#spring does not = computer time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktownshizzle · 2 months ago

Text

Love & Lullabies | Part 4.5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: porn with some plot kinda, this yoongi is very horny and is a very methodical masturbator (?) in the way he set the mood for himself (could be canon, amirite), let’s fix that boner you left him with, and let’s soothe your weary minds from that Dispatch article, POV switch after the article headline, idk if you know that one video of yoongi in d-day during the piano break in life goes on he does this thing with his tongue… it’s written in here somewhere

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 1.5k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: December 15, 2024

✎ ˎˊ˗ A/N: Surprise! I kid you not, this was written within a span of like 8 hours? So if it sucks, that’s probably why, lol. Lucky for y’all I am too impatient to wait for notes milestones before I upload the next part, so here you go. 🎁 Also, @glossdebut, you know what you did. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

“Fuck me…” Yoongi sighs, leaning further back into the computer chair. He runs both hands through his hair as the preliminary pinpricks of pleasure makes his cock spring to life under his sweatpants.

His phone is now propped on his half-empty coffee mug, of which the screen—maxed out in its brightness settings—is projecting the photo you sent through its 2x dynamic galaxy amoled display—of which his dick would personally like to thank his Samsung sponsors.

He is so horny he might just die if he doesn’t get off in the next five minutes.

It’s your fault. Of course, it is.

God you’re so fucking sexy, do you even know that? Do you even realize what you do to him? He is literally about to masturbate in his multi-million won worth studio to the pitiful pixels you have afforded him with.

He stands up, curses you under his breath as he pulls his pants down to pool around his ankles. He drops to his chair, about to slip a clammy hand inside his boxers when he decides to adjust the view juuuust a little, zooming the photo closer…closer… and that’s it.

Just the view he needs. (Sue him for having astigmatism.)

He grabs the aircon remote and adjusts the temp to a balmy 24 ‘cause it’d be hella annoying if he can’t get hard because his studio is an igloo.

Some velvety track with soft percussions filter out from his speakers.

A pump of lube from his hidden drawer, wet wipes at the ready for the inevitable clean up, and he’s off to the fuckin’ races.

His fist wraps the base of his cock, coating his entire shaft with the gel. It's cold, but it immediately warms up to his body temperature as his palm slides up and down his semi.

Greedy eyes rake your body on his phone screen. Your tits. They’re a vision. He can see just the ghost of your nipples, peaking in the slightest way against your silky top and suddenly his mouth is dry. What would they look like if they’re not hiding from him? For sure they’re puffy. Pretty jet-puffed marshmallows that he’s gonna be putting in his mouth and sucking until you’re falling apart and creaming with just that. He smirks. Yeah, he could do that.

He tugs at his cock faster, licking his bottom lip as he imagines the texture of your pebbled nipples against his tongue. He shivers, increasing the pace of his ministrations, cock now fully hard.

Back to the photo.

Huh. You knew what you were doing—squeezing your breast with your hand. The way the mound of flesh is about to spill over, and your areola is just kissing the edge of the fabric is actually killing him. It’s diabolical. Pure torture.

Had you been here, he’s scooping out that breast, the one you’re holding out to him, so it’s hanging generously from your top, wobbling as he bounces you on his fat dick.

He feels his eyes crossing, caught in the spell of the hypnotic movements playing out in his mind. He moves his hand faster, cock throbbing and aching for release.

But he’s not there yet.

Closing his eyes, Yoongi lets himself sink back into the memory, rewinding the moments from just hours ago. The sensation of your weight against him is the first thing he recalls—the way your ass fits so perfectly in his lap, warm and soft, like you were made to be there. The way your body had melted into his touch, so pliant, so eager, grinding slightly like you were inviting him to ruin you, and he was more than willing to oblige.

Your lips—he can still taste them if he focuses hard enough—sweet, intoxicating, like the lingering memory of his favorite whisky. And your neck, the way it arched so perfectly for him, leaving him no choice but to press his mouth against it, the faint hint of your skin still ghosting on his lips even now.

If he concentrates, he can almost smell you again, that sweet, delicate perfume that drove him insane. It’s like you’ve imprinted yourself on him. Or maybe it’s the faint traces of your scent that linger on his hoodie, the one you pressed yourself into while straddling him and he could feel the perfect ass against his crotch.

The thought is enough to send his pulse ticking faster, his head leaning back against the chair as a low, frustrated groan escapes him. He needs you. Fervently. Urgently. Needs you like he has never needed another person ever.

Jaw slack, tongue dangling from the corner of his mouth, he imagines licking your nipples from side to side and his mouth stretches into a smile. He can almost hear you moan oh yoongi and wow what an ego boost to have you unraveling for him when in reality it’s he who is actually unraveling in his own damn hands. His cock is getting heavier, balls tighter at his impending demise. He tugs and tugs, collecting some of the lube that gathered on the base and pushing it back towards his angry tip, concentrating his movements there.

You’re not in the room but you might as well be with the way your name keeps tumbling from his lips. He is whining like a little bitch in heat, but he doesn’t give a shit. He hasn’t had a satisfying jerk-off like this in a while. He can’t even remember sex being this good. Nothing remotely like the way this fog of lust has him ascending to another plane of existence right now, because you’re so fucking sexy and so good to him and he likes you so damn much and suddenly he’s coming, warm spurts of cum oozes from his throbbing cock decorating his fingers like the rings he used to wear to the knuckle, and fuck he’s still going, there’s so much and god dammit his boxers are soaked but it feels phenomenal.

Chest heaving as if he ran a marathon, he stares at his ceiling, waiting for his heart rate to slow down.

Not long after, he laughs at his stupidity, pulling a wipe from the packet and proceeds to clean up. He sobers up from his horny thoughts, but not by a whole lot. Not when the photo that started it all is still bright and beautiful from his phone. Shit. He cannot wait to fuck you for real.

Little did he know, something was gonna fuck him up come morning.

AllKpop Scoop:

Confirmed: SUGA of BTS Dating Actress Lee Sung Kyung

Eagle-eyed fans are convinced the duo has been hiding their relationship in plain sight, pointing to their undeniable chemistry during a past Suchwita episode, where sparks were reportedly flying between the two.

The story was everywhere. News sites, entertainment shows, gossip columns, social media—each one milking it for all it was worth.

Darling of the press, K-drama royalty, multi-awarded thespian Lee Sung Kyung, had resurfaced from her mysterious hiatus, and of course, the headlines couldn’t resist pairing her name with “infamous idol Min Yoongi.” You roll your eyes so far back your head they almost didn’t come back.

The South Korean media was having an absolute field day.

And as much as it hurt to see it, your first instinct wasn’t to dwell on the sting of the rumors. It was to scan every word, every post, every thread, checking if Haneul had been dragged into the mess.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been. You’d be devastated if your little sarang had been implicated in any of these stories. You don’t know the first thing about how to protect the poor baby from these trolls, but you will be damned if you don’t try.

The photo that sparked the frenzy was everywhere—a shot of Sung Kyung leaving Yoongi’s Hannam apartment. That was it. No Yoongi, no Haneul, not even a hint of context. Never mind that the building housed countless tenants or that there was zero proof they were together. It was enough to send the internet spiraling into speculation.

You were scrolling through the comments under one of the reposts, your stomach churning at the sheer creativity of the assumptions being thrown around, when your screen suddenly switched to an incoming call.

Yoongi.

You didn’t hesitate, swiping to pick up almost immediately.

“Sarang,” he starts, his voice soft and familiar, like he already knows he needs to tread lightly. Bro’s really starting with the buttering up.

“Where’s Han?” Was your first question.

“My parents drove him up to Daegu this morning. It’s better if he’s there for now.”

You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temple as you sit back. “Just answer one question, Yoongi: is it true or not?”

“It’s a big fuckin’ lie,” he says without missing a beat, his voice steady and firm. “None of it is true.”

“So it’s all bullshit?”

“YES.” he replies emphatically.

The tension in your shoulders eases slightly, and you exhale, nodding to yourself. This is fine for now. “Okay.”

“Okay?” There’s a note of uncertainty in his voice, like he wasn’t expecting you to let it go so easily.

“Yes. Just get your ass here by 7 and not a minute later.” You say, firm.

A pause. Then, with the faintest hint of a chuckle, he replies, “Yes, ma’am.”

Part Five >

A/N: So???? I don't know what that first part was. It just took a life of its own. Anyway, as per ush, please let me know what you thought about the chapter. Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you so much for reading this, you lovely, beautiful human xo

See you in the next half! :)

Permanent Taglist:

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm

@angellekookie @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @hannahisnotblue @this-most-assuredly-counts

@no-jiminprotested

485 notes · View notes

kimyoonmiauthor · 4 months ago

Text

Slight note about the system of food.

'cause adding it to the large doc might crash my computer?

I've realized that though historical fiction minds this more when set in pre-industrial times, that often fantasy set in agricultural societies doesn't seem to do this, though it should.

So I'll give you an example...

Almost everything in Korean food is centered and bred for two things: Kimchi and soy sauce.

But what you don't realize in your industrialized state how freaking long it takes to make these things and how much planning is involved and how much you have to mind the seasons in order to make it correctly.

Kimchi:

Baekchu (or other vegetables) that's often harvested in fall.

The salt, which was traditionally sea salt was harvested in the spring and summer months.

Garlic is a spring to mid summer crop.

The sweet rice that goes into winter kimchi takes a ton of work to make and can take from Spring to fall.

The fish sauce that goes into Kimchi that helps preserve it for over a year, takes and ENTIRE YEAR to make. Yes, a year. You really, really have to plan on that. And what do you do if the fishing is poor for that year?

Spring onions are faster to grow, but you still have to time it for the fall kimchi making.

The fish are seasonal. For example, Yellow Corvina is taken in Korea in the spring. Shrimp in the summer (June), and anchovies in early spring to fall.

Your timing has to be impeccable and you need an entire year to plan this one dish.

Meanwhile, you, industrialized person, take for granted that you can get fish sauce any time you like and can pour it over kimchi.

In fantasy this could add flavor to your fantasy make up, if your character can only get this dish once a year. It can add political unrest (What do you mean the salt harvest was poor and we're left with the shitty metallic salt), because your characters in an agricultural society will be subject to weather changes, which you get when reading historical fiction and so on. Three seasons of poor harvest, daaaamnn... the people might overthrow their government. There might be new religions that pop up, there might be uprisings because the King and Queen are eating feasts every day while the peasants are eating things that are empty calories.

What I'm saying is that you can't be too entrenched into industrial mindset if you're not writing an industrial setting.

That orange is seasonal and only comes about in a connected system that has winter and a warmer climate.

Maybe there are key foods for your climate that are highly treasured or sought after. Mandarins once were. Cacao. Think a bit about those things and how it might interact with the larger world. When does your plant mature and when can it be harvested? is it different from different climates? There's wars that have been fought over food. (Tea, famously, at least a few times).

A staple crop failing is going to have devastating consequences.

And yet, often in fantasy, I often see people going, ya know what I can eat in the dead of winter, strawberries. Do we have greenhouses? No. Did we have freezers? No. But you know what my character is eating? A strawberry. Yeah, think about that. Strawberries don't preserve well. So plan out the timing of your dishes a bit (to the climate and subsistence system) and it can give a bit of background worldbuilding to your dishes and food.

I do have to say that the small mentions from Rings of Power on what's in season or not and why kinda made me feel like the world and the traveling was more "real" with the Harfoot. There's small references to fall v. spring crops.

#worldbuilding #writing tips #writing advice #fantasy

634 notes · View notes

apoemaday · 8 months ago

Text

I AM 17. I HAVE A LOT TO SAY.

by Jackson Holbert

My mother was around all the time back then, always walking in and out of rooms carrying stacks of laptop computers. She spent most of her daylight hours blowing dust out of circuits, fans, motherboards, daughterboards. Sometimes her little canister would die and she’d have to use her mouth. My father was gone all day every day getting repetitive stress injuries at the newspaper. He was a journalist and everyone hated him, even his friends. Nothing really happened during my entire childhood so he ended up spending most days shooting paper footballs through a miniature goal post he kept in the locked drawer of his desk. He was rarely kind. And in the few, short instances he was, it still didn’t seem like it. Something about his mouth made everything he did seem either sinister or inept. He was completely inscrutable except for a period in the spring of 2004, when he was just sad. I was young that year and my sister was older. She came home from college for the whole summer of 2005. I was 14. She told me not to worry about other people, not to worry about war, not to worry about a thing. That was the greatest summer of my short life. I had no friends. Oh I had people I talked to at school but once summer hit it was like every school bus had crashed headfirst into a wall except the one that was carrying me and my silver trumpet. I had that tall kind of joy that you can only feel when your bones still have another few inches left in them. My sister and I would watch three movies a day and never go to the lake. Everybody says it seems like summer never ends until it does. But that’s a lie. I knew so little back then but the one thing I did know was that all my friends were coming back and I would once more join them in the hallways, in the classrooms, once more join them for hours after school in the far part of the parking lot and would continue to do so until I turned 16 and got a job cutting my fingers on the cheese grater at the Pizza Factory. After that everything was all work work work go home Jeremy get your feet off the sofa Jeremy work work math homework band-aids and on a good day a little trumpet and on the best days all trumpet. I wanted my life to be about music but in the end it was about getting B’s in subjects such as Spanish. I don’t know, sometimes it feels like those summers really did never end, they went on forever and just got progressively worse. We like to pretend that one day we just walk into our adulthood like a congressman walking into the ocean, but we all know that’s not true. What really happens is we walk into the same building day after day, but every night some crew comes in and replaces something little — a lamp housing, the chair of a conference table — until nothing is the same, until the building is not as we remembered it at all, until the building is stronger, up to code but a lot less fun, and the lighting, the lighting is fluorescent and obscene.

#poetry #jackson holbert #i am 17. i have a lot to say.

631 notes · View notes

zilodak · 8 months ago

Text

Nothing feels the same does it? You feel it too. The wind blows the wrong way, flowers smell slightly less, the birds scream. A constant hum fills the sky.

Nour Osman disappeared on the 16th of April 1983 at the blink of the eye, and her cousin, Lucky Newman never managed to let go. Johnny Newman was 46 years old by the time of the accident. Lucky ran for help, but by the time the paramedics arrived, his father's body was nowhere to be found. Lucky never let go of this either.

Now living with his uncle, Lucky tries to recover from losing both his father and his cousin, but something inside him tells him they're not really gone. At least not forever. A hum guides him constantly, a familiar owl speaks in riddles and a computer screams for help.

