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nightshadeblooming · 4 months ago

Text

well this ruined me.

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [to be released], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it.

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing.

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative.

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught.

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.

Which was little to none.

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe.

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room.

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters.

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath.

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through.

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not.

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand.

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets.

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks.

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables.

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased.

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker.

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around.

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is.

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else.

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation.

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did.

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building.

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again.

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door.

Nothing.

You knock again.

Silence.

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time.

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor.

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do.

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek.

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance.

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit.

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore.

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other.

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something.

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag.

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you.

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door.

“—long…”

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room.

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now.

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back.

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class.

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately.

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table.

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t.

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face.

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over.

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm.

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath.

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen.

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in.

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found.

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait.

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain.

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares.

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing.

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room.

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves.

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management.

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table.

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation.

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you.

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?”

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went.

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be.

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such.

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory.

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores.

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head.

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics.

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind.

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat.

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you.

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait.

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him.

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether.

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality.

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student.

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading.

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables.

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin.

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason.

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat.

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat.

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat.

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do.

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him.

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page.

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell.

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know.

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer.

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words.

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand.

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger.

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did.

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag.

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him.

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue.

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.”

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you.

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind.

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more.

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.”

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort.

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.”

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear.

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation.

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable.

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of.

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh.

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday.

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch.

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early.

Something isn’t right.

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job.

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him.

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!”

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach.

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer.

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know.

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.”

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education.

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?”

“Have you seen the time?”

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you.

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself.

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair.

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.”

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke.

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.”

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.”

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?”

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class.

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile.

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe.

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.”

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to.

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply.

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned.

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic.

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is.

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes.

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about.

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons.

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full.

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return.

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book.

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up.

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard.

“I’m assuming…” you start.

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible.

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks.

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind.

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you.

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you.

You sniffle.

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal.

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater.

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you.

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest.

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed.

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question.

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that.

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him.

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes.

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse.

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused.

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation.

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises.

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?”

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger.

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you?

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?”

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before.

His eyes are bloodshot.

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin.

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it.

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch.

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again.

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed.

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday.

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset.

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click.

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself.

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to.

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you.

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong.

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most.

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again.

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him.

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom.

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it.

Everything. You tried everything.

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday.

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it.

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash.

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements.

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway.

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another.

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect.

Estimation cannot be perfect.

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

——————

P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

it gets less complicated

promise :/

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM.

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like.

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal.

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds.

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language.

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note.

Bright pink sticky note.

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that.

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag.

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours.

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are.

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better.

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it.

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely.

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf.

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday.

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears.

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate.

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway.

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught.

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension.

You’re off centre. But it’s fine.

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour.

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else.

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference.

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

— 92/100

It’s Wednesday.

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost.

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things.

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up.

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view.

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before.

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense.

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning.

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes.

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two.

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages.

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret.

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live.

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one.

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true.

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night.

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself.

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet.

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial.

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt.

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether.

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth.

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01.

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with.

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before.

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of.

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place.

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality.

It’s Saturday.

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same.

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too.

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice.

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand.

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name.

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.”

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.”

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further.

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.”

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual.

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls.

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily.

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition.

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle.

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page.

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator.

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag.

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work.

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and disappearing before going back to normal.

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait.

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set.

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value.

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely.

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library.

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students.

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click.

There’s an attached file in the email you draft.

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version.

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact.

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own.

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again.

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you.

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider.

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well?

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week.

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox.

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar.

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this.

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox.

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop.

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen.

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him.

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift.

Clicking on the notification, the email opens.

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes.

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home.

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly.

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before.

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward.

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather.

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is.

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend.

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed.

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both.

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do.

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now.

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you.

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting.

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains.

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.”

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late.

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice.

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?”

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in.

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.”

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.”

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.”

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly.

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled.

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.”

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears.

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?”

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words.

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?”

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm.

“You know what?” he rasps.

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap.

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own.

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom.

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close.

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint.

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream.

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours.

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you.

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected.

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch.

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself.

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?”

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition.

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs.

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.”

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll.

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.”

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October.

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face.

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.”

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?”

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you.

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.”

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice.

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes.

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.”

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you.

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again.

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.”

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click.

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend.

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to.

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough.

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both.

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students.

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place.

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you.

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face.

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way.

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead.

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine.

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool.

There’s a ding in the background.

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether.

Another ding.

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding.

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt.

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end.

“Gyu…” you whisper.

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped.

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso.

His phone begins to ring again.

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now.

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily.

The ringing stops.

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage.

There’s a ding.

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest.

“You should answer.”

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.”

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone.

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up.

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear.

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect.

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort.

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you.

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply.

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing.

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth.

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt.

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway.

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs.

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too.

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head.

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice.

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt.

“Do you wanna come in too?”

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment.

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season.

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed.

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer.

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head.

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing.

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight.

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right.

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out.

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table.

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest.

“Hm? I think so.”

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly.

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea.

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not.

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer.

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?”

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in.

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway.

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory.

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it.

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins.

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear.

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach.

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.”

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.”

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length.

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive.

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks.

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach.

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in.

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want.

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place.

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue.

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room.

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth.

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you.

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him.

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear.

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch.

I might love you too.

You hide that as well. For now.

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early

[Mingyu]: be there in 5

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics.

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not.

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost.

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly.

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray.

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it.

“Good thing I came back early, hm?”

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that.

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers.

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?”

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets.

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland.

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest.

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you.

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you.

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend.

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification.

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions.

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better.

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself.

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction.

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look.

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling.

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.”

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown.

“Rumour has it,” he starts.

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good.

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming.

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone.

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you.

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes.

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth.

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns.

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss.

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you.

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach.

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors.

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time.

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed.

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop.

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him.

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long.

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man.

Mingyu was beautiful either way.

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features.

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there.

“More than okay,” you mumble.

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling.

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly.

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.”

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.”

You can only grumble in mild annoyance.

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss.

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting.

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know.

“I think I might love you too.”

#tired and soft nerd mingyu you’re so special to me #insanely jealous of reader bc all my TAs were just a pain in the ass and completely unhelpful lol #ngl a lot of the technical aspects flew over my head #but the writing was so immaculate i really enjoyed those scenes too #also i now desperately need wongyu to dress as mario and luigi one day #the thought of wongyu going on double dates with their SOs make me so happy #like i seriously hope they get to do stuff like that irl #anyways back to the plot #this was TOO good!!#lowkey altered my brain i could read about these two couples forever #mingyu’s boyfriendism is unmatched #author you are so talented and stunning and brilliant for this!!#svt fics 💎

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smileysuh · 3 months ago

Text

deal maker

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, pussy eating, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, dry humping, foreplay, slight corruption kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.7k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, Halloween, supernatural/demon au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Happy Halloween!

One: her

If it weren’t for the fact that you’re in the middle of a library, you might just scream. You know your workload increases with each year you’re in university, but there’s something sinister about the amount of book-related essays you have right before Halloween.

You’re doing your best to focus, and you’ve read the entirety of the ‘Frankenstein’ book that you’re supposed to be analyzing, but you just can’t find words.

A massive sigh escapes you, and your best friend, Hwasa, casts you a sideways glance. “You good, babes?” she asks.

“I just- I can’t do this,” you groan. “It’s a completely open ended prompt- I could write about anything I want to, and all things considered, five thousand words isn’t the longest essay ever- but, damn, I seriously can’t think right now.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you really think you’re at rock bottom on this?”

“I don’t see how I could go any lower.”

“Okay, well,” she scoots her chair closer to you, her voice lowering, “i wouldn’t suggest this otherwise, but uh- have you ever thought about contacting the Sigma Veta Tau demon?”

“The what?” you stare at her blankly.

“Of course you wouldn’t know about him, you’re a goody goody,” Hwasa sighs. “Basically, there’s this guy in the SVT frat who makes deals and does your work for you.”

“What’s this have to do with being a demon?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a weird myth- basically, this guy helped me with an essay last year worth thirty percent of my grade. All he asked for was a family heirloom, and I think it’s his weird choice of price for favours that get him the whole ‘demon’ thing cuz he doesn’t usually ask for money like other dudes who write your papers would.”

“How did you do? On the essay?” you ask.

“Got an A. He doesn’t overdo it, he does enough to get you a good grade but not so good it’s obvious you didn’t do the work.”

“So… is he an actual demon, or?” You cock your head to the side, trying to understand the whole demon relevance.

“Nah, like I said, he’s just some hot nerd who wrote my essay. It wasn’t sketchy at all.”

“And he does this for a lot of people?”

“I’ve heard about a few. I know his friend Dokyeom was close to failing his Kinesiology course and somehow Wonwoo did his final exam for him and helped him pass.”

You let out a small laugh. You’re familiar with the Sigma Veta Tau frat, and DK is a well known figure there- getting someone to help him pass Kinesiology is very characteristic to the loud gym bro. “Wait, but, how did Wonwoo pull it off? They ID you at the final exams, don’t they?”

Hwasa shrugs. “I guess the dude pulls off miracles every once in a blue moon, maybe that’s part of his ‘demonic’ reputation.”

“Are we sure this a good idea?” you ask.

“Making a deal with the Devil?” Hwasa clarifies. “Of course, what could go wrong?”

You laugh at her choice of words.

This Wonwoo guy definitely isn’t the Devil… and even if he was, what would making a deal with him even really include?

You’re skeptical to say the least, but looking back at your worn out book, and your laptop document open with zero words- you begin to wonder if maybe this Wonwoo guy is a good way to solve your current predicament.

Two:

Wonwoo quite enjoys living on campus. He loves the onslaught to his senses every time he’s out and about, mingling with university kids who have way too much on their plate. No one ever notices him, no one ever notices the things that are slightly… off about him, they’re much too busy focusing on this week’s term paper, or this week’s quiz.

No, Wonwoo’s extremely happy being exactly where he is. He’s lounging in a coffee shop that connects to the book store, his eyes darting from person to person, assessing-

That’s when his gaze locks with someone familiar.

Hwasa had come to him last year, needing an essay completed. It had been one of Wonwoo’s easier tasks, as he’s read the source material upwards of twenty times in his long life. He’s seen her around campus a few times since then, but she’s never approached him, not the way she is now.

“Hi, Wonwoo!” Hwasa grins, demenour as bubbly as ever.

The frat boy simply nods, his gaze turning to assess you as you stand next to your friend.

“This is y/n,” Hwasa introduces you. “She’s actually struggling with an essay right now-”

“Hate to hear about an academic struggle,” Wonwoo interrupts, “especially while enjoying my coffee.” His eyes return to you again. “If you ever need a tutor, you should swing by the frat.”

“I would appreciate that,” you nod, a little breathless.

It’s clear there’s something off about you too- your heard rate is going faster than the average rate, and you’re finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

Ah, things click in Wonwoo’s head, this particular set of responses isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with. Many girls react this way to him, getting ‘flustered,’ as humans would say.

However, what is unfamiliar, is the way Wonwoo himself is reacting to it. He finds it cute, endearing in a way- as opposed to the annoyed feeling he usually gets when women are easily infatuated with him.

“Here,” Wonwoo breathes smoothly, picking up a pen from his notepad. “Give me your hand.”

Your gaze flickers to Hwasa for a moment, and then you’re reaching forward. Wonwoo grasps your wrist, enjoying the warmth of your skin and the way you jolt from his touch. He quickly writes his phone number down on your inner palm. “Give me a call about tutoring you sometime, we can discuss details then.”

“O-okay,” you nod, immediately taking your hand back when he’s finished, cradling it close to your chest.

“If that’s all you two have to say to me,” Wonwoo breathes, looking between you and Hwasa, “I’d love to get back to my coffee.”

Three:

“Hey, I’m at the frat, where are you?” you ask as you answer your best friend’s call. You feel so awkward just standing here, trying to look like you belong even though you’re sure you stand out in the all boys frat village.

“Babes, I’m so sorry- I’m at this study group and it’s going mega late, I didn’t even realize the time and I’m across campus-”

You let out a sigh. “Are you seriously going to make me do this alone?”

“You’ll be fine!” Hwasa assures you. “Wonwoo won’t bite, it’s the daylight after all.”

She giggles, and you roll your eyes. You’re still not sure how you feel about this whole ‘demon’ thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little afraid to enter a fratboy den of wolves alone.

“You’ve got this,” Hwasa says again. “If you need anything, just text me, and remember, I stalk your snapchat location so if anything happens-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh. “Okay, I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

You hang up on Hwasa, taking a deep breath and turning to the front door. You approach cautiously, raising your hand and knocking three times.

It takes a couple of moments, but eventually, a man opens the door. You recougnize Jeonghan, he’s the frat president’s right hand man, a business major with a reputation for hitting on every girl he meets.

“Well, look who it is,” Jeonghan grins, leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder while he shovels some cereal into his mouth from the bowl in his hand.

He’s in an oversized white shirt and sweatpants, you’d bet he hasn’t been to classes today- and fuck it, he looks handsome, all the SVT men do.

“Sorry, hi, I’m here for Wonwoo, but I don’t think we’ve actually met,” you say awkwardly, holding out a hand.

Jeonghan’s gaze falls to your extended palm, and he chuckles. “Wonwoo gets all the cute girls,” he says, moving away from the door frame to let you inside, “but none of them ever stick around.”

“I’m here to study,” you try to explain.

“Sure you are,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. You follow him through the entryway living space, pausing as he heads back into the connected kitchen. “Wonwoo’s room is the third floor, first door on the left.” You stand there for a few moments, and Jeonghan cocks his head to the side. “You have no clue where the stairs are, do you?”

“Nope.”

“That door,” he points with his spoon. “Don’t get lost.”

He’s a bit of an odd one, and with a final thank you, you scurry away, following his directions past a door and up three flights of stairs. You pause outside the first room on the left, swallowing thickly before you knock.

“Come in!” Wonwoo’s voice calls out.

Before you can push the door open, it opens by itself, and you half expect Wonwoo to be standing there- only to find him seated on his bed with a book in his hands.

He’s in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants. His hood is up, but his dark curls are poking out, toying with the rims of glasses that set of the sharp angles of his face.

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Uh-” you cough. “Y/N.” The door opening by itself had freaked you out, and you wonder how true the whole demon thing is- God, that’s been on your mind a lot.

“Come in, relax, and tell me what I can do for you,” he instructs, using his foot to push out a chair near his bed.

You swallow thickly again, closing the door behind you and approaching. You take a seat, letting out a breath. “So basically I have an essay on Frankenstein- have you read it?”

“Of course. Have you?” he counters.

“Yeah, I’ve read it, but uh… anyways, it’s due on Halloween, which is two weeks away, and I have so many other essays to write-”

“What’s the topic?”

“Open ended.”

“How many words?”

“Five thousand.”

“That doesn’t seem very hard,” he muses with a grin, slotting a marker between his pages so he can rest his book on his chest, getting a better look at you.

“Usually it wouldn’t be, but I’m just blanking- I don’t even know where to start.” You release a stressed breath. “So I brought a family heirloom.”

Wonwoo just looks at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“Hwasa said she paid you last time with her grandmothe’rs broach?” you try to explain.

“My price is different for everyone,” Wonwoo tells you, holding out a hand. “Let’s see what you brought.”

“It’s my aunt’s.” You give the necklace to him. “She got it to me to celebrate graduating highschool and getting into university.”

Wonwoo inspects the delicate silver chain, looking at the crescent moon charm with an opal in the middle. “It’s obviously valuable,” he says, handing it back to you, “but I can tell it’s not very sentimental.”

“So…” you fidget with the necklace in your palm, “what do you want?”

Wonwoo’s eyes begin to scan your form, and suddenly you feel very uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s undressing you in his mind, and it makes you fidget in your seat. His gaze lands on your chest, and you fight the urge to cover your tits-

He sits up, reaching forward- You hold your breath as his fingers brush by your collar bones, too close to the swell of your breasts for your liking- and then he’s lifting your necklace, leaning even closer to inspect it.

You can feel his breath on your skin, and he’s so close- God, why is something as simple as this so erotic? You’ve dealt with pretty boys before, but there’s something about a pretty, nerdy, dangerous boy-

“Where did you get this?” he asks, thumb smoothing across the golden heart attached to the chain on your neck.

It’s hard to find your voice, but after a moment, you’re able to respond. “It was uh- it was from my last boyfriend.”

“An ex?” His gaze lifts to you.

“Yeah.” You can feel your skin heating.

“And you didn’t get rid of it?”

“I figure I bought him a bunch of stuff while we were dating, pretty sure this was only fifty bucks or something, so I guess I thought I deserved to keep it.”

Wonwoo nods. You watch his gaze dip to your lips, just for a moment, and then he’s releasing your necklace and leaning back into his bed again. “That will work.”

“It will?” you ask in shock.

“Uh huh. There’s a certain sort of sentimentality to it. Also… even though you say you kept it because you deserved it, buying him so many things or whatever, I think it’s a shame that a pretty girl like you is still holding onto something from the past, instead of looking at your future. I’ll take it off your hands, and you can progress now, with more than just your essay.”

You wonder what sort of motive Wonwoo has, what significance a necklace from your ex actually has on a man who’s practically a stranger.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching behind your throat to undo the clasp. “So… how does this work now?”

“A five thousand word open ended essay on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein…” Wonwoo takes his glasses off, wiping them with his hoodie. “I guess, you give me some time to think it through, I text you, and you come see me again.”

You watch the way he puts his spectacles back onto his face- it’s shocking how small, simple, mundane motions can be so beautiful when completed by a man like him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I guess… I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“You will,” he agrees. “Bye for now.”

He relaxes against his pillows, lifting his book and immediately turning his attention to it.

You stand up and leave without another word, your heart racing in your chest.

Once you’re outside the frat house, you call Hwasa.

“So how did it go?” she asks. “He didn’t kill you, so that’s good news!”

