#minwoo smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minheelovelee · 6 days ago

Note

jaeho’s pool pics ahebwhdbehdb need pool sex with him 😅

no that was CRAZYYYYY. he’s different for that. this made me think he would totally be into hot tub sex.

warnings: smut. dom!jaeho. established relationship. public sex. hot tub sex. intended lowercase. swearing. drinking alcohol. not edited as of 12/22.

also this is embarrassingly late. teaching has been going good but it’s crazy. i can’t believe this is my life. it’s winter break, im hoping everyone has a fantastic rest of the year!

“y’know, this is kind of like hot tub time machine.” donghyun slurs with a dopey smirk. there’s at least three beer cans floating in the water around him. he doesn’t seem to mind.

“how is this like hot tub time machine? becuase we’re in a hot tub and we have beer?” yewang asks, clearly confused.

donghyun’s cheeks lift up. “exactly, bro! you get me.” the second sentence is lost in the night with the sound of cans crushing. dawit started collecting the loose garbage, obviously annoyed at his friends’ disregard for cleanliness.

“that’s fucking stupid, man. there are 100 movies with hot tubs and beer.”

“name five.” yejun jumps in. he never misses an opportunity to give yewang a hard time.

“easy. to all the boys i loved before, when they go on the school trip. so classic…”

you haven’t paid attention any of your friends’ conversations in the past fifteen minutes. you’re too busy trying to keep the string on your bikini bottoms tied while jaeho gently tugs them loose. the way his fingers have slipped above and below your bottoms without ever really touching you is beyond frustrating. any comments you’ve meant to blurt out get caught in your throat.

the temperature must have dropped fifteen degrees when the sun set. it got cold quicker than anyone expected. dawit and minwoo folded the top of the hot tub and got the jets running, inviting everyone inside to warm up.

the first five minutes were fun. kyungmin gave you a beard of bubbles and you’d submerged yourself to your shoulders. standing up again made you shiver. the contrast between the air and the water too sharp to handle.

a pair of hands wrapped around your thighs, coaxing your to walk backward. you were met with a firm set of legs, seemingly belonging to the owner of the hands. a glance over your shoulder tells you it’s jaeho. he smirks and nods down towards his lap. “c’mon.” he whispers.

you return his smile and sit, finding a spot on his lap immediately. his left arm wraps around your midsection, wanting you to come closer. he pulls and you comply. his right hand holds a drink. it’s not one you’ve heard of before. he offers it to you, but doesn’t let go when you try to grab it. with your left and his right, you try a sip. it’s crisp and fruity, gentler than his other preferred drinks. after a second swallow, you hand it back. “it’s good.” he kisses your cheeks before replying with a whisper in your ear. “thought you might like that, baby.” his words send swarms of butterflies to your tummy. he’s seemingly unaffected, as he’s back to his original position, taking up too much space with his arms.

just thinking about what he said and how he said it gives you the same sickening feeling. maybe it’s the heat getting to you. or the drinks you had earlier. nonetheless, you turn your body and rest yourself on his broad chest, cheek to his collarbone.

water moves around you. it’s jaeho, squeezing your oblique muscle. within a minute, he’s switched to trailing his fingers up and down, from the top of your bottoms to the bottom of your top. back and forth. back and forth. again, he’s squeezing you. like he can’t make up his mind, he continues the pattern.

on one pass down, he doesn’t stop at your bottoms. he passes them, choosing to feel your asscheek instead. a quick turn of your head makes your questioning eyes meet his.

“this bothering you?” you shake your head. “no.” he chuckles once. twice. then turns his attention back to his friends. like he wasn’t starting to grope your ass with a stronger grip, digging his fingers into the flesh and pulling it away.

yewang tells a story. kyungmin has a voice crack. hyunwoo and minwoo go to bed. events come and go. they don’t make sense in your blurry mind.

jaeho adjusts your position once again. this one forces you to feel how hard he is. you’re sitting up straight, his cock pressing on your lips. with a kiss on your shoulder, he grinds your body down, searching for relief. you know that swim trunks are extremely uncomfortable with a hard-on. you tuck your lip between your teeth at just how desperate he is. the pressure he just sent to your clit doesn’t help your nonchalant act.

you find his hands with your own and intertwine your fingers. “quit.” you whisper over your shoulder.

“tired, y/n?” yewang inquires. “yejun is about to fall asleep. imma take him upstairs. you two coming?” you wish jaeho would give you thirty seconds to have a conversation. but he never did learn when to stop.

he manages to free his fingers once again. he slides each of his pointers under the front of your bottoms, sliding down your public bone until he finds your outter lips.

“no. i’m awake, just relaxing.” jaeho pinches them slightly as he gently pulls them apart, almost as if he’s unboxing you. this time you just slap his hands away, hoping he’ll get the message.

“now that donghyun’s asleep you might be able to do that. he’s such a loud drunk.” a fake chuckle comes from your chest. “yeah.” your bikini bottoms loosen. a quick feel with your hands tells you that jeff has been slowly untying the two perfect bows you did this morning. he had watched you tie and retie each side at least eight times. when you were satisfied, you asked jaeho if they looked even enough. you remember his words. “who cares? even or not, i’m taking them off at the end of the night.” you’d given him a light shove, and him dramatically flopping onto the bed.

you wish you’d satiated his needs earlier to spare yourself of this situation.

as bodies silently exit the hot tub, the water level drops. dawit leaves last, offering one last question to jaeho. “you remember how to shut this thing down, hoya?”

“huh?” his hands shoot back to his sides in a sudden movement.

“the hot tub. do you remember how to shut it off?”

“oh. yeah, i know, hyung. don’t worry.”

“thanks. sleep well, guys.”

you let him part with a soft goodnight. the air is thick as he shuts the sliding glass door. neither you or jaeho speak for what feels like hours.

the stillness of the night is too much to handle. jaeho breaks the silence with movement. you’re maneuvered into the nearest corner in a flash, jaehos body above yours, just inches away.

“fuck this fucking bathing suit. get it off, now.”

the way you look behind your shoulder for any witnesses proves to be too much hesitation for jaeho. his hands pull the strings of your bottoms loose and discards the item in the water.

a hand cradles your neck as his lips crash onto yours. you move with his motions, trying to keep up the pace. a gentle soul, jaeho is rarely rough with you. it’s unlike him to be so forward with his desires.

your wet, tangled hair catches on his fingers uncomfortably. he takes a fistful and pulls. a silent plea for you to open your mouth wider. he slips his tongue in and it feels colder than usual. the cold air of the night and the tub’s hot water make for a confusing mix of sensations. but his intentions are crystal clear. you’re fucking him in dawit’s hot tub.

guilt is a problem for your future self. you take it upon yourself to loosen the drawstring of his swim trunks, but leave them on his hips. he returns the favor by untying the string on the back of your swimsuit, but leaving the top tie intact.

his hands pull your ass forward so only your neck is above water. the way your bottoms float across the surface makes you laugh. “i can’t believe we’re doing this right now, jaeho.”

“shut up.” you roll your eyes and scoff at his reply. he smiles and laughs softly.

one of his hands finally meet the place where you need him most. he cups your pussy in one hand, grinding his palm against your clit. you take in a deep breath and discard the rest of your top, opting against modesty.

his finger trails your slit, stopping at your clit. “fuck.” he groans. “did the hot tub get you this wet, baby? you’re soaked.”

a smile grazes his lips as you writhe at his words. “no, hoya.”

“no? wasn’t the water? what’s got you this needy then?” he grins against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down. he breaths against your skin, urging you to reply.

“you do. just you.”

“ahh. must be the way i’m touchin’ you, huh? gettin’ you all wet and needy for me. you’re doing a good job being quiet, darling. keep being good for me.”

he looks to you to acknowledge his words. you nod dumbly. his hands wrap around your back. he hoists you up onto his lap as he sits where you once were. on your knees, your tits barely sit above the water. he takes both of them into his hands to guide them into his mouth. one hand squeezing while his tongue flicks over the other. licking turns to sucking when he wraps his lips around your nipple. when he detaches, he’s out of breath, like he forgot to breathe beforehand. switching to the other nipple, his unoccupied hand falls into the water.

holding your back for support, he feels how wet you are once more. you’re ready. he teases your opening with one finger, letting the tip slide in. he pushes the rest of his finger in, slowly, until he can’t push any further.

he relishes in the small sounds you make. every breath pushes him further into his trance. a curl of his finger. a gasp. the stretch of your pussy as he adds another finger. it’s too much for him to handle.

goosebumps litter your arms and back when jaeho flips you around. your upper body emerged from the comforting warmth of the water. he retracts his fingers as well. you can’t see him, feel him, or even smell him in this position. but you can hear him. the sound of him pushing his shorts down his thighs. and the grunt he makes near your ear as his nudges your legs apart.

“fuck, baby.” he groans “you’re a dream.”

his hand guides his cock in between your legs. not in the way you need him. he teases you with light grinding between your slick lips, cock head and shaft slightly poking your clit. just enough for you to want more.

your whimpers excite him, giving him leverage to tease you a little bit more before giving in. “what is it? not enough, darling?”

“no!” you reply with haste. “hurry, jaeho.”

“you don’t want my cock rubbin’ on you? then where do you want it?” his fingers trail your arms and shoulders as he speaks. urging you to lean forward and give him full access to your pussy.

“inside! inside, please.”

“that’s it, baby. that’s what i needed.”

you lose your breath when he pushes his cock head past your tight hole. gasps leave your mouth as you pull your body forward, running away from the stretch of his girth.

your notions prove useless when he grabs your hips and yanks you back into his space, forcing you to take another inch.

“there’s nowhere for you to go. don’t run from it.” the way your pussy gushes in him at his words boosts his spirits. any worries he had about getting caught are gone.

your whining only pushes him further . continuing to push inside, he shushes you, reminding you where you are. “shhh, darling. be quieter for me.”

you’re full to the hilt at this point. hips meeting once again, jeff can’t help let a sigh of his own slip out. “fucking finally. needed this all day.” you’ve completely covered his cock with your tightness.

he pulls himself out gently, rocking his hips forward once more. it’s like he can’t find his rhythm. alternating between deep and shallow thrusts without a steady pace.

“fuck this pussy’s too fucking good.” your knees slip under you, losing your support. only your hands grip the edge of the tub, providing minimal stability. he grabs your hips and angles your body so it’s almost flat. the change of positions refocuses him. he falls into a steady pace with controlled thrusts.

you on the other hand, are losing it. the downward curve of his cock forces the head against your gspot with every movement. dragging and pushing the spot. your arms do not suffice as stable support, wobbling under the stress. moans bounce off the water and fill the air. it’s a pathetic attempt at staying quiet.

jaeho catches this. he cages you in from behind, forcing you between his body and the hot tub, leaving you with no room for movement. “thought i told you to be quiet, baby. what happened t- fuck. that?”

you reply in whimpers and whines. “hngg. can’t!”

“oh, baby. let me help you.” he whispers condescendingly.

his help comes in the form of a hand wrapped around your throat. depleting your oxygen as he thrusts harder. his balls begin to slap your clit under the water.

eyes rolling back and hands gripping at nothing, you let out a silent scream. he hits places within you that he’s never hit before. your body becomes restless with the inability to move while in such a state of pleasure.

you squirm in his grip. it only tightens around your waist and neck, keeping you in place, forced to meet his cock with ever beat.

“rub your clit for me, darling. cant do it while im holding you on my cock like this. make yourself feel good.” you follow his directions diligently.

your obedience doesn’t make up for your clumsiness. he watches you try to bring yourself pleasure. it’s almost pathetic. one of your hands holds his wrist near your throat. the other is hesitant, switching between your heat and the edge of the hot tub. you’re clearly more worried about gravity taking its course than cumming.

he laughs at you for the umpteenth time that night. “never mind then. lay there and take it, it’s all you can do.” you whine and squirm in response. tucking your head down and kicking his thighs with your heels.

“shit, shit, shit. i’m gonna cum baby. take it inside. take it all.” he wasn’t going to let any of it drip out, in honest fear of dawit testing the water for traces of sperm.

“please do. i want it. please, please, please.” how could he say no?

with a final thrust and a groan, he reaches what he’s been after all night. shifting your bodies down, he circles your clit once again, inviting you to trail behind him.

and it’s working. you’re so, so close. “oh my god, hoya. holy shit.”

he leans down, touching your back to his chest. “do it, darling. let it happen.” head hanging low, you finally cum around him. he’s still sensitive from his previous orgasm. your gasps as you finish are lost within his own grunts, the tight sensation proving to be too much.

panting shallowly, you try to catch your breath. something wet and heavy hits your back while you’re hunched over on the edge. turning around, you see it’s the pieces of you forgotten swimsuit.

jaeho wears a stupid smirk, and nothing else. “put that on, you’re naked, you know.”

you roll your eyes at his remark. “says you. you’re naked and soft right now. hurry up.”

he steps into his swim shorts with a smile while you copy his actions. Seeing you struggle with the ties on your top, he turns your standing figure away from him. “let me.”

you sigh and relax into his body. his arms slip around your waist when he finishes. “it looks like shit, baby. go to our room and get some real clothes on. i’ll meet you there.”

you look back to meet his eyes. “what? got another hot date?” he responds with a chuckle. “gotta shut this thing down. otherwise dawit will have two reasons to beat my ass tomorrow.”

placing a kiss on your shoulder, he sends you on your way. “go. shower if you want. or let my cum sit inside you overnight, i don’t care.”

you shove him backward in disgust, letting him fall back into the water once again. “gross. bye.”

stepping out of the tub, you make your way over to the sliding glass door. just before you shut it completely, you hear your boyfriends voice. “hey.”

you poke your head out for the last time that night. “what?”

“thank you, i love you.” he says plainly. no teasing, no smirk. just a reminder.

you smile at his actions. “shut up.”

and with that, you close the door.

#mhll epex #epex smut #mhll jeff

7 notes · View notes

intoloopin-archive · 8 months ago

Text

A CHAPTER: THE SHARP AND THE BLUNT (PART 2/2).

tws: dubious consent (Haruki is still very weird and forward about initiating sex! and sometimes that gets Toxic). alcohol abuse and alcoholism. semi-smut (the driest, most unsexy and robotic blowjob in the world is given). insinuation and one very direct discussion of sexual trauma, abuse by a past partner, abuse of workplace power and stalking. a little hint of body dysmorphia (Hanjae's inner voice is often not very kind about how he looks). internalized homophobia, and a hint of biphobia in between the lines. queer pessimism (it gets a bit Hurtful). as always: if I missed anything, please tell me. starring: Lee Hanjae. Fukunaga Haruki. featuring: Dylan Hwang / Hwang Chihoon. their fellow LOOPiN members (old OT10, no Gyujin, still stuck with a bit of Beomseok). Uhm Junghwa (new manager extraordinarie). the ghost of Choi Sangwon. a brief mention of Night Child / NTCD. timeline: early to the end of mid 2022 | quick flash forward to september 2023 (additional context under the cut). word count: 14,138 words. author's note: lil delay because life has to be life, sometimes, and because the hotel scene from May 26th was way more challenging to get right in tone than i originally expected (it's one of the ones to watch out for), but here we are!!!! the Hanruki end. things get much more heavy, morally grey and blantly sad in this final part, so really, mind the tags, skip if you must. and: music rec moment two. stay safe out there, everyone!

March 13th, 2022.

Hanjae doesn’t shower, or change clothes, or gets to sleep on the couch. He lays on it and spends the whole night awake, on his phone, and on his Nintendo Switch after that, back on his phone. He catches the sun rising through the window’s curtain and maybe he sleeps, briefly.

Was it even real?, he wonders when he finds himself with his eyes wide and restless, staring up at the ceiling; Did it even happen?

He pokes and pokes at the one painful spot over his shoulder, the marking of Haruki’s teeth, and gets consumed by shame at the confirmation that yes, it was real; yes, it did happen.

When Junghwa steps into their apartment to wake everyone up in the morning, Hanjae’s sitting on the couch, breathing into his hands. He still looks like a mess. Hair, clothes, face – a mess.

She gives him a crumbling look, half pity, half exhaustion, and laughs humorless. “Out of everyone, I didn’t expect you to misbehave, Lee Hanjae.”

Hanjae peeks up at her through his clammy fingers. He feels a genuine and terrifying urge to throw up on her shoes and buy her new ones immediately after.

“12 AM to 8 PM for you,” Junghwa tells him, with a sigh. She walks more into the house, close enough to lay a merciful hand on the crown of his head – pat, pat, pat. “Just this one time.”

Haruki hours, he thinks, dazed, because that’s what everyone calls it, because he’s the one stuck with the alternative schedule the most: fails to wake up for practice often, gets shoved at the company until late at night. He’ll probably get the same sentence today. He and Hanjae might have to train alone, together, for hours. His stomach takes another queasy turn.

Hanjae watches the world move around him, for once out of the routine; after hearing his fate, Taesong takes a minute out of washing his face to force Hanjae to gulp down ibuprofen while Haegon shoves a pillow at him. Junghwa goes upstairs to knock on Haruki’s door, phone against her ear as she calls him, and then comes down in record speed, by herself.

She asks everyone, “Shall we go?”

“Can I get Haruki hours, please?” Seungsoo begs from where he’s resting his head against the wall, eyes closed, sipping Gatorade.

Junghwa doesn’t look at him as she firmly says, “No.”

“But I’m dying,” Seungsoo whines. “I’m fucking dying. I can’t work. I’m gonna drop dead, dead.”

Minwoo shoves him angrily out of the way to open the front door, tells him, “Then drop dead, Seungsoo. Drop dead.”

It takes a while for the house to fall back into quiet, after everyone’s gone. Hanjae swears he hears the sound of everything amplified now, gonging inside his head. Maybe it’s the hangover – it’s probably the hangover, but he hasn’t had enough of those to figure all of their symptoms out.

He sleeps again, a miracle, wakes up again, and there’s the faint smell of something being stir fried coming from the kitchen, slowly drowning the whole room.

“I’m making tofu,” Haruki says when Hanjae sits up to check. He’s a slouched thing behind the stove, yet he’s flashing him a grin. “You want some?”

He looks, from a distant inspection – normal, regular, like Haruki always does in the morning: a little wan, with his voice a little deep. They’ve kissed, they’ve made out, and he’s absolutely normal, proposing to make Hanjae breakfast-lunch.

Hanjae says a meek ‘yes’ to tofu, and Haruki tells him, “Five minutes.”

It’s enough time for Hanjae to go brush his teeth, and hyperventilate in privacy: every corner of their bathroom makes him think back to Sunyoung’s, and to being on the floor– being kissed on the floor– being kissed by Haruki on the floor until he wasn’t.

