#performanceunit

[fmarkets]

Regional Banks Company Reports Soft Numbers for Q3 2023, Investors Skeptical about Future PerformanceUnited Bankshares Inc, a prominent regional banks company, recently disclosed its financial numbers for the third quarter of 2023, which ended on September 30th. The results showcased a decrease in earnings and revenue compared to the same period last year. These disappointing figures have raised concerns among investors about the bankns future performance.The companyns earnings per share for the third quarter decreased by 6.58% to $0.71, while revenue saw a decline of 3.588% to $256.17 million, year on year. Although the numbers showed improvement compared to the previous reporting season, with a 1.977% surge in revenue from $251.20 https://csimarket.com/stocks/news.php?code=UBSI&date=2023-11-12093814&utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[thenameishan]

Xu Minghao (The8) lockscreen/main page wallpaper

-Like if you save and use it

it’s a very old edit, so it may not look the best for you, but if some of you like it, I’ll be glad

By: HanSeulmiHere

[bibinnieposts]

yo this is so hot i literally cannot im combusting rn i--

mon amour

pairing: duke! minghao x f!reader

word count: 1.9k

contains: fingering, intercourse, reader's first time, talks of having children, reader basically passing out (but it's normal)

a/n: it's here, i don't know if it's good but oh well. i have some very short snapshots in mind for this universe, i'm just glad that this is done so i can write those now xD. tagging @97-liners and @ann-non for historical au feels. hi @starlightjoong!

part 1 (chérie) | part 2 (the poet) | part 3 (mon amour)

"oh?", your thoughts swirl at his serious tone. what could it be? did you do something you weren't supposed to? what -

"i can almost hear your mind running, my love", he chuckles, his hands moving to hold yours, "we need to talk about children".

oh. oh. yes, ofcourse. children.

"that's right", he suppresses a smile, "if i release in you, there's a chance you'll be with child. do you want that?"

do you want that? the image of minghao talking to children in the village flashes in your mind, and you distinctly remember how your heart ached, every time you saw him crouch down to meet a child's eyes. usually, you'd require weeks of thinking to make such a tremendous decision, needing to write down the pros and cons of it so you could conclude the best course of action. this time, however, you don't need time to decide.

"what do you want?", you wonder if he can hear the yearning in your voice. tell me you want it.

"i would love to have children with you", his eyes shine with sincerity, his voice slightly thick with emotion, "but i understand if you're not ready yet. i'll wait for as long as you want".

"i'm ready", you respond quickly, "i - i'd like to have children with you, too", you hesitate, blushing under his fierce gaze, "i think you'll make a great father, xu minghao".

"oh, my love", your husband pulls you in his arms, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss, low moans escaping him when your nails lightly scratch his back.

"have you decided to make love to me, then?", you pull back and ask, clearing your throat, "or do i need to draw up schemes to seduce you?"

"as much as i would enjoy your seduction", minghao lets out a breathless chuckle, "you don't have to bother today. i'll be honored to make love to you", his mouth moves to murmur lowly in your ear, "my duchess".

you whimper at his words, your skin heating up at the possessiveness. he had called you that only once before - during the first dance, at your wedding. you wear the title well, duchess, he had whispered in your ear as you swayed on the floor, my duchess.

minghao gently pushes you to lie back before getting off the bed, giggling at your whines of protest while he pushes his trousers down. you don't protest for long, though - quieting down at the sight of him. all of him.

"still sure?", he kneels between your legs, his hands running circles on your thighs.

"yes", you whisper, willing yourself to sound more intelligible, "i - i'm just surprised by the - the length", you swallow, "and the girth".

his lips curve as he chuckles, but you manage to catch the soft flush creeping up his neck. oh. he likes that.

"i mean, it is quite large", you wonder if there's an elegant way to praise his size, "it would stretch considerably".

minghao must've seen the playful glint on your face, for his eyes narrow, his thumb pressing your lips lightly as his hand cups your face.

"our first night together", his thumb traces your bottom lip, "and you're already teasing me".

on instinct, you part your lips and suck on the top of his thumb, feeling yourself clench around nothing when he closes his eyes and swears softly. his thumb retracts from your mouth and he holds your face firmly before kissing you, his tongue meeting yours while his other hand slips to the apex of your thighs. your hips buck when you feel the fleeting touches on your clit, leading him to pull back and whisper a "stay still", before two of his fingers enter your cunt. his body angles back as he watches his fingers fuck you slowly, his soft praises only making you clench more. far too soon for your liking, he pulls back, shushing you when you whine at the emptiness.

"i thought you wanted to make love?", he wraps his fingers around his length, spreading your slick, "i could just give you my fingers again, if that's what you wish".

"no", you gasp, irritated at his prolonged teasing, "make love to me".

he must've thought you've had enough (or he detected the murderous note in your voice), for he positions the tip at your entrance, letting it press lightly as his eyes meet yours.

"take a deep breath, chérie", his tip moves the smallest bit inside you, "and tell me if you want me to stop".

he pushes slowly inside you, his brow furrowed as his eyes stay focused on your face, one hand moving to rub your cheek when you whimper in pain. the stretch is painful and unfamiliar, the sensation unlike anything you've ever felt before. you don't ask him to stop, though - it's not so unbearable yet. he stops once he's fully sheathed in your warmth, his lips pressing soft kisses on your face as you will yourself to relax.

"how do you feel?", a finger tenderly moves the stray hair from your face.

"full", you wince at the pain in your voice, "can we stay like this for a minute?"

you know he's supposed to move, but you'd feel much better if you had some time to adjust. your previous teasing had some truth - he really is quite big.

"for as long as you want", he whispers, nuzzling your neck, "we can stay like this for the night, if you wish".

you nod, closing your eyes and letting yourself focus on the soft kisses your husband's lips press on your neck. bit by bit, you feel the pain lessen - your body accommodating the grave intrusion as you lie there in minghao's arms, the feeling of his length inside you feeling almost pleasurable. and then the thought crosses your mind: is this pleasurable for him too?

"hao", your murmur is low but he hears you, perking his head up to look at you, "does it feel good for you?"

"my love", he chuckles, his eyes glinting, "i had to exercise all my control to not release inside you in the first few seconds. i love how you feel".

you clench involuntarily, your clit throbbing at his shuddering breath.

"don't do that", he almost sounds like he's whining.

"why not?"

"it chips away at my control"

"why don't you release, if you want to?"

"because you need to come first", his breathing is steadier now, his tone resolute, "you're my wife".

oh. your muscles clench again, this time only partly involuntarily. it's refreshing to make him lose control.

"stop", he's properly whining now, his fingers digging into your abdomen, "i'd rather not embarrass myself on our first night together".

"oh, your grace", you can't help the giggle that escapes you, "given everything that's happened tonight, i hardly think i would call your performance 'embarrassing'".

minghao chuckles with you, his lips leaving a sweet peck on your cheek. you wonder if this is what lovemaking is always like. it couldn't be, everyone's advice made it sound so dreadful. why does it feel so wonderful, then?

it must be because you're in love, you conclude.

"i think you can move now, hao", you say softly, meeting his inquisitive eyes, "slowly, please".

he nods, murmuring a soft "ofcourse" before pulling his length out ever-so-slowly, taking in the wince you let out. at your nod, he pushes back in, and you moan at the feeling - the pain is still there, but it's lessened considerably, overshadowed by the pleasure you feel.

"more?", he whispers in your ear, leaving a soft kiss when you whimper out your assent.

he repeats the motion again, and again, and again - each thrust feeling better than the last, the friction coupled with the fullness making you moan louder. your eyes catch minghao's expression - still focused, but the pleasure is beginning to show itself in his gasps.

"harder, hao", the words leave you before you can think, and he obliges - slowly increasing his speed, his face contorted in pleasure as his moans mix with your own. one of his fingers rubs tight circles on your nub, hurtling you towards your orgasm. minghao's face scrunches and his body tenses, and you know he's close even though you've never seen him come before.

he seems determined to see to your pleasure first. you're tempted to change that.

"hao", your arms reach for him weakly, and he obliges immediately - his lips meeting yours, the finger on your clit quickening in its ministrations.

"dear god, i love you so much", he whispers against your lips, "so - so much".

"come for me, mon amour", you whisper back, your orgasm feeling seconds away.

minghao lets out a loud groan and shudders, his form trembling, his fingers digging into your skin. you feel his release shoot into you and you finally come, your muscles clenching around his length as he whimpers on top of you.

your body goes lax, and your eyelids close of their own volition - you suppose the human body isn't meant to take four orgasms in one night. or maybe it is, just with practice. the thought makes your lips curve sleepily.

"what are you smiling about, chérie?", minghao moves to lay beside you, wrapping one arm around your frame.

"mm?", you hum softly, trying to summon the energy to form sentences and speak.

"it's alright, my love", the sheets rustle as he rises to press a kiss on your forehead, "rest".

your body complies before your mind can object - and you slip into unconsciousness, huddled in your husband's arms.

[...]

the irritable sensation on the apex of your thighs wakes you up and you groan, your ears perking up at minghao's soft apologies. you open your eyes slightly to see him pressing a towel on your cunt. oh, he's cleaning you up. perhaps you'd feel embarrassed if you had the energy.

"sleep, chérie", he murmurs before walking away.

you close your eyes but stay awake, drifting back to sleep only when you feel his warmth by your side again.

[...]

when you wake up this time, the room is illuminated by the first rays of sunlight. your eyes wander to find the source of the fleeting ticklish sensations on your stomach - a hoarse giggle escaping you when you see your husband tracing his fingers on your skin. minghao looks up at the sound, his smile breathtaking.

"i'm sorry to wake you", he presses a kiss on the side on your shoulder, "but you need to eat something. you can sleep again, once you have".

"five more minutes?", you clear your throat.

"mm", he wraps an arm around you, "i didn't know you spoke french, chérie".

"i don't", he looks up at you inquisitively, "i once read some letters between lovers who spoke french", it should not be possible for one to blush so soon after waking up, "they were a little - rather - open-minded".

"you're so endearing", minghao chuckles, "still trying to preserve propriety, as if i didn't fuck you to sleep".

"hao, language!", you aim for a scandalized gasp, but it sounds suspiciously like a whine.

"don't worry, your grace", he places a tender kiss on your navel, "i'll behave in front of the children".

a/n: if you'd like more of duke!minghao x reader, check out the au masterlist.

[jajuverse]

a baby dino <3

ctto.

[cheolshu]

i cant believe they're already doing another tour?? like what????!!

YUPPPPP!! ERIN COME BACK TO THE PH!!! it’s a different organizer this time hahahahaha

[veeva-i0i]

So I finally came around drawing two out of three of my favourite SEVENTEEN members. I mean, i kinda had to after that photo of The8 and Jun popped up. They both look so damn good in it I just simply couldnt help myself. And yes, I did in fact listen to 'My I' a lot while drawing this. That song is and will always be a jam. It's such a good song and it gives the China line the spotlight that they deserve. I mean, the two of them are so talented, yet they are often overshined by the 11 other members of the group. If anything, I hope that they will get another song together in the future, their voices just fit so good together. As for the drawing, i decided to go for something semi-realistic. The photo itself was already beautiful and I didnt dare to make them into fairies or any other type of fantasy character like I normally would do. And you know what? I'm quite proud of how this turned out. It has been a hot minute since I last did something like this and I needed the practice ^^ @xuminghao_o @saythename_17 {#art #fanart #drawing #sketchbook #sketching #pencil #pencilart #pencildrawing #fabercastell #fineliner #micronpens #micron #lineart #kpop #seventeen #jun #junhui #The8 #minghao #xuminghao #music #performance #performanceunit #semirealistic #semirealism #myart #byme } (at Friesland, Netherlands)

[bibinnieposts]

damn

to the victor go the spoils

PAIRING ❄ lee chan x afab!reader WORD COUNT ❄ 11.3k GENRE ❄ chan is a bartender au, romance, smut (minors dni), mutual pining, angst WARNINGS ❄ legal alcohol consumption, making out, swearing, oral (f receiving), not proofread

chan is the bartender at your favorite restaurant, and you're his favorite patron: the person that comes in every single week with a new guy, always wearing the same perfume and always ordering the same thing, always complaining to him about the losers that your father keeps setting you up with. he'll lose his mind soon if he keeps having to watch you on these shitty dates. how much longer until he's declared the winner and you finally choose him?

PLAYLIST ❄ love language by sza / go crazy by leslie odom jr. / vanilla by kai / lies by marina and the diamonds / what can i do by reneé rapp / nervous by john legend / chance with you by mehro / maroon by taylor swift / toy by block b FROM THE AUTHOR ❄ thanks for reading <3 the beginning is stronger than the end because i got covid in the midst of this and lost my motivation, but i hope you enjoy it regardless! have a safe and fun transition into the new year, if you observe it :)

Chan thinks that he must be losing his mind. 

He started bartending when he was in college, just as soon as he was legally able to do so. Known for having a competitive streak, the fact that he needed to pass a test to obtain licensure to serve alcohol spurred him on more than it should have. He was even more motivated when his friend, Soonyoung, wasn’t able to pass it himself. He landed a job at one of the more upscale restaurants almost immediately and being downtown meant that the people were more affluent and, thus, more generous. It was a total win for him, and nearly three years later, he’s still around. Chan only really bartends on weekends, reserving his weekdays to get his schoolwork done. In all honestly, he doesn’t need the job. He’s never needed it, but he’s stuck around for so long because he enjoys meeting different types of people; he likes hearing the deep, dark secrets that spill out once enough alcohol has been consumed; and he really appreciates the ego boost that he gets every time an older woman comes in and tips him generously, just because they think he’s cute. 

It’s not his job that’s making him feel like he’s losing his mind. He likes his job, and he’ll be satisfied with the time he’s spent behind his bar once he finally graduates and moves on to something more applicable to his degree. No, he feels like he’s losing his mind because of one specific patron. There’s this one gorgeous individual that comes in every Friday night, always meeting a different man, but always wearing the same floral perfume and wearing the same silver necklace that dangles around their neck, resting on their sternum, glinting in the dim lights of the restaurant. This person always arrives early and sits at the bar, talking with Chan about school, about their family, about how poorly they know their date will go. They’re always sitting at the same table, one of the ones closest to the bar, and they always order the same thing. The dates always last two hours and not one minute longer, and Chan always feels a sense of longer after they bid him farewell and leave the restaurant, the scent of their perfume never lingering for long enough. 

