#svt my star

[nottigang]

scoups is on my mind 26/7 be likee..

being thinking about this for a while now. your in the kitchen with scoups and he suddenly asks you this question "should we try the icecream kiss my love?" he turns to you anticipating for a good answer

you were abit taken aback by this sudden question of his so u wondered where it came from suddenly?. So u asked him shly "why are u asking cherry?" he said "just answer me bby" so u said hesitating "ummmm.....sureee cherry we can....."

"cute" was all he said smiling cutely at u

scoups woke up from his chair to go get strawberry ice cream from the fridge. and he came back with the ice cream In his hands he said

"let's eat it love" so the two of u ate ice cream

scoups looks at u while laughing "u have ice cream on ur lips luv" so u asked trying to wipe it off "where cherry??" he said "no let me" he said this as he moved closer to u and started to kiss u softly, at first u were shy by the gesture but u started to kiss him back slowly. He smiled into kiss

the both of u knew it was going to be a long night ahead of u lovebirds

EKKKKKKKKKKKK like I can see he'll ask his gf thatttttt question

I'm smiling crying laughing kicking my feet in air blushing screaming at the thought of this

[nottigang]

this is so cute I guess🤣😩

hypnos

hypnos, the personification of sleep in greek myth. according to legend, he was promised the hand in marriage of hera's daughter, pasithea, in exchange for a favor...

pairing: vernon chwe x f reader

summary: most nights your husband sleeps peacefully beside you, but lately his dreams have made him restless.

warnings: swearing, arranged marriage, mommy issues, angst, alcohol, family planning discussions (no actual pregnancy!), smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: slight somno (wet dreams), handjob, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, sub!vernon ok kind of switch!vernon, mentions of pegging

word count: 4k

for @fuckvernon (happy birthday rat)

You have long sworn that the worst day of your life was the day you got married. Tears rolling down your otherwise impassive face as you stared at your equally expressionless fiance from across the altar. A stranger, practically, save for a few cordial business-like meetings between the two of your families. 

You don’t remember what it felt like to kiss him that day, only the taste of salt from your own tears shared between you. 

Now, your husband sleeps soundly beside you in the bed that you share. It was one of the stipulations of your marriage contract, one that he had insisted on. You didn’t question it at the time but you’ve always wondered why he was so adamant about it. You did have a lot of staff working around the house during the day but they always went home before either of you turned in for the night. It wasn’t like you had to keep up appearances then. 

You’ve gotten used to it, at least. Sharing a bed with a stranger wasn’t as difficult now that he wasn’t a stranger anymore. A year had passed since the day you were wed— though it felt like thirty— and while you weren’t lovers, you were partners. Somewhat. 

You understood each other, connected by the inseverable thread of your fates. Trapped together by your circumstances. It was simultaneously comforting and undeniably lonely. 

The worst was when you would come back from events where you had to play up your relationship. Spending the evening arm in arm or holding hands, pretending to be devoted spouses to each other, only to drop the act as soon as you were back in the car. 

You weren’t sure if Vernon felt the same way. He was so hard to read. The only time you were sure you knew exactly what he was feeling was on your wedding day, when he pulled you aside beforehand and whispered, “I’m sorry,” in your ear. 

You knew he hadn’t wanted this either. It wasn’t fair to hold any of it against him, and yet a small part of you did. 

You’ve clung to that resentment like a life preserver, afraid to let go and drown in feelings that threaten to overtake you. Resentment you can control. It protects you from what you can’t, like the growing fondness for your husband you’ve been trying to push down for a while now. 

You tried your best to be indifferent to him, neither antagonistic nor overly amicable but the nagging thoughts in the back of your mind have been getting harder to ignore. 

Tonight was the most challenging night yet. A charity dinner for one of your mother’s philanthropic endeavors, one she insisted ‘required your attendance’ despite your protests. You showed up as promised, only to be yanked into a dozen different conversations with your parents' friends. 

Vernon was a good sport, as always. He was a natural at these things. His effortless charm had all of the ladies in your mother’s church group hanging on to his every word, all of their husbands laughing at his corny jokes. You tried your best to participate to take some of the pressure off of him and get your parents off your back but you mostly stuck to nursing your flute of champagne while he did the talking. You didn’t even like champagne. 

The food was decent, at least, though you hardly got to enjoy any of it before your mother was pulling you into yet another discussion with a group of women from the board. 

You chatted with them cordially, talking in circles about nothing until one of the board members dropped the reason they had actually dragged you over there. 

“So, when are these two going to make you a grandmother?” she asked your mother, even though the question was obviously directed at you.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment but Vernon squeezed your hand in reassurance. You prepared yourself to give the typical we’re not in a rush answer you always gave but your husband beat you to the punch. 

“We’ve actually started trying,” he said casually, slipping the hand that wasn’t holding yours into the pocket of his slacks.

Your mother’s eyes lit up and her friends gasped in delight. Interesting reactions considering your husband had all but just told everyone he was hitting it raw every single night.

You had to act like this wasn’t also news to you and smile and nod very calmly even though you suddenly felt very sweaty all over. 

“That’s wonderful!” another one of the women exclaimed. “You must be so excited,” she said to your mother. 

“This is news to me, too,” she laughed. You were surprised that she was admitting to the lack of knowledge but maybe it was because Vernon would also know she was lying. “But yes, this is very exciting.” 

She then reached forward and plucked your half-finished flute of champagne from your hands, chiding you that “you should know better”. 

“Mom, I’m not pregnant now,” you groaned. 

“You never know!”

But you did know. There was absolutely no way you were pregnant unless you were some kind of scientific mirable or the second coming of Mary herself.

Children had never been part of the marriage contract, thankfully. Both sets of your parents knew what the contract was- a business deal and nothing more. They were gracious enough not to burden you further with the requirement of an “heir”. You and Vernon both knew it was an unspoken expectation but neither of you were intent on fulfilling it, at least that’s what you thought. 

The rest of the evening was spent talking about babies. One of the board members even recommended you to her OBGYN and made you write down her number. Vernon engaged animatedly with all of it, perfectly sliding into his new role of dad-to-be while you could hardly muster up the strength to fake a smile. 

He was quiet on the ride home, driving silently down the highway with both hands on the wheel, not so much as looking at you. He didn’t offer any explanation for the curve ball he’d pitched right at the back of your head other than, “it’ll get them off our backs”. 

You had so many more questions you wanted to ask. Had he changed his mind about the kids thing? Did he want to take your relationship... there? You had only kissed him a handful of times, always in the presence of other people in order to sell your marriage. Behind closed doors, your romance was nonexistent. You shared a bed because that was outlined in the contract you signed but that was it. 

Whether or not you wanted more from him was irrelevant. 

Vernon was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow but you were still up, thinking over every interaction from the night. You usually didn’t let yourself read into things because you were trying to keep yourself from falling down delusional rabbit holes but after tonight you couldn’t stop yourself from overanalyzing all of the things you always did your best to overlook. 

You tried to distract yourself with a book you were reading but you couldn’t get a paragraph in before the words began to blur together on the page as your thoughts consumed you again. 

You gave up half an hour ago and are now just staring at the ceiling, tracing the shadows created by the shade of the lamp on your bedside table with your gaze. 

You heave a sigh and roll over to turn it off, only to be stopped by the sound of your husband stirring beside you. You freeze, afraid your movement disturbed him, but when you glance over your shoulder you find that he’s still asleep. 

You wait a few more seconds before reaching for the light again, just to make sure he’s well and truly out, but this time he mumbles something out loud, causing you to turn over the other way to see if he’s trying to get your attention. 