He goes back to the couch, a stiff walk. Haruki comes to sit with him, holding a single bowl of food with two runny eggs on top, and Hanjae jumps back up and three feet away. He bumps his heel bone on the coffee table, and the pain is a shock up his entire leg; serves him well, serves him right.

“I want to apologize for yesterday or earlier today at night,” Hanjae says in a single breath, his voice coming out rough around the edges. His arms are set like wood on his sides, tight, fisted.

In front of him, Haruki’s face goes through a journey: startled, then confused, then amused, smiling. He takes a big bite of food. “Oh, you mean the bathroom? That’s what you mean?” He asks, covering his chewing mouth with a hand, and Hanjae nods once. “Pfff, no need. It’s not your fault a girl had to pee.”

“That’s not what I meant, not, not what I’m apologizing for.”

“So what are you apologizing for?” Haruki asks him, tilting his head, dark hair falling like a cloak over his eyes. He wrinkles his nose. “Didn’t I kiss you? I’m sure I kissed you. I’m sure you kissed me back.”

“Hyung,” Hanjae says, helplessly, and has to turn his face to the side, closing his eyes briefly. “Still, everything– We were drunk, and everything, it wasn’t… appropriate. To happen.”

Haruki has stopped chewing when Hanjae looks back at him, has gone full body still for a moment. When he gulps the food down, it looks like it’s a painful thing for him to do.

“Appropriate,” he repeats, looking down at his own feet, like it’s an odd word, an annoying one. “Just sit down, Hanjae. Sit back down. We’re not done yet.”

“We’re not… What?”

Haruki abandons the bowl and chopsticks, puts them roughly on the table, then motions to the vague spot on his side – come here. Hanjae doesn’t move. He still has some word stuck under his tongue he has to work out.

Haruki doesn’t take his paralyzes at all. He clicks his tongue, walks up and close and puts both hands on Hanjae’s shoulders, maneuvers him and sits him back down not that gently on the couch. He tucks himself close to him, sideways, a bent knee almost on his lap, and stays there.

He eyes Hanjae openly then, a brand new thing. Haruki’s seen him, could have gotten sick of seeing him with how much it happens every day, but now Hanjae knows with certainty that he’s never been evaluated by him, or taken into this much consideration up until this very moment.

He hooks Hanjae’s ear lobe between two fingers and pulls, taps at the hoop earring. “I thought you would be a bad kisser,” Haruki says. “But you’re not.”

Granted, Hanjae wouldn’t call their kiss a good kiss. Both their mouths tasted bitter, he remembers now, and their teeth clunked against each other like two cogs being put in an unfit machine. It happened so quick– everything, so quick.

“Thanks,” he says nonetheless, and again, “Thank– Thank you.”

Haruki laughs at him, wispy, a single ‘ha’, and the air around them grows more tense. Haruki pushes himself close until he's full on Hanjae’s lap, a similar position to some hours ago. Hanjae turns his face a little away, to the side; sets his eyes on a wall, right where a painting Haegon made when he was eight years old hangs, framed.

The cushion of the living room couch smells like an amalgamation of all of them, he notices. There’s a stain on it where Chihoon had once spilled fancy carbonara – a meal everyone saved the whole month to have on their third debut anniversary. Seungsoo had offered him three bucks to lick it clean. The video of Dylan concluding the bet is a blurry 1 minute thing O.z had recorded, still somewhere far down Hanjae’s gallery.

“Hanjae,” Haruki says now, and taps at his nose. “You’re too tense. You’re zooming out. Get out of your head.”

“It’s just–” Hanjae mutters, and can’t stop – just can’t stop: “Here? Wouldn’t it be bad? If someone walks in, if they forgot something and want to come back, and I heard, I think I heard that, isn’t there a camera here, a camera Seo CEO looks through–”

“There’s no camera. Not a single one anywhere. I would know,” Haruki looks right into his eyes to reassure him, or tries to; Hanjae can’t sustain it much. His hands are a constant goosebump on their trail on the back of Hanjae’s neck, up and up and suddenly down, up again. “Do you want to take this to your room?”

But it’s not Hanjae’s room, singular. It’s impossible to look anywhere and not see one of Seungsoo’s too colorful caps, or Minwoo’s notes, scrambled and frantic, the only indication he’s yet to fully move into the studio.

This is LOOPiN’s home, collective. They’re coworkers sharing space at their core, and it’s– It’s all just–

Hanjae makes a whimpering sound, involuntary, not an answer to anything, and with that Haruki’s off him, a sudden rise up and turn around. He walks away with a loud sigh and Hanjae thinks, disappointment and relief an ocean in his stomach, It’s done. It’s over.

It’s not; Haruki just goes to open the fridge’s door, takes something out, pours it somewhere, comes back to the couch with it. He stands it for Hanjae to take – a red plastic cup filled to the brim with some leftover wine.

“One complaint,” Haruki tells him, and goes back to where he was; a stable weight on Hanjae’s lap, both arms hooked around his neck. “One sip.”

“It’s– It’s morning, hyung.”

“No. No ‘hyung’. Stop that,” he says, and Hanjae can’t figure out, either by hearing it or looking him in the face, if Haruki’s being serious or not. He’s still smiling. “I don’t like it.”

“So what,” Hanjae asks, and sinks deeper into the couch when Haruki makes to push himself closer, “Do you like, then? About me if, or this, or–”

It’s all he can get out before Haruki puts a hand over his mouth, firm.

“I’ll blow you,” he says bluntly, and puts his hand away. Another paper thin smile. “Will that shut you up?”

Around a gulp, Hanjae nods, manages to let out a shaky, “Ok–ay.”

Permission granted, it takes a moment for anything to even happen. Haruki grabs the cup out of Hanjae’s hand quickly and downs it, almost fully drains it. He takes a deep and loud breath when he gives it back, eyes closed through it, before he begins to go down on him.

When Haruki kneels in between his legs, Hanjae tries to put a hand on top of his head, a timid and gentle fondling, but Haruki bats it away, says, “Just stay still.”

And Hanjae stays still. He looks up at the ceiling – eggshell white, the same as all the walls, with the faint darkening in a corner where there once was a leak. The kitchen sink hasn’t been closed all the way, and he can hear the drip, drip, drip of the water falling on dirty tableware under the sound of his loose belt being unbuckled, his zipper working open, the downing of his jeans.

What a waste, he thinks, over and over, tells himself that’s all he must think now; what a grandiose waste.

The blowjob’s a not so quick, but fully methodic thing. Hanjae taps Haruki on the shoulder when he’s finally near coming, says so around a pant. And then comes, Haruki swallows, that’s it – that’s the full scope of it, Hanjae has decided. Privately, he calls it efficient instead of emotionless, or confusing, or unsettling.

He zips himself back up as Haruki wipes his mouth and goes to collect the pot, the chopsticks. Hanjae catches him by the wrist before he slips away, asks, “You?”

Haruki laughs – Hanjae’s never seen him laugh so much so quickly, or in such a high pitch. He says, leaning forward, “Me? Me what? What are you even going to do? You look like you’re about to have a panic attack, Hanjae.”

Hanjae’s grip on him goes loose. Haruki breaks free of it and puts his hand on his pocket, rubs it in for a second like he’s trying to get it clean. Or maybe Hanjae’s just seeing things with his blurry hangover vision, his clear hangover discomfort.

“Right,” he mutters, and feels like he’s coming down from somewhere. His hold on the cup had faltered through their whole endeavor, and the spilled wine made a new damp on the couch’s arm. A story. He locks eyes with it.

“Don’t worry about me,” Haruki’s saying, back turned to him, halfway across the room already. The pot of leftover tofu clanks where he drops it, careless. “I’ll just shower.”

“You’re sure…?” Hanjae asks.

“Uh-huh.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now stop talking, alright? It’s not going to make me put my mouth on you a second time.”

Hanjae blinks once, and then too many times to even count. “Okay,” he says, quietly. “I’m– Okay.”

Haruki flees the scene before he notices, goes upstairs; comes back down and looks around for a long beat as if he’s forgotten where he is, where he’s headed.

He goes to the bathroom and closes the door loudly, then soon opens it again, peeks his torso out. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and a smile that’s blinding when he says, looking back at Hanjae: “But next time. Make it up to me next time.”

April 14th, 2022.

‘Next time’, in industry lingo, as Hanjae has learned over the years, is the vaguest time scheduling there is. So Haruki said ‘But next time. Make it up to me next time’, and a day later LOOPiN released the final teasers for the ‘Punch’ EP, and things got hectic – music shows, variety content, a fanmeet, a fansign.

And then Seungsoo made everything come to a halt by jumping Kwon Dongwook and half of NTCD at Rewind K-Pop Fest on the 8th, getting them all thrown out of the event four hours earlier.

They missed the SHINee tribute they were set to be on. Hanjae even got handed Key’s bandana and the same blue shorts he used in the dance scenes in the ‘View’ MV, taken directly out of SM Entertainment’s archive. He had just stepped out of a makeup chair when he got the news, and was made to sit back down immediately to dismantle the whole look.

“Pussy didn’t even fight back,” Seungsoo grumbled, in their kitchen: icing his face where it hit a pole after Code pushed him off Hyunbin’s neck. He wouldn’t stop talking about Dongwook – it had been five hours, and everything that came out of his mouth was soon followed by ‘Kwon Dongwook that bastard’ this, ‘Kwon Dongwook that fucker’ that. “He made me look like an asshole.”

Hanjae ignored him. All he wanted was to drink a glass of water in silence and not look a single person in the eye that wasn’t Mijoo, his guitar instructor, in six hours time.

“You made yourself look like an asshole,” Taesong corrected him, pointing a spatula around from behind the aisle, and he sounded and looked angry in a way Hanjae hadn’t seen him in years. “You made all of us look like assholes, and now Minwoo’s going to kill you. He’s going to kill you because I’ll allow him to kill you. I will help him kill you. You deserve to be assassinated.”

“You deserve to be assassinated, you snake! You’re talking with Joseph Song, Taeng! Night Child’s Joseph Song, behind my back, about him, about me! Fuck you!”

Taesong dropped the spatula, put both hands on his hips, and looked up at the ceiling: his ‘Lord, give me strength’ pose. “I don’t talk with Joseph Song about Dongwook, or about you, Seungsoo. All we do is exchange schedule information to know when we all might meet, to try to keep peace between us and them because you’re all insane. All you, insane.”

“I’m not insane!” Seungsoo said, rising up from his chair, and Hanjae escaped the kitchen then, didn’t want to hear his bullshit claim to be functional.

He spent half an hour tuning and running his fingers over his electric guitar’s strings, and did the same with Dylan’s old acoustic one, and pressed random notes on Zhiming’s keyboard in their improvised music space, which was just a vacant corner in Heagon and Beomseok’s room.

On his phone, he got one message, and had to read it once and twice and a third time even, just to figure out what to say:

[haruhyung]: are you free ?

Hanjae sent, fingers flying over the keyboard:

[You]: Guitar pravtice with Mijoo nim sun

[You]: *practice

[You]: **soon

And shortly after, an afterthought:

[You]: Sorry

On his screen Haruki typed, deleted, typed again – the speech bubble looked like a glitch. Somewhere down on the first floor someone snorted, loud and mean, and Hanjae shuddered.

After five minutes, Haruki sent:

[haruhyung]: ok .

More texts came after those, spaced out between days or just hours, sometimes full sentences or just direct question marks, one time with a photo attached in the morning. Hanjae didn’t see it right away, went back to check during lunch break and found nothing but a short trail of deleted messages.

It’s all the interaction they have behind the scenes lately. No more idle talk in the practice room, no more shared space in the house, just ‘free?’ and ‘no’ and ‘sorry’ and ‘ok.’

Now: a live session for the english version of ‘You Can’t Hold My Heart’ that they managed to film in one single take. Jooheon PD promises to treat them to something for it, and everyone’s saying suggestions on top of suggestions at the speed of light. Hanjae’s trying to gather up courage to ask for hot pot again, preparing for the complaining it’ll cause, when his phone dings.

[haruhyung]: ditch with me .

[haruhyung]: discreetly .

Hanjae takes a wild look across the studio until he finds Haruki: set against a wall in a corner, waiting to be looked at, tapping one foot on the ground. After what feels like a minute of unstable eye contact, but couldn’t be more than a second or so, Haruki ducks his head down and goes back to typing.

[haruhyng]: im really not going to ask again .

It takes little to no excuse to ditch dinner – barbecue, they have decided, and Hanjae’s trying to cut off red meat, doesn’t want to go somewhere so crowded after seeing so many people all day, he says, and Haruki interveins to ask Jooheon if he can pay their cab home. No one asks why he’s not going; no one was expecting Haruki to want to go.

They don’t take the free cab home. They’re instead back at Deh’s apartment complex, taking the stairs quietly.

“I’ll be coming three times a week to feed her cats this month,” Haruki says, unlocking and holding the door open for Hanjae so he can step inside. “She’s traveling out of town.”

“Hm,” is Hanjae’s shaky answer.

The inside of Deh’s apartment looks very much like what he would assume it would: neat, colorful, synthetic fur coats everywhere – really, everywhere.

While Haruki gathers up the cats, two small and loud things, Hanjae sits down on the printed loveseat and makes direct eye contact with a wigged mannequin head next to the TV, plastic lips shiny with lipstick.

When Haruki comes back to the living room, duties all done, he opens the big window on the far left and sits on the cushioned frame, one elegant leg over the other.

He says, with a cig materialized between his teeth somehow, “Deh’s got a lighter on the second drawer– Second drawer, Hanjae– Yeah, that one, the green one. Come here. Bring it over.”

Hanjae brings it over, and Haruki tilts his head up, points to his cigarette, still hanging from his mouth. Hanjae lights it up for him after a couple of clumsy tries, and flees – bolts away with the lighter at the center of his fisted palm, goes to sit back on the couch, grows uncomfortable, slides down to the floor.

Haruki watches him move with an enerved smile on his face. “How funny,” he says, dryly, and then no one says a thing. He smokes, and Hanjae can’t stand the smell, coffs into his hand once. He sees Haruki move even closer to the window, peeking outside.

“So,” Hanjae tries, when it all turns into too much – the smoke, the quiet. He’s tracing a pattern with his finger on the carpet; a circle on top of a circle on top of a circle. “Do you– You come by often? To see her?”

Haruki makes a choking sound. His eyes are very narrow when he looks at Hanjae. “What are you trying to ask?”

Hanjae forces a shrug that he knows falls very flat.

“Deh’s a woman, Hanjae,” Haruki says after a beat, with a strong emphasis on ‘woman’, and Hanjae turns bright red and hot on his face, immediately responds with ‘Yes, I know’ – would rather shoot his own foot than insinuate she’s not. “And I’m not interested in women, so no, I don’t see her.”

“But you– You never told,” Hanjae stammers, and Haruki tilts his head at him, frown easing. “You never told any of us you’re not straight.”

“None of you ever just asked me,” Haruki counters, and there’s a little humor in him, somewhere – a bit of pride at that, maybe, until he recalls, “Except for Zhiming once, but he doesn’t count. Zhiming somehow always knows. Side effects of having a gay mom, I guess.”

“Did you know before? Before your… Your whole relationship, with– was your relationship what made you…” Hanjae stops talking. Haruki’s eyebrows have darted up and they stay up, waiting, challenging; ‘go on, finish the sentence’.

Hanjae sheepishly goes back to the mannequin head. It has a pink rhinestone hot glued on its nose, mimicking a piercing.

“Alright,” Haruki says, giving in. He rearranges himself on the window, puts his two feet steady on the floor, manspreading. “This again– Alright. You get three questions. Just three. Then we’ll never talk about it again, so be wise. If it’s something stupid I won’t answer.”

Hanjae accepts this, tonguing his cheek while he thinks. He has a billion questions, too many, all build up in these two months, but they’ve all escaped him somehow. He settles for an hesitant, “‘This again?’”

“I know you know Chihoon’s aware. And now Jiahang is, too,” Haruki says, and Hanjae patiently waits for more information. A whole minute goes by and Haruki, smoke coming in and out of his mouth, doesn’t offer him anything else.

“Since when?”

“Dylan? L.A. After the beach with you, he caught the… aftermath,” he grims, humorless. “And J.J knows since last week, after the festival. The day you ditched me for guitar practice with Mijoo nim.”

“That’s not,” Hanjae offers, alternating between looking at him and not looking at him; peeking instead at the shape he made on the green carpet, there still. “Not what I meant.”

“Of course not,” Haruki agrees, and his smile turns tiny, tinier, up until it no longer exists.

He takes a big drag of the cigarette, the last one; tosses the bug right out of the window without putting the flame out. Behind him, the world looks pink, green, warm yellow. It’s the sort of spring that makes you feel like it’ll never leave you.

“Look, Hanjae, you don’t want to know everything. Not very pretty, with him being married and a dad and my boss and all. Bottom line is he casted me, he made me into a trainee, and that might have saved my life. I understood the way he looked at me and decided to just– let him have it. So I asked him out, kind of. He said yes, kind of. Next thing I knew, it had been going on for years.”

“Years?” Hanjae lets out, a little scandalized, too blunt, and Haruki gives him a look – ‘last question’. He rushes to amend it with, “Why?”

Haruki, with a hint of afternoon sun contouring his falling face, says, “I don’t know. I don’t know why,” and it’s the one thing Hanjae didn’t want to hear.

He wished for: because he loved me, or because it made me happy. But he knew it wouldn’t be that, felt it like a hollow in his stomach. From that day in the rain, he knew.

“I have a question for you, now. Just one,” Haruki says, turning his face back inside. Hanjae hums, letting him go on. “Are you dragging it out on purpose? Fucking me, I mean. Are you trying to make it some grand thing?”

Hanjae takes a beat to respond because he knows he should. He thinks about it deeply, eyes stuck in a corner, and shakes his head ‘no’. It’s the truth; he’s not trying to turn it into a grand thing – he understands now, with a tang of sadness, that he can’t make any of it special.

“Good,” Haruki says, and nods too. “You shouldn’t. I know marketing wants everyone to think I’m some sex god, but I’m not. I’m really not. You should just get me out of your system already. Quick and nice. It’s not like there’s a point in waiting, or… courting. We’re never going to date, Hanjae. You know that.”

“Yes. I know.”

“So…?” Haruki looks around, to all the space, and Hanjae does too. There’s very little of it, it’s a little room, but still, it looks so lived in. It looks like a place that’s loved.

Hanjae lowers his head down, eyes his small circle, fading. “Would Deh mind?” He asks, a whisper.

“Hanjae, she won’t know. No one will know,” Haruki says, and he’s grown annoyed now, shifty in his seat. “No one cares to know. No one gives that much of a fuck, or– It’s fine. It’s really fine.”