“He also didn’t want the family heirloom,” you sigh.

“So what did he want?”

“My necklace, you know, the one from my ex.”

“That’s weird, why would he want that?”

“Hell if I know,” you groan. “Hwasa… he’s not an actual demon, right?”

“Of course not!” she laughs.

You wish you were as certain as she is. There’s definitely something otherworldly about Jeon Wonwoo, and one of these days, you’re going to put your finger on exactly what is different about him from any other man you’ve ever met.

Four:

Wonwoo is standing by his window, examining the necklace in his hand. It’s such a simple little thing, but there’s so much energy tied to it. Wonwoo can see the dark aura- a tie to a past that it’s clear you’d rather forget.

Usually, Wonwoo collects items with soul ties. Family heirlooms are the easiest, as they’re connected to multiple people in different generations. When one of those people with a soul connection to the item dies, Wonwoo deams if they’re a worthy enough spirit to take as payment for his favours.

In Hwasa’s case, both of her grandparents had died recently. The grandmother had gone first, followed quickly by the grandfather, and it was the older male that Wonwoo had chosen to take for himself. His soul had been dark, a signifier of the evil in his heart when he’d been on earth.

For a demon, Wonwoo actually likes humans. He only accepts contracts that allow him to collect on bad souls, souls that he deems worthy of eternal damnation.

Many of his kind have asked him why he’d chosen a university to call home, and in simple terms, it’s because at heart, Wonwoo has an erudite flecked soul. He loves learning, more than he’s ever loved being a demon.

He got to a point in his life where he figured, if he was going to be around forever, he might as well learn everything.

Besides all that, university is easy, students come to him, he hardly had to do any work. Students are always anxious, always busy and in need of support to get work done. They hardly think of the heirloom they pawned off to a frat boy in return for an essay or a test- and since Wonwoo waits for natural deaths to collect the souls tied to the items, there’s no harm no fowl.

With all of this being said, Wonwoo’s not used to taking an item like yours. There are only two souls tied to it, your own, and your ex boyfriend’s… Wonwoo knows which one he’ll collect.

He’s not sure why he feels protective of you… there’s just something in your aura that calls to him, something he can’t explain.

He knows that this job will be different, in more ways than one, but something inside of Wonwoo is ready for the change, after all, it’s been a very long time coming.

Five:

“You’re back,” Jeonghan muses when he opens the door to the frat for you. “That’s a first.”

“Hi,” you say meekly, forcing a smile. You’re still not sure how you feel about any of this, and knowing that what Wonwoo’s doing with you is unusual doesn’t help ease your anxieties.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Jeonghan sighs, opening the door wider so you can pass. As you move by him, a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “He’s never cooked for anyone, so, just keep that in mind.”

God, these men are so odd-

You find Wonwoo in the kitchen, his back to you. He’s in a black t-shirt and it stretches tight across his broad shoulders. His curls are a little messy, as if he’s been sleeping, and when he turns to you, you find he’s not wearing his glasses.

Why is he just as pretty without glasses as he is with glasses?

This feels unfair. This feels like- well, it shouldn’t be legal, for starters.

“Hey.” Wonwoo flashes you a smile and you just about melt. You can feel your skin heating, and you hate how your body betrays you, betrays the inner lustings that take over every time you look at this nerdy hot frat boy.

“Hi,” you respond, feeling like a complete idiot as you approach Wonwoo.

“You hungry?” He looks down at the pan in front of him. “I’ve been making steak and eggs.”

“Actually, I’m really just here about the essay,” you try to explain.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo focuses on the sunny side up egg he’s making, “Give me one sec.”

You watch him finish up his meal. You’re not used to watching a man cook, and you're surprised at how skilled he is. There’s something very attractive about the way he shovels the egg out of the pan, adding it to his plate with the finished steak.

“Okay, let’s go.” Wonwoo leads you back up to his room. He takes a seat at his work table. “You can go on the bed,” he suggests, cutting open an egg. You watch the orange yolk drip, the way he scoops some up with steak.

He’s way too attractive.

“You sure you don’t want any?” he asks. “It’s perfectly medium rare.”

“A little too rare for me,” you admit, immediately realizing your mistake. “It looks amazing, sorry, I’m just not hungry.”

“Sounds good. So let's talk your essay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve decided I’m not going to write it for you.”

“What?” It feels like the air is knocked out of your chest, and you stare at Wonwoo in confusion. “But uh… you took my necklace, and you wrote Hwasa’s essay-”

“It’s busy season.” Wonwoo waves his fork around absentmindedly. “The deal is, you come here, we work together, and when you need help, I’ll help. When you need a final edit, I’ll final edit.”

“Uh…” Your mind is spinning. “If you’re not going to help, I can really just do it myself.”

“I think we both know my help will be important,” Wonwoo points out. “Look, you’re a good girl. Don’t you want to feel like you did it yourself? When you came here the first time, I noticed you were hesitant, I don’t think this is something you’re used to doing.”

“I’m not,” you admit, shocked at his ability to read you.

“With a five thousand word count, this will only take two or three hard study sessions top, in fact, since I have my steak and eggs, we can start now.”

“I didn’t even bring my book-”

“I’ve got a copy right here.” Wonwoo spins his chair, reaching for his bookshelf. He pulls out a worn version of Frankenstein, handing it to you. “I’ve got notes in here, if you want to flip through it, I’m sure you’ll find something to inspire your essay.”

You take a deep breath.

Should you do this? Should you sit here and study with him? What was the point of giving him your necklace if he’s not going to write it for you?

“You’ll keep me on track?” you ask.

Wonwoo offers you a lopsided grin. “Uh huh.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Six:

It’s your second session with Wonwoo. You’ve been carrying his version of Frankenstein around like a bible- the notes, carefully hand written into the margins, are so insightful and inspiring. At this point, you’ve reread the whole book just to get a chance to understand Wonwoo’s musings on every page.

You feel alight with determination, and your thoughts feel focused- you’re as focused with Wonwoo as you’ve ever been, which feels odd given how distracting he is.

It’s intimate in a way, to be so close to him, doing your own work while sharing a space-

Your phone buzzes, breaking your concentration.

Wonwoo looks up at you, pausing his reading. “Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

You let out a small laugh. “Just Hwasa checking in on me to make sure I’m okay with our tutoring session, you’ve got a reputation you know.”

“Do I?” Wonwoo grins, resting his book on his abdomen.

“Uh huh, people say you’re a demon or something. Apparently coming here for help with school is a deal with the devil.”

Wonwoo laughs. “That’s definitely a theory. What do you think?”

“At the moment, I’m not quite sure,” you admit. “All I know is, you’re helping me with this essay, and that’s what matters.”

“You know how you can check if I’m a demon?” Wonwoo asks.

“How?”

“Come touch my head, see if there are any horns.”

Wonwoo is giving you a challenging look, and for some reason, you can’t resist.

You put your laptop to the side, sitting up. “Really?”

“Like I said, only one way to find out if I’m a demon.”

You move toward him, standing off the bed to approach where he’s seated at his desk. “Honestly… maybe this isn’t the best idea. I trust you, I don’t have to feel your head for horns.”

“I really wish you would though,” Wonwoo counters, and there’s a serious edge to his tone. His eyes are bright, looking up at you. It’s like you’re suspended in time and space, staring at each other, holding your breaths.

You reach toward his head, in the back of your mind, you’re worried he might bite you- but Wonwoo stays perfectly still. He watches your every movement, and soon, your fingers are smoothing through his curls.

Wonwoo holds back a groan at the feeling of your touch. He wants to lean in toward you, but doesn’t want to scare you off. It’s clear to him from your body language that you’re as hesitant about this as you had been when you’d first come to him for help with your essay.

You’re so soft, so pure, and he loves it.

He can hear your heart beginning to thunder in your chest as you smooth around his head, searching for horns.

God, humans are so gullible, but it’s adorable when it’s you being this way.

“Okay, no horns,” you confirm, tearing your hand back like you’ve just been burned.

You turn away, returning to his bed, and Wonwoo can practically feel the heat coming off of you.

“Get back to work,” he says softly, loving the way he gets to sneak looks at you while you’re deep in thought.

This arrangement is too perfect- Wonwoo hates that it will soon be coming to an end. You’ve been very productive, and as much as he’d like to take credit for it, it’s your own doing.

In some odd way, he’s proud of you, and it’s a feeling he’s never quite experienced before.

Seven:

You can’t believe it’s your final session with your ‘tutor’. The amount you’ve gotten done in two separate days with Wonwoo is ridiculous-

He’s your lucky charm, and it’s odd how much someone can come to mean to you in such a short time.

“Okay,” you sigh, finishing your last line of work. “I’m done.”

“Time for edits then,” Wonwoo responds, slotting a bookmark into what he’s reading before descarding the novel on his sidetable. He approaches you, sitting onto the bed. He’s so close that you can feel his shoulder against yours. He’s so warm, in the best of ways.

He’s reading over your shoulder, and you can feel his breath on your skin. God, this closeness is doing something to you- your pussy is actually beginning to throb, and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

“Here.” You hand your laptop over to him, watching anxiously as he begins to read your essay from the top.

You’re so focused on him- each second feels like an eternity as he makes his way through your writing, discussing small edits with you as he goes through it.

“This is good,” Wonwoo muses, making it all the way to the end. “You did really well, and with two days to spare. I’m proud of you.”

“Guess I don’t have to be stressed for Halloween,” you grin, releasing a deep breath.

“Speaking of, do you have any plans?”

“I haven’t even thought that far ahead,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, if nothing else, we throw a great frat party, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“You know what?” You stretch your arms above your head, releasing a deep breath. “I might just stop by.”

Eight:

Wonwoo’s walking through campus when he senses something- and that something can only ever be you. He’s become accustomed to your aura, and his gaze immediately finds you, heading across the green with a friend by your side.

Your eyes meet, and Wonwoo flashes you a smile, not expecting anything to come of it.

He’s surprised when you approach, calling his name. “Wonwoo! Oh my gosh, hi!”

“Hey,” he grins, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. He wishes he could be more subtle about his attraction to you, but by the way you take him in, it’s clear that it’s not something that’s one sided.

“Yeji, this is the tutor I was telling you about! He helped me finish my essay in three sessions.”

“It was really more like two,” Wonwoo corrects you, then his eyes find your friend. “She did all the work, believe me.”

“Yeah, after I read your notes on the book,” you grin. “He’s not even an English major, but he picks up more details in novels than I ever could.”

Wonwoo’s not used to compliments like this, especially not from pretty girls. Most just accept his work and figure their payment was a job well done enough. He doesn’t even know how to respond, and for a demon of his age, this sort of thing never happens.

You’re so pure and sweet- God, he likes you so much. But there’s something beneath the attraction, there’s a want- a want to corrupt you, a want to see how far you’ll go for him, how dirty you’ll be just for him.

“Are you two coming to the party tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks, finding a way to divert the attention away from himself.

You and Yeji exchange a look, and it’s your friend who nods. “We’ll be there.”

Nine:

You don’t go to frats often, but your attraction to Wonwoo drives you through the front doors of the packed house. Everyone is dressed accordingly, and you take a moment just to appreciate the ambiance. Sure, it’s sweaty, and overwhelming, and the flashing lights are a bit much, but it feels like a community, in some sort of odd way.

You’re heading through the crowd of bodies with Hwasa when someone grabs your arm, and you’re shocked to find Jeonghan standing there. He’s dressed as a zombie of some sort, and despite the fake grime on his face, he’s still very handsome.

“Hey, repeat offender,” he grins, leaning close so you can hear him over the loud music.

“Repeat offender?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re Wonwoo’s chick now, our little repeat offender.” He’s charming, in an interesting sort of way. “Bet you’re looking for him.”

“Is he around?”

“He’s the dickhead in the oni mask, making a drink in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

You follow Jeonghan’s directions, approaching the kitchen. It’s as full of bodies as you’ve ever seen it, but despite that, finding Wonwoo is easy.

He’s tall, and even with his back to you, you’d recougnize his shoulders anywhere.

“So how are you doing this?” Hwasa asks.

“I’m just going to go talk to him.”

“Do you need backup?”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo again, and you find a smile appearing on your face. “Honestly, I think I’ll be alright.”

“If you need anything, just scream ‘hamburger’.”

“Why?”

“It’s my safe word,” Hwasa teases, flashing you a wink before she disappears into the crowd of people dancing.

You take a deep breath, mustering your courage to approach the hot nerd.

You move toward him slowly, coming to a stop at his side. You don’t even have to say anything, he notices you immediately, turning to assess you.

His handsome face is covered with an oni mask, and it’s a little more frightening than you’d been anticipating, especially with his wild dark curls. Oni are Japanese demons, it has horns and fangs-

“Hi,” he says, and you can hardly hear him from under the mask.

“You’re really leaning into the whole demon thing, aren’t you?” you force a laugh.

You hear Wonwoo chuckle, and then he’s pulling the oni mask off. “Are you more comfortable now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Actually, I think I’d also be more comfortable with a drink.”

“How much have you had already?”

“Just had a bit of a pre with Hwasa, why?”

“I guess…” he faces you, crossing his large arms over his broad chest, “when I make a move on you tonight, since our arrangement is done, I want to make sure you reciprocate, sound of mind.”

You look up at him in shock, unable to find any words with which to respond.

Wonwoo grins when you remain dumbfounded for a few seconds. “You’re cute.”

“I am?”

“More than you realize.”

“And you’re… you’re going to make a move on me?”

“Was thinking about it.”

“What would the move look like?”

“Should I tell you? Or would you rather I show you?”

God, why is he so hot? Why does he always know what to say? And why does his smirk look extra sexy with his slightly pointed canines? Why haven’t you realized his teeth were pointy before? You suppose he doesn’t smile enough for you to have picked up on details, but now, you’re looking at him, unhindered by shyness and limits of a tutor/semi-student relationship.

Wonwoo pulls you closer by your hips, staring down at you. “I’m going to need a verbal answer, Sweetheart.”

“Show me,” you tell him.

Wonwoo’s grin widens, and one of his hands moves from your hip to your cheek, cupping your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone, and it’s such a loving motion- it’s as if the entire frat party disappears around you. You’re so focused on him that you can hardly breathe.

Wonwoo moves closer, and you an feel his breath on your face. His lips are incredibly close, so close you could kiss him yourself- but you stay frozen, waiting on him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Wonwoo asks teasingly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and then, he presses his lips to your own, cradling you even closer with the hand on your cheek. His other palm finds the small of your back, tugging you to his chest. You find your grip going to his shoulders, exploring the muscles you’ve been thirsting over.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you open wider to accept him in, a small groan slipping out of you.

God, he’s such a good kisser- you’re completely lost in him.

In the periphery, music is thrumming through you, but it’s muffled, disappearing as you fall deeper under the spell of Wonwoo’s kiss.

Things are getting hot and heavy fast, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed that you’re making out with Wonwoo while surrounded by people, besides, something tells you they won’t care.

You can feel something on your lower abdomen, a pressure- and you realize that just kissing you has made Wonwoo hard in his jeans.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on that you can hardly breathe. You break the kiss, gasping. “Your room?”

“Not right now,” comes his immediate response.

“What?” You can’t help the way you feel crushed at the rejection-

“Not with the party,” Wonwoo clarifies. “I want to take my time with you, want you to be comfortable- having people fucking around outside my room while I’m exploring you isn’t my idea of a great first time.”

“That actually makes sense,” you concede.

“But… I’m okay to keep doing this,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then his mouth begins to move down to your throat, his tongue tasting your sweet spot.

You release a moan, wrapping your arms around the tall nerd. “Yeah, we can keep doing this.”

Ten:

Wonwoo carefully walks to the kitchen, avoiding spilled liquor on the floor from the party the night before. He’s so focused on his footsteps that he almost doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s aura until he’s right next to him.

The frat boy is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating his cereal. “So…” Jeonghan muses with a grin, “that girl, huh?”

“What girl?” Wonwoo sighs.

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. “The one you were making out with at the party for hours. You know, the one that keeps coming here for ‘tutoring.’”

“I helped her with an essay.”

“Sure you did.” Jeonghan pushes off the kitchen counter. “It’s cute, our resident demon has a heart.”

Wonwoo freezes, realizing that Jeonghan might be onto something, but he’ll never admit it out loud. “No, I don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Eleven:

“Well look who it is,” Jeonghan grins as he opens the door to the frat. You wonder why it’s always him, why no one else is ever hanging around the living room, but you decide it’s best not to dwell on it.

“Hi,” you smile softly.

“Guessing you know where to go,” Jeonghan muses, opening the door wider so you can enter.

With one more nod to the frat boy, you make your way to Wonwoo’s room.

You knock on the door, and like the very first time you’d been here, it swings open with ease. Wonwoo’s sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He’s wearing his glasses, and he looks so sexy like this, so domestic-

“Happy November,” Wonwoo says.

You laugh. “Happy November.” You close the door behind yourself, standing there awkwardly. You know what you’re here for, know what you want from him now that your essay is complete- “You’re not practicing, you know, No Nut November, or anything, are you?”

Wonwoo laughs, setting his book down on his bedside table along with his glasses. “No, I’m not practicing No Nut November.”

“Good.”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Get over here.”

You make your way to the bed, sitting carefully next to him. “What were you reading?”

“Dante’s Inferno,” he responds casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be reading poetry from the thirteen hundreds.

“Wow,” you laugh, “that definitely pushes the whole demon angle.”

“I’m a deal maker, Sweetheart, the whole demon thing is overdone.” He wraps his arm around you, prompting you to cuddle up to his chest.

“And yet, your door opens on its own,” you point out.

“And?”

“As crazy as this sounds…” you take a deep breath, “I guess I’m wondering if there’s any… legitimacy to the whole demon thing.”

“How would you feel if there was?” he counters.

“I suppose I wouldn’t believe it, not really.”

“Then what’s the point in asking?”

“Maybe there’s no point.” You look up at him, marveling at his handsome features.

“So kiss me and forget about it,” he prompts, his fingers finding the bottom of your chin and making you look up at him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile, closing the gap between your lips.