His eyes are closed but his breathing is ragged and uneven. He must be dreaming, you realize. This happens sometimes, when he’s especially tired or stressed out. He’ll talk in his sleep or toss and turn like he can’t get comfortable even though he’s totally unconscious. He always seems so distressed by them that you’ve assumed the dreams are nightmares. 

You get torn over whether or not to wake him when they happen. The few times you have intervened he seemed grateful that you had but sometimes the dreams seem to stop on their own. His breathing will go back to normal, the crinkle between his brows will smooth out, and you’ll both sleep through the rest of the night peacefully. 

You’re equally indecisive now. He shouldn’t have to suffer like that just because you’re too scared to wake him up, though, so you resolve to just bite the bullet and nudge him awake. 

You suck in a breath and reach for your husband across the mattress, stopping short when he whimpers your name. 

You’re frozen again but for an entirely different reason now. His sleeptalking wasn’t usually anything comprehensible, let alone your name. You stay like that for a few seconds, waiting to see if he’d say it again or if you had maybe misheard him. 

To your surprise, he does say it again, this time followed by, “fuck”. Figures you’d be in his nightmares too. 

“Vernon,” you hiss, jostling his shoulder. 

“Hm?”

“Vernon, wake up.”

Your husband groans and blinks slowly, squinting in an attempt to make out your features. 

“What is it?”

“You were having a bad dream,” you explain. 

“Oh, th-thanks.” 

“Are you okay? It seemed pretty intense.”

“I’m okay,” he assures you, swallowing harshly. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t. I haven’t been able to fall asleep.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Do you want some water or something?” you ask, taking in his appearance. Now that he’s alert and awake you can see just how disheveled he looks. He’s still panting hard and his cheeks are flushed and his bangs are sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat. He looks like you do at the end of a pilates class, not like a man who had just woken up. 

“No, I’m alright, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Silence lapses between you, then your curiosity gets the better of you. 

“What was it about?”

“What? What was what about?”

You stare at him. “Your nightmare.”

“It wasn’t a-anything important,” he stutters.

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

Vernon blinks. “What do you mean? What did I say?”

“You, um, called my name. A couple of times.”

He takes a moment to process what you’ve said and then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I know it isn’t your fault.” He looks pained. “I just wanted to know why you were having a nightmare about me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Vernon.”

“I wasn’t!” he insists. 

“Lying to my mother’s friends might be second nature to you by now but you know that won’t work on me.” 

“I’m not lying. It wasn’t a nightmare.”

“You expect me to believe that? You’re still all sweaty.”

“You just have to trust me,” he pleads. 

“Why won’t you tell me what I was doing in your dream? I promise I won’t be upset.” Well, now you’re the one lying but he’s being so cagey about it that you feel like you have to get to the bottom of whatever it is that he’s hiding. 

“You’ll look at me differently,” he groans.

“No, I won’t.”

“You will.”

“You’re really not going to tell me?” He doesn’t answer. “Fine.”

“Hold on, what are you doing? Where are you going?” he asks, watching as you sit up and grab your pillow from behind you.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room,” you mutter.

You’d be breaking that stupid fucking clause in your contract if you did but you didn’t care. You’d pay whatever the fine was, you just couldn’t stand to be in the same bed as him for another moment.

“Wait, don’t get up-” Vernon tries but it’s too late. 

You had gotten up anyway and pulled the covers back in the process, revealing the real reason your husband wouldn’t tell you what he was dreaming about. 

“Oh,” is what you say. It’s all you can say. 

He tries to cover himself with his hands but you’ve already seen. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles. 

“So it was that kind of dream...” you muse, mostly to yourself. 

He nods miserably. “Yeah... it was.”

“Are they always?”

“Are you really going to make me answer that?”

You drop your pillow back onto the bed and sit at its edge. Vernon peeks up at you, shying away when you lean closer. 

“Will you tell me what it was about now?”

He balks. “What? You still want to know?”

“Wouldn’t you?”  

“You’re going to think I’m a huge pervert,” he sighs. ��If you don’t already.”

“Come on, you owe this to me.”

Even the tips of his ears are pink now. “It was... you know, it was about normal husband and wife stuff.”

“What is normal husband and wife stuff?”

Vernon whines. “You know what it is.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” 

“I don’t want to disrespect you like that.”

“Why would that disrespect me? I’m your wife aren’t I?”

He gulps. “You... really want to know?”

“I do.”

“You were... touching me.”

“Touching you how? Like this?” You lay your hand over his, the warmth of your palm making him shiver. 

“N-no.”

“Show me,” you murmur.

“Are you sure?”

“Only if you want to.”

He places his other hand over yours and guides it to his lap, pressing firm over the material of his pajama pants. You’re surprised to feel that the fabric is a little damp, already soaked through with precum. 

Vernon’s breath hitches as you stroke him experimentally over his pants. He’s bigger than you expected, thicker at least. You were always... curious about that. Thought about it one too many times late at night after your husband had gone to bed early. And you still tried to delude yourself about being indifferent towards him. 

“Fuck, that feels good,” he whispers. 

“Is this what you were dreaming about?” you ask. 

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean?”

“It started like this.”

“And then what happened?”

He whimpers in embarrassment again but you don’t let up, gripping him even harder. “We were kissing.”

“And?”

“And you started taking your clothes off.”

You let go of your husband’s cock and take hold of the hem of your sleep shirt, preparing to lift it over your head. 

“Wait, can I do it?”

“Is that how it went in your dream?”

“N-no...”

“Maybe next time, then.”

Vernon’s eyes grow even wider. “There’s going to be a next time?”

You almost scoff at him. As if you were ever going to let go of him now that you had him. 

He watches, mesmerized, as you take off your shirt and wiggle out of your shorts. You leave your underwear on, though, not wanting to expose yourself completely while he is still fully dressed. 

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking hot,” he whines. “It’s so unfair- don’t laugh!”

You purse your lips together to try and stifle said laughter. “Sorry, sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be like this.”

“Like what?”

So pathetic, is what immediately comes to mind.

“So cute,” is what you actually say to him. 

He pouts. “I’m not usually this... needy,” he insists. 

You have trouble believing that but you don’t argue. Only time will tell, you suppose.

“Can I touch you?” he asks before you can say anything in response. 

He’s been staring at your tits since you took your shirt off. You’re tempted to tease him a little more but you’re also just as desperate to feel him so you nod.

He scrambles to his knees and leans forward, nearly falling flat on his face in the process. You expect him to go right for your boobs but he touches your shoulders first. He’s gentle, running his thumbs across your collarbones and then up the column of your neck before finally tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Then he moves lower, tracing invisible lines down your chest to your nipples, gasping quietly when he finds that they’re hard under his palms. 

“Vernon?”

His head snaps up to look at you. “Hm?”

“Kiss me.”

You’ll never forget what it feels like to kiss him after tonight. He puts one hand on the back of your head and pulls you into him, kissing you with all of the desire and longing and painful anticipation he’s held on to for so many months. 

You catch his bottom lip between your teeth and tug, relishing in the gasp he lets out in return. You only draw back when he starts to mumble incoherently into your mouth, and it’s reluctant. You want to keep kissing him, but you also figure what he’s saying might be important. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he rasps. “So long.”

“I know,” you sigh. “All those dreams...”

“It’s not just the dreams.” You want to ask him to elaborate but he’s rambling again before you can. “Can I eat you out? Please, can I taste you, baby?”

He’s never called you that behind closed doors before. It takes you aback. “I-”

“Please? Let me make it up to you. Let me make it all up to you, I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Okay,” you agree meekly. 

“Here, lay down. Yeah, lay down just like that.”

He’s frantic for it, hurrying to get between your legs as you spread them for him. He helps you get your panties off and starts to kiss his way up your thighs, the heat of his lips searing and fervent. He stops just before he reaches your pussy and lifts his gaze to meet your eyes. 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

 You nod. “I’m sure.”