“I just– the thing is–,” Hanjae stutters, and tries to push through even when Haruki makes a discontent noise. “I never planned to do anything about it, or act– really act on liking you. This,” he motions to the drift between them, the awkward air: this, “Is not just me thinking you’re attractive, or– I really respect you, hyung, as my bandmate, as my colleague. If anything, what I always wanted was just for you to trust me with who you are, someday, because I think you’re– I just want us to be closer. Any way goes. That’s what I feel.”

He takes a peek up, over his own bangs, and sees Haruki’s eyes flickering. He widens his stance, knees more apart, and his voice sounds very low when he says, “You can grow real close to me now.”

Hanjae sighs at him, because he can’t help it. He tries to think of words, better words. Tries to build some sort of bridge out of them.

“Is it a good time?” It’s what he asks. “It’s been– It’s been a really long week, and you just… Aren’t you tired? I’m tired. You look like you’re tired.”

Haruki’s face clouds, gets taken over by something very cold. “I am tired. I’m tired of you rejecting me.”

“I’m not. I’m not rejecting you. I just don’t want to feel like I’m making a mistake. I don’t want to make a mistake, and I think, neither do you, right? Again?” Hanjae asks, and immediately regrets it when he catches the effect of the word ‘again’. It makes Haruki close his legs shut, makes his jaw tense. Hanjae says, quicker, “I’ve lost a team one time, hyung, by being impulsive – and it looked like this, it felt just like this.”

The silence that gets in between them is loud, almost sticky. Hanjae fights an inner battle to not fill it up with, ‘Please let’s talk, can you talk to me, really talk to me, just talk to me, and tell me what is it that you actually want.’

In a room away, the cats scratch a door, begging to be let out, and Haruki’s new phone goes off – a familiar ringtone, a lack of surprise or urge to pick up Hanjae’s seen before.

Haruki rests his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. His chest visibly rises and falls when he breathes. “Ah, this is funny,” he says. “So not today, then, but soon? When I look better, not tired, is that it?”

“If you still want to.”

“If I still want to…” Haruki repeats, like he’s testing out the words, like he wants to figure out how they sound all together. And then rising up, out of the window, splinting behind the couch, behind Hanjae, “Okay. Alright, okay. If that’s what it takes– It’s on.”

“It’s… on?”

Over his shoulder, Hanjae catches the hint of a big grin being thrown at him. “It’s on.”

April 29th to May 6th, 2022.

After Deh’s apartment and the sex that didn’t, Haruki turns into someone else for a week.

It’s impossible to not take immediate notice; when Hanjae and Dylan sit down on Friday to play Fifa at night he catches the whole thing, even though he’s not a fan of sports, or video games, or hanging out. Hanjae scores two goals and Haruki cheers him on, in an enthusiasm that makes it seem like he’s winning the real World Cup.

When he excuses himself to use the bathroom, Hanjae and Chihoon share a quick, tense glance.

‘What’s happening?’, Dylan mouths, putting the game on pause, and Hanjae mouths back, ‘I don’t know’, pressing for it to go on.

Later, they order takeout food for everyone, and Haruki doesn’t drink anything with his pizza except for a Sprite Zero. He gathers up everyone’s scattered plates after dinner and takes them to the kitchen, where Hanjae has just begun to do the dishes.

He circles him around the room, then leans on the counter, close, says, “Hanhan, what did you do with my KidSuper jacket? I can’t find it anywhere. Come help me look when you’re done with that. I’m in the laundry room, come help me, don’t forget to help me look, yeah?”

It’s an excuse. There’s no KidSuper jacket that needs to be found in the laundry room. Hanjae goes in, Haruki closes the door shut and immediately kisses him against it, suddenly.

They break apart, and Haruki taps Hanjae’s chin up, making Hanjae’s hang open mouth fall shut. He breathes into his face, mutters, “Cute– You look cute surprised,” and leaves – just leaves, vaporizes in thin air.

Six entire days of this: playing cat and mouse at odd hours, being shoved and kissed by Haruki somewhere, catching no sleep, having anxiety all night, wondering if anyone saw it, if anyone has catched on to this whole… energy.

“You look like a zombie,” Haruki tells him, once – a direct whisper into his ear, with the slightest press of teeth. “Is it because of me? Are you not sleeping well because of me?”

It all comes to a halt on Friday, just as suddenly as it began, because Haruki snaps over something in the afternoon, and he won’t tell anyone what it is.

He locks Dylan out earlier than he’s ever done it, skips dinner, ignores calls; gets fully trashed somewhere between midnight and 4AM, alone. Beomseok had bought fancy imported dry sake for his older brother, a wedding gift he was keeping in the dorms, and the whole thing’s gone, drained.

Beomseok made a big commotion about it, went on to bang on his room door until the entire house was awake at 6 in the morning on a day off, soured everyone’s moods, split them into two: people pissed off at him and people pissed off at Haruki for pissing him off.

It’s tense through the whole day, with no one seeing eye to eye quite right, and when schedule breaks go this south Hanjae knows to expect an empty house after the sun sets.

Soon enough: at 6PM a voice message from Jiahang on their group chat, saying, ‘I’m going clubbing! I’m going clubbing and everyone can come with me! I refuse to not have a nice night tonight, I refuse it!’

Hanjae’s the first one to answer him, off the shower:

[You]: Pass

[jayjayjiji]: 🍅🍅🍅🖕🙄🖕🍅🍅🍅

Hanjae’s midway through sliding his shirt over his head when Haruki barges in without knocking. He stands there, arms up and tangled with the fabric, in his pajama bottoms, short hair wet. Haruki’s a figure that flops on his bed, face and stomach first.

He’s the only one who didn’t get a haircut for ‘Punch’. The hair stylist had run a hand through his hair, moved Haruki’s bangs one side and the other, said, like a joke, “But he’s perfect! He looks perfect already, Junghwa, what do you want me to do?!” It’s a wild thing now, at the back.

“I will sleep with you,” he announces, voice coming off hoarse and loud; drunk again, but mildly.

Hanjae, fully clothed, says, “Seungsoo–”

“Going out. Not a problem. And Minwoo, he is out.”

Hanjae takes small strides to get the burst open door shut. He takes a long peek at the two sides of the corridor: empty.

Behind him, he hears Haruki grumble, “These days, they’ve been so time waste. A waste. Why are you not caring?”

“What do you mean?” Hanjae asks, and comes back near, not too much. He’s still standing up in the crack diving his bed from Minwoo and Seunsgoo’s bunk one.

“I’m trying,” Haruki stresses. “To appeal to you. With my all, to get you to. Start something. You never do. Do something,” he commands at Hanjae, less angry, just agitated. “I am right here, so just– anything.”

Hanjae sits down on the edge of the bed, then. A calculated descent over the sheets.

“But hyung,” He stutters, and Haruki grunts something incomprehensible under his breath. It doesn’t sound like korean, it doesn’t sound like japanese, it doesn’t sound like anything. “Haruki, there’s people at home. No one’s left yet, we don’t know– Don’t know if everyone will.”

“So what? You were all always– So what?”

Hanjae hesitates, worrying his mouth. He takes one of his hands and slowly places it on Haruki’s hair, trying to somewhat pet it, but Haruki isn’t satisfied with that, and turns his face to the side, looks at him with a strong frown. Hanjae puts his hand back where it first laid on his lap, goes back to picking at the hem of his shirt.

And then Haruki reaches out a hand himself, and places it on Hanjae’s exposed knee, squeezes, sinks nails on it. Hanjae pushes himself further back, startled, and the hand follows, leaving a scratch; he almost falls off the bed trying to sneak away from it, and the hand stills, lifeless, not that far away.

“It is like,” Haruki says, and stops for a moment, gulps spit and something else down. “Like when you touch me is all so nothing. Like you do not… You do not really want me. Like you are not trying to make me remember. How can I remember. That you want me. I can not know if you are, just… Not leaving something behind. Like haunting.”

“Haunting?”

Haruki stops moving completely. “I really miss the way, really…” a breath. “The way you looked at me before.”

“And how,” Hanjae prompts, leaning closer, eager to hear it, “How did I look at you before?”

Haruki ignores him. “It is gone,” he laments, and Haruki actively looks like he’s grieving the death of it, whatever it might be. “You have not even fucked me yet, and– gone.”

It’s a quiet, long minute. Hanjae sees Haruki’s eyes go glossy in real time, catches the whole process up until Haruki turns his face away, presses it on the mattress again, hides it.

Haruki pushes his upper body up with his elbows, covers his face with his hands, inhales. Looks at Hanjae again, his eyes peeking through his fingers, dark.

“Ah, you are so nice, Hanjae. Very, very nice, you,” he says, voice still. He stands an arm out, matches every single word with an absent tap on Hanjae’s shoulder. “And all worried, all in your head. It is so annoying. So weird how you–” And he doesn’t say; doesn’t tell Hanjae what’s weird about him.

The hand on his shoulder goes up, scoops his jaw for a tiny moment, then yanks him forward by the back of his neck – Hanjae has to put a knee on the bed frame to not fully stumble. It’s a grip locking him in place, now, as Haruki drags his face near.

“Pick a fucking date. Pick a date,” Haruki tells him, and his voice almost doesn’t sound like his own; is a pure growl. “I am tired. Tired.”

He leaves the same way he came: a door meeting the lock loudly.

Before going to bed, Hanjae selects another shirt to sleep on, a clean one, red like blood in the water.

May 26th, 2022.

“I think I just– Hyung, I think it all comes down to the fact that I don’t understand what you’re asking, because you’re not– you’re not asking. We’re not communicating.”

Haruki’s long pace back and forth in the hotel room comes to a halt. He’s only in underwear under the bath robe he’s got on, black and with an embroidered logo on the chest and back – they both were, up until Hanjae put his shorts back on.

It didn’t take long for Hanjae to pick a date for them to officially have sex: the pre-Camp Camp filming days are the calmest, with the ease of certain success making everyone better to work with, smoothing all the nerves, and a day before they start shooting LOOPiN always have the liberty to do whatever they want. Most staff are too busy setting up cameras around the park, testing the traps, and putting the winning team barracks up to keep them all in check.

Hanjae brought it up to Haruki a couple of days before they traveled to Jeollabuk over their stale text messages, and promptly got an ‘yes’ and nothing further; Haruki kept his distance like a bride on a wedding day over the weeks, barely a blur on the corner of Hanjae’s vision.

So here they are, a day away from being shoved in a park to pretend it’s a jungle. Hanjae walked around with a condom in his short’s pocket since morning and he’s been trying to look forward to it, trying to rationalize the hollow in his stomach as positive anxiety.

By mid afternoon, everyone was leaving the hotel – absolutely everyone. Hanjae couldn’t put a finger on it, but he felt like Haruki had something to do with it. They were sorted into their dorm roommate arrangements by Junghwa, all in the same corridor, both of their rooms at the extreme ends. Hanjae waited for his text to come over Haruki and Dylan’s suite, then made his way in a quiet and dragged on zig-zag – tapped a little song on a vase with a single flower on the hallway table just to bite time.

Dylan was still there when he got in, angrily tying his hiking shoes, and he refused to look at them as he made his way out. He stopped at the door, turned, looked like he was about to say something.

Haruki went to shove him off the room with a tight, “No, Chihoon, I don’t want to hear you, not today, no one wants to hear you, leave, get out.”

Things happened at a weird pace from there. They made out for a long minute, came close to fully undressing then froze awkwardly in the middle of Haruki’s bed, paused it.

“What do you want to do?” Hanjae asked from where he was set on top of him.

“Whatever you want,” Haruki answered, absently tugging at one of Hanjae’s red ears.

So he tried to work with whatever, since he didn’t know what he wanted – he tried to remember some guilty ridden fantasy of his which Haruki had starred in and use that as a guide, but the search came out blank. Hanjae wasn’t getting them anymore, funnily enough, ever since he had been kissed by him a second time.

But no matter what he tried, be it a kiss on the neck or a firm hold on his tight, Haruki barely made a sound, barely seemed to engage and, the most defeating of all, he wouldn’t get hard. It took Hanjae a long moment to notice, too long, and he did so by accident; went to push him by the waist closer but his hand slipped down, and he noticed how limp he felt under his underwear.

That wouldn't do; he asked Haruki again he wanted him to do, what he shouldn’t do, and under the scrutiny Haruki only blurted out dismissively, “Stop, no one fucks to get comfortable, anyway”, and Hanjae’s hand fell from his shoulders.

He said, “What?” and Haruki, “What what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mean by what?” Haruki asked, an uneasy sound, and Hanjae could almost feel him growing cold under him, losing body heat, so he stepped away.

That was a whole hour ago. They’ve been trying to recover, but the mood has gone sour. Hanjae has put his shorts back on a couple minutes after his boner fully died and Haruki seemed to take that as a personal offense, hence the walking.

Hanjae reiterates: “I just can’t know if you like anything if you don’t tell me or… respond. Physically.”

Haruki rubs a hand over his face. He’s annoyed but he’s trying to mask it, says like a tease, “What’s with the language? Did you do research?”

Hanjae sighs. He’s tired of hearing this tone on him. He’s tired of one too many things at once, a Russian doll of exhaustion. A block; the everyday chaos of work, another; the weight of lying to everyone, the effort of keeping it up, and the core one: Haruki not wanting him, pretending to do so, going about it like a chore, like something he must cross off a list.

“What am I doing wrong?” Hanjae asks. “Can you tell me?”

“No, not– You’re not doing things wrong, it just doesn’t happen, okay?” Haruki lets out. “I don’t really get hard, or anything.”

Hanjae processes the phrase word by word. “You mean, you mean never? Or–”

“Not never, just not always. Not a lot.”

“Hyung. Shouldn’t you get that checked?”

“‘Get that checked’,” Haruki parrots, half heartedly, and then quieter, to himself, “I need a fucking drink. ‘Should have sneaked something, should have– Got something.”

Seeing him stuck in place, an unpleased thing, Hanjae can’t help but think back to his snaggletooth days, the pre-rhinoplasty times, that one White Day in seventh grade where his deskmate pity gave him half a chocolate, and wonders if he’s lying, if he’s making something up to make him feel better, if he noticed that Hanjae’s not feeling great, nowhere close to nice.

He’s been hiding his right hand under the cover, trying to not let Haruki hold it, not that he’s tried to do that yet, nor does it seem like he’ll want to.

“We can just not do anything,” Hanjae reminds him. It’s his fourth time saying it, and it gets the exact same reaction out of Haruki each time: an annoyed huff, a roll of eyes. “Not have sex, if it’s not what you want. If I’m not– Not attractive to you.”

“You are, you are. Very attractive,” Haruki says. “Happy?”

“And if I am,” Hanjae prompts. “It’s okay, right? You think it’s okay?”

Haruki’s mouth hangs semi open, his eyes semi shut, when he shoots him a look. “What? I– What?” It’s almost a hiss.

“Can you just tell me why?” Hanjae presses. It’s the right wrong question; it sends Haruki back to pacing, his back turned to him. “Why do you want us to have sex?”

“You want this to happen,” Haruki tells him. “You always wanted it to happen, everyone knows, you made this happen, with all– everything.”

“And you want it too?”

“That’s such a stupid question! Am I not here? Didn’t I tell you to be here?”

“You’re not just,” Hanjae takes in air, sharp through his teeth. “Looking and understanding and– letting me have it, like–”

He can’t fully say it, Haruki doesn’t allow him, shuts it down with a sharp, “Are you my therapist? You’re my therapist now? Fuck off, shut up, be quiet for just a fucking a minute, will you?”

Hanjae withers. From a place inside him, he recalls, he had hoped. He had cultivated hope the size of a grain of sand that maybe, just maybe, the hesitation ment care – that perhaps Haruki liked him, and didn’t know what to do about it, how to go about it. A nice piece of fiction to cling to. But no. It’s clear now: no.

“I really don’t want to pressure you,” Hanjae says, and tries to make his voice louder as the phrase goes on, less miserable, but fails at it.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Hanjae, I understand korean, I understand what you’re saying, I’m not fucking stupid–”

“I didn’t say– I didn’t say you are,” Hanjae tries to reason, but all the sound gets drowned out; there’s only Haruki talking quickly, loudly.

“–So you can stop repeating all these good phrases now, these made up phrases. No one speaks like that. In the real world, no one says that–”

“I mean it.”

“–You’re not pressuring me, Hanjae, trust me, you can’t do that, no one– There’s no pressure, or urgency, or anything. I don’t feel any of that coming from you, so,” Haruki flashes him a smile, thin, ironic, sharp. It looks like something that would be carved out with a pocket knife somewhere.

“Then why,” Hanjae breaths. “Why don’t we end this here? Can we end this here?”

“Again?” Haruki asks, with a laugh. It’s a mean sounding one. “Are you serious?”

“No,” Hanjae says, and swallows. “All of it.”

He almost regrets saying it, given how hard Haruki’s face crumbles. It takes a full minute for him to recover, and Hanjae watches him try to piece an expression back together until he can no longer look.

“Bullshit,” he hears Haruki say, and then again, “Bullshit. C’mon, just. Give me a minute, alright?”

He moves very close, very soon, back on the bed. Their knees are touching again, and they both feel icy.

Haruki says, “I can do better, I promise,” and there’s a hint of a plea there. Hanjae hates to catch it.

“Haruki, it’s okay. It’s okay–”

“No, just, if you just,” His hands hover over Hanjae’s chest, unfocused, trying to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “I can do this, I can, really, if you just try to be more horrible, if you– if you force me, then–” and Haruki shuts his mouth very tight, looks down at the tangle of sheets between them, about to fall off the mattress.

Hanjae at him once and again, forces his eyes to stay open even though. He takes hold of both of Haruki’s wrists feather light, puts them away from him, pushes them to be on Haruki’s own chest. They fall limply on his sides once he lets go.

“Haruki,” Hanjae begins to say, and then stops, has no idea how to proceed. He puts his hands on his forehead, digging. He presses the heel of them over his eyes, hard. “I’m not… I’m not going to do that to you. I don’t want to do that, so can we not? Please? Can we not?”

He takes his hands off his face to try to look him in the eyes, to tell him with them to: I’m not doing that.

Haruki stags up, seems to tense from the heel off his feet to the top of his head. “This is so– awful, awful. What is it, your face is– It looks so–”

Hanjae takes notice of his frown, his quirked down mouth, his eyes – watery, blinking. It’s a sad face, an about-to-burst-into-tears face.

“I can’t stand this, I’m not– Not going to stand here, and be looked at like–” Haruki swallows dry, goes back into motion; picks his shirt back up from the floor, puts it on in a hurry. “I’m going to the pool. I’ll be in the pool, away from you. The whole trip, away from you.”

He stops abruptly at the door, a shaky hand on the handle. Haruki says without looking back at him, exasperated, “You’re gonna let me walk out? I’m leaving, I’m walking out.”