Things aren't as they seem, what's lost can be eventually found. And the rest is empty.

Sim Spring Neocities

#my art #simulator spring #comics #signal b00st #comic #illustration

882 notes · View notes

ew-selfish-art · 1 year ago

Text

Dp x DC AU: Danny didn't want to rely on his rogues, but Tucker's computer skills only got them so far and if the media black out continues... Danny knows it's not going to be pretty for them. Nightmares begin to plague the Justice League.

---

Danny gets back from a shitty conversation with Clockwork and in his frustration, accidentally sets off one of the new GIW sensors that his parents allowed to be installed in the lab. Their collaboration seemed to be going no where but when Danny had new holes blasted through him... it must be going somewhere. Damn it.

The commotion is loud enough that Jazz hears it from her room above the lab (he knows she listens to more than just the lab... it's cause she cares, even if it is a bit invasive.) and rushes in to play the distraction while Danny gets away. This time it works- the Drs. Fenton might have the worst aim in the city but they demand all shots cease if a civilian is nearby- Next time his mom might be aiming her gun at him and not the ground. Danny decides he'll buy Jazz a coffee on his way home.

But first, new holes. Yikes. That like, needs medical attention- He heads to Tucker's place and he's pretty sure Sam is already there.

"Danny! What the fuck, did Clockwork-" She starts, her meticulous cat eyeliner making her glare all the deeper.

"Nah, it's the stupid GIW sensor, the stupid one I told you guys about that has a spring lose in the back?"

"I thought we decided those weren't a concern?" Tucker looks him over, face covered in undisguised and very blatant concern.

"Yeah well, Clocky pissed me off so I forgot about them when I came back in through the lab portal-"

"you were supposed to be practicing making your own." Sam interrupts.

"-And when I did, the thing got knocked and I was swatted like immediately. Jazz launched herself into the lab so Mom made them stop shooting and it gave me enough time to get out." Danny continued to explain, ignoring his friend's 'i told you so' faces.

"Dude. We're pushing it close this week. Sam already had a confrontation with the lab guys and I already got blacklisted on my new persona accounts. We're like seriously threading the needle for getting caught." Tucker, pulls his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and Danny and Sam both get what he's really saying. They need to lie low.

"What did CW say to piss you off?" Sam asks after a silent moment.

"He said nothing really, just like he always does, but insinuated I should try getting a rogue to help." Danny sighs.

"What, Like getting Ember to announce the GIW invasion on her tour? We already agreed that-" Sam is getting angry as she speaks so Tuck cuts her off- "It's a bad Idea. She is- They are all just as likely to get captured and hurt as you are if you go out of town." He comes to the same conclusion they've agreed on for weeks. No rogue involvement.

"Maybe we just need to sleep on it... Hey... wait." Danny sighs, but then his gears start to turn.

"Nocturn. We need Nocturn to help us. He can get the message out through dreams." Danny comes to the new conclusion and his friends look hesitant but at least like they're considering it.

"Isn't he an ancient? He's not going to help us for free." Tucker, ever the Egyptian god in these moments.

"Most people don't take their dreams literally." Sam, ever the skeptic in these moments.

"Yeah but, if they dream it enough times, and they're the right people to do something... they can look it up and then at least see that there is a problem?" Danny sounds hopeful and its the first time he's sounded that way in months.

"What, you're gunna give Batman nightmares?" Tucker snickers but Sam looks inspired.

"That's exactly what he's going to do. We need to haunt the Justice League. They'll see past the fake facade the GIW put up online and they'll be able to get the right legislation passed." Sam is practically buzzing.

"Okay, so lets get scheming- What do you get the primordial beast of the unconscious? Should I google 'what to get someone who has everything'? " Danny laughs.

_____

Bruce and his children rarely do feelings when they have breakfast in the morning after a night of separate patrols, but it seems as though the room is plagued with unease. Tim looks about as tired as ever, so his unease is probably attributable to WE board meetings, but its unlike the rest of his children to be so... disturbed. For some reason, after Alfred has excused them all from eating more than a few nibbles, they make it to the cave. Bruce is glad for the noise his children bring.

The nightmare's he's been having are following a dark plot. A town, a boy who looks like he was kin, and so, so much death. Bruce has had vivid dreams before in life, but this nightmare is... unreal. He tries to remind himself that it's just a nightmare.

When his JL emergency communicator goes off at the computer desk, he's not expecting it to be Dinah Lance. She and her Birds are typically wary of him in Gotham, even if they work well together in the League. He answers it like he would any Batman call, with silence.

"Bats, we have a problem. Any chance you've been having weird dreams about a kid getting experimented on or a town being burned down? Ghosts? Lazarus portals?" Dinah sounds exhausted, but Bruce snaps to her voice with rapt attention. As do all of his children.

"I-" Bruce takes a look around the room, everyone's heads except for Tim's nodding up and down with distress," We all have."

"Something tells me that they whole JL is. Everyone I've talked to this week has had a variation of the same dream. We either have a telepath trying to tell us something, or something even worse than that."

"I'll call emergency meeting, we need to collect details and try to determine the complete message."

"I'll send you what I've noted down so far, sans personal details of course, it's definitely in a town called Amity Park though. My client this morning saw the sign."

Batman grunts and the call ends. It's time to get to work.

----

When the Justice League finally arrives, the town is glowing, and everything feels like... sleep. smothering. snoring. smoking. smoldering.

And then, despite the exhaustion that echos within them, the trudge onwards. The noise of laser guns certainly wakes them up a bit.

#tim hasn't seen shit cause he never sleeps but he has the same energy level to get shit done #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #dinah lance #nocturn haunts the JL #its up to you to get angsty with the demand he made in exchange for helping team phantom #nocturn is such a fun villain concept but like he's an information outlet so...#Lots could go right or wrong with this plan #tim drake x sleep is something i'll never ship tho #fentons working with GIW could be as benign or evil as wanted #is jazz in peril after this??? PERHAPS

2K notes · View notes

seat-safety-switch · 16 days ago

Text

Once upon a time, everything came with an instruction manual. You'd open the box and immediately chuck that manual into the trash, because recycling wasn't popular back then, and you could still make a living cutting down trees to print more manuals with. Nowadays, the humble instruction manual is gone altogether, replaced with – at best – an interactive electronic instruction manual. I still don't read them, but now it's because I can't.

You see, "having a working computer" is a lifestyle that is simply incompatible with my existence. Despite the fact that our civilization has produced approximately 171.3 computers per person, I somehow have no ability to make them work. So I'm at the public library, where they get really mad if you take a transmission apart over their keyboard. Look, people, the keyboard catches the spring clips when they go flying out. Would you rather have this or me crawling around on the carpet?

When I'm on the side of the road because my futuristic garbage exploded, I can't always use my dumpster-dove flip phone to look up the manual, either. That would require me to buy cellular service, instead of just calling 911 and asking the firefighters to transfer my call every time (don't ask the cops to do it.) The only way forward is to assume there was no manual at all. Doing so also prevents me from receiving additional frustration, when I jump through all these hoops to find out that the fancy online manual does not have a chapter for "this product is now 37 years old and has corroded its entire wiring harness, here's your diagram on where 'purple' goes." Why even bother writing one, assholes?

Sometimes I call up the Haynes service manual people, and yell at them, telling them to make a print manual again. Then I tell them what I had to go through because of the eternal obsolescence cycle of all things electronic. Then they make me a job offer, which I refuse because it would mess with my unemployment payments. I'm holding out for an offer from Chilton. If it was good enough for Frank Herbert, it's good enough for me.

153 notes · View notes

trustmypoison · 3 months ago

Text

Liquid Courage

Wonwoo x Classmate!Reader

Requested? Yes!

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, college au, unrequited love and perhaps a painful amount of pining

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and being drunk

Jeon Wonwoo would like to think he’s a normal college student. He’s picked a major that he can tolerate. He goes to class, bleary eyed after all-nighters working on assignments, chugging a seemingly endless stream of coffee. He joins a few clubs to avoid his family’s nagging that he’ll rot in front of the computer playing video games in his free time, though he does enjoy the rot time. He goes out with his roommate and friends regularly for dinner and drinks and parties. But he has a secret, and it’s the totally not normal, totally suffocating, totally obsessive, massive, enormous crush on you, one of his classmates.

He hit him like a truck the moment he met you in the first day of freshman year, or rather the first day he saw you. He’d like to think he’s not shallow and doesn’t get hung up on looks. A pretty appearance doesn’t always equate to a pretty personality, after all. But he was totally enamored by how pretty you were on the first day to the point that he didn’t hear much of anything the calculus instructor said. He beats his head against his desk in his dorm later that day as he looks at the syllabus. He’s got to get it together because that’s not why he’s here.

He thinks he’s starting to get a handle on this (not so) little crush when he remembers that the class he shares with you is a General Education class and it’s very likely that you’ll pick a different major than him. His first day of sophomore year, he realizes he was wrong because there you are, sitting in the front row of his Intro to Database Systems class, unmistakably as a student of the engineering department. It’s in this class that he realizes how screwed he really is.

The first time you meet him in the library for a peer programming project, his heart stops beating when you greet him with a wide smile. He had the same reaction when you were assigned to work together the day before and traded numbers. He gives a small smile, because it’s all he can really manage without giving everything away and gets to work. Later that night, he beats his head against this desk again in his dorm room, because you’re so, so smart on top of everything else. Don’t get me wrong, he didn’t think you were dumb by any means, far from it. But he wasn’t prepared to be corrected gently about a complex concept during your meeting earlier that day and he thinks the crush might just consume him.

When his roommate, Mingyu, asks if he’s good, he just excuses it as being a little stressed by the work he has to get done. Never mind that the project with you is no longer on his list because it was done in a single sitting. He picks up another assignment, kind of regretting that he didn’t drag it out a little longer, even if his heart might not be able to take it.

It’s the first day of the spring semester in his Sophomore year and he arrives early to his Matrix Algebra course. He didn’t know you’d be in this one with him, but he’s not totally surprised to see you here since you share a major and seem to be on the same track. But he is surprised to see you here, next to him. You greet him with a big smile and ask if the seat next to him is taken. “Oh, no. Go ahead, but don’t you want to sit up front?”

You give him a confused smile as you slide into the seat. “What makes you say that?”

“You always sit in the front row,” he says simply, before realizing how it sounds. It sounds an awful lot like he pays a lot of attention to you.

You don’t acknowledge his words or the way he flushes a little, but you do chuckle as you pull out your laptop. “Oh, yeah. I was way overdue for an optometrist appointment, so I couldn’t really see the board or screen. Just got a new prescription and new contacts last week, so I can sit back here with you!”

“Oh,” he says lamely. “Okay, then.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, face suddenly a little cautious. “That is, unless you’d like me to sit somewhere else?”

“No! I mean,” Wonwoo clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, you can sit here. I don’t mind.”

You smile, though there’s still a tinge of caution to it. “Thanks, Wonwoo.” He can’t really respond because the instructor is sweeping into the room and getting started right away. He’s not quite sure what he’d say anyway.

He’s absolutely beside himself the whole semester. Not only do you keep sitting next to him, but you seem to go out of your way to talk to him. It’s mostly about classes, but it’s still the highlight of his day, three times a week. He’s embarrassingly excited to go to his 8am class with you and it’s starting to get the attention of his roommate.

Mingyu peers over his comforter as Wonwoo gets ready for class. He watches his roommate get dressed in more than sweats and a hoodie and fix his hair. The final straw is when he puts on cologne. “What class do you have again?”

“Matrix Algebra," Wonwoo says simply.

“Uh huh. And you need cologne for that?”

“I wear cologne everyday. What’s the big deal?” Wonwoo asks, though he doesn't sound like he cares about what the big deal actually is.

“You don’t. I’ve lived with you for a while. This is the first semester you’ve hopped out of bed for an 8am, and you’ve been doing it early every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesday and Thursday, you have a 10am that you roll out of bed for and go to in sweats. Without cologne.” Mingyu adopts a smug expression. “So who is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says evenly. “I gotta go. I’m going to be late. Don’t wait up, I have a project to work on tonight.”

Mingyu glances at the clock when the dorm room door closes behind his roommate. It’s not even 7:40am yet and it's a five minute walk to class. Interesting.

Wonwoo feels like he's getting somewhere. It sounds silly, but he’s kind of getting his hopes up that this little crush isn’t totally unrequited. You always choose him for your partner in class and he enjoys meeting you to work on these projects together. You’ve even started branching out, talking about things other than the shared classes you both have. It’s late and you’re in the library with him, talking about a new book series you’re reading and he doesn’t think he could like you anymore than he does now. He’s asking what you like about it without spoilers when a guy approaches you, putting his hand on your back. You beam up at him and Wonwoo’s heart kind of plummets.

“Hi baby, I was wondering where you got off to. I stopped by your dorm but you weren’t there,” the guy says.

“Oh, I should have told you I had a project to work on,” you say apologetically. “You weren’t worried about me, were you?”

“No, never,” the guy says lightly, glancing to Wonwoo.

You perk up. “Oh, this is Wonwoo. He’s my partner for one of my major courses. Wonwoo, this is my boyfriend, Minghao.”

Wonwoo does his best to be polite, but he’s feeling some type of way about hearing the word ‘boyfriend' come out of your mouth. He didn’t know you were dating anyone, not that it's a crazy thought. He doesn’t see you a lot around campus outside of class because you run in different circles socially.

Minghao is friendly, making it difficult to hate him. “Oh, good. Maybe you both can help me me with my math homework. I’m an arts major, I’m not cut out for these gen ed courses. Can I join?”

He considers leaving but it feels rude, so he stays, even helping Minghao here and there. It occurs to him that he’s torturing himself by staying. You and Minghao seem like a good match, the epitome of opposites attract really. You’re an engineering major and he’s an arts major. You’re bubbly and outgoing, and he’s a little shy and reserved. But you both are smart and well-read and have a gentle approach to social interactions. Not to mention you both look totally love sick for each other. It makes Wonwoo love sick in a totally different way.

He trudges back to his dorm late, going straight to bed. He skips class the next day, sending you a short text that he doesn’t feel well. He doesn’t respond when you send him a message back, hoping that he feels better and that you’ll send him your notes.

It’s the middle of the fall semester, Junior year, and you and Wonwoo are knee deep in major courses now, most of which you share with each other. Whatever hopes he might have had last semester to avoid you seem totally unreasonable, and he's resigned himself to the unrequited aspect of his friendship with you. And it really does seem like a friendship now. He sees you a lot more now, mostly because you spend hours together every single weekday, both in and between classes. So, he notices something is off when you show up late to your shared Networking class, sneaking in with an apologetic bow to the instructor.

