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eoieopda · 18 days ago

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triple-dog dare | lsm

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario.

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.

For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.

Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.

To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.

The day in question went like this:

He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”

And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”

It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.

The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus.

“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “— and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”

You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

Fuck.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”

And he meant it, wholeheartedly.

All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door.

The way he saw it — and the way he’s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.

You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know��”

Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.

“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?”

He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.

“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”

Fuck.

You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds.

“Bambi.”

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this. When the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.

Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.

Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.

Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.

When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.

The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.

“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath.

Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks.

She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”

Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years.

“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”

Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough.

This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.

“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.

“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”

The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.

Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.

Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”

Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling.

“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.

“Well?”

There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”

Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.

You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?”

Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”

His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line.

Bullseye.

“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”

You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view.

“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.

He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.

The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.

That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.

Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.

Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.

You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.

Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls.

No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.

It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.

Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.

“I got you bad, huh?”

You blink.

“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”

For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”

For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.

Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard’s in my pocket.”

You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.

“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?”

“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”

There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step regardless of how late it is.

Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention.

It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.

“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”

It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”

“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”

After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”

“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”

A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”

Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.

Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.

When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.

To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.

Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”

He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”

“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”

Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”

And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom.

The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no more bouncy and glowy than it was before.

When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.

“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.

Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.

“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.”

When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”

That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being. It’s rare for him.

“You okay, Thumper?”

It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him.

He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.

At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.” Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”

Ah.

There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.

You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”

He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”

And that’s that; it’s settled.

Or so you think.

A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”

“Deal.”

You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy. His skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways.

“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”

Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.

“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically. It does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.

“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”

Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Why did I even pack this?” You ask, “Do you see this?”

Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”

As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.

Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to his ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle. He has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.

Is it hot in here?

Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.

“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”

You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress. Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time.

While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.

You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.

Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself.

Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”

You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.

“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”

Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.

You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”

The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out.

You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.

“Hey.”

It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.

The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling.

Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction. The creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.

“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”

Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, ready to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level.

Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — to look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.

As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.

“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”

He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….

“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”

Petty, no.

Psychic? Probably.

“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”

Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.

“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”

Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.

His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”

A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.

Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”

In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.

“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”

Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.

“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”

Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and ��someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.

“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”

At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.

“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.

Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.

The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.

“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”

Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.

As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip.

On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.

You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.

In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.

Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.

No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.

No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name.

Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.

The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.

That’s it.

If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.

“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”

Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.

Soyeon’s eyes brighten.

Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you’ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.

Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”

The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.

Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.

But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.”

For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.

Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.

“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”

It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.

Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.

“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”

Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”

“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.

This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.

“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.

The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.

“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.

His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, my god.”

You do.

The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.

You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.

He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time.

“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.

Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”

“Oh?”

“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”

All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”

“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”

You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”

“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.

“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”

“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”

After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.

Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.

A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.

Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.

All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.

“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”

He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”

“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”

You open your mouth to argue.

“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”

You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.

It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.

Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on.

Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others.

She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”

Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.

“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.

You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.

Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.

Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”

You pick up on the subtext immediately. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens.

Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.

Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Ah,” is the best you can do.

And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.

You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —

“He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.

Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.

It almost makes you tear up — Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”

No, you realize too late, it’s bait.

Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”

Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.

Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”

“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”

A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.

“Seokmin loves love.”

She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull.

“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”

Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term.

You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.

She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —”

Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another.

“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”

Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is.

Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?

The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be.

You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s.

He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.

What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?

Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper.

“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just — get the hell out of their way.”

By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voices validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.

You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.

He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.

All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.

Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.

If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?

Why would it hurt?

The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.

So, you won’t.

You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.

That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.

“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?”

He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.

Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.

The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.

“— and another thing!” She slurs.

There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.

“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”

Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.

“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”

Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.

Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”

“No!” His grandmother squawks.

The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her.

“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”

She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”

“Exactly. Can you —?”

He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.

By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.

“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.

The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking.

Poor bastard.

Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”

“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake.

Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.

Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.

The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.

No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.

Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”

Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”

In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.

On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all.

Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.

You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.

“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”

The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation:

You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.

But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.

“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is….”

His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.

Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”

So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?”

“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”

Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.

Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”

His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.

He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.

That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.

You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”

There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.

“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.

Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”

Foot, meet mouth.

You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”

You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase.

When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”

“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”

It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.

I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.

This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.

Seokmin jumps on the grenade.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.

For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.

“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.

You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.

You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”

Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.

Actually…

He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.

You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming.

Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he?

His hands are far too busy.

Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold.

His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.

You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.

His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”

The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.

“You were right, though.”

You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of your jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.

“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.

The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.

“How long —”

You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance.

“— have you been waiting to say that?”

Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”

You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.

Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.

“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”

When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.

“Is that why you’re still not naked?”

Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”

If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.

He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand.

Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.

You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.

Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”

With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”

Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.”

The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“But I’m taking you down with me.”

And you do.

So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.

You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.

What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom.

As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.

You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.

When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”

Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.

You wail, “Noooooo!”

Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.

Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”

“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?”

You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.

Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.

Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.

Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.

“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.

He beams. “Hi.”

“Why are we awake at this hour?”

That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”

“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek.

Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you.

“No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”

623 notes · View notes

chanranghaeys · 5 months ago

Text

🚪 svt when they don't open the door for you when you knock

a/n: weirdly specific but i was triggered by this recently hence; not properly proofread word count: 3.8k tags: comfort!svt, gn!annoyed+emotional!reader, reader described to be smaller than svt, fluff, pet names, emotional tears, some raised voices (to and from minghao)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Seungcheol — immediately stands up when he hears just the keys jingling at the door. He runs to reach it before you turn the knob but he’s too late.

But before you could even start complaining, before you could even glare at him, Cheol immediately embraces you and says “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t hear your knocks, I have no excuse.”

In this instance, all his pouts are not to annoy you, but to beg you to get rid of your annoyance at him. So try as you might to stay annoyed at him, how could you when he’s got you locked safe in the embrace of his strong and secure arms?

(i’m sorry cheol’s is so short because……..i think this is the most accurate i can get him honestly it’s just really straightforward like this for him)

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Jeonghan — immediately walks out of your shared room to greet you as soon as he hears the door open.

“You’re home—” he says with arms outstretched, but you cut him off instantly.

“Why didn’t you open the door for me?” He stays silent, a questioning look on his face. “I knocked so many times, but you know we can’t knock too loudly right? I was waiting for you to open the door, but you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes and steam off to your room, sidestepping him and his efforts to talk to you. When you emerge and settle on the couch, he sits beside you but at a slight distance because he knew better than to keep pressing when you were like this.

When he sees that your breathing started to regulate and your expression seemed to neutralize, that’s when he reaches for your hand and laces his fingers in yours. “How was your day, my angel?”

You just look at him. He persists, kissing the back of your intertwined hand. “Come here, I know you need a hug.”

Reluctantly, you lower your pride and scoot closer to him, settling on his chest. “Now, what’s bothering my angel? I know it’s more than just the door, and I’m really sorry that hurt you. But it’s more than the door, isn’t it? How are you really?”

You fight back tears because you know he’s right. It just wasn't your day and nothing went well, and you feel so bad that you projected your unnecessary anger at him.

You hug him tighter and mumble out an “I’m sorry Hannie,” to which he replies, “I’m sorry too, it’s okay. Hannie is here to listen, I’m here.”

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Joshua — doesn’t realize his mistake at first and greets you like normal: with a smile, a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. He quickly realizes that something was off when you don’t return the said hug and kiss as enthusiastically as you usually do, and your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. When you only gave one word replies to him asking how your day was, alarms flare in his head.

