaked, overstimulated pussy. his words curl in your chest, crawl down your spine, and settle deep in your core like a flame catching on gasoline.

his hips jerk up into yours again, sharp and deliberate, and you gasp—your head falling back, your throat dry from moaning, yet still begging to make more sound for him. the slide of his cock inside you is enough to make your toes curl, your walls pulsing tightly around him as your body struggles to keep up with the relentless pleasure. your muscles twitch, still sore, still shaking from the last orgasm that tore through you, but none of it matters—not when jungwon holds you like this, fucks into you like it’s the only thing that will keep him breathing.you can feel the slick mess between your thighs—his cock gliding easily from how soaked you are, from the cum already inside you, from your body’s desperate need to take everything he's giving and more. it’s filthy. it’s too much. and it’s perfect.

jungwon’s eyes are locked on yours, dark and intense and impossibly focused. there’s no smirk now, no teasing glint—just raw hunger. reverence. like you’re the only thing in existence.

his brows twitch when he feels your cunt clench again, and a choked sound escapes his throat. “fuck…” he breathes, almost like he’s in pain. “you feel so good—so tight, baby. you’re not gonna let me go, are you?”

you shake your head weakly, the motion barely there, too overwhelmed to form words. your hands are clutching his shoulders, nails dragging across the damp heat of his skin, desperate for something to ground yourself with. but there’s nothing. the couch beneath you is shaking with every thrust. the air is too hot, too thick. you’re floating somewhere between ecstasy and exhaustion, and still—your hips roll into his, still—you beg for more.

his cock drags along your inner walls so deeply you swear you can feel it in your stomach. every movement hits something devastating, something that leaves you gasping and arching into his chest. your nipples brush against his skin, the friction sending tiny sparks up your spine, your whole body lit up like a live wire.

he grunts again, his pace beginning to pick up, each thrust more urgent now, more needy. he’s chasing something—so are you.

“fuck, look what you do to us…” he growls into your neck, voice cracked, his rhythm faltering slightly as your pussy flutters around him again. his hands travel down, grabbing your ass hard, squeezing handfuls of flesh as his hips snap upward, forcing you to take him deeper. “you know what you’ve been doing to us, walking around like that… acting so fucking innocent…”

you whimper as he pulls back just enough to slam back in, the impact making your tits bounce with the force. his hands don’t stay still—one lands sharply against your ass with a smack that echoes across the room. you cry out, your body jolting from the sting, and he moans at the way your cunt clenches immediately afterward.

“dressed like a fucking tease,” he growls, voice right in your ear now, low and dangerous. “those tiny shorts… that shirt with your tits practically falling out… you knew what you were doing.”

his other hand slides up to your throat—not choking, just holding. his thumb presses gently beneath your jaw, guiding your gaze back to his. and when your teary eyes meet his again, everything else blurs.

“you’ve been begging for this, haven’t you?” he whispers. “all this time… just waiting for one of us to snap.”

you can’t even speak. you just nod, broken and desperate, your whole body quivering in his hands.

“say it,” he demands softly, voice so calm it makes you shiver. “tell me you wanted this.”

“i—i wanted it,” you manage to gasp out, your voice wrecked. “fuck, i wanted all of you—so bad, i—”

you can’t even finish the sentence before he thrusts up into you again, harder this time, sharp enough to knock the breath right out of your lungs. his eyes flutter closed for a second, like he’s overwhelmed by the way your pussy clenches around him, like he’s feeling everything you just confessed.

and then he breaks.

his hips lose rhythm, turning erratic, frantic, his hands gripping you tighter as he fucks into you like he can’t hold back anymore. your bodies are slamming together now, the wet sounds of your cunt swallowing him over and over filling the space between your moans. your thighs shake where they straddle his, completely worn out but still clinging to him like you need to be filled, need to be owned, need to be his.

and he gives it to you.

all of it.

with each deep, brutal thrust, jungwon tears you further apart—stretching you, overwhelming you, dragging another orgasm from your body before you even know it’s coming. it slams into you with no warning, your vision going white as your pussy clamps down around him, tight and pulsing and wet. you scream his name, sobbing against his shoulder, and he holds you through it—fucking you through it—never stopping, never slowing down.

“fuck, you’re cumming again?” he groans, eyes wide with disbelief, like the way you tighten around him is going to split him in half. “shit—your pussy’s milking me—”

you can’t respond. your mouth is open, but all that comes out is a shattered moan, your body arching into him as he continues to fuck into the mess between your legs. your cum, his precum, the leftover slick from the others—it’s all mixed together, coating his cock as he thrusts in and out of you like he owns you.

and he does.

in this moment, he absolutely does.

you don’t even know how you’re still conscious.

every nerve in your body is fried, every muscle trembling with the weight of your own pleasure, and yet jungwon doesn’t stop. he holds you against him like you’re his only salvation, like the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock is the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. his thrusts are punishing now, deep and ragged, his moans growing louder with every roll of his hips.

your hands are fists on his shoulders, nails raking down his damp skin as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, muffling the endless string of cries that tumble from your lips. your entire body bounces in his lap, tits shaking from the rhythm, your breath catching in your throat each time the thick head of his cock hits that one spot deep inside that makes you see stars.

he’s whispering to you again, voice shaking, incoherent between his panting and groans. “you take it so well… fuck—so fucking well. this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” his fingers dig deeper into your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to fuck into you harder, rougher, deeper. “say it, baby. say it’s mine.”

“it’s yours,” you sob, so hoarse you barely recognize your own voice. “fuck, wonnie—it’s all yours, just don’t stop…”

he lets out a shaky breath, something unsteady and desperate, and his forehead presses against yours as his thrusts grow erratic. “gonna cum,” he whispers. “you’re gonna make me fucking cum inside you—”

you clench around him at the words, body reacting before your mind can even process it. the idea of him cumming inside you, filling you up after everything they’ve already given—it sets your blood on fire. you want it. you need it.

“please,” you gasp, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “cum in me… fill me up…”

and that’s all it takes.

his moan is guttural, deep and raw as his cock throbs inside you. the first pulse hits hard, warmth blooming deep in your belly as he spills into you, thick and hot. he doesn’t stop thrusting, even as he cums—his hips jerking upward as if trying to bury himself even deeper. you feel every wave of it, every twitch, every drop, and your head spins with the intensity of it all.

jungwon holds you tight through it, forehead resting against your temple, his breath ragged and his body shivering beneath yours. you’re both shaking, sweat-slicked and ruined, chests heaving as you come down from the high together. the room is still spinning, your body still pulsing with overstimulation, but neither of you move.

he stays inside you.

he doesn’t pull out, doesn’t let you go. he just holds you, one hand stroking your spine, the other cradling the back of your neck. his lips press soft, lingering kisses against your shoulder, your cheek, your temple—as if grounding you. as if grounding himself.

“you did so good, baby,” he whispers against your skin, voice barely audible, like it’s meant for you alone. “so fucking good…”

you let out a weak whimper, body limp against his, your head foggy and eyes heavy. but before you can melt into him completely, you hear a sound from across the room.

a soft inhale. a shaky breath.

a quiet, needy moan.

you barely manage to lift your head, and that’s when you see them.

sunoo and niki.

both of them standing near the couch, still untouched, their eyes dark and glazed over with pure, unfiltered want. they’ve been watching—waiting—and now, with your body trembling in jungwon’s lap, flushed and soaked and filled to the brim, they know it’s their turn.

niki is the first to move.

his strides are slow, deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours like you’re prey and he’s already tasted the blood. his shirt is gone, sweat glistening on his chest, his pants slung low on his hips with his cock already painfully hard, jutting forward as he walks. he reaches down lazily to stroke himself, precum smearing across his thumb as he approaches. there’s a quiet, unspoken hunger in his expression, one that sends a fresh pulse of arousal straight through your overstimulated core.

beside him, sunoo moves more delicately—graceful, almost shy in the way he carries himself, but the flush on his cheeks and the way he bites his lip betray just how badly he wants this. his hands tremble slightly as he pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. his eyes flick between your cum-filled pussy and your dazed, tear-streaked face, and he swallows hard like he’s trying not to lose control too soon.

jungwon shifts beneath you slowly, carefully easing you off his lap, and you gasp when his cock slips from your swollen cunt, a messy mix of cum immediately dripping out. your legs shake as he helps you lie back across the couch, hands gentle even as his eyes still burn with residual lust.

niki kneels between your thighs without a word, his large hands pressing your knees apart as he leans in, watching your pussy with a greedy kind of fascination. his breath hitches when he sees the way you’re leaking, still twitching from your last orgasm, and he groans low in his throat.

“fuck…” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through the mess. “you’re still dripping…”

you try to respond, try to say something, but the only thing that escapes is a weak whimper—high and airy and broken. niki leans over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other stroking his cock lazily as he brushes his lips against your cheek.

“don’t worry,” he whispers, his voice dark and full of promise. “i’ll take it slow at first…”

sunoo moves closer now, climbing onto the couch beside you, his fingers brushing lightly over your ribs, your stomach, your thighs—as if he can’t believe he’s finally allowed to touch. his lips are soft against your neck, placing tiny kisses there while niki lines himself up between your legs.

“just relax, angel…” sunoo whispers, voice shaking. “we’ll take care of you…”

niki’s cock fills you like it was made to—thick, long, so hot it burns, yet all you can do is moan as he stretches your already swollen cunt with every slow, devastating thrust. his hips roll into you with practiced control, but the look on his face betrays the restraint he’s fighting to keep. his jaw is tight, eyes hazy with need, and sweat shines on his collarbones where the low light catches.

you’re dripping around him. soaked. your walls still clench hard with every inch he gives you, and he feels it—fuck, he feels all of it. the mess, the tightness, the aftershocks of your last orgasm still rippling through you like echoes, and it drives him insane. his hands stay on your thighs, spreading you wide so he can watch everything—your hole stretched wide around his cock, fluttering and wet and glistening, your stomach tensing every time he drags across that one perfect spot inside you.

“fuck, baby,” he grunts, voice rough, hips stuttering for just a second before he steadies himself again. “you’re so messy down here… so wet, fuck…”

your head tilts back, throat exposed, your lips parted in a breathless moan as his cock rocks into you again, deeper, and you swear you feel it in your spine. your body shakes, your hands clawing at the cushions, your mind completely gone—floating in the overwhelming warmth of being touched, used, adored.

sunoo’s hands glide over your ribs, and you barely register the way his fingers move until he’s softly tugging one of your nipples between his fingers, his lips still pressed to your cheek. then your jaw. then your mouth. his breath is light and shaky when he kisses you this time—not soft like before, but needy, filled with the kind of urgency that makes your thighs press together even with niki still inside you.

you whimper into sunoo’s mouth as niki thrusts again, the angle hitting something sharp and sweet, your whole body tensing up. sunoo swallows the sound, kissing you harder, his tongue slow and curious as it slides against yours. and when he pulls back, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are blown wide, his breathing unsteady.

“baby…” he whispers, brushing his nose against yours, “can i…?”

you know what he wants. the way his cock twitches against your hip says more than words. he’s hard—so hard—painfully so. he’s been holding back for so long, being patient, gentle, soft, but now you see it in the way he bites his lip and avoids your gaze. he needs you.

you blink up at him, dazed and fucked-out, and still, your voice breaks through in a breathy whisper. “come here, baby… let me take care of you.”

sunoo’s mouth falls open slightly, like he hadn’t expected that, and he nods quickly, cheeks flushed deeper. he shuffles around, adjusting his position until he’s kneeling above your chest, his cock resting just above your lips. and fuck, he looks so good like this—his thighs trembling slightly, the tip of his cock red and dripping with precum, the way his fingers twitch at his sides like he doesn’t know where to touch.

niki groans low in your ear as your mouth opens to take sunoo in. he watches it happen—sees your tongue flick out to taste the bead of precum at the tip before your lips wrap around him. sunoo’s whole body shudders at the contact, his hands flying to your hair, though he doesn’t pull. he just holds. anchors. watches you with wide, dazed eyes as you slowly suck him down, inch by inch.

his cock is warm, flushed, and he tastes sweet on your tongue—faint salt and need, the kind of flavor you want to drown in. you moan around him, your throat relaxing as you take him deeper, and the sound makes him whimper above you, hips twitching forward slightly. “oh—fuck…” he gasps, voice breathless, eyes fluttering closed. “so good—your mouth feels so good…”

you swirl your tongue around the head, suck a little harder, and the shaky little sound that slips from him nearly makes your core clench again. you feel his thighs shaking beside your head, his fingers tightening in your hair as he tries not to thrust. he’s holding himself back for you, just like they all do—just like he always has.

niki’s pace falters for a moment when you moan again, the vibration traveling down sunoo’s cock, and then he growls, deep and guttural, burying himself deep inside you before pulling out in one smooth drag. “fuck, watching you take him like that…” he mutters, voice strained, “you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

he starts moving again, harder now, hips snapping against yours, and the sound of wet skin slapping fills the air, your cunt making the filthiest squelching noises as it struggles to take the full length of him over and over. your body bounces beneath sunoo’s weight, your throat stuffed full of his cock while your pussy gets ruined by niki’s thick, pounding thrusts.

sunoo’s breath is coming in broken gasps now, his eyes locked on your mouth. you take him deep, deeper than before, until your nose is pressed to his stomach, your lips stretched wide around him, and your throat tightens just enough to make his knees buckle.

“shit—gonna cum—i’m gonna—y/n, fuck—” he cries out, voice cracking.

you moan again, the vibration enough to push him over the edge.

sunoo cums hard, hips jerking forward as he spills down your throat. you feel the heat of it coat your tongue, thick and hot, his breath stuttering in your ears as he gasps your name over and over. you swallow every drop, your throat working around him, and he nearly sobs from the sensation, one hand cradling the back of your head like you’re something fragile, even as your mouth is still stretched around him.

niki’s thrusts don’t stop.

you’re still moaning around sunoo’s cock, even as he softens between your lips, even as he trembles above you, breathless and flushed and completely wrecked. he pulls back slowly, carefully, pressing a kiss to your forehead before collapsing beside you, arms wrapping around your waist from the side like he can’t bear to be far.

niki’s breathing is wild now. his pace has turned frantic, thrusts slamming into you with desperate urgency as your pussy clenches hard, soaked and stretched and dripping with a mess of everything they’ve given you. your legs shake violently, every nerve ending firing all at once as he pounds into you one final time.

“fuck—gonna cum—fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps, voice raw, eyes wild.

he pulls out just in time, thick streams of cum painting your inner thighs, your stomach, the top of your mound. he moans as he jerks himself through the last spurts, chest heaving, hands twitching from the effort of holding back.

and then—it’s over.

your body collapses into the couch, completely limp, chest rising and falling rapidly, your mind a haze of pleasure and nothing else. you’re soaked, wrecked, flushed from head to toe, and so full—inside, out, all over. the air is humid and sticky, the scent of sex clinging to everything, but all you can feel is the warm weight of their bodies settling around you.

niki slumps beside you, chest to chest, his hand immediately sliding into yours. sunoo nuzzles into your other side, his lips still brushing soft, gentle kisses across your shoulder, your jaw, your collarbone.

you don’t move.

you can’t.

and they don’t make you.

they just hold you—quiet, steady, safe.

your body feels like it’s floating.

not in the way that’s light or airy, but in the way that nothing seems fully connected anymore. every inch of your skin is humming with aftershocks, tingling with the ghost of their touch, their lips, their words. you can’t tell where the ache ends and the warmth begins—all you know is that your limbs are heavy, your muscles limp, and your chest rises and falls in uneven, exhausted breaths.

but you’re not alone.

you’re so far from alone.

sunoo is the first to move, brushing the hair from your face with the gentlest sweep of his fingers. he’s lying beside you, curled into your side like he’s guarding you from the air itself, and when you manage to blink your eyes open, his soft smile is the first thing you see. his eyes shimmer with warmth—pure and golden and so full of love that it steals the breath right out of your lungs.

“hi, angel…” he whispers, so softly it makes your throat ache. “you still with us?”

you nod weakly, unable to speak, but that’s enough for him. he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to your temple, his thumb stroking slow circles against your hip. you shiver from the tenderness of it, your body far too raw and sensitive to handle even the softest affection, and he notices immediately.

“you’re shaking,” he says gently, concern flickering behind his voice.

“too much,” you whisper, barely audible.

niki’s already sitting up, propped on one elbow beside your legs, his hand running down your calf with a touch so soft it’s almost nothing. “hey,” he murmurs, voice low and soothing. “you did so good for us, baby. so good. you okay?”

you nod again, but the tremble in your chin betrays you, and suddenly jungwon is there too. you don’t even notice when he moves in—he’s just there, on his knees in front of you, already reaching for a warm towel, already soaking another with a bottle of water from the side table. he looks so calm. so focused. his brows are drawn slightly, lips pressed together, but the way his hands move across your skin is steady. certain. safe.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, barely louder than a breath.

you feel the warm cloth as it presses between your legs, and you flinch instinctively. the tenderness there is still too much—your pussy swollen, soaked, and sore from being stretched and filled and used again and again. jungwon immediately pauses, eyes flicking to yours.

“too much?” he asks quietly.

you breathe out a little sigh. “just… slow, please.”

“always,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your knee. “always slow with you.”

he works carefully, wiping the mess from your inner thighs with gentle, steady strokes. the warmth of the cloth is soothing, the heat easing some of the soreness even as your body continues to twitch beneath his touch. you feel his hands shake just a little as he presses a clean towel against your entrance, holding it there for a few moments to absorb the rest of the cum still leaking out of you. he doesn't say anything while he works—he just keeps going, eyes flicking up to check on you every few seconds, like he’s making sure you're still here.

sunoo continues stroking your hair, humming softly under his breath as you lie still, your body slowly starting to feel like yours again. niki shifts behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. his chest is warm against your back, his breath slow and steady.

“you’re not allowed to move,” he murmurs playfully, though his tone is all affection. “we’re doing everything now.”

“you already did everything,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut again.

niki laughs softly against your skin. “and we’re not done.”

jungwon finishes cleaning you, using a new cloth to wipe gently over your stomach, the backs of your thighs, your chest where streaks of cum and sweat still stick to your skin. his touch never lingers too long in one spot. he treats your body like something precious, something holy.

once you’re clean, he pulls a soft blanket over your legs, tucking it around your hips before adjusting the cushions behind your back. sunoo helps you sit up, holding your arms steady, brushing a kiss to your shoulder as he wraps another smaller blanket around your upper body like a shawl.

and then, jay appears from the kitchen.

you didn’t even realize he had left. his shirt is still off, a few droplets of water clinging to his collarbones, but in his hands are two water bottles and a small bowl of fruit. he doesn’t say anything as he kneels beside you—he just opens a bottle and brings the rim to your lips.

you drink slowly, shakily, the cool water tasting like salvation as it glides down your raw throat. jay wipes the corner of your mouth with a thumb, then kisses your forehead without a word. his gaze lingers on your face, the tiniest furrow between his brows as he studies your expression.

“hurting anywhere?” he finally asks.

you shake your head, leaning into sunoo’s arms. “just… sore.”

he smiles, the lines in his face softening. “you’ll rest. we’ve got you.”

jake joins moments later, crouching down to set extra water bottles on the table, then leans in and brushes a kiss to your cheek before whispering, “you were unreal. we’re so proud of you.”

you smile sleepily, warmth blooming in your chest at the weight of their words. your limbs are still heavy, and your mind is still floating, but there’s something grounding about being wrapped in their voices, their praise, their hands.

jungwon finally settles beside you again, towel gone, his body warm as he pulls your legs across his lap. his fingers massage your calves, working slowly through the tension, and you moan quietly from the relief it brings.

sunghoon is last to return—his hair wet now, a clean hoodie draped over his shoulders. he kneels in front of the couch, between your legs, and takes your foot in his hand, pressing a kiss to your ankle before resting his forehead there for a long moment.

no one speaks.

the silence is soft. sacred. every breath is slow. every hand is gentle.

they take turns feeding you fruit—one piece at a time, between kisses and strokes of your hair. mango slices, sweet and sticky. cold grapes. strawberries dipped in sugar. you chew slowly, letting them take care of everything, your body curling further into their arms with every bite.

sunoo wraps his arms around you from behind again, his cheek resting against your shoulder as he whispers praise against your skin.

“you did so well.”

“you were so perfect.”

“we love you so much.”

niki’s hands never stop moving—petting your thighs, massaging your hips, his lips pressing occasional kisses to your temple, your shoulder, your knuckles. jungwon hums as he plays with your toes, brushing his thumb in small circles around your ankle, his gaze still protective and focused.

and eventually… you close your eyes.

not because you’re tired—though you are—but because you feel safe.

warm.

held.

completely adored.

their hands stay on you the whole time. rubbing, holding, kissing. keeping you here. keeping you theirs.

and in that soft, slow silence, you realize something—

you’ve never felt more loved.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ hoped y'all liked it !

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coffee-and-geto · 7 months ago

Text

LET ME WARM YOU UP

summary: satoru comes home after an early morning when he went to the bakery to buy you some pastries, frozen to the bone by the biting early december cold. doesn’t he deserve to find you under the warm comforter where your warm presence hides?

cw: fluff, domestic, gojo has his nose pink from the cold, he’s silly, needy and so in love <3, i have put some pastries i know bc i’m french but ignore them if you don’t like croissant (what’s on ur mind) or pain au chocolat (i agree on this).

wc: 721

When Satoru enters the bakery — his body draped in a long coat, head wrapped in a knit cap, and half his face hidden behind a large scarf — the gentle chime of the entrance bell feels like a sweet melody mingling with the warm, sugary scent of the quiet, early-morning haven.

Behind the sparkling glass displays are heaps of pastries that make his mouth water. From chocolate croissants to apple turnovers, the variety of treats teases his senses as he approaches the kind, tiny baker, who barely reaches his chest.

“Good morning, young man,” she coos like a grandmother, tilting her head up to look at him. “Feeling like something sweet this early?”

Six o’clock in the morning — was it too early?

Satoru would camp outside the bakery if it meant sharing pastries with you.

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d like a brioche, a chocolate croissant, a croissant, an éclair, and a strawberry tart,” he says, distracted by the vibrant colors tempting him to buy out the entire bakery.

The baker grabs a bag and carefully places his order inside, smiling warmly.

“Will that be all, young man?”

Satoru nods.

“Alright.” She names the total price and hands him the large bag once he pays. “Are you planning to eat all of this yourself, young man?”

A smile capable of melting ice stretches across Satoru’s face, despite being hidden behind his scarf. “I’ll share it with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” After he pays, the baker hands him a blue lollipop, the kind that colors your tongue. “A boy like you, who takes such good care of his loved ones, deserves this.”

Satoru accepts it with a word of thanks before heading home, where you’re unknowingly waiting for him, still tucked beneath the warm covers of your bed.