Hanjae says nothing, and experiences what might be the heaviest silence of his life. He feels it from within, taking the form of a bone crushing pressure.

Haruki is even quiet when he leaves, making the door fall shut with almost no sound; a complete dissonance.

June 2nd and 3rd, 2022.

Hanjae lays down, once he’s alone. He spends the rest of the day checking the door, checking his phone – a wild expectation followed by nothing, nothing, except for a tense engulfment of sleep.

Summer comes and Hanjae sees more rain clouds then he sees of just Haruki. It’s voluntary and it isn’t; they’re both avoiding each other.

But promotions are not done, yet, so it’s not as intense as it could be. Just yesterday they got sorted out to film a Heart To Heart episode, and had to scrap it midway because it was heavy, horrible, quiet. Their prompt was: Beach, and they couldn’t hold even a one minute conversation about it.

He got an email from Seo CEO in the morning: ‘Let’s all keep a serene work environment free of misunderstandings and intrigue’, he wrote, underlined and in bold.

Hanjae presses the cold bottle of energy drink against his face, the back of his neck – pure sweat after filming another music show performance. He’s by the vending machine, catching some air, seeing Idols come and go, staff hushing from one side to the other. Some of them bow their heads at him, and Hanjae greets them back with an enthusiasm he knows falls short.

There’s a small commotion in front of their dressing room when he gets there, and he could spot it from a distance. A girl group or at very least a group of around twelve girls, Beomseok and Seungsoo supporting their exposed arms on the doorframe when they talk to them, smiles warm and easy, so he knows exactly what it's all about.

Haruki’s the odd one out, in the middle of them, the center of all attention. He’s always been popular in the hallways, no stranger to little pieces of paper sneaked into his cafeteria orders, someone coming up to him and asking if they can take a selfie, if he’s got a minute – he’s known for dismissing all requests politely.

Hanjae tries to walk by them meekly, without touching anyone, just muttering polite ‘Excuse me’s until he’s allowed through; he isn’t allowed through. Haruki’s got one warm over his shoulder before he can get even a foot inside, before he can even process how, locking him in a clumsy armlock, turning him around, pushing him close.

“And what about him?” He asks the girls, and he’s close enough to press his cheek against Hanjae’s; they’re the exact same height, and their bones fall perfectly aligned. Someone laughs about it, someone woos. “What do we think of him?”

A girl, the closest to them, wearing the sparkliest makeup Hanjae’s ever seen says, joking, “Oh, him? Hmmmmmm, let’s see…”

At his back, Hanjae feels a lingering over and soon can hear Dylan say, a sharp whisper, “Haruki, stop that. Stop.”

Haruki ignores him. His hold on Hanjae’s neck gets tighter, turns into an one armed hug. “Hanjae’s very very shy, but he’s also very very nice. A proper gentleman.”

“Really?” Another girl asks – long curled hair, jet black, dimples showing. “I thought all gentlemen had gone extinct.”

“Noona, so did I! But not Hanjae. He’s proper old school.”

“If that’s true, then he’s cute,” she says, and comes boldly forward to pinch Hanjae’s cheek. Haruki watches her do so with an enthusiastic nod of approval, and Hanjae can feel his sharp sideways grin form in real time. “It makes him the cutest out of all of you.”

“It’s all true, trust me, trust me. He is the cutest out of all of us, yes. Can you believe he’s single? I think it’s so sad, how single he is, how alone he is all the time, always too lonely. We should solve that, no?”

The girl smiles back at him – amused, having fun, flirting with Hanjae, with Haruki, with the two of them at once in front of everyone when she says, “We really should.”

Around them, everyone’s gone into a frenzy over the situation. Seungsoo is slapping Haruki on his free shoulder, screeching ‘You’re so crazy today, Haruki, what’s gotten into you, you crazy man!’, and Hanjae can’t tell if he’s breathing. Then he can feel his lungs moving and nothing else. There’s a small turmoil under them, right where his heart should be, an agitation – fight or flight, and he fails both. He freezes, throat tight and dry.

And then: the enerved click of Junghwa’s heeled shoes, her voice loud when she says, exasperated, “No, no no no, out, out, out! All of you girls out of here right now, what is this?! Where are your managers?!”

The girls scatter in a hurry, all waving goodbye and giggling. Seungsoo puts his hand on his heart and makes a show out of sighing, looking sad, makes a couple of them laugh louder.

Door shut, Junghwa slaps him and Beomseok naked arms with her papers, half joking, half actually slapping them. “I leave for five minutes! Five minutes! What is wrong with you men!”

“We were filming Tiktoks! Innocent little Tiktoks!” Seungsoo says, but he’s laughing, proudly taking his beating. Beomseok simply steps out of her reach, shrugging.

Junghwa stags when she’s in front of Haruki, papers down. She looks for a long moment at his face, searching for something and Hanjae knows what it is: a sign of winter coming earlier.

She’s gentle with him in a different, more impersonal way. He’s the only one out of all of them Junghwa doesn’t call by the first name; she doesn’t use ‘kid’ or ‘boy’ or ‘son’ either.

‘Fukunaga-ssi’ is what she says now, asking if they can have a word in private, and Haruki complies, follows her out, mute.

Hanjae slides his earphones in and tries to not watch them – doesn’t want to look him in the eyes, and thinks he means it forever, feels like it’s a vow being made.

Everyone’s getting more or less undressed by the time he looks up again, falling back into their usual clothes, and the small glimpses of everyone’s torsos at the corner of his eyes are depressing, being back an old discomfort. He sinks into his seat, blinks something off his eyes, looks at the floor. Counts to ten, scratches at his marked hand.

Jiahang comes to sit by his side, gingerly tapping his face with a makeup wipe, a question on his frowned brow, a deep concern. He’s wearing one of Minwoo’s ancient black hoodies, the one with the falling apart NASA logo that fits him too short at the arms.

Hanjae has no idea why his mouth tastes so sour, seeing it; why the next breath he takes through his nose is so sharp.

Junghwa and Haruki come back soon enough, and he and Hanjae are the only ones left to change. She hurries everyone else out, says, “Boys, grab your things– and make sure you have all your things, please– Yes, Kim Haegon, I am talking directly to you, kiddo.”

In a blink there’s only a fan in a corner, making noise, and Haruki in pristine white performance clothes in front of Hanjae, wearing an overshirt with a cascade of thin chains on the back.

“We’re alone,” he says, suddenly, while staring at the floor. “If you want to you can–”

Hanjae stands quickly up, puts a wall and a door between them, turns the lock shut in the small bathroom attached to the room. He’s only sharing space with a shitter and a sink, a little mirror, and he doesn’t want to see even an inch of himself in it.

When he steps out, jeans and an white shirt, Haruki’s gone. His stage jacket lies abandoned on the floor, a tear on the shoulder, a loose chain on the opposite side of the room.

Hanjae staggers at the door, and sees himself walking back to pick it up without thinking. He’s very cautious when he folds it, very gentle when he tucks it under one arm.

[...]

On the ride home Hanjae lingers on the backseat, blearing some song loud enough to not think – pure instrumental, a booming bass.

When they stop in front of the dorm, he stays planted where he is; unties his seatbelt and then thinks better of it, clicks it back shut.

“I’ll go to the company,” he tells no one, just says it out loud, and no one bothers to object. He rides with Junghwa to the New Wave building, even quieter, almost one with the silence.

He doesn’t give her a chance to speak to him when they park, just hops off and goes straight through the reception to practice room #A2, the one with a bunch of old instruments tucked into the lockers, mostly hand-me-downs, some of them broke beyond repair.

He’s aiming for the one drum kit that’s probably around the same age Hanjae is, nothing fancy: it was some staff's son's, someone else’s teenage dream, and he said Hanjae could have it – it’s what his kid would want. It has million pieces of old stickers glued on it and Hanjae never felt like fully peeling them out.

His mind gets lost in the long choreography of setting it up piece by piece. When he finally sits behind the seat, his hands move on their own, just making noise.

And then he finds his way into a rock song through muscle memory. By the end of it, Haruki is a long silhouette in the corner of his eyes, dressed from head to toe in funeral black, and Hanjae almost loses the hold he has on his sticks.

Hanjae’s sweatier than before, breathing slightly through his mouth, still upset with him.

Haruki has a very firm walk when he comes deeper into the room. He stands a paper out in front of Hanjae, his face turned away.

“Phone number,” he explains, waving it even closer to Hanjae like a treat, a gift. “From the girl, earlier. The one that liked you.”

Hanjae lowers his drumsticks as he stares at it, letting his hands fall to his tights. He has no idea what his face is doing, but he knows that if he says I don’t want it, that won’t be all that he’ll say. He might cry; he might fail himself and cry from exhaustion, maybe. Probably something worse, uglier.

“It’s better if you start seeing someone, now. Really seeing someone. This whole thing, it’s so much bullshit. It’s bullshit, Hanjae, it’s like you said. So let’s end this here, like you asked,” Haruki says, and when Hanjae doesn’t move to take up his offer he shoves it in his pocket, walks away, goes to one of the side bars. He puts an extended leg there, a perfect stretch, as he keeps up, carrying an echo: “We’re not compatible, anyway. There was never anything really happening.”

Hanjae’s acting before he knows it. He puts the sticks on their case, tries to get the zipper shut with a hard push that doesn’t do anything. He tries again, harder, and the dent gets stuck on fabric, almost breaks.

“So don’t get sad, Hanhan,” Haruki concludes, turning around, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and his posture is perfect, fully straightened out – a wall again. “It’ll make me upset.”

Hanjae looks at him, as straight in the eyes as he can from a distance – keeps looking even when Haruki dips his chin down, offering only the top of his head.

“It was fun for a day, right? You had one fun day, got your dick sucked,” he says, and he sounds like he’s smiling, like he’s trying to make it sound light, to paint it as something funny. Trying to be intimate, a bit they did. “I don’t mind that we never really– It’s not important to me. I didn’t even want to have sex with you, so– who cares?”

Hanjae closes his eyes tight shut, tries to take a steading inhale. He hears Haruki say, as if from underwater, “But I did want to like you. That week, with all the kissing, all that– I tried to like you. ‘Just didn’t work. Didn’t work.”

“You tried,” Hanjae says, a breath. “You tried to like me.”

From the opposite corner of the room, Haruki puts his face back into view, and the smile he has grows more forced, more visibly sad. It reminds Hanjae of a chalk line drawn on a black board, crooked.

“I told you.”

“What? What did you tell me?”

“Hanjae,” Haruki warns him. “Let’s not make it awkward. I understand you had your ideas, all these expectations–”

“I didn’t. I didn’t have any expectations I didn’t tell you. Everything– I told you. I tried to be honest. At Deh noona’s. That was really all I had to say.”

“Sure,” Haruki says, with a tiny laugh, the hint of a sneer.

‘Sure’. Hanjae’s up from the seat, can’t no longer sit down, can’t barely stand being here.

Haruki keeps eying him like he’s expecting Hanjae to walk straight out of the door, and grows startled when he doesn’t, when he walks near him instead, at half an arm’s distance.

“Why do you think I didn’t mean it? That I was lying?” Hanjae asks the shrunken figure of him. “What sort of person do you think I am? What sort of person do you think being interested in you makes me?”

He’s close enough to see how tightly Haruki’s jaw sets when he looks away, at a nothing point on the far left. His hair falls on his eyes, a curtain. “What sort of question–”

“Every time,” Hanjae speaks over him, and it hurts to do so, because Haruki reacts badly to it, flinching. But someone has to say it; he has to say it, he can’t keep on not saying it. “Every time I wanted to talk to you, hyung, just talk to you, to make sure you were enjoying anything in any way, you looked at me like I disgusted you, like you hated me. Do you hate me? Why? What’s so wrong about all the things, all the things I've done? What’s not correct? I tried being close, and it didn't work. I tried to give you space, and it didn’t work. I still don’t understand, so can you tell me? Can you make it clear to me now?”

Hanjae’s out of air, when he closes his mouth shut. The whole room – sucked out of air.

Very quietly, Haruki says, “I asked for one thing, one thing, and you didn’t do the one thing–”

“You just said– You said you didn’t want to have sex with me. Then why? Why ask? Just because you could? You just asked because you could?”

“Stop,” Haruki tells him, voice rigid. His arms have unfolded and are now holding on to the side bar with all they have. “Stop with the whole why, why, why, just drop it. I’m not saying. Not saying.”

“You can say. I want to listen. I want the answer,” Hanjae says. “I still– I want to be your friend, now. I want you well. To think you’re not– To think you’re hurting, it’s painful. It’s painful.”

“Oh, you’re in pain– You’re in pain, you,” Haruki spits, and laughs, and sniffs, all at once. “Give me a fucking break! Go care about people that care about you, Hanjae, this is so pathetic, everything you always say is– Quit wasting your time with all of this, when you can get a nice girl, someone nice like you and have a nice, normal thing that’s not– Not this. You can choose to not have this, so I don’t understand, I don’t understand why– And you, you won’t understand why, so fuck off, just fuck off! That’s what I want, what I always wanted! For you to fuck off.”

It’s said like an ultimatum, and it sounds harsh enough for Hanjae to feel it more on his chest than on his ears. He tries to take another look at his face, to match the tone to an expression, but can’t – Haruki won’t let him, and Hanaje won’t insist. It’s not his place to insist, and it’s been made clear now.

He leaves him alone, carrying himself very tightly out the door, out the corridor, out the entryway.

Out on the outside world, it’s already close to being night, and Hanjae takes in the stale air, looking up. He sits on the New Wave front steps despite himself, and the concrete’s warmth is a faint discomfort about to leave him.

The drum was still set there, in the room. Hanjae had wanted it, and promised to care for it, and still: left it there. He’ll have to go back for it, be back and fix it, put it back in place.

He should clean it first, and the floor, maybe the mirrors – not all, just some of them, the ones that look worse. Everything that looks bad, everything not quite right.

When he walks back into the practice room, there’s no sound, no lights on, and Haruki is no longer anywhere to be found.

The drum set is back on the case, compact inside the locker, exactly where it should be, exactly what it should be – as if it had never been touched at all.

[…]

Food tastes bland during dinner, and Hanjae doesn’t have it in him to pretend to have an appetite for Taesong’s sake.

He's been testing out recipes lately. He wants to impress his mother in law because he knows he wants to marry Yunhee, now. Not even two years together and he knows he wants to be with her forever, is sure that it’s mutual, it’s certain they’re in love.

He wants to show it to everyone; he gets to show it to everyone.

“Are you okay, Hanjae?” Taesong asks, over and over again – at the dinner table, on the couch during a drama commercial break, while they’re sharing space in front of the bathroom sink, brushing their teeth.

And each time Hanjae answers “Yes”, a tight “Yes”, and none of them sounds convincing enough, not even one of them he can get right.

Later, in his room: Seungsoo out, Minwoo out, and Hanjae all alone. Typical. Routine. Things as they’ve always been; as they’ve never stopped being, not even once. Haruki’s voice rings on his head when he lays it on the pillow: so alone, all the time, so sad, all lonely.

He checks the time on his phone: 8:03PM. Too early. Hanjae drops it, closes his eyes for a long time, checks it again: 8:16PM, and the pop up notification of receiving two messages from Dylan six minutes ago.

[dylari]: r things w/ haruki done?

[dylari]: plz answer quick

[You]: What do you mean?

[dylari]: idk how else to read this

Chihoon sends him a cropped screenshot showing a single lengthy Kakao message. ‘i don t know whyy is so hard’, the first line reads, ‘f or anyone ti just on ce do what i avsk and n ot sometind ellse like hsnaje he is sp–’

Hanjae stops reading it. He enters his phone’s gallery and deletes it, goes back to the chat and Dylan’s text now shows up as a blurry gray square, only says ‘media not found’.

[You]: Did he send you this?

[dylari]: yeah

[dylari]: our chat is his diary ig

[dylari]: when talking irl gets hard he blows my phone

[dylari]: i thought you knew

[You]: I didnt know

[You]: Sorry to hear you have to deal with that

There’s a long pause from Dylan’s side. When he resumes typing, Hanjae has long deleted both messages, regretted them – is sitting up on the bed with a hand on his face, a hard press, and regretting that too.

[dylari]: dude i dont mind knowing

[dylari]: look dont worry hanjae this is fine

[dylari]: im his roomie im on it i can take care of this

[dylari]: ill keep an eye on him now

[dylari]: im sure you tried your best your own way so thank you

[dylari]: telling you that now because he wont say it even if he wants to say it he wont so let me do that for you

[dylari]: good job

[dylari]: go breath

Hanjae falls asleep with his phone held tight, tight to his chest: 11:49 PM. He dreams of it ringing, ringing, ringing, and not being surprised, just being afraid.

[...]

It’s way past 1AM when Hanjae’s mattress sinks to the weight of Haruki sitting at the far end corner, some few inches away from his feet.

He had heard him unlock the door and come in, Seungsoo with him, making the most amount of noise – slurring more than singing some old pop ballad.

Minwoo had jumped awake out of bed, angry; threw a pillow at them, and then a shoe, told them both to fuck off, and disappeared.

Seungsoo began snoring as soon as his body hit the bed, loudly, which only happens when he’s exhausted; they must have danced all night, must have club hopped all night, trying to be too shifty to get caught.

Haruki stayed for a long moment in the middle of the room after tucking him in, silent. And then he sat there, in Hanjae’s bed, not moving, not breathing, Hanjae even thought, until he took a long inhale through his nose just now.

Hanjae won’t look; he can’t look at him. He promised he wouldn’t.

“I’m gonna leave you alone, now,” Haruki tells him – tells him directly, because Hanjae can almost make out the shape of his stare on his back, right at the shoulder. He bit very close to there once and meant nothing by it, thought nothing of it. “You’ll never have to talk to me when we are away from a camera, Hanjae. I promise. You’re gonna look around and I’m not gonna be there. Not an inch of me. I’m not gonna be there.”

He sounds so clear when he says it – slow, but still sober in a way Hanjae doesn’t hear from him much. He keeps on looking ahead into the dark, a hand gripping this pillow; his eyes won’t close.

Haruki swallows, resumes: “The thing is, you’re too nice, Hanjae, so, so nice, you’ve been so nice, so it’s not– It’s not you, it’s not. It’s me. I can’t– I can’t have that. Doesn’t work. I know it, for a long time. So with you, I was just… Lying. To you, not to me. I know that’s wrong, and I know what’s wrong and I just, still– I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Hanjae, I’m sorry, I shouldn't have– I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’ll stop, I promise, I’ll stop. I’ll stop everything, everything, so don’t cry, alright? Why are you crying? Don’t do that– Over me? Don’t do that. I’m sorry. Don’t cry, Hanjae, don’t cry, please, I’m sorry, I’m very sorry, I– I didn’t want to make you cry. I didn’t want–”

September 26th, 2023.