He stops whatever he’s doing and does the same to you, taking the few groceries you were packing away from your hands and replacing them with his. he looks you in the eye, the alarm and guilt so palpable in his.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately prefaces. “What did I do? Or what did I not do? I’m so, so sorry.”

At his apologies, you started feeling bad as you saw him so helpless, but you also couldn’t hold back the whining tone from your voice as you said, “You knew I went to get some groceries. Why didn’t you open the door?” You feel bad, yes, but you’re also still annoyed.

He sighs in realization and frustration, before he looks back to you and caresses your cheek, then wordlessly pulls you into his chest. He strokes your head and smooths down your hair, a gesture that never fails to comfort you.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m really sorry. I really didn’t hear the door, I promise I didn’t mean to.” You stay like that for a while, just holding each other before he breaks away, saying he’ll be right back. When he emerges from your room, he had a light jacket on to cover his tank top.

“Let’s go.”

“What?”

“For a walk. And a snack. And because I know something else is bothering that pretty head of yours,” he says with a kiss to your forehead. “Really tell me about your day, love. I want to hear all about it.”

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Junhui — plays along with your annoyed air at first, mocking your tone whenever you said “Why didn’t you open the door?” with his own mischievous smile.

When he saw that you didn’t just glare at him once or twice—it was five times to be exact—he slowly tones down, then fully stops when you stay silent. That’s when he realizes how seriously annoyed you were at this miss.

He isn’t very physically and verbally expressive of his love, but he wordlessly proceeds to set the dining table for you the moment you sat there, cautious of how you were going to react. When he was done, he sat down with you, stealing glances at you as you proceeded with dinner. When you asked if he had eaten, he shook his head silently.

As some time passed and there was a slight lull while you were eating, he grabs your hand and looks you in the eye with intent and remorse. “I'm sorry I didn’t open the door for you. I’ll be way more attentive next time.”

For the first time since you arrived, the frown on your face melted because here was Junhui so straightforward and affectionate when he rarely was. The moment he saw that smile on your lips, he leaned in to kiss it. “There’s my favorite smile.”

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Soonyoung — at a loss for words as to how to make it up to you. But because it was Soonyoung, you couldn’t really stay annoyed at him for so long. After all, that was the first time it happened and he just happened to catch you on a bad day too, and you see that it never happened again.

But you also saw there’s more to it than that. Since then, he proceeds to open literally anything for you, from bedroom and car doors, to jars and cereal boxes, even the TV at one point, grabbing the remote from your hand and doing a simple push of a button for you.

He only stops when you ask him “Soonyoungie, I know how unbelievably sweet it is for you to open these things for me, but are you still doing this because of what happened before?”

He just looked at you and pursed his lips. He really didn’t want to make you feel anything negative, especially when he was the cause of it. He wordlessly gave you a sullen nod.

You melt at this and pull him in for a hug, repeatedly reassuring him that you weren’t annoyed at him anymore and that he could stop. Well, he didn’t completely stop, he realized that it was no big deal to do even the smallest things for you.

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Wonwoo — was always busy with his games whenever you knock at your door and no one answers. You were pretty used to it, in fact. It wasn’t everyday, but it happened often. On those days, you just go to him and kiss his forehead. Most times, he immediately stops the game and dedicates his time to you.

But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t make you a bit sad everytime he fails to greet you at the door. So when a time came that this happened for how many days straight, your sadness turned into frustration and then annoyance.

It reached its peak when he was so engrossed with whatever he was playing that he didn’t even look to you when you arrived, didn’t even greet you. You scoff, but it fell to deaf ears inside his gaming headset. You walk out and busy yourself with something, anything besides him. When he does finally come out, he greets you, but is given the cold shoulder. He notices it right away.

“Love?” Silence. “Baby?” More silence. He attempts to hold your hand, but you pull it away. Oh shit. He tries again, inching closer to try and hug you, but his advances are rejected as you move away from him.

He sighs with defeat, knowing that he won’t get anywhere when you’re like this. So the evening passed in silence. When you two were finally getting ready for bed, you try to find sanctuary under the covers for the hurt in your heart. You try to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. You feel Wonwoo’s side dip with his weight, and when he settled down, he finally got the chance to wrap you in a hug.

“Talk to me. Please. I think I know what this is about, so just talk to me. I know we won’t be able to sleep without fixing this problem. Please.”

You cave and face him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. And he realizes how grave his mistake was.

Since then, he always came running to the door at the first few knocks, greeting you with a tight hug and a soft forehead kiss. You wonder how, and you find out that the sounds from his games were a little too loud whenever you arrived.

“Wonwoo-ya! Where were you? How could you abandon us to die?” You peek into his gaming room and hear frustrated voices coming from the speakers.

“Sorry! I had to attend to more important things,” he speaks into his mic with a wink toward your direction.

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Jihoon — was a homebody, and always answered the door without fail. That is, whenever he was home before you were, which was a rare occurrence. It was a different story for his perpetually locked studio. He never answered the door for anyone, not even you. So as long as he was inside and could unlock the door remotely, you entered quietly to not disturb his artistic process.

There was one rule, most especially applicable to him, and that rule is no work was to be brought home. He rarely took breaks anymore when at the office and in the studio, so home was a place for rest.

He followed the said rule religiously, until you experienced unanswered knocks similar to how he is in the studio. For the past few days when you open the door, you see him slumped over his desk with work, samples streaming from the speakers or strewn paper filled with various lyrics.

For the nth consecutive time this happens, you were fed up with him. Your efforts at knocking to get his attention proved futile, so you called. He answered on the second ring.

“Jihoon-ah. I’ve been knocking for 10 minutes. Why aren’t you answering?”

You were greeted at the door by a breathless Jihoon, confused and slightly annoyed, asking you “Why didn’t you just open the door?”

That did it for you. “Because we’re not at your studio, Jihoon. We’re supposed to be at home.” You pushed past him in frustration, and his actions slowly dawned on him.

The next day, you wake to a soft kiss on your forehead and a whispered “I love you” before Jihoon left for work. Your annoyance has mostly died down, but it was replaced by a pang of sadness, that was quickly replaced by shock when you exited your room and saw what was on the table.

It was a bouquet of delicate flowers in your favorite color, nothing grand, but something well thought of. You notice something glinting tied around the stems. It was a key. On the table was a note: “I will open all the doors for you, and leave them open for you and only you. Even the door to the studio will be unlocked for you. I’m sorry. - Your Ji”

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Minghao — doesn’t immediately understand what the big deal is about.

"It’s just a door."

That’s what you hear him say when he finally asks why you’ve been annoyed and cold the moment you stepped into the apartment.

“It’s not just a door, Minghao!”

“You don’t hear me say the same thing when you don’t open the door for me, do you?”

“But I apologize after! It’s like you don’t even care!”

“I care, but it’s just not a big deal for me.”

“Well then if it’s not a big deal, why couldn’t you do something so simple?”

“I didn’t mean to not hear you knocking! I just happened to be preoccupied then!”

“Wow, so you were too preoccupied to even greet me? To apologize to me?”

It was a bad day for both of you, and you ended up fighting fire with fire, bringing up even unrelated issues from past and present, until one of you reached your tipping point, all from a simple gesture not done.

At that tipping point, he is rendered silent. “Pause. I can’t do this.”

You nod. “Pause.”

After a few moments, he speaks again. “I’m sorry. You know how blunt I can be. I didn’t see right away that it’s not what you need right now.”

You nod. “I’m sorry. It’s really not my day. I just couldn’t understand how you could say that as if it’s nothing.”

He initiates contact, reaching for your hands and circling them around his waist, and you effortlessly lean into the embrace he forms around you. He presses a soft kiss on the crown of your head. His lips stay there when you hear him say, "It's not nothing. It's never nothing with you."