He enters the apartment silently, closing the door with care and removing his shoes and coat in near-perfect quiet. In the kitchen, he wastes no time arranging a breakfast tray, loading it with the pastries he bought and a cup of tea and coffee.

He performs the task with an adorably proud smile, humming cheerfully at the thought of sharing a warm breakfast with you under the blanket, where you’d thaw his December-chilled body.

With the tray prepared to perfection, he carries it to the bedside table and sets it down gently before slipping into the bed. The combination of the soft blanket and your warmth, still lingering in the sheets, begins to ease the cold from his body. His stiff, frozen arms wrap around you, rousing you from sleep.

“Toru?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering open as a yawn escapes your lips.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs into the crook of your warm neck.

You shiver at how cold he feels. “Did you go out?” You turn to wrap your arms around him, planting a kiss on his nose, pink from the cold.

“Brought pastries,” he hums. “Wanna eat with me?” He blinks at you cutely, his snow-dusted lashes framing eyes as deep and blue as the ocean.

“You did?” The corners of your mouth turn down as you pull him closer. Satoru’s habit of buying things for you without needing to be asked makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. “Of course, my love.” You pepper kisses all over his face. “Love you so much.”

He grins so cutely you want to crush his head in your arms.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting up in bed, the makeshift tray perched on your shared lap as you indulge in a perfect breakfast.

Through the bedroom window, the first snowflakes of December fall onto the balcony, covering it in a white blanket that matches your lover’s hair. The sky, equally white, might’ve seemed dull and cold, but sitting beside Satoru, who is devouring almost all the pastries, brightens the weather.

Once your stomachs are full, Satoru burrows under the blanket, pressing his face against your pajama-clad stomach. A giggle escapes you, your chest shaking gently with the sound.

“What are you doing?” you ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cuddling,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the comforter.

“You look more like a whiny cat, you know.”

“If a whiny cat gets cuddles, then I am one.”

Your laughter bubbles over, warming Satoru, who nearly purrs as your fingers scratch at his scalp.

a/n: hello guys :)) i know it’s been like two weeks w/ anything but let’s forget that, hmm? so 1st december is the birthday of my bsf haha and sadly the end of fall for me... (i’m depressed bc of this). but, i’m in the mood to write everything fluffy, etc. (saying this while my brain is mentally preparing a big angsty fic for the coming weeks bwahahaha). hope you guys have a nice week and see you soon <33

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

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ttjisung · 2 months ago

Text

IS THIS LOVE l. haechan

→ in which haechan wants nothing more than to be with you and have you in every way, even if you're too shy to admit it too

bestfriend!haechan x inexperienced bestfriend!fem!reader (wc: 4.7k)

cw: smut! mdni pls :3 unprotected sex, oral + masturbation (f! receiving), happy ending yayayayayay :D

It was getting harder and harder for Donghyuck to act like he wasn’t affected by you. At first, it was the times where he’d have to bite his lip to stop himself from saying anything weird when you wore a revealing bikini to the beach. Then, it was at his apartment when you’d innocently eat your ice cream, licking the melted treat that dripped onto your hand. You simply shrugged in confusion when he stood up in panic, rushing to the bathroom with no explanation.

Donghyuck was getting tired of it, truthfully. Having to hide his emotions when you were so clueless to every hint he’d drop.

Showering you in compliments, “You look so good in that shirt, baby.” To which you’d smile shyly and let out a small thank you Hyuck. He knew you weren’t doing it on purpose, but it still continued to bother him more and more.

What was worse was that he wasn’t the only one infatuated with you. He could tell by the hunger in Jaemin’s eye when the male would hug you for longer than he should’ve. The way Jeno would try his hardest to avert his eyes when your small skirt would ride up your thigh slightly, which he’d always fail. Donghyuck knew he had no control over any of these things because you were all best friends, and that’s all you were. It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes and sulking for the rest of the hangout though.

Little by little, he stopped inviting the others around, insisting he wanted to spend time with you the most because you were his closest friend. You’d simply smile at the affection and nod your head eagerly, making a twinge of pride pulse in his chest knowing you hung out with him the most.

– “Hi Hyuck.” You greeted the male, hugging his side before slipping into his familiar apartment. It was a Saturday night and with nothing better to do, he had invited you to stay over. “Hi baby, how are you?” He greeted you back, placing his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to his room. You didn’t even flinch at the contact, so used to his touchy behavior. “I’m good… A little stressed though actually.” He could tell by the furrow in your eyebrow that something was frustrating you. Fighting off every urge to tell you he could find a way to help you destress, he frowned at your words.

You fell back onto his bed, huffing and closing your eyes. “What’s wrong?” Donghyuck inquired as he sat next to you, hoping it was something minimal. God forbid you’re ever truly upset, he’d turn the world around trying to make you happier. “I got a D on my Psych test… I’m so confused because I studied so hard for it.” He fought off the small smile on his face at your pouty face, you were just so cute it was hard to resist pinching your cheeks. “Don’t stress about it, doll. If it happens again I’ll help you study-” “But Hyuck… You got an F last time.” He rolled his eyes, scoffing and looking away playfully which pulled a small laugh from you. He grinned, happy to know you were feeling at least somewhat better because of his antics.

“Let me take your mind off of it baby.” His words had a certain tone surrounding them, somewhat sultry and with a clear hidden meaning, and you sat up happily, nodding your head. Somewhat shocked by your reaction, Donghyuck wondered if it was finally time to do what he had always dreamt of, yet his hopes were crushed when you jumped off the bed and rushed onto his gaming chair. “Let’s play Minecraft!” He groaned internally at your obliviousness, sighing before following after you and agreeing.

After hours of mining while you built the cutest house for the both of you – and ignored his countless jokes about putting your beds together – you both got tired of the game, settling back onto his bed in favor of talking about random things.

“I’m not sure why but it was kind of awkward between Chenle and Jeno last time we hung out.” Donghyuck snorted at your words, “Well duh, Jeno fucked Chenle’s little fling without knowing.” Your eyebrows furrowed deeply at his words in shock, not expecting that reason. “That’s so mean though, why would he?” You asked, not believing that Jeno would do something like that. “It’s just how guys are sometimes, controlled by their dicks y’know?” Donghyuck didn’t miss the way your eyes looked down timidly at his words.

He never held back from being vulgar around you, yet your reactions to his words never changed. You always seemed to be a bit pure, to put it lightly. Flinching when he’d talk about sex in general, as if you knew nothing about it when he knew you did. You had to, he was so sure of it seeing as you’d had a few boyfriends here and there.

“Do you… Would you ever… You know…” “What? Fuck a friend’s girlfriend?” You nodded at his interruption, feeling too awkward to say it out loud which made him chuckle lightly.

He swore up and down that it was frustrating talking to you when you’d act so reserved, but a part of it was endearing to him. It’s not like he wasn’t into women who knew what they wanted, in fact that’s normally what he went for, but something about the way you’d turn bright red and refuse to even say the word fuck made him more attracted. It wasn’t the challenging aspect that had him going crazy, simply the contrast between the cute way you’d act and the filthy way he wanted to have his way with you.

“Nah, recently I’ve not really been into that stuff anyway.” Lies. “Oh… That’s good cause me neither honestly.” Your eyes lit up as you related to his dishonest words. If only you knew how perverted his thoughts were, plagued with the vision of you.

The conversation strayed to another topic quickly, thanks to your insistence on moving on, when you yawned lightly. He could tell you were tired, your eyelids heavy and your voice a little muffled. Donghyuck had to fight back a smile as you tried your best to converse with him when it was clear that you were minutes away from passing out. “Let’s get ready and go to sleep, baby.” You blushed, being caught red-handed in your attempt to hide your fatigue, yet you had to fight off butterflies fluttering in your stomach at his observant behavior. He always knew how you felt, and always did his best to make you happy.

You nodded at his words, putting all your energy into standing up and stumbling into his bathroom to brush your teeth. He stood up behind you, placing a hand on your waist nonchalantly to help you carry yourself out of his room.

Once you both stood in the bathroom, you felt a bit more awake. Maybe it was the strong minty scent of the toothpaste, or maybe it was the way Donghyuck still hadn’t let go of your waist, holding you from behind and placing his head on your shoulder to watch you through the mirror. The scene was a bit domestic, a little fantasy that he’d play every time you’d stay over, wanting to believe one day you’d be so close that this would become a nightly routine.

You blushed at his intense gaze, not once leaving you, even as you insisted he had to brush his teeth and do skincare too. He obliged, nodding his head yet continuing to stand behind you. “C’mon Hyuck,” you passed him his toothbrush, yet he simply nudged his head into your neck further. You didn’t notice the way he lightly inhaled your scent before moving his head back, opening his mouth to bare you his teeth. “You do it.” He responded mumbly, holding eye contact with you through the mirror.

Huffing yet obliging, you turned around, now met face to face with him a little bit too close for comfort. You tried to step back, yet he followed you until your back was pressed against the bathroom counter. Rolling your eyes at his antics, you brought the toothbrush up to his teeth, slowly brushing them until he moved away for a split second, spitting the toothpaste into the sink.

You thought you both were finally done, getting ready to put the brush down yet he shook his head, opening his mouth once more when he returned to his position in front of you, sticking his tongue out. “Ewww Hyuck, you do that part yourself.” You giggled, and he giggled too, running after you with his mouth still open as you ran away into his bedroom.

When Donghyuck finally caught up to you, you were close enough to his bed that he simply rushed at you, pushing you onto the mattress and falling on top of you. You laughed a bit more, the smile on your face making him do the same, yet the atmosphere began to change the longer he hovered over you on the bed. His teasing smile shifted into something different, more desperate and longing, and for the first time in a while, you actually caught it.

He chose to lean into you slightly, pushing his body onto yours yet you squirmed away at the contact, suddenly awkward with the tension that had arisen. “Let’s watch something!” You interrupted, moving under him until you were at his side. You chose to ignore the annoyed huff that he released as he begrudgingly moved until he was laying on his back next to you.

Nodding, Donghyuck picked up the remote on his nightstand, turning his TV on and putting a random movie on. You became immersed in the film, watching with wide eyes yet his were locked on you – your face, your cute pajamas, the way your chest rose lightly every time you’d breathe. He was getting tired of waiting.

He knew you could feel it too, the way you looked at him when he was on top of you was enough of an indicator that you needed him too. Maybe not to the same extent as he did, but there had to be a shared feeling. If not, then you wouldn’t be laying next to him looking so pretty in your tiny sleep dress.

After the movie ended, you were tired again. He still wasn’t, being able to spend hours looking at you.

You turned over, your eyes dazed and your mouth open as you yawned. “Hyuck, are you sleepy?” Your drowsy voice was so sweet, pulling him out of any frustration he was feeling earlier on when you rejected his advances. “Mmm, kinda. Not really though.” You frowned at his response, not wanting to sleep if it meant he’d have to stay up alone. “I’ll stay up with you.” You announced, sitting up as if that would make the fatigue go away.

He laughed at your antics, sitting up too. “Don’t worry baby, you can sleep.” “Not if you won’t though.” He hummed, deep in thought before looking back at you. The bright screen of the television was the only thing lighting the room up, glowing on you. You looked so pretty and he couldn’t fight it anymore.

“Actually… There’s something we could do that would make us both sleepy.” Donghyuck’s words were hesitant, fearing you’d sense what he was hinting at and immediately decline, yet you didn’t, lighting up instead and urging him to go on.

“I… Well you know how earlier I said I haven’t really been into those… things lately?” You appeared to be in thought, reminiscing your old conversation and what he was referring to. The blush that overtook your face was enough to indicate that you finally remembered. You nodded slightly, looking anywhere but him.

“Umm, well sometimes, when I want to sleep, it helps to… Y’know,” he gauged your reaction, seeing you nod with the same look on your face, “Just like… touch myself a little bit.” The way your breath hitched in your throat didn’t go unnoticed, and he squinted his eyes in fear that he had finally crossed a boundary he didn’t know existed and you would leave, yet you simply nodded again. “It-it makes sense. I mean, I don’t really do that but like… I could understand why-” You began to ramble, easing his worries and replacing them with a small chuckle as he listened to you try to defend him.

“You don’t think I’m perverted?” “Hyuck, I never would. Well maybe if you were like really creepy but you’re a normal amount…” He laughed again at your choice of words, and when you finally realized you had unconsciously called him a bit creepy, you began to spew out apologies, insisting it’s not what you meant. “I just- I mean like, like I see worse and like-” Your words were cut off when Donghyuck finally found the courage to lean in, pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes were wide open in shock, contrasting his that were shut closed, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer into him. It took you a while to react, not expecting him to actually kiss you, yet once the initial surprise surpassed you, you shyly kissed him back.

You could feel his lips curl into a smile at your reciprocation, his hands now fully digging into your hips. His actions were much more passionate than yours, licking your lips and biting them sore while you tried your best to keep up with his pace. Finally he pulled away for a second to breathe, “Baby, have you…” He tried to find a way to ask his question without embarrassing you, “have you ever kissed someone before?” His caution was no use as you curled into yourself, your lips trembling slightly at the painfully accurate accusation. “No… I’m sorry, I- my ex always wanted to but it didn’t feel right and-” He cut you off once more, continuing to smile into the kiss. This time he moved one of his hands to the back of your head, pushing you into him while the other went under your chin, pressing your cheeks lightly to encourage you to move more comfortably against his mouth.

It was safe to say Donghyuck was overjoyed when he found out you hadn’t kissed anyone, meaning you probably hadn’t gone further either. It wasn’t an issue of your virginity, the male being progressive enough to not ever care about something like that. The appeal was more so in the fact that you were trying your best to match his actions although you were inexperienced yourself. It was cute to see you as desperate as him, after years of doubting you felt even close to the same as he did.

Your eagerness shined through the way you hesitantly bit his lip too, causing him to moan into your mouth, a noise you hadn’t heard before yet really liked for some reason. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered harder, an ache further below forming as he whined when you finally opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to slip past and tangle with your own.

Although you had never done this with anyone else, you found out quickly that you really enjoyed the feeling of kissing someone. Maybe it was the safety you felt in his arms, or maybe it was the way his hand behind your head grazed down until he was holding onto your thigh tenderly.

Donghyuck’s grip on your thigh grew as his tongue moved around yours, lapping at the shared saliva that dripped down your lip. Before either of you knew, not letting your mouths disconnect, both his hands wrapped around your legs, pulling you until you were straddling him. The new position made you whine, feeling his erection growing harder through the flimsy fabric of his sweatpants. His hands pushed you against him, mouth abusing yours as he thrusted up into you messily.

Having not been on someone’s lap before in a sexual context, the unfamiliar feeling was worsening the ache you felt in your core. You pulled away, biting your lip to shield your frustration as you looked below to where you were hovering over him. He gripped your hips, pulling you down until you were fully planted on him, your embarrassment taking over and making you look away. Donghyuck chased after you, not wanting to end the kiss, yet he was interrupted by one of your hands that shyly inched towards the front of your panties. You weren’t sure why, but the pain was getting worse the more you kissed and the only relief you felt was when your fingers would graze your covered slit.

Convinced he was in a wet dream or a weird fantasy of his, he groaned at your actions. “Fuck, baby. Does it hurt there?” You nodded, small tears catching on your cheeks as the feeling continued to intensify. One of his hands slipped from your hips, enveloping yours and moving it back to your position as you tried to flinch away from the contact.

He leaned back on his headboard, allowing for a better view as his hand guided your own against your clothed cunt. “You ever touch yourself like this?” You shook your head, “Answer with words, baby.” “Umm… No… I tried but, it never feels good.” You were clearly embarrassed, yet not enough to pull your hand away as he pushed three of your fingers down, holding onto your ring and middle finger and pressing down against your clit.

You jolted when he began to move your fingers, circling them against the fabric. The feeling was a lot better when he guided you, pulling out whines and noises you never knew you could make. “‘Gonna feel so much better without,” his hand let go of yours, slipping under the band of your panties and pulling them up until they snapped back onto your skin, “these in the way.” His breath was ragged, his length now almost fully hard as you nodded at his words.

Noting how you agreed yet did nothing to follow his advice, he chose to do so himself, one arm on your waist holding you up as the other pulled them off agonizingly slowly until you were bare under your nightgown. He whined loudly at the view of your bare cunt sitting on top of his pants, your wet arousal leaking and leaving a small stain. He’s sure he’d be unable to wash it off after, probably framing the clothing on his wall instead.

Your eyes were shut closed, your head falling onto his shoulder as he got ahold of your fingers again, moving them against your clit. The feeling was more intense now with no barrier, and you’d shiver and cry out occasionally when the cold ring he wore would graze against your cunt as he’d move your digits to relieve your pain.

Donghyuck couldn’t hold back anymore, a particularly loud moan from you forcing him to let go of your hand and carry your body until you were under him instead. He moved back after placing your lying body on his bed, his lower body now hovering off of his bed as he watched you through his messy bangs. “Baby, I… I know it might be embarrassing but… Can I watch you touch yourself?” The question made you squint your eyes – he was right, it was embarrassing.

“But I don’t know how-” “It’s okay, just do what I taught you, okay? Start here,” he lightly grazed your clit with his hand, “and circle it a bit.” You sat up slightly so you were on your knees, hesitantly inching your hand under your dress. Your other hand hooked onto the edge of it, pulling the fabric up and displaying your bare self to him, making him muffle a moan.

“Fuck, your little pussy is so cute, baby. Please… Touch it. Just how Hyuck taught you.” You nodded, flinching when your fingers finally found the bundle of nerves, moving back and forth. His gaze was so intense, barely even blinking out of fear that he’d miss any second of this.

Without realizing, he began to grind against the mattress as your actions grew more confident. Both your moans echoed through the room as your hand moved over your dress to squeeze your chest. The way your nipples hardened made Donghyuck wish he was the one touching you instead, yet the sight of you falling apart as you groped yourself, your fingers on your clit moving down until they were caressing your slit, was more than enough for him to get off.

You let out a loud whine when your finger finally fit itself into your hole, clenching harshly at the feeling of the intrusion. You had never done this before, yet for some reason it felt so good. Donghyuck was getting closer by the second, crying out when he saw you finger yourself. He shook his head, deciding he had to be inside of you soon or he’d cum in his pants like a frustrated teenager.

You gasped in shock when you felt two hands grabbing your waist, pushing you down onto the mattress before he dived in, tongue covering your slit and lapping up the arousal you had let out. Two of his long fingers replaced yours, thrusting in and out at a more calculated rhythm than yourself. Your fingers, still coated in your own fluids, gripped onto his hair, “Hyuck… ‘So good, it’s so good…” You were babbling random praises at this point, too lost on the feeling of him sucking your clit into his mouth. He nodded in response, whimpering into you, the vibration of the noise adding to your pleasure.

His tongue strayed down to your slit, almost close enough to meet his fingers sloppily pistoning into you, his nose now rubbing your clit. “Your pussy tastes so good, fuck, could eat it forever.” His vulgar words made you blush, biting your lip harder as your hands pulled on the strands of his dark hair.

A particular thrust of his fingers, matched with the coldness of the ring inside of you and the grinding of his nose on your cunt was enough to make you reach your high, letting out a whine at the unfamiliar feeling of your own orgasm. Your body felt hot, your vision white and your core pulsing as Donghyuck continued his actions. He only stopped when you began to cry out from the overstimulation, licking all of your arousal before finally letting you go.

You were exhausted, your chest rising up slowly as you breathed in heavily, coming down from the feeling. Donghyuck gave you no time to rest though, as he quickly moved up until he was over you again, catching your lips with his, slipping his tongue in again.

You could taste yourself on him as he pushed himself eagerly on top of you, one of his elbows holding himself up as his other arm reached down to push off his pants. His bare cock sprung out as he kicked the pants off completely, straining against his stomach as he desperately pushed your dress off your head. You complied as much as you could, holding your arms up so he could take the fabric off in one go. His shirt was next, leaving you both bare.

You looked down at his length, suddenly feeling anxious. He was heavy, the tip red and leaking precum. If his two fingers were enough to stretch you out almost painfully, you wondered how he’d be able to fit his large size inside of you.

Sensing your anxiety, he drew comforting circles onto your hips. “I’ll go slow, baby. I promise.” You nodded, closing your eyes and letting him kiss you again to distract you from the pain as he eased himself in. He groaned into your mouth at the feeling of your tight walls clenching on him, slowly pushing in inch by inch until he bottomed out. The feeling of his pelvis rubbing against your clit made you clench harder, the friction helping with the pain of the unfamiliar intrusion.

His beginning thrusts were shallow, helping you get used to his size. His free hand moved up until it met your chest, gripping one of your boobs eagerly. Pulling away from the kiss, he sighed in pleasure as the steady rhythm grew stronger. “Need to feel your pretty tits in my mouth, please…” Your shyness was long gone as you were eager to agree, if the way your cunt tightened around his cock said anything. He smiled widely before placing kisses all the way down your collarbone, matching the pace with the jolts of his hips.

Once Donghyuck’s mouth found your boobs, he enveloped the one left alone by his hand, running his tongue over your nipple and humming at the feeling. He grew more desperate by the second, moving his hips faster as he became dazed by everything happening.

Your small moans matching his thrusts encouraged him to continue, making him alternate between slow and shallow ones, and long and deeper ones. As he moved in and out of you, the pain died out, still there but barely noticeable as you became engulfed in a desire to cum again.

Donghyuck mirrored your desperation, moaning against your sweaty skin, finding himself getting closer and closer. Your hand reached down to play with your clit, just how he taught you, adding more and more satisfaction. He felt pride swell in his chest when he noticed what you were doing. It took one particular thrust, matched with your own fingers rubbing against you and his tongue biting down on your nipple to make you cum.

The feeling was more extreme this time, added with the force of his cock filling you so deep, as you finally let go. Your toes curled, your hands letting go of his hair to find his back, scratching along his skin as you tried to flee from the overwhelming feeling. He didn’t let you get away so easily though, releasing your nipple he was playing with to hold onto your hips, grounding you against the bed as he continued to push into you, searching for his own release.

You could feel every vein running up his length as your eyes shut closed, digging your nails deeper into his back. The pain he felt mixed with the pleasure of your tight cunt finally made him reach his high too, cumming inside of you with a loud whimper of your name.

He continued to rut his dick into you, not wanting to stop feeling the intense thrill of your body. Overstimulating both himself and you at the same time, he only stopped once he began to cry from the mixed pain.

You both stayed in the same position for a minute, catching your breath before he finally pulled out, his cum spilling out from you and staining his sheets. It was then that the insecurities began to plague Donghyuck’s mind. Sure, you were obviously into everything that had played out, but what if you decided you didn’t want to be close with him anymore? What if things become awkward after, and you wouldn’t spend the night anymore?