He can see Haruki clearly now, the stark shape of him. He’s still wearing the outfit intended for the airport – a sleeveless designer shirt, blue overcoat, and a wine purple trouser with an abstract David Bowie painted on the right leg.

Hanjae observes him from a small distance, catching his breath. He had run there, trying the piece the way back together from memory, growing a little desperate everytime he turned left and it wasn’t the right left; every time he saw an abandoned lot and it wasn’t the right lot.

But he was the one to find him in the end, sitting right on the floor, tense but not so small. He has a moment now to think of the right thing to say.

Hanjae wants to go with the essential: your sister’s at home, she’s looking for you, she wants to know you’re well. As does everyone; as does everything.

He opens his mouth: can’t make it. Opens his mouth again and takes another breath, a hissy breath, through the teeth.

Hanjae isn’t looking at the ground, this time, as he walks forward; he steps over a twig and it breaks loudly in half, disrupts his equilibrium lightly, and Haruki takes a slow look behind his shoulders. Their eyes meet then – and Haruki’s have grown tiny on his face, swollen. They quickly look down, at himself, to the ground.

“Someone found my spot,” he says hoarsely, with a single laugh. He picks one of the bottle pieces on the floor near him, raw glass, and throws it down the hill. It doesn’t make a sound. Hanjae keeps waiting for the glass to break and make a sound, and doesn’t hear it, never hears it. “They got rid of all my chairs– that sucks. That just sucks.”

It’s been a long, long year – 2023, that is. The oddest one yet, their busiest. Hanjae’s half an actor now, goes to TV and gives magazine interviews alone now, and Haruki models often, editorials and campaigns and a whole outdoor, once.

Hanjae squats near him, some inches behind; he’s still scared of how big the drop is. He waits, and waits, and waits more.

Haruki leans a bit on his back, tells him, “You can see his house from here. That's why I liked it, it’s why I came.”

Hanjae squints, looks ahead, trying to spot it even though he has no idea what to look for. He’s never been to Choi Sangwon’s. He knows some of the others have, back when they were Boy Of The Week trainees. Their reports were mixed: he had a big pitbull, a bathroom wall painted in a horrible shade of red, and all the carpets somehow smelled like they were brand new, like no one ever stepped on them.

Haruki laughs, meek, and points ahead; right at the only house with no light coming from the windows, empty.

“That one,” he says. “I had a key copy, front and back door. I had a floor mattress, mine. I got clothes there, still– mostly underwear, sleep clothes. And my favorite necklace pin, family heirloom, in a drawer, there.”

Hanjae gulps something acid down his throat. “I see,” he says. “I– I see it.”

Haruki turns his whole face at him, suddenly. Looks sad, and tries to not appear sad, smiles. All white teeth. “Are you happy, Hanhan? Like, ever? Are you well, most of the time? Is your girlfriend nice to you, lately? You’re so busy now. With your dramas and all. I hope she understands. I hope she’s watching them, that she likes to see you on them.”

“I’m well, hyung. I’m– Yoora and I, we–,” Hanjae swallows again, dry. The raw truth is: happiness creeps up on him and it’s a battle to let it linger, when he looks around himself. He tries to start over, tries to sound firmer. “And you?”

“Pfff. What do you think? I know you saw the whole,” Haruki makes a hand motion – mimics an explosion, a disaster. “I heard you. Through everything. And thank you, by the way, for not bringing an army with you. For not acting like I’m a princess– Like I’m a runaway princess.”

Hanjae nods, uses that to say ‘you’re welcome’, and doesn’t mean it much. He should have brought an army with him. Or just his sister maybe, whom Haruki adores; avoids but adores.

Hanjae clears his throat, says, “Furumi’s at home. She wants to see you– talk to you.”

Haruki lets out an airy laugh. “Right. The baby.”

“You asked,” Hanjae reminds him.

“I know,” Haruki says, and turns his face upfront; looks at the drop, looks at the house. “I know I asked.”

“Hyung,” Hanjae says. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He sees Haruki run a hand over his face, up his hair, leave it there. He soothes himself before he speaks, a whole damn breaking sort of thing;

“It was so– I was checking on what Monica sent me to wear at the airport, and when I saw Bowie my first thought somehow was, did my boyfriend get a funeral? He was afraid of that. Of dying without a ceremony. His only real fear, I think, the only fear I figured out,” Haruki trails off, for a moment; seems to dive deep into a memory, takes a moment more. He comes back with a sneer. “Why the fuck Bowie? He didn’t like old music, didn’t like rock. Nothing connects– it’s just two dead people, that’s all, that’s it. And Chihoon was right there, right behind me, but for a moment– For a moment, it didn’t look like it was him. It looked like, from this one angle– Fuck, I can’t even say his full name, now. My first boyfriend, a name I can’t say. How sad. How very sad…”

He sounds like he’s giving Hanjae a cue to laugh. Hanjae doesn’t, wouldn’t be able to remember how to do so even if he tried.

Haruki says, “The thing is– The thing is, he made himself my life and then he died. He chose to die, picked a date and a place to die, and I can’t grieve, I shouldn’t want to grieve because it would be insane to feel– When I know he didn’t love me. He didn’t even fucking like me, treated that fucking dog better– Liked the dog better. It could kill me off, and he would say it was my fault. Everything about me made him so angry, all the time, all the time so angry when we were in private. My age, my face, my name, my accent. Everything. And everyone knows now. They all know, because I had to say– Because I can’t get a hold of it, lately. It’s always very cold in the winter, I always felt it, but now it’s the whole year. I feel very– very sad, cold, all year.”

“But they want this so bad, Hanjae,” Haruki tells him, quieter, holding in tears. “All of them. It’s not like you and me. We just landed here. To dance. To act. They live and breathe this thing, this Idol group thing, and it hit me then– It hit me that I can’t be like them, our members. That’s why I panicked, that’s why I couldn’t go to Fashion Week, why I had to come back here. I can’t do it like everyone else does it because it’s never been the same, my career– I don’t think I deserve these things. I didn’t even want them. I was in college, I came here to be in college. I wanted to dance, just dance, like my grandmother did– I wanted to do something for her memory, I wanted to be something she would be proud of, something anyone– anyone would look at and be proud of, and now no one fucking talks to me, anymore, my family doesn’t talk to me. I don’t know my mom’s new phone number– he didn’t even let me keep my mom’s new phone number. ‘Said I didn’t need it, said it didn’t matter.”

“I wish, back then–” Hanjae says, barely feeling his tongue moving. “That I did more. Anything.”

“You really wish that, don’t you? You mean it,” Haruki sounds like he’s marveling at it, that is a truly remarkable thing that Hanjae has said something and meant it. “You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever been with, Hanjae, really. The coolest, too. While I’m the worst one, right? Worst person you’ve ever been with. By miles. You can’t– Never again. No one like me. Never again.”

“Not like him again,” Hanjae tells him. “For you, not like him again.”

Haruki shows him an even sadder face, more wobbly, and shrugs. Just shrugs, looks away.

“I think no one,” he says, with a firm nod. “No one is better. It feels fitting to let that die, too. If I can’t get it right.”

“That’s not true,” Hanjae says, more with his clenched teeth than with his voice. “Not true. It’s not– Not better.”

“Oh, you don’t think so?” Haruki asks, and it’s just words. Just words being said to fill in silence, to cover up a strong sniff.

Hanjae can feel it again; the sharp line of disconnection rising, cutting the air in half, and he still doesn’t know how to stop it. He doesn’t know how to reach him.

He tries; he has to try. Hanjae licks his lips, forces some sound out of his throat: “You know– Haruki, you know, that all of us, everyone, will listen to anything you have to say. All the time.”

“I know that? Do I? And anything? That’s big. That’s really big. You shouldn’t let anyone say anything– no one should have to listen to just anything. Look at Chihoon now, Jiahang now. What good did knowing everything do?”

Hanjae’s at loss of words again, breathing around a lump on the middle of his throat. He’s too bad at this, too tired to think – just off a long action shoot. He still has his outside mask shoved into his jeans back pocket.

Somewhere in the distance, he can hear a dog haul; a coded hymn to the moon, maybe. Something about wanting life to stay still, wait a little longer. And then silence, a defeating one. A shuffling coming from Haruki in front of him.

“Can you, we– Ah, it’s so,” Haruki begins to say, shaking his head. “Can you hug me? If it’s not too hard or– bad for you. Just one time.”

Hanjae’s up on his feet before he’s even done talking. He stands his hand out, a timid invitation, and Haruki takes it, allowing Hanjae to help him up.

Haruki lays his forehead on his shoulder and stays there, being hugged, fully still until he takes a big shuddering breath. His arms stay glued to his sides, limp.

“I’ve never really– I never did just this,” he tells Hanjae; a shaky whisper, an old time secret. “It’s never been just this, before.”

Hanjae turns his face to the side and away so he can suck in air, so he can close his eyes shut, for a moment. He can’t think too much about it now. He taps at Haruki’s shoulder blades warmly, like a dad or a coach would – pat, pat, pat.

It gets an airy laugh out of him, a long and disbelieved one. “Bro hug!” Haruki exclaims when he steps away, whipping at his running nose, “You just gave me a bro hug. It’s really over now. We’re never going to fuck now. All that, over. What are we, if we’re bro hugging?”

“We’re a team. We’re friends,” Hanjae says, and thinks; you said so right here, once.

Haruki’s face makes too many things at once, hearing it. He looks down at himself again, accessing all the damage done to Monica Imano’s design. Bowie’s face has turned red with dust, and it looks even more smudged.

“VIANFINO is going to fire me,” he concludes with a dry chuckle. “They told me one more slip– the sponsoring, over.”

Hanjae bats an idle leaf off his shoulder and for once Haruki doesn’t flinch out of reach. He tries to give him a truthful close mouthed smile.

“Leave it to me– Leave them all with me,” Hanjae says, and leaves his hand there, a firm hold on him. “I’ll wash them.”

#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ writing .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ haruki .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ hanjae .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ dylan .#fictional idol community #fake kpop group #kpop fanfic #kpop au #kpop oc #(maybe the Hanruki sex scene was the friends we made along the way?)

14 notes · View notes

justmochi · 3 months ago

Text

just tryna write the minwoo first time smut and my pupils keep dilating lIKE I CANT SEE WJFKSJNFKS

#mochi sh!tposts #minwoo #mira.love

2 notes · View notes

0zru · 7 months ago

Text

𓂃𓈒𓏸☂︎ epex mlist ♡

🥛; fluff (× soft hours) . 💦; smut (× hard hours) . ⭐️; anon rq

𖥔 wish | kwak dawit

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𖤐 mika's uncensored thoughts ⁞ ⌑ ◞ ep. 01 ノ ft. dawit - 💦

𖥔 keum | keum donghyun

tba!!

𖥔 mu | suh kyungmin

tba!!

𖥔 a-min | cho minwoo

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𖤐 first time w/ a-min ⁞ ⌑ ◞ - 💦 × ⭐️

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𖤐 backstage w/ minwoo ft. cumming inside ⁞ ⌑ ◞ - (💦 × ⭐️)

𖥔 baekseung | kim hyunwoo

⸝⸝ ꒰ 𖤐 first time w/ baekseung ⁞ ⌑ ◞ - 💦

𖥔 ayden | kwon yejun

tba!!

𖥔 yewang | seo yewang

tba!!

𖥔 jeff | lee jaeho

tba!!

#epex masterlist #epex smut #epex hard hours #epex soft hours #kpop smut #kpop fluff

2 notes · View notes

saltficrecs · 2 years ago

Text

Helpful

Helpful by 34_35 (AO3 - 4,000 words)

Fandom: Extraordinary Attorney Woo

Relationship: Minwoo/Suyeon

Summary: Maybe it was the stress, or his smug face, or maybe she was just really really drunk

Notes: smut. it’s smut. he needs a slap to the face. she provides.

#fandom:extraordinaryattorneywoo #character:minwoo #character:suyeon #pairing:minwooxsuyeon #tag:chaptered #tag:complete #author:34_35 #archive:ao3 #length:4k #tag:smut

2 notes · View notes

purrplegyuu · 1 year ago

Text

Villain | Choi Yeonjun (one shot)

Warnings: smut, destructive thoughts, slightly mommy issues 'cuz i have them lol, drunk sex, 'best friends to fuck buddies' kinda relationship, cheating, angsty, exhibitionism.

Word count: 2.2k

Ayeee, I've been writting this since some time ago. I put so much effort on it, so please appreciate it.

Also, I wanted to wish y'all a happy new year. I would like to know how's it going so far.

Oh and remember my requests are open currently, so make sure to send some requests. I'm working hard on the ones I already have.

Luv yaa!

Remembering everything I yelled at him last night, I cannot help feeling insanely humiliated. The way I confessed my feelings, the way my voice broke, the way I almost cried when he said he never really felt the same… I was his best friend at the beginning, and then, I became nothing but his whore. Why would I think it would ever change?

Yet, it hurts so bad. And sitting right in front of his girlfriend is still more heartbreaking. Especially knowing the fact that she’s the reason we’ve begun with this shit, especially not really regretting everything and, somehow, thanking her instead.

“Gyuri, Truth or dare” One of our friends says, the one who knew what Yeonjun thought about me all this time, Minwoo.

“Truth” She answers. And, looking closely at her smile, I totally understand the reason he preferred her over me. She’s pretty, she’s charmful, she’s nice… she’s not a broken girl like me.

“Have you already had sex with Yeonjun?” Everyone yells at the spicy question. She laughs nervously.

“No no, we haven’t” She says, but Eunhyuk laughs by her side, saying she’s lying. He’s also one of our friends, the one who threw tons of parties in order to make her drunk enough to lose her virginity with Yeonjun. He never invited me tho.

“They did! Guys, I saw them! It was on the trip to the Han river” Says the third of our friends, Hanbin, the one whose parents own a house on the Han river, and always promised to take me there. But he didn’t… never did.

“Oh my god I knew it, this is so exciting!” Says the last of our friends, Minkyu, the only one who knew what my feelings for Yeonjun was.

Thinking about it carefully… none of them where ever my friends. I was never even close to them, and the aura when I was around them was way different than when there was only Yeonjun.

Why am I noticing it until now? Why do I notice how much of a bitch I’m until now? Why am I suddenly mad? Why do I hate her so much?

“Truth or dare” Minkyu says.

Everyone looks at me, awkwardly as I take my time to answer.

I cannot help thinking about every time I thought they were also my friends, all the things I made for them, all the times I helped them. And also think about all the parties I was not invited to, all the friend reunions they made and I casually showed up without realizing I was not wanted there… Yeonjun was right with it? Did he try to do it also?

“Truth” I say. My voice sounds way lower than usual. I look directly into the floor as I let the alcohol of the first bottle of beer I’ve ever drunk in my life take control of the things I say, the things I do.

“Uh uh, I’d like to ask!” Gyuri’s friend asks. “Do you… like Yeunjun?” She always came up with these kinds of rude questions to me. Even when we were not playing truth or dare. I always answer even rudder, however, I’m not rational Sohee now, I’m drunk Sohee.

“Hanna!” Gyuri laughs at his question, hitting her shoulder, telling her to shut up in a jokingly voice tone.

I take one more bottle of beer, and drink it until everything left is the middle of the liquid. Everyone is looking at me surprised at my unusual behavior. They’ve always known me because of how closed minded I am. I hated alcohol. Everything I hate now is everyone at this party. Including me.

“That was… a… clear answer” Gyuri says awkwardly. I suddenly hate her voice even more. I suddenly have the urge to jump onto her neck and bite until her head and the rest of her body are not one only object.

I suddenly want to see her broken for the first time.

“I’m actually fucking Yeonjun” Everyone look at me, waiting for anything to happen, maybe even thinking I’m joking. “Well, I guess he’s the one fucking me, right?”I see her face, I see the awkward smile in her face slowly fading, looking around to see if someone can give her an answer about what am I saying. Minwoo, Hanbin, Eunhyuk and Minkyu look at me surprised. I smile like a psycho, and then I laugh even more when Minwoo tries to silence me. “And… and If you do not believe me yet, come and look through the window”

I stand up, running to Minwoo’s bedroom. The one where he’s at. I know him well enough to know that this is his favourite place here.

I close the door right behind me, making him jump at my sudden presency.

“Sohee” The moment he looks at me makes me feel something I cannot really describe nor understand. I hate him so much because of everything he said, but I also love him so much. And the awkwardness would have made me back up and think about it carefully and regret. However, I was drunk as fuck.

I walk fastly towards him, until his chest is against mine. “I don’t want to talk anymore” He says.

“Neither I do” I say. “I just want you one more time”

“Are you drunk?” I ignore his question, trying to take his face and kiss him. But he stops me, taking my arms. “I don’t think you really want it, it’s going to hurt worst if we fuck now”

“I know what I want, Jjun. I want it, one last time. If you don’t fuck me tonight, I swear I’m going to regret it my whole life” We’re close enough to make it look suspicious for everyone, however, I want them to see. I want to see him hurted. I want him to cry almost the way I did last night.

“Please” I say, and that’s all he needs to take my body with his hands, pushing me against his chest and kissing my lips as deeply as he never did before. My arms go up to hug his neck strongly, wanting anything but to have him closer than it’s possible for the last time.

His hands run all over my body, caressing my neck, my back, and taking my butt strongly. I hear him buffing some times, squeezing me so good between his arms I can even forget that I want to see him hurted, wanting him to be mine forever instead.

“I’m sorry” He says between every kiss he gives to my lips, Then he kisses my cheeks, he bites the bulb of my ear, licks a long stripe of my neck, and sucks on my clavicle, taking the hem of the crop top I’m wearing, pushing it up until my chest is bare just for him.

If I have to say one of the main reasons I’ve fallen for him, this would totally be the way he’s the only man I’ve had sex with who doesn’t dislike how small my breasts are. Everyone just touched my body, fucked my pussy and left, but Yeonjun kisses my nipples, bites them, sucks on them like he likes them. Makes me feel like I’m perfect, even though I know I’m not.

I look around the room, somehow knowing it’s probably the last time I’m here. The memories of all the times I’ve been here almost makes me forget about Yeonjun’s hands working on lowering my oversized jeans.

Minwoo was I loss my virginity to. I didn’t ever really liked him, but I liked the way he made me feel. I was pretty for his eyes, I was funny to his ears, I was perfect for his hands. That’s what he used to say before he knew Sabrina, who he fucked one night on a party and never talked to her after that. It broke my heart, but I managed to act like I was okay because it would make me feel worse if he knew.