Just like when he kissed you, he’s gentle at first as he laves his tongue over you. He takes his time, showing more restraint than you were expecting while he explores you.

“Taste so sweet,” he mumbles and the vibrations from his voice make you moan and thread your fingers through his hair so that you can push his face even further into you. He goes until he has to come up for air, and when he does, he’s literally dripping with you. “Spent so many nights thinking about the way you’d taste,” he gasps, “telling myself I’d never get to find out.”

“Is it as good as you hoped?” you ask. 

“You have to let me do this to you every night,” he says before burying his tongue in you again. 

It’s not an answer, not really, but you can tell he’s already a little pussydrunk and therefore a little stupid. He’s been grinding against the mattress the entire time he’s been giving you head, working himself up just as much as you. But you don’t want him to cum until he’s fucked you so you tug at his hair to get his attention. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just want you to fuck me.”

“For real?”

“Yes, for real. Is that not part of your dreams?”

“It-it is.”

“Come on, then.”

You watch him start to unbutton his pajama shirt, trying to commit every frame of him to memory so that you could replay the scene in your mind whenever you missed him. Once his shirt’s off, he reaches for the waistband of his pants but stops suddenly as something dawns on him. 

“I don’t have any condoms.”

“None?”

“Listen, it’s not like either of us have been getting laid.”

It’s true. Even though your marriage up until this point had only been on paper, you and Vernon had both agreed to include an infidelity clause in your contracts. You weren’t allowed to sleep with anyone but your husband which had made you think you’d either be celibate for the rest of your life or only add a notch to your bedpost when your families finally wore you both down about kids.

“You can just pull out,” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, my best friend says she and her husband do that all the time.”

“Well, now I can never look at Jeon Wonwoo the same ever again so thanks for that.”

“Vernon,” you whine, “are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Right, sorry.”

Your husband climbs on top of you, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he lines himself up. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with me pulling out? I can get condoms first thing in the morning and-”

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “I trust you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and pushes inside of you. “Fuck, I lo-” 

He catches himself, eyes wide. You can’t even say anything because he starts fucking you before you can process what he almost said, purposefully distracting you. He’s using his dick against you which is frankly unfair. 

But you can’t be too mad about it either because it feels so fucking good. It’s also intense, though. His cock is a lot bigger than your fingers and it’s been a long time since anything but those had been inside of you so need a little longer to adjust to the stretch. 

“Slow, slower,” you plead.

He slows down immediately and lowers himself to kiss you. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it feels good, you’re just really goddamn thick and I need a minute.”

Vernon laughs, which does nothing to help your predicament. “Take all the time you need.”

When you finally do get used to the feeling, and you finally convince Vernon that you’ve recovered (you have to repeat yourself four times), it’s like you’ve broken a spell. Your husband turns into your lover in the blink of an eye. 

“God damn it, you’re perfect. How is everything about you so perfect,” he murmurs. “Perfect fucking wife... wasted so much time...” You want to tell him that you can make up for it now, that you have years- your whole lives to make up for it, but the words won’t come. “Shit I’m close, are you close?”

You nod, trying your best to verbalize a response. What you end up saying is nonsensical but Vernon seems to understand it because he keeps going, keeps hitting that spot that’s making you gush all over him until you’re tearing up and sobbing out his name as you cum around him. 

He holds on just long enough to fuck you through your orgasm before he pulls out and gives in to his own, cumming all over your tummy with little to no aim. The sight is so pretty you think you could cum again untouched just from watching him. 

He collapses beside you in a breathless heap. “I’m s-sorry I should’ve asked where you wanted it.”

“I don’t think I could’ve given you an answer anyway.”

“And I’m sorry that was so short, I usually last longer-”

“Stop apologizing! It was amazing.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll clean you up,” he promises, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Just give me a second.”

You lie there in silence together for a few moments as you wait to regain feeling in your fingers and toes. You have so much to talk about now, but all you can manage to ask is, “so, is that is how all your dreams go?”

Vernon snorts and shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I told you, I’m curious!”

“S-sometimes you’re the one fucking me,” he admits shakily. 

“Like, I’m the one on top?”

Vernon winces. “Not exactly...”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“We can make that happen.”

He lights up. “Really? That’s something you’d be into?”

“I’m into anything you’re into.”

“God, you really are perfect.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!! and happy (belated) birthday <3 i hope you loved this lil present

[fairyhaos]

wdym jeonghan enlistment and junhui acting break what do you mean WHAT DO YOU MEAN

[sstarlostt]

SEVENTEEN Spell MV

[mtchee]

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[husbandhoshi]

LILY HI ITS ME STAR!!! HOW ARE YOU I LOVE U AND WISH U ALL THE BEST MUAH MUAH!! also: perhaps smth a little naughty at 11:36 PM with lab partner!wonwoo 👀👀

tags: college!au, inexperienced!wonwoo x f!reader, nerd!wonwoo, experienced!yn, oral (m!receiving)

[11:36]

wonwoo has never liked chemistry.

the periodic table looks like a colorful placemat and a titration might as well be a long winded recipe for a terrible cocktail. (although the ones at the delta tau delta chemistry themed party were good. they served them in little beakers, and wonwoo thought those were quite cute. that was also the party where he met you.)

speaking of you��unlike chemistry, wonwoo does, however, like you a great deal.

which makes chemistry much more tolerable because you are his lab partner.

on the first day of lab, when they had asked the class to pair up, you walked over to him, and wonwoo almost melted right into the ground.

"you're the only one here i know," you whispered, waiting for him to lean down to your height. he did, and you smelled like cherries. "we talked at the delt party. wonwoo, right?"

"yes, i'm wonwoo," he had said, words tripping and tumbling off of his tongue like he was learning to speak for the first time.

it was no better at the party, except he was drunk and you were drunker, and you had made the grave mistake of asking him what classes he was taking. two mike's hard lemonades and a battery acid vodka shot later, his dumb ass was still talking about emily dickinson, and you, somehow, were standing there in those mile-high heels, listening as if he was the most interesting guy at the party.

i think she's totally into you, mingyu had said, in that loud, spitty cadence he has when he's 90% beer.

don't be ridiculous.

but then you had asked wonwoo to walk you to your dorm, and you took the long way, winding right through campus.

he doesn't dream often, but he thinks the one he had that night was red and smelled like your lip gloss.

now, he thanks god for the miracle that is you in an oversized hoodie and shorts in his room past sundown.

granted, you're there to work on the last lab report of the term, and he had seen you just two nights ago at the kappa party, but wonwoo thinks he likes this version of you best. (that night, you had tried to break in your new heels. he ended up holding onto them, and you ended up holding onto him on the drunken stumble home. whether it was for support or for something else, wonwoo doesn't know, but he wishes he wore something different than the ratty polo from the back of his closet.)

"thanks for all your help," you say, closing your lab notebook. "i don't know how you're so good at all of this."

"i'm not," he laughs. he hands you your pencil case with the sailor moon charm, the one you were so proud to show him when he mentioned he watched anime. "it was all you."

you wave him off and bend down to put your things in your bag.

wonwoo tries his best to avert his eyes. he really does.

it's a valiant effort. there's a book out of order on his shelf (anna karenina, tolstoy). he really should have put that gundam figure away before you came over.

and your ass is perfect, but that doesn't really surprise him because he doesn't think there is a single thing wrong with you.

"you know," you start, still rifling around in your bag. "i heard something real interesting from mingyu the other day."

"hm?"

wonwoo changes the backlight color of his keyboard. it does not make him calmer. instead he feels all the peely leather on his gaming chair poke through his sweats and he tries not to think about the little birthmark you have on the back of your thigh.