Chan is absolutely enamored with this one individual, but he’d rather plead insanity than admit that. 

“Hi Chan,” You sigh, sliding onto the barstool that was situated directly in front of him. You shift until you’re comfortable, placing your bag on the counter. Chan, in the middle of washing and drying his shaker, offers you a smile without actually looking up at you. His heart has been racing since he caught sight of you walking in, and he’s afraid that if he looks at you, it’ll induce a heart attack. He could already tell from across the restaurant that you looked good, even better than usual. You smell even better than usual, too. He’s sure that nothing has actually changed, though, and that serves as just another sign that he’s losing his mind. “How was your week?” 

You follow his movements with your eyes as he places the shaker on the counter, throwing his hand towel over his shoulder and wiping his forehead with the back of one of his hands. One of his rings catches the light and you’re drawn to his hand, shifting uncomfortably on your stool when you notice how pretty his hands are. It takes you another minute to notice, but his hair’s lighter this week than it was last week. He must have had more free time than usual, dying it and all. “It was okay. I lost a bet and had to dye my hair. I’m also considering sleeping with my neuroscience professor so that I pass the class. “ 

“Your exam didn’t go well, then?” Chan shakes his head. “Is she cute, at least?” 

“Yeah, he’s pretty easy on the eyes!” 

He’s able to make you laugh so effortlessly. You throw your head back, hands gripping the countertop so that you don’t lose your balance and slide off your seat. Chan smiles to himself, turning so that he can start mixing you up a drink. This week, like every other week, you were going to get whatever he decided to give you. It’s not like he charged you for drinks anyway. When you finally settle your laughter, wiping away a tear that had started to collect at your waterline, you watch him make his drink. You smoothen your expression when you realize the fond smile that was plastered on your face for everybody to see, and your heart aches when you think about leaving Chan to sit through another dry, humorless, boring date for two hours. 

This was the reason you always made sure to arrive early at the restaurant. You always insisted on driving yourself, you always made sure to arrive thirty minutes early, and you always soaked in as much time as you could get with Chan before you were subjected to yet another torturous date that your father had planned out for you. Your dates were never able to hold a conversation as well as Chan could. With him, words flowed naturally. He didn’t talk about himself too much, and he remembered anything that you told him, and you had considered, on multiple occasions, skipping your dates in favor of sitting with Chan through your shift. Up until now, you had never been able to find the courage to do so. 

Only recently, you had realized that maybe, possibly, you had started to harbor a little crush on him. Keeping that in consideration, it was unlikely that you would ever find the courage to engage in anything further with him. Your weekly chats were doomed to remain as weekly, thirty-minute occurrences, no matter how much more of him you found yourself craving. 

“What about you? How was your week?” 

“It was okay.” You echo his words, eyes trailing his movements again as he sets your drink in front of you. He steps away to tend to the other patrons, and your heart aches again as you watch him laugh and flirt with the females perched at the bar. You aren’t jealous, per se – you've known Chan for long enough to be able to recognize his fake, polite smiles from his genuine ones, and you’re able to find some comfortable in the fact that the smiles he gives you are different from the one he’s offering to those other customers right now. You hum quietly and take a sip of your cocktail, eyebrows knitting together as you taste it. When Chan returns, you ask what he made you. 

“It’s called a Painkiller.” He grins, grabbing the bottle of rum he had mixed in to show you what he had used. “I figured you were going to need one. Today is lucky number seventeen, right?” 

You raise your eyebrows, a smile growing on your face. “How did you remember that?” 

“It’s a good number.” He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the other side of the bar. “So, your week was okay? Why’s that?” 

You sigh, massaging your temples to prevent the headache that tended to appear whenever you recounted everything that was stressing you out. “I have my thesis proposal in a few weeks, and my defense closer to the end of the semester, but my dad is still incessant on setting me up on these dates. He wants me to be engaged by graduation, but I don’t even know if I want to be married. It feels like a war of attrition.” 

“Should I make you another one? A little stronger?” 

He’s just joking, evident by his grin, but you almost want to take him up on his offer. Tonight’s date, whose name you couldn’t even recall, was projected to be especially bad. The guys that your dad seemed to like the most always ended up being the worst. You straighten yourself back up with another sigh, and Chan curses under his breath as you offer him a tired smile that makes his stomach somersault in response. Your lipstick smudges against the glass as you take another sip of your drink, and he thinks that the shade you’re wearing tonight would look good on him, too. 

Just not on his lips. 

“It’s so tiring.” You take another long sip of your drink, your tongue poking out to collect the liquid that had gotten caught at the corner of your mouth. Chan has to look away, face nearly contorting in pain as he feels himself straining against his pants. He’s thankful to be hidden behind the bar tonight; you looked and smelled even better up close. He’s more thankful that your outfit is a little more conservative than what you had worn last week. That white outfit had revealed just enough to put his imagination into overdrive. He was still thinking about how good you had looked. He had jacked himself off to thoughts of removing the outfit, draping it carefully over the back of his desk chair before fucking you into his mattress, more times than he’d feel comfortable admitting to anyone. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and take a few breaths to keep from getting hard again, turning around only when he’s ready. You had descended into a rant about your love life, and he wishes that he hadn’t entered the conversation that you were having with yourself. 

“--like, what if I don’t want to be married? That’s not crazy, it’s almost 2023! I haven’t even had sex in months because my dad keeps setting me up with losers. It’s not for lack of trying, either; these stupid dates occupy all of my free time, and the only redeeming part of these dates are the free meals and being able to sit with you beforehand. I’m exhausted, though, Chan. Seriously. I-I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be meeting tonight! My dad says that he really likes him, but I don’t even know what his name is. It’s either Minho, or Mingyu... it could be Minhyung, too, though. I don’t--” 

As much as Chan would enjoy talking about your sex life with you, his attention is brought from you to the door of the restaurant, and he straightens up as a young man walks into the space. There’s no doubt that he’s your date, Minho or Mingyu or Minhyung or whatever, if his Armani suit, Rolex watch, and excess of hair gel is anything to go by. Chan clears his throat, looking from the man to you and then back as the man continues his trek toward the bar. “Should I start a tab for you?” 

That was code. You straighten your own posture, taking a deep breath before turning in your seat, a saccharine smile decorating your features. Chan knows you too well by now to be fooled by the mask that you slip on whenever you’re on a date. He collects your bag as you’re led away by your date, tucking it underneath the bar while he starts washing some glasses. The sight of you getting whisked away had become nausea-inducing for him, and tonight was no exception. As soon as you had taken your date’s hand, Chan had looked away to avoid getting sick. He keeps an inconspicuous eye on you as your date pulls out your chair for you, busying himself as you get your date started. He knows that you’d much rather be spending your time with him – you'd said so just earlier, after all – but he can’t help the dull ache in his chest at the sight of seeing you with another man. 

The only consolation for him was that he would see you again in a week’s time, laughing once again at his jokes, further exacerbating the symptoms of his lovesickness. He mutters under his breath as he finishes cleaning his glasses, setting them on the countertop to dry. He offers one final glance in your direction, his chest clenching when he sees that you’re already looking at him, in a plea for help that you both know he can’t answer. 

The bar gets crowded as the night continues, and Chan occupies himself with other patrons. He’s trying to compartmentalize, trying to forget that you were somewhere else in the restaurant, but it’s hard; with every fake laugh that he hears from you, a warmth blooms in his chest. He’s the only person in the whole joint that has ever made you genuinely laugh, and he carries that knowledge with pride. 

Two hours come and go, and just like clockwork, you bid goodbye to your date. It was unusual for you to settle back at the bar following your dates, but you chose to do so tonight. Chan knows that usually, you’re so tired from listening to your dates talk about themselves without reprieve that you just bid Chan farewell and leave immediately after your dates. He’s happy that you’re back, but there’s always a fear that lingers in the back of his mind that one day, the reason that you’ve come back is to tell him that you had a really good date and that you’d be going on another one with the same guy. He hasn’t prepared himself for when that day comes. 

“That fucking sucked,” You groan, covering your face with your hands. Chan tries, and fails, to bite back a smile, setting a glass of water down in front of you. You grumble a quiet thanks, sipping your water as the bartender floats around behind the bar, checking in and cashing out his patrons. You lean back as best as you can while sitting on a barstool, watching him as he starts cleaning up. His shift should be over soon. You always scheduled your dates halfway through Chan’s shifts so that, whenever you stuck around, you could walk out with him. It felt like a reward for getting through the awful date in the first place. 

Your breath hitches every time that Chan breezes past you, and you curse yourself for that. While your date with Minhyuk – you had learned his name, finally – hadn't been the worst date that you’d ever experienced, he was definitely getting struck from your father’s (dwindling) list of potential sons-in-law. You try to wrack your brain and figure out how many people were left on that list. Once you reach the end, you’ll need to find a new reason to come to the restaurant every week; having a crush on one of the bartenders, you’d rationalized, was not a good enough reason to come all the way downtown every Friday. 

It feels like your heart is being squeezed when you dare to look to your left and see Chan flirting with one of his female customers. Her fingers are dancing on his chest, and you nearly fall off your stool when she dares to unbutton his shirt a little more. You know that you can’t fault him for someone else’s behavior, but if generous tips meant that you could help him out of his shirt, you’d start bringing some cash with you. 

“Gimme a few more minutes!” Chan offers in passing, causing you to perk up a little. It was cathartic, spending time with him. Your dates were draining but being with Chan had the opposite effect. You felt like being with him recharged you, like you could endure another two hours with another loser if you had time with him in between. Two hours with one of your father’s dates felt like a torturous eternity, but two hours felt like ten minutes with Chan. It didn’t feel fair. 

Your stomach does a flip when Chen rounds the bar. The sleeves of his black button-down have been pushed up to his elbows, and his shirt is unbuttoned dangerously low. You knit your eyebrows together, beckoning him closer so that you can button him back up. He laughs quietly as you do it, and you hope that by ignoring the warmth that’s flooding into your face, he won’t notice it. You use his shoulder to steady yourself as you dismount from your stool, smiling as he offers you your bag. You take it, slipping it over your shoulder, tailing him as the two of you make your exit out of the restaurant. He bids farewell to the remaining staff, holding open doors for you until you’ve both made it into the elevator. 

Chan’s heart is thudding heavily against his ribcage, and he hopes that the elevator music is loud enough that you can’t hear it. This wasn’t a weekly occurrence, per se, but it was still rare that he was afforded the opportunity to walk you back to your car. His fingers itch to reach for you, to pin you against the wall of the elevator and to press his lips on every inch of your exposed skin, but he refrains. Instead, he leans against the wall, trying to appear nonchalant, while you stand, rigid, next to him, wringing your hands together. It’s not necessarily awkward, but you’re suddenly missing the bar that usually separates the two of you. Conversation flowed easier when you were able to sit safely on the other side of the bar. 

“How was your date? Bad, you said? N-No, wait, you said that it ‘fucking sucked,’ right?” 

You groan, shaking your head at the reminder of why you had come to the restaurant in the first place – something that had been lost as you sat at the bar, daydreaming about what it would be like to go on a date with Chan instead. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It would be so easy to just, like, tolerate someone, right? I don’t know why I can’t just find someone that I can tolerate and call it a day.” 

“You have standards. Big deal.” He scoffs, trailing after you once the elevator opens. Your pace is slow as the two of you meander through the parking garage, in pursuit of a goal (your car) but with no sense of urgency. You shake your head, letting your hands fall to your sides. 

“Standards are one thing, Chan, but I haven’t had sex in months, and I haven’t even kissed anyone in weeks. I’m just so worn out from all these shitty dates. Between writing my thesis, studying and reading for my classes, and then carving out three hours every Friday night to listen to a different loser talk about himself and his stocks, I feel like I’m on a downward trajectory.” 

Chan’s eyebrows raise, but he quickly smoothens his expression because you’re turning to look at him, expectant, like he should be offering something insight or helpful. He has nothing prepared. As soon as you mentioned kissing, he started thinking about how it’d be to have you pinned against the flat surface, to have your lips on his. He clears his throat. “W-Why haven’t you been kissing your dates?” 

“I used to!” You groan, propping your hands on your hips. “I used to, but then they’d always call me the next day. So, I stopped kissing on the first date, and they stopped thinking that there would be a second date. None of them were any good, either! It was like kissing cement.” 

“Soft yet firm?” 

“Cold and wet.” 

“God, where did your dad find these guys? Reddit?” 

You laugh, and it echoes through the parking garage, and Chan feels light on his feet. He tucks his hands into his pockets, looking down at the asphalt as the two of you continue your stroll. He’s considering his options of what he could say next, and suddenly, he wishes that he’d thrown back a shot or two during his shift. “Y-You can teach someone how to be a better kisser, though. I don’t think that should be, like, a dealbreaker.” 

“I mean, sure. Yeah, that’s true. It’s... less about the actual kiss, though. Y’know?” Chan knits his eyebrows together, confused, and you sigh before elaborating. “Like... I didn’t feel anything. There should be sparks or something, but there was nothing like that. It’d probably be more gratifying to kiss a piece of cardboard.” You catch a glimpse of a column and an image of Chan pushing you up against it, lips fiery against yourself, causes you to grimace. If only. 

Chan hums in response, at a loss for words, afraid that there’s nothing left that he could offer to the conversation unless you were looking for him to get on his knees to beg, to plead, for you to give him a chance. He was a good kisser and everything! You stop walking and he lifts his head, his heart falling as he realizes that the two of you have reached your destination. He’d wasted all of his precious time convincing you that you should be less harsh on your dates if they were bad at something teachable. 

How nice of him. 

“Thanks for walking me.” You say, eyes fixating on the strands of hair that had come undone and that were resting in front of Chan’s eyes. You're itching to reach forward and sweep them out of his face, but you refrain. 

“You’re welcome.” 