“Are you okay?” He whispers automatically, concerned. You give him a passing glance, nodding, but he spots it for the lie that it is, because your eyes are red and you’re wearing your glasses today, instead of contacts. His first thought is allergies, but he’s known you for a while and you’ve never seemed to suffer from it much before. He watches you set your phone on Do Not Disturb, but not before he spots dozens of unread messages and calls.

He lets you be for the duration of the class and leads you to the cafe on campus as usual afterwards. It’s a habit this semester because neither of you usually have time to get coffee before your shared 8am. He gestures for you to have a seat while he orders. Another little habit, you both take turns paying on these little trips. When he places your order in front of you, he simply asks if you want to talk about it.

He does not expect you to tear up and panic bubbles inside of him fast. “I’m sorry, I’m being a cry baby about it. It’s not that serious.”

“Unlikely. What’s not that serious?”

You sigh. “Minghao and I have been fighting a lot lately.”

“About what?” Wonwoo asks, though it feels like a gut punch to even talk about him. He usually tries to forget he exists. You stare at him and he purses his lips. “We’re friends, right?” You nod automatically and he ignores the way your lack of hesitation simultaneously elates and stings him. “Then tell me about it. At least venting might help, even if I can’t help you fix it.”

You don’t look at him for a while and finally say, “He’s got a bit of a jealous streak. I feel like he doesn’t trust me. We fought last night and it was bad.”

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely “I’m sure you haven’t given him any reason not to trust you. Maybe he’s just insecure.” Wonwoo says ‘maybe’ but he’s positive that’s the case. He might be too if he was in Minghao’s shoes, but he’d never make it your problem. He waves away the thought because he’s not likely to ever be in Minghao’s shoes.

“Maybe… Maybe I should just end it,” you say. He’s conflicted, because there’s screaming in his head about the idea of you being single, yet you sound so upset about it.

So he says, “If you feel like that’s the right thing to do. I’m here if you need me.” He lets you go about the day, acting a little bit like a zombie. He guides you between classes, shares his notes with you as usual, and guides you to your dorm building when classes are over.

He certainly does not expect you to actually reach out to him later that night. You call at nearly 10pm and both Wonwoo and Mingyu jump at the sound. Wonwoo’s already pulling on a jacket and shoes when he hears you sniffle, asking if he’s up for a walk. He ignores Mingyu’s raised eyebrow on the way out.

You’re sitting on a bench outside of his dorm building when he comes outside. “You good?” He asks, even though he kind of knows the answer already.

“Yeah, just needed some air. You weren’t busy, were you?” You ask, standing up. Your nose is bright red and he wonders if it’s from crying or the cold, or both.

“No, just lying around.” He follows your lead, though he can tell you’re walking aimlessly. “Want to talk about it?” You shake your head and he lets you be. He doesn’t hear anything about Minghao after that.

It’s senior year and there are only a few things that have changed. The first is that neither of you live in the dorms anymore. Wonwoo and Mingyu got an apartment just off campus, and when Wonwoo mentioned that there were other units open in the building, you jumped at the opportunity, citing how totally over communal spaces you were. You move in with one of your friends down the hall. He likes Jeonghan. He seems like a good friend to you, which is the most important thing, really. But selfishly, he likes Jeonghan because the two of you resemble siblings more than anything else and he’s comforted by the seemingly platonic nature of your relationship.

The second change is that because of this new proximity and lack of rules around guests, you both are in and out of each other’s apartments constantly. Those late nights at the library are replaced by late nights at each other’s kitchen table with laptops and textbooks spread across it. There are also movie nights and video game nights and reading nights and really everything in between.

The third change is precisely because of this new proximity. His friends are absolutely onto his little secret. Mingyu smirks and raises an eyebrow every time Wonwoo bails on plans and says he’s busy. “Busy with who?” Mingyu will ask tauntingly. Wonwoo does his best to brush this off, but his friends see right through it, like they do tonight.

You’re sitting across from him at the kitchen table, working on an assignment together, when a lot of noise at his front door makes him groan. You look at him questioningly, and that look only grows when he says he’s sorry for what’s about to happen. He’s done everything he can to avoid this moment, but it seems he can’t escape it anymore. Mingyu’s met you because you’re here all the time, but the others haven’t and they’re about to.

Mingyu barrels into the room with Seungcheol and Vernon on his heels. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you guys were working on anything.” Mingyu’s apology is a total lie because that was the entire reason that Wonwoo bailed on plans with them, but he won’t call him out on it in front of you.

“You must be Y/N, we’ve heard a lot about you,” Seungcheol says, introducing himself and Vernon. You glance questioningly still at Wonwoo, but you’re friendly about greeting them back.

“We’ll be quiet,” Mingyu promises, leading the others to the living room with a smug look. They aren’t quiet in the least, but it doesn’t matter because the project is done within an hour. You pack up your things and leave, telling him you’ll see him tomorrow. He knows he has to face the music at some point, so he decides to get it over with, joining his friends in the living room.

“So, that’s Y/N, huh? She’s cute,” Seungcheol teases.

“Told you. He’s down bad,” Mingyu laughs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just friends. We’ve had a lot of classes together over the years,” Wonwoo says evenly.

“Is she not single?” Vernon asks. While Seungcheol and Mingyu are teasing, Vernon doesn’t seem to mean anything by it. Still, Wonwoo would like to pretend that he doesn’t feel the way he does and doesn’t want the questions.

“No, I’m pretty sure she is, but it doesn’t matter. We’re just friends.” Okayyyys and Whatever You Says echo behind him as he excuses himself to bed, because he’s decided he actually isn’t ready for this conversation. He’d like to keep living in denial.

If it was even possible, you integrate even more into his life. It turns out that Jeonghan shares classes with Seungcheol, so now those little ventures with his friends include you and your roommate too. Over time, he sees it for what it is. His friends seem to like yours and Jeonghan’s company, sure, but they actually just like to watch him squirm around you.

But he’d never dream of turning down time with you, so he finds himself out at the bar. This one is special because it’s actually half arcade. He’s been eyeing it since he heard that it opened and no one objects to making it the outing on Saturday night. Everyone grabs a drink upon arrival and starts making their way around each machine. He sticks with you most of the night and doesn’t even notice how many coins the two of you have gone through or that your friends have long abandoned this side of the building, opting for the actual bar. They even leave you two after a while to go to another bar down the street.

When Mingyu comes home and finds Wonwoo on the couch, he groans. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be out with Y/N! We had a whole plan!”

Wonwoo blinks at his roommate. “What do you mean? You guys abandoned us and when we were done with the games we came home.”

“We abandoned you so you could make a move!” Mingyu cries.

Again, Wonwoo blinks. “I won’t be doing that.”

“Why not?!” Mingyu’s cries are getting louder and perhaps a little more like literal cries.

“Because she doesn’t like me like that,” Wonwoo says, but he’s realizes his mistake as soon as it’s out. Mingyu’s already smirking, wails forgotten.

“Oh? But you do?”

“Good night, Mingyu,” Wonwoo dismisses, standing up.

“Don’t worry, we’ll work on it for you,” his roommate promises and it sounds vaguely like a threat.

“We?” Wonwoo asked, then he remembers how your shared friends abandoned both of you earlier tonight. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. Good night, Mingyu,” He says, meaning it this time.

It’s Valentine’s Day, but Wonwoo treats it as business as usual. He has classes that are kicking his ass this semester, namely his senior design project, and he hardly thinks about the significance of the day and how he’s painfully single with an unrequited crush. You’ve been swamped too for the same reasons and you agree to meet him at his apartment for dinner and to work on your projects together.

It’s late when you leave and he packs up his things after seeing you out. When he goes to his room to settle in for bed, he’s surprised to see a little heart-shaped box on his desk. There’s a little card with his name in your hand writing on it and it makes him stall out. First of all, how did you sneak this in here? Yes, you use his ensuite bathroom while you’re here, but he didn’t even see you sneak anything out of your bag. Secondly, why did you get him anything?

Heart racing a little, he opens the card. It’s simple and actually gives no indication of why you did this - just a simple Happy Valentine’s Day, accompanied by a little image of a cat and your name written underneath it. Inside the box is a small selection of chocolates. He feels lame when he sends you a message thanking you for the chocolates, and even lamer when you simply send back, ‘You’re welcome!’ He doesn’t know how to interpret the meaning of this gesture and is sort of afraid to ask, so he leaves it alone.

It’s his friends that plant the seed. “It’s almost White Day,” Seungcheol says over lunch. He has a feeling that it’s directed at him, but he stays silent. This is their not-so-subtle way of telling him to do something about your little Valentine’s Day gift last month. He didn’t mention it to any of them, but he probably doesn’t have to because they probably already know since they keep conspiring to get him to make a move. Wonwoo’s caught Jeonghan in on it occasionally too, which might be how they know about your little gift.

“I didn’t get anything this year,” Vernon says, though he doesn’t sound too put out by it. “Did you guys?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both shake their head. “What about you, Wonwoo? Did you get anything?” Mingyu asks slyly.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, chewing his food. “I did,” he admits shortly.

“Oh? And are you going to return the gift?” Vernon asks, sounding hopefully.

“Maybe.” Another short answer.

“I think you should. I think she’d like it,” Seungcheol says, sounding just as hopeful as Vernon. Wonwoo doesn't ask who ‘she’ is, because it feels a little too much like admitting how he feels. So he just shrugs.

White Day is on a Friday. Wonwoo goes through the day per usual, attending classes and hanging out with you in between. You seem to be in a good mood today, which isn’t unusual, but you’re a little twitchy. He gives you a look as you wiggle in your seat for the thousandth time since sitting down at the cafe in the afternoon. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you excuse. “Maybe a little too much caffeine today.”

He doesn’t call you out what he thinks might be a lie because as far as he knows you’ve only had two cups today, one this morning and the one you’re drinking now. “Maybe you should cut back,” he teases.

You give him an entertained look. “You first, then we’ll talk.”

That night, he finds himself at a single’s mixer with you and your shared friends. One of Seungcheol’s frat friends extended the invitation and he didn’t have a good reason to turn it down. He loses you in the crowd quickly and wishes he hadn’t. He knows the whole point of this thing is to find someone to date or hook up with, but he has such little interest in the idea that he does his best to dodge any woman that approaches him.

He finds you at the kitchen counter, total chaos around you, but you look totally dejected and unaware of it. He pats your back, getting your attention. That’s when he realizes that you aren’t just dejected, but you’re drunk. “Doing okay?”

You nod, eyes a little unfocused. “Are you having fun?”

He shrugs. “Not particularly. Do you want to dip?” You nod and he realizes just how far gone you are when you stand up, wobbling from side to side. He steadies you, leading you out of the house. “Okay to walk?” You nod again, clinging to his side drunkenly as you two begin walking back. “You don’t normally drink this much, do you?” He asks carefully.

“No,” you admit. “Just felt like it tonight.”

“Okay,” he soothes. “Let’s get you to bed. You look like you’ll pass out anytime.” You don’t fight him when he leads you into his apartment instead. He knows your apartment is right down the hall, but he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you unattended when you’re like this. He hands you some clothes to change into and excuses himself. When he comes back with some water and medicine, you’re tugging the t-shirt into place. He beats back the thought of seeing you in his clothes because now is just not the time. Or rather never.

“Take this first,” he commands, handing you the medicine and the water. When you’re done, he holds the comforter up for you to slide under.

“Are you staying?” You ask sleepily, setting in immediately.

Wonwoo chuckles. “Well, I live here, so… I’ll be on the couch though, if you need me.”

You glare, though there’s absolutely nothing threatening about it. “No, just stay here.” You clumsily scoot over, peeling the covers back.

He should say no, but he’s totally weak for you and can’t think to say no, so he sighs. “Let me change. I’ll be back.” When he comes back, he thinks you’re asleep. He’s almost dozed off when you speak up again.

“Sorry you have to take care of me. I didn’t mean to overdo it,” you mumble.

“It’s fine. Why did you overdo it though? I wasn’t under the impression that you really liked drinking all that much,” Wonwoo questions. He doesn’t actually expect to get a coherent answer, but it’s worth a try. He didn’t like seeing you so dejected earlier tonight. It reminds him of how you were when things with Minghao ended a couple years ago.

“It’s silly,” you mumble. You really sound like you’re barely hanging on to consciousness and he tries to ignore how cute it is.

“Doubt it. Try me,” he dares.

You huff, eyebrows furrowing. “You didn’t get me anything for White Day.” Wonwoo’s jaw drops, but you’re still rambling sleepily, eyes still closed. “I got you the chocolates for Valentine’s Day to tell you that I like you, but you didn’t get anything for me for White Day, so you must not return my feelings.” You huff again. “It’s okay.”

“I did though,” he blurts. Your eyes shoot open. You don’t look totally present, but you certainly don’t look so tired anymore. “I do.”

“You did? You do?” Your hopeful tone threatens crush him right where he lies.

“Of course… I just wasn’t sure how to give it to you. You’re a lot braver than I am, it seems,” he chuckles, feeling a little embarrassed. He sits up, opening his bedside drawer, pulling out a little heart-shaped box with a little card on top of it. Your eyes light up at the sight and you clumsily sit up.

“You like me back?” You’re doing your best to focus on the conversation and the way you add the word ‘back’ makes his heart beat out of his chest.

“Yeah, for an embarrassingly long time,” Wonwoo admits. You reach for the box and he stops you. “Maybe don’t eat it tonight. I don’t want you to get sick. It’ll be here tomorrow though.” You pout, but agree, letting him sit the box to the side. “Come on, go to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning. If you remember, that is.”

You follow his command, but he’s surprised that you don’t lie back down on your pillow, but rather his chest. He’s sure you can hear his heart race, but he would never dream of pushing you away. “I’ll remember,” you insist stubbornly, but then you’re snoring softly the very next second and Wonwoo’s on cloud nine.

Wonwoo wakes up to the sound of crinkling in the morning. He cracks his eyes open, blindly reaching for his glasses. When they’re in place, he scoffs at you. You’re sitting up in bed next to him, picking at the chocolates. “That’s not breakfast, Y/N.”

You grin. “But you got them for me!” You look surprisingly alert, like you didn’t get absolutely wasted the night before.

Wonwoo nods, acquiescent. “I did. So you remember our conversation last night?”