"he told me that..." you stand straight and turn to face him. there's a fresh coat of gloss on your lips, like a magic trick. "you have a crush on me."

wonwoo doesn't know what to say. he likes to think before he speaks but now you're walking towards him and thinking isn't really an option anymore.

"right?"

"um."

not good. he didn't think he was that obvious but he's no liar.

"fine, i'll start." you're standing right in front of him now, and he thinks the gulp he takes is audible. "i like you."

he watches your lips form around the words, glittery and confident, and if he wasn't doomed before, he certainly is now.

his near perfect gpa is doing jack shit to help him understand why someone like you, gorgeous and funny and smart and popular, would ever take a second look at the gangly boy in the glasses.

but you are—in fact, you're staring with an intensity that makes him afraid you can actually see right through all the clothes he's got on.

"i—" come on, wonwoo thinks. they're the words he wanted to tell you outside your dorm building three weeks ago when you said you didn't know anyone quite like him. "i like you too. a lot."

"good."

the first thing he learns is that you're forward, and he likes that.

the second thing he learns is that your lip gloss tastes like cherry.

your mouth is hot and soft on his. he thinks he died and went to heaven, and then you're kissing him again, catching his bottom lip between your teeth so he whines into your mouth.

the last time he tried kissing was during senior prom. his date stood on her tiptoes and he accidentally bumped his nose into hers and missed her mouth and the whole thing was a disaster.

and yet now, wonwoo feels like he's melted right into your hands. you lead and his body just knows how to follow.

"you're shy, huh?" you murmur, pulling back to look at him. "that's so cute."

he doesn't quite know what he looks like but his glasses are slipping down his nose and he feels the menthol sting of your lips all over his. there has never been this much blood in his cheeks but that doesn't quite make sense to him because he feels all of it going straight to his dick.

"you're perfect," is what the primordial ooze in wonwoo's brain manages to put together.

you kiss him again, and when he remembers to relax his lips enough, you're slipping your tongue in and letting him suck, and you moan.

wonwoo swears he could have blown his load right there and then—when it came to you, it really didn't take much, and now he's wondering what your skin tastes like, craving the cherry of your cunt.

your hand on his chest, sharp nails and glittery rings, trails down nice and slow. it feels like he's on fire. it's a wonderful distraction from the sensation of your teeth on the pretty, taut skin over his collarbone, but then you're biting and licking and he feels his balls get so tight and heavy in his pants he might just cry.

and then your hand comes to rest on his lap, right over his hardness, and wonwoo's about to protest—no, no, sorry, i don't mean to have a boner! i've never been kissed like that before in my life!—until you drop to your knees, right in between his parted thighs.

"has anyone ever touched you like this?" you say, voice low, dizzying. "anyone ever made you feel good?"

he shakes his head no, a new, sudden wave of desire climbing his bones.

mussed hair and swollen lips, you look more beautiful than anyone wonwoo's ever seen in his entire life. he doesn't know what he did in a past life to earn this but he must have saved the world.

"p-please," he says, but it's somewhere between a moan and a gasp because you're palming him through his sweats, the sensation foreign, thrilling.

"patience," you tease, and he would be morbidly embarrassed at the spot of precum on his pants if you weren't already thumbing at it yourself.

once you take his cock out of his sweats, he knows he's losing whatever battle he was fighting. he sees how your hand looks so little around it, and it's his nth struggle to make sure he doesn't just cum in your face. maybe another day, if he's so lucky.

"i-i might cum really fast," he confesses, because he doesn't know how to really say he's never gotten a blowjob before.

"good," you answer. unlike him, somehow you always know exactly what to say.

the third thing wonwoo learns that day is that he's fully, wholly, entirely obsessed with your mouth. with your slick bottom lip, with your tongue, and now with the way he sees your gloss-smeared mouth wrap taut around his cockhead.

wonwoo can never return to watching porn again. there is simply no one quite like you.

"f-fuck," he pants, the feeling overtaking him all at once. "feels so good, mouth's so good—"

one look at your eyes, big and watery and good for him, and he feels his cock twitch in your mouth. and then you start moving; you take him all the way to the base and then some. he feels your tiny little throat close around him, and the groan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic. he never thought he was that big, but seeing your eyes well up and your mascara get all dewy as you gag around him is doing something crazy to his brain.

it doesn't take long for you to fall into an easy rhythm. you're figuring him out so fast, and that would scare him if it didn't feel so good. your tongue's on his veins, the underside of his cockhead, and he's already gripping the armrests of his chair with white knuckles.

you sink down again and swallow around his length, let your throat do all the work, and wonwoo throws his head back, chest heaving. his eyes flutter shut, and the fluorescent ceiling light phases in and out of vision as you give him what could possibly be the best head you've ever given someone in your whole life.

"gonna cum s-soon," wonwoo manages. "you're so fucking hot."

it's either a moan or a whimper that comes out of you when he says that, and he thanks his lucky stars he has the wherewithal to put that information in his back pocket. he doesn't know when or how but his plan is to return the favor to you in full. and if that involves a copious amount of praise, he's all the better prepared because he has no shortage of nice things to say about you.

you take him once, twice to the base and wonwoo feels all the heat in his balls and his belly and then he's cumming, more and harder than he ever thought possible. he almost thinks it's like a piece of his soul was taken from him.

"d-don't have to swallow," he says, but you do, every last fucking drop until it's dribbling from your perfect mouth, and wonwoo is now fully convinced you are a real life goddess.

i'm an addict in the making, he thinks, but then you smile at him with those eyes, and he doesn't think that's such a bad thing.

he searches for the right words to say, something cool, experienced. it's a constant effort to be that guy for you because he's still not really sure why any of this happened.

"stop thinking so hard," you say, coughing once, then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "i can see your wheels turning."

how you can read him so easily is beyond him. he wonders if you knew he was in love with you the second he laid eyes on you at the delta tau party.

where are my manners, wonwoo then remembers, and the post-nut clarity possesses him to brush the hair out of your eyes and help you up from your position on the ground.

"i like you. i don't care how experienced you are."

he hears you, and he believes you. instead of arguing, he cups your tear-streaked face in his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe your cheeks.

"plus, i think i'm a pretty good teacher."

you smile, and wonwoo has the confidence to kiss you back, for real this time.

[hyperdramas]

smooth operator | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol au, roommate au, mention of gym trainer!seokmin, mutual crush, reader is in love with this dude, reader is a massive flirt and wants seokmin so bad, romantic tension, kissing, humor, flirt!seokmin, mentions of weight loss, seokmin is described as really hot in this, little dialoge/lots of description, part 2 maybe??

now playing: smooth operator, sade

If you said you weren't eyeing your hot, young roommate as he sat with his legs crossed on the couch and eyes down at his phone, muscles tight and straining with each bounce of his leg, you'd be telling a flat-out lie.

The tention had been there between you two ever since the crazily handsome stranger-turned-roomate, Lee Seokmin, helped you move into the apartment he was so kind to let you become his roommate in. His muscles were perfect, and he barely broke a sweat while lifting your suitcase and heavy boxes.

What made him even more perfect was the fact he talked and talked while helping you unpack, making you feel comfortable with him in mere seconds. Seokmin was a sweetheart and a gentleman, all on top of being drop dead gorgeous.

Your face was probably heated with the way you were watching Seokmin's smile spread across his face as he looked down at his phone. His sharp nose caught the light from above in such a pretty way, and you felt about ten more of your braincells disappear when he looked up at you, smiling your way next.

"Are you getting hungry yet?" Seokmin's voice was just as hot as his muscles and side profile was, soft and honeyed with just a tint of flirtation. You nodded, looking down at your phone as you tossed it to the side of the empty plush couch.