The two of you lapse into silence, staring at each other. There’s a warmth that’s creeping across your body, starting in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it was tactless to talk about kissing other men in front of Chan, but a small part of you had been hoping that he would contribute differently. Maybe he would offer to kiss you. Maybe you could fulfill your desire to have his hands on you. Maybe he would press his lips against yours, and there’d be fireworks, and you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about coming to the restaurant to see him instead of going on your stupid dates. 

Chan is kind. He’s handsome. He’s gentle, and he’s funny, and he’s sexy, and there’s nothing more that you want in this moment than to have his tongue down your throat. 

He forces a smile, nodding before turning on his heel, but you reach forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm. He turns back to you, eyebrows quirked upward. It’s sitting there, right at the tip of your tongue. Can you kiss me? Can we kiss? 

You aren’t able to convince yourself to verbalize your desire, though. Instead, you open your mouth, and then close it, and release him. “S-Sorry.” 

“Are you okay?” 

No, I’m not okay, but it would make it better if you kissed me. “Yeah! I’m good. Sorry.” 

He doesn’t seem convinced, and he hesitates to say or do anything else. He’s providing you with a window of opportunity, but you aren’t ready to take it. You want to take it – God, you want him pressed against you so badly – but you just aren’t ready. You’ll suppress your feelings, at least for another week. Maybe you’d have the courage next time that you see him. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yeah. Yeah! I’m sure. I’ll see you next week.” 

He knows you too well to accept the fake smile that you offer him, but he’s too dejected to say anything. Next week. On another date. Another date with a different man. What did he need to do to show you that he was better than all of your stupid dates, combined? 

“Okay.” He offers you a fake smile in return. “Goodnight.” 

+ + +

You should have kissed Chan. 

It was pathetic, the way that you got home that night, unable to stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stop imagining him, imagining what could have been, even after slipping your fingers into your underwear and making yourself cum... twice. You had hoped that you could scratch the itch and it would go away; that was not the case. You touched yourself while imagining that it was him, deep and slow, planting wet kisses along the column of your throat while your hands roamed all over his body. Even after orgasming, you still felt unsatisfied. 

Maybe, if you had kissed him, your curiosity would have been squashed. Maybe there wouldn’t have been any sparks. Maybe he could have told you that he wasn’t interested, and you would have been able to return to the platonic relationship that you’d had before you’d fallen in love with him. Maybe you would lose out on Chan but, eventually, you’d meet someone that you could tolerate. 

Or, maybe, you would have kissed, and it would have become something more. Maybe you could have asked him to take you in your backseat and he would have, deep and slow, fogging up the windows. Maybe you could have ignited the spark that’s always been there, and you would be able to convince your father that you were happy, that you didn’t need to meet anybody else. 

That’s why it’s Saturday night, the very next day, and you’re contemplating getting dressed up and going down to the restaurant. You didn’t have a date – you never scheduled dates outside of your Friday nights. You would be getting dressed up and fighting traffic just so that you could sit at the bar and talk to Chan. Just so, for one more night than usual, you could bask in the attention that he gave you. You could take advantage of his availability and take more than you deserved from him. 

Your body trembles at the thought of seeing him again. You could wear something more revealing; you could dress up even nicer than usual, and you could tempt him. You could dangle yourself in front of him and see if he, too, has an itch to scratch. 

But would that be fair to him? 

No, it wouldn’t. You might as well be throwing yourself at him, showing your tits and forcing him to look. Chan is a sweet guy. He’s kind and gentle, he’s funny and he’s compassionate, and you don’t need to stoop to the level of some of his other patrons, the ones that touch him and flirt with him and make him work even harder for his tips. As much as you’d love to have your hands on him, to flirt with him (and have him flirt back), you know it wouldn’t be fair to him. You’re friends now, after everything. 

You’re friends. That’s how you rationalize showing up to the restaurant in a hoodie instead. 

He spots you as soon as you walk in, smiling and laughing with the hostess, and your heartrate quickens as you cross the space. His eyes are on you the entire time, like he can’t believe that you’re real. It’s Saturday night, right? You wouldn’t be wearing that on a date, right? 

“I never thought I’d see the day.” He laughs, nervously, arms crossing over his chest as you situate yourself on your usual barstool. Why are you here right now? Should he be worried? 

You offer a bashful smile in response, face already feeling warm under his gaze. “Jenn said the same thing.” Chan continues staring at you, still trying to gauge if you were a mirage or not. You adjust the strings of your hoodie, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. “W-What?” 

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you,” He starts, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I just don’t know if I should be worried that you’re here right now. This is out of character for you.” 

“I just wanted to see you.” You scoff, suddenly scrambling to add to that once you realize how it sounded. “T-To hang out with you for m-more than, like, thirty minutes.” 

Chan keeps his expression even, but internally, he’s screaming gleefully. Still, he can’t hide the small smile that blooms on his face. “Are you drinking tonight?” 

You hold up hands up, absolving yourself from the responsibility of choosing a drink. “I have no free will here, Chan. You know that.” 

“If you had done better research before showing up and asking for a ‘blue motherfucker,’ whatever the hell that even is, then I wouldn’t have taken away your freedom of choice.” He scoffs, turning around to start concocting you a drink. Today, you’ll get a vodka martini, just to keep things simple. Chan still isn’t fully convinced that he should be happy that you’ve come by, even though the warm feeling in his chest says otherwise. 

You’re grateful to be able to take your drink and gulp it down. Hopefully, the alcohol will loosen you up. You’re practically buzzing, as if you were being risky or adventurous by visiting the restaurant just to see Chan, outside of your normal routine. He’s alarmed that you’re drinking so much right from the start, and so he leans forward, resting his arms on the bar top and speaking as low as he can. “Are you okay? Seriously.” 

“Stop harassing me.” You frown, waving him off. “I’m fine, Chan. I’ll let you know if that changes.” 

He’s not convinced, but still, he steps away and takes some time to check in with the other customers. It was slow for a Saturday night; you were surprised, and also thankful, that there were barstools open. Had you not been able to sit at the bar, you probably would’ve turned around and driven home. There was no reason to come to this place if you weren’t going to be able to see Chan. 

“I’m just worried.” Chan sighs, sliding back in front of you. You groan and he holds his hands up. “Look, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you on any day other than a Friday, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you in casual clothes, too. I’m trying to figure out if this is one of the signs of the apocalypse. There’s gotta be something you aren’t telling me.” 

“I already told you that I came to hang out with you.” 

“I’m not worth that.” 

“Says who?” 

You realize what you’ve said only after the words tumble out of your lips. You’re quick to raise your glass back to your lips, turning your face away. If Chan heard you, he doesn’t act like it. Instead, he clucks his tongue at you and steps away to tend to one of the waitresses that had approved the bar. You feel like you can stop holding your breath only after he’s stepped out of your zone of proximity. 

Chan heard you, though. He heard you loud and clear, and now he’s afraid that his heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he won’t be able to hear anything else that anyone might tell him tonight. He fumbles his way through two Cosmopolitan orders and chooses to clean his spills immediately so that he has some time to even out his breathing before he faces you again. You really came all the way downtown to see him? It doesn’t seem real to him. Was this an episode of Punk’d? 

He’s gone for long enough that you start to panic. You hadn’t betrayed yourself that badly, so why was he keeping his distance? Maybe he’s known all along that you have a crush on him, and maybe you just confirmed it for it, and now, you’ve ruined your friendship and any possibility of becoming more than friends, which means you can’t come back to the restaurant anymore and-- 

“Do you want another, or do you want something different?” 

Chan gestures to your drink. You look down, see it’s empty, and realize that you hadn’t even realized you had finished it off. “Surprise me.” Preferably, with something stronger. 

Your knowledge of cocktails and liquor in general was, admittedly, poor. However, you feel proud of yourself when you’re able to identify what Chan has made you before he even hands it to you. In fact, if you had to pick a favorite cocktail, you’d probably say Shirley Temple. Chan notices how wide you smile when he sets your drink down, and he makes a mental note to add Shirley Temples into your rotation of drinks. 

“How much longer ‘til you’re off?” You ask, stirring your drink. Chan takes a moment to check his watch. 

“In... eight minutes.” 

You raise your eyebrows, checking the time for yourself on your phone. You had intended to leave your apartment right at seven, but it was already almost nine. You must have spent more time than you realized to deliberate coming here or not. “What are you doing after you’re off?” 

“Usually, I’d be going home. Unless...” Your heartrate quickens in anticipation. Chan takes a breath, steeling himself. “I have another neuroscience exam coming up in a few weeks. What are the odds you’d want to help me study?” 

“I’m better at human anatomy, but I can try.” 

Chan realizes what you’ve said before you do, and he’s laughing so hard that he has to turn around to compose himself. You groan, rubbing your temples, a nervous smile decorating your features. If you had only used a different tone, you could’ve taken the opportunity to try and flirt with Chan. Instead, he wipes tears from his eyes, still laughing quietly. You’re left to ruminate while he starts his final rounds, cashing out patrons and bidding his farewells with a newfound pep in his step. You don’t notice, too focused on cursing yourself internally. 

You’re forced to chug down your drink only when you notice that Chan is already rounding the bar. He gapes at you before laughing again. “You’re gonna be so drunk later.” 

“I’ll be fine.” You huff, taking his outstretched hand to help yourself down from your stool. You almost whine at the loss of touch when he pulls his hand back, but your chest flutters when he settles behind you, hand pressing against your lower back to usher you through the restaurant that had finally started to become crowded. He bids one final farewell to Jenn, the hostess, his cheeks burning as she gestures between the two of you and winks. Chan’s thankful that you didn’t notice. 

He knows that it’s only a matter of time until your intoxication hits, and since he’s never seen you drunk before, he needs to get you to a more controlled setting. Chan can only assume that you’re a lightweight based on the partying stories you’ve told him, and his hand had been a little heavier tonight than usual – he was going to blame that on you, breaking your routine and thoroughly shaking him up. 

“This is the part where I find out that you’re actually a murderer, right?” You tease, rocking back and forth on your heels as the elevator makes it descent. 

Chan laughs, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, I’m not a murderer.” 

“Unfortunately?” 

“That’s what I said,” He’s nonchalant as you follow him out and back into the parking garage. You’re getting déjà vu, but you’re trying your best to swallow down the same urges that you had last night. Instead, you’re quiet as you follow him through the garage to his car. Chan hums quietly to himself, his hands tucked into his pockets again. Only once you’ve reached his car does he pull them out, opening the passenger door for you. You quirk your eyebrows at him, an amused smile ghosting your lips. The tips of his ears bloom red almost immediately. “D-Don’t look at me like that!” 

“Like what?” You laugh, feigning innocence as he closes the door, and you twist to buckle yourself in. He shakes his head at you again, climbing in and getting the car started. Almost immediately, his fingers itch to reach out and lace with yours, but he swallows thickly, choosing to ignore that urge. “Your car will be safe here while we’re gone.” 

“This means that you’re committing to bringing me back here, though. No matter when we finish tonight.” 

Chan holds up one of his hands while he eases his steering wheel with the other. “I promise to uphold that commitment.” 

“You’re annoying.” You scoff, without any real bite to your words. Chan smiles in response, and soon, the car lapses into silence. The radio of his car plays softly while he navigates the car through downtown, but to your surprise, he’s pulling into another garage only a few minutes later. “Wait, do you live downtown?” 

“Is that surprising?” 

“Yes, actually. Why aren’t you walking to work?” 

“Because it’s winter. Plus, I don’t want to get kidnapped.” 

“Why would you get kidnapped?” 

“Cute people get kidnapped.” 

“So why are you worried?” 

Chan sucks in a breath before he reaches over and pinches your thigh. You swat him away, laughing, warning him that he was going to crash if he didn’t pay attention to the road. Begrudgingly, he returns both of his hands to the steering wheel, but not without muttering a few insults back at you under his breath. You left that slide since you’d instigated it, but if it meant he’d put his hands on you, you’d probably try to rile him up a little more time. 

He parks the car without any further hitches. He lets you open your door for yourself while he opens up the backseat, pulling his backpack over his shoulder. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him, messy hair and unbuttoned shirt with a backpack slung over his shoulder; he looked less like Chan the bartender and more like Chan the student. 

He looked good either way, but being a student yourself, you’re a little more partial to the latter. 

It’s nice, being able to spend time with Chan outside of your... arrangement. Each time that the two of you fall quiet, it feels less and less awkward. The two of you stand closer to each other in the elevator this time, and even though the desire to ask him to stick his tongue down your throat is ever-present, it’s not as prominent. Chan is your friend. He’s your sexy, intelligent friend, and you’ve gotten off to thoughts of him fucking you with his tongue more times than you’d like to admit, but you feel happy, being invited to see this other part of his life. 

“How are you feeling? Drunk yet?” 

You shake your head, tailing after him as he lets himself into his apartment. Your first impression is that it’s clean, cleaner than you had expected from a college boy. After slipping your shoes off, you follow him into his living room, beelining for the pictures that were hanging on one of the walls. “Holy shit, is this you?” 

“Don’t look at that!” He whines, grabbing you by your shoulders and turning you around. He shuffles you back toward the couch despite your protests. “You’re here to help me study. You are not here to look at my pictures from high school.” 

“Your hair was so bad!” 

“Do you want some water?” 

You ignore him in favor of advancing toward his pictures again and he groans, grabbing you by your waist and dragging you back to the couch. You were definitely starting to feel the effects of the liquor, whether you realized it or not. “I’m going to tie you to the couch if you don’t stop.” 

That’d be hot. Please do. “Fine, fine! I’ll look at them next time.” 

Next time. That makes Chan’s stomach do a somersault. He can’t fight the smile that blooms on his face, sitting cross-legged on the floor and opening his backpack. You mimic his sitting position, tucking your legs under one another. He holds out a stack of index cards, holding them out for you. You take them, shuffling through them while Chan continues to dig through his bag. Once you look at him again, he’s wearing glasses, and you have to refrain from moaning out loud at how good he looks. 

“Read me the cards. Does your vision go blurry when you’re drunk?” 

“I’m not drunk, Chan!” You huff, lifting the first index card closer to your face to read it. “Broca’s Area?” 

“Um... it’s where someone can, like, recognize something, but they can’t speak.” 

“Hemisphere?” 

“Left.” 