He holds you tighter as your lips mesh, half pulling you onto his chest as his tongue explores your own. God, he still feels so good- part of you had wondered if you’d been a little tipsy the last time you kissed him, and that’s why it had felt so good- but no, this is just Wonwoo, this is just the power he has over you.

You adjust so you’re straddling him, his hands finding your hips to encourage you while you cup his face, enjoying the feeling.

You begin to wiggle, grinding down softly onto him. His cock is already hardening in his sweatpants- you love how easy it is to turn him on. It does wonders for your ego as you dry hump him, beginning to moan at the sensation on your clit.

You’re not usually this type of person, not the mega-sexual, but something about Wonwoo is making you feral. It helps that you both know why you’re here- helps that he’d rescheduled this fuck session so you wouldn’t be having your first time with a wild Halloween rager just outside his door.

Things are just comfortable with him, it’s clear you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and that turns you on even more.

One of his hands begins to glide up from your waist, skimming the underwire of your bra. You move his palm even further up, so he’s grasping your breast, and he squeezes deliciously, earning a soft moan from your lips.

Wonwoo grins into your kiss, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, forcing you even closer as he massages your chest.

You grind harder onto his cock, loving the feeling-

One flip has Wonwoo on top of you, and you whimper at the change in power dynamics. He moves his hips fluidly, applying more pressure to your already throbbing clit-

Wonwoo pulls away from your throat, looking down at you with dark eyes. “So do I need to grab a condom, Sweetheart?”

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him. “Are you clean?”

“I’m clean, are you?”

“Yeah.” You lean closer, eagerly pressing your lips to his again. You’re so lost in him, nothing else matters.

Wonwoo’s hands begin to explore you again, and then he pulls away to tug on your shirt. “Off.”

You sit up, removing the fabric, exposing your bra to him.

Wonwoo looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “You’re so pretty, Sweetheart.” His fingers tease the strap of your bra. “How’d a pretty little thing like you ever find your way to me?”

“The essay-”

“You’re so innocent though, I could tell from the moment I met you. You wouldn’t have come to me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“No, I don’t cheat.”

“And you still don’t, you did the whole essay yourself.”

“With help from you,” you blush.

“No, Sweetheart, it was all you.” Wonwoo kisses you again, shutting up any argument you have about using his notes.

He makes you feel so good- it’s such a safe space, and it’s the type of situation you’re not used to. The lack of judgement, the complete support- it helps you relax, helps you get even further lost in his kiss as you make out, the both of you wriggling and grinding against each other. You love the feeling of his body, the feeling of being here with him, completely enraptured mind and soul.

Wonwoo’s lips trail down to your throat, and he begins to descend. He reaches your chest, and you breathe heavily, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips.

His fingers hook in the cup of your bra, and he pauses to look up at you, as if he’s asking for your permission. “Do it,” you tell him, trying to catch your breath.

Wonwoo grins, pulling your bra down so he can access your tits fully. His tongue flicks at your sensitive nipple, and you groan at the sensation, arching your back to push your chest closer to his face.

Wonwoo’s lips suction around the sensitive bud next, and God, it feels amazing.

Your pussy is practically throbbing- can women cum from breast stimulus alone? You might find out if he keeps this up.

His hands cup your tits, pushing them together, and then he begins to lick at both of your nipples, switching from one to the other in a pace that has you grabbing his hair, whimpering in desperation.

You feel like you’re on fire- you feel alive, writhing on this hot nerd’s bed. It feels dirty, but it feels so right too.

He continues on your breasts for a short while, until you’re good and needy, then he makes his way to your jeans.

“I want you naked,” he tells you.

“Then get me naked,” you counter, still breathless.

With a wink, Wonwoo pulls your jeans down, and you work on your bra. Soon, you’re completely naked from him, and unlike other times you’ve gotten with men, you don’t feel an ounce of shame.

This feels so right, and as Wonwoo begins kissing up your thighs, prompting your legs open, you just know that sex is never going to be the same.

Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours as he takes a lick of your pussy, and you both groan. His lips suction around your clit and your muscles spasm. He pulls away with a grin, breath hot on your aching core. “So wet already,” he muses.

“I need you,” you whimper.

“You have me,” he promises, diving back into your heat.

He doesn’t hold anything back. He eats you like you’re the most delicious fruit in the world, like your pussy juices are a nectar he needs for life itself.

You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you’re a little shocked at the speed of all of this, however, you suppose the foreplay had done a number on you as well.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, abdomen tensing.

“Cum for me,” he breathes heavily against your clit. “Want you to cum on my tongue.”

His lips wrap around your clit again, and two more harsh sucks are all it takes to send you over the edge. You gasp desperately, entire body tensing before the moment of your release.

Hot waves of pleasure erupt over your form, all consuming. You can hardly breathe, can only gasp in ecstasy as he works you through your high.

You’re not sure how long your orgasm lasts, only that you’re out of breath and brain dead by the time Wonwoo pulls away.

You can hardly open your eyes to look up at him as he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are so full of lust- and for the first time, he looks truly demonic. But you’re not scared, you’re intrigued, in the best possible way.

“Fuck me,” you tell him quietly.

Wonwoo grins, and his canines flash in the light. “You got it, Sweetheart.”

He grabs the back of his shirt, tearing it off his head to reveal chiseled chest muscles. He’s got more of a sleeper build- the kind of guy you wouldn’t expect to be muscled, except that under layers of fabric, he’s actually sculpted by the Gods.

You can hardly breathe as he pulls his sweatpants down, and you’re practically drooling by the time he gets back on top of you, his lips hot against your own.

You cup the back of his neck, kissing him desperately, wiggling your hips, eager for stimulation.

Wonwoo concedes, rutting so his cock drags through your drenched pussy lips.

Neither of you say anything, you keep lip locked as he finally pushes into you. You both release gasps of pleasure, breathing the kiss to press your foreheads together as he sheaths further inside of you.

You open your eyes, looking up at Wonwoo, who meets your gaze with a fierceness that sets your insides on fire.

He’s so beautiful- you’d checked his head for horns, but you can almost see an outline of demonic features- you must be dreaming, must be so lost in him that you’re seeing things. You close your eyes, drawing your lips to his again as he begins to fuck you.

Each thrust his hard, the tip of his long cock kissing your cervix. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but the feeling becomes pleasurable much too quickly. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, clawing at his broad shoulders.

“You feel so good,” he tells you.

“No, your cock feels good,” you correct him.

“Agree,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “to disagree.”

You laugh, and Wonwoo groans at the way your giggle makes your muscles clench even tighter around his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking a deep breath.

He pulls away suddenly, and he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift you into the air. He positions your knees together, so you’re in doggy, and then he pushes himself back into your aching hole.

Shit- things feel even tighter in this positon, and you claw at his bed, burying your face in his duvet as he plows into you. His grip is rough on your hips, but you don’t even care- if Wonwoo continues to give you cock like this, he could do anything he wanted to you, any position, and you wouldn’t mind.

Each snap of his hips sends the sound of skin on skin through his room, but that’s the least of your worries. You’re more concerned about the fact that you can feel another orgasm bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, and your pussy is clenching even tighter around him now.

“You’re close again, aren’t you, Sweetheart?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh, so deep-” you whimper.

“Rub your clit for me,” he instructs. “Wanna feel it.”

You adjust, bringing your fingers to your sensitive bud. You begin to stoke yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you crying out as he rails into you.

Wonwoo shifts, bringing one knee up so his foot is flat on the bed, giving himself better manueverabilty to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he groans, squeezing your hips. “Make me cum.”

The knowledge that your high will set off his own makes you even more eager to please him, and you rub your clit even harder, whimpering desperately.

Wonwoo lets out a grunt, and the sound is music to your ears. How is he so sexy? When did a man grunting become sexy?

Fuck, you work yourself even harder, and Wonwoo matches your enthusiasm with his thrusts, his hands pulling your hips back to meet him with each motion.

“I’m close-” you tell him, your pussy gripping him so hard-

“Let go for me,” he responds. “Need to feel it.”

A few more circular motions on your clit has you exploding, a loud whimper escaping your lips as your pussy clamps down hard on his cock. Your entire body is alight, muscles working overtime as you contract around him.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls, his pace faltering as he cums inside you, filling you with a warmth that makes you spasm beneath him.

You continue to moan as he fucks you through your highs until you’re both breathless. You can feel him breathing on your back, can feel each puff-

Your own chest is heaving with effort, your eyes closed as the last inklings of euphoria sparkle through you.

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your hips gently, and neither of you have anything to say as you recuperate.

Finally, Wonwoo gently traces your spine with a finger. “I’m going to pull out,” he tells you. “Grab you a tissue.”

“Okay.” You nod against his bed, still too blurry from your orgasm to think too hard about anything.

The loss of his cock from your aching hole is one you feel everywhere, and you whimper, cupping your pussy to stop any cum from dripping onto his bed.

Wonwoo returns quickly, moving your hand so he can press tissue to your core. “Give it a sec, and when you’re ready we can put on some clothes and head to the bathroom.”

You stay on your knees for a few more seconds before mustering your energy. When you’re finally able to stand, Wonwoo helps you up. He pulls sweatpants up your legs, followed by a hoodie to cover your bare chest.

Then, he takes your hand, guiding you to the bathroom where you both clean up.

Everything is a blur until you get back to his bedroom, where you collapse onto the mattress against his chest, eyes closed.

Wonwoo’s hand smooths up and down your arm. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you respond.

“I’ve gotta tell you something.”

You can hear the seriousness in his tone, and you force your eyes open, looking up at him questioningly.

“I was going to wait-” Wonwoo admits, “it’s something I’ve never told anyone, not in so many words at least.” You wait for him to continue. “The whole demon thing… there’s some truth to it.”

“But… I checked for horns?” you say, confused.

“We don’t have horns, Sweetheart. We’re deal makers. You gave me your necklace, it has a soultie to your ex, one day, I’m going to drag that asshole to hell.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. “Sure you are, Wonwoo.”

“You don’t believe me,” he muses, lifting your hand so he can kiss your knuckles gently.

“I told you I wouldn’t, so what does it even matter?”

“I just wanted to start things right,” he confesses. “Wanted to do this right.”

“This?” you counter, grinning up at him.

“Us. I want to give it a shot, if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested,” you admit. “But… I think, right now, I just need a little sleep.”

“Then sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and with a smile and a deep breath, you finding yourself drifting into the most blissful sleep of your life. Demon or not, Wonwoo makes you feel protected, and that’s not something you’ll ever take lightly.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love Wonwoo!

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🔮 preview. “You look so good like this, Sweetheart,” he whispers. “Being so good for me, so corruptible-” He has a bit of a corruption kink, but he’s never forced it on you. No, he’d shown you his toys, and allowed you to choose the pace on everything. You feel so comfortable with him, and it allows you to fully connect with yourself and your pleasure.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of sex toys, flogger, vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, breast worship, nipple clamps, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praise, soft dom Wonwoo, fingering, slight pain kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) Sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been a few months of dating Wonwoo, and you’ve realized the whole demon thing is completely real. It was an adjustment at first, but he’d explained everything about it. There are certain demons who do the darker stuff, but Wonwoo truly considers himself a deal maker above all else. He doesn’t kill, even though, with his power, he could.

No, he’s a mellow demon, if there is such a thing.

It’s an opposites attract type of situation, and Wonwoo’s spent countless nights admiring your aura, discussing what it is exactly that makes you the light Yin to his dark Yang. He loves you for all of your differences, and you’ve never felt more comfortable with a person- or, should you say, demon.

He’s an ageless man with a thirst for knowledge, and you’re so attracted to his deep understanding of all things literate or scientific. You find yourself constantly learning new knowledge from him, and every day you spend together is a dream you never could have even wished for.

Aside from all the educational learning experiences you have with Wonwoo, you’ve also begun to explore his sexual knowledge, and it’s a journey you never thought you’d find yourself on.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.2k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

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onlymingyus · 29 days ago

Text

Your Eyes Only

pairing; choi soobin x f!reader x park sunghoon

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, midly toxic, comedy, fluff

summary; Groups projects are the worst, right? But when your group is Soobin and Sunghoon it gets interesting.

content warnings; poly themes, rich kids, university au, jealousy, self-confidence issues, fuck boy!sunghoon, nerd!soobin, alcohol, drug mentioned, mild bullying.

smut warnings; protected sex, semi-unprotected sex, cum play, fingering, oral (f/m giving and receiving), hand job, cum eating, double penetration, anal sex, anal fingering, very mild mlm, pets names/degrading names, dirty talk, glasses kink, begging.

w/c; 21k and some change

a/n; thank you to @junkissed for proofreading for me and givng me the courage to write outside of my svt box. i know this is different BUT if you are looking for the svt version (wonwoo & jeonghan) it is on my patreon right now

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Chewing on the end of your pen, you tap your heel against the leg of the table as you listen to your professor explain the basics of the project that would pass or fail you in his class. You had spent most of your time at university avoiding any course that you knew would involve a group project, but this was one class you couldn’t get out of.

“You will be randomly paired with a partner for this project.” Glancing around, your professor sighs and looks down the list of names in front of him before pursing his lips. “And one group will have to welcome in a third. You can thank those who dropped the class for the uneven number.”

It was no secret that there were those in the class who were well acquainted with each other and those who were set up for success in the business field, so the random assignment of partners was already making everyone nervous. You were somewhere in the middle of everyone. You weren’t unknown, and it wasn’t like you didn’t have connections after you graduated, but you were no Park Sunghoon with your life already on a silver platter in front of you.

Glancing up as your professor starts to move through the classroom, you swallow hard as he starts to call out names, putting together the groups.

“Lee Yongbok, you will be with Kang Taehyun.”

Great. Only one pair had been named, and you already felt like you were going to be left with someone who would leave you with 90% of the work. Puffing up your cheeks, you glance around the room before quicking looking down at your desk when you meet the one person’s eyes that you had been trying to avoid, Sunghoon. He looked so smug—like he didn’t give a shit about who he was put with, because it honestly didn’t matter. He knew he wouldn’t fail, and he probably wouldn’t have to do a damn thing. This would all be fine as long as you didn’t get put with—

“Park Sunghoon, you will be with Y/N Y/L/N.”

Letting out a deep breath, louder than you mean to, you meet your professor's eyes just before he looks down at his clipboard and purses his lips. “I think honestly this might be the perfect group for a third, so I’m going to add Choi Soobin. You don’t mind, do you, Mr. Park?’

Of course your professor had only asked Sunghoon if he minded. What if you had an issue with it? Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Soobin glances from the professor at the front of the room towards you and then Sunghoon as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“It’s whatever. I can make it work.”

“Perfect, I knew I could count on you.”

The sound of your professor's voice is almost muffled as he continues to call out names, Hwang Yeji being paired with Ning Yizhuo and Park Jongseong with Julie Han. None of them mattered because you could feel eyes on you and were too nervous to look up and see who they belonged to.

“That’s everyone. Now, take the rest of the hour to get acquainted and make a plan for your project. Remember, I want a detailed business plan that I would actually want to put money into. This is 75% of your grade. I expect results.”

Finally looking up, you are relieved to see the room moving into action and no one staring at you. It isn’t until Sunghoon lifts his brows and slides from his chair, picking up his bag, that you feel your heart in your chest. You hadn’t spent much time with him before. He made you nervous—he made almost everyone nervous.

Sunghoon’s father was the CEO of some multimillion-dollar company, and he didn’t even need to be here, except his father wanted him to prove he could take the reins when the time came. Everyone knew that Sunghoon resented the decision, and while he was a genius—truly brilliant—he barely did any of the work and still managed to pass with flying colors by magic every single time.

The other side of Sunghoon was the one that you knew just by reputation. You didn’t have time to party. While some got their way here on their parent’s money, you had gotten in on a scholarship and had to keep your GPA where it was or risk your full ride. You heard about the parties every weekend; you had been invited—but you had stuck to your dorm almost every time. Sunghoon, on the other hand, did not. He hosted the parties and kept putting notches in his bedpost from what you had been told through the rumor mill.

“Dude, shit or get off the pot. Are you sitting on this side of her, or am I?” Sunghoon’s voice made your cheeks heat up as you looked up to watch him and Soobin stand in front of your table.

Soobin was, as far as you knew, the polar opposite of Sunghoon. He was quiet and reserved—more like you. His family was wealthy, and you knew that he probably didn’t need to be here either, but from what you had gathered, he chose to be here, like he had something to prove.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Soobin narrows his eyes at Sunghoon and sighs before sliding into the chair on your left, leaving the right side open for the other man. He had never gotten along with Sunghoon. They had been in almost every single class together since day one, and somehow Sunghoon always was top of the class. It didn’t matter how much work Soobin put into something; Sunghoon’s smug ass was always one step ahead.

“Hey, Y/N. We, uh—we haven’t talked much. Excited to do the project with—”

“Oh my god, obvious much?”

Sinking down into the chair on your right, Sunghoon rests his arm on the back of your chair and looks around you at Soobin, cutting him off. Meanwhile, in the middle, you felt small as the tension built between the two. Clearing your throat, you lean forward to grab your notebook and pen in an attempt to clear the air.

“I’m excited to do the project with you too, Soobin.” Glancing towards him, you quickly look at Sunghoon, finding that it feels like a mistake as he meets your eyes with a smirk. “And with you too, Sunghoon, you know… of course.” Your mouth feels dry as Sunghoon’s smirk widens into a smile, his eyes moving over your face and dropping to your lips before he nods and furrows his brows in a teasing manner.

“Oh, I’m sure. You look thrilled, princess.”

Opening your mouth, you quickly close it as Sunghoon calls you princess, managing to fluster you even further. “I—no, I am. I mean—I just…um.” Shaking your head, you drop your pen onto your notebook and fish your cellphone from your purse as you swallow hard. “We should probably exchange numbers or something. So we can plan a time to meet and work on the project.”

Nodding, Soobin straightens his back as he furrows his brows, trying to keep his head clear as you struggle so much with your words. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was excited to work on the project with you. You had caught his eye weeks—maybe even months—ago and now he had a reason to talk to you, if he could keep Sunghoon’s claws off of you.

“Yeah, sure. Uh—” Smiling as you turn towards him, Soobin watches as you put his number into your phone; your thumbs quickly move over the screen before you tilt your head and meet his eyes.