“Then please just open the door next time?”

He lightly chuckles, and you feel his chest move with it. “It really is just a door. But okay, I’ll make sure to always open it for you.”

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Mingyu — always opens the door for you. No contest.

But on the rare occasion that he misses to do so, and he caught you on a bad day at that, he just stands there like a helpless puppy as the gravity of his actions sinks in. Whether you say your choice words, or with no words at all, he will know what he did wrong right away.

You storm into your room and he quickly follows, but your body language made it clear that you didn’t want to be disturbed. Despite his height, you easily sidestepped him as you made your way into the bathroom to shower.

Mingyu was standing by the door of the bathroom when you finished. You tried sidestepping him again, but he stood his ground this time, catching you in his embrace, rubbing your back, then kneading your temples. He led you back to your room, helping you dress up, dry your hair, massages your hands. While you do your skincare, he combs your hair straight and with no tangles. When you’re done and you stop to look at each other in the mirror, he hugs you from behind, and you allow him to do so.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I won’t.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck and doesn’t let go until you finally give him a kiss on the cheek, one that was denied from him when you arrived. You tried really hard to stay annoyed at Mingyu, but you can’t, you just can’t.

So he always opens the door for you, without fail. He’d rather see your endless smiles if it meant doing something as simple as this.

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Seokmin — you knock at the door, knowing Seokmin is inside because you can hear him busy inside. It isn’t as usual for him to be home earlier than you because it was usually the other way around, so when he doesn’t open the door for you, your annoyance slowly grew with every knock.

You were just so tired and couldn’t wait to lie down but he couldn’t even open the door for you? You fumble with your keys, even dropping it in frustration, and he still didn’t hear you.

When you finally open the door, you hear music playing from the speakers and you can smell something…off. A panicked yelp confirms that yes, indeed, something is wrong, and you follow the scent to the kitchen, where you see Seokmin trying to save what was left of his bowl’s contents.

“Seokminnie, are you okay? What happened?”

His alarmed eyes met yours and were soon filled with disappointment. “You’re here. I didn’t even hear you come in. I’m sorry, I…I was just trying to make you something because I know you’re tired with all those messages you sent me and it was just the right timing that I could leave work early so I rushed home and then this happened and—”

You can’t believe you had the gall to be annoyed at him when he was the sweetest, most thoughtful man on earth. You take the bowl from his hands and hug him, resting your head on his beating heart. He molds himself into you and wraps you in his arms.

“I love you, Minnie.”

He kisses the crown of your head and rests his chin there while rubbing your back reassuringly. “I love you too. You can rest now, I’ll take care of this. Don’t worry.”

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Seungkwan — you were so ready to be petty and annoyed, you already had choice words in mind because you think this was payback for all the times you absentmindedly did the same to him, how he was left stewing but you secretly always took this chance to placate and soothe him because you knew he liked it when you fussed over him.

Nonetheless, you tried to be as obnoxious as possible while fumbling with your keys and opening the door. Seeing the back of his head leaned on the couch, you couldn’t even believe that he didn’t turn his head to you until you stood in front of him and was immediately silenced.

Seungkwan was fast asleep, deeply asleep that your noise didn’t even wake him. You slowly backtracked and remembered what his day was like today, how it was packed to the brim with schedules from one place to another, and you felt guilty as hell.

As quietly as you could, you brush his hair away from his face. You overestimated how deep his sleep was though, because his eyes flow open the moment he felt your touch.

“Wha—you’re home!” He grabs your hand and looks at you with sleepy eyes that closed again when he realized that “Ah no, I fell asleep. I was trying to wait for you but—”

You shushed him at that moment and said it was okay because this tired sleepyhead needs to rest already. You pull him up from the couch, where he wordlessly fixed himself against your side and kissed the side of your head as you walked into your shared room so you could tuck him in properly.

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Vernon — was watching a movie and was so fixated on it that he didnt even notice you were in until you opened the light.

“Oh—oh! Youre home!” He scrambles to pause the movie and brisk walk straight to you for a tight hug, even swaying slightly side to side. When he breaks apart and sees the slight frown on your face (that you quickly assembled after it got wiped away with that damn heartwarming hug), he tilts his head to the side.

“I know that face. What did I do? Is it because I didn’t open the door?” He widens his eyes in acknowledgment as it clicks in his head and lets out a defeated smile.

“I’m sorry” and while he still had you in his clutches, he kisses your nose.

“I’m sorry,” and a kiss on your cheek, another apology with another kiss to your other cheek, your forehead, your lips, your eyes, until you're smothered with his kisses.

He doesn’t stop until you were pushing him away, but he achieved his goal of making you smile. “Are you still annoyed? I’m not stopping,” He says, returning your smile with your favorite gummy smile of his.

“No, okay, stop! I’m okay. I’m not annoyed anymore…but don’t do it again.”

“Got it,” with one final kiss, a deeper one on your lips. When you both come up for air, he follows it up with “Come on, what do you wanna watch?”

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

Chan — apologized as profusely as he could after seeing your annoyed face, hugging and kissing and never letting you leave his embrace until you finally said you weren’t annoyed anymore.

You let it go then, but you’re still a bit petty, and decided to do an Uno Reverse on him when the opportunity presented itself. You acted as nonchalant as possible when you heard him struggle with his keys, open the door, and finally face you from where you were seated.

When you look up from the book you were reading, you tried to act as surprised as you could. “Oh, Channie! You’re home.” You could see a sheen of annoyance masking his face, one he was trying to keep down.

“Didn’t you hear me knocking?”

“…No, sorry. I guess I was too into this book. I’m sorry Channie,” you say with the best pout you could muster.

You see his eyes narrow ever so slightly, before he smiles and leans down to kiss your forehead. “It’s okay, baby.” He wordlessly settles down beside you on the couch and pulls you in to cuddle and hold you tight.

You were dumbstruck to say the least. He wasn’t…annoyed? “You’re not annoyed at me?”

He pulls you in closer, nuzzling his cheek against yours before saying “No,” followed by a kiss to your cheek. “But I know you still are. And I’m really sorry. So I’ll just hold you tight until this hurt goes away.”

Your heart swells with pride at how he instantly saw through your seemingly tough facade. You melt against him, all sign of annoyance gone from you as you whisper a “Thank you, Chan.”

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iannmin · 2 months ago

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DOKYEOM AS YOUR INEXPERIENCED DOMESTIC BOYFRIEND 𖧷 ,, 이석민

🏷️ ⋆｡˚. new couple!dk x reader, fluffy&comedic headcanons, dk is a little dumb here haha bear with me

🗒️ ⋆｡˚. we all love a goofy silly boyfriend <3

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

dokyeom who always complies to your little silly requests and never once uttered a single complaint — wear matching banana onesies in broad daylight to the nearby convenience store? yes. make a funny face in front of the pastries you’ve just ordered at the cafe for your instagram post? sure. switching shoes just because your feet started hurting from the high heels? of course (at this point he is high-heel trained, he could be doing full-on jogs with them haha) he just can’t say no to his princess because honestly how could he ever deny your pouty, doe-eyed face…?

dokyeom who has absolutely no idea what the definition of personal space is and loves sticking to you whenever and wherever you are. and by that, it’s literally whenever and wherever. there was once when you were up showering at 2am to cool off the scorching summer heat, and when you turned around after applying shampoo, you literally caught him sitting down on the bathroom mat, bed hair sticking out in all directions, rubbing his eyes and staring at you doe-eyed. “kyeomie what the heck are you doing there???” (not gonna lie your soul nearly left your body) “I was scared…. :( the bed’s too empty”

dokyeom who would panick when you have your period in front of him. “JAGIYA YOU’RE BLEEDING” “it’s called menstruation…” and you can literally see the cogs turn in his brain, trying to process what that meant. “do you need a bandage?” and of course it took him quite a while to learn that you indeed do not need one…

dokyeom who brings you down to the playground across the street to build snow ducks during winter, but every single snow duck he made had some fuckass weird mutations — the beak would be missing or even the whole ass head would be gone, but regardless,, you would praise him. “look jagiya, this is us” he pointed to three snow ducks perched on the wooden bench. “kyeomie but there’s three ducks not two?” and he smiles at you saying “this is gonna be our little family in the future” 🥹

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hannyoontify · 3 months ago

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[22:40]

you heard a small beep in your sleep, and you stirred awake as a warm body slid under the duvet next to you.