"Yeah, I am, actually. Moving boxes is a lot of work," Laughing nervously, Seokmin watches your every move, smile sparkling as he stands up from his position on the couch. As Seokmin stands, his muscles flex as he stretches, and you look away as quick as you can, knowing that your face will betray you faster than you want it to.

"Takeout okay? I haven't been shopping for groceries just yet, so there's not really anything here to cook with." Seokmin states, and you nod, following him to the kitchen awkwardly as you're still getting used to the sheer size of this place.

Seokmin was such a humble person too—you asked what he did to be able to afford such a nice apartment, and he stated that he was a gym trainer, saying that he really didn't need to be paid and that he was just happy to help other people on their weight loss journeys.

Even though you would have thought someone saying what Seokmin had said was cringe about two weeks ago, you stared at him with goo-goo eyes like he was a dream or something.

He was a dream—with those big muscles, shining smile, and pretty sparkling eyes that lingered on you a little too long as he continued to joke with you.

"It's okay, right?" Seokmin asks again, snapping you out of your reverie as you nod, panicked. His smile—Lord, his smile—nearly makes you fall out of your seat.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" Seokmin asks as if creating small talk, eyes on his phone as he opens up the Doordash app.

Play it cool, play it cool, you tell yourself. Seokmin is asking you the questions you've wanted him to ask you ever since you arrived here, and now that he's doing it, you don't want to screw your chance up.

"No, I haven't had one for a while. The last one I had was pretty rough." Seokmin looks at you for a second, eyes raking over your face before he simply says: "I should make you mine then."

Your brain stops working, and you feel yourself slipping into whatever trap Seokmin has ready for you. Before you know it, your face is heating up, your palms are getting sweaty, and your default nervous laugh track is playing.

Since Seokmin is getting a bit bold, why don't you?

"I've wanted you ever since I got here," You lock eyes with him, and Seokmin crosses the distance between you as he makes his way to the other side of the counter. Before you know it, his hands are on your waist and yours on his muscled arms as he smiles while looking at you.

"I know that, sweetheart." Seokmin's usage of the pet name almost threw you off-guard, but you didn't let it phase you, recovering quickly as you traced your finger up his arm.

"Will you kiss me, Seokmin?" Your body is heating up, and your head starts to spin, but you don't' care. You just want Seokmin's lips on yours.

"Since you asked so nicely." Seokmin giggles cutely, leaning in as your lips finally lock with each other.

His lips mold to yours in a practiced, calculated way, and he sighs under you as he squeezes your hips. HIs tight grip on you makes you melt into him even more, and you tangle with him before pulling away just minutes later, lips kiss-swollen and mind cloudy with a chance of Lee Seokmin.

A chance you were willing to take.

[sp4ceboo]

MASTERLIST

featuring: stray kids, ateez, xikers, seventeen, my hero academia, dune, ultraman rising, star wars.

personal favourites: ✨

STRAY KIDS series: beneath a crimson sky masterlist (ot8!skz x reader) fics: maniac: ot8!skz x reader ✨ headcanons: skz taking care of you when you're sick (old, read at your own risk) han boyfriend headcanons (old, read at your own risk) chan cuddling headcanons (old, read at your own risk) changbin in winter headcanons skz playing mario wonder (very crackhead-y) ✨ ficlets: cuddling chan and lino artist!han flirting in paris (parizz) with bang chan ✨ making up after an arguement with lino playfighting with changbin but with a twist cover me x medieval au seungmin ✨

ATEEZ fics: second chance: jeong yunho x reader warriors: choi san x reader ✨ headcanons: friends to lovers with yungi - pt. 1 friends to lovers with yungi when they argue - pt. 2 rambles: predebut ateez ramble

XIKERS ficlets: watching a scary movie with seeun cuddling jinsik sumin sofa ambush cuddle ramble thing (i'm bad at titles ok)

SEVENTEEN fics: stray: lee dokyeom x reader ✨ ficlets: seungcheol hard thoughts seungcheol soft aftercare

MY HERO ACADEMIA fics: as selfish as love: merman!bakugou katsuki x reader ✨

DUNE fics: upon the sands of the arena: feyd-rautha x reader - pt. 1 ✨ within the storms of giedi prime: feyd-rautha x reader - pt. 2 epilogue: feyd-rautha x reader - pt. 3 atonement: feyd-rautha x reader who's afraid of little old me?: feyd-rautha x reader ✨ headcanons: atonement universe headcanons - pt. 2 of atonement but can be read standalone

ULTRAMAN: RISING ficlets: ken sato hard thoughts

STAR WARS fics: took you long enough: kit fisto x reader ✨ burn: darth maul x reader mi amor: poe dameron x reader the hunter and the culinarian: darth maul x reader ✨ cyar'ika: din djarin x reader stay with me: din djarin x reader sober: din djarin x reader you're not the only one: din djarin x reader his song has been written: din djarin x reader (din x reader but it's a tribute to paz)

all my works are purely fictional and not representative of anyone mentioned do not repost or plagarise, but likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed :))

[starsstuddedsky]

In Sickness and Secondhand Embarrassment

seungcheol x reader

summary: what’s the best part of a terrible date? the end. that is, until a roommate catches covid and you’re forced to stay together

genre: fluff

warnings: swearing, food, SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT

wc: 5.3k

a/n: hello!!!! this is kinda based more on pandemic protocol from a year ago so it’s not quite the same as the current experience, but also covid is still very real!! anyways if you don’t enjoy second hand embarrassment don’t read.. I need to stop writing kiss scenes 😭

Seungcheol’s shoulder brushes against yours again. He isn’t doing it on purpose, but he thinks it might be his subconscious since he isn’t brave enough to ask to hold your hand. 

“Nice night,” you say. Seungcheol doesn’t miss how you avoid his eyes, staring at your toes. Everything in his heart screams awkward as he tries to think of something, anything to say. 

He thought it would be easy: he called Vernon about the friend he brought to the party, found out your name, and then found out you had asked about him as well. He got your number and asked you out to dinner. He likes you and you like him, so why is this so awkward? 

“I guess this is goodnight,” you say. You smile and Seungcheol forgets what he was about to say. 

“I guess this is goodnight,” you say. You smile and Seungcheol forgets what he was about to say. 

“I guess this is goodnight,” you say. You smile and Seungcheol forgets what he was about to say. 

“I… had fun today,” he sputters. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, but he knows if he doesn’t do anything soon, this already-painful date will turn into a terrible memory that he’ll never be able to live down. He thinks about telling Vernon about this nightmare, or, god forbid, Jeonghan and Joshua find out. He’d never hear the end of it. 

Maybe that’s why he catches your hand before you can turn around. In a spurt of his only confidence of the night, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” 

You look startled at first, but your frown quickly turns into a smile, if a bit nervous. “Sure.” 

Seungcheol leans closer, pausing over your lips and suddenly remembers the garlic pasta he had for lunch earlier. He swallows and prays it’s enough to hide the taste. He leans a little bit closer and your lips are touching and Seungcheol thinks they are warm and soft (and maybe a little bit chapped but his are too). Move, he thinks but the thought doesn’t travel to his muscles and his stupid brain can’t figure out what to do. The kiss lasts longer and longer and all he does is stand there with his lips pressed against yours. 

Finally, you pull away. Seungcheol doesn’t dare look in your eyes as he takes a step back. He can already feel his face heating up with embarrassment. Maybe it’s not too late for him to catch the shuttle to the airport and get on a flight and leave somewhere and never come back, maybe go to Guam, or Canada, or really anywhere but here. 

“Goodnight,” he mumbles, daring to glance at you once. Your hand is pressed against your lips as if you can't quite believe what happened either. Seungcheol turns down the sidewalk and walks away, hoping that he’ll never have to think about this again. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, a welcome distraction. Joshua’s face appears on his screen. 