“What emoji do you want?” Up close, Soobin was even more handsome than you realized. You weren’t stupid; you had looked at him and at Sunghoon before. While Sunghoon was a dangerous sort of sexy that made you both terrified and excited, Soobin made your stomach feel warm and tight when he smiled at you.

“Emoji? Do I need one?”

Sighing, you give Soobin an exasperated look as you scroll through the emoji’s landing on the smiley face with glasses. “Everyone needs one. You can’t be the only one without one in my phone, Soobin.”

“Are you gonna pick one out for me, or do I get to pick?”

Sunghoon’s voice causes chill bumps to erupt along your skin as you press your lips together and turn back in your seat to face the front of the room. “Uh, no, you can pick. I mean, unless you just want me to pick.”

Grinning at how flustered you seem every single time you talk to him, Sunghoon raises his brow and glances down at your phone as you put his name in and wait for him to tell you his number. “You can call or text anytime.” Leaning his arm back on his own chair, Sunghoon tilts his head as you go back up to his name and start to scroll through the emojis, not commenting on what he had said. “You pick one. I’m curious to see what you’ll choose.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you glance to the side at Sunghoon before letting it out in a sharp sigh, trying not to let him get to you. You aren’t sure if it’s just wanting to try to prove something to him or stupidity, but with a small burst of confidence, you purse your lips together and scroll until you find the devil emoji pressing down on it and then save.

“Wow. Damn, Y/N. That’s kinda hot.” Sliding his phone from his jacket pocket, Sunghoon quickly types your name into his contacts and puts an angel emoji next to your name before turning it towards you for you to put your own number in. “I already have Soobin’s number; I just need yours, Angel.”

Leaning his head back, Soobin tries not to show how annoyed he is at Sunghoon’s blatant flirting with you after he had tried to embarrass him from the get-go. Instead, he waits for you to finish putting your number into Sunghoon’s phone and for you to turn to him expectantly. He could almost see how flustered you were, and while Soobin wished that he was the cause, he wasn’t that dense. “Here you go.”

Quickly putting your number into Soobin’s phone, you meet his eyes as you scroll through the emojis one last time before picking the girl with glasses as your emoji and saving it in his phone. “Cool. Uh, did you guys wanna go ahead and set up a time and place to get started on the project? I kinda have a few ideas for some business proposals, but of course we should all have some so we can decide together.”

You were so cute as you tried to stay on task. No matter how much Sunghoon tried to tease you, and no matter how flustered he made you, you still found your way back to the task at hand. You were persistent; he had to hand it to you.

“I’m good anytime—well, not anytime. I have plans this weekend. So anytime before Friday night.”

Rolling his eyes, Soobin lets out a loud sigh and leans towards the table to rest his forearms on the top. Of course Sunghoon would have plans and make the rest of the group work around them. Furrowing his brows at Soobin’s outburst, Sunghoon shifts in his chair and lifts his hand from the table like a question.

“Problem?”

“I mean, yeah. Literally told, this is basically our entire grade and you’d rather get trashed—”

The tension is once again getting thick. You sit up straight and clear your throat, trying to stop the argument before it starts. You had been concerned about this group for other reasons, and now you were starting to realize you were going to be spending your time trying to keep Sunghoon and Soobin from killing each other for the few weeks it would take to complete the project and present it.

“We don’t have to meet this weekend. How about Thursday? No one has to cancel plans right now. We are just getting started.” Glancing from one man to the other, you look for sympathy as a slight pout forms on your lips. “Please don’t argue. I just want to get a good grade on this. I really need it. I just need you guys to help me pick something out, and I’ll research. I don’t need much.”

Taking a breath and pursing his lips, Sunghoon lets his eyes stay on Soobin for a moment longer—a look of contempt evident before he shifts his gaze to you, and it softens slightly. “It’s a date. Your place or mine?”

Hearing a soft, flustered “oh” leave your lips, Soobin shakes his head and sits back in his chair as you pick up your pen to just have something to do with your hands. Every class that he had shared with Sunghoon had gone exactly like this; somehow this was already worse. He had avoided having to do projects with him, and he hadn’t had to watch him flirt with the one girl he was interested in. It was like Sunghoon knew and was doing it on purpose.

“I—you know, either. Or, we could like just... Meet at the library and grab a room.” You could feel Sunghoon’s eyes, almost like they were burning your skin with how intense his gaze was. Soobin, on the other hand, was almost avoiding you now. “Or if Soobin has another idea—”

“I don’t like the library. I’d rather meet at my dorm or yours, Y/N.” Finally looking back up at you, Soobin sighs when he meets your eyes, and you nod, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you shift in your chair.

“Sh—sure, yeah. We can just meet at mine. Thursday, like 4 o’clock?”

Sunghoon smirks even as he nods, his eyes not even moving to the front of the room as everyone else in the room starts to move, noticing the time. Normally he would already be out the door and on his way on to the next thing, but you were far more interesting. “See you then, angel.”

“Yea—sure, sounds good.” Clearing his throat, Soobin is the first to move to his feet and grab his things before you push back your chair to do the same, causing you to take a step towards him. Taking a deep breath, Soobin meets your eyes and gives you a shy smile as he mutters an apology and steps off to the side, feeling his neck and face heating up.

“No problem.”

Your mind was spinning, every thought in it clouded by the scent of Soobin’s cologne, even though he isn’t right in front of you anymore as you lean over to pick up your bag and pull it up into your chair to pack up your things quickly. Sliding out of his chair, Sunghoon tilts his head, watching how your skirt lifts up just slightly on your thighs when you pick up your bag before he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair and raises his brows at an obviously flustered Soobin. He got it. You were cute as fuck and oblivious to how either one of them was looking at you. It was maddening.

“Text me later and let me know if you want me to bring drinks or something to this rager we are planning.” Walking backwards out of the room, Sunghoon flashes you a smile and winks as he turns on his heels out of the door.

“I—jesus. He’s insufferable.”

Glancing over to Soobin with your bag on your shoulder, you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips when he voices his displeasure for Sunghoon. You knew about their competitive nature in classes, but seeing it up close was a completely different thing. “He’s kinda funny, I don’t know. It’ll be okay. We just need a topic, and this will be easy, Soobin. Don’t stress about it. I’ll text you both later about Thursday.”

Letting out another breath watching you wave at him as you slip out of the room, Soobin leans his head back and curses under his breath at his shit luck. If this had been any other class and any other project when he could have you to himself, he might actually be looking forward to this. But no, Sunghoon had to be right there to fuck it up.

Tapping the screen of your phone, you sigh as the time ticks closer and closer to 4 p.m. You had managed to speed clean your small dorm room into something presentable within an hour, but even as you sat on your now freshly made bed, you were nervous about Sunghoon and Soobin seeing where you lived half of the year.

The knock at your door sends your heart into a panic; you feel it rising into your throat as you slide off your bed and smooth down the skirt of your dress as you give a quick glance at the mirror before reaching for the door handle. It doesn’t surprise you when you see Soobin first. He seemed, out of the two, the most responsible and prompt.

“Come in.” Taking a step back, you find yourself having to look down as a smile pulls at your lips, heat spreading over your cheeks at how Soobin looks at you. He didn’t look much different than any other day, but that was what you liked about him.

Pushing the dark frames of his glasses up his nose, Soobin’s smile widens as he moves past you into your room so he can glance around quickly. You were tidy and adorable. He was happy that you hadn’t decided to study in his room. Not that he was living like an animal, but it was overwhelming in the best ways to be surrounded by all of your things and your perfume.

“You can sit down anywhere. Sorry, I don’t have many options, but the desk and bed are up for grabs. I can always sit on the floor.”

Furrowing his brows at your words, Soobin shakes his head and drops his bag from his shoulder next to your desk before turning around to meet your eyes. “I wouldn’t make you sit on the floor. I’m sure there’s enough room for us all—”

You watch as Soobin’s smile fades slightly along with his words when the second knock draws his attention from you and towards the door. Swallowing hard, you shake out your hands before moving back to the door and pulling it open, instantly meeting Sunghoon’s eyes.

“I’m late to the party.”

Shaking your head, you step to the side. Gesturing for Sunghoon to come inside, you lick your lips as you try to think of the right words. “Uh, no—no. Soobin just got here. We were just talking about where to sit. I was telling him that you guys are welcome to sit on the bed and at my desk and I can sit on the floor.”

“Shit, why would you sit on the floor?” Scoffing, Sunghoon glances around your room much like Soobin had before he nods at the other man and meets your eyes once again. “We can both sit on the bed. Plenty big enough, princess.”

Soobin watches with narrowed eyes as Sunghoon sits on your bed and makes a face of approval before patting the spot next to himself. “Unless you wanna sit on my lap.”

Starting to sit down next to Sunghoon, you almost fall on to the bed out of shock as your breath gets caught in your throat at his bold words. “What? No! I’m fine here.”

“I’m playing with you.” Poking at your side, Sunghoon smirks when you recoil from his teasing, but still a smile pulls at your pretty lips. “Have to lighten the mood somehow. You two are so uptight.”

With a shake of his head, Soobin rolls his eyes and pulls your desk chair out from under the table, turning it towards your bed with more force than necessary. He wished he had been just a bit quicker and less of a chicken shit when it came to you and sat on the bed instead of letting Sunghoon do it. “Just here to actually get something done, Sunghoon. It’s not a party; those happen at your frat house.”

Humming into a nod, Sunghoon leans back on your bed to rest on his elbows as you shift slightly near him to pick up your laptop, resting it on your thighs. “Sure isn’t a party, but speaking of. Y/N, you got plans this weekend? We are having a little get-together, and you should stop by.” Glancing towards Soobin quickly, almost dismissing him, Sunghoon sighs before giving you a tight smile and adding, “Soobin is invited too, of course.”

You tilt your head at your computer screen, glancing towards Sunghoon and then Soobin before trying to pay more attention to the document you had already started the night before for the group project. “Um, I—well, I don’t really party. I don’t even know what those parties are like—”

“Oh, you know... a quiet house that smells like febreeze or some shit, literally no crap in the way. Oh, and uh, everyone there will 100% be over 21, scouts honor.” Grinning at the look on your face, Sunghoon quickly puts up his hands and laughs at his own joke, adding, “Seriously, it’ll be fun and good for you. Let your hair down and shit.”

Wrinkling your nose at Sunghoon’s attempt to convince you, you bite at your bottom lip unknowingly, drawing his and Soobin’s attention to where your teeth pull at your soft lips. “I don’t—”

“I’ll go if you do, Y/N.”

Meeting Soobin’s eyes surprised, Sunghoon tilts his head as you do the same and smiles.

“Really? I—okay, I guess. I could come for an hour or two. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Sunghoon realized in that moment he probably needed to thank Soobin for convincing you to go to the party, but at the same time you had only agreed if he was going. That didn’t bode well for him. Did you like Soobin? Did you like Soobin more than him? Pursing his lips, Sunghoon watches you turn your attention back to your laptop, your fingers moving smoothly over the keys as you start working on a project he’d barely given any thought to. “I promise it’ll be fun. Now, what are you working on?”

Adjusting on the bed so Sunghoon can see your laptop screen, you start to explain an idea you had about a law firm sharing your three names—Choi, Park, and Y/L/N—when you realize that Soobin is straining his next trying to see and pay attention. "Oh, um—maybe—Sunghoon? Could you scoot down? I think maybe if we lean back against the wall, we can all sit on the bed and use my laptop.”

Sitting up, Sunghoon shrugs as he lets out a long breath before doing as you asked and scooting down very slightly so you can do the same, finding yourself right against his side. You don’t see the smirk on his lips as his eyes move over your face while you watch Soobin move from your desk chair and to the other side of you, now snugly between the two.

“Is this okay? Or is it too close? I know my bed’s kinda small.”

When you start to wiggle, trying to give either man a bit more room, Soobin shakes his head and stretches his back against the wall you are all leaning against. “I’m comfortable, Y/N. Tell us about the law firm.” He didn’t want you to move, or for you or Sunghoon to make him move. He was enjoying the feeling of you warm against his side, your leg against his, your sweet perfume invading his senses.

It was difficult for either Sunghoon or Soobin to really pay attention to the work in front of them. There was nothing wrong with what you had suggested; it was as good as anything else anyone could come up with. The issue was you. It was difficult to think about some make-believe law firm when you have a pretty girl sighing with her body against yours. His mind starts to wander, and he finds himself imagining if her moans might sound as sweet and pretty as her sighs.

At least, that was where Soobin’s mind was. Sunghoon’s eyes were doing most of the wandering. You were so focused on your screen, your lips moving as you asked their opinion to change some idea only to get a nod of approval from each of them as Sunghoon took in every detail he could see. You were gorgeous. How hadn’t he tried to get with you yet? Probably because you didn’t come to the parties he did. You had other priorities—Sunghoon’s only priority now was to see the rest of you after trying to memorize every freckle, mole, and dimple on your exposed skin.

“We could talk about how one of our specialties is pro-bono work. Maybe Soobin?” Glancing up to get another opinion, you feel your cheeks burn when you find two sets of eyes watching you intently. You wait a few seconds before looking down and clearing your throat, realizing that neither is answering you, almost as if they were too distracted. “Soobin?”

Taking a deep breath of his own, Soobin finally meets your eyes before quickly looking at the screen in front of you to try to catch back up. “Sure, yeah… I’d be into that.”

“Cool.” Nodding, you tilt your head and add in a few more notes to the section, feeling Soobin’s eyes once again move over your face. “We can meet up and go more into depth with each section if you want. I think Sunghoon would take the business law section... I mean, you know, following in his father’s footsteps, blah blah blah.”

Your voice trails off as your finger moves over the trackpad. Sunghoon grins as you choose his “profession” in the law firm for him. “Blah, blah, blah... Sure, whatever you think, princess. And I can meet up at the party, or next week.”

The idea of talking about your project at a party where Sunghoon would undoubtedly be drunk or high makes your brows knit together as you look over at him. “I—we can’t do this at the party. That’s silly. I mean, if you wanna meet before the party and go over a few things, that I can do.”

Now you were saying shit that made sense. Sunghoon loved the idea of having you to himself for a bit. “Perfect. You can come over a couple of hours before and we can set this in stone; that sounds fair.”

Soobin wasn’t an idiot; he could almost see the wheels turning in Sunghoon’s head as the man’s eyes moved over your face and along your neck. He thought if he could get you alone, he might have a chance at getting laid—two could play that game. Soobin wasn’t sure where the desire—no, the need to beat Sunghoon—had originated, but he knew when it came to you, he had to win. “And we can meet up tomorrow; finish up my section.”

Suddenly your week and weekend had gotten packed. You were used to door-dashing food on a Friday and vegging out in your pajamas as you caught up on your work, but now you had to figure out how to look presentable for Choi Soobin.

“Okay…” Your voice is softer than you intend; you lean to pick up your phone from your nightstand, leaning over Soobin’s lap for a few seconds before you rest back in your spot. You don’t realize the effect you have on either of the men and how their eyes meet after both struggle to hold in groans watching your dress ride up your thighs. “So tomorrow, Soobin—maybe we can meet back here at like 7?” Sighing at your calendar, you click your tongue against your teeth and nod before continuing. “And Sunghoon, I can come a couple of hours early; does that work?”

Neither need much convincing after their shared glances, a rare understanding between them as they both mutter in agreement.

Taking a deep breath, Soobin stares at your dorm room door as he adjusts his bag on his shoulder, mostly out of nerves. He had just been here the day before, but it felt different being here alone with you. Not that he was even close to complaining; it would be nice to work with you—get to know you without Sunghoon looming over his shoulder or yours.

It was just before 7 o'clock, and you had been looking at your phone consistently for the past hour and a half to keep track of the time. Both Soobin and Sunghoon made you nervous; however, there was something about Soobin that you couldn’t quite shake.

Sunghoon was easy to understand. He was forward—too forward, at times, but at least you knew what was on his mind. Soobin, on the other hand, was quiet and reserved. You had felt your skin go hot as an oven under his eyes while you had sat next to him on the bed, and now you were going to be alone with him.

Knocking lightly, Soobin puffs up his cheeks and waits. All of his anxiety about seeing you melts away the moment his eyes move over your pretty face. The knot in his stomach that had told him earlier in the day to reschedule the study session releases, and he lets out the breath he had been holding and smiles at you.

“Hey. You loo—I mean—” Clearing his throat, Soobin’s eyes stay transfixed on you as a smile pulls at your lips and you step back, giving him room to move through the door. “I hope I’m not bothering you or anything.”

Shaking your head, you close your door as your brows furrow at Soobin’s words. He was so handsome and sweet it made your head spin. He confused you with how soft he seemed. It made you want to get to know him better—get to know the real Soobin.

“Why would you be bothering me? We planned this, Soobin.” Gesturing towards your bed, you sigh softly as Soobin sits down near where he had the day before, dropping his bag into the floor in front of him.

“No—yeah… I mean, I know. Just saying—I mean, I’m just trying not to be a—” Letting out a soft sigh on his breath, Soobin shakes his head before taking in a deeper breath to steady himself. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m glad we get to do this project together, Y/N.”

You pull your leg up under you so that you almost rest on your knees facing Soobin as you sit next to him. “I’m glad too. I—” Glancing down, you feel a wave of uncertainty rushing over you as your cheeks start to burn. You couldn’t help but feel shy under his gaze as you spoke, or tried to, your voice quiet. “I’m glad too. I kinda feel bad for you and Sunghoon being stuck with me. I know neither of you would probably pick me if you had a cho—”

“That’s crazy, Y/N. I’d pick you in a heartbeat.” Shaking his head, Soobin shifts on your bed, turning towards you, feeling a bit bolder as frustration runs through his veins at your words. “Why the hell would you even think that I wouldn’t? Fuck what Sunghoon thinks. I want to know why you think that I wouldn’t want you.”

Almost as if he’s realizing what he had said, seeing the look of surprise on your face—your eyes widening in slight confusion and shock—Soobin licks his lips and opens his mouth before closing it and taking a breath through his nose. He hadn’t meant it how it sounded—but perhaps he had; he didn’t want to scare you. “I mean… Uh—just… Of course I wanna do this project with you. It’s stupid to think I wouldn’t want—”

Even Soobin knew he was talking himself in circles as you tilted your head so innocently at him. He wasn’t Sunghoon. He hadn’t come here with the intention to flirt your pants off. He wasn’t some fuckboy asshole with an agenda.