‘sorry, sorry, sorryyyy’ your boyfriend whispered frantically. you shook your head and slowly moved an arm so seokmin could slide into your arms.

‘s okay’ you mumbled, your body and mind still half asleep. ‘missed you. how was work?’

‘it was good. thank you for the lunch, by the way. my coworkers were sooo jealous that my partner packs me lunch’ seokmin pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and you smiled with your eyes still closed.

‘’m glad...’

‘are you.. asleep? sunflower?’ your boyfriend’s fingertip traced light patterns on your arm as you began to drift back into sleep. you let out a low groan and nuzzled closer into seokmin’s chest.

‘tired. so so so… tired…’

‘go to sleep, my love. we can talk tomorrow’

‘mmm… but i wants to talk to you noww’ you were obviously delirious from just being woken up, and seokmin thought it was adorable.

‘i have the morning off tomorrow. we can talk then, right?’

you seemed to pause to think about it before resigning quickly. sleep had won.

‘mkay’ you yawned loudly. ‘good night, i love you seokminnie’

‘i love you too. good night’

a/n: i was looking at my masterlist n realized i didn’t have a SINGLE WORK for dk and i got so pissed at myself bc i absolutely love dokyeom so i js had to pull this up from the bottom of my drafts, even if it’s horrible

#hannyoontify.works #seventeen #svt #dokyeom #dk #seventeen fluff #seventeen dk #seventeen dokyeom #dokyeom fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt dk #dk fluff #fluff #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #svt fluff

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xiaominghao · 22 days ago

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Promise

Genre: fluff.

Pairing: Dokyeom x reader.

Warnings: barely proofread. Subtle mention of marriage I guess??

Yuin's note: Inspiration struck me this morning so I wrote this in record time of ten minutes. Happy New Year everyone!

"Promise that you'll never leave me," Seokmin said suddenly as he walked into the room.

"What are you talking about?" you narrowed your eyes, a bit confused.

"You heard me," he stepped a few inches closer and pointed at you with a finger, his expression very serious. "Promise that you'll never go away."

"Ah, I knew you had too much punch," you grimaced in annoyance. "Look, it's January 1st and is super late, let's talk about this in the morning."

You turned to head towards the bed but he stepped in front of you again, taking you by the shoulders. You swallowed hard; his touch was not exactly rough, but it was very firm. This seemed serious, not just one of those moments.

"Promise that you'll never leave me," Seokmin repeated.

He leaned in a bit closer, looking you straight in the eyes. You stared into his eyes, feeling your heart race a little; you knew the answer and the words you wanted to say, but they just got stuck.

"Until death do us part, right?" you murmured, shrugging your shoulders.

Seokmin fell silent, his lips curving slightly upward in a little smile, and he rested his hands on your waist in a heartfelt hug that you received by wrapping your arms around his neck.

Suddenly, you felt his grip tighten, and your feet floated in the air. Instinctively, you clung to him even tighter as you let out a small gasp of surprise. Yes, you had fallen into his game again.

"I know you'll never leave me!" he exclaimed joyfully. "I love you!"

"I love you too, but put me down! Lee Seok Min!"

When your feet were back on the ground, you took a moment to breathe; you were ready to start an argument, but you hadn't even opened your mouth when Seokmin leaned in and pressed a kiss in your forehead, pulling back to look at you with a warm smile.

He tilted his head slightly, cupping your cheeks with his hands. "Why are you blushing? Are you that happy to see me?"

You smiled, placing your hands over his. "I will never leave you, I promise" and you gave him a small peck on the tip of his nose. "Happy first New Year."

Seokmin gave you a fond smile that made his eyes squint. "Happy first New Year, sweetie."

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hynzsn · 7 months ago

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★ BIG HANDS, BIGGER PLEASURE ★

☆ dokyeom x male reader 18+ MDNI

꩜ .ᐟ smut

contents: established relationship, anal fingering, jerking off, self pleasure, masturbation, kissing, light teasing, ejaculation, cum eating, pet names (baby, babe), dirty talk, whimpering, moaning, crying (in pleasure), thigh kisses, size difference, hand size difference, being caught pleasing yourself

wc: 1k

summary: dokyeom comes home only to find you fingering yourself. but by the looks of it, you’re struggling, and he’s more than eager to offer a helping hand.

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you glanced at your phone, checking the time once more. dokyeom should be home soon, but the thrum of desire coursing through your veins is relentless, almost unbearable. the dim ambiance of your shared apartment is lit only by the soft glow of the setting sun. every tick of the clock, echoing the ache building inside of you.

you bite your lip, reaching into your pants; your small fingers are already slick with lube, but they don’t reach the spots you need them to. frustration bubbles up, mingling with the heat pooling in your abdomen.

with a shuddering breath, you slide your shorts and boxers down, spreading your legs wide as you sink back into the plush cushions of the couch. your fingers tease your asshole before you slowly try to insert one. a whimper escapes your lips as you press in further, trying to stimulate yourself and find that familiar sweet relief that only dokyeom seems to give you. but it’s not enough. it’s never enough.

just as you’re about to give up, the front door creaks open. your heart skips a beat, eyes widening as dokyeom steps inside, his broad frame silhouetted against the hallway light. his eyes lock onto yours, darkening with an intensity that only sends cold shivers down your spine.

“fuck, babe,” he murmurs, dropping his bag to the floor. his voice is rough with desire, and it only turns you on more.

"couldn't you wait for me, huh? feeling empty without me?”

you nod, your voice barely a whisper. “i couldn’t... couldn’t help it.” you stammer out, your fingers still probing your hole to the best of your ability.

“It’s not working, dk... need you…”

a slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he strides over. his ego seems to be bouncing off the walls with the way you seem to be struggling without him.

“my poor baby. your small fingers just don’t cut it, do they?” he sheds his jacket, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his strong, capable hands.

dokyeom kneels between your spread legs, his big hands gently prying yours away. “move; let me take care of you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise.

his fingers, so much larger and stronger than yours, slide against your slick hole, teasing you with a feather-light touch that only makes you gasp. slowly, he glides one finger into you. the difference that one finger feels compared to your small fingers wasn’t hard to see as you arch your back off the couch, a strangled moan escaping your lips. his long fingers are stretching you in ways yours never could and never will. you clutch at his shoulders, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

“fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he muttered, his voice a low whisper as he watched his finger disappear inside you. “you’re so damn responsive. so perfect.”

“fuck… so good… It feels so good,” you choke out, your voice trembling.

he chucked softly, his other hand stroking your thigh soothingly. “yeah? let me make you feel even better, baby.”

he adds another finger, scissoring them gently as he watches you with dark, hungry eyes. he leans in to place soft and tender kisses on the inside of your thigh, his tongue leaving little wet stains as he continues to finger your hole.

the pleasure is almost too much, and you can feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. dokyeom’s fingers curl, finding your prostate, the spot that makes your vision blur and your breath hitch. you cry out, your body trembling.

you couldn’t form words and couldn’t do anything but feel as he added a third finger, stretching you even further.