You hum, grinning wider still. “I do. How long is ‘embarrassingly long’ exactly?”

“A while,” Wonwoo says evasively. “Any plans today?” You shake your head. “Go on a date with me?”

“Okay,” you grin. You pick up a chocolate, handing it to him. “One for you, one for me.”

He thinks you’re so cute that he can’t even be mad that your shared breakfast is chocolate. He actually wouldn’t want it any other way.

#wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #Jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines

205 notes · View notes

kr-starz · 2 months ago

Text

Modern Highschool Arcane AU headcanons !!

(Vi & Jinx)

Jinx and Vi are still teenagers, their age gap would be like 3 years in this AU, so when it's Jinx's freshman year Vi's already a Senior.

People were genuinely surprised finding out the little chaotic science geek and the sports-minded athlete were SISTERS since they were so different friend group and personality wise.

(Cait & Vi)

Vi is a jock! She does winter wrestling and she's the best in her weight group. She's also involved in fall and spring sports. Baseball and football are her other seasonal sports.

People know Vi to be just a sports junkie, she has pretty good grades but nothing exceptional.

She's not so great at science , which forces her to be tutored.

Vi and Cait met in their sophomore year, she needed some help improving her grade in order to be eligible for the spring season sports since she was failing history at the time, so Caits assigned to help her out.

Caitlyn’s a goody two shoes icl, like she’s apart of the student council and her mom’s the superintendent. She’s in ROTC and she’s so very loud about it, she’s basically the FACE of the program.

Cait and Vi get close because Vi keeps seeing Caitlyn around and she’s become sort of a hallway crush, but with her fuckboy attitude Vi tries to flirt the second she realizes that she’s somehow managed to get Caitlyn as her tutor!

Cait is used to people flirting with her, she usually brushes it off since she’s a man magnet. Vi on the other hand, is weirdly making her flustered? It’s strange, really.

Cait and Vi start getting closer and eventually start dating the year after.

(Ekko & Jinx)

Ekko and Jinx are the same age but Ekko's older by a few months so he brags about it.

Ekko D&D nerd. He dragged Jinx into it, she only complied since Ekko asked so nicely (he threatened her kindly)

Jinx isn’t into extracurriculars, did track in middle school so she’s exceptionally fast and she’s in the track and field team in high school but she skips practice A LOT but the coach lowkey needs her so she doesn’t get punished.

Jinx has straight A’s but she skips classes and has days where she just can’t attend class so she does some of her work online (it’s like 70/30) in person-online; she has accommodations in her 504 plan that lets her listen to music all the time and lets her leave class whenever.

Jinx is just a nickname that was given to her while she was a kid since every sports team she cheered for ended up losing (she only ever went since she wanted to see what Vi was up to) and she was Jinxing every game which DID hurt her feelings when she was like 6 but now it’s kind of funny since she doesn’t care for sports.

She’s slightly uncomfortable letting random people call her Powder now since she introduces herself as Jinx, only her closer friends call her Powder.

She no longer Jinxes games now though but it was funny while it lasted.

Ekko and Jinx have this weird rivalry-friendship-situationship where they ARE childhood best friends who back each other up but they refuse to pair up together when working on projects since they wanna see who can get better grades or impress more people.

Ekko and Jinx is like “the boy/girl next door” trope since they’ve been casually hanging just whenever since they were little itty bitty kids. So people kind of know Jinx as “that girl friend he’s always around” and Ekko as “that boy friend Jinx is always around” to their respective classmates and acquaintances.

Ekko and Jinx used to get the “wait you guys aren’t dating” comment at least once a month. (They’re not dating just yet)

Ekko is in the art club and has never considered doing a sport (Ice hockey has intrigued him more and more every year though) and he’s in a bunch of clubs to compensate. He established the D&D club, being in a little “green thumb” club for plant parents, afterschool computer-science club which is run by Viktor and Jayce. He’s got a pretty decent variety of friends because of it and larger social circle. He’s known to be this friendly little nerdy guy and people either love him or think he’s weird.

When Ekko doesn’t have extracurriculars to focus on he’s out practicing new skate tricks,

Ekko is the plant dad of the CENTURY, he has like 20 plants in his room, he’s nurturing a garden in his backyard and he has the prettiest bushels of flowers in the house. He’s got the greenest of thumbs.

Jinx has a black thumb and kills every plant in a 20 mile radius. No but seriously, when Ekko tried giving Jinx a plant to take care of as an attempt to bond, it DIED within a week. (She drowned it) and when he gave her an easier plant to take care of, she fed the thing rubbing alcohol and didn’t notice until it was DEAD.

Ekko asks Jinx to Hoco, that’s when they started dating. Everyone calls it like “oh my god finally” “you weren’t dating before?” Etc. it’s really cute but there’s minimal changes!! They just start like, kissing or something.

305 notes · View notes

multiwreckedmess · 4 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 24

Prompt: Toys Pairing: bestfriend!Bang Chan x fem!reader WC: 4.2k Summary: Your ex was jealous trash. Both you and Chan know it, Chan just didn’t know the extent of it. Now he has something to prove.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Chan or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

CW/TW: Honestly, pretty vanilla. Pet names used include “babygirl” “princess” and “good girl”. There’s a lot of banter and checking in with consent! Vibrator is used. Chan has a big dick. Reader has femme sex organs.

“I’m sorry-WHAT?” Chan practically yelped, head coming forward and eyes bulging. “Guys are just like that Channie. As soon as I suggest a vib-” “No stop pause, I heard you.” He laughs and rocks back into the couch. “Like you know me, I’m insecure but that's…it’s another level.”

Your cheeks burn. He was right. The entire argument had been childish and should’ve been a red flag. “Well now I’m embarrassed…” you mutter and focus on your drink.

How had you even gotten here? How had the topic drifted so far from how are you doing to who are you doing and how are you doing them? One vague joke about Chan’s computer habits? Tonight was one of the rare nights Chan did not have his eyes glued to his Macbook, his modern day grindstone - opting to replace the mouse with a bottle of light beer (“it's what athletes drink if they are going to have alcohol”) and the small screen with human company. Your company.

The process of getting Chan to drop his work for one night was exhausting. He’d been your best friend for a couple years now, ever since meeting late night in the audio lab in college where he’d been similarly glued to the iMacs until the teaching aid kicked the two of you out. One last edit, one more pass, toggling the mute and unmute of the track feverishly asking ��1 or 2” like you were at an eye exam. These were the building blocks of your relationship. It wasn’t until a particularly unseasonably warm night during spring break when you finally saw him step out into the world to eat and drink with the common folk. It was that night, drinking tallboys on the campus quad at 4am, that you’d solidified your friendship.

And still, the topic of sex was never something either of you had brought up.

There were too many other topics. Video games, anime, and of course music. Hours and hours of trading songs back and forth, studying eachother's reactions intently. watching his face light up in surprise and brow furrow into an intense scour were some of the few times you felt uninhibited joy. It was a cute habit he had, looking utterly disgusted when he was deeply into a song. Chan valued most of all your enthusiasm and positivity. Even if a song wasn’t your style, you’d highlight the aspects that you liked with vigor. Childlike exuberance, it’s what he liked most about your reactions. Sharing songs was like sharing your souls. So how had you managed to veer into this new unbroached territory? It wasn’t like you’d never joked about sex. Anyone could tell you though, joking and talking about sex are two very different things. In the process of all of your soul spilling, confessing deep seeded feelings of inescapable loneliness, pondering the crushing finality of the third death (when the world says your name for the last time), and of course the underrated pleasure of a bimbo bop, you’d never really talked about sex. Chan fucked. You assumed as much. You fucked so why wouldn’t he. Chan had even been there for the first moving out breakup you’d ever had to go through. It’s how you ended up as neighbors. The rocky road started with Chan’s offhanded joke about you being easy to please. It was a frequent flier of jokes that he’d rattle off during friendly banter. Normally an eye roller but tonight you took issue. “Tell that to my ex,” you took a swig of cider with a grimace. “...or don’t. He doesn’t need another reason to feel inadequate.” “Inadequate? Bro was like almost 190cm!” Chan laughed. “Yeah, 190cm and humbled by the suggestion of clitoral stimulation.” You said in a deadpan, staring straight forward. Chan nearly projected his beer straight out onto the coffee table in front of him. “What part of that was so funny? Clitoral?” Chan sticks out his tongue. “Not funny just…is that why you two broke up?” You swig and sigh. The details were still fresh in your memory, your last boyfriend. “No. But yes. But no. His inability to make friends with my vibrator was one of MANY issue indicating-”

The rest of the scene played in slow motion for you, his yelp, his laugh. Your cheeks burning as he shook his head back and forth, eyebrow cocked incredulously.

“I’m not like that.” Chin tilted down he looks up at you from under his eyebrows. “Aren’t I a guy?” “All the guys I know are like that, competitive. The viber- it’s, it’s competition.” “Aren’t I a guy?” He repeats again. “Aren’t I competitive?”

In the years you’ve known him, the air has never been this tense. You’ve fought but this didn’t feel like fighting. Chan continues to stare at you, waiting for your answer. You gulp.

“Yes, you are a guy. Yes, you are competitive. Happy? Pleased?”

He smirks and takes another gulp of beer and swallows hard, pretty enough to be a commercial. It made you nervous. You took another sip of cider in silence. “Sex is a team sport anyway. Gotta know your real competition.” Chan states out of nowhere with a wink. You choke on the cider halfway down your throat. Both lungs and cheeks burning you turn to him glaring, “okay Chris. Any other tips for my sex life?” Chan shrugs. Truthfully he never liked your ex. You’d wanted the two of them to get along so badly, you arranged activities for them that you thought they’d bond over and somehow each time it would end in an argument or as your ex would say “it’s just a conversation, babe. We’re having a dialogue. Man to man.” Chan hated the way your ex called you babe. He’d mocked him for weeks after your break up just to see a hint of a smile from behind the clouds of anxiety. He hated how your ex would ignore you, leaving your texts unread and unanswered all night. Most of all Chan hated your excuses for him, the list long and winding. Your patience wears thin waiting for his response and you snap, “how’s your sex life then? Prosperous I hope.”

You didn’t hope.

He takes a measured pause, another swig, and answers, “I tried like…video call sex?” He fumbles for a term he’s forgotten and is unfamiliar with. “I just kept staring at my own dick like ‘what am I doing? This is so inefficient.’ You know?” You can’t help but laugh, “unfortunately I do.” A very Chan thought, weighing the efficiencies of phone sex. “See that’s why tools in the bedroom are friends. Efficiency.” Chan stumbles, visibly seesawing between curiosity and decorum. “So he really never got you off?” “No. yeah. No.” You look anywhere else. “It’s why i prefer…efficiency.” The word efficiency slips from your lips heavily, laden with new meaning. Both of you pause and take swigs of your respective drinks. “Bet I could,” Chan says easily, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Sure,” you shrug back.

At first the words don’t register, what you’ve bet exactly doesn’t hit you. “Okay, so bedroom?” He stands up, placing the empty bottle on your table. He’s so matter of fact it doesn’t hit you. “Bedroom?” You look up at him quizzically. “Or anywhere, if you have something specific in mind.” You tilt your head and squint your eyes further. Chan mimics you, eyes twinkling with glee. “You’ll want towels regardless.”

Oh.

OH.

He bet he could make you cum. Butterflies fill your stomach.

“Chris, you don’t have to- listen no one has really been able to as well as me myself and my trusty vibrator Even then, no towels necessary just wham bam thank you ma’am.” Your tongue and mind are in two different places, mouth working to dissuade him and brain screaming in need. The mischievous expression from his eyes migrates to his lips, “is that a yes?”

“Chan, it's a losing game. I’ve been doing this for-”

“Where’s your spirit of competition?” he laughs and braces himself. “It’s a friendly wager. Worst thing that happens is you don’t cum and I buy you something top shelf.” Your hesitation is visibly killing him, as much as he tries to stay cool, calm, and collected. His leg jostles with anxiety. “It really sounds like a win win for you. Unless you don’t-” “You won’t let this change our friendship right? You can do it and not let that happen?” You purse your lips and exhale, “...promise-”

Chan launches himself at you like an over excited puppy, “yes anything, whatever you want!”

Much like you, your bedroom is not exactly ready for this turn to the night. Chan leans on the doorway as you hastily shove the dirty clothes spilling over the edge of your hamper back under the lid. Your night stand is cluttered with skincare and two vibrators charging in the conspicuously cracked open drawer.

“Don’t say SHIT Chan, “ you whip around, still hunched over with clothes in your fists. “I didn’t think I’d have anyone in here for a while.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a sigh, you can tell he wants to make a joke and is barely holding it in him. Instead he sits on the edge of your queen sized bed, watching you toss clothes from the top of your dresser into the basket and closet according to their relative states of wear. “This won’t count against my time, right?” He tries to joke, you narrow your eyes. “Sheesh. Just get on the bed, okay? You won’t cum if you’re too stressed.” “You’re not going to be able to ANYWAY Chan,” you continue to attempt to neaten your room. “Yeah if you keep cleaning, yeah, I won't. Now get comfy on the bed please!” Chan enthusiastically smacks the mattress. You cock your eyebrow, “make me.” Chan sighs, it’s a simple pair of words, “make me”, and yet they burrow into him. He nods his head and approaches you putting your hips on his shoulder and hoisting you over his back, smacking your ass before setting you down on the bed. “You done being a brat?” You look a little dazed but you stick your tongue out at him. He sighs and goes to your bedside table, grabbing your vibrating wand left charging half out of the drawer. “Chan. CHAN. CHRISTOPHER. That’s CHEATING.” You let him guide your legs outwards, knees pointed up. “Wahhh, it’s been a second since you used my full christian name. ‘S’not cheating, it’s a partnership.” You wail for comic effect. He smiles a small, crooked half smile, “so, you normally get off with all your clothes on?”