Swallowing hard, Soobin lowers his eyes to his legs and then further towards his bag before reaching for it, unzipping it quickly, and taking out his laptop to try to change the subject. He could feel your eyes on him, and the heat, while overwhelming, was also making his jeans tighter. Settling the laptop on to his lap, Soobin shifts uncomfortably at the feeling of the pressure before puffing up his cheeks, still grateful to have something hiding his potential problem as he willed himself to calm the fuck down.

“So… I—I uh, tried to expand on what you said about the pro bono part of the practice and came up with a few things if you wanna take a look.”

Your eyes move along Soobin’s face, from his glasses to his perfect lips as his tongue darts along them to keep them from drying out from nerves and finally down towards his lap and to the screen now open for you. You could see how he was fidgeting—almost as if he was uncomfortable where he was sitting, the screen of the laptop moving very slightly as he sighs and scrolls down, letting you try to read over what he had come up with.

“It’s… Yeah—sounds good.”

“You sure? You don’t sound convinced." Soobin’s anxiety was peaking at the sound of your voice. He had royally fucked up. Now you were upset with him even when it came to the project, and he was going to spiral.

“No—I mean yes! Yes! It’s good. Soobin, it’s just—can you stop, like wiggling? I can’t read it when you are doing that. Can I see it? Let me hold it.” Reaching for his laptop, you furrow your brows at the quick, sharp breath Soobin takes before your hand slides over his on his lap.

“I—Y/N… Yes, you can, but!” Fuck. Feeling the laptop being pulled from his lap, Soobin closes his eyes when he hears you take a breath, and a small “oh” leaves your lips. Mortified—that is all that Soobin feels as he blindly reaches for one of your throw pillows, pulling it into his lap, still unable to bring himself to look at you.

If you had known what Soobin had been hiding with his laptop, you might not have just grabbed it—or at least you would have gone about it a different way. Grimacing as Soobin turns his head away from you, the pillow now over his lap, you start to speak but stop when you realize you aren’t sure what to say at first.

Now things that Soobin had said were sort of starting to make a bit more sense, and still not completely. Maybe he was just being a guy. Perhaps he was already having his... problem before he had even gotten to your room, and this had nothing to do with you, but you can’t stop yourself from glancing down at the pillow in Soobin’s lap one more time out of curiosity. What if it was because of you?

“Soobin?”

Leaning his head back when you say his name, Soobin groans under his breath. It was a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. Being around you, seeing so much of your skin on display, the words you had said so innocently that he had let his dirty mind twist... “Hmm?”

Closing Soobin’s laptop, you lean to put it on the floor out of harm's way before resting back on your knees, your eyes once again moving over the man beside you as he keeps his eyes on the ceiling as if trying to disappear. Maybe you could test your theory. Was Soobin into you, or was this just a fluke thing? There was no one else around... you had always been such a good girl at university; how bad could it be to help out someone who clearly needed help?

“Well, I was just—I thought... Do you want me to help you with that? You know if you like me like that?”

He had been doing halfway decent at getting himself calmed down. Soobin had been solving basic trigonometry problems in his head to get his cock to behave, but the moment you ask him if he wants help, all his hard work is out the window. Feeling his cock twitch in his boxers, Soobin bites at his cheek, slowly lowering his head and glancing over at you meeting your seemingly innocent eyes.

You were like a siren in the middle of the vast blue ocean, and he would swim to his death gladly. You had asked another stupid question, causing Soobin’s blood to boil, but the most he could manage at first was to scoff at you, making you recoil and pout, feeling rejected.

"Oh, I—no problem. Sorry I misread the situ—”

“Y/N, please.” Taking a deep breath, Soobin cuts you off again, knowing he has to stop you before you spiral this time. “You have no fucking idea how much I like you like that, or how much I like you in general.” Gripping the pillow tightly over his lap, Soobin groans a bit louder as he boldly lets his eyes move over your face and body this time. You were really the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and this had to be a fucking wet dream that he was going to wake up from at any moment. “But, are you serious? You wanna help me? I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just—god, you are just so cute, and you were looking at me like that. I couldn’t help it.”

Biting your bottom lip, you smile into a soft laugh as you feel warmth spread over your cheeks at Soobin’s words and compliments. You would have never expected to have such an effect on him. You’d never tell him now how many times you laid in bed right where he was sitting and thought about him as you played with the toys in your drawer. You wouldn’t have the guts to tell him just yet how at night you would think about him and wearing his glasses as he buried his—

“Shit—seriously. You gotta stop lookin’ at me like that. I’m gonna cum in my pants. You really have no idea what you look like.”

Soobin’s words bring you out of your daydream and back to reality as you let your eyes once again drop to the pillow in his lap. “What do I look like, Soobin?”

You weren’t trying to be particularly sexy. You weren’t even really sure how to. That wasn’t your “strong” point, but to Soobin, you didn’t have to try. Your innocence was doing it all. Your sweet voice with that layer of teasing was driving him insane as you reached for the pillow, moving it out of his lap and letting you see how hard he really was for you.

“Ah—fuck. Um… Just—it’s hard to... It’s hard to talk when you’re like this.” Leaning back on your bed to rest on his elbows, Soobin watches you closely as you shift closer to him, your fingers running along his thighs over his jeans. "But, uh, you look like you want me to fuck you. Like, uh, this want in your eyes. ‘Fuck me’ eyes, I guess.”

Rubbing your lips together, you carefully graze your fingertips over the bulge in Soobin’s jeans, feeling him thrust off the bed towards you. “Maybe I do want that.” Smiling, you tilt your head, your eyes following your fingers as you smoothly undo his jeans, feeling his stomach suck in under your light touch. “You know, one day. This isn’t a one-time thing, right?”

“God…no.” Shaking his head, Soobin licks his lips and claws at the comforter under him, feeling the drag of his zipper along his hard cock. “I hope not. Trust me, Y/N. I want you so fucking bad. Wanted you for—ah, wait!” Soobin’s voice becomes a whine when you pull away from him to sit back, his eyes widening as he follows you confused.

“I’m not leaving you. Why are you pouting at me, Binnie?” Standing beside the bed, you sway your hips side to side ever so slightly as you work your leggings down your legs, leaving you in your panties and t-shirt, causing Soobin’s mouth to go dry. “I’m just getting comfortable. You should too.”

Groaning your name under his breath, Soobin shakes his head as you use a nickname for him as you take off part of your clothes. Yes, he had seen your legs before when you had worn dresses or a skirt before, but this was different—it was so, so, fucking different. He could see the damp spot on the front of your panties; it was making his head spin.

Soobin quickly sits up and kicks off his jeans, feeling some relief from just a layer of clothes being off, but still his boxers felt sticky against his cock, leaking almost obscenely as you stood in front of him waiting. “You want these off too, pretty?” Trying out the pet name, Soobin watches the smile pull at your lips as you nod and move back to the end of your bed to sit on your knees again. “Okay… Yeah, I can do that.”

Nerves almost getting the better of him, Soobin digs his thumbs into the top of his boxers and pauses as he starts to lift his hips, hoping he will look good enough for you. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of how he looked, but you felt special to him. He wanted to be perfect for you and look exactly like who you wanted, but this was so sudden that he didn’t know anything about what you liked or wanted in bed.

You could see the apprehension in Soobin’s face, the way his brows furrowed when he paused. You hadn’t meant to pressure him, if that’s what he was feeling. “You okay? If you don’t wanna take them off, you don’t have to. I can help you with them on or, you know, we don’t have to—”

“I—woah, no, no! I want to. Just—nervous. What if you don’t like what you see?”

Shaking your head, you shift closer to Soobin on your hands and knees, not even thinking about how you would look to him or what effect it would have on him until he lets out a shaky breath on a groan. Glancing up at him, that same look in your eyes as before, you smile, sliding your hand over his thigh and tilting your head when it becomes clear to you how turned on he is seeing you like you are on the bed in front of him. “I’m gonna like it, Soobin. You are so handsome. I bet every single part of you is. So... can I see it?”

Eyes moving over your arched back down to your ass, Soobin shakes his head in disbelief, feeling your fingers walk slowly up his thigh towards his cock. You were either an angel or a demon; he hadn’t figured it out yet, but at the same time, Soobin wasn’t sure it mattered. He’d gladly give up his soul and die like this if it meant feeling your fingers sliding over his cock.

“Yeah, you can see it. It’s yours, pretty.” Speaking on an exhale, Soobin leans his head back as he relishes in the feeling of your hand molding to the outline of his cock through his boxers. It felt like heaven, and yet it wasn’t enough. He knew he wanted your skin on his. Lifting his hips, Soobin opens his eyes, locking them with yours as he pushes his boxers down and kicks them across the floors before leaning back against your pillows, finally stretching his legs out along your bed.

You know you should be a bit more subtle; slowly work your way down to looking at Soobin’s cock, but the moment he is laid out on your bed, it’s the first thing you do. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting. You had felt him through his boxers in your hand, and you had known he was on the bigger side, but seeing and feeling were different things. “Wow…”

“Wow?” While Soobin enjoyed you looking at him, he had expected a bit more than a single word. Lifting his hand from the bed, he nervously runs his fingers along your arm down to your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it as he lifts his brows. Finally meeting your eyes as you lift your head, he smiles at you and watches you glance away shyly at first. “What? Hey, no. Please? I’m half naked here.”

You knew it wasn’t fair, but you had one of the hottest guys at your school on your bed with his cock hard and out for you; now you were feeling like you might not be skilled enough to help him. “You’re big, Soobin. I’ve never—you know? Someone as big as you. I’m too nervous.”

Soobin hadn’t been sure that his ego could get as big as it did when you spoke, but his shoulders were suddenly tighter and his chest suddenly felt a bit firmer with how you were looking at him. “Yeah? I— fuck. I don’t… I could make it fi—” Shaking his head, not wanting to sound like a cocky asshole, afraid of sounding like Sunghoon on accident, Soobin slides his fingers along your forearm and back down to your hand, taking it into his. “We don’t have to do anything crazy. Just whatever you feel comfortable with, okay, beautiful?”

Your heart beats a bit harder at Soobin’s words and how sweet he is by not pressuring you into doing something that was too much too fast. As much as you might want him to fuck you or to try to fit your mouth around him, tonight just wasn’t that night—but that didn’t mean there weren’t other things you couldn’t do.

Nodding, you bite your lip as you shift on the bed to sit over Soobin’s thighs, hearing him suck in a breath when you do. “This okay?” Getting a nod from him, you smile before cautiously scooting forward and stopping short of his cock, letting it rest against your thigh, his pre-cum smearing along your soft skin. “Lean against the headboard? I wanna kiss you while I do this, if that’s okay.”

Soobin had never moved so fast in his life at the thought of kissing you. He had wanted to kiss you for months, if not a year or more. He had found himself staring at your lips and not paying attention in several classes more than once since he had first met you... and now it was becoming a reality.

Scratching your nails along his chest as you finally close the space between you and him, you can’t help the smile that finds your lips when he groans your name, feeling the warmth between your legs. His cock nudges between your legs, the tip firmly pressed against your cotton panties, and Soobin closes his eyes tightly and squeezes your thighs without thinking.

“Fuck… Please don’t tease me, baby.”

Soobin hadn’t meant to call you a pet name, but it had slipped off his tongue like sugar against your lips before the first kiss. You weren’t trying to tease him, but he felt so good right where he was. His lips, even brushing against yours, felt so good, but the first real kiss was enough to make you see stars.

Groaning into your mouth, Soobin slides his fingers along your thighs to your hips, where he squeezes again and pulls you closer to him as he rolls his hips towards yours. His tongue glides along yours before he swallows your soft, sweet moans to keep them for himself, knowing with each moan from your mouth he is leaking against your panties like a teenager, soaking through to your skin.

It’s when you do finally reach between your legs and wrap your fingers around Soobin’s cock, your smaller hand tightening around his shaft and stroking him from base to tip, that he throws his head back against your headboard, breaking the kiss. “Shit, that feels so good. I’m too worked up, baby. I won’t last if you—ah.”

You could tell from how Soobin was whining into his groans and the way he was short of breath that he was already close. Pre-cum was running along your fingers, making each stroke of your hand smooth as you rocked your hips towards his until you suddenly released your grip and met his eyes.

“Wh—why? Why are you teasing me? I was so close. Pretty girl, please!” The last plead from Soobin’s mouth is sharp, his usually deeper voice going up an octave as you sit back on his legs, wrapping your fingers back around his length and pressing his tip against the center of your panties before stroking him against your clothed, warm pussy.

“Why do you act like I’m punishing you, Binnie? Does this not feel good? What if I just wanted to feel a little bit?”

Eyes rolling back, Soobin bites his bottom lip as he thrusts up between your hand and panties, feeling the damp cotton under his sensitive cock. There aren’t many thoughts in his brain as he shakes his head and mutters your name, staring to lose himself in the feeling. He finds himself wishing, praying, and hoping to feel your pussy around his cock when he feels soft and warm skin pulling him back to reality.

Glancing down between your legs, Soobin only has seconds to watch his cock sliding between your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing your clit before he’s done for. Warm, sticky, white ropes paint your lower stomach and folds as Soobin pants through his climax, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises.

“Shit, Soobin…” The words fall from your lips on a soft moan as your clit throbs, begging you for more, but you know that he’s done. You can feel Soobin’s cock start to soften in your hand as he whines your name, his fingers still kneading your thighs.

Searching your face, Soobin watches the pout start to form on your lips, your bottom lip jutting out just slightly as your hand loosens around him and you start to scoot back on your bed. It wasn’t fair. He felt great. You had taken him to heaven and back, yet he could see the disappointment written on your face. That just wouldn’t work for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

Soobin’s compliment brings your attention back to him, your eyes meeting his as he licks his lips. Quickly your cheeks warm up, words getting caught in your throat as you try to think of the right thing to say—anything when you feel the tightness in your stomach from want though you don’t know or want to ask for something when you had only offered to help.

“Baby…” Whining the pet name, Soobin slides to his knees, his hands once again finding your hips as he helps you to the center of your bed. “Can I touch you? Make you feel good?” Letting his eyes move between your legs, Soobin groans at the sight of his cum on your stomach and the peek of it between your legs—how your pussy lips aren’t quite covered by your panties that are painted by him. He finds himself wanting to run his finger through it... Put it where it belongs—inside you. “Are you—mmm, this is a really personal question but probably important to ask, since we are in bed together. Are you on birth control?”

Your thighs tremble at Soobin’s touch, suddenly shy at his attention and his question. It was a valid and fair question, and yet how he asked it made you feel like you were burning up, as if you were right beside an open flame. Unable to find the words, you just nod quickly and suck on your bottom lip.

“Yes? To which question, pretty girl? I asked two.”

Closing your eyes, you whine Soobin’s name and lean your head back, causing him to laugh under his breath even as his fingers trail along your thighs. “Both of them. Please… I helped, right? I was good?”

The question makes Soobin furrow his brows, his throat suddenly dry as if sand were poured in his mouth instead of water. Why were you able to say something so simple and innocent and it sound so filthy? Why did you have this sort of effect on him? Pushing his mouth against his bicep, Soobin nods before moving one hand from your leg to push his glasses up his nose. “Very fucking good, baby. The best. Now let me be good for you.”

You want to tell Soobin that he is already good, but the words get lost on your tongue when his lips press to your knee as his fingers pull your ruined panties to the side and his other hand is free to explore. Mouth falling open in a silent moan, you try to watch carefully as Soobin’s fingers carefully push your sticky folds apart, giving him access to everything he wants.

“You got so messy with my cock..." Soobin was muttering, not even really speaking to you as he studied what was in front of him, his thumb circling your clit as he spread his cum along your skin. Finally meeting your eyes again, Soobin swallows hard watching you lick your lips, your chest rising and falling hard and fast with each panting moan. “Can I fuck you with my fingers? That okay?”

Clinging to the bedding, you nod hard, wanting to feel more of Soobin’s touch. You weren’t blind, and you knew he probably wasn’t either. You had been staring at his hands. His hands were big, his fingers thick, and the idea of Soobin just touching you had you leaking and mewing like a cat in heat. “Yeah, Binnie. Want it, please?”

You wanted it. That was even better than him asking for permission—hearing you beg for it. Smiling against your leg, Soobin nods as he slowly drags more of his cum down before slowly easing the first finger into you. He had cum, and yet feeling you clench around his finger had Soobin’s cock throbbing against his leg. He could lie to himself and you and say that he was using the cum on your skin as lube to fuck you on his fingers, but in reality you were so wet he didn’t need it—it was an added bonus being able to know that he was inside of you.

“Doin’ so good, beautiful. Gonna add another one; you can take it.” Nodding along with you, Soobin grins when you cry out his name on a moan when he pushes a second finger in to your pussy alongside the first. Your warm, soft walls hug his fingers and pull them in as if you are trying to fuck yourself, too eager to wait for Soobin to do it. “Like that? Feel good?”

It was almost a stupid question, but you nod anyway and mutter out a yes and pleas for more. It was almost too easy for Soobin to get you drunk on him and dumb with just his fingers. You could already feel the coil inside of you winding so tight that it was threatening to snap. Each brush of his fingers and every deep thrust as his thumb circled your clit, and muttered praises pushed you to the edge.

“Good fucking girl, yeah? My girl?”

Soobin knew that was crazy asking you that, making you admit to being his, but when you nod and repeat the words back to him, it makes his head spin. You might not even mean it; most people didn’t mean what they said during sex, but that was okay. Right now, it didn’t matter if you meant it; he would replay it on a loop for the rest of his life, just like he would never forget the feeling of you cumming on his fingers.

“Soobin! Yes, yes! Ah… right there!”

Thighs shaking, tightening around Soobin’s arm, you throw your head back as your orgasm rips through your body, leaving you breathless and spent on your bed. Fingers brush over your cheeks, soft lips meet yours, and you find it impossible not to smile as you return the sweet kiss, feeling Soobin’s arm wrap around you. There was a lot left unsaid. Much of your project was left undone, but you were enjoying the moment as you threw caution to the wind.