“Is this the kind of study session where I’m supposed to remove a piece of clothing for everything that you answer correctly?” Chan’s eyes widen at your proposition, and you just laugh, setting the first card down next to you and moving onto another one. “Just kidding. Wernicke’s Area?” 

“Th-That’s -- fuck, you distracted me – it's, like, the opposite of Broca’s Area. S-So, the language production component is still intact, but the words don’t really make sense.” 

“Hemisphere?” 

“Also left.” 

You hum quietly in approval, picking another index card from your stack. “Hemispheric lateralization?” 

“Okay, so, we have the left and the right hemispheres, right? Basically, the brain isn’t symmetrical. The left hemisphere doesn’t function the exact same way as the right hemisphere, and vice versa. The left hemisphere is responsible for certain things, like language production and stuff, but the right hemisphere is responsible for other things, like visual stuff.” You simply nod while Chan tries to fully answer the question, as if you have any idea what he’s talking about. Maybe with a clearer mind, you could contribute a little bit better. “There’s this whole debate about being left-brained or being right-brained, and also about how people are determined to be left-handed or right-handed.” 

You look at the backside of the index card for a few beats before giving up. “I don’t know if you answered the question or not.” 

“Because you’re drunk, or because I didn’t answer it correctly?” 

He takes the card from you. His fingers brush with yours, and you suddenly feel like you’re on fire. “I think I’m a little drunk, actually.” 

“That’s crazy!” He smiles, reading the card, his tone indicating that he does not find it to be crazy. “Do you want some water now?” 

No, I think I just want to kiss you. 

“W-What?” 

“What?” You realize too late that you’d said that out loud and gasp, covering your mouth. Chan is equally surprised, eyebrows raised as far as they could physically go, and for a few moments, the two of you stare at each other like that. 

Calmly, Chan clears his throat. There’s a hint of smile on his face that, unfortunately, you aren’t able to catch. “W-We can revisit that when you’re sober.” He wishes that he could be a little less polite in this situation – adrenaline is pumping through his veins at your sudden confession, and he wants nothing more than to pin you to the couch and give you exactly what you’d just asked for. But you’re drunk, and even though he knows that he’s not going to be able to retain any more information, all that he can do is continue studying while waiting for you to sober up. Hopefully, you’ll still want to kiss him when you aren’t being driven by your own intoxication. Chan, personally, has never needed alcohol to get the urge to kiss you, and he hopes that the same can be said for you by the end of the night. 

You, on the other hand, are mortified. The alcohol is only just starting to hit you, and you had started off strong by telling Chan that you wanted to kiss him. You’re afraid now that you’re going to end up saying something even more embarrassing – that you love him, that you’d always loved him, or that you want him to fuck you until you’re seeing stars. Any of those things would certainly result in your own demise, and the destruction of your friendship, and for that, you’re terrified. 

For better or for worse, you and Chan get through the rest of the index cards without any additional love confessions. 

“How are we feeling now?” He asks, setting down a glass of water on the table after he finally convinced you to take some. To answer his question, you’re dizzy. You don’t dare try to stand up, but you’re also starting to feel tired. Crashing on Chan’s couch was definitely not what you had planned to do tonight. 

“My head hurts.” You groan, massaging your temples. 

“Drink your water, then.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because.” You huff, grimacing at the thought of putting any additional liquids into your body tonight. Chan quirks an eyebrow at you, arms crossed over his chest. You shake your head. “I don’t want it.” 

“Yeah, but you need it.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re gonna have a monster hangover.” 

“I’ll be fine, Chan.” 

“I’ll kiss you if you drink it all.” 

Truthfully, Chan is not this bold. He’s been longing for you since he met you, but he knows that he doesn’t have a shot in hell. Your dad wants you to be with a particular type of person, the kind of person that he is not, even if Chan knows that he deserves you more than any of the guys you’d seen so far. He deserves you, and you deserve someone that can make you happy, to keep you laughing, and that will take care of you. He knows this, and he’s been waiting for you to figure it out, too. 

He knows why you told him that you wanted to kiss him. He can easily think back to the night before, when you had been complaining about the physical contact (and lack thereof) that you’d suffered since being forced on all of these dates. Chan is convenient for you, and he’s safe, and fuck, if he can’t have you completely, then he’s willing to settle. 

“Y-You’re blackmailing me.” You huff, snatching the glass of water and drinking from it, nevertheless. You choose to look away, to focus on drinking the water and not on Chan and the kiss he had just promised you. You’d make yourself choke if you thought too hard about that. 

“No, I’m bribing you.” 

You’re already feeling better by the time that you finish your water, and the expectant way that you look up at Chan drives his heart rate up. Still, he’s a man of his word. He takes a seat on the couch next to you, laughing quietly when you close your eyes, tilting your face toward him. He cups your face with both of his hands, holding you still while he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You scoff, eyes flying open, grabbing his wrists. 

“That is not the kind of kiss that I wanted, and you know that.” 

“You’re still drunk! I can’t kiss you.” 

“Fine, then stay still.” 

Chan’s heart is pounding so quickly that he’s afraid he’s going to blast off. You, on the other hand, are eerily calm. Time almost feels like it’s standing still as you lean in, slow that you can offer Chan an out if he wants to take it. He doesn’t, and that’s how you’re able to press your lips against his. It’s a chaste kiss, devoid of any tongue or teeth or movement, but Chan is practically trembling against your lips. He wants to pull you onto his lap. He wants to let his hands snake underneath your sweatshirt and roam across your skin. He wants to stop holding back, but he can’t. Not right now. 

You pull away after a few moments, still slow, offering him a chance to chase your lips. Your heart falls when he doesn’t, but you do your best to keep your expression even. You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at him. 

He clears his throat. “More water?” 

Only if you kiss me again. “Yes, please.” 

+ + +

You don’t remember much about that night with Chan. You remember the kiss, and you remember going through his neuroscience flashcards again, but that’s it; any additional details have been buried in your consciousness, and when you woke up in your own bed the next morning, you have no idea what course of events led you there. You can only assume that they involved Chan. 

And that’s why, contrary to how you usually felt in the days leading up to your weekly visit to the restaurant, you’re nervous tonight. Debilitatingly nervous. You don’t feel excited at the thought of visiting Chan. You don’t want to spend your whole date feeling his eyes on you. You’re afraid to face him, all because of what you can remember from last weekend. You kissed him, and he didn’t kiss back. You had forced yourself on him and you weren’t ready to face the consequences of that tonight. 

That’s why you don’t come to the restaurant early. You meet your date in the parking lot and walk in together, and you burn with shame as you walk through the restaurant to a different table than usual. You can feel Chan’s eyes on you, practically burning a hole through you. You don’t dare to twist in your seat and look in his direction. You don’t get up, even when you need to use the restroom. You keep your eyes glued to your date the whole time. Maybe it’s the lack of alcohol in your system, or the fact that you hadn’t had a meaningful conversation beforehand to tide you over, but this date was especially bad. You can’t even remember his name when everything is said and done, after two torturous hours have passed. 

Your date was awful, and you don’t know if you did the right thing by avoiding Chan, but at least it was over. Maybe you could start having your dates at a different restaurant. Maybe you would be able to peacefully disappear from Chan’s life, and convince yourself that it was never love in the first place, and-- 

“So, you’re hiding from me now?” 

The voice makes you freeze, fingers stilling in your bag since you’ve been searching for your keys. You don’t need to look up to confirm what you already know. Instead, you stay in place, a feeling of dread pooling in your stomach. “I-I’m not hiding.” 

“Then look at me.” 

That you can’t do. Chan scoffs, shaking his head even though you don’t see it. Internally, he’s pissed off. He, too, has been overthinking everything since Saturday night. He should’ve just kissed you, properly, like you’d asked. He should have just scratched the itch that had been plaguing him for months, taking advantage of your drunken state to confess how he really feels about you. He’d make mistakes, but he wasn’t expecting everything to backfire on him so badly. Were you upset with him for not going further with you? Had he done something wrong? Maybe, but does that excuse your actions tonight? Absolutely not. 

“What did I do?” 

“Nothing!” You scoff this time, squeezing your eyes shut. That same feeling of shame, that burning feeling, was beginning to overtake you. “Y-You didn’t do anything. I did something wrong.” 

“What, by kissing me?” 

“Yes!” 

That hurts Chan, but for reasons different than you realize. His expression falls, and the prolonged silence is why you finally dare to look at him. The expression on his face squeezes your heart, and you scramble to try and rectify things as best as you. “I-I shouldn’t have kissed you. I was drunk, and I-I forced myself on you, and I’m sorry.” 

“You...” He trails off, clenching his jaw. That’s what you think? “I-I don’t--” He doesn’t know how to respond, but it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that the two of you are on different pages. “I wanted to kiss you, too.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” Your words come out louder and clearer than you had expected. Chan pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, trying to calm his own irritation, but unable to look past the fact that you’d ignored him all night because of a misunderstanding. 

“You were drunk.” 

“It was just a kiss!” Your own anger is starting to flare up. You’d been led to feel like you had seriously crossed a boundary, but as it turns out, Chan was just chivalrous to a fault. How annoying. 

“You were drunk, and I was not, and that wouldn’t have been okay!” 

“It was just a kiss, Chan!” 

“Fine, since you’re telling me that it shouldn’t have mattered--” Chan is quick to bridge the distance between the two of you, cupping your face with one of his hands and gripping your hip with the other. He pulls you flush against him and then leans in, pressing his lips against yours. For a few moments, you don’t know what to do; it’s not a matter of whether you should kiss him back, but you don’t know if you and him need to talk through anything else. Ultimately, you decide that talking can wait and you wrap your fingers around his forearms. 

You pull away just enough to dive back in, lips slotting between Chan’s. Your hold on him couldn’t get any tighter as he holds your head in place, capturing your lips again and again and again. Once bitten and twice shy, you wait for him to slip his tongue into your mouth to go deeper with things. The feeling of your mouth against Chan’s, your tongue sliding against him, quickly becomes intoxicating, but your desire to taste him trumps your desire for air. It isn’t until your lungs are burning that you finally break away, just enough to breathe. Your lips, swollen and chapped, remain pressed against his even as you pant quietly, eyes squeezed shut. His grip on your hip was tight enough to bruise, but when he finally realizes and relaxes his hold, he rubs his thumb against you to soothe the dull ache. 

Chan doesn’t know when he’s supposed to release you, and truthfully, he doesn’t want to. He’s aware of how un-romantic it is, standing in the middle of a parking garage, clinging onto each other like this, but Chan will take whatever he can get from you. He isn’t involved in the revolving door of those stuffy businessmen that your father has been forcing you to date. He’s just... Chan, the bartender that’s in love with you. And he knows that fact won’t be able to sustain the relationship that he wants to have with you. 

Where do you go from here? Neither of you have any idea. 

“Chan...” You sigh. You’ve finally gotten exactly what you wanted from him, and unfortunately, you’re still craving more. The scent of his cologne is making you dizzy, and the feeling of being pressed against him is intoxicating. You’re afraid you’ll never be able to pull away from him. 

“Don’t say my name like that. It’s dangerous.” 

“Dangerous for who?” 

“For you.” 

You’re glad that Chan is holding you and supporting you, because otherwise, you might’ve keeled over at his response. You can’t count the number of times that you’d thought about Chan while touching yourself, fingers playing with your clit while imagining that it was him instead. There’s a carnal desire that has been driving a large part of your interactions with Chan, and yet, in this moment, you don’t have those same urges. Right now, you want tender touches and soft kisses. You want him to keep you grounded, to hold you and to never release you. 

You want what you can’t have. 

“Should we keep standing here like this, or should we go back to my place?” 

You sigh deeply, and from that response, Chan knows what’s coming next. He’s gotten a taste of you, just enough to get addicted, and now... 

“I still have a date scheduled for next week.” You say, reaching up to thread your fingers through the hair near the nape of his neck. “And the week after that, too, I think.” Your heart practically splits and shatters at the look at Chan gives you, but you spill out the rest of your thoughts as quickly as you can. “I-I’m going to talk to my dad. Tomorrow. Just... wait for me, okay?” 

Chan has always waited for you, so it shouldn’t be a problem. 

+ + +

It’s definitely causing problems for Chan, still having to watch you on your stupid little dates. 

He shouldn’t be jealous, he knows that. You’ve already made it painfully obvious that you want him, and he’s still had a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that he can finally call you ‘his’ -- almost. 

You’d asked for time so that you could talk to your date, to tell him that you’d found someone and that you were done with the dates. Your dad hadn’t taken the news well, insisting that you needed to marry within your family’s tax bracket, that your marriage needed to help the family politically and fiscally. Chan didn’t know the rest of the details because you’d been too distraught to recount them, but he knew that you were still bound to go on your dates. He’s been understanding, but that doesn’t stop the ugly jealousy that rises in his throat whenever one of your dates leans in too close, gets too touchy. 

Tonight, as he’s done every other night, he’ll just look away. He’ll take a deep breath. He’ll tend to his patrons and avert his eyes, even though he’s dying to get another look at you. Then, after his shift, he’ll go back with you to your apartment and remind you that you love him, that you’ve always loved him, and that he’s always felt the exact same way about you. 

“How was your date?” Chan asks. It’s much later in the evening now. The two of you had gone back to your apartment. He’d tidied up your living room and kitchen while you changed out of your date outfit and taken off your makeup. Eventually, once both of you were ready, you’d both slumped on the couch. Chan was on you in an instant, touching you after another torturous evening of only being able to look at you. One of his hands is splayed against your head, his fingers pressing against the upward curve of your jaw while his palm cups the underside of it. He’s pressing wet, feverish kisses against the other side of your neck when he pauses to ask about your date. He doesn’t really care, though. 

“Terrible.” You sigh, leaning in against his hand to grant him better access to your neck. He responses positively to this, dragging his tongue against your skin. You groan lowly as a result, clutching his t-shirt a little tighter. “I thought about you the whole time.” 

“The whole time?” His tone is patronizing, but the words go straight to your cunt. “What were you thinking about?” 

You bite your lip, suppressing a sigh that bubbles up as Chan sucks a patch of skin between his lips. “Y-You. This.” 

“Yeah?” The feeling of his teeth forces a hiss through your lips, followed by his laughter. You would consider withholding the details of your thoughts from earlier if the desire to reenact them wasn’t so overpowering. 