Looking at you with worry in his eyes, he felt at peace when your hands moved from his back to cup his cheeks endearingly, pulling him down into another more gentle kiss. He hummed happily, holding you close. The position was intimate, hugging each other, your naked bodies shifting against each other.

You broke the silence after, sighing contently before looking directly into his eyes, “I… I’m still tired, Hyuck.” He laughed, rolling off onto his side and moving his arm so it’d tuck itself under your waist. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll clean you up.”

You smiled, nodding your head before closing your eyes. True to his words, Donghyuck stood up, going to grab a small wet towel and rid you of any sticky fluid left. Once he finally finished, he moved your body onto the side of the bed that didn’t have ruined sheets, slotting himself right next to you and falling asleep too.

a/n: inspired because i saw haechan live again and he looked so good ^_^ i hope u all enjoy

#nct x reader #nct #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan #haechan x reader #haechan smut #lee donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 1 month ago

Text

──── PRETTY PRIVILEGE . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka you're jake's pretty, and he'll always give you pretty (princess) privilege.

── sim jaeyun xf!reader ౨ৎ wc. 981 ⌗ crack, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption, literally just crack, jake loves to spoil yn ugh when is it my turn

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── this one's a cutesy, short & sweet one! just a lil slice of life for ya. i love these little slices of life of jakeyn, pls give me more ideas/scenarios because they're my literal babies im never letting them go ever ever ever ever ever ever

You wake up feeling like death incarnate.

Your skull is throbbing. Your throat is dry. Your stomach is playing a dangerous game of will I or won’t I hurl all over my sheets?

The sunshine slipping through your curtains feel personally offensive to your eyes, and worst of all—

Your memory is vaguely plagued with Jungwon’s voice yelling at you to take just one more shot, because it’s in the name of lifelong friendship.

And you, the absolute genius you are, agreed.

Your life is in shambles.

You’re one second away from giving up on your future and letting the bed consume you when—

“Morning, pretty.”

The voice is soft. Sweet. Familiar.

And infuriatingly cheerful.

You groan, cracking one eye open to see your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed close to you, smiling down at you like he woke up next to Sleeping Beauty herself and not a half-dead raccoon.

“Ew,” you croak, “Why do you sound so alive.”

Jake chuckles, bright and so boyish, entirely too entertained the suffering of your consequences, “Because I wasn’t the one peer pressured into drinking my body weight in tequila.”

You let out a dramatic groan, flipping your body face-first into your pillow, “This is why I have trust issues. Never speaking to Jungwon ever again. Ever.”

“Mmhm. Sure you aren’t,” Jake hums, poking your cheek. “Anyway. Sit up.”

You let out a long whine into your pillow, kicking your feet in protest, “Whyyyyy—”

“Because I made you breakfast.”

Your head jerks up from the pillow.

You crack one eye open.

And sure enough, right there on your nightstand—

An entire set up you didn’t notice before.

A perfect omelette—with cheese and onions and ham and slightly overcooked because Jake knows you won’t have it any other way.

Next to it, a small bowl of chopped fruit, a glass of ice water, two painkillers, and—

“Pause. Is that my iced peach latte?”

“Yup,” Jake smiles proudly, nodding as he reaches over to pass the cup to you, “70% sugar. Less ice. I bribed the barista with a 20% tip to give me a plastic straw because I know you hate the paper ones.”

You take a slow sip. Let it sink in. Then you look back at him.

“God, I love you.”

Jake watches as you flop dramatically onto your stomach again, blindly reaching out to grab a strawberry…and miserably failing.

“Baby, just sit up,” he lets out a laugh, guiding you upright with his annoyingly gentle hands, fluffing your pillow behind you to lean against the headboard. “Much better.”

You sigh, leaning against the headboard, melting into the comfort of your bed as he tucks the blanket perfectly around your legs, “I don’t deserve this.”

Jake snorts, leaning in to place a soft kiss to your temple, “You deserve everything.”

Once you’re settled in your place, you look down and—

Wait.

You blink.

Once. Then twice.

Your (read: Jake’s) favorite hoodie is draped over your body instead of last night’s party dress. Your hands reach up to your face and—it’s clean. Your makeup is already off. And your hair? Well, god forbid it’s still messy after your slumber, but it’s not a bird’s nest. Which means—

“Did you…like. Take care of me last night?”

Jake lets out a chuckle as he feeds you a piece of omelette, “What else am I supposed to do? Let you drool all over your pillow with mascara smudged up to your forehead?”

You choke on the mouthful of food, “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, oh my god is right—” Jake just snickers, remembering the vivid memories from the night before. “You’re lucky I love you, because last night you were literally the most annoying drunk in existence—”

“HEY—”

“—you made Sunghoon hold your heels while you piggybacked Jay—”

“Oh, that’s actually kinda funny—”

“—then you cried because you saw a billboard of a puppy adoption center and wanted to pet the dog on the poster—”

“...Okay, fine, that one sounds accurate—”

“—and then, my personal favorite, you demanded I play with your hair and sing you songs until you fell asleep.”

You pause.

Jake is full-on grinning now, smile wide and full of endearment as he’s clearly reveling in the way your cheeks turn pink.

“I hate you,” you mumble before opening your mouth to let him feed you another bite.

Jake chuckles, feeding you another spoon before nudging you over so he can slide under the blanket next to you, “You love me.”

You huff dramatically, your cheeks warm as you drop your head onto his shoulder, “Unfortunately.”

Jake presses another kiss into your hair—warm and soft and so, so clearly smitten.

“And fortunately for you, I accept all forms of Y/N, including this spoiled gremlin princess version of you.”

You roll your eyes, but cuddle in closer, his arm wrapping around your waist naturally.

He grabs another strawberry and lifts it to your lips, “Say ahh.”

You snort, but open up anyways, accepting it at this point.

“I should drink more often if this is the treatment I get.”

Jake faces you with a look of fond exasperation, “You mean the pretty privilege?”

“Yup,” you flash him a smug grin, nudging his shoulder. “You’re really gonna let me get away with everything forever because I’m cute, huh?”

“Yes,” he says. Instantly. Without blinking.

“Even when I cry over billboard dogs?”

“Especially when you cry over billboard dogs.”

You grin wider.

“Sounds like a you problem. I almost feel sorry.”

Jake smirks, cutting another bite and feeding it to you, “Sounds like a me win.”

And honestly?

With him holding you close, spoon-feeding your breakfast, brushing your hair out of your face—

You’d believe it too.

Because, maybe your hangover is hell.

And maybe you’ll never speak to Jungwon ever again.

But being Jake’s spoiled little gremlin princess?

Yeah.

That’s definitely your prettiest privilege.

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tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

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hyuckiefluff · 2 months ago

Text

casual | mark lee

pairing: idol! mark lee x waitress! fem. reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers wc: 8k summary: you wouldn’t normally fall for a guy who left his number on a dinner bill. too bad that guy was mark fucking lee. content warnings: slightly suggestive content (making out), light cursing, food mentioned, parasocial themes, reader works a service job, a very overworked mark lee :(. no explicit smut in this part. a/n: hiii before anyone yells at me—yes, i know this isn’t the haechan fic i’m supposed to be working on (promise i’m still on it!!) but listen… i went to the smtown concert last week and it fully reignited my delusions, so i wrote this as a coping mechanism :P ik we’ve all been out with friends maybe at a restaurant, and thought, “what if my bias walked in right now?” right?? that’s basically the entire premise of this fic. pretty unrealistic but super fun to write & i hope it’s just as fun to read! also no smut… yall know what that means lol if you want a part 2... just say the word. ps: if you’re ever at an italian restaurant, do yourself a favor and get the gnocchi. trust me.

READ PART 2 HERE

giving up your one free day to cover someone else’s shift wasn’t how you planned to spend saturday. but when your coworker begged with teary eyes and a story about her sick cat, saying no felt impossible.

so instead of sinking into your couch with a pint of chocolate ice cream and pride and prejudice on repeat, you were hustling through a saturday night at one of the city’s busiest restaurants.

it was hour six of your shift and you were at that breaking point where one starts fantasizing about quitting—or at least hiding in the walk-in freezer for five peaceful minutes.

any weekend here was a carnage with nonstop orders, zero patience, and customers who thought yelling would grill a steak faster.

but it was finally past eleven which meant the dinner rush had slowed and the only remaining stragglers were either couples too in love to notice the time or office workers too tired to cook at home. just two more hours, you thought to yourself.

“y/n! table four,” your coworker called, rushing past with a stack of empty plates.

you snapped out of your daze and walked over, expecting tired business executives or another couple feeding each other breadsticks. instead, you made eye contact with the two people you least expected to see here.

mark lee and johnny suh were looking right at you.

your heart dropped to your ass. for a second, you actually considered turning around. but even with your brain buffering, you knew you had to keep it together. the last thing you wanted was to make them uncomfortable.

you stopped beside their table, immediately recognizing the other two who had their backs to you as haechan and jungwoo. internally, you were combusting, but externally you prayed your expression didn’t scream that you were seconds from melting into the floor.

“hi, welcome to cecconi’s,” you said, voice steady enough despite your heart hammering your ribs.

when you handed over their menus, your fingers brushed mark’s briefly and you hoped he didn’t notice you flinch. that’s when you noticed the book peeking out of the front pocket of his hoodie.

you recognized the cover instantly— south of the border, west of the sun by murakami.

you cleared your throat, smiling before you could stop yourself. “that’s a good one.”

mark’s eyes followed where you were pointing and his eyebrows shoot up when he realized “wait… you’ve read this?”

you nodded, trying to be casual, as if you hadn’t picked that book apart alone on your bedroom floor at 2 a.m. two months ago. “i’ve read all of his stuff. but this one was a whole different experience.”

“i literally can’t put it down.” mark said, angling his body to yours with excitement. you could see he was tired but the small talk seemed to give him an energy boost.

“right? anything by murakami makes me feel like i’m eavesdropping on my own memories,” you said, mostly to yourself.

“that’s exactly it!” he said, eyes going wide. “i never knew how to put it into words before.” you had to look away before you got caught smiling at how boyish he looked when he got excited.

the other members stared with amused expressions on their faces, so you quickly straightened up and went back into server mode.

“right… uhm, our special tonight is black truffle gnocchi in a garlic cream reduction, topped with parmesan and chive oil. would you like something to drink while you look over the menu?”

“what kind of beers do you have?” johnny asked, leaning back in his seat.

you rattled off the list, stepping in to point them out on the menu. your hand was visibly shaking, but you hoped they’d chalk it up to general social awkwardness and not the fact that your four favorite idols were sitting in front of you.

“just water for me,” mark said softly. despite his smile, you could clearly hear how strained his voice was.

“great, i’ll bring those right out.”

they must’ve come straight from the venue. tonight’s show—the very one you’d missed because of this shift—had ended less than two hours ago. and now they were here, in your section, eating dinner.

you walked to the bar, filled the glasses as requested except for mark’s. for him, you brewed a mug of hot water, dropped in a slice of lemon, a swirl of honey, and a small nub of ginger. it wasn’t even on the menu but something about his tired eyes and strained voice made you move on instinct.

you brought the tray back with all the drinks, placing them down carefully. when you reached mark, you set the mug in front of him.

“i hope this is okay,” you said quietly. “honey-ginger tea. it’s good for your throat.”

mark blinked, taken off guard. “oh… thank you.” he looked down at the mug, then back up at you. “seriously. that’s really thoughtful.”

you just smiled, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “are you guys ready to order?”

they each placed their orders, nothing too extravagant. jungwoo wanted pasta, johnny asked for a steak medium rare, and haechan—after a dramatic five minute debate with himself—settled on the truffle gnocchi. mark went last.

“can i get the steak medium rare? and the mashed potatoes instead of the fries, if that’s okay,” he asked, glancing up again, voice still carrying that soft exhaustion.

“of course,” you said, jotting it down. “i’ll get those in for you.”

you dropped the order slip at the kitchen window, still feeling weirdly out of sync with your body. it didn’t help that you had to keep circling their table to serve other guests. table five had just ordered dessert, the group behind them needed their wine refilled, and your feet barely touched the floor before you were moving again.

still, awareness prickled at the back of your neck whenever you passed their table.

you turned your head slightly, pretending to scan the room. mark was looking right at you but quickly glanced away, suddenly very invested in the tea in front of him.

you hesitated. maybe they needed something?

smoothing your apron, you walked back to their table. your heart thudded way harder than it needed to, but you managed a smile.

“everything okay here?” you asked.

mark cleared his throat, shaking his head as a faint flush crept up his neck. “we’re good. thanks, though.”

johnny’s lips twitched, and haechan was very clearly hiding a smirk behind his glass.

you smiled again, warmth rising in your chest at how shy he looked. “no worries. food should be out soon.”

back behind the bar, you tried to focus. really, you did. but your eyes kept drifting back to their table. thankfully, they seemed too wrapped up in their conversation to notice. every now and then, though, mark’s gaze would flicker your way.

he’s probably just zoning out, you told yourself. or exhausted, probably both. don’t be weird about it.

still… he kept looking. did you have something on your face? was it obvious you recognized them? god, what if he thought the tea was too much?

you groaned softly and buried your face in your hands when no one was looking.

pull it together, y/n. finish the shift. freak out later.

they are pretty quickly and eventually, their table quieted down. it was past midnight now, and the restaurant was finally starting to shut down. you printed their bill, then hesitated, chewing your lip as your pulse ticked higher.

should i?

this was your shot. it was maybe a little silly and borderline embarrassing, but if you didn’t say something now, you’d regret it forever.

before you could second-guess yourself any more, you scribbled a note at the bottom of the receipt:

"hii, hope this isn’t weird but i’m a really big fan. you’re amazing and i hope you enjoyed your meal and that the tea helped. get some rest tonight! :)"

you took a breath, walked back over, and placed it gently in the center of the table.

“here’s your bill,” you said quietly. “no rush, of course.”

mark looked up first. the smile he gave you was a little tired, but genuine.

“thank you,” he said warmly.

you nodded and stepped away, legs wobbling slightly as you disappeared into the back.

it’s done, you told yourself. no going back now.

as you busied yourself cleaning other tables, you watched from the corner of your eye as they got up. haechan said something that made mark laugh quietly, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made your stomach flutter helplessly.

then they were gone.

you waited a few extra minutes before heading over just to be sure. as you cleared the plates, you reached for the bill with your heart already racing, though you told yourself not to expect anything.

but when you opened the leather folder, your breath hitched.

they’d left a generous tip—but that wasn’t what caught your eye. there was something written under your message, a response scribbled quickly in neat handwriting:

"thanks for taking care of us tonight. especially the tea! :)"

followed by a number.

your heart kicked so hard you had to brace a hand on the table edge. there was no name at all, just the number. the ink looked a little smudged near the dash like whoever wrote it had closed the presenter in a hurry.

holy shit.

͏͏͏𝄞͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏♥︎̼

it was past one when you finally made it home, hair smelling like garlic butter and burnt steak. the city lay quiet, your apartment even quieter, yet your brain refused to join the calm.

with a tired sigh, you tossed your bag onto the couch and collapsed beside it, fingers still gripping the bill tightly.

you’d reread the message ten times already. the ink was even more smudged now from your fingers, but the number was still clear.

you exhaled loudly, then groaned into a throw pillow.

“what the hell is happening.”

it had to be mark. right? it felt obvious.

then again, maybe another member had simply appreciated the gesture and thanked you on behalf of mark. after all, their handwriting wasn't exactly familiar. you’d seen them a few times on signed albums or online fan letters, but not enough to be certain.

suddenly determined, you sat upright, snapped a quick photo, and zoomed in immediately.

“this is insane,” you muttered.

but that didn’t stop you from opening a tab to search: mark lee handwriting.

this wasn’t your best moment. you were tired, emotionally compromised, and clearly spiraling. still you opened a second tab and went deeper until you were staring at stan twitter handwriting threads for half an hour.

after many more side-by-sides, you sat back and stared at the screen like it could confess to you.

“it looks like his,” you whispered.

just text him. what's the worst that could happen?

the thought alone conjured every embarrassing scenario possible and made you nearly throw your phone across the room. how would you even start that conversation?

“hi, is this mark lee from nct? because i’m lowkey in love with you and i really hope you're the one who left your number at my workplace tonight?”

your heart nearly stopped at the thought. you glanced at the clock again—2:17 a.m.

yeah. no. you needed to lie down. you’d sleep on it. calm down a bit and gain some perspective.

but three days passed.

three whole days. that’s how long you spent agonizing over a single text. you'd written and deleted at least twenty drafts—too casual, too eager, too weird. one even included a joke you cringed at the second you typed it, and deleted just as fast.

he’s probably already back in korea, you reminded yourself while folding napkins at the restaurant on tuesday. fan accounts had posted airport photos before you even got out of bed. mark in a beanie and headphones, eyes puffy with exhaustion.

two more days passed. eventually, courage outweighed dread.

on thursday night, curled up in your pajamas, you stared at the too-bright glow of your phone while netflix asked if you were still watching. just do it, you told yourself. again.

you opened a new message. typed. erased. retyped. your pulse pounded, drowning out mr. darcy’s proposal in the background.

hi! this is y/n, the server from cecconi’s last saturday night. i know you’re probably crazy busy, but i just wanted to say thanks again for coming in. hope you’re resting well :)

it was friendly and not too over the top… right?

you hit send and immediately shoved the phone under your blanket, like that could somehow shield you from the rejection.

an hour passed, then three more, and nothing. you forced yourself to sleep, pretending the tight knot in your chest wasn’t disappointment. the next morning, you checked your phone before even opening both eyes.

still nothing. not even a read receipt.

it’s fine. they were idols. they were busy. you’d waited too long anyway. the group was back in rehearsals, buried in schedules. who had time to answer a text from a random server in another country?

another day passed with no reply. you tried to talk yourself down. maybe it wasn’t even his number. maybe it was a manager’s. maybe his phone was off. maybe international sims are weird. maybe—

“why did you wait so long,” you muttered into the couch, face buried in a pillow.

you were just about ready to let it go when your phone buzzed softly against the coffee table.

your heart nearly launched itself out of your chest. you scrambled for it, almost knocking over the entire table in the process.

a new message.

sorry!! things got crazy once we got back to korea. i’m really glad you texted though. and we’re resting (sort of haha). it’s mark btw :)

you stared at the screen.

read it. then read it again. and again.

warmth flooded your chest. you'd been right.

it was him.

your thumb hovered over the keyboard, brain scrambling for something to say. but for the first time in days, all you could do was smile.

you hadn’t realized how easily a single text could flip your whole mood until he replied. you must’ve read that message ten times before you even responded.

somehow, the conversation flowed naturally from there.

it started with casual back-and-forths. he’d talk about the tour, and you about your shifts. it quickly turned more personal though like blurry late-night snack pics from his studio, or mirror selfies of your server fits before dinner rushes.

none of it felt forced. but still… what was this?

you’d be wiping down table six or pulling espresso shots for a regular who never tipped, and suddenly your phone would buzz with a text message.

mark: can’t believe you’ve never seen inception…

you: maybe i was busy having friends

he sent back a string of laughing emojis and a photo of his laptop playing it.

mark: you’re watching it with me next time. no excuses.

next time.

you didn’t know what that meant, but it echoed in your head for the rest of the shift.

by the second week, it wasn’t just texts.

sometimes he’d call when your time zones aligned, and you were both free. once while you were folding laundry. another while he walked home from the studio, breath fogging the cold air as he complained about his busted heater.

“i feel like an old man,” he said once, voice scratchy. “my knees hurt”

“you’re twenty-five.”

“and breaking down.”

you laughed until your stomach hurt. he was quiet for a second, then said, “i like your laugh.”

you had to grip the edge of the counter to stay upright.

a month later came the first video call.

it was early morning. you were still half-asleep, texting with one eye open, when your screen lit up with a facetime request. you froze.

no makeup. puffy eyes. pimple cream still on your chin. but your fingers accepted the call before your brain could stop you.

he was lying down, hoodie half over his face.

“oh thank god,” he mumbled. “i thought you weren’t gonna pick up.”

“i almost didn’t,” you laughed, pulling the covers up to hide half your face. “you caught me in a vulnerable state.”

his eyes crinkled. “you look cute.”

you didn’t know what to say to that, so you just tucked your face further into the blanket.

after a few hours, the call fell into a comfortable silence, his eyes starting to flutter shut as you both lay in your respective beds.

you should’ve hung up, but you didn’t. you just stayed on the call, watching him sleep.

video calls became routine after that.

at first, they were short—ten, maybe fifteen minutes. he’d call after practice, his hair a mess, face still damp with sweat. the phone would be propped against his water bottle as he peeled off his hoodie and complained about sore calves.

but the calls started stretching longer. sometimes he was lying on a hotel bed, cheek pressed into the pillow, telling you about his comeback preparations. other times, he wandered through whatever city he was in, showing you the neon signs, quiet side streets, and cafés tucked into corners no tourist would ever find.

“i’ll take you here one day,” he said once, camera panning to a ramen shop. “i mean… if you ever visit.”

you didn’t answer right away. just smiled and pretended the idea didn’t stick in your chest like a pebble you couldn’t shake loose.

you started saving little things throughout the day just to tell him later. customer stories, songs that reminded you of him, strange headlines you knew would make him laugh. without realizing it, your brain made notes labeled tell mark this later.

he did the same. he sent you photos of whatever snack he was eating on set, told you about a dream where you both worked in a space bakery, asked what you thought of new songs he was writing. he never sent full demos, just a few seconds here and there—but it still felt intimate.

you started noticing things you hadn’t, even after all your years as a fan. how he bit the soft skin of his knuckles when he was anxious or the fact that he brushed his teeth for 6 minutes (yes, you counted).

neither of you brought up what this was. and maybe that was okay.

still, on some nights, you’d wonder does he text other people like this? has he done this before, video calls, sleepy laughter and quietly sharing his day?

you never asked.

you didn’t want to ruin the quiet magic of it all by needing too much too soon.

͏͏͏𝄞͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏♥︎̼

mark eased you into his life bit by bit.

on a random thursday night, you were sprawled on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through tiktok when your phone buzzed. you smiled automatically when you saw his name and hit accept.

but it wasn’t him when the call connected.

“yo! she’s real!” johnny’s voice boomed through the speaker, far too loud and way too amused.

you blinked. “wait—what?”

the screen shook as mark scrambled to get the phone back. “okay, okay, stop—hyung, give it back!”

“nice to meet you,” jungwoo added brightly in the background. “finally!”

haechan’s face popped into view next. he hovered close to the camera, flashing a crooked grin. “she’s the one, right? the reason he’s always giggling at his phone like a loser.”

they were all speaking in korean, except for johnny—who made sure you caught the gist. you weren’t fluent, but you knew enough to piece it together. their tone said a lot, anyway.

“what did he say?” you asked, laughing nervously.

johnny leaned in. “he said mark’s obsessed with you.”

mark groaned in the background. “don’t translate that.”