Soobin, on the other hand, was letting his mind run in circles as he held you against him. He wanted this. Not just the sex, but this. He wanted you. He wanted you to say you were his and mean it. But how in the fuck was he supposed to say that when he had just now gotten the courage to talk to you during a stupid ass group project?

It could wait. Nothing could possibly happen, right? He just needed a little more time to get his shit together.

Sunghoon had been waiting for something, anything from you or Soobin about what the two of you had gotten done the day before for the project, but yet his inbox was looking bare. Maybe the two of you had decided he wasn’t privy to that information. It wouldn’t surprise him if Choi Soobin decided to pull some shit like that, but you? Nah, you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t allow it. Would you?

Sipping on the same beer he had been nursing for an hour, Sunghoon narrows his eyes at the clock on his phone as he bounces his leg along with the music from the next room. Most of the other members of his frat were already pre-gaming, actually enjoying their afternoon, and he was sitting here with a half-stale beer waiting on you.

It shouldn’t piss Sunghoon off as much as it does, but he doesn’t do shit like this for girls. Not for school... not for any reason. Chicks are chicks, and that’s it, so why do you have him sober while Jake Sim was already throwing up in the sink?

He was about to give in and get something stronger than his beer when your name caught his attention on his phone.

Y/N😇: Do I just come in? Should I knock? People are just going inside, but I feel weird. Doesn’t the party start at like 11?

God, you were so cute; it was killing Sunghoon. You rambled even over text. Sliding off the sofa, Sunghoon pockets his cellphone and pushes past a few of the early comers to open the front door and see you looking around like a lost puppy.

Devastating. You were devastating him. Fuck, he was screwed.

“Princess, get your cute ass in the house. Have you never been to a frat party before?”

Eyes widening, you hold the strap of your bag tighter to your shoulder as you turn to meet Sunghoon’s eyes after hearing his voice. It was a valid question, and yet it made you feel small and insecure. Sunghoon wasn’t like you. He was cool and super rich. Everyone wanted him or to be him. You weren’t much different than them supposed, but you were also the one he was calling princess.

“Oh… I—no. Not really. I—”

Scooting to the side as a girl shoots you a dirty look, her attention turning immediately towards Sunghoon, you look away as she coos at him making her way into the house. “Sunghoon! Oh my god, you look so fucking good. Do you wanna, like, you know, chill before—”

This was what Sunghoon had gotten used to. Maybe that was narcissistic of him to expect it, but he was used to girls throwing themselves at him. Yeah, he had accepted a few offers. He had a reputation, but he liked to have fun. He knew at the end of the day none of these girls mattered. They saw status and dollar signs. He saw tits and a distraction, but when he looked at you, he saw something else—frustration and desire.

Shaking his head and sidestepping to get away from the pretty girl and her advances, Sunghoon sighs, giving her a half glance. “Nah. I have shit to do.” When you don’t move, making no effort to meet his eyes again, Sunghoon rolls his eyes, moving down the steps to grab your hand, much to the dismay of the girl as you are ushered inside the house past her. “I told you to come inside, baby.”

“Sunghoon…” Your voice is quiet, almost embarrassed, as you meet the eyes of the girl he had turned down when she hears him call you baby. You can feel the daggers come from her eyes and meet your skin until you are finally out of her sight and heading up the stairs away from the music. “Sunghoon.” Saying his name again, you tug back on his hand at the top of the stairs, landing finally managing to get him to look back at you. “There is so much going on downstairs. Aren’t you going to miss it by doing this with me? I’m not nearly as much fun as that. You don’t have to preten–”

“God, Y/N, shut the hell up already. I said we can work on the project today, and we can.” Pushing his bedroom door open, Sunghoon ushers you inside as your cheeks burn from his words. Watching you move slowly into the room, he narrows his eyes and sighs before running his fingers through his hair. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

Tears prick at your eyes as you walk towards one of the beds in the room, sitting your bag down on it as Sunghoon moves closer behind you. You weren’t sure what you had done to him to make him be so mean to you, but his words were making your stomach twist up in a knotted mess of anxiety and low self-confidence.

Hearing you sniff under your breath, Sunghoon closes his eyes and leans his head back, knowing he upset you. It hadn’t really been his intention. He wasn’t great with words. He just said what was on his mind, and you were annoying him. He just hadn’t clarified why. “Fuck, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I—listen, okay?” Hands slide over your arms as Sunghoon slowly turns you towards him, his eyes moving over your face carefully. “What I mean is that you aren’t like the other girls. You make me chase you. I don’t chase girls, Y/N.”

You could understand every word that Sunghoon was saying, and yet nothing he was saying made any sense to you. Shaking your head, you sniff back your tears and lift your shoulders, causing Sunghoon to groan in annoyance before he cups your face with both of his hands leaning in to press his lips to yours.

Every cell in your body misfires at the feeling. Your mind screams for you to run. You quickly think of every rumor you have heard about Sunghoon. You picture every heartbroken girl crying over him as he smirks with his friends the very same day, and yet as he kisses you, his tongue gently gliding along your bottom lip, you start to melt into him. You shouldn’t enjoy feeling Sunghoon’s lips on yours, but you do. You whine into the kiss, and Sunghoon’s brows furrow as his entire body reacts to the sweet sound.

“Holy shit. You sound so pretty, Angel. Do that again for me?”

Sunghoon was different than Soobin. Every touch was precise and calculated. Each step, while not planned, led you right where Sunghoon knew he wanted you. Knees hitting the end of his bed, causing you to fall backwards with another whine, your back hitting the bed, eyes wide as you look up at Sunghoon.

Leaning over you to pick up your bag, Sunghoon moves it to the floor before laying over you and putting his lips back on yours. This hadn’t been the plan. He really was planning on being true to his word and working on the project with you, but then you just had to be so fucking cute and so goddamn frustrating, and now Sunghoon was throwing himself at you.

One hand sliding along your side to your hip, Sunghoon breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with a question hanging in the hair as his fingers play with the end of your dress on your thigh. He would let you say no, but god, he hoped you wouldn’t. He was being pathetic; he could feel his cock throbbing in his pants. The moment you whine his name again and nod, Sunghoon is groaning your name and sliding down in the bed to push your dress up to your stomach.

“You are so cute, princess. Always dressed so pretty.” Shaking his head, Sunghoon traces your bellybutton with his pinky, watching you suck in your stomach on a deep breath, causing his lips to pull up in a smirk. “Won’t lie, recently I’ve been telling myself you’ve been dressing like this for me... Even if I know it’s probably not.”

Carefully pushing the tips of his fingers into the elastic of your panties, Sunghoon lifts his brows in a question again before tilting his head and licking his lips. “Can I? Wanna taste you so fuckin’ bad. Been dreaming about it for days.”

His words have you breathless; you feel almost faint as you nod and lift your hips, letting Sunghoon work your panties down your thighs and off your legs. He had been dreaming about you. More specifically, Park fucking Sunghoon, the wet dream of 90% of all of the girls at your university, had been dreaming about eating you out? There had to be a glitch in the matrix. This couldn’t be happening. You had just spent an evening with Soobin, and now—Sunghoon?

You don’t get much time to process when Sunghoon’s warm, wet tongue runs from your dripping entrance to your already throbbing clit in one smooth motion. Clinging to the comforter, you gasp Sunghoon’s name, closing your thighs around his head, feeling him chuckle against your folds as his hands wrap around your thighs, working them back apart over his shoulders.

There was a reason for many of the rumors that Sunghoon was involved in; most of them had a layer of truth to them. It wasn’t Sunghoon’s fault that he was good in bed or that he loved to eat pussy. There was nothing like listening to a girl squeal his name as he drove her crazy with his tongue alone, but you were something special. No one tasted or felt like you. You were driving him crazy. There was enjoying eating a girl out, and then there was enjoying eating you out. This was heaven.

“Fuck…” Drawing the word out as he runs his fingers over your soft folds, Sunghoon groans, resisting the urge to push his hips against his mattress as he watches your arousal begin to drip and mix with his saliva. Unable to stop himself, Sunghoon uses his thumbs to spread your folds and buries his faces between your legs, hungrily lapping at you like you’re oozing nectar that will sustain him for weeks.

Any coherent thought you once had was gone. Between Sunghoon’s tongue and the groans he was letting out between your legs, you were dumbstruck. Your thighs had already begun to quiver, your stomach tight as your orgasm hung right on the precipice with each drag over Sunghoon’s devious tongue, but it isn’t until he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks that you lose a battle you weren’t really trying to win.

“Cumming…ah! Sunghoon!” In your mind, somewhere buried deep down under the pleasure, you could feel the shame wash over you at the same time as you wonder if you were another notch on the bedpost under your hand, but the kisses to your thigh and the sweet praises bring you back to reality.

“Taste so good. Best fuckin’ girl. Not letting you go, swear to god.” Sunghoon was pussy drunk; he knew it and he knew that you probably knew it, but that didn’t mean the words he was muttering against your skin weren’t real. He loved the feeling of your fingers running through his hair as he licked your cum from his lips, and what Sunghoon loved even more was seeing the fucked-out look on your face, knowing he caused it. “You are so goddamn pretty. No one deserves you; do you know that?”

He was full of pretty words as he moved up in the bed to lay over you, his lips once against pressing to yours before moving along your jaw and neck. You weren’t sure he was telling you the truth. You wanted someone to deserve you. You weren’t sure if that person was him or Soobin, but... someone.

Furrowing your brows, you shift in bed, wanting to return the favor. Sliding your hand over Sunghoon’s jeans, you feel him push towards your hand, a soft groan slipping from his lips.

“You don’t have to do that, Angel, but fuck... I’m so fucking hard.”

He didn’t have to tell you that. You could feel how hard he was even through his jeans, and you knew you didn’t have to do anything; it was more that you wanted to. You knew something like this could distract you from thinking too hard. This was fun. It was easy. Thinking was too hard.

Pushing Sunghoon to his back on the bed, you smile shyly, moving to your knees beside him. You feel his eyes on you as you slowly undo his jeans and let him help you push them down with his boxers, letting his cock rest back against his stomach, leaking heavily.

He was a bit smaller than Soobin—of course you would never tell Sunghoon that, but despite the small size difference, it didn’t mean that his cock wasn’t just as pretty and enticing. You had found yourself taking control with Soobin, but in Sunghoon’s bed you were docile and nervous. You found yourself wanting to prove that you were good enough to be in his bed.

“It’s yours, baby girl. Whatever you wanna do with it—ah, fuck!” Sunghoon was a talker in bed. He might not be good at words that mattered, but he could dirty talk. Only your mouth around his cock could silence him. Hissing as his stomach tightens, feeling you hollow your cheeks as you take in more of his length, Sunghoon curses under his breath.

Normally he could handle getting head. Most girls weren’t that great at it if he were honest, and usually he wasn’t. He’d tell them how good their mouth was, that they did a good job, and he’d cum on their lips or wherever they wanted as he jerked himself off, but you—god, he didn’t have to lie to you. Instead, Sunghoon was digging his fingers into his bedding, forcing himself not to cum down your throat after thirty seconds of his cock being in your mouth.

“So fucking good. Oh, shit. Just—slow down. Baby!” Throwing his head back, eyes rolling back as you let his tip brush the back of your throat, Sunghoon smacks the bed under his hand, pushing his feet into the mattress. You were sucking the soul out of him and not leaving a drop. If this was how Sunghoon was going to die, it was worth it. “Gonna—ah, fuck. It’s too—cumming!”

Furrowing your brows, you close your eyes tighter when Sunghoon cums in your mouth even after warning you. The salty, sour taste hits your tongue, and rather than letting it linger in your mouth as you pull back, sucking one last time to make sure you have every last drop, you swallow.

Sunghoon stares at you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath when you sit back on your knees to wipe your lips clean of his cum. He was seeing double, and you literally looked like you were glowing, a halo around you like a real fucking angel.

“You tried to murder me.” Licking his lips, Sunghoon moves one of his arms over his head to rest his head on his forearm as his eyes start to focus more. He watches the small smile form on your lips—how shy and sweet you look even as you search for your panties on the floor, reaching down to pick them up and pulling them back on. “Are you leaving me? We still have a project to work on, and I thought I had a date to the party.”

Opening and closing your mouth a few times, you swallow hard, finally meeting Sunghoon’s eyes as he relaxes half naked on his bed as if this is a normal Friday night, which you realize it might be; the shame slipping back in your mind causes you to look away and down at the floor. “Um, I—it’s—you know... Your party starts in like an hour now and I’m not much of a partier—”

“Y/N… seriously? What did I do wrong?” Sitting up, Sunghoon reaches for his own clothes, pulling them back on before scooting closer to you. When you still won’t look at him, shrugging and adjusting your dress over your lap, he gently cups your chin and guides your head back towards him to make you look at him. “Do you regret what happened? Should I apologize? I just—I thought you wanted me too, and I like you, so…”

Shaking your head, you sigh and let it out on an exasperated breath, pulling away from Sunghoon. You can’t help but think he’s said this exact thing to every other girl he’s ever fucked in his bed. “I don’t know, kinda... maybe? I’m just—I’m like, what? The flavor of the week? You’ll get bored and move on? It doesn’t feel good, Sunghoon.” As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you feel a different kind of shame wash over you, Soobin’s face in your mind as you realize you’ve done something similar to both of them. “Sorry, that’s not fair. You don’t owe me anything. Neither of you…”

Furrowing his brows at your words, especially the last, as your volume drops almost to a whisper, Sunghoon shifts closer to you and turns you towards him with both hands on your shoulders. “Could you fucking just talk to me? Not just assume shit? You aren’t the goddamn flavor of the week." Tilting his head, Sunghoon glances towards the sound of the party picking up downstairs as he licks his lips, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Wha—what do you mean, neither of you?”

Sunghoon’s eyes follow your eyes as you look away, avoiding his eyes. He knew that look; he had given it to other people, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end before. There was someone else besides him. Who else were you hooking up with? As soon as he asks the question in his head, the answer comes to him. There is only one answer. Soobin.

Nodding as if you had answered him yourself, Sunghoon chews at his cheek, sliding his hands along your arms, comforting you as he thinks of what to say or do, weighing his options. He could be mad. He could lash out at you for not telling him before the two of you did something, but you didn’t owe that to him. How serious were you and Soobin? From how you were acting and from what had happened between you and him, Sunghoon had to assume not very serious. So then that was something else to consider. He could ask you to tell Soobin to fuck off, or he could tell Soobin himself... But looking at your pretty face, Sunghoon could see the conflict written all over it. You liked Soobin. You liked him. You didn’t know what you wanted.

“Does he know?”

Shaking your head no, you blink back your tears, causing Sunghoon to move closer to you when he notices them. “Hey… none of that. Why are you crying? I’m not mad at you, baby.”

“I’m so shitty, Sunghoon. I—who does this? I like you.”

Nodding, Sunghoon sighs before pressing a kiss to your forehead as tears roll down your cheeks. “You aren’t shitty. It’s a shitty situation, but I’m not gonna flip my shit. Listen, I—he—” Sighing, Sunghoon groans at his own thoughts before leaning his head back in disbelief that he’s the one suggesting it. “Soobin is coming to the party tonight, right? Talk to him. We can talk it out and see what happens. Cool?”

He made it seem so easy, like they would just shake hands and choose a winner, like you were a prize. Blinking tears from your eyes, you shrug watching Sunghoon shake his head, his thumbs sliding over your cheeks to wipe away your tears. He wasn’t the pretentious fuckboy asshole everyone made him out to be after all.

“It’s worth trying, baby. I’m willing to see where it goes... for you.”

Sighing into the red solo cup in his hand, Soobin glances around the room, looking for a way out. He hadn’t seen you, and ironically, he hadn’t even seen Sunghoon. It wasn’t like he didn’t know anyone at the party, but this wasn’t his scene. The music was loud, smoke was making his nose feel funny, and he didn’t even like beer that much.

Soobin wasn’t sure why he had even agreed to this. You had probably ditched on it. He didn’t blame you if you had, but Sunghoon? It was his frat house. Surely he was around here somewhere.

Glancing towards the stairs, Soobin furrows his brows as he quickly glances away from a couple making out against the wall. That was probably the answer. Sunghoon probably had some poor, pathetic girl trapped in his bed already. Rolling his eyes, Soobin takes a big sip of his drink, starting to turn towards the front of the house when his eyes lock on to you and his stomach tightens with nerves. You were so fucking pretty. God, of course you always were... but it felt different now. You were like a beacon, so bright that it took a few seconds before it dawned on him that Sunghoon was standing behind you with his hand on your hip whispering in your ear.

It wasn’t fair for Soobin to be upset or jealous. It made sense that you were with Sunghoon. That had been the plan; you were going to meet up with him before the party and work on the project. So why was it making it hard to breathe seeing his hand on you like that? Why did it feel like you were slipping from his fingers and into Park Sunghoon’s arms?

Soobin downs the rest of his drink, making a sour face as he clenches his fist around the cup, and it crushes easily in his hand. He could give up, walk away, and find the door, but meeting your eyes and seeing the pretty smile on your face has him stuck where he is. There was no world where you were going to smile at him like that; he didn’t at least have a chance.

Glancing back at Sunghoon, you watch his brows lift in question before he nods his head towards Soobin as he leans down to speak next to your ear over the music. “He looks annoyed, but when isn’t he? I’ll be around; come find me in a bit.” Nodding, you slide your fingers over his on your hip, meeting Soobin’s eyes with a smile on your face.

“Hey.” You try to talk over the music, but your voice still sounds too small for the space that you are in, even as you move closer to Soobin. “I was—I hoped to find you. You know—that you’d come, you know, here—to the party.”