“Don’t tease.” You huff, threading your fingers through the hair near the back of his neck so that you can hold him a little closer to you. “I-I was thinking about being rescued from my date. You, meeting me in the bathroom and fucking me against the mirror.” 

Chan has to still his movements so that he can fully process your words. The same thoughts now race through his mind, and he groans against your throat. He would be toast if he ever tried anything at the restaurant, but he could still indulge the thought – especially if those same thoughts were keeping you sane through your dates. He drags his hands down to your hips, squeezing and pulling you closer to him on the couch. 

You’re folded underneath him in a matter of sixty seconds. 

“F-Fuck, Chan--” He’s moving so fast that you don’t even realize he’d shimmied his way to between your thighs until he pauses, hands planted atop your thighs. Your heart is racing, and your lungs feel constricted, and as badly as you want this, there’s something terrifying about each and every new step that you take into this uncharted territory with him. You’ve been dreaming about having Chan inside of you, in every way possible, since you met him; your dreams never considered anything beyond that, though. “W-We-- hold on--” 

“This doesn’t have to be c-committal.” Chan rasps, eyes flickering between yours and your core, likely indicated by a wet patch on your shorts. “I-I just really want to taste you, this doesn’t h-have to be anything-- y-you said--” 

You want it so bad that you’re afraid to give yourself any additional time to overthink and ruin things. “P-Please, Chan, I want you.” He tugs your shorts down only enough for access to your cunt, flattening his tongue against the wet spot on your underwear. He rubs his hands up and down your thighs as he goes in for another taste, hot and wet and separated by such a thin layer. Your cries for more are weak but unnecessary; he hooks a finger around your underwear, pulling them aside for full access. His mouth is watering at the sight of you, and the moment that he gets his first real taste of you is one that he’ll cherish for eternity. 

Chan eats your pussy like a man starved. You know that you don’t imagine the ripping sound that you hear before your underwear ends up on the floor, but then Chan immediately crams his tongue inside of you and fucks you with it, and you accept his form of apology. He pulls away only to press himself flush against you, slurping and sucking against your slit and collecting all of the arousal that’s been pooling out of you. You swear that your grip on his hair can’t get any tighter until he kneads your clit with his tongue, and then you’re pulling even harder. 

“Chan, y-yes, fuck, p-please--” 

“K-Keep saying that--” He groans into your pussy, and you involuntarily roll your hips in response to the vibration of his words against your folds. “--my n-name.” 

You sigh his name again, untangling one of your hands from his arm to drape it across your face, eyes falling shut as you focus on the feelings of Chan’s tongue laving over your clit again and again. It feels even better than you had imagined it would, soft and slow and warm. Each involuntary clench of your thighs against his head is met with firm hands prying you back open, and the few times that you’ve dared to look down at Chan, you’ve been brought closer and closer to your orgasm. There are two reasons for the feverishness that’s overtaken your body: because you’re with Chan, and because you’ve never wanted anyone the way that you’ve wanted him. 

Your orgasm rips you out of your bliss. It’s like you’ve been struck by the lightning, the way that your body writhes and shudders while Chan sits back, his lazy grin covered in your slick, admiring his work as you fall apart. He tells himself that, if this ever happens again, he should record you; the sound of you moaning his name is what he hopes will play on an endless loop for him in his afterlife. 

His touches are soft as you come down from your high, brushing stray strands of hair out of your face. You grab a fistful of his shirt to pull him down to meet your lips, groaning softly when you taste yourself on his tongue. At the risk of doing too much too quickly, though, Chan pulls away from the kiss once he senses it’s about to escalate again. 

“W-We— s-sorry, I--” 

You’re, admittedly, disappointed, but you pull him back down into your arms, nuzzling your face into his neck this time. He relaxes in your hold, and the two of you lapse into a silence punctuated by the ticking of a nearby clock and each other’s heartbeats. Even in the comfortable silence, you still feel compelled to say your piece, though. 

“I really like you, Chan.” 

He only hums in response. He hopes that you can’t feel his heartrate increase as he lays against you. You wouldn’t break up with him right after he fucked you with his tongue, right? Of course, he knows that you wouldn’t, and yet... 

“We’re gonna be together soon, okay? I promise. I-I'll find a way to stop the stupid dates, and then we can be together. That’s all I wanted to say.” 

God, he hopes that you can find a way to keep your word. 

+ + +

Truthfully, Chan can’t figure out if he’s lost his mind or not. He still thinks that he might be stuck in his own fantasies, dreaming up a life with you that doesn’t really exist. 

Even as he helps you carry boxes from your apartment out to the moving van that you rented out, he’s not sure that this is reality. He pinches his fingers as he sets down one of the boxes in the truck, and still, he thinks that he’s imagined the pain. You plant a kiss on his cheek as you breeze past him and back into the building, and yet, he still can’t fathom that things had ended up as they have. 

You’d actually been able to keep your promise. He still can’t believe that. 

After months and months of dating in secret, you had managed to convince your dad that the family could survive without the nepotism marriage that he desperately desired. It had taken a few sabotaged dates where you’d spewed on and on about your sex with Chan, and countless conversations where you begged and pleaded with him to see things the way that you did, and somehow, Chan ended up victorious. You were someone that he only deserved in his dreams, and somehow, he had found a way to dream while he was awake. 

He has to take moments to ground himself, to let himself remember that you are real, that you do love him back. That’s how you find him on your trip back to the van, zoned out and staring at the ground. He doesn’t snap out of it even as you slam the doors of the van shut. Only when you hug him from behind, cheek pressed against the center of his back, hands sliding along his chest does he finally descend from the clouds. You inhale deeply against him, smiling involuntarily at the scent of him that you were expecting to fully engrain to memory soon enough. 

“Hey. Sorry.” 

“Daydreaming again?” 

Chan laughs, turning in your arms so that he can hold you, too. “Trying to convince myself that this is real.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be real, Chan?” 

“Because since I met you, I knew that I loved you. But that didn’t matter until recently.” When you open your mouth to reply, to scold him because he could’ve said something sooner, he shakes his head. “I always hoped that you’d be mine. I just didn’t think it was realistic.” 

“It was never us against the world. Just... us against my dad.” 

“Yeah, well, regardless of that,” Chan kisses you softly, pulling away only far enough to put distance between your lips as he speaks again. “I feel like I beat the world, and your dad, and won the most precious gift in the process.” 

“You won?” 

“I did. I won you.” 

“Do I need to remind you that I’m not a prize?” 

“You’re my prize.” 

[i-gotze-go]

I was watching old seventeen clips again and I just realized something

Hoshi was in the vocal unit

Boosoonseok was in one unit

Imagine if hoshi is still in vocal unit

Imagine hoshi being under woozi

Imagine if hoshi was vocal unit leader

Imagine woozi as performance team leader

IMAGINE

[bibinnieposts]

➸ SEVENTEEN : imagines + headcanons

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ all members ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ see linked post here!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ hyung line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ love languages 

♡ romantic gestures

♡ terms of endearment

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ maknae line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ romantic gestures

♡ terms of endearment

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 95 line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ how they love

♡ lost & confused

♡ you give me sixteen

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 96 line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ nothing here yet!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 97 line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ cozy and cared for

 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 98+99 line ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ nothing here yet!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ hiphop unit ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ love languages

♡ scenes of serenity

♡ little things about being in a relationship with them

♡ as college boyfriend

♡ how they interact with your sticky notes

♡ hand holding

♡ s/o with another member’s photocard

♡ you pampering them + they’re pretending to be asleep

♡ cute things bf! svt’s s/o does

♡ how will they react around their crush

♡ they’re too tall so you kiss their neck instead

♡ action they did that made your heart flutter while you two are just friends

♡ when you kiss them then run away

♡ how they know that they have truly fallen in love with you

♡ ‘this one’s for you’

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ performance unit ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ love languages

♡ little things about being in a relationship with them

♡ as college boyfriend

♡ how they interact with your sticky notes

♡ hand holding

♡ you pampering them + they’re pretending to be asleep

♡ how will they react around their crush

♡ they’re too tall so you kiss their neck instead

♡ action they did that made your heart flutter while you two are just friends

♡ when you kiss them then run away

♡ teaching you choreography

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ vocal unit ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ love languages 1 | 2

♡ the moment they realize they like you

♡ as romantic tropes

♡ saying i love you

♡ playing with their hair

♡ when you’re an innocent clingy

♡ cheering you up

♡ being comforted

♡ little things about being in a relationship with them

♡ how they interact with your sticky notes

♡ hand holding

♡ you pampering them + they’re pretending to be asleep

♡ how will they react around their crush

♡ they’re too tall so you kiss their neck instead

♡ action they did that made your heart flutter while you two are just friends

♡ when you kiss them then run away

♡ you catch them staring at you (because they have a crush on you) 

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ random units ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ forgetting errands [bsk, chs, lc]

♡ reaction to you constantly touching/playing with their hands [yjh, jww, bsk, chs]

♡ simple things you find cute [wjh, kmg, xmh]

♡ their habits when it comes to you  [csc, yjh, hjs]

♡ fluffy headcanons [yjh, jww, lsm, kmg]

♡ talk of shame [platonic! csc, ksy, jww]

♡ s/o praising them for unseen skills [csc, yjh, jww]

♡ oh its love moment [csc, yjh, jww, lsm, kmg]

♡ ways they say i love you [csc, yjh, ksy, jww, kmg]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ choi seungscheol ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ older brother! scoups ; reaction to you dating another member

♡ carrying your bags 1 | 2

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ yoon jeonghan ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ falling in love with a foreign idol/celebrity

♡ imagine jeonghan asking you to take photos of him...

♡ best friend seventeen a-z

♡ svt as your boyfriend 

♡ play fighting w jeonghan

♡ jeonghan having a crush on you

♡ boyfriend! jeonghan 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

♡ absentmindedly cuddling

♡ types of kisses

♡ dating with..

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ hong jisoo ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ best friend seventeen a-z

♡ e2l? acappella captains au

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ wen junhui ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ junhui muttering a joke under his breath...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ kwon sooyoung ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ 7:32pm / imagine hoshi apologizing profusely because...

♡ boyfriend! soonyoung

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ jeon wonwoo ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ getting tour first tattoo done with tattoo artist! wonwoo...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ lee jihoon ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ imagine jihoon placing a framed picture of you...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ lee seokmin ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ seokmin trying to huddle close to you...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ kim mingyu ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ boyfriend! mingyu

♡ bf! mingyu being mad at himself for accidentally...

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ xu minghao ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ nothing here yet!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ boo seungkwan ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ nothing here yet!!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ chwe hansol ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ 2:05pm

♡ vernon sending you lyrics...

♡ boyfriend! vernon 1 | 2

♡ dating vernon..

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ lee chan ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

♡ subconsciously looking for you

> ©bibinnieposts ~ 2022  

[aphrodites]

EX LOVER JAEHYUN FHDJDHSJFJJD WELL since jaehyun got taken can u do headcanons for jaemin pls LMAOOOO lov u 💘💕💖💞💘💖💗💞💝💘💘

YES HERE U GO ERIN djddj all yours :’)

SO ive wrote a lot for jaemin already

but he’s so cheeky like really cheeky

he loves when you sleepover because sometimes he has restless sleep right?

and even though he’s holding onto you the whole night, he wakes up then he sees your face the suddenly everything is okay for him

when he wakes up in the morning though, and you’re still not awake yet,

he has the smart idea of getting whipped cream and gently putting some on your face

then when you wake up, jaemins in the middle of putting whipped cream all over your face

so you pretend to be sleeping and wait for his face to get closer

so when he leans in you kiss him and get whipped cream all over his face too

then you start chasing him waking up the other dreamies

after that eventually yall have a food fight and... mark has a heart attack at the mess

and jaemins just like :’) it wasnt us

then you two just slip away from the mess and clean up

but for the rest of the day you guys spend time avoiding the dorm and out and about

you guys go to the park and just talk about random things

but really jaemin isn’t listening because he realizes just how much he loves you

he has these moments at least once a day

so he’s just staring at you lovingly, pretending to listen

but just really admiring you and just wow :’( jaemin is a boyfriend

[bibinnieposts]

(yes i know this is smut but i am very much in love with this fic) i love this so much!! it highlighted so much of the reader and jun’s relationship and im just literally in love with it, esp with how soft they interacted with each other during and after sex <33

match of the season

=͟͟͞➳❥ member  |  college student radio host!junhui x fem student!reader

=͟͟͞➳❥ genre  |  smut, fluff, humor

=͟͟͞➳❥ word count  |  ~7,300

=͟͟͞➳❥ warnings  |  virgin!jun, shy clueless jun, fr that man does not know a single thing but it's endearing in a silly way, top!reader bot!jun (but no real dom/sub dynamics, more like reader leads until jun figures out how to take over), unprotected sex, jun big cock agenda, VOICE KINK (listen. you all knew it was coming), so much dirty talk, lots of consent bc it is very sexy, riding, little bit of dry humping?, mentions of an iud/birth control, jun is implied taller than reader (maybe size kink but only if you take it that way), jeonghan cameo and he's a menace, lots of fluff at the end (but also kinda throughout), please lmk if i missed any warnings!

=͟͟͞➳❥ notes  |  this is a nsfw sequel to a sfw fic on my main writing blog @junkissed called sounds of the season, which is part of my series of winter-themed fics! if you haven't already, i would highly recommend reading that before reading this, since the stories are pretty closely connected. thanks to @onlymingyus for reading over this for me <3 i hope you all enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the first part. also like i said in part 1 i have no idea how radio works so if it doesn't make sense just roll with it lmao

you’re just putting the last finishing touches on your final paper when your phone buzzes. you glance down, grinning when you see junhui’s name on the screen.

unable to hide the butterflies in your stomach, you press a button to accept the call. “hi, junnie.”

“oh! hi,” his voice plays through your speaker with a giggle. “hey, i like that. ‘junnie’. do you want a nickname? but your name is so pretty, i don’t wanna change it–”

“whatever you want is fine,” you say, trying to hold back a smile. god, he’s cute.