“Hey, is it too late to cancel your date?” Joshua asks. He’s in the apartment that Seungcheol, Joshua, and Jeonghan share, evident by the cardboard cutout of the Rock that Seungkwan gave Jeonghan for his birthday last year that is staring at Seungcheol over Joshua’s shoulder. 

“Uh, yeah,” Seungcheol says, praying that’s the last question. 

“Cool, how are you feeling?” 

How to answer that? How does Seungcheol explain that he wants a comet to wipe him off the face of the earth, or maybe a time machine so he can go back and at least stop himself from that horrible kiss. 

“Fine,” Seungcheol says, because he doesn’t want to deal with the teasing from the J’s. It’s the only way this night can get worse. 

“No coughing? No sore throat?” 

Seungcheol stops. “What’s going on?” 

Joshua smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes and Seungcheol recognizes the anger burning behind them. “Well, the little asshat is coughing and he took an at home test and it may or may not be positive.” 

“Joshua,” Seungcheol says slowly. “Are you telling me Jeonghan has covid?” 

“Yes! I’m supposed to have a meeting with my thesis advisor tomorrow, goddammit. Well, if you’re feeling fine you should probably just find somewhere to quarantine, or come back here and take the L, I guess,” Joshua says. “This is so annoying, and Jeonghan is going to milk the shit out of this until we’re sick too.” 

“Joshua,” Seungcheol says slowly. “Jeonghan and I ate breakfast together today. We shared a spoon.” 

“Oh, then you should come back.” 

Seungcheol sighs, remembering the kiss that would likely go down as one of the top five worst moments of his life. And he thought things couldn’t get worse. 

Well, he can’t be too pessimistic. Maybe telling you that he may have given you covid will somehow make this night better.

.

.

He sits on the far end of the couch. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to invite him to quarantine with you, but you trust that any friend of Vernon’s isn’t a psychopath, and he looked genuinely upset about the entire situation. Besides, if he really isn’t sick, then there’s no danger.

Except for the fact that you cannot forget the horrible kiss that wasn’t even five minutes ago. It wasn’t your worst kiss (that title went to Jimmy at the ninth birthday party of your best friend, who thought the enclosed space you were crammed into together during an intense round of hide and seek was the appropriate time to confess his love and then force a kiss on your lips when you were mostly thinking about how much you had to pee), but it definitely wasn’t the best. 

At least he seems to feel as embarrassed as you are. The few times you work up the confidence to look at him, he’s either staring at your carpet or fiddling with his thumbs. 

“Thanks again,” Seungcheol says. “You really don’t have to do this.” 

“Like I said, if you don't have it, we’re fine, but if you do, there’s a good chance you gave it to me, so you might as well stay here.” You tap your fingers on the arm of the couch. 

“Well, thank you anyways,” he says. “And I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say. Not for the first time, you wish you had a roommate, or at least someone else in the apartment so you wouldn’t have to figure out how to deal with this all on your own. How does one properly host the person they went on exactly one (bad) date with and then possibly gave them covid? Offer tea? 

“So, you want to play Mario Kart?” You ask. 

“Are you sure you want to challenge me?” Seungcheol asks. “I should warn you, I’ve been trained.” 

“I have too,” you say, thinking about how many times Jihoon had cursed you out playing the game throughout your lifelong friendship. He taught you curse words you didn’t know existed. 

“Jeon Wonwoo himself trained me,” Seungcheol says, taking the controller as you hand it to him. 

“Jeon Wonwoo?” You frown at him from the other side of the couch. 

“He’s a streamer,” Seungcheol says. “And I thought a pretty popular one, but now I’m realizing I sort of sound like an idiot and should have kept my mouth shut.” 

“I’m sure he’s really good,” you say. “He could be really popular, I really wouldn’t know.” 

Seungcheol flashes a thankful smile and you remember why you asked Vernon about him in the first place. Not just because his smile makes your heart skip a beat, but because he’s so expressive that you think you can read every thought that comes across his face. As painfully terrible as the date was, you aren’t completely opposed to a second date, and his wide smile isn’t helping at all. 

Though, the way things are going right now, you are a little worried you might be stuck with him for the rest of your life. 

“Well, either way, we won’t know until we try,” you say. Seungcheol points his controller at you as if it were a sword, accepting your challenge. The familiar music begins and you select your character (always Shy Guy). Seungcheol chooses Bowser, which doesn’t surprise you. He chooses a kart while you choose a bike, and before long, the numbers count down. 

3.

2.

1.

.

.

In hindsight, Seungcheol wonders if he was too competitive. Then again, the score is still 50-50 for first place after playing four rounds, so it’s not like you didn’t match his energy. 

“This isn’t over,” you declare when he wins the final match and sets the score back to an even win rate. 

“It’s almost midnight, I think it’s over for the night,”Seungcheol says. “Besides, it’s tied!” 

“The last time I settled for a tie was Jihoon, and now he refuses to play with me,” you say. Seungcheol idly wonders if it’s weird that he finds the borderline violent look in your eyes attractive. 

“Oh, believe me, I’m not settling for a tie,” Seungcheol says. “Wonwoo would kill me if he ever found out, he called me his protegé.” 

“And you’re proud of that?” You ask, but you’re smiling. “Fine, I’ll concede for tonight, but this isn’t over.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Seungcheol says, grinning even wider at your fake glare. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with the couch?” You ask, standing up. 

Seungcheol is tempted to flirt and say, “Unless you want to share a bed,” but he decides with how badly he fumbled earlier in the evening, it would be safest to nod and keep his mouth shut. Besides, he is beyond grateful that you’re letting him stay with you; the couch might as well be a king-sized bed. 

Unfortunately, it is not king-sized, and his feet stick off the edge when he tries stretching out on it. You return with a rather flimsy blanket and a giant stuffed dog that Seungcheol is afraid is his pillow for the night. 

“I’m really, really sorry,” you say, “Nobody ever stays over so all I have are these.” 

“It’s fine,” Seungcheol says, already preparing his back for a very long night. “Like I said, I’m the one intruding.” You hand him a spare toothbrush and point him in the direction of the bathroom. 

Seungcheol understands why you never have people over: the apartment, putting things kindly, is shit. From his first step inside, he was shocked at the small size, with a kitchen that doubles as a dining room and living room (and where he would sleep tonight), a bedroom (that he assumes is tiny because you didn’t invite him to see and he figured it would be inappropriate to ask), and the bathroom. On top of the size, he was sure he saw a monstrous bug flying around that looked like some sort of cockroach abomination, but you didn’t mention it, and there was a strange smell coming from the sink drain. At least you were able to lighten the beige painted walls with what looked like handmade canvases. 

There is no saving the bathroom. Seungcheol was scared to enter it earlier, and his fears are confirmed now. He thinks the tile might have been pink once, but it had seen so many years and so many… fluids, that it has become a sickening brown color. The walls have suffered a similar fate, though it looks like there has been a fairly recent coat of paint. There’s no bathtub, and the shower head looks like it hasn’t been changed in ten years, and doesn’t seem to be able to control the water heat or flow at all. The room mostly smells like lemon and bleach, and Seungcheol wonders how long you spent scrubbing before you realized it was a hopeless effort.

He brushes his teeth quickly, feeling a little guilty that he has to dig through your cabinets for your toothpaste. He tries not to look at anything, focusing on his reflection in the mirror. That’s when he realizes that he’s stuck with these clothes: his nicest pair of pants and a button down that Joshua insisted he iron before he left. At least he had a white t-shirt on beneath it, but he was stuck in these clothes unless he asked you for a change, which was not happening anytime soon. He could only pray that he didn’t get covid from Jeonghan and would be free in three days. 