Furrowing his brows, Soobin still can’t stop how his lips pull up in a small smile hearing your voice even under the bass of the music. Leaning in a bit closer to you, he glancing behind you, trying to find Sunghoon, but is pleased not to see him lingering. “Well, I promised I would so—”

“You wanna maybe find somewhere quiet—” The words get cut off by a gasp when you feel your body being pushed towards Soobin’s as someone accidentally knocks into you. Lukewarm beer soaks into the front of your dress, drawing your eyes down to the wet stain starting to spread across your stomach. “Fuck…”

Soobin had started to nod along with your suggestion. He knew how the sentence ended; you wanted to find somewhere quieter to talk, or maybe something else, but then you had landed in his arms. Letting his eyes follow the girl who had bumped into you seemingly on accident, Soobin frowns when he sees her look back at you and laugh with her friends. It hadn’t been as much of an accident as it had seemed. This was why Soobin hated these sorts of parties. People who came to these things were all assholes. The people who threw these parties were even bigger assholes.

Taking the cup from your hand, he sighs under his breath as you pout down at your dress, stepping back to assess the damage. You would need to change, and you could feel your cheeks heating up even though no one was really paying that much attention to you; it felt like everyone’s eyes were on you.

Linking his fingers with yours, Soobin looks for a way out when you tug at his hand, pulling him towards the stairs. That would work. He wasn’t sure what you had in mind, but as long as he was with you, he didn’t care.

"Man, fuck off. You are too good at this.” Smirking at Heeseung’s complaint as he sinks another ping pong ball into a cup, Sunghoon’s attention is suddenly taken from the table in front of him and towards you as you guide Soobin up the steps. That hadn’t been discussed. He couldn’t help the lump that was forming in his throat at being left out. Tossing Heeseung the last ball in his hand, Sunghoon ignores his roommates questioning looks as he makes his way through the sea of people to follow you.

“Y/N, you okay?” Soobin could actually hear himself think on the second floor. The music was still loud, but at least the bass was at a dull thud instead of threatening to bust his eardrum.

Wiping your hand over the front of your dress, you lean back against the wall next to Sunghoon’s bedroom door, letting out a sigh. This wasn’t going how you had planned. You were starting to get a headache, and you smelled like stale beer. There was so much you wanted to say to Soobin as he looked at you with those big, puppy dog eyes... And now it was harder; the guilt was starting to wash over you again.

“I’m fine. It’s just a dress. I—Soobin…”

Furrowing his brows at your hesitation, Soobin takes a step towards you, resting his hand on your waist. He could feel the tension in the air. Something had changed, and now he felt like he had to do something, anything, to keep things in his favor. “What? Why do you look sad? Can’t stand it. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your hands move to hold Soobin’s biceps when he moves closer, pressing his body against yours. You know you should tell him to wait, to just stop until the two of you have really talked, but then he calls you baby, and all your hesitation melts away. Brushing your lips against his, you whimper Soobin’s name, feeling his knee slide between your legs, pinning you to the wall in the middle of the hall.

“You’re just needy? Maybe you missed me?”

Where had this Soobin come from? Meeting his eyes, you whine out a yes against his lips that barely rest over yours. There was something in his eyes that was different. His gaze was locked on you, intense—possessive, as his thigh pressed against you.

“In the middle of the hallway? And I didn’t even get an invite?”

Sunghoon’s voice brings you and Soobin out of your lust-filled haze and back to reality. You glance at him over Soobin’s shoulder, a small smile on your face. Soobin, on the other hand, clinches his teeth and lowers his head, feeling annoyance rush through him. “Of fucking course he’d show up.”

This had been one of the reasons you had wanted to talk to Soobin in the first place. This was your fault for not saying anything before things started to get out of hand with Soobin, but it was crazy how much both of them affected you. Sliding your hands along Soobin’s chest, you shake your head and meet his eyes as he tilts his head, obviously confused. “Don’t be like that, okay? I—see, I need to talk to you about something. Things happened, Binnie…”

Licking his lips, Soobin glances from you to Sunghoon over his shoulder before sighing out his words. “What things?”

“Things that maybe we can talk about in my room?”

Sunghoon was right. You had gotten caught up in the moment, but now that you were more aware of your surroundings, you could feel the embarrassment washing over you from how many people were walking through the hall to get to other rooms. Taking Soobin’s hand, you gesture with your head towards the door, hearing him sigh one more time before he gives in. Opening the door, he let’s Sunghoon follow behind, locking it.

“So, now does someone wanna fill me in on what I’m clearly missing?”

You could almost feel the frustration and hesitation radiating off of Soobin as his fingers trailed from yours. Following him with your eyes first, you pout at Sunghoon before moving towards Soobin, your fingers fidgeting with the end of your dress at your thigh. “I don’t want you to be mad at me or at Sunghoon—”

“Y/N, just tell me what the fuck happened.”

Slightly taken back by the tone of Soobin’s voice, you drop your dress from your fingers and sigh, lifting your hands and dropping them back at your sides. It wasn’t like you were dating either one of them. You hadn’t committed yourself to either one. You hadn’t done anything wrong.

“We did stuff, you know, like... together.” You weren’t really sure how to explain it. It wasn’t like you had fucked Sunghoon. You hadn’t fucked Soobin either, but either one could have ended up that way. “I—I like you, Soobin.”

Tilting his head at the second part of your explanation, Soobin’s mouth opens and then closes. He was a bit confused. You and Sunghoon had “done stuff together." What, like you had done stuff with him? Now you were telling him that you liked him? It felt like Soobin was on a rollercoaster, and he had just hit the top of a drop only to get stuck with that feeling of his stomach in his throat. “Explain that to me, Y/N, ‘cause... I don’t get it.”

Rolling his head, Sunghoon leans his head back, resting against his desk, as Soobin makes you explain yourself. It wasn’t that hard; he had figured it out so surely Soobin could do the same. “Seriously, dude? Put two and two toget—”

“Stay the fuck out of it, Sunghoon. I’m not talking to you yet.” Soobin hadn’t meant to sound as pissed as he did when he snapped at Sunghoon, but he was confused, and it wasn’t as easy as he was trying to make it out to be. At least it wasn’t to Soobin.

Holding his hands up, Sunghoon gives Soobin an impressed look before crossing his arms and shutting his mouth.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know." Your voice had gotten small. The sound of it made both Soobin and Sunghoon’s stomach’s tighten; the urge to move to you and to make you feel better is strong, but both stayed where they were and let you speak. “I do like you. I like you both. I know that’s weird and it’s stupid. I have to figure it out... I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I’m not like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Shaking your head, you furrow your brows, glancing towards the door, your voice once again dropping in volume. “I should just go home and leave you guys alone.”

Watching you start to turn towards the door, your feet moving in that direction with that sad look on your face has Soobin headed towards you faster than he realized he could even move. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you back against his chest and rests his lips against your head, taking a deep breath of you unwilling to let you just go. “Stop it. I’m not—it’s not ideal, no, but I’m not mad. It’s confusing, yes, but I’m willing to figure it out with you.”

You close your eyes to the feeling of Soobin’s warm breath against you, his fingers pressing against your wet dress over your stomach as he keeps you against him. “And with Sunghoon?”

Groaning under his breath, Soobin glances towards the other man before wrapping his other arm around you and walking backwards towards the unmade bed sitting on it so you can rest on his lap. “Fuck, I guess so. Whatever this fucking means, I’ll figure out how to make it work.”

“You make it sound like I’m a bad date.” Pushing away from the desk, Sunghoon smirks at you and Soobin once he gets closer. “And for the record, I already said I’d make it work. I’m pretty good at sharing. Seems like I’m better at it than you, Soobin.”

Shaking his head, Soobin presses his lips to your neck, unable to stop himself when he hears you finally laugh, even if its at Sunghoon’s stupid attempt at a joke. He loved that sound—the sound of you happy. Happy looked good on you, and if he had his way, that’s how you’d always look. None of that pout on your lips like you had been just a few minutes ago. That shit had broken his heart and made him want to climb mountains to fix shit for you.

“Shut up, Sunghoon. You talk too fucking much.” Smiling against your neck, Soobin tests the waters by sliding his hands along your hips and down to your legs, feeling them part at his touch. “I can share... a bit, if that’s what you want me to do, pretty girl.”

Nodding, you slide your hands over Soobin’s, guiding them along your thighs and pushing your dress up as you turn your head towards his, capturing his lips between words. “Uh huh, share me, please?”

“Greedy little angel. One just isn’t enough?” Grinning at your shy reaction and how you tuck your face against Soobin’s neck, shaking your head no to answer his question, Sunghoon runs his fingers along your warm cheek. “That’s okay, baby, but I wanna know something. You never told me. What did you and Soobin do without me? ‘Cause I’m sure he wants to know what you and I did when we played earlier.”

That had Soobin’s attention. As jealous as he was that Sunghoon had touched you somehow, he was trying to give into it and make it work as you rocked your hips over his hardening cock. He was very curious what you and Sunghoon had been up to and why you were whining Sunghoon’s name as he chuckled your name in return, urging you to spill the details.

“Go on, baby girl. It’s a safe space with us, right, Soobin? We won’t judge our baby.”

Helping you spread your legs over his, Soobin nods along with Sunghoon’s words before trailing his fingers along your soft thighs. “I won’t judge you. Go ahead, sweetheart, tell him. I wanna know too.”

Shivering to Soobin’s light touch, you arch your back, managing to roll your hips down over Soobin’s lap once again, granting yourself a deep groan against your ear. “I—mmm, fuck. Soobin and I—we... I used my hand.” Whining softly, you meet Sunghoon’s eyes as he bites his lips, nodding for you to continue. “And against my—” Stopping short out of embarrassment, you glance back to Soobin, who smiles softly at you, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours.

“You teased me with your pussy, didn’t you, pretty? Got me so close but didn’t let me put my cock inside of you.” Soobin smiles against your lips when you shake your head, whining in protest that you weren’t teasing him. “Don’t lie to me. Don��t lie to us. You aren’t a fucking liar, Y/N. You’re a real slut when you really want it, and that’s okay, baby, ‘cause why?”

Stealing a kiss from Soobin, you lean your head back, moaning softly to the feeling of his lips against your throat and his fingers barely brushing over the center of your panties. “You touched me. You helped me too. Ah, Binnie… please? Do it again? Put them in?”

“That what he did? Binnie? Did Binnie fuck you with his fingers, princess?” Lifting his brow when you finally give him some attention, Sunghoon smirks at you, letting his eyes drop to Soobin’s fingers, brushing over the wet spot growing on your panties. “You give him a cute name, and yet while you were in my bed, I didn’t get any of that shit. I’m hurt—”

“No, ‘m sorry, I didn’t know if you’d like it. Hoonie?” Pouting at Sunghoon, you watch his smirk only get wider at the shortening of his name, his hand squeezing lightly over his obviously hard cock through his jeans as he watches Soobin finally pull your panties to the side.

“I do like it, baby. Now tell Soobin about our playtime together while you drip on his fingers.” Scoffing, Sunghoon runs his free hand over his mouth, realizing what he is saying and how lucky he is to be in this room with you and even Soobin. Nothing was going to compare to this. He was harder than he had ever been in his entire life, and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to touch you yet. It was almost enough watching another man’s fingers slide through your soft pussy lips and your thighs jerk in reaction.

“Yeah, okay. Ah!” Biting your lips, you nod, trying to focus as Soobin’s middle finger circles your clit slowly. “Hoonie ate me out, felt really good.”

Lifting his head towards Sunghoon, Soobin lifts his brow and rolls his eyes openly as Sunghoon grins at him. “Yeah? He made you feel good? He better. Did he make you cum with just his tongue, pretty girl?”

Trying to remember, you lean your head back on Soobin’s shoulder as you nod once again, pushing down towards his hand. “Mmhm, yeah. He’s good, his mouth. Oh my god, Binnie, more?”

“When I’m ready, little slut.” Soobin’s sweet voice against your ear sends shivers down your spine as his finger circles your wet hole. “What did you do for Hoonie since he was so good for you, hm?”

Grabbing Soobin’s forearm, you feel tears gathering on the rims of your eyes as he barely pushes his finger inside of you, rocking his finger back and forth patiently waiting for your answer. When the tears roll down your cheeks, Sunghoon tilts his head, taking another step towards you to push them away gently, making sure you are okay.

“He—oh… Uh, I—I sucked his cock, right? I did okay?” Meeting Sunghoon’s eyes, you find him smiling at you, his fingers lingering on your jaw when you finally speak up.

“Better than okay, angel. Never had someone go down on me like that before. The things your mouth can do…”

Soobin could feel the jealousy rising in him once again. Yes, he had gotten time with you; he had felt your skin against his, your pussy against his cock, his fingers inside of you like he was now, but Sunghoon had felt something different. Taking a breath to steady himself, Soobin nods against the side of your head. He breathes in the scent of your perfume and body wash, letting it wash over him and calm him down. He had promised to try to share.

Pushing his finger into you deeply, Soobin feels your body react, how your walls clench around him and how you try to roll your hips over even just a single finger to get more. “You got all of that today and you still want more? You’re still fucking yourself on my finger? What else do you want, huh? My cock?” Meeting Sunghoon’s eyes, Soobin almost challenges him before he smirks and sighs against your ear giving in. “Sunghoon’s cock?”

“Yes, yes... please? I need more. I’ve been so good for both of you, haven’t I?”

Sunghoon couldn’t argue against that and the look on Soobin’s face told him that he couldn’t either. Though Soobin was a bit less enthused with how this was starting and he was still getting the girl, there was some poetic justice buried deep in this tangled mess.

“Course you have, baby, but you gonna let me taste you? I don’t think it’s very fucking fair I haven’t gotten to. You can’t take anyone’s cock in this tight little hole if you aren’t stretched out a little anyway." Soobin hisses out the last of his words against your cheek as he adds a second finger, carefully working it into you beside the first feeling your warm, wet wall throb around them. “How are you gonna sit on my cock like this? You can barely take my fingers, pretty girl. You want my tongue too?”

Soobin’s dirty talk had you drooling and feeling dumb as you nodded along with everything he was saying. The sweet boy who had been ready to get on his hands and knees for you yesterday had you dripping like a common slut around his fingers today as Sunghoon watched curiously.

“If that’s what you want, princess, then get your ass up and sit with me. What isn’t fair is just watching. We are sharing, so let’s fucking share.” Sitting on the bed behind you and Soobin, Sunghoon rests his back against the headboard and pats his thighs as you and Soobin look back at him. “Won’t fuckin’ ask again. Fair is fair. You can get between her legs, Binnie.”

Biting at his tongue, Soobin slowly slides his fingers from you, listening to your pitiful whines as he does. When you stand up and move away from him, he wants to scream and pull you back, but he watches instead as Sunghoon grins at you, grabbing the end of your dress and sliding it up your legs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, Angel. You don’t need this anymore. I didn’t get to see anything, ‘cept your pretty little cunt earlier, huh? Let’s see all of you.”

Lifting your arms, you bite at your lips as Sunghoon helps you out of your now stained dress, leaving you in your unmatching bra and panties. Crossing your arms over your stomach, you glance down before you feel Sunghoon’s fingers on your chin lifting your head back up towards him so he can meet your eyes. "Uh, uh, none of that shit. You are perfect. Prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever had in my bed, swear to god. Come here…”

Long, skilled fingers make quick work of the clasp of your bra so that Sunghoon can work the straps down your arms, letting you drop the garment into the floor at your feet. You watch as he shakes his head, a smirk on his lips, his fingers walking the line of the top of your panties before he helps you slide them down and letting gravity do the rest.

“So pretty, baby.”

Soobin’s voice brings you back to the room. Your head had started to get cloudy with Sunghoon’s fingers tracing your skin, but that voice brought you back to reality. Meeting his eyes, you smile at Soobin as he stands up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor before quickly getting rid of his jeans and boxers, not leaving you the only one naked in the room.

Just like the day before, you can’t help when your eyes fall to Soobin’s cock. It surprises you again how big he is and how pre-cum is dripping from his tip as he puts his knee on the bed and reaches for you, pulling you towards him for a kiss as Sunghoon shifts to his knees undressing behind you.

It isn’t until you feel skin against your back that you realize that Sunghoon is naked too. Hands grip your hips and you feel his cock bump against your outer thigh as Sunghoon chuckles next to your ear, hearing your soft gasp. “What? You didn’t want my clothes off too? I can put them back—”

“No, oh my god, please don’t.” You knew that Sunghoon was teasing you. You knew that he wouldn’t get dressed again, but yet you felt like you had to beg him to stay like he was so that you could feel his firm chest against your back as his hands found your breasts and squeezed gently, bringing a moan from your throat and into Soobin’s mouth.

“So pretty, god, I love when you sound like that. Lean back against him, Y/N. I wanna taste you so bad.” There was the whine in Soobin’s voice that you had heard yesterday. He sounded desperate again and you were dripping down your thigh because of it as Sunghoon settled back against the headboard and let you rest between his legs with his cock against your back.

Patting your thighs, Sunghoon guides your legs over his and smiles against your neck when you do as you are told. “There you go, beautiful; give him some room to work.”

Soobin wants to tell Sunghoon he doesn’t need his help for this, but the moment he spreads your legs for him, that all dies on his tongue at the sight. He had seen you before, but this was different; Soobin could watch the slick drip from you and run towards the bed as you anticipated him. It all had his mouth watering, and he couldn’t wait anymore.

Sliding down in the bed, his face level with your pussy, Soobin groans as he uses his thumbs to pull your folds apart, watching how they try to stick together from how wet you are. With one last glance up at you, Soobin closes the gap and flattens his tongue against you letting you feel the drag from your ass to your clit in one slow, smooth movement. “Fuck this pussy..." Soobin wasn’t even sure what he was saying; all he knew was heaven was between your legs and he was tasting it. With each pass of his tongue through your folds, he lets his nose nudge against your clit before getting frustrated when his glasses bump against your thigh, causing him to growl into each groan.

For you seeing Soobin between your legs, his glasses fogging up as he ate you like his last meal was a wet dream come true. You could almost see yourself covering his glasses with your cum, but after a few minutes, Soobin takes that from you when he angrily rips them from his face, putting them on the bed, making you whine out a no and making Sunghoon laugh behind you.

“I’m sorry, baby. Are you mad, Soobin isn’t fucking you with his tongue and keeping his glasses on?” Tsking as you try to turn your face from him, Sunghoon uses one hand to turn your face back towards him as he reaches for Soobin’s discarded glasses with the other carefully putting them on himself, lifting his brows at how strong the prescription turns out to be. “You’ve got some interesting kinks, princess. Tell me, you want to fuck me harder now that I’m wearing them?”