“he talks about you,” haechan added in english, still half-hiding behind jungwoo but clearly enjoying himself. “all. the. time.”

you stared at the screen, wide-eyed, face already burning. “oh god—wait, we just—”

“aigoo, she’s cute,” jungwoo said with a grin, nudging haechan’s shoulder. “mark, you’re done for.”

mark finally got his phone back, his flushed face filling the screen. he was breathless from laughing.

“i’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “that was… i didn’t mean for that to happen.”

you were still blushing but grinning too. “so you talk about me all the time?”

he covered his face with one hand. “please. don’t start, they won’t let me live this down”

after that night, it became a running thing. sometimes you’d call just to talk to mark and end up ambushed by his members. taeyong once popped into frame with a plate of fruit, offering you a piece through the screen like you could actually take it. “for energy,” he said in halting English, then smiled and wandered off.

chenle appeared a few times asking random questions as if you’d been friends forever, one time he asked “do you like mark as much as he likes you?”

you sputtered something while mark tried (and failed) to shut him up.

renjun showed up once too, squinting at the screen. “so this is the girl,” he said, then walked off dramatically without another word.

it was chaotic, awkward, and constantly embarrassing but it also made your chest ache in the best way. knowing you weren’t some secret he was hiding. you were someone he wanted them to know.

and then one night, a few weeks later, mark called with a different kind of energy.

“guess what?” he said, barely able to sit still.

you blinked at him through the screen. “what?”

“we’re going to the US,” he grinned, and your heart nearly stopped.

“wait, seriously?”

“yeah, for a festival. just one weekend, but i’ll have a couple free days before the flight out. i—” he paused, scratching the back of his neck. “i was really hoping i could see you.”

you stared at him, stunned for a second.

“you want to see me?” you asked softly.

“yeah,” he said immediately. “i mean, only if you want to, obviously. i just… i’ve been thinking about it for a while. texting and calling is great but,.. i kind of miss being in the same room as you.”

not just the same city, not just in passing. but in the same room with you.

you swallowed past the nerves bubbling up in your chest and nodded, trying to keep your voice steady.

“i want that too.”

͏͏͏𝄞͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏♥︎̼

you tried for tickets the second they went live.

you had alarms set, several tabs open, your card ready. but none of it mattered…

they sold out in minutes.

you stared at the screen in disbelief, refreshing the page over and over hoping the outcome would change. it didn’t. your chest tightened with each failed refresh.

you were so close. and now, you had no idea how to tell mark.

you waited a whole day, thinking they’d release more tickets, maybe someone would resell—but the prices were insane, triple what you could afford, and the longer you waited, the more hopeless it felt.

when he finally called you that night, you tried to act normal for about ten seconds before it all came spilling out.

“i didn’t get tickets,” you said, voice cracking before you could stop it. “they sold out so fast and now the only ones left are like impossible. and i know you’re going to be super busy and probably won’t be able to meet up anyway, but i was really looking forward to seeing you perform, and now i don’t even know if i’ll get to see you at all—”

“hey, hey, slow down.” mark’s voice was soft. “breathe, y/n.”

you inhaled shakily, pressing your forehead to your knee, curled up on the couch. “sorry. i just… i really wanted to be there.”

“i know,” he said gently. “and i want you there too.”

you went quiet, biting the inside of your cheek.

“but we’ll figure something out, okay?” mark continued. “don’t stress about it too much. just… trust me a little.”

“what do you mean…,” you said slowly, suspicion creeping in.

he chuckled. “nothing. just saying... maybe don’t give up hope yet.”

you narrowed your eyes at your phone. “you’re being cryptic.”

“am i?” he said, way too innocently.

you groaned into your pillow. “don’t do this to me.”

“i’m not doing anything,” he replied. “just... keep the day of the festival open, okay?”

you wanted to press him, but the look in his eyes was too confident. so you nodded slowly, heart still a little heavy but soothed by the warmth in his voice.

the day they landed in the US, you got the call while brushing your teeth.

your phone lit up with his name, and you answered with a mouthful of foam, spitting it out quickly as you mumbled, “hey, did you land?”

“we did,” mark said, voice laced with excitement. “and i have good news.”

“what?”

“a car’s going to pick you up the day of the show,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “my team helped sort it out. we wanted to make sure you’d be there.”

you blinked, wide-eyed, toothbrush still in hand. “wait what? you—what do you mean? mark—”

“you’re coming to the festival, y/n. you’re not missing this. not if i can help it.”

you clutched your phone, stunned into silence, overwhelmed by how much care he’d tucked into those few words.

“you didn’t have to—”

“i know,” he interrupted, voice softer now. “but i wanted to.”

͏͏͏𝄞͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏♥︎̼

you’d never felt more nervous getting ready for anything in your entire life. not for job interviews, not for first dates, not even for a final exam. nothing compared to the fluttering anxiety buzzing in your chest right now.

it was almost ridiculous how much effort you'd put in. your hair was carefully styled in waves that took you half an hour to do, your makeup was done and redone multiple times until you finally settled on something subtle but pretty. your outfit had taken ages to choose, you didn’t want to look too casual but also didn’t want to make it seem like you were trying too hard. so you settled for a regular black skirt and a white long sleeved top, it was comfortable but not boring. you wanted to look good, even though mark had already seen you at your most tired, sweaty, and disheveled.

the car arrived precisely at the time mark had promised. your heart jumped to your throat when the driver opened the door for you, offering a polite nod.

your hands trembled slightly in your lap the entire ride to the venue. you felt giddy, overwhelmed, and deeply nervous all at once.

but when you finally arrived, the excitement abruptly shifted into self-awareness. several staff members glanced at you warily, some whispering to each other and throwing quick looks your way. suddenly, you felt very out of place, shrinking slightly under their scrutinizing gazes.

“excuse me,” came a sharp voice behind you. you turned around to see a woman approaching, her expression serious, a clipboard held firmly in her hands. “you must be y/n?”

“yes,” you replied nervously.

“there are some documents you'll need to sign,” she informed you.

“documents? like—”

“standard NDAs, confidentiality agreements, liability waivers,” she cut in and handed you a clipboard, flipping briskly through pages filled with dense legal text. “you'll need to sign these before we move forward.”

you stood frozen for a moment, feeling incredibly naive and small as reality hit you like a slap to the face. you’d let yourself get carried away, almost forgetting who exactly mark was—who exactly these people were. they weren't just regular guys; they were idols, celebrities, people with management teams and carefully guarded images.

this was serious and you had somehow underestimated all of it.

the woman noticed your hesitation, her expression softening just a fraction. “it’s standard procedure,” she said, “mark personally asked us to ensure you’re comfortable, but we need to protect everyone involved.”

“okay,” you whispered shakily, taking the pen from her hand. your fingers felt numb as you signed, barely registering the words printed on the paper.

once the woman was satisfied, she took the clipboard back, nodded curtly, and gestured for you to follow her. your heart thundered in your chest as you walked through the busy hallway.

then she stopped in front of a dressing room door, knocking sharply once before opening it slightly. “mark? your guest is here.”

you held your breath as the door slowly swung open, your pulse so loud you could hardly hear anything else.

mark appeared in the doorway, eyes widening slightly as he took you in. suddenly, all the anxiety, paperwork, and awkwardness faded into the background. his expression softened immediately, that familiar warmth returning as his eyes crinkled in a gentl smile.

“hey,” he breathed softly, clearly just as relieved to see you as you were to see him. “you made it.”

mark steps fully into the hallway, blocking the view of the bustling green-room behind him. for half a beat you both just stare, soaking in the fact that you’re finally sharing the same oxygen again instead of pixels on a phone screen.

“wow…” he breathes, cheeks coloring as his eyes scan you. “you look so—” he catches himself, smiles sheepishly, and opens his arms. “can i?”

you nod before your brain supplies coherent language, letting him tug you forward. the hug is quick—he’s hyper-aware of everyone around you—but his hand stays at your elbow afterward, grounding you.

“sorry about the fuss,” he murmurs, voice pitched low so only you can hear.

“it’s okay… just a bit intense.”

“i know.” his thumb sweeps a tiny circle on your sleeve. “but you’re here now. c’mon, the guys are waiting.”

when you walk inside the room is buzzing with energy. there’s stylists zipping garment bags, a makeup artist following jungwoo around to touch up his lips, haechan drumming on a folding table with two half-empty water bottles. the second he spots you, his face splits into a grin.

“look who made it!” he crows, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “mark’s special guest.”

johnny swivels in a chair. “oh, the infamous y/n at last.” he stands, offering a hand that turns into a gentle half-hug when you take it. “nice seeing you again.”

jungwoo waves from a corner, cheeks puffed with gummy bears. “hi! mark’s talked a lot about you,” he says around the candy.

mark groans. “ignore them, they’ve been insufferable since i told them you were coming.”

“insufferable?” haechan clutches his chest theatrically. “hyung, we’re just supporting your relationship!”

you feel your face go nuclear. “it’s not— we’re just—”

“friends,” mark supplies, shooting haechan a warning glance. but the tips of his ears have gone pink, and the little smile tugging at his mouth totally betrays him.

johnny leans closer, whispering, “lies, he’s always grinnung at his phone like a middle schooler whenever you talk.”

you let out a mortified laugh that turns into a squeak when mark nudges johnny away. “we have to be on stage in ten minutes, maybe focus?”

jungwoo claps. “right! you can watch backstage with staff.”

an assistant appears then, handing mark an in-ear pack. he hesitates, then squeezes your hand once before following the others toward wardrobe.

“sorry i gotta get dressed,” he says over his shoulder, “see you in a bit.”

you exhale for the first time since stepping off the car, pulse finally settling as the door swings shut. you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, catching your reflection in a vanity mirror. your cheeks are flushed and there’s a stunned little smile on your lips.

the staff member that escorted you in approaches again, her expression now more polite but still distant as she walks you down a narrow hallway. “you’ll be watching from here,” she explains as you reach a curtained-off section just beside the stage entrance.

the space is just wide enough for a couple of folding chairs, and a monitor showing the stage feed. even through the curtain, you can hear the low rumble of the crowd growing louder by the second—cheers, screams, the crowd chanting “ilichil, we love you!”

you perch at the edge of a chair, feeling entirely out of place and wildly overwhelmed.

what am i even doing here?

this wasn’t some fantasy anymore. you weren’t watching fancams in your pajamas or whispering to your screen during late-night video calls. you were backstage, in their world, and everyone around you belonged to it except you.

you looked down at your outfit again, smoothing invisible wrinkles, suddenly doubting every choice you’d made that morning. your nails, your shoes, even the way you’d done your eyeliner. it all felt too much and not enough at the same time.

a soft noise pulls your attention back to the side curtain. one of the stylists slips through, handing off a mic pack to someone just outside your view. you recognize mark’s voice quickly.

he’s laughing at something jungwoo said, but even through the laughter you can hear the edge of nerves in his voice. it makes you feel… less alone in your own.

you peek around the edge of the curtain. they’re all gathered near the wings, adjusting their in-ears and bouncing on their heels to shake out last-minute jitters. mark’s back is turned at first, but then he glances over his shoulder almost like he can feel your eyes on him.

your breath catches when his gaze finds yours. through all the chaos and noise, his eyes meet yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

he doesn’t wave or call out—he just smiles.

he turns back as staff starts to guide them toward the entrance tunnel, and you’re left sitting there with your heart doing an unholy rhythm in your chest.

you hadn’t expected this, the building pressure in your chest, the way your emotions feel too big to hold.

but underneath all of it, layered between the nerves and the noise inside your own head, there’s a flicker of anticipation.

he’s just a few feet away now. he’s about to be on stage, doing what he was born to do, and you’ll be right here, watching not just as a fan anymore.

but as someone who matters to him.

the stage lights cut to black, and the low hum of the backing track pulses through the arena like a heartbeat. from your narrow perch in the wings you can feel the vibration under your soles, a physical reminder that this isn’t a dream.

a lone spotlight slices across the darkness—jungwoo steps into it, and the crowd erupts. the boys fan out behind him in practiced formation.

mark is near the center, head lowered, hand cupped over his earpiece as he settles into position. you’ve watched this opening on countless fancams, but up close everything is magnified: the hiss of their in-ears, the snap of jacket fabric when they turn, the ragged inhale before the first line.

johnny’s deep vocal rolls out, haechan answers with his bright harmony, and suddenly the whole place is singing along..

mark’s part hits next. he steps forward, eyes scanning the sea of faces before flicking to you. it’s only a second, a brush of attention so quick the crowd would never catch it, but it lands like a spark in your lungs. he grins, then pivots into choreography.

you never understood how performers could look both effortless and deadly focused until now. sweat beads at their hairlines within minutes, but they don’t miss a beat. haechan riffs a playful ad-lib, doyoung shoots him a mock glare, johnny laughs into his mic; the crowd screams, drunk on the interaction.

halfway through the set, they perform gold dust as a surprise, the stage lights go yellow. mark moves to the far edge closer to you and delivers his verse straight ahead. but on his last bar he tilts his head, eyes skimming the shadows where you’re standing. his voice drops into that warm, gritty register you know too well from late-night calls, and despite the roar of the arena the moment feels impossibly intimate.

you tuck your hands under your arms, trying to calm the goosebumps, but the sheer thrill of seeing him own that stage while still tossing these tiny pieces of himself your way is overwhelming.

the final song explodes in confetti cannons. the boys hit their last pose, breathing hard, grinning wide. the screams from the audience are deafening; even the backstage staff exchange awed looks.

mark bows with the others, shouting “thank you!” into his mic, but as they turn to exit he catches your gaze one more time. he taps two fingers against his chest, then points subtly toward the hallway where you’re waiting and mouths the words stay right there, i’ll find you.

and you waited exactly where he told you to.

or… at least tried to.

but the moment the boys disappeared off stage, chaos swallowed everything whole. several stagehands rushed past with crates, wires and gear flying in every direction, staff barking orders into walkies while backup dancers and security weaved in and out of the narrow corridors.

you stepped back into the corner, trying not to get trampled, but every second you waited the crowd thickened, people shouting over each other, crew passing by so quickly that you were bumped into more than once. you caught glimpses of the members being swept off into different directions—haechan laughing breathlessly with a towel around his neck, johnny taking a water bottle from someone. but there was no sight of mark.

“you can’t stand here,” someone snaps, grabbing your elbow and steering you quickly away. “please, move along.”

“wait, i was supposed to—” you start, but your protest drowns in the noise as you’re guided through the maze of corridors.

you glance over your shoulder anxiously, panic rising in your throat. mark said he’d find you but you don’t even know where you’re going.

the staff member stops abruptly near a back exit, where a van is parked outside the open door. he gestures hurriedly. “wait in there, please. someone will be with you shortly.”

before you can question it, he’s already vanished back into the building. hesitantly, you climb into the empty van, settling awkwardly on the leather seat. not even a minute later your phone buzzes with a text from mark.

mark: where are you??? backstage is insane, i can’t find you.

you quickly reply: someone moved me to a van near the back entrance?

your heart pounds as minutes stretch into eternity and doubt starts gnawing at you—they will probably film some behind the scenes content now, interviews, livestreams, what if he doesn’t have time to find you before he’s sent away?

but just as anxiety peaks, the van door suddenly slides open. your eyes widen as mark appears, breathing heavily like he ran to reach you, his stage makeup slightly smudged, hair damp and tousled from the performance. he sighs in relief, shoulders visibly relaxing the second he sees you.

“oh, thank god,” he breathes, climbing quickly into the van and closing the door behind him. “i was so worried. everything okay?”

“yeah, it was just really hectic—” you start, but your words fade as he sits beside you, closer than you’ve ever really been. close enough that you can see the faint glitter along his jaw, the sweat glistening at his temples, the warmth in his gaze as it settles fully on your face.

“you were incredible out there,” you say softly. “i’ve never… it’s different seeing it up close.”

his cheeks pink despite the post-performance flush. “i kept looking for you.”

“i noticed,” you admit, smiling.

mark’s gaze drops to your hands twisting in your lap and he reaches out.

“thanks for being here,” he murmurs.

your laugh is a shaky exhale. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“also…the NDA,” he starts quietly. “i didn’t want you to feel like i was cornering you into some weird situation. that’s not what this is.”

“mark, i didn’t think that. i mean—it was overwhelming, yeah, but i get it. you’re…” you gesture helplessly. “you.”

he laughs softly, but there’s no real humor behind it. “i hate it. you know, not being able to just… hang out with you. not having the freedom to do normal things, like… i don’t know—go get coffee or show you the city or tell people about you without it turning into a whole thing.”

“is that what this is? am i…” you hesitate. “something you’d want to tell people about?”

he looks up at you, and there’s not a trace of hesitation when he says, “yes. i think about it all the time.”

you blink, throat suddenly dry.

he leans in slightly. “i just… i didn’t want you to think i was trying to make you sign your silence just so i could keep you a secret. it’s not about hiding you. it’s about protecting something that means a lot to me.”

and there it is. the part he hadn’t said yet.

you mean a lot to him.

your chest tightens with the weight of being chosen in a world that doesn’t make space for this kind of closeness, that demands boundaries, a good image and clean lines drawn in ink. and yet here he is, blurring those lines for you.

“thank you for saying that,” you murmur, voice trembling a little. “i didn’t realize how much i needed to hear it.”

mark reaches across the space then, taking your other hand. “i don’t want this to feel like you’re walking on eggshells because of my life. i want it to feel real.”

your fingers tighten around his instinctively.

“it already does,” you whisper.

and when he finally closes the distance between you, pulling you into a quiet, careful hug, it feels so right.

his arms wrap around you and for a second the world outside the van ceases to exist. he’s warm even through his stage jacket, you can feel his heartbeat thudding fast against your cheek. you breathe him in, clean sweat and fabric softener.

when he pulls back, he doesn’t release your hand. his thumb brushes lazy paths over your knuckles.

“i kept picturing this,” he admits quietly. “all week. wondering if it would feel the same in person as it did in my head.”

“and?” you whisper.

“it’s even better,” he says without hesitation.

he shifts slightly, the space between you rapidly shrinking. his gaze flickers briefly down to your lips, and the movement sends your pulse racing.

“mark,” you whisper, voice barely audible, “i—”

his other hand gently finds your cheek, thumb tracing lightly along your skin, tipping your chin up just a fraction. he searches your face, breathing shallow and eyes heavy with something soft and vulnerable.

you lean in instinctively, eyes fluttering closed as his breath ghosts warm over your lips—

and then the van door suddenly swings open, a burst of noise and harsh backstage lighting flooding in.

“mark hyung, manager hyung says—oh shit.” haechan freezes halfway inside the doorway. “ohhh, sorry… was i interrupting something?”

mark jerks back, cheeks blazing crimson as his hand quickly leaves your cheek and lands awkwardly in his lap. “dude, are you serious?” he groans, dropping his head with a sigh and muttering a very un-idol-like curse word.

you cover your mouth, laughing breathlessly through the embarrassment even as your pulse continues hammering in your ears.

“sorry, sorry,” haechan says, grinning wickedly, clearly not sorry at all. “but uh, we gotta go. manager hyung’s freaking out. we got an interview, hurry up.”

“yeah. coming.” he searches your face, apology written in his eyes “they’ll herd us to the hotel soon. can you wait a little longer? i want to ride with you after they clear the crowd.”

you nod, trying to ignore the throb of almost-kiss still sparking across your lips. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“give me twenty minutes tops, and then i’m kidnapping you for actual food.”

“bold of you to assume i’d say no.”

as he slips out, you catch the faintest curve of a smile before the door thuds shut and you’re alone again.

thirty minutes later, mark slips back into the van. this time freshly changed, hair still damp but swept under a dark cap.

“sorry that took forever.” he drops into the seat opposite you, knee bouncing with leftover adrenaline. “do you wanna come meet the other members properly before we leave?”

you follow him back through a quieter service corridor to a smaller green room that smells heavily like hair spray. inside, half the members are sprawled on sofas in various states of post-show exhaustion. the energy shifts the second mark ushers you in.

“guys, this is y/n,” he says.

taeyong shoots up first, hand extended. “the legend herself,” he jokes, grinning wide enough to prove he’s still riding his performance high. jaehyun offers a shy wave and drags over a chair so you won’t have to hover. yuta, also walks over and introduces himself politely.

doyoung is the only one who stays seated, arms folded. his eyes flick between you and mark, assessing. it lasts all of three seconds before he notices how relaxed mark looks—those shoulders that usually sit somewhere near his ears are loose, his smile easy. doyoung’s expression softens.

“thanks for cheering him up,” he says quietly, a little sheepish. “he’s been impossible the last few weeks.” the tease lands gentle, and mark flicks a sweat towel at him in retaliation.

the small talk bubbles up easily. the topic shifting from favorite festival moments, to whose in-ears cut out, and the confetti that caught in doyoung’s mouth during a high note. the atmosphere is warm and surprisingly normal, until a manager pops his head in to remind everyone they’ve got early rehearsals tomorrow.

mark steers you quickly back to the van after saying a quick goodbye.

“so…” he ran a hand through his hair and put his hat back on. “food?”

“please,” you groaned, head falling back against the seat. “i’m starving.”

“wanna go to a restaurant?” he offered.

you winced. “too risky.”

he nodded slowly. “true, my hotel’s worse.”

you turned your head to face him. “sasaengs?”

“they wait outside sometimes, follow the vans from the venue” he trailed off, already looking annoyed with the reality of it.

“we could…” you swallow, then barrel through. “we could go to my place? it’s not far, and no one knows where i live. we can order in.”

mark’s head tilts, surprised but already nodding. “are you sure?”

“only if you’re okay hiding out in a tiny apartment that smells like scented candles and stale coffee.”

he smiles brightly. “sounds perfect.”

you rattle off your address to the driver, heart hammering as you drive through the city. mark’s knee bumps yours every time the van hits a pothole, but neither of you moves away.

he glances over. “thank you for trusting me with your space.”

you breathe out a shaky laugh. “thank you for trusting me with… all of this.”

his fingers brush yours on the seat between you. outside, the van slows to a stop at your curb. the driver kills the lights for discretion. thankfully, the street is empty.

you turn to mark, pulse racing for an entirely new reason now. “welcome to my part of the world.”

he grins, tugging his cap lower and reaching for the door handle. “lead the way.”

your apartment is small, cluttered with book stacks and half-burned candles, but it’s yours—and when mark steps in, slipping off his shoes at the door like he’s done it a hundred times, it feels suddenly, impossibly domestic.

“so,” he murmurs, looking around with quiet curiosity. “what’s good for takeout around here?”

you settle on thai food after a chaotic five-minute debate that ends with mark looking up from your couch and going, “okay but do you trust me with your spice tolerance?”

you blink at him. “mark. i watched you cry eating jalapeño chips during that one livestream.”