You’re sitting on the couch when he comes out. You don’t turn right away, and for a moment he catches a glimpse of you, back towards him, head facing toward the windows beside the door and staring outside. He wonders what you’re thinking, and hopes it’s not something along the lines of I hope this man leaves my apartment as soon as possible. He doesn’t want to be a nuisance, but he can’t help but feel that after the rousing game of Mario Kart, maybe the relationship between the two of you wasn’t completely destroyed. 

You’re smiling a little when the bathroom door clicks shut and you turn to see him. You’ve definitely caught him staring, but Seungcheol doesn’t really care, returning your smile. 

“Thank you,” he says. He trades spots with you as you stand and he sits on the couch. You linger for a moment, leaning against the arm. 

“I’m really sorry about the lack of a bed,” you say. “But I’m very broke.” 

“How about you stop apologizing and I’ll stop saying thank you?” 

You laugh. “Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” Seungcheol says. There’s more he wants to say, but unlike before, it doesn’t weigh him down and make him panic. It’s a warm feeling that makes him think he has a lifetime to learn everything about you. 

“Goodnight, yn,” he says, loving the way your name feels in his mouth. 

“Goodnight,” you say, finally standing and crossing into your room, pulling the door shut behind you with a resounding click. 

.

.

You wake up to banging noises in the kitchen. It takes a minute to remember that you aren’t alone in the apartment, and you aren’t being robbed. Though you want to go back to sleep, the banging is rather noisy, so you drag yourself out of bed and into the bathroom.

You just woke up, but you’re glad you went into the bathroom before confronting Seungcheol, because as your brain slowly wakes up, you realize your hair is a total mess and your breath is terrible. You brush your teeth quickly and try not to think about the boy in your kitchen because it only makes you more nervous. 

Strange, how your feelings for him changed so much in such a short time period. You were nervous before the date, then disappointed after how bad it went, but then last night was so much fun, and you’re back to being nervous at the thought of him. You hate the butterflies that are fluttering around your gut. 

They vanish when you see the state of your kitchen. 

“I am so sorry,” Seungcheol says the second he hears your footsteps. “I wanted to do something nice for you because you’re being so nice and letting me stay, and the least I could do was make you breakfast, except I got lost in your kitchen, and then there was an incident with the flour, and then this giant bug flying around my face, and I was going to clean it all up before you woke up, but I guess I was being really loud, and this is a huge mess, and I’m really sorry.” 

Seungcheol himself almost looks worse than your kitchen, between the frantic look in his eyes and flour covering half of his body. There’s some red sauce spilled on his shirt (which you have absolutely no idea where it came from since you don’t have ketchup in your apartment), and it’s clear he spent the last few minutes failing to get control of the mess of ingredients that spilled on the stove. 

“At least nothing’s on fire,” you say. 

“Yeah, I put it out pretty quickly.” 

“You set my apartment on fire?”  

“Only briefly!” Seungcheol grabs your shoulders, then lets go when he realizes his hands are still covered in flour. “Look, I promise I’ll clean everything up, just go take a shower, wait, no, I’m not saying you smell or anything, but give me like ten minutes and I’ll make it look like nothing ever happened.” He looks really desperate. 

“I’ll order some food,” you say, walking dazedly back to your room. Your kitchen was falling apart before, but Seungcheol has made it unrecognizable between everything that he spilled and whatever he tried to cook. You think maybe it was pancakes, but whatever happened in that kitchen is between Seungcheol and the bug that might as well be your roommate since all of your attempts to kill it have failed. 

“Yn?” Seungcheol says. It sounds like he’s standing right outside your door. It’s only been a few minutes, so there’s no way he’s finished cleaning. 

“Is something wrong?” You get off your bed and pull the door open to find him standing in front of you, head hanging low like a puppy that knows he messed up. 

He shakes his head, looking up at you with an exaggerated pout. “Are you mad?” 

You can’t help but laugh. “No, I’m not mad. A little stunned, because I didn’t think there was that much flour in my kitchen, but it’s not like you did it on purpose, so, why would I be mad?” 

“Seriously?” Seungcheol says. He looks almost hopeful. 

“Yeah, it can be cleaned up, and you didn’t actually set the place on fire, so it’s fine.” You shrug. Seungcheol doesn’t look like he really believes you, so you add, “Seriously, I was just really surprised, but I’ll find the bleach and help you clean as soon as I change out of my pajamas.” 

That’s when you realize a) Seungcheol is still wearing the clothes from the date the night before which b) are now absolutely covered in flour. You can’t believe that you didn’t notice earlier, but it’s obvious that he needs something to change into. You close the door to change, but dig through your drawers to find someone that suits Seungcheol and can’t seem to find anything. 

Your phone rings, and you realize you have the perfect solution. 

.

.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but Seungcheol thinks the kitchen looks cleaner than it was before. It smells distinctly like lemon, and the black stains under the cabinet (that were one of the few spots Seungcheol didn’t create) were successfully removed. Maybe it smells so clean the bug/monster/demon would finally leave your apartment (definitely wishful thinking). He washes his hands again, but they still don’t feel clean; he doubts they ever will be again, since you didn’t have any gloves. 

“It looks good!” You say. You insisted on working alongside him and refused to take no for an answer, which he was grateful for since Seungcheol had no idea where any of your cleaning supplies were. It was a challenge to use bleach without gloves, but Seungcheol is 90% sure you both managed to avoid bleach poisoning. Still, he figures it’s safest to usher you into the shower while he tries to figure out what to do now. 

He can’t even sit down and relax since he keeps leaving flour behind no matter how much comes off him. He ends up sitting on the floor in the doorway since it’s the only place that isn’t clean. Though the door is solid, the large panels next to it are windows, and Seungcheol watches the empty street. 

Here are his options: ask you for clothes to change into (mortifying) or live the rest of his quarantine life in clothes that are turning stiff from the mix of grease, flour, and cleaning supplies that have seeped into the fabric (possibly deadly). He strongly considers running away, but he decides it’s unethical to wander around while possibly infected. 

It’s from staring out the window and longing for freedom that he first notices it. A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye so fast Seungcheol thinks he imagined it, but then it happens again. Black clothing, he’s sure of it. It’s moving so fast Seungcheol isn’t quite sure that it’s human. He stands up, now certain that whatever’s out there is real and a threat. 

Are there any weapons? He does a mental checklist of everything he’s seen in your apartment, and all he comes up with are the kitchen knives he saw in a drawer while looking for the cleaning supplies. He wonders if he should ask you, but the water is still running, and he doesn’t want to scare you just because he’s jumpy. He is already beginning to second guess whether he saw anything at all, when there’s a little knock at the door. 

Seungcheol inches back, hands feeling dreadfully empty. As much as he wants a knife, he doesn’t want to turn his back on the door now that there’s noises.

The knock comes again, a small sound followed by a soft rattling, as if something was rolling on the ground. Seungcheol freezes, not daring to get any closer to the glass, but trying to peer out and see what he can. 

The knock comes a third time, except this time it hits the glass and Seungcheol realizes that it’s a tiny rock being thrown. He watches it land in the dirt, trying to determine if it’s from the yard or another planet. Seungcheol takes a step up to the door and realizes his hands have curled into fists. 

He knows more likely than not, it’s probably some town kid that’s looking for an easy prank on poor college kids, but on the off-chance that it’s some other-worldly demon trying to steal his soul, Seungcheol braces himself for the worst. He rests his hand on the door, ready to tell off the kid (or die painfully), taking a deep breath. 

Before he can pull it open, he sees another flash of movement. He turns to the window and suddenly the entire left side of the door is covered in black. Seungcheol drops to the floor, cowering back. He doesn’t realize that he’s screaming until he hears your voice. 