“Well, actually, yes?” You shrug, “it’s not much mess anyway so…” “I was hoping to see your pretty cunt but we can start here,” he says, settling into the space between your thighs. Your stomach swooping again. He’d said cunt in front of you before, many times, it wasn’t a shocking word between you. Yet the addition of your…the familiar click of the vibrator interrupts the train of thought. “I’ll admit its easier when i can see the damn thing but-” It doesn’t take much to have your hips winding. Maybe it's the familiar tool being held in an unexpected hand but the vibration feels more intense the second it sits on your mound. You barely manage to catch a burgeoning moan in your chest. Chan scoots closer on the bed, deepening the pressure on your wand. “Can I touch you?” His voice is hoarse. “Over. Yes.” He nods as he leans over you, a strong hand pushing the edge of your bra down in your shirt, letting just the obviously hardened bud slip free. The rough callous of his thumb catches on the cotton threads of your shirt as he rubs over the tender bump. For you, most of the time you just used your vibrator without thinking too much about anything else. Getting off was no frills, all business. Letting him fondle you even over your clothes like horny teens elevated the entire experience. “Howzzat feel?” He grins smugly as you bite the inside of your lower lip. Your eyes flick backwards for a second, momentarily losing the veneer of respectability you clung to so desperately. “I want you to tell me. I need you to tell me.” You collect yourself as much as you can. “Feels real good, okay Chris? Real fucking good.” “What’s your fastest time?” Chan starts pressing the vibrator harder against you before pulling back. It’s a subtle increase and decrease in pressure but enough to get your toes twitching. “God-fuck-Chris- I don’t fucking- I don’t know.” Your breathing staggers. This cocky bastard is really going to make you cum that easily. Shoulder blades drawing down, back arching away from the bed, your vision swims for a second before you calm yourself by sheer force of will. “So stubborn, babygirl!” He cackles. “You don’t wanna let me win this? It’ll feel so good if you just let yourself go. Either way you win, it’s a win-win. Just cum, it’ll feel so good. I promise.” The spring winds again, the promise of pleasure at the other end of the snap. Your chest rises, he gives a small pinch to your taut nipple. A frankly embarrassingly needy whine hums in your nose. “God I wanna be in you so bad right now.” Chan’s earnest confession sends you over the edge. Your legs go numb as your eyeballs roll back in your skull, defense crashing down as the stretched spring snaps back. Wall clenching around nothing you can feel wetness bloom in your underwear. “Sssshhit,” you hiss, twitching with aftershocks as you try to catch your breath. You try to hide how your stomach tenses with every exhale. “I was better, right?” He’s smug, you can hear it in the sing-song lilt of his voice. It’s difficult to face him fully with your post orgasm clarity beginning to hit. Peaking through one half cracked eyelid, he’s sitting back on his heels, bulge prominent in his pants. Even with your limited vision it’s hard to miss the throbbing mass. “Different.” Your protracted answer betrays you, unable to trust yourself to keep your tone even and calm. The bed shifts below you. Chan is so close, leaning over you, a whisper away. Mouth just to the side of yours, hovering, just within the turn of your head. “Wanna bet? I bet you’re fucking soaked right now.” Kiss me. Touch me. Kiss now. Touch me please. Kiss, touch, fuck, kiss, kiss, kiss, kisskisskisskiss. Your brain is chanting out of your skull, body heating up from the microscopic excited vibrations you’re trying your best to hold deep in your core. “Ha,” you more bleat than laugh. Very uncool. Wheezy airy wanting air escaping from your lungs rather than the even keel chuckle of someone who totally didn’t want to their best friend to fuck their brains out. Chan’s hand, long having dropped the vibrator, grazes your waistband. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to. But I bet you don’t want me to.” Your breath hitches as they catch and slide over the slick fabric of your underwear. His fingers are more precise than the wand and the already sensitive area is swollen. The sticky remnants of your orgasm cling as he too casually runs a finger along your slit. You hold your breath and curl your toes. “Do you want me to?” Chan smirks down at you. You shake your head no. “Is that a ‘no, keep going’ or a ‘no, please stop?’” Deep breath in. “Keep going.” He smiles, increasing the pressure he’s using to rub your clit with. “Good girl,” he whispers, chest practically touching yours. You can feel the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as you try to hide your gasp of delight. Laughing, he kisses your cheek. “I knew you’d have a praise kink.” “You’re so fucking cocky.” Chan shuffles himself off of you. “I’m confident in what I’m confident in,” he shrugs before tugging your pants down over your hips.. “Now babygirl, show me that cute cunt of yours.” Chan is stupidly strong as he yanks your legs free. The slight rise and fall of your chests less from strain and more from anticipation. Something neither of you had really dared to entertain falling so easily into place. “Let me see yours first,” you blurt as heat flashes through you. Brow knitting and shaking his head in confusion, Chan shrugs, “fair enough.” You’re going to see it. After all these years you’re going to finally see his dick. It’ll be right there, confronting you. You think about all the things you know about your best friend, the blue veins that peak up his vline, his big feet, the foreboding lump in his pants. He’s not a tall guy but that doesn’t mean much in your estimation of him. Black jeans, black underwear hugging his thighs. You take a deep breath, blinking, turning more and more into squeezing your eyes shut. “Take off your shirt.” Your voice sounds pinched and you’re barely peeking out from between your eyelashes. Chan isn’t one to flinch at the request, shucking his top in a flash. “I thought you wanted me to go first.” “I do! I do. I just can’t help but think that everything is going to change after this. Like, we can’t go back from this. And I get scared.” “I’ll still love you regardless. And if you wanna stop or nah-” “You’re such a sentimental bastard. Take your cock out, I’m ready.” He laughs, eyebrows rocketing towards his hairline, a bemused grin creeping slowly into the corners of his mouth. Thumbs hooked on the waistband of his underwear he pulls it down agonizingly slowly, eyes locked on your face. The way your face shifts between excitement and dread is endearing. Truthfully he wanted to prolong the anticipation just to watch you squirm for him, the butterflies invading your gut and making themselves known adorably. The band crosses over his pubic bone to territory you’d yet seen, neatly trimmed dark hair surrounding the base of his cock. You let out a tiny involuntary yelp. Neatly trimmed. Thick. Without all of it being revealed you can already tell its hefty. Veins throb, crossing over the pulsing muscle. A challenge for sure. The shear weighty bounce of it as the enormity of it is revealed is daunting, enough to make any person feel virginal again. “I’m confident in what I’m confident in,” Chan repeats, languidly fisting his cock to full mast. It’s too heavy to sit all the way up, instead jutting out from him into the open air. “Now do you want me to fuck you with your underwear on or-” pausing for you to interject before he pulls your hips up onto his thighs. A thousand butterflies burst into flames in your chest watching him kiss your knees as he removes your panties. “Why are you being so tender with me oh my god!” Flames tickle the sides of your face as you giggle, flustered. “‘Cuz this is going to sting a bit.”

Oh fuck is that the understatement of the century. You can feel it from the way he rubs the blunt spongy tip of his cock along your folds. From the briefest of catches on your entrance you stiffen below him. Suddenly you’re less nervous about what he thinks of your pussy and more that he’ll not be able to fit. Lodging himself there at the precipice of heaven, he leans back over, resting himself on his forearms to keep himself from completely covering you.

“It’ll fit, right?” You ask with a hopeful sniff.

“Oh babe, I can make it fit, don’t worry about that. Just let me take care of it.” Chan angles his hips and lets his shaft glide over your slit. It’s a bundle of muscle you can’t resist grinding against. His forehead rests against your shoulder, his breath soaking into your shirt as he occasionally presses a chaste kiss to your neck.

Your breasts practically ache for his touch, having felt it muted through the fabric of that same stupid shirt. With an annoyed grunt you struggle to strip it off at first, caged underneath Chan. Its not until he snakes an arm beneath you and lifts your torso that you free yourself of the barrier. Almost as impressive as his feat of strength is the dexterity with which he unclasps your bra. A pang of jealousy echos in your chest, he’s had practice. As if it should really matter to you, if anything it’s only prepared him for this moment.

His lips are soft against your skin. Every kiss is a small promise of pleasure and harbinger of anticipation as they draw closer and closer to your hardened nipples. “Please, please, please,” you chant in barely a whisper as your back arches to meet him.

“You want this, right?” He feigns innocence as his lips wrap around you, sucking for a second. Your hips buck upwards into Chan’s resistance, grinding harder with a groan of relief. A strand of saliva bridges the gap between your breast and his grin. His hips encourage your redoubled efforts as he goes in for another nibble, teeth just barely tickling over your sensitive area.

Holding tight to his back you try to keep him close as you feel that same growing devouring pit of hungry need consuming your gut. “Don’t stop, please, I’m so fucking close.” It’s not so much dry humping anymore as your sex slides over him, pressure placed perfectly over your clit. “I’ll fucking kill you.” You add for good measure.

His tongue flicks over your nub, hand finally joining to pinch and kneed the other. Chan keeps his hips as steady as he can as you grow erratic, breathlessly using him to get yourself off again. All a part of his plan.

When you cum you sink your nails into his flesh, the muscles of his back valiant against them. The pit doesn’t go away, instead a ravenous beast wakes to fill the void. “I need it. I need you right now.” You reach down between your thighs to wedge him against your entrance again. “Chris please, please.” It’s difficult to bring yourself to say it, even now nearly blacking out with lust. “God please make it fit.”

Grabbing a pillow to pull your hips up on, Chan starts to nudge forward into you. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. Slowly your walls open to him, pulling him in as the fat tip of his cock breaches the tight ring of muscle. The extra lubrication of your release helps but the stretch itself has you breathing hard into your diaphragm.

“Chris-Chris- oh fuck- CHAN,” you scramble to hold him tighter as he pulls you apart. Your arms wrap over his shoulders, clinging to your own elbows as you squeeze.

“You’re almost there, my good girl. Best girl.”

“Almost?!” You yelp incredulously. “I’m so fucking full! What the fuck. What the fuck.”

“I can stop-”

You howl with lust filled rage. “Just shove it in oh my god Chris. Just fuck me. Please god I’m going to die.”

Your arms bounce as he chuckles at your overdramatics “Your wish is my command, Princess.” Hands holding your hips steady his hips snap against you easily, fullying burying himself. A mighty gasp caves your abdomen, barely whispering curses as you get exactly what you’d asked for. “Hurts right?” He asks sweetly, kissing your cheek. “Let me help.”

A telltale click.

Whirring.

With the white head of the vibrator placed over your clit the pain vanishes immediately. You blink furiously as the thud of your heartbeat sinks into your cunt. In all your years it hadn’t occurred to you to try this. Penetration wasn’t a necessary part of getting off so why would you? “Oh my god.” Chan smirks. Your hips move of their own accord, rolling just enough to push and pull him against your walls. “Oh my god it feels so good.” “Yeah you do babygirl.” Your walls clench around him as your head is thrown back in delicious pleasure. Chan indulges in the easily accessible skin of your chest, kissing slowly between your breasts as he helps bounce you on his cock. Orgasms roll easily into each other like a pleasant summer breeze warmly surrounding your skin and blending into the universe. It’s hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. Your bodies fit together with ease now, coated in a sheen of comingled fluids. For a moment you feel complete, your mind dulled enough to keep the buzz of thoughts finally silent, relinquishing yourself to waves of pleasure. Chan smiles, looking at your transformed face, slack jawed in open mouthed bliss. A breath kicks your stomach in as you cum on him again, walls squeezing him desperately. “I’m going to-” he chokes on his words as he fights his own finish. “Wh-” Chan can’t even get the word out before you’re clinging to him again, rutting and fucking him into you. Weaving your fingers up through the hair on the back of his head you tug lightly. The buzz of pain jolts his hips deeply into you, painting your walls deeply with his release. A strangled raspy “shit,” passes his lips before they catch themselves on yours. His cock pulses with refractory releases, your cunt squeezing back in a sympathetic response. Neither of you want to admit you’d really fucked up the friendship.

Sorry the formatting got weird and i’m posting late but uh my other group is having a cb and i’m getting anon hate on main so here we are.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #stray kids chan smut #skz chan smut #kpop smut #kpop kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober

263 notes · View notes

fuxuannie · 8 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 | kenji sato x gender neutral reader

love mail — ヽ(o´3`o)ﾉ full & utter credit to @coralwitchsheep in support of their preview of a kenji x reader series they're starting! (i'd suggest reading theirs first before reading this for context) i'm inlove w the idea and can't wait to read the next parts o(T□T)o ♡♡ this is my own spin on it, so to cut it short — likely not canon events! i js wanted to make a oneshot w relatively same concept,, if this does okay maybe part two. maybe ! (this is kinda long 🙁)

︰꒱꒱ "THAT WENT WELL." you grumbled, entering your home with a frustrated sigh. what kind of guy runs away from an interview? all you asked was what could've possibly made him want to start from the beginning by coming back to japan. sure, maybe you startled him with your presence after 20 years, but come on. can't he be a little more professional? and maybe a little more welcoming to his best friend once upon a time?

as you snuggled into the comfort of your couch, you wanted to binge watch a few movies that you've been putting off.. but work called. you had to check your email incase any of your private interview bookings were accepted, or if the head journalist had yet another task for you. and if so, then to your dismay you'd have to figure out bookings and schedule.. and you should've been overjoyed to not receive any new ones, but there was one unopened email. curiously, you click on it — and you pause. kenji sato, as in — the one that just ran off after a single question, kenji sato? how did he find your email.. something you'll have to figure out later, but continuing to scan the contents, it seems like he wanted to have a one on one interview, and everything had been planned in advanced. it's in a restaurant not far from your home, in fact.. it was your favorite one from when you were a kid. reading the restaurant name makes you smile a little, fond memories of kenji's family and yours going there together, but you quickly shake your head to focus, this was basically work — after all.

it was a dinner, he wanted to apologize for his dismissive attitude to you earlier that day and give you a private interview. the entire email honestly felt computer generated, if mina wrote it you wouldn't be surprised until you got to the end;

"please, (name), let's catch up. professional setting or not, that's up to you. i just need to see you."

now you had to admit, that felt...— you weren't sure what it felt like, but you felt something while reading that. your fingers swiftly type back a response, accepting the invitation, with no bad blood between them for the prior interaction. as you click send, your mind began to wander off to possible situations. after all, twenty years.. it's a significant amount of time, and people can change — you just hoped it wouldn't be the worst reunion in the world.

the following day passed like spring breeze, next thing you knew you were dressing up for the arranged meeting with kenji. unsure whether to be casual or business, you weren't even set onto whether you wanted to catch up, or catch a story. job or feelings? now that's a hard decision. in the end, you went for a mix of both, a casual business attire.

you wondered if it was intentional for kenji to pick a place so close to home, literally and figuratively; it was a 5 minute walk and it.. honestly means a lot to you. your family still visits there often, and there's not one day that they don't discuss how much more joyful things would be with the sato's to share a meal with you. you couldn't help but silently agree, even if you wanted to act like you hated kenji for leaving.

you thought it would be smart to be there 10 minutes earlier, but kenji seems to have beaten you. he hasn't noticed you coming in yet, however he seems nervous. he's talking with the elderly head chef, who could easily recognize professor sato's only son boy — catching up after all those years. his head moves to the door by coincidence, catching your gaze. you wave hello and he smiles, waving back.