I fucked Hanbin one year after that on this same room. I didn’t actually wanted to also. However, I was starting to realise I liked Yeonjun, and I just wanted to be sure if that was right. It was. And I felt so dirty after that because Yeonjun himself saw everything through the weird window of Minwoo’s bedroom , the one I asked Minwoo once what was it for.

I didn’t talk to Yeonjun anymore this last year of high school because of how embarrassed I was. However, I found him again in college, and we became best friends.

Thinking about it, I can’t help feeling bad because of all of the memories in this room. I do am dirty.

I moan when I feel his fingers on my folds. He takes my jaw strongly, forcing me to look away from the empty window. When I look directly into her eyes, I notice it; I’m not mad.

I don’t hate him. I can’t.

Why? Why do I hate her so much when she has never done anything wrong to me?

The memory of my mother telling me that I’m a bad person, everything I’ve ever made is wrong… telling me I’m the villain of everybody’s story.

And even realizing I’m who I am now because of Yeonjun, I still can’t hate him.

He kisses me once again, and I feel his jeans falling to the floor beside mine. His hand taking my leg, lifting it until it’s hugging his waist. That's everything I need to realise I have fallen for him once again.

It takes him not much to have his dick buried deep into my cunt. My hands take his arms so strongly I fear I might be hurting him. However, I’m too lost in the feelings to care about that.

“Yeonjun” I murmur, lost enough to not notice what am I saying. “I��m sorry” My words don’t seem like they have a meaning, however, they do.

I look at Hanbin walking through the window, looking at us and fake confusion.

Yeonjun’s pushes on my cunt make me almost loss control. However, I manage to keep looking through the window as Minwoo and Eunhyuk do the same as Hanbin.

I feel this heat on my lower abdomen forming as this rut starts to tense.

Gyuri’s friend look at me surprised. She always thought I’m a whore. I don’t really care about her.

Yeonjun’s as close as me, I can tell because of the way his pace increases on speed and strength.

Minkyu’s eyes do not even look at me. And I know for the way he acts that he doesn’t feel great being part of this. He’s never been the worst, but he’s not the good one either.

The way his hips hit mine is making me crazy. I can barely keep looking at the window, but I try to do it as much as I can because she’s the only reason I’m doing it.

The moment Gyuri walks in, I can see her eyes watering instantly. There’s no illusions on her face anymore, and any kind of bright has faded from her face. And that’s everything I needed to cum.

Yeonjun cums also, moaning lowly in my ear.

And everything disappears for a second. It’s just me, enjoying the moment like I never really did before.

“Yeonjun?” Her broken voice brings me back to reality.

Yeonjun jumps almost scared, putting his clothes back on, trying to explain everything they just saw wasn’t what they saw.

I also put my clothes back on, looking at any other side of the room.

“You don’t need to say nothing” I look at her. I notice she’s fighting the urge to cry. “She-” Her voice broken, her eyes tear, she pouts, and I don’t like it.

“She already told everyone what have you both been doing all this time” Yeonjun looks at me.

He can’t believe that. And I feel like he would never believe I did if my face didn’t tell him the truth. I know he would blame all of his friends before believe his own girlfriend it was me. But the way hundreds of tears are running down my face tells everything.

I suddenly regret it because I realise this is not what I wanted.

I bitterly realise I have just broken him and her, but I have also broken me even more.

Mom was always right, and I’m not going to lie, I always knew it. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to be better. I would always be the villain of everyone’s story.

Now they do have reasons to call me the villain.

Masterlist

#purrplegyuu #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun smut #yeonjun smut #kpop #dom yeonjun #txt smut #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together smut #yeonjun best friend #angst #why does it feel so personal omfg T-T #Villain | Choi Yeonjun #tomorrow by together | purrplegyuu

41 notes · View notes

sourkive · 1 year ago

Text

009 : HUNDREDS OF LITTLE PRAYERS.

Starring: Tachikawa Tetsuo.

Featuring: Song Taejun, Jade Lim.

Summary: Tetsuo makes a mistake.

Word Count: 3k.

CW: Sexual reference, light dom/sub dynamic, choking, not full-out smut but still very NSFW.

Tetsuo listens to the click of Taejun’s indicator light and tries to pretend what he’s doing is normal. It wouldn’t be out of character, really, if only it were anybody else in the driver’s seat.

“I was surprised to get your call.” Taejun says. Tetsuo just hums. He's not surprised that he called Taejun, but he’s disappointed in himself. Long gone were the days where Tetsuo would kneel under Taejun’s studio desk while he worked. It’s not that Tetsuo suddenly found himself thinking he was above things like that, or anything. It's just that Taejun was kind of an odd case.

It had all started out so suddenly. Summer of 2020, after a couple of intense years of promoting in Tarot which felt more like a couple of months, Yoo Seobin formally introduced Tetsuo to song Taejun, and told them they’d be working together on Tetsuo’s solo record. Somewhere around the fourth recording session, Tetsuo found himself with his chest pressed tight against the recording booth window, Taejun crouched behind him with his big hands spreading Tetsuo’s ass cheeks apart and his tongue deep between them.

It’s all a blur. Tetsuo knows he didn’t start it, but when he realized where it was going, he was all too eager to keep it on that track. Eventually they spent almost as much time debasing the studio as they did recording in it. It was just for fun; and Tetsuo hadn’t ever really attached much value to sex beyond fun. For as long as he’d been sexually active, he’d always gotten around. He was well aware that he’d already built himself a bit of a reputation in the industry, and he was fine with that. Thanks to that reputation, he could have easily been in any man’s car, right now. But he’s in Taejun’s.

Tetsuo last heard from Taejun a month after his album dropped, when he and Minwoo agreed to be boyfriends and, though they’d decided that they could sleep with other people as long as they were safe and honest about it, Tetsuo didn’t really think a long-running friends with benefits situation was really appropriate anymore. As far as he knew, Taejun didn’t want anything more than sex from their arrangement, so he’d imagined the discussion would be pretty easy. Yet when Tetsuo paid a visit to Taejun, feeling he at least owed him a face-to-face conversation, Taejun had just gone quiet and nodded. And when Tetsuo started to ask if he was okay, he’d interrupted and said ‘if we’re not gonna fuck then there’s no need for you to still be here, is there?’

That was the last time Taejun had spoken to Tetsuo.

Later, Minwoo would confide that Taejun had always given him horrendous vibes and call him a creep. ‘He's always eyeing me. it’s like he’s undressing me in his imagination. and he’s never, like, put a hand on me, but he always gets way too close. I refuse to be alone with that guy.’

And Tetsuo had kept secret from Minwoo that he had so earnestly returned Taejun’s same advances. That he had let Taejun undress him and put his hands on him and wanted it. He didn’t want Minwoo to judge him or think him desperate.

Minwoo left, though. He’d ignored him for a month and Tetsuo wants to be fucked. He wants to be fucked by someone who, at the very least, knows what his last name is. And it couldn’t really be anybody Minwoo would approve of. None of Minwoo’s friends would touch him, and Tetsuo didn’t actually have any friends outside of Valentine; it had purposefully been manipulated to be an insular community. Open as their relationship may have been, there was a matter of respect now that it was over. Weighing up who was considered his friend and who was considered Minwoo’s only left Tetsuo with his groupmates, and that wasn’t going to happen.

He wouldn’t even know where to start seducing one of the Histeria members. Taejun, for better or worse, was the only option left.

“So,” Taejun says. Tetsuo just wants the car ride to be over so they don’t have to speak anymore. He knows that he’s well within his right to sleep with whoever he wants, but something about the whole thing just makes him feel cheap. He's never felt that way before - or, maybe he has, but he’d liked it. This was a different type of feeling altogether. Maybe it’s shame. That's a new one. “What happened to your boyfriend?”

“Dumped me,” Tetsuo says shortly, looking out of the window.

“Why?”

“Didn’t say.”

“So I’m a rebound fuck?”

“Yes.”

Taejun snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “I'm not complaining. I've missed you.”

“You haven’t once tried to speak to me.” Tetsuo says, scratching his eyebrow with his pinkie.

“Well, yeah,” Taejun scoffs. He keeps his eyes on the road, but Tetsuo can see his smirk in the reflection of the window against the pitch black night. “I didn't miss speaking to you.”

Tetsuo folds his arms. “Nice,” he says.

“C’mon.” Taejun says. “I'm kidding. And it’s not like we ever did much talking in the first place. We worked and fucked and that’s how we both liked it.”

“I guess,” Tetsuo says, looking down at his lap.

“Hey,” Taejun’s voice drops an octave, in its best effort at comforting. “I was trying to be funny. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

“It's fine, you didn’t.” Tetsuo says. Taejun may have been speaking in the cadence of a joke, but Tetsuo knew there was a truth behind it. He hadn’t expected Taejun to have missed him. If he missed him, he wouldn’t have spent the past year barely acknowledging that he existed, awkwardly treating Tetsuo like a distant acquaintance in front of others as if he hadn’t once made a habit out of being down his throat. He didn’t expect any different from this, but he had imagined Taejun might do a better job at pretending.

By the time they pull up at Taejun’s house, Tetsuo is half considering just asking him to drive him home. But he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t do it. And he doesn’t doubt that Minwoo is fucking other people, too. So he gets out of the car, and lets Taejun spread his hand across his lower back as he ushers him into the house. As soon as the door closes behind them, Taejun’s big hands wrap around Tetsuo’s waist and push him hard against the wood.

Taejun looms over him, and presses their bodies together. with such little space in between them, Tetsuo has to crane his neck up to look at him. There’s just under twenty centimetres’ difference in height between them, and Tetsuo had forgotten that part of it. The weird thrill of how much bigger and stronger Taejun is. Minwoo was stronger than he looked, being a dancer, but he was short and lithe like Tetsuo. It didn't make the sex any worse, but there’s something about Taejun towering over him, one hand slowly travelling up his side, parting from his body as it reaches his chest, only to cup the bottom of his chin and tilt his head up. Taejun holds Tetsuo as if he’s a delicate ornament, too easy to break, and under the large span of his palms, that’s exactly what Tetsuo feels like.

“You look good,” Taejun says. “With your hair buzzed like that. It suits you.”

Tetsuo gives a soft smile; though the words really only serve to drive home just how long Taejun had been pretending he didn’t exist. Tetsuo had first started shaving his head in August last year. “Thanks,” He says, simply.

“It's a shame that I can't pull it anymore though.”

Tetsuo does snort out a laugh at that, though perhaps only because Minwoo had expressed the exact same sentiment.

“You’ll just have to be creative.” He smiles up at him, pushing himself up onto his tiptoes to press their lips together. Taejun’s hand wraps around the back of Tetsuo’s head, his other hand spreading across the small of his back and pulling his body closer.

As they kiss, and Tetsuo’s eyes flutter closed, his hands running up the muscled planes of Taejun’s abdomen and resting on his chest, Tetsuo thinks that maybe he made the right choice. Minwoo was made of angles and sharp edges. Taejun is all hard rounded muscle and rough touches, his fingertips dig into Tetsuo’s scalp just a little too hard and it spins his brain around. The kiss breaks and Tetsuo looks up into Taejun’s eyes, round and expressive and he’s relieved not to see the glass baby doll eyes of Minwoo, who can see so far into Tetsuo but Tetsuo can’t see anything back. Minwoo’s eyes are so good at hiding everything, sparkling yet easy to sharpen to a point. Taejun looks at Tetsuo with a palpable lust, so easy to read, as if Tetsuo is food and Taejun is a starved man. Perhaps this was always the only option; the only true avenue for distraction.

“How do you want it?” Taejun asks.

“Hard,” Tetsuo says. “Make it so I can’t think anymore.”

Taejun grins, hand sliding down to the back of Tetsuo’s neck before dropping, only to cup the underneath of his jaw, fingers tightening just slightly around the top of Tetsuo’s throat. He pushes back, Tetsuo’s head knocking against the door with a soft thud. His heart begins to race, a hand curling around Taejun’s wrist, though it’s mostly performative, making no effort to pull it away. He can already feel himself growing hard, thighs shuffling slightly as he looks up at Taejun, refusing to be the one to break eye contact.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” Taejun asks.

“Yes, sir.” Tetsuo breathes. It almost feels like no time has passed since the last time they did this, easily falling back into their old dynamic. Tetsuo is glad. He needs this, needs to turn his brain off and blindly follow Taejun’s orders again.

“Get down, then.” Taejun says, pulling his hands from him.

Tetsuo rests his back against the door and lets his body slide down it, tucking his hands under his ass as he falls to his knees, opening his mouth wide, obedient, eyes locking with Taejun’s. he looks down at him darkly, undoing his belt and dropping it down beside Tetsuo. Tetsuo flinches a little as the metal buckle clatters against the hard wooden floor, and just for a second, he sees something dark flash in Taejun’s eyes.

He will be nothing, for a while. nothing but food to be eaten. And that’s better than being sad.

Taejun finishes with a deep groan in Tetsuo’s ear.

His hips quake against the curve of Tetsuo’s ass, stomach twitching against his back. Tetsuo winces as he feels him pull out, and he raises his head from the pillow it had been pushed into, folding his arms underneath it and letting out a groan.

“Fuck.” Taejun says as he rolls onto his back, flopping beside Tetsuo. His muscular chest is red and heaving, a hand pushing his bangs from his face as he turns to regard Tetsuo. “I forgot how good you can take it.”

Tetsuo feels his face heat up at the words, burying his face back in the pillow as he lets out a bashful laugh. His heart still hammers in his chest, his lower back is already starting to ache, and his feet are cramped from curling his toes. And if he had wondered why he’d ever bothered to entertain Taejun’s advances in the first place, he supposes that the way his legs tremble is his answer. He’d had three orgasms. He'd wanted to turn his brain off, and Taejun had definitely gotten him to do that.

“You should shower,” Taejun says. “Then I'll drive you home.”

And it’s really not like Tetsuo had expected to stay the night. Maybe he thought they might cuddle a little, though. And he feels stupid to be disappointed when he’d known exactly what he came here for and had gotten it.

“You go first,” he says, voice muffled, not lifting his head from the pillow. Laying in his mess on the sheets is becoming more and more unpleasant as it cools, but he still can’t exactly feel his legs. “I don't think I'm ready to stand up.”

Taejun laughs at that, reaching out to give Tetsuo’s bare ass a little smack as he pushes himself up. he settles beside him, hands landing once more on Tetsuo’s ass cheeks. He pulls them apart, and Tetsuo can feel Taejun’s cum leak out of him. For some reason, it’s repulsive to him to have Taejun look at that. He wants to pull his hands away, but he really has no reason to, so he just screws his eyes shut and pretends it’s Minwoo. Which is antithetical to the purpose of being here, but it makes him feel a little less disgusting.

“Can I take a picture?” Taejun asks. The thought of it actually makes Tetsuo’s skin crawl.

“I'd rather you didn’t.” He says.

“I won't get your face in it, or anything.”

“I'm just, like, really not comfortable with that,” He says. Taejun lets go of him, humming briskly under his breath and getting off the bed to make his way to the en suite bathroom. Tetsuo guesses that that means any conversation they might have had is over.

In a way that should have been obvious the very first time they met, Tetsuo realizes that Taejun is kind of a manchild. Even his big fancy house was decorated the way a 12 year old boy would dream of decorating the mansion they’d fantasize about buying one day. It was full of baseball memorabilia; from framed posters of players on the walls, to signed bats and balls in display cases. Tetsuo guesses that that’s fine - he has a collection of signed albums from his seniors that he holds with utmost reverence, and a photocard of his favorite male idol in the back of his phone case.

But even he’d recently taken his posters down, kind of feeling like at twenty-two years of age, he’d perhaps outgrown the need to scrapbook his interests across his bedroom walls. Taejun was twenty-nine and he’d used his fame and fortune to buy a mansion only to turn it into a shrine to baseball. It was a little odd.

Tetsuo rolls onto his stomach, grimacing as his skin peels away from the damp sheets. His abdomen is slick and cold and sticky, and the feeling from earlier is very much back - he feels cheap. His fingers curl around the little golden cross that never leaves his neck, and he looks to the ceiling and glares past it.

“Shut up.” He mutters.

Taejun drops Tetsuo off around the corner. “It’s easier for both of us if nobody sees.” He says. “I’m not supposed to fuck you guys.”

Tetsuo doesn’t question the phrasing. He doesn't wonder why Taejun’s car doesn’t pull away. He's not paying enough attention anymore to pick up on it. as he steps out into the chilly night, he just pulls the hood of the oversized hoodie he’d borrowed from Taejun (his own had been casualty to the first of the three orgasms, so Taejun told him he’d wash it and give it to him ‘next time.’ Tetsuo doesn’t intend to get it back.) over his head and tries his best to not look like he’s limping his way back to the building.

He doesn't want to be seen by anybody. He doesn’t want them to know that he did this. But even now, past two in the morning, luck is not on his side. Jade catches him at the door of the apartment complex Valentine’s younger groups reside in, holding it wide open for him and clearly not reading anything from Tetsuo’s body language; which he imagines must scream ‘I don’t want to be acknowledged.’

“Hey, Tetsuo!” Jade greets in English with a cheerful bow. Taking the door handle from him, Tetsuo offers a polite bow and a pleasant smile.

As he steps backwards into the hallway light, he asks “Where are you off to?” but Jade isn’t listening. His smile has dropped, and he’s looking at the hoodie swamping Tetsuo’s thin frame with a heavy brow.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, suspicion heavy in his voice. Suddenly, Tetsuo feels himself panic. The guilt of what he’s done must be written all over his face. Wait, fuck, is there anything else on his face? Are his eyes still puffy from tears? Is he limping? Does he smell like sex? He feels his heart battering in his chest, and he doesn’t know why, because he’s a grown man and everyone knows that he’s a slut anyway, and Jade has no room to judge, and he hasn’t done anything fucking wrong.

Right?

“Uh.” he looks down; and the check mark on the breast of the hoodie screams a quick answer at him. “The Nike store.”

Jade regards him for a second. “Oh.” He says. His face softens, and he gives another smile. “Well, it looks good on you! Anyway, my ride’s waiting, so.”

With another little bow, Jade disappears into the night, and Tetsuo quickly shuts himself in the apartment complex hallway and lets out a shaky sigh that comes out halfway to a cough. Running his hand over his head, he mutters; “jesus fucking christ.”

Wearily, he regards the stairwell with his lips thinned into a bemused line as he laments his still wobbling knees. Tarot lived on the fifth floor.

Who knew getting railed could have so many downsides.