“they were ghost pepper!” he defends, slightly pouting. “and i didn’t cry, my eyes were just... dry.”

you giggle and the tension that had followed you into the apartment fades with it.

while you wait for the food, he wanders around your space with curiosity. never touching too much, just observing. he stops at your bookcase, smiles at the titles stacked sideways, fingers brushing one of the cracked spines.

“so this is where you’ve been calling from,” he says as he returns to the couch, flopping down beside you. “it’s cozy.”

“that’s code for small, right?”

he tilts his head, grinning softly. “no. cozy means i don’t want to leave.”

you glance over at him, heartbeat spiking in your throat. his hoodie’s a little rumpled from the ride, cap tossed somewhere by your front door, and he’s leaned so close your shoulders brush.

“you’re kind of the only boy who’s ever said that,” you murmur.

“then they’re idiots.”

your lips twitch with a smile. mark leans his head back on the cushion, you get distracted by the cute bump on his nose and the lines of his jaw.

you both fall quiet for a while, your legs stretched out beside his on the couch, ankles knocking occasionally. your body relaxes more than you expect, as if it remembers this feeling from all those calls and imaginary versions of this moment.

when the takeout finally arrives, you both eat cross-legged on the couch, plastic containers open between you, your playlist humming low in the background.

you talk through mouthfuls of noodles about everything and nothing—his weird craving for peaches whenever he’s overseas, your childhood phase of putting ketchup on rice, how you both secretly judge people who don’t rewind movies when they pause.

somewhere between “i really miss my mom’s kimchi stew” and your story about the nightmare customer who demanded gluten-free breadsticks, your shoulders touch. a minute later his arm slips along the back of the couch, fingers grazing your shoulder each time he shifts. your nerves fizz under your skin, but the contact feels safe.

You lean into him. He doesn’t move away.

the conversation slows and when you glance up to make a joke, your nose brushes the edge of his jaw. his breath hitches at this, then a warm hand settles on your knee.

“this feels…” he starts, swallowing. “kinda unreal.”

“yeah.” a whisper—because your voice has gone missing.

his palm lifts to your cheek, thumb soft against your skin. “can I kiss you?”

you’re already nodding.

the first kiss is shy and careful, more smile than pressure. The next slips deeper, mouths moving in a lazy rhythm neither of you rush. Your fingers tangle in the hem of his hoodie; his other hand skims your waist, pulling you just close enough to feel the quiet drum of his heart.

eventually the couch gets too cramped. mark breaks the kiss with a sheepish laugh. “my back is dying,” he murmurs.

you tug him down the hall to your room, giggling when he nearly trips on a sneaker. he perches on the edge of the bed and you climb into his lap without thinking, legs draped around him. his hands settle on your hips and he sighs.

“i really, really like you,” he says, forehead resting against yours.

“i like you too. a lot.”

he kisses you again. you spend the next half hour like that, trading soft laughs and softer kisses until the adrenaline drains from his limbs. head falls heavy on your shoulder, he mumbles something about the best night of his life…and falls asleep mid-sentence.

You ease him back onto the pillows, kick off your skirt, and curl into the space beneath his arm. One leg hooks over yours; his hand rests at the small of your back, protective even in sleep.

it’s the tenth call that finally wakes him the next morning.

mark groans into your pillow, dragging his phone blindly toward his face. “what…”

a second goes by and then he jolts upright. “shit. shit.”

you blink groggily, one arm reaching out for him. “what’s wrong?”

he’s already stumbling for his shirt which he doesn’t even remember taking off last nigh. “i slept in. i never—fuck, i never sleep in.”

you sit up slowly, watching him try to shove his hat over tousled hair while checking his phone. “i have like ten missed calls.”

he answers the incoming call hurriedly, voice tense and apologetic. “yeah, i’m sorry, i know… i’m on my way now, just got… held up. i’ll explain later.”

he glances down at you then, taking in your messy hair, swollen lips and sleepy eyes, and the look on his face softens just a little.

when he finally hangs up, he rushes back to your side, quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i gotta run, but i'll text you as soon as i can. i promise.”

you smile sleepily up at him, already missing the warmth of his body against yours. “go. don’t get in trouble.”

he pauses briefly before leaving. “last night was… perfect. thank you.”

and then he’s gone, leaving you to curl back into your pillow, still feeling the ghost of his touch and the lingering warmth of everything you shared.

#smtown live ruined my life guys #did i project? maybe #slow burn (kinda)#mark lee x y/n #mark lee x you #mark lee x reader #mark lee fic #mark lee fanfic #nct x y/n #nct x you #nct 127 x reader #nct mark fluff #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct mark x reader

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sarahs-secrets2 · 2 months ago

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safety net ˋ♡ˊ

dr jack abbot x reader

reader scared to admit feelings but jack is reassuring, super sweet, fluff, all the good stuff!!! (not my gif <3)

wc: 2.1k!

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

“So what do you have planned for your day off?” Dr. Shen asks, leaning against the nurse’s station as he swirls what's left of his very melted, old Dunkin ‘iced’ coffee.

“Uh, I’m not sure.” You lie. Your eyes flick up from the computer and find Dr. Jack Abbot checking a chart as he leaves an exam room. Trying not to stare, you quickly shift your attention back down.

“See if it were my day off-” Shen is about to go into grand detail about his perfect day off, before a voice cuts him off.

“C’mon, brother,” Dr. Abbot laughs, his hand falling to John’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. “Got something for you.” As Jack pulls Dr. Shen away, his eyes meet yours, giving you a side smile and quick wink before heading towards a fresh trauma.

“Hey, you have tomorrow off too,” the voice is far away, but you know it’s Shen. Your eyes glance off to the side, seeing Abbot shake his head with a small laugh while snapping on a fresh pair of gloves before entering the trauma room.

It was no coincidence that the two of you shared a day off. It had been something quietly in the works for a while. Jack asked you to go to a new restaurant that opened a few blocks from the hospital. It wasn't a fancy spot, very casual, a perfect place for a summer evening and some drinks. The restaurant was no longer new by the time you were both able to get the same night off, most of the hospital staff had already been with their family or friends, or spouses. Except you and Jack, who both promised not to go until you could go together.

You two were just really good friends, at least that’s what you told yourself. It was easier to compartmentalize it that way than dive into feelings that you were far from ready to unpack. It was a silly little crush, nothing serious.

Now you’re lying to yourself.

Dr. Abbot was attractive. There was no denying that, but he was also patient, thoughtful, thorough, you could go on and on. Every move he made was precise and thought out, he exuded quiet confidence that pulled you directly into his orbit. Abbot was also extremely good at his job, which just made it all the more impossible to deny any sort of attraction to him. On top of it all, his no bullshit demeanor made him intimidating in the best way. It had come from his military background, which he told you about briefly. The stories were told away from work, mornings in the park, or a rare night off at the local dive bar, always a few beers in, the two of you being the last ones left.

Maybe he figured the stories of his past would scare you away, put some distance between growing feelings you both hid from each other. Wrong. It only made the two of you want to be closer.

While you were trying to deny your feelings, Jack was adamant about his. The tension is always palpable between the two of you. Stolen glances, hands brushing in passing, slow walks home, Abbot made it a habit to always be there for you. He picked up on your fears of falling in love without you having to verbalize them. It was easy for him to notice you, you mirrored him and the fears he once carried. Jack knew what it was like to lose love, he had mourned, and had put the work in to heal. It’s not a linear journey, he knew that, but he knew himself enough to know that he was ready to let himself love again when he saw you. It was cliche, but it was a feeling he hadn't come across in a long time, and he didn’t want to regret letting it go.

The rest of the shift is a blur.

It’s busy in a way that doesn't allow your mind to wander. It’s perfect. The sun is rising, and like clockwork, the day shift filters in, cases are handed off, and you are bag in hand and out the doors.

“Hey,” Jack’s voice stops you before you can cross the street to start your walk home.

“Hey,” you turn to see him with tired eyes, and his military bag slung over one shoulder.

“Better not be trying to come up with an excuse to get out of our date,” he offers a side smile, eyes crinkling. There was that word date, the very thing you were trying to convince yourself it wasn't.

“Don’t give me any ideas now, Abbot.”

He gives a genuine but exhausted laugh. “Can I pick you up around…7?”

“7 is good,” you smile, “I’ll see you then.” You start to cross the street when you hear him again.

“You sure I can’t walk you home?” He makes it a habit to offer every time he sees you start your walk. Most of the time, you turn him down, not wanting to burden him. There is the rare occasion where you say yes, and you two walk together, mostly in silence. It’s a cherished moment, one you allow yourself only so often. It’s hard not to get attached to a man who makes himself available in the ways Jack Abbot does.

“I’ll be okay,” you nod and give him an honest smile.

He smiles back, walking backwards, giving a wave. “7,” he tugs the strap of his backpack up onto his shoulder. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.” You drag it out laughing and giving a small wave back as you walk away.

Jack steals a glance, looking back and watching you walk through the park. Part of him wished you had said yes today. Anytime spent with you was time well spent. It wasn't like he had anything else going on, he planned to sleep and then see you, and walking you back to your apartment would have made the time in between seeing you bearable.

The second you get home, you’re showered and in bed in record time.

Sleep comes easily after shifts like the one tonight. Before you know it, the alarm on your phone is beeping, waking you up and reminding you of the date (that you keep trying to tell yourself is not a date) with the guy you work with, and who you’ve only had a crush on for the longest time. Time dwindles, and after distracting yourself with cleaning, reorganizing, and other mundane tasks to take your mind off later, you finally start to get ready. It helps tremendously that the restaurant is casual, so it’s easy to dress for. Despite giving yourself plenty of time to get ready, you feel anxiety building up as the clock ticks closer to 7 pm. Knowing Jack as well, he would be sure to be early, but not early enough that he would show up before you were all set.

6:53 pm, there’s a knock at the door.

The knock is soft, gentle, it’s thought out. It’s almost a peek into how nervous Jack truly is, which doesn't happen very often. Opening the door, you see Dr. Jack Abbot standing with his hands in the pockets of his dark wash jeans. The button-down polo he's wearing has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, freckled forearms on display. It’s rare to see him in anything but scrubs, and damn does he look good. The dinner wasn't fancy, but you could tell he still wanted to put effort into how he looked.

“You clean up well, Doctor Abbot.” You smile brightly at him, catching a whiff of his cologne wafting in the air: teakwood, eucalyptus, and worn leather. It’s intoxicating.

“So do you, Doctor.” His eyes flick up and down your body. “You ready?”

Nodding, you step out and lock the door behind you. Jack’s hand grazes your lower back, letting you lead the way.

“You don't mind walking, do you?”

“Of course not,” you bump your shoulder into his softly, earning a light laugh from Jack.

The two of you walk in a comfortable silence for a while before Jack speaks up.

“You know, Robby was trying to get me to go to this place for at least two weeks straight before he took a hint.”

“Really? You could’ve gone, you know.” You steal a glance.

“As badly as I want to go on a date with Robby, I wanted to save my first time for tonight, with you.” He shrugs, meeting your eyes.

You can spot the restaurant from a mile away, with glowing string lights illuminating an outdoor patio, lively music playing, and other patrons chatting away with drinks in hand. Jack’s hand returns to your lower back, guiding you through the busy restaurant and to the host stand.

You two are led back outside, the table located in a corner, making it more private than the others. Drinks and appetizers are ordered, and the anxiety hanging over your head seems to vanish. Jack and you slip into conversation, and it flows through dinner. Swapping stories of the past, and some of the present, and sharing glimpses of what you both want in your futures, you see more into Jack than you ever have before. The voice in the back of your head warns you of what happened last time you got close to someone like this, but you push it down, turning all your focus to the man in front of you.

Time seems to fly by, and Jack, being the gentleman he is, pays the tab despite your protest to split it.

The sun has fully set, the stars are out, and a light breeze blows through the night air as the two of you walk slowly back. Shoulders bumping occasionally, fingertips just barely touching each other as the two of you walk closely together, trying to preserve the night, neither of you ready for it to end.

Back at your apartment, you linger at the door, not reaching for your key just yet. Leaning against the door slightly, you smile at Jack.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” even though it’s dark, the small glow from the porch light illuminates his smile.

The moment hangs in the air, his eyes never leaving yours. Jack steps closer, closing the already small distance. Taking a deep breath, you get another rush of his cologne, making your head spin. Your hand reaches back, grasping the door handle, trying to steady yourself.

You wish Jack Abbot wasn't so in tune with your emotions, he cuts through your exterior and sees you for what you are in a way no one else could. You can see it on his face how he is reading you, he feels your hesitation, building a wall between the two of you.

“You don’t have to run away from this, you know.” His head tilts slightly as he speaks, eyes never leaving yours.

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Jack,” it comes out softer than you expected. It’s vulnerable. It’s a plea. This is uncharted territory. You could turn away and run right now, literally. He would let you, he wouldn't push you if you weren't ready. Jack Abbot was patient, he had already waited months to take you to dinner. He would wait till you were ready.

“I know.” He echoes your words back to you. He understands what this would mean for both of you, at work, with each other, a permanent crossing of a long-standing boundary. On the other hand, it was a boundary both of you ached to cross. The idea of doing so weighed more in theory than had crossed your mind.

Jack’s hand reaches for yours, he half expects you to pull away. Instead, you reach out, meeting him in the middle. He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. He’s put the power back in your hands, he doesn’t want to rush you.

Your head is reeling, trying to compose yourself, trying to make sense of what you should do. The part of you holding yourself back seems to vanish the longer you look at Jack Abbot in front of you.

A switch flips, and you listen to Jack’s words and stop running. With a simple nod, he knows exactly what you mean, no words needed. His hands move to cradle your face, holding you close. Jack’s lips crash into yours, the tension between the two of you finally snapping. Your hands paw at his chest, trying to get him closer.

Everything else is quiet, and for once, it all makes sense now that you’re kissing Jack Abbot.

You’re not sure how long you two are like this, only stopping to catch some air.

“Been waiting for that for a while,” Jack smirks, his hands wrapping around your waist, holding you close.

You bury your head into his chest, attempting to hide your smile, "Me too."

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

hope you all enjoyed :) (bear with me if there's typos, its 4am loll i will fix!!)

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daechwitatamic · 6 months ago

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Not So Loud || LC

banner by @itaeewon <3

Not So Loud lee chan x afab reader || fluff smut baby angst || f2l, only one bed trope NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You've been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years, despite his rejection seven months ago. When you're impossibly coupled up on a friendcation, you're determined not to make it everyone else's problem. Of course, you weren't expecting to have to room with him, and you certainly weren't expecting only one bed...

wc: 16.6k

warnings: language, recreational drinking, sooo much pining, baby misunderstandings, kissing, breast play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv sex (no protection mentioned either way), reader on top, mentions of shower sex

request by @eoieopda:

yes my fearless leader you may have even two crumbs of lee dino getting laid at the beach, i hope you enjoy every single second of it <3

“This,” you sigh blissfully, “is the happiest I may ever be.”

The sun is shining. Upbeat pop music runs like an undercurrent below the sound of the highway from the stereo of your best friend’s junky, decade-old sedan. Your iced coffee - light and sweet, but not too much of either - tastes like heaven. And the best part, the part that makes this day the best even if you didn’t have iced coffee or sunshine or Ruby or happy music, is that you’re less than an hour away from the beachfront house you and your friends have rented for the next five days.

All six of you had collectively been saving up for a full year and a half to make this happen, and there were times during the wait when it seemed like it would never come together between scheduling and money and rental availability. But now you’re here, racing down the highway to keep up with the flow of traffic, the ocean beckoning you closer.

“Now, now,” Ruby, the aforementioned best friend, scolds lightly. “What about your wedding day?”

You blow a raspberry. “What wedding day?” you shoot back sourly, but then you take another sip of caffeinated, iced perfection and your mood buoys immediately. It’s gonna take a lot to keep you down, today. Still, you rationalize, “I can’t even get to a third date.”

It was true. Your last third date had been almost two years ago. Since then, everything fizzled after one or two. Embarrassing. Something only Ruby - and, by proxy, her boyfriend Mingyu - would know about you.

“Because you compare them all to Chan,” Ruby says sagely.

The beams of sunlight are glaring. The pop music grates on your nerves, too boppy and much too happy. You set your coffee in the cup holder, your hand suddenly smarting from the bite of cold.

Coincidental to the third date thing, you’ve been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years. Another embarrassing Ruby-and-thus-Mingyu-only tidbit.

“Stooo-ooppp,” you whine. “If you’re going to spend the whole time making it weird about him, I’m going to find a way back home! I will walk there, just try me!”

“Now, now,” she says again, mildly. Your dramatics are nothing new to her. “I’ll behave. But I keep telling you - it would be significantly less weird if you’d just tell him you have a thing for him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. A thing.

An every problem I’ve ever had melts away and my soul floats three feet above my body every time your smile crosses your face kind of thing. A hearing your laugh makes me laugh even if I didn’t hear the joke kind of thing. A finding your gaze across a loud room makes me feel like no one else is there but us kind of thing.

A he doesn’t feel the same way, and he never will kind of thing. He made that super clear, about seven months ago.

And it gets worse.

You’ve had a week to accept your fate on this trip - a week since she’d called to tell you that the original rental had fallen through. To tell you that the replacement place is almost better (closer to the beach! a huge deck! a private pool!) except for the number of rooms. That since the other four people attending are made up of two couples, you and Chan would have to share a room.

(“The rooms are huge,” she’d assured you. “And the third room’s got bunk-beds! I bet will Chan will let you have top bunk if you want it - he’s a nice guy.”

You didn’t say, even though it is very true, that bunk-beds are really only a selling point if you are ten years old. But there were more important arguments to make. “I know he’s a nice guy,” you’d bit out. “He’s the nicest fucking guy I’ve ever met in my life, actually!” Hence the thing.

She’d paused and then pointed out, “You’ve met Seokmin, though.”

And, yeah, maybe on paper Seokmin is nicer but looking at his smile doesn’t feel like being filled with sunshine, so the point is moot.)

Anyway. You’ve had time to accept the fact that you have to share a room with the guy you’ve been in love with for over a year and a half. You’ve had time to accept that he might hear you snore, will see that you’re messy, that you’ll have to get changed in the bathroom for the whole trip, that you’ll have to get really good at pretending not to moon over him every time he speaks.

“I think,” you tell Ruby mildly, “that telling him that I want to lick his body from top to bottom and then get married might actually make things more weird.”

“I would just like to say,” Ruby’s boyfriend Mingyu pipes up from the backseat, his voice weary and long-suffering, “that this is an incredibly uncomfortable conversation for me.”

In your defense, you’d thought he was asleep.

Ruby descends on him like a swarm of locusts. “Don’t you think she should tell him she’s in love with him?”

“I actually do,” Mingyu says, covering his eyes with his hands as if he can’t bear to see what a disaster you are. “But I would heavily advise against mentioning the licking. Or the marriage.”

“It’s hyperbole,” you defend, flapping a hand in his direction. But, yeah, noted.

Excitement bubbles in your stomach, despite the rooming situation, when Ruby flicks on her turn signal and moves to exit the highway. Already, the smell of the air through the open windows has turned salty, and the thick tree-line along the highway has given way to cloudless blue sky and the occasional palm tree. It had been almost hazy when you’d set off at the crack of dawn (Mingyu had taken the back seat so he could stretch out and sleep a little longer) but now the sunrise has burned away all of that haze and given way to a perfect morning.

It takes only minutes for Ruby to navigate through the small, coastal town and to a row of vacation homes. You lose yourself in a daydream of waking up to take coffee on a sunlit balcony, listening to waves crash in time below you. In your daydream, across the balcony someone stretches their arms above their head, a sliver of belly peeking out for only a second, then turns to give you a sleepy smile, thinly-wired glasses perched on his nose.

Someone.

You shake yourself free of the fantasy; part of you feels like Ruby can read your mind, like she’s seconds away from calling you out for placing Chan in your seaside fantasy life.

Ruby, however, is too focused on finding the house to read your mind, and she slows the car and turns into a driveway, chirping, “We’re here!”

You all start grabbing luggage to carry in; the sun feels amazing on your skin, the sea breeze cool almost to the point of chilly and so salty it makes your nose twitch. You three aren’t even done emptying your car when you’re startled by a beep-beep-beepbeep-beep from the road behind you.

“That’s Soonyoung,” Mingyu says without even turning to look.

He’s right - it is. The second car, which carries Soonyoung, his girlfriend Lara, and Chan, pulls into the driveway next to you.

Chan greets you with a wide, happy grin (that, yes, makes you feel full of sunshine, whatever) and a quick, one-armed hug as he comes around the front of the parked car. Your moronic heart lifts, stupidly hopeful - until Soonyoung does the same thing. Your heart deflates again with the reminder that they’re just like this - nice, affectionate with their friends. It doesn’t mean anything. Chan’s attention to you is just as platonic as Soonyoung’s - which is to say, entirely.

You all manage to gather the luggage from both cars, and Mingyu follows the rental app’s directions to work the keypad at the front door. You all ooh and ahh as you step inside - the place is roomy, well-lit from sliding glass doors and windows that face the ocean, and decorated with (what else?) a kitschy, nautical theme.

You kick off your flip-flops onto a mat with an anchor on it (per the theme), and follow the others further into the house.

You head straight back through the house - the living room gives way into a dining room that ends with the sliding-glass doors. In tandem with Ruby, you press your face to the glass of the door and peer outside. You’re delighted to see that the ocean is right there, beckoning you to come play. Gulls swoop and call, loud enough that you can hear their cries from inside. Further down the beach you can see colorful umbrellas and tents that other beachgoers have set up. Below the deck, you can see just a strip of the private pool.

You pull yourself away from the back door and head into the adjoining kitchen, where Lara is standing at an open cupboard, examining its contents.

“We’re going to need to do a grocery run,” she muses, looking over at you. “I think all Soonyoung packed was ramen and soju.”

“What else could we possibly need?” he jokes from down the hall, his voice echoing.

“Coffee,” you say immediately.

“Beer,” Mingyu says seriously.

“Meat? Vegetables? Stuff for breakfast? Something to drink that isn’t alcohol?” Lara suggests.

“Who invited the Capricorn?” Soonyoung (the person who invited the Capricorn) grouses.

“Without me,” she tells him seriously, though the corner of her mouth twitches, “you’d be malnourished at best, and at worst? Dead.”

“Probably true,” you say, giving her a conspiratorial nod, and then you hear Ruby call your name from upstairs. Her voice sounds strained, and a little alarm bell goes off inside your head.

“Yes?” you answer loudly, hoping your voice will carry up to her.

“Can you come up here for a minute?” she calls down to you. Yes, there is definitely an edge to her voice that you don’t like. “Now?”

“Oh jeez,” you mutter, starting to make your way towards the stairs at the front of the house. You take the stairs quickly, calling Ruby’s name as you navigate the unfamiliar house.