Moving your eyes over Sunghoon’s face, you can’t help but moan even louder when Soobin pushes his tongue into you, his thumb on your clit massaging it in tight circles. There was no way you could lie your way out of this so you just nodded instead.

“What a little slut we have on our hands, Soobin.” Pushing the glasses up to the top of his head, his soft hair pushed back under them, Sunghoon smirks at you as your eyes follow his every move with the glasses. “Don’t you worry about them, baby girl. I’ll keep them safe right here. Why don’t you cum on his tongue like a good girl?”

Glancing up at you and Sunghoon, Soobin groans against your folds before turning his attention fully back to you, as if demanding that you follow through with what Sunghoon is asking you to do. If Soobin had his way, you wouldn’t be cumming on anyone else’s tongue besides his. He would even keep it from Sunghoon if he could. But looking up the length of your body and feeling your hips roll against his tongue, Soobin knew that wasn’t going to happen. You were enjoying being between them both too much and he was getting off on it more than he would be willing to admit out loud.

“Good fucking girl.” Chuckling against the shell of your ear, Sunghoon traces each of your nipples, feeling you arch against his chest. You were driving him crazy and it was making his cock throb to have you rocking your body against his as Soobin ate you out like someone who hadn’t eaten in weeks. He knew you were sweet—the best thing he had even tasted, but there was something feral about how Soobin was almost growling possessively between your legs as he licked up every last drop of your cum. It was impressive.

“You got his face messy, Princess. The things we’d do for you. Look at that... " Fingers grip your chin tightly as Sunghoon tilts your head down so you can watch Soobin kiss your thighs, finally moving away from your pussy. “Face that has graced our university’s prestigious little newsletter so many fucking times because he’s some goody two shoes—” Smirking, Sunghoon meets Soobin’s eyes as he narrows his eyes back up at him from between your legs. “All covered in a pretty girl’s cum.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunghoon, and move. I’m fucking her first.”

Sunghoon slides his hands to your waist and shakes his head as he nuzzles his nose against your neck, listening to you whine out a soft moan. You were so gone, just a dumb little fuck toy for them to play with at this point that it didn’t even matter, but it mattered to him. “No. Why the hell do you get to go first? You already got to go first—”

Lifting your head, you lick your lips and force yourself to focus on Sunghoon and Soobin arguing. It was ridiculous and just like when the group project had begun, no one seemed to care what you thought—until you spoke up. “Why can’t I choose? It is me you’re fucking.”

That was a good point and it caused both men to stop bickering immediately. Hands trail along your sides as Sunghoon nods along with you, his lips finding your ear as he kisses it gently. Soobin also nods, his fingers lifting yours towards his wet lips for a lingering kiss on your knuckles as he tries to wait patiently, hoping you’ll make the right decision.

“I—” Now that you had their attention and the ball in your court, it was scary and overwhelming. Soobin’s cock was right in front of you, thick and enticing you to climb into his lap while Sunghoon’s pressed against your back, leaking on to your skin, reminding you that you could so easily let him ease you on to it. Thinking was hard, but after a moment you just sigh into a pout and meet Soobin’s eyes, making him tilt his head like a question. “Can I have both? Is that too greedy?”

It was incredibly greedy, but it made Sunghoon’s lips pull up into a full smile as he held you closer to him. “That what you want? You want to be full?”

The words cause your face to heat up instantly when you remember how good at dirty talk Sunghoon is. Nothing seemed to really phase him; he would just say what he wanted to and get it—just like now as you nod, turning your head to meet his eyes even with your face so close to his.

“Fuck…” Soobin could feel his cock jerk involuntarily against his thigh at your words and the way you were shyly looking at Sunghoon. He had never done this before, but for you, he’d figure it out. From how Sunghoon was acting, this wasn’t his first rodeo and that somehow made perfect sense. If this had been any other day, Soobin might have been more annoyed. He probably would have made some comment about how much of a whore Sunghoon was, but right now he was grateful for his experience as he ushered you into Soobin’s arms and sighed.

“What—” Closing his eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck, Soobin groans, feeling you slide over his thigh. Your warm, wet pussy gliding over his skin almost scrambles his brain as he tries to keep his wits about him and ask logical questions. “Pretty girl, you’re killing me.” Scooting along the bed with you to where Sunghoon once was, Soobin rests against the headboard, letting you rock your hips over his thigh. Holding your hips, he glances from you towards where Sunghoon searches through the nightstand beside the bed on the other side of the room. “The fuck are you looking for?”

Making a triumphant sound as he holds up a small bottle of lube and a couple of condoms, Sunghoon glances back towards you and Soobin before letting out a low groan at the sight. “Baby… I was hurrying. So fucking desperate you are trying to get off on his thigh like a cat in heat?” Dropping the items on the bed beside you, Sunghoon leans to kiss your shoulder before groaning in disbelief as you lean your head back and rest your hands on Soobin’s shoulder for stability, trying hard to get yourself off as he looks down at you. “Our pretty little needy slut. You want me to fuck your ass? Huh? Yeah, well, you are gonna have to let me prep it first or it’s gonna hurt too much.”

Suddenly your hips come to a stop, your orgasm lingering on the edge as Sunghoon slaps your hip. You watch him offer one of the condoms to Soobin as he puts the other between his teeth, ripping the foil open with ease. With one small shuddered groan, Sunghoon manages to roll the condom on and turns his attention back to the bottle of lube.

“Be gentle with her. Be still, baby.” Cooing into his words, Soobin runs his fingers along your cheek to your hairline, never taking his eyes off you. He hadn’t minded feeling you grind on his thigh, but he could understand why Sunghoon wanted you to be still. He didn’t want any of this to hurt you. He was glad it seemed that he was going to be the one who was going to be in your pussy; the idea of doing anything else made Soobin’s anxiety spike. He had been told enough times that his cock was big, including by you, but he wasn’t ready to try to figure out the logistics of what Sunghoon was doing.

“Yeah, be still, baby. Hoonie is trying to work... Sit up on your knees for me, Princess; let me see that ass. Fuck…” This wasn’t something that Sunghoon had done often. None of these supplies were his, but the person he was borrowing from had invited him to participate in a couple threesomes and he had watched it being done. Warming the lube between his fingers, Sunghoon rests his free hand on your ass before he carefully drags his lubed fingers over your tight hole, watching it clench. “Relax.”

That was easier said than done, but taking a deep breath, you nod and lean your forehead on Soobin’s shoulder, arching your back to let yourself give into the experience. The first finger up to Sunghoon’s knuckle has you digging your toes into the bedding as your breath caught in your throat until he eases his finger in more, letting more of the cold lube run between your ass and over his fingers with each slow movement.

“Okay, Angel?”

“Mmhm. Feels weird, but I like it.”

Sunghoon could tell you were already pushing your hips back towards his finger after just a couple minutes of him letting you get used to one. “Want another? And how ‘bout a distraction?”

Nodding quickly to both, you glance over your shoulder to Sunghoon, finding him smirking at you. “Yeah, Hoonie, please? I’m—it feels good, but I’m empty. I want something. I wanna do something.”

Soobin furrows his brows and leans his head to the side to watch Sunghoon’s fingers as he holds your ass firmly with one hand and slides his finger out almost all the way before putting them together and slowly pushing them back in. The sound that comes out of your mouth is enough to make Soobin wish he were already inside of you or that he prayed more often.

“That’s it… You are so tight, beautiful. Gotta stretch you out, huh?” Nodding towards Soobin, Sunghoon keeps his brows furrowed in concentration as you dig your nails into Soobin’s shoulders. “You have a perfect distraction in front of you, Princess. Mark him up, make him pretty. The other girls around campus won’t know what the fuck happened when Choi Soobin shows up on Monday.”

Whining under his breath, Soobin meets Sunghoon’s eyes before glancing down into yours as you smile at him. He wasn’t against it, but it wasn’t the other girls he was concerned about. He had classes and professors who looked at him like he was going to be part of leading the next generation on the business front, and he couldn’t really be covered in hickies. “I—just nothing visible—”

“Yes visible. Baby, let them see who you own. Fuck that. You want us both, right? I’d be proud to wear them. You aren’t proud, Binnie?

With his eyes darkening with a challenge, Soobin grits his teeth before baring his neck for you. This wasn’t how he was going to lose to Sunghoon. He wasn’t going to prove he was more worthy of you just because he was more willing to display that he had been in bed with you. That was ridiculous; Soobin wasn’t ashamed of it… He’d gladly take anything you gave him, no matter who saw the lingering marks—classmates, professors, or his parents.

Running your fingers along Soobin’s neck, you whimper under your breath as Sunghoon’s fingers scissor into you slowly. It was tempting to mark Soobin and to leave him ruined for anyone else. You wanted to do it to both of them. You did want both of them. You perhaps didn’t know how much you wanted it until Sunghoon said it and then you couldn’t help yourself.

At first you simply press a kiss to Soobin’s neck, enjoying the soft groan that spills from his lips, but quickly the kisses turn into bites as you suck on his skin, which has him holding on to you tightly. With each deep thrust of Sunghoon’s fingers, another finger added, lust drips from you and finds its way to Soobin as you moan against his skin, making him yours.

Feeling his third finger moving with a bit more ease inside of you, Sunghoon smirks when you start to pant into your moans against Soobin’s throat. He could see the red splotches covering the other man’s skin and he couldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t want that for himself. He wanted you to mark him as much as he wanted to mark you. He wanted to ruin you for anyone else besides him. The only fucking person he would ever let touch you again would be Soobin and that was only because it’s what you wanted.

“Gonna cum? From me fingering your ass? My dirty little princess is full of surprises.” Sunghoon listens to you sob out a moan when his fingers slip from you and leave you empty and right on the edge of your orgasm, once again edging you. “I love when you cry like that, Angel. I’d rather you cum on a cock. You wanted them so bad, you’ve made Soobin wait... sit on it.”

That was music to Soobin’s ears. His skin was on fire and he was starting to be afraid he was going to cum from just your mouth on his neck. Leaning his head back for a deep breath, Soobin licks his lips and focuses his eyes on you. “Ready, baby?” Sliding his hand to your hip, he strokes his cock from tip to base one time with the other, keeping himself in place for you.

“Mhm, please? Sunghoon is being bossy.”

Your voice is quiet and teasing, but just loud enough for Soobin to hear, making him laugh. Nodding along with you, he starts to speak to tell you that you are right, when all words die on his tongue as you slide your hips forward and over his shaft and fingers much like you had the day before.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N.”

You could tell that Soobin was being serious, and yet it was too tempting to keep teasing him. You almost wanted to see what would happen if you kept teasing him. In your mind, you could picture him throwing you down on the bed and fucking you hard and fast. Every scenario in your mind had you dripping over and more over his fingers and cock so when he does finally snap, growling your name, you barely have time to react.

“I said don’t fucking tease me. You want to be bossed around, little slut?” Fingers dig into your hip as Soobin pulls you against his chest and nudges his cock into your entrance, lowering you down over him carefully. “You want me to just use you like a toy?”

“You know she does. She’s pushing your buttons for a reason, Soobin.” Knocking one of Soobin’s legs to the side, Sunghoon moves to his knees behind you as he strokes his cock, his hand covered in the same lube he had used to prep you. “Just wants her little holes filled up so she doesn’t have to think, right princess?”

Sunghoon waits until Soobin has you settled completely on his cock before he repeats the process he had with his finger with the head of his cock. He watches how you clench around nothing before he painstakingly eases himself into you, letting you adjust and fall forward towards Soobin.

There are no words spoken at first, only moans and deep breaths, as each one of you has to focus on not letting go in that exact moment. You feel overwhelmingly full and Sunghoon and Soobin struggle with how tight you suddenly are and how even without moving they can almost feel each other inside of you, making their head’s spin with how different it is.

“Shit… Someone’s gotta move. She’s too tight. I’m gonna cum if we don't.”

Nodding along with Sunghoon’s pleas, Soobin holds your hips steady as he makes the first move, rocking his hips up towards yours. A chorus of moans fills his ears, including his own, causing him to repeat the motion only deeper and harder than the first.

Sunghoon rests his head forward on your shoulder, letting Soobin move you over him like a toy. He knew he should be trying to do more, but you felt so tight around his cock that he felt like he was going to explode at any moment. You sounded too good and the entire experience was too good; he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was—but he was just letting himself go.

You were too far gone. You were full and the moment that Soobin started to move, that was it. There were no more thoughts that could ever enter your mind. There were only Soobin and Sunghoon. You didn’t need anything else to survive. No water or food would ever sustain you like they would. Only being in their arms, having them in your life, or them making you feel this good could keep you alive.

No one had to tell Soobin or Sunghoon that you were going to cum. You weren’t saying any words that made sense at this point, only whines and their names, but they didn’t need words to tell them what was coming. Your body was telling them everything. Even though Sunghoon wasn’t the one you were cumming around, it didn’t matter; he could feel it. You were tighter and it took him over the edge with you so quick that he didn’t have time to catch his breath.

Soobin tried to commit the moment to memory for the rest of his life as if this would never happen again. The feeling of your soft walls closing on his cock as he buried himself completely inside of you, only to feel how you didn’t want to let him go when your orgasm ripped through you. Nothing about how his own climax followed suit was elegant, but it was something he would remember as Soobin groaned your name loudly and thrust into you hard and fast, hearing not only you but Sunghoon say his name when he came hard.

You weren’t sure who moved you or cleaned you up, but it wasn’t until the sun was peeking through the window the next morning that you realized that you were still in Sunghoon’s room. Lifting your head, you furrow your brows, feeling an arm over your stomach and legs tangled with yours.

On one side of you, Sunghoon had his cheek squished into a pillow of a bed that he and Soobin had apparently pushed together with his in order to make a bed big enough for the three of you to sleep in. On the other side, Soobin lay on his back, arm over his eyes, letting you get a clear view of your art work beginning to bloom along his neck.

Glancing down, you bring the shirt covering your upper half to your nose, realizing you don’t recognize it but it must be one of Sunghoon’s. They had even taken time to dress you after you passed out. Your body was sore; you felt like you could lay back down between them and sleep the day away, but then your mind starts to wander and the confusion and shame starts to seep in, causing you to look for the emergency exit as you wiggle from under the sheet, trying not to wake either of them.

“Where are you going, baby?” Peeking under his arm as you struggle with the sheet tangled around your foot near Sunghoon, Soobin yawns under his breath before stretching. You were even cuter this morning. God, he was screwed when it came to you. He had never cooperated so much with Sunghoon in his life as he did when you had fallen asleep and they had to clean you up. Reaching for his glasses, Soobin pushes them up his nose and rocks his neck back and forth as he sits up, watching you settle on your knees in the middle of the bed, realizing you had gotten caught.

“Um… nowhere?”

“Liar… You moved my covers. It’s cold. Can’t you lie to me from under the covers, Princess? Come back to bed.” Sunghoon’s voice is whiny and makes your heart tighten as he reaches blindly towards you, his fingertips running over your knee before resting on your leg as he yawns.

“I think—I thought maybe I should go home. Let you guys do whatever it is you do—”

“Ouch. The walk of shame?” Sighing louder, Sunghoon turns on his back, exasperated that you had made him get out from under the covers and look at you.

Opening your mouth and closing it a few times, you shake your head before looking down in defeat and nodding while shrugging. “I guess so. It was just sex, right? So I just need to bite the bullet and put on my big girl pants and get over it.”

Looking around in confusion, Soobin runs his fingers through his hair before Sunghoon laughs and sits up, putting his face in his hands, still laughing as you whine his name embarrassed.

“It’s not funny, Sunghoon! Oh my god… Why are you making fun of me now? Was I that much of a joke—”

Reaching out for your arm, Sunghoon pulls you back towards the top of the bed where he and Soobin are, causing you to gasp in surprise by being forced to move so suddenly. “I am making fun of you, idiot. You aren’t a joke, but this is some kind of joke if you think you are still the flavor of the week. I already told you that I like you. I don’t pass that out like currency, Y/N.” When you wiggle in his arms, Sunghoon rolls his eyes and looks down at you annoyed before looking at Soobin for help.

“We said we’d figure it out, Y/N. Don’t you want to?” Shifting a bit closer on the bed, Soobin holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him. “I don’t sleep around and I don’t do this. I don’t have threesomes, especially with—” Letting out a sigh, realizing he doesn’t want to fight with Sunghoon or push his buttons, despite their past relationship, Soobin tilts his head and leans down to push his lips against yours as you rest against Sunghoon’s chest. “Wanna give it a try?”

You must still be asleep. This must be a weird, fucked up, wet dream that you were going to wake up from. Opening your eyes, you glance down at your arm before pinching it and wincing loudly, causing both Sunghoon and Soobin to laugh in disbelief. “I’m not dreaming.”

"No, you idiot... God, you are so cute.” It was Sunghoon’s turn to kiss you; if you thought you were dreaming, he wanted to help you realize you weren’t and it wasn’t fair that Soobin had already gotten a kiss and he hadn’t. Letting his lips linger on yours, Sunghoon lets his fingers fall from your jaw and watches you open your eyes once more, your chest rising and falling quickly as you seem to realize it’s all real and you nod.

“Two boyfriends is a pretty good deal, Princess. We are both smart, handsome, and wealthy. We’d spoil—”

Loud knocking at the door makes you jump against Sunghoon and Soobin’s arms before you all hear a loud sigh and a pleading voice. “Just tell them yes and get the fuck out of my room. I need to get some clothes and take a shower!”

Wincing at Heeseung’s voice, Sunghoon gives you a strained smile before looking around the room and back at the door. “Can—hey Hee? Can you give us like an hour?”

“No! Fuck, no man!”

More insistent knocking makes you wince and recoil in the bed as Sunghoon slips out from one side and mutters under his breath towards Soobin. “We gotta move his bed back and don’t fuckin’ mention I used his shit from his nightstand. He’s sensitive about that shit.” Looking back at you, Sunghoon winks and waves his hand towards you to get you moving. “Up, princess. Heeseung’s being a little bitch. We have to move our beautiful moment.”

“Sunghoon, you’re the bitch. What’s that sound? Did you move my bed again?”

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