0 notes

apcomplexhq · 1 year ago

Text

✦ Nome do personagem: Seo Kangjun. ✦ Faceclaim e função: YooJung - OnlyOneOf. ✦ Data de nascimento: 12/10/1998. ✦ Idade: 25 anos. ✦ Gênero e pronomes: Masculino, ele/dele. ✦ Nacionalidade e etnia: Coreia do Sul, sul-coreano. ✦ Qualidades: Atencioso, cuidadoso e criativo. ✦ Defeitos: Impulsivo, obsessivo e intenso. ✦ Moradia: Asphodel Meadows. ✦ Ocupação: Professor na Divine Children's Academy. ✦ Twitter: @AM98KJ ✦ Preferência de plot: ANGST, CRACK, ROMANCE, SMUT. ✦ Char como condômino: Leva a sério o cumprimento das regras e regulamentos, sempre disposto a contribuir para a harmonia e o bem-estar da comunidade. É o tipo de pessoa que vai ajudar os vizinhos a carregar as compras, além de sempre auxiliar quando alguém precisa de sal ou açúcar pra completar uma receita.

Biografia:

Kang Junseo é um jovem talentoso que decidiu seguir sua paixão por educar crianças. Ele é amado e respeitado por seus alunos e colegas de trabalho devido à sua dedicação e abordagem criativa no ensino. Desde muito jovem, ele tinha uma paixão inegável por educar e ajudar os outros a se desenvolverem. Porém, sempre teve uma tendência a se tornar excessivamente obcecado com os detalhes e perfeição em sua profissão, dessa forma, ele frequentemente se encontrava sobrecarregado, ficando exausto e acabando por negligenciar sua própria saúde e bem-estar.

Durante sua infância, o rapaz lidou com uma sensação de falta de atenção e conexão emocional por conta dos pais ocupados e exigentes que estavam sempre muito imersos em suas próprias carreiras. Mas apesar das dificuldades familiares, encontrou um refúgio em seu avô, uma figura calorosa e carinhosa, que dedicava tempo e atenção genuína ao garoto. Suas relações familiares moldaram a maneira como Junseo se relacionava com os outros. Ele valorizava profundamente as conexões autênticas e buscava criar um ambiente amoroso e inclusivo para seus alunos, preenchendo a lacuna que ele sentiu em sua própria infância.

Sua vida profissional parecia estar tranquila e encaminhada até conhecer Kim Minwoo, um dos pais de um de seus alunos, um indivíduo bem-sucedido, charmoso e envolvente, que imediatamente chama a atenção de Junseo. O que começa como uma conexão casual e amigável rapidamente se transforma em algo mais profundo e complicado, já que há um detalhe que torna essa situação ainda mais desafiadora: Kim Minwoo é um homem casado e sua esposa não está ciente dos sentimentos que ele desenvolveu por Junseo.

O rapaz sabia que seu envolvimento com esse homem era culpa de sua tendência impulsiva e intensa, já que tomou decisões precipitadas, se deixando levar por emoções intensas sem avaliar completamente as ramificações éticas desse relacionamento.

Conforme o tempo passa, os dois começam a passar mais tempo juntos, encontrando desculpas para se ver fora da escola. Eles compartilham histórias pessoais, sonhos e desafios, formando um vínculo cada vez mais forte. No entanto, o relacionamento secreto deles coloca em risco não apenas o casamento de Minwoo, mas também a carreira e a reputação de Junseo como professor.

Tomar decisões era sempre difícil já que Junseo sentia as coisas profundamente e mergulhava de cabeça em seus sentimentos, e essa intensidade emocional também o tornava vulnerável a altos e baixos emocionais intensos, tendo uma certa dificuldade em pensar racionalmente quando seus sentimentos estão em jogo.

#aceitos #seo kangjun #kangjun #onlyoneof #asphodel meadows #professor #divine children’s academy #yoojung

0 notes

kdreamscenario · 6 years ago

Text

The Boss’ Girl Ch. 10

Lee Minwoo (Shinhwa) X Reader X Jeon Jungkook (BTS)

(Feat. Yoon Dujun (Highlight), Kim Dongwan (Shinhwa))

Office!AU

Rated: M sub!Jungkook, switch!reader, dom!Minwoo, stepping, degradation, foot job, temp play, cum marking, face fucking, deep throating... you see where this is going.

Word Count: 7582

Ch. 9 | Ch. 11

Mina and Jungkook have been officially dating for two weeks. Like any gossip, the whole company knows about it the day after. Mina wasn’t shy to tell all of the secretaries as soon as Jungkook gave her the okay. They teased you a bit for the boy finally dropping his effort with you. You thank Mina for taking him.

By now the flutter around the new couple has settled. As a couple they aren’t super lovey dovey at work. Being in different departments means they don’t see each other often. The only painful part is Mina twittering about their dates every time the girls get together. They’ve been on three dates so far, all of them completely planned by Jungkook.

Mina always drones on dreamily about how much of an old romantic Jungkook is. They’ve barely gone passed first base in a month. You’re the only one who doesn’t gush over her stories. You can’t even remember the last time a guy took you out on some sappy rom-com date and that’s more than fine.

The best part of their dating is how much your office life goes back to normal. Jungkook still comes nearly every day to drop off papers but there are no more little notes to you. He’s turned confident and casual with you, not cold or unfriendly just professionally amicable. Your elevator rides out of the office are once again solo trips.

Upon hearing the news, Minwoo simply said he was glad your little problem was resolved. He rewarded you well for the accomplishment that next weekend.

Saturday is the first company versus company soccer game of spring. Minwoo and Dongwan have been organizing their teams for the last 8 years. The companies meet once a month from March to September. They say it’s great team building but it’s more another way for the two to compete.

Minwoo has been so excited to show off Jungkook. He’s the best player for the team in a long time. Dongwan has an employee, Dujun, that lives, breaths, and sleeps soccer. Dongwan’s company has been winning the year end award for 3 years in a row. Minwoo is hoping Jungkook can be his key to victory this year.

These soccer games are so important to Minwoo that he matches game weekends with your menstrual cycle. He doesn’t go out the Friday night before a game and doesn’t have you over to play.

Early Saturday morning he warms up with a short jog. He comes home to you sitting at the kitchen island sipping a cup of coffee. There’s some egg scramble and his favorite smoothie waiting for him beside you. He doesn’t even have coffee in case it upsets his stomach or gives him a caffeine crash during the game.

The soccer turf is still slightly damp with melting frost when you arrive. The morning air has a chill even though it’s nearly eleven. Minwoo meets Dongwan and a few others out stretching on the field. You go to the small bleachers on the side. Most of the interns, a few of the secretaries, and a couple other employees are already huddled in groups on the cold benches. There’s usually a good turn out of spectators. Partly because lunch is provided and partly for the female employees to watch the hottest guys in the office run around and sweat.

The secretaries wave you over. They have a few big blankets draped over their laps and offer you one end. Proving your point of why they’re here, Yoona is pouting that there won’t be much sweating in this weather.

Ten minutes after eleven the stands are fairly full and almost all the players are ready. Mina and Jungkook arrive soon after. Jungkook walks Mina over to the seats. They bow and say good morning to everyone. Jungkook looks you up and down, his gaze lingering a bit too obviously. You raise a brow in question and he snaps out of it.

“I've never seen you all not dressed in office attire.” He grins sheepishly and you all giggle. Of course it must be a big change to see everyone dressed so casually. “Surprise we're actually normal humans on the weekends.” Sooji teases. “You're still pretty of course.” He adds rubbing his neck and looking to Mina if that was okay to say. She laughs right along.

Minwoo calls Jungkook to stop flirting and come get ready. He asks Mina to watch his duffle bag and pulls his sweatshirt off over his head. Jungkook mentally scolds himself for thinking you looked so cute and feminine in a big puffy sweater dress and thermal leggings. Your makeup is much lighter, just mascara and tinted lip balm. Your hair always perfectly coiffed in neat corporate fashion is down in a loose braid. Maybe this is what you might have looked like in college. It shakes him up more than he's comfortable admitting.

Without the baggy sweatshirt you all get an eyeful of Jungkook outside of work attire. He’s wearing a form fitting long sleeve athletic top paired with skin-tight leggings and soccer shorts. Even with the shorts you can tell the boy is hard lean muscle from head to toe.

“Quit drooling you hyenas.” Mina scolds you all. Jungkook looks cutely confused, making his baby face clash with his body. Mina pats his shoulder and pushes him toward the field. “Have fun and good luck. We’ll be cheering for you!” He jogs off with a wave. Minwoo introduces him to Dongwan, Dujun, and some of the others.

Standing next to each other you can’t help but compare Minwoo and Jungkook. Minwoo is wearing a very similar outfit. The biggest difference is his slightly thicker shirt is neon green as opposed to Jungkook’s all black attire. Minwoo is also a good bit shorter but looks much more manly and commanding. He’s just as muscled and fit, his strong jaw and slight stubble give him a much more mature look. You think to yourself that you’ve got the better of the two.

It’s a close game from the start. Jungkook is a huge help to slow down Dujun. The two are always on each other. Dujun only beating him with experience. He knows better where to run, when to pass, and how to fake out. Jungkook keeps up by sheer stamina and athleticism. Dongwan and Minwoo cover each other in equal fever.

At the half point break the game is 1-0, Dongwan’s team winning. Jungkook comes over for his water bottle. The poor boy is panting and slumps on the bleacher in front of you. “They really play seriously.” He huffs. “You’re doing great though.” Mina grabs the towel out of his bag and dabs at the sweat around his face and neck. He smiles and lavishes in her doting. A group of girls behind you from the other company are thoroughly upset at the scene. The cute newbie already has a girlfriend.

The ref blows the whistle to end the break. With a groan Jungkook gets back up and goes back to the field. It’s obvious Jungkook and Dujun are tiring each other out. Jungkook blocks Dujun’s pass and your team makes a goal. It’s nearing 1 when the lunch delivery shows up. As always you get up and take charge of where they set up the table of food and signing the receipt.

A cacophony of shouts and cheers are coming from the stands. You turn back to watch the end of the match. Kim Yongmin of your accounting office passes the ball to Minwoo. Dongwan intercepts the pass and runs it to their side. Minwoo is on his heels trying to reclaim the ball. Dongwan struggles but makes a pass to Dujun. Jungkook is right there to stop him. There’s a long struggle. Dujun fakes left and kicks a back pass to their shooter.

In the last second they make their goal. The ref blows with whistle to end the game. Dongwan’s team runs together cheering. Your office team stops to catch their breath. Both teams shake hands for a good game.

The food delivery offers different beautiful lunch boxes and hot barley tea. There's plenty of food for the hungry players to get as many boxes as they want. It's all delicious but having to watch Mina coo over Jungkook scarfing down 3 whole boxes diminishes your appetite. The boy beams and blushes at nearly every doting praise. You're sitting with Minwoo and Dongwan only a few feet away trying to ignore the sickening scene.

Kim Sangmin the head of financing approaches the three of you, thankfully giving you something else to focus on. “Sir. The Beyond company president is on the phone. They're not happy with the budgeting proposal.” Minwoo sighs deeply at this but takes the cell phone from him. He stands and walks out onto the field to finish the call. From here you can see how irritated he is and with good reason. The CEO for Beyond cosmetics is an intolerable old miser. If he weren't such a big customer Minwoo would've dropped their contracts years ago.

Minwoo ends the call and comes back to where you're waiting. “He's unhappy with the project meant to launch on Monday we're having an emergency meeting at 3. That gives you about an hour to collect everything you need, get detailed spreadsheets reprinted, and be in the main conference room ready to stick your pitch to them. Did you have anyone else working with you on this?” Minwoo gives these instructions all while handing back the phone, cleaning up his lunch, and pulling on his jacket.

“Yes, sir. Jeon Jungkook worked with me on this.” Sangmin replies. Minwoo gives the faintest smirk then calls over to the intern. “Jungkook!” He jumps to attention right away. “Yes?” “We're having an emergency meeting with Beyond. Come along and help Sangmin.” The boy looks shocked but grabs his things right away. He says a quick goodbye to Mina while Minwoo says goodbye to Dongwan and the company in general.

Sangmin had his car there so he would drive himself and Jungkook to the office. Driver Park pulls up minutes after Minwoo calls for him. It's a less than ten minute drive even with Saturday traffic.

At the building, you and Minwoo go straight up to his office. To clean up a bit Minwoo washes his face, straightens up his hair with a wet comb, changes into an extra shirt and slacks, and sprays on a bit of cologne. That's as much as he can do with the time given. You switch your sneakers to the spare pair of black pumps you keep in the office closet. These last minute meetings are common enough for you both.

While Minwoo was cleaning up you made a pot of coffee, hot water, and a pitcher of ice water with all the accoutrements for the conference room. You had the insight to also grab a few boxes of pastries from the lunch delivery to offer on a tray. That's about as much as you can help with.

It's 2:50 when the four of you are in the conference room with everything set. Minwoo comes in last, giving last minute orders without a pause. “Sangmin you wait here, I'll go down to the lobby and bring the CEO here. Jungkook you're not dressed for a meeting you wait in my office with secretary Y/N if we need you for anything. I hope we can get this done fast.” Jungkook looks sheepish and apologizes. He can't really be blamed. He hadn't really brought a change of clothes besides a spare t-shirt and there's no real way for him to get cleaned up. Sangmin luckily hadn't been playing soccer and was dressed nice enough.

Minwoo ducks out the door after these last instructions. You and Jungkook leave as well after wishing Sangmin the best of luck. The intern follows behind you quietly all the way up to the office. You sit at your desk and check your cell and the desk phone. It takes you a few minutes to realize Jungkook is standing awkwardly by your desk looking at the painting on the wall but not really seeing it.

“You can sit down you know. They'll probably be a while.” He jumps a bit at your speaking. You give him a skeptical look then turn back to your desk phone. He rubs the back of his neck gives an awkward laugh and finally sits in the seat across from you at the desk. He feels so stupid that being alone with you is putting him so on edge. His stupid brain goes right back to the last time the two of you were alone here like this.

He'd done so well not thinking about you clutching onto him right here every work day. Now it's the only image in his brain. You quivering against him through an orgasm. What could you be doing with Minwoo today? You're busy listening to voicemails and not looking. He tries to see if anything is out of the ordinary but you look fine. No flushed cheeks or panting breath. You do look especially pretty today though. This relaxed casual look is really captivating. Jungkook is crushing on you all over again seeing you this way and it's so wrong. He's so stupid to think that when he's got Mina but he can't help it.

You can feel Jungkook staring at you so you turn. Before he looks away you think he looked afflicted by something. “Is there something wrong Jungkook?” “No.” He mumbles. “Good, then would you please find something else to do while we wait besides staring at me?” He looks up to defend himself but you’ve turned back to the phone. He huffs and pulls out his cell phone. Social media does keep his attention for a full 20 minutes.

All of your voicemails are heard through and taken note of for Monday. Sitting on that cold bench for hours and even sitting in your desk chair has your back pretty knotted up. You stand to stretch but an abdominal cramp makes you double over to clutch to the desk. Seeing you like that gives Jungkook immediate flashbacks. It makes him more angry than anything.

“Really? Are you really doing this again?” He snaps. You look up to throw daggers, surprised to see he’s giving you his own. “What exactly do you mean?” You snap back. Jungkook can’t believe you’re playing dumb right now. “You’re playing one of your little games with CEO Lee right in front of me again. I guess you really don’t care.”

It takes you a moment to realize your current position might look differently given past experiences. That doesn’t excuse Jungkook for being this snippy. “I’m having a menstrual cramp for your information.” All of the anger drops from Jungkook’s face then flushes with embarrassment.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I just thought that you were. You know… doing other things in front of me again. Can I get you anything?” You roll your eyes at his dumb ramblings. “A cup of tea would be nice since you’re asking.” Jungkook scrambles out of his chair. “Of course!” He’s hurried over to the elevator without asking what kind of tea you even wanted. He’s just glad to get out of the room.

While he’s gone you try to stretch out your back without cramping up your stomach again. A few yoga poses would be great right now but the last thing you need is for Jungkook to walk in with you doing a cat-cow pose on the floor.

He’s back quickly with a cup of coffee, a cup of mint tea, and a few pastries. “I brought you mint tea. I hope that’s okay. My mom drinks it when she’s not feeling well.” He places the steaming mug and the pastries on your desk. Mint tea is for upset stomachs not really cramps but at least he tried. The two of you sit in silence again, sipping tea and nibbling on the snack.

“Are you feeling better?” Jungkook asks not sure what else he should say. “A little tea isn’t going to really help you know.” Jungkook frowns. “Is there something else I can do? Maybe massage your back for you? Not in a weird way of course just like a normal massage.” That came out way worse than he meant it. You weigh your options a moment. The last thing this awkward tension needs is him touching you but a massage sounds too good right now.

“If you really wouldn’t mind that would help.” Jungkook stares wide eyed for a moment. He didn’t expect you to say yes. It was a stupid thing to suggest in the first place. “Sure. It’s your back that hurts right? Maybe you could um… lay over the desk? Is that weird?” You hadn’t really thought about how you’d go about this. Laying over the desk is really the only option.

The two of you clear enough space for you to bend with your torso on the desk and Jungkook standing beside you facing perpendicular. Once you’ve settled Jungkook presses his thumbs along the tight muscles along your spine right where it’s knotted. You can’t help the moan at just how good it feels. Of course the golden intern is also great at giving a massage. He continues to work out all the tightness along your back. Even at the awkward angle and posture, you’ve never had someone’s hands feel this good.

Each new spot pulls more sounds out of you. No amount of biting your lip can hold them all back. So much for the massage not being weird. Jungkook is dying with all this stimuli. He’s trying to think of anything else to not get aroused. Maybe if you’re talking you can’t make these noises.

“This is a weird time to ask, but why do you hate me?” The question catches you off guard. “Jungkook. I don’t hate you. You’ve just given me reason to keep my distance. If you weren’t so persistent about dating me I might be nicer.” He frowns at this and thinks a minute. “Then would you tell me besides money and age what you like more about CEO Lee?”

It’s mean to laugh but you can’t help it. “The most important thing between me and CEO Lee that you’re missing is sexual experience.” That sounds like a stupid reason to Jungkook. He stops massaging but rests his hands on your back. “Is that really all? I can easily make up for that. That’s not a great reason to pick a man.”

You keep laughing at just how naive the boy is. “Jungkook you’re forgetting that our relationship is not a romantic one. It’s purely sexual. Experience and ability are the most important factor here.” Jungkook is silent for a long pause. He’s struggling to grasp the concept.

“Think of the filthiest porn you’ve ever watched and assume that’s the sort of thing we do together. You can’t compare that with some virgin boy’s experience.” Jungkook takes a step back. “I’m not a virgin!” He exclaims. You sit up to look at him. “Fine barely not a virgin then. Have you had sex more than once in your life?”

He can’t argue against that. The red cheeked angry pout gives him away. “Let me guess. You dated an older girl in college and she took control of everything. She took your first time, showed you the basics, then tossed you away when she was done?” Jungkook stays quiet. Your words hurt with accuracy. No one has ever figured him out so easily. You’re reading him like an open book and he’s mortified.