She and Chan are both standing in the hallway, open doors all around them. Their faces mirror each other - disbelief, anxiety.

“What?” you ask, a little breathless both from the stairs and from anticipation. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s, uh,” Ruby stammers. It’s very unlike her to lose her confidence, and the unease in your gut churns again.

“What?” you say again, and when she doesn’t answer, you turn to Chan, who looks stricken. “What is it?”

“No bunk beds,” he manages, finishing Ruby’s sentence and gesturing to the room behind him.

You’re pressing forward without making the decision to move, without answering either of them, crowding Chan’s space so you’re chest to chest, peering over his shoulder. His hands hover near your elbows, like you might overbalance and he’s ready to steady you.

The room behind him is huge - as Ruby promised - complete with an ensuite bathroom and the balcony straight out of your daydream in the car. It also, as Chan pointed out, does not have bunk-beds. Instead, one king-sized bed is centered against the far wall, flanked by wicker nightstands with lamps on each and an old-school radio alarm clock on one.

You say nothing - you just back out of Chan’s personal space and swivel, heading for the other doors. Surely that was just the wrong room - one meant for one of the couples. Surely they just didn’t look hard enough, didn’t check the other doors, didn’t find the room with two beds that you’d been promised.

You find a full bathroom, a linen closet, one door that remains locked, and - to your dismay - two identical bedrooms, neither of which hosts more than one single bed.

Realization trickles through you slowly, building up higher and higher as you check the doors a second, and then a third, time. Ruby and Chan stay frozen in place in the dimly lit hallway, watching your frantic, pointless searching.

“Oh, my God,” you say hollowly. Then, turning, you narrow your eyes. “Ruby,” you growl. “You promised. Where is my top bunk?!”

“I don’t know!” she squeaks. “The listing said four beds!”

“Call them,” you demand flatly.

Beside Ruby, Chan’s eyebrows scrunch as he frowns. He says your name quietly, holding up a hand as if to calm you. “We don’t need to move houses,” he says gently. “I’ll take a couch. It’s not a big deal.”

You feel yourself shaking your head immediately. “I will feel like shit if you spend your vacation sleeping on the couch because of me,” you tell him.

He and Ruby exchange a long look (something that you don’t like very much, but no one is asking you) and then she tentatively says, “Could we work it out later? Maybe one of the couches pulls out into a bed or something? Or do you really want me to try and get us a different rental? This is already our second one, I’m not sure there are even other options still available…” She trails off, eyes wide.

You sigh, eyeing the ceiling above you as if it has answers. “Fine,” you say, because you can’t stand the thought of being the one who’s causing problems, ever the people-pleaser. “We’ll figure it out later.”

You head back down the hall, tromping down the stairs in silence to get your luggage.

Chan tries to take one of your bags for you, but you shrug him off and he lets you. You follow him back up the stairs, to the large room you’d looked at a few minutes ago. You both stand in the middle of it, looking around. You’re unsure if you should even unpack in here if there’s a chance you’ll end up moving to the couches.

“It’ll be okay,” Chan says, and it startles you out of your thoughts so badly that you flinch.

“Mhm,” you manage, because you don’t want to lie to him by agreeing.

“Hey,” he says, a little insistently, and you look up at him. He’s looking at you openly, his expression an impossible mix of concern and optimism. It disarms you immediately, in a way nothing else ever has.

There’s something always so earnest about Chan, one of your favorite things about him, and you can’t help but believe him when he continues to speak. “It will. We can, like, take turns with the bed or something. It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t let this ruin your trip. Okay?”

You nod silently, thinking about this. He’s right - there’ll be a solution. “Okay,” you say, managing to give him a little smile. “You’re right.”

The grin he gives you is mischievous. “I usually am,” he quips - and you love that about him, too: the way he’s playfully cocky, something ironic in the way he displays it, like you’re all in on the joke and he’s happily his own punchline. He disappears into the hallway, where you hear him heading down the stairs.

You wait for the tornado of butterflies in your belly to calm back down and then you look around the room. You finally decide to just leave your bags in a pile near the dresser, and head back down to find the others.

Everyone is standing around the kitchen table, where it seems like a grocery list is being split into Things That Can versus Things That Cannot be bought at the local liquor store.

“We can take one car and handle the drinks,” Mingyu is saying as you walk up and lean your chin on Ruby’s shoulder from behind. She absently reaches up to give your head an affectionate pat as you both listen. “Then the grocery team can take the second car, and whoever is handling the rental office can just walk.”

“Rental office?” you ask. “What for?”

“Just to grab our passes for the beach,” Lara answers you. “They’re like little tags. It’s part of what we paid for.”

“The rental’s under your name,” Soonyoung reminds her, “so we should probably handle that.”

“Yah, you just want the easy task,” Mingyu complains.

Soonyoung grins, guilty as charged not at all sorry about it. He grabs for Lara’s hand and heads for the front door. “If we aren’t here when you get back, we’ll leave your passes on the table!” he calls, and then the door slams shut.

“Asshole,” Mingyu grumbles affectionately.

The four of you look at each other in the resulting quiet. Then, Ruby asks, “Anything you want to add to our list?”

You lean further around her to read her phone screen, scanning what drinks had already been requested.

“Nope,” you tell her. “I’m good with that. Does this mean I’m on the grocery team?”

Chan looks up from his phone when you ask this, waiting to hear the answer.

Ruby and Mingyu meet gazes, seeming to have a silent conversation. Then, she gives you a sheepish look, almost a grimace. “Yeah - sorry, but I kind of wanted to go with Gyu on the drinks run, if that’s okay?”

You’ve been best friends with Ruby for a long time. You know her in and out, and you know this: she’s not like this, not sweet and apologetic. If it was just you two, she’d just say what she wanted. The act is for a reason.

You blink at her, trying to figure it out. “Of course it’s okay,” you say slowly. “If you and Mingyu are handling the drink run, then I’ll handle groceries with Chan.”

Ah. That was Ruby’s game - she paired you with Chan on purpose.

Meddler. Pain in the ass. Angel. Light of your life. She contains multitudes.

His eyes drop back to his phone. “You don’t have to,” he says, not looking at you. “If you want to go with them or catch up with Lara then I can handle it by myself.”

You frown. “It’s not really a one person job,” you observe. “And I don’t mind - really.”

“So it’s decided!” Ruby says brightly, moving to rest her hand on her boyfriend’s forearm. “We should beat you back, but we’ll wait for you guys so we can help unload the car.”

“Thanks,” you say, meaning it. For everything.

Ruby and Mingyu head out, and you meander closer to Chan. You’re not alone together very often - you’re pretty much always in a group setting.

You’d met through Ruby and Mingyu, years ago. You and Ruby were a very packaged deal, and Mingyu had a crew of friends that filtered in and out of your social events like they kept a scheduled rotation. When Soonyoung had settled into a serious relationship with Lara, the two of them became pretty permanent fixtures with Ruby and Mingyu, and Chan usually went where Soonyoung did. So then you were six.

How perfectly even. How serendipitous. How nearly fated.

If only he saw it that way.

But he doesn’t, he’s made that clear. It was Lara’s fault, actually. That night is burned into your brain, an unpleasant memory custom-made to slither into your brain when you’re trying to sleep before a big day.

The six of you had been bar-hopping on a Saturday night about seven months ago. It had been cool - late autumn teasing winter, and you’d been shivering as the six of you rowdily made your way up the block to your next stop. Laughing at something Soonyoung had said, Chan had reached around your shoulders sloppily, pulling you tight against him.

“Cold?” he’d asked you, as you tried to keep walking - a challenge because of both the alcohol in your system and the alarm bells going off in your head over his hand on your arm.

“Definitely chilly,” you’d managed to reply, looking up at him sideways. His profile was sharper than you’d realized before, and it sent a wave down your core, sinking like a weight through your stomach and into your lower belly and he grinned down at you.

You never wanted him to let go. Never, for the rest of your lives.

“You two are cute,” Lara had said drunkenly, the words a little slurred, as she leaned heavily on Soonyoung. You’d flushed, a little embarrassed, but Chan’s reaction had mortified you. His eyes had widened and he’d gone so far as to retract his arm from around you as quick as lightning, moving sideways to put inches between you again.

It left you frozen, a block of ice.

“No - we’re - we’re only friends,” he had said emphatically, and Lara had apologized, her hand over her mouth. Then, Ruby had tripped on the sidewalk and ripped the knees of her jeans, and the whole incident was forgotten.

Not by you, though. Never by you. This was the moment that floated up like the ghost of Christmas past whenever Ruby urged you to confess to Chan, which was more frequent than you’d like. The rush of cold in the absence of his arm, the way he’d stuttered in his hurry to refute the misunderstanding.

Message received, Lee Chan. Loud and fucking clear.

Didn’t change a thing about how you feel, though.

Presently, you try to push this out of your head - the fact that there’s no social buffer between you, no Ruby or Soonyoung to hide behind - before it can trip you up. “What’s on the list?” you ask. He hands you his phone, lets you scroll through everything he’d typed up.

“Okay,” you say, handing it back. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Yeah,” he says, a little absently, then starts patting at his pockets, eyes scanning the tabletop. “Yeah, I’m ready. Aish, Lee Chan, where did you put the keys?”

“They’re by the door,” you offer, remembering the small table you’d all dropped them on as you came in.

He shoots you a grateful smile. “Thanks. Let’s go?”

You nod, grabbing your sunglasses from the table and following him to the driveway out front.

It’s less than ten minutes to the nearest grocery, not even enough time for three whole songs to play through the car’s stereo, half-drowned by the roar of wind and sea through the open windows. Chan grins sideways at you as he parks, running a hand through his messy hair before unbuckling and stepping out of the car. You shake yourself from your daze and hurry to follow.

“What’s the game plan?” you ask, as you step out of the summer sun and into the fluorescents and air conditioning. Your skin prickles instantly upon the change. “Divide and conquer?”

He pulls out his phone and brings the list up. “I’d rather just stick together,” he says, looking at you sideways, his voice a bit thin - like he’s nervous you’ll reject the plan. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” you say, shrugging easily.. “I’m just following you. I’m the assistant. You’re in charge.”

Something flashes across his face - a shooting star of an expression, gone before you’re sure you saw it - and then he’s pushing the cart into the produce section, calling over his shoulder for you to go grab some peaches.

You wind your way together through the store. Each time he stops the cart, you each dart after something else from the nearby shelves then reconvene to look at the list again, shoulders pressed together as you squint at the small font.

It thrills you each time that he doesn’t pull away, each time that he doesn’t hurry to put space between you again as he had back in November.

Don’t make it weird, you beg yourself as you load a few cases of soda into the cart. Keep it in check.

A few rows over, the cart a third of the way full, you pause at a row of sauces. You step back, scanning the labels, then drop into a crouch to read those on the bottom shelf. Chan drops beside you, his knee gently bumping yours as he reaches for one of the jars, bringing it closer to scan the label.

“This one’s my favorite,” he says, and there’s something low in his voice that makes you look over at him. Your fingers overlap his for a second as you take the jar from him, turning it over so you can see which one it is. The moment feels staticky, charged with something.

You chicken out, shuffle back on your heels so your knees no longer touch. “It is a good one,” you agree, putting it back in his hand and pressing your palms to your knees as you rise again. “Get a few - I think Ruby likes that one too.”

He nods, looking away again, dutifully reaching to grab a second jar. You move on to the next aisle in silence. You almost feel like his energy seems… disappointed. But that wouldn’t make sense at all.

Turning the corner to the first row of freezers, you feel your body react instantly to the cold and you immediately fold in around yourself, goosebumps rising up your arms.

“Oh, it’s cold,” you complain. “Let’s hurry. Please.”

Chan doesn’t respond, but you can feel his eyes sweep over you, heavy, before he starts pushing the cart past you at, yes, a quicker speed. You shiver once, violently, before you hurry after him.

When you’re done, stepping outside into the sunlight feels like being released - like leaving school on the last day before summer break, like leaving work before a vacation, like stepping outside for the first time after rain has kept you inside for days on end. You let it warm you, happy, as you help Chan load the bags into the car.

You drive the few minutes back to the house in silence. As Chan makes the last turn, you wonder out loud, “Do you think Ruby and Mingyu finished before us?”

“Definitely,” Chan says, and he’s right - as the house comes into view, you can see that the second car is already parked.

True to their word, Ruby and Mingyu greet you at the door to help carry everything in and put it away.

“Lara grabbed us a spot down on the beach,” Ruby informs you, as you both stand at the back of the car, scanning for the lighter bags. “As soon as we’re ready we can head down.”

You let out a happy sigh. “I think an afternoon at the beach will cure me.”

“Nothing will cure you,” she deadpans, then literally stops mid-stride to correct herself. “Actually, something could. And it’s here, and available, and sharing your room.”

“I hate you a lot!” you tell her brightly, pushing past her with an armful of groceries and heading into the relative dark of the house, praying Chan hadn’t overheard her bullshit.

You hurry through the rest - getting the groceries away, getting changed for the beach, throwing the things you need to bring into a tote. Downstairs, the others wait for you by the back door. Chan is wearing Mingyu’s dumb-ass sunglasses and is clearly in the middle of an old-man bit, his voice reedy and sarcastic. Ruby cackles as Mingyu shoves Chan’s shoulder playfully, reaching to get his eyewear back. You can’t help the wave of affection you feel for them, your goofy friends.

You all step out into the sand, eyes adjusting to the sun. You follow Mingyu’s shadow on the ground as he makes his way towards the spot Soonyoung and Lara saved for you. You drop your tote in the sand and help Ruby spread out a blanket, using your shoes and bags to hold down the corners. Mingyu and Chan settle a small cooler off to one side, filled to the brim with ice and drinks.

You pull your cover-up over your head and toss it in the direction of your tote bag and stretch out, closing your eyes happily and letting your body relax under the warmth of the sun, the sound of breaking waves rhythmic and soothing. You’re startled by the sound of music and open your eyes again to find Ruby setting up a bluetooth speaker near the cooler. She looks at you sheepishly and hurries to lower the volume.

“Sorry,” she giggles. “Didn’t mean it to start so loud.”

To your left, Chan is pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Your eyes widen and you look away as fast as you can, catching Ruby react exactly the same, her eyes comically large.

You both turn your backs to the boys, and she mouths at you, what the fuck?

What the fuck is right. You’re used to being around Mingyu, who has an admittedly perfect body, and even Soonyoung is shockingly cut under those baggy t-shirts and cropped hoodies he sports. Chan’s always been the little one, the most normal, the most obtainable in his regular-ness.

Something’s changed since the last time you were all swimming together. He’d always had a nice body, but this…

You close your eyes against the bright summer sun, as if you can block out the curve of his pecs, the shadowed lines hinting at abs. None of those had been there last summer.

That motherfucker. First, he rejects you, then he gets hotter? You hope he gets eaten by a shark today.

You push yourself to stand.

“Where are you going?” Ruby hisses.

“I need a beer,” you tell her flatly. “Actually, maybe ten beers.”

“I’m not holding your hair today,” she warns you flatly, and you flip her off and make your way to the cooler. It’s going to be a long day.

You manage to get a few hours of peace and sanity by laying out with Ruby and Lara, just enjoying the music and occasional chitchat. Further down the beach, the guys run around with a volleyball but no net, making their own asinine rules.

“I still say you should tell him,” Ruby grumbles, after catching you watching Chan from behind your sunglasses for the ninth time, and you shoot her a warning look. But the damage is done - Lara latches on, her eyes sharp.

“Him… Chan?” she guesses. You feel your face heat.

“I’m that obvious, huh?” you murmur reproachfully.

“I mean,” she says uncertainly, looking to Ruby as if for backup, “I think you both are? If it helps?”

“Both?” you repeat flatly. “I wish.”

She exchanges a look with Ruby again, a silent conversation that you aren’t part of.

“He’s not into me,” you say, easy, like the words don’t cut at you. The salty air hits the wounds and makes them sting. “He’s been clear about that.”

Ruby’s brow furrows; you’ve never actually articulated this in front of her before.

“He has?” she asks, her voice suddenly gentle and almost sorrowful. “You never told me-”

“You were there,” you protest, then look over at the guys to make sure they hadn’t stopped yelling and running. “You both were, actually. That night when you tore your knee open outside of Ivy and Ivory?”

“Yeah,” Lara says slowly, her eyes on you, “I remember that night. That was… kind of the first time I thought he had a thing for you? Like, I know it was a while ago, but -”

“A thing for me?” you echo, working hard to keep your voice quiet. “When you called us out he was so horrified he couldn’t even touch me - he acted like it burned him -”

“Honey, no,” she says seriously, leaning forward. She looks incredulous at your perspective.

“Bestie,” Ruby says, giving you a please believe me, your best friend, who would never lead you astray look. “He was terrified that you’d get spooked.”

You press your mostly-empty beer can to your chin, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

“He wasn’t embarrassed at the idea of being coupled with you,” Lara whispers, her eyes on the guys, whose game has drifted only minutely closer to your blanket. “It was one of those like, shut up or you’ll scare her away moments. He wanted to kill me.”

“Literally, if he’d had a cartoon thought bubble, it would have said shhhh, not so loud!” Ruby adds. She peers at you. “Did you really take it like that this whole time? You thought it was a rejection?”

“He practically pushed me into traffic!” you hiss defensively, and both girls explode into laughter.

“That is not what happened,” Lara insists, and then heads to the cooler, leaving you, Ruby, and your very confused thoughts.

You look at her. She looks at you.

“I thought you knew,” she says finally, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “I had no idea you took it that way.”

You can’t respond - the boys return at this exact moment, Mingyu flops dramatically next to Ruby, panting heavily, sweat running down his face.

“Jagiya,” he gasps like he’s dying. “Water. Please.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, but a water bottle lands next to Mingyu’s head before she can get up. You turn towards the cooler and see Soonyoung standing with his hands on his knees, also panting, while Chan digs around for presumably another water bottle.

“You need anything out of here?” he asks you over his shoulder.

You shake your head. “Thanks, though.”

You rise, brushing errant sand from the backs of your thighs, squinting at the water. The waves are breaking evenly, and there’s room to tread further out past the breaking point. “I think I’m gonna go in,” you announce to whoever is listening.

Lara shakes her head, reaching one hand up to tug at Soonyoung, obviously wanting him to sit by her. Ruby flaps her hand at you as if to tell you go on. She’s never been a big swimmer, more of a giant unicorn floatie kind of girl.

You stop when you’re ankle-deep, letting a few waves break and rush over the tops of your feet, adjusting to the temperature. You start to wade in, the water rushing around your shins, when you hear your name called breathlessly behind you.

Chan jogs up, his hair pushed back, a thin silver chain bouncing against his collarbones. You look away before you can get caught. Ruby and Lara’s words race through your brain. Have you been wrong about him this whole time? Have you misread every signal over the last three years, viewed it through the wrong lens?

“You can’t leave me alone with them,” he complains, face twisting in exaggerated suffering.

You laugh. “Can’t stand being the fifth wheel, huh?”

He shakes his head, smiling, still trying to catch his breath from volleyball and then the jog over here.

“You coming in?” you ask him. “I was gonna go out and tread for a while.”

He nods. “You don’t mind if I join?”

You look at him appraisingly, new information starting to process inside your mind, shifting the rules you’d followed for months. The sea air makes you bold. “You?” you say. “I would never mind.”

You don’t wait to see his reaction; you step further into the water, hitting just above your knees when you reach the spot where the waves are breaking. You stumble a little as a wave hits your thighs, and Chan’s hand finds your elbow, firm but unassuming, helping you steady yourself again.

When you reach waist-deep water, you eye the spot just ahead where the waves reach their tallest point as they gather on their way to shore.

“We’re gonna have to go under that,” you tell Chan. He actually looks nervous, which makes you laugh. “Want me to hold your hand?”

The smile he sends you is both self-deprecating and relieved, like he can’t believe his answer is yes, but yes, and he’s so glad you asked.

“Come on,” you say, laughing again. You hold out your hand and he takes it, and when the next ocean swell rises before you like a mighty wall you hold your breath and tug him under. It’s an act of faith, dipping below the roaring ocean, hoping you time it right. You keep his fingers tight between yours and let your body sink.

You surface on the other side, in an area of relative calm. Beside you, Chan wipes at his face with his spare hand, which makes you realize you’re still holding the other. You release it gently, treading water easily. Chan can probably just touch sand if he stretches.

You tread together quietly for a few minutes, less than six inches apart. The sun glints off the water around you, dancing and sparkling as the water moves. You wish you could ask him about that night, years ago, confirm Lara and Ruby’s interpretation of the events. You could - you just aren’t brave enough.

You look at him, familiar and beautiful and - until today - unobtainable. What if you swam closer, what if you pressed yourself close and kissed him, right here in the ocean?

If it ruined everything, you could just let yourself drown. And if it didn’t… well, you could let yourself drown a different way, then.

You chicken out. You chat about inconsequential things instead - his upcoming trip with his family, a work project you’d recently wrapped up that you’d been talking about for months, what the plan will be for dinner when you all get tired of the sunshine.

It’s easy to talk to Chan - it always has been. He’s quick with a joke or a bit, but always open and earnest. He watches you quietly when you talk, accentuates his stories with his hands when it’s his turn. Eventually, Ruby joins you. Mingyu stands at the edge of the water, one hand shielding his eyes, watching her go.

“He’s not coming in?” you ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t want to get his hair wet. God, the water feels great. Anyway, we’re thinking of heading in soon, to get showers and stuff before we figure out dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Chan says.

“I’ll be right in,” you say, and beneath the water you grab at Ruby’s hand. Stay.

Chan gives you both a wave goodbye and heads towards the beach. You both watch as he steps onto land, approaches Mingyu, and shakes like a dog, spraying water all over his friend. You can hear Mingyu’s shout of protest even from here, and Ruby’s maniacal laughter echoes around you.

“How’s it going?” she asks you slyly, when she’s finished laughing at her man. Like she knows the answer already.

“Nice of you to ask!” you cry. “Actually! I’m kind of having a meltdown! Because for nearly eight months I thought he’d told me unequivocally, irrevocably no, and now I am finding out that he… I don’t even know. What does it mean? That was ages ago, surely even if he felt something then…”

“Only one way to find out,” Ruby says, way too sensibly.

“That’s not helpful,” you grumble.

“It is helpful, it’s just not easy,” she says sagely. You splash a handful of water towards her head and she shrieks, swimming further away from you.

“That’s enough of you,” you tell her, and start heading in towards the sand.

Back at the blanket, the boys and Lara have mostly packed up. You pull your rolled up towel out of your tote and dry off briskly. When everyone is accounted for, you all collect your things and head back up the walkway towards the house.

You put everything away - leftover drinks in the fridge, wet towels in the washing machine, etc - and the couples disappear into their rooms, doors closing and locking up and down the hallway.