"holy shit." kenji feels like the air from his lungs is stolen right out of him. you've grown so much, well — yes, of course, it has been years, but god he didn't think you'd still have that affect on him. even as kids, as teenagers, and now as an adult — he couldn't help but feel breathless at the sight of you.

"hi mr. sato." you'll start, sitting next to him and giving a friendly smile. he laughed, taking his shades off his face and resting them down onto the table. "you know you don't have to do that with me, use my name. it's not like we're strangers." you didn't expect that, and kenji could see that in your eyes — he almost regrets saying it the way he did, but your expression melts into a much more casual one. "alright, kenji."

his attitude felt different, honestly. the things you've read about him from articles, he's an egoist — completely full of himself, he just can't stop talking about his own achievements. so to sit right next to him, and to feel like you're a little kid again, just eating wirh your best friend.. it's weird.

the silence is suffocating, food sizzling on pans and fire burning were the only things being 'exchanged' between the two of you.

deciding to break the silence, you cleared your throat. "so.. how has life been in america?" you immediately regret it. now you'll have to listen to him boast about his wins, how happy he's been — how you haven't even crossed his mi— "lonely."

your racing thoughts came to a pause at the sound of his voice, weirdly vulnerable, — you unknowingly made it so easy for him. "it was lonely. sure, but i won't lie—" kenji chuckled, although it lacked the joyful emotion tied to such form of laughter, and instead — sorrow. "the spotlights great. winning awards and trophies, it's what i've wanted to do for years. but.."

his hand moves over to his face, and suddenly it's harder to keep eye contact with you. he leans back into his chair and scoffs, looking away. "i missed japan. i missed my family.. i — i missed you."

your mouth goes slightly agape in an 'o' shape. you suddenly fumble on any words you can think of, even in your own mind, you begin to stutter. "i'm—" you'll try to speak but it's like you have no mouth, nothing can describe how you feel at the moment, it's such a basic and simple arrangement of words, an 'i miss you', and yet — why do you feel like this? you resented him for not calling, you envied how happy he was through a tv screen, and you wished that he'd just.. come back. and he did. he was doing exactly what you had hoped for in the past 20 years but — "i.. i've watched your life through a screen. every game, every loss, anything that involved you. and for those years, it felt impossible to tell *anyone* we were best friends. once." the *once* hit kenji harder than you thought. "but i wished, like some child spotting a shooting star — that you'd call. and not those half assed ones, where it was really just our parents talking and they call us over to say hi to each other. i mean, like we used to."

"what do you mean?" "you know what i mean."

your mind feels nostalgic as you reminicse; "2AM, you'll be talking about some punk from school who gave you trouble. and how i'd promise i'll beat them up once mom and dad had enough money to visit." a pitiful sigh escaped your lips. "they never did."

"i just.. i never wanted to move on, kenji. i never wanted to stop waiting. but.. i didn't want to keep feeling like a dog at your door for you."

as clichè as it is to hug someone during a dramatic monologue, kenji felt like there was nothing else he could do. words were practically silence when actions could do much more for him. his arms wrapped around you tightly, and his face was buried into your shoulder. he wanted to explain, but there was so much to cover in so little time — and he honestly just wanted you to feel better at the moment. "i wish i had known this is how you felt all those years apart. and i wish that i could've done more, but shit happens and i—"

and it's even more clichè to return that hug, with just as much feeling. "i know. and let's just.. talk things out, yeah? i've got a free day tomorrow so.. i don't think i'll mind spending the night with you."

"reword please, you'd love to spend the night with me."

"don't flatter yourself too much before i change my mind."

"alright alright, let's just eat already."

#♡ — 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ultraman rising #ultraman rising x reader

348 notes · View notes

bookyeom · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: wonwoo x reader word count: 2.3k warnings: a couple of swears, kissing

Author’s Note:��this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

idk by jeffrey lenh, joanna

i think that i’ve been falling ever since that day out in the park and i don’t know if this is love, but maybe this could be the start

“I guess this isn’t so bad.”

You open one eye, looking up at Wonwoo from where you’re laying in the grass. His back is resting against a tree, and you watch as the breeze catches a few strands of his hair. It makes you smile, how calm and content he looks.

”I won’t say I told you so, but…”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth is turned up in a smile. Your eyes don’t leave him as he pushes his glasses up with a finger, his eyes taking in the surrounding park. You like seeing him like this. You’ve managed to drag him out of his dorm room on the first warm, sunny day of the year, and you’re glad he came. You’re always glad when he’s with you, but seeing him bask in the first golden glow of spring is something else.

“You just didn’t want to do this alone, and I was your last resort.”

You tsk, closing your eyes again, letting the warmth of the sun wash over your face. “That’s not true. You’re not my last resort, you’re my charity case. Helping the old man get out of his house and all that.”

Wonwoo gasps dramatically, and you can’t help the giggle that leaves you at the sound. The two of you fall back into contented silence, the only sounds around you coming from the wind in the trees and some children playing across the field.

“Seriously,” he speaks up again a few minutes later. “Thanks for forcing me to get off of my computer and outside for a bit. It’s a nice reminder that since winter is finally over, I can take a break from writing essays and gaming inside. So, thanks.”

You’re beaming up at him, even as he avoids your eyes after his little speech, but you know he knows you’re looking. “Glad you’re here,” is all you say. When he sends a smile your way, you know you’ve said the right thing.

You’re so warm — inside and out — that you can’t help but doze off. It’s a little while later when you stir, your eyes fluttering open as you come to. You startle when you realize that you must have nuzzled into the warmth of Wonwoo’s thigh while you slept, and you wince. Then your next thought has you realizing something even worse: his hand is gently resting on your head, and his thumb is brushing soothing circles into your scalp.

Your breath catches. It feels so intimate, and you know that you absolutely cannot succumb to how you’re feeling, because it’s Wonwoo, and Wonwoo definitely, absolutely, 100% does not like you back.

You make a show of stretching your toes, and as you predicted, Wonwoo’s movements stop. He drops his hand as you roll onto your back, and you try desperately to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Sorry I fell asleep,” you say, and Wonwoo shrugs, lifting a hand to run through his hair.

“It’s all good.”

And that’s that.

You watch as Wonwoo games from your spot on his bed, his fingers clicking so fast it makes your head spin. You’re supposed to go out for something to eat soon, but he’d begged you to let him finish one more game. You’d pouted, but you don’t really mind waiting.

You flop down on his bed, arms falling dramatically out to your sides. It’s been a long few weeks as you and your friends prep for your final papers and exams. The only time you’ve been able to see anyone is when you eat together, and Wonwoo is no exception. It’s been a week or so since you saw him last, and you wish the sight of him would stop making you feel the way it does. That doesn’t seem likely anytime soon, considering that when he’d opened the door tonight, his greeting smile alone had rendered you breathless. Lately, you’re more excited to see Wonwoo than a kid in a candy store, and you’re not sure what you're supposed to do about it.

Because Wonwoo doesn’t like you like that.

“Alright, GamerGirl17. I’m out. Good game.”

Your ears perk up at the username. GamerGirl17. You hear about her from Wonwoo all the time. Apparently, he’s made friends with one of the top players in his favourite game. You can’t believe you’re jealous of an online friend, but you happen to know through Wonwoo that she only lives a couple of hours away. Maybe they were dating already and Wonwoo just hadn’t told anyone?

Wonwoo regales you with the mission the two of them had just completed as you walk to the restaurant, explaining why it had been so important to finish. You’re not a gamer yourself, but Wonwoo always listens to you talk about your niche hobbies, so you’re always willing to listen to him.

Except today, apparently, because for some reason you’re more irritated than usual about the topic of Miss Gamer Girl.

“Have you asked her out?”

You interrupt Wonwoo mid-speech. You don’t look at him as you ask, but you can tell he’s surprised by the way he stumbles a bit, catching himself before he trips into a garden of freshly blooming flowers.

“Huh? Who?”

You glance at him as you near the burger place. “GamerGirl17.”

Wonwoo’s footsteps slow, and you raise your eyebrows at him. He doesn’t say anything else for a minute as you enter the restaurant. It isn’t until you’ve sat down and ordered drinks that he answers you, and you clench your fists in an attempt to stay calm.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” Wonwoo says, and you meet his gaze. He looks embarrassed to say it.

“Why? You like her, no?”

Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes a bit. He looks down and away from you, suddenly finding something on his empty plate far more interesting. “Um,” he tries again, “I’m not really interested in… in dating anyone right now, I guess?”

Your heart sinks as you try to decide if that’s better or worse for you. You think worse.

Ouch.

”Oh,” you reply with a slow nod. You clear your throat. “That’s cool, then. I just wasn’t sure, that’s all.”

Your food arrives soon after, and you try to push past the awkward conversation by asking for pictures of Wonwoo’s parents’ new puppy. It works to distract him, but you don’t forget his comment.

I’m not interested in anyone right now.

“I’m sorry for the last minute notice,” you offer as you wait by Wonwoo’s door. “I didn’t know I left it here.”

He hums in acknowledgement as he grabs your cardigan from the back of his chair. “It’s all good.”

You try to ignore the once over he gives you as he hands you the sweater. You’re dressed up, and you feel a bit embarrassed under his gaze, though you’re not sure why. “Thanks.”

“Where…” Wonwoo trails off, and you watch as he leans against the doorframe. He’s gathering his thoughts, and you hate that he’s got you feeling nervous for no reason, even now when you’re about to go on your first date in months. You know you look nice dressed up in your cute flower pattern outfit for spring, but you feel so shy when he looks at you. “Where are you going?”

“Um,” you clear your throat, “Kwan set me up on a date with a friend of his.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen, and he straightens. You wish you could disappear into the floor. “Oh.”

”Yeah.” Your cheeks are on fire. You need to leave, now. You pretend to glance at your phone as you say, “I should probably get going.” You hold up the cardigan. “Thanks for the missing piece of my outfit.”

As you turn to leave, your eyes squeeze shut briefly. It hurts to know he doesn’t want you in the same way, but you think you’ve just officially confirmed it. You inhale a shaky breath, willing the tears to remain at bay as you descend the stairs to the lobby.

You’ve almost reached the front door when you hear footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, and you turn in surprise. Your heart jumps into your throat when you realize it’s Wonwoo, barefoot and out of breath.

“Wonwoo, what—“

“Don’t go.”

You pause. “What?”

“Don’t go,” he repeats, and you’re confused. He can’t mean what you think he means, not after all this time. Your lip starts to tremble.

He seems to notice, a hand lifting in your direction as he takes a step closer, and your breath catches. He doesn’t touch you, though, just looks at you for a moment, mouth opening and closing. Then he quickly glances around the room. The only other people around are the Resident Assistant at his desk and a couple of other students walking in and out of the building. After a second, Wonwoo gently takes you by the elbow and around the corner so you’re tucked away, and he’s suddenly so close that you can’t breathe.

“When I said I didn’t want to date anyone right now, I meant anyone else. Other people.” His words are jumbled and rushed, and your eyebrows knit together.

Your back slumps to rest against the wall behind you. He’s not making sense, but you have a feeling in your stomach, and you can’t believe what you think is happening here. You can’t. “Wonwoo,” you say quietly, voice trembling, “You need to be super clear with me right now, because I can’t…”

You trail off, and Wonwoo steps even closer. The proximity causes you to straighten, every single part of you on edge. You still don’t know if it’s good or bad.

His eyes search yours. Then he speaks, voice so soft and sure that you think it surprises even him. “I meant that I don’t want to date anyone other than you.”

Your mouth falls open. You search his face, desperately trying to comprehend what he’s just said. You can tell he’s nervous, and your immediate instinct would usually be to comfort him, but right now, you can’t think. You can’t breathe. When you don’t say anything, he takes a step back.

“I’m sorry. You can go on your date, I just… I needed you to know—“

“Wonwoo.” It comes out strangled, but you had to say something. Anything to stop him from leaving. He stops, and all you can do is shake your head in disbelief. He gives you a moment, his gaze falling to the floor, but you can’t look away from him. “If you mean that,” you say slowly, “then I’m not going anywhere.”

Wonwoo blinks back at you. It’s almost comical, how wide his eyes have gotten behind his glasses. The way you can practically see him buffering.

“You’re not?” He finally says, and you can hear the relief in his voice. It makes your heart ache a little, because how can he not know how you feel? You shake your head.

“Unless you have other plans.” Your voice is shy, uncertain, but he’s quick to quell your fears.

“No,” he says, firm. “I’m all yours.”

The second the door to his room closes, you’re in his arms. You’re feeling so unbelievably shy at all these new revelations, and you can tell he is, too. He stumbles a bit when you wrap your arms around his waist, face pressed to his chest, but he’s quick to respond. His arms pull you in tight as he laughs, and you can feel it against your cheek.

You don’t remember the last time you felt this nervous.

“Wonwoo?”

He hums, and you gather enough courage to pull back and look up at him. When your eyes meet, you have to resist the urge to hide your face from him again. He looks so fond. So happy.

You don’t know what you were going to say as your gaze falls to his mouth. You watch as he swallows, his fingers gently squeezing where they rest on your waist in an attempt to help you refocus, but it’s a lost cause.

“You’d think I’ve never kissed anyone before with how nervous I am right now.”

The words are out before you can stop them, and you’re absolutely mortified. Your hands immediately lift to cover your face. A few seconds of silence pass, and then you realize that Wonwoo is laughing.

“Oh, is that what we’re about to do? Kiss?”

You freeze. Is he… teasing you?

“What happened to shy Wonwoo from before? Bring him back,” you whine, hands falling from your face to send him a glare.

“He knows you like him back now, so he’s a bit more confident.” He’s grinning, and you pout. He quirks an eyebrow, one hand lifting to your jaw as he adds, “He knows now that he makes you nervous.”

You would be absolutely scandalized by his words if it weren’t for what happens next. Because suddenly he’s kissing you, and all bets are off.

It’s not much, just a soft press of his mouth to yours, but it’s enough.

“For the record,” Wonwoo says as he pulls away, and you vaguely register the flush of his cheeks under the dim lamplight, “you make me nervous as hell, too.”

“For the record,” you smile, “I don’t want to go on a date with anyone that’s not you, either.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on pov! Here’s the second of our Thirteen Valentines. I can only see Nana Tour Glasses!Wonwoo, all the time.