“okay. i’ll think about it. oh, wait, yeah!” he says suddenly, as if he’s just remembered why he’s calling. “jeonghan left town early this week so it’s just me in the studio today, and it’s our last show of the semester. so anyway, do you wanna come over?” he stops, stumbling over his words. “well, not like, come over come over, i mean, we can just hang out, i–”

“give me half an hour,” you laugh, endeared by his eagerness.

“yay!” he cheers, and you shake your head with a smile.

half an hour later, a text pops up on jun’s phone, alerting him that you’re waiting outside the building. he leaps out of his chair, an excited grin on his face as he flings open the door and dashes downstairs to let you in.

he’s out of breath by the time he reaches the communications lab door, leaning on the push bar to let you in. “sorry, forgot they locked it already,” he pants.

“it’s fine,” you giggle. “so… everyone else is gone?”

he nods. “yeah, mr. choi said as long as i don’t mess with anything he’ll let me close by myself, so they all left early for break.”

you smile and hold out your hand for him to take, and he beams, hastily grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.

he leads you up the stairs to the sound booth, squeezing your hand the whole way.

it’s your second time being in the school’s recording studio, but the feeling is still new and exciting. you definitely understand now what jun meant when he said being around all the equipment is a lot of fun.

once inside, he shuts the heavy door with a click, locking the door and flipping on the “on air” light. not that anyone could get in anyway, but it’s a habit he doesn’t want to accidentally get out of before he comes back next semester.

he slides in front of the computer for a second, queueing another song so he has more time to grab what he’s designated as “your chair”; the comfiest one in the studio, according to him.

he pulls it over next to his chair and pats the cushion for you to sit. you giggle and plop down on the seat, scooching closer to him once he’s sat in his own chair.

he raises his eyebrows at you with a grin, then clears his throat and moves closer to the microphone as the song ends to do his job.

ever since you accidentally admitted to him that you like the way his voice sounds, he’s teased you about it—or at least, attempted to tease you about it. he's too sweet for his own good, so even when he tries to poke fun at you it comes out like a compliment.

he presses the red button and begins to talk. “that was one of the classics, ‘a holly jolly christmas’ by burl ives. coming up next, another favorite, ‘the christmas song’ by michael bublé, and more great songs on your favorite program: 111.7fm’s sounds of the season.”

he lets go of the button and sits back in his chair, spinning it around to face you as the slow music starts softly playing. “hi,” he says shyly. “did you like that?”

you smile. it’s a little bit of an odd question, but you’ve started to understand his awkwardness; he just needs a little encouragement. “i always like it. you’re really good at this.”

“i like it a lot,” he grins back, bouncing his head in excitement. “can i kiss you now?”

you laugh at his enthusiasm but nod, leaning forward to press your lips to his. he sighs into your mouth, his hands falling naturally to your waist. for supposedly not going out much, jun is really, really good at kissing, you’ve quickly learned over the last few days. how he got so good at it, you may never know, but the feeling of him pressed against you is too perfect to waste time questioning why.

despite being surrounded by the cold, metal recording equipment, the sound of michael bublé’s crooning voice and the gentle warmth of junhui’s lips makes the studio feel like the coziest place on earth.

his hands tug at your waist and you slide easily out of your chair and onto his lap, sitting sideways across his legs, never breaking the kiss.

he pulls away for a second, his cheeks dusted with pink. “let me… put the playlist on,” he says, his voice a little breathier than usual. 

you hum in confusion, attention still focused on the curve of his lips and the little noises he makes when he’s kissing you. “what playlist?”

he laughs. “for the show. so we can keep doing… this, and not have to worry.”

“wait, so you mean, not all of it is live?”

he shakes his head. “almost all of it is, but there’s a backup playlist in case we get busy and can’t sit around pressing buttons for the whole hour. i used it a couple weeks ago when i had to finish my chem paper.”

he spins the chair around, facing you both in front of the computer screen and tapping a few buttons on the keyboard. he turns a dial on the soundboard and the background music in the studio gets lower, so quiet you need to strain to hear it.

he hums, and your attention turns away from the machinery and back to his eager smile.

“can i kiss you again?” he asks softly.

you giggle and put your hands around his neck. “you don’t have to ask every time.”

so he’s pushing his lips on yours again, kissing you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world.

and that’s when you feel it. the butterflies deep in your stomach that make you want to do things no person should be doing in a school building.

he pulls away for a second to catch his breath. “you’re so pretty,” he says dreamily, and you hate the way it immediately sends shivers down your spine, landing directly at your core. 

you hold back a whimper and shift the way you’re sitting, moving so each leg is on either side of his legs, straddling his lap.

he pushes his mouth against yours, hands gently kneading your hips. your fingers dance beneath the bottom of his shirt, fingernails gliding over the warm, soft skin of his stomach and feeling his abs contract at your touch.

“wait,” he whimpers, and you pull back immediately, taking your hands off of him and putting them on your thighs.

“do you want me to stop?” you ask quietly. shit, you hope you haven’t completely ruined this by going too fast.

“no!” he nearly shouts, looking panicked, then clears his throat. “no,” he repeats. “i don’t want you to stop. i’m, just…” he trails off, avoiding your gaze.

“you can tell me, junnie,” you say gingerly, wanting him to be comfortable.

“i know,” he whines. “i’m… embarrassed,” he says, voice small.

“i’m not going to laugh at you,” you say softly.

“i’m not– i haven’t–” he freezes. you give him a small smile that you hope looks encouraging, and it must be, because he sighs and starts again. “i’m a… virgin,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“oh! that’s all?” you ask, taking his hand and threading your fingers in between his. he looks up at you, trying (and failing) to hide the surprise in his expression. “you don’t need to be embarrassed. everybody has a first time.”

you pause, not wanting to force him into doing this if he really isn’t ready. you don’t care, you have plenty of ways of getting yourself off if he wants to wait longer. because you are willing to wait. “we don’t have to now, junnie,” you say. “i’ll wait as long as you want me to.”

“i want to now,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “i just… don’t know what to do,” he mumbles.

“that’s fine,” you whisper, bringing your other hand up to his face and kissing his cheek tenderly. “we’ll go slow, and you tell me what you want.”

he hesitates, then tentatively places his hands on your waist, still holding your hands. “i want to kiss you again.”

you smile. “i can do that.”

and you lean back in, pressing your lips to his. gently at first, until he grips your waist a little harder and starts kissing you a little deeper. you let him get used to it, allowing him to set the pace he wants.

testing the waters, you push down on his lap a little, starting to grind lightly on his crotch. he whimpers and tugs at your hips to help you, beginning to fall into a steady rhythm. 

you stay like this for a while, leisurely making out on his lap, for longer than you normally would with someone else. but this isn’t someone else, this is junhui, and you’re more than content going as slow as he wants. plus, all this is just making you wetter and wetter as time goes on, riling you up the more you think about what’s to come later.

you can feel him getting harder underneath you, and you moan into him, eagerly but patiently waiting for him. his hands climb up your back, hooking around your shoulders and pulling you almost completely flush with his chest.

he pulls away after a minute, lips red and puffy from the contact and breathing hard. “don’t– you need a c-condom, when… so you, don’t get pregnant?” he stutters out, struggling to get the words out and to stop from bucking his hips against you.

“i have an iud, it’s alright,” you say, also panting for breath.

“okay.” he exhales and leans back, letting go of your hips.

you look at him in confusion at his sudden pause. “why…?”

he stares at you. “uh, don’t you have to go put it in? or did you do that before you got here?”

you snort. “my iud? no, it’s in all the time. it doesn’t come out.” 

“oh,” he says, his cheeks flushing pink. “sorry, i didn’t know–”

“it’s okay, junnie. don’t apologize,” you say, trying your hardest to hold back a laugh. poor sweet, oblivious junhui. you’re not laughing at him, you’re laughing at how adorably clueless he is. you find yourself hoping you might be the one to help him understand these things, if he wants you to.

“have you… before?” he asks shyly, avoiding your eyes again.

you pause, knowing he’s already embarrassed and trying to answer him as gently as possible. “yes,” you say finally, and his face droops a little at your response. “but that doesn’t mean anything. it’s my first time with you, too, so we’re learning about each other. that’s all it is. so just… don’t think about it, okay? the only thing i’m thinking about right now is you.”

his cheeks are a deep shade of pink, but he nods. you take his hands carefully and put them at the hem of your shirt, guiding him to pull it up and over your head. you unclasp your bra and turn around to toss it over to your chair.

“now your turn,” you say gently, looking up at his eyes, which are still focused on your boobs.

“ju-un,” you murmur in a sing-song voice, and his eyes snap back to your face. “do you want to keep going?” 

“yeah,” he chokes out. “i mean– yes. yes, please.”

you coo at his manners, moving off of his lap to wiggle your pants down your legs. his eyes are completely transfixed on your body, admiring every inch of you that he can see.

“do you want to now?” you ask, and he nods rapidly. he stands up and throws his shirt off, and his pants are quick to follow until he’s sitting back in his chair in only his boxers. the lines of his stomach seem even more defined in the low light of the studio, and you so desperately want to run your hands up and down his torso, and feel every inch of him, but– one thing at a time.

you slide your panties off and go back to your position straddling his lap. “is this okay?” you ask again.

“mhm,” he hums lowly, and you feel it deep in your abdomen, walls clenching around nothing at the sound.

his eyes dart around your face, and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, tucking it gently behind his ear. “are you ready?” you ask softly.

his eyes widen, and he springs into action, his hands flying to your waist again. “oh! okay, yes, yes, um…”

you try not to giggle at his enthusiasm. you trail your hand carefully down to the waistband of his shorts, slipping the tip of your finger inside the elastic. “you have to take this off, junnie,” you whisper.

“mm, okay,” he whines, and you lift up a little so he can slide them down without standing up. he kicks them off and you sit back down, looking down to see what you’re working with. now that he’s fully hard, you can see that he’s… big, much bigger than you expected from a man this shy.

but who are you to judge, so you adjust on his lap, sitting up to reach below you and take his cock in your hand, positioning it at your entrance. he whimpers at the contact as you slowly drag his tip through your folds, spreading your wetness around. 

“you just sit here and let me do all the work, baby, okay?” you hum, gripping his shoulder with your other hand. “let me make you feel good, hm?”

he lets out a garbled noise in response, barely comprehending your words at how engrossed he is with the way you’re holding his cock so delicately, waiting to push it inside and finally feel you.

“junnie, need you to use your words, honey,” you say gently, moving the hand on his shoulder to lightly cup his jaw, lifting his chin so his gaze lands on your face. “you have to tell me if you don’t like something or you wanna do something different, okay?

“i wanna do you,” he says, staring blankly into your eyes, and that’s when you know he’s already gone.

you giggle. “i know, baby. you’re going to. but you have to talk to me.”

“‘cause you like my voice.”

you resist the urge to cringe, still embarrassed that that’s the thing he remembers about you. “yes, i do, but no, that's not why. you need to tell me if you want to stop, at any time, and we’ll stop, okay?”

hearing your tone get serious, he seems to snap out of it a little. “okay,” he whimpers. “can i…?”

he trails off, and you shake your head. you know he’s shy, but you can’t let him off the hook every single time, or else he’ll never learn. “can you what, honey? use your words.”

by now the tips of his ears have turned red, and he’s beginning to lose control, his hips starting to grind against you involuntarily. “can i… fuck you?” he rasps.

“of course you can,” you coo, slipping your hand behind his neck and kissing him gently. “good job, baby.”

he mewls at the praise, and you finally start to sink down on his cock. it burns at first with how girthy he is, but soon the stretch feels good, and you have to fight to keep yourself upright on his lap, soft whimpers escaping your lips.

he groans, throwing his head back against the back of his chair, his grip on your waist tightening. it takes some time, but you finally sit all the way down on his lap, legs splayed on either side of his hips.

immediately he thrusts up into you hard, and you yelp, pushing on his shoulders to get him to stop. “wait!” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut in pain. “just… wait a second first.”

“s-sorry,” he whines, his adam’s apple bobbing with each labored breath.

“s’okay,” you breathe, beginning to adjust to the feeling of his thick cock throbbing inside you. “you’re… big, gotta– gotta give me a second, oh my god.”

he hums absently, clearly pleased with your response, but he manages to stop moving for a little bit.

you sit still on top of him, your muscles gradually beginning to relax as you get used to the feeling.

he sighs, his hands sliding up your back, caressing your skin beneath his fingertips.  “feels so good, just wanna… fuck, just wanna be inside you forever.”

you would be surprised at the sudden lewdness of his words, if you weren’t so focused on the way the tone of his voice has abruptly dropped an octave. he’s starting to get more comfortable, you can tell, and you won’t lie: it’s dangerous for you.

“can– are you okay now?” he asks, eyes focused back on your face again.

“mhm,” you manage, letting out a short exhale. you start to wind your hips in circles, bouncing slowly on his lap as his hands roam your body, touching every inch of you as if he’s trying to memorize every last curve.

it’s a gentle pace; although much too slow for you, you’re hoping it’s just right for junhui to start out with. you’re not used to being on top, so you’re doing your best to keep up, but your thigh is starting to cramp from the position you’ve been sitting in and having to do the work yourself.

he must notice your discomfort, because his hands fall back down to their place at your waist, kneading your skin as he lifts his hips against you in rhythm.

“can i take over?” he mumbles, voice breathy. “please, let me, please.”

“yes, please,” you sigh, your head falling forward to rest on his chest. his skin is burning hot beneath your cheek, and you exhale, closing your eyes from exhaustion.

as soon as you relax and stop moving your hips, his own start moving immediately, your surprised cry punctuated by hard thrusts up into you, over and over again.

you’re still trying to figure out where the hell he got all this stamina from when he starts murmuring in your ear, sweet, dirty whispers as he pounds into you from below.

“you’re so… beautiful, oh my god,” he says in the low voice you’re still struggling to get used to hearing come out of his mouth. “you’re so good, wanna have you like this forever, please–”

“jun, ke–keep talking, please,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut in pleasure.