Which just leaves you and Chan.

You follow him to the end of the hall and into the large room you’ll be somehow sharing. He turns on one of the bedside lamps and stops to plug his phone in, then looks over at you.

“You wanna shower?” he asks, tossing his phone lightly onto the bed. You can only stare at him, short-circuiting, until he clarifies. “Do you want to go first?”

“Oh,” you utter, quickly trying to recover. “Yeah, if you don’t mind?”

He waves his hand graciously towards the dark bathroom, as if to say, be my guest.

Showering turns into a reprieve - a locked door between you allowing you to jumpstart your brain again as you feel the hot water remove all the hidden bits of sand clinging to your legs and back.

While Chan takes his turn after you, you escape outside with a cold soda from the fridge. The beach beyond your rental’s deck is still pretty busy, but the crowd has thinned a bit since you all packed up. The sun descends behind the house, which means the sunrise tomorrow morning will come over the beach.

Mingyu seems to be preparing the grill, and Ruby bustles around, bringing out ingredients and setting them close to the grill. On one of the cushioned benches, Lara drapes her legs over Soonyoung’s legs and talks with him quietly, both of them giggling.

Since it seems like your help isn’t needed anywhere - you’ll help set the table when the food is almost ready, as is your usual job as a non-cook - you sit with your cold drink and watch the waves break, lost in thought.

Lara and Ruby seemed so sure that you’d misread Chan that autumn night. There’s a small part of you that’s still doubtful, but at the end of the day you do trust their judgement. So, assuming they’re right, Chan had been interested in you. That was over six months ago, though. It doesn’t mean anything now except that… well… if he was interested in you once, there’s a possibility he could be again. Or still.

Your move, it seems, is to figure out if that’s the case. Chan hasn’t done anything recently to indicate that he’s disinterested, but he also hasn’t done anything to indicate that he is. He - like you - has played it very safe. It isn’t until now that you’ve questioned if it’s because he actually sees you platonically, or if he thinks that’s what you want.

One of you is going to have to push the boundary, to test the waters.

When Chan emerges from the house, freshly showered and hair falling over his forehead nearly to his eyes, you look up from where you’re sitting and watch him thoughtfully. He pauses at the grill to ask Mingyu something, then passes by the mess of limbs that is Soonyoung and Lara, then drops onto the seat next to you.

“Mingyu says it’ll be another twenty minutes or so until everything’s done,” he informs you.

“Guess I should get the plates and stuff,” you sigh, leaning forward to set your drink on the table.

“I can help you,” he offers, and follows you inside, where you both open cabinets and drawers in the unfamiliar kitchen until you find everything you need.

He heads outside ahead of you, his hands loaded with utensils and condiments, and you pause, watching his dark silhouette against the evening sunlight. Your heart tumbles, and you jerk back into motion, following him into the light.

You all stay on the back deck until well after sunset. As the sky sinks into deeper and deeper blues, you rise and plug in the string of lights that weave through the beams above the deck, casting everyone in a nearly-orange glow. Mingyu sets up the tabletop fire pit, but you end up chilly anyway as night takes hold.

You shiver once, and you notice Chan looking sideways at you.

“Cold?” he asks, and the wave of deja vu you get is almost dizzying.

You shake your head instinctively, more against the memory than actually answering the question. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you do have goosebumps rising along your arms.

He gets up anyway, heading into the unlit house without a word. You rise a beat later and head across the deck.

Ruby calls your name like a question, and in answer you point at the cooler tucked behind the grill, where you’d all stashed beer and water bottles. She gives a quick “ah” of understanding.

“You need one?” you ask her, as you shuffle behind the grill and pull on the cooler’s lid.

“I’ll take a beer,” Mingyu answers for her, and you dig through the bottles and cans until you find his preferred brand, reaching to pass it to him over Soonyoung’s head. Then you turn back and look at your options, trying to decide if you want a can of spiked seltzer or if you want to go inside and mix something a little harder.

While you’re deciding, the glass door to your left slides open, and Chan steps quietly back onto the deck. He’s in a baby blue hoodie that he hadn’t been wearing before, and he carries a bundle of dark material in his hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, holding it out to you. “It felt weird to dig through your luggage, so I grabbed one of mine.”

You take his offering silently, fighting a tiny smile. “Thanks,” you say, equally quiet, like you’ve both agreed you want to keep this moment between you, not call the attention of the others. You shake the dark hoodie out and pull it over your head, slipping your arms into the sleeves and fixing the hood so it’s not inside-out. The hem falls almost past your shorts, and the sleeves reach past your fingers.

Chan bends to grab a beer from the cooler, then heads back to where he was sitting before. You reach for your own drink, settling on a seltzer after all, and when you turn to head back to your spot you can’t help but notice him watching you through the flickering fire pit, something unreadable on his face.

“You good?” you ask him as you settle back into your spot.

“Yeah,” he says, but there’s something tight in his voice that makes the goosebumps rise on your arms again despite the new layer of warmth you’re wearing. That smells like him. You tug on the edges of the sleeves to pull the shoulders tighter and curl up on your chair, tucking your legs into the baggy material and locking back into the conversation.

The night moves slowly, the constellations rotating centimeter by centimeter above you, everything made comfortably fuzzy by the drinks and the firelight. Sometime before midnight, Ruby suggests a walk along the beach.

You go in bare feet, the cool wood of the deck stairs giving way to sand as soft as silk. Mingyu and Ruby take the lead, the rest of you trailing behind. At some point - long after the house disappears from view - Lara stops, pointing up at the moon - a sliver above the undulating sea.

The four of you stop and look for a minute. Down the beach, you can hear Ruby and Mingyu but they’re out of sight in the dark.

“We should probably catch up with them,” you say, looking in the direction of their disembodied voices.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the house, actually,” Lara says, looking up at Soonyoung to gauge if he agrees. “We’ll leave the back door unlocked for you all?”

They say their goodbyes and head back hand in hand, leaving you alone with Chan and that sliver of moon. For a minute, the night seems to expand around you, growing bigger and bigger and leaving the two of you so small within it. Chan looks at you silently, as if he’s waiting for something, one side of his mouth quirked into an almost-smile that makes your stomach swim with the desire to cause a real smile, to push that little almost into something fully-formed.

Then, Ruby calls your names loudly from further up the beach, and the spell is broken.

“Guess we better catch up,” Chan says wryly. You both turn and start walking in silence, nearly shoulder to shoulder. As you walk, the back of your hand brushes the back of his just once, and your entire body prickles at the contact. You almost shift away, give him a little more space, but something urges you to hold the line. You want to see what he will do.

You keep walking, close enough that you can hear him breathing, hear the sand slide each time he takes a step. The back of his hands brushes yours again, warm. He doesn’t react, so neither do you.

You carry on, knuckles occasionally bumping his, until you find Ruby and Mingyu. They’re standing watching the moon, Mingyu wrapped around Ruby’s back like a giant, love-sick koala.

“Where’re Soonyoung and Lara?” Ruby asks, when she notices you.

“They headed back,” you say, stopping a few feet away.

“We should, too,” Ruby muses, eyes on the moon. “But it’s so pretty here.”

“It is,” Chan murmurs from beside you and you glance sideways at him, trying to read him. He’s staring out at the dark sea, the stars flickering in and out above it, giving you his profile. Ruby’s eyes flick to you, one eyebrow quirked. You look away, not wanting to get caught in this silent conversation, but you can feel the heat on your face, the smile tugging at your mouth.

The house is dark when you all return, and you let yourselves back in quietly, just in case Soonyoung and Lara are actually sleeping. You bid Ruby and Mingyu goodnight in whispers and head to the end of the hall. Chan closes the door and you flick on the bedside lamp, casting a low yellow light through the room.

Wordlessly, Chan begins to rummage through his suitcase, transferring items to a small pile - a pair of loose shorts, a toothbrush, his phone charger. It occurs to you, suddenly, that he’s gathering what he needs to leave - to go sleep on a couch.

“Chan,” you say. You don’t even know what you want to say next. You just know you don’t want him to go, don’t want him to sleep on a couch, don’t want to be here alone.

He pauses, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

What do you want to say? Stay? You balk, suddenly chicken again.

“I can take the couch tonight,” you say instead. He shakes his head, but you press on. “We can switch tomorrow.”

“Nope,” he says easily.

“Chan,” you say again. He keeps rummaging, his back to you.

“Chan,” you repeat, insistent. He turns fully, still crouching, and raises his eyebrows as if to say, yes?

“Do you want to just stay here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking. It feels like a moment of great enormity.

He shakes his head, and the rejection stings enough that you feel your breath catch.

But then he says, “No, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch. I’m trying to be a gentleman - quit fighting me.”

You realize, slowly, that he misunderstood what you were offering.

“No,” you say. “I meant… like… no one on the couch.”

He stares at you blankly, his hands open like he forgot he was searching for something.

Embarrassment licks up the back of your neck like flames. “The bed isn’t that small,” you say, a little defensive. “We could just, like, stay on our own sides.”

The blank look on his face slowly transforms. His brows come together, his mouth tucking into a rare frown. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask something, but nothing comes out. His eyes flick to the bed and then back to you.

“I don’t…” he says, and the heat of embarrassment heightens. He clears his throat and tries again, “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he says slowly.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t okay with it,” you point out.

He nods slowly, then pushes himself to stand. “Are you extremely sure?” he asks, peering at you. “This isn’t a High Noon decision, is it?”

You laugh, the tension dissipating a little. “No,” you assure him. “I just… feel bad putting you on a couch… and I don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch either… and I think we can… not make it weird?”

“We can,” he says, like a promise.

You second-guess your decision the whole time you get ready for bed - as you brush your teeth, as you change into pajamas, as you settle into the side of the bed by the balcony and plug in your phone. You’re nervous you won’t be able to keep it not weird - nervous that you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, that the magnetic pull to touch him will be too strong.

But when Chan climbs into the other side of the bed and clicks off the light, illuminated only by his phone screen, his warmth seeping into the blankets around you, it isn’t your hands that inch towards him. It’s your words. They claw their way out, desperate to reach across the six inches of darkness.

Chan, I’m actually really into you.

What really happened that night, when we were walking from bar to bar?

I’m in love with you, probably. I think.

Are you interested in me? At all?

You fight them all back, hold them all in. You don’t relax until Chan’s clicked his phone off and placed it on the nightstand, whispered goodnight to you, until you hear his breathing deepen. Just in case. Just in case the words get out the second you unclench - you need him to be asleep first so you can be sure he won’t hear them. You fall asleep with your face buried in the crook of your elbow, one last line of defense.

You wake up with your face buried in the crook of Chan’s neck instead of your own arm. You realize it instantly, body freezing like you’re about to get caught stealing, your whole body tight with panic. Like if you don’t move, you won’t wake him, and he won’t know that you cuddled him in your sleep.

Mortifying.

He’s mostly on his back but sort of tilted towards you, and you have one arm over his ribs, your nose pressed into the juncture of his shoulder. But, you realize as you stay frozen, his arms are around you. This was a mutual cuddle. Your legs are touching, too, one of your shins between his.

You try to breathe as shallowly as possible, fight the urge to stretch or roll or scoot away. You don’t want to alert him, pop this bubble, make the moment end. Chan is holding you as the sun rises over the ocean outside. It feels like another daydream, too good to be true. You never want it to end. You wish it was more real than this.

Slowly, you relax, one limb at a time, letting your muscles unclench and inhaling deeply. His skin, warm against your cheek, smells good - still a bit salty from the ocean, even after showering. But it’s only moments later that he stirs, his arms tightening around you and then loosening again as he makes a satisfied, low noise in his throat.

Then he goes still. You freeze back up, watching him for a reaction.

His mouth moves first, quirking sideways, and then he cracks one eye and peers down at you. A laugh bubbles from him and the cuddle is disintegrating around you as he shifts himself backwards and up on his elbows, still chuckling.

“Sorry,” he’s laughing, “sorry. I didn’t - that - I did not expect to do that in my sleep.”

You can’t help your own sheepish smile in return. “Me either, but it was actually comfy,” you admit. Now disentangled, you feel kind of cold and a little sad. But he’s acting like it was a funny goof, your bodies clinging to each other the second your brains turned off, so you’ll go along with the joke.

He rolls over and rummages on his nightstand, returning with his phone in hand and pushing thin-framed glasses up his nose. You look away, heart clenching. You love him in those; combined with the bedhead and his smell in your nose and the warmth of his skin not yet evaporated from yours and the feeling of his arms around you… it’s all a lot.

“I’m gonna… get dressed,” you say, reaching for your own phone. Chan hums a response and you vanish into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting ready as slowly as possible. When you come out, the bedroom is blessedly empty. You close your eyes and exhale. It’s going to be a long day.

When you finally head down to the kitchen, Lara and Chan are chatting easily at the table, steaming mugs in their hands. He’s still in those damn cute glasses.

“Good morning!” Lara greets you brightly. “There’s coffee!”

“God bless you,” you tell her seriously. You open a cabinet in search of a mug, but you’re faced with only plates and glassware instead. Chan appears at the cabinet next to you, reaching up and offering you a white mug with a cartoon seagull on it.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling weirdly shy considering you just woke up pressed against him. Once you fix the coffee how you like it, you take the seat next to Lara at the table. “Everyone else still asleep?” you ask.

“Soonyoung is, but I have to go wake him up in a minute,” Lara says, clicking on her phone screen to check the time. “We have a snorkeling thing at ten.”

“Ruby and Mingyu are out already,” Chan tells you. “Sunrise yoga. She texted us.”

“God,” you say, horrified. “Mingyu’s gonna hate that.” You realize at the mention of her text that you’ve left your phone upstairs.

Chan laughs. “Right?”

Lara rises, presumably to go wake up her boyfriend. “Her text said they’d be out until around four,” she tells you as she moves back into the kitchen to rinse out her mug. “I think they’ll beat us back, but not by much. Maybe we can go grab dinner when everyone’s back?”

“Sure,” you say, shooting a look at Chan to see if he has any opinions on this plan. He shrugs - no opinions to be found. You’ve always loved the way he could just go with the flow, happy to be along for the adventure.

You and Chan are still sitting at the table, coffees dwindling, when Lara pulls a bleary-eyed Soonyoung through the front door with a shouted goodbye, the sound of the car’s engine reaching you from outside. You look at each other, left alone together.

Again.

He gives you a flat, unamused look that he definitely picked up from Seungkwan or Vernon. “Are they doing this on purpose?” he asks, and a jolt goes through you. He’s said it. It’s like a curtain being pulled, shedding sunlight on something that had been shadowbound until now.

“Doing what?” you say, even though you know. “Leaving us by ourselves? Probably. Ruby likes to fuck with me.”

Chan laughs, and you’re filled with shaky relief that the moment isn’t weird. You both knew what this was, apparently, and facing it has put you on the same team against it.

“I thought it was to fuck with me,” he admits, still smiling.

“Two birds with one stone,” you muse. “For the sake of efficiency.”

But you wonder… why would it be fucking with him if he wasn’t interested in you? Is he admitting something?

“Well,” Chan says, stretching his arms above his head, fingers linked, “by all means, you can do your own thing today. You don’t have to babysit me. But it’s supposed to storm later, so I was thinking I’d use the pool a bit this morning while we still can, and then maybe go into town for lunch.”

You consider this. “That’s very pragmatic of you,” you observe lightly.

“That’s one of the first words I’d pick to describe myself,” he tries to deadpan, but the smile is too quick, telling on himself.

You let him get changed first, and when you make your way out back to the pool he’s already in the water up to his waist. You toss a towel onto one of the chaises.

“How’s the water?” you ask him, as you move to sit on the edge, preparing to let your legs dangle.

“It’s great,” he tells you, smiling easily, like he’s happy - happy you’re here, happy to be here with you.

You wonder if that’s the case, as you slowly lower your legs in, the water coming to lap a few inches below your knees.

“Feels cold,” you tell him. It doesn’t, really - way warmer than the ocean you played in yesterday, but you want to tease him a little.

Suddenly, his hands are on your ankles, holding you firmly. His hands are on your ankles.

“You should get in quickly,” he tells you, trying - again - to pretend to be serious, despite the smile he can’t combat. “Like ripping off a band-aid.”

“Lee Chan,” you warn, but a giggle rises up in you. “Don’t you dare. I will get in when I am good and ready!”

“I’m just trying to help,” he says, pretending to be hurt. His fingers are still pressing against your skin, your brain impossibly aware of the exact spot his thumb presses, as if there’s a beacon illuminating the place.

He gives your legs a playful tug, too lightly to actually move you. You squeal anyway, reaching down to splash water towards him. “Chan!”

He releases your ankles, taking a step back to avoid the splash, laughing. “Be careful,” he warns. “If it’s war you want -” He holds his hand like a knife above the water, ready to retaliate the splash.

“Oh my God, you menace. I’m getting in!” you cry, gripping the lip of the pool and sliding in, staying on your tippy-toes as your body adjusts to the temperature.

“Come on,” he goads, backing away from you, bobbing towards the shallow end. “You have to go under or it doesn’t count.”

“You’re a menace,” you repeat firmly, and he laughs, enjoying that his teasing has worked you up.

You eye the expanse of water between you - you’re at opposite ends of the pool now. “Do you think I could make it across in one go?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow. “Like, underwater? I don’t know - how’s your lung capacity?”

You laugh. “Maybe not good enough,” you admit wryly. “But I’ll try.”

You take a deep breath of salty sea air, only minorly marred by chlorine, and slip down below the surface. You let the bottoms of your feet find the flat cement wall of the pool, and you give a hearty push. It’s hard without being able to see how much farther you have to go, but you hate getting chlorine in your eyes, so you kick and pull blindly until your lungs start to burn. When your natural buoyancy pulls you upward, you don’t fight it.

Your hands find something warm and solid before you surface. Surprise causes you to rear your head, fucking with your balance, and your feet find the floor of the pool. You stand up unsteadily, blinking water out of your eyes.

Chan comes into focus, his expression tight, and you realize that your hands had found his stomach, centimeters above his belly button.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, pulling away.

It’s like ever since last night, you can’t stop touching, your bodies fighting to come together even as you both dig in your heels and try to stop it.

“No worries,” he says just as quickly. You try to cover the moment by wiping water out of your face, but you feel warm all over, the cool water useless against your heated skin as you try to push away how his muscled stomach had felt under your fingertips.

You spend a good hour just floating and splashing around. Sometimes you chat and sometimes you lapse into comfortable silence. At one point you hear him singing lightly under his breath, his voice surprisingly clear but frustratingly quiet.

Eventually, your stomach growls. “I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell him. “You up for lunch in town, maybe? I’d just need to shower super quick first.”

“Sounds great,” he says easily, and you both head for the single runged ladder at the deep end. Chan climbs up first, standing by the ladder, dripping onto the concrete. You grip the metal handles firmly and find the bottom rung with one foot, pushing heavily to hoist yourself up.

And Chan helps you up - his fingers finding the dip of your waist and guiding you until you’re steadily on the pool deck, something protective in the touch.

Your entire body thrums, electric, cells vibrating. You hurry to your towel and wrap yourself up, hiding your face in the material - pretending you’re just chasing droplets away from your eyes, but actually smothering the urge to scream, if you’re going to touch me then get over here and do it properly!

“Did you know there’s a hot tub under the deck? Was that mentioned in the listing?” Chan asks, and you uncover your face.

“Huh?”

He’s pointing, and then you see that he’s right - tucked beneath the deck is a decently-sized jacuzzi, the lid on and straps fastened shut.

“Oh,” you say breathlessly. “Well, I know what I’m doing after dinner.”

Chan laughs, and you head inside, careful not to drip a trail of pool water through the house.

The rest of the morning passes pleasantly and without any touching; you shower and get changed and go on foot into the small beach town. You find a cute open-air cafe and order lunch, the iced coffee absolutely divine under the warm summer sun. The company’s not bad either.

After you’ve paid and left, Chan pauses on the sidewalk and gives you a mischievous smile. “Up for a little adventure?” he asks.

You frown. “What level of adventure?” you ask cautiously. “Like, on a scale of jumping out of a plane being ten to laying on my towel in the sand being one, what are we talking here?”

He laughs. “Like a three,” he assures you. “We just have a bit of a walk - maybe twenty minutes?”

The walk is pleasant - you don’t even get too warm, as there’s a constant breeze off the ocean and clouds pass overhead, pitching you momentarily into shade between longer bouts of sunshine. When you turn a bend and see the lighthouse rise against the sky in the distance, you actually gasp.

“Can we go up?” you ask, delighted.

“That’s the plan,” he tells you, and for once you can read his face perfectly - he’s pleased that he’s surprised you, pleased to have made you happy. Something warm simmers under your skin, affection and happiness and something else.

It takes forever to reach the top. You have to stop and rest more than once, your calves burning and protesting the many stairs. A few families pass you on their way down, one mother telling you cheerfully that you’re almost to the top. This motivates you to continue, and you press on until you reach the final landing and step through the metal doorway.

The view is absolutely worth it. The beach and the ocean stretch out before you, the town in the distance behind you. Alone at the top, you feel like you’re in your own little world, surrounded by sunlight and the calls of gulls, just you and Chan.

You stand, holding the railing, watching the waves undulate far below you for a long time. “Chan,” you say, and then falter. You don’t know what you were going to say. Some part of you thinks maybe you’d been about to confess, or to finally ask him something to shed light on his feelings.

When he looks at you, expectant, you say only, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

And maybe you did confess something, because he reaches over and squeezes your hand, just once.

And then, he looks over your shoulder and utters, “Uh oh.”

You spin, following his gaze, and echo, “Uh oh.”

Dark grey clouds gather to the west. You remember him saying it was supposed to storm later; it looks like rain will be rolling in soon, ushering in the storms behind it.

“We’d better head down,” he says regretfully, and you follow him back inside.

You make it down and outside before the rain comes, but the sunshine of the morning has gone and left gloomy grey in its wake.

“You think we can make it back to the house?” you ask breathlessly.

Chan checks the time on his phone, already walking brisky back towards the direction of town and your rental. “Maybe,” he says, but he sounds doubtful. “We’ve gotta be quick, though.”

You barely even make it into town; you aren’t even back at the cafe where you’d had lunch before the sky opens. It happens exactly like that - one second it’s not raining, the next second you’re drenched, hair plastered to your face, shirt sticking to your back, spluttering breaths through your mouth like you’re being sprayed with a hose.

You let out a cry of surprise, and then Chan is grabbing your hand and tugging, pulling you off of the sidewalk and into a nearby doorway. You don’t even manage to see what the doorway belongs to - Chan is already pulling it open, his hand still in yours as he leads you inside.

It’s dark, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust as you wipe rain away from your eyes and shake droplets off of your arms. Beside you, Chan is doing the same, running a hand through his soaked hair and huffing out a noise of disbelief.