“mmm… you’re clenching around my fingers,” he purred, his free hand that was on your thigh now coming to stroke your already hardened cock slowly. “such a greedy boy, taking three of my fingers inside of you.” his thumb rubs over the head of your cock, collecting the bead of pre-cum leaking out. he brought his thumb to his lips, tasting you eagerly and letting out a satisfied hum.

his words were sending you over the edge. fuck him and his husky voice; it only turned you on even more.

feeling waves of ecstasy crash over you, you cry out again, your body arching off the couch as you cum into dokyeom’s big hand. he continues to both stroke and finger you through your release, his movements gentle and loving as you ride out your high.

“such a good boy,” he praised, feeling your sticky semen coat his palm and his fingers. “giving me such a nice treat after a long day at work.”

you slump back onto the couch, completely spent and satisfied, a soft whine escaping your lips.

dokyeom chuckles, slowly withdrawing all three of his fingers from inside of you and his hand away from your limp cock. with a casual movement, he brought his hands up to his lips, sucking his fingers clean, his tongue eagerly darting out to lick up the remains of your essence.

“that’s what you needed, baby? my big hands taking care of you?” he couldn’t help but smirk at you.

you nod, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. his eyes were dark but had an aura of passion to them.

“yeah,” you breathe out, your voice laced with satisfaction. “that was… wow.”

dokyeom hummed in agreement, his eyes sparkling with pride and affection. “you know I got you, baby. anything you need, i’m the man.” he leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"i love you, baby,” he murmurs against your lips before pulling away.

"i love you too,” you mumbled.

“now, how about we take a shower together, and then we can order some dinner? i’m starved. been waiting to eat with you all day; food doesn’t taste the same without you.”

you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as you pulled him down for another kiss.

"sounds like a plan.”

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buntanteen · 5 months ago

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svt fic recs list <3 - sub!ot13 for september - nsfw ver.

nsfw reader insert fics!! mdni. (majority is afab reader)

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

note: here's 30 subby/soft/pathetic/virgin!seventeen fic recs for each day of september :3 enjoy <3

✩ ot13 works ✩

❥ svt mtl — humiliation kink! - @cheolhub

pathetic mingyu agenda let's fucking gaurrrrrr. mean joshie do whatever u want to me, thanks dude :3

❥ mtl svt: to be a sub around you but act like the one in charge publicly - @ncteez

ofc vernon and mingyu are at the top hehe. SIMP SEOKMINNIE YAYY. DINO'S HAD ME CACKLING PLSS JFKBD. the shua one is so *chef's kiss*

❥ thigh riding sub!seventeen - @applesooyoung

omg shy shua is killing me here. show me your pretty face pretty boy, pls 🥺🥺 nonnie trying to nochalantly hint at what he wants is taking me out hjvfkb. wanna hear channie's moans soooo bad. he'd sound so good when he feels good

❥ praise kinks (not ot13) - @mountainficss

...i may have kink for giving praise...

❥ mtl submissive - @nonuify

power bottom kwannie agenda let's geddittt. bratty hannie...*sigh* HE'S ALWAYS BRATTY JKFBK I CAN'T HANDLE HIM ARGBK

❥ seventeen's reaction of you calling them 'baby boy' for the first time - @boofeine

(op's account got suspended so the fic isn't available :/) crying and dying at shua's. shy baby junnie~ kyeommie and gyu are SUCH baby boys i cannottttt. poor vernon failing his game cuz he was flustered 😔

✩ choi seungcheol/scoups ✩

❥ sub!seungcheol - @mountainficss

coups is too grr to immediately want to try out being subby. loveee the idea that he's a bit bratty when he doesn't get his way *side eyes ever moment he sulks or whines*

✩ yoon jeonghan ✩

❥ sub jeonghan - @mountainficss

subby jeonghan thank u thank u thank u. imagining his fuck-me-eyes and his fucked out expression has me *jumps out window*

✩ hong joshua ✩

❥ edging + overstim sub joshua - @mountainficss

sweet shua taking everything we give him 🥺🥺

❥ pup - @toruro

shua is such a good pretty pup in this fic omfg s

❥ sub!shua - @sluttywonwoo

sensitive subby obedient shua?? sign me up

✩ wen junhui ✩

❥ sub!jun - @sluttyminghao

pretty shy subby junnie. just wants to be good and feel good aww :((

❥ sub jun - @mountainficss

good lil behaved sub junjun oh ily. such a shy lil brat

✩ kwon soonyoung/hoshi ✩

❥ sub hoshi - @mountainficss

subby hoshi just being a brat and instigating just so he can be pleasured omfg

❥ sub!hoshi - @hannieehaee

subby soonie is sooo pathetic i'm in love??? he's so whiny and desperate hehe

✩ jeon wonwoo ✩

❥ sub!wonwoo - @sluttyminghao

sensitive nonu and leaving marks on his thighs yes pls thank yewwww

❥ sub!wonwoo + praise kink - @sluttyminghao

nonu's puppy eyes have me so weak y'all don't get it (u probably do lmao) praising this good boy ahhhh

✩ lee jihoon/woozi ✩

❥ sub!jihoon x sub!reader - @hannieehaee

cockwarming to fucking? jihoon's pretty hands all over??? yes pleaseee

❥ sub!woozi - @jeonghantis

fuck, imaging his pretty cute voice all needy and whining to be fucked has me weakkk

✩ xu minghao/the8 ✩

❥ slutty sub minghao - @mountainficss

playing with minghao's nipples until he's all sensitive i- kjvbfk

✩ kim mingyu ✩

❥ himbo puppy mingyu - @mountainficss

degrading and praising big dumb himbo puppy gyu?? aHHHHHH

❥ overstimulating sub!gyu - @sluttywonwoo

is mingyu whimpered at me, i'd fold immediately too

❥ chained up good boy!mingyu - @duhnova

obedient puppy boy mingyu save me plsssss

✩ lee seokmin/dokyeom ✩

❥ puppy seokmin - @mountainficss

cutie puppy hybrid who just wants his person so fucking bad arghhh s

❥ sub!seokmin - @hannieehaee

pliant lil seokminnie just wanting cunt so bad jkbks

✩ boo seungkwan ✩

❥ rough sex with sub seungkwan - @mountainficss

whining and begging?? meet his needs pls, the baby deserves it. but he's also a cute lil fuck toy, y'know? 🥰

✩ chwe hansol/vernon ✩

❥ his first time (virgin!vernon) - @sluttywonwoo

i adore the concept of soft hansol not wanting to cum so quickly gfdbkjns

❥ sub!vernon - @hannieehaee

playing with subby nonnie's cock and making him feel that good? yes pls :3

✩ lee chan/dino ✩

❥ cumming in his pants - @sluttywonwoo

fuck, i'm so in love with the idea of him priding himself on holding back...only to ruin his pants because it just feels so so so good~ poor baby wanted to cum in reader's cunt 😔

❥ sub! chan who's only comfort is your tits - @monamipencil

needy chan just needy for tiddies after a long day :((( (what a mood tho)

ames note: i made this solely because of alliteration (sub, svt, september) lol. i planned doing this about a month ago but i procrastinated lmao. so i quickly went through this so it is slightlllllyyyyyy late (sorry~). i hope y'all enjoy the filth ς(.-‿-)ఇ

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slytherinshua · 9 months ago