“you like my voice, but you sound so pretty right now,” he groans. “you should hear yourself. wanna hear you cry and make you feel so good, wanna hear you– god, wanna fuck you like this all day and never stop.”

you let out a moan, his words going straight through you. the rumble in his chest as he speaks reverberates against your head. 

the combination of his brutal pace along with the innocently filthy words from his mouth brings you right up to the edge, and you feel the knot in your abdomen tightening.

you shift a little, moving up so you can wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

his hips falter for half a second at the contact, but he recovers quickly, wrapping his long arms around you and pressing you flush against his chest, jerking you up and down on his cock with fervor.

“you’re so pretty, you’re so beautiful, you’re so perfect,” he babbles, somehow remembering to keep talking you through everything. “love you so much– fuck, thank you, you’re so amazing, you’re so–”

you almost miss the four-letter word that slips out in between his praises, but it rings through your ears, nestling itself in your heart. you decide to ignore it for now, too focused on chasing your rapidly approaching high, but you promise yourself you’ll talk to him after this is all over and figure out what this is between you two.

you whine, breath catching in your throat as your own words tumble out of you in a constant stream. “keep going, jun, please– keep going, so close, please, junnie please, need you–”

“are you gonna cum? you’re so perfect, please cum for me, please, baby, lemme hear you.”

“fuck, yes!” and with that you’re catapulting over the edge with a sob, clenching around his cock as your orgasm slams into you.

he keeps thrusting into you, not once stuttering as he fucks you through your high, content to keep going and going and going until–

“jun,” you call out weakly, head swirling as you try to sit up. “jun. jun, you can s-slow down.”

his hips begin to stop, slowing down until he’s gently rocking you back and forth on his lap. “did you cum already?” he asks in surprise. like a dork.

you choke out a laugh, head lolling as your arms loosen around his neck. “yeah. yeah, i did.”

“oh.”

if you weren’t so exhausted already, you would burst out laughing. “you’ll figure it out,” you wheeze, hoping it sounds reassuring. 

he starts to move his arms to let go of you, still wrapped around your torso, but you whine and he freezes.

“just… stay here first,” you say, letting your eyes fall shut for a second.

“why?”

you sigh. “because it’s nice.”

“oh,” he says again. he settles back into the chair, holding you on his lap, arms wrapped around you, just sitting quietly.

after a few more seconds of peace you pull yourself upright, pushing your hands against his chest.

“ …what now?” he asks quietly, eyes finding your face.

“you didn’t cum yet, right?” you say. he hums out a no. “then we keep going.”

he yelps in surprise when you start to lift yourself off his lap, his still-hard cock slipping out of you, now soaked in your juices. “don’t we have to wait for you?”

you fight the urge to slap your hand over your forehead. “i can cum more than once, honey. we don’t need to wait,” you say with the straightest face you can muster.

he nods, taking in this clearly unheard of information.

“do you want me to suck you off?” you ask, bringing his attention back to you.

“wh-what?” he stutters, face turning red, clearly not expecting it.

you take in a deep breath. “where do you want to finish?” you try instead, thinking it might help him decide.

“where will you let me?” he replies, wide eyes searching yours as if it’s a trick question designed to make him fail and you’re hiding the answer somewhere in your tender gaze.

“wherever you want, junnie.”

he pauses, like he’s making sure you aren’t lying to him. “can–” he clears his throat and starts again, more sure of himself. “i have an, um… idea.”

“mhm,” you breathe, watching him expectantly.

“do you think i could, maybe… stand up? and, have– you, over the…” he trails off, gesturing to the empty table beside you and hoping you’ll understand what he’s trying to say.

“you want to bend me over and fuck me on the table?” you translate for him, blinking.

instantly his cheeks flare, the shyness returning. “well, i… i. no, um, uh–”

“you can say yes, junnie. it’s hot.”

“you think so?” he squeaks in shock.

you giggle. “yes. you can do whatever you want to, just ask me first.”

his face breaks out into a wide grin. “okay. will you please, um, follow me?” he asks, holding out his arm like a waiter leading you to a table at a restaurant. if he wasn’t so damn cute you definitely would’ve smacked him by now.

you finally move off of his lap and step away, giving him room to move from his chair. you’d forgotten how big he is until he stands up, towering over you, and it sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. he turns and starts walking away, expecting you to follow him.

you laugh and grab his arm, pulling him back. when he looks at you in curiosity, you take his large hands and place them on your waist, motioning for him to guide you.

his mouth falls into an ‘o’ and he follows your lead, pushing you by your hips over to the table.

he stands behind you, caging you in against the table with his tall frame but otherwise not doing anything. you glance over your shoulder at him, nodding in approval.

his hands leave your waist and ever so gently press on your lower back to tilt you over. you comply, letting him move you how he wants.

“is that good?” he asks softly.

“it’s great,” you say, wiggling your ass playfully. “good job asking.”

he hums, so low it’s more like a growl, and it sends another shiver down your spine. at this angle you can feel his dick pressed against your ass, hard and throbbing.

he grinds against you, dragging his cock up and down your hole. you know he’s not doing it intentionally to tease you—you’re not even sure if he’s capable of that—but it does plenty to rile you up.

“junnie, please?” you gasp out, writhing your hips in search of friction, anything. his grip tightens on you, stilling your movements.

“what do i do?” he whispers.

“put it in,” you whisper back, unable to stop the giggle that slips out. he whines in annoyance, so you stop, giving him real advice this time. “just go slow. you can do it, baby.”

you angle your ass up, hoping to give him better access to your dripping hole. he’s already been inside you once, so surely he can find it again… right?

your expectations are clearly too high, because suddenly you feel his tip pressing in between your ass cheeks, and he’s—

you yelp, and he freezes, his hands flying off of you. you reach behind and stick your index finger into your pussy, using the rest of your fingers to spread your folds apart so he can see. “this one, baby.” at least he was going slow, like you said.

“oh! sorry, i’m so sorry,” he mumbles, and even without looking you already know he’s redder than a tomato. 

“jun. don’t apologize. it’s okay,” you say softly. you move your hand away from your pussy and reach it out to him, craning your neck to see him. you wave your fingers at him, and he takes your hand, automatically twining his fingers with yours. it makes you smile. “just go for it, honey.”

“okay,” he breathes, and he starts slowly pushing into you again (the right one this time).

tiny gasps fall from your lips as you feel him fill you up again, stuffing you with his cock, inch by careful inch. once he bottoms out you exhale, letting out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

when you don’t feel any more movement, you realize he’s stopped, waiting. you almost whine at how cute and considerate he is, but instead you just squeeze his hand. “baby, you can move.”

“okay,” he says again, and pulls out carefully before slowly pushing back in.

you moan as he starts to increase his pace, rapidly pumping into you as his hips smack against your ass. you arch your back a little, trying to angle him in deeper. each powerful thrust pushes you against the table, your hip bones hitting the edge in a way that’ll definitely leave bruises. but you can’t bring yourself to care when junhui’s thick cock is thrusting into you like his life depends on it. 

still holding onto his hand, you slip your other hand down to run your fingers over your clit, rubbing small circles. you can feel the pressure in your abdomen growing, and—

“fuck, you’re so tight,” jun groans, voice thick with need, and he begins pushing into you even harder than before, something you didn’t even think could be possible. you whine and move your hand from your clit back to the edge of the table to stop yourself from ramming into it.

he notices your elbow bent at an awkward angle to protect yourself, so he lets go of your hand and snakes around your stomach to pull you back so you’re standing upright, both his arms wrapped securely around your body. “feels so good… god, wish i had done this sooner, you’re so amazing, so perfect, for me.”

you whimper at his words, unintentionally clenching around him. “jun,” you cry out softly.

“fuck, baby, say my name again– please, like that, baby, please say it, again,” he begs you, fingers pressing into your skin that you’re sure will leave you covered in little oval-shaped bruises by the time he’s done.

“jun! please, i’m so close, jun,” you moan, repeating his name over and over again like a mantra, getting closer and closer to your release with each syllable.

“i’m cl-close too, baby, please… you’re so good, fuck! you’re so good.”

the constant praise is almost too much, and with one more sharp thrust you’re coming undone on his cock for the second time. your legs wobble as you struggle to stay standing, your hands coming up to hang on to junhui’s strong arms wrapped around you for support.

he whines loudly, and you know he must be getting close, too. “can i– can i cum on your back?” he pants out, still gripping you tightly. as much as he really, really wants to cum inside you, he figures it might be messier than cumming on you. and besides, he doesn’t want to get too greedy; it is only his first, after all.

“yes! yes please, yes, jun,” you manage, still wading through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

a little harder than he intends, he’s shoving you roughly down onto the table again, pulling his dick out of you to jerk himself over you.

“junnie, please,” you whimper out weakly, and the sweet sounding words on your lips have him choking back a sob as he cums, thick spurts of white painting your lower back.

he keeps moving his hand on his cock until he’s completely finished, panting heavily. by the time he’s done you’re both sticky with sweat, breathing like you’ve just run a marathon.

you let out a long sigh, feeling exhausted but satisfied. silence settles over the studio, the music long stopped, but you can’t tell if it’s a good silence or a bad silence.

you realize you’d closed your eyes while jun was cumming, and when you don’t feel his touch anymore, you slowly pry them open again, wondering where he went. 

you prop your head up in your hands and look behind you to see jun hastily pulling on his boxers and jeans. 

your jaw drops in horror. you’d thought, with his inexperience, he wouldn’t be like all the other guys who fuck and then take off, but apparently, you thought wrong.

“jun!”

his head whips around as he pulls his zipper up, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“are you seriously gonna just leave?”

his mouth falls open. “no! of course not! i was just putting my pants back on.”

your expression softens. “oh,” you say quietly, face flushing at having jumped to conclusions so quickly. “sorry.”

“why would i wanna leave after this?” he frowns, looking genuinely appalled at the mere idea that someone might do that. “you’re still here.”

“i thought, since–” you start, then pause. discussion for another time. “nevermind, it’s not important. but why were you putting your pants on like you were gonna leave?”

you’re the one feeling embarrassed, but it’s junhui that turns red and starts stuttering. “well, i– um, i didn’t want you to… see…”

you laugh and put your head back in your arms. when you don’t say anything, he calls out your name nervously, and you look back over at him.

“junnie, your dick was just in me. twice. i don’t care what it looks like.”

“okay,” he says shyly, but his fingers still fumble with the button of his jeans.

you sigh once he finishes adjusting his pants. whatever makes him more comfortable, you suppose. “jun, can you… help me clean up now, please?” you ask timidly.

he glances over at you, looking like he’s about to ask why you need help, but then he sees you still bent awkwardly over the table and his cum still covering your back, and his eyes widen. “oh! shit, yeah– yes, i’m so sorry, i will–” he stammers, almost tripping over his backpack in his hurry to go get a tissue from the box by the door.

you sigh, more exhausted than mad, knowing you can’t really fault him. he comes back over a second later, gripping a wadded-up handful of tissues.

he drops them on your back and begins wiping at your skin, gingerly cleaning you off. when he’s satisfied with his work, he balls up the tissues and tosses them into the small can by the door.

“oh!” he says, realizing. “i think we have antibacterial wipes in here too, do you want me to use one of those? er, wait, i don’t know if they’re safe for skin…”

with your back (mostly) clean again, you stand up, wincing at the ache in your hips. “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. i’ll shower when i get home.”

you limp over to your chair, picking up your clothes and sitting down to start getting dressed again.

when jun finishes pulling his shirt over his head and looks over at you he gasps, seeing the bruises across your hips and tummy. “holy shit! did i do that?” he asks, looking horrified, and you look down to check.

“oh. yeah, that and the table,” you shrug, hooking your bra behind your back.

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice quivering, and he genuinely looks like he’s about to cry until you convince him you’re alright and he didn’t do anything wrong.

“it’s not supposed to hurt, though, i thought,” he frowns. “i don’t want to hurt you. i lo– um, like you,” he says, “why would i want to hurt you?” he catches himself quickly, but you heard what he started to say. you decide now isn’t the best moment for you to bring it up, so you leave it alone.

“sometimes people like it when it hurts. sometimes people like it not to hurt. everybody’s different,” you tell him instead.

he nods, thinking. “i… liked this,” he says finally.

you smile, finishing putting the last of your clothes back on. “good, i’m glad. you’re supposed to enjoy it.”

“did… you like it?” he asks tentatively.

“yes, i did like it,” you giggle, and he beams, clearly proud of himself. and he should be. obviously it wasn’t the most perfect of your life, but when is it ever? it was close enough to perfect that it might as well be.

“you live on campus, right? so i don’t need to walk you to your car?” he asks, grabbing his jacket that somehow fell on the floor and tossing it onto his chair as he starts to shut everything down in the studio.

you sigh. damn, you’d forgot about this part. sure, a couple hours ago you could walk just fine to the communications building on the complete opposite side of campus, but you hadn’t planned on getting railed within an inch of your life so you hadn’t exactly thought to bring your car. “yeah, but i… it’s on the south end, and i probably won’t be able to walk very far,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. “i’ll take the shuttle.”

he frowns. “i’m not gonna let you take the bus. i can give you a ride.”

“you don’t need to, jun.”

“yes, i do,” he says assertively, and it startles you enough to meet his eyes. you haven’t ever heard his voice that firm, and when you look up his expression is as equally determined as his tone. not that you’d ever admit it to him, but it is kind of… hot.

you decide not to argue with him, knowing you won’t be able to change his mind anyway. you nod an ‘okay’, and his face instantly brightens to the awkward, nerdy jun you’re used to, beaming like he did when you first agreed to another date, back in the café what feels like ages ago.

“are you doing anything tonight?” you ask, watching him shut down the equipment and turn all the knobs and dials to an off position.

“no. i mean, i was gonna catch up on my show, but then, i didn’t expect for… this, to happen, so…” he shrugs. “i don’t know.”

“do you wanna come over? i… i mean, not to do anything. just… wanna be with you.” your voice comes out smaller than you intend it to, but jun still hears you loud and clear.