He looks up to see you, hair dripping wet, glaring at the window, which isn’t populated by a monster about to pull him apart, but is just a boy, around his age, dressed all in black making silly faces. Seungcheol can feel his ears turning red with embarrassment as you crouch down next to him. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, looking genuine. 

“Yeah,” he says, accepting your hand to pull himself up. 

“It’s just Seokmin,” you say, rolling your eyes. “He thinks it’s funny to try and scare everyone. You get used to it.” 

“I don’t think I ever will,” Seungcheol grumbles but he follows you to the door and forces a smile on his face because he doesn’t want your friends to think he’s a sore loser, even if he is. 

Seokmin is still laughing when you open the door, which annoys him even more since his laugh is infectious and Seungcheol can’t help but feel smile isn’t as forced. 

“I got you so good,” Seokmin says. He backs away, keeping a safe distance, leaving a large plastic bag on the doorstep. “Oh my god, I’ve never heard a grown man scream like that, that was hilarious.” 

“Very funny Seokmin,” you say. “Did you bring what I asked?” 

“Everything is here!” Seokmin says, as if immune to your passive aggressive tone. “Breakfast, clothes, half the toiletry aisle from CVS, and two rapid tests donated from Jihoon because he said, ‘check and make sure yn hasn’t been murdered because I don’t trust some random man.’” 

“You can tell him I’m fine,” you say. “And he should stop being a little bitch and apologize.” 

“I’ll pass the message on,” Seokmin says. He turns to Seungcheol. “So, you’ve survived a night with yn?” 

“Yeah, I don’t recommend the couch,” Seungcheol says. He doesn’t want your friends to think he did anything strange the night before. “Thanks for the clothes.” Seungcheol lifts the bag and frowns at the pattern that he can see through the opaque bag. From what he can see, he’s doomed. 

“No problem!” Seokmin says with a grin. “You can keep them, I was going to donate them anyways.” He winks at you. “Stay safe.” 

“Thank you, Seokmin,” you say with a sigh waving goodbye as the door swings shut behind you. You glance at Seungcheol and raise your eyebrows. “You need a shower.” 

.

.

Putting it kindly, Seungcheol looks like a Christmas tree from the 80s that was left up year round and then left forgotten to rot in someone’s backyard. The sweater was once bright green, but faded to a strange color that you don’t think actually exists on purpose, and has a swirling bright yellow pattern that’s somehow withstood the test of time to remain neon. Because there isn’t enough going on, the sleeves have a plaid pattern in the same green and yellow, the hemming around the neck and at the bottom is faded red. You have no idea where Seokmin found it, or why a sweater like that was ever designed.  

Still, you can’t quite say you regret asking Seokmin to bring the clothes, because as chaotic as it is, he still looks rather cute. His hair is wet from the shower, a mess of curls that seem to be just a little out of place, and you wonder how long he spends styling his hair each day. 

“I’m hideous,” he says. 

“It’s horrible,” you say, “But you look kind of cute.” 

“You’re just trying to make me forget the fact that it was your friend who brought me the sweater,” he says but you see his smile. 

“Maybe,” you say, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Or maybe I think you’re cute.” The last time you were this close to him, he kissed you. A terrible kiss, yes, but you were very nervous, and you know he was too. Now you’re just curious if a second kiss will be as bad. 

Before you get the chance to ask, you hear a rumbling sound from Seungcheol’s pocket. He grimaces and pulls out his phone, answering it before he looks at the screen. You take a step back and fold your arms, wondering if you should give him some privacy. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Seungcheol says. You can’t quite make out the words of the voice on the other line, but after a moment Seungcheol frowns. 

“You’re joking,” Seungcheol says. “How many tests did you take?” There’s a pause before he asks, “So what do you have?” A few moments later, he shakes his head and hangs up the phone, saying, “I’ll talk to you later.” 

When he looks up at you, you are suddenly reminded of the night before, when he knocked on your door and told you that he might have given you covid. There’s this look in his eyes that says I’m sorry without him speaking a word. 

“So, that was Jeonghan,” he says. 

“Your roommate that has covid?” 

“Yeah, so apparently he doesn’t have covid?” Seungcheol says, looking exasperated. “I’m really sorry about all of this, but he just called and said his PCR test was negative and he’s feeling a lot better today and he thinks it was just a cold.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah, Jeonghan tends to be dramatic,” Seungcheol says. “Listen, I already felt terrible that all of this happened, and now it turns out that it was for no reason, so I really don’t know what I can do to make up for it.” 

You tilt your head. “No idea?” 

Seungcheol frowns. “No?”

You take another step closer to him, peering into his eyes. He really doesn’t know what you’re implying, so you ignore your pounding heart and smile at him, tentatively resting your hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh,” he says. “Maybe a small idea?” 

“You should at least try,” you say. 

He leans a little closer, and you catch a whiff of his hair, which smells like your own shampoo. “Can I?” 

You nod, and this time he doesn’t waste a second before kissing you. He doesn’t freeze like last time, and neither do you, molding your lips against his. After a couple seconds, you can’t help but smile, and Seungcheol pulls away with his own smile. Much better than last time. 

“Does that make up for it?” He asks. At some point his hand found its way to your waist.

“It’s a good start,” you say, “But you’ve got to at least ask me out on a second date before you have a chance at fully making up for it.” 

“I think I could do that,” Seungcheol says, almost sounding arrogant. It makes you smile. His smile fades after a moment and he sighs. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve got to go back and save Jeonghan,” he says. “Joshua might actually kill him when he finds out.” He flashes a smile at you. “But I will call you as soon as we’re done and we can schedule that second date.” 

“I like the sound of that,” you say. You nearly jump when he kisses your nose, dropping his hand from your waist and wandering around the house as if nothing happened. He doesn't have much to collect, so it isn’t long before he’s standing in your doorway, poised to leave (and avoiding the flour on the floor). 

“I’ll call,” he promises. “Unless Joshua is in jail, then it might take a while, but I’ll call eventually.” 

“I know a good lawyer,” you say. “Well, he will be, eventually.” He pushes the door open and walks out, but pauses before letting the door swing shut, turning back to look at you again. 

“As chaotic as it was, I’m sort of glad that this happened,” he says. “I mean, obviously I still feel bad that I crashed on your couch for basically no reason, but I got to see a lot more of you, and I really liked it. Being with you.” 

“I like you too, dork,” you say. “And if you didn’t crash on my couch I never would have called you back, that was a terrible first date.” 

“Yeah, it really was,” he says. He still lingers. 

“Don’t you dare forget that we still have a rematch for Mario kart.” 

“Oh, liking you means nothing, I will take you down,” Seungcheol says. He smiles at you. “Goodbye, yn.” 

“Goodbye, Seungcheol,” you say. He finally lets the door swing shut, walking down the sidewalk. He pauses at the end to wave a final time, then disappears around the corner. 

You turn back to your apartment. Though you didn’t even spend twenty-four hours stuck here with him, it already feels emptier without him. You lay back on the couch, thinking about the whirlwind of emotions of the past day, and finally settling on the thought of seeing Seungcheol again. And you smile. 

a/n2: I had to clown dk I’m sorry

[c-seungcheols]

S.COUPS in  손오공 (Super)

[creathechiboi]

War-Ready

[nottigang]

Hoshi birthday post

hoshi-ah🥰🐯 kwon soonyoung💖💖

I love you, Horanghae🐯!!

go listen to Tiger🐯!, or scoups will shave your eyebrows🤣🤣

[uservernon]

jun doodle icons requested by @junmail ς(≡’・’≡)

pls like/reblog if you save :3

[ieatcellphones]

[bungangtala]

happiest birthday, my favorite.

i wish all the beautiful words come and speak to you.

#오늘도_달이예쁘다_원우야_생일축하해

#EveryWONWOO_Day

[bandsanitizer]

circles by astro you live near and dear to my heart