Note

idk if this counts as a soft thought but ... imagine a dk who used to be short when he was like 12 and used to be really nice to you then when you graduated from elementary school he vaguely told you he liked you and you went :0

and then fast fwd 4 years later, you're going to the same high school as him and he says hi and ure like shit. he grew taller. tanner, his voice is deeper (you'd always thought it'd already broken in elementary sch but turns out it didn't)

just 🫠🫠 childhood friends to lovers dk !!

first of all ty for sending smth in kimchi cause istg i was dying earlier like my tumblr is so DRY and ur the only person who indulged my boredom yayay!! also this is LITERALLY making my head spin like crazy cause just think abt it skjdks

warnings: fem!reader. mention of seokmin getting bullied both in elementary and middle school, and he gets taller, tanner, hotter, and has straighter teeth and a deeper voice by the time he's in high school. not proofread and written on tumblr which i never do so it might be ATROCIOUS but its soft thoughts anyway so it doesn't have to be perfect <3

wc: ~1.1k.

ofc you loved to spend time with seokmin when you were in elementary— like you two were practically inseparable. and you first met him when you saw him getting bullied by some jerks in the same year as you. ofc you told them to go away (might've punched one of them just to get your point across, but you and seokmin swore that you would never speak of that detail again). they were so scared of you after you threw the punch that it actually worked and they never bothered him again. and little seokmin was practically in awe of you since that very moment and ofc he develops a small large crush on you </3

but you two end up getting cruelly separated when seokmin tells you that because of the need to move for his parents' work, he's going to be put an all-boys middle school while you're still going to the regular mixed one that most of the kids from that same elementary were going to. during your middle school years, seokmin doesn't cross your mind a lot. it's only when you get a confession from a boy in your class that you're reminded of him and that last day of 5th grade.

you could’ve sworn you heard the words “I like you” fall from his lips except it was so quiet and murmured that you’re not quite sure if it actually happened or if your brain wanted it to so bad that you hallucinated it into existence. and since you're not positive that he did actually confess to you (or that he would still hold the same feelings he did at 10 as a 15 year old), you don't hope for anything else concerning seokmin. much to your 10 year old self's disappointment, because of course you had already imagined a whole life together with your best friend. you don't remember it having any distinction as to whether seokmin was still your best friend or if he was your boyfriend, but it didn't matter to you as long as he was still in your life.

but the first day at your new high school you realize that you’re so fucking screwed it’s not even funny. because as you’re looking at the list of students and what class their first period is you recognize a very familiar name and your brain practically goes blank.

lee seokmin.

and god damnit he has science as his first period just like you. so as you walk into the class you’re frantic to scan the room for any short boy with milky skin, crooked teeth, and a high pitched slightly squeaky voice that you absolutely adored at the age of 10. but he’s not there; well, at least, not fitting that description of him that you remember.

the boy who you quickly see waving excitedly to you is in fact the lee seokmin— you can tell from his name tag— but god had he changed. he had grown at least 20 cm from the last time you saw him because even sitting in his desk he looked lanky. not only his height had changed, but he had also gotten tanner. and he must’ve had braces at some point in middle school because his teeth looked straighter. and his voice. god his voice alone had your heart racing. you could’ve sworn it had deepened two octaves at least.

and it was hot.

the boy who you could only label as your adorable, nerdy, loser best friend who cowered behind you in the face of bullies was hot.

this turn of events rendered him almost unrecognizable. and you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to recognize him if it weren’t for his smile, which was as bright and beautiful as always, with or without the crooked teeth.

and maybe it was that smile that made you just a little relieved that he hadn't changed as much as his appearance had. so you gathered some confidence and walked over to the desk he was sitting in and slid into the seat next to him. you returned his 'hi' that he had shot you from across the room, and as soon as you did, you were practically tackled in a hug.

and it felt the same as his old hugs, which was a relief to your mind but not to your heart, which doubled its speed at least. before your class started, you somehow managed to get up to speed with all of seokmin's middle school years (you were so glad that he was still as talkative and unserious as you remember).

"you don't know how worried i was walking in 30 minutes ago. the school is so big and none of my old classmates go here— though maybe i should be thankful for that. but as soon as i saw your name on the student list, for some reason, i knew it would all be okay. you're here— you're actually here. so they can't touch me."

he said all of this with the biggest smile on his face and you were sure your eyes had actual hearts in them as you listened to him explain everything animatedly.

you and seokmin talked and talked and talked. he would walk you to your class just to keep the conversation going before the second bell rang and he had to race off to his next period on the other side of the building. but he didn't mind being late every time if it meant getting to hear you laugh for 3 minutes longer.

you were back to being best friends with seokmin, and neither of you could be happier. what was most relieving was how it all fit back into place without any struggle. as if seokmin was a puzzle piece that had been temporarily dropped on the floor and had just been picked up again and put back where he belonged (by your side).

you never got the courage to ask seokmin about that last day of 5th grade until your 3rd year of high school together when you had gotten a little tired of seeing a certain classmate of yours which you despised talk so openly about her crush on seokmin— even in front of him and you. so even though your throat got all tangled up as you brought up the topic, you forced yourself to at least ask him the question.

"did you like me when we were younger?"

and his answer came so easily and naturally that you had to double-take.

"of course i did. wasn't it obvious?"

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,, @parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore

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fairyhaos · 5 months ago

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how seventeen react to their s/o getting cuteness aggression for them

requested by anon! seriously guys you always have the best ideas,,,, anyways i loved this req yet again

masterlist

seungcheol, joshua, junhui, woozi

you make weird scrunchy hand gestures in his face one time and very seriously go “i wanna just shfjkrehfkrrhr your face in my hands, you know?”. and he just blinks, wide-eyed, mostly just fascinated at how to made that sound with your mouth, before slowly nodding his head and going “okay”. you tell him that he's cute on a regular basis in the strangest of ways so like, he's used to it now. once, you grabbed his cheeks and gave him kisses all over and complained about his adorableness until he was laughing, and he thinks that was the best incident of your cuteness aggression over him. the whole idea of cuteness aggression is kinda endearing tbh and the way you in particular express it?? most adorable thing in the world.

jeonghan, minghao, seungkwan

1000000% capable of getting all aggressive back at you, don't even test him. he'll get all up in your face and poke your cheeks being all like “me?? let's talk about you!! why are YOU so cute huh?? have you thought about how i feel about that??? why do you walk around being so cute when you Know that it's gonna make me fall even more in love with you????” until you're literally giggling at his faux anger over how adorable you are. gives you the side-eye and clicks his tongue bc How Dare you get all screechy about his cuteness when you're literally sitting right there and being way cuter than he could ever be.

hoshi, mingyu, dokyeom

you yell “WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE” into his face and he will literally jump five feet into the air and yell back “I DON'T KNOW!!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME” whilst almost sobbing bc why??? are you yelling???? and what does that have to do with him being cute??? your cuteness aggression always takes him by surprise bc he didn't know it would be so… well, aggressive. you ruffle his hair until it's so messed up he can't see a thing and then smack a huge kiss on his cheek before leaving. and he's just left sitting there, hair in his eyes, a little dazed bc uhhh literally what just happened and why is he actually BLUSHING like what have you done to him

wonwoo, vernon, chan

you unleash your aggression over his cuteness on him and he just stares at you with lost eyes and the what are you doing clear on his face. you need to explain to him that there's this thing called “cuteness aggression” that can be activated by things that are just so cute that you wanna scrunch them up in your hands. and he nods and makes understanding noises but you're not entirely sure he gets it. no matter tho bc you start getting the cuteness aggression urges more and more often and now you're beginning to think that he's acting out his cutest actions on purpose just so that you'll come over and squish his face super duper hard

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hoshifighting · 2 months ago

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washing dokyeoms hair in the bath while you straddle him but because of the position ur boobs are in his face so he just keeps kissing and biting and sucking at ur boobs while you’re trying to condition his hair

WARNINGS: smut, breast play.

you’ve got him settled in the tub, water up to his shoulders, warm and steamy, and he’s just staring up at you, eyes all heavy-lidded and mischievous like he’s got a hundred bad ideas brewing. you’re trying to keep it together, keep it professional (or, well, as professional as you can while straddling his lap), because you said you’d help him with his hair, and you don’t break promises. “just sit still, yeah?” you murmur, leaning over with the conditioner bottle in hand, and, yeah, your chest just happens to be right in his face. a wicked little smirk already creeping onto his face. “hey—what’d i just say?”