“yeah,” he grins. “yeah, that would be really cool.”

he pauses, looking like he wants to ask you something but not sure if he should. “can i give you a hug?” he says finally.

you smile. only junhui would ask for something as small and sweet as a hug after having sex. “yes, please.”

he crosses the room in two strides, barely giving you time to process before he’s squeezing you in his arms. you sigh and automatically melt into his arms, inhaling the perfumey scent of his cologne lingering on his wrinkled clothes.

it feels… good, being cared about.

he finishes shutting everything down quickly and grabs his things, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as he flips off the lights and closes the door behind you, making sure it’s locked before heading down the stairs.

you hate the way your legs tremble going down the steps, cursing him for being so good at his first time, because who the hell is that good their first time? already at the bottom of the stairs, jun looks back to see where you are and why you aren’t beside him, and, seeing you gripping onto the side railing for support, he dashes back up the steps two at a time to grab your arm and help you.

“you weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t walk,” he giggles, holding the door open for you, and oh my god you want to hit him. “does that always happen? i thought people always just made that up to sound cool.”

“yes, i wasn’t kidding, and no, it doesn’t always,” you mutter, face heating in embarrassment. “depends on the person and how rough it is.”

his smile widens, the implied meaning of your words sinking in. “so what you’re saying is, my di–”

“junnie, if you finish that sentence, i swear to god i will never have sex with you ever again.”

he giggles, but he shuts his mouth, helping you the rest of the way to his car in silence. this time you know for sure, it’s a good silence.

his car is nicer than you’d expect a man’s car to be: clean and fairly organized, and there’s no half-eaten fast food in the backseat. he swings open the door for you and tries to help you sit down, but you swat his hand away.

he jogs around to the driver side door and slides into the seat, slamming it shut behind him. he buckles up, then grabs a candy cane from the pile in the cupholder and holds it out to you. “candy cane?”

“i’m… good,” you laugh, forcing yourself not to make a joke about having better things to suck on. why does he even have those in his car?

the ride to your apartment complex is pleasant. as expected from the radio man himself, as soon as the key is in the ignition, he turns the radio on, humming along to every song. you find yourself spending most of the drive staring at him, studying the tiny features in his cheeks when he smiles and the way his adam’s apple bobs when he hums.

after a shower, clean pajamas, and a raid of your refrigerator for snacks and something to drink, you’re snuggled up on the couch with jun, catching up on the show he wanted to watch. it’s the middle of some random season and you have no idea what’s going on, but you don’t care. just being here with him is more than enough for you, and you’re glad he’s enjoying being here, too.

“do you have a voice kink?” he asks suddenly at one of the commercials.

you nearly choke on your gatorade. “i– well, i mean… i didn’t used to, but…” you sputter out, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “where did you even hear that?”

“jeonghan said you might.”

you scoff. you still haven’t met junhui’s broadcasting partner yet, but you already have some choice words in mind for him when you do finally get to have the pleasure of meeting him. “well, tell him to keep his thoughts to himself,” you say, taking another smaller sip and avoiding his grin.

“so is that a yes?”

you roll your eyes and ignore him, which might as well be a yes, but you choose not to admit it. you know you definitely need to talk to him about… everything, but he seems so happy right now, you don’t want to risk ruining the evening.

but luckily for you, he brings it up himself at the next commercial break.

“how long do i have to wait until i can ask you to be my girlfriend?” he says, muting the tv and looking over at you.

you laugh. “were we not… already?” you ask. “we’ve been on, like, four dates. usually that part happens before you have sex.”

he looks a little disappointed, for some reason. not exactly the reaction you’d expect when someone tells you they want to keep seeing you. “oh. um, well…” he starts, scratching at the back of his neck. “i planned it all out, i was gonna do this big thing and ask you. i thought i was supposed to. i meant to do it earlier, but…” he trails off, cheeks turning pink.

your expression softens. “you… can ask me now,” you say, putting your hand on his thigh.

“okay.” he clears his throat, sitting up straighter on the couch. “will you be my girlfriend?”

you try not to laugh at how serious he is, knowing he’s really, really trying. “yes, of course,” you reply, trying to match his seriousness.

“is that okay? that i didn’t do it right?” he asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of the blanket covering your laps.

you smile and bring your hand up to his cheek, pulling him towards you to give him a quick kiss. “you did it perfect, junnie.”

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[chaelinn01]

[17’S] 세 번의 도전 끝에 일궈 낸 더반의 기적, 지구촌 최고의 축제 2018 평창동계올림픽이 하루 앞으로 성큼 다가왔습니다. 앞으로 진행될 2018 평창동계올림픽 및 동계패럴림픽대회의 성공적인 개최와 출전 선수들의 선전을 기원합니다🙏 #평창동계올림픽_동계패럴림픽#PyeongChang2018 #SEVENTEEN #minghao #the8 #seokmin #dk #dino #chan #jeonghan #scoups #seungcheol #mingyu #wonwoo #vernon #seungkwan #joshua #Jisoo #woozi #jihoon #hoshi #soonyoung #jun #performanceteam #performanceunit #vocalteam #hiphopteam #kpop

[nicozk]

[bibinnieposts]

aaaa junhui is so cute <33

sounds of the season

day four of junkissed’s svt season’s greetings event

=͟͟͞➳❥ member | college student radio host!junhui x gn college student!reader

=͟͟͞➳❥ genre | fluff

=͟͟͞➳❥ word count | ~1,700

=͟͟͞➳❥ synopsis | when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain?

=͟͟͞➳❥ warnings | jun is so awkward but we love him, this is pretty dialogue-heavy sorry

=͟͟͞➳❥ notes | lowercase intended. also i know nothing about how radio works so if i’m wrong just ignore it lol

this is part of @svthub's snowventeen winter collab! be sure to check out the collab masterlist here and support our talented writers! this collab contains both sfw and nsfw fics; minors dni with nsfw fics.

edit 12/27: i have added a part 2 on my nsfw blog @1-800-hwahui! it is smut so minors dni. you can read it here!

one reblog = one holiday song on the radio

“that’s the end of today’s program, everyone, thanks for tuning in. remember to sign up for our ‘matchmaking for charity’ event while you still can! for every successful match, we’re donating $20 to toys for tots, so be sure to get your application in so we can find you a special someone this december. link is on our instagram, and our website, sdu.caratsradio.org, go check it out.”

a different voice follows. “we’ve been sounds of the season on 111.7 fm, hosted by our very own communications undergrads. have a great weekend, sdu students! we’ll see you back here monday at six for more holiday tunes.”

jazz study music from the next hour’s program begins to play as you sigh, closing the tab on your computer open to the school’s website.

for the last few weeks you’ve been listening to shining diamond university’s student radio station; more specifically, you’ve been listening to the duo that hosts the holiday music hour every monday and friday at 6pm. the festive music puts you in a better mood, but what you’re really there for is the hosts’ voices. their tone is so calming, most days you like to turn on the station in the background while you do your homework. something about the way they speak helps you focus. whoever they are, you could listen to them talk for hours.

there’s probably pictures of the hosts somewhere on the website, but you haven’t gone looking for them. you’re a little afraid that realizing that they’re not just pretty voices on your laptop, and knowing that there’s real-life faces connected to them would ruin the experience. so for now, you’re content to just imagine their voices and let your brain fill in the blanks.

you’ve been tossing around the idea of signing up for their event back and forth in your mind for a while now. being matched with a stranger at school just sounds nerve wracking, but at this point, you haven’t got much to lose. the worst that could come out of it is another bad date. plus, it’s for charity. you don’t know exactly what the parameters of the event are, but even if it doesn’t work out with whoever you’re matched with, you figure you could always just act like it did so the charity still gets the money.

what the heck, you figure. maybe it’ll be fun.

a week after signing up you get an email with info about your match and instructions on when and where to meet him. on saturday at noon he’ll be at the far corner of the café in the campus dining hall wearing a white hat, and you’re told to wear something blue so you can recognize each other.

when you get to the dining hall, the guy sitting at the table in the far corner is… attractive, to say the least. you would even call him your type, if you knew anything about him besides the fact that you’re on a blind date with a randomly paired listener of the program.

“hey! you’re my match, right? i’m junhui.” he stands up, greeting you with a shy smile. he’s deceptively taller than he looks sitting down, and you take him in for a moment.

“yeah, that’s me! nice to meet you!”

“can i buy you coffee?” he asks eagerly. “um, or whatever they have at the coffee shop.”

“oh– sure!” you say. you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but you hadn’t been expecting him to be so polite. “thank you.”

“of course,” he smiles.

you stand in line together at the register, and you order a cheap drink off the menu. but as he’s telling the barista his order, something clicks.

“hold on, you sound… really familiar.” you squint, tilting your head. he takes the two cups from the barista and looks over at you, confused. all of a sudden the realization hits you, and your eyes widen. you’d know that voice anywhere. “wait, aren’t you–”

he nods sheepishly, handing you your drink. “yeah, i’m one of the radio hosts.”

holy shit. “that’s cool that you signed up for this too, though. did one of the comm professors match people, or was it random, or…?” you ask, trailing off to let him answer.

“no, me and jeonghan put the matches together. so it was on purpose.” his fingers toy with the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “would you hate me if i told you i matched us because i’ve had a crush on you since we had com101 together?”

“really?” you laugh. blush creeps into his cheeks. “honestly, i barely paid attention in that class, i only took it for the credits.” you stop, realizing how that must sound to him. “i mean, no offense! i wasn’t trying to be rude, i just–”

he shakes his head quickly. “i get what you meant. and, it was a pretty big class, so. easy to not know everyone.”

“why didn’t you say anything? i know i probably looked grumpy in that class, but i promise i’m not,” you say, adding a smile that you hope looks encouraging.

“no! it’s not you,” he rushes to explain. “i’m just not that great at talking to people.”

“but… you host a radio show?”

“it’s not the same. i’m not truly talking to anybody but jeonghan. there’s a monitor that shows us how many people are listening, but i ignore it.” he leans back in his chair. “i have to do it as part of one of my classes, but i actually really enjoy it now.”

you smile. “that’s good that you found something you like.”

he clears his throat, taking a small sip of his drink. “so, do you, um, listen often? you don’t have to say you do if you don’t, by the way, i won’t be offended. just curious.”

you debate lying to not expose yourself, but he looks so excited to hear that you can’t honestly tell him no. “actually, yeah. i listen almost every program. you have a really nice voice.”

the tips of his ears turn bright red, and immediately you feel awkward again. “sorry, is that weird to say?”

“that’s—no, not at all!” he stammers. “i think it’s a really big compliment. thank you.”

“yeah,” you add, not sure how to respond without making things weirder. you’re both silent for a second, the busy sounds of the dining hall’s café filling the room in the absence of words.

after an almost uncomfortable amount of silence passes, you laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “so, uh, what do we need to do for this to be considered successful?”

“huh?”

“for the charity thing. how do you decide what gets donated and what doesn’t?”

his focus snaps back to you. “oh! we’re donating for all the matches, even if they don’t work. we just said that as, like, an incentive so people would sign up.”

“oh.” you nod, thinking.

“did– did you want to leave?” he asks shyly. “i don’t wanna keep you here if you’re not enjoying it.”

“did you want to leave?” you counter.

“well… no,” he says. “but i don’t wanna force you.”

“you’re not, don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head. it’s awkward, for sure, but it’s far from the worst date you’ve ever been on. the least you could do is stick it out for another half hour or so.

“sorry this is so weird,” he laughs. “i don’t go out a lot.”

“it’s fine.” you smile at him, hoping he’ll relax a little. “is that why you signed up for this?”

“well, kinda,” he nods. “i was hoping i’d recognize somebody’s name and maybe make a new friend. but this is good, too.”

you fight the urge to frown, since it’s obvious he’s trying his best, but you’re confused at his statement. “what do you mean, ‘this’?”

“i… don’t know. what do you think this is?”

“a date,” you say simply. 

“oh!” he says, fiddling with his cup again.

“is that what you want this to be?” you ask gently.

“i– yeah, that would be really cool,” he grins, nodding. “a date.”

you smile at his enthusiasm. he’s cute, and his personality is, too.

“so, what’s working at a radio station like?” you pry. having finally been able to meet the man behind the voice you’ve heard so much of, you can’t say you’re not more than a little curious about who he is.

“oh, yeah, you like hearing me talk, sorry,” he says. your face heats in embarrassment, but before you can defend yourself, he continues on. “um, it’s pretty fun. the machinery’s pretty cool, the microphones and stuff. makes me feel like a professional singer or something. even though it’s more just choosing music to play than me actually talking.”

he looks up. “you can come by while we’re live sometime, if you want,” he says. “the studio’s really nice, they have beanbag chairs and somebody always brings snacks.”

“is that allowed?”

“sure! you can be my special guest,” he grins. “only if you want,” he adds a second later, as if he’s just thought of something.

you smile warmly. “it sounds fun. i’d love to.”

his face lights up. “great! can you come monday? we’re announcing the results of the matchmaking thing then.”

“i’ll be there.”

he pauses. “is this… a second date?” he asks tentatively. god, he’s adorable.

“yes, this is a second date,” you giggle. 

he stands up. “should i walk you to your car? or is that too much?”

he holds the door open for you as you step outside.

you laugh. “no, my apartment’s on campus, i just walked here. but thank you for the offer, you’re really sweet. and thanks for the coffee, too.”

it might be because of the chilly december weather, but his cheeks seem a little pinker than before. “no problem,” he grins. “i’ll see you monday, i guess? for another date?”

“i’ll see you monday,” you confirm with a smile.

he waves, still grinning, and pulls out his phone. as you start to walk away, you hear his voice from behind you, “hannie, dude, you won’t believe what just happened!!”

you giggle to yourself. you can’t wait til monday.

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thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

[tswoondere]

happy birthday hannah!! wish we met back at DE mnl :( but have a beautiful day okay!! 💓💓💓

thank you erin!!! I knoooooooow, i was looking forward to meeting you :( (next time i hope we’d get the chance) 💓💓💓💓💓

[tagakblog]

i would like to tag the following for keeping my dash so entertaining and for being the reason why i haven't deleted on this hellsite yet LOL @mangaetteok @jeon-gguk @selukai @mochibaeks @kystal @jenoslee @performanceunit @kaizzzi @smhsehun @ohwondae @asleepykid @0somi @my-bobohu I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUC H 💓👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💞🌟💫💕💖

@mangaetteok @jeon-gguk @selukai @mochibaeks @kystal @jenoslee @performanceunit @kaizzzi @smhsehun @ohwondae @asleepykid @0somi @my-bobohu