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :)

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars @darkypooo @christinewithluv

#Wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo imagine #Wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #thirteenvalentines #My writing #Jwwfic

548 notes · View notes

prentissluvr · 5 months ago

Text

campus library, 7:00 a.m. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, stanford!era, unedited, 658 words. requested ! for my 800 followers event [ closed ] .

summary : a nervous first year (sam) asks the cute libary worker (you) for help printing and accidentally develops a crush on the first day of classes.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

it’s a good thing for the library patrons that you’re in a particularly pleasant mood, which is a rare occurrence at seven a.m., especially on the first day of a new semester. the poor first years are stressed. you’re leisurely as you walk behind the circulation desk, setting your bag down by the chair and settling there with your laptop. it only takes about a second for someone to approach, holding his own laptop in nervous hands.

he does a pretty good jop of hiding that he’s nervous, but it’s clear to you that he feels out of place and maybe even a little lost.

“hi,” you greet him with a smile, inviting him closer and encouraging him to ask for whatever help he needs when he hesitates.

“hi.” he gives a tight lipped smile back, relaxing just a touch. “could you maybe help me with printing something, or…?” he’s clearly unsure if you’re the right person to ask. that’s a classic question, and one that further confirms your suspicions that he’s a first year. (though once you helped a junior print for the first time as a first year yourself last spring semester).

“absolutely!” you confirm, keeping the friendly smile on your face to hopefully put him at ease. “have you been able to connect your computer to the printers at all yet?” you’re pretty sure you know the answer, but ask anyway.

the student, who’s taller than he looks, all folded in on himself, shakes his head sheepishly. “i’m stuck there,” he explains.

“that’s alright. here,” you nod your head towards the nearest printer, standing up and leading him over. he follows, laptop cradled in his big hands. “do you mind?” you ask, hands hovering over the touchpad when he sets it down on the table.

“no, no, of course not. go ahead.” he gives you quick permission to touch his computer, and you spend the next minute explaining and showing him how to connect to the printer. in the system settings, you catch his name. maybe you’re a little curious about him. sam winchester.

he makes the attempt to print out the syllabus for a political science class. and, as often happens, it doesn’t work.

“the printers here sort of suck,” you explain quickly, so that he doesn’t feel bad or more nervous. “sometimes it’s because you’re using a personal computer. unfortunately, i don’t know how to fix that issue, but the tech services desk opens at eight and should be able to help you! if you need to print now, you can head to the computer lab, sign in with your stanford email and password, then select the same printer that i showed you.”

“okay,” he sighs out. “thank you so much,” he says sincerely, looking relieved that there’s a second solution.

“of course,” you smile, then walk off back to your seat as he heads for the computer lab. about a minute later, he returns, looking slightly embarrassed. it turns out that he still can’t quite get it to work. he’s very apologetic for bothering you, but you assure him quickly and easily that it’s no problem at all. he’s so kind and frankly, cute, so you have no qualms with helping him.

the syllabus prints, and he thanks you several times. each time, you assure him that it’s no problem, that you’re happy to help. something about him makes you want to ease his nerves. you hope that your adamant kindness makes a good impression for his first day.

it must have at least a little, because you see him in the library often. then, you see his name in the list of new hires for the library this semester. the next time you meet him is the day that your boss asks you to show him how to shelve books and take inventory. you work together once a week. he’s easily your favorite coworker, and you’re pretty sure that you’re his.

213 notes · View notes

baekhyunsbestie · 4 months ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🎃 do you like scary movies? 🔪 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

a lil disclaimer before you dive in: this goes pretty dark. we’re talking obsession, stalking, breaking and entering, some seriously pervy vibes, and even murder. i just want to say that i absolutely do not condone any of this behavior in real life— this is all purely fictional and should stay that way, okay? if this typa story isn't your vibe, no worries!!!!! protect your peace and scroll on. take care of yourselves😚💞‼️

ੈ✩‧₊ content: 18+/MDNI. 5.3k+ words. smut, language, baekhyun x f!reader--baekhyun is a psychologist and reader is a bakery owner, no ages specified, but i was thinking mid-late twenties!! they're also next-door neighbors 🙂‍↕️ hehe

baekhyun sits on the edge of his desk in his dimly lit home office, the dissertation on his computer screen long forgotten. his eyes drift to the sheer curtains, gently moving with the breeze from his open window. hours pass quietly, and his patience grows thin, stretched to its limit. hidden behind the ghostface mask, his deep brown eyes stay locked on you, his alluring neighbor next door.

outside, the world blurs into the background as he tunes out the laughter of the children in your care, his gaze completely captured by your captivating presence. earlier, he had seen the parents wave goodbye, their silly costumes hinting at a halloween party awaiting them. it was no surprise they chose you to babysit tonight; you were the life of the party, casting a spell on the kids in a way that even sabrina spellman would envy.

every movement of yours is etched into the chaotic corners of his mind. you embody perfection as you effortlessly play dress-up with the kids, sharing sweet treats and settling in for another tim burton film. that beautiful smile adorns your lips—a smile that, while it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, is enough. enough to delight the children, enough to maintain appearances. but baekhyun sees beyond the surface; he can read the subtle nuances that betray your true feelings. he knows that if these were your children—his and yours—you would shine with a warmth and devotion that’s unmistakable. the mere thought triggers a fire within him, sending a rush of desire coursing through his veins, and a low groan escapes his lips. but how could he ever convince you to have his kids when you don’t see him that way?

he knows he needs a plan—a way to draw you in and make you see the real him. in his mind, he's a catch, someone truly special. he tells himself he's a good guy, a smart one, too, with a promising career as a psychologist and a hefty retirement plan waiting for him. he believes he’s perfect for you, convinced that he could take care of you in ways no one else could. little does he realize, he’s always watching from the shadows, convinced that his intentions are pure, even as his obsession grows deeper.

and after all, he knows so much about you. he’s aware that you’ve recently moved here from a few towns over, stepping into a new life as a single woman with no kids. he would never forget seeing you for the first time. it was a sunny spring day, the weather was perfect, the moving truck parked in the drive way out front, while watching your family and friends help unload and organize the furniture in your new house.

you’ve opened a small, cozy bakery, every pastry crafted with love and care. the warm, inviting space reflects your personality—painted in shades of your favorite color. scattered horror movie posters, especially scream, show your love for slasher films.

from his office window, he watches. he can see straight into your living room, where your tv bathes the room in a soft light. you’re always lounging on the couch in those tiny shorts that make his mind race. weekends are your time, dedicated to marathons of horror films, with scream playing over and over, clearly your favorite.

you’re all alone in that big house, and he can’t shake the feeling that you need him. he’d be the missing puzzle piece—fitting you perfectly. he imagines himself slipping into your life, the one who helps you at the bakery and shares your love for horror. he envisions nights where your screams of pleasure would align perfectly with the shrieks on the screen as he brings you to your climax, down on his knees before you, his head between your legs.

baekhyun fondly recalls the day, just after your move-in, when the mailman mistakenly dropped your letters into his mailbox. a wicked grin spread on his face at the memory; finally, he could introduce himself. after thirty minutes of rehearsing his lines in front of the mirror, he stands at your door, donning his friendliest smile, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface.

when the door swings open, he’s struck breathless by your presence—so devastatingly beautiful, you. he notices the broom in your hand, hinting that you’ve been tidying up. you wore denim overalls over a simple tank top. your hair is swept up in a claw clip, with a few loose strands gently framing your face. sweat glistens on your forehead, clinging to the sides of your cheeks, accentuating your expression of confusion.

“oh. um, hi? can i help you?” you ask politely, a hint of an awkward smile gracing your lips.

baekhyun snaps out of his daze, realizing he’s been standing there in silence. he clears his throat, shaking off the momentary haze before speaking, “hi, i’m your next-door neighbor, baekhyun. welcome to the neighborhood. um, i believe this is yours; it was in my mailbox.” he offers you the mail, his nervousness evident in his slightly trembling hands.

you invite him inside for a glass of lemonade, gratitude dancing in your eyes as you thank him for the mix-up. with a playful tone, you mention how you’re still getting used to the kindness of people in smaller towns. as you lead him to the kitchen, you apologize for the clutter of boxes and bubble wrap scattered around. he takes a seat at the table, casually glancing around while you fetch the drinks. his eyes wander to the living room bookshelf, where a few self-help books catch his attention. baekhyun, not missing a beat, shares that he’s a psychologist, mainly focusing on writing dissertations to bring fresh perspectives to cognitive psychology. you find his work captivating—so much so that you tell him, with genuine admiration, that people like him make the world a better place.

oh, if only you knew.

as you talk, you weave together the threads of your life—how you left everything behind after a painful breakup with the man you once believed would be you’d grow old and gray with. the memory stings, recalling how he would betray your trust with your best friend while you were away on business trips. you share how that heartbreak changed everything, ultimately guiding you to this charming old house that now feels like home.

you explain how you quit your old job, a role that never truly fulfilled you. then, your eyes light up as you reveal your childhood dream of opening a bakery—a dream you’re finally chasing. you’ve even signed the lease for a cute little space right in the heart of downtown, a step closer to making that dream a reality.

unbeknownst to you, as you sit beneath the soft glow of your kitchen light, baekhyun feels an overwhelming wave of desire wash over him. he’s rock hard beneath the kitchen table, ever since you opened the door and welcoming him in. he’s utterly entranced by the way your hands unconsciously glide over your bare thigh as you speak, igniting a fire within him. the light in your eyes sparkles with passion, your voice a melodic cadence as you share your visions for your bakery—the delicate pastries and savory sandwiches that will soon fill your charming shop. it’s all too much for him; you seem perfect—too perfect for this world.

then, as you lick the last drop of lemonade from the rim of your glass, the sinful thought of those same lips and tongue and how they’d feel on his aching dick pushes him to reach his climax. a shudder runs through him, and he bites back a groan, hiding it behind an exaggerated yawn. he blames it on the sleepless nights spent in research. thankful for the baggy black sweats he wears, he quickly excuses himself, a rush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as he retreats, relieved that the fabric conceals the mess he’s made underneath.

after that, the interactions blend into casual small talk and fleeting waves of hellos and goodbyes, leaving him longing for more of those stolen moments with you.

he remembers spending hours diving into your social media after your first meeting, each scroll revealing new pieces of your story. in just a few hours, he learned so much about you. he knows your favorite foods, cocktails, and music, and he can name all the concerts and festivals you’ve attended, along with the places, dates, and people you went with. he’s familiar with all the vacations you’ve taken and the hobbies that make you smile. every like and dislike, every old post of you and your ex-boyfriend, painted a picture of who you are—one that captivated him completely.

thoughts of that past lover linger like shadows in his mind, the one you left behind in search of solace. the idea that someone could wound you so deeply, sending you fleeing to a new town, sets off a fierce rage within him. he clenches his fist around the knife resting against his thigh, its cold steel spinning slowly between his fingers, a dark reminder of the lengths he might go to.

he could kill him. both of them—your douchebag ex and slut of a best friend. the thought excited him, a twisted thrill coursing through his veins. he imagined taking his time, savoring every moment as their lives faded away. a laugh might escape him as he’d watch the light leave their eyes, knowing he was doing it all for you—the love of his life. just the thought of your smile and the melody of your laughter quickened his heartbeat. he would go to any lengths to ensure your happiness, willing to pay any price to keep you safe. all you’d have to do is say the word.

just then, snapping out of his thoughts, the parents return, their footsteps echoing on the driveway before a knock sounds at the door. the children, who’ve been squealing with laughter all night, race to the entryway, eager to greet their parents, still decked out in their poorly chosen costumes. and finally—finally—they shuffle out one by one, leaving the house to fall into a peaceful, almost eerie silence, with only you left to occupy the night.

this is it. the moment has arrived, the one he’s been anticipating all night.

baekhyun fished a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, the hastily scrawled digits smudged and jumbled—a chaotic reflection of his flustered thoughts. these were the personal details he had picked up while lounging on his porch, book in hand and coffee in the other, absorbed in the quiet of the morning. he could still hear the rhythm of your breath from your daily jog as you approached your house, your voice lilting with familiarity as you chatted on your phone, casually reciting your number to the person on the other end. with a decisive flick of his wrist, he pulled out his phone, his fingers dancing across the screen with a fluidity born from habit, dialing your number with a sense of anticipation thrumming in his chest.

his gaze remained locked on the window, watching intently as you casually tossed a bag of popcorn into the microwave, the scent of buttery goodness soon filling the air. you moved effortlessly, rifling through netflix’s horror category, your face illuminated by the screen's eerie glow. the flickering light danced across your features, highlighting your concentration as you searched for the perfect scare to accompany your night.

his anticipation tightens the air, but you don’t even glance at your phone when it buzzes. the silence on your end feels louder than it should, and baekhyun’s jaw clenches. a low, guttural frustration threatens to escape his throat, his grip on the knife at his side growing dangerously tense. he draws in a deep breath, the cool metal pressing against his palm. stay calm, he tells himself. his pulse thrums in his ears as he gives you one more chance.

the microwave chimes, a cheerful reminder that your popcorn is ready. you open the door, the warm, buttery aroma spilling out like a cozy embrace, wrapping around you as you pour the fluffy kernels into a bowl. your gaze shifts to the phone screen—an unknown number flashes, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "oh, fuck me," you mutter under your breath, barely loud enough to be heard. one of the kids must have left a toy behind again, refusing to sleep without it. you sigh at the thought, exasperation bubbling up as you reach for the phone, its persistent ringing cutting through the quiet.

"hello?" you answer, forcing a brighter tone, only to be met with silence—except for the faint, unsettling sound of heavy breathing on the other end. you have no idea that the caller is watching you through his window, eyes locked on your every move, his breath ragged as his hand strokes himself, utterly fixated on the sight of you.

you don’t let them get a word in. “go bother someone else, you freak,” you snap, cutting them off as you toss your phone onto the kitchen island with a frustrated clatter. leaning over the counter, you absentmindedly crunch popcorn between your teeth, your thoughts drifting. after hours of looking after a group of loud, sugar-fueled brats—who were mostly well-behaved—the last thing you need is some creep making prank calls.

when the phone rings again, a surge of frustration rises. you snatch it up, already preparing to unload a string of curses. but the words die on your lips the moment you hear the low, menacing voice on the other end. it snakes through the receiver, making your stomach drop.