“You see now why I continue to deny your advances? I don’t have time for to train a kid with a noona fetish.” You straighten your posture and stand back on your feet. Jungkook crowds you back against the desk, arms trapping you in. You’ve pushed him too far. “Why not try? I’m a fast learner. It could be something new and interesting”

You give him the coldest glare you can. “Minwoo keeps me well interested. Besides you’re already dating Mina. I’m not going to start useless office drama for you.” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll dump her.” “No. It’s still not worth it. She’ll be heartbroken and I’ll have to hear about it for months.” Jungkook knows he sounds desperate but he can’t seem to care. “Please just tell me what I can do. I’ll do whatever you say. I just want to please you.”

You should push him away. He’s at the point of groveling that should really disgust you. Instead his words spark the smallest bit of interest. You hate how solid his body feels against yours. He could easily overpower you. His height and build towering over you but you’ve got him like putty in your hand. Being the one in control for once is a thrilling experience.

“All I want is for you to back up.” Hurt flashes in his pretty eyes. He was really hoping that your pause in answering meant you were considering it. Still he’s not going to give up. He drops his head and takes a big step back. You know what he’s playing at.

“If you’re waiting for me to tell you to kneel down and kiss my feet you can forget it.” You joke. Jungkook knows he’s pushing it but he drops to his knees anyway. He reaches for your foot but you step it back. With the toe of your shoe you push his head back up. He’s really testing your patience.

“That wasn’t a command.” You snap. You’re in a bit of shock knowing he would really do anything you ask to please you. Guys who will drop their pride to be dominated by a woman are very rare to come by. There’s no way he could be faking this just to sleep with you. Any normal person should be outraged by someone pushing their face with a shoe. Jungkook looks like he’s almost enjoying it.

You tap his chin with the toe of your shoe to close his hanging jaw. “Look at you. Absolutely pathetic.” You snear, crossing your arms. Jungkook doesn’t move. “Do you like me treating you this way? I that why you keep bothering me? You enjoy being degraded? I didn’t take you as a masochist. Are you turned on by me bossing you around? I bet you were getting hard just from giving me that massage.”

You watch the boys reactions. You keep pushing to see how far he’ll let you go. The only answer you’re getting are unfocused sparkling eyes. You tap his cheek to get his attention. “Answer me. Did you get hard from touching me?” “Yes.” His voice cracks on the single syllable.

He’s close to tears. Not tears of pain but tears of being overwhelmed. He had never thought about wanting this until now. Having a kink pressured out of him breaks him up. He’s not telling you to stop so you keep pushing.

“Can’t control yourself touching me like a little boy. You need training don’t you?” “Yes.” Jungkook waits just long enough to be sure you’re done talking before answering. “Yes what?” You demand. “Yes, noona.” That’s not the answer you were looking for but it sounds so good you go with it. “Good boy.” His cheeks flush from the praise. He’s really in deep but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll give you one training and nothing more because you obviously need it.” He looks at you in disbelief. What could you mean by training? “If you blow your load two minutes after Mina touches you, the whole office will know how much of an inexperienced little boy you are. You should be careful dating girls like Mina.”

He’s thought of this once before. It’s one of the reasons why he hasn’t slept with Mina yet. Mina is much more a girl who expects to be taken care of. She would absolutely destroy him if she knew he was a useless quick shot. Training is exactly what he needs. “Please help me noona.”

He looks sinfully innocent. You’d be a monster not to help this poor little lamb. “Of course. First, put those hands behind your back since they cause you trouble.” He obeys instantly. The toe of your shoe comes to his chest and moves him to lean back and straighten his back. You keep traveling down, drawing a line down his torso to his knee. From his knee you toe right up to his groin, resting his balls on your shoe.

The breath stutters out of his lungs. He almost whimpers when you drop your foot back down. With underwear, sports leggings, and soccer shorts there are too many layers for your idea to work. “Without getting up, I want you to take these shorts off and your sweatshirt.” He strips off the articles you asked for and get back into position.

This was an excellent decision. He’s left in the skin tight athletic top and leggings. You can see the outline of every toned muscle and best of all the length of his dick hard along the inside of his left thigh. You take your time soaking in every inch of this young Adonis.

The suspense frays Jungkook’s nerves. He’s afraid you’ll stop and send him away. He sits poised like a show dog waiting for the judges approval. He doesn’t notice you slipping off your heel. Your bare foot touching his thigh knocks the air out of him again.

The top of your foot runs up the inside of his thigh on the opposite side of his hard on. Just before the apex you drop your foot back to his other knee, travelling up over the trembling muscles. He’s shaking, not from holding himself in position but from excitement.

To his agony, you continue just brushing over his legs two more times, never once touching where he needs it. The fourth pass up the right side you turn and firmly stroke down and up his throbbing member. Even in the tight confines of his leggings, it jumps out at your touch. Jungkook moans loudly, not holding it in. Touching him through his pants with your foot shouldn’t feel this good. He’s had lubed hand jobs give him less of a reaction.

You rub him through three slow strokes and he’s already feeling the tightening in his balls. You drop your foot and he groans. He’s panting and out of breath. “Look at you. You can barely handle a little touching like this and you think you can compete with CEO Lee? You need to learn control.” You scoff. He hates to hear his boss’ name from you but he wants so much to please you. “Yes, noona.”

You tilt his head up to look you in the eye again. “I’m going to keep playing with you but you’re not allowed to cum until I say. Understand?” “Yes, noona.” It comes out like a plea for you to keep going.

There’s no teasing this time. You go right back to slowly stroking him. Every four or five times you stop to let him compose himself. Gradually you pick up speed and add more strokes. Jungkook tries so hard to think of something else to get his mind off the need for release. He doesn’t realize how much he’s trembling, mouth hanging, flushed and panting for breath. There’s no focus in his eyes. You’re spurred on by how hot and fucked out he looks.

He’s so entranced in the pattern you’ve set. When he next expects you to pull away you instead roll the head of his cock between the pad of your foot and your toes. He doubles over moaning out loudly. “Noona!” “Don’t you dare cum.” You scold, not letting up. He cries out trying to hold it in. “Please… I can’t!” His eyes fill with tears. His dick twitches uncontrollably. You pull back your foot and give his length a firm slap then drop back to the floor.

You let Jungkook have a long break to collect himself. He takes a full 5 minutes to slow his breathing and lean back into place. “Are you okay to continue?” You ask when you think he’s ready. “Yes, noona.” His voice is gravely and cracks again. He’s not ready to move on but he wants to be a good boy for you.

Starting again from the beginning he can tell he’s so much more sensitive. He only gets up to seven strokes before there are tears running down his cheeks. You can see he’s trying so hard to be good. “You’re doing so good. Do you want to cum?” Jungkook jerks his head up to look at you, his watery doe eyes pleading. “Please noona.” “Are you sure? You want this to be over?” Oh no, he hadn’t thought of it that way. If he cums you’ll be done with him. By what you said, done for good. He panics. There’s no way he can hold back anymore but will you be disappointed that he wants to cum? You can see the wheels turning in his head. “You’ve been so good. I won’t be mad if you want to finish.” With your permission he caves. “Please noona. I need to cum.” You smile a little. “Okay you can cum baby.” You go right in to rolling the head of his cock again to help him out. He moans, cumming right away. His hips thrusts up on their own with each wave of his orgasm. The warm sticky liquid soaks through his leggings and you use it to keep stroking over him. The pleasure fades all too fast into over stimulation. He tries to tilt his hips away from your touch. You’d love to work him right into another orgasm but there’s no time. It’s getting dangerously late now as it is.

Jungkook slumps forward with a sigh. You grab a tissue from the desk and wipe the dampness from your foot. “You did well. Better than I expected. Try edging yourself to help build your stamina it should help a lot.” You slip back on your shoe and take one last good look at the quiver boy in front of you. “You free to do what you’d like now. We’re done”

Jungkook lets his arms fall forward to help hold him up. His whole body relaxes, all the tension slipping away. He takes a deep breath and stands. The blood rushes to his numb legs and feet. Every step shoots pins and needles up his legs but he needs to get out of there. Embarrassment and disappointment come welling up like the blood rush. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” He mumbles and stiffly walks over to the bathroom.

This floor has two single room bathrooms by the elevator and a private bathroom in Minwoo’s office. Jungkook locks himself in one of the front bathrooms. He’s leans back against the door, tempted to slip down to the floor. Some time to alone to reflect would be great but he needs to get cleaned up. He strips out of his underwear and leggings and does his best to clean the cold drying jizz out of the fabric. It’s a good thing he grabbed his shorts to put on.

The sweat and tears are washed away. The cold water helps to cool him down and compose himself a little. He can’t wait to get home and have a nice hot shower, a stiff drink, and curl into bed.

Still so many thoughts are buzzing in his head. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this pathetic. How could he stoop so low for your approval. Why does it even matter that much to him? He has a girlfriend who would be more than happy to have regular sex with him and love him. Being humiliated, controlled, and used like this shouldn’t turn him on this much. It’s not right. You didn’t even look affected by anything that just happened. Hearing you call him a good boy had been so fulfilling but it was probably empty words to you. At the end you were just as cold and distant as ever. It hurts knowing you don’t need him at all.

Jungkook has no idea how long he stands there staring blankly into his reflection. The sounds of the elevator ding and two male voices outside snap him out of it. He slips on his shorts and sweatshirt and braves going back out to the office. Minwoo, Sangmin, and you are standing at the coffee table in Minwoo’s office.

Jungkook tosses his bundle up wet bottoms into his duffle bag. He enters the office where the three are going over the last notes from the meeting. Minwoo looks at him when they’re done. “Jungkook, help Sangmin put away the files then we can all go home.” “Yes, sir.” He answers quietly and happily leaves with Sangmin.

You follow Minwoo over to his desk with your tablet in hand. He goes over what changes are to be made for Monday’s schedule and any other notes. The papers get filed away. You switch back to your sneakers then the two of you go down to the lobby where the others are waiting.

“Thank you gentlemen for spending your Saturday working. I owe you a dinner but I think we can all agree on having it another time.” Minwoo says. “Yes I’m sure we’re all looking forward to hot showers and some rest at home by now.” Sangmin thankfully speaks for you all.

Minwoo notices Jungkook’s legs on their way out the door. “What happened to you pants aren’t you cold?” Jungkook doesn’t stop walking or even turn back to answer. “No sir, I was uncomfortable from the dried sweat. I don’t live far. I’ll be fine.” Minwoo doesn’t press. “Well have a goodnight everyone” Jungkook does turn then to give a quick bow then makes a beeline for his apartment.

Sangmin calls over a cab. You and Minwoo get into the car waiting for you. The ride home is silent. Minwoo thanks driver Park when you arrive at the apartment building. In the elevator, you hit the buttons for your floor and his. Minwoo unclicks your floor.

“I have something I’d like to talk to you about.” Minwoo isn’t giving you an option. You’re definitely confused. He never asks you to come up on soccer weekends. Of course you go with him anyway without question.

You both take off your shoes once you’re inside. “Have a seat.” Minwoo gestures to the couch and goes over to his mini bar. You sit where he pointed and wait while he mixes himself a manhattan. He takes a long sip then turns to face you. “Y/N, you like your job right?”

Of all the things you were considering that was not at all what you expected him to say. “Yes, I love my job sir.” You answer right away. He sips his drink and hums. “You like the relationship we have right? You aren’t tired of me?” He sounds too casual for such a heavy question. “No of course I’m not tired of you. How could I be?” All these questions put you on edge. Not once since you started this relationship has he asked you things like this.

Minwoo steps closer to where you’re sitting, stirring the ice around his glass. “I’m just getting the feeling that maybe you’re forgetting some of our company policies on coworker relations in the work place.” Realization hits you right away. Minwoo must know all about what you did with Jungkook. He must’ve watched the security footage at some point. Perhaps even watching it during the meeting.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I swear it’s the last time it will happen.” “It better be. It shouldn’t have happened at all. That video footage could get you into a lot of trouble. If Jungkook ever wanted to take that issue up to HR I’d have to fire you.” That’s a really harsh blow for you. You know it’s nothing personal, the company comes first for Minwoo. You can’t blame him, it would be completely your fault.

“You know there are good reasons why those sorts of activities are not allowed in the workplace. I’m disappointed in you for slipping up. Our hot young intern must attract you quite a lot.” You hang your head low in shame. It hurts to hear Minwoo be disappointed in you.

“No, sir. I apologize for my actions. You’re right. I’ve made a mistake. Jungkook thinks he could take your place in this relationship. He wouldn’t drop it so I decided to teach him a lesson. I should have been the bigger person and left it alone.”

Minwoo finishes his drink and sets the glass down on his crystal top coffee table. “I’m still concerned that you have some lustful attraction for the boy. I just want to know if I should be worried about you looking for a new relationship.”

You look back up to make eye contact. “No, sir. I was clear with him that we were done after today. I swear I only need you.” You’re as sincere as can be. There will be nothing more between you and Jungkook. There’s no way he would want more of the treatment you gave him.

Minwoo steps in front of you and takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I want to believe you my dear, but you seem to cave everytime you’re left alone with him. Of course our relationship has always been open and you’re free to have any other fun you want to just not at the company.” He smiles tightly.

Your relationship is open but there has been an unspoken agreement that the two of you were exclusive. “I’ve been weak, but I promise I’m only yours.” Minwoo is happy to hear that. He really hopes this is the end of the problem. His smiles turns to something a bit more mischievous.

“Still you made a big mistake that I think deserves some punishment.” He narrows his gaze and drags his thumb over your bottom lip. His hand drops and he takes a few steps back. With a crook of his finger he beckons you forward. “Why don’t you start by getting on your knees.”

You slink down to the floor to kneel in front of him. “And put your hands behind your back. You don’t deserve to touch today.” Again you obey. You recognize what he’s doing, putting you in the same position you had Jungkook. “I couldn’t help but notice you took control over the intern. You said he needs to learn his place. I think you need a reminder of your own place.”

Minwoo’s voice is deep and commanding. It was fun to have the control with Jungkook but Minwoo makes you realize how much you love being submissive. You’re anticipating the punishment which soft of defeats the purpose.

Minwoo takes an ice cube out of his drink glass. “Open your mouth and hold out your tongue.” As soon as you do he puts the ice cube on the end of your tongue. With two finger he rubs it in little circles all over the surface. Little by little your tongue gets colder. Temperature play isn’t unfamiliar to your sessions but this is something new. You’re curious where he could be going with this.

When the ice cube is nearly all melted there’s spit and water running all over your mouth. Without taking away his fingers, Minwoo tells you to suck. You close your lips around the digits and swallow down the liquid pooled in your mouth. He appreciates the extra effort you take licking and sucking his fingers clean.

“Open again for me.” You open your mouth right away. Minwoo grabs another ice cube and repeats rubbing it across your tongue. Your tongue gets even colder and wetter than before. It’s starting to get a little numb.

The ice cube melts away. You expect him to tell you to suck again but he places another ice cube on your tongue. “Stay just like that for me.” He commands, wiping his wet fingers on the front of his slacks. The ice cube doesn’t melt very fast on your cool tongue.

Minwoo unbuckles his belt and undoes his pants. He pulls them down just far enough to pull out his length. The sight of it has your throat reflexively swallowing. You’d been drooling if you hadn’t already been dribbling all over yourself. You’re a good girl and keep your mouth open and waiting.

Minwoo takes his dick in his hand and uses the head to rub the ice cube around. He shudders at the first cold shock. It doesn’t take long to feel good. With the heat of his skin the ice cube melts much quicker. Once it’s completely gone he tells you to suck again.

Your warm lips wrapped tight around him give a contrast to your frigid tongue. It feels amazing for him. It’s a strange sensation to you that you can barely feel him with your tongue cold and numb. This doesn’t hold you back from working him properly. You know just what he likes. Keeping tight suction, rolling your tongue in his sensitive spots, and bobbing your head.

He lets you work him for a good while simply enjoying the service. All the extra liquid makes for an amazing slickness. You’re so beautiful to him like this. You know this is where you’re meant to be.

Gradually your mouth comes back to a consistent temperature. That’s Minwoo’s cue for a time to change. He runs a finger over your cheek to get your attention. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, but it’s supposed to be a punishment.” He threads his fingers into your hair at the back of your head. “Loosen your jaw and keep those hands behind you.”

That’s the only warning you get before Minwoo gives a few shallow thrusts of his hips. You relax your jaw muscles and let him take over. He starts with slow strokes gradually getting deeper. Then with his hands firmly pressed to your head he sinks in all the way to the base.

Your throat stretches around his girth. With little warning your the muscles spasm. Your hands want to reflexively come to Minwoo’s legs but you keep them behind your back. He sees them twitch then still. You settle enough to swallow around him once then he pull out of your mouth completely. He barely let’s you catch your breath before pushing back in.

The pattern is repeated twice more. Your jaw, throat, knees, and scalp are sore but you sit still and let Minwoo use you. His thrusts this time are quicker and sloppy signaling how close he is to losing it. When he pushes into your throat again you barely flinch. This really pleases him. “You’re such a good girl for me aren’t you? Always a good girl. Shame you have to get punished like this.” His voices is so low and gravely it gives you chills.

Minwoo moans when you swallow around him. He’s way too close now. He pulls you off his length completely and takes it in one hands. The other hand holds your head back. “Keep that mouth open and don’t take your eyes off me.” He strokes himself quickly to the finish. Thick streams of cum land all over your face and tongue.

He puts the tip back between your lips and has you suck the last few drops from him. Once he’s sure that all of it has come out he uses the tip to smear the globs on your face into your skin. He spends extra time painting it over your lips like lip gloss. “I hope this helps you remember in the future just who you belong to.”

Minwoo takes a step back to admire his work. “I ought to take a picture of this and send it to Jungkook. He’d get the point pretty fast I think.” Just the idea gives you a thrill. Jungkook would no doubt use that as spank bank material for weeks. It would probably urge him on more than deter him.

“Too bad I’m definitely keeping this pretty image all to myself.” Minwoo must have had the same thought. He grabs the tissues from the coffee table, first cleaning himself up then helping you. You try to stand but your legs are asleep from the knee down. Minwoo picks you up by the waist to sit you on the couch. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Thank you sweetheart. I do hope you learned your lesson.” He smirks and walks away.

While he’s gone you try to get some feeling back into your legs. Minwoo comes back with a warm washcloth and a cup of honey lemon tea. You let him wipe your face completely clean then take a sip of tea. It does soothe your sore throat. “Have some cough drops later. I wouldn’t want you to have a sore throat for work Monday.” He teases. At this point you wish Monday were much more than a day away.

-E.최

5 notes · View notes