“That,” you say, “was bonkers.”

You seem to be in a dimly-lit dive bar, the kind that only locals go to. It’s pretty empty, since it’s early afternoon on a weekday, so when Chan raises a soggy, questioning eyebrow at you, you shrug and follow him towards the bar. Why not?

You take a seat wearily, and pull out your phone.

“We’ve got almost an hour until everyone is supposed to be back,” you inform him.

“In that case,” he says, and when the bartender meanders over, he orders you a row of shots to share.

You clink shot glasses for the first one, but after that you turn it into a game.

Chan narrows his eyes at you, mock-thoughtful. “What would you do if you woke up and your hands and feet had switched places?”

After answering (use my toes to order an Uber to the hospital), you volley with, “What would you do if aliens invaded tomorrow?”

Back and forth the game goes, punctuated by shot glasses being emptied and returned to the bar. What would you do if you woke up married in Vegas? … What would you do if you woke up one day and could only speak in rhyme? … What would you do if you were suddenly allergic to your favorite food? … What would you do if you were forced to join the circus?

You’re both laughing deliriously. Chan is wiping under his eyes in mirth, and you’ve hunched over so far that you find yourself with your hands on his knees, using him to stay upright on your barstool. Your surroundings have faded into colors and muted sounds with the alcohol in your system. All you can focus on is Chan, warm and solid under your palms, his eyes on you, the sound of his laugh cutting straight through the fog.

Then his next one isn’t so funny. “What would you do if you found out you only had a day to live?” he asks, and despite the seriousness, one last chuckle rumbles through his chest, like an aftershock.

Tell you. Tell you the truth.

You swallow. You take your hands off of his knees - you’re not sure he even noticed them there - and flex your fingers. And then, filter demolished by both alcohol and the sheer amount of time it’s been keeping you in check, you break.

Instead of answering, you fire back your own. “What would you do if I came onto you right now?”

Chan blinks at you, eyes as wide as you’ve ever seen them. He blinks twice more, and then his mouth opens. Your heart pounds.

“I’d - I - I guess, I’d probably kiss you,” he says, voice suddenly hushed, as if he’s a little unsure if he’s supposed to be honest or if the game is still a string of jokes.

You stare back. The two of you are frozen, both a bit wide-eyed, like neither of you is sure how you ended up like this.

Then, you breathe, “Okay, then do it.”

He nods immediately, breath coming sharply, and shifts closer on his seat. You feel like you’re holding your breath, waiting. Tentatively, he reaches up, brushes your jaw with his thumb.

Beside you, your phone blares to life on the bar. You both jump, startled out of the moment.

“Ruby,” you tell him hollowly. His hand still hovers near your face, but he nods, pulling it away. You feel like you can barely breathe as you slide your thumb to take the call.

“Hey,” you say into the phone, your eyes on Chan.

“Hey,” Ruby says, “where are you guys? Our thing ended early because of the rain so we’re back at the house.”

“Oh,” you say, trying hard to focus on her voice in her ear and not what just almost happened. “We’re in town. At… a bar? We came in to get out of the rain.”

“Perfect,” Ruby says. Across from you, Chan is rubbing his hands down the tops of his thighs, like they’re sweaty. You wonder if he’s nervous. “We’ll get changed and come get you guys in the car, and then we can go grab dinner together.”

You agree and hang up, then repeat the plan to Chan, who nods. He looks how you feel - a bit shell-shocked, a bit uncertain.

“We need to sober up,” you say. “Or, at least, I do.”

“No, me too,” he says, shaking his head. He sighs, and he might as well have said, goddamn Ruby. You hear it all. Then he seems to give himself a shake, orders you each a water, and asks to close his tab.

“They’re just up the street,” you tell him when Ruby’s text rolls in a bit later.

He nods, uncharacteristically quiet. You wish you could peek inside his brain and see what’s going on in there.

“Hey,” you say, and his eyes snap to you, that open look you know so well on his face. Your voice softens, and you resist the urge to reach out and touch his hand when you continue. “Here’s what I don’t want to happen - I don’t want Ruby to sniff out that something’s going on and interrogate me before we can… talk, ourselves. So let’s pull it together, and get through dinner, and then we can…”

We can what? Pick up where we left off?

He nods anyway, even though you’d left the thought unfinished. “You’re right,” he says.

And, somehow, you do. You both pull it together, rush through the pouring rain from the bar to the open car door. You smile and tease and laugh through dinner, like nothing had happened at all.

You feel relieved, in the back of Ruby’s car, as you all make your way back to the house. You did it - you got through dinner unscathed. Now you can go inside, and have some privacy, and talk and maybe figure out -

“Did you guys know the rental has a hot tub?” Chan asks, and you turn to look at him, baffled.

“It has a what?” Ruby gasps.

“Yep,” he says cheerfully, like he hasn’t just shattered your dream of getting a moment to yourselves. “It’s under the deck. Which means - hey! - it’s covered! We could totally go in, we wouldn’t even be in the rain.”

“That sounds great, actually,” Lara muses.

You say nothing, but when he catches you looking sideways at him, Chan sends you a wink, quick as lightning. You feel your face go puzzled, and he smiles and looks away, giving you no answers.

You’re somehow the first one to get changed and outside; it’s still pouring rain and you cover your head with your towel as you make your way down the steps and under the deck where some drips make it through, but you’re mostly out of the rain. A quick sweep of the area with your phone’s flashlight shows that there’s a string of the same lights down here as above on the deck, and you hurry to plug them in. Now that you can see, it’s actually kind of cute under here.

You unsnap the first strap for the lid, and jump when a pair of hands reaches next to you for the second one. You hadn’t heard Chan approach, but you silently accept his help as you push the lid up and off. You watch him out of the corners of your eyes to see if he’s going to say anything, address it at all. When it seems like he’s not, you turn to climb up the little set of steps, resigned.

His hand closes around your wrist, stilling you. He gives the tiniest of tugs and you relent, turning around. He gives you another tiny tug - you could resist if you wanted to, but you don’t, you don’t, you don’t. You let the tug pull you closer and look up at him, waiting. He kisses you quickly, firmly, close-mouthed for now but sure, his hands forming loose loops around each of your wrists as if he might want to tug you into place again.

The sliding glass door above you slides open and you step away, heart racing.

“Later,” he says quietly, and then you don’t get another second alone, Mingyu and Soonyoung’s voices bouncing through the space as they clamber down the deck stairs.

You climb into the warm water and choose a spot. Chan follows and sits a few solid feet away from you. You try not to look guilty when the other guys round the corner.

“Brought you a beer,” Mingyu says, reaching the extra can towards you.

“You are a legend,” you tell him gratefully.

Chan frowns, and for a crazed second you think maybe he’s jealous that Mingyu did something nice for you, but then he whines, “You didn’t bring me one? Hyung.”

“Calm your ass down,” Mingyu says, climbing into the water and finding a seat. You’re instantly more crowded, just from the sheer amount of space his long legs take up. “Soonyoung has yours.”

You snicker a little, and Chan gives you a light kick under the water. Above you, you hear the door slide open again, and a minute later Ruby and Lara appear beneath the deck, sheltered from the rain by Ruby’s towel.

“Oh,” Ruby says, surprised. “It’s not bad under here!”

“It’s cute, right?” you agree. “Still getting a few raindrops, though.”

“Eh, we’re in water anyway,” Soonyoung says easily, reaching up a hand to help steady Lara as she climbs in.

It’s crowded, and Chan’s two-feet-away doesn’t last. Instead, you’re crowded together, just inches apart. Ruby leans over the edge and turns on the jets, the top of the water creating a frothy layer.

“This is nice,” Lara says happily, closing her eyes and leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“It is,” you murmur, sipping at your beer. Under the cover of the jets’ bubbles, something touches your hand. Someone’s hand touches your hand. Chan’s hand touches your hand.

Your heart lurches. You beg your face to behave and give nothing away. And ever so slowly, you turn your hand over.

He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes on Soonyoung, who’s telling a story animatedly on the other side of the jacuzzi. But his fingers lace between yours, and his thumb brushes along the back of your hand, slow and tantalizing.

You’ve never been so undone by hand holding in your life.

You try to breathe. You sip casually at your beer and interject into the conversation when you can. You laugh at the jokes and look at whoever is speaking. You have no idea what the conversation is about. You hold onto Chan’s slender fingers like he’s a lifeline, like if you let go he’ll slip away, again and for good.

Later, he’d said, and his voice echoes in your head as you pray for later to be now. And finally, blessedly, Lara finally yawns, loud, and starts making moves to get out and head in. Which means so does Soonyoung. Then Mingyu lifts a hand from the water and examines his fingers, complaining, “I’m all pruny.” Chan gives your hand a squeeze and lets you go, reaching for his beer nonchalantly, watching Ruby and Mingyu carefully. You know you’re both waiting, impatiently, for them to leave you alone.

Leave, you silently beg, still trying to appear as casual as possible. Leaaaaave.

“You staying a little?” Ruby asks you, pausing halfway out of the hot tub.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to force your voice to stay casual. “I slept pretty late this morning - I’m not really tired yet.”

“Not all of us got up for sunrise yoga,” Chan says dryly, and Mingyu laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand, clearly wanting to get inside.

“Okay, then,” Ruby says, her eyes still on you. “See you in the morning then.”

“Bye,” you tell her, and you have to fight the giggle out of your voice. You can’t help it - you feel giddy, nearly bouncing with excitement. You and Chan have been skirting the brink of something all day and you’re finally standing on the cusp of it, toes curled over the edge, ready to dive.

The second you hear the sliding door above you close, Chan’s hand is on your wrist again, pulling much more insistently than he had earlier in the day. Surprised, you let him tug you onto his lap, settling with your thighs bracketing his own, his hands wasting no time in finding your hips and pulling you more firmly against him.

His mouth is on yours, as insistent as his touch. You answer him readily, nearly sighing into his mouth as you get something you’ve wanted for years. You skate your hands up his chest and bring your arms around the back of his neck. He tips his head back a little, his hands sliding up your back, and the change in angle makes you sigh again.

“Thought they’d never leave,” he mutters against your jaw, and you let out a quick huff of a laugh before your breath leaves you entirely as his teeth nip a line down your neck, tongue and lips soothing behind each quick sting.

You chase his mouth, wanting him back, and he groans quietly when he realizes - like you wanting to continue kissing is just as good as actually kissing. But nothing is as good as the kissing, not if anyone asks you, nothing is as good as his tongue against yours, his teeth gentle on your lips, his hands clutching at your back and your arms and your hips like he can’t pick a favorite.

His hands roaming your body ignite you. You become only aware of their migration as they map the width of your shoulders, survey the dip of your waist, skate over your ass, then repeat the expedition. Your fingers have found his hair, curled up and held tight. He takes your hips in his hands and shifts you on his lap, causing you to tug slightly, and his exhale holds just the slightest hint of a whimper. You almost unravel, right there.

The shifted position also makes it absolutely unignorable that Chan is hard beneath you, and you can’t - don’t even try to - stop yourself from pressing yourself closer, your hips rolling almost involuntarily as soon as you feel him. Chan gasps at the sudden friction, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he’s already going under. Then his hands - frozen on your hips while his brain rebooted - come back to life, slipping up your ribs to cup both of your breasts over your bathing suit, giving one slow knead to both in tandem. You moan, low, unable to stop it, and he responds almost instantly, letting out an audibly shuddering breath.

He surges upwards to kiss you again, one thumb still rubbing circles against your hardening nipple, the other hand trailing back down your side and gripping your waist, holding you in place. You continue to move against him, his mouth hot against yours, the water bubbling around you and surrounding you in mist.

Chan’s nimble fingers leave your chest and work their way down between your bodies, pausing at the edge of your bathing suit bottoms. He looks up at you, pupils blown, panting out controlled little breaths like he’s fighting to keep himself in check.

Eyes unwavering on yours, watching your reactions closely, he slips his fingers between your legs, pressing the material against you, sliding down your slit and back deftly. His cock kicks beneath you when you whine. His gaze on you feels charged, almost like a challenge.

And then you’re blinded by a flash, followed almost instantly by an alarming crack of thunder.

“Fuck,” Chan hisses, twisting to peer out towards the ocean, his hands finding your hips again as if by instinct. “The storm.”

“Guess we have to head in,” you say, and it comes out wispy and breathless. Your legs feel like jelly and he’s barely even started.

“Yeah,” he says, the single syllable tight. He adjusts himself as you vacate the water, the rain beyond the safety of the deck seeming to redouble its efforts. You both hurry to turn the jets off and replace the cover, then stand at the edge of the dry space, looking out at the raging rain.

As hot and heavy as things were only a minute ago, you feel oddly still now, staring out at the storm. Chan places your towel over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, looking sideways at him.

“Ready?” he asks you, and you think he means ready to brave the storm. But your heart is answering another question - are you ready to continue, ready to move forward with him, ready to give life to something that has remained only a daydream in your mind?

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.

He slips his hand into yours. “I’ve got you,” he promises.

You move quickly but carefully through the rain, eyes on your feet as you take the slippery wooden stairs up the deck and towards the house. Chan doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re inside, sliding the door shut behind you. The house is dark and quiet, lit only by a single light above the kitchen sink. You both stand near the door and try to dry off, but your towels got soaked by the rain and don’t do much good.

“Come on,” Chan whispers. “There are fresh towels upstairs.”

You follow him through the house, up the stairs and down the darkened hallway. Chan pauses at the linen closet, pulling out two fluffy towels. You lead him into your shared room, closing and locking the door behind you as he clicks on one of the lamps.

Chan comes back into your space quietly, wraps you both in his towel, the spare forgotten on top of your dresser. You’re pressed tight together, warm in his arms. He presses his lips to the top of your head, leaving them resting there, just holding you. The moment is soft, heavy, a stark contrast to the lightning physicality of what happened outside. Something about the intimacy of it makes you feel hesitant.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling away a little to look at you.

“Yeah,” you breathe back. Your heart is racing. But it’s Chan. It’s Chan with his arms around you, and Chan who was kissing you and touching you, and - it all feels like something you aren’t allowed to have. “Just… maybe we shouldn’t?”

“We don’t have to,” he says immediately, shifting backwards and loosening his arms around you, giving you the option of pulling away if you want it. “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. If you want to just go to bed… or if you want me to take the couch tonight, I can -”

“No,” you say quickly, because that’s the opposite of what you want. “No, it’s just… Chan…”

He seems to hear your uncertainty in your voice, his face softening and his arms pulling you back in. “What is it?” he asks quietly, and you slip your arms around his middle, giving in.

“I think I want this a lot more than you do,” you whisper, glad you don’t have to look at him while you say it.

He laughs, and you step back, looking at him quizzically. You’d been afraid of his reaction - of making him uncomfortable, of pushing the line too far. You hadn’t expected laughter.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he tells you, and you just stare at him, not comprehending. He reaches up, fingers still clutching a corner of the towel wrapped loosely around his back, and brushes a thumb along your jaw. You feel your face warm, but you wait him out. He adds, “I want this… a ridiculous amount. I’ve wondered for a long time if we could… be more.”

He says it like a confession. He says it like he’s embarrassed about it.

“Well,” you say, a fire - a hope - coming back to life behind your ribcage, “maybe we should find out.”

And there it is, that smile that makes the whole world melt away.

The towel drops to the floor, forgotten, and his fingers are at the back of your neck, tugging on the knot that ties your bathing suit top in place. When the material falls away he makes a satisfied noise in his throat as he moves to kiss you again, walking you back towards the bed.

You’d both been eager, but when the mattress hits the backs of your thighs Chan lays you back slowly, almost reverently. He kisses you sweetly, tracing your jaw again, and then lets out another little laugh.

“What?” you breathe, smiling despite being clueless. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing. It’s not,” he says, but he’s still smiling, eyes tracing over your face and body. “It’s just… hard to believe this is real. That it’s you.”

Your breath leaves you. It’s exactly how you’ve felt.

“I know what you mean,” you whisper, and you kiss him again. This time he doesn’t hesitate when his hand slips between your legs, brushing right past your bathing suit and pushing the pads of his fingers into the wet mess he finds there. You shudder an exhale into his waiting mouth as he presses one finger and then a second deep into you, his eyes on you as you arch into the touch.

You let your eyes drift close as he pumps them slowly, and outside the room there’s another flash of lightning chased by the crack of thunder. For a little, there’s only the sound of rain beating against the windows as Chan works little whimpers and half moans out of you.

He switches his angle, something snagging behind your navel, everything beginning to tighten. You gasp his name, and you’re answered by his too-familiar huff of a laugh again.

“What?” you demand through your own smile.

“You say my name like that again and I’m gonna bust,” he tells you seriously. Then he brings his attention back to where his fingers disappear inside you, and his gaze sharpens. “These are in my way,” he murmurs, pulling out of you and reaching for your bathing suit, which had been pushed to the side.

“Yours too, then,” you object playfully, lifting your hips for him as he slides the damp material down your legs. He smiles at you indulgently and shuffles backwards on the back, standing long enough to tug at his swim trunks, letting them drop unceremoniously before crawling back up to you, pressing his mouth to yours and cupping your jaw with one hand, like he’d missed you in the seconds he’d been gone.

“Chan,” you whisper, because you need more of him, because this isn’t enough.

He slides lower down your body, his chest brushing against yours, his lips mapping a path down your sternum, down your belly, pausing near your navel. He looks up at you, all glinty-eyed, that million-dollar smile going slightly sideways, a little mischievous.

“Can I? Please say yes,” he says in a rush, pushing his nose into your lower belly and caressing your inner thighs with his thumbs.

You lean up on your elbows so you can look at him better. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing for a minute. He’s going to give you a cardiac event. “If you want to,” you tell him.

He laughs again, so quiet. “You have no idea,” he says, shaking his head, and then he’s attaching his mouth to you and your arms give out. You eye the ceiling, a strangled moan working up your throat as Chan’s tongue delves into your heat. You squirm, trying to push him deeper. He loops his arms under your legs and then reaches over, his hands pulling you tighter against his chin, both of you working to the same goal.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time imagining how Chan might eat pussy, but you’re surprised that he dives right into fucking you on his tongue, determined and rhythmic. You’d have pegged him for the type to go slow, draw it out, tease and taste and work you up little by little. Instead he grunts in satisfaction, pulls on you hard enough that you wonder if he’ll leave little bruises from his fingertips, and spears his tongue in and out of your hole with abandon, his nose bumping your clit every few thrusts.

You’re a whimpering mess, fighting the urge to roll your hips into his face, one hand slapped over your face to muffle the sound. He shifts, lips working their way up to your desperately pulsating clit, and you feel your whole body seize with the change of sensation, a long, low groan emanating from your chest. He suctions his lips around your clit and sucks gently, then a little less gently, and your feet scrabble against the sheets, trying to find purchase.

His fingers enter you again, his spit and your wetness giving them the perfect slide, and it’s exactly the extra stimulation you need. He only has to pump his wrist twice, that delicious suction steady around your clit, before you’re grasping desperately at him - one hand sliding into his hair and the other finding his wrist and holding tight, which doesn’t stop him at all from pistoning his fingers into that spot on your front wall that has you unraveling faster than you ever have before.

“Fuck, fuck, Chan -” you gasp. Your eyes squeeze shut and your grip on him might actually be painful, a belly-deep ahhhhh ripped from you as the onslaught of sensation sends conscious thought spinning away.

“Shhh,” he soothes, fingers slowly but continuing to work you through it. You whimper, gasp for a breath, the room coming back into view. “Not so loud, baby.”

“God, Chan,” you groan, releasing your hold on him, flexing your fingers.

He grins at you, lightning quick, then kisses the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl.”

You peer at him, boneless. “You up for more?”

He pushes himself up on his elbows, the triumph not completely melted from his face yet. “I’m up for whatever you want,” he promises. “You’re calling the shots here.”

“Excellent,” you joke. You reach towards him, barely stop yourself from making grabby hands. “Come fuck me.”

He damn near scrambles to obey. He comes up to kiss you, deep and heady, and you hook one of your legs behind him, pulling him closer. The head of his cock slides along your slit and you tilt, trying to get him where you want him.

You look up at him, feeling like he hung the stars, and whisper his name. His answer is a bite of a kiss as he pushes himself into you, stopping only when his hips are flush with yours.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he breathes, eyes closed for a second, as he holds himself over you.

“Please move,” you beg, needing more.

“God,” he groans. “Okay. Okay. I got you.”

And he does. Chan fucks like he moves - quick and precise, each motion purposeful. His eyes have narrowed with focus, brows slightly furrowed with exertion as his hips snap. He slides one hand under you to help lift you, the angle changing just slightly.

“Yeah,” you breathe, desperation lacing your voice. “There.”

The drag of him is delicious, and so is the feeling of his body under your hands, and so is the sound of his ragged breath mixed with occasional gasps and groans. It’s the fact that it’s Chan driving you even higher.

A crack of thunder sounds directly overhead, and Chan takes the moment to roll you over, laying back and letting you straddle his lap without even slipping from inside you. You whine as the new position drives him deeper than he’d been before, your hands splayed over his pecs. He’s breathing rapidly now, struggling to keep his eyes open as he continues to fuck you from below.

“I-I’m - so -” he pants, “close. Really close, baby.”

You lean down to kiss him, his arms coming up around your shoulders to pull you chest to chest until his strokes grow sloppy and his hands tighten on you. You kiss along his jaw sweetly until he releases you with a sigh. He kisses you once more before he pulls out, and then again when he returns from the bathroom with a damp cloth.

“I might need to actually shower,” you muse.

“Yeah, okay,” he says easily, nodding. “Maybe I’ll go after you. I smell like chlorine.”

You shrug. “Might as well just join me. If you want.”

He grins. He follows you into the bathroom, waits with you while the water heats up. And then he fucks you again, against the cool tiles of the shower wall.

Later, back in bed, you face each other through the dark.

“I should have said earlier,” you whisper. “But I’ve liked you for a long time, too.”

His smile makes you feel full of sunshine, even when it’s shy, even when he’s asking what you want to do about it. Especially when he’s asking you, "What are you doing next Saturday?"

Tonight, the decision to cuddle is made while you’re awake. When you wake up in the morning, sunlight streaming through the windows, Chan wastes no time in reaching between your legs, finding you ready, and rolling over top of you, pushing between your thighs before he even has his eyes all the way open.

When you both emerge from your bedroom, stomachs growling and with the beginnings of a caffeine headache, your friends are all sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded with the evidence of a breakfast come and gone. They begin a slow clap, eventually lauding you in a mostly sarcastic but still loving round of applause.

“It’s about time,” Mingyu grouses. “You two have been circling each other forever.”

“Shh,” you tell him, as Chan slips his arm over your shoulders with a grin. “Not so loud.”

thank you for reading!!! <3

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