"you’ll be fucking sorry if ya do that again, sweetheart."

a sharp thud strikes the side of your house, the sound unsettling in the stillness of the night. your breath hitches, pulse racing. just a cat, you tell yourself, forcing down the panic that claws at your chest. you pull the phone from your ear, fingers trembling as you hover over the screen, daring yourself to hang up. you could call 911 in seconds. so fast.

"don't test me." the voice on the other end, deep and edged with malice, seeps into your veins, freezing you in place. "or i'll have to come in there... and make you regret it."

your throat tightens. compliance feels like your only option.

your mind is spinning with confusion, thoughts crashing into each other. are you really thinking about provoking this mystery guy, just out of curiosity? you've seen enough horror movies to know the warning: get too close, and you could end up cut to pieces the second he walks through your door.

“what do you want?” you manage to ask, your voice quivering like a fragile leaf in the wind, much to baekhyun’s delight. a smirk dances on his lips as he leans closer, tempted to retract his earlier words. the urge to break in and claim you overwhelms him, a primal instinct igniting within. the way you nervously bite your bottom lip and toy with the hem of your shirt suggests a part of you wouldn’t entirely mind if he did. he can sense it—the shiver in your breath, the heat rising in your cheeks—as if his voice alone is enchanting, stirring an undeniable desire deep within you.

the quiver in your voice sends a thrill through him, a captivating note of fear he savors like fine wine. “no need to be frightened, princess. don’t let those tears spill just yet,” baekhyun teases, his gaze piercing and calculating as he studies your every reaction. “just follow my lead, and i promise, nothing terrible will happen to you.”

before you can form the words to question his intentions, he leans closer, a predatory glint in his eyes. “now, i want you to put on a little show for me. undress.”

the thought of performing a sultry striptease for a mysterious, menacing stranger sends a thrilling jolt through you, awakening a passionate fire deep within. yet, it’s the image of your nosy neighbors catching even the slightest glimpse of the entire spectacle that truly makes your heart race, heat pooling low in your core. especially your irresistibly handsome psychologist neighbor—the one who sent your heart into a flurry the day he delivered your mail. the one who makes you blush every time you exchange a casual wave while jogging through the neighborhood, your pulse quickening at the mere sight of him. the one who occupies your thoughts late at night, a persistent whisper in your mind as you find yourself lost in fantasies, touching yourself in the shower, on the bed, and even on the couch.

baekhyun, oblivious to this electric twist of your fantasy, doesn’t realize he wouldn’t need to intimidate you to stir this desire. just the thought of it has you growing increasingly wet, a delicious tension building with every pulse of anticipation. with a breathless flutter in your chest, you pull the phone away from your face, switching it to speaker mode to free your hands, your mind swirling with the provocative images dancing just beneath the surface.

“if you hang up on me again, i’m coming in, baby,” baekhyun purred, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as his gaze roamed hungrily over you. your heart raced as you slowly grabbed the bottom of your shirt and puling it over your head, revealing the smooth skin beneath, the absence of a bra heightening the tension in the air. the soft fabric slipped from your fingers, pooling on the hardwood floor like a forgotten memory.

“that’s right, angel. show me how soft those beautiful tits are,” you eagerly comply with his instructions, surrendering to the bewitching demands of the distorted voice on the line. your fingers find the hardened buds, pinching and teasing them, drawing out a moan that escapes your lips like a whispered secret. every touch is a spark of pleasure, a sweet indulgence for the faceless stranger lurking at the other end of the call.

baekhyun hums, the sound low and approving, sending a shiver straight through you. your mind races, painting vivid scenes of him pleasuring himself, every motion playing out in your head. "are you getting wet?" he asks, his voice thick with confidence and desire, completely unashamed.

“mhm,” you moan, the sound spilling from your mouth before you even realize it, your fingers swirling around the sensitive buds, lost in a haze of pleasure and anticipation.

“show me.” his voice drips with urgency, each demand more fervent than the last. your breaths come in shallow gasps, the heat of the moment thickening the air around you. you can almost envision him behind the glass, furiously pleasuring himself, absorbed by your every movement. a pang of desire surges within you as you long for him to emerge from the shadows, to reveal the beautiful mess he’s making of himself—flesh against flesh, desire laid bare.

“what's on your mind, princess?” baekhyun’s voice pierces the intoxicating silence, and you realize you’ve been lost in your thoughts, eyes tightly shut against the overwhelming sensation coursing through you. you feel a tingle ripple across your body, heat blooming in various spots as you instinctively begin to explore the terrain of your own desire, your fingers tracing the curves and dips that make you ache for him even more.

"how i love being bossed around like this." the words slip from your lips, dripping with a shameless allure, and the thrill of your own audacity leaves you breathless, too intoxicated to feel regret. a lush moan escapes as your fingers wander, seeking the neglected warmth between your legs, the rough fabric of your denim teasingly obstructing your touch.

baekhyun’s eyes widen, a quiet laugh almost slipping out at how bold you’ve become. aren’t you an easy little thing? how fast did he get this unfiltered side of you to show—five, maybe six minutes? you moan softly in his ear as you find the perfect angle to touch yourself, waves of pleasure rippling through you. “oh, god,” you gasp, your voice shaky and soft. his breathing picks up, more frantic now, as he watches your every move.

“show me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing whisper that cuts through the stillness of the night. “spread your legs in front of the window, let me watch you.”

to his surprise, your anticipation matches his own. you lean back, pressing your spine against the side of the couch, ensuring your silhouette is perfectly framed for his hungry gaze.

he watches closely, his breath catching as you slip out of your shorts, the fabric gliding down your legs. you obey his command eagerly, spreading your legs the moment you're free, revealing yourself to him. the air feels electric, every move adding to the tension between you, pulling him in like a magnetic force of pure desire.

baekhyun’s tongue glides over his lips, drawn to the enticing glimmer that dances on your most intimate folds. “touch yourself,” he commands, urging you to imitate him. you find yourself in the cozy confines of your living room, curtains drawn wide open, exposing you to the well-lit street where the remnants of the halloween night linger. it's well past midnight; the trick-or-treaters have long retreated to their homes. the thought of being caught sends a thrill through both your bodies, a delicious shiver that only heightens the atmosphere.

your fingers glide over your throbbing nub, a sense of urgency building within you as you quicken your pace. baekhyun’s voice breaks through the haze, showering you with praise that excites your desire even further, pushing you to explore your body with passion under his lustful gaze.

“that’s right, baby,” baekhyun murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sparks a flame deep within you, sending shivers straight to your throbbing core. his pet names wrap around you like a velvet ribbon and you can’t get enough of it. “ya look so sexy, playing with your pretty pussy for me, princess. she’s drenched for me—so fucking soaked, just from the sound of my voice. you’re leaking onto those floors, all for me, aren’t you?”

he huffs into the phone, the breathless sound thick with need, feeling himself teetering on the edge of bliss. baekhyun fights the urge to shut his eyes, longing to immerse himself in the sensations you’re creating, but he can’t bear to miss a single moment of your tantalizing display. instead, he leans into his words, weaving a web of longing to stave off the impending climax, each syllable dripping with desire.

you’re caught in a fit of sobs and whimpers, completely unable to rein in your emotions. unconsciously, you part your legs as wide as they can go, igniting a delicious burn in your thighs that only heightens your desperation. “you don’t feel embarrassed? hah. playing with yourself like this for a stranger?” his words, juvenile and taunting, only fuel your growing need. you swallow back a sharp retort, wary of the consequences of your attitude. instead, your fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, a forbidden pleasure that leaves you breathless and craving more.

“i-i wouldn’t usually—hnnnghh” your words falter, swallowed by a breathy moan that escapes your lips, the rest of your sentence fading into oblivion. desire surges through you as you feel yourself teetering on the precipice of pleasure, mirroring his own urgency. in that moment, the conversation drifts away, leaving only the sweet sound of your shared, exasperated moans hanging in the air, a testament to the intoxicating connection between you. “but how could i resist? i like you telling me what to do. mmm, and i bet your real voice sounds even sexier.”

baekhyun grunts, his breath hitching as he grips himself, thumb gliding over the sensitive slit and spreading precum across the flushed tip. “don’t worry. you’ll find out soon enough, i promise,” he rasps, his voice low and rough like gravel. you can feel the urgency in his movements, hear the slick sound of his hand moving faster, and even though you haven’t seen his face, the vivid image of his throbbing cock, his eyes fixed on your trembling, bare body, consumes you. your vision fades to white, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you as you give in to the pleasure, squirting onto the window and leaving shiny streaks behind.

baekhyuns groans in your ear, his voice dripping with reckless abandon, echoing through the stillness of the night. he’s completely devoid of class, his primal instincts overpowering any sense of decorum. as he reaches his peak, he releases himself with a fervor that sends a cascade of warmth spilling across the window of his office, just as you did.

breathless, he watches you through a haze of lust, his eyes heavy-lidded yet filled with a playful intensity. you bite your lip, a gesture that betrays your yearning for more, your body aching for repeated waves of ecstasy. is it possible you don't want this night to slip away into oblivion?

“huh. i didn’t think i could do that,” you think outloud watching your juices slowly drip down the window.

“i bet ya could do it again. how ‘bout we use my fingers this time? if you’re a good girl maybe i’ll use my mouth, too.” he teases, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. you can't help but shake your head and roll your eyes at the audacity of this mystery man on your phone.

“awwww, why not?” he whines, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “don’t ya trust me?” his teasing banter lingers in the air, crackling with unspoken desires, making you feel breathless with anticipation.

you can’t quite wrap your mind around how he can ask you a question like that, as if the two of you aren’t complete strangers. it’s as if the memory of his earlier threats has been wiped clean, leaving only the enticing edge of his voice in its place. some twisted part of you takes the reins, shoving your common sense aside. “i’ll treat ya right,” he promises, his tone smooth like velvet.

your eyes drop, embarrassment flooding through you as you notice the wetness he's drawn out of you with nothing more than his voice. a tightness forms in your chest, the fear of feeling foolish creeping in, but your arousal only grows, pushing aside any doubt. the tingling in your clit fades, shifting into a steady, throbbing rhythm—an unspoken invitation.

baekhyun watches with a teasing spark in his eyes as your shaky legs carry you toward the front door. in no time, he’s outside, making his way to you. he hears the soft clatter of you fumbling with the lock, and when it clicks open, it feels like an unspoken invitation for him to step inside. the tension between you hums, daring him to close the gap and take control, face to face. the air crackles with the thrill of giving in, charged with a magnetic pull that’s impossible to resist.

you fling the door open, and there he is—a tall figure standing silently in a ghostface costume. your eyes trail over him in confusion, pausing when they land on his shoes. you know those sneakers. the kind hypebeasts chase after, selling for a fortune after retail. only one person on this block would own them. only one.

and you’re sure you saw him earlier today through that very window your orgasm stains, wearing those exact shoes, hauling bags of groceries into his house.

“baekhyun?” you breathe, suddenly feeling small. a flutter of butterflies coursing through your stomach as your gaze lands on his right hand, gripping his phone. your number is glaringly lit on the screen.

“trick or treat?” his voice dances like a playful tune behind the mask, a teasing reminder of the pleasure he just gave you. he slowly lifts the mask from his face, letting it rest atop his head, revealing a smile so radiant it could light up the empire state building. the smile feels oddly out of place, totally clashing with the filthy phone call you just shared—a side you'd never expect from a psychologist.

and then it hits you—you don’t truly know him. you have no idea that, when you're not around, he slips the spare key hidden under the rock in your front yard and lets himself into your home. you’re oblivious to him wandering through your space, climbing the stairs to your bedroom, rifling through your drawers, trying to piece together the mystery of who you are. he’s desperate to learn you in ways your belongings might reveal.

you’d never guess that while you’re out early in the morning, heading to the bakery before dawn, he’s inside, using that same key. one hand is wrapped fisting himself while the other clutches your worn underwear, pressed against his nose, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

you remain completely unaware of it all. as his eyes lock onto yours, heat rushes to your cheeks, creeping up the back of your neck.

you end the call, watching his screen fade to black, the sudden silence feeling heavier than it should.

wait, when did you give him your number?

a shiver runs down your spine, an uneasy tension settling in. you try to push it away, but the feeling lingers like a whisper in your mind, urging you to stay on guard. you shake your head, convincing yourself you’re overreacting. it’s a small town; everyone knows each other. he must have gotten your number from someone else. or did you give it to him when you first met? maybe he found it on your bakery's instagram. yup, that has to be it.

feeling a surge of reassurance, you smile back at him. “i didn’t know psychologists enjoyed dressing up for halloween and playing pranks. i always thought doctors were above that,” you tease, your heart racing as he gazes down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes, as if he’s about to destroy you in the most tempting way imaginable.

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he replies, stepping confidently into your home and locking the door behind him. his voice is low and inviting. “why don’t i show you?”

he slides the ghostface mask back on, the sinister smile of the mask contrasting with the anticipation in the air. he steps closer, backing you into the living room, his hands slide to your waist, his thumbs drawing soft circles on your sides, sending a rush through your body. you can feel your heart pounding, the air between you buzzing with tension. you bite your lower lip, trying to hide a smile, but the excitement overflows, slipping out as a playful grin.

"you can do whatever you want with me," your voice low and dripping with promise as you guide him toward the couch. the low hum of tension crackles in the air as you straddle him, sinking onto his lap. the air is thick with tension as you settle onto his lap, straddling him. the moment your thighs meet his, you feel his hardened length pressing against your skin, lighting a surge of heat that races straight to your core. his hands glide up the smooth skin of your thighs until they reach your ass, where he cups you firmly, squeezing gently. your breath hitches, the sensation flooding you with anticipation as your body responds to the undeniable pull between you two. the sensation stirs something deep within, wetness pooling between your legs.

"but please, don’t kill me, mr. ghostface..." you whisper softly, your warm breath brushing against his neck, your lips almost touching his skin. you glide them upward, the gentle, teasing contact sending shivers of excitement between you. when you reach the curve of his ear, you linger just long enough to spark an irresistible shiver through him. “i wanna be in the sequel.”

ੈ✩‧₊ a/n: thank u to this anon for the idea!!! i didn't think i would ever write something like this, but here we are. #neversaynever i guess. oh, and a happy halloweenie to those who celebrate!!!!! <3 what are you dressing up as? stay safe my precious babies love u lotz mwah

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 .

#divider by @ghostyzface <3 #divider by @kodaswrld <3 #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #exo smut #exo fic #x reader #baekhyun one shot #lisawrites

129 notes · View notes