“just sittin’ still, baby, don’t mind me.” except he’s absolutely not sitting still, ‘cause his hands are gripping your hips, pulling you even closer, and his mouth is right there—pressed into the curve of your chest like he’s gonna find some buried treasure in the way he starts kissing, biting, sucking at your skin.

“babe, you’re supposed to be relaxing,” you laugh, trying to keep it together, trying to keep your hand steady while you work the conditioner into his hair, but it’s hard to focus when his mouth is all hot and wet, lips brushing up and down like he’s found his favorite flavor in the world.

“i am relaxing,” he says, voice all muffled and low, mouth still pressed into your skin. “it’s my favorite way to relax.”

“yeah?” you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool, but you feel that flutter in your stomach, that heat spreading as he drags his teeth over the skin just under your collarbone.

“uh-huh,” he hums, moving down, hands squeezing your hips like he doesn’t wanna let go, like he’s just getting started. you feel him exhale against your skin.

“you’re impossible,” you mutter, fingers carding through his hair, trying to be gentle, but he groans a little, like he wants it rougher. you roll your eyes, but there’s no way you’re letting him get out of this, so you push his head back just a little, forcing him to lean back, and start rubbing the conditioner on his hair. but of course, he’s still got his mouth on you, taking little nips, leaving these tiny marks that you just know he’s gonna brag about later.

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hannieween · 4 months ago

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— after hours ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ‹shared au masterlist›

› this is a masterlist of all my fanfics that share a single au titled after hours, cause oddly enough, i've made most of my characters either night owls or nocturnal animals haha.

› i've arranged them in the order that i recommend to read. but feel free to read them in the order you prefer •⩊•

backstage | lee seokmin (M)

♡ pairings: lee seokmin x female reader ♡ genre: smut, fluff ♡ au: theatre actor seokmin, best friends to lovers ♡ word count: 52.6k ♡ read here – main story is finished

heartbreaker | choi seungcheol (M)

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, smut ✧ aus: boss seungcheol, ex boyfriend seungcheol ✧ word count: 65.4k ✧ read here

city lights | joshua hong (M)

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: angst, fluff, smut ✮ au: rock singer joshua, neighbour joshua ✮ word count: 177k ✮ read here

lights out series | h.js – y.jh (M)

✮pairings: joshua hong x female reader x yoon jeonghan ✮ genre: angst, fluff, smut [18+] ✮ aus: rockstar joshua, theatre director jeonghan, polyamory ✮ word count: 177k – ongoing ✮ read here

guilty pleasures | boo seungkwan (M)

✾ pairings: boo seungkwan x female reader ✾ genre: fluff, smut ✾ au: theatre performer seungkwan, childhood crush to lovers ✾ word count: 24.5k ✾ read here

wicked games | kim mingyu (M)

☆ pairings: kim mingyu x female reader ☆ genre: smut, angst ☆ au: bartender mingyu, fwb, rebound fuck ☆ word count: 16k ☆ read here

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chugging-antiseptic-dye · 1 month ago

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seventeen as supermarket cashiers:

scoups: yells at people if they cut in line

jeonghan: never present at the cash resister

joshua: says things like, "oh, you bought this? are you sure that was a wise choice?"

jun: won't let you pay with card, only cash is accepted he broke the card machine

hoshi: takes forever to scan your items

wonwoo: keeps customers waiting in line while he plays games on his phone

woozi: will not say anything or even look at you. everyone's favourite employee

dokyeom: makes it a personal mission to befriend every customer

mingyu: will talk your ears off but checks you out under a minute

minghao: judges you for buy too many sugary snacks

seungkwan: makes the customer scan and bag their own items

vernon: takes a 'smoke break' every 15 mins

chan: drops your items while bagging them

(a/n: the drabble based on this au)

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memorabxlia · 22 days ago

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Secret Sins ━ 도겸

genre: smut summary: in which after weeks of avoiding DK and the unresolved tension between you, a cold winter night brings you back to his door. What starts as a hesitant reunion quickly ignites into an intense moment of passion, as both of you finally give in to the desire you’ve been unable to resist. warnings: primal, mutal masturbation, oral (thats all I think) pairing: situationship!dk x fem!reader wc: 2.6k a/n: happy birthday to my little nugget @minkilicious!! I hope everything good comes your way and every wish is granted for your special day!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The snow outside was relentless, a thick blanket of white that muffled the world into silence. The air was crisp, biting at your cheeks as you stepped out of your apartment and into the cold night. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, the woolen fabric doing little to ward off the frigid chill. Your breath came out in visible puffs, each one a testament to the harshness of the winter.

You had been avoiding DK for weeks now, ever since that night—the one that had left your body thrumming with unsatisfied desire. It was his fault, really. He had always been too perceptive, too attuned to your every need, every unspoken desire. And that night, he had pushed just the right buttons, leaving you aching for more. But you couldn’t let it happen again. Not here, not now. Not when everything was so uncertain.

Yet, despite your resolve, you found yourself walking towards his apartment. The lights glowed warmly through the frosted windows, a beacon in the otherwise dark night. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle. What were you doing? This was a terrible idea. But the memory of his touch, the way his fingers had moved against your skin, was enough to push you over the edge.

You knocked softly, your heart pounding in your chest. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing DK standing there in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. His hair was disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through it absentmindedly, and his brown eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and something else—something darker, more primal.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

You swallowed hard, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. The warmth of his apartment enveloped you, making you acutely aware of the cold that still clung to your skin. “Yeah, well… I couldn’t stay away,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

DK’s gaze roamed over your body, from the tips of your boots to the hem of your coat, and back up to your face. There was a hunger in his eyes, one that mirrored the ache deep within you. Without a word, he reached out, pulling you into his arms. The contact was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm and inviting.

“I missed you too,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

He leaned back, holding you at arm’s length as he looked into your eyes. There was a question there, one that needed answering before anything else could happen. You nodded, your resolve crumbling under the weight of your desire. DK’s lips curled into a knowing smile, and he bent his head, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was both soft and demanding.

The taste of him filled your senses, intoxicating and addicting. You melted against him, your hands sliding up his chest to tangle in his hair. He groaned into your mouth, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed down your back, pressing you closer. The heat between your bodies was palpable, a stark contrast to the cold outside.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as you looked up at him. “Take off your coat,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

You obeyed, shrugging out of the heavy coat and letting it fall to the floor. DK’s eyes roamed over your form, taking in the sight of you in your thin sweater and jeans. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the neckline of your shirt, and you shivered at the contact.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with raw emotion. “So fucking beautiful.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Don’t say that,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

He chuckled softly, his hands moving to cup your face. “Why not? It’s true. Every time I look at you, all I can think about is how much I want to be inside you. How much I want to feel you wrapped around me.”

His words sent a jolt of arousal through your body, pooling low in your belly. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as his hands slid down to rest on your hips. The contact was electrifying, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded softly, his voice a seductive whisper.

You did as he asked, meeting his gaze with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “What do you want, Seokmin?”

He smiled, a slow, predatory grin that made your heart race. “I want you,” he said simply. “And I know you want me too. So why don’t we stop pretending and just give in to what we both need?”

You hesitated for a moment, your mind warring with itself. Part of you wanted to run, to escape this intense connection that seemed to pull you in deeper with each passing second. But the other part, the primal part, was already surrendering to the need that simmered just beneath the surface.

DK seemed to sense your inner conflict, because he didn’t push you. Instead, he took a step back, giving you the space you needed to make up your mind. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Take your time.”

But the truth was, you didn’t need any more time. The decision had already been made, even if your mind hadn’t fully accepted it yet. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice steady. “Let’s do this.”

DK’s eyes lit up with satisfaction, and he took a step forward, closing the distance between you once more. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The sensation of his hard body pressed against yours made your breath catch in your throat.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Because I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long.”

You shivered at his words, the anticipation building unbearably. You could feel the rigid press of his erection against your stomach, a clear sign of his eagerness. Without thinking, you reached down, wrapping your fingers around the bulge in his pants.

DK hissed in a breath, his body tensing at your touch. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you to do that.”

You smirked, feeling a surge of confidence. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

With that, you began to move your hand in slow, teasing circles, relishing the way his abs clenched beneath your palm. DK’s eyes fluttered closed, his head falling back as he struggled to maintain control.

“Seokmin,” you whispered, your voice laced with desire. “Do you want me to stop?”

He opened his eyes, pinning you with a heated gaze. “No,” he answered firmly. “Never stop.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hand slid lower, fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. DK’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with anticipation. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, the crackle of the fire, and the soft whisper of snow against the window.

“Let’s get rid of these,” you said, your voice low and husky. You reached for the hem of his sweatpants, your fingers fumbling slightly in your haste. DK helped you, shimmying out of them quickly before kicking them aside. He stood there in just his boxers, the fabric tight against his erection, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his lean muscles flexed as he moved.

He wasn’t the only one who felt exposed. You shivered slightly as the cool air hit your skin, but it wasn’t the cold that made you tremble. It was the intensity of his gaze, the heat radiating from him like a furnace. You felt naked under his scrutiny, but also… desired.

You reached for the hem of your own shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor. DK’s eyes followed the movement, drinking in the sight of your bare skin. You could feel his hunger, raw and primal, and it ignited something similar within you.

“Your turn,” you said, tilting your head toward your jeans.

DK didn’t hesitate. He knelt down, his fingers finding the zipper and tugging it down slowly. You bit your lip as he pushed the denim down your legs, leaving you standing in just your underwear. His hands lingered on your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above your waistband.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of his touch. His hands were calloused, rough against your skin, and yet they felt so right. You swayed toward him, needing more of his touch, more of his warmth.

DK seemed to sense your need. He rose to his feet, his hands sliding up your sides and cupping your breasts. You gasped at the contact, arching into his palms. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing them to hardness through the thin fabric of your bra.

“God, Seokmin,” you whispered, your head tipping back as you surrendered to the pleasure.

His lips found your neck, teeth nipping gently at the sensitive skin just below your ear. You groaned, your hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands. His kisses trailed down your throat, pausing at the hollow of your collarbone before moving lower, his breath warm against your skin.

You felt his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, and you lifted one foot instinctively, allowing him to slide the fabric down your leg. He repeated the action with the other leg, discarding the last piece of clothing between you.

Now completely bare, you stood before him, feeling vulnerable yet incredibly aroused. DK’s eyes roved over your body, taking in every curve, every inch of you. You could see the hunger in his gaze, the raw need that mirrored your own.

He stepped closer, his erection pressing against your thigh as he wrapped an arm around your waist. You could feel the heat of him, the hard length of him, and it sent a jolt of desire straight to your core. You pressed yourself against him, feeling the friction of his body against yours, and moaned softly.

“Touch me,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Seokmin, touch me.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His hand slid between your thighs, fingers finding their way to your center. You gasped as he touched you, the sensation sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His fingers were gentle at first, exploring, learning the contours of your body. But as your arousal grew, so did his pace.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your knees weak. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. “God, yes.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. His fingers delved deeper, finding that sweet spot inside you that made you shudder with pleasure. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension building in your abdomen, pulsing through your veins.

But you didn’t want to come just yet. Not without him.

You reached down, your hand wrapping around his wrist. “Not just yet,” you panted, guiding his hand away. “I want… I want to touch you too.”

DK’s eyes flared with desire, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He nodded, stepping back just enough to give you room. You watched as he reached for the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down with shaky hands. His erection sprang free, thick and throbbing, and you felt a rush of heat flood your core.

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out tentatively. When your fingers brushed against the head of his cock, DK let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering closed. You marveled at the smoothness of his skin, the way his shaft twitched beneath your touch.

“Like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“More,” he rasped, his eyes snapping open to meet yours. “Harder.”

You tightened your grip, your fingers curling around his length as you began to stroke him. DK’s head fell back, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily. You matched his pace, your thumb gliding over the sensitive tip of his cock as you pumped him faster.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, feeling a surge of satisfaction. You wanted to make him feel good, to make him lose control. You quickened your pace, your hand sliding up and down his shaft with increasing urgency. DK’s breaths came in short, sharp bursts, his body taut with need.

“Come on, Seokmin,” you urged, your voice dripping with desire. “Let go for me.”

He shuddered, his whole body tensing as he fought to hold back. But you could see the strain in his face, the way his hips jerked forward, seeking release. You reached out with your other hand, cupping his balls gently, rolling them between your fingers.

That was all it took. DK’s body bowed, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he came, his seed spilling over your hand, hot and thick. You watched in fascination as he pulsed in your grip, his orgasm rippling through him in waves.

As his climax subsided, DK sagged against you, his body heavy with exhaustion. You held him tightly, your arms wrapped around his waist, letting him catch his breath. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “Anytime, Seokmin. Anytime.”

As DK’s breathing steadied, you felt a renewed surge of desire coursing through you. You hadn’t forgotten your own needs, and now that he was more relaxed, it was your turn to feel the same release.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with a sultry smile. “My turn,” you whispered, your voice laced with anticipation.

DK’s eyes darkened once more, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. He nodded, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you closer. The heat between your bodies intensified, and you could feel the residual dampness from his climax mingling with your own arousal.

He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, his fingers trailing down your spine as you settled onto the soft mattress. You spread your legs, inviting him in, and he didn’t hesitate. Kneeling before you, he leaned in, his breath warm against your inner thighs.

You gasped as his tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine. He explored you slowly, savoring every inch of your wetness, his tongue darting into your folds with expert precision.

“Seokmin,” you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as his mouth worked its magic. “Oh god, yes…”

His fingers joined his tongue, delving inside you as he continued to lap at your clit. The dual sensations were too much, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm. His pace quickened, his fingers thrusting deeper as his tongue circled your sensitive nub with increasing urgency.

“I’m close,” you panted, your body trembling with need. “Please, Seokmin…”

He responded by sucking hard on your clit, his fingers curling inside you to find that perfect spot. The pressure built rapidly, and with a cry of pleasure, you came, your hips bucking against his hand as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

You rode out your orgasm, your body shuddering with each pulse of pleasure. DK held you steady, his mouth never leaving you until you were spent, your breaths coming in short, gasping bursts.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found DK watching you with a satisfied smile. “Better?” he asked, his voice low and tender.

You nodded, feeling utterly sated. “Perfect,” you murmured, pulling him up to join you on the bed. Wrapped in each other’s arms, you both drifted off into a peaceful, contented